This is the second chapter of Hopes and Choices, which was also not written by me, but by Archraven1234.
Please read, enjoy, and review.
"The last we saw of him, he was losing consciousness and the Organization was gathering around him," Zhalia tried to speak unconcernedly; there was no doubt of the raw pain and worry in her voice. "He got hit by two Blast Forces – and he was already badly hurt at that time."
Zhalia lapsed into silence, as did Lok and Sophie, who stood quietly beside her. The cursed man lying down on the bed sighed deeply. There were gaunt lines on his face – the universal symbols of being ill.
"This is very bad," Metz sighed again. He covered his eyes, feeling drained and tired. "This is very bad indeed."
"We're so sorry Metz," Sophie raised her head and spoke earnestly in her accented voice. "I know we should have gone back for Dante, but he ordered us to escape."
"Yes, he would," Metz smiled fondly. "That idiot has always been one to listen to his heart rather than his mind."
"Dante's not an idiot!" Lok protested, instantly defensive of his mentor. "He's just-"
"I know, I know," Metz raised his hand in acknowledgement. "The important thing right now, is to get Dante back." He watched the dawning sunlight sneak into his room via the big windows facing his bed. There was no hiding the deep concern on his face.
"You don't think that they killed him do you?" Sophie's voice quavered, her eyes were wide and fearful.
"No!" Zhalia's hands bunched up into fists. "Of course not! Don't speak like that, you idiot!"
Sophie flinched slightly at Zhalia's outburst, but recovered quickly. "I was just saying…why would the Organization want Dante alive?"
"Because he's useful to them," Metz spoke out from his bed. He could still fell his heart hammering from the very thought that Dante could be dead. "He knows where all three of the Legendary Titans are, and so, the Professor will use him to find out where the Titans are."
"Dante would never tell them," Lok protested. Metz nodded gravely.
"That's true," Metz agreed, "but the Professor has many very useful methods to gain info from his victims. No, I'm not talking about torture; I'm talking about something else. I believe that the Professor can look deep into a person's mind and shift through it to find out what he's looking for."
"You mean the Professor can also read minds!" Sophie raised her hand to her mouth in horror.
"Yes," Metz said heavily. "Dante may be able to resist for a short while, but not for long. I've already contacted those in charge of the 3 Titans amulets and I have asked them to up their security. Hopefully, that will buy us some time."
"Some time for what?" Lok was quick to ask.
"Time to rescue Dante, of course." The three Seekers turned around in surprise as they heard the new, familiar voice enter the conversation. A blonde haired man stood at Metz's doorway. He straightened his tie in a business like manner before coming forward to shake Metz's hand.
"Good to see you in person again, Guggenheim," Metz smiled warmly. "I trust you've met Lok, Zhalia and Sophie?"
"Of course," Guggenheim nodded at the three Seekers. "Though not in person, I must admit."
"How are we going to rescue Dante?" Lok didn't beat around the bush, but spoke boldly. The knowledge that his brother like figure was being held captive by his darkest enemy gnawed at him from the inside.
"We believe that Dante is currently being held at a separate Organization centre in the USA." Guggenheim spoke seriously. "Would you like to be in charge of the mission of rescuing Dante?"
"YES!" Lok, Zhalia and Sophie spoke all at once.
"Good," Guggenheim mopped his brow. "This is a terrible situation we're in. To think that the Organization is holding the best Huntik Foundation operative a captive! I'm sorry Metz, you must be sick with worry."
"I am," Metz said grimly. "And the worst part of this is that in my current situation, I can't do anything to help him."
Zhalia stepped forward and gently clasped Metz's hand in hers. "We'll get him back Metz," she said sincerely. "I promise you that."
Metz smiled at the familiarity of the gesture, "I know that you will do anything to get Dante back, my dear. He trusts you with his life." Zhalia was taken back by Metz's words. She got back up, her cheeks slightly tinged with red.
"Right," Zhalia clapped her hands together, "I'm team leader whilst Dante is not here."
"What!" Predictably, Sophie was the first to speak out against it.
"Listen, Sophie," Zhalia looked at Sophie with such intensity that Sophie almost took a step back away from her, "I'm the next best Seeker here. And, no, I'm not boasting. The thing is that Dante needs to get away from the Organization quickly. And that's all that matters right now. Our petty quarrels are unimportant right now."
Sophie opened her mouth, presumably to retort back, but Lok stopped her by whispering into her ear, "Let's not argue right now, Sophie. Dante's depending on us. It doesn't matter who the leader but we have to get Dante back."
Sophie sighed, and nodded wearily. But her imperious glare at Zhalia spoke volumes.
Dante woke up slowly, expecting to hear the usual Sunday morning bustle going on at his home. Lok would be vainly trying to cook breakfast (he never had inherited his mother's touch in cooking), Cherit would be putting out Lok's fires, and Sophie and Zhalia would be arguing about whether the TV or the radio should be on.
Sounds of females arguing weren't exactly the best sounds to wake up to on a late Sunday morn, but right then, Dante wished that he could wake to their screaming voices rather than to a man's cold laugh.
"Finally awake are we?"
Dante opened his eyes blearily, only to see Rassimov standing before him.
"You…" Dante tried to get up, but found his body too weak to do so. He was lying prone on the stone cold floor. The man propped himself up on his elbows and surveyed his surroundings with a keen eye. He seemed to be in a prison cell of some sort; a grey square room with 4 walls, no door and no window. The Organization certainly wasn't taking any risks with him.
"Here to gloat?" Dante glared up at the man before him.
"Of course," Rassimov smiled cruelly. "The Organization has already sent a group to "High Tower" to retrieve one of the Legendary Titans. And we have you to thank for that."
Dante clenched his fist in anger and frustration.
"Huntik will never let you get your hands on that amulet!"
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Rassimov shrugged and began to circle Dante slowly. "The Professor is about to have another session with you soon, Dante, and you will be forced to state all of the Huntik's weaknesses."
Dante's eyes widened. He knew from past experience that what Rassimov had said was true; the Professor could do that. And he, Dante, would be the cause of the Huntik's downfall. "No…" Dante breathed, realizing the futility of his situation.
Gathering all of his strength, Dante pushed himself off the ground and made to attack Rassimov. But the man had obviously been expecting it, and with a quick move, managed to stop Dante's fist from connecting with his face and twist the said man's hand behind his back. Dante's face twisted in pain and anger.
There was a brief moment of struggle but it was hopeless for Dante. Dante let out an involuntary yell of pain as his arm was twisted further behind him. He used his other arm to make a slicing movement aiming at Rassimov's head. Rassimov easily dodged that arm, but was forced to let go of Dante. Dante rolled away from Rassimov before coming up in a sitting position. If looks could kill, Rassimov would have died a thousand times over.
"I won't let you use me to defeat the Huntik Foundation," Dante snarled out.
"Oh really?" Rassimov raised a speculative eyebrow. "The Professor will be here to visit you soon…you had better prepare yourself."
Dante grimaced. He blinked and Rassimov was gone, leaving Dante to wonder about what he was going to do, and whether or not a rescue team had been sent for him yet. His magic signature should still be strong enough for the team to detect. Dante rested his head in his hands. He had been in many sticky situations before, but never one like this.
"I've been an idiot," Dante exhaled. He should have known, should have sensed the ambush. He wondered whether his team had gotten out safely, whether they were alright. A fleeting picture stayed in his mind as he thought of his team, a woman with dark blue hair, stern eyes and a kind smile.
Dante sighed again, "And as usual, there's always a great woman behind each idiot."
He spent a while trying to move around without increasing the dull throbbing in his head. His entire body ached, and so did his mind. Every move hurt, and his recent spit with Rassimov didn't help matters.
After exploring the room thoroughly, Dante had to concede defeat. He couldn't find any entrance or exit. He was literally in a metal box.
"Looking for a way out?"
Dante turned around so quickly that lost his balance and fell back down. He looked up at the person standing over him and felt a hate he had only once felt before begin to emerge. And he began to apprehend just how much trouble he was in.
