The Brown Paper Box

“What’s in the box, what’s in the box, why me, what will happen, oh why won’t you let me go… oh boo hoo…” He mimed rubbing his eyes with a forced, pained expression as he loomed over me, his sharp, angular face just centimetres from mine as he mocks me, his grin growing like the Cheshire cat as he watches me squirm in my seat. I can feel the sweat running from my temple in rivulets as I stare down at the brown paper box on my lap. He is slowly moving to stand behind me, it reminds me of a documentary I watched last week, a predator circling its prey before going in for the kill. I can’t see him, but I can feel him, the foreboding presence that has my stomach in knots, has me hearing everything more acutely from the monotonous ticking of the clock counting down my fate, to the haggard breathing of his accompliss at the door who hasn’t stopped smoking for the entire hour that I’ve been held captive in this room. “All you people care about are the what’s and the why’s… the when’s even, never just the simple things. I placed your finger on the button, I proceeded to tell you to not let go and that you were to just… enjoy the ride. You do not need to know why or when to let go, and what, well the what is the best bit. If you let go, well then, I guess that there will be fireworks in the city tonight, my oh my, what a blast that will be.”

Pushing his hands down forcefully onto my shoulders, I gasp, almost startling enough to drop the box, but my finger remained planted firmly on the button, the others on the verge of crushing through to the inside of the box, but he didn’t even flinch, he just squeezes my shoulders with his vice like hands until it is excruciatingly painful, then holds them there. I don’t dare to move, even as the tears threaten to spill and roll from my eyes, the copper tang of blood is strong on my tongue from biting the inside of my cheeks to reroute where the pain is coming from. This will be over soon, he will have to let me go to take this box, this consequence of a stupid deal. This is the ramification I get for trying to make a deal with the most notorious man… monster in Tokyo. I thought I knew how to play the game, but instead… the game played me.

Hooking his finger beneath my chin, he hauls me up and makes me get to my feet, my legs are weak, and I cannot stand straight, I have no strength, but I cannot fall. I will not allow him to see me so fragile. I force myself to straighten, the hours of sitting in the same position with no reprieve has taken its toll. He looks down at me, eye to eye for what feels like an eternity as he seems to brand my soul, his gaze unwavering as he ensures that I won’t forget his face, that his will probably be the last face I see this close to mine. Without taking his gaze from mine, he reaches into my waist pocket and removes my badge. It seems like such an insignificant thing now. What once distinguished me as an upstanding person of the law, an untouchable entity… is now a mockery of who I used to be, a flimsy piece of metal to show that I’m nothing but a pawn, a piece to be moved around should I stray from the path. My life has been like a game of snakes and ladders, I climb so high, every roll of the dice pushing me on further and further, higher, and higher until one day, my luck runs out and a chance job sees me sliding right back down, lower that where I first started. The only problem now… I don’t see any ladders, only snakes surrounding me, coiled in the shadows, near invisible with their toxic words while they wait, watching me… poised to strike the second I make the wrong move.

He chuckles to himself as he looks at my badge, running his thumb along the engravings across its surface. He never knew until yesterday. Five years. Five years of my life I have been climbing his ladders undercover, relaying information, a rat in a cobra’s lair. I have dedicated my career to trying to stamp out his reign of terror in my country only to find myself being put into a position where I don’t know if I will survive the night. I cannot go to my fellow officers, he has made me look like a traitor, like I crossed them for him, withheld information, which is a lie. I gave them everything and more, I guess my life now comes into that ‘and more’ section now too. I have no one to turn to, no one who is on my side but myself.

Taking hold of the back of my neck, he leads me towards the door, an unmarked black van with matching blacked out windows awaits outside, he shoves me forcefully through the back doors to sit beside more of his cronies before moving to sit opposite me, smirking as he places a thick hood over my head and headphones to cover my ears. I cannot see a thing, my hearing is distorted to say the least, but I am aware of every brush of my elbow against the people beside me. Especially of the feel of the box that I hold in my hands, it is light, yet it feels like concrete, a dead weight in my hands crushing me.

I can feel the rumble of the engine better than I can hear it. I do not know where he is taking me, but I am trying to think of all the worst places that he could leave me stranded with this box…there are too many to guess at which individual place it may be. I have known him for enough years to know that he does not bluff and that whatever he has planned, it will be huge, a statement. I can feel the van turning almost every minute, they are deliberately taking a long, indirect route to throw me off, to stop me working out where we are, but what I do know is that this many turns means it’s a well-built, heavily populated area…this is not good, I need to find a way out. If it wasn’t for fear of where we were, I would just lift my finger and pray, but I could be somewhere with people, with families. This box may be dangerous, or it may just be some sick game of his. I have never been much of a gambler though. I just assume the worst and prepare for that.

The turns are becoming more carefully taken, the van is slower, and they seem to be driving more methodically, with purpose. We must be near the destination. I try to calm my beating heart, the pulse of my own blood loud in my ears as I strain to hear anything. I can still feel the people beside me, so they aren’t moving to get out yet. Sweat beads on my top lip, my hands shaking with both tiredness and trepidation. It feels like forever, although according to the seconds I am counting, we have only been stationary for seven minutes and nine seconds. Suddenly, I feel a large hand take hold of me just above my elbow, yanking me to my feet as I almost fall out of the van. I still can’t see or hear but I’m aware of being passed to someone else who’s no less forceful. I focus on putting one foot before another until I am pulled back to stop. My arms are raised, the weight of the package now insufferable as I hold it out, I am being patted down, this is trivial as I’ve been searched several times already. A hand shoves me forward from between my shoulders, I struggle to stay upright. I am walking blind, no one holds me as I move forwards, I just have to move.

A pressure is lifted from my head, I can hear again, there are several hushed voices conversing behind me and an incessant tapping in front of me, four taps every two seconds, fingernails on a table, a woman then… I know what this means, I know where we are, I know why we are here too. My hood is ripped from my head, the lights blinding me as I shield them from this overbright world, then I see her. The serpent queen herself. Her black knee length dress is the first thing I notice, a golden snake coiling around her body made of gold flakes like scales, rubies for its eyes. Her lips are coated in golden gloss, everyone knows that they are laced with poison though, she’s immune from the concoction that she drinks daily… but if she ever kissed you, you would die without question. Her black pointed nails still tap away at the table, her yellow eyes with slitted pupils staring straight into my own. They are only contacts, but they look so real, and the scariest part, they suit her. She truly is the queen of serpents, just as stealthy, just as deadly, and sure in her strike. Her hair is pulled back tightly from her face, a singular ponytail whilst her makeup is dark and smoky.

Placing her gaze upon the package she stares intently at it, a smirk playing upon her lips as she looks back up to meet my gaze, she does not say a thing only holds out her hand, palm up waiting for the box. My fingers instinctively tighten at the thought of the button beneath my fingers, maybe she doesn’t know, and I would love to just hand it over, but when her home is beneath the city, it’s a huge risk not knowing what I’m keeping held down. I move towards her but make no attempt to hand over the package just yet, still she stares at me, her left eye twitches as she is made to wait for me, I can see that her face is working hard to retain her true emotions.

Standing now, she takes hold of my wrist, opening the package as I hold it, she has a smug look on her face which doesn’t change until she sees what is inside, her legs go weak as she takes a faltering step back to her seat, still holding the package so I am forced to move with her, leaning awkwardly as I try to keep a grip on this package. There is a glass box within the brown paper and my thumb appears to be on some sort of release button, safe when held down, but the box opens upon release. I don’t see a thing, but she knows what it is. I drop the box onto her table and practically jump back as it springs open, a snake as white as snow, the most renowned, most toxic snake of legend is before me which she picks up as though nothing more than a child’s toy. If id have let go, I would dead, many more after.

She looks up at me while the snake settles its coils around her arm, her finger outstretched towards me, the snake now an extension of herself has slithered itself up so that its head is resting on it, staring at me. “You work for me now, little rat”. I watch as the snakes tongue flickers towards me, I’m trapped, constricted. To work for her is to be shackled to the devil for life. The brown paper box was nothing compared to what she will make me do…