Post by TFP on Aug 28, 2007 22:00:44 GMT -4
All that he can hear is the jingling of several keys as they clash into one another as the vehicle he is in moves along a pavement road that is in need of maintenance and repairs. Unsure of where he’s at and unsure of what’s going on, Davidson tries to feel around with his hands, but they’re tied up with thick rope around his wrists. He’s unable to untie them or even cut them apart with a knife of some sort and to break them is impossible due to the durability of it. His head itches as he feels some kind of bag over his head, probably burlap due to how much it is bothering his neck and eyes. He tried to move his legs, but they too were bound together by rope. He wanted to say something, he wanted to call for help, but he was unsure. How did he get here? How did he get into the backseat of a vehicle and who’s driving it? Why are they doing this? He’s hoping for an answer and an explanation, so he boldly asks.
“Hey… where in the Hell am I?”
There are a few moments of silence, so he asks again.
“Listen up, I’ve been fuckin’ wide awake for five to seven minutes, I’m eager to know… tell me where I am and why you are fuckin’ doing this to m—”
The vehicle screeches to a halt and Davidson flies chest-first into the seat ahead of him. He sits back and coughs a little bit as the impact knocked the wind out of him. He hears the driver’s door open up and slam shut, then shortly after that the door beside him opens up. The sunlight bursts in and he looks in that direction, hopefully to see through the fabric to see who this is, but it’s no work. Instead he’s pulled out and dropped on the ground. Whoever it is, they start to kick at Davidson’s back and ribs, then they pull him up and push him against the vehicle.
“You’d like to know what we want with you, wouldn’t ya?”
“There’s… more than ONE person after me? What did I do? What’s the reason for this?”
“We’re going to… break… you.”
“Nobody’s going to fuckin’ break me, so why don’t you stop now and go home, get a real job and live a normal life. If you kill me, how would that be on your conscience?”
“You’re not going to be killed, rest assured.”
“Then why am I tied up with a bag over my head, wiseass?”
A fist is slammed into his stomach, causing him to drop to his knees. He rests his head on the ground as he tries to break free once again with some adrenaline running through him, but it’s not working. He’s brought to his feet and thrown back into the vehicle, laid across the back seat. The door is slammed shut and the person goes to the front-seat and drives off.
Davidson wonders where he is right now. If he was in the city or even the outskirts of one, people would have seen him get thrown out of this vehicle and be attacked by this person. But apparently that’s not so. He must be far out, really far out where there are no houses, very little traffic and a limited amount of people. Either that, or this is a back-road where they’re on.
“You’ve got yourself in a huge mess, Davidson. Your arrogance and annoyance to some have gotten you in this position. You have nobody to blame but yourself, so next time you think that you’re such a big shot… keep in mind that some people would just LOVE to shut you up and make you learn a lesson to never be forgotten.”
“That’s the thing… I didn’t do anything to piss people off.”
“…Riiight.”
The vehicle pulls into some sort of driveway or an entrance of sorts. It starts to accelerate down the rocky pathway. The last thing Davidson remembered before this was walking to his limo to get his wallet. He doesn’t even remember what happened on the way, how he was taken out, tied up and put into a vehicle. It’s hard to imagine how he was taken from the premises of a studio and kidnapped by somebody.
So the question he wants to know is why somebody has him. Surely if somebody had a problem with Davidson, they would go up to him and settle it on the spot with an argument or something of the sorts. But never in his thirty years on this planet has be been bound in rope and bagged over the head with a burlap sac.
As the vehicle stops, the driver’s door opens and then Davidson’s does. He’s pulled out and brought to his feet, then walked into a dark area.
“I got him.”
“Hey… where in the Hell am I?”
There are a few moments of silence, so he asks again.
“Listen up, I’ve been fuckin’ wide awake for five to seven minutes, I’m eager to know… tell me where I am and why you are fuckin’ doing this to m—”
The vehicle screeches to a halt and Davidson flies chest-first into the seat ahead of him. He sits back and coughs a little bit as the impact knocked the wind out of him. He hears the driver’s door open up and slam shut, then shortly after that the door beside him opens up. The sunlight bursts in and he looks in that direction, hopefully to see through the fabric to see who this is, but it’s no work. Instead he’s pulled out and dropped on the ground. Whoever it is, they start to kick at Davidson’s back and ribs, then they pull him up and push him against the vehicle.
“You’d like to know what we want with you, wouldn’t ya?”
“There’s… more than ONE person after me? What did I do? What’s the reason for this?”
“We’re going to… break… you.”
“Nobody’s going to fuckin’ break me, so why don’t you stop now and go home, get a real job and live a normal life. If you kill me, how would that be on your conscience?”
“You’re not going to be killed, rest assured.”
“Then why am I tied up with a bag over my head, wiseass?”
A fist is slammed into his stomach, causing him to drop to his knees. He rests his head on the ground as he tries to break free once again with some adrenaline running through him, but it’s not working. He’s brought to his feet and thrown back into the vehicle, laid across the back seat. The door is slammed shut and the person goes to the front-seat and drives off.
Davidson wonders where he is right now. If he was in the city or even the outskirts of one, people would have seen him get thrown out of this vehicle and be attacked by this person. But apparently that’s not so. He must be far out, really far out where there are no houses, very little traffic and a limited amount of people. Either that, or this is a back-road where they’re on.
“You’ve got yourself in a huge mess, Davidson. Your arrogance and annoyance to some have gotten you in this position. You have nobody to blame but yourself, so next time you think that you’re such a big shot… keep in mind that some people would just LOVE to shut you up and make you learn a lesson to never be forgotten.”
“That’s the thing… I didn’t do anything to piss people off.”
“…Riiight.”
The vehicle pulls into some sort of driveway or an entrance of sorts. It starts to accelerate down the rocky pathway. The last thing Davidson remembered before this was walking to his limo to get his wallet. He doesn’t even remember what happened on the way, how he was taken out, tied up and put into a vehicle. It’s hard to imagine how he was taken from the premises of a studio and kidnapped by somebody.
So the question he wants to know is why somebody has him. Surely if somebody had a problem with Davidson, they would go up to him and settle it on the spot with an argument or something of the sorts. But never in his thirty years on this planet has be been bound in rope and bagged over the head with a burlap sac.
As the vehicle stops, the driver’s door opens and then Davidson’s does. He’s pulled out and brought to his feet, then walked into a dark area.
“I got him.”