The pain in Tim's head feels muffled. As though he can hear the actual thudding of it, but someone has smothered the source of the sound with a thick blanket.

There are other sounds too. It takes a few seconds, but then Tim's brain recognizes the odd noises as voices. There are two different pitches. Two voices. He can't make out any of the words though. He frowns and tries to move his head, open his eyes. But the effort is exhausting. He feels muggy, as though he is swimming through a hazy fog.

"…car…don't…" A higher voice. Lighter, female.

"…as much…" Male. That one is definitely male.

Tim turns his head slightly, his brow creasing with the effort.

"…waking…"

"…Tim?"

Tim's eyelids flutter, allowing glimpses of sharp light to slice through the darkness. He groans, and slowly opens his eyes.

He's in Becky's living room. He's lying on the couch, staring up at the low popcorn ceiling above him. Becky is leaning over him, her hair falling around her face in long waves and her eyes watching Tim anxiously. Next to her stands May, her expression more curious and interested than anything else. And standing on the far side of the two girls is a tall man who looks to be about Becky's age. He has dark hair and brown eyes that are studying Tim intensely, the aura of concern vaguely mixed into the expression.

Tim jumps slightly as his gaze falls on the stranger. Becky's hand immediately shoots out to steady him, though it falls short of touching Tim's arm by a few centimeters. "It's okay, Tim!" she exclaims. "He's a friend. I'm sorry, but I needed help." She gestures to the man. "This is Marcus. He goes to the same college I do. He's a medical major, so he knows a lot more about this kind of stuff than I do." Tim is still watching Marcus with distrust, so Becky continues. "I promise he's trustworthy. But you were in really bad shape, Tim. I had to be sure you were alright."

Marcus looks slightly embarrassed as he gives Tim a nod. "Hi, Tim," he says. "Becky didn't tell me everything about you – so don't worry. I promise not to be a busy-body." He glances at Tim's head, which suddenly feels very heavy to Tim. "I cleaned and wrapped the gash on your head. It was a pretty nasty cut, but it should heal well enough. You're lucky – you don't have a concussion. You're bruised badly all over, but there are no broken ribs." He gestures to Tim's leg, which Tim now notices is wrapped heavily. "It's not broken, but the ankle is swollen and bruised pretty badly. You probably should stay off of it for a few days –"

"Can I walk on it?" Tim cuts in.

Marcus looks at Tim with a mixture of slight confusion and surprise. "Um…yeah, I mean, it's possible, but it's definitely not a good idea. You need to rest, let it heal –"

"No way." Tim pushes himself into a sitting position, causing the anxiety on Becky and Marcus' faces to heighten. And triggering a dull headache to begin. Perfect. Tim shakes his head, trying to think clearly. "I don't know what Becky told you, but my friend had been in that car with me and he's missing…I've got to find him…"

"I know," Marcus says gravely. "Becky told me. We followed the trail left by whoever took your friend. It went into the bushes just beyond the crash site, and met up with a small dirt road that had curved off of Burtone Road. There were tire tracks there; the person who took your friend must have driven off with him."

A horrible sinking feeling swells in Tim's gut. Jay could be anywhere. He's been at the mercy of his kidnapper for however long Tim's been out – hours probably. Tim feels panic rising in his throat and he forces himself to calm, taking deep shuddering breaths.

The concern in Marcus' eyes grows. "Tim. We need to call the police. We should have done it earlier, but Becky insisted on waiting till you woke up –"

"No," Tim says sternly. "The police can't help."

"This is a kidnapping," Marcus says. "They need to be informed."

"Not about this. This isn't under normal circumstances."

"What's 'normal' circumstances?" Marcus asks, frustration seeping into his confusion.

Tim suddenly feels pissed. Who is this guy to determine what needs to be done about Tim and Jay? He's never even met him before. "Look," Tim snaps. "What's happening with my friend and I is not something that any policeman could understand. We've been dealing with this for years, and –"

"Right, because it's clearly going so well," Marcus says haughtily.

"Look, pal," Tim snaps. "I don't know who you think you are, but I don't need your help."

"Your head wound and sprained ankle say otherwise."

"Really, you two?" Becky says in exasperation. "Don't you think we have bigger things to worry about than arguing about which of you two is more right? This isn't going to help Jay."

Marcus looks slightly embarrassed as he glances at Becky, though the anger is still prevalent in his expression. "Becky," he says, his tone softer, yet none less sterner. "We have to call the police. This Jay guy – he's in trouble."

For some reason, hearing a stranger call Jay "this Jay guy" pisses off Tim even more so than anything else said so far. "I know he's in trouble," Tim says furiously. "That's why I have to go after him – right now." He swings his legs over the side of the couch; Becky sucks in her breath, watching him worryingly.

"Where are you even going to begin searching for him?" she asks hopelessly.

Tim looks up at her, feeling more defeated than ever. She's right – he has no idea where to begin looking.

"Maybe the skeleton man sent you a message."

Tim looks at May in surprise. She had been perfectly quiet throughout the entire exchange so far, simply watching with interest and a calculating gaze. But now she studies Tim with an expression far too intense for someone her age, as though urging him to understand, to reason with her.

"What?" Tim asks. "How do you know about the skeleton man?"

"You should check to see if he sent you a message," May says again.

Tim at Becky questioningly. Becky returns his confused gaze, and looks at her sister. "May, sweetie. Who are you talking about?"

"The man who took Jay. He has a skull for a face." May presses impatiently. "He sends them weird messages."

The totheark videos. Tim glances about him wildly. "My laptop," he says. "It was in the car. Did it –"

"It was wedged between the backseat and the driver's seat," Marcus says. He stands up, walking over to the armchair across the living room from them. "You're lucky – your laptop case is padded extremely well. And since it was wedged pretty solidly between those two seats, it wasn't damaged." He bends down, and pulls out Tim's laptop case from the far side of the chair. He returns to the couch and holds it out to Tim.

Tim takes it and quickly pulls his laptop out of it. He breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing that it is indeed still in one piece. He opens it and hurriedly pulls up the internet and in seconds is logging into the Marble Hornets YouTube channel.

The channel's inbox has three new messages. Two are responses to Jay's messages he had sent in his attempts to contact people who claimed to have seen the creature. If Tim had been sitting in a hotel beside Jay, Tim might have felt a twinge of excitement. But he's not, and instead his attention turns to the newest message; it's exactly what he was looking for. He feels both hope and dread upon seeing the message title.

totheark sent you a video: "Retribution"

Tim's breath leaves him in a shuddering exhale. It's a short video, less than 20 seconds long. May sits down on the couch beside Tim, her thin leg pressing against his as she leans forward, studying the laptop screen. Hesitantly, Becky sits down on the other side of Tim, though she leaves a few inches of space between them. Marcus stands on the other side of Becky, leaning over slightly to get a better view of the screen.

Tim wishes he were alone for this. But he needs to see the message now – he doesn't have time to argue with three people and kick them out of the room. So he clicks on the video.

It starts with distorted footage of Tim and Jay arguing in front of Becky's house. As the two men get into the car, the screen switches to black and words flash across the screen.

LIES REVEALED

YOU KNOW

WHO IS TO BLAME

Tim grits his teeth and strains to keep his hands from clenching into fists.

The next clip is of Jay being dragged away from the crash site.

Tim's breath hitches in his throat, almost choking on his raw fury. The image struggles to stay in focus as the camera moves about shakily, obviously from the effort of the person dragging Jay's body while trying to film at the same time. The person's other arm is wrapped around the front of Jay's chest beneath Jay's armpits, dragging him backwards across the grass. Jay's head is drooped onto his chest, and Tim can't see his face from the angle of the shot.

Blood blots Jay's shirt over his left collarbone, and Tim can't tell if that's where the source of the blood is, or if it dripped down from a wound on his neck or head. Blood also soaks his left pant leg, dripping onto the grass and leaving a streaking trail for Tim to find. Before Tim can study Jay's condition any further, the clip cuts out, switching to shots of Rosswood Park.

The coloring of the clip is off; everything is in hues of reds and oranges. The clip barely lasts three seconds before it switches to an outside shot of the abandoned hospital wing Tim had been in as a child. The clip distorts, and then blinks to black.

HOW ABOUT

A BARGAIN

The video ends.

Tim feels no shock. Just anger. Pure, white hot, overwhelming anger. He wants to kill the man in the skeleton mask. In the end, he had not wanted to kill Alex. But this man – he wants to kill him. He knows it's wrong to want that, and he's sure that Jay would be upset with him for feeling that way. But after that clip of Jay…that's all Tim is capable of feeling, all he can think.

"Tim?" Becky is looking at Tim with horror. Not because of him, but from what she has seen in that video.

Tim tears his eyes away from the laptop screen to look at Becky.

"Tim," she says, her voice small, trembling. "What are we going to do?"

"You're not going to do anything," Tim says. He slams the laptop shut and shoves it back into his case. "It's too dangerous. And I've already involved you enough."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Becky says. Tim stands up, and Becky quickly mirrors him. She gives him a stern look. "No way. You're not going to play hero and go running off after Jay all by yourself. No offense, but I've seen your entries. I know what happens when you guys go off on your own, rescue mission or not."

"No way, Becky," Tim says, equally as firm. "It's not going to happen."

"Really?" Becky says, her voice suddenly oddly carrying a smug tone to it. "And how do you plan on getting to Rosswood without a car?"

Tim's face drops slightly at that. Damn it. "I'll…hot-wire one."

Becky raises an eyebrow. "You can do that?"

"I'd rather not have to, but yeah."

Becky gives him an exasperated look that uncomfortably reminds Tim of Jay. "You're being ridiculous, Tim. You have an injured ankle, you're bruised all over – you're in no shape to run after Jay."

"Then who's going to?" Tim demands.

"The authorities," Becky says. She hesitates. "Maybe Marcus is right. Maybe we should involve them."

Tim scoffs. "You know why we can't. They'll never get to Jay in time. And then they'll lock me up, since my mental state and actions caused by said state that have been so wonderfully recorded for all of YouTube to see."

"But you'll get to Jay in time?" Becky asks doubtfully.

"That masked bastard clearly wants something in exchange for Jay," Tim says. "Do you really think he'll be okay with a police squad running in after him? He'll slit Jay's throat before they even come close to finding them. He wants me to meet him there."

"Yeah, and did it ever occur to you that maybe he wants to trade Jay for you?"

Tim stops, gritting his teeth. Yes, it had occurred to him from the moment the word "bargain" had flashed onto the laptop screen. But it doesn't matter. All that matters is getting Jay back, keeping him safe. At whatever cost. "That isn't going to stop me," Tim says.

Becky looks at Tim with a helpless, desperate expression. "Please, Tim. We need to think of a plan."

"I have one. It's called driving to Rosswood and kicking a skeleton's ass. Sorry," he adds, glancing at May.

May, who is still sitting on the couch, grins. "I don't mind."

"Well, I do," Becky says, giving May a stern look. She glares at Tim, who rubs the back of his head awkwardly. "Look, Tim, I just think this is a really stupid idea. I think I should go with you. Or Marcus. Someone."

Marcus doesn't say anything, but he does straighten slightly from where he's standing behind Becky, his eyes serious and his stance determined. Tim is thankful that Marcus hasn't demanded any explanations since the totheark video. Marcus looks alarmed and confused – and rightfully so – but luckily he's staying quiet for the moment, allowing Becky and Tim to discuss what to do.

"No," Tim says. "I'm not letting anyone else get hurt because of me."

"You sound like a cliché Hollywood movie hero," Becky scoffs.

But Tim's expression does not change. "Becky, you're not coming with. That's final. I'm not going to endanger you or May. I can do this on my own. You've got to understand that."

Becky frowns. After a long moment she gives an angry sigh. "Fine. Whatever. Get yourself killed." She stomps off towards the kitchen. Tim and Marcus glance at each other in slight surprise, the first completely not-hostile exchange they're had so far.

"Where are you going?" Tim calls after her.

"To get some food for you, stupid! If you're going to get yourself killed, you might as well die on a full stomach."

Marcus snorts at that. Tim rolls his eyes.

"May, get some bandages and other medical supplies and put it into a bag," Becky orders from the kitchen. "And painkillers. A lot of those."

"But I –"

"Do it."

May sighs and jumps to the living room carpeting. She glances at Tim. "Look what you did. Now she's going to be pissed off and in a constant state of worrying for the rest of the day." She leaves the living room and heads towards the bathroom down the hallway.

Tim glances at Marcus, but doesn't know what to say to him in the awkward silence. Marcus doesn't say anything either, though they're spared from any search for conversation when Becky storms back into the room holding a bag full of food.

"Here." She shoves the bag into Tim's hands. "Since my parents are gone for the week – one of their stupid 'we need a break' vacations when they get tired of May and I – they left my mom's car behind. I'll use her car, and you can take mine." She yanks out a set of car keys and slams then into Tim's palm.

"Ow…" Tim mutters.

Becky ignores the comment. "Marcus towed your car back here. It's in pretty bad shape, but I'm going to look it over in my uncle's shop and see what I can do about it. It might be fixable."

Tim looks at Becky in surprise. "Wait, what? You're going to look it over?"

"I'm studying to be a mechanical engineer," Becky says in slight exasperation, as though Tim shouldhave known this. "During high school I worked in my uncle's auto shop a lot. Cars are my thing."

"I – but you –" Tim stumbles, staring at Becky.

Becky glances down at her cream-colored Capris and purple cardigan. "What? Just because I like cars doesn't mean I have to wear overalls or be an obnoxious tomboy. Not that tomboys are necessarily obnoxious," she adds quickly. "But the stereotype for female car-mechanics seems to lean that way, unfortunately."

"You're being kinda obnoxious right now," Marcus points out.

"Shut up, Marcus. I'm loud because I'm pissed."

"…I'm sorry?" Tim says tentatively.

"Yeah, whatever," Becky snaps. "Let's get you going. The faster you reach Jay, the better." She glances down at Tim's wrapped ankle. "Can you even walk?" There is a hint of concern in the question, despite her anger.

Tim takes a few steps forward. He has to limp as he walks, and pain shoots up his leg horribly, but he forces himself to keep a neutral face and steady form. "Yeah, it's fine," he says tightly.

"Uh huh." Becky turns at the sounds of May returning from the bathroom. May holds out a pink flowered bathroom bag to Becky.

"There. Bandages, ointment, and other things. And all the painkiller pills I could find."

Becky takes the bag. "Thank you May. Come on, Tim." And then she's leading them down a smaller, short hallway opposite of the one May's bedroom had been down. Marcus follows first, smirking at the bag.

May tugs at Tim's shirt as he walks past. He glances down. "I snuck some candy in there too," May whispers.

Tim smiles. "Thanks, May." May's hand lingers on Tim's shirt, near where his hand dangles loosely at his side. He hesitates, then grasps the smaller hand gently, allowing May to lead him after Becky and Marcus.

The hallway immediately leads into a small laundry room. They pass through it and go through the door on the other end of it, leading to the garage. The garage door has been opened, and the little sunlight filtering through the rainclouds spills onto the two cars in the garage. Becky and Marcus stand beside the one closer to the laundry room door: a blue 2002 Buick.

"Alright, here you go," Becky says.

Tim stops before the car, hesitating. "Becky, I can't take your car."

"Oh really? Well then good luck getting to Jay."

"Becky –"

"Just take it, Tim." She's not angry as she says it. Almost pleading, actually.

And yet Tim still hesitates.

"Jay needs you."

Tim grits his teeth, then sighs. "A lot of people seem to like using Jay against me to get me to do things."

Becky smiles sadly. "Sorry. But Jay really does need you."

"Yeah," Tim says quietly. He shakes his head and lets go of May's hand. He looks at her. "You be good to your sister, May." He winks, teasing.

May smiles. "I will."

Tim straightens and looks at Marcus. Swallowing down his pride, he puts on a friendly expression. "Hey man, thanks for everything. I'm sorry I was short with you earlier. I know you're just trying to help. It's just – this is really complicated."

Marcus sighs. "It's alright. Just…just find your friend, okay?"

"I will."

"And don't mess up my wrapping job on your leg."

Tim smirks at that. "I can't make any promises."

Marcus grins. Then he glances at Becky. "I guess I'll go tow the car over to Carson's shop. I'll call you when I get there."

Becky nods gratefully. "Okay, thanks."

Marcus walks past the cars and through the open garage door, where Tim can see a truck parked next to the curb at the end of the driveway, his smashed up car behind it. He grimaces as Marcus gets into the truck and begins pulling the car away.

"Oh man," he mutters. "I don't know what you'll be able to do about that mess."

Becky shrugs. "We'll see. I think it looks worse than it really is."

Tim turns to face her. "Thank you, Becky. For everything. I really do appreciate it."

Becky smiles, her anger finally having ebbed away and her demeanor changing back to her quieter, almost shy persona. Tim almost laughs at the radical difference between a pissed-Becky and a calm-Becky, but instead he just continues to smile gratefully, turning the keys over in his hands awkwardly.

Becky glances at the road. "You should go." She holds out the pink flowered bag and Tim takes it. "Take care, Tim."

"You too. Both of you." He gaze shifts between Becky and May before finally settling back on the older sister. "I'll be sure to keep in touch."

"Thank you." She gives Tim a warning look. "But I'm giving you only twelve hours. If you don't call me in twelve hours, I am going to call the police to look for you. I don't care what you say, I promise I will."

But Tim doesn't feel like arguing. It's nice actually, to have someone worry about him. Besides Jay, of course. "Then I'll be sure to call you in twelve hours."

Becky smiles. "Okay."

"Okay." Tim's hand moves slightly, though he's not sure what to do with it. Shaking Becky's hand feels too formal, but he's not sure else what to do to say goodbye. So he just gives an awkward half-wave to her and May. "Bye."

"Kick his a –" May begins before Becky elbows her. "…butt. Kick his butt, Tim!"

Tim grins. "I will." He opens up the car door and slides inside, dropping the medical and food bags onto the floor of the passenger side. He starts the car and begins backing it up. Before he turns onto the road, he spares once last glance at the still-open garage. Becky and May continue to stand there, Becky's hand enveloping May's. May lifts her free hand to wave wildly, to which Tim returns the gesture. Then he turns the car onto the road and looks away, accelerating the car towards Burtone Road – towards Rosswood Park.

"I'm coming Jay."

/

Jay's eyes flutter open and for a moment he simply lays there, blinking heavily to try and clear his muddled thoughts. The air is stale and humid, and he heaves in a gasping breath. Or at least, tries to. But something's blocking his air, and he's suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is. His tongue pushes against a wad of cloth and he realizes that a gag has been stuffed into his mouth. Panic shoots through him and for a second he can't breathe; he's gasping, but no air is filling his lungs. Then his dazed mind remembers he can breathe through his nose too and his squirming subsides a bit as he breathes heavily through his nostrils. He tries to reach up to pull away the gag, but his arms are tied behind his back, rendering the action useless.

Where am I where am I where am I where am I. His mind races frantically as he glances about him. The room he's in is extremely dim, so it's hard to make anything out. It's also rather difficult to keep his vision in focus; the dizziness does not seem to want to subside.

Where's Tim? "Tim!" Jay tries to shout through the waded cloth. But all that makes it past his lips is a muffled gurgle that sounds nothing like Tim's name. He blinks again, trying to force the persistent grogginess from his head and blackness from his vision. What's wrong with me? He moves his head, and the motion immediately makes him feel sick. He feels as though he's been dropped in a warm bathtub; everything seems slow-motion and slightly out-of-focus. I've been drugged. The realization makes Jay groan against the cloth. He gives his head a weak shake, as though the small action would rid his body of the aftereffects of whatever drug his kidnapper had kept him sedated with.

I have to move. I have to get out of here. He looks around, and sees nothing in the room except for pieces of broken wood and plaster amidst all the dirt and dust. There, at the opposite end of the room, is an open doorway. There is no door Jay can see on the hinges.

Jay feels that his legs are not tied together and tries to move them in an attempt to stand up. Immediately pain rips up his left leg and through his body, making him cry out against his gag. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavily to wait for the worst of the wave to pass. Then he looks down to inspect his leg.

Blood soaks his jeans from the left knee down. Jay doesn't think it's bleeding too freely right now, but he can see some of his blood smeared about on the room's floor. It doesn't look broken; it feels more like the pain of a large gash. But he can't tell for sure, since his jeans block his view of his leg. Jay looks around desperately for something, anything to cut the ropes binding his wrists together. As he shifts his body, he hears the clinking of glass by where his shoulder had just moved. Twisting around – and hissing at the pain his leg prompts because of the movement – he sees a few small glass shards scattered amongst the wood and plaster.

Jay reaches out with his hands and grasps one of the shards. He has to turn his fingers at odd angles to hold the shard against the ropes, but he manages it and begins sawing away. It feels like almost half an hour passes – though Jay is sure it couldn't have been that long – before the rope finally falls away. His fingers are bleeding from cuts now, and he nicked his right wrist pretty good at the final saw, but he's free.

Dropping the shard, Jay rips away the gag, gasping in the dusty air greedily. Getting more oxygen in helps clear his head slightly, but not enough to fully rid himself of the effects of the drugs. He looks towards the door hazily and tries to push himself to his feet. Burning pain in his leg causes him to collapse back to the floor with an agonized moan. Breathing harshly, he glances down at his leg. He sees a large rip in his jeans and with trembling fingers pushes the fabric open. A dirty cloth had been sloppily tied around his calf, though it is now soaked in blood. Based on where the darkest stains trail along the cloth, Jay guesses that his wound must be at least six inches long. The blood on the cloth still looks wet too. And since Jay assumes he's been here for hours, the gash must be very deep for it to still be bleeding somewhat. His stomach churning, Jay wonders what could have caused it; perhaps a piece from Tim's dashboard had exploded inwards and gotten him during the crash.

Stand-up medical job there, Jay thinks bitterly, glaring at the dirty bandage. It feels like a fire is continuously burning under his skin and Jay as he suddenly wonders if the wound may be infected. Shit. Please don't be. He looks again to the door. I have to move.

Gritting his teeth, Jay drags himself across the small's room floor to the nearest wall. Leaning against it, he pulls himself to his feet. His entire body is shaking by now, and his breathing is ragged. Using the wall for support, he starts to limp towards the room's door. The effort is exhausting, and he feels like he's going to throw up. And the pain just keeps shooting up through his leg with every step he takes.

But finally, he makes it to the door. He blinks at the brighter lighting in the hallway, his muddled mind still trying to make it all out. It takes a lot longer than it should, but he finally recognizes the place. The hospital. Shit, I'm at the hospital. Jay glances around him frantically, but sees no one. There's not one sound in the entire place. Setting his jaw, he starts down the hallway.

For the first slow, agonizing minutes all Jay can hear is his pained gasps and the sliding, limping steps of his feet. His hands cling to wall as he walks, smearing blood along it in grotesque trails from his cut fingers. He makes it almost halfway down the hallway before he hears it. A soft clatter of stones from the far end of the hallway. Jay freezes and twists his head around, but sees nothing. He falters for a moment, debating whether to continue on and risk being heard or not.

Then the man in the skeleton mask turns the corner and stops, staring right at Jay.

Terror fills Jay and for a moment all he can do is stare back. Then the masked man starts stalking towards Jay. Jay takes a step backwards, but his bad leg gives out beneath him and he crumples to the ground with a cry. He looks up; the man is almost to him.

Jay knows that it would be useless to try and run. So instead he looks about him wildly for any kind of weapon. A block of cement, a pipe, even a shard of glass. The man is nearly standing over him now.

There! A thin pipe. Jay lunges for it, ignoring the pain ripping through his leg. His hand warps around it and he swings it up blindly; it strikes the man in his right side. The man stumbles back with a grunt. An angry growl can be heard from behind the skull mask as the man steps forward, pulling out a damp-looking cloth from his pocket. But then the man breaks into a sudden harsh fit of coughing and staggers into the wall, clutching his chest. It's not even a second later before coughs start to rip from Jay's throat. Both men heave for breath as they cough violently, looking about them frantically for the source.

It stands at the end of the hallway Jay had been walking towards. Jay's vision blackens out for a moment, and he has to blink hard for it to come back. It does, and he looks up in horror to see that the creature is suddenly much closer.

Then Jay hears the familiar rattle of pills shaking in a bottle. He hears the cap pop off, a pause, and then feels strong hands grab him from behind. He twists violently, but is unable to do much in his coughing fit. He feels gloved hands pry his mouth open and to his shock a pill is shoved inside his mouth.

The creature is approaching – fast. Fear of the creature overcomes Jay's fear of the masked man and he swallows the pill. He doesn't know how he manages it; he's never dry-swallowed a pill before, and his coughing is not yielding. But somehow he does.

The creature stops, staring at the two. Jay suddenly feels fury, though he's sure it's not his anger he's feeling. Then, the creature is gone.

Jay doubles over, collapsing on his side, the last few vicious coughs spewing from his body. Confusion rakes his mind; why did the masked man – his kidnapper – save him? He tries to turn around to face the man, but once again feels the gloved hands grab him. The damp cloth the man had been holding earlier is suddenly pressed over Jay's nose and mouth. It smells sweet. Jay jerks violently and tries to twist away, but the drugs are already taking effect. His vision is darkening quickly and already he's losing senses of his surroundings. He doesn't even have any time to cry out before he loses consciousness.