A fresh sense of liberation filled his spirit as he stepped out into the open, but a foreboding fear soon took its place as the deafening screams of an alert siren echoed across the skies. Knowing full well that he was the cause for alarm, he looked around in a frantic state of panic, expecting chaos and possibly even danger from the multitude of figures around him, but for reasons unknown, not even the slightest change did he see in their behaviour, and it was as though they had ears but could not hear.
Yet, the realization of their oblivion to the emergency provided him no comfort, for he had lived in the city long enough to understand that nothing here could exist without reason or purpose, and he knew with all certainty that this was no exception. Someone, or something, had been mobilized. As he prepared to escape from the scene, he began to notice an ensemble of sharp, erratic movements whenever he peered through the ever-shifting gaps in the crowd, and indeed, his fears were not unfounded.
With newly forged chains lashing about in their terrifying claws, they methodically barged a path toward him, their bodies armored in metallic plates shielding the intricate clockwork of cogs and bolts that invigorated their jerky, robotic movements. And although their faces were shrouded by inscrutable masks that bore the unearthly visages of lifeless puppets, making them indistinguishable from one another, their intentions were clear and their malice, obvious beyond question.
Without an inkling of hesitation, down the colourless streets he raced; a fugitive, scattering papers and knocking over coffees as he bumped his way through ranks and battalions of faceless individuals. His chains threshed about violently with each stride, constantly whipping themselves against his shins as though out to cripple him as the unforgiving hands of his pursuers reached out to capture him, but the more pain he felt pounding into his legs, the faster and faster he ran.
Riding on the winds of perseverance, he lunged through the multitudes, pressing on until he could no longer hear the relentless footsteps of the city’s enforcers chasing threateningly behind him, and as the stampede faded into the calm, he gradually regained his composure, leaving his fear behind in the trail of his opportune escape, and in the direction of his goal he continued to run without a single moment’s respite.
Beyond the exquisite gates of a decorated mansion his feet eventually came to rest, and so did his chains, but only briefly, for having realized the lack of any other alternative, up the gate he started to crawl, breathless but determined, restrained but proficient, with his limbs guided by a strange familiarity; a skill honed but never forgotten from years long past.
Over the gate he brashly threw himself, where after with a firm grip on the sturdy iron bars he momentarily suspended his upper body, preventing it from plunging down as his legs made a smooth crescent in the air, up and over the top, before finally finding their way fluidly back down to the ground on the other side. Flanked by majestic pines to his left and right, he felt the electrifying adrenaline fueling his steps as he blazed onward with destination finally within sight, and soon to be within reach.
Led by a pair of reckless hands, one on each of the two massive rosewood doors sealing the passage into the mansion, he mustered all his strength and pushed, his head wedged between his quivering shoulders and his toes, grating against the floor with his heels off the ground. And slowly but surely, the guardian doors began to part, growling coarsely in resistance as they adamantly clung to the posts of their original standings, but nonetheless, they were unable to resist the unbreakable will flowing through from his unrelenting heart to the faces of his palms, and to the fortitude of his spirit, they inevitably yielded.
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