“I’ll make you a deal — let me go now and I won’t return later to kill every last one of you.” It had been a case of mistaken identity anyway, as they’d assumed he was a vampire kingpin, not a zombie one, so he was willing to forgive and forget at the moment. “I don’t get into their politics. I have no information you’d be interested in unless you’re doing a study on just how kinky vamp ladies can get in the bedroom. Excellent stuff, but nothing worth chaining me up for,” he added as he pulled on the thick metal bindings on his wrists. “Nothing worth dying for.”
At that, his captors stepped away to talk amongst themselves a few minutes, leaving him to glance around the room, figuring out an escape plan. They were in a basement, but he was sure he could fit through one of the small windows leading outside. Eyes searching, he noticed one of them was even halfway open already. If on the slight chance Don E. noticed he was missing and used the tracker to find him, he could get in easily. But something told him that would not be happening. His lock picking tools were hidden on him, and if they would just leave him alone long enough, he could spring himself out of the cuffs, he was sure.
It wasn’t long before they returned to stand before him, and after explaining that Blaine had to have had some sort of useful info for them, one of them pulled out a taser baton. As it crackled and popped near him, eyes narrowed in defiance. “So, you've chosen death. My partner is going to be here any minute to tear this whole place apart, including you.” Spoiler alert: Don E. was currently snoring in his cozy warm bed. Adrenaline flowed at the thought of the incoming torture, causing eyes to take on a familiar ruby glow while skin lightened even further. In an effort to intimidate, loud growls and other savage, animal-like noises emanated from his throat as he was poised to strike if the guy dared to inch closer. “You ruin my shirt, I’ll ruin your face.” Well, it was one of his favorite shirts.
@selfcritic // harley // plotted
