For once, the world just didn't seem quite so bad.

Kyle felt himself settling throughout the entire day into a warm realm of contentedness, body still tingling from the night prior and his morning. Waking up to his alarm, feeling a warm body automatically link an arm around his waist and pull him closer, finding himself yawning into a bared chest as lazy kisses were planted against his hair… Kyle sighed happily, fingers typing away at his figures mechanically. He so rarely got to feel like this, like the world finally stopped just for him, just let him take a long, needed breath before continuing on its path.

He couldn't help but smirk, wondering what Stan would say if he knew just how much his 'crush' had expanded with Mysterion. If he'd be screaming his head off for placing so much of his trust into the unknown. But if the last three nights had been any indication, Mysterion was the safest goddamn thing he'd ever encountered. He felt more at risk nearly two years' prior with his little barista hookup. Given, that had been a fear of falling asleep more than anything, but it was legitimate enough in Kyle's book.

But no, with Mysterion, something was just different. Maybe he could only attribute it to the void of knowledge, the complete vulnerability that the masked man had been able to coerce out of him. It was never a trait that Kyle liked to share with anyone, unwilling to let himself be handled like a goddamn doll. But with Mysterion… something about it was just new and exciting despite the oh-so-light touches and the geniality that even the most stubborn of old-school romantics would probably find far too doting. Maybe it was because there an element to Mysterion that could balance both the ever-tender person that Kyle never would have expected and the rough-and-ready bad boy that had so enraptured him from the start.

Kyle shook his head at himself, diligently sipping at his coffee as he typed away. Nearly thirty and still stuck in his high school fantasies of finding his guy from the wrong side of the tracks. He couldn't say he was entirely surprised. He was stubborn no matter the situation, no doubt he wouldn't let the preferred type of his youth fade into obscurity.

He bit his lip, replacing his mug and continuing to press forward, eyes flittering over numbers as they popped up column by column, a long and bitter breath leaking out. He knew these numbers were inaccurate. Charity totals lined up one by one, each with numbers greater than what Cartman had truly allotted them. It was hard, almost too hard to not waltz up to Cartman's office and slam his face into his fax machine. Lord knew he deserved it.

But that was for another time. He had bigger concerns, the ones that Mysterion had hard-pressed into him before he'd gotten dressed to leave him for the day. He needed to be on alert. Keep someone with him at all times. Don't leave the office without someone, even if it's just Butters. Get straight into the car, go straight into his house, and lock everything tight. Things were getting too hairy for him to be lax with his window, because no doubt Cartman knew all about what had happened the night prior. It'd been an eerie feeling walking by Larson's empty security station, Kyle making the quick executive decision to place one of the marketing team members in the booth for the day. He'd have to figure out how to get a hiring ad out, somehow get someone into the company without Cartman's prior knowledge. Someone not involved in a goddamn crime ring who would actually do their damn job and try to keep the members of the building safe as opposed to rooting for Kyle's head to be taken.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Yeah right. He could barely order a box of pencils without Cartman knowing. And with as close of a watch as he was keeping on him, there was no doubt that he would interfere right away with that idea.

He glanced over at his door at a knock, hesitating before pushing his lock button, cautiously watching it open before sinking with relief at an obnoxiously eager bright smile. "Hey, Butters," he greeted.

"Hey!" he waved, walking over towards him. "Can I talk to ya?"

"Sure, sure, sit down," he jerked his head towards his chairs. "Let me just finish this line here," he requested.

He nodded, "No problem, take your time!" He looked around the office, swinging his legs as he sat and bopping his head a bit. "Golly it always gets me how big your office is," he murmured.

"Yeah, lots of space to harbor my contempt," he replied dryly, finishing adding in his false totals for the heart disease foundation and shaking his head, cracking his fingers and turning his attention to his assistant. "All right, what's up?"

He bit his lip shyly, "So… do I have vacation time?"

Kyle raised his brow, "Have you taken a vacation this year?"

"No, Sir."

"Then yes, you have vacation time," he smirked, glancing up at his computer. "Let me see how much…" he clicked his tongue, opening employee profiles and scanning along for Butters' information. He clicked his name and scrolled past his photocopied ID, travelling down the page to his table of time allotment. He blinked. "Butters. Dude. You've never taken a vacation?" he gaped at the rollover total in astonishment.

He shrugged sheepishly, "Well… well Eric said it'd be mighty inconvenient. But I need t' take one."

"Dude, you've been here for ten years," he stressed. "No one should work that long without a break."

"I took days off," he reminded him.

Kyle blinked, "Okay yeah. Out of your paid days' allotment. You have almost three months' worth of vacation days racked up."

"Ya think Eric will be sore?" he winced.

Kyle frowned, "Who gives a fuck what Fatass thinks? You are more than entitled to take your days off, Butters. When are you wanting to take it?"

"August, a week if that's okay," he answered, watching Kyle clear off his desk calendar and flip pages. "The week of the fourteenth," he continued, nibbling on his lip.

Kyle nodded slowly, "Yeah, that's no problem. Any reason?"

He beamed, "Goin' with my girlfriend to Niagara."

"Nice," he smiled softly. "I'll get this approved for you by the end of today…" he paused and looked up at him. "Hey do you mind staying a little while longer tonight?" he asked. "I've got a decent amount of month end to get done and I may be stuck until seven-ish."

He nodded enthusiastically. "That ain't no problem, I'm so behind in my filin' I probably should be stayin' regardless."

"Awesome, thank you," he said softly. Took care of that problem, Mysterion would no doubt be proud. He penciled in a note on his calendar, repeating the message on a stack of post-its beside his monitor. "All righty, we'll get this-"

"Ah good, you're both here," a voice bellowed, one that made Kyle tense, the warm happy feeling fleeing his body at record speed. They both glanced towards the door to see Cartman leaning against the frame, smirking at them. "I need to talk to you."

"Why?" Kyle asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

The brunette scoffed, cracking his neck and walking through the door, plopping down in the chair next to Butters. "Because I'm your fucking boss, Jew," he reminded him curtly. "Now, I don't know if you know, but our security guard has been… indisposed as of late," sharp eyes sliced over Kyle and the redhead kept his face straight, leaning back in his seat and keeping his eyes locked on him. "So, I'll be interviewing new people later this week. Get prepped with HR paperwork."

"Fine," Kyle said curtly. "That it?"

"And I'm leaving early today. Got myself some meetings, you know how it is."

"Uh huh," he replied dryly.

Cartman held his gaze for a moment, challenge dancing in whiskey-coated eyes before he glanced over at the blonde, "Butters, leave."

"NO," Kyle bit sharply. "He's not leaving unless you are, too, Cartman. Take your fucking pick."

The glutton cocked his brow, shrugging lazily. "All right. Fine. He stays." Butters looked between the two of them, brown eyes wide as he shifted in his chair uncomfortably, practically drowning in the tension that was all-too-common with Kyle and Cartman in the same room. But today, it felt different; heavier, more dangerous. "So. Kahl. How's life?"

The redhead blinked, narrowing his eyes. "It's fucking life. Aside from the Hell you're shoving into it."

"How's your… love life?" he smirked.

Kyle's face reddened significantly, Butters breaking into a beaming, naïve smile at the sudden shift of skin tone. "Kyle! Did ya find someone?!"

"He did, Butters," Cartman hitched his brow amusedly at Kyle's infuriated face. "Someone tall, dark, and mysterious. Huh, Kahl?"

"Knock it off. Or leave," he said lowly.

"I'm just asking as a friend, Kahl," he cooed. "Don't want you to get mixed up with the wrong people after all. It'd be a… poor decision."

Kyle blinked at the emphasis, "What the fuck are you-"

"What's his name, Kahl?" he cut him off. "Don't leave Butters hangin', he's lookin' pretty needy for the scoop."

The redhead glanced between both of their waiting faces, gulping steadily. "Um… M-Mark," he worked out.

Cartman smirked, "You mean like… a question mark?"

"What do you want?!" Kyle snapped, hand tightening around the edge of his desk and teeth beginning to grind against one another irritably.

He shrugged. "Well, you've just been so down-and-out the past year. All of a sudden you have such a glow. It's like you were desperate for someone, just waiting and waiting until someone finally found your destitute, pathetic self and helped you back on your feet."

Kyle was completely lost, Butters seeming just as confused and scratching at his thinning hair. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Kyle finally asked.

He wiggled his brows a bit. "I'm just saying, I'm happy you finally found someone. Now I don't have to be in my office worried that you might be in here all sad and broke. Oh, sorry. I mean broken," he grinned deviously.

The redhead backed up a bit, eyeing him warily. He was completely out of his goddamn mind. "Get out of my office," he said slowly.

"Well sorry that I can't be as good of company as… Mark," he popped his lips, getting up to his feet and stretching. "But I am running late for a meeting, so I'll see you later…" he paused and grinned down at Kyle. "I'm sure that everything with the charities is hard to sit on, but you'll figure it out, Kahl. I believe in you." He pivoted on his heel and walked out the door, Kyle staring blankly at the wall across the room, at a loss for words.

Butters blinked, looking at his vacant expression. "Kyle? Are ya okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered quietly, running a hand up through his curls. That was too surreal, Cartman was taunting him in a way that he couldn't even understand. Maybe he was the one going crazy… But judging from the look on Butters' face, he wasn't the only one who found that entire exchange to be a little unhinged. He sighed, "If that's it, go on back to your office. I'll get us out of here by seven," he promised.

"O-kay!" he broke from his concern into a wide grin, hopping up onto his feet and hurrying out of the office, closing the door firmly behind him. Kyle watched after him and took a long breath, looking back at his computer and shaking his head. Four o'clock. Cartman was leaving. The building would be safe. Now he just had to stave through the rest of the day, get his paperwork filed… He let himself indulge in another contented grin. And then he could go home, and just wait for Mysterion.

As the hours waned, his eyes beginning to blear, Kyle finally decided to call it quits at 6:45. He groaned, rubbing his temple as he began saving documents and closing out of folders, just wanting to wrap this damn day up already. He lightly gnawed on his tongue, gaze scanning about to check for any missed items before nodding satisfactorily and starting to move to put his computer into sleep mode before he paused, eyes narrowing suspiciously as the workday left him and Cartman's taunting replayed yet again.

Just how did Cartman know about himself and Mysterion? How did he seem to always be two steps ahead of them? How did he know about private, quiet conversations? Seemed to be in the same room as them to have such clarity.

He hummed thoughtfully, hitting the button to log out of his account, biting down hard on his lip. Something was just… too convenient over the whole thing. Maybe there was someone checking in on him and Mysterion now and then. It wouldn't be surprising… But why hadn't Mysterion caught them were that the case?

Kyle waited for the login screen to load, rolling his shoulders back and entering U/ecartman into the administrative box. He quickly followed with Cartman's password, watching as folder after folder popped up in front of him as it flew onto his boss' desktop setup. He bit down on his knuckle, intuition just screaming, pulling him forcefully in the direction it wanted to take him.

Finally, the last of the folders loaded, Kyle rapidly finding the offensively marked file and clicking it open. He selected the first item, leaning back and watching his media player waking itself up from its seemingly eternal slumber. On the left side labeled office, an image started coming into play, Kyle blinking in bewilderment at a shrunken screenshot of his current activities. He narrowed his eyes, adjusting his glasses and leaning closer, moving his mouse diagonally along the page. He watched as the mouse displayed on the media player followed his movement in a lagging pattern. His eyes widened. It wasn't a screenshot. It was monitoring his every move.

He glanced towards the side of the screen marked 'home', breath hitching. Slowly, he reached down into his open workbag and snagged his laptop, placing it on the desk in front of him and lifting the screen, waiting impatiently for it to wake up. The laptop flickered to life, his eye catching as someone on the desktop monitor did the same. But he wasn't looking at a screen. He was looking at himself.

His jaw slowly dropped, a gasp rocketing through his mouth. His camera was hacked. Cartman set it up for him to always be watched. He slammed his laptop closed, quickly going to exit out of the program and send his desktop into sleep mode, brow knitting as he shoved his laptop and paperwork into his bag. This was bad. Cartman had been seeing him working closer and closer, no doubt snagging access to his microphone and able to hear the pieces he'd put together. Anytime his laptop was open he was being spied on. Any and all information he spilled right into Cartman's plump hands.

He narrowed his eyes. It all made sense. Why he'd sent people to his house. It was no wonder he couldn't find anything out of place, he hadn't thought to check through his fucking software of all things. They'd needed him down and out so they could set everything back into place and be on their way, and he was supposed to just wake up from his unconscious heap and find nothing out of place.

Kyle growled, jumping to his feet and grabbing his bag, not caring enough to shut off his monitor as he hurried to his door and ripped it open, speed-walking to Butters' office. "Butters?" he called. "Butters, let's get out-" he poked his head into the door and stopped, finding the office vacant. He glanced at the front of the desk, spotting his bag and Kyle squinted confusedly, looking down the hall towards the bathrooms. The motion lights on that end were still turned off. "Butters?!" he yelled.

His blinked as the lights turned on, breathing a sigh of relief before the air stopped all at once, watching Kashkov casually rounding the corner from the end of the way. He smiled, "'Allo."

Kyle's jaw quaked, moving to pivot and run before a flash of movement caught his eye, yelping at Burke leaping out from around Butters' office door and grabbing him, tackling him down to the ground. Kyle's head bashed onto the thin carpet, twisting enough to kick him in the chest and send him sliding back just enough to free himself. He scrambled to get himself up, yelling as four hands grabbed his wrists and hair. "Come on, do not fight," Kashkov scoffed as Kyle wriggled and whined.

"Fucking let go!" he shouted, sending a foot backwards and up into Burke's groin. The man faltered and lost his control, Kyle slipping his arm out of the hold and slamming his fist into his sternum, letting him crumble back breathlessly without a second thought. His hand automatically reached into his unlatched bag, grabbing his laptop and twisting around violently, letting it crash against the side of Kashkov's head. The man's grip loosened and he struggled out, dropping his computer and making a run for the stairs. He screamed as he was tackled down again at the landing hanging over the first few steps, looking to see the brunette hanging onto his legs with a wild, malicious sneer.

"Just make it easier," he hissed.

Kyle screeched through gritted teeth, kicking and thrashing, trying to get himself out of the death-grip as the larger approached, his face set into a deadly glare. Instinct took hold and his hand flew towards Burke's face, fingers jamming against his eyes. The man screamed a string of profanities, backing off instantly and letting go of Kyle's legs to cover the injured orbs.

Kyle's breath disappeared all at once as the grip was lost, center of gravity disappearing and sending him rolling down the steps. His hands desperately tried to protect his head from impact, glasses catching on carpeting and ripping off his face. His shoulders and hips slammed against corners, legs kicking and trying to get him back into some form of balance. He landed at the foot of the steps on his side, his left kneecap and elbow taking the brunt of the hit. Kyle could feel the patellar tendon shifting and stressing, instantaneous pain shooting down his leg and he let out an agonized groan. A shaking hand planted on the floor, green eyes wincing as he glanced up the steps and seeing the men coming down the way, Kashkov assisting the injured brunette as he tried to find his vision again. He rolled onto his knees and forced himself onto his feet, making a limping beeline for the door before a muffled beating noise caught his attention.

"Kyle? Kyle are ya out there?!" Butters' voice called in a panic.

Kyle paused, glancing towards the far wall in the direction of the sound before looking back at the opposing threat making way towards him. His eyes were drawn to a distinct thumping noise, seeing the supply closet shaking with an impact and he bit his lip. "Butters, I'll come back for you!" he shouted, making the split decision to run now before they were both screwed.

Butters paused from the closet, "All… all righty then!" he called.

Kyle set his sight back on the two across from him, slowly back away towards the door. "You don't have to do this," he tried, his hand grabbing his throbbing arm. Had to keep them at a distance until he could get out the door, get outside and scream for a witness to see what was happening.

"And just vhat ees eet ve do?" Kashkov drawled with an amused grin.

Kyle's jaw quaked. He didn't know. He didn't know if he was staring down his murderers or otherwise. Either way, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to give them the chance. "Stay back," he snarled, picking up pace with their approach.

"C'mon now don't make this harder on yourself than you have ta'," Burke cocked his brow, rubbing the last sheen of protective tears out of his eyes. Kyle glared at him, snapping his hands into an adjacent cubicle and ripping the phone out of its jack. He wailed the device towards them with a plastic clatter as he turned on his heel, sprinting best as he could towards the door. He reached the foyer before arms caught around his waist and yanked him back, whining and reaching towards the outside door as he struggled.

"Hold steell," the noirette demanded, arms snaring him around the shoulders.

"Let me go, you fat fuck!" he screamed, contorting and reaching up to grab his hair, throwing his head back against the glass pane behind him.

"Malen'kaya suka!" he shouted, arms loosening enough for Kyle to slip down between them and break through the front door. He whimpered, hearing their footsteps hot on his heels as he dug for his keys in his pocket. The redhead glanced up, eyes widening at the new car parked beside his own, a right angle nearly pressed against his front door. Butters' car was moved from its usual spot, parked at an angle at his bumper. They were blocking the view.

View or not, didn't matter. He needed attention. "HELP!" he shouted, fingers quaking as he got his key ready, prepping to tear open the passenger side door and make a mad clamber into the driver's seat. "SOMEONE-" he stopped with a large slap against his mouth, body ripped from its path forward and jerked backwards into Burke's chest. Kyle snarled, twisting his arm back and stabbing back into his abdomen enough to get himself a hiss, twisting and contorting violently to wriggle out of the grip once more. He backed up, grabbing his workbag from over his shoulder and swinging it in front of him to try to keep them back, eyes teeming with madness and desperation. "SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!" he screamed out towards the road, trying to wave down a passing SUV as he was slowly backed up towards his car. He took a shaking breath as the vehicle went by without so much as a slow down before snarling and wailing his bag towards the both of them, hearing papers fluttering onto the ground and brisk footsteps picking back up, turning and hopping desperately the rest of the way to his vehicle. He couldn't outrun them with his leg so fucked up, he'd have to get in the car where he was fucking safe.

He screeched as large hands hit him the moment he touched the car, shoving him into the metal and pinning down his wrists on either side of his head, his keys clattering onto the pavement. "SOMEONE PLEASE!" he begged, whining as Burke wrapped his forearm around his head, squeezing over his mouth with his inner elbow. He screamed, thrashing and biting, the man wincing at the teeth digging into his skin. They both kicked the back of his knees, Kyle screeching at the pain rocketing through the left as he crumbled towards the ground, the men following down with him.

"Slippery little fuck," Burke spat, squeezing tighter and watching him cry out in pain, jaw loosening unwillingly from the pressure. "C'mon," he urged Kashkov, "'fore he fuckin' tears a hole in my fuckin' arm."

Kashkov nodded, reaching into his pocket and glancing for people before motioning for Burke to drop his arm. He did so, sliding it around Kyle's neck and jarringly pulling back, the redhead's eyes welling, larynx struggling for words as he was forced to stare up into the evening sky. A wadded cloth shoved in past his teeth and he shook his head, wrists twisting incessantly in their grip. He worked out of Kashkov's arm and blindly punched the side of his face, the man growling and grabbing his hand again, twisting it backwards until Kyle cried out in pain. He snagged plush red curls and Burke released his throat, a breath snaking through him before his head was forced down and forward, unable to so much as comprehend what was happening before he collided nose-first with his car door. He screamed, cartilage and bone crackling in his ears, the smell of blood automatically flying up his sinuses until he felt it beginning to cascade down onto his gagged lips. It was so much worse than Cartman's hit, entire skull pulsating with the impact. He gasped brokenly for air, the men taking their chance at his momentary lapse of squirming to twist his arms firmly behind his back, shoving him down into the car again to hold him steady.

Tears unwillingly leaked from his eyes at the pain, jerking around gracelessly as a hand pressed against his temple, head caught in a sideways vice between Burke's palm and the car's frame. Metal snapped down around his wrists with a deafening click and his organs dropped in despair, caught in a whirlwind of trying to figure out his escape and just praying that Mysterion was somehow nearby, that he'd swoop in and get him away from them again. His tongue pressed urgently against the cloth, attempting to push it out past his teeth before Burke sneered, letting go of his captive wrist and shoving the rag back into place. "C'mon we gotta get 'im there!" he hissed, grabbing his hair and pulling his skull off the car.

"I know, do not beetch," Kashkov rolled his eyes, snagging two long strands of cloth from another pocket. He wrapped one strand between Kyle's teeth, pulling back and tying tightly enough for the material to dig into the corners of his lips. Kyle let out a long cry of fear, air nearly cut off at the blockage on both ends of his trachea. "'old steell, Ryzhevolosyy," he advised, taking the second cloth and forcing it over his eyes. He shook his head frantically, ignoring the tearing of follicles from Burke's grip as his sight was stolen.

It was a strenuous, mind-whirring experience, used already to this deprivation being met with warmth and tenderness, knowing he would be taken care of in this state. Not thrown into a frenzy like this. Not experiencing this terror racking through him, complete dread settling down on him as his weaknesses were exploited, used to harm and force. He screeched in fury, trying to twist and kick before his ankles were planted against the pavement, a rough hand shoving his back against the car. "Stop strugglin' and it won't hurt so bad," he was warned, Kyle's panic ignoring all his instincts to just fucking listen so he could survive and continuing to struggle and thrash. "Godfuckin'…" Burke rolled his eyes. "Get stuff for his damn feet, I got 'im."

"Right," Kashkov nodded, hopping up and quickly heading to their car, popping the trunk and digging for supplies.

Burke smirked at the squirming man. "If ya woulda just cooperated, we wouldn't have tied you up at all," he drawled. "All ya had t' do was behave."

Kyle snarled, tears of agony and frustration continuing to fall down his face, bound arms trying to pry apart the handcuffs on slender wrists. His breathing was labored through his stuffed mouth, blood still gushing down his face and chin, dripping onto his pressed white shirt. He jerked away as hands traveled back onto his weakly kicking legs, feeling himself being maneuvered and uncurled from his protective positioning, turned and that arm wrapping back around his throat, pulled back into Burke's chest. He whimpered, trying to fight his way out before the arm tightened, legs forced together and shoved down by a sturdy tibia. He cringed, feeling himself being caged in, large hands reaching behind him and snagging his wrists, pulling them between his back and Burke's lightly bleeding abdomen.

A long, folded length of rope slid through Kashkov's hands, threading behind his cuffed hands, the tails passing back through the loop and tersely knotting around the chain. He screeched as his legs were forced to the side, the tails beginning to wrap through and around his ankles, rough fibers cutting down against the flesh above his low socks. He winced as they were brought tighter together, thrusting his torso around; a last-ditch effort to escape the inevitable.

"Stop. Squirming," Burke warned with a squeeze around his throat, eyes flickering around for passer-bys. "Hurry up," he hissed.

Kashkov glared at him for a moment before returning to his mission, letting out a small grunt of approval as he moved the tails from their individual targets, crossing strands and digging through layers to secure them atop one another. He glanced up at Burke, "Get car ready. I bring heem een moment." The brunette nodded, moving and shoving Kyle back against the car, hopping to his feet and going to get supplies set.

Kyle's jaw trembled, feeling nothing but thick hands tying him down and hearing murmurs of Russian, their car's engine igniting from behind his own. He whined as he felt Kashkov's hands give a final, sharp pull against the rope and move away from him, mumbling frantically as he tried contorting his body, arms tugging against his legs and bringing them up with them. The man watched him writhing with a smirk. "I even left little slack," he said thickly. "You should be thankful, Ryzhevolosyy."

"Kashkov, c'mon!" Burke spat impatiently.

The man rolled his eyes, glancing around suspiciously before bringing his arms under Kyle's legs and back, quickly hefting him into the air, the redhead letting out a scared squeak. He hurried him over to their car, dropping him in the trunk with a thud and a soft cry from the subdued man. "Get keys, you take hees car," he instructed.

Burke nodded, helping push Kyle into the back of the trunk, snapping a waiting hook of a bungee cord around his handcuff chain. "I'll meet you there," he said, moving back around Kyle's car, snagging his dropped keys off the pavement and unlocking the passenger door, climbing into the driver's seat.

Kashkov slammed the trunk shut, blocking off Kyle's existence from the outside world. He hurried to the front of their vehicle and hopped into his seat, twisting and snagging the other end of the bungee cord stretched through the middle of the foldable back seat into the trunk.

Kyle screamed, thrashing around in his confinement, agitating the shit out of his injured knee but paying little attention as he found himself blindly trapped in claustrophobic hell. He yelped as the cord connecting him to Kashkov was ripped back, hooked securely to the slider bar under the driver's seat and keeping him tethered to the back end of the hold. He was hyperventilating, eyes blown wide and filled with tears under his blindfold as he was jolted forward and snapped back against the seat from the cord, the car suddenly accelerating off and out of the parking lot. An attempt to sit up and hit the trunk hatch to make some noise ended in nothing more than falling back to his side in a disabled slump. He whimpered pathetically, head falling in defeat and blood seeping down his cheek onto the carpeted bottom. He let his burning eyes slip shut, a shaking, terrified breath breaking through his gag. 'Mysterion, find me. Help me,' he prayed.

He flinched at the sound of Kashkov's laughter breaking through the seat divide. "Do not vorry, Ryzhevolosyy," he taunted, reaching back and tugging his cord. "Boss knows vhat ees best for you."

His heart plummeted, body quivering as the car continued onward. He let his eyes slowly slip shut again, curling into himself all his binding allowed, and permitting himself to just envision a caped form chasing down the car, and getting him out before it was too late.