Johnny whistled a merry tune as he threw his keys down. Looking over at his machine, he noticed the light blinking, and sighed. Sonya hadn't called his cell, so he hoped she had called him at home. Smiling to himself, he strolled over and hit the button.
"Mr. Cage, I'm very sorry you're not home. I so much wanted to talk to you personally, but I guess this will have to do. We have something that belongs to you, I think, and if you want it back, it will cost you." A few muffled lines were shouted, then rustling.
"Come on, baby, say a few words." There was silence, then what Johnny knew to be the sound of a violent kick to a midsection. Someone screamed out in pain and Johnny's blood froze. He knew that scream; it would forever be ingrained in his head from the end of the tournament…Sonya.
"That's a good girl, make a little noise for your man," someone said in the background. Johnny's fists clenched against his sides and his heart throbbed in his chest.
"Now, Mr. Cage, here are the terms. One, no police. If you call the police, we will hear about it, and I will kill her. Two, you are to come alone with ten million dollars to an old warehouse on the corner of 10th and Sunset. You will be given further instruction there. It is currently seven o'clock. You have twenty-four hours." The machine beep echoed through the silent room. Johnny stood there unmoving for a while, his fist clenched in tight balls. Slowly, he began moving, and he grabbed various things, shoving them into a backpack. A flashlight, a jacket, his cell phone, an extra pair of shoes. Anything he could think of from his various movies. But this time was different; this time, the love of his life was on the line. As he made for the door, he spotted his weapons display on the wall. He stopped and walked over, grabbing his nunchukus off of the wall. Shoving them into his pack as well, he left, speeding away in his car for the bank.
"Let me get this straight, Mr. Cage. You want to withdraw ten million dollars in cash from your account, in solid, unmarked bills?" Johnny nodded, a fierce look in his eyes.
"That's right."
"This is unprecedented, I must say, but you do have the money in your account," the manager said, checking his computer.
"So what's the problem?" Johnny responded angrily.
"Oh, no problem. Just give me a few minutes to run this through." Johnny stood, tapping his foot as the manager logged in all the information. He took in Johnny's mannerisms and his agitation and guessed he needed the money quickly. But for what, the man asked himself. How would it look if he were the one who gave Cage the money he needed to flee the country after some crime? He decided to call the police after this was all said and done; to save his own tail.
Several excruciating minutes later, Johnny was walking out of the bank with the money in his pack. He was so lost in thought he didn't notice the manager talking with security and the subsequent call that was made to the police station.
Johnny made his way out of the parking lot and to the designated warehouse. He made sure his bag was still with him as he exited his vehicle and walked into the abandoned complex.
Water dripped from the ceiling, and Johnny noted the low lighting. If he did get into a fight, he would have to watch his footing. Outside, an unmarked police car watched him enter, then called in.
"Danny, I don't think this is a felon on the run. If a very rich and successful man withdraws money, then shows up at an abandoned warehouse on his guard, what do you think?"
His partner turned in his seat. "Hostage, probably someone the actor knows."
"Did you see his Hollywood premier a few months ago? That blonde he was with?"
"You think he's still with her Roger? I mean stars do tend to swap significant others quite a lot," Danny responded.
"Yeah, well, whoever it is, we gotta get them outta there. Call it in." Roger stepped out of the vehicle and carefully made his way to the actor's car. He was joined several minutes later by his partner, both armed and alert.
Johnny made his way between barrels, listening for any sign of life. He rounded a corner and felt the cool metal of a gun barrel at the back of his neck.
"Hey there, pretty boy! You got the money?" The voice was slightly distorted, as if speaking through a voice changer, and Johnny nodded slowly.
"Yeah, where is she?" he demanded.
"She's safe…for now. Where is it!"
"All the cash is in my backpack. Let me get it out for you." He knelt on the ground, but the gun followed, and he knew if he made one wrong move, he was dead; and so was Sonya.
Carefully, he began pulling out the stacks of cash and putting them into a bag that had been thrown at his feet. As soon as the last stack was safely inside, he zipped it up, and grabbed his bag, making sure it was still unzipped.
"Good boy. Come with me." The gun pressed into his neck as he let himself be led through the warehouse. He didn't see any other thugs, so perhaps this guy was by himself. He slowly reached into his bag with one hand and clasped the nunchukus firmly. They entered a smaller area, and descended down three flights of stairs.
"Open that door," the man demanded, and Johnny did so with his free hand. The sight that greeted him made his blood boil.
Sonya was tied up against the wall, blindfolded, her hands above her head. Her feet were shackled to the floor, and she had a bit in her mouth. Johnny growled low when he realized that her shirt had been torn open. It seemed as if they had tried to remove her pants as well, but thought twice about it. There were three other men there, all with guns, laughing and looking over at her continuously. One of them stood and swayed, and Johnny noticed the bottle of gin on the table. Good, he thought, they're reaction times will be slowed.
The man staggered over to Sonya's exposed form and caressed her face sloppily. She tried to knee him in the groin, but the shackles prevented her leg from lifting too high. Johnny took a step forward, his hand tightening around the nunchukus, but the gun trained on him kept him in place. The man laughed and gave up, running his hand down her body once before returning to the table.
"Put the bag over there," the man instructed, and he did so. Sonya's ears perked up, and she tried to say something, but it was muffled. As Johnny leaned over to set the bag of money down, a noise reverberated through the warehouse.
"Shit, he didn't come alone! I warned you, pretty boy." The gun that had been on him shifted, now pointed at Sonya's heart. With a vengeful cry, Johnny's other hand came out of the bag, holding both sets of nunchukus. He switched one to his right hand and began twirling them violently, wrapping around the man's wrist. The gun spun out, but not before going off and letting the police know exactly where they were. Johnny let go and lashed out again, coming around and up his body to take one of the thugs under the chin. He flew back, hitting his head on the cold pavement. The remaining three charged him, one with a knife, and they swung. Johnny blocked most of their shots with either his arms or his weapons, and he barely felt those that did get through.
In an intricate and precise movement, Johnny had stung two of the three remaining men in the legs, rendering them useless. He struck out again, remembering not to pull anything this time. He shattered one of their knee caps, reveling in the sound it made against his weapons. The third had dove for the gun, and now had it in his grasp. He swiveled his body and fired a shot, but Johnny dove behind the table, nearly hurling one of his weapons at the man. He held onto it at the last minute and stood, diving over the table at the man. In a perfect tuck and roll, Johnny came up beside the man. In three movements, Johnny had broken both of the man's arms and left him bleeding at the temple from his blow. The man had managed one more shot before he was rendered unconscious and hit the light, enveloping them in complete darkness. The last remaining man fled, not wanting the maniac martial artist to kill him, or worse.
Johnny breathed deeply for a few moments, regaining his composure. The noise of Sonya's muffled cries pulled him from his thoughts. He felt for his bag and grabbed the flashlight, shining it over in her direction. He removed her bit and blindfold, then kissed her deeply.
"Are you alright?" he asked desperately. She nodded against him as she buried her head in his chest. He pulled his pocket knife and cut her bonds, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I'm fine," she responded, near tears. She composed herself as she pulled away, and looked down at the shackles.
"How do we get you out of those?" he asked. A blinding light shone in from the doorway, and Johnny placed himself in front of her, battle ready.
"Relax, Mr. Cage. I'm Detective Roger Peterson. We followed you from the bank. If you'd move aside," he stepped forward with a key, and Johnny stepped back to her side, wrapping his arm around her. She shivered against him, and he remembered that she barely had a shirt on. He reached into his bag and pulled out the spare jacket he'd brought with him. He carefully wrapped it around her shoulders and she leaned into him. The detective was finally able to free her feet, and Johnny led her out to the awaiting ambulance. The kidnappers were being loaded into a van, and Johnny felt his blood heat up at their sight. The hand that wrapped around Sonya's clenched, and she looked up, following his gaze.
"Johnny, it's over," she whispered, calming him down. He breathed deeply and relaxed, sitting her down in the ambulance and climbing aboard. The medic checked Sonya out, then moved to Johnny.
"I'm fine," he said, his eyes focused on Sonya.
"Sir, the blood on your shirt says otherwise." Sonya sat up sharply.
"What?" Johnny said, looking down. His entire right side was soaked in blood, but he didn't feel a thing. The medic laid him back a little and pulled up his shirt. A large gash running from the top of his ribcage diagonally down to his abdomen marred his red flesh.
