She saw one of those minibuses without walls or roof that were used to give studio tours. She climbed into its trunk. The inside was cramped, dark and quite cold, as she shared the space with a mini cooler and other assorted items.
A handful of guards ran into the scene to try and find the mysterious streaker, but they were unable to do so. Elena patiently waited for them to go away. She was actually quite comfortable in the trunk. The cold emanating from the cooler was very refreshing to her warm skin and it felt wonderful to finally let her feet get some well-deserved rest. She fondled around to see what else was in there, there was a hammer, some bottles and something soft… jackpot! A towel! She would be indecent no more on her walk back to the laundry room.
“You guys keep looking, I’m going to take the bus back to the entrance.” She heard someone say. Crap, she needed to get out now! …Or did she? This could work in her favor, the entrance was right next to the laundry room. If she timed it right, she could jump right outside her destination.
The vehicle came to life and started moving. Elena moved the towel to support her head while she waited to be carried to her target. If her calculations were correct, she should pass by the laundry room in five minutes, giving her more than enough time to-
The brakes screeched as the vehicle came to a stop. Elena heard the driver walk off somewhere. She peeked out. Dammit, she overestimated how far she was from the entrance. Math never really was her forte, nor was navigation apparently. The vehicle was parked between the two golden gates that separated the outer and inner entrances of the studio.
Any piece of mind she had acquired was shattered in an instant. Sure, she had her towel, and the laundry room was “technically” close, but without her employee card there was no way they would let her get back inside. She could ask the guard to call her boss for help, but then she would have to explain what happened and everyone would know that she was the streaker that roamed the studio. That was a secret she planned to take to the grave.
From Elena’s point of view, she only had two real options: She could cut her losses and attempt to return home in a towel or go all in and pull a Trojan horse to get back to her clothes.
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