AN: Introducing a new character point of view this time. And because i'm a nice person, i'll tell you that there is a whole lot of profanity in this chapter, but its just the way the charcter thinks, so who am i to corrupt the words with a filter (man, i'm talking like he's real). So, without further ado, i bring you all chapter 2.
2
Grimmjow:
My head aches from the bright lights shining across these stark whit walls. My torture, my discontent. They have to be doing this to me on purpose. My wrists itch and I have no way to scratch them. The stitches down my chest are popping and I know that no one is coming around anytime soon with the intention of fixing them back up. The world is full of thousands of douche bags and I was unlucky enough to be caught by a whole organization of them.
"Mr. Jaeggerjaquez, you look uncomfortable."
That voice, I can practically feel its mocking tone running over my skin. That fucker is crazy and he better hope that when I get out I'm too occupied to come kick his sorry ass. Because out if all the jerks in the world, I managed to be captured by this one, one of the biggest assholes in the world.
"Congratulations, Sherlock-fucking-Holmes," I let out just loud enough for him to hear me through the two way intercom system. "Bet ya' think ya' deserve a cookie or somethin' for figuring that on out, huh? But you know, it'd really help my comfort level if you'd unlock my hands."
My captor's acidic laugh rings out through the intercom. "Maybe if you'd play your part in making our experiments easier, I'd think about it."
'Experiments.' That's what the crazy murderer of a scientist called them. I know what playing my part means to him. It means sitting still while the man tries to open me up and rearrange the structure of my internal structures. I'm reluctant enough to participate hen there actually is a surgical procedure that I need done to live and this man expects me to just sit around looking pretty while he pokes and prods away at my organs for kicks and giggles? Fuck no. Not happening. If I'm going down on that lab table, I'm going down with a fight.
I growl lowly, banging my cuffed hands on the wall for effect. "Don't count on it jackass."
This place destroys me. 1 meal a day and 2 bathroom breaks every 24 hours. No bed, all white empty room. They make sure I can't retaliate. State of the arc cuffs stretching from the beginning of my wrists to half way to my elbow, allowing no movement whatsoever in those confined areas. I didn't have enough strength to break out of the restraints when I came in and I still don't. As long as I'm in here, I probably never will collect enough to break them. No physically strenuous work allowed unless I'm being watched as part of 'research'.
So I just sit around all day, not brooding, not being bored. No. I've got plans, big plans. All this time I have, has not gone to waste. An escape plan. I've had more than enough time to perfect it. And today's the day. Today I go rogue. Today…I'm free.
There's a countdown clock in my head that's been in action since I woke up. It brings down the numbers until my plan goes into action. And by action, I mean it counts down the time until I'm allowed to take a piss. No big deal; it's a part of my daily routine and I'm already tuned in on how it's going to go down by now. The guard's gonna stroll in with his big boy toy, the gun, aiming the thing point blank at me as he leads me out my holding cell. Hands still cuffed and gun still pointed at me, he'll allow me to lead the way to the third door on the right, the bathroom. I'll have 5 minutes unwatched to myself, unwatched because the guard has no interest in watching me whip it out and relieve myself. That moment, that short span of 5 minutes, that's it. I either get the fuck out of here or I die trying.
Only 43 minutes left and I can't wipe the smirk off my face. Come 30, and I'm going into my daily bitch fit about every person I've ever ran into. Hitting 15 and I've managed to develop an awful twitch. Striking 5, and I can't sit still from the anticipation. To anyone watching, it looks like I'm in the severe need to take a leak. But to me, myself, and I, the anxiety is getting to me.
Moving close to home and its only 5…4…3…2… The door opens and in walks Mr. Fake Cop himself, the security guard. Sunglasses on, barrel of his gun pointed in my direction, and I instantly know that if I were to try anything suspicious he'd write my name in my own blood over the walls in a second. There's no need for him to tell me to get up, I'm already on my feet before his mouth is even open. My act is on high and I'm more than ready to put this plan into action.
I make my way over to the sliding glass doors that open with a scan of the guard's eye, me leading the way, that gun following close behind me the whole way. One foot, then the other. Door one, two, three, and pause. Another retina scan and we're in for the clear.
Making my way over to the toilet, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the guard is facing away. In all reality, I think that part of his job details him keeping an eye on me 24/7 while I'm under his watch, no matter the activates. Thankfully that is a part of the job that has never been fulfilled. Zipper down I go through all the motions, remembering how my mom always used to remind me to 'go before you go' which was usually followed by an insult to my intelligence. I turn the sink on and wash my hands unnaturally slowly. The guard won't look up until that's done. I pull my hands out of the sink, pushing the old school soap pump in the motion detector's eye.
Hands wiping on my pants, I prepare to meet my fate. Back in school they used to try and call me cat boy. I happened to be born with more, feline like attributes. Nothing inhumane, or even borderline abnormal, but I happen to be quite stealthy, fast, and silent in my motions. Today is the day that cursed alter ego gets put to good use.
I stalk up behind the guard silently, breath held in my mouth. My eyes scan over his body, searching for his most vulnerable open area. He's padded, headed to toe bullet proof except for the one area that can't take the weight. His neck. Carefully, more so than I'm used to ever having to be, I pull my arms up at an angle. One exhale of air and I'm swinging them down, slamming them right into my targeted location. I hear a crunch, the sound of his neck breaking between the combined weight of the cuffs and the force behind the swing. He's completely silent as his body falls to the ground.
2 minutes left. That's all the time I have left to get out of this room, and with this cuffs, my first plan is damn near impossible. I'm riding on the hope that the guard has the key on him. Karma must be a bitch who's still holding a grudge against me because the keys happen to be something that the guard is not in possession of. 1 minute.
I launch into plan B, picking the guarding up in my hand and lifting him up to the eye scan by his face. My pinkie pushes up his eyelid, revealing his retinas to the computer's scanners. Click. The sound of the doors unlocking is louder in my ears than it has ever been before. Shoof. Same goes for those doors sliding open.
I stay out of the hall for exactly 5 seconds, stealing the guard's gun and propping it up in my hands in an awkward position that allows my fingers to reach the trigger. One quick glance down the hall and I take off. Legs are weak under my weight, unused to putting in this amount of speed. Gun heavy in my arms, the limbs unfamiliar with carrying this amount of weight. But I've already put the first domino into play and there's no way I can turn back now. Not that I plan to.
Adrenaline pumps hard and heavy in my veins, senses on high, heart thudding loudly in my ears. I'm free. I'm going. I'm on top of the world. This is really happening. Then Karma must not have gotten enough the first time around, for she strikes again as the alarms go off, signaling my escape. Red lights flash and spin, momentarily illuminating the now dark hallways with methodical red bursts.
Shouting fills my ears, the sound coming closer as I make my way down the halls. The darkness is a handicap to all the guards in this place, even with their night vision glasses. But me, I'm in my element. I was made for the dark. And Karma must be backing off for I can still see in the dark.
Gunshots, loud and booming, fill the halls. One blink and they're there. My feet don't fail me, carrying me away, even as a bullet grazes the skin of my shoulder. The sharp pain fills me with the satisfaction of a good chase. I'm zoning in on the end of this level, a platform balcony surrounded by glass overlooks the ground floor. I could take the stairs but in the time it would take me to get down them, the guards would all be surrounding the area.
Without thinking I throw the gun into the glass cracking it in the center. X. That's my target. One hit there and a whole chunk of that glass will fall out leaving me free to jump through. My hands are empty and there's not enough time for me to pick up another projectile. In a moment of thought, I come to my next split second decision. I'll throw myself.
Picking up speed across the room, I put all my power into pushing off my feet and hurtling my body in the direction of that one spot. I'm a rocket heading for the moon, a dart flying towards the center. Eyes closed tight, hands coming to cover my face and I break through.
Shards of glass erupt all around me, raining down into below. They graze my skin, slicing through it in milliseconds. And for a moment, it kicks in that I'm airborne. I'm a god, falling from the sky, prepared to wreak havoc on all who chose to patronize me in my glory, a bomb falling from the sky to kill everything in my far range. My feet kick out, body rotating to find a point of impact. Adrenaline on high, I miss the moment my body connects with the surface, only collecting the fact that I've managed to roll into a ball and that my body is quaking all over, especially my hands and feet.
I don't move for a moment, and for a second, I honestly don't remember how to. Then I hear the gunshots and I'm on my feet again, pushing out of the room, through the lobby, past the front desk, and crashing through the sliding glass doors before the motion sensors even alert them to open. But I can't stop there. My mind, my body, they're on hyper drive. There is no option of stop. I don't know where I'm going or what place I'm coming from. All I know is that I have to get lost. All I know is that I need to be away.
My feet eventually lose themselves beneath my body weight, dropping me to look up into more bright lights. Artificial? No. It's the sun. Glorious, glorious sun. My whole body aches and the pain lighting up my shoulder is a bitch. And I feel good, no, great, no. I'm high. I'm on top of the world. And if I have my way, I'd never come down.
AN: I love this chapter but i just realized how dumb Grimmjow's escape plan. Kudos to the reader who can figure out the issue that didn't make sense with it. Other than that, I'm really proud of this.
