Scared.

That is how I feel.

I hid under the table feeling my skin crawl. The room is dark and not well lit. I gulp down a tinge of fear hearing my heart beating. My hands are wrapped around my legs. I had used my only form of communication for one stupid phone call. What much did it do? Nothing.

"I told you," Bob said. "This building is not filled in technology you use to communicate out of this realm."

I look out from under the table feeling trapped.

Trapped somewhere I do not like at all.

"Not talking?" Bob said. "Wow; there should be a celebration to be held for your period of silence!"

I unwrap my arms from my legs then crawl out under the table.

Silence is the best way to make an important escape.

A growl made itself present on the table behind me. Don't look back,Speedy, I thought. I rush towards the door then grab at the knob forcibly then jig it. I tore open the door to see the street laying right ahead of me. I saw the portrait's frame along with the sight of people admiring what they are seeing.

"HELP!" I scream running towards the enlarged giant group of people. "HELP!"

I feel a sudden cold grip around my ankle.

"Let go!" I jab my foot back into the face of whatever had grabbed me.

The grip went slack so I ran out of the doorway. I bang my fists on the plastic like glass window. Can anyone hear me?, I thought panicking in sheer fear, Or can they not see what plight I am in?

"Help!" I shout.

I saw two familiar shapes of men behind the everyday going people. I saw other collections of paintings hanging on the walls. So The Great Painting is in a art museum? How typical to put the most dangerous item in the known history of impending doom items in the most civil destination. I had to make a harder slam on the window just to get attention!

"Oops sorry," Loki said, spilling some kind of beverage on the painting.

"You ruined it!" A man cries, as water drips down the painting

"Security!" A woman cries.

"I am afraid that is not necessary," Jacob said. "Excuse us; we have a mess to clean."

A short man picks up the portrait sending me sliding down to the side crashing into a pile of garbage.

"Your friends are here," Bob said, child like.

"Shut up," I said. "Jacob, JACOB!"

Then The Great Painting's Fetchers grab me by their claws and swoop me over one's shoulder. Damn it, so much for attempting to make a run for it. My hands and legs are shortly bound in some kind of thread that I can't recall.

"Loki!" I shout, seeing Loki put another picture in The Great Painting's place.

My world turns dark.

My attention span returns to let me find my hands are free but my legs really are not.

I pull myself up to a foggy window.

Come on, get a message across, Speedy.

"Why are you calling yourself Speedy?" Bob asks.

"Everyone in my world,online, knows me as Speedy," I said. "Fast typist,speaker, and artist." I put my index finger on the window contemplating what to write. "It's part of my various usernames online."

"Try me," Bob said.

"Speedywomen, SpeedyFastTalking,Speedywoman,Speedygal, Speedygirl," I list.

"Sorry I asked," Bob said, apologetically.