2. Matt

The next day

The kidnapped girl awoke the following morning with a killer headache and a bump on the top of her head.

She sat up in a bed with mismatched, worn blankets and a metal frame. The room appeared to be a basement, with cement flooring and pink insulation showing through the plastic covering the unfinished walls. A large folding screen separated her bed with the rest of the basement, and also blocked her view of anything interesting. Voices could be heard from the floor above—the basement ceiling obviously wasn't that thick.

"We are professionals." A harsh young voice was saying. "And I've been told that you five made a mistake. Does that sound professional to you?"

"No, boss," five men said.

"Get out. I don't want to see your revolting faces."

Footsteps receded. Two people seemed to remain.

"Has she woken up yet?" The same young voice asked, his tone quieter, yet still with a commanding edge.

"Not since I last checked." A new guy, not one from earlier. Probably just as young as the first, but not as harsh.

"Check again. We need her awake as soon as possible. And what did I say about smoking in the building?"

There was a barely audible sigh. The conversation was over.

She attempted to move out of the blankets and slide off the bed, but a gentle tugging at her right ankle stopped her. With the blankets pushed back, she could see that someone had placed leather around her ankle before clipping a cuff around it.

Well, they were nice enough to consider her comfort, but she needed to get up. She examined the links in the chain connecting her foot to the bedpost, with no such luck. She tried a few more attempts at finding a weak link, with much rattling and pulling. Nothing seemed to work.

"It's best you leave that alone, love." Came the same second young voice from the previous conversation. The girl's neck snapped up to locate the speaker.

Redhead walked towards a chair across from the bed and sat there, a bowl of cherries in one hand, setting a bowl for the stems and pits on his lap. This was, unknowingly to the captive, to satisfy the craving for a cigarette until he made it outside.

He had been through many hostage situations and procedures, and sometimes taught new members about the do's and don't's. He had planned and carried them out, ordered the men to capture people, and he was ultimately the first person the captive saw when they awoke.

So when the girl spoke, he was expecting several questions like, "Where am I?" or "What the hell happened?" or even "Who are you?"

Redhead wasn't expecting her to say, "Can I have one?" No, it definitely caught him off guard.

"Come again?"

Her eyes were on the fruit. "Can I have a cherry?"

In response, he mumbled a 'sure', sat on the edge of the bed, and offered her a cherry. "Any questions?" He asked. "Comments?"

"Plenty." She responded coolly, her eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail she laid eyes on. "I'm Zeeke." She gnawed on a cherry stem. Her voice reminded Redhead of a boy called Near, quiet with barely any emotion.

"I guess that means we got the wrong person." He replied, standing up. All in all, he was surprised she didn't ask anything.

He stopped at the screen, speaking over his shoulder. "Matt."

He left the cherries with the girl.

3. Short Explanations

Day 2 in captivity

Matt lengthened the chain attached to Zeeke's ankle the next day, so she'd be able to move around more, or at least stand up.

"Why don't you try to escape?" He asked as he unhooked the cuffs. "You could probably kick me right now and run off."

"Do you want me to kick you?" was her answer. After a pause, she said, "this place is probably heavily guarded."

He nodded at her logic. "…Then why don't you ask questions?"

"Will you answer if I ask?"

"Maybe."

"I don't like to be disappointed."

Matt sighed, clipped the cuff back on her ankle, and sat down. "You're in the basement of one of the Japanese Mafia's hideouts. My team and I were sent to capture a woman who owed us. Either the room number was wrong, or you're using an alias."

"The hotel room was given to me free by a 30 year old woman. I don't owe anyone anything."

"Yet you don't deny the alias."

Zeeke hesitated a split second, Matt watching her face through his tinted goggles. "I don't like lying." She lay back on her pillow, signalling the end of conversation.

A/N: Yo, I'm bored. It's too late. 1:40 am... Gah.

Latah gatah.

Sarii