When Castle regained consciousness and checked than he was no longer hanged he felt relieved. He moved his shoulder... no pain, miraculously. He looked around and realized he was in the dirty bathtub again, with wrists and ankles tied, reeking of vomit and pee, cockroaches playing with his bare feet. Despite all, this was 'much better'.
"Wellcome again, Mr. Castle. Lucky guy. Your favorite show is about to start."
Tyson appeared in the scene with a laptop which placed on a shelf beside the bathtub. The writer observed how the bastard pressed a key and a video began to play. An image of a group of people in a green meadow showed on the screen. It looked like a home video taken with a hidden camera. Rick did not recognize anybody, because the group was far. Then the image moved like if the cameraman was walking towards people. Now the writer could see more details.
Castle's eyes moistened in a moment and tears fell along his cheeks when he blinked. The video was showing him his own funeral. Rick could see Kate in front row, escorted by Alexis and Martha. The three women were hugging. All of them in black. His mother wore sunglasses, but Alexis and Kate did not. The writer frowned trying to see the details of their faces.
Like it was reading Rick's mind, the camera zoomed in the three women. Castle felt a lump in his throat seeing a foreground of their reddish swollen eyes and cheeks wet with tears. His sight blurred because of his own tears. Seeing his three women heartbroken was shattering his own heart. He wanted to shout that he was alive. He wanted to shout that everything was going to be OK. He wanted to shout that he will go home with them. But he did not do it. Because he did not want gratify Tyson.
"What's up, scribbler?" the bastard paused the video "Too much drama for you? Hahaha... This is just the beginning... from now you are going to be viewer of their lives... WITHOUT YOU."
Castle held back the urge to mourn, it was useless. He was enraged. That son of a bitch had managed to record a video of a private ceremony. Now he should focus in escape. Tyson touched the keyboard and the video go forward still paused.
"I can't wait to show you my favourite part..." the bastard press play again and sat in the bathtub edge to watch it too.
Castle could see now the interior of a house that he could not recognize. There were lots of people in a big room. The image approached in a group and Rick could see Kate again. His Kate. Standing up, her father beside her, receiving condolences from friends and family. She was crestfallen, staring blankly, red eyes, swollen lips, fragile as a fawn.
"Sorry for your lost" said a voice in the video.
Castle was puzzled. He recognized that voice. It was Tyson's voice distorted.
Tyson was offering his condolences to Kate!
Rick kept looking the video and watched how Beckett raised her head and faced her interlocutor with tearful eyes. She pronounced and almost inaudible 'thank you' then frowned slightly and asked 'Mister...'
"Matic. Ricky and I were mates in University. Maybe you heard my last name before, Ricky used it in their books" he answered.
Castle was unable to contain his rage, he started to breathe faster. That son of a bitch had sneaked into his funeral and had offered his fake condolences to Kate. The bastard was making fun of them. That was a cruel game and the writer would not play it.
Furious like he never was before, stretched both legs and hit the laptop with his heels. Tyson, spellbound with his video, did not react fast enough and received and identical hit on his jaw. Castle, full of adrenaline, rolled forward and hit Tyson's face with his head.
The blood spurted from his nose, maybe broken, and splashed Rick's write wedding shirt. It became a Pollock's painting in red. With the same movement, Castle rolled back, and when his bent legs were near Tyson's face, stuck a double kick with his lower legs. It hit his temple and the bastard fell unconscious over the bathtub.
Castle kept his eyes wide open, he could not believe what had just happened.
He had knockout Tyson!
Ok. Too soon for claiming victory. He was caught somewhere, tied and bruised. With a big effort, Rick was able to place face down inside the bathtub. The only thing he could do, with wrists and ankles bound, was leaning over the edge of the tub and jump into the cold tile floor.
The writer fell and rolled doing a cartwheel for avoiding direct impact. He had watched it in many films, but definitively he ned much more practice. Castle stood clumsily and walked jumping with his feet together. He would not get far that way.
Rick looked around him.
He followed with his eyes the conveyor belt and saw the cattle cutting zone, where there was a scroll saw, like the ones you could see in a classic butcher shop, but bigger. Castle gulped thinking about the poor cows and he approached as fast as he could.
The writer sat in the conveyor belt and lifted his feet. Rick placed very carefully a foot on either side of the saw blade, as far apart as he could, leaving the rope in direct contact with the teeth of the saw. Using his painful muscles Rick moved her legs hoping that the rope was fraying soon.
When Castle saw the first thread cut... he grunted desperate. It was going to take much more time that he had. Rick turned his head to watch over Tyson, still unconscious. He turned his head again and kept his legs moving.
Suddenly Castle heard engine noise and before he could do anything the saw had cut the ropes, and now the conveyor belt was driving him into a dreadful dead.