The Great Escape: Part 2

by **Damion MacSteele** Mon Jun 24, 2013 9:56 pm

To be placed immediately after my match with Basil

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Damion lies on a bed in the med centre unconscious. He’s been cleaned up. Rae breaks a vial and holds it under Damion’s nose which twitches for only a second before he tries to sit bolt upright. Rae manages to hold him down.

Damion (slightly slurred) – Mah nose is burnin’.

Rae – Relax, be quiet.

He moves his head in a circle, stretching the muscles in his neck. There’s aches and pains in every part of his body.

Damion – Ah’m knackered…

Rae – You lost too much blood.

Damion – Aye well, there’s not much ah couldah done aboot that.

Rae – We managed to replace most of it, you should be fine, I’ve taken the liberty of giving you a bit more adrenalin than you should have, you’ll need it for what’s in store. Are you ready for the next part?

Damion shakes the cobwebs from his head.

Damion – Aye lass, ah’m all ears.

Damion quickly checks the sides of his head to ensure that he still has ears.

Rae – Okay, when you leave this room, turn right, head to the end of the corridor, you’ll see a hatch in the wall marked “PoD Storage”, open the hatch and slide on in.

Damion – What’s PoD?

Rae – Never mind that right now. Wait…

She goes to a cupboard, takes out a tube of some kind of paste and hands it to Damion.

Damion – What’s this?

Rae – Put some of that under your nostrils before you go down, you’ll need it.

She tells Damion the rest of the plan.

A few moments later a door opens in a corridor, Damion pokes his head into the corridor, he looks down to see a guard slumped on the floor.

Damion (to himself) – Aye, that’s mah lassie.

He quickly heads down the corridor and finds the hatch with the words “PoD Storage” above it. Deciding this is not the time to think about what it could mean he opens the hatch and bundles himself in. Damion descends down a chute into darkness and hears the hatch slam shut behind him. Only now, too late, does he remember her words and the tube of paste, the stench is incredible, and gets worse as he descends.

Without warning Damion reaches the end of the chute and is ingloriously dumped onto a hard, slippery stone surface. The stench of rotting flesh and decay engulf him and here, in the dark, Damion adds to the stench with the contents of his own stomach.

He fumbles for the tube of paste and manages to squirt a liberal helping onto his top lip, the menthol fumes calm him slightly, although the damage is done. He’s covered in some kind of sticky ooze. Damion remembers her words then…

Rae – …feel around for a flashlight. I threw one down earlier today, it shouldn’t be too far, you’ll need it to find the drain. Listen, when you switch the flashlight on you’ll see things. Horrible things, just try to stay focussed on the task, find the drain, it leads to the sewers.

Damion starts to feel around the floor for the torch, his hands brushing against things that feel like meat in various stages of decay. He retches once more. Eventually he finds the flashlight and turns it on. Almost immediately he turns it off.

Damion (to himself) – Oh bloody hell…Okay MacSteele…one…two…three…

The torch goes back on. Multiple bodies and parts of bodies litter the space, a head, a torso, an arm, the horror threatens to consume him. He shakes his head again, trying to stay focussed.

After a moments searching the light falls on a small drain in the corner of the room. He makes his way gingerly to it, slipping on something which he’d rather not think about. Using all his strength he manages to pry open the drain. Another smell attacks him, Damion gags again…

Rae – …the coliseum was busy tonight, there might be some swimming involved…

Damion has never been a religious man, but he mutters a brief prayer to whatever god or gods might offer him a glimmer of respite. He shines the light into the open drain. There’s no ladder, and a 7 foot drop into the slurry which part of his mind wishes is deep enough and another part it won’t be. He lowers himself carefully until there’s nothing to do but drop. The slurry reaches up to waist height and he can feel it flowing, slowly, through his legs and around him.

Damion (to himself) – Alright MacSteele, if you don’t have fun in this city oh yours, I’ll kill ye mahself.

He follows the flow of the slurry, as instructed, through various shaped tunnels and junctions. Once or twice having to shout and swing at the rats who think him a willing meal. Eventually the tunnels empty into a large underground stream.

Rae - …the stream leads west out of the coliseum, just swim downstream until you find a wooden shack on the northern shore. You’ll find some clean clothes and money in there. Stay there until day break, the roads aren’t safe at night. You can head into the city in the morning…

Damion jumps into the stream. Even though he knows that the slurry empties into the stream it feels a hundred times cleaner. He relaxes and allows the stream to carry him out of the coliseum. Although the night is quiet, he can make out the voices of people leaving the grounds. Even at this distance he can discern drunken happiness and joy. He even manages to hear his name being mentioned once or twice.

Damion (quietly) - To hell wi’ you lot.

He drifts downstream, the glare of a strange moon lighting his way, looking out for the shack, looking forward to his freedom.