Nothing is going the way Clarke wants it to. The lights, or lack there of, do little to deter Cage and his surgeons. She doesn't need audio to be piped in from the surveillance feeds to know the sound of a medical drill. Her blood runs cold on memory alone.

Something has to give. One of the choices they make must work.

"Please," she mumbles, eyes fixed on the screen, begging to a god that doesn't exist or certainly can't hear her. Cage is looking directly at the screen as the surgeons go for Abby, Jasper fruitlessly trying to escape only to be fired it.

She winces.