Editing DbS (section)

== TWENTY-EIGHT ==
⚇乂⚇

'''AND OH MY GOSH CHOLESTEROL'''

THINGS WENT BLURRY TO THE point of unrecognition. When things sort of cleared up, after I thought I had gone crazy, I came to the realization that I was back in the future.

Around me was a familiar, futuristic, at least in comparison to Shakespeare, setting. Pool lights were spaced every five or six feet on the walls, the steady beeping of a heart monitor bringing me back into focus.

I squinted, trying to de-blur my vision, and found that there was not, in fact,  anyone else in the room. Except… a strange ticking noise filled my ears. It came from behind me, a strange weight dragging down my hands- which were, by the way, still behind me, via the zip ties.

''A bomb,'' my mind thought, mercifully having returned to its normal accent. That took a second to process. And then: ''A BOMB!''

My first instinct? Run for my life. Except I couldn’t do that before first getting the zip ties off. Easy enough. I pressed a small button on my watch, a razor-sharp blade coming out of the side. A few swift movements of my wrist later and the bomb-like thing fell to the ground.

I leapt up from the chair, circling it once, trying to figure out how close I could get to the bundle of blue-ish sticks before exploding.

''Okay… so it’s a new variant of dynamite.'' There wasn’t any branding on it, and except for a timer thingy on the bundle, it was just a bunch of blue cylinders.

I carefully picked the bundle up- ''Not smart,'' my brain helpfully told me- and examined it closely.

The sticks were the width of two of my fingers and were about eight inches in length. They were a bright, royal, blue color, and had no wicks from which you could light them.

The timer was what caught my eye, though. Green, digital, numbers flashed on it, counting down from nine minutes twenty-three seconds… to nine minutes twenty-two seconds… to twenty-one… to twenty….

''We have to go.'' But before I did, I gently lifted the digital number box thingy. It was attached to two cheap-looking wires. ''We’re not doing this today.''

I put the bomb down, careful to position it so it wouldn’t explode in my face.

''We could pull a Captain America… no, no, this has much more boom capacity than a grenade….''

There was not, I decided, anything I could do. And so, I broke for the door, passing the heart rate monitor, which I had hastily undone from my wrist before.

Its numbers and stuff were very confusing. I was a little surprised that what’s-his-face could read the thing, it wasn’t as if he were smart enough to really go to nursing or medical school or whatever.

All I caught was something about cholesterol, which didn’t really make sense, because I was pretty sure it was measured with blood. Or something. It’s not as if I’m a trained doctor.

Anywho, out the door I went, past the curving hallways, and to the elevator.

''Fire alarm, fire alarm…'' no sign of one. ''I don’t think this building is up to code.'' But hey, what could I say, I’m not an architect either.

And so, up the three flights of stairs and up to the lobby I went.

The receptionist was nowhere to be found. But the fire alarm was. It was behind the chest-high marble desk where the fluffy-haired teenager had sat earlier.

''What’s another law broken?'' I yeeted myself over the desk as fast as I could.

The door, to where I assumed the receptionist usually just chilled out, was shut, and I was pretty sure she hadn’t heard me. ''Great.'' With that, I pulled down on the white tab thingy as fast and hard as I could.

A blaring sound filled the hotel. And out came the receptionist.

Her hair was back now, in a long, frizzy, ponytail.

“What’re you doing!?” Her green eyes were squinted in anger. “You’re going to get us all killed!”

“No, Tom What’s-it is!”

“Wh—”

“Get out, there’s a bomb!”

This caught her attention. “… Fine.”

And thus, the receptionist fled for the entrance.

Trusting the people of the hotel, I started for the breakroom, to see if I could find anyone. But then…

''The dart.'' I needed a sample of that dart. Badly. ''Isn’t there some in my blood? Can’t we do this Cap style?''

That was not an option. ''People first.''

And so, I headed off to the pool at top speed. The door was, unfortunately, locked. I needed a key card to get to the pool. So, I did what any normal person would have done in that situation.

I opened a window and climbed out. (Ha! You thought I would break the glass! Pretty sure that’s illegal, though… don’t want my reputation further smeared.)

The sun was bright. I squinted in the light, shielding my eyes, before dashing over to the pool.

Kids were splashing each other, having chicken fights, altogether having a great time. Parents were sunbathing, talking, getting a break from the kids, and there were, per usual, people flirting with each other, as they tended to do at this particular hotel.

“GET OUT! BOMB!”

This caught few peoples’ attention. So, I decided to take extra measures. I ran over to the lifeguard’s stand (where no lifeguard sat) and grabbed the megaphone, switching it on.

“FIRE! BOMB! GET OUT OF THE POOL!”

This got the people moving. All sorts of people were now grabbing their kids, running for their lives, using their key cards to get at the doors, going for it.

Except… someone was moving really, really, slowly. A grandmother. Her face was wrinkled, a flowered swim cap on her head, a cane in one hand and a magazine in the other, she was moving as slow as… well, molasses.

''People first,'' my mind thought slightly grudgingly. I needed that sample, but I wouldn’t very much like it if my own grandmother were blown to bits by dynamite… so I helped her along as fast as I could.

Finally, I was free of her, and I glanced at my watch. I had exactly two minutes and forty-nine seconds left. ''Time to put that gym practice to the test.''

And so, I dashed down the stairs and into the abyss known as the basements.