The True Athletes gathered in the basement of a moulding wreck. It had been a house turned into a music studio once, but time had worn it away and all that remained were the soundproof glass in the windows. It was the perfect place to keep a hostage.

They looked at one another in satisfaction. The plan had gone without a hitch. Ruth Evershed was in their custody, and they had the attention of Harry Pierce.

Ruth's mobile lay on an old metal table, rusting away in the basement of the house. Not long ago it had flashed up an alert of some kind. He was checking Ruth's whereabouts. One of the True Athletes had more thoughts than some, and wondered why Harry would waste time on such things when he had been given all the information he needed. The others just laughed.

But it was still early days in their overall plan, and taking Ruth had been the easy part…

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Ruth opened her eyes, and saw what she had feared she would - four blank walls, and one closed door. It didn't take a while for her to remember what had happened as she had expected, but rather she immediately recalled the hand grabbing her, and then the only thing she had experienced - darkness.

Now she took a proper look around. The walls weren't white as she had previously thought, but instead a sort of yellowed white. The colour that only years of smoke could produce. Now that her senses were working again, she could smell the faint odour of old smoke, but it had been a while since it had been recent.

She did a mental check of her body, it was all present and intact, but she was hostaged to a length of chain, connected to an old disused radiator. There was enough chain for her to stand up, clumsily at first, but she gathered her strength and her balance returned. She inspected her 'cell'.

There was one window in the room, and closer inspection revealed that it had been newspapered over before being badly boarded off. The light she was seeing by was faint, but it was enough. Daylight. That must mean that she had been here (wherever 'here' was) all night. But that was good, it meant that time had passed... time in which she would have been missed.

This thought gave her hope. Hope that a rescue party would be sent soon. Hope that back on the Grid, the most qualified of people were being gathered to examine the evidence left behind, if any had been, and were starting to unravel the facts that would (hopefully) lead to her discovery.

Ruth listened hard, but could hear nothing except her own breathing. She was breathing normally, much to her surprise, and this seemed to calm her. There was no need for alarm just yet. Yes, she thought to herself, she was trapped, but she was in no immediate danger.

She tried to walk over to the door, but the chain restricted the distance she could travel, and it was fully extended when she was still four feet from the wooden door. She sat back down; there was no need for her to use up all her energy just yet. It may be needed later.

The door was wooden, and though she couldn't get a closer look at it, she could see that the paint was peeling off it. Ruth surmised that she was in an abandoned house, fully abandoned by the (lack of) sound of it. She couldn't be certain of course, but she was willing to bet that even if she somehow managed to free herself of her restraints, the door would be locked.

As this thought crept into her conscious mind, Ruth's heart sank, and so did her shoulders, causing her to move position entirely, and as a result, the chain she was attached to chinked loudly against the floorboards.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

Above their heads, The True Athletes heard a chain clunk to the floor.

'So', thought all four of them, 'it begins.'

There was no squabble over who would attend the 'bargaining chip'. Roles had been dished out long ago, and everyone knew their place.

The tallest of the group looked at the ceiling, which was only a few inches above his head, and sighed.

He picked up a few items, and disappeared up the dark stairs.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Just as she was trying to decide which plan of action to attempt to carry out, she heard a sound from somewhere inside the house. It sounded like footsteps, slowly walking up uncovered wooden stairs. There was a creaking as the footsteps grew louder, and stopped outside the door of her cell. Ruth presumed the owner of the footsteps was listening, trying to make out if she had come round yet or not. She tried to make no sound, to buy herself some more time to come up with an escape plan, though the pessimist in her knew there would be no escape that she could attempt just yet, and the noise of the chain had surely inspired the footsteps.

The door was opened slowly. Years without use had rendered it clumsy and it stuck slightly against the doorframe as it creaked open. As if to add insult to injury, despite the situation Ruth noticed that it had not been locked. The realisation that she had possibly just missed her best chance for escape was not lost on her, but was not useful either.

Now Ruth looked up, the door was halfway open and a silhouette stood before her. The breathing was low - a man's breath, coming from about six feet off the floor, making her 'guard' well over six foot tall. He - if indeed it was a he (and this was seemingly more likely) - was bathed in shadow, and although the room she was in was dank and darkened, the hallway or space beyond the open door was darker still. This provided perfect cover for her taker to hide with ease, whilst observing her in full.

Ruth felt suddenly naked, though none of her clothes had been removed. She didn't know whether to talk, shout out, or stay silent. In the end she just glared at where she approximated a face to be.

Ordinarily she would have tried to talk her way out of the situation, but something made her pause. It was subtle at first, which is why she hadn't recognised it, but as the figure pushed the door open further still, the smell had finally reached Ruth's nose in full. Once smelt properly it was unmistakable. It was blood. And it was undeniably fresh.

Ruth heard a scream. It sent a chill down her spine, and it was quite a few seconds before she realised it had come from herself.

She didn't even notice as the figure walked into the room, closing the door behind them, and wielding a hand holding cloth, that was once more clamped over Ruth's nose and mouth, before darkness filled her world for a second time.