Caught Unaware
Chapter 8
By: Max*the bishie deliverer
Disclaimer: Check chapter 1, please.
A/N: Editor: Mary D. Reformatted.
~*~*~
When a person sleeps, they are not the usual weight that they carry around. They are composed of dead weight.
They are heavy.
Damien sneered as gloved hands caught her head before it hit the desk, preventing the marring and bruising of fragile flesh. Using a slight amount of force, he levered her body to a sitting up position in her chair and knelt down in front of it. Leaning the unconscious body over, he managed to lay her over his shoulder and stand up, the limp body dangling from the momentum.
Her loafer fell off; hitting the floor with a small sound that went unnoticed as the assaulter looked around the room, wondering what action he could take as to pin the blame on someone else. He looked at the desk for a minute, before taking his free hand and swiping everything onto the floor.
To the unknowing observer, the office looked like the place of a struggle.
But there was only one problem.
The human body's tendency to be extremely heavy when in a deep sleep.
The fact shocked him as his shoulder began to ache from the weight. "Yaguy-sensei," he huffed slightly, "you are heavy for such a small lady."
Night was beginning to settle outside the window as the glass pane blew open in the breeze, papers being scattered each and every way. No one was in the office, but the lamp was on, the coffee cup was warm, and a shoe was on the floor by the unkempt desk.
The phone rang.
~*~*~
Sunset highlighted the Tokyo sky with bands of red, orange, pink, purple, blue, and black. The scarlet-tinted light cast a crimson glow on the Yaguy estate, the field below the southern exposure occupied by a single person. Dressed in kendo doji, skilled hands handled the worn bokken expertly. The weapon cut through the air, reminiscent of days and battles long gone. Sweat glistened on the delicate, olive face, dusky eyelashes blinking away the stinging drops. The practitioner brought the wooden sword over his head, executed a series of complicated strikes, spins, and defensive moves that no innocent person should that no innocent person should ever have to display.
The perfect jaw was set in a grind, violet eyes hard on an invisible enemy. However, Date Seiji was not innocent. The bokken struck at a near-by tree, resulting in a sharp crack resounding through the glen. He dropped his weapon and wandered to the marsh a few feet away. Gurgling water beckoned the young man, inviting him to cool himself, refresh himself, rest, meditate, or to just forget. Seiji knelt by the water hole, his doji immediately soaking up the dampness from the surrounding grasses. He gathered some of the pure fluid in his hands and stared at his reflection.
The face that stared back was one of maturity beyond its seventeen years. In two days, I'll be seventeen going on thirty, he reflected inwardly, a grimace darkening the chiseled features, marring the perfect beauty that others had so lovingly admired. However, those others did not count in his opinion. There was only one face that he wished, mentally pleaded, would have fought for to admire him, for he earnestly admired hers in return. "Nasuti," he sighed, splashing the water on his face. The water twinkled in the twilight, its current bubbling and singing to Nature's oldest song.
Seiji stood up and stretched his arms skyward, lean muscles welcoming the almost feline gesture. Running a hand through sweat- and water-soaked hair, he removed the white haori, tossing it on a nearby rock. The cool air swept around him, gently caressing the hot skin.
Something was wrong.
Another sharp crack filled the air, an eerie silence following. Seiji stiffened, his sense scanning his surroundings, instincts telling him that something happened, something bad. Another breeze swept through the air, sharpening to a gust that caused the grasses and trees to sway in protest. The odors of blood and death clouded his sense of smell, distracting him from noticing a large mass of white and black ambling toward him, brown eyes watching the Trooper as if pleading him to return to the manor. Tension filled Seiji's mind as Korin jangled an alarm at the base of his spine. He looked down at his hand and fisted it, watching as Byakuen rubbed it, getting his full attention. "What is it, Yaku-chan," he asked the tiger, not expecting a verbal response.
The tiger gently gnawed on his hand, an incisor pulling on his watchband, alerting him to the time. Now he knew, Ryo must have sent his feline counterpart to check on him. "Ryo sent you, didn't he?" It was normal for the bearer of Rekka to send out the large cat to accompany anyone leaving the manor alone, the Sanada's protective nature bearing its tenacious head often at the worst times. It was that he could not contact that others via armor link; he shut off mental communication when he began his meditation.
Byakuen shook his large head, releasing Seiji's hand almost hesitantly. Ryo did not send the tiger, he came on his own. Intelligent brown eyes sparkled in the fading light as they met Seiji's.
The Trooper caught on immediately, but stopped gathering up his things to ask one more question. "Did Nasuti call?"
If the wildcat could have smirked, then he would have at Seiji's familiar use of the young woman's name. Although, she was the reason that he had to fetch the trooper in the first place. His responding roar was accompanied by another headshake.
"Dammit," Seiji growled, donning his haori and sheathing the bokken. He knew that something was wrong when he looked at the time. Nasuti normally called to check in on the guys, seeing what they wanted for dinner, or just to give them peace of mind when she worked late. The young man felt the push of the feline, urging him to get on the tiger's back so they could return faster. Seiji would be the first to admit that the cat thought like a human. If Byakuen could talk, then he'd be the source of all gossip and blackmail. The tiger knew of his fondness for Nasuti, his admiration for her, in all, his love. "Let's go, Byakuen."
~*~*~
The lone car pulled up to the guard booth and stopped, opening a window to show his residence identification. The uniformed guard stood by the booth, pulling his coat around him tighter, shielding himself from the frigid rain. The night was cold and the temperature was dropping fast. "Nice weather, isn't it, Managanita-san?" The guard took his card and glanced at it, trained ears picking up the sound of the booth's fax machine operating.
Damien shuddered from his warm car, blue eyes glancing to the unconscious form in his passenger seat. "It's lovely, can I have my card back, please?"
The guard looked into the darkened interior of the car and saw the young woman in the other seat. "You have a girlfriend, Managanita-san?"
"She's my wife," Damien said assuredly, smiling when the guard handed his card back to him.
The guard stood aside as the car accelerated and took off from the station. "Wife," he nodded, going back into the booth.
The fax machine had just finished the document and the paper slid to the floor, unnoticed.
~*~*~
Ryo stood in the empty living room and shivered. His hands were cold, he noticed off-handedly; tiger-blue eyes focused on the window to the soaked landscape outside. Evening was settling in as the kendo practitioner came inside, water dripping off lean limbs, puddling around his socked feet. Byakuen followed him, but stopped outside on the porch, shaking his thick fur free of precipitation. The bearer of Rekka stood back from the door, watching as Seiji stripped his torso free of clothing. "She hasn't called; I don't see why Yaku-chan went out to get you."
Blond hair stuck to the wet forehead as one violet eye kept a solid gaze on the black-haired young man. "Something is wrong."
Ryo started. "Is Korin going haywire?"
Silence.
"Shit," he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. He held the handset up to his ear and waited for the ringing to give way to a voice.
"You have reached the answering machine of Nasuti Yaguy. I am either busy at the moment or not at the office, please leave your name, phone number, and a brief message after the beep." The automated voice gave way to another tone.
Ryo replaced the handset, a frown on his face. "No answer, Korin is up in hackles and now you're saying that something is wrong. Perfect." Tan hands flung themselves into the air, distress coloring the teen's baritone voice. "To be honest, I'm worried, she'd call by now, but if I dial it again and she answers, then she'll yell at me with that 'you're too over-protective' spiel again, and personally Seiji-kun, it gets old."
A blond eyebrow raised at his little tirade and a grimace lined the blonde's face. He looked toward the phone stand and cocked his head, blood still singing from the exertion of his rain-interrupted workout. He shrugged off the feeling of disorientation, too focused on a newly occurring stitch in his side to see a flash of blue behind Ryo.
Has Naste called yet?" Touma yawned loudly, startling Ryo and Seiji.
Dry looks were set straight on the innocent face was the two Troopers groaned at their comrade.
~*~*~
The ancient iron bed frame creaked as the body lying upon it shifted its weight over on its side. Mahogany hair splayed out on a dust-covered cream-colored pillow, extended waves brushing the dust aside. Some of the dust particles got into the figure's nose, irritating the sensitive membrane to no end.
Achoo!
The sudden rush of air roused Nasuti from her pained slumber as she jerked into an upright position, stirring up even more dust. A twill-clad arm covered her mouth as she regained her breath, gagging from the bad taste that lingered. Her tongue felt like cotton, dry and fluffy. She ran it along the set of teeth always there, until it encountered something foreign.
Her head jerked up, eyes catching glimpses of white in a mirror on a dresser across the room. She was gagged with a cotton scarf tied around her mouth, no wonder her mouth was dry. She reached up to brush her hair back from her eyes with a strangely heavy hand. Looking down, Nasuti noticed the brown twine that had her wrists bound together.
Where the hell am I, she thought to herself, taking in her surroundings, alarm growing inside her as she looked around. I'm in hell, she decided, seeing the door standing wide open. And Satan is an idiot.
"You're awake, ma cherie," came from the doorway as a medium build figure stood there. "I would apologize about the gags, but you see, I don't apologize for things I'm not sorry for."
Nasuti twisted against her bindings and let out a soft murmur from behind the gag. "Where am I," she tried to say, but the words garbled due to the muffler.
Damien had anticipated everything up to this point, so as of now, he was quite eager to get things moving, in his direction anyways. "Well, my beauty," he began as he sat on the bed, taking up most of the space. He grinned when she moved away--and stopped. her hands were tied to the bedframe. Damien ran a finger up the exposed skin of her leg as he continued, his face leaning toward hers. "I need to make an important phone call. And *you*, my lady, are going to dial this number for me."
Nasuti lowered her mahogany eyebrows in a severe glare. There was no way she was going to dial any number, no matter how much he put her through. But she did not anticipate the hand that was caressing her leg to squeeze the flesh underneath it in a tight grip, causing her gasp and gag.
He smiled boyishly. "Let me rephrase myself. You will dial this number, or Seiji will never see his lovely professor ever again."
He let go of her leg, slowly trailing his hand up her flesh, marveling in the reaction that her body gave to the unsolicited contact. Gooseflesh was left in his hand's wake as he brought it off of her skin and rested it on the phone on the floor. "Now, my dear sensei, I'm going to untie one hand. The other will remain attached to the bedstead, because obviously, I've kidnapped you and would be absolutely stupid if I let you escape by some fluke.
Nasuti ignored his explanation, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. In her lifetime, she had been thrown into a Trinitron screen, been dangled over hot boiling lava, frozen in water, wrapped in chains, almost strangled, blasted to bits, and had her life threatened so many times that she had lost count. This is so trite that it's pathetic, she thought inwardly, flinching when she realized that he knew that she was not paying attention.
"And you yell at me for not listening, Yaguy-sensei? I do believe it's called 'walking your talk,' or I could be mistaken."
If she had one hand free, she'd deck him for being an ass. Her heartbeat quickened as she felt the cold hands run themselves along her arms, fingernails slightly scratching her to undo the knots.
She hated it.
This entire situation was so wrong that it would make even the biggest romance-novel fan gag out of sheer disgust. Just then, her hand did not feel as heavy as she could feel the prickles and needling sensation that signified no circulation.
Her captor was rubbing her fingers with his thumb as he set the phone on her lap. "Now, sweetheart, I need you to dial that lovely Frenchman's number. I know that you know it, so dial up. I must pose him a question." His voice was dripping with saccharine; enough to send chills down Nasuti's spine. Although, chills were not the only thing she was feeling.
Terror was also present.
She was terrified of what Damien had in store for Darrien.
~*~*~