A Connor Malone Story

[RagingLeprechuan]

The feel of the cards between your fingers, the smell of a freshly open deck upon your nose. The high one gets when taking a risk. Such things can become addictive. A way of life.

"I for one, find it consumes my thoughts, my desires......some much so that it becomes me."
"And while I stand there money laid out, people about me eager to see the out come, I feel for an instant, for just a moment, that I mean something."
"Although those moments always come back to haunt me, such as the predicament that I've thrown myself into yet again."

Connor took a moment to survey his surroundings. He was laid with his back against a wall, his feet and hands bound in a position that left him dangling above the ground. He found himself here because he decided that betting all his money was a good idea, instead of putting aside the money he owed and betting the rest. Then again, the adrenaline rush wouldn't have been the same.

From across the room a door swung open and produced two thuggish looking men. They made their way to Connor, wooden bound clubs in hand. In between beating he picked up hints and slurs that made reference to his poor gambling ethics.

"One would think I'd have an ephiany along the way, or perhaps a reckoning thought to stop my ignorant ways."

As his eyes opened and vanquished the darkness of unconsciousness, he noted the absence of the two brutes and the window for his escape. Skillfully moving his tongue about in his mouth he soon produced a small lockpick and placed it at the tip of his mouth. Fiddling with the tool, the manacles, and his limitness of neck length he soon popped the lock on his right hand open. This this action done, Connor moved to ride himself of the other restraints.

Just as he was leaping down from his prison like wall, the room's door slid open. With haste Connor took cover behind some oil filled barrels. As a whistling man carrying a tray of sharp and pointy utensils made his way to Connor's chains. The man obviously seeing the lack of a body on the wall, called for alarm.

"Alright Connor, the stakes are high and its your move...shall I fold?"
"No, thats just not my style, even if the hands bad I can still bluff my way into a win."

Kicking the door to the room shut and sliding the lock into place Connor picked up a bloodied club, which coincidentally bore a reather high resemblance to one of the clubs from earlier. Struck at the guard from behind an taking him completely by surprise.

"I think instead I'll raise the stakes."

With the pounding of footsteps, Connor made haste and quickly swapped clothes with his would be deliverer of pain. Having finished this just as an angry mob of soldiers burst the door open.

"You their! What happened?" Were the words yelled from the guard at point.
"This man was trying to get away, he locked the door behind me at lunged at me with this club." Answered Connor, kicking the weapon to the side.
"Men! get him locked up!." Screamed the armored man.
"And you, come with me." Making a point and wave motion, he directed Connor down the hallway.

Following the guard, Connor silently plotted a way to escape the clutches of the installation. <p>When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let's all get drunk, and go to heaven! - Old Irish Toast</p>