Chapter 3: Not a Good Morning
Ian looked around wildly, he was far too hungover and not remotely enough awake to be in this sort of situation. Plus, what that fuck?
Another round of banging on the door encouraged him to focus on the matter at hand, namely not to be dragged off and locked up for murder. He could only 'encourage' people so much, and then there was the other matter...
The door started to buckle as the banging stepped up a notch. Ian made a decision. He dashed over to his small bathroom and dived in, flipping the lock behind him.
Just in time. There was a loud crash as the room door finally gave way, followed closely by the sound of serious people in body armour shouting "Freeze!", though to whom it wasn't certain.
Ian squeezed himself up under the sink and put on a face of abject terror, which wasn't too much of a stretch given the circumstances.
It was only seconds before somebody tried the door, and, only a few more seconds before it, too, was kicked in.
Two large men in dark paramilitary gear filled the room, swinging guns before them.
"Please!" Ian screamed, cowering, "Help! Someone help!" Just for good measure he started to blubber.
One of the cops relaxed a little, and pulled his helmet faceplate up. The other didn't move, the gun still trained on Ian.
"Who are you son? What happened? Who butchered everyone?"
"I... I don't know," Ian sniffled, absorbing the 'everyone'. He thought quickly. "I... I was in here, and then there was a lot of screaming. A lot of screaming! I was scared, so I hid." He looked up at the cops and summoned what little strength he had. "That's what happened," he added.
They wavered for a second, but then relaxed.
"Yeah," the first one said. "Yeah, that's right." He nodded at the second cop, who pulled off his helmet, and then back at Ian. "Here lad, are you hurt?"
"Not much, just really shaken up. I'm probably in shock," he added.
"He's probably in shock," said the second cop, speaking for the first time. "We should get him to the ambulance."
"Yeah, okay." First cop nodded, and they both helped him stand, on legs that really did shake.
They let him throw on some clothes, and then led him out through the club.
It was a slaughterhouse. It seemed that everyone, everyone who had been in the club last night was dead, though it was a little hard to tell, as whatever had happened to them had ripped them, literally, into pieces. Ian shuddered. There could be only one explanation, though why he had escaped was a mystery.
The two cops led him outside, and handed him over to a paramedic in a waiting ambulance. Telling him someone would be back to question him later, they left, presumably to kick any remaining doors down.
The ambulance guy, a kindly fellow, asked him a few basic questions, took a pulse, measured his blood pressure and did all the usual things medical people do when there's nothing really wrong with someone. Finally he gave him a blanket and told him to keep warm and get some rest.
Nodding, Ian wandered off, wondering if they would let him back into his room to get his stuff, and, more importantly, where he was going to stay tonight. Perhaps he could break back into the club...
He stopped. A tall man in an immaculate, long black coat was looking down at him through expensive looking sunglasses.
"Er, hello?" Ian said.
"Hello Ian," the man replied, smiling with his mouth only.
"How do you know my name?" Ian asked, panic beginning to rise.
"Oh, we know who you are." That smile again.
Ian focussed hard. "I'm not Ian, I'm not who you're looking for."
The smile remained, and for a second Ian thought the man was going to leave. No such luck.
"Good try," the stranger said. "You are really strong, probably more than you know."
Ian's knees started to buckle. "Oh shit. You're..."
"Yes. We've finally caught up with you." The man took his sunglasses off, and unnaturally pale eyes bored into Ian.
"D... did you, was that..." Ian gestured at the club.
"Yes, that was us. We wanted to show you what we were capable of. It was a reminder of our power, in case you had forgotten, but also how kind we are."
"Kind?" Ian raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. You're alive aren't you?"
"Mmm." Ian narrowed his eyes and ran through where this was going. "You want something from me don't you?"
The man, or whatever he was, smiled again. "Yes, I was told you were smart."
"I'm not going to like this am I?"
"Probably not, but then, you wouldn't like the alternative either. You've been giving us the run-around, and you know how that makes us feel."
Ian pulled his blanket around him and shivered. This was not turning out to be a good morning.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Neil_H
Neil_H Suggestions/Ideas needed!!
This story is being written as an Interactive Story at:
http://www.opuspath.com
You can leave an idea at the end of each chapter. If there's more than one idea, a poll will be put up at OpusPath, and the winning idea will be what happens next!
This episode:
Very well, short and sweet. Bearing in mind we don't know who (or what) this stranger is/represents (suggestions welcome!), what is the task Ian has to fulfil?
Be imaginative folks, nothing's off the table here. In fact, there's not even a table.
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