The elevator creaked shut.

All was dark, hazy shapes, forms I'm struggling to comprehend through the dark cloth.Parts of shoes, out of the corners of the blindfold. Bright red shoes, suede shoes, dark shoes, army boots. Trouble. Flight of ideas, difficult to focus, have I been counting the number of seconds since we got in? How many times has the elevator stopped? Who has got in, who hasn't got out? Focus, FOCUS! The rope dug in, I should really stop trying. Apparently, Hollywood is dead. Well, that makes the two of us. Why am I thinking of Hollywood? The doctor said what? Remember! Remember!!!! To slow down breathing, and.... and what else? Focus on any one object, to counter this brain-whirring journey between one blink and the next. Focus, you said. How simple in theory, how insanely impossible in an elevator with dark booted dudes who look like they just got out of the army or something. Army, counter-intelligence, theories, ADD. Shucks. Where's the focus?

Cha-ching! Walk, walk ,walk, stop.

' We need the file'. That's funny. That's what the other guys said too.

'That's funny, that's what.....' blow to the solar plexus. Army, most definitely, I thought. The illegit kinds.

' We need the file', that's strange, he says 'we', not 'me' or how I used to be, what song is this in my head? Unwell, that's decidedly summing up the moment. Where was I?

Metal soled shoe to the shin. Betrayal and bile are the flavour of the week. Did I hear a crack? Nope. Well, not recently anyway.

The blindfold's off. Big mistake. I can see you now. And I don't forget. Or forgive. Or remember why I'm here in the first place. Oh, the file. Focus now, focus on guy in jumpsuit in the corner, wielding the hatchet and wearing brown shoes. Nice shoes, hmmm.

'The file is ...' Fake tooth crumbles in the mouth finally and the pill pops, I savour the taste before the frenzy takes over.

A moment. The ropes still hold. Where's the coursing of energy in sinew, nerve endings on fire and all that feelgood thingummy? Maybe the pain is slowing down assimilation. Breathe, breathe, think.

Right window above baldie's shoulder is brighter than the rest. No bars, how many floors am I up again? Stupid hollywood song on the radio in the morning. I figure I should sue the bugger if I get out of here alaaaa.....

Run, crash. Jump. Oops, wrong pill, sixty or summat floor.

Not good. not good