Things Can Go Wrong

Chapter Thirteen

SUJI

Ah, great. Another day in this place.

I have been ordered to stay in a juvenile detention center for two weeks in total. At the moment, I am on day eleven, and even though in just a few days I'll be bailed out of this place, it feels like total hell. People who want to actually make a living are humans too.

I look around my small room, and look over to a miniscule hole on the left side of my cell to see another prisoner in the detention center. He looks over to me, and gives a wry smile, before he continues staring out into space. I look to my own cell, and sigh quietly. The paint has begun to wear off entirely, and scabs of paint and wallpaper litter the floor where I am standing.

A guard signals for me to come out, and he screams for all of the criminals to assemble for lunchtime. One by one, we file out in a single line and make our way silently to the lunch hall. Upon entering, I see numerous familiar holograms of other juvenile delinquents that have either been shot, stabbed or had their necks snapped by innocent people trying to defend themselves.

Their injuries are visible via the holograms, and I reach over to a younger man's hologram and touch his chest and he winces in pain as I navigate my way around the wound. As I keep digging through, more and more of his internal organs become visible, and after I am done he is a blubbering mess, his organs, veins and blood spilled all over himself as he attempts to stand up.

Sometimes it is fun to inflict pain on those that don't even deserve it.

I am called over by a guard and I am handed a small paper plate which is slightly cracked from previous use. I decide not to complain and after recieving what looks like fake zombie organs on a plate, I sit down on my own and eat silently. As I am eating, I see one of the robots from my flat, this time painted in a faint blue come up to me, and the machine hands me a small glass of water which I down before crushing the glass and throwing the remains on the droid.

The droid groans in imaginary pain before walking away sadly. I look down at my hands and see numerous cuts, all of which sting slightly and all resemble knife cuts, which seems strange seeing as the glass shattered into all sorts of miniscule shapes.

Once lunch is over, I make my way back to my cell and sigh quietly to myself. How the hell can I get out of here? I could always just run past the guards and bolt past the doors, but then I'd have nowhere to run, and things would not go so great for me, as I'd probably be stuck here for another week or so.

I'll try and think of something...

10 AND A HALF HOURS LATER - 11:04 PM

I have a plan. It's risky, and I'm unsure if this will even work, but I'll see how things go. The idea is, I'm going to wait until it is lights out in the detention centre, and then I'm going to try and get into the main office of the detention to receive the door keys (because they always leave the door slightly open) and then I'll run straight out of the place. If any alarms sound, then I'll still be covered by my boys. I managed to text them where I was at the time of my arrest, and today I made a call to them during our monthly call routine in the detention to let them know of what is going on.

In around half an hour, one of the members of Satsujin (the official name which I devised for us, meaning 'murder' in Japanese) will be parked outside of the detention centre, and I'm going to drive off, and throw the keys away to the centre, so no-one can get out.

I hear the lights turn off in the detention centre, and after a faint buzz sounds and footsteps shuffle away from my cell, I begin to put my plan directly into action. I squeeze through the iron bars located at the front of the room, and look down at the rest of the hallway. All of the 'inmates' are sleeping soundly, completely missing the fact that I have managed to get out of my cell so easily.

I slowly walk down the hallway, and thanks to my time in the JDC, I managed to locate the main office pretty easily. As I keep walking across the tiny hallway where numerous rooms are crammed (just like a prison) my footsteps reverberate across the entire centre, and I feel my breath getting shallow from the adrenaline.

After a couple of anxiety inducing minutes, I see the outline of a large wooden door, with a gleaming yellow knob in the dark. I notice that it has been left slightly ajar from the guards getting extremely drunk and not bothering to close the doors properly, so I slowly open it and close it behind me. I manage to feel the rough outlinings of a light switch in the pitch black, and I turn it on quietly.

Within half a second, the room illuminates entirely, and my eyes dart to a large coffee table in the middle of the office. On the table is a selection of cookies and coffee, gossip magazines, handheld consoles and bats. To the far right of the table, is a set of keys, and I pick them up quickly before placing them in my pocket.

Once I have the keys, I slowly close the door and turn the lights off, however upon closing the door, I hear footsteps approaching me. I attempt to run back to my room, however I am too slow, and within seconds I am grabbed by the collar of my neck by a fairly muscly guard, who I have never seen before.

He lets go of me and screams for the other guards to assemble together. However, I notice a flaw in his thinking; I can get up fast enough and reach the door quickly enough.

So, that's what I do. After a few seconds of thoughtful breathing, I bolt upwards from the floor and sprint to the other side of the room where our cells are kept. I quickly get into a lift and as the guard notice me going in, they sprint towards me, however I am quick enough this time, and within five seconds I am going to ground level.

Knowing that I will be chased, I tap at the ground button at the side of the lift extremely impatiently, even though I know that it is already taking me there. Once the doors open, I sprint past another load of cells and the reception desk, where the lady guarding the ground floor is sleeping. I tremble as my hands grab the keys. I hear the lift going back up to the second floor of the detention centre.

My hands slot the keys into place, and after turning them, I open the double doors, shut them and throw the keys to the detention center into a nearby drain, the keys perfectly sliding underneath the ground as I smile to myself. Right on cue, I see a small rally car speed across the car park of the centre, and one of my boys peeks out of the back seat windows and screams in excitement. Just as I rush to get into the back, I see the guards open the doors, brandishing bats and other weapons.

At first I am confused, but then I realize something; they obviously could have gotten out through windows, or they had spare keys. I look back at the guards as one of my other boys starts to drive the car out of the JDC, and I notice that he DID have spare keys. The guards each get into their cars and begin to tailgate us as we speed out of the car park, and onto the main roads.

At this point, we begin to drive faster and faster, swerving around corners to the point where we almost believe that the car is going to ram into the side of a wall and we will die. But, we don't and things just keep getting better and better.

As we make our way into a tunnel, I hear a deafening crash from behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see that one of the guards' car has smashed directly into another person's car, leaving both of the drivers in extreme conditions. At the same time, I see a guard dive out of his car as he is driving, leaving the car slam into a wall as we slowly move past the pile up. I notice one of the wheels on fire and the engine smoking, so I scream "MOVE!" and within seconds we are reaching one hundred miles an hour, speeding across numerous streets.

Within a couple of minutes, we reach my apartment, and as the five of us go in, we are greeted by a newsfeed on TV describing the pile up at the tunnel in detail that even I cannot fathom.

Well, it wasn't exactly our fault now, was it?

As I turn off the TV, one of my boys turns to me and asks me what we do next.

I reply "Take em' down."