Oh wow, thank you everyone for such wonderful reviews for the last story; it really surprised me and pleased me that you liked the ending!
So here is the new story- it's something a bit different than I usually write and my first attempt at thriller so go easy on me :p
Prologue
The clouds spelled trouble for Troy Bolton.
The dark underbellies of the threatening mass itched with their longing to release their load as they pushed by, plodding with unease.
The wind had picked up and he could smell the threat of rain as his skin crawled with the compounding heat, a heat that seemed to seal him into the cement pipe where he was hiding.
He didn't even know pipes came big enough to hold a human, but the circular bridge under and over him was a grateful resting place as the breeze whipped into the edges, creating echoey sucking sounds that made him shudder.
He didn't want to be out here when the storm hit. He didn't want to hear the thunderous bellows bouncing off the cold walls around him, unsettling him further. And he most definitely did not want to be wet through for the rest of his journey.
Still, he had yet to rid his tainted clothing and steal a new set to shield him from recognition. His hair was grown where it had once been short and neat. His tell-tale blue eyes were drowned by his fringe and if that wasn't enough, he'd changed his appearance too. No longer was he the gym-toned lean but slim guy that everybody once knew. No longer did he clean his nails and moisturise his skin and make sure his hands were smooth enough to run over a woman's skin without snagging.
Now he was a muscled machine, bulked and filled out- manlier than anyone could imagine. His hands were roughened, calloused-and not fit for any woman, he mused. He'd worked hard. Day and night. He'd kept his head down, done everything they had asked and he'd even taken a few beatings to become what he was today.
It hadn't been easy, it hadn't been enjoyable even, but he had been forced into this position and at the time he hadn't been willing to get out of it without gaining what he needed to survive.
His whole life depended on it. Without those fist-fights, without the endless days in his cell to work on his now-solid body, he wouldn't be crouching here deciding where in the world to go.
His old spirit had been driven away and a new Troy Bolton resided inside his body. One who wouldn't be crushed. One who wouldn't be held.
Troy Bolton had escaped.
And he had the strong bitter taste of revenge in his mouth as the fat rainfall pattered outside his shelter.
He just hoped the sheets of rebounding water wouldn't hold him for long. He had things to do. People to see.
Payback to deliver.