Grimsley squirmed on the ground as the communicator continued to buzz in his pocket. This could be his only chance at escaping this bizarre situation, provided he answered the phone. But it was well entrenched in his pants and his hands were tied up too well for him to even think of fishing out the little device.

Ronald watched with curiosity as the young soldier wriggled and twisted in an effort to knock one of the buttons on and answer the call. He was also tremendously nervous though. The communicator was making such a loud buzzing in the tiny space he feared that it would alert Chandana and the Red Scarves. Then their best shot at leaving would certainly be gone.

"This is Dr. Kostinev." The female voice of the psychologist echoed around the small room and Ronald sat bolt upright at hearing it while Grimsley stopped moving. "I have your report finalized now." Her voice was a little muffled through the material of Grimsley's pants and he hoped that was enough to keep anyone outside from hearing her.

"Oh, yes, umm, thank you. What does...does it say?"

Ronald was trying his best to wave around and get Grimsley's attention, mouthing that he needed to call for help. Grimsley nodded that he understood but he had to wait a little and be polite before he could make that statement. "Everything checks out here. You're psychologically sound and ready for combat."

"Ah, thank you. I'm happy to hear that." Grimsley cleared his throat a little and dropped his voice so his plea for assistance wouldn't be heard. But he never got a word out.

"Then report to your regiment officer as soon as possible." And then the communicator cut dead.

"No wait! You have to..." Grimsley looked over at Ronald's face, which was frozen in shock at seeing such a golden opportunity missed. "...Help us." Grimsley laughed nervously as Ronald's face turned to anger. "Funny how that worked out, right Ronald? Funny stuff. This will make a great story after we get out of here, won't it?"

Before Ronald could scream out his frustrations, the door burst open. In the doorway was the imposing figure of a gang member, their black trench coat sucking up all the light around them and causing the red scarf on their neck to burn bright like a bloody sash. "Sounds like you've been summoned," the gangster grumbled. He picked the two up off the ground, using a hand for each of them to show off his tremendous strength. The shadowy man then motioned for the two to follow him and he also revealed a small firearm he was keeping at his side to warn them.

The two crept along behind their escort, looking like a comical pairing of deranged old man and dirty teen. Ronald's eye wandered up and down Grimsley until it came across the shiny metal of the pistol Grimsley kept. It was still the young man's most prized possession and if he weren't tied up he would have surely be cleaning it, which contributed to the grime all over the rest of his clothing. But Ronald wasn't interested in the cleanliness of the weapon, only in its usefulness.

"Psst! Boy!" Ronald stumbled over a bit and nudged Grimsley, using his eyes to motion towards the gun. "Why don't we use that to get out of here?" Ronald whispered.

Grimsley looked down at the weapon, genuine surprise flitting across his face for a brief second. He had completely forgotten he had it on him. But then he shrugged and continued to trudge along. "It isn't loaded."

Ronald looked stumped for a moment, stumped by that unfortunate aspect of the gun. "Doesn't matter boy, we can still use it."

"How?"

"Like this." Ronald twisted his back so that his hands could reach the weapon. He fumbled a little at first as he had to maintain a walk while trying to use his tied-up fingers but eventually the gun was withdrawn from the holster and resting in the elderly man's hands. He turned himself again, winding up his body like a coil before suddenly whipping back and launching the weapon like a projectile.

The shiny gun smashed off the back of the guard's head and he slowly turned to face the two captives, grumbling some more and rubbing his skull. "What's all this then?"

Ronald and Grimsley looked at each other, dumbfounded that the metal object had done little to defeat their captor. "Lunge boy!" Ronald shouted and the old craftsman jumped forward with his head down. Grimsley shrugged and followed suit and the two impacted the gangster's chest.

Their opponent flew back under the combined weight of the prisoners, his head whipping backwards and smacking off the hard floor, bouncing back up for a second before going down once more and eventually settling on the ground. The gang member's tongue lolled out and his eyes seemed to run circles within the sockets in a daze.

They spent the next few minutes awkwardly untying each other while backwards, guiding one another by taking painful glances over their shoulders, twisting their necks. With the two freed, they rushed down the hallways of the Red Scarf base.

The entire building had been constructed out of an old factory, with ancient walls knocked down to make new rooms and new ones put up in other places to suit the needs of the gang. Most of them were packed into some sort of large lounge. The two escapees passed by it slowly, peeking into the door to see various gambling games going on as well as some arm wrestling competitions.

Ronald seemed to know the layout of the building fairly well, taking each turn with each and dodging contact with anyone as though he knew the routes. Grimsley watched him in awe and simultaneously he thanked Saint Ishiyama that they weren't coming across a lot of enemies as they traversed the factory.

"How do you know this place Ronald?" Grimsley asked.

"I used to work here for a bit, back before it was turned into this creep hole. And I been captured more than once by that there Chandana you know." He smiled in his crooked way and whipped around another corner.

They were at the end of the hallway and were left in front of a very plain door that required a manual push. Not very often one came across something that wasn't automatic these days. "Well, this is the end for us. Time to get out of this place." Ronald smiled again but some of the happiness seemed lost in it this time, a little sadness mixing in with the forced action.

The two stepped through the door into darkness. We were in there for quite a bit. Ronald stumbled forward on his own, confident to patrol through the shadows while Grimsley reached down into his pocket to fish out his communicator and use it for light. As he did, his hands brushed over his pistol, which he had scrambled to make sure he recovered after it had been thrown, fawning over it and cleaning it to death.

Grimsley pulled out the communicator and held it up in front of his face, trying to figure out what he had to push to turn the thing on. His questions were answered as blazing lights suddenly ignited and a new room was lit up. It was an old assembly line, with conveyor belts and abandoned machines strewn throughout. And standing at the other end was Ronald.

But he wasn't alone. Next to him was Chandana, leader of the Red Scarf gang. She patted Ronald on the shoulder. "Good job old friend. Consider your debt paid off."

"What? What's going on Ronald?" Grimsley was panicking and kicking himself for not having loaded his pistol earlier. Now would be a great time for it.

Ronald ducked his head down a little in shame. "Well you see, Chandana and I do quite a lot of business deals and sometimes I...well I get into a bit o' debt. So I find ways to pay her. You're the payment this time."

"Yes," Chandana cut in. "Military men can drive a high ransom in many markets. Slavery, mine workers, even selling your freedom back to the army. They need every last one of you I hear." There was a wicked twist in Chandana's voice as she contemplated Grimsley's future.

The young soldier felt someone brush up behind him and saw the gang member from earlier hovering behind him (and above him due to the man's large girth). Grimsley turned back to look at Ronald in disgust. "That's twice now you've tricked me. I'm going to kill you when I get my hands on you!"

"Oh I'm afraid it's my job to decide whether or not Ronald dies," Chandana interrupted. "Now, hand over your little trinket before you call for help." The leader motioned towards the communicator in Grimsley's hands.

The young man slowly lowered the device to the floor, laying it down in front of himself like it was a deadly weapon he was surrendering. But he never took his eyes off Ronald and Chandana the whole time. "Say Ronald, I have one last question."

The old man perked up for a moment and then looked to Chandana, who nodded in signal that the question could be asked. "Yes, what is it?"

"What happens if the communicator gets destroyed?"

Ronald pondered it a little bit in his head. "Well, the signal would stop sending and that automatically registers a distress call with the army, who have to come investigate-" Ronald was cut short by a loud crunching sound as Grimsley's boot came down hard on the machine on the floor.

A/N: Out of the frying pan and into the fire! Has Grimsley finally found a way to escape the Red Scarf gang or will the army arrive to find his corpse?