Forced Unlock

3 | Showdown Of A Pervert And A Villian

The cold water hit the top of his head, and Tazito woke up with a jolt. He was blinded by it, the water rushed into his nose choked him and made him cough violently. He subconsciously turned his head to avoid it, and then realized that his hands and feet were tied. He tilted his head to avoid the water flow and saw a faucet above his head, where cold water continued to hit his neck. His hands were tied tightly to that faucet.

He glanced around. This was a hotel bathroom, decorated in a luxurious and interstellar style. The lights were gentle and harmless, exuding the color of money. He was stripped down to a pair of underwear and placed in a shell-shaped jacuzzi, with his legs tied to the two corners of the tub. He soon discovered that the bathtub was filling up with water. He kicked his legs and tried to sit up, but he couldn't do it. Under his butt was a smooth arc, and his limbs were tied. He had nowhere to hold on to and could only lie there. Within a few minutes, if he couldn't sit up, he'd be drowned in this bathtub.

This realization horrified Tazito. He struggled hard, but it was all in vain. They used police tape to tie him up. That thing's made of highly flexible material and could only be stretched thin by an airplane. Water quickly flooded his abdomen, and Tazito struggled harder. The plugged drain was only a few centimeters from his feet, and he couldn't even move this distance.

He stopped when the water began to reach his chest. His eyes were filled with rage and a fear of death. He started watching the bathroom for more efficient opportunities.

The layout of this bathroom proved they're still in the hotel. Tazito finally remembered that he gone to the wrong floor. He should've gone down one more level, where his room would be. In all hotels he stays at, he'll have his men hack the hotel network—not a difficult task for a professional criminal—so that his key card could open all the doors. Tazito thought this would increase his chances of escaping if something happened. He never imagined that one day he'd err on this side of caution.

He spotted his clothes and could see that they had been hung neatly on one side without any wrinkles.

They wanted to kill him... why hang his clothes like this...

To leave no evidence afterwards? No, that's not right...

What else can to use... a razor? Hell, that thing's further away and can't be reached at all...

These thoughts flashed quickly, there was only one thing on his mind— I can't die here! Give me a way, anything, as long as I don't die here.

While he was tortured by his own thoughts, the sliding glass door opened silently. He turned around and saw Mr. 11 walking in.

Mr. 11, like a visitor to an aquarium, walked to his feet and indifferently admired the man tied up in the bathtub. The water was now up to Tazito's neck.

"What conditions do you have?" When Tazito asked this question, he used his remaining social skills and tried to make himself appear more controlling in the discussion. He had moist, dark eyes that made him very convincing when he wanted to pretend to be sincere.

Mr. 11 leaned over, placed one hand between his feet, and looked at him coldly. His hand was a centimeter away from the drain button, but he wasn't going to fucking press it. Tazito couldn't help staring at then.

"What are you willing to pay?" Mr. 11's tone didn't sound like he was interested in this proposal.

The water swallowed up Tazito layer by layer, overflowing to his chin and soon touching his lips.

"Money," Tazito said, "I know you need money for your election." He quoted a figure he could afford.

Mr. 11 watched him expressionlessly, as if accepting such an unattractive number would be less interesting than watching him drown.