Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

Bulldog was finally regaining consciousness. He had an itch on his nose, but when he tried to move his hand to reach it, he was met with sharp resistance. His hands were tied to a chair. He was blindfolded. He could hear voices in the distance, but he couldn’t quite identify the speakers. One was proposing Bulldog be tossed down a mine shaft, the other arguing for a dip in the river with some heavy footwear. Bulldog tried to stand up. His feet were also bound tightly to the chair. How did this happen? Think, Bulldog. Think…sunny day…a stroll in the park…loose change on the ground…no harm in making a bit of money…see a penny, pick it up…aerosolized chemical agent…excruciating pain…blackout...

Even with these vague memories, Bulldog had a strong suspicion as to who was behind this. He heard a creaky door open, and heavy footsteps approach.  

“Well, well, well, Bulldog. Predictable as ever. Still can’t resist a bit of loose change on the ground, can you?” sniggered the man with the heavy footsteps.  

“General Drakar,” snapped Bulldog irreverently, “I guess you’re still sour about your dishonorable discharge?” 

“SWINE!!” shouted the General immediately, slapping Bulldog forcefully across the face.

Bulldog as he repositioned himself in his chair. “I guess so!”    

The General calmed himself and walked in slow, deliberate circles around his blindfolded prisoner, “You might be wondering why you’re still alive? I happen to know that you’re one of a select few secret agents with the right level of security clearance to give me what I need. Tell me the location and codes for the secret US missile base, and I’ll make this quick and painless. Refuse, and you’ll be begging for death before the night is over.” The General paused, staring at Bulldog. “Well,” he shouted abruptly, “what’ll it be?”  

 “What?” remarked Bulldog, as he jerked his head off his chest, “Are you finally done talking? You always were too long-winded for my attention span, General.” 

The General slapped him again. 

“That’s two,” said Bulldog, “there won’t be a third.” 

The General smirked, “You’ve always had that bravado. But we’ll break you of that. Give me the codes, Bulldog!”  

Bulldog thought for a second. “Okay, I’ll tell you what you want to know! But I do have one request.” 

“What is it?” asked the General. 

“Take off the blindfold. A man needs his vision.”

Shrugging, the General walked over to oblige Bulldog and ripped the blindfold from his face. Bulldog could see the General, and two men less than 15ft away with assault rifles pointed right at him.

“There! Now what?” laughed the General, placing his hands on the chair and leaning down toward Bulldog’s nose.

“I just wanted to see your face,” stated Bulldog coolly, “when I do this!” 

Bulldog kicked the General like a field goal kicker attempting a personal best. When the General bent over in pain, Bulldog kneed him squarely in the chin and knocked him out. Still tied securely to the chair, Bulldog stood up to face the guards. He took two steps toward the first guard, then turned around rapidly smashing the chair on the guard’s body.  The first guard went flying into the second, and they both dropped their weapons as they tumbled sloppily to the floor.  With his hands still tied behind his back, Bulldog leapt into the air and kicked the two guards squarely in the jaws (one with each foot), back flipped to reposition his hands in front of him, and landed flatly on his feet.  

“They just don’t make henchmen like they used to,” he said shaking his head.

A few hours later the General woke up firmly tied to a chair. “Huh? What?” The General stammered.  “What happened?  How did I get here? How did you get free?”  

Bulldog sauntered up close to the General and placed a chair directly in front of him, mounting it like a steed.  

“Your two bozo henchmen can answer the first two questions,” chuckled Bulldog. “As to how I managed my way out of those ropes,” Bulldog looked down at his shoes. There were two small, but distinct blades jutting out of the heels of his boots. “Always check a man’s shoes. You can put a phone, a blade, heck probably even dinner in one of these things.  So, while you were flappin’ your lips, I was using these shoes to cut through the ropes. From there, it was easy.” Bulldog got up and started to walk away.  

“Wait!” shrieked the General.  “You can’t leave me here!  This building is going to be torn down in the morning!!”  

“I know,” said Bulldog, “who do you think owns the demolition company?” As he turned to leave the General saw Bulldog pull a penny out of his pocket and flip it casually in the air. He heard Bulldog’s voice echo through the room, “I took this out of your pocket. It’s what you owe me.”

Story by:  Bulldog White

Written by: Scott White

Edited by: Jordan McMillian