Enjoy!
Masquerade: Chapter Four
The door opened violently and Tim was jolted out of his thoughts by the entrance of Hal and Mic. The two men swarmed on the young man sitting on the bed.
"How ya doing?" The man asked with a sneer and Tim was tempted to jump off the bed and wipe that look off the larger man's face. But, he had a plan in mind and, right now, it didn't involve attacking one of his kidnappers.
"What do you want?" I seriously need to think of something else to say, Tim thought even as he asked the question.
Hal merely shrugged. "Nothing right now. We've got two days to spend together before we get to have some fun with you."
The teenager made a mental note that he would be useful for two days. A time limit usually meant he was being bargained for something, but what? His father had lost everything in the last year and the Drake name meant nothing anymore. Intrigued even more, Tim searched his mind for a way to get more information.
"What happens then?" It wasn't the best of questions, but at least it would keep the dialogue moving.
Mic stepped forward and spoke "No money, no more you."
Hal slapped Mic on the back of the head. "Shut up!"
But he'd already said enough for Tim. Money was involved so he was really being held for ransom. Somehow his dad had gotten involved with men who played dirty and Tim was the leverage. Although the image was still skewed and missing facts, the teenager was content enough to leave now. He'd heard enough to know that he wouldn't get anymore from these men.
With speed he usually only used while in his old Robin costume, Tim jumped off the bed and flew at Mic. Neither of the men were prepared for any kind of fight, not having witnessed Tim's physical prowess in the alley. The young man felt his hand solidly connect with Mic's chin and the large man staggered into the single desk in the room slumping against it stunned. Tim turned and his fist found purchase on Hal's face. Before he could recover, Tim brought his knee into Hal's ribs leaving the man bent over and winded. Without sparing a glance back at his two kidnappers, the teenager jumped around Hal and ran out the bedroom door.
He knew both of the kidnappers had only been stunned and not knocked unconscious, but that didn't mean much. Tim had been trained by the best and he was fast even without any of his gear. After exiting the cabin, he took a sharp left, causing his traction-lacking Keds to slide slightly. The young man found himself able to see the tall buildings of Gotham. Doing a quick calculation, he assumed he had to be only about five miles away from the main highway leading into the city. He could get there in less than half an hour. Barely slowing his pace, Tim turned slightly right, heading towards the highway. Sparing a look, he noticed Hal was within seeing distance, but already breathing heavily. Smiling to himself, he turned his back and began the sprint to freedom.
The turning of his back proved to be the young man's undoing. When he had a chance to look back on the moment, he knew that his mind had been too occupied with the small victory and, because of that, the recharge of a gun being fired entered his brain too late. Once Tim realized the danger he was in, even his spilt-second maneuvering, didn't allow him to avoid the small tranquilizer dart that stabbed him in the shoulder. Swearing, Tim didn't stop his movement, hoping the two men had not been well prepared enough to buy anything of substance. His hopes proved wrong.
Five steps later, Tim felt his legs fall out from under him and the last thing he saw was the sweaty face of Hal angrily looking down at him.
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Tim found himself regaining consciousness in the small cabin. Unlike the first time, he was not alone for this journey back to self-awareness. The young man opened his eyes to see both his kidnappers standing next to him. Tim unflinchingly stared at them and said nothing.
"That was stupid, kid," Hal said. Tim had to hold back a smile as he noticed a large bruise covering close to half of the man's face. He knew he had hit him well, but not that well. It almost made this moment bearable except for the fact he could hardly feel his body from the left over tranquilizer.
Almost as if he could read Tim's mind (a very unnerving thought), Mic spoke, "The tranq will wear off in about another hour, but until then you won't be able to move a finger." A ghost of a smile past over the man's lips and Tim felt his body shiver against his will. "Something that will prove very useful for us."
Before the young man could offer any sound of protest, his body was manhandled off the floor and carried back into the bedroom. The teenager tried to fight, but found what Mic said to be true; his body refused to make any mental to physical connections and, scarily Tim realized, he had no chance of defense.
Tim was throw on the bed and his body bounced a few times before coming to rest face down. Bringing any and all of his strength to bear, Tim pulled his arms under his body and lifted himself up. Mic noticed this and quickly flipped the young man over on his back. Getting a tight grip on the young man's right arm, Hal securely fastened it to the headboard. In less then thirty seconds, he did the same to Tim's left arm.
All of this moving was taking place too fast for Tim's drugged brain to comprehend much of anything and, by the time things stopped, Tim found himself tied to all four corners of the bed by his hands and feet. Never had he felt so exposed and, for the first time since being kidnapped, he felt genuinely afraid.
Mic moved close to Tim's head and leaned over. "I can see you're finally afraid," he stated, uncannily speaking Tim's thoughts again. "You have every right to be. We're making sure you won't run from us again."
The young man knew a warning when he heard one and swallowed nervously, unable to slow his beating heart. He didn't want to know what the man meant, but a part of him knew he'd find out soon enough.
It was just as Tim's limbs started to tingle that the two men came back in. Now fully capable of moving his body, Tim had spent the last ten minutes attempting to free himself from this terribly exposed position, but found everything bound too tightly. His body was taut due to the restraints and they didn't allow him leverage in any direction.
"I think he's ready, Mic." Hal said as they walked into the bedroom. Tim gave them both his best Bat-glare, but said nothing because, at that moment, he saw Mic enter. With him, the man carried a large hammer, close in size to a sledgehammer. Bile rose in the young man's throat and he began to shake his head.
"We were told to not kill you or hurt you too bad, but hey, accidents happen don't they?" Hal said as he moved closer to the bed.
"No, please," Tim said quietly as he watched the man stop at the end of the bed by his legs. He'd seen enough mob movies, hell even enough real-life mobs, to understand that he was in serious danger.
Mic laughed. "Oh look, he's begging."
He then moved to Tim's left leg and stood over it. Carefully, he took a step back and swung the hammer towards the boy's unprotected leg. He stopped the momentum scant inches above Tim's leg and then looked at the teenager's pale face.
Tim held the man's eyes silently pleading with him not to do what he feared would be done. "Please," he whispered not even aware how terrified he looked at that instant. In another time, in another outfit even, Tim never would have found himself begging. But, at this current moment, he was nothing more then a terrified sixteen-year-old boy who was in way over his head. Tim could feel his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears of fear, but he did not let them fall. Instead he held the older man's eyes, attempting to cease any further action that might be carried out. For a moment, the young man felt he might have reached Mic.
But the moment passed, and the hammer was raised again. The man looked at Tim in the eyes, "Sorry, kid." He said as the hammer descended, this time not to stop till it hit the bed, traveling through Tim's lower leg.
At the moment of impact, it was lucky that the two kidnappers had thought ahead and moved away from the city. The ear-splitting scream that was torn from Tim's mouth at the sudden and indescribable pain of his leg being shattered would surely have been heard by no less then ten people within the city confines. The resonating sound echoed in the small room, yet as quickly as it had come, it left. Tim cut off his cry and clamped his mouth shut in order to gain some resemblance of control over the situation. However, the young man couldn't stop his body's movements and neither of the men watching said a word as Tim fought vainly against the restraints that held him. To them, it looked as if he was trying to move away from the searing agony that his body was suffering.
Slowly, Tim calmed himself enough to lie still on the bed; his chest heaving and his eyes screwed tightly shut. Agony coursed through his shattered leg, but the young man found himself unable to do anything but lie still and quietly sob. Tears leaked from the teenager's eyes as he clenched and unclenched his hands and tried to settle his trembling body.
While the young man battled against the onslaught of pain, the other two persons in the room watched in sick silence. Mic had allowed the hammer to fall to the floor in a dull thud right as the cry broke through Tim's lip, and now he just stared at the small being lying in front of him. Shaking slightly, he turned to look at his partner. They both stared at one another as soft moans of pain, which were valiantly being fought against, filled the cabin.
TBC.
Author's notes part two: If you have seen/read the story "Misery" by Stephen King you will recognize the leg-shattering scene. It is stolen from that piece of work and I have no ties to it. Obviously, alterations have been done to it, but the premise, still, is Mr. King's and no permission was given to use the scene.