[ This is hella cool.

No. There’s need here for a greater, more evocative set of adjectives: sitting in a pile of trash is mind-blowingly, life-changingly incredible. At least for the first handful of minutes that Rapunzel finds herself there. This initial excitement, she will later realise, is owed to a series of bottles scattered across her path. They’re made of glass and come in at least four different colours, and from far away, it all seems quite nice and artistic.

Then she sees that the glass is broken, and that as a result her bare toes are the brown-red of blood and black with grime. She realises that her eyes hurt because it's a good deal brighter out here compared to inside her Tower, and that Pascal is gone. She realises this is not the canyon meadow where she once was.

Then come her memories of the power-point presentation and it’s all downhill from there, because this is clearly a nightmare and she is only just waking up. Rapunzel, moving instinctually now, picks up the largest thing she can find (which, in this case, happens to be a rusty chop saw undoubtedly crawling with tetanus), gets into a defensive crouch, and starts quietly talking to herself under her breath like sane women usually do. ]

All right, Rapunzel. Stay calm. Just... just stay calm... and everything will be okay. Ruffians are cake to me now. You'll be fine! You. Will be fine.

[ Look, this girl doesn’t know what a robot is. She doesn’t know what any of this nonsensery is or means. All she knows is that she is higher above the ground than she’s ever been in her life and something unbothered by her screaming has just grabbed her.

But! Since warbling doesn't seem to work as a negotiation tool, it’s time for some swinging, wriggling, punching, kicking, and brandishing of one bacteria-ridden chop saw. Her fists are definitely on the road to bruising at this point, but what does she care with a current of adrenaline coursing through her veins? The sound her chop saw makes against the metal drone is bound to be ear-splitting.

Look out if you’re on the ground, too. Her hair might just, uh, run right into your entire body. And it's pretty hefty. ]

[ As the continuing theme of these scenarios appears to be Unpleasant Encounters, you can almost certainly expect the same from the incinerator belt of death. Rapunzel has given up on any pretence of calm at this point, having torn the skirt of her dress to her knees in order to make running through waist-high trash piles a tad easier. ‘On the way to injured’ has become ‘definitely bruised and a little bloody’, but you wouldn’t know that until after you see her run past – that’s what she’s doing: running, and madly. It isn’t necessary given the speed of the conveyor, but this lady takes no chances.

She might even run right into you! Because that’s the kind of person I am, and that’s always the way people like us tend to meet people like Rapunzel, isn’t it. ]

[ Lmao. Whoever you are, if you’re next to her right now, you’ll have the pleasure of watching Rapunzel's expression shapeshift slowly from a look of groggy confusion, to those of wonder, embarassment, and then outrage as she reels back, SCREAMS, and head-butts you as hard as she possibly can. ]

OW!