My blood pressure is through the roof.
My right eye is watery , and its pupil is dilated.
My forehead is soaked in sweat.
My arms are shaking.
My fingertips are moist and stiff.
My feet are cold.
My muscles are rigid.
My ears are red and tender, and my eardrums are still sore from the sound caused by the muzzle retorting and the bullet discharging.
The left half of my face is disabled and inflamed.
I am unable to feel my left cheek or eyebrow.
I hysterically unlock my phone as Brian threatens me with his gun pointed at me.
The air I am breathing feels more toxic than refreshing.
The adrenaline rush is making my hair to stand up.
I barely can see my own keypad with how dark the room is. Not only that, but I am drenched in sweat. There are no air conditioners or even a single fan; as a result, the room is suffocating! On top of that, I am stuck wearing a thick leather coat and stripped boots. If only the weather in Bracnia didn't fluctuate as it did.
The weather was bleak and frosty this morning. In contrast to last week, there was little to no snow, and the remaining sheets of ice covering the streets were thawing as the temperature gradually increased. At noon however, when the temperature reached a warm 20 degrees Celsius, the weather broadcast predicted there would be a plausible blizzard this night.
And here I am a few hours later, injured, half-blind, anxious, wet, AND sticky.
I would rather be in jail than in this torture chamber!
"What are you waiting for?! CALL HIM ALREADY!"
coerces Brian.
He rushes to the spare flashlight and turns it on.
"I SWEAR I am trying! I just need a minute to THINK!" I yell back desperately.
"No, no, NO! I am not going to play this game with you! Do you know how much planing went into this?! Do you realize how much I sacrificed? How much WE sacrificed?! I won't throw all that down the drain! NOT for a spoiled daddy's girl! CALL. HIM."
"spoiled daddy's girl!"
Those words filled me with exasperation, and in a spurt of anger, I turn on Voice Memos, press the SOS button, and spit at him, regardless of the consequences.
"DO YOUR WORST! YOU WON'T GET ANY MONEY FROM ME!" I snarl.
Dismayed, Brian tilted his head in astonishment before swatting me with his gun.
WHACK!
My mouth spewed blood.
I dropped my phone. The screen cracked. Black screen of death.
Perfect.
"AGH! Look what you've done!" angrily shouted Brian.
I snickered, "What Heffley? Gonna cry? May be you should run to mommy and cry for help. Mommy's boy."
"Haha, REAL funny, pufferfish. Should I remind you that I have two bullets left?" he threatened.
"Yeah, but," I raised my arms, "you won't kill me. You are going to need me alive if you will hold me hostage for ransom." I replied.
"True, but when I DO get it, I won't need you anymore." Brian stated.
"So what, then? You're just going to dispose of me? What about your sleeping friend over there?" I turn my face to Franz, who lays unconscious on the floor.
"What did you persuade him with that pushed him to sign up for all this? Was he really planning on killing all of us? Our schoolmates?" I kept pressing.
"LISTEN, HARPIE," Brian said, gripping the pistol's back strap tightly, "I swear, if you ask one more question, I will--"
"What about your BROTHER?" , I interrupted, "He was one of the 5 officers, right? How do you think he will react to all this? What would he say? Do you think he will be proud of you, his brother? A robber, killer, and a school shooter? I refuse to buy it. You aren't doing this for the money. And you aren't doing this for your family either! You are doing this for YOURSELF! Yeah, that's right! Your ENVY is what drove you here. Your JEALOUSY!".
"SHUT UP!" yells Brian.
BAM!
We hear a loud thump at the door.
BANG!
Brian spontaneously reacts by firing another bullet from his pistol at the barred window.
That deafening gunshot sends my sensitive ears into another round of sharp eardrum pain.
I cover my ears and try to collect my breath; instead, I grimace at that instance as I hear an annoying hissing sound similar to that of a teakettle's
"I AM NOT JEALOUS!" Brian shouts. His voice is barely audible to me now, like I am hearing his voice from behind a curtain of television static noise.
"YES YOU DO. It's about time you face reality!" I kept on going, releasing my hands from my ears whilst cutting off Brian.
"You hate me because I came from a wealthy family and was fortunate enough to not suffer a huge loss like you did. From your perspective, I embody everything you wish you had. Everything you blamed yourself and your family and the world for not possessing. For every goal you couldn't succeed in achieving, you made excuses for yourself, and in a pathetic attempt to end this cycle of self-loathing, you framed me and did what you did. Then, you tried to justify it by blaming the world for being unjust and unfair. How absurd! I have never met someone who is so pretentious! No wonder everyone at school called you a bully!"
I thought that the officer or whoever standing on the other side of the door would have found a way in by now.
Is it even the police? Could my SOS have possibly reached an officer that fast, anyway? Or is it somebody else?
Instead, I poured those words out and found myself standing on the thin line between life and death and waiting for anything to happen at any moment. Either Brian would end it right here , or I would be saved.
"I do hate myself for everything I have done." Brian says placidly.
He goes on unperturbed.
"But nothing can change what happened. Fred was right. I am too weak to overcome my cowardice. I can never face Ma shamelessly after this."
He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. I realized what he was going to do. He pointed it towards his head.
"Tell Ma, I'm sorry."
"WAIT!! NO!"
BANG!
I wince and cover my ears a third time.
Flabbergasted, I emptily stare into the puddle of blood where Brian's head lays, and I see my reflection.
I pushed him to do this. Even if he already resolved to do it from the very beginning, I gave him the final push.
I would've to cope with the corollary guilt.
I remove my hands and glance at my palms.
They are full of blood.
I mutter something, but then, my jaw slacks as I am thunderstruck with a horrifying realization:
I couldn't hear the sound of my own voice!
I forget everything around and inside of me, including the ability to swallow my own saliva.
Unable to express my emotions to anyone or myself, both mentally or literally, I lay on my knees, and feel the rhythms of my heartbeat.
I place my fingers on the wooden parquet. I could sense heavy vibrations coming from the door.
I look at the door and feel a lot of vigorous pounding.
Whoever is standing at the other side of that door must be strong: the door's vibrations are so aggressive that he or she is going to literally tear the hinges.
To try and get a better view of my surroundings, I reach for the flashlight beside Brian's body. The protective glass is broken, and the light is constantly flickering.
When I point it around me, I realize that Franz is missing.
At that instant, I raise my eyebrows when out of the blank, Franz covers my mouth and nose with his hands. He throws the flashlight and kicks it.
Franz pulls me by my throat and bends his legs to take a stabbing knife out of his backpack's pocket.
SWISH!
Immediately, the door swings open, and the doorknob breaks.
A hooded figure enters the room. The light behind him encases him in a bright aura like a fallen dark guardian angel from the sky.
The hooded man had a square-shaped body frame and a chiseled muscular physique.
I couldn't make out his facial details because of the bright stinging light and my sore & swollen left eye.
It's as if the sun itself was glaring relentlessly at me directly. My good right eye twitched uncontrollably to.
The mysterious hooded man appeared to say something. I tried to read his lips, but all I could make out was,
"Let go of the girl."
Franz looked like he was yelling, likely cussing or threatening the hooded man with his frankly horrible English in an eccentric German accent.
Franz then points his knife to my throat.
The hooded man raises his arms and walks slowly , taking one step at a time.
Franz moves backwards with me, shouting even harder. I can tell from his gaping jaw beneath the cloth of his mask.
Meanwhile, the hooded man gets closer, close enough to eventually lunge at both me AND Franz together.
Stupefied, Franz loosens his grip over me , and we all fall and hit the parquet with a thud.
The hooded man snatches the knife from Franz while I free myself from Franz's grip.
I roll away from Franz, and the hooded man
proceeds to climb on top of him and beat him up.
Franz scrapes the hooded man's left wrist with the knife. The hooded man retaliates by twisting Franz's wrist. Franz convulses in agony. Ouch, I could even hear the crack from my position.
The hooded man may have broke it.
Blood dripping off his hand, the hooded man
tosses the knife aside, punches Franz in the face with his bare knuckles, and locks Franz's head into place with his left elbow.
He then removes Franz's mask, revealing a frightened, exhausted face with a broken nose and a torn lip.
A as Franz frenetically tries to push the hooded man off of his chest, but his robust size, weight, and strength proved too much for him.
The hooded man knees Franz in the gut.
He chokes and goes into syncope.
The hooded man sighs and takes off his hoodie.
He takes a gander at Brian's body and checks if he is breathing or not.
He then looks at me. I make direct eye to eye contact with him.
His slick hair is wavy and has a smooth black color.
His skin is a golden, tanned color.
His face was shaved and clean, free of any pimples or dimples.
He has but a mole on the side of his chin, a concrete jawline, and briskly eyebrows.
His hazelnut eyes are glowing under the rays of the evening sun.
His hawklike nose isn't intimidating, but it's pointy enough to act as a deterrent for the unfriendly and mischievous.
He looks and plays the type of people who do not mess around.
And judging by his prominent biceps and triceps, which are making clear stretch marks on the gray workout sweater he is wearing, the hooded man is most likely a sports player.
I thank him without knowing if I said it in the right tone and pitch or not.
He then says something in return. I assume he replied,
"You're welcome."
He radiates a stellar smile.
But then he says something else.
Is he trying to tell me his name? Is he asking about my face? the gun? What am I doing here? Are the police coming? Or is he checking to see if I am okay or not.
Ugh, if only that persistent buzzing noise wasn't stuck in my ears! It's hindering my ability to think or communicate.
He widens his eyes in awareness or concern about something.
Suddenly, he grabs my arm and sprints as fast as he can. We zip out of the room.
As it turns out, we were at the rooftops of the same abandoned building I was walking by when I entered the wrong street.
The evening sun is descending towards the horizon and is starting to set, which means that I have been unconscious inside for approximately an hour at most, not as much as I expected.
Though now that I don't have my phone, there's no way of calling back my parents or Fuyu.
Nevertheless, we rush down the staircase, but he stops running while we are roughly halfway down and says something that I am not comprehending.
He puts his finger on his lips as if he is informing to shush and stay quiet.
He crouches and so do I.
We slow down and descend the stairs one step at a time.
We reach the bottom at the alleyway where the dumpster was located. We stick to the brick wall near the staircase and I signal him to tell me why.
He points with his index finger to the taxi cab on the on the other side of the road and jingles his keys.
I mouth an "Oh" as he does that. Although I still didn't grasp why we are sneaking our way out.
I squeeze his shoulder and whisper to him that I am going to get my bag.
Whether he understood me or not, I dashed.
My bag has to be in there.
I need to find it because it has some spare bucks and my credit card that I could use to go back home. In addition, how am I going to pay him? He IS a taxi driver after all.
I look inside the dumpster, and not unexpectedly, the trash's stench is downright awful and ghastly.
I scan it quickly, and my intuition was right on point.
I pull my bag out, and we cross the road.
I see a police car approaching from afar. It's about damn time! 20 whole minutes! Are they serious?!
I thought the whole district was supposed to be overrun with police!
Anyhow, we run to the taxi. I put my bag in the trunk, and he starts the engine.
He drives for 4 minutes until we reach another (you guessed it!) narrow alleyway. I don't think I will ever view them the same way anymore.
He parks the taxi and shuts the engine.
Then, I remember that I didn't bother to tell him my name nor asked him about his. So I take out an empty sheet of paper from my Chemistry notebook and hand him a pen.
He takes 2 minutes to write a whole essay on the paper.
"I'm Zarco, and you? I was giving a customer a ride to this neighborhood and show him around. On my way back, I heard a loud BANG, so I hid. Unintentionally, I dozed off. When I woke up, I saw two people wearing masks and fully black clothes acting suspiciously on the rooftop. Out of curiosity & concern, I climbed up the staircase and decided to investigate. When I got closer, I heard a lotta yelling and knew something was up. Are you okay? Your face is pretty messed up. After what happened, I suppose we are heading to the hospital first?"
I look at him, bone-weary and ready to drop,
"I am Harper. Nice to meet you. The buzzing in my ears doesn't want to stop. And all that running is making me feel like I want to~"
Blackout.
(Omniscient P.O.V)
SETTING : RESEARCH LAB NO.3193
TIME : Saturday September 3rd
Dr.Oscar is arguing with his nephew on the phone.
"I AM WARNING YOU, STAY OFF THE STREETS! It's too dangerous—!" he coughs.
"Damn it, why do you fail so terribly at following simple instructions! SIMPLE! Use common sense, BOY! If you want to livc, DON'T LEAVE until the police—?"
Agent Viper enters the lab.
Caught off-guard, Oscar informs his nephew,
"I will talk to you later. Bye."
He turns to the Agent. His hand shakes uncontrollably.
"Augh." he grumbles as his phone falls from his hand.
Oscar picks it up.
"Hmm, talking to a friend?" says Agent Viper. "Or family, perhaps?"
"It's none of your concern." replies Oscar, not having any of it.
"Haven't you seen the news lately? If my presumptions are accurate, the hospital bombing has to do with you or your pals. And if that's the case, then what's up with the formalities, eh? Shouldn't have X-Vision ordered you to stay out of sight? But why are you still here?"
Agent Viper nods in agreement and claps,
"Well done, doctor. You caught us red-handed in the act. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be approaching you directly after I already did last time; however, today is an exception. Because unlike the family business that you are keeping me away from, the hospital bombing is of your concern."
"Oh yeah? MY concern?" murmurs Oscar. He coughs again. He gets another cigarette and lights it on.
"And why is that exactly? Haven't you already told me what you needed me to do for you? What does this have to do with—"
"Affirmative." interrupts Agent Viper, "Allow me to elucidate this for you. Agent Cyclops, who was inherently responsible for the hospital 'bombing', tragically died at the hands a kinetic phaser that he was hunting for sometime now."
"A what? KINETIC PHASER? Impossible!" Oscar says, visibly bewildered.
"No phasers exist outside of this facility!" coughs Oscar. He puffs another cigarette.
"You have been living under a rock, Doctor. A new generation of phasers has been introduced to our world. Over the course of the last few months, we have been ordered to hunt them all. To do so, each Oni Agent has been fitted with the adequate technology to counter and neutralize the abilities of the phasers we are instructed to capture. One of those technologies included this."
Agent Viper brings a circular hologram projector from his pocket. He turns it on. Agent Cyclops's visors come into view.
"Do you recognize these, Doctor?"
Oscar widens his eyes. He adjusts his glasses in disbelief.
"Those visors... they're—"
"Your designs," continues Agent Viper, "the same ones you worked on with Commander Cadeus Cain decades ago. May his soul find peace."
Oscar's face goes pale.
"I was not aware you were in possession of my designs." spoke Oscar, meekly.
"Always have been, Oscar. However, that design, as impressively unique as it was, it was plaqued by its impracticality and the sever damage it inflicts on the user's eyes. In other words, it's frail and flawed. Which brings me to the point behind today's visit, how IS Subject K.E. 417 progressing?"
Oscar clears his throat.
"Subject 417 went through a septic shock due to necrosis of the tissue. Thankfully, we were able to remove the necrotic tissue and revive the subject. His health is improving, and at the current rate of his cellular regeneration, he should be ready to undergo more genetic testing and further injections."
"Good," replies Agent Viper, "my higher-ups are expecting results in the coming days. Continue with due diligence, doc, for if we perceive a drop in quality beyond what we have seen with Agent Cyclops, you may never see your nephew again." says Agent Viper.
Oscar sweats nervously.
"Finally, from now on, you will be reporting your daily progress on Subject 417 to Agent Vermillion. Good luck, and till next time we meet, Oscar." says Agent Viper.
He leaves the lab.
Oscar frees the tight button on his collar as he chokes on his cigar.
END OF SCENE