Studded Black Mask(Richard Collins) Richard dialed 9-1-1 for the second time in one day. What a day it had been. The whole day had started badly. His alarm failed to wake him and he stumbled out of bed almost a half hour late. He worked at a steel mill, not the most forgiving job. He rushed to his car and headed to work, trying to come up with an excuse for his timing on the way.

Richard liked his job. He found it relaxing to do the same thing over and over. But how dull can you get? “Not much duller than this.” He muttered to himself, as he opened the door and stepped in to begin his long workday. But when he caught a glimpse of the inside of the factory, he screamed. In front of him lay the bodies of all his coworkers, bloody bullet holes through each one. Standing in the middle of the room, were six figures dressed all in black, wielding large guns, each one wearing a studded black plastic mask. He quickly found out there was a seventh one, when a blow came on the back of his head and complete darkness followed.

Waking up what seemed like hours later, Richard tried to look around. He couldn’t. He was tied to a chair with his hands behind him. Breaking free was the only thing he could think about. He had seen plenty of movies with this situation, getting out of it seemed simple enough. But it seemed so much different when it was him in the chair. And he could hear his captors only a few rooms over, most likely stealing metal. His feet were duct taped to the floor, not the chair; this was his best chance of getting free. With his feet free he could move to the table and break the back of the wooden chair, getting his hands free from the chair and in front to untie. He pulled up with his right leg; he could hear the duct tape coming off the floor. Slowly, very slowly it came off. He stopped to catch his breath; his foot was still securely fastened to the floor. He gathered as much strength as he could and tried again. He felt the tape lift. He heard it coming off of the grey cement floor. With a loud ripping sound his right foot was free. His left came easier. In a few more seconds he had both feet free. His captors had put way too much trust in duct tape. He made his way over to the stone table. It was the type of dull concrete table that was built into that kind of old building. He leaned forward, and then slammed his back against the table. He felt the pain, but ignored it. The chair hadn’t broken. He tried again. He heard a crack and felt the broken wood sticking into his back. It had started to work. Suddenly, he heard voices in the room where he thought the captors where. Then he heard footsteps. They must have heard him and sent someone to check it out. He was still tied up with the chair attached to his back; if they walked in he would be dead meat. He smacked the chair back on the table one, two, three more times. He could feel it slowly coming apart, and could hear the footsteps quickly approaching. He gathered his breath for one last blow. He felt the chair back splinter into dozens of pieces. He felt shards ripping through his shirt into his skin. Blood had begun to drip down his back, but he didn’t have time to care. The footsteps were getting louder. In a few seconds he had his hands in front. With his mouth he began untying his hands. The footsteps were getting louder by the second. His teeth slipped off the rope, he frantically started trying again. The footsteps were practically there! The knot was undone! His hands were free! He quickly got his lower half away from the rest of the chair, and then looked around for something to defend himself with. A baseball bat would have been perfect. But why would there be a baseball bat in a steel mill? He settled for his umbrella. He could hear the person breathing as the footsteps got nearer. Quickly, he flattened himself against the wall next to the door. He heard a hand turning the handle. The door opened and Richard swung with all his strength, hitting the masked figure in the jaw and sending it sprawling on the floor. More voices from down the hall, and running footsteps followed. Richard bolted out of the room and into the hall. He flung open the door to the outside; he could hear the would-be captors shouting behind him. He rushed to his car and whirled out of the driveway, heading straight for the nearest phone.

That night Richard sat alone on his sofa. The police hadn’t been able to find anything to identify the thieves, who had gotten away with thousands of dollars’ worth of steel. And he still wondered why they hadn’t just killed him like they had the others. Suddenly Richard remembered he had a date. He ripped off his bloody shirt and (after searching frantically) put on a new one. He stopped to catch his breath and then drove to the restaurant where his date would meet him. He looked at his watch, he was early. His date pulled up a few minutes later, it was only their second date but it had been going well. His date opened the door to her car and smiled at him, and his eyes nearly came out of his head in surprise. A mask had fallen out of her car, a studded black plastic mask.

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