21. Alternate Prompt 7: Blindfolded.
Characters: Virgil
Warnings: restrained, blindfolded, kidnapped, head butting
He didn't know where he was nor how he got there.
It was quiet but not silent. There was a background hum, very faint but Virgil could hear it. Some kind of machinery, though what it was he couldn't tell, but in the absence of any other markers he grasped the sound with both hands.
Metaphorically speaking, as both hands were currently bound behind him.
What was worse was the darkness. He couldn't see anything, his eyes blindfolded by smooth fabric of some sort. Virgil twitched his face, trying to both dislodge the cloth and/or see some chink of light. Anything. But nothing moved. The binding was too tight and he felt where it had snagged his hair. Scott's voice sounded in his head.
'Time to take stock, Virgil."
He was lying on the floor. Nothing underneath him that he could feel. Just cold hard floor. Virgil brushed his fingertips along it, trying to identify what type of flooring it was. He could feel a slightly gritty texture, possibly it was concrete or rough stone. Rubbing the dirt on his fingers together helped him decide it was concrete, and either not a very good one or a very old one.
His arms were bound behind him tightly. Too tightly to slip his hands in front of him, a manoeuvre that Virgil knew would hurt since he'd been practicing under both Scott and Kayo's direction after the last time, so he set about trying to identify the bindings. Maybe he could break them. They had bound his wrists together and carried on up part of his lower arms. It didn't feel like lots of separate bindings, like zip ties, but one thin but sturdy length. Virgil managed to rub a thumb over a part and identified some kind of cord, like the cord used in climbing, only not plastic but rope.
"What else can you tell?"
Virgil thought for a moment. What else was he missing, what detail had he overlooked?
"Concentrate."
He was still clothed. Not his iR uniform, so he hadn't been on a mission when he'd been snatched.
Oh.
He'd been snatched off the street. Vague memories were coalescing into snapshots of a large black van, men in ski masks and a gun. A gunshot.
Virgil shot upright, crying out in pain at the sudden movement. He was hurt. In the absence of the ability to check himself over visually he did the next best thing. He sniffed. A long, deep inhale. Couldn't smell blood or any common cleaning produce so he guessed it was just bruising. He sagged back against the wall in relief. That was a point in his favour.
"And you're missing something."
He was? What was he missing? He knew about the floor, the bindings, the blindfold. He knew in part how he had arrived here and that he was a little injured.
'I'm sorry, Scott. I don't know what I'm missing.' Oh, well, he wasn't gagged then. He supposed that the room would have to be sound-proof then, leaving him free to yell suggested either that or he was in somewhere abandoned, and the hum of machinery told him that was unlikely.
"Think. It's important Virgil.'
'I'm trying! You could be more helpful and just tell me what it is!'
"Hurry up. Someone's coming and you need to know."
Well damn. His brother was right. He could make out footsteps, gradually getting louder. Think. Scott said it was important. What was it?
The footsteps stopped. There was the jangle of keys, the clang of a lock and the squeak of a door opening. Then closing. The 'zip' sound of a keychain returning to its' place.
Crap! What was it he was missing?
One step into the room.
Two.
Three.
Virgil gasped as he worked out what his brother had been trying to get him to realise.
Four.
Five.
He could feel the presence in the room. The person must be beside him for there were no more steps, and they confirmed it by touching his shoulder. He couldn't help the flinch.
They took a step back and Virgil knew it was now or never.
He lashed out with both legs, feeling the crunch of bone under his shoes and the satisfied scream of the person followed swiftly by the noise of them crumpling. He immediately rolled onto them, using his body to pin them down and then headbutting them with all his might. They fell still.
Virgil sighed in relief and got busy locating the keys. Maybe he would be lucky and be able to use them to cut through the rope. As he set to work he gave thanks to his brother's voice.
Scott had been right. He hadn't realised that his feet were free, nor that his steel-cap boots were still on. And Virgil thanked his musical side that had allowed him to 'see' everything even while blindfolded.
Now to get these bindings off and get free.