Háo Héng's Cell - Earlier
Háo Héng was whining. He'd been whining for the past thirty minutes, and the guard stationed outside his cell was reaching his breaking point.
"SIR! I'M TOO CUTE TO GO TO JAIL!" Háo Héng's voice was high-pitched, panicked, on the verge of hysterics. "THEY'LL TAKE MY BUTT! I CAN'T GO TO JAIL! I HAVE A VERY SENSITIVE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND THE STRESS ALONE WOULD DESTROY MY INTESTINES!"
The guard, a large Mongolian man with the patience of someone who'd dealt with far worse than whiny captives—stood with his arms crossed, his expression completely flat.
"You're not going to jail," the guard said in heavily accented Mandarin. "You're being held for questioning. It's different."
"THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY!" Háo Héng pressed his face against the bars of his cell, his eyes wide and desperate. "But then the questioning turns into charges and the charges turn into sentencing and suddenly I'm in prison sharing a cell with someone named 'The Butcher' who collects teeth as trophies!"
"That's not—"
"I NEED FOOD!" Háo Héng's topic shifted abruptly. "I haven't eaten in HOURS! My blood sugar is crashing! I'm pre-diabetic! If I don't get some kind of carbohydrate soon I'm going to faint and then you'll have a medical emergency on your hands and your supervisors will be VERY upset!"
The guard sighed. "You were fed three hours ago."
"That was a GRANOLA BAR! A single granola bar! Do you know what my caloric needs are?! I'm a growing man! I need at least 2,500 calories per day! That granola bar was maybe 200 calories! I'm STARVING! I'm WASTING AWAY!"
Háo Héng grabbed the bars and shook them dramatically, his face contorted in exaggerated suffering.
"WATER! At least give me water! Clean water! Not tap water because I don't know what the mineral content is like in this area and I have very specific hydration requirements! Preferably bottled! Spring water if you have it! Alkaline if possible but I'm not picky at this point!"
"There's a water dispenser in your cell," the guard pointed out.
"That's FOUNTAIN water! That's not the same! The pipes could be contaminated! There could be lead! Or bacteria! Or—"
"It's fine."
"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT! Have you had the pipes tested?! When was the last inspection?! Do you have documentation?!"
The guard's jaw clenched. He was absolutely going to snap soon.
"A BOOK!" Háo Héng's demands continued. "At least give me something to read! I'm going insane with boredom! Do you have any idea how unstimulating it is to sit in a cell with nothing to occupy my mind?! I need mental enrichment! Literature! Fiction! Non-fiction! I'm not picky!"
He paused, reconsidering.
"Actually, I AM picky. Nothing too violent. I have a sensitive disposition. No horror. No true crime. Maybe something uplifting? Inspirational? Self-help would be acceptable. Or classic literature. Do you have any Dickens? Austen? Tolstoy?"
The guard stared at him.
"ACTUALLY!" Háo Héng's eyes lit up. "Do you have Lord of the Flies? I know it's technically violent but it's also deeply philosophical and explores the nature of civilization versus savagery and I think in my current situation it would be very thematically appropriate to—"
"NO!" The guard's voice finally rose. "WE DON'T HAVE BOOKS! THIS IS NOT A LIBRARY! THIS IS A HOLDING FACILITY!"
"Well, that's very poor planning on your part!" Háo Héng shot back. "What if your captives get bored?! Bored captives are difficult captives! It's basic psychology! If you gave me something to read I'd be much more cooperative!"
"You're ALREADY cooperative! You told us everything we wanted to know within five minutes!"
"That's because I have excellent survival instincts! But now I'm cooperating in SILENCE! In BOREDOM! Don't you want me to be HAPPY while I cooperate?!"
The guard rubbed his temples, feeling a headache forming.
"At LEAST give me a magazine!" Háo Héng continued. "Anything! Celebrity gossip! Home décor! Fitness tips! I saw a fitness magazine on your desk earlier! Can I have that?! I promise I'll give it back! I'll even do the 30-day ab challenge if you want! We can do it together! Bonding activity!"
"SHUT UP!"
"I'm just saying, we could both benefit from—"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
The guard's voice echoed through the basement, his composure finally breaking.
Háo Héng fell silent for approximately three seconds.
"...Can I at least have a pillow? My neck is getting sore and—"
"IF YOU SAY ONE MORE WORD I'M GOING TO—"
Back to Tòumíng
Tòumíng stood in the stairwell, surrounded by armed Black Hawk members, his hands raised in surrender, his mind racing for any possible escape route.
"Come on, guys..." His voice was friendly, placating, the tone of someone desperately trying to talk his way out of violence. "You all seem like... reasonable people. Very professional. I respect that. I really do."
The guns didn't lower. There were at least eight of them now, all pointing directly at him.
"You wouldn't kill a nineteen-year, old, right? I'm just a kid. Barely an adult. Still have my whole life ahead of me. Killing me would be... morally questionable. Right? Right?"
The lead Black Hawk member, a tall man with a burn scar running down his face—gestured with his weapon.
"Move."
"Right. Moving. Good idea. Very reasonable."
Flash Forward - Five Minutes Later
Tòumíng was thrown into a cell with enough force that he stumbled and nearly fell. The metal door slammed shut behind him with a heavy CLANG, the lock engaging with a definitive click.
"Fuck," he muttered, picking himself up and assessing his new environment.
The cell was basic, concrete walls, metal bars on one side, a water dispenser in the corner, a bench that could theoretically be used for sleeping. Industrial pipes ran along the ceiling and walls, part of the factory's old HVAC system.
"MR. STONE CRUSHER!"
Tòumíng jumped at the voice. He turned to see Háo Héng in the adjacent cell, his face pressed against the bars, his eyes wide with desperate hope.
"Oh thank god! Thank god you're here! You have to help me break out! Please! I've been here for hours! They won't give me books! They won't give me proper food! The water tastes weird! I think it has too much iron in it! My tongue feels metallic!"
Háo Héng reached through the bars toward Tòumíng's cell like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver.
"PLEASE! Use your Stone Crusher powers! Break down the walls! Make a hole! Get us out of here! I'm begging you! I can't take this anymore! I'm going INSANE!"
Tòumíng rolled his eyes, already regretting the rescue mission. This was who he was risking his life for? This whiny, high-maintenance landlord who'd tried to blackmail him with hidden cameras?
But... Háo Héng had also given him the villa for free after being intimidated. And had provided contacts for selling gems. And was currently being held captive by international criminals.
Tòumíng sighed and looked around his cell more carefully.
Pipes. Big pipes everywhere. Running along the ceiling, down the walls, disappearing into the floor. Some looked old, rusted. Others looked more recent, probably repairs or upgrades done since the building's abandonment.
High-grade vents. The kind designed for industrial airflow. Much sturdier than the residential vent he'd fallen through earlier, but still potentially accessible.
HVAC equipment. Temperature control systems. Electrical conduits.
And there—running along the corner where the wall met the ceiling—an important-looking wire. Thick. Heavily insulated. Probably main power or security systems.
Tòumíng's grin spread slowly across his face. The pieces were there. The tools were available. He just needed to put them together properly.
He looked at Háo Héng, who was still clutching the bars desperately, and asked a very important question:
"You ever seen The Shawshank Redemption?"