Another bout of short story telling in 120 increments from the earlier days of Twitter. Almost done deleting all my tweets and leaving that pile of barf for good.

Date of original writing: January, 2012

Light exploded from above and Jones squinted into it looking for something recognizable. All he saw was a dark room and a dark man.

As his eyes adjusted he noticed that the man held a cellphone. He was rolling it back and forth, waiting. Jones tried to stand but couldn't.

The man heard his strain, "That would be easier if you weren't taped to the chair." "Where am I?", Jones asked an obvious question. "Under."

"Under?", Jones was fully confused not to mention in pain. "Under a rock. The weather... Under a heap of trouble.", the dark man explained.

A less experienced man might've had the sense to be frightened by the situation. All Jones did was ask, "Couldn't get a drink, could I?"

"A drink? No.", said the dark man flatly. "You're not here to drink. You're here to reconsider." At this Jones sighed, "Cole sent you."

The dark man moved into the light revealing the features of a man who can only be described as a survivor. "Cole didn't send me. I am Cole."

Jones squinted, trying to remember a face he'd never seen. He tried to sync the face before him with the voice he'd heard on the phone.

Cole held out a cup of water, a red and white straw set in it. Jones hesitated then drank. "Good. At least we're that human.", Cole said.

"What now?", Jones asked with annoyance. He was getting sick of this. "You didn't want to accept my offer. Like to know why.", said Cole.

Jones took a moment, thought it over. Thought about what he should say and what he wanted to say and then he did neither. He told the truth.

"I didn't want her dead.", Jones explained. Cole leaned in, face to face with his captor, "Was that because you were screwing her?"

"Let's just say that the cons outweighed the pros.", Jones looked away from Cole. "And you don't consider where you are now a con?"

Jones laughed, "There are worse things than this." Cole laughed himself, "You've got that right." He turned his back, went to the table.

A creaking caught Cole's ear as he reached for one of the tools he'd set out on the table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw-

Jones smashed his fist into Cole's head with undeniable force. Cole flew back, stumbled and found himself on the floor.

Cole held his face with one had and tried to push himself backwards away from Jones. "It's not possible. You were locked down!"

Jones reached over and picked up a box cutter off of the table. "I have a habit of dislocating my thumb." Cole went wide-eyed.

"You can't!", Cole pleaded. "I wasn't going to hurt you!" Jones advanced slowly, "I know." Cole's feet squealed like pigs as he moved away.

Cole's hand reached the doorknob. Jones' hand reached Cole. Jones spun his prey around,"You want your wife dead? You do it yourself."

The walls were solid concrete but they shook as Jones brought the knife down and Cole started screaming. He bet on the wrong horse.