Blaze
Prologue : Play
I wonder which does the most damage, breathing off of contaminated oxygen or down right scuffing down heavily laced food. If a stale bun and bread can really be considered food at this point.
I sighed, rather melodramatically might I add. I swear, the only entertainment in my current predicament is my frequent in-voice sarcasm that, without a doubt, make the shift guards think I've gone loco when I laugh at the funny thoughts.
Blaze
If only I hadn't helped that blasted drunkard.
Yes, you heard me. I'm in this sticky and yucky situation because of helping a drunkard.
You'd think it's common sense to just avoid people with high alcohol in their system and it's so obvious that they are on great high cloud eleven, stumbling every few seconds like they have a wish to kiss the ground.
And yes, I used the word yucky. What, never heard a twenty-six-year-old adult male use the word yucky before? Hmph!
Ah, aye, why did I act on my idiocy? Must I always randomly act with reckless abandon as if I lack sense?
Another sigh escapes my chipped lips.
My eyes drift back to the piece of bread in the palm of my left hand. I pursed my chipped and bruised lips together, losing appetite.
Having a sudden thought, I trailed my eyes up to the one guard they left guarding my cell. It was a new guy they brought in for the shift. At least, I've never seen him before in the number of weeks I've been sitting in this dump for.
The armor covered majority of the individual, and what it didn't cover a black fabric did. No weapon can be visibly seen, though I knew better that to act arrogant.
Thanks to my, job, my eyes were trained to be sharp and precise in analysis. Breakdown, observation was on of my strong-suits. In the past few nights, I would notice the occasional glint of moonlight beaming off of a sharp metal from the assigned shift guards.
My skills may have leaned largely into technology but they sure as hell didn't risk anything.
All the shift guards posted to my cell were stoic. This one, however, felt a bit different.
Pushing that thought aside for a few minutes, I lifted the piece of bread in my hand and aimed it for the black fabricated part of the individual's neck. Their back was facing me, and yet there was a swift, also invisible, dodge of the head before they were back to being a stone statue.
I waited for a few seconds, processing.
I looked downward towards the sanitary plate on the ground, bread crumbs left on the disposable dishware.
For a few nanoseconds I thought I was hallucinating. No, it wasn't because of how fast my throw was dodged, it was remarkable at the clean clear though, especially since the throw was fast and precise.
The reason I sat there quietly humming with a poker-face after throwing that piece of bread at the guard instead of chuckling and pelting the plate towards his head like I did to the others, was for a different reason.
I knew something differed in the way the vibe radiating off him in waves was deadly tranquil.
When the person slightly turned their head to the right side of their shoulder, I saw electric orange eyes.
And under the eye closest in my view, in a very distinct area near his tear-ducts, I saw the black dot.
One that can be mistaken for a mole.
I started laughing at the irony.
My eyes closed and my hands wrapped around my stomach. The muscles by my mouth aching from the sudden stretch of an all out laugh.
Blaze
Ah, this just keeps getting worse! Finally, something interesting.
I couldn't resist giving him a smirk upon seeing the apparent tell-tale sign of a scowl.
I truly hoped there would be some form of entertainment from this when the time comes for the raid.
Until then, I will bid my time.
One thing is for sure though, I'll have fun with the information and threats from my abductors in the mean-time and then end it all before the big gang get their hands on me for the pricey knowledge on my shoulders.
That mole is barely the exposition of this play.
Both literally and figuratively.
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