Trail of Destruction

Mihajhlo Vukasin

Mihajhlo bit his lip and scowled; first he got stolen away from his paradise in Belgrade, then woken up so kindly by that woman and given a job she knew he was going to get screwed over in. Sure he could have gotten out of the situation easily, only problem being he had no support, no weapons, no intelligence. Just a brilliant situation, and what evidence did this woman and her cronies have against him or what could they use to forge? What footprint had he left that could have been incriminating? 

All of these questions and pieces to the puzzle spun round and round inside his head while he lay half conscious in the back of a Scotland Yard truck, hand cuffed, his feet tied with plastic ties and a mask placed over his head. They weren't taking any chances with him. Well... he thought, I did kill one of their guys…or a few. He chuckled, a bit which deteriorated into a slight cough. Thank goodness he knew how to handle hand to hand fighting against groups, saving him from a few broken ribs. But not a black eye, split lip and bruised ribs. 

The truck bumped around and wasn't kind to him as they sped through the streets of London to what he could only guess was a high security holding area for violent criminals and possibly terrorists. 

"Are we there yet?" he laughed in German, knowing that the Scots would recognize the language, maybe even slow them down a bit so that while they investigated him, Mihajhlo could break out. He was very good at breaking out of prisons and had done so since his early adolescence, back in his homeland guards could be bribed, tricked, killed, and taken care of with other methods. Then again that was quite a few years ago in a war torn nation. Britain was a far cry from the rat ways of Kosovo but it didn't hurt to try. 

As his full consciousness finally came around, the truck screeched to a halt, and shouts sounded all around. Guess we're here... he thought unceremoniously as the officers ripped him from the vehicle and cut the ties around his feet. Deciding it was better to hang around for the ride, Mihajhlo just let himself be herded into the prison, up a large flight of stairs and into what he guessed was a long hallway. 

"Stupid twit," one of the officers growled. Breaking into one of the biggest companies in the country with nothing more than a sob story and a bad pick-up line. Brilliant, bloody wanker." The Serb snorted and rolled his eyes, glad that suddenly the blinding black mask over his face was removed. In seconds he had a plan burning behind his eyes and grin on his lips. That chick may have watched me screw up in the city but I'm breaking out of this stone prison! 

"Hey officer," Mihajhlo said over his shoulder to one of the five officers escorting him. "You think I can get a smoke, just one more before I get interrogated and probably tossed behind bars?" Some of the officers frowned, but two laughed and one nodded. 

"Yea one pitiful cigarette before the firing squad sounds fine, how bout you Fredrick? Got a problem with public enemy here having a smoke?" The officer, pressumably Fredrick, chuckled and shrugged. "What the hell, it will be all worth it to watch him go through withdrwals and twitch like a rabbit." 



The End

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