Rings
Heavy eyelids struggled to peel open as the man's pounding head slowly rose from his chest. The light in the storeroom was dim and, much to his appreciation, easy on his eyes as he glanced around, straining to bring the hazy surroundings into focus. A few hard blinks and he could make out the silhouetted shelves scattered around the room through the dust floating around in the air.
An abandoned warehouse. Good for security. Not necessarily good for an escape plan.
The windows were covered by large boards of plywood, making it so the only sources of light in the room were large hanging lamps. Just outside the circle of light that streamed down from above him, he could make out two men dressed in black combat suits standing with their backs to him, assault rifles strapped over their shoulders at the ready in their hands. They had pistols strapped to the left side of their belts and what appeared to be tasers to their right. Whoever they were, they were dangerous to an unarmed man like himself. It would be a guaranteed fatal mission to attempt escape with them standing guard.
A subtle shifting of his shoulders revealed the presence of zip ties and, upon further investigation, a thin band fitted with a strange device and metal prongs that dug into his wrists. The man recognized the band, and a gentle rub of the metal a small engraving of two letters. The device was his design, which meant he knew exactly what it was capable of. The old fashioned way it is. Carefully, he slid his fingers around the legs of the chair to find something he could use to break free.
His eyes bore into the backs of the men as he cautiously searched for a loose object to use in picking the locking mechanism, making sure the guards showed no signs of being alerted to his conscious state. If only looks could kill, maybe then he could increase his chances of successful escape.
If I wasn't dressed for work I would have the tools I need to get the hell out of this. Damn security never lets me carry my multi-tool.
The sound of a door opening echoed across the open space and sunlight poured over the concrete floor, casting the shadow of a cloaked feminine figure at the guards' feet. The door slid closed as the shadow grew larger, the sound of high heel shoes clicking on the concrete slowly grew louder.
A masked woman stepped around the concrete wall blocking the door and wordlessly waived the two guards to step aside. The men bowed their heads to her before marching in the direction she had entered from.
The stale air suddenly shifted around him. He could feel the power radiating from her as her piercing green eyes observed him from behind the familiar ornate masquerade mask.
Spector. What does she want with little old me?
"Michael the weapon smith," the woman mused. "My, what a catch you are."
"I'm an attorney," Michael grumbled plainly, unamused by her flirtatious introduction. "And a married one at that."
"Right," Spector mused sarcastically as she grabbed his employee ID reel from his hip and examined the thin plastic card. "Do you remember the beautiful knife set you gifted my husband and I for our housewarming gift?"
"I gave you a gift at your wedding." Michael grunted. "Sue me."
Long, scarlet fingernails scraped along the plastic as Spector slid the ID badge into her pocket. "Funny thing about those knives. They have the same unique engraving as that band you're wearing," she removed a small remote from her pocket. "Strange coincidence, no?"
Michael's stoic look never faltered. "That's purely speculation."
"Ever the lawyer," Spector rolled her eyes, "But, if you deny it's yours, then you wouldn't mind if I gave it a little test on you, would you?"
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No One
Action***Very much still a work in progress*** Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! After her father's disappearance, Bella spent years wondering where her father had gone. All she had left of him was the annual training videos she received...
