A/N: Oh...gosh. It's been a while. At least this chapter is longer...but seriously, I had writer's block. And then I watched a really bizarre old horror movie...which inspired me. That sentence alone should worry you. So yes, Rob/Tattoo-man's "evil plan" in this chapter was inspired by an old black-and-white horror movie. I do apologize.

Will Schuester walked down the halls of McKinley, one hand holding onto students' tests, yet to be graded. He found his mind drifting recently, ever since Kurt's abduction. Sure, the teen went to Dalton now, but Will would always have a special place in his heart for the Original Six…the kids who had stopped him from taking that step towards a different job, that step that would have surely led him to crash and burn. Glee Club had been somber this past week, none really in the mood to practice or perform. Even Puck and Santana had toned down their comments and actions. Hell, even Lauren, who hadn't ever really had any contact with Kurt, had seemed a little down.

Without warning, a hand shot out from inside a room, wrapping around his arm and pulling him in.

"Sue, what the-" He was silenced by a finger pressed up against his lips.

"Okay, Schuester, here's how it's going to go down." The face of Sue Sylvester loomed out of the darkness. "In the late 80s, I became a certified agent of the CIA, trained in the ways of torture, reconnaissance, and recovery. With that in mind, I'm sure that by now the news about Porcelain has forced its way into your knowledge through that thick carpet of yours that you call hair."

Will eyed the cheerleading coach. "No offense Sue, but I think we should leave this up to the police."

"The police?" She snorted. "Those brainless wimps couldn't find Porcelain if he was delivered to the station in a rainbow-colored basket with a neon sign identifying him on it." She paused, and took another menacing step towards Will. "It's up to you and me, Schuester."

Kurt was roused by the rubbing of rope on his wrists as the restraints were taken off roughly. The short man grabbed onto his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Come along now, Fairy. Get a move on."

Kurt stumbled forward, his body protesting, still sore from the bruises and cuts that plagued him. As he set foot on the first stair, the world spun alarmingly. Only the fist clenched tightly around his bicep kept him from falling. He worked his way painstakingly up the stairs, wincing as the harsh glare of sunlight stabbed at his dark-adjusted eyes. He was led towards a back door, and he felt a brief glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this was it. They were going to let him go.

He didn't know how long he had been here; the days were indecipherable in the dark basement. He knew, at least, that it had been three days since the last time he had had food, and he knew that it had been five days since the police's search for him had started. His captors kept him updated, telling him their false leads, the far-away places they were searching, a barely-concealed hint of amusement in their tones as they read to him one article that suggested he had not been kidnapped; rather, he had run away. They knew these news stories were getting to their young captive; the hopelessness of each wrong clue, the homesickness with each quote by Burt Hummel.

Kurt attempted to block all of this out of his mind as the door swung open before him, and he was shoved forward roughly, stumbling across the uneven terrain until he reached the grassy circle surrounded by trees on one side, the back wall of the house on the other.

"How are we feeling today?" Tattoo-man's words were pleasant, but his tone was the polar opposite. He leant against a tree trunk, hands shoved into his jean pockets. "I've come to the conclusion that you aren't really…enjoying…yourself." The short man snickered, but stopped when Tattoo-man silenced him with a glare. "As I was saying," he continued, "I think I've come up with a solution to that. Well, to that, and to our boredom." He straightened up, walking towards Kurt, who eyed him warily. Tattoo-man bent down in front of Kurt, their eyes meeting, a shudder running down the teen's body. "Tell me, Kurt…" He grinned crookedly, "…do you like games?"

Dave Karofsky drove leisurely along the winding road, watching the trees flash by his windows. Really, the forest wasn't so bad. It was actually rather pretty. He squinted down at the map he had printed out. Should be less than five minutes until he got to Rob's rented cabin. The jock flipped on the radio, groaning when he realized it was set, inexplicable, to a news station. The second he heard Kurt's named mentioned, he shut the radio off for good. His goal for this weekend was just to relax, have fun with his cousin, and whatever happened, just forget about Kurt Hummel.

He reached the cabin, the only building around for miles. As soon as he pulled into the thin driveway, Rob appeared in the doorway, grinning. Dave returned the smile as he climbed out of his car, yanking out his duffel bag. "Hey man! How's it going?" He called.

Rob clapped his cousin on the back. "Pretty good, man, pretty good. Just wait till you see what I've got for our entertainment." He pulled open the door, and ushered Dave into the living room. "Come on in. You can put your stuff anywhere."

"Where's Nate? Is he here with you?"

"Yeah, he's just…finishing up something in the back. He'll be in soon. Take a seat, relax. Do you want something to drink?"

Dave sank onto the faded couch. "Sure."

Rob pulled a bottle out of the fridge and tossed it towards Dave, who caught it casually, taking a sip. At that moment, the back door opened, and Nate stomped in, brushing dirt off of his hands. He locked eyes with Rob, and the two exchanged a subtle nod, leaving Dave secretly questioning the motion.

"So, Dave." Rob leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Remember how last time we hung out, Nate and I took you hunting?"

"Yeah?"

"You enjoyed it, right?"

"Yeah…" Dave wondered where this was going.

"Well, let me tell you a little secret about this place. We're probably the only humans in a five mile radius, and the forests back behind this house are thick and dark. It's hard to see things back there, and even harder to shoot. It all adds to the thrill of the hunt, an invigorating game." Rob winked at Dave, who grinned in response. "And tonight, my friend, the three of us are going out to a pretty large section of fenced-in land, where I can assure you, there's some fine game to hunt. Sounds good?"

Dave nodded. "Sounds like fun."

"Exactly." Rob unzipped a bag lying on floor beside his chair. He pulled out three objects that appeared, to Dave's eyes, to be tranquilizer guns. "This is what we're using first. Why finish them off, if doing that would rob you of future hunts?" He then dipped his hand into the bag once more, pulling out a small handgun. His face grew darker. "There's one shot in this. We're not shooting to kill…but if something goes wrong, you fire this straight at the prey. No mercy." He looked his cousin straight in the eye. "Alright?"

Dave nodded. "Alright." He paused. "So…what exactly are we hunting? Rabbits? Deer? Bears?"

Nate laughed and Rob shook his head mysteriously, a small grin appearing on his face. "Something like that. You'll see." The taller of the two looked out at the sky through the window. "It's getting dark." He tossed one of the tranquilizer guns and the handgun at Dave. "Let's go play."

Kurt ran desperately through the forest, feeling the thick underbrush lash at his legs and knees. His breath came in short gasps. Be a man, Tattoo-man had told him, and maybe you'll survive. Be a goddamn man for once in your sorry life, and maybe we'll forgive you. And one last thing. You better know how to outrun a bullet. The day was fading into dusk, darkness permeating the thick greenery. Every sound his feet made seemed too loud to his ears. He didn't know where he was running to, but he knew he was surrounded by the barbed wire that trapped him in a gigantic, oversized circle. Like an arena, he realized, like this was some screwed up game of gladiators. The sky and surrounding area was darkening at an alarming pace. He heard a shout and laughter from far away, and, with a sickening twist of his stomach, he realized it had begun. He quickened his pace, speeding away from where the noises had come from. But they were moving too; he could hear them as they crashed through the bushes, the beam of their flashlights bouncing off of trees. He felt his pulse quicken. This is sick. He felt his panic turn to hysteria, tears blurring his vision and his chest tightening as he sucked in quick, panicked breaths.

His captors were going their own ways, but it was not two of them. There were three. One behind him, two closing in on the sides. He caught a glimpse of a flashlight to his left, the man still too far away to see him. He quickened his pace even more, praying to a God he didn't even believe in. An excited shout echoed through the forest; Tattoo-man's voice. He had been spotted. He turned abruptly, desperately. They were closing in on him. Then, in a heartbeat, his foot caught on a branch, and he was sent sprawling onto the ground. A flashlight focused on him. He looked up, tear streaming down his face. And locked eyes with a very, very familiar person.

Dave stared, not believing the sight that awaited him in the light of his flashlight. The pale skin, now mottled with bruises and cuts, the long-ish brown hair, the slight frame. The realization hit him like a lead weight. Hummel, he thought. That's who-that's what! They're hunting Kurt. He fumbled with his flashlight, flicking it off. Reaching out a hand to the boy who lay trembling in the dirt and leaves, he pulled him to his feet.

"Run!" He hissed, gesturing in the direction that led away from Rob and Nate. "Go!" The boy simply stared at him for a moment with those expressive eyes, then turned and dashed off into the cover of night again.

As soon as Hummel was out of sight, disappearing into the thick trees, Dave flicked back on his flashlight and cleared his throat. "Rob?" He called.

Rob came crashing towards him. "Did you get it? Did you get our present?"

Dave felt like throwing up. "No," he said, struggling to hid how his hands trembled. "I just got a text…I have to head back home to take care of something. It's real important..I hate to leave, but I promise, I'll be back as soon as possible…either later tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Bummer." Rob looked around, then shrugged. "Ah well. Nate and I will walk you back to the house…we can finish up this hunt tomorrow night."

As the cousins made their way back to the cabin, Dave prayed that wherever Kurt was hiding, he could remain unharmed until Dave returned.

He didn't know just what drove him to go to this place, instead of to the police. He just wasn't thinking; it was pure adrenaline that had gotten him back to Lima. He didn't have time for thinking, didn't have time for logic. He raised a hand, and rang Sue Sylvester's doorbell.

Sue opened the door, ready to berate and belittle whoever bothered to disturb her at this time of night. She didn't need sleep, because, honestly, she was Sue Sylvester. But this was her time for plotting and scheming. She snorted as she saw who it was who had disturbed her. Dave Karofsky. She was about to lay into him, when she saw the wide eyes, the shaking hands. Something was up. The next words he spoke stunned her into silence.

"Please, Coach Sylvester…I know where Kurt is."

A/N: I had to add Sue into this story. I just had to. So...comments, feedback, suggestions for future happenings? These would be appreciated in the form of a review! Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Yes, I'm desperate. However could you tell?