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Kira steps closer to the box. It's so small. Barely large enough to contain a human being.
"Scott," she whispers, "are you in there?"
She's surrounded by an aura of fire, in case any of the guards didn't get the idea from the path of destruction she's left in her wake. The only thing she hears is a low, keening sound and she wishes one of the guards would attack her.
She channels the anger and pulls the first side off the box. It's coated in purple powder that stings slightly as she tosses it aside.
Scott lies in the middle, curled into a small ball. Red welts and burns cover every inch of his exposed skin. The only clothing he's been left is a pair of tattered jeans. He blinks as she lifts him up and moans in pain.
He's too thin, too light, trembling in her arms.
"Kira?" he mumbles through cracked lips, and she wants to kill every living thing that did this to him. She kicks at the cattle prods surrounding his prison instead and tries to calm down.
Her aura is scaring him, so much like fire, and she whispers soothing things to him as she walks away.