Chained

I'd love to say I awakened just in time to run away from the cops, eluding them once again. God, I wish I could say that. But I'd never lie, and that did not happen.

I open my eyes, watching flashes of white appear above my head, moving quickly past my line of vision. The flashes slow until I finally stop moving, and I'm staring up at white- well, white ish, under all the grime- ceiling tiles. I groan and try to move, but my neck- ow, fuck, my neck. What is that? Something cold is against my neck, jamming into the back of my neck. It feels like it's caught on something- I reach up, and feel the cool smooth edge of metal, curved around my throat. I pull on it gently, hoping it's just a tangle of wire or something, but even that gentle tug sends lightning bolts of pain down my spine, and I let go with a strangled yelp. My hands drop, and I lift my head with some difficulty to survey the room.

It seems like a hospital room… sort of. Everything looks slightly… out of place. I don't know what it is, but something about this place makes me feel uneasy. It's kinda creepy. I feel beaten, everything seems to ache and my leg feels like someone stomped on the cut from before.

I sit up, leaning against the wall behind me, sitting on a hospital bed that's so perfectly white it almost hurts my eyes to look at, and I can see a door across from me, basically right in front of me. Just a few steps and I can get the fuck out of here. Okay. I get up and stumble out of bed, but I only make it a few paces before I fall over, smashing my knee painfully, making my eyes fill with tears which I quickly blink away. I place my palm against the floor, scratchy concrete annoying me, and shove myself back to my feet. I stumble forward a couple more steps, before something yanks me back, pulling me off my feet. It feels like someone yanked on the metal thing around my neck- maybe it's a neck brace or something? I don't remember hurting my neck in the first place, but maybe I did. What's yanking on me though- I guess I got it caught on something?

I turn around, hands reaching up to the brace to untangle whatever is attached to it, when instead of the fabric of the bed sheet that I was half expecting, my hand hits a cool, smooth surface, and it clinks when I make contact. Chain. This isn't a hospital- it's a cage. And I am not to be put in a cage. I grab the chain, following the links back to their beginning, where it's bolted to the wall, and looks kinda solid. The collar feels solidly in place- and while I can't see it, I can't feel any place where it would be unlocked, which doesn't help me. If I bump it too hard it hurts the back of my neck, so I think it must have some sort of spike embedded in it. What a nasty contraption- this is not a good situation to be in. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I feel a panic attack beginning; and I'm slightly surprised that it took this long to begin. I really don't have time to freak out now, I need to get out of here, and I need to do it as fast as possible, before someone comes in to check on me. So what do I have to work with? Well, all my weapons are gone- even the whip necklace, which is a blow, and alerts me to the fact that my captors aren't the amateurs you'd expect. Most people wouldn't have realised it was a weapon- although perhaps they just took it so they could pawn it off at a broker. Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet, they could be basic bitches. So I'm left with what's in this room. There's a little bedside table next to the hospital bed, with a couple draws and a door. I walk over there slowly, trying to remain a little quiet and also so as to not make my leg hurt anymore. It already aches, and each step is painful. I open the top draw, noting nothing but spiderwebs and dust, and then do the same to the other compartments, both of which yield the same result. Fuck. This is not good. There's nothing in here I can use, just the bed and the dresser. And myself- that gives me an idea. I may not be able to take off the collar or break the chain, but sometimes brute force is the answer to my problem. I shove the bed as far away from me as I possibly can within the bounds of this tiny room. As an afterthought, I lean the whole thing vertically against the wall, grunting with the effort, which sends little shocks of pain down my back. I think I was burnt in the explosion- but that's a problem for later. I move up against the wall, moving as far against it as I can, before sprinting as fast as I can towards where the chain is bolted to the wall. I leap into the air, feeling very badass for once, and then my foot connects, loosening the bolts, but that really hurt my foot- I hop around on one foot for a second, and this leg now hurts as bad as the other, which seems to be bandaged up. That's mildly concerning! Because there is a bandage under these beautiful, or once beautiful jeans. I mourn their loss for a couple of seconds, before I prepare for another kick. I reckon three more of these will do it, and then I can make it out of here. I get back, and run for another whack, which reverbates up my tibia, aching like hell. It looks like it's loosened some more, two of the bolts are basically just dislodged and the other two are still hanging on. Maybe three more kicks, I'm not sure… but then I hear a door open away from, sounds like it's near the door to the room I'm stuck in. That's very not ideal. I back up all the way to the wall once more, and sprint towards the bolt, delivering a murderous spin kick right into it. The good news: it breaks! The bad news: my tibia does too. That's not good but I don't have the time to deal with this shit! I have all of thirty seconds before something bad happens, so I slide over the bed to the dresser, which I flip onto its side. After a couple kicks with my good foot, one leg snaps off, and then I do this a couple more times until I have three smallish pieces of wood. They're not really long enough to make an effective splint… but better than nothing I guess. Tying them to my leg with the bedsheets, I stand up and test my weight, which hurts a little, but not that bad- but that's because of adrenaline, and that shit won't last forever. That splint won't last either, so I need out of here and some medical attention, asap. The chain, with the bolts on the end, will probably hurt a lot if anyone gets smacked with it- so I grab it, holding it like the golden whip that used to hang around my neck. I move over to the door, grabbing the handle with one hand and whipping it open in front of me, and then peek through to the other side, where there's a squad of four mean looking bruisers waiting for me. I can see they all have guns, which is bad, but I think they won't want to use them. After all, if they wanted me dead that could have easily been done any number of ways by now. No more time to think, just act. I whip the chain through the air as fast as I can, and the heavy bolts and frame on the end smash the first guy right in the middle of his forehead. I think it might have knocked him out, but it's hard to tell- either way, he's on the ground and no longer in my way. Using the extra force of the thing on its way back, I spin around, just once, and use the centrifugal force as a little bonus, slapping not one but two dudes in the face with the chain. Not gonna lie, this feels like getting a highscore in a video game and it's awesome. I don't think it seriously hurt either of them, just matching cuts on their cheekbones. Which is a shame, because one of them has incredible cheekbones. He's pretty hot if I'm honest. Anyway, focus.

But it was satisfying! I move forward to kick the nearest one in an area no man wishes to be kicked, and he crumples. The other two that are still standing are looking pretty pissed off. One of them lunges for me, punching my shoulder hard enough to deaden it. That's not good- I can't use this chain thing effectively with only one hand. With my good arm, I strike back, hitting his elbow lamely. I'm surprised if that little thwack even hurts. Sadly, I'm going to have to resort to lethal force if I want to get out of this predicament. I hit the deck so hard my chin slams into the floor, and snatch the pistol out of it's holster on the nearest downed guy and raise it quickly, checking the safety is off as it swings upwards. Once the barrel is directly in line with my target, I almost pull the trigger- but I just can't. I flick the barrel slightly to the side, hitting him in the right shoulder. It's a horrible injury, but at least he's not dead. The other one raises his weapon to shoot me too, so I quickly roll out of the way, dragging the fainted one up in front of me as a human shield. I feel a flicker of guilt for that, but if it keeps this guy from shooting me I'm all for it.

Right at the point that that flashes through my head, I feel an awful pain in my hip, almost like I've been shot. The pain makes me gasp and put my hand against it, which is indeed a bullet wound. The other dude falls to the ground, a bullet wound in the centre of his back.

"You shot him!" I say in disbelief. "And me!"

The man simply grunts, raising his gun to be levelled at my chest. I raise mine as well, and look him straight in the eye.

"Your bosses don't want me dead, so you won't kill me. Whereas in my case, there's nothing stopping me from shooting you in the head and walking over your body to my freedom. So, get out of my way, and stay alive, or stay in my way and die." I say, walking towards him, stepping over the bodies in my way, gun still up and pointed at the man. As I get closer, I'm starting to realise how bloody big this guy is. I'm not that short, like average ish at 5'9, but this guy is… colossal. He's like half a foot taller than me, maybe even more than that. He looms over me, but I'm not going to back down. Right now, we're engaged in a very dangerous game of chicken, and I am many things, but a coward is not one of them.

After about half a minute of intense standoff, he steps aside, allowing me to walk past. Leaving him behind me as I walk out is an awful, horrible idea, but my other options are distasteful, to say the least. But if I leave him where he is, he could stab me in the back- metaphorically, at least. He's more likely to shoot me in the back than stab me. I can hardly shoot him in cold blood though, especially after saying I would let him live. So I spin around, kick him in the gut so he doubles over, and pistol-whip him. That'll leave a very nasty bruise and maybe a concussion, but he's not a threat and he's not dead, which is my aim here.

I step over him, and that's the last person left in my way. I'm panting from the exertion, and my adrenaline levels are going down, fast, but I did it. I just need to find the exit from here, and then I'll be fine. Stumbling down the hall, almost dragging my bad leg, I can see a steel door right at the end of the hall, and nothing else. So that's gotta be it. There's nothing in my way now, it's a straight shot for the door, and no other way to get into this hallway. Once I make it to the door, I unbolt it and step out onto another fire escape. Big sense of deja vu here. But instead of stepping into the light like last time, I step out into pitch black darkness, with only the foggy outline of the moon to guide me. I carefully step down the stairs, hard to gauge in the darkness where I should be stepping, but I make it down to the bottom of the stairs unharmed. I stumble down the alley it leads to, following the glow of a streetlight, when I get to the road. I take a second to mentally note down the address- 61 Persica Court. Maybe we can come back when I have backup and working limbs. Not much I can really do now… I don't have a wallet or anything, or my phone, or anything of use. That is very shitty. I have some burnt, bloodstained clothes and a gun. No wonder the street is empty- I would have run away if I had seen myself in a dark alley such as this. I think I have a couple of options here: hope for a good Samaritan that doesn't ask many questions. I think this is quite unlikely, so this option is off the table. I can try turning myself in to the cops, and then I'll be at least safe. Or I can try and find my way to my home and my friends. Obviously this is the preferred option, but it's hard to do, given I have nothing to work with here. I guess I could try walking, but I don't know where I am at the moment. Maybe I can steal something… it always makes me feel bad, but what other choice do I have? This is really my only option. If I turn myself in it doesn't guarantee my safety from these people, and it definitely guarantees a lack of freedom with the cops. Sometimes I wonder if I must be a psychopath, the things I do. Who can really tell though? It's so hard to compare your own mind to someone else's, when you've never experienced someone else's mind, and never will.

But deep philosophical discussion has never been my thing- more like >rectified<, plus now is absolutely not the time to be lost in thought. Don't think, just act. I need to get home, and I need some clothes. So I think it's time to do some robbery, sadly. I can't deny I have a knack for breaking in- I'm flexible, light and quick on my feet, all good traits for burglars. It always makes me feel bad though… I guess it's because I know that when I kill someone, I know that I'm removing something bad from the world. I always do months of research, so I can be judge and jury, not just an executioner. But stealing from people? I mean, what if that money was going to go to someone who needed it? Maybe the rich target's daughter would inherit the money and donate some of it to charity, you know. What right do I have to take that?

Again with philosophy! I need to get my head in the game, before I lose my head entirely- metaphorically or otherwise. I need to find someone to rob, preferably someone who won't miss whatever I'm forced to take... my eyes scan the streets around me, hoping to spot some ostentatious mega mansion, but it's a feeble wish. This dark, gloomy street, no way would someone with any money choose to live here. I limp my way down the street, still clutching a bullet wound in my chest. It's small calibre, that I can tell from the pistol it came from- identical to the one stashed in the waistband of these jeans. So it can't be that bad, right? I need to stop the bleeding. I walk a little farther and come to the familiar sight of a trendy apartment building- not perfect, not good at all, but it's what I've got. I draw the pistol from my belt, holding it by the barrel and with a sharp smack, shatter a window leading into the dimly lit lobby. It looks almost like a hotel, if there were a bellhop and things. It's not a hotel, but it has that same eerie feel that it's outside of space and time, probably because of the dozens of identical homes stacked on top of each other to the sky. I just hate those really huge apartment buildings- I love my one, because it's only three floors, so I know all my neighbours, and it's a community. This place, however, seems more like a hive, a place to store workers until they are used. Capitalism, the great destroyer of- well, everything. Not really a good other option though.... anyway, focus! I head to the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor from the top, and I'm quickly shooting upwards, staring out the glass walls at the world below shrinking away, little spots of light from streetlights still visible, but not much else can be seen from so high up. With a small ding, the doors open, letting me see, unsurprisingly, a grey carpeted hallway, interspersed with the odd generic landscape that looks like it came from a hotel or airport. At the end of the hallway, I can see a potted plant and a nice view, and between me and the end of the hallway are eight doors. One of them has a nice little wreath hung on it- not that one. Wreaths are for families with kids or for elderly people, and I don't much want to rob either. I need a nice little bachelor undergoing a midlife crisis, so let's take a little guess at which one suits my needs best. Three more have welcome mats, along with the house with the wreath, so each of those are out. So four houses left- two of them have dirty tracks leading in and out of the apartment, so they're most likely for someone who has some kind of messy profession- maybe builders or gardeners or something. So that leaves two choices. The door directly opposite me or the one down the far end of the hall. I bend down, trying to look underneath the door to see if there's a light on in this apartment. I head down the hall as fast as I can, peeking under the door to the last room left. It doesn't look like there are any lights on inside, so I think this will have to be the one I break into. The door handle looks relatively basic- it's the standard kind. If it's kind of oldish, I might be able to break in with the old faithful credit card in the door trick. I don't have a credit card though, which makes things difficult to say the least. I can't pick the lock without picks, and even if I had any, I'm really bad at it. I think it's time to return to the tactic I dislike most- that being brute force. I can just try to smash the door open. I shove against it, barging my shoulder into it. On the second try, my elbow hits the door handle, and I fall into the doorway. After about ten seconds of solid swearing and rubbing my elbow from where I hit it on the floor, I get up. The door was unlocked the whole time. Why the fuck didn't I try the door handle before I tried ramming it? I feel so stupid. I guess if it's unlocked, someone is probably home- which is bad. No lights are on, that I can see, so maybe they just forgot to lock it? There's a hallway, panelled in dark wood on all sides. It's very beautiful, but it makes the room dim and almost menacing... there's a glass door slightly down the hall on the left. Through it, I can see a balcony, the shadows of clouds crossing the pale bricks. On the right, there's one open area that I think is a lounge- it's hard to tell because it's so dark. Down the hall there's another black door, I don't know what it leads to. Walking into the living room area, I can't see anything I would consider to be useful, per se. Sure, expensive devices and stuff, but no cash which is what I really want. And preferably some clothes. As I open the door to the room at the end of the hall, it looks like a bedroom. There's two more doors against the right wall, probably like a wardrobe and a bathroom, I guess. Door number one is the wardrobe, perfect. And judging from the suits extending as far as I can see and nothing else, I think I did rob an annoying bachelor, which eases my guilt over stealing from him. I very quickly change into a basic outfit of a white shirt, black pants and a waistcoat. There's a safe hidden at the back, not a particular interesting one- it looks about the size of a shoebox. I could probably just carry the whole thing away, but what use is a safe if you can't access the contents? I have to try and crack it. Luckily, it's not very difficult at all. Teen movies have taught me how to do this. Reset the lock to the beginning, then twist until you hear a click. Note the number, then go back and do that again until you have the complete code. The lock resets, and i start twisting until I hear the click that tells me I've got it. I don't know exactly how the click is supposed to differ, so I guess I just hope that it is different from the usual noise? Just when I think that surely, I must have missed it from earlier. But no, one click sounds louder than the others. I make a mental note of the number- 11. Now to do the same thing. This one takes way longer to get to- 29. And the third number- 6. I spin the dial three times to reset it, then I put in the code, 11296. Boom, it opens. Inside- a passport. I've got no plans to leave the city, so I won't take that. But it is sitting on a nice little bed of cash- easily a thousand dollars, in all sorts of denominations. Probably the poor guy's savings. I'll take maybe a hundred- I make a silent promise to try and return it later, with interest. I have clothes and I have money, which is great. But now I really need a phone. After searching the room, there's no landline. Darn millennials, ruining the breaking and entering industry. But nothing I can do about that, other than make a bloody break for it.

After grabbing the cash, I'm about to limp my way to the door, before it crosses my mind that I might be able to try and fix myself up here. I head to the kitchen, a small alcove off the living room, and look in all the cabinets to see if there's a first aid kit. I can't see any, but there is at least a stockpile of over the counter pain medicine. I swallow two dry, hoping they can at lease ease the pain from my many injuries.