Fio Enyer sat on the ground, having tried unsuccessfully to eat the stale bread left for him. He was gathering intel about the room around him, trying to piece some of this mystery together.
Briefly, he tried to think back and remember who he had thoroughly pissed off enough that would come after him in such an elaborate revenge scheme, but he could only narrow the list to a few people…or four dozen or so. When you took work with a mercenary firm that liked dipping its toes in contract kills in mafia wars, some very stereotypical gangster types took notice.
As the woman stood in the center of the room and raised her voice, announcing that there was only six minutes to escape, Fio felt his blood turn to ice as adrenaline spiked through his system. There were two ways you could fight, a drill instructor in the Marines once told him, Ice Cold or Red Hot. Always be the former.
The electronic lock next to his head beeped, and since he was leaning against the cage door, it swung open before he could pull himself away, sending the young mercenary falling to the ground, landing with a thud.
Well, he never said any about being graceful and ice cold, Fio chided himself as he lay on the ground facing the ceiling. But jokes weren’t going to help here. He pushed himself up, and stood in what felt like the first time in ages, grimacing as his spine popped.
As the crowd around him began exiting their cages, Fio ignored modesty for practicality, and he ripped through the hospital gown and quickly donned his civilian clothes that were waiting for him on the table. He looked around the room, searching for something he could improvise as a weapon. The woman earlier had mentioned guards; Fio was more the long-range type of soldier, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight hand-to-hand; he just was rusty at it.
There was a scalpel on the medical cart nearest his cage, he grabbed at it. It was something, but a glow from a few feet away from him caused Fio’s brain to change gears without using the clutch. A girl in her late teens was concentrating deeply, eyes scrawled shut as a piece of wood in her hand was changing shape. Wood can’t do that his rational mind screamed, but his soldier training took over and instinctively caused him to back away a few steps taking a fighting stance.
Forcing his fear back down, Fio stammered out, “How….how are you doing that?”
"Revenge is best served a la mode." - Me