Abduction
Behind the bookcase
Constellation
David's embrace
Ease the Pain
Fried Rice Syndrome
Gun aimed at forehead
"Ha visto este muchacho?"
"It's okay, mijo."
Javier's secret ability
Kneel
Lost in the woods
Monster in the mirror
Notoriously large nosebleed
Obedience
Paul Monroe
Queen Sized Bed
Ribbed for being a great student
Strapped to a chair
Tied to a cross
Underwear stained with blood
Voluptuous
Wheelchair
X-Ray
"You are my child; your business is my business also!"
Zap
Abduction
Sensual, lustful music emerged, as four, large, purple lights shined over a set of darker purple curtains.
24-year-old Javier Garcia jumped out, landing in a fireman's boots, squatting slightly, purring heavily to the male crowd, "Gentlemen, help has arrived!"
An array of enthusiastic whoops and lust-filled cheers emerged from the crowd, many taking off their shirts and hats and twirling them around as if a war had been won.
Javier spun around across the catwalk three times before landing on his knees with a loud, "Unnngggh!" Javier tore open the top of his fireman's costume, showcasing perfectly shaped abdominals to the crowd. Javier thrust his hips forward in a naughty manner as if giving someone the time of their life. The all-male crowd cheered wildly, some of the men holding their arms and drinks up, happy to have such a deity-like man in their midst.
Before Javier stood Dr. Lingard, hands on the catwalk's surface like a tongue-hanging, drooling puppy wanting a treat from his owner. Dr. Lingard's eyes gleamed with pure, sexual desire, becoming wider and wider with each second. A fellow male stripper passed a hose to Javier from the darkness, Javier taking it as he was back on his feet; Javier held the nozzle to his crotch, and throwing his head back, made pure white foam emerge like a tsunami. One shirtless clubgoer enthusiastically opened himself up, allowing foam to fall onto his hairy, muscular chest like no one's business.
Dr. Lingard held out a dollar bill like a child, wanting Javier to notice him. Javier threw the hose at Dr. Lingard, which the latter held onto as Javier pulled him onto the stage. Javier took the bill with his teeth, lips brushing against Dr. Lingard's knuckle with pure desire. Dr. Lingard let out a flattered sigh, as he stood up and fainted onto the ground past the catwalk.
Javier was slightly taken aback, but neverminded it, returning to his remaining fans. Javier spun around on his right hand three times, before standing perfectly still on it, spreading his legs in a V-shape. Javier unbuckled his belt before whipping it around like a real whip onto the ground and ditching it. Javier jumped onto his feet, and pulled down his fireman's pants, showing off his pair of tight, black, boxers. Javier kicked the pants to a few fortunate fans before aiming his backside at the side of the catwalk, allowing a few men to deposit a few tips into his boxers. Javier aimed his backside to the entrance, placed the hose in between his legs, and allowed the foam to fly out from underneath his bottom, salaciously bellowing, "OOOOH!"
!
Javier sat in the club's dressing room, chugging down a water bottle like there was no tomorrow. The two men with ample facial hair entered the dressing room silently.
Troy–-the younger of the two–-aimed his gun at Javier's head, making Javier freeze as he stared at his two assailants through his mirror with wide eyes.
THE WAREHOUSE…
"Hands we can see them, pretty boy," William Carver's gruff voice commanded, pulling out a bundle of rope from his coat.
Javier's hands were tied behind his back, a black sleep mask guarded Javier's eyes, and a strip of tape kept him mute. After his ankles were tied together, another two of Carver's goons carried Javier out of the club and to a black SUV driven by Troy himself.
Javier's body laid over a remorseful Reggie's, a smirking Carver's, and a stoic Johnny's laps. Carver hissed into Javier's ear, "Our rival's main floozy…"
Javier's teeth grit under the tape, trying to elbow Carver's gut, but it was futile. Johnny viciously pinched Javier's ear, hissing, while keeping a Beretta against Javier's forehead, "Stop if you know what's good for you, pretty boy."
!
"I disapprove of Javier's current occupation, David. But I do not want Javier to commit the same atrocities I had done in life." 65-year-old Salvador told his eldest son–David–as they sat together at the table of their large family home that night. 60-year-old Elena sat at the table with her husband and son, holding a cup of tea.
37-year-old David snorted, "I don't want that for Gabe and Mariana either." David then felt his cell phone buzz in his trousers pocket.
David opened it only to find a chilling text from Dr. Lingard: THE WAREHOUSE HAS JAVIER.