Chas woke up with the worst headache of his life.
His kidnappers hadn't bothered with the blindfold, but he was once again strapped to the chair with his hands tied even tighter behind his back, and he was still gagged.
His neck hurt like hell, and he immediately noticed the not-quite-dry blood on his shirt. No wonder he had a headache.
He looked up and saw that Tyler was gone, and Brian looked pretty damn bored, sitting there with his shotgun in his lap. He noticed that Chas was awake, but didn't say a word to him.
You've failed. You had your chance, you lost it, and now…
Chas felt determination well up in his mind again. He had to figure out a way to get out of this, before Brian began to agree with Tyler that he was too much trouble to keep alive.
Besides, he had a title to defend on Friday, and like hell was he going to miss it because of a kidnapping.
He once again began testing the straps that held him down, but all he got for that was a sharp punch to the ribs from Brian, who wasn't taking any shit from Chas now.
Tyler walked in with a pizza box and three beers in hand, and he dropped them onto the table, giving Chas a flash of a fresh black eye. Brian obviously had raked him over the coals about untying him. The appearance of food was enough to remind Chas that he hadn't eaten for what seemed like forever.
"Should I try and get him to eat again?" Tyler asked, eyeing Chas. Brian shrugged.
"If you wanna get bitten again, go right ahead."
Tyler looked back and forth between Chas and Brian for a few moments, then pulled out a slice of cheese pizza from the box and walked over to Chas.
Chas scowled at him as he yanked the gag off, already decided that he wasn't afraid to bite if they tried to force-feed him again.
"C'mon, kid, don't make me do this the hard way."
"Fuck you," Chas snapped, turning his head away from the offered food.
Tyler scowled, reached for Chas's face…and promptly received a bite to his fingers. He yelled in pain and jumped back, rubbing his hand and dropping the pizza to the floor, letting out a string of obscenities.
"That's it, you little bastard," he growled, stalking over to the table and grabbing one of the beers, wrenching the top off it. He walked back over to Chas and grabbed him roughly by the chin, forcing his mouth open.
Chas wasn't prepared when Tyler shoved the bottle into his mouth and the foul-tasting alcohol spilled in. He choked and coughed, but Tyler still had a grip on his chin, keeping his head tilted back and the bottle shoved almost against the back of his throat.
He tried to swallow it, but it was far too late for that- there was too much in his mouth. Now he only felt like he was drowning in alcohol, suffocating helplessly.
Oddly enough, it was Brian who saved him. Brian grabbed Tyler's shoulder and pulled him back, and the bottle fell to the floor. Chas coughed and hacked, spitting the alcohol out and gasping for air.
"If we kill him, it's gonna be bloody and showy," Brian said calmly, and Tyler scowled at Chas, who was still coughing.
"If it was my choice, we'd go get the money from Dextera and kill him now," Tyler said, and moments later his eyes widened in horror. Brian sighed heavily, and then he punched Tyler hard in the jaw.
"Great job, just great. Now we have to kill him ahead of schedule," Brian snapped. "Can't you ever do anything right!"
"It doesn't matter, we were gonna kill him anyway!" Tyler insisted, cradling his jaw and cowering. Chas was busy taking in what he wasn't supposed to hear- Dextera. He should've known. These two losers wouldn't have had enough guts to pull this off on their own, they needed a backbone. Dextera's offer of money? That was what sank it. That was why they were so eager to play this by the book.
Brian had already begun to unstrap Chas, but left his hands tied, pulling him up out of the chair and shoving him toward the door. Chas fought back, kicking and screaming, but the two men quickly got him under control and dragged him outside.
It was night. Chas wasn't sure how much time had passed, but they were in some kind of backlot, full of buildings that looked like warehouses. There was nobody around.
You're about to die, Chas.
He shoved the thought aside and continued to fight, not giving up by any means. He wasn't about to let Dextera screw him over like this and leave John utterly alone.
"Right here. We can shove the body down into that drainage ditch when we're done," Brian said, struggling to keep Chas still as they stopped behind one of the big warehouses. Tyler grabbed Chas and shoved him down to his knees, a gun cocked, then…
BLAM!
John had spent the last hour trying to get the police to do something. He knew where Chas was, but going in alone was risky, and the police were experienced in this type of thing.
Of course, that wasn't helping him when they told him he was under too much stress and needed to go home and sleep.
Kenya stuck with him, though. When they pushed him out the front door of the sheriff's department she was there to hold him up, and when a reporter (or many reporters) found them, she was the one who knew exactly what to say and how much to say to get them to go away.
"If they're not going to do anything, I'm going there myself," John muttered, rolling up his sleeves. Kenya crossed her arms, and at first John thought she was going to be the typical high-fashion female and tell him he should let the cops handle it.
"If you're going in there all gung-ho, then you'd better take some weapons. And you'd better have backup."
"Oh, hell no. I'm not taking you."
"Oh, hell yes you are. I worked on the set of a Matrix-esque movie, I know how to work a gun."
"Those Matrix movies were so damn fake. And so was the lead actor."
"I said it was Matrix-esque. Matrix plus realism."
"I'm still not taking you."
"One hundred thousand dollars."
"Are you trying to bribe me?"
"If that's what it takes."
John sighed, and then shrugged. "Fine. No bribes, you can come. But you're staying in the car when we get there."
They got back into Kenya's Porsche (which she insisted that she'd never let John drive in a million years) and she followed John's directions. He was tapped into Chas, the emotions and pain like a beacon, getting stronger as he got closer.
"Here. Turn here," he said, and Kenya frowned, but made the turn.
"This can't be right," she said. "This is the studio backlot. Nobody can get in here without a pass."
"The cops said one of the guys is a janitor at a movie studio," John explained, the pieces falling into place. "He would be here all the time. It wouldn't be suspicious at all."
John was suddenly glad that he hadn't made Kenya stay behind. The guard at the backlot was more than happy to let them through, with her celebrity status. They'd just pulled through the gate when another shock of emotion came through, and John's fists clenched.
"He's being moved. We've gotta hurry," he said, and Kenya nodded, pressing her foot down harder on the gas.
"Where to?"
"Take a right up here. He's…he's by some kind of water."
Kenya glanced over at John. "There's a retention pond out behind the backlot."
"No, it's not that…"
"What about drainage? There're three channels to run water from the studios where we shoot water scenes."
"Go to the closest one. We'll follow it toward the back."
Kenya followed a side road to the drainage canal she's talked about, and then she turned and began following the ditch toward the back of the lot. She was visibly nervous, her grip tight on the steering wheel, chewing on her lower lip lightly.
"Wait…wait, stop," John said, and Kenya slammed on the brake, jerking John hard against his seatbelt. John hesitated, and then scrambled to get his seatbelt undone, fumbling for the door handle. "Something's wrong. I've got to…"
Kenya was already dropping a gun into his lap, grabbing a gun herself, and practically leaping from the car. John stumbled out of the car, and then took off running, skidding around the corner of the next warehouse. The sight that greeted him was mind-rattling.
Chas was on his knees on the ground, and a guy stood behind him, a gun aimed at the back of his head.
John lifted the gun, and quite suddenly the scene was like an old Western shootout- the first one to shoot would win.
BLAM!
The man with the gun crumpled to the ground, and John moved the gun to point at the other guy. He didn't move fast enough, though- the man grabbed Chas, yanked him to his feet in front of him, using the boy as a shield. The guy fumbled in his pocket for a few moments, then snapped out a switchblade and put it to Chas's throat.
"Don't move, man, I'll cut out his throat," he said, glancing at the body on the ground. John glanced back, looking for Kenya- the girl was nowhere to be found.
The bitch split. I'll bet the second the guns started going off, she ran away and cried like a girl.
"Don't do anything stupid. Let him go," John said, keeping his gun raised.
"Put the gun down or I'll slit his-"
BLAM!
The guy fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and behind him stood Kenya, gun raised and eyes deadly. John stared at her in shock as she lowered the gun and looked up at him.
"I told you I could work a gun, Constantine."
"Would somebody mind untying me?" Chas asked, snapping John out of his temporary stupor. He rushed forward to Chas's side, making quick work of undoing the knots and freeing Chas's hands. The boy's wrists were raw, blood dripping down onto his fingers from the rope digging in, he smelled like beer, and he had two fresh bruises on his face.
"Jesus, Chas, I'm sorry," John said, pulling Chas close. Chas leaned against him and let out a shaky breath.
"M'okay, John, but…how the hell did you find me?"
"I'll explain later. Let's get you home and let the cops and reporters know you're okay," John said, and Kenya pulled Chas away from John long enough for a hug.
"I was worried about you, you loser."
"Come on, you think I'd let a kidnapping kill me off?" Chas asked with a smirk, and then he looked up at John.
"They slipped. One of them mentioned getting paid by Dextera to do this."
"I knew it," John muttered, but then the anger quickly turned into an absolutely evil smirk. "Chas…are you feeling up to defending your title this weekend?"
"Damn right I am. Why?"
The wheels were turning, Kenya and Chas could see that much in John's eyes. John's smirk grew, and moments later he was walking toward the car and walking at the same time.
"The cops aren't gonna believe Dextera was in on this, even with the bodies and your testimony. He's too high up on the food chain to go after. But…I think I have an idea to prove our case, and all you've gotta do is play this weekend and play well…but not well enough."
Chas looked at John incredulously. "What are you talking about?"
John stopped, grabbing Chas's shoulder lightly. "I need you to force a playoff with Dextera. The rest is up to me and Kenya here…who will be your caddy."
"I already have a caddy-"
"Take my word for it…you want Kenya to be your caddy this time. Explain it off however you want."
Chas looked at Kenya, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Chas shrugged, and Kenya looked at John and grinned.
"What else do you want us to do?"