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Chapter 3 - Elevator Music and speeding SUVs

John hadn't enjoyed the crappy elevator music the first time and certainly didn't appreciate it the second. As far as he was concerned, Christmas music should be burned and its ashes launched into a black hole. But sadly, few would agree. The lobby had been empty and he'd been able to stroll in without any problems. The Glock G43 dug into his thigh and his hands still being slightly greasy only added to his discomfort. The elevator bell rang and the doors opened, revealing the badly decorated hall. John walked out and turned left, his eyes falling onto a certain black door.

Laurence was having a panic attack. A few moments ago he'd discovered he was now in possession of several kilograms of crystal meth, a payload someone would definitely visit him to get back. "Come on, think, how do I get out of this.", mumbled Laurence as ice-cold fear ran through his veins. His breathing became erratic and his vision was blurring. He crumpled onto the floor like a puppet whose strings were cut and blankly stared at his roof. He was screwed. Going to the cops with this much meth and the explanation, "Someone delivered it to my flat, " would land him in a cell for a bit. Laurence wouldn't last seven hours in a jail cell. Running away to his parents would have been an option if he had any money to survive the trip. Call his landlord? Sugon would think he was high and call the cops, leading to an awkward situation as he would be caught red-handed in possession of controlled substances.

Laurence heard footsteps as he lay on the floor. A flush of adrenaline poured through him, giving him the strength to get back on his feet and run to the nearest window. An excellent plan if one didn't consider that he was 30 feet above the ground and his apartment didn't have any large windows. Laurence bolted into the Kitchen, climbed onto his shelf, and fumbled with the window handle. He heard metallic clicks coming from his door and fumbled faster. He figured out the mechanism and pushed inwards. He felt the tension holding the window close dissipate and pulled. The fresh breeze of chilly night wind almost made Laurence cry in relief. The relief was dashed to pieces as Laurence heard his door open.

Picking the lock was easy for a man of John's experience. The lock itself was basic enough to be unlocked in less than a minute. The lock came undone, and John entered the dark, freezing, stale apartment. John glanced around the apartment for signs of life. The payload lay on a coffee table with exceptional wood varnish. The cheap furniture surrounding it made it look out of place. John heard scratching coming from a dark doorway opposite the coffee table and took out the Glock. He disarmed safety as he cautiously approached the doorway. He heard rushed and panicked breathing and knew he'd located the NEET. John rushed into the dark doorway while aiming the gun forward.

Laurence, to his dismay, had found that although his head and torso had passed in, his hips were too large to exit the window. To make things worse, he was now half hanging out of a window 30 feet high, with hard asphalt staring back at him from the ground. Laurence tried pushing himself back in but found himself unable to exert the necessary force. Dangling from a small window, Laurence decided that dying by fall damage wasn't for him and started screaming for help. He felt the tightness around his hips loosen a bit and held out hope that he would get back in. The exact opposite happened, his hips passed through and Laurence slipped out.

John entered the doorway to find a peculiar sight. The skinny NEET was half jammed into a window and was screaming for help. John crept closer and saw the shelf that the NEET had used to climb to the window. As John made sense of the strange sight in front of him, all the screaming and squirming finally made some headway and the NEET started slipping out of the window completely. John's reflexes acted in advance and grabbed onto the NEET's feet just in time.

John pulled the NEET back into the building and set him down on the floor. Laurence himself had passed out from the stress of the situation and was unaware of any of this. John took a better look at the NEET. Messy wild hair that hadn't seen a hairbrush in at least a year, pale dry skin, and wisps of half-formed facial hair seemed regular enough for the stereotypical NEET, a profile that John decided perfectly fit the unconscious badly dressed man he'd just saved. The pale yellow and green yarn was not a good matchup. Unwilling to do nothing while waiting for the NEET to wake up, John walked out of the doorway and fumbled for a light switch.

He got lucky as his hands felt one which he turned on. John's dark eyes adjusted quickly to the light and lo and behold, a dump. The darkness hid the utter mess that the apartment was. Two unemptied trashcans were arrayed on each side of the checkered couch, filled with snacks and tissues. The "TV" sat on a pillar of shoe boxes and was actually a monitor from a Chinese company he'd never heard of. A play station was placed next to it along with a stack of empty pizza boxes. The paper on the coffee table was a bank statement; looking at it, the man was broke. Further inspection of the flat reinforced John's view of the man.

John walked back to the doorway and opened the light switch there. He realized that it was a makeshift kitchen and decided to check on the NEET. The NEET was peacefully unconscious without a care in the world. John checked his CASIO watch as he planned his next move. It was an hour and a half past midnight. Avencourt might have a vibrant nightlife, but all the screaming would attract attention. It was best if he made a quiet exit before anything unexpected happened. The loose end that was below him needed to be taken care of though. John sighed and kicked the NEET in the gut.

Laurence woke up to searing pain in his stomach. Grogginess clouded his mind as he curled up defensively. Memories of what happened before he passed out rushed into his mind. He should have been dead. "Get up slowly, hands behind your back." said a gruff voice. Laurence clutched his right kidney and looked up at his assailant. It was the Hitler LARPer. "Wait, please I didn't see anything please.", said Laurence at rapid speed as he once again curled up. Laurence got another kick. Laurence let out a moan as his eyes teared up.

"Get up slowly, keep your hands behind your back, and shut up." said the Hitler LARPer. The pain faded a bit and Laurence complied. He managed to get back onto his feet with some stumbling and continued clutching his stomach. "Good, now hands behind your back." said the LARPer. Laurence saw the gun in the man's pocket. He clasped his hands behind his back and stayed still. John stood behind him and took a zip tie out of his jacket's pocket. Laurence whimpered as he felt the zip tie tighten. "Now, start walking to the door." said the LARPer. Laurence heard the man pull something out and nearly had his knees buckle as he felt a small rectangular piece of metal poke into his lower back. "Start walking, don't scream or call for help." directed the LARPER while poking the Glock harder. Laurence started walking.

"That's it, one step at a time." encouraged his captor. Laurence made his way to the black door, brainstorming any way to get out of this. Laurence stopped at the door and waited for further directions. Instead, the gun came off his back. "Wait here." said the LARPER before backing off and moving to the coffee table. Laurence remained still, unwilling to be shot. The gunpoint returned and Laurence immediately fixed his posture. "Now open the door, walk five steps outside, and stay there." said the LARPer. Laurence once again followed his directions.

This continued on and on till they entered the Elevator. The Elevator mirror showed the LARPer standing next to Laurence with the package in his free hand. Having decided now would be the best time to plead for his life, Laurence mumbled promises to the man that he'd never tell anyone what happened to the man. The LARPer ignored him and instead glared at the sound speakers. Laurence felt a kinship with the man, as he too hated Christmas music. For a few moments, there was peace between the two men, the tension missing. Then the elevator bell rang and the doors opened into the Lobby.

The Glock in the man's hand returned to his pocket as he gestured for Laurence to get out. Laurence peaked his head out of the Elevator doors frame, checking to see if Fred was at the reception. As always, Fred wasn't there. It was a long shot to hope Sugon's nephew would do the job he was paid to do. "Anyone there?" asked Laurence's kidnapper. Laurence looked back at the man and made eye contact. The man's cold, dark, and soulless eyes stared back at him. Laurence shook his head and looked at the floor. Laurence walked out and exited the building, trying to look as normal as possible while looking for people that could help him.

The red lobby carpets turned to black asphalt as the cold air embraced them. The street lights were still on, but the road was deserted. John placed his hand on Laurence's shoulder and guided him to where he parked his car while glancing from side to side. He'd strategically placed himself so that if security footage was played, the zip tie wouldn't show. The NEET's eyes were darting around the place. John tightened his grip on Laurence's shoulder as he felt Laurence tense. They crossed the street and arrived at the empty plot the Honda Civic was parked. Before John could push Laurence to the Honda, a metallic screech echoed through the street. Both men froze as bright headlights appeared from the opposite end of the road.

A large SUV was speeding toward them. Laurence and John dashed towards the Honda as the SUV continued to swerve towards them. Laurence screamed as the car just barely missed both of them, swerving to the end of the empty ground. Laurence tripped on a rock and fell face-first into the sand and gravel. Laurence felt a sharp pain in his heart as breathing became more difficult. John knelt beside Laurence and realized he was having a panic attack. "Breathe in and out, just keep breathing and look at me, look at me, and don't look away." drilled John as he repeated it over and over again while placing his right hand on Laurence's chest.

To his surprise, Laurence felt the pressure disappear as his breathing returned to normal. "Better?" asked John stiffly. Laurence nodded weakly before going limp, trying to rest a bit. "Get up, and into the car.", said John, ruining Laurence's plans to fall asleep on the empty plot. Luckily for Laurence, John helped him up while juggling the package with his left hand. Before he knew it, he was seated in the passenger seat of the Honda Civic with a seat belt over him. The car smelled of middle eastern street food and mint. He dazedly watched his surroundings change as the car entered the road before realizing that he was in a car with a drug dealer with a gun.