I can't escape this now (unless you show me how) TODDBLACK - NOT ME THE SERIES

9 - light and darkness

Black's eyes fluttered open, the air around him cold. The darkness of this room he was in, left him disoriented. He was leaning against a brick wall. His hands were tied behind his back, though his feet were free. As he tried to stand up, an agonizing pain shot through his left shoulder, jolting him back to reality. With each movement, he groaned, his mind gradually piecing together the attack.

He remembered seven guys dressed in black.

One had a gun, though Black had been able to knock him out.

That however had kept him occupied enough that he didn't notice one of the other guys jumping him from the back.

The memory made the wound in his arm throb.

How much time had passed? How long had he been out?

Keys jingled, accompanied by the creaking of a door being unlocked.

As the door swung open, Black had to squint at the sudden burst of light. Four guys stepped into the room. The last guy flicked the switch on the outside and the lightbulb above Black jumped into action. The door fell shut behind them.

Black recognized three from the attack, the last one he didn't know.

"You're awake," the guy with the keys said. He had shoulder-length black hair and a neatly trimmed moustache.

"A little bit hungover?"

He had to find a way out of here. His head hurt, not to mention the pain in his left arm.

"You put up a good fight, I'll give you that. Almost took out half my men. Impressive. If it wasn't for your little gang, I'd hire you in an instant."

They must be Tawi's guys. Of course, how could I be so stupid. Someone like Tawi doesn't go down quietly without putting up a fight. He would try and take down as many people with him as possible.

Moustache Man took a step toward Black, kneeling down so they were on the same eye-level as if he was talking to a kid. Black wanted to punch him just for that. Though as he attempted to free himself from the tape, he winced. Every movement, no matter how slight, felt like hot needles were piercing his flesh with relentless persistence.

"You shouldn't move too much," Moustache Man advised. "If you tell me where your friends are, we will make it quick."

Black gritted his teeth. If he manages to get rid of the tape, he will beat the shit out of them. No matter how much it'd hurt.

Black shot to his feet, the pain almost draining every bit of oxygen from his lungs. He launched forward and kicked the nearest guy—the tallest of the group—between his feet. He doubled over and Black brought his knee to his face.

He yelped in pain, as someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down to the ground again. His vision blurred for a second.

"You think that bit of tape will hold me back?" His voice sounded hoarse, almost weak and he pressed his eyes shut, trying to push the pain away.

"No," the guy with the strong grip said, "but this surely will help." He leaned down and squeezed Black's arm, not the wound but close enough.

He gritted his teeth so much his jaw hurt, but he couldn't drown out the sound he made. Black dots dancing in his vision.

Moustache Man made a swift movement with his hand and the buff guy stepped back. Black exhaled audibly.

"Listen, kid, this is just a job to us, don't take it personally. Now, where are your friends?"

Black averted his eyes to one of the many dark corners of this room. "You seriously think I'd tell you?"

"No, not really. I hoped you'd make it easy for us, but after your performance, I expect nothing less than a good fight. But we are not here to test that."