Escape Exp#5

His first mistake was the smile.  It spread wider across his face with every step, his legs crossing one another in an almost elegant fashion as he glided across the floor.  The stick he was wielding passing from hand to hand, he turned his head left, then right, took a step forward and laughed.
That did it.  All the months of persecution, insecurity, and pain flashed through Canine Unit 316’s mind at once, and he reacted like a rabid dog, instinctive and feral.  Quick as a snake strike, he rushed forward and slammed his full body weight into the red coat’s gut.  Before the grunt escaped the man’s lungs, the dog was on him again, sinking his canines into the red coat’s ankle and dragging him to the floor.
 The red coat struggled, twisting, kicking.  He clawed at the floor, desperately seeking something to hold on to.  Realizing the futility of his efforts, he turned and swung the baton at the dog’s head.  316 merely seized the weapon, and, without losing stride, ripped it from the red coat’s grasp and tossed it aside.  He sank his teeth deeper, reveling in the anguished cries that followed.
The red coat continued to struggle, legs and arms flailing helplessly as 316 pulled him further down the hall.  Undaunted, 316 paused to scratch an itch.  He knew that he should run, that the others were searching for him, but having regained power over his reason, he wanted to enjoy this opportunity, if only briefly.
 A little further down the corridor, he stopped and released his captive.  Then, like a cat toying with a mouse, he waited...
For a moment, the red coat didn’t move, too frightened or surprised to react.  But then slowly, he stirred. He peaked over his left shoulder, then his right.  He scooted forward, froze, and when nothing happened, repeated the action.  Scoot.  Freeze.  Scoot.  Freeze.  Finally convinced the dog had run off, the red coat pulled himself to his bulky five foot six frame and brushed himself off.
“That’s what I thought,” he said.  “Finally came to your senses and realized you were no match for all this, did ya?”  He flexed his muscles.  “But I’ll find you, and when I do you’ll regret ever messing with me.  You hear me, you cowardly mutt?  I don’t care what they say about you.  As far as I can tell you’re just another stupid mutt who needs reminding who the superior species is.  Just wait till—”
His knees slam into the floor.  Displaying the stealth of a trained fighter, he scrambled swiftly back onto his feet, fists balled.  His head whipped side to side down the corridor, searching for the dog.  “Show yourself, you freaking mutt.”  
316 crept up behind the red coat, and, raising onto his hind legs, snarled in his ear.  The red coat nearly lost his footing as he scurried away, ducking and swearing as he went.
A blur of movement from behind and flesh and concrete reconnected.
This time when the red coat stumbled to his feet his eyes were wild.  Wiping the blood from his nose, the red coat began flailing at the air, all evidence of bravado gone.
316 watched and waited.
And then everything changed.  The red coat’s antics slowed as he lowered his arms.  His shoulders slumped.  He took several steps back until his back connected against the wall.
316 recognized that look; he’d seen it in the faces of men before.  But he didn’t trust it.
He approached with caution.  The red coat stiffened but did not move.  And just when 316 believed his capitulation was assured, he suddenly pushed away from the wall and broke into a run.
Almost too late, 316 understood.  He threw himself down the corridor, reaching the stick mere seconds before the red coat.
Man and dog were face to face.
The red coat recoiled.  316 began to follow; slowly, deliberately.  He was anticipating his next move when the arrogant smile returned.   “Gotcha," the red coat sneered.
316 froze.  And then he saw them.

 It was time to go.  

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