The cloth to your face was the last thing you remembered before waking up being rocked in the back of a van. Back and forth, completely in darkness apart from a small couple of spots where persumably the van had rusted away so much the outside light was able to get in. You felt as though you slept remarkably well for a change considering your ordeal.

Before the cloth there was that gang of punks. All with spikes and leather jackets, jeering around. Making fun of how you weren’t one of them and how boring and “beige” they kept calling you.

The van jumped as it ran over a bump of some kind jossling you awake. What did these group of well… punks want from you? It wasn’t like as though the last 24 hours hadn’t been bad enough. Let go from your dream job with nothing but a stupid excuse of budgets and not enough work. You were more mad management had held information about the money issues from you for so long. Although if that was just a front because they didn’t like you or not, was another question.

The vans engine whined as it no longer accelerated. Then a handbrake was clunked into position. Clearly the van had a lot more rust than on the sides which let you see the outside. Although those holes had darkened now. Clearly you were inside somewhere.

After hearing the heavy footsteps towards the back of the van, the doors were pulled open and you squirmed. Turns out your arms had no movement due to being tied together. You bearly even noticed before now. One of them pulled you up from the ground, as though you were some worthless cargo and carried you towards somewhere.

Feeling your butt fall into a small cheap armchair you felt some relief in the comfort compared with the van floor. Quickly you were untied from your awkward position to being cuffed down inside of leather straps built into the chair. There wasn’t much point in struggling against these people. You felt the material of the chair. It was leather, probably even real leather. It also had spikes, large metal spikes. Similar to what you remember the most from the punks. The warehouse, you assumed anyway, was dark enough you couldn’t see your captors.

Headphones. That’s what you assumed they were anyway. Carefully placed to cover your whole large ears. They were noise cancelling and worked well. Drowned out even your internal groans and attempts at shouts through the duct tape around your mouth.

A riff of an electric guitar. A loud voice. It was of course punk music reassuring you that it was them who had captured you. Your ears started to ring. This wasn’t your usual quiet easy listening music.

You were left listening to the music for what felt like hours. It may have even been hours. The lyrics cycling over and over. So much you were able to follow along with them. Fuck the establishment. Do it the punk way. Screw anyone who got in your way. Yeah, you and your punk mates were the only thing that mattered.

Then you felt something attack your head. A buzzing as your hair, fucking weak ass hair, was removed from your head, leaving nothing behind.

Pain. Excruitating pain as you felt something clamp onto your head. A clump of metal with a screw. The screw tightening. The rage inside of you increasing. All you could think of in your head was your mates whose face you recognised from the last amount of light you remember seeing. And then another was screwed in. Fuck those beige suits you worked with, fuck working. They were a bunch of cunts anyway. Two more screwing tightly in. You remember the edge of the needle for your sick tats you had crawling from your hands up your arms and up your shoulders.

You felt the last one tighten in, before you passed out from the events happening.

You awake on a sofa, seeing your mates getting pissed and high in the punk bar. Fuck yeah, this was the place. Sofas, good music, good pints and your mates.