Lines of Loyalty

The Clumsy Escape

Rafael Cruz never considered himself an escape artist. He tripped over doorstoppers, spilled coffee on white shirts, and once accidentally locked himself in a janitor's closet for an hour and a half. But somehow, fate—or extreme negligence—had lined up the dumbest luck of his life.

It began with a creak. The kind of subtle groan that doors make when someone doesn’t latch them properly. Rafael blinked awake from a semi-conscious doze in the chair, his wrists still loosely tied to the arms. And by loosely, we mean "escape-room level difficulty."

He tugged gently. The knot wiggled. He paused.

“No way,” he whispered.

Another pull, and the rope came off like a Halloween decoration. He looked around, stunned. No guards. No shouting. Just the distant sound of someone laughing—probably at a meme in another room.

Still tied by the ankles, Rafael shuffled awkwardly toward the door like an over-committed cosplayer in a straitjacket. He nudged the handle. It swung open. Slowly. Dramatically.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

The hallway beyond was empty. Rafael tiptoed like a cartoon burglar, peeking around corners, expecting an ambush. But nothing. Apparently, someone had forgotten to lock everything during the last shift change. Probably because "Gum Guy" had gotten pizza.

He limped through the dim halls, ducked under a broken camera, and almost made it to the loading dock—until he sneezed.

"Hey!" someone called.

Rafael panicked. Slipped. Landed face-first in a stack of Styrofoam.

“Who's there?!”

He scrambled up and ran through the dock doors, knocking over a mop bucket and tripping over a stray broom on the way out. He ran blindly, zigzagging like a cartoon character who had no idea where the exit was. He even stopped at a locked door, tried to kick it open, hurt his foot, cursed loudly, then found the actual exit five feet to the left.

Meanwhile, outside, Kathleen was done waiting.

The first guard at the gate tried to stop her.

“Ma’am, you’re not allowed—”

She punched him in the throat.

He collapsed without ceremony.

The second guard drew a taser, but she ducked, swept his legs, and sent him flying into a trash pile.

“I’m not in the mood,” she hissed, stepping over the groaning man.

By the time she reached the surveillance room, three guards were unconscious, and one had fled to report a small, angry hurricane named Kathleen.

Inside the room, she stood in front of the screen, panting, bruised, and wild-eyed.

The footage rolled.

Rafael.

The ropes.

The door.

The sneeze.

The fall.

The mop bucket.

The panic.

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god... he’s a disaster,” she whispered.

But he didn’t talk.

Not once.

Even when the men pressured him, threatened him, offered deals—he didn’t say a word about her. If anything, he told jokes. Bad ones. Corny ones. The kind she pretended not to like.

Her chest tightened. Her fingers curled into her jacket.

“He really didn’t c***k,” she said aloud. “He’s either stupid... or loyal.”

The technician behind her smirked. “Maybe both.”

She turned. “Where did he go?”

The man shrugged. “Vanished. Cameras lost him near the river. If I had to guess, he’s laying low.”

She nodded, watching the last freeze-frame on the screen: Rafael slipping out of frame, his shoelace untied, arms flailing.

She smiled.

“For once,” she murmured, “being a complete mess might’ve just saved his life.”

She stepped outside, lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, and stared into the night. A bruise was forming on her cheek, and she felt a split in her knuckle.

Now she had two missions: find out who betrayed her... and find Rafael Cruz before someone else did.

Preferably before he tripped into more trouble.

Somewhere across town, Rafael sat on a rooftop in a hoodie two sizes too big, eating a warm pretzel he'd found in an abandoned cart.

He stared at the skyline and whispered, “This has gotta be the dumbest plan that’s ever worked.”

Then he looked down at his scraped palms and the mysterious stain on his pants that he hoped was ketchup.

“But hey,” he muttered, “I didn’t die.”

He leaned back, watching the stars, wondering how long it would be before the world came looking for him again.

And whether Kathleen would be the first to find him...

Or the last thing he ever saw.