Jacques' eyes fly open and he comes to with the urgent sense that he's in danger. There's a woman leaning over him. He doesn't know her and immediately, irrationally decides that he doesn't like her. In a single smooth motion, he kicks his legs up into the air, and using that momentum, hops up onto his feet. He hears sounds. He feels that his wrists and ankles are bound. He's been in situations eerily similar to this before, just not involving the type of psychos who find the need to advertise their mental disturbances with such enthusiasm. 

The thickly-bearded Quebecer ignores the woman, and seeing the posts of an old fence with their twisted metallic edges, he hops over and, without hesitation, brings his wrists down hard on a relatively sharp bit, slashing the the zip-tie in two. The sheer strain of the plastic in the moment before it gives way is enough to send vivid pains shooting up his arms. Then Jacques is free. He flips into something like an awkward headstand, hooks the zip tie between his ankles onto the same barb, and yanks. The nerves in his lower legs howl in pain and protest, but then he's free. [i]Tabarnak, that hurts![/i] but he has no time to bellyache. He begins tearing off his bright orange jumpsuit. It's designed to make him easy to see. 

Jacques feels nothing but hatred and disdain for these 'people'. Most of them are scum: those without ambitions, purpose, or meaning in their lives. [i]Violence simply for the sake of violence.[/i] They are animals and he is not. Jacques recognizes an attempt to frighten him but is under no illusions: it will be backed up with potentially deadly action. At the very least, these fucking beasts want to test him and the other new arrival. He couldn't care less about her. As he listens carefully for a moment for where the calls seem thinnest, he finishes squirming out of his jumpsuit. [i]They're close. Real close.[/i] He picks out a direction and runs as quickly as his legs will carry him, ready to fight at any moment.