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Catch the Conscience ... ... five fateful seconds ...

Lying on a cold stone floor as chilly dawn broke through an open window, I hefted my sole weapon -- the bent and baked leg that I wrenched from my own body.

I'd have one chance to hurl it right.

Clickety went the missile launcher while a screen glowed READY.

The meddlesome voice that had guided me here was gone. I kind of missed having an audience for my effort.

Here goes, I thought. My one functioning limb -- a hand and arm -- throbbed with all its might as I threw ...