Hero | ohshc

XLVII

 "What are you planning?" I huffed out, the drugs slowly wearing off and when the gunman in front of me nor the guard answered I continued, "I wasn't aware that blackface was something kidnappers enjoy doing." The man who shoved me into the car and pressed the gun against my head every two seconds tugged down his black spandex mask with a glare.

"It is not blackface," he growled, also moving to take off the black eye mask he wore.

"That's what all racists say." I mocked. The two men only ignored me.

I took in my surroundings, the area dark, damp, and incredibly uninviting. The cement bunker was filled with a thick, musty air that would lodge into your lungs if you breathed in too deeply. I sat on a small chair, completely tied up and unable to move, my wrists aching from the rope burn. My head began to throb and I whined.

"This is the most boring kidnapping I've ever experienced. At least when that pervert in England kidnapped me, he gave me attention unlike this racist prick across the room who apparently has a gun kink," I grumbled, the English slipping from my tongue easily.

"What did she say?" The gunman growled to the guard next to him who only replied with a shrug. I snickered.

"Fucking idiots."

A loud bang echoed in the room, not surprising me in the slightest, I was going to get shot at some point. Pain exploded in my upper left arm, "um..." I looked down to see blood beginning to soak through my once spotless white dress shirt, "ow?" I looked up at the man, his gun pointed directly at me, "did you just fucking shoot me?"

He lowered his gun and shot at me once again, the bullet just barely grazing my right leg. I peered down and noticed the tear in my dress pants, a stinging sensation spreading near my ankle.

His aim sucks ass.

I leaned back with a loud sigh. "I want to go home."

"What the fuck," the other guard peered through the doorway to stare at me with widened eyes.

"Is there something on my face?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh my god," the gunman tossed his hands in the air, throwing the gun to the corner of the room without a care, "I can't do anything to get her to shut up. I give up, you keep an eye on her." He turned around and left the room, passing the saluting guard. "I'm going to check up on the status of Shizue-sama. Give a holler if there's any problems."

"Yes sir."

Once the gunman left it went deathly silent and surprisingly awkward.

"So..." I began conversation, keeping a careful eye on what the guard was doing as I dug into the back waistband of my dress pants, hoping to find the swiss knife I usually stored in a secret pocket, "what are we waiting on?"

"Your grandmother."

I froze in my spot and stared at the unmoving guard. "Argh," I tossed my head back and groaned loudly, "god she's such an annoying fuck. Am I not allowed to live my own life?" I managed to find the knife and slipped it out the pocket, fiddling to find the knife section.

With a quiet click I felt the knife unsheath itself, the cool metal pressing against my skin and I carefully began to saw at the rope around my wrists. Within seconds my left arm was free, throbbing spiking through my nerves with every movement from the gun wound on the upper side of my arm.

I glanced upwards to see the guard still leaning against the door with his back to me. With the knife I cut through the rope on the opposite wrist, freeing both of my hands. I released mental sighs of relief with each unwrapping of rope. I leant down and ripped the loose rope from my ankles. I stretched and held in a hiss of pain as I rolled my ankle.