I unexpectedly found my way out of the forest of doom. It only took me a few weeks of following a path that I miraculously stumbled upon while escaping what those fanatics called from the great beyond. And immediately after, a wall that rose high above the clouds greeted me. Obviously, I hastily went there to investigate the structure.

I circled the lengthy wall from dusk till dawn until I finally saw a daunting gate that would make the one in Buckingham Palace prostrate itself in the presence of its greatness. It was made out of a black material that shined like jewelry underneath the sun, but it didn’t seem to be made out of obsidian because I tried bashing a rock against it and it did nothing. Not even a dent. And here I thought I could make a quick buck.

“How do I get inside…” I pondered.

Pushing the gate open and climbing over the wall was out of the question for obvious reasons. How about using the doorbell?

I meticulously inspected the gate, but after a while of searching, I didn’t find anything to let whoever it was inside know that I wanted in. Maybe if I shouted loud enough, someone inside might hear me. Scream for help, be a damsel in distress and whatnot. It triggers peoples’ natural instinct to act like a half-minute hero for fame and recognition. I, myself, had proven that to be true.

Should I dig underneath, instead?

I looked for a sharp and pointy rock that will serve as my impromptu shovel and afterwards, I set Picasso free while I started digging to the side. It felt like I was a prisoner trying to escape, but instead of breaking free, I was making my way back in like the intellectual that I was. In this day and age, having shelter and free food that would be served to you on time every single day until your release, or if you’re lucky enough, until you rot inside your cell was a dream come true for most people in third world countries. First step; attempt a bank robbery while wearing a colorful sock over your head. Second step; surrender to the police. Third step; drop your soap in the showers. Forth Step; (censored). Fifth step; Profit. No money, easy life,

I was about a foot deep when I wobbled and fell to the side. The earth was shaking tremendously.

“At least I don’t need to dig anymore” I said.

I saw the gate slowly opening outwards with a loud scraping noise. It wasn’t even halfway open when canisters flew out from the inside while releasing white smoke that covered the entire area.

As the smoke subsided, I saw that men in white suits had surrounded me in a half circle formation. They wore on their backs what looked like the patented proton pack from Ghostbusters. I suddenly heard that oh-so familiar song from the 90’s play in my head. If there’s somethin’ strange in your neighborhood, who ya gonna call? Definitely not these guys. They look shady as fuck.

“Please, put your hands behind your head and refrain from doing anything— suspicious” an individual stepped forward.

Everyone else wore the same white mask that hid their face, but the man in front of me was the odd man out. He looked very appealing with his charming smile that could make women fall by the dozen and gentle lulling voice to heal the soul. The classic supporting character that made you think he was an ally of justice, but later on revealed that he’s secretly the villain behind everything. Maybe I’m biased because I think that all good-looking men other than me should die already.

I complied for now and raised my hands up in the air, but it was accompanied by an impulsive laughter that made it seem like I was mocking them. I wasn’t. Promise.

“What is so funny, if I may ask?” he said.

“Okay. Maybe a little” oops.

“What?”

I suppressed a giggle by covering my mouth. Talk about bad timing. Dangerous looking men were pointing their unlicensed nuclear accelerators at me, and here I was, making a scene. For the sake of science though, what does those imitation ghostbuster thingamajigs do, exactly? The more important question was, how deadly were those things?

In the first place, why were they so aggressive towards me? I haven’t even done anything illegal that would warrant that kind of behavior. Yet, that is.

“So… what next?” I asked.

The man that seemed to be the leader of this wannabe Jabbawockeez group looked to the side and gestured at one of his men to do something. That person pulled out a small canister and threw it at my feet. It released a substance that resembled translucent jelly and expanded exponentially, covering my whole body in a matter of seconds.

I should try to at least resist, right?

I slowly moved my jaw and opened my mouth wide enough to take a huge bite. Every movement was strained because even if it looked soft to the eye, it was quite hard to move in it. It tasted very bitter, though. Unlike the store-bought jelly that I’m so used to eating on a Saturday night movie fest. Popcorn? Hell no.

As I chewed and swallowed, I kept my eyes locked on the people that were trying to apprehend me. Some stepped back in fright of the stranger doing strange things, while the others courageously stood their ground. Pretty boy over there seemed surprised— interested even at what I was doing. He had the look of a kid that just found a new toy to play with.

After I escaped my jelly-prison, I summoned the window and took out my chain halter. I discovered how to use it back when I was annoyed that it constantly fell off when I wrapped it around my waist. It yielded to an unforeseen yet convenient result. All I needed to do was to think of a place to put my chain halter in and poof, it magically appeared. I can’t throw anything else inside of it, though. Its main use is to just pierce through the darkness of the night so that I can see the path ahead of me.

I wrapped the chain tightly around my right fist. I may not seem like it, but I do have a few years of experience in fighting. Mainly got all of it from Tekken, though. Meaning, I’m all bark and no bite.

“Well?” I laughed at their hostile intentions before charging head first. I don’t even know if what I’m doing is better than the alternative of surrendering peacefully, but—

Actions first, regrets later.