Do You Really Think I can be Held Back for Long?

Featured Item: GizzA – North Asymmetric Tunic (Store)

The regular, mechanical sounds of the giant clock work mechanism was like the sound of some vast mechanical life form, thrumming in metronomic precision and regularity that filled the chamber with its vast ‘tock.. Tock… tock.. Tock..” sounds. But it wasn’t deafening. It was regular, and precise, and almost soothing, in its own way.

But the sounds of the ancient clock were only a background to the drama that was unfolding, as Mr Pratt gave the prisoner a long and steady look. “You will give us what we want. You are not so smug as to think you can hold out against what we have in store for you?”

The tall older man was standing over a younger man, who had cuffs on his wrists, and was sat in a chair in front of him.

The man in the chair was young and edgy, with layered hair that was cut to let the fringe cover his face if he wanted it too. The young man in the chair, Yarryl, held his head slightly forward, and the fringe and bangs covered one of his eyes, and part of the other. But he could see well enough.

Yarryl was probably 20, if that, and he was lean and wiry, wearing a long black coat that came down to his knees. It was a rather modern design, using slick looking materials that were woven and it zipped down the front. A chevron necklace hung around his neck and was displayed at his throat, as if someone had pulled it from inside his shirt to look at it. Strange manacles were cuffing his wrists together, and he sat in the clock tower chamber, as if he were some prisoner of time.

That made him smile. “A prisoner of Time, “ he said aloud.

Mr Pratt, a tall, thin faced man, nearly 2 meters tall, and in his early 50s, with salt-pepper beard and hair that was close cropped and thinning, stood in judgement over the younger man. He had a goatee, mustache, and beard that swept up to his sideburns and gave his face more definition, than, Yarryl suspected, he might enjoy otherwise. The old man might have a babyface beneath all that facial fur.

“What do you mean, ‘Prisoner.. Of Time’.. Oh.. the clock.. How droll you are, young man.” Mr Pratt said with a shake of his head and the ghost of a smile drifting over his lips. “Your humor is not entirely wasted, though it would seem rather futile at this point.”

The older man was wearing a black business suit, with a crisp white button down dress shirt and a red power tie underneath. His suit coat was unbuttoned down the middle, and he was wearing shiny patent leather boots. “I don’t think you will be laughing once the authorities get here, and you are formally charged with industrial espionage, murder, and theft of state secrets. “

“State secrets, “ Yarryl said, as he glanced up at the older man, his fringe sweeping back from his handsome features, revealing just his smirking lips and part of one eye – the blue one. “I haven’t taken any… ahhhh.. A frame up.”

Mr Pratt smiled warmly. “Why, you are rather sharp, aren’t you? Well, it would be a waste of an opportunity, to leave you to only be charged for breaking and entering, and assault. Those man you took such great care to render unconscious.. How did you do that, by the way? We couldn’t see any strangle hold or drug injection marks on them…”

“Perhaps I read them a bedtime story?” Yarryl ask with a smug little look.

Mr Pratt casually backhanded Yarryl, and the boy’s head snapped back, his fringe swishing around like a pinwheel for a moment, as he caught and righted himself. He lifted his cuffed hands and dabbed at the corner of his mouth.

“You are a rather smartass young punk, but no matter.. You sealed their fates when you did that. You might as well have cut their throats yourself. “

Yarryl frowned at that, and shook his head. “You can’t try to blame me for your actions. That tired ‘Bond Villain’ routine of .. “you sealed their fates like you had pulled the trigger” nonsense is just a way to try to shift blame, and try to work on my conscience. “

Mr Pratt frowned and shook his head, thinking about another backhand, but his lips quirked into a half smile, pitying the young man. “I wish I had time to drag the answers out of you, but the authorities will be here shortly, and you still need to be beaten down some, before they get here. So, if that is about all.. boys? “

At the word ‘boys’, 3 men with black metallic collapsible batons strode out of the shadows, and Mr Pratt took several steps back. All 3 of the men wore black military fatigues and equipment vests, with little earpieces that wired into the walkie talkies in the harnesses. Each one was at least twice the build of Yarryl’s skinny frame. They all wore soft looking black cloth masks the lower half of their faces, but left their eyes unobstructed, basically concealing half their features.

“Make sure he survives, but only just. And then drag him down to the lobby, and make sure you give over that thumb drive with the security footage of our .. guest, and his antics, would you?“ the older man said, as he grabbed a leather valise from a nearby table, and made his way to the elevator doors on the far side of the room.

“I have a sale to make. Get to work, gentlemen. I would wish you luck, my young friend, but I fear things are going to get rather dark, rather quickly for you in the next few minutes.”  Mr Pratt’s face looked genuinely sad, but he shrugged his shoulders and moved through the doorway, an aide holding it for him, and then closing it behind the older man.

The three men advanced as one towards the young man in the chair, and each raised their metallic batons, and swung them almost in unison, for a different part of the young prisoner’s body. Yarryl pushed off, at just the right moment, and the chair he was in fell backwards, and the attacker’s batons met empty air by the merest fraction of a moment. Yarryl seemed to roll out of the fallen chair, and shift so that he was standing upright 3 feet away, in a defensive stance, a smirk on his lips. The fringe hid most of his face, but one cheek bone, the one that had been backhanded by Pratt, was slightly reddened. “Come on boys, “ Yarryl said in a taunting tone. “You can do better than that.”

With that, the 3 large men rushed at Yarryl. The young man spun and lept in the air, catching the man on the right of him in the face with his boot. There was a sharp ‘crack’ and the masked man’s head snapped back hard, and he went down like a puppet with its strings cut. Yarryl’s momentum carried him out of the initial charge path of the other two, who turned and assumed fighting stances, while the first guard was on all fours, shaking his dazed head. The two men split up and came at Yarryl more warily, from either side, and there began this dance of move and counter move. The men were trained in combat and martial arts. Yarryl’s motions were fluid and precise, and even with his hands cuffed, he fought well.

The larger of the two mercenaries rushed at Yarryl and took a kick to the head. The blow from Yarrel didn’t knock the man out, though the man stumbled a little. The attacking guard threw his arms around Yarryl’s slight frame and crushed him in a bearhug.

Yarryl gasped out, as the wind was being crushed out of him, even though he kicked and tried everything he could to get a little space. The large man was just too strong, and had his arms pinned. All Yarrel seemed able to do was flail his legs in the air and gasp in his confinement.

But that wasn’t all he could do, in actuality.

Yarryl smiled, and went limp, as the second remaining guard stepped in with his baton to start laying into the prisoner.

The large guard didn’t loosen his grip on the young man in the least, which the Yarrel hadn’t counted on, anyway.

“Boy, you shouldn’t have gone and done that, it’s just going to be worse for you now, “said the guard holding him.

“You might want to rethink that,” Yarryl grunted out, as he swept his head back. The guard holding him tilted his head away, expecting a headbutt, but what Yarryl did was reveal his face, the bangs sweeping out of both his eye’s path. His green and blue eye both sparkled in the half light of the chamber, and then they seemed to explode with a blindingly bright light that emanated from the eyes. The approaching guard dropped his baton and put his hands to his face, “MY EYES!! MY EYES!” He screamed, as he fell to his knees, blood oozing around his gloved hands as he tried to protect his blasted eye sockets.

The one holding onto Yarryl didn’t quite let go, but his grip did loosen for a moment, and that is all Yarryl needed to slip free of the larger man’s grasp, and kick him in the shins as he almost defied gravity. The guard shouted in pain and teetered over, crashing into the nearby pillar. Yarryl saw the earlier guard struggling to his feet, and he ran at him and slashes him across the throat with a hard, blade-like chop of his hand.  The guard didn’t get back up.

Yarryl searched the choking man quickly, and found keys to the manacles, and quickly unlocked himself from the restraints. They clattered to the ground, and at that moment, the sounds of the clock reverberated with the gonging hourly bells.

Yarryl winced at the noise, as he ran for exit Mr Pratt had taken. As he ran up the stairs, he could barely hear the sounds of a helicopter on the roof, not far away. He burst through the doorway at the top of the stairs, and he saw, about 20 yards away, Pratt getting into the passenger compartment behind the pilot’s seat of the whirling helicopter, its blades causing a harsh wind.

Yarryl sneered at the incredulous looking Pratt, who shouted at the pilot to take off. Yarryl raised a hand, and with his other, he swept his fringe out of the way. Both of his sparkling eyes focused on the rotors, and as he pointed they flared like before, with a blinding flash stabbing from their deadly gaze. It illuminated that helicopter with a harsh white light.

There was a hissing and sparking in the mechanisms that drove the main rotors as they seized up, almost stopping the rotors in mid-full power turn. The blades sheared off at the sudden stop, and went clattering to the concrete helipad. There was a horrible grinding sound of metal inside the engine, and then thick black smoke poured out of the gearbox. The helicopter crashed down onto the roof, with a horrible clash of metal and concrete. It hit hard on the landing pad, its landing gear buckling. Yarryl ran towards the crippled machine through the smog of the dying engine’s smoke screen.

Yarryl yanked the door open, with a squeal of protest from the buckled hinges. Inside, Mr Pratt looked stunned and shaken, the pilot looked unconscious, and the guard, along with the aide, both looked to be either unconscious or dead. Yarryl reached in, and grabbed at the leather valise. As he pulled it out, Mr Pratt made a feeble grab for it, managing to only graze its edge. Yarryl backed away, as Mr Pratt’s croaked out,  “You.. can’t.. Have.. that… “ 

Yarryl smirked, and waved, then shouted back, in a mocking tone, “What was it you said to me? I would wish you luck, my friend, but I fear things are going to get rather dark, rather quickly for you in the next few minutes’. “

With that Yarryl reached up and took hold of the chevron necklace. Its cool metalic shape felt heavy in his hand, as he spoke a quiet word into it. A tiny tear in the fabric of the air opened up, and he stepped through it. When he was on the other side, the tear sealed up quickly, like a ripple in a pond.

He was standing on a round stone terrace, not far from the temple. The terrace was his ‘go to’ transport place when he opened gateways like that. Nana had taught him how.

“Did you get the item, Yarryl?” his Nana asked him. The matronly lady bustled forwards, and hugged her grandson.

“Oh I got it, yes Nana.. but it was a .. messy affair. “

She tutted and shook her head, then took his hand and led him towards the back section of the temple building, where the kitchens were. “Well, you need to get something to eat and drink, and you can tell me all about it. But one thing.. Did Pratt survive?”

Yarryl nodded, and smiled like he had a private joke. “He was alive when I left him. “

“Good.. good!” Nana said, as she clapped her hands in delight. “That pompous ass has a lot to answer for, and him losing .. this.. “ she pointed at the valise that Yarryl had still in his hand, “ Will ensure that his .. masters.. Deal with him most harshly. I don’t think he’ll be troubling this world much longer.“

Yarryl gave his grandmother a long steady look. “That sounds rather personal, Nana. I know you had some kind of score to settle with their company, but this Pratt guy really pissed you off.”

“Let’s just say, dear boy, that he is getting what he deserves. Maybe, when you’re older, I’ll explain it, but for now, we need to get you some food. Now! Come along, dear. “


Story by Dehrynn Shepherd


Hair- .Shi Hair : Introvert (Store)

Sweater- GizzA – North Asymmetric Tunic (Store)
Jeans- ::GB::color denim pants (Store)
Cuffs- \\Naberius\\ Iron Shackles (Store)
Necklace- **RE** Nahlim Necklace (Store)

Clock- 22769 ~ [bauwerk] Neverland Clock (Store)


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