Hey all! So I figured I'd start posting this here. Some of you may already be reading it over on the Caryl Archive, Nine Lives. In that case, you're 24 chapters ahead of everyone else!
*I own everything except TWD characters*
"...and finally, the father of missing Senoia woman, Carol Ann King , has today publicly declared he believes rival businessman, Philip Blake , owner of a chain of nightclubs in Atlanta and Chicago, is involved in her disappearance...Miss King, who was 29 yesterday, was forcibly removed from the premises of her fathers nightclub, The Sanctuary Lounge, as she locked up on Tuesday night. Mr. Blake was voluntarily questioned yesterday and so far, police are satisfied with his non-involvement. However, Mr. King and his son, have stressed that Philip Blake was never a business rival, and his reputation as a violent, scheming and vengeful man is extremely well publicised in "underground circles."
Mr King himself vanished from the lives of both his children for over fifteen years, presumed dead after Mr Blake himself, ordered his execution. He took exile in an undisclosed location and only returned to his hometown when the falsified news of Mr. Blakes own demise reached him. Says Mr King in a statement issued this morning; "My Princess has been taken for revenge. There is no doubt in my mind that Philip Blake and his associates are... displeased at my reappearance in the world of the living. The fact I had to hide for so many years means I know there's no way to reason with these men. So they have stolen away the most precious girl in all my world, just to hurt me and my family. I will give them anything they want. I just beg, please... that they do not harm my daughter. I just want my Princess home. Stay strong, Princess. We love you".
Carol forced her eyes shut, blinking back tears as the colours died away from the TV screen. But even then, she couldn't miss the way the tall man lurking menacingly in the corner, was smirking, proud to see the way she weakened. She bristled immediately, holding on to her father's words. Stay strong. If she didn't, she knew she was as good as dead. Not that such threats had come. In fact, there'd been nothing to suggest she was a hostage and not a hotel guest, apart from the fact she had someone twice her height and twice her weight stationed outside her door if she dared to head towards it. So she hadn't. No, Carol had stayed curled up against the large bed she had been shoved roughly against two nights ago. She'd long since abandoned looking out the window, the colour of the thunderous sky making her feel even more out of will. And besides, it had taken precisely thirty seconds of visual assessment to realise she had absolutely no idea where she was. She wouldn't have even known she was still in her home country, had she not been forced to watch all the local news announcements that concerned her.
"Enjoy that little piece did you, Carol Ann? Very moving I thought."
Instinctively, Carol scowled. He made her flesh crawl more and more. She'd always been suspicious of him, hated him even, especially from the moment she believed her dad was gone from her forever. And now, she was terrified it was to be the other way round at the self same hands. And she couldn't let him see it or she knew he'd delight in making her feel every second of physical pain. But then of course, it wasn't really her that he wanted to hurt.
"What's it gonna take Philip?" she demanded in a low hiss.
He tilted his head back, laughing high and cold. "Always good to be kept in the loop, Carol Ann, I like it."
"Well, c'mon then, tell me!"
He pursed his lips warningly as he levelled his gaze, causing Carol to shiver in repulsion as his pale yet sharp green eyes burnt into her own, eager to seek out her fear, to feed from it. But at that moment, he was too impressed by her demanding tone. He didn't like it, and intended to let her know it, but still, he was impressed. Carol had guts her piteous father had never displayed.
"Careful now-" Blake advised in that deceptively soothing tone. "-I don't think I like what you're getting at. What do you think I'm gonna do Carol Ann? Slice off each of your fingers and send them home to Daddy?"
She recoiled, backed up so hard against the wall as she curled up on the bed that the ridges of her spine were throbbing painfully. But she ignored it, just as she hoped she might learn to ignore everything that was presently happening around her. But Philip refused to remain just a presence and moved steadily over to sink down upon the mattress. His hand snaked over to claim one of her own, quaking all the more violently as he fought to uncurl each rigid fingertip, stroking down them to separate each finger.
"You have beautiful nails. Very..classy. Oh dear, I hope this little... holiday... won't inconvenience your appointment schedule? Nothing more unattractive than a woman with peeling cuticles..."
"Don't touch me!" Carol spat, wrenching herself away. "What do you want for from me?"
Another smirk mocked her as it sprang up in the corner of his rough lips, "Oh I have everything I want right here, thank you very much..."
An icy sweep rocketed through Carol's tense body. She had understood the suggestion in his tone she thought, and she felt sick with fear. Surely she was wrong? Philip Blake, also known as 'The Governor', he prided himself on his approach, even to the darkest of activities. Surely he was not so common a criminal as to kidnap a woman, any woman, Carol supposed frightfully, just to...
"...because I've certainly got Daddy's attention haven't I?"
Carol hated that she couldn't hold back her terrified tears, hated even more how they burnt at her skin as they slid slowly down her face. Blake seemed to draw some perverse pleasure out of watching the journey of each miserable droplet.
Her throat feeling immediately raw, she murmured; "What are you going to do to me?"
"Do?" Philip echoed, his broad back straightening in a jolt. He sounded pretty affronted, and Carol was made even more queasy, especially as flecks of spit hit her face. "What sort of man do you think I am?"
She spat out a bitter laugh in reply. "You've kidnapped me! You tried to kill my dad and gave him no choice but to desert his own family. I don't think you're a man at all."
"Well, well-" he answered quietly, sucking in an apprehensive breath. "-we're not all that grateful, are we Carol Ann?" She opened her mouth to vehemently protest, but Philip lifted a finger to silence her. "We could have done this the usual way you know. Grubby warehouse in the middle of nowhere, you tied to a pillar, weeks of grime in your hair, sitting in your own filth. But I thought no, a lady deserves more, especially on her birthday."
"This is more?" Carol shrieked angrily. "I'm dragged from my home, from my family, with no reason, no explanation. I'm a prisoner."
"Oh yes." He nodded sombrely, lacing his hands together. "We mustn't forget that. Chez Blake, Cava, soft pillows... oh it's tragic."
"You have no idea..."
"No." he agreed again, sighing breathily as he pulled himself up. "I admit, I don't. Got to make that father of yours sweat a little bit. But don't worry, Carol, my boys will look after you."
"I know what "looking after" means to your sort." she hissed accusingly.
Eyes wide, Philip again was impressed. "My sort?" he echoed. "Now, now, Carol! I'm not about to kill you and I resent the suggestion. Deeply. Killing's so... unnecessary. Let's keep it that way shall we?"
His piercing eyes flashed and Carol read danger, biting into her lip to keep herself quiet as she cast her eyes down to the duvet. Because she knew that Philip Blake deemed nothing unnecessary in reality.
"Do you want my dad? Is that was this is? Because you know... he'd be here like a shot, he'd let you do whatever you wanted..."
Blake listened steadily. "Have you ever played Trivial Pursuit?" he asked in a humoured whisper as soon as Carol stopped speaking. She jolted at his odd reply.
"What?"
"Can't stand the darn thing myself." He shrugged with a sneer. "It's all too easy. And I'm sure you'll agree Carol, it's no fun winning if the game wasn't a challenge. The last thing I want is your old man making it easy on me. I'd be disappointed if he dared. I intend to enjoy this. Good night."
Without giving Carol the chance to say a word, he swept from the room, the door seemingly opening on his approach and leaving the equally well dressed if not much slender neanderthal stationed on the other side of the door as Carol's own personal guardsmen, to hold it open for his Boss' departure. A wordless understanding seemed to happen between the two of them that Carol could not decipher as Philip Blake went by and his charge stepped inside the room, stood tall against the wall and leaving his Boss to snap the door decidedly shut.
Listening to Blake's hefty footsteps die away along the landing for a few seconds, Carol threw herself back against the bed, screaming in frustration as fresh tears drenched the pillow her angry fists pounded at.