Damien

“Where am I?” I asked myself. Ripping off the sleeping vital, I woke up to a bright light and a steel ceiling. One look told me everything I need: I was trapped in a cage. An actual cage, like the ones in prison.

Around me, the room was painted a sickish yellow. If you re-painted it, and added some sprinkles, then it would have made a nice bedroom for a kid. Instead, it looked perfect for a criminal who wanted to question their hostages. Blood splattered everywhere, it nearly wanted me to throw up my cream cheese bagel, the only thing I had today before I ran for school.

Ohhhh, school.

My parents weren’t too strict, except when it came to school.

They had the biggest dream that their only child would be a successful doctor. Like that would ever happen.

My parents also never wanted me to miss school. If I could stand up, not be contagious, and could write a paper, then I had to go to school.

Not that I mind, I got to prank kids and teachers to my heart’s content. They were my guinea pigs for every new gag.

I wonder how I’m going to explain this when I get back.

If I get back.

Let’s not think about that.

There was a single door near the front of the cage, but it had locks around every corner. Love locks, steel locks, graffiti locks, you name it, it’s there.

There was only one person who’s subhuman enough to put anyone in a cage.

“Skylock,” I muttered under my breath.

General Skylock, the enemy of ANW. He’s one of the biggest criminal empires, stealing over $2 billion dollars in cash. Clara’s mom has been trying to catch him for 5 years, ever since he started, but she’s had no luck. He’s way too powerful. Him and his inhuman army has been wiping assassin tribes everywhere, and we were one of the lucky ones to survive.

Yep there are tribes everywhere.

Assassins like us were around the world, some protecting, others.. not so much.

Those were the ones we were in charge to wipe out.

We’re in charge to make the world a better place.

For others, that means not to bully people.

For us, that means to kill the bad people.

Get the idea?

Just at that moment, Skylock came in, as if he heard me saying his name.

He sits down on a bucket and spits right near where I was. He wore a leather jacket that had reddish and blackish stains, had on a pair of black beaten up sunglasses, and was sucking on a lollipop.

“Damien, just the boy I want to see,” he spat out, his face curling into a some what smile. He walked around me like a tiger about to capture its prey.

Nobody knew how Skylock came to be, unlike all the psychopaths we’ve faced before, who had at least a reason for attacking.

They weren’t very good ones. Mostly you have your usual revenge, but then you have some crazy ones.

Skylock worked in the shadows, and rumor has it that he was once an ANW assassin, but he turned evil later on.

“For years I’ve been dreaming about this day to come,” Skylock swooned, clapping his arms like an angel.

I snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Skylock snarled, apparently remembering I was in the room.

“Well, if your dream day included about 500 blood stains, a 100-year-old jacket, and capturing the sole idiot of ANW, then I’m guessing you’re right,” I spoke, counting as I went along.

“You idiot!” Skylock growled, “You don’t service any purpose other than being the bait. Once your friends realize that their precious Damien Richards is being held in Skylock’s arena, they’ll walk right in my trap.”

He pulled a grubby black book labeled, “Friendship Explained by Criminals to Criminals,” by Ivanna B Krul.

I really wonder who was stupid enough to write that.

You can’t explains friendship. It just comes naturally.

Letting out a feeble laugh, I groaned.

There was one little problem with his other than amazing plan.

“There’s no way they even know where I am,” I replied back.

Skylock pulled out a phone in response. He started to read out loud as he was typing.

“Dear Mrs. Rachel Lemondola, we have your friend’s son. Surender ANW or watch him die in two days. Signed, a friend,” Skylock mocked. Now let’s see the famous Clara Lemondola and her mother come and save you.”

I jerked my head at that.

“Clara? Why her? How do you even know her real name?” I exclaimed.

“You don’t know?” Skylock said cautiously. “Well, if I recall, she is your worst enemy, (he stopped, then smiled again, just slyer) and... your best friend.”

“What! I... I mean she would never be C, she’s…Clara!”

“Well, I found this on the floor,” Skylock spoke.

He popped out a small card. I gasped.

Next Chapter: Chapter 6: My Mind Recommends a Plastic Surgeon to a Criminal