Troubling Sylvester

Twenty-eight.

Fuck. Pumping my arms, I lower my head and sprint up the ramp, panting heavily.

Twenty-five.

Looking around, I slam my hand on the button. Nothing happens. Again and again, I do it.

Twenty.

Shit.

There's a slot below it for a card or a scanner. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I scream, slamming my hand into it. I was so close. My head jerks around, there has to be a door, a pedestrian exit or entrance, right?

Fifteen.

There's a booth. I'm nearly out of time, so I push the door inwards and look around for a key, a card, anything. There's a computer and a row of keys hung up at the back. Not much else. I rip open doors, kicking the chair away.

Ten.

Fuck. My hands scramble through the shit in the drawers before searching the keys on the wall.

Five.

Mercedes, Ferrari, Harley, my hands start to shake in fear that I won't find any.

Three.

No.

There's nothing here.

I'm trapped.

Two.

Fuck.

One.

I crouch just as I hit thirty, peeking over the edge of the desk to look through the glass to see the camera aimed back this way. Crouching, I wait for it to pass. That's when I notice it—a crowbar under the desk. Hell yes.

Glancing up again, I spot the camera sweeping away, and I dart from the booth. Jake will probably check on me soon, and if he finds me gone, he'll put this whole place into lockdown. I need to be gone before then.

Pressing the crowbar at the base of the shutter, I throw myself into it. All my weight and strength from carrying barrels of beer. But it doesn't so much as move. Screaming again, I look around. Think, Zamsii, think. The keys! Fuck, maybe I can smash my way out of here?

Running into the booth, I pick the closest one and head back into the parking area. I hit the fob button, hearing a beep, but I don't see the car. Pressing it again, I spot a silver Merc at the end lighting up. Nice, screw these Cobra bastards.

They are rich, they can replace it.

Using the posts, I duck behind them when the camera comes back around. It's slow going, but I eventually make it to the car. Crouching, I open the door, a soft click echoing through the structure as I slip inside. Okay, okay.

Looking around, I find a start-stop button and press it, the car revs to life, the engine purring as the dash lights up. The fucking rich pricks. Smirking at how pissed they will be when they find out I stole one of their cars, I put it in gear and stomp on the gas. Squealing comes from the tires as I peel from the space, knocking into some other cars as I go.

Whoops, not sorry.

Racing at the shutter, I take a deep breath. Please let this work. With one hand on the wheel, I click my seatbelt in, knowing if it doesn't work, it's going to fucking hurt.

I force my eyes open, my heart in my throat as I race towards it. I'm near the base of the ramp when an alarm sounds, lights flashing as it gets louder. A cranking starts and my eyes widen when barriers begin to rise from the floor, cutting off the ramp.

No, no, no.

But it's too late, they are too high and I'm still barrelling towards them. Screaming, I smash onto the brakes, the car fishtailing as I try to avoid the crash. I slow down, but it's not enough, I hit the barrier. My head jerks and smashes into the window, making me groan. My neck is thrown into the seatbelt, cutting off my air supply for a moment as the airbags explode.

Fuck.

Head ringing, pain racing through me, I unlock the seatbelt with fumbling fingers and kick open the door, sliding onto the ground. Holy shit. That was so close. My heart is tripping over itself, and my stomach is rolling. Leaning on all fours, I suck in desperate breaths. When I feel more calm, I stagger to my feet.

The whole right side of the car is scratched from hitting the barrier. But it's fixable. There's a crack in the driver's side window from where my head hit it. It makes me angry, and it pours through me as I scream it all out. I was so close! So fucking close! And now, now I'm stuck here.

Where I'll die.

I don't know what comes over me, everything is too much. I'm powerless and out of control and can't help it. Scarily calm, I walk over to the crowbar I dropped and pick it up, holding it like I do my bat. I feel blood dripping down my head, but I don't care. Walking back to the car, I swing the crowbar and bring it down on the hood.

It feels good, really good, as the sound of crunching metal fills the air. The hood dents, so I do it again and again, ruining the perfect expensive toy. I smash in windows, laughing as the crash fills the air. I beat the car so good, lost in my own world. I need more, I need to get it all out.

Scrambling onto the bonnet, I bring the crowbar down repeatedly, screaming as I do. I climb to the top of the car, standing on the roof as I smash everything I can reach. My arms feel like lead, and I drop the crowbar. It hits the ground with an audible clunk as I heave in breaths, my body covered in sweat, my head aching from the hit, and my back and neck sore—but it was worth it. Seeing the destruction I wrought, I can't help but laugh.

Take that, you Cobra bastards.

That's when I hear clapping. Whipping my head up, I lock eyes with Black and Jake, who are standing about ten meters away from the car, just watching me. Jake is rolling his dice through his fingers with a smirk on his face, while Black's clapping.

"I bet you she wouldn't make it." Jake smirks at him as Black stops, his face lighting up as he watches me.

His chest is bare, a few tattoos covering the golden skin, and he's ripped. Way too ripped. Shouldn't crazy people be worse looking? But no, he looks like a fallen angel. Gold hair and all, which is tied back in a ponytail. "You did, man, that was hot as hell." He nods to me and then looks at Jake. "Isn't she amazing?"

Just then, the door into the basement rips open and Alejandro and Sylvester stride in. They freeze when they see me standing on top of the ruined car with Jake and Black just watching me. Black whistles, winking over at me.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now, Little Bird."

Fuck.

Sylvester's face is thunderous as he steps closer. His shirt is wrinkled, and his suit jacket is thrown haphazardly on. "I was pulled from a meeting to see this…" He narrows his eyes and looks to Jake. "Explain," he barks.

The man shrugs. "Sorry, bro, she somehow snuck out. When I realised, I searched the cameras and saw her in the basement in your car. I hit the alarm, and the barriers must have stopped her."

"Then?" Sylvester prompts, gesturing to me on top of the car.

"Then she started beating the shit out of your car, screaming something about snakes and assholes," Black offers wistfully, almost dreamily.

I did?

Wait, Sylvester's car?

Oh fuck.

The man looks back at me with cold eyes. "Get down now," he orders.

I swallow, but he must see me about to open my mouth, because he steps closer still, each movement controlled. "Now. Do not make me come up there."

I jump from the car, crunching as I land, jarring my aching head. I know he means business, especially when he grabs my arm and drags me away. I struggle in his grip, swearing, but he ignores me as he hauls me over to the elevator and smashes his hand on the scanner.