Chapter Two
Sanji's breath hitches as the door closes; it's slam still echoing off the cement walls. Locks twist and latch on the other side as realization hits. That psycho plans on keeping him tied up here. The rag in his mouth prevents him from making any noise other than faint grunts. There's no use trying to scream.
His neck aches from the position of his head. The leather strap against his forehead is cutting into his temple and making it impossible to turn his neck. He needs to assess his condition but can only stare straight ahead at a long wall of cabinets. Clenching a fist, he pulls angrily at the straps binding his wrist to the chair. No use. He tries to kick his feet as hard as he can to free his ankles but they're bound too tight.
Closing his eyes, Sanji breathes in deeply through his nose. He has to be smart about this. If there's any hope in getting out alive, he has to have a plan. His nose twitches, a strong smell of bleach hitting him full force. He'd been too panicked, too angry earlier to even notice it. Underneath the stench of bleach is another scent, fainter. He can't place it but it makes him even more uncomfortable, as if the odor is exactly what the bleach is trying to cover up.
Suddenly, he hears footsteps. Unable to look towards the noise, he holds his breath trying to listen closely to the faint sounds. A loud thud, couple thumps, and then silence. He waits a few more seconds before exhaling. It sounded like someone walking above him, which means wherever he is has multiple stories. From the look of the cement walls, cracked floor, and dreary lighting, he must be in some kind of basement.
His heart starts pounding - he's read about this before. People being kidnapped and imprisoned for months on end. He remembers one girl was captured for eighteen fucking years and no one knew she was locked in a shed. There's no way in hell that bastard is going to keep him down here like that. He'd rather die.
Goosebumps rise across his pale skin, making him acutely aware of the cold sweat covering his body. That man - the psycho - wanted to kill him. Was going to kill him before he just walked out. Is this part of the game? Does he just fuck with his victims and torture them before murdering them in cold blood? The cut on his neck burns, a sick reminder of what may come.
He has got to get out of this chair.
With renewed vigor, he starts pulling at his straps again, gritting his teeth on the rag in his mouth out of rage. Deep, guttural growls try to escape his throat as he tugs and tears, desperately attempting to loosen one of them, even if only a sliver. His wrist and ankles will be bruised but he doesn't care, the only thing that matters right now is trying to get free.
It feels like hours pass as he tries to shake himself out of this prison. Muscles burning, body aching, chest tightening from anger and fear. No matter how hard he tries, he feels no progress. With one final huff he stops the resistance, closing his eyes once more. Breathing ragged and heavy, the cotton in his dry mouth is tickling his throat. He wills himself to not cough and choke on the damn thing. His heavy breathing coupled with the strong scent of bleach is making him lightheaded. He doesn't want to pass out but feels the weight in his head pushing him further and further into the black hole of unconsciousness. One last rebellious kick against the metal chair and darkness washes over him completely.
The sound of a door closing rouses Sanji from his uncomfortable sleep. Immediately, his eyes fly open and he watches the man from the night before come within range of his vision. His neck throbs and his back aches, his ankles and wrists feel swollen from his earlier tirade. Body exhausted, emotionally drained, he musters all the willpower he has left inside him to start formulating some kind of plan. No matter what, survival is his main priority.
The bastard shoots a quick glance at Sanji before turning to what appears to be a workbench in front of where he sits. Sanji watches carefully as the man digs into the pocket of his black sweatpants, pulls out a set of keys, and starts unlocking cabinets and pulling random items from them. Sanji's eyes trail up the man's body, trying to assess his opponent and determine any potential weakness. His legs are shorter than Sanji's even though they appear to be the same height from his seated position. However, he's distinctly more muscular, his shirtless form showing off broad shoulders and a well built back. Sanji catches glimpse of the man's bicep as he closes a cabinet and gulps, feeling its strength and power ghosting against his throat once more. The fucker could easily snap Sanji's neck with his bare hands.
Finished with his task, the other man turns around and stares straight at Sanji. Their eyes meet and for the first time, Sanji notices a scar running down the man's eye. Sanji drops the steely gaze and is shocked to see a more gruesome scar slashed across the man's torso, shoulder to hip.
His heart rate increases as the man begins walking towards him, unsure of what to expect next. A large, tanned hand reaches up and tugs the rag out of his mouth, causing him to cough and dry heave.
"W-water." he rasps through coughs, desperately needing anything to help his tongue from feeling like sand.
The man reaches down and disappears from Sanji's sight for a brief flash before reappearing with a hose in hand. Sanji eagerly opens his mouth as the nozzle is turned so a light trickle flows. It's held over his tongue at the perfect angle for those drops of pure bliss to reach his parched mouth. Swallowing as much as he's allowed, Sanji sighs at the cool drink before the hose is removed and dropped back on the floor.
Silence hangs between them, unspoken words lingering in the air. Finally, Sanji takes a breath and bluntly asks, "Are you going to kill me?"
For some fucked up reason, the other man smirks at his inquiry.
"Eager to die, huh? Guilty conscience? Have something to confess?"
Shit. Sanji didn't realize his question would cause this kind of reaction. The last thing he wants is for the psychopath to think he's actually guilty of some crime. Making sure his tone is even, he carefully responds, "Not at all. Just trying to determine my fate."
"That's for me to decide."
Choosing to avoid questions that might push his captor over the edge, Sanji shifts uncomfortably in his seat silently. His neck is burning from being held in the same position for hours. The other man is just staring at him, seemingly contemplative over what to do next. Fuck. Sanji hopes he isn't trying to figure out what kind of torture method is best.
Abruptly, the man walks out of Sanji's field of vision around to behind the chair. He can hear him fiddling with something and then unexpectedly, the pressure around his head is gone. The leather strap falls to the side, tickling his ear slightly as it goes. Tentatively moving his neck, Sanji is elated to find he's freed completely from the binding. Stretching and rolling his neck, he allows himself to celebrate this small victory with relief.
"Are you letting me go?" he demands, his newfound freedom giving him a boost of confidence. A large, strong hand grabs his hair in a tight fist and yanks his head upwards, so that Sanji's neck is bent and he's glaring into the scarred face of the man looming behind him.
"No."
The man shoves his head forward, letting him go and walks back around near his workbench. He slides out a wooden stool that's tucked away in the corner and sets it right in front of Sanji, taking a seat. Leaning forward slightly on his stool, he runs a hand through his own hair. Sanji arches an eyebrow slightly at its greenish tint.
"Give a man an inch and he wants a mile," his captor mutters, his deep voice dripping with disdain.
What kind of old man shit is that? It's the kind of grandpa lingo his dad used to use. As much as he wants to mock the Green Bastard (as he's mentally dubbed this psycho), he bites his tongue, smart enough to know that whatever witty comeback he's itching to deliver is not worth the possibility of death.
Green Bastard's stare is heavy, even though one eye is scarred and closed. Sanji feels the glare penetrating him deeply, as if his soul is being studied. As much as he wants to look away, he feels trapped by the forceful eye contact. His expression is unreadable but there's a flicker of uncertainty hidden behind his eye. Sanji's not sure if it's truly there or if that's just wishful thinking.
"You killed that girl." It's a statement, not a question – as though the man believes what he's accusing Sanji of whole-heartedly.
Sanji's temper flares. There's no fucking way he'd ever hurt an innocent person – especially a sweet girl like Cosette. Anybody who knows Sanji could tell him that. He's not capable of that kind of cruelty.
"You have the wrong guy," he responds through gritted teeth. "You don't know who I am."
An eye roll. And then a smirk.
"Sanji Black. 26 years old. Date of birth: March 2nd…"
Sanji gasps as the man stands from his stool and drags it back to its home across the room, all the while rattling off facts about his life monotonously, as though they're ingrained in his mind.
"…Height: 5'11''. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Head chef at Baratie seafood…"
Green Bastard grabs the rag from earlier and balls it up. Sanji instinctively turns his head but the man grips his jaw tightly and forces the material into his mouth.
"…Father deceased. No mother. No siblings. Smokes two packs a day. Menthols."
Sanji's heart beats rapidly, only able to stare as the man walks back the door. Fingers resting on the handle, he turns around and delivers one last piercing look.
"I know who you are."
Upstairs, Zoro sits on the edge of his bed, hands clasped and eyes focused on his closet. He's always been proud of how well concealed this other part of his life is. Closet door wide open, there's no evidence that a secret resides right underneath the carpet. But now, everything is at risk because of that stupid cook down in the cellar.
He hoped that random feeling of uncertainty was just exhaustion or stress, some fucked up fleeting moment. However, when he went downstairs this morning he still felt the same. As much as he knows that the guy tied up in his basement is the one who mutilated an innocent woman, his instincts keep screaming at him that he can't kill him.
Zoro stands, stretching his arms and back. Scratching his chest, he keeps his eye on the closet. Even though he has all the proof he needs, his intuition needs something more. Just have to keep digging.
A small tinge of guilt bubbles inside him. What if he messed up and the guy is innocent? It's not likely but considering how he's felt since last night, it's not impossible. This is new territory for Zoro and in this line of work change is not good. There's no way he can let Sanji go – there's evidence that points to him being a murderer. And he's seen Zoro's face, which is not to be taken lightly. If he lets this guy go, that means accusations, charges, investigations. At best, he's found not guilty and loses his career. At worst, he's put on death row. Either way, it doesn't look too good for him.
Zoro scratches the back of his head and sighs. Sanji's just going to have to stay down there until he figures it all out.
Grabbing a white t-shirt that's slung across the foot of his bed, Zoro tugs it on as he leaves his bedroom. Reaching the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and twists the cap off before noticing a small bundle sleeping on the counter by him.
"Mornin' Oni," he murmurs, reaching over and patting the warm black and white body. The cat wakes and stretches, nuzzling her face against Zoro's hand.
Gulping down some water, he continues to pet Oni a few more minutes, gazing out his kitchen window to the shed in the back.
After tossing his bottle in the bin, he opens a small kitchen drawer and digs out the keys to the shed. Heading out the door, he hesitates a moment, letting the petite cat follow behind him. Ever since he found her when she was a kitten, she's followed him all around the property. The two of them make their way across the yard, sun high in the sky. It's going to be a hot summer this year if these first few weeks of June are any indication.
Reaching the shed, he unlocks the hefty lock and sets it on the ground, pulling open the wooden doors. It's jam packed full of miscellaneous junk. Stuff he found in the house and decided to keep, stuff that was already in the shed, stuff he's collected over time. Lots of random tools, some furniture he doesn't use, and wood for his various projects around the house.
Spotting what he needs, he carefully moves two old tires and a wheelbarrow out of the way. Oni lingers outside, cleaning her face while watching him work. Junk aside, he reaches a dusty twin mattress and slides it out of the shed. It's a little dirty and worn, but it'll do the trick. He locks everything back up before hoisting the mattress on his shoulders and the two are on their way to the house.
Inside, Oni returns to the kitchen and Zoro hears the small crunches of her eating breakfast. His own stomach rumbles but first, he has to finish his task. Dragging the mattress down the hall into his bedroom, he sets it on the floor and moves to his closet, mentally calculating if it'll squeeze through the opening. Carpet aside and trapdoor open, he's pleased to find that it should just fit.
Zoro pushes the mattress into the closet and down the steep stairs to the landing below. The landing is small, very little space between the edge of the wooden staircase and the heavy door, so Zoro leans the mattress against his back as he unlatches the bolts.
He hauls the mattress into the room, feeling Sanji's eyes on him the whole time. Deciding to place it in the back corner, opposite side of the room from his furnace, he moves the bed to its dwelling. Pointedly ignoring the blond gawking at him, he moves back across the room for his tools.
The items he dug out during his earlier visit are still scattered across his workbench: a heavy-duty drill, bolts, and a pair of leg cuffs he had found in the home of one of his casualties. Sick fuck had used them to tie up and torture people. Bundling the items in his arms, he sets back to the mattress and starts his project.
A couple hours pass before his work is complete, sweat dripping down his forehead from the strength needed to drill into the heavy cement walls. Sanji had tried to get his attention the whole time with rattling his chair, but it was easy to tune out with the drill. Pleased with his handiwork, he pulls forcefully at the cuffs one more time, making sure they're tight and secure.
He wipes his brow with his arm and glances over at Sanji, whose head is turned so he can peek around the chair and watch what Zoro is doing. His eyes are wide with understanding of the circumstances and Zoro can tell that any attempt to get the little shit into these cuffs will be a battle. Luckily, it's one he doesn't have to fight.
Zoro reaches into his pocket and pulls out gloves and a small plastic bag, inside a rag soaking in chloroform. Pulling the neck of his t-shirt over his own nose and mouth, he tugs on the gloves. Positioning himself right behind the chair, his hands are already opening the bag and removing his weapon. With one hand he grabs Sanji's hair and with the other, he forces the rag over his nose. Sanji tries to fight underneath him, attempting to shake his head loose but Zoro's grip is stronger, keeping the rag forced over his nose. The man grunts and squirms under his hold, pulling on his straps hard to try to shake himself free. Zoro rolls his eyes at the pointless display.
A couple minutes pass before Sanji's body stops fighting and goes limp. Zoro quickly stuffs the rag back into the plastic bag and tosses it aside, needing to work fast. Moving around the chair, he unfastens the straps and slings Sanji over his shoulder, moving him to his new home on the mattress. Fastening the leg cuffs around his ankles, Zoro makes sure they're locked and secure, tugging on them as hard as he can. There are a few feet of chain if he wants to move and roam, but not nearly enough to be within reach of anything vital. His feet are close together, so any attempt to run or kick is impossible. Zoro handcuffs Sanji's wrists together behind his body, rendering him unable to fight.
Zoro leans over and checks the man's breathing, making sure there were no serious side effects of the chloroform. Satisfied with its steadiness, he stands back up and gathers his tools, returning them to their rightful places in the workbench. Noticing the hose still laying across the floor, he rolls it back up to its position on the wall.
Cellar completely clean, Zoro starts back to the main level of the house, making sure to lock up the door before climbing the stairs. Trapdoor latched, carpet replaced, shoes scattered back over the floor of the closet and it's like nothing ever happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices his cell phone flashing on his nightstand. Picking it up, he's surprised to see he has four missed calls from Nami.
Before he can caller her back, his phone starts vibrating in his hand, Luffy's name flashing across the screen.
"What?" he answers, his typical greeting. He hates talking on the phone.
"Hey! It's me!" Luffy says with a laugh, as if it would be anyone else. "On our way. Have lunch yet?"
Zoro glances at the small alarm clock by his bed, shocked to see its almost noon.
There's some rustling on the other side of the receiver, a sudden noise from Luffy and then an agitated voice shouts into Zoro's ear, "Why didn't you answer my calls?!"
Zoro groans in response. Nami can be a great person but she's got a sharp temper. Not answering her first few phone calls is sure to land him a special place on her shit list.
"Don't you groan at me. You'll answer Luffy's call but not mine?"
"Was busy," he mutters as he wanders into his small bathroom to rinse his face.
"Sure you were. Anyway, we're about to leave and bringing lunch. What do you want from Groggy's?"
Groggy's, or Groggy Monsters, is a local burger joint that makes monstrous burgers, several patties stacked on each other with every possible topping. It's amazing, and more importantly, its Luffy's favorite place to eat. Zoro's stomach rumbles, reminding him he hasn't eaten at all today.
"Monster cheeseburger with a large fry. All the toppings."
"OK but you owe me when I get there."
"Like you'd ever buy me lunch."
"You're buying me lunch since I'm picking it up. See ya in a bit!"
Nami hangs up the phone before Zoro can protest. He sighs, used to it by now.
Deciding to take a shower before company arrives, he turns on the faucet to let the water warm up. He strips, tossing his sweaty clothes into the small laundry basket in the corner. A little head pokes in the door, whiskers twitching at the sound of the shower. Oni has always enjoyed water. Her favorite game is sticking her paws in the shower while Zoro washes.
Zoro clambers in and groans, tension melting under the warm water. Not being one to take too long bathing, he quickly lathers his soap and mechanically begins his routine, the whole shower taking less than ten minutes. He pauses as he washes his hair, his thoughts trailing back to the man in his cellar. Tonight, he tells himself, he will go over all his research. Hell, he'll stay up all night if he has to. He must find out the truth.
Rinsing his hair, he smirks as he spots a little white paw clawing at random drops of water splashing on the shower curtain. Finishing his routine, he turns the water off and grabs the towel slung over the rack. He dries himself down and exits the small bathroom, hair still dripping on his shoulders. Opening his drawers, he pulls out whatever's on top and dresses for the day. Returning to the bathroom to hang his towel back up, he takes a glimpse of himself in the mirror and notices his earrings are still missing from the night before. Locating them in his medicine cabinet, he twists each one into his lobe and clasps them tight. Once all three are returned, he nods at his reflection, glad to hear the soft tinkling of metal again.
The earrings were Johnny and Yosaku's idea. It was early in Zoro's career, back when he was a traffic cop. The three of them would spend their time off in a local pub called Whiskey Peak getting piss drunk on cheap beer. One night, they decided that getting pierced would be a true testament to their manhood. Although incredibly stupid, Zoro was inebriated enough to go along with it, buying into their drunken ramblings of how cool it would be.
Completely plastered, they found the only tattoo shop that would ignore their obvious lack of sobriety. First, Johnny got one ear pierced. Deciding to one-up him, Yosaku declared he would be twice as cool and get both his ears pierced. Not being one to shy away from a challenge, Zoro asked for three holes in his ear and was dubbed the "manliest of men" by Johnny and Yosaku. Both of their ears got infected and they took their earrings out but Zoro always kept his. He hadn't expected it, but they suited him.
Hearing tires hitting the dirt and gravel of his driveway, Zoro makes his way to the front of the house and opens his front door in time to greet Nami and Luffy as they park her black sedan. Luffy bounds up the stairs, two bags of food in hand and greets him with a smile, impatient as always to sit down and eat.
Nami walks in behind him, annoyance across her face, "It took an act of God to keep him from eating all the fries."
Zoro chuckles as he closes the door behind her. Already seated at the dining room table, Luffy's ripping into the greasy paper bags trying to find his sandwich.
"Hold it right there." Nami yells, tearing the bag away from Luffy's eager hands, causing him to pout. "I will pass out the food so you don't 'accidentally' eat my burger like last time."
"Yeah, okay." Luffy agrees, with a sheepish chuckle as Nami pulls out three burgers and divvies them up appropriately.
Zoro takes a seat across from Luffy, shredding his own metallic wrapper and digging into his burger hungrily. They eat in silence for a brief moment, all enjoying the first few bites of their lunches in bliss. The owner might be a total creep, but Groggy's is still the best.
Finally Luffy belches and asks, "Where's Oni?"
"Probably sleeping under my bed. She'll come out," Zoro responds between bites.
"Zoro, you need a roommate or a girlfriend or something," Nami declares, setting her burger down and putting on what Usopp calls her "professor" face. Anytime she's about to lecture or educate one of them, she makes the same face, falsely sweet but also patronizing.
He avoids her comment and continues his lunch, slapping Luffy's greedy fingers away from his fries.
"I'm serious!" She puts her hands on her hips, pouting because neither he nor Luffy are paying attention to her great wisdoms.
"Zoro's fine, he's got Oni." Luffy answers for him. As a gesture of thanks, Zoro lets him pilfer two fries.
"Literally all of us have someone else, Luffy. He's the only single person in our group, except Chopper," Nami continues, starting phase two of being annoying. If the professor look doesn't work, then talking about someone like they're not in the room is her next tactic.
Luffy shrugs, polishing off the last of his fries. Zoro licks his fingers clean of the salt from his own meal, patting his gut in satisfaction.
"Enjoy your meals?" Nami asks, eyeing the two of them as they lean back in their chairs, sighing in unison.
"Hell yeah, Groggy's is the best." Luffy nods, on the edge of a food coma. It takes a Double Monster Bacon Cheeseburger to do the trick, but it's one of the few places that can actually fill him up. Kid's got a killer metabolism.
"Good. Zoro, you owe me thirty bucks."
That got his attention. Zoro turns to glare at her smiling face as she nibbles on her sandwich. "How the hell is it thirty bucks?"
"Mine and yours," she points to her sandwich and then to his stomach before moving her manicured finger to Luffy, "and his."
"Where's your part?" Zoro asks Luffy as he stands to find his wallet.
"I'm broke," he laughs before spotting Oni walking into the room. "Oni! There you are!"
Immediately the two of them are off chasing each other up and down the hall. Luffy's one of those rare people that can make the usually shy cat want to play. This is their normal ritual, playing tag around the house before they get bored with it and roll around on the floor.
Down in the cellar, Sanji's managed to wake himself up despite the drugged haze he feels in his head. Whatever was on that rag from earlier did a number on his pounding skull. He sits up awkwardly, his hands cuffed behind him making it hard to find a comfortable position. Shuffling around on the mattress, he manages to sit up and take in his new surroundings. The mattress is grimy and there's no blankets or pillows, but it's more comfortable than that metal chair. His back is already feeling better.
His headache gets worse with every step that thumps above him, as though someone was running across the floor. He may be happy to be out of the chair but certainly not happy to be in this new position. The mattress and the shackles means the Green Bastard plans on keeping him here long term. His stomach groans in hunger and his mouth is dry from the rag forced into it. Now more than ever, he's motivated to find a way out of the cellar.
Tentatively, he rattles his chain to see how much noise it makes. Not too much, but maybe enough to be noticeable. Considering he'd heard the mumble of several voices earlier, he can assume that there are people above him. Hopefully he'll get their attention. He shakes his feet to rattle the chain as loud as he can and watches the ceiling, trying to listen for any sign that he's been heard.
"What's that noise?" Luffy asks, suddenly stopping his running with the cat.
Sanji hears the footsteps stop above him and his heart races, praying it means someone heard him. He rattles his chain harder, making his calves burn at the awkward angle.
Luffy takes a uncertain step towards Zoro's bedroom, causing Zoro to rise slightly from his seat at the table with Nami. What does Luffy hear? Nami stops mid-sentence and silence falls over the house.
His eyes narrow, wondering if there's any chance Luffy could hear the man in the cellar. It's impossible, though. Zoro's checked several times before, making sure there's no way the sounds from below reach up to the main part of the house. And he can't hear anything himself. Knowing the positioning of his cellar, the man's bed should be right underneath the dining room table he's seated at.
Before he can stand up to investigate, Luffy's back from the bedroom with Zoro's vibrating phone in hand.
"It's Traffy," he announces, using his stupid nickname for Law. "I'm answering it."
"Hey! It's me!" Luffy greets, locating one of Oni's toys in the living room and dangling it over her.
Zoro watches as Luffy nods a couple times while listening to Law before making a peculiar face. "Well, he's right here."
Luffy hands him the phone and goes back to playing with Oni.
"What's up?" he asks, concerned with Luffy's reaction.
"Just got word from Mihawk. The jury found Crocodile not guilty. Let him go scot-free."
Zoro's face darkens with rage, not wanting to comprehend what he just heard.
"Two eye-witness testimonies," he growls, catching Nami's worried eye.
"I know," Law sighs, "Thought I'd let you know personally. We'll talk more tomorrow."
"Thanks." Zoro hangs up the phone and slams it on the table.
Down below, Sanji ceases his rattling, hearing the footsteps continue above him. It's no use. He tries bending his legs and pulling against the chains as hard as he can but they don't budge. His ankles are already sore and swollen from his attempts to get out of the chair. He can already tell that this new apparatus will be even harder to slip out of. He wants to cry out in frustration, but the stupid fucking rag in his mouth keeps his screams to muffled whimpers.
Kicking the wall as hard as he can, the chains between his ankles pull taut, reminding him of just how restricted his limbs are. Fiddling with the cuffs behind him, he's disappointed to find that they're high-end and impenetrable. This guy's fucking good.
Zoro crosses his arms, staring at his phone angrily. Nami taps her nails on the surface of the table, obviously uncomfortable with the change in atmosphere.
"What happened?" she asks hesitantly. Luffy continues rattling Oni's toys.
"Bad guy got away," Zoro sighs, running a hand through his hair.
Nami nods understandingly, "You'll get the next one."
Zoro nods and gifts her with a small smile, wanting her to change the subject. She smiles back and returns to her earlier story. Her talking fades to the background as Zoro stares down the hall to his bedroom door. Sure, he'll get the next one but he'll get this one too, even if it means delivering his own sentence.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Feedback is always appreciated.
