Snippet #2537758

Tristan Aeol
May 15, 2014
2:46 AM
Hong Kong

Cantonese buzzed around him, only a few words jumping out at him.

If only they were speaking Mandarin.

He couldn't see, a bag over his eyes. He was on his knees, wrists bound in zip ties that dug into his skin. Ankles too. His head swam from the discomfort and what he could only assume was drugs that they had someone stuck him with. He had felt the needle after they'd jumped him on his way back to the hostel.

A rough hand grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet. He imagined what it must have looked like...a small Chinese gangster dragging a 6 foot 2 foreigner to standing position and then making him walk in small, baby footsteps. The sight could have made him laugh.

He'd always had a strange sense of humor.

He was only assuming they were gangsters, although he was certain he wasn't far off. Judging from the words he could understand, he figured that it was a group of Triads who had caught him. For what, he didn't know. Extortion, maybe? A kidnapping plot? If that was so, then he was more famous than he'd thought.

More likely it was for organs. Unless they were hoping to sell him into the sex trade. That really would make him laugh. Although perhaps he should feel flattered. He'd never thought others would find him that attractive.

He was forced into a chair, zipties still on. Bad thoughts and memories filled his mind, but he pushed them back. Not now. He needed to think. The chair reclined, and when they finally pulled the bag off, a bright light glared down at him.

He shut his eyes immediately, but gloved fingers pulled his eyelids apart, and a crude imitation of a surgeon examined him, mint colored mask stinking of cigarettes and alcohol.

Great. A drunk operation.

The hands pulled at his other eye next, before running through his hair and gripping his chin, forcing his mouth open and touching his teeth.

He'd always had nice teeth.

"Talk," the 'doctor' instructed in heavily accented English. Tristan just stared at him through half-lidded eyes, his default expression. Side chatter, and then more prodding. "Speak. American, right?"

More staring. There was some laughter, and one of them made a joke that Tristan could understand, and he swallowed dryly.

If he didn't talk, perhaps he also wouldn't scream?

He needed to get out of here. But craning his neck around revealed 360 degrees of gun toting Chinese mafia. Fat chance of that...
He'd need a better plan than just running for it.

Cold metal slid between his wrists, and his zipties were cut. A possible opening there. His ankles were still tied, but maybe...

Hands grabbed both wrists simultaneously, forcing them against the arms of the chair. He felt cold metal...handcuffs.

It was then that he really started to panic.

He struggled, kicking both legs out, trying to pull his arms out, eyes widened, the whites betraying his fear. Anything but this. It was too close. Too close.

He was easily overpowered, hyperventilating when they finally got him bound. No, no, this can't be happening. A plan. He needed a plan.

He bit at the doctor's fingers when they reached into his mouth again. He missed, and was rewarded with a hard slap to the face and angry Chinese. Too close. It was too close.

"Play nice, or die," the voice warned, and hands forced his mouth open.

Why was this happening to him? Hadn't he already gone through enough crap in his life? Weren't the powers at be finished with him? Why this? Why now? Everything was just getting back to normal...

He wanted out. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be everywhere but here. A drill buzzed, and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to reach out and stop it...

He blanked out, but didn't. He imagined himself exploding, the drill jammed, and then thrown back, into the doctor's face. He sliced through the gangsters, poked their eyes out, smashed their teeth in, stomped on their knees, pried apart the handcuffs and then used them to strangle anyone in his way.

When he opened his eyes the light flickered. He was still on the chair, but his wrists were freed, along with his ankles. It wasn't until he stood up, bare feet feeling hot liquid on the floor, when he looked around, horrified at the blood bath he saw, that he realized the dream he'd had was real. That somehow, he had caused all this.

He threw up on the spot.