With a sheepish grin, I side-step onto the Fanfiction site to post an extremely late update once again, trying to avoid the rotten vegetables being tossed at me like fury.

Taking the microphone, I duck a cabbage. "Disclaimer," I begin nervously. A low growl comes from the crowd, and I know I'd better hurry. "I DON'T OWN THE HARDY BOYS OR NANCY DREW!" I yell frantically in a rush, and then run.

I make it almost off the stage before a tomato creams me in the face.

Think I learned my lesson this time? ...Maybe...

Shifting on her bed, Nancy sighed. The burns were healing well, but still were there. Frustrated, she stared at the worst one underneath her forearm, where an ugly scar was forming.

The girl plopped her head back down on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, bored as could be. Where's Frank, Bess, and George when I need them? Grabbing her phone, Nancy was about to text them when the wallpaper on its screen caught her eye.

It was a picture from a year ago, one taken right after Nancy, Bess, George, and the Hardys had finished a case in Alabama. They were goofing off at the Science Center in downtown Birmingham, and they'd gotten a random stranger to take a photo of them beside a large, plastic replica of some kind of fish. Well, at least they were probably supposed to be beside it. Joe was waving cheerily from inside the fish's gaping mouth, Bess and George were hanging onto its tail, and Frank and Nancy were straddling the top of it.

She smiled fondly at the memory. The slick plastic almost made her slide off, but Frank had grabbed her around the waist before she could. Unfortunately, her sides were rather ticklish. The photo showed Nancy's face in a full-blown, surprised laugh, and Frank laughing at her reaction.

Spur-of-the-moment, Nancy opened Pictures and scrolled through her photo albums. Cases, one read. Her lips pursed in annoyance as she remembered. When she'd still been with Ned, she hadn't wanted him to get on her phone and find a whole album of pictures of just her and the Hardys, so she'd made a vague album name. Shaking her head, Nancy opened the album and tapped the first photo.

A giggle escaped immediately as she saw the most recent photo in it: a close-up selfie of Joe wearing a shark-like grin with one eyebrow raised, trying to make Nancy laugh with his Flynn Rider "Hi" impersonation. Of course. Joe probably didn't know she had saved that from his text message, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him in this instance.

The next section were photos captured during one of their most recent cases. Nancy only had them by chance, but she had them. It was on a movie set, and during some harrowing real life action, the crew fled. Two cameramen even left their cameras behind, still rolling while standing on their tripods. Later she'd begged the footage off of the cameramen, and then took screenshots.

It chronicled Frank and Nancy trying to disarm a bomb together. As the time began to run out, Frank told Nancy to stay there. Then, to her shock and dismay, he'd picked up the bomb and ran.

Camera 1 showed over Nancy's shoulder as Frank ran, watching his figure helplessly.

Camera 2 captured her anguished face. It had taken all of Frank's desperate pleading to get her to stay, but she wanted to go with him more than life itself.

After a minute, Frank ran back to her, and Nancy flung herself into his arms in relief. A split second after their arms wrapped around each other, the bomb exploded at a distance, sending a huge, raging fireball into the air. The two teen detectives didn't change their position at all, their embrace silhouetted against the inferno of flames.

Sighing in content remembrance this time, Nancy's reverie was broken by a small beep from a nearby clock, announcing that it was half past the hour. With a blink, she sat up and checked the clock in confusion. The nurse was supposed to have been in here to check on me a while ago. She suddenly noticed the complete stillness. Where are all the personnel?

Curiosity got the better of her. Nancy swung her legs out of the bed. Placing her feet gingerly on the floor, she pressed some of her weight on them. No pain. Good progress.

The door swung open, and she sighed in relief, looking up. Her relief was immediately replaced with fear and confusion. Two figures dressed all in black met her eyes, not the friendly face she was expecting.

They all stared at each other for a moment, unmoving. Nancy's heart was in her throat and it was pounding wildly, but her mind remained collected. After one more second, she lunged towards them, ignoring the pain from her arm as she punched one of them in the stomach.

Talk about rock-hard abs. Her punch hadn't seemed to affect him. Grabbing her arms, they forced her back on the bed. "Let me go!" Nancy yelled, kicking at them. "Stop!"

"Or you'll what?" One of them scoffed, his voice muffled through the ski mask.

"I'll press this emergency call button. People will come running," Nancy retorted, holding up the remote.

The two men looked at each other, then burst out laughing. Her eyebrows knit in confusion. "That won't help. At all," said the first one. "No one can come."

"What, you took out the whole staff by yourself?" She said sarcastically, but her stomach was a knot of fear. Their laughter wasn't fake.

"Shut up," The second one growled at her. "I suggest," He added, pushing her shoulders down on the mattress, "That you co-operate."

"What. Do. You. Want?" Nancy bit out, glaring up at him.

"I want you to shut up," the man said, and flicked his partner some sort of signal.

"Yes, you already established that. But seriously, what do you want with me?" She persisted.

They didn't answer. Thug 2 let go of her shoulders, but before she could hit him again, he deftly grabbed her wrist and handcuffed it to the bed rail. Thug 1 handcuffed her other hand, and then the two turned to leave.

At the door, they paused. "Almost forgot," Thug 2 chuckled, sending a chill up Nancy's spine. Walking over to her bedside, he pulled out an oxygen mask. He took a backpack off of his shoulders, and unzipped it, getting out a machine with some sort of tank attached to it. She watched, wide-eyed as he hooked a tube from it to the mask, then slipped the mask's elastic strap over the back of her head, despite her struggles to shift out of the way.

Pulling the mask down, the man in black secured it over her mouth and nose and switched the machine on. A low hum filled the room.

A strange-smelling gas moved through the tube, and Nancy tried not to breathe, pulling desperately at the handcuffs. Her lungs began to scream for air. Frank, where are you? Anyone! Help!

"Goodbye," the man chuckled as he left and closed the door behind him. Nancy's tortured lungs couldn't take it any longer, and she finally gulped a breath.

Her vision began to swim.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH