METANOIA ... a.lightwood [1]

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A thumping is what woke him. It was almost like someone was playing the drums in his head, probably something like Immigrant Song or Highway To Hell, he couldn't tell yet, but it was causing his head to spin. The drums were a very loud and very annoying instrument, it was a constant beat, and a constant loudness, like whoever was drumming was trying to rip your head apart with how much noise they could make. They caused the ground to jump, and the lights to swing, and the stereos to break.

But more importantly, they made Chris wake up.

His eyes snapped opened first, luckily the lights were dim and he couldn't see much so his head wasn't quite so sore as he thought it would be. At first it took him a little while to get the basement he was locked in to stop spinning, but then he noticed the gloves wrapped around his hands with duct tape, and he rose his eyebrows.

"Duct tape?" he asked himself, out loud, as he thought he was alone. But then he heard a splutter, and his head shot up to see the mundane who probably wasn't really a mundane, Simon, standing above him. "Oh, it's you," Simon nodded, fixing the glasses on his nose.

"Why did they duct tape gloves to your hands?" Simon asked him, helping Chris to sit on the bench. Chris looked down the the leather gloves, probably lined in iron to stop his magic from being strong.

"To stop me from using magic," Chris told him, using his teeth to try and take the duct tape off, but to no avail, there was quite a lot of it. He let out a grunt, getting more aggravated as it continued not to work.

"Magic?" asked Simon. Chris let out a bitter sigh, punching his hand into Simons' chest. Simon realised what it was that Chris wanted him to do, and unwrapped the duct tape so that he could pull off the gloves. They both watched the gloves fly across the room, and then a neon green shadow of magic followed. Simon's eyebrows raised at that, and he stared wide eyed at the warlock beside him. Chris merely shrugged.

"So, i'm guessing you've tried getting out?" Chris asked, noticing how the window that shielded the bars was slightly open above him. Simon nodded, and looked around the room almost depressingly.

"There's no way out," Chris rolled his eyes at the mundane beside him. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his backside which was covered in dust and dirt from when his captors had knocked him out. He looked around their messy cell, and noticed the claw marks in the wall. He rolled his eyes again, more dramatically this time.

"Werewolves, of fucking course," he made his way over to the lockers at the opposite end of the cell, Simon trailing behind him. Chris was much taller than the spectacled boy, he was actually taller than everyone really, except for Alec. Alec was an inch, and enitre inch taller than him, and Chris couldn't help but let his mind wander to where else Alec was an inch taller than him.