“Chaos is a friend of mine.” - Bob Dylan

When the door slid open, I hesitated before stepping off the elevator into the basement. The day had not gone as expected.

While meeting with the transition team things had gone awry. All of our productivity had been reduced to finger pointing and a few expletive filled rants. It sealed my fate. Evicted from the proceedings, I was escorted from the premises by a chaperone. Even if I wanted to apologize for my outburst it was too late. I had gone too far.

When the elevator arrived at our destination, a wave of apprehension washed over me. I poked my head through the doorway and looked around. A small vestibule provided a waiting area with exit doors on the far side. The dull illumination of an emergency exit sign was the only light in the room. An ominous feeling washed over me. I half expected the boogeyman to step from the shadows.

“What are you waiting for?” my chaperone asked. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“You first.”

“That’s not the way this works. Either you leave or I’m gonna make you leave.”

He took a step towards me to punctuate his response. I was not intimidated. Prepared to punch my way out of the elevator, I removed my eyeglasses and folded the temples closed. With a firm grasp around them, I turned to face him. He was a foot shorter and in better shape. The muscular curvature of his body bulged out of his poorly fitted shirt. Under normal circumstances, he probably could have whupped me. But I knew something he didn’t and tried to warn him off.

“You don’t wanna pick a fight with me.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz I fight dirty.”

I plunged the metal eyeglass hinge into his neck over and over again without warning. Blood sprayed from the gashes despite his attempts to cover them with his hands. I pushed him against the wall with punches to the abdomen. Unable to ward me off, his body grew limp and sagged towards the floor, though that didn’t stop me from kicking him a few times for good measure.

After returning the eyeglasses to my face, I stepped off the elevator. Although they sat askew on my nose, the crooked frame served as a clarified reminder of the world that now surrounded me. Any blood that dripped from the frames onto my cheeks was disregarded. I considered it a badge of accomplishment.

I walked across the adjoining room and pushed the metal security door open with a blood soaked hand. Once the door closed behind me, a muscular hand grasped the edge of my shoulder and tried to spin me around. I refused to move. While we struggled in a battle of wills, I pried his index finger loose and bit into it. He flailed about like a bucking bronco in a failed attempt at dislodging the digit. The more he yanked his hand away, the harder I clamped down.

From out of the shadows, a gravelly voiced voyeur commanded us to stop. Everyone in close proximity cowered with fear. All except me. Locked onto the endmost joint, I tried to rip the finger from its socket, grunting like a rabid dog in the process.

“Enough!” reiterated our anonymous host.

Defiant of the instructions, I chewed a few seconds longer before turning my attention towards the voice. I stared into the darkness and spit the severed fingertip in his direction. Blood cascaded down my chin while I spat the excess on the floor.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do,” I replied. “All you’ll be left with is disappointment.”

“I know your transition in Purgatory didn’t go as planned, but you’re in MY house now. You’ll do as I say.”

“And when I don’t? You think you’ve seen anarchy but you haven’t. Chaos is a friend of mine.”

The shadowy figure stepped forward and leaned inches from my face. Our eyes locked in a demonic staring contest. Without flinching, I removed my eyeglasses and tightened the grasp around them once again. He was one word away from feeling the disproportionate wrath of my vengeance.

And I hoped he spoke it.