Chapter 4: Save Yourself

(Warrick)

"Hello, Mr. Brown, and welcome to your nightmare. Three hours ago, you were brought here to be prepared for your game, and now is the time to play. Your objective is simple: survive. All you need to do that is to atone for your sins. You're supposed to be a man of th law, and while you have done your duty to put criminals away, you have been responsible for innocent lives being ruined. You have but one task to complete to redeem yourself. All you need to do is leave this room. The path, however, is treacherous, so watch your step."

The tape ended five minutes ago, in which Warrick was able to ascertain the situation and his surroundings…kind of. The room was pitch-black, and the only light was a small, blinking red light associated with security cameras. He was forced to inch around the room, arms blindly sweeping in front of him to locate the door to his freedom. He bumped into a wall, which gave him a small, electric shock.

"Ow! Son of a…" he trailed off, mumbling under his breath. He turned around and started walking back the way he thought he came and tripped, his hand burning as something impaled it. He cursed and gingerly felt the object protruding from his left hand. It felt like a blade, possibly a steak knife or a close relative. He braced himself and pulled it out, yelping in pain. He tossed the knife aside and felt around the floor, stopping as he felt many more knives sticking up from the ground. He slowly crawled around them, bumping into the electrified walls again.

"Son of a bitch!" he muttered, stopping to catch his breath.

He continued crawling around, being extremely cautious about where he placed his hands. His eyes started to adjust in the zero-light environment, not that it helped; he still couldn't see a damn thing.

He froze as he thought he heard something outside, but dismissed it as over-active imagination. He had called out for help for nearly five minutes when he first woke up in wherever the hell he was. He heard a violent, metal-on-metal 'clamp' behind him and recognized the sound as a bear trap.

'Must've nudged it the wrong way with my foot.' he thought, getting antsy at the thought at how close he was to losing a foot. One false move could either kill him, or leave him too injured to continue out of the room.

He exhaled loudly and crawled forward in a mocking sort of arm-limp because of his left hand. A whirring sound traveled through the door and he could see a sliver of light appear under a door. Now knowing he was going in the wrong direction, he turned around (cautiously) and moved toward the sliver of light. After several near-misses with some more knives and bear traps, he reached the door, laughing in relief as he stood and grabbed the handle. His laugh was cut short as the door mysteriously swung open, as did his mouth. Ahead of him were two hallways, each leading a different way, and each decorated with spray-painted question marks.

He looked to his left and saw only a wall. To his right was another hall, with a box on a chair at its entrance. As he approached the chair, he ripped a strip of his shirt off to make a makeshift bandage for his hand. He spotted another camera pointing at the box and gave it the finger as he approached the box. Inside was a note saying 'reward', and a flashlight. He grabbed the light and went back to the room he had escaped, wanting to know what he had been up against. Illuminated by the path of light, several knives glistened in the floor. Steak knives, butter knives, meat cleavers, butcher knives…not to mention the bear traps, mouse traps, joy buzzers, and syringes. Thin wires ran along the walls, humming with electricity. As Warrick kneeled down to look at the floor, he noticed that the knives and syringes were held in place by duct tape.

He turned around and decided to head down the hall that gave him his 'reward'. He checked out every door he passed, all of which revealed an empty room, or was locked. After trying to kick down some of the doors, and failing every time, he gave up. They must've been reinforced.

At every turn he made, he noticed another camera watching him, which deeply unsettled him. He soon got to a dead end, and was forced to go back the way he came. When he did, he took mental notes in his surroundings. Based on the condition of the building, it was very old, and had been abandoned for quite some time, maybe two years.

He was soon faced with the two question marked halls again. Looking between the two, he chose to go down the first one. Walking for what seemed like an hour, he reached a much larger room, almost like a garage of some sort. He took notice of the three cameras surveying the room as he looked around. Below each camera, painted on the floor, were arrows; and next to each arrow was someone's credentials. He quickly snatched up the one closest to him and opened it, feeling his stomach drop as he looked at Catherine's ID. He looked down the hall the arrow pointed at and saw several rooms. He ran forward to the closest door.

"Catherine! Catherine, can you hear me?" he yelled through the door. He opened it and found it was empty, immediately moving to the other door. He opened it and could barely make out a figure in the dark room.

"Catherine?" he whispered, turning on the light. She was unconscious, lying on the floor, bleeding from many puncture marks. He knelt down next to her and gently tapped her cheek, trying to rouse her. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, which wasn't a good sign.

"Catherine, please wake up." he spoke, tearing up. As he looked around for something, anything, to stop the bleeding, he spotted five bloody rebars in a macabre criss-cross pile within arm's reach. He looked over Catherine's body and counted five impalement marks: left shoulder, eft frearm, right side, and both thighs.

"What did they do to you?" he asked softly, stroking her cheek. She stirred and flinched away, her eyes fluttering open.

"Cath, hey, you with me?" he asked, feeling his heart start to pound more.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm okay." she said, blinking rapidly.

"Come on, let's sit you up." he said, dragging her towards a wall. She moaned at the sudden movement, and he apologized for causing her pain.

"How bad am I?" she asked, her hair falling in her face.

"You're fine. I've seen worse injuries from a pencil." he reassured, forcing a small smile.

She laughed, which turned into a hacking cough. "Oh, Warrick," she moaned, setting her head back against the wall. "Even in this mess, you still manage to make me smile."

He looked over her wounds again, noticing the blood was clotting. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Lightheaded…a little nauseous. Which I guess isn't bad considering I just pulled five spikes from my body." she replied.

"Do you think you can stand?" he asked.

"Yeah, just help me up." she said, a little too weakly for his liking. He helped her and she noticed his hand. "You're bleeding."

"It's just a scratch." he said, slowly hauling her to her feet.

"Shirt's soaked through." she noticed.

"It's nothing. Paper cut compared to what you got." he said, reaching the halfway point to the door. After a couple minutes, they reached the large room with the two remaining ID's.

"What is this?" Catherine asked, looking around.

"I'm not sure. Wait here, and I'll get the others out." he said, gently setting her down. He returned to the room where Catherine suffered unimaginable pain and grabbed one of the rebars.

'Never know what can come in handy.' he thought, being smart.

He went to the next closest hallway and looked at the ID.

"Nick!" he yelled, dropping the credentials as he ran. He got to a single door, faintly aware of a hissing sound as he practically ripped the door open. His eyes locked on to the sight of his best friend, strapped down inside a glass box as all kinds of bugs crawled and slithered and flew around the room.