A/N: Okay, I'm actually really excited for this because this is the first remotely original idea I've had in a long time. This is also my first Ryder-centric fic.
Ryder sat in the choir room, staring at his phone. Whoever was screwing with him and using Marissa's photo to pose as Katie never showed up in front of the choir room at 3:30. He knew everyone else was at the secret Glee club meeting in the auditorium or the mandatory assembly in the gym. A door slammed and Ryder looked up, slightly paranoid that the shooter may have come back.
"Hey there," a voice said. "What are you doing here all alone?" The voice was of a tall brunet boy in a vest.
"Just thinking," Ryder replied, looking at the floor. "There's this girl I really like, but I've only ever met her online. When I discovered she went here, I found her but it was a case of stolen identity."
"That's rough, man," the boy sighed, sitting down next to Ryder. "You want to get out of here? Maybe grab a bite to eat?" The boy put a hand on Ryder's knee, making him tense up. "No need to freak, dude."
"I-I'm n-not g-g-gay," Ryder stammered nervously.
"There's that little thing called bisexuality," the boy whispered, running a hand up the back of Ryder's shirt.
"I like girls," Ryder said lamely.
The boy ignored him and leaned in close, his lips right next to Ryder's ear. "You know, Katie told me all about you. All your secrets…your dreams…"
"Y-you know Katie? The real Katie?" The boy smirked and backed up.
"You were pretty hot in that Men of McKinley calendar. You should have been Mr. October." Ryder blanched and it took a second for him to realize it, but his face was already covered and he was being dragged down the hallway. Ryder knew his screaming was muffled and felt a blow to the head before blacking out.
When he awoke, he found himself in a room he was sure he'd never been in before. He looked down to see his bare chest; he swallowed hard and tried to pull at the binds holding his hands behind his back.
"Well, well, well, looks like Smythe finally did something good for the group," a voice sneered. A bare light bulb flickered on above Ryder's head and he found himself face-to-face with Hunter Clarington, the captain of the Warblers.
"What-what do you want from me?" he asked. Hunter smirked and straightened up.
"I want revenge. Good, old-fashioned revenge against your little Glee club for taking away our chances at Regionals," he mused. "So what will the Nude Erections do without one of the twelve members they need for competition? And what about wishing Marley liked you? Maybe she'll like you more once she realizes you're in danger."
"You…you're Katie?"
"Wow, that took you forever," Hunter scoffed. He sat in a chair opposite Ryder and folded his hands. "So, we obviously can't let you go. What do you want to do?"
"I want to be untied so I can beat the shit out of you," Ryder growled, fighting his binds harder.
"Mmm, I don't think that's not gonna happen. At least not anytime soon." Hunter ran a hand through his neatly parted hair and sat back. "That reminds me, actually, to thank your little wannabe girlfriend for sticking her fingers so far down her throat she cost you Sectionals." Ryder clenched his fists, wanting to punch the smug smile off Clarington's face.
"Hunter, they need you in the other room." Another boy walked in and glanced at Ryder.
"All right," Hunter said, standing up. "Doug, you keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't get any bright ideas, which, I'm sure, are not as easily thought up with that dyslexic brain of his."
"Fuck you, Clarington!" Ryder yelled.
"We'll see about that." Without another look, Hunter left the room.
"Where's Ryder?" Unique asked, walking back into the choir room. "His bag's still here and he's gone."
"Could you please state the obvious again?" Kitty called.
"He said he was going to meet Katie at 3:30," Artie said.
"And the ramifications of online dating have screwed us once again," Joel muttered, grabbing his bookbag from the seat behind Ryder's. "You know, I tried to warn him, but he just wouldn't listen to me. Online dating equals potential case of rape and murder."
"Who wants to listen to you?" Kitty sneered. "All you spout is bullshit about how you're so much better than the rest of us."
"Pfft, as if you don't act like it twenty-four-seven," Joel scoffed.
"At least my parents love me."
"At least I don't live in a shithole!"
"Oh yeah, living behind a gay bar has its perks: a new guy every night."
"Fuck you, Future Lindsay Lohan!"
"I'm surprised you don't live in Neverland, George Michael, seeing how much you like younger guys."
"You know, I may have morals, but punching a chick is not one of them!"
"I'd love to see you be able to get over here, Rosie O'Donnell…" Joel made a move towards Kitty, but was held back by Sam and Jake.
"You're the bitch who made Marley think she's fat. I hope you become Honey Boo Boo when you get older and die a bitter old c…"
"Joel!" Joel was cut off by Blaine; the brunet flinched at the volume of the curly-haired boy's voice. "You know, we don't need to hear you two argue, so shut up and pay attention to the issue at hand." Joel snorted and sat down before spotting something on the floor.
"What's this?" he asked, picking it up. It was a ripped piece of blue cloth. He sniffed it and his eyes widened.
"What is it, Joel?" Artie wheeled himself over. Everyone else crowded around and watched Joel closely.
"There is only one person I know who would wear cologne like this," he whispered. "Sebastian Smythe."
