Man VS Duck

The Corridor: Chapter 2

Clint suddenly woke up in a dimly lit room, the only light coming from a light bulb in the middle of the room. His breathing intensified as he looked around frantically, his chest heaving as he breathed quickly. He was sitting down, and he quickly stood up. He felt a breeze against his chest, and looked down. He was shirtless, his muscled arms and chest moving as he breathed. He was wearing white pants that went to his knees, pants that he was not wearing.

He looked in front of him and saw that there were other men who wore the same pants. No shirt. He looked behind him. Same thing. What was going on? Where were they?

"Clint?" A familiar voice asked behind him.

Clint turned around, and a muscled guy with light brown, curly hair stood next to him. It was Niko. Clint smiled sadly, looking down at the floor. Clint suddenly turned to Niko and gave him a big hug that felt like a big bear hugging someone.

"W-What's going on Niko? W-What's happening?" Clint asked, shaking Niko.

Niko shook his head frantically. "I have no idea, Clint. But it'll be fine, right?" Both looks on their faces said the opposite.

While talking, Clint didn't hear the screams and yelps coming from the door in front of him, and suddenly, he realized something. He was next. The huge red alarm rang, and he shook his head at the masked figure standing in front of him. What answered was a taser at his hip, which felt like tiny little needles going into his skin; all at the same time.

He looked in front of him and behind him and saw nothing but a long hallway. A spotlight was shining on him, and a bright red light shined throughout all the hallway. His eyes widened; his breathing heavy.

Suddenly, a noise came from behind him. Strangely, it sounded like a quack. Clint scoffed, shaking his head. What? Did whoever kidnap him expect him to fear a duck? He started walking away, but the quacking got closer. He started to run, but he suddenly saw the light orange beak of a duck start to close over his head. He whimpered, looking behind him.

And there, he saw a giant white duck, the orange feet being as big as a horse's hooves. It was bigger than any duck he ever saw. His pupils dilated in fear and terror. He tried to run, but the duck's beak went over his head, next to his chest, and started biting him. Clint screamed in terror and agony. But nobody came to heal his wounds. He sat on the ground, groaning and whimpering in pain and fear.

But he wouldn't let his kidnappers win so easily. Clint stood up again, using the wall to help him, and this time, he heard a strange noise in front of him. In fact, there were a bunch of noises. Neighing. It sounded like thousands of horses were about to come sprinting his way. He cowered in fear, stumbling backwards.

But then the noise stopped. He sighed in relief. Was it just the duck?

But as soon as he thought that, Clint heard thousands of hooves smacking against the concrete floor. He stopped breathing in absolute terror, his eyes widening.

"No, no no!" He said quickly. "Please! What do you want with me?! I-I didn't do anything!"

Before he could finish, a bunch of tiny horses filled the entire hall. Neighs that sounded more trumpets echoed through the room. Clint covered his eyes with his arms, almost accepting death. The horses tripped Clint over, and stampeded all over him. By the time they were done, Clint was bleeding profusely, and his coughs sounded like a rattlesnake. He groaned painfully, looking down at his bare chest. Blue, purple, and green bruises had all formed, and Clint couldn't breathe.

"Why?!" He screamed, though it was almost a whisper because of how much pain he was in. He felt like he had been played by a million drummers who punched his stomach repeatedly. "Why are you doing this to me?!" He started sobbing as three unknown figures carried him off to someplace unknown.

He struggled, but stopped, because the pain was just too much. Tears started streaming down his face, both out of fear and out of pain. His vision was blurred because his eyes were so swollen, he could barely see.

He saw what looked like a white hospital bed, and a sigh of relief came over him. He was going to be okay. He was getting help for the painful wounds. The three figures laid his limp body on the bed, carefully handling his broken legs and gingerly placing him in between the soft, warm, comfortable sheets.

Then suddenly, a tightness came over his wrists, ankles and his stomach. He looked at his arms, and leather restraints were being fastened so tight he could feel his heartbeat, which was drumming at a thousand beats per second.

At the same time his arms were being restrained, Clint felt the cold leather against his ankles tightening.

Even though his legs were broken, and even though he was in a lot of pain, Clint fought back against the restraints as a restraint was laid and fastened over his bare, muscled chest. A gag was put in his mouth, and Clint started sobbing hysterically, out of pure terror and agonizing pain.

He laid there for three hours until he passed out from shock and pain.