Behind the Veil
Part 7
He was going to die.
Antonio could honestly say that he'd never thought much about dying before now.
He supposed that the idea had crossed his mind once or twice at funerals—that someday he was going to be the one laying in a casket with people gathered around and saying overly-nice things about him. It was a thought that was probably passing through many of the mourners' minds after all. Outside of that, though, he'd never really considered how his death might come about.
That all had changed in one evening. Because—he knew that there was no way that he was making it out of this.
He'd woken up maybe five-ten minutes ago... Disoriented, unsure of where he was, why it was so dark, why the floor kept moving and bouncing. It'd only taken him a few seconds to remember, though. The criminals...Francis... He was in a vehicle; he could hear the engine. And it felt like they were travelling on a rather poorly-kept road. So they'd probably left the city.
Which meant that he'd probably been unconscious for a while. If they'd had time to carry him out to this vehicle and then drive out of the city.
So he'd then attempted to sit up... And soon realised that he couldn't Because his wrists and ankles had both been bound—with tape from the feel of it. And another piece of tape had been pressed over his mouth, keeping him from shouting for help. Although he seriously doubted that anyone would be able to hear him anyway, outside of whoever these criminals were.
He was scared.
He was really really scared.
He could vaguely see the outline of square-like shapes surrounding him. The boxes from the warehouse, maybe? And from behind them, muffled voices. Voices which he could just barely make out if he strained his ears...
"This is your bloody fault!" the criminal with the British accent was currently fighting to keep his voice low... Not succeeding, as the fury kept leaking through, forcing his voice louder and louder.
"My fault?" And that was the German. The one with the red eyes and white hair. The one who looked like some sort of diablo. His voice rose as well, earning a hiss of irritation from someone else. Which he completely ignored. "How the hell is any of this my fault?"
"You were the one who was supposed to make sure that the bloody building was empty!"
"Oh, come on. Trovato said that everybody was gone." Now his voice lowered slightly, but still loud enough that Antonio could easily hear him. "You think I was about to go digging through all of those fucking piles when hetold us that nobody was there?"
"And look where your laziness got us, git! Now we have to figure out what to do with him!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Antonio jumped slightly at that interruption. "Both of you!" He vaguely recognised that voice. It had belonged to... He remembered that he'd seen Feli. But, it wasn't Feli's voice. It was harsher, a little deeper... Same accent, but definitely not the same voice.
Someone who looked like Feli? They'd looked so similar though, almost like twins.
"Why must we do anything to him?" And that voice and tone were both instantly recognisable to Antonio. Francis... Francis speaking with the silky smooth tone that he often used when he was attempting to charm someone into doing something for him—a teacher into extending a due date, a girl into climbing into his bed...
And he somehow knew that Francis was attempting to charm these criminals. Convince them to not kill him. "After all, he is harmless, oui? He is just my roommate..."
"He fucking called me Feliciano!" And the Feli-look alike screamed that. Causing Antonio to flinch again.
He had to get out of here. He had to get out of here. He had no idea what was happening; he just knew that these criminals sounded dangerous. And he didn't want to die. Especially not like this...
"You do kind of look like Feliciano..."
And how did these people know Feli? That was what was confusing him. That other man had looked so much like Feliciano. Almost like they were related. But, Feli couldn't be involved in anything criminal. Feli was too sweet and adorable for that...
Then again, Antonio never would have guessed that Francis was involved in this either.
His mind was racing around in circles, which wasn't helping him think. He needed to think; he needed to figure out how he was going to escape... Although the odds really didn't look good. Since one, he was currently restrained; two, he had no idea where he was; and three, the people who had kidnapped him happened to be armed. Which he most definitely was not.
"He could connect us." The Italian's voice cut into his musings. "He connects us and it completely destroys all of our work to keep him out of this fucked up mess..."
That person was the leader, Antonio was slowly gathering. The person who looked like Feli... Were they talking about Feli? What—?
No, he had to think of some way to escape... Wondering over who that person was, what they were talking about... That wasn't going to help him get away from here.
If this were a movie, then there'd be something convenient lying nearby. Like a nail sticking out of the wall that he could use to cut the tape from around his wrists. And maybe a forgotten weapon that he could turn against his captors...
But of course, there wasn't anything. Just the boxes forming a wall between himself and the other men.
"So, you want one of us to deal with him, then?" the German remarked after a moment or two of silence, voice almost entirely unemotional. "Pity. I'd hoped that we'd be able to keep from getting any innocents involved in this..."
"Non, we can't!" And Francis sounded almost as panicked as Antonio felt—he was barely daring to breathe, unable to think... "Killing him won't solve anything, Lo—Romano. He hasn't done anything. It's my fault; I should have called you when he didn't come back to the dorm..."
"But you fucking didn't!" And now the Italian—Romano—sounded upset... His voice was even trembling slightly, as if he were scared too. "You didn't and now we've got to get rid of him before anything happens to Feliciano!"
"Why would Antoine do anything to hurt sweet, darling Feli? Antoine adores him. Practically everyone at our université adores Feli. And even if Antoine did want to tell someone, who would he go to? The police? Our dear Monsieur Peterson?" He practically spat out the name. "Non. The police would be less than helpful."
"And what if he let something slip, frog?" Brit again. Antonio was starting to really dislike that guy. "I'm sure that there are plenty of people who would just love to get their hands on this kind of information about one of the biggest bosses in the city..."
He could hear movement now. And then Francis's voice came, harsher than he was used to hearing. "Antoine is not the type of person who would let something as important as this just slip, cher..."
"Artie's got a point though, Fran," the albino. "We did agree to keep it a secret between the four of us..."
"And you're all fine with killing an innocent?" Francis's voice was rapidly becoming angrier. "Didn't we also agree that we were going to try to keep this from becoming a bloodbath?"
"We're going to be at war soon, fucking frog. I know that your kind enjoy surrendering as soon as things start getting difficult, but there's no fucking way that I'm giving up without a fight... And if we need to dispose of a few 'innocents'..."
Okay, so Antonio hadn't actually managed to come up with a plan yet. But, he'd decided that he wasn't going to just lay here and listen to these criminals discuss the best way to dispose of him.
So he now drew his knees in and then kicked as hard as he could at the boxes nearest to him.
Which, they didn't fall over like he'd hoped. He'd sort of thought that maybe if they landed on top of his kidnappers and knocked them out, that might have helped his chances of escape. At least a little bit.
Unfortunately, they were apparently way too heavy to actually fall in a semi-convenient fashion...
The other inhabitants of this vehicle did stop talking, though. So he'd managed to capture their attention at least... For better or worse, he really had no idea right now.
"Sounds like our sleeping beauty finally woke up," the albino remarked after a few minutes. "You want me to put him out again?"
That wasn't what Antonio wanted to hear. He hurriedly drew his legs back, curling up around himself as he held his breath. Listening for a response. Please don't kill him. Please... He didn't want to die. He was scared and he didn't want to die.
It seemed like forever before the Italian-voice responded. "No. No, bring the bastard out here... I want to talk to him."
...A slight skip of hope at that. Bring him out. That might be the chance he needed. If Francis came; Francis didn't want to kill him, so he might let him go...
That hope was instantly dashed, however, as another figure stepped around the boxes and into sight. Swaggering cockily, apparently barely affected by the movement of the vehicle, his blood-coloured eyes settled on their captive. "Guten morgen, schatz. Have a nice nap?"
Antonio didn't dare move—didn't dare breathe—as the man walked toward him. At least until he knelt down beside him and pulled a long, sharp, glinting knife from his belt.
He immediately jerked away violently at the sight of that knife. As if he thought he'd be able to escape or something.
"Hey, hey, relax..." And Antonio was surprised when the other man's tone immediately slipped into something a little gentler as he moved closer. "This is just gonna hurt a little bit."
And that was all the warning that he received before the tape was suddenly torn from his mouth. Causing him to yelp in pain and surprise.
Which, the albino responded by chuckling in amusement, throwing the tape somewhere behind them. "Told you it'd hurt."
And the words started falling before Antonio had a chance to think. "Quién eres? Dónde estoy?" It actually surprised him how scared he sounded… And the fact that he'd reverted back to Spanish. Of course, at this level of terror, he couldn't even remember how to speak in English.
Apparently it surprised the other man too, as he blinked a few times in confusion. Before his expression suddenly slipped into something that almost looked...concerned? "Hey, you're okay... We aren't gonna hurt you..."
And that was it.
Antonio was terrified. He was terrified; he knew that he was about to die. Because his boss had been a jerk and wouldn't let him go home and because he'd been tired and fallen asleep and then had woken up at the worst possible time. And now he was going to die if he didn't get out of here.
The albino now slid the knife between his ankles in a hurried motion, slicing through the tape there before moving to his wrists. Finally freeing him...
And he was down in a matter of milliseconds. As Antonio quickly brought his elbow up and smashed it as hard as he could into the man's nose. Hearing a rather loud crunch and cry of pain—probably broken, although he wasn't about to stop long enough to check.
The knife had fallen out of his grip in the process and Antonio immediately pounced to grab it, scrambling to his feet as his fingers closed around the still-warm handle. Almost losing his balance as the truck hit a particularly large bump.
He had no idea where he was planning on going or how he was going to get out of here. All he knew was that he needed to escape. And at least he had a weapon now...
Not that it did him any good.
As he suddenly felt something cold—almost ice-cold—push harshly against his throat, forcing his head back just as a body suddenly pressed against him from behind. A hand darting out in front and grasping his wrist, forcing the knife from his hand. He heard the clatter of it falling against the floor as if from a distance.
"Stupid move, but I'm slightly impressed, git." Antonio shuddered at the harsh, accented voice whispering in his ear. "Don't try it again, though. Unless you'd enjoy having your throat slit."
Antonio was pretty sure that he wasn't going to remain on his feet for much longer... As he was pretty sure that he was close to hyperventilating.
"Arthur!"
And now he suddenly wasn't on his feet any longer. As the arms around him had disappeared, the body behind him taking a quick step back. And without that support, he collapsed. Falling onto his knees with a harsh jolt.
Before he was suddenly enveloped by a warm body. A warm, familiar body that smelled like the fancy French cologne that Francis always wore. He could feel the soft fabric of Francis's favourite suede jacket against his skin... And hear the soft voice murmuring reassuringly to him in French as he rubbed his hands against Antonio's arms and nuzzled his nose against his hair.
"Je suis désole, mon ami. Je te protégerais. Je promets."
Antonio honestly had no idea what that meant. But at this point, he really didn't care. He instead just wrapped his arms around his friend and clung to him as tightly as he could, entire body trembling in terror, tears beginning to prick in his eyes.
"Gottverdammt! Arschloch...fucking broke my fucking nose!"
Antonio winced at the tone, automatically squeezing closer to the comfort that was currently encircling him.
"That's your own fault, stupido..."
Antonio lifted his head a little bit at that voice. The leader—the one who looked like Feli...
He was standing a few feet away, staring down at Antonio with an unimpressed stare. One hand resting on his hip, the other tapping a gun against his thigh.
He looked less like Feliciano when Antonio looked at him from up close. His hair was a few shades darker—and that distinctive curl was on the opposite side as Feliciano's. His skin was tanner; the lines of his face were more angular. His expression was one that would be entirely alien on Feli's sweet, cherubic face...
And his eyes...
Antonio couldn't drag his gaze from those eyes. Amber eyes that were currently glaring down at him like he was some insignificant insect. But simultaneously swirling with so many emotions.
They hypnotised him. There was danger and hatred and fury and disgust in those eyes... But there was also something behind it all. That kept flickering in and out...
Fear?
Antonio was barely aware of the fact that he was still staring. The man couldn't be more than twenty. Twenty and already the leader of a gang of criminals?
He was attractive too...
And that thought had been entirely unexpected. Surprising enough that Antonio was suddenly jerked back to the present. Jerked back to the situation that he'd conveniently been repressing. He was about to die... They were going to kill him.
Francis seemed to feel the shudder that tore through his body at that thought, as his hug tightened for a few moments before he finally released. And Antonio remained kneeling on the vehicle's hard floor as his roommate stood.
He was taller than the leader by at least a few inches—and was surprisingly able to hold himself with complete confidence under the withering glare that he received from said leader.
"I'll take complete responsibility for Antoine..."
His glare only grew more irritated at that remark, just as the speed of the gun's tapping against his thigh increased. "Fuck you." Although his voice sounded oddly relaxed, as if this sort of conversation happened all the time.
Antonio hoped that that wasn't true.
"You know that I wouldn't let anything happen to Feliciano."
And the Feli look-alike's reaction was shockingly sudden, as he unexpectedly jerked forward and pressed the barrel of the gun right against Francis's chest. His eyes suddenly swimming in fury and fear and desperation and... "And you know that I'm not fucking leaving my fratello's life in your fucking hands!"
Antonio was pretty sure that his heart had just stopped. He should move. He should jump up and help, but there wasn't anything he could do. Not against a gun... His gaze immediately jolted toward the two members of the group. Neither of whom seemed to even be paying any attention to the argument.
The Brit was standing a few feet away, staring at the boxes as his lips moved silently, as if he were counting them or something. And the albino was holding the bottom of his shirt against his nose while angrily cursing to himself in German.
Even Francis didn't look at all upset by the unspoken threat against his life. He just continued to stare at the younger male, who was glaring at him in response.
And then...
"Trust me, Lovi."
...There was another moment of silence between the two. Before the gun's barrel began to slowly inch downward as the other male's posture relaxed. And then he sighed and dropped the gun back to its place at his side.
"My name is Romano, fucking idiota..." He brushed a hand through his hair and then his eyes rested on Antonio's for a moment. Before he groaned and then turned with a dismissive wave. "He's your responsibility now, bastard."
"Oui."
"He tells anybody and I'll take care of both of you personally. Capito?"
"Oui."
And now Antonio watched, somewhat dazedly, as he walked off... Stumbling and running into one of the stacks of boxes as the vehicle hit another bump.
"Fucking— Arthur! Tell that fucking bastard up there to stop the fucking van so we can get rid of these fucking idiots."
Arthur rolled his eyes in response, but then nodded, flashing both of them a semi-annoyed stare. "Gladly."
A/N: This chapter... Oh God, this chapter has given me so much trouble... Seriously, I have not gotten this frustrated at an inanimate object in a long long time. I'm not even that super happy with it, but at this point... I'm just glad that I finally finished it.
Hopefully you guys are still with me after such a long break. And didn't lose complete interest. :(
...Anyways, so...
Lovi~ He's not dead! Which most of you got after the last chapter. And poor poor Antonio... *snuggles* So scary!
~.~.~
Translations: (I'm pretty sure the Spanish and Italian are right, but I'm not 100% certain...)
Quién eres? Dónde estoy? – Who are you? Where am I?
Je suis désole, mon ami. Je te protégerais. Je promets. – I'm sorry, my friend. I'll protect you. I promise.
Capito? – Understand?
