"Get off of me you brute," Nigel yelled as he struggled against the man in his flat. Not for the first time he wished that he was more physically adept than he was. "You know, I'm really quite amiable," Nigel said as he was manhandled to the door, "I'd really rather that you didn't break into my place and that you'd just let go of me."
The man acknowledged his remarks by letting him go to give him a blow to the face that made his eyes water. Nigel staggered back, free to move for the moment. He took the opportunity to lunge for his phone, but before he could reach it he was being crushed by 14 stone.
His flat certainly wasn't the most secure of places. When he had been looking for somewhere to live, he had wanted a good neighbourhood, locks on doors and windows, the usual safety features. He hadn't been anticipating a man in a ski mask (Nigel rolled his eyes at the cliché) to barge in and make a total nuisance of themself. They broke the lamp in the living room – the only lamp in the living room – and Nigel was definitely annoyed. He'd have to replace it first thing as he was in the middle of a book on Akkadian as he was trying to learn the language and would need the lamp to read. At least when Derek had kidnapped him he hadn't broken anything, although he'd had a very sore head after, and his bike had been stolen as it was left on the side of the road.
"What the hell do you want from me?" he bit out from under the weight of the man pinning him down. As he spoke he felt the stretch of a split lip, and could taste the copper on his tongue. One of his arms were trapped under his torso and he was uncomfortable. Not to mention the knock to his chin when he'd hit the floor – between that and the punch he'd received less than a minute ago, he was bound to have a vicious bruise there later.
"You're going to translate something for me," the man said. He got up and roughly pulled Nigel to his feet with him. Nigel winced at the strong grip on the back of his neck and his arm, sure there would be bruises there later.
"Oh, is that all? You know, a please and a thank you would go a long way."
"If you don't shut your mouth, this trip will be very unpleasant."
"Trip?" Nigel went on a lot of trips on very short notice, one of the effects of working for a well-known and driven relic hunter, but those were usually with better company. "I – I – I really don't think I can. I have work in the morning and my boss, Sydney, you know Sydney Fox, yes? Well she won't be happy if I'm not there and –" Nigel bent over and moaned at the punch to his stomach.
"I told you to shut up," the man hissed in his ear.
The man grabbed the back of Nigel's collar and used it to push Nigel through his door and into the hallway. His grip remained firm as he guided Nigel towards and then down the stairs, through the front door of the building and to the car idling in the street. The pace was quick and forced Nigel to focus on placing one foot in front of the other automatically – every time he stumbled the man used the grip on his shirt to hold him up, even while he kept on going, which was very unpleasant. There was no opportunity that Nigel could see to break free.
There was no one outside that he could see, which didn't really surprise him. It was something like 1 a.m. and this was the kind of neighbourhood where everyone was asleep before midnight.
The man brought him to the boot of the car.
"No," Nigel said to him, "absolutely not." For all the tombs and crypts he's been locked in, small spaces made him very uncomfortable.
To Nigel's horror, the man grinned. Then he saw the fist coming at his face, and nothing.
