GETTING BACK INTO UPDATING REGULARLY! SO PLEASE, READ, ENJOY, AND REVIEW! AN EMAIL ABOUT A REVIEW ALWAYS REMINDS ME TO UPDATE ;) HEHE

Wes woke up sometime later, in the basement room. The pain and stiffness from being beat and tired up was setting in. He struggled against them with no such luck. He submitted around and tired over and over. He strained his arms, wrists, and body as he tried to bend any way to get out of the knots. Still, nothing. He was trapped alone, in a small dark room, with nothing and no one. For the first time he could remember, Wes cried until he was exhausted. He cried so much, he got sick and vomited on the one side of him. The simple tasks of getting emotional and sick was all Wes' body could take. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and once more, fell asleep.

Unbeknownst by Wes, he was only a 30 minute drive from his hotel, just outside the city lines. He had been thrown into the back of a black SUV. The men did so quickly, already seeing the flashing lights and hearing the sirens pierce through the air. Back up on the floor, Drew and Keaton had been handcuffed to their door knobs. Each had a "You may be next :)" note placed in their pockets The cops finally showed up.

They sawed off the cuffs and called an extra ambulance. They went to each room in the hotel to inform them that the hotel would be in lock down for a few hours on account of the famous young singer being missing. Cops searched the area and as word slipped out, #FindWes climbed the Twitter charts. As all this was happening, Drew and Keaton began to come around.

Drew, who had been leaned against the wall sitting up next to Keaton as they waited for the emergency vehicles to make their way through the crowded New York streets, made his way to his feet. He placed a hand to his temple as the pounding headache set in. He looked around, confused, with little memory of what occurred. He staggered over to some guy in a suit who seemed to be directing the show.

"Woah there buddy, you need to go sit back down!" He ordered, holding the unsteady boy up from falling.

"W-where's Wesley?" He asked, his words slurring a bit, almost as if he were tipsy.

"Oh, you don't remember?" He frowned. "We believe he's been kidnapped."

Suddenly, the whole memory came rushing back into focus. The loud noise, the fight, the gun. It was too much to handle, Drew fell to his knees in devastation, at a loss for words. The suit sighed and dropped down next to him, placing a hand on his back. "The-they got away with him?" Drew choked out, tears slowly beginning to slide down his face.

"Wait, I'm sorry, so you do remember?"

"Yeah," Drew said, starring blankly at the floor. "I can't believe it, I can't believe I let this happen." His chest began to tighten and breathing became difficult. It was his fault. The guilt overcame his instinct to remain composed. He dropped his head in his hands and began to cry.

"We'll find your friend, I'm Detective Lorenzo, after you've been checked out, I have a few questions, it'll help find him, okay?" The suit said, gently, waving his hand to sign the paramedics to come over. Drew could only nod.

"The rules are simple," Jason bellowed as the two captives were led to the center of the pool. They looked around at the numerous items scattered around them. There were different chains, planks of wood, pipes, rope, beer bottles, and Wes could see the glint of a knife in the far corner. "You two will fight till one of you cannot do so anymore. Trust me, you do not want to 'quit' this game. The consequences will be much worse than death. The tools all around may be used. Donnie and me have a bet, you do not want to be the reason that bet is lost. Any questions? No? Start on go."

The two eyed each other up as their hands were uncuffed. Marco was clearly in shape. His muscles weren't disgustingly huge but they were big enough to scare Wes. He could literally see the brute strength the man had. He could also see the fear and devastation. He didn't want to do this anymore than Wes did. The men who led them began to walk away.

"Look, I have a daughter, please," Marco whispered.

"I...I'm sorry, I can't," Wes whispered back, putting his head down in shame.

"I understand, I hope you can too," Marco replied with a sigh.

"Nothing personal," Wes said letting out a fake laugh as Marco nodded.

"Okay, ladies, time for some fun!" Jason bellowed.

"5!"

A slight pause.

"4!"

Marco began to stretch, crack, and loosen his body.

"3!"

Wes licked his chapped lips and began to do the same. He could feel the sweat building up on his face and body.

"2!"

The tension in the air was thick. Wes began hopping from foot to foot, his anxiety building.

"1!"

Time seemed to freeze.

"GO!"

Marco tackled Wes first, placing two hands straight on his neck. His grip tightened quickly, Wes couldn't breathe. He struggled against the force, clawing and scratching at Marco's, to no avail. In one desperate, quick lurch, Wes turned his body, knocking Marco off balance. Marco still had his grip on Wes' neck and the force if falling lifted Wes up. Wes swung at Marco, beginning to get dizzy and tunnel vision from the lack of oxygen. He felt his fist connect hard with the side if Marco's skull.

This knocked Marco down. Like a tiger, Wes pounced on to the tall Hispanic, repeatedly punching him in the face. Wes had him in a position where his head would connect with the fist and drop down hard, connecting with cement floor just as hard. Wes stood up as Marco tried to catch his breath. He grabbed a plank of wood and headed back to Marco who was no longer where he was left. That moment of confusion was Wes' mistake and he felt a stinging slash against his back. Marco had been able to quickly find a black, leather belt. After several more slashes, Wes dropped to his knees, his screams of agony echoing.

As soon as Marco stopped to breathe, Wes tackled him back. They struggled on the floor for a little, rolling over trying to one up the other. Marco got on top and punched Wes over and over across the face. He reached behind himself to grab Wes' original piece of wood. He lifted it above his head, ready to bring it down with enough force to break Wes' neck. In that split second, Wes pumped his stomach upward, once more knocking him off balance. Marco tried to regain his composure and Wes jumped up, making a dash for the glinting metal.

He looked back just in time to see Marco having a huge rock at him. He ducked and slid just in front of the knife. His hand tightened around the makeshift handle. He pushed himself back up to his feet and made eye contact with an equally tired Marco. He had to force himself to ruin and shoulder Marco before using his foot to kick him down in the floor. He kicked him a few more times for good measure before dropping down on to him. He placed the blade onto Marco's throat. He placed pressure and watched the red drip down. Wes caught the sorrow, defeated look in Marco's and dropped his own head. Whether the horn would go off or not, he knew he couldn't do this. Even if it meant his life. He stood up and turned towards the crossed arm duo watching in amusement. He looked hard at them and dropped the knife.

"I won't kill anyone for you! If you stalled me for that long, you would've known that!" Wes yelled in anger. He turned towards Marco, whose neck had already stopped bleeding from the small cut. He put out his hand for him and waited for Marco to grab it. The man questioned the gesture b before grabbing it with assurance. Wes was pulling him up when a loud KA-BANG! went off and Marco fell back to the floor with the thump. Blood poured out from a hole in his chest as Marco coughed up even more. Wes spun in fright, coming to the realization of what happened, to see Donnie handing a suit case over to Jason and a masked man holding a gun now pointing at Wes. Wes stared down at the convulsing body, filled with panic. With his eyes wide, he turned back and screamed, "What the hell was that?!"

"My guy won," Jason shrugged as Donnie glared.

"He was getting up! Neither one of us was incapable of continuing! This were the rules! We could've kept going!" Wes yelled, stumbling over his words.

"Wrong, you see neither one of you would've ended it. You won, be proud of yourself!" Jason beamed. "Besides, you have Keaton a bit more time."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Wes asked slowly.

"I have a sniper on him," he said matter-a-factly. "You quit, you would've been able to see him die before your own slow, painful death. We do this again and the stakes could quite possibly be the same, mind you. Again, you should be happy about it." Jason smiled, walking away as masked men made their way over to Wes and cuffed him, leading the distraught singer away. Wes didn't struggle. He didn't fight. He followed and did as he was told. Inside, he wished more for death than he ever had in his life.