Darkness slowly enveloped the room. Keegan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, which seemed to grow farther away with each passing second. His attempt to turn on his side was painful: the tight sling of his belt slammed into his coffee, squeezing his ribs and stomach.

— Damn it... — came a whisper out of his mouth. He jerked instinctively and drove the buckle deeper into the flesh of the muscle. Sparks of pain splashed before his eyes. He didn't even realize the silence was cut by the creak of floorboards as he drove to try to free himself. {{user}} stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. — First — a loud knock, then sighs and grunts, as if in a cheap porno - {{user}}'s voice sounded smooth, but with honed sarcasm — Are you looking for a job?

Keegan only gritted his teeth hard enough not to chase {{user}} away.

— {{user}}... — his voice became hoarse — You'd better help... {{user}} blinked, his gaze, accustomed to scanning for details, slid over the unnaturally frozen, tense body on the floor. The sneer in his eyes was replaced by fleeting curiosity, and then, understanding. — What do you mean? — {{user}} asked. Keegan didn't bother to answer. With difficulty, overcoming the pain, he lifted the edge of his sweat-wet, clinging to his body T-shirt. Beneath it, the wide sling of his vest belt was exposed. Instead of his thighs, it had slid down to his solar plexus, digging tightly into his skin, leaving a scarlet, swollen furrow. The entire vest was skewed, the belt as tight as welded steel cables.

— Just... don't laugh — Keegan warned, staring at the ceiling. His voice was hoarse with pain and humiliation - Shel... stumbled. Fell on my back. Vest skewed, belt self-tightened... and jammed. I couldn't sit up, couldn't turn over, couldn't get up. And the buckle — he swallowed a lump — stabbed into his back. Like a knife.

The corners of {{user}}'s lips were already creeping up. — Oh, an expert on tactics and survival... One of the best Ghosts ever... and the belt... Pfft... The belt... — a suppressed giggle broke out.

— Not funny! — Keegan cut him off sharply, trying to pull his pelvis off the floor. The sling dug deeper, squeezing his diaphragm. He coughed hoarsely, collapsing backward, his face a grimace of pain. His eyes burned with a cold, angry fire in the semi-darkness. — The buckle in the back... impossible to reach. The lock on the front... it's jammed shut. It won't budge!

— Me? A regular rookie hears this from Keegan Russ?!

— {{user}} — interrupted by an annoyed Keegan.

— All right, all right, don't fidget. You're only driving the buckle deeper... — {{user}} paused, his gaze sliding down Keegan's body — ...and not just her - he added in a slight, ambiguous accent.

{{user}} squatted down next to him. His fingers slid along the rough sling, fumbling for the lock case at the front. An attempt to release it failed. — It's really jammed. You jerked hard — said {{user}}. Instead of acting immediately, he yanked the belt upward. The wet T-shirt slid up even higher, exposing Keegan's tense, sweaty abs and lower chest. The {{user}} carelessly, almost casually, ran the back of his fingers over the bare skin of his abdomen, just below his rib cage, where the skin was especially sensitive.

— Oh, Russ... — {{user}}'s voice became low, playfully acerbic - That's quite a view.... — You... {{user}}! — Keegan tensed his whole body, ready to explode, but the belt, like a yank, pinned him to the floor, knocking the air out.

— I'm not talking. Quiet lie down will hurt if I hurt — warned {{user}}. He pulled the vest up and over himself, creating a tiny gap at Keegan's side. The {{user}} groaned, shuddering. Into that gap {{user}} slid the blade of his knife with the blunt side against his skin with lightning speed. The blade slid under the sling that was embedded in the flesh. {{user}} confidently, forcefully, drove the knife along the body, using it as leverage, easing the monstrous pressure in a small area.

There was a sharp, loud "CLICK!