Triple Digits

Claire Miles

Claire Miles let out another muffled scream through the cloth tied tightly around her mouth. The room she was in was pitch-black, and huge. The sound echoed, taunting her, sounding like a dozen victims were in the room, and not just her.
The killer hadn't murdered her. He'd taken her, alive, somewhere.
Somehow, Claire thought that would end up worse for her than just being killed outright.
She'd woken ages ago, the room too dark to tell exactly what time it was, since any windows that might have been in here were blacked out, and after settling the immediate wave of panic, realising she was alone in the room or building or whatever, she had taken stock of everything she knew for certain. Namely, that:
1. She was tied up. Her wrists were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. Then, her ankles were taped with duct tape to the chair she was seated upright in.
2. She was gagged. Screaming was mostly useless, but she was going to try nonetheless.
3. Claire was somewhere on the Docks. She could smell the salt that permeated everything around here.
4. Nobody had come for her, which meant they didn't know where or who the killer was. The police had not come in time.
5. Her concussion was back in full force, and she had a second brewing thanks to the hits done to her skull. She had a split lip that stopped dripping blood not too long ago. She felt like her broken hand and wrist was damaged worse than ever, and she might even have a cracked rib, because when she breathed, she could feel pain deep in her ribcage.
At least she was alone. She could cry, scream and curse as much as she wanted.
The panic came in waves, always followed by pure, electric rage like she'd never felt before.
Then, she would weep for everything she stood to lose by being murdered. She cried over how painful it was going to be, if he would torture her first, like he'd tried to do with Helix.
Would he call Corey while he did it, using her screams to hurt him?
If he'd even lived... He had! He couldn't be dead. Claire refused to believe such a thing.
She would not entertain thoughts of his death, not while she was wrestling with her own mortality. He would come to save her. She knew it, deep in her bones.
A door opened somewhere, letting a sliver of light into the room, Claire blinking furiously to try and let her eyes adjust.
The killer entered, switching the lights on to reveal she was in a room made of tarp walls hung from metal rods. It was like the medical setups she always saw in the shows, where people cut up bodies. The ceiling was much higher above her, and made from metal with beams running across it, and a walkway high above the ground floor, allowing someone to look down on the rest of what had to be a warehouse of some kind. Claire could see no details that gave her an indication of where she was, so she studied her kidnapper instead.
He was wearing a hoodie and a black mask with a sun and moon printed on it, and carried a large bag that he dumped in front of her. In his other hand was a video camera that clearly wasn't rolling. Yet.
She writhed against her bindings under a fresh wave of panic, wondering what he was going to do to her, and he laughed, leaning forward and pressing a kitchen knife to her throat. She whimpered, going still to prevent him from cutting her, accidentally or otherwise.
"I want you to get changed. If you try to run, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"
She nodded slowly, and he bent, unzipping the bag to reveal a familiar outfit.
It was the disguise she wore when she raced as Triple Digits. He reached in, pulling out the lime green jacket. Laying it over her lap, he stepped around the chair, cutting the binds on her wrists. Her broken wrist ached as she brought her arms in front of her, resting them on the jacket.
"Put it on."
She did as he said, pulling the jacket over her shirt, zipping it up until it covered everything, adjusting the sleeves so it hid the cast on her wrist. What was he doing to do?
Then, he tossed the socks and leggings she wore at her, cutting the rope and tape on her feet.
She changed quickly, shimmying out of the jeans she was wearing and pulling the leggings on.
Her boots dropped at her feet with a heavy 'CLUNK!'.
She tugged them on over her socks, lacing them up, focusing on counting in her head to try and stop the fear in her.
He handed her a fresh set of lime-green contacts in the box they came in.
She added them over her eyes, before undoing the messy hairstyle on her head and replacing it with her signature braid, twisting it into a bun.
When she was dressed, no longer Claire Miles but rather Triple Digits, he pointed the knife at her, ordering, "Sit back down."
What other choice did she have? She sat heavily in the chair, feeling numb as he did the bindings back up.
Rather than give her the mask she normally wore, he tied the gag back around her mouth, preventing her from speaking. Was he going to film her death?
She heard him fiddling with the camera for a moment, stepping back and setting up a tripod like she was going to be interviewed, only to twist it to face him. He pulled a chair in from outside, reaching into the school bag on his back and retrieving a laptop, signing into it. His fingers flew across the keyboard, and moments later, he reached over to the camera, pressing a button on the side of it.
A red light blinked to life on it, and the killer laughed, "Hello, Officers! I do hope you can hear and see clearly! I can see you through the security cameras in your office. Officer Strickland, it's a surprise to see you alive and uninjured. You are one tricky man to kill, I will give you that. Speaking of tricky to kill- look who I have here with me!" He twisted the camera to face her. Claire felt a tear slip down her cheek at his words.
Strickland was alive. Thank the Gods.
He left the camera on her, and Claire locked eyes with its cold, singular eye. Did she have a thousand-yard stare? Could Corey read the relief on her face that he was alive, or did he only see her fear? He knew she was Triple Digits, so he would know that it was her looking back at him.
"Don't look so furious, Officers! I mean, I only caught the one woman you have failed to catch for years! The ever-elusive Triple Digits! It's been a busy night for me! I just wanted to send this video to let you all know that you failed. Eventually, I will kill Triple Digits, and none of you will find her in time to stop me. I told you, did I not, Officer Strickland? I said you would fail, and you have."
Claire shook her head desperately, trying to scream his name through the gag, and that the killer was wrong, not wanting Corey to feel any guilt over what had happened. He hadn't failed her! She'd taken a risk, and her plan had failed! It was nobody's fault but her own, and the killer for hunting her in the first place!
Pointing the knife at Claire so she knew it would be visible in the edge of the frame, the killer ordered, "Hush, you."
She clamped down on her emotions and her tongue, biting hard enough that it drew blood.
"Anyway, I'll keep this message short and sweet. You won't find her in time to save her, but I'll make sure to deliver her death with a dramatic flair to match her life. Goodbye, Officers."
The camera blinked off, the killer leaving it where it was, pointing at her, turning his attention to the laptop on his lap. He was doing something, she could see and hear him typing, but she had no way of knowing what he was doing.
Then, his laptop pinged, like he'd posted something online, and he grinned, leaning back in his chair arrogantly, purring, "Now we let the bets roll in."
Bets? What bets- It was Monday morning. There was a race tonight, dedicated to Jaivon Carter, since his fans had decided he would want the race to go on.
"I'm asking the people of Mid-City who they think will win tonight- you, or Velocity," the killer explained, Claire's brow furrowing in confusion. He laughed at it.
"You're racing, of course! Triple Digits doesn't miss a race, not ever!"
She... didn't, but surely this was... Why would he let her go, just so she could race?
Rising to his feet, the killer lifted his laptop, closing it and placing it back in his school bag, singing, "I need to get to school. See you this afternoon, Triple Digits!" He said it so cheerfully, like they were friends, turning and practically skipping out of the room.
Not long later, the lights went out, leaving Claire in darkness again. She screamed angrily at his back...