Damian was not having a good time.

When they threw the bag over his head, Damian wanted to kick and punch out, but they had grabbed his wrists so fast and subdued him, he barely even had time to cry out. Then he felt a cold metal floor beneath him, and the two heavy clunks of a van door clicking shut.

They hadn't gagged him though, and Damian used that to his advantage. "What are you idiots doing? Unhand me! Get off this instant! Do you have any idea who I am?" He screeched, and tried not to think about how reedy his voice sounded.

Gods he could barely see a thing, and the bag smelled like mouldy cheese, and it was touching his face and he was probably going to break out into spots and he had just managed to avoid that this week -

Why was he thinking about this?

He had expected at least some kind of reaction when he shouted at his apparent kidnappers, but his stomach clenched in fear when he heard their raspy laughter. "Get a load of this kid!" one of them snarled. "Thinks he's a big guy just 'cos he comes from that snotty school!"

Damian heard the ridiculousness of his own voice but he couldn't stop it. "I'll have you know that Eden College has an excellent academic reputation and track record for-"

He spluttered as there was a sharp kick to his ribs.

"Shut it kid!" jeered another of the men. "Just sit nice and quiet while we take you away, ya hear?"

Damian gritted his teeth as they laughed together.

He tried an experimental wiggle, but the binding on his wrists wouldn't budge. They had used a coarse rope to tie him, and it was beginning to chafe on his skin. It itched so badly.

Heat flared through him. How dare these assholes try to get the upper hand on him? He was Damian fucking Desmond, an Imperial Scholar at the elite Eden College. He was supposed to be untouchable, and these - these thugs (Damian's mind couldn't supply a better word at the time), had not only put a dirty bag over his head but they had tied him up and thrown him in a van and they were taking him to who knows where to do who knows what -

Actually, that was a thought -

"What are you going to do with me?" he shouted at them. "I'll have you know that my father is a very important man and he is not going to be happy about this!"

"That's what we're counting on, ya runt," he heard their sneers through the coarse sack. "When we tell your daddy that his precious brat has gone missing, he'll hand us a nice fad wad of cash in exchange for your life. Not that you'll be worth that much anyway, but just behave and we'll get along fine, eh?"

And just to drive their point further, Damian felt a cool metal press against his back, right between the shoulder blades. He stilled, and willed his mouth shut, but his brain kept on racing.

The van veered sharply as it turned corners, and Damian couldn't help himself. "Do you bozos even know how to drive? You're worse than my blind grandmother!"

A click of the tongue. "Won't somebody just gag that kid already shut him the hell up?"

A flash of light blinded Damian as someone removed the sack from his head, and his eyes barely had time to adjust to the change in lighting before he felt a cloth wrap around his head and cut into his mouth. Damian tried to shout but it came out muffled. How could this happen to him?

But just as they tied it behind his head, the light adjusted slightly and finally, Damian managed to have a good look at his kidnappers.

There were two of them in the back of the van, and one driver. The two guys had balaclavas over their heads so he couldn't see their features clearly, but they did look to be Ostanian. From the back he could see the back of the driver's head, which had a short shock of reddish hair that was closely shaved to his head. The driver glanced at Damian from the rearview mirror, and Damian saw their brown-hazel eyes flash him a look.

"Quickly, you idiots! Otherwise he'll know what we look like. Put the bag on!"

"Right boss!" The two men in the back of the van near him moved quickly and moved to tie the bag back over Damian's head, but he jerked back and tried to kick them away. He managed to strike a blow on one of the guy's jaws, but Damians heart sank when he veered back towards him with a fury in his eyes.

It was the wrong thing to do.

"Brat!" Grunted the man as he rubbed his jaw, and then with a wild swing he punched Damian in the face.

Immediately Damian's face was flooded with pain, and he felt as though all the stars in the universe had exploded at the same time. He groaned, and his head lolled back. Blood trickled from his nose and Damian realised with sudden clarity that he was struggling to breathe. The blood in his nose combined with the gag in his mouth prevented him from taking deep breaths, so he sat with his hands tied behind his back, rasping through each breath.

You know what, he thought to himself, maybe trying to fight back wasn't such a good idea after all.

It was his last thought before his vision blurred, then faded.

Anya spotted the van turning behind a dilapidated factory. It was so run down that it vaguely reminded her of the orphanage and she shivered. In fact, the entire area looked to be a bit deprived and run-down. It must be the East end of Berlint, she realised.

The East end of Berlint used to be the industrial section of the city, which housed not only the factories, but its workers as well. It was well known to be an area worth avoiding, as the structures were dangerous from being bombed during the war years ago. After the war, it was seen as a 'deprived area' by the government, and efforts to rebuild it were futile.

Anya threw the bike into an alley and hid behind the gateway to the factory.

She couldn't afford to let them see her, there was too much at stake. Damian's thoughts were eerily silent - she had felt them spike as they had made their way towards the abandoned factory, but quieten suddenly on one of the turns. She hoped that Damian was still okay.

Anya counted the men as they emerged from the van. One, two - and the body they carried between them.

Even with a sack over his head, it was unmistakably the shape of Damian.

Anya chewed on her lip, trying to remember everything that she had learned from her Papa over the years. She had seen two men, not including Damian, and assumed that there must be a third as she hadn't seen the driver emerge yet.

But she couldn't assume that it stopped there. If she thought like her father, she would think about who might also have been waiting for them - would they have had a comms team? A back up car, maybe? Probably filled with its own team of masked men?

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she was way out of her depth here. What the hell did she expect to do? Fight off a team of men by herself, rescue Damian, and manage to get back to school on time?

This wasn't Spy Wars, and as much as she wished to be Bondman over the years, her skills couldn't even come close, not even with Yor's after-school training. She didn't have a weapon, let alone a gun, or a walkie-talkie of any kind. She didn't have a partner, or an informant, or any backup.

She was alone, unarmed, and uninformed - Twilight's least favourite combination, she knew.

But she had one thing that no-one else had.

Anya closed her eyes, and reached out her mind, hoping to hear more from within the walls of the factory, but she reached a dead end. It was too far away. She would have to get closer.

Carefully, Anya pulled a make-up mirror from her school backpack, and angled it around the gates of the factory. So far, it looked like there was no-one walking about. She tilted it towards the windows, looking for any passing shadows moving about. When she didn't see anything, Anya reached out towards the gate of the factory and started climbing up as fast as she could.

She had gained strength over the years, but it was a struggle to pull herself up, and with a final push she heaved herself over the gate and landed with a thud on the dry ground below. She dusted at her knees, hoping that nothing showed on her skirt. (If she ever got back to school, she would hate to get a Tonitrus Bolt for ruining her uniform!)

As Anya hid behind and dashed between doorways, she tried to consider her other options. Should she call the police?

Perhaps - but what if they asked her what she was doing there? Or thought it was a prank call? Or what if they asked her to explain herself or called her parents?

Plus, she had seen the times when her mother had tried to call the police for other things. They weren't quick, and time was of the essence. But if she couldn't call the police, then surely there was someone else she could call for backup?

Anya whipped out her mobile phone and searched a familiar number in the drop-down, and called it.

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I am having a lot of fun writing this arc! The Damian rescue arc brings a smile to my face :D