So this was a random idea I was thinking of, I had a friend who helped me with the idea, so thank you to her! Anyway, this chapter's short because I want everyone's opinion on it before I continue! So please leave a review and tell me what you think and tell me if I should add more!
Jack never really thought about his dad. The man had left so long ago that he really didn't remember him anyway. All Jack thought of was how he loathed the man for leaving, and how he and his mom were better off now.
But at some times he would think more about his father. Jack would wonder why he'd left, because he remembered his dad never being mean or cruel.
And this was one of those moments, Jack mused as he walked home from work, bag slung over his shoulder, the dark illuminated with street lamps.
Jack sighed. He really hated late shifts at work. Then again, he had to do it at times. To help his mom with bills.
Jack yelped, then cursed as he dropped his bag, things spilling across the ground. He bent down, starting to regather his things, stuffing them into his bag.
He paused, brow furrowing when he thought he heard a rumble of an engine, but then dissmissed it as nothing. Probably his imagination, he thought to himself.
Having gotten his things back into his bag, Jack stood once more, dusting off his jeans and looking up.
Jack let out a scream of shock and horror as a van's back door's opened and several burly men came out.
Jack did the only thing he could think of.
He ran.
His bag dropped, he tore off down the street, feet pounding against the ground and heart racing. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and he felt so scared that he was nausiated.
He as grabbed by two of the large men. Jack struggled fiercely as they wrestled him slowly back towards the van.
"HELP!" He tried, screaming desperately. "HELP ME!"
A large fist slammed across the teens face, then a foot burried in his stomach.
The wind knocked out of him, Jack saw stars. He could feel blood leak sluggishly from his now split lip, and Jack was pretty sure he was going to have a nasty bruise soon.
Too pained and exhausted to struggle (no thanks to his double and late shift at K.O Burger), the men dragged him into the back of the van. The doors shut, they tore off down the road.
The last thing Jack remembered was a sharp pain in the back of his head.
When Jack awoke, he found himself in a dark warehouse. His hands were tied behind his back, the rope making his wrists raw, his ankles were tied as well and he was gagged.
Jack wriggled, desperately trying to escape.
A sharp kick to his side immediately made him stop.
"Quit that, ya brat." A man hissed. Jack recognized it as one of his kidnappers as he struggled to regain his breath.
Jack was scared. As scared as the time he'd almost accidentally freed Megatron from the collapsed mine. What did these guys want from him? He didn't understand!
He just really hoped he'd be saved soon. He didn't want to be here a second longer.
A shadow darted across the tops of buildings, following a man in the alleyway bellow.
The man paused, and that was his mistake.
In a blur, the shadow jumped down and got the man in an headlock. The man struggled for a few seconds before falling limp, unconscious.
The shadow searched the man's pockets. He found nothing except for a folded piece of paper.
Unfolding it, the shadow was silent as he read it, then cursed under his breath.
"Dammit!" He hissed, moving out of the alley and blending into the crouds of the city. The shadow was revealed to be a man in his mid to late thirties with a shock of bright red hair. His skin was a dark tan and his eyes were a soft brown. He was quite short for a man, only five-foot-nine or so, and built lithe.
The man touched a hand to his ear.
"We've got trouble. The Vipers have Tyrone's son. They have Jack."
Jack grunted as he was kicked for probably the tenth time in an hour by one of his guards.
The burly kidnapper laughed roughly.
"Hey, this kid's pretty fun ta kick around!" He said to his friends, picking up Jack by his shirt, the teen's feet dangling a few inches off the ground.
"Take it easy! We need the little brat alive, remember?" Another piped up, lighting a cig and inhaling deeply.
"I know, I know, I'm jus' havin' a little fun!" The first, Jack's main tormentor replied, dropping the youth uncerimoniously.
Jack's head hit the ground with a crack and he saw stars for a moment as he felt blood drip down to the floor.
Jack wasn't sure where he was or how long he'd been gone. He figured it couldn't have been too long, he'd only been awake for a few hours or so. Maybe a day? Were the 'bots looking for him?
"Think they'll get the note?" A third man asked, leaning on a card table, looking utterly bored.
"Prob'ly. If not then I we get ta kick this kid aroun' some more." The first chuckled.
Jack winced at that thought. He already felt a couple broken ribs and many bruises, the idea of more pain was unpleasant.
He really hoped someone, anyone, would come help him. He was beyond terrified by now.
"Are we even sure he's th' right kid?" The third questioned, standing and moving over to Jack.
The teen groaned slightly in pain as the man fisted a hand in his hair, yanking his head up and turning it this way and that.
"Possitive." The second, the one with the cigar, replied.
Jack was dropped again, and Jack was now getting a headache from his head hitting the floor so much. He probably had a concussion now, he mused bitterly.