The Enigma's Anomaly

Drowning Lessons?

I don't want to go anywhere with señor balaclava, though to be perfectly honest I like him better mister-sadist man. I haven't seen much of señor balaclava though because the most I got was a blurry image of him driving the car. I think it was him, because it makes more sense for the sadist to do the actual kidnapping.

"Is it time to party? Or maybe time to let free the really attractive guy you're keeping in the workshop?"

Señor balaclava doesn't say anything, but the eyes in his ski mask narrow at me so I don't think he's amused. Might as well have a little humor because I'm never going to get the chance ever again.

"Can we stop at Starbucks? I'm feeling like a Chai Latte before meeting my maker," I say.

Oh he doesn't like me all that much but at least he's not trying to taunt me. He grabs my arms and the metal digs painfully leaving red and deep marks in my skin. He puts zip ties over my wrists and then pulls them so tight that I can feel my skin bruise and not in the good way. It makes my hands and fingers all feel numb. At least it's better than metal though.

"Is there any chance of me appealing to your better nature? I'll buy you an ice cream cone!" I ask and still he hasn't said any more words. He's not the most talkative guy ever. I remember what it was like being an assassin in the position of killing someone, but he's so much more unpleasant then I ever was. The best part about being The Enigma was that no one ever really knew what was about to happen. It was quick and relatively painless compared to this. Drowning sounds comparatively painful compared to a quick shot to the neck.

I've never really considered what it would feel like to drown, but I don't think it's the best way to go. I hope it's not too cold. Because that's what I should be worried about. The temperature of my tombstone. It's good to know that I've got my priorities straight. I'm not even straight though how do you expect me to do that with my priorities?

He pulls me up onto my feet, not as roughly as he could, but I want to make this a very slow process as this is my funeral procession. How dull, no one else is here besides me and these two merciless brauds. They should be wearing black for this shouldn't they?

I'm pulled out of the little room and I see a warehouse like building, but I haven't a clue where on earth this is. New York, but beyond that it could be anywhere. I assume we're somewhere near the ocean or something if they're going to drown me.

Oh god that's actually going to happen isn't it? I'm actually about to die.

"You know how mortifying it is to realize that you're clock is ticking down and you're about to die? Now I know what it felt like for Harry to walk into that forest, or for Sam and Frodo to go into that volcano. Oh, maybe Captain Jack fighting off an army of Daleks," I say absently as I'm shoved forward by señor balaclava to the exit. The other guy is standing there waiting by the van that nabbed me earlier which is now parked inside the vast room. I can't actually tell how big this place is because the lights aren't all on and there are very few windows, but I guess that it's pretty huge. I think I can make out the shapes of some crates and stuff, but I can't be too sure. I could probably make a run for it but I wouldn't end up far. Guys like these carry firearms the way some people carry gum.

"Note that I used examples of heroes who ended up escaping death in the end as I fully intend to do as well," I continue. I don't want to be a Boromir or a Sirius Black, because that implies I actually have to die.

I'm no idiot though. I know there's no getting out of this. I know how these things work, and I haven't had extensive education on how to prevent yourself from being murdered. I'm a murderer I'm not on the receiving end. I guess I'm not even that though. I'm a journalist. I'm a tiny little man who doesn't do much of anything productive, and happens to have an unnaturally attractive boyfriend who he's never going to see again.