Joe awoke to a dark, dingy room, groaning in pain. He couldn't see anything and quickly realized that he was blindfolded. Angirly, he tried to move his arms, but found that he couldn't. Frusterated, he tried to yell for help, but again, he couldn't.

They had taken Frank away a few hours ago after comming in, yelling and screaming at him, asking what hands he wrote with. Joe had replied "his right", but then they yelled, "That's not right, is it? We know that's not right!"

Frank had once won a prize because he could write with both hands. Apperently, he was internationally famous for it. Joe was furious, if they already knew, why did they ask?

He never understood kidnappers. Firstly, who would want to kidnapp someone in the first place? Sure, he could see doing it for money, maybe. But after that, kidnapping someone just to inflict pain on them or... he didn't get it.

"Wake up, Hardy!" a voice harshly yelled and Joe grimmanced.

Joe tried to say something but it was quickly muffled under his gag. "Mmmph," he said. "Mmmph."

"Shut up," the man hissed. "If you try and escape, Frank'll get it! Hobbes is at the hospital with him now, and you know how much he likes his pistol."

Joe nearly puked. HOBBES was at the hospital? Hadn't they put Hobbes on the video, without the mask?

He paled as he realized who Hobbes was. Hobbes was Dr. Bates! "No!" Joe yelled as soon as his gag was ripped off. Snoopy looked familar because he was Jake, his dad's piolet!

"Oh, yes," Jake said with a smile. "I see you recognize who I am. That's good," he said with a grin, "that's very good."

0909090900

Frank awoke with a dry taste in his mouth. When he looked up, he saw that he was in a hospital bed. "Where's Joe?" he tried to ask, but no sound came out.

"Oh, good, our patient is awake," Dr. Bates said with a smile. "How are you, son?"

Again, Frank tried to talk, but quickly found he coudn't. When he lifted his arm, he grimanced in pain; all his fingers felt broken.

"What happened to his hands?" Laura asked, shocked. Frank was a fluid signer, he could sign quicker then anyone she knew, and he wasn't mute or deaf. Some of hsi friends were, though, and he kept up on the language so he could converse with them.

"I think they crushed them," Dr. Bates said. "That's what it looks like, anyway. I'm not sure how. I'm sorry."

Frank's face paled as he looked at Dr. Bates again. They had said they were going to watch him, but he didn't know how closely. He tried to point, but after two inches, his arm grew tired and he dropped it down.

"Are you okay?" Fenton asked, knowing full well that Frank was nowhere near okay. He vowed to bring these people to justice, at any cost. He could only hope, and pray, that his son would speak again.

"I think he's thirsty," Dr. Bates said, helping Frank sip a cup of water. Frank was terrified. He knew Dr. Bates was Hobbes, but he had no way to prove it, since he couldn't speak and was litterly pinned to the bed. He could only hope that his father would be able to guess.

Frank tried to struggle as he felt Dr. Bates grip his wrist, but Dr. Bates' grip tightened, and Frank stopped. "Visiting hours are over soon," Dr. Bates said. "I'd suguest you all get some good rest tonight."

You're going to need it, he thought, grinning evilly.