Fight.

You grit your teeth in anger. The fuckers are gonna try and kidnap you? Then let them try. You spot a fire extinguisher next to the door and pry it off of the wall and lurk near the door. The doorknob begins to jiggle, the sound of a key clicking in and out echoing like a gunshot in your ears. The door creaks open slowly and two men step through draped in heavy leather jackets and wielding baseball bats. One of them is also holding a roll of tape and a thick rope in his other hand. Sinister ingredients.

Luckily, you have the drop on them. Your eyes harden as you heft the fire extinguisher, you feel a wave of euphoria, an inner urge. Like you just offered up a slab of steaming steak up to some creature inside your soul, it hungers for this moment, the moment before the kill, the calm before the storm, where every moment hangs on action. Battle.