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Jan. 29th, 2007 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_wrenster"Renn, not 'Rennz'. It's French."
He knew correcting the cop on the pronunciation of his name had been a mistake, but he couldn't stand hearing people tacking that 'S' on at the end. It was a matter of pride. But once he'd done it, it had started the wheels turning in that cop's head. It was only a matter of time before Quentin made the connection.
That was strike #1.
"This guy's The Wren! The Bird of Attica; flew the coop on six major prisons."
"Seven." Hey, if his record was going to be out in the open it might as well be correct.
There's strike #2.
Great; not only had The Cop figured it out, but now he'd told everyone else. Rennes looked away as the younger, brown-haired girl moved to the front of the little cluster, concentrating on throwing the boot into the next room. He didn't want to see the hope on her face.
"You can get us out?"
"Maybe," came the grunted reply as he climbed up. Nothing had happened after the boot had gone in, so the next room must be clean.
"An escape artist!" This from the blonde, the doctor.
"Yeah, I'm Harry-fucking-Houdini." He twisted around in the small opening so that he was facing the rest of them; Quentin, Leaven and Holloway looked back, but Worth just ignored everyone. "The only reason I dragged you this far is 'cause I need your boots. If you're not smarting up, I'm gone like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "No more talking, no more guessing. Don't even think about nothing that's not right in front of you. That's the real challenge. You gotta save yourselves from yourselves."
With that, Rennes jumped into the next room.
A click.
"Merde."
Something wet was sprayed in his face, at a high pressure.
Then there was nothing but the pain.
And the screaming.
Strike the third.
He knew correcting the cop on the pronunciation of his name had been a mistake, but he couldn't stand hearing people tacking that 'S' on at the end. It was a matter of pride. But once he'd done it, it had started the wheels turning in that cop's head. It was only a matter of time before Quentin made the connection.
That was strike #1.
"This guy's The Wren! The Bird of Attica; flew the coop on six major prisons."
"Seven." Hey, if his record was going to be out in the open it might as well be correct.
There's strike #2.
Great; not only had The Cop figured it out, but now he'd told everyone else. Rennes looked away as the younger, brown-haired girl moved to the front of the little cluster, concentrating on throwing the boot into the next room. He didn't want to see the hope on her face.
"You can get us out?"
"Maybe," came the grunted reply as he climbed up. Nothing had happened after the boot had gone in, so the next room must be clean.
"An escape artist!" This from the blonde, the doctor.
"Yeah, I'm Harry-fucking-Houdini." He twisted around in the small opening so that he was facing the rest of them; Quentin, Leaven and Holloway looked back, but Worth just ignored everyone. "The only reason I dragged you this far is 'cause I need your boots. If you're not smarting up, I'm gone like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "No more talking, no more guessing. Don't even think about nothing that's not right in front of you. That's the real challenge. You gotta save yourselves from yourselves."
With that, Rennes jumped into the next room.
A click.
"Merde."
Something wet was sprayed in his face, at a high pressure.
Then there was nothing but the pain.
And the screaming.
Strike the third.
