CHAPTER FORTY SIX
"Hey, assholes, I need to use the bathroom." Rio's voice was very hoarse, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch as they plugged tubes into his friend Daiki's body like he was some specimen.
One of the researchers—the one who had been following at the back—turned to look at Rio, but a colleague nudged them, urging her to look away.
"Don't you guys have any bathrooms? Come on, man, it's a really big one—a real nasty dump." Rio smirked as he said that, but inwardly he was cursing all these pig-headed scientists.
That question elicited no response as they continued to watch their handheld monitors in fascination.
It was like talking to a bunch of statues. He wouldn't let them ignore him much longer, especially when his whole plan hinged on this first step.
Rio ground his teeth in frustration. 'Don't say I didn't warn you.'
He glanced around the room again. Beyond the reinforced glass and the sterile lighting, just by the door, he could still spot that guard leaning lazily on the wall… his very first target.
And now.
Rio inhaled slowly. He really didn't want to do this. Every cell in his body rejected the idea. He could feel the voice of all his ancestors and his descendants screaming now in horror about the travesty he was about to commit.
But his shame was a small price to pay for a desired outcome.
He clenched his core, scrunched up his face, and let it rip.
Pffft!
The researchers all turned to him in unison, a momentary confusion taking over them. One researcher blinked slowly and returned to his notes; another waved a hand in front of his face as if to clear the air.
Rio's cheeks burned. He stared at the ceiling in despair and then finally accepted his fate.
So he did it again.
PFFFFFFT!
It was a nasty sound—loud and wet. This time, all the researchers looked at him in absolute mortification.
"Disgusting," someone muttered.
"Are you seriously—"
PFFFRRRRRRRTTTT!
Rio felt a part of him called dignity die with that fart. His ears turned crimson from the shame, but he turned to the lead researcher with an expressionless face…like a lion asserting dominance over the savannah—with his ass.
"I'm giving you a warning," Rio said slowly. "Right now, it's just gas. But I swear on my life, if I don't get to the bathroom in the next sixty seconds, I'm going to shit myself. Right here. All over the goddamn floor. One of you will have to clean up that mess."
The lead researcher's eyes went wide, his wrinkled face cracking into a hideous grimace. He waved his hand in disgust. "You filthy monkey… Guards, come and get this brat. I don't want him contaminating my samples with his stench."
Rio suppressed a grin as two armed guards walked over, holding their noses.
One of the guards, a taller man with a submachine gun, turned to Rio in disgust. "So you're the little shit trying to… well, shit over the floor? Try anything funny like that with me, and I'll have your brains splattered all over the floor." The other walked beside him, covering the left side, a pistol swinging low in his grip.
Rio just gave him a lazy nod. "Yeah, whatever, dude." He was merchandise, and the guard was a common goon. He couldn't damage the merchandise by killing him; those words were just an empty threat.
It seemed the guard didn't like that.
Without warning, he slammed a fist into Rio's gut.
The blow knocked the wind from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping, as the second guard laughed.
"Move," the guard growled, as his partner chuckled.
Rio glared up at him through a curtain of hair.
'You're gonna pay for that, asshole. You'll be feeding through a tube for the rest of your life.'
They left the lab behind, stepping into a wide corridor. The air was sterile here too, but less clinical—more industrial. Metallic pipes lined the walls above. He caught sight of a sign overhead: FLOOR 4.
Three patrols passed them—two-man squads dressed in similar gear to the guards escorting him. Each had a semi-auto strapped to their chest, tasers at their sides. Rio kept walking, eyes low, but his brain was spinning.
He looked up and saw cameras rotating slowly, passing over where he was headed. He noted their placements. 'One camera above every junction, a two-second delay on swivel.'
Another hallway branched left. He noted the floor's layout, memorizing it piece by piece.
Eventually, they reached a wooden door marked RESTROOM. It looked out of place—like someone had added it as an afterthought. The paint on the sign was even chipped.
One of the guards opened it, motioning for him to go inside.
"You can do your business in the cubicle here. Don't try anything, we're watching you," the second guard said.
Rio glanced back at the guards. "I can't do it with you two watching. Why the hell would you even want to watch me take a shit, anyway?"
"You serious?" the first guard snapped, eyes narrowing.
He raised his gun and jabbed it toward Rio's face. "What, you think we're perverts or something? Is that it?"
The other one laughed, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show.
Rio gave him a quick side-eye.
That was the signal.
He lunged toward the first guard.
The man didn't even have time to react, still stunned by the sudden switch from conversation to aggression.
In one swift motion, he slapped the barrel of the gun away from his face, twisting his torso to redirect the line of fire toward the wall. The unexpected deflection caught the man off guard—literally. The weight of the weapon worked against him, and he stumbled forward, off balance.
Rio jumped, spun mid-air, and brought the edge of his cuffed legs despite his restricted mobility down like a hammer onto the side of the guard's exposed neck.
The man dropped to his knees, gagging as he choked on his own saliva. He clutched his throat, gasping for air.
The second guard's eyes widened, but to his credit, he didn't freeze. He reached for the gun at his waist, fingers grazing the grip—
'Too late, chuckle nuts.'
Rio charged in for the takedown.
He hooked his leg behind the guard's ankle while twisting at the torso, executing a clean judo throw that slammed the man hard onto the tile.
"Uuugh." The guard groaned after his head bounced like a rubber ball on the ground.
Rio didn't hesitate.
He stomped on the man's crotch, causing him to arch up in a silent, agonized scream. Before any noise could leave his throat, Rio brought his heel down on the guard's jaw with brutal force. He couldn't have this man shouting and alerting the other guards.
SNAP.
Something cracked. Definitely bone.
And just to make sure, he stepped back, then pivoted and kicked the man's temple with the full force of his body. The second guard went limp, out cold.
Rio didn't give him the chance.
He dove forward, headfirst into the man's gut. The blow knocked the wind out of the guard's lungs again.
As the man stumbled back, Rio gritted his teeth, raised his bound hands above his head, and brought them down with a savage double-handed slam right on the back of the man's skull—using the thick, reinforced edge of the suppression cuff like a blunt weapon.
The guard collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
Rio stood there, panting, heart racing, sweat beading down his temple.
"Step one," he muttered, "complete."
He crouched beside the bodies, rifling through their uniforms. No keys. No access cards. No hidden override tools. Not that he was expecting any. The suppression collar around his neck didn't even have a visible keyhole—just smooth, matte metal humming faintly against his skin.
That would have made his job so much easier.
He had already determined the victory conditions. Get this collar off, and nothing in this facility could possibly stop him.
Rio's eyes landed on the two guns on the floor. A sleek black submachine gun. A sidearm with a full magazine. He picked them up without hesitation and slung the SMG over his shoulder.
Then he closed his eyes.
When that gun was pointed at his head, he accessed that state briefly. He just needed to recall that sensation and replicate it.
"ZE WURDO."
Time slowed.
His heartbeat faded into the background as "The World" clicked into place.
He turned to the downed bodies of the two guards. In this state, where time nearly stood still, the two looked like mangled corpses.
Rio almost felt bad for them… almost.
He hadn't accounted for this development, but it was a welcome one.
Rio stepped into the corridor and moved through the gaps in the patrol's defenses like a meandering river.
He moved through the blind spots in the cameras' movements. He slipped past all the guards in the corridor with them being none the wiser of his presence.
He was a ghost.
Within minutes, he was back at the corridor that led to the observation room where they'd been kept. He frowned when he noticed no additional guards had been posted to replace the ones who had taken him.
'How arrogant.' For a group of people who ran a very risky operation, they were surprisingly lax in their defenses. It seemed they believed no one could possibly break out from this prison. He would prove them wrong.
He raised the SMG, finger resting lightly on the trigger guard, and kicked the door open.
The lead researcher turned sharply, annoyed. "Who the hell is—"
Click.
The barrel of the submachine gun stared him down like death.
Rio smirked. "Miss me?"
Author's Note: While i had been expecting it for a while now when it finally happened i was still caught off guard. My dad cut me off and now my PayPal account that had been working for years is now restricted, worse still I'm in debt. I'm tempted to say that i haven't had a worse day than that in a while but knowing my luck that's a prelude to a disaster. I can't even post chapters until the dead of the night because i can't afford day people internet.