Furnace - Part I, Awakening

The room was cold and dirty - breathing in meant inhaling the dust, and the racking coughs that ensued billowed whitely from his mouth. The floor and the wall he was propped up against were chilly enough that he was almost paralysed with shivering. A dull globe sat at the ceiling's approximate centre and gave off a fitful glow, enough for Peter to truly appreciate the bleakness of his situation. He could observe the room's features, and though darkness would have allowed him a kind of naive hope, being able to see at least let him be rational.

It was in fact a very typical kind of cell: bare walls, flickering light, a distressingly solid door. And himself, shaking so hard that his bones rattled, attached to this grim tableau by a predictably rusted chain. He recognised everything. Not through his own experience, but through his countless vicarious kidnaps, escapes and murders. A lifetime of horror films had taught him what to expect, though he had never thought the day would dawn in which those particular skills of survival would be called upon.

The day, however, had obviously arrived, and Peter was certainly not going to fail.


As he surveyed the room more closely, he felt a twinge of fear. Whoever had captured him had clearly done a reasonable job - the room was very deliberatel bare, and his pockets had been emptied. The search had not been thorough enough, though. They had found neither the pocket knife in his sock nor the crude set of lockpicks sewn into his jacket's lining.
That was their first mistake, he thought grimly. Their second was not killing him whilst they had the chance.

Peter allowed himself a final moment of doubt before he steeled himself completely. If this turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding he would be appropriately embarrassed. Until then, however, he would proceed with the kind of aggressive caution that was necessary in such situations. It was difficult to take off his jacket with cold-numbed hands and even more difficult to tear open the hem where the picks were contained. He doubted he'd manage to salvage the garment for use in public, but right now he was too cold to be concerned with fashion.