[TOD] Recreate something from your childhood.
The cold of his water bit through his skin as his body sank like a stone, feeling the current swirl above his head as he did. He kept his eyes closed at first, wanting to wait until he felt his feet hit the ground.
Water was not his friend. He often attributed it to the kitty in the cocktail, but it was something more than that. He could swim, he knew how to hold his breath, but he hated the way the water felt against him. He could feel the pressure against his chest, trying to force the air, that precious oxygen that he needed in order to survive---the water was trying to force it from his lungs, take away the chance of life from him, and he wasn’t going to deny that it made him panic. Just a little. It made him want to kick his way to the surface, out of the murky water of the Hudson River and take a big breath of fresh-ish air and then swim away as far as humanly possible.
However, that clearly wasn’t the wisest move. Not with the big guns poised on him, waiting for him to surface. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to hold his breath, but this wasn’t about training-well, it was about training, but it was also about survival.
He doesn’t know how they found him. He had been laying low so well for so long, and them suddenly appearing in his place of business was not a good sign. He was relatively certain at this point that his client had been the one who had sold him out. He should have been more careful with the barcode, grown his hair a little longer to keep it covered or even got it removed entirely. But he didn’t think, thought he was safe with his fake accent and high collars, and didn’t realize that everyone around him was the enemy. He should have known better, shouldn’t have forgotten his training or judgment, but all he was thinking about the money, and that was what had gotten him into trouble.
He felt his foot brush something, and he opened his eyes, half expecting to see the pool at Manticore, and feel the shackles closed around his ankles that would prevent him from surfacing. Instead he saw nothing but murky water and dust and dirt. He couldn’t see the edges, but for some reason that was more of a comfort than if he had been able to see clearly. In the Manticore tanks he could always see the walls. He really, really didn’t want to see the walls in this particular situation.
He kicked off and started swimming, pushing through the water as hard as he could, wanting to get as far away from the men with guns as possible. He could barely see his hands in front of him as he stroked through the water, so he was fairly certain that they couldn’t see him from the surface. Now it was just a matter of getting far enough away on the amount of air he had to not get caught when he surfaced to breathe. So he just kicked as hard as he could, windmilling his arms and swimming with the current, getting as far as he possibly could before his lungs were screaming and he needed to kick his way to the surface.
He needed to get away from New York City.
He pushed himself up onto the New Jersey side of the bank, half naked and soaking wet, feeling the cold wind swipe over him and chill him to the bone. He was wet, barefoot, and lacking both pants and a shirt, and he didn’t know how far he would get without being recognized. But he couldn’t worry about that right now-he needed to get a warning out to Ryan. Because she needed to get her and his bike out of that hotel before they figured out where he had been staying.
He made his way over to a woman who happened to be sitting on a bench by the river. He could tell that she was a bit perturbed to be approached by a soaking wet man in his boxers who had just pulled himself out of the Hudson, but she didn’t run away, which he figured was a good sign.
“I’m sorry to bother you like this, but can I use your phone?”
She stared at him for a moment, before nodding, reaching into her pocket. “Decided to go for a swim?”
“Training for the Polar Bear Swim,” he smirked, before taking the phone from her with a grateful smile, and stepping away, dialing the number for the hotel and placing the phone to his ear. He didn’t need to call her cell phone right now. There was probably a pretty high chance they’d be tracing it.
“Hello? Room 502, please.”
824 words
RP for xr5_365
Water was not his friend. He often attributed it to the kitty in the cocktail, but it was something more than that. He could swim, he knew how to hold his breath, but he hated the way the water felt against him. He could feel the pressure against his chest, trying to force the air, that precious oxygen that he needed in order to survive---the water was trying to force it from his lungs, take away the chance of life from him, and he wasn’t going to deny that it made him panic. Just a little. It made him want to kick his way to the surface, out of the murky water of the Hudson River and take a big breath of fresh-ish air and then swim away as far as humanly possible.
However, that clearly wasn’t the wisest move. Not with the big guns poised on him, waiting for him to surface. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to hold his breath, but this wasn’t about training-well, it was about training, but it was also about survival.
He doesn’t know how they found him. He had been laying low so well for so long, and them suddenly appearing in his place of business was not a good sign. He was relatively certain at this point that his client had been the one who had sold him out. He should have been more careful with the barcode, grown his hair a little longer to keep it covered or even got it removed entirely. But he didn’t think, thought he was safe with his fake accent and high collars, and didn’t realize that everyone around him was the enemy. He should have known better, shouldn’t have forgotten his training or judgment, but all he was thinking about the money, and that was what had gotten him into trouble.
He felt his foot brush something, and he opened his eyes, half expecting to see the pool at Manticore, and feel the shackles closed around his ankles that would prevent him from surfacing. Instead he saw nothing but murky water and dust and dirt. He couldn’t see the edges, but for some reason that was more of a comfort than if he had been able to see clearly. In the Manticore tanks he could always see the walls. He really, really didn’t want to see the walls in this particular situation.
He kicked off and started swimming, pushing through the water as hard as he could, wanting to get as far away from the men with guns as possible. He could barely see his hands in front of him as he stroked through the water, so he was fairly certain that they couldn’t see him from the surface. Now it was just a matter of getting far enough away on the amount of air he had to not get caught when he surfaced to breathe. So he just kicked as hard as he could, windmilling his arms and swimming with the current, getting as far as he possibly could before his lungs were screaming and he needed to kick his way to the surface.
He needed to get away from New York City.
He pushed himself up onto the New Jersey side of the bank, half naked and soaking wet, feeling the cold wind swipe over him and chill him to the bone. He was wet, barefoot, and lacking both pants and a shirt, and he didn’t know how far he would get without being recognized. But he couldn’t worry about that right now-he needed to get a warning out to Ryan. Because she needed to get her and his bike out of that hotel before they figured out where he had been staying.
He made his way over to a woman who happened to be sitting on a bench by the river. He could tell that she was a bit perturbed to be approached by a soaking wet man in his boxers who had just pulled himself out of the Hudson, but she didn’t run away, which he figured was a good sign.
“I’m sorry to bother you like this, but can I use your phone?”
She stared at him for a moment, before nodding, reaching into her pocket. “Decided to go for a swim?”
“Training for the Polar Bear Swim,” he smirked, before taking the phone from her with a grateful smile, and stepping away, dialing the number for the hotel and placing the phone to his ear. He didn’t need to call her cell phone right now. There was probably a pretty high chance they’d be tracing it.
“Hello? Room 502, please.”
824 words
RP for xr5_365