It’s best to ditch the Channel 6 News van before we head back to Maestro’s lab.
Static rumbles from the walkie-talkie at Vin’s hip, and Dr. Maestro’s soft, whispery voice comes through. “What took so long? Vin?”
Vin lifts Lacey a little too roughly for my liking, hefting her over his shoulder. He hops out of the van easily and carries herinto the other with one fluid motion. He’s bundled up for the winter weather enough that it’s hard to see that he isn’t exactly human.
“Plan changed because this one had to pull her pigtails and ended up losing the target,” Vin grumbles into his walkie.
“It’s still the same plan, we just had to make a detour,” I correct Vin, and climb into the back of the van after him. “Everything’s fine, just go.”
He closes the doors, and a second later the van jerks to a start, rolling down the road. By the time the cameraman gets to the abandoned news van, we’ll be long gone.
2
Lacey
“Right this way, Ms. Vigil,” one of the goons grunts as he handles me, dropping me onto something lumpy and barely soft enough to land on. I push my bound wrists against it, squirming around to sit up.
“Dude, you can’t drop her on her face,” another one of them protests, and I recognize the voice as the one who was chatting with me on the radio before. I’m internally kicking myself for not realizing it wasn’t anyone I knew earlier.
I stiffen when one of them hooks his hands under my arms and shifts my position. He then moves me by my ankles to a sitting pose. I rock back and forth a little to get a sense of my surroundings and realize it’s a couch or something.
Ok...that’s not terrible. Doesn’t change that I’m still one hundred percent kidnapped, and not getting out of it any time soon.
If I didn’t have tape over my mouth, I would snarl and snap at him. I’m not sure what good that would do me at this point, so I just kind of grumble in my throat.
“Turn on the TV, I want to see the fight,” one of them says on the other side of the room.
There’s been sounds of distant smashing for the last hour or so, the telltale sound of Steel fighting the latest mutant that crawled out of the swamp to flex their powers on the city.
It reminds me of walking on frozen grass, but if someone had turned the muted, fuzzy crunching noise all the way up. There’s something unnerving and comforting about it, knowing that disasters are taking place just a few blocks away, the city being once again defended from whoever wants to cause mayhem this week. I’m all too familiar with it, but at the same time, well aware that it means it’s going to be a bit before I’m rescued.
It wouldn’t be the first time a crazed ex-employee of Steel Industries turned themself into a horror of a mad science experiment and then kidnapped me, demanding revenge and retribution from Clayton. Honestly, it’s been kind of a strain on our relationship.
But it is kind of nice to just be able to lay down and do absolutely nothing. I’ve been running around all day; I’ve been on my feet in heeled boots for much longer than I meant to because I forgot my comfy sneakers at the studio. And if my captors are just going to watch the fight on the other side of the room, I’ll just take some peace where I can find it.
“You’re gonna get out of this just fine,” the one near me reassures, his tone soft. He peels the tape from my mouth, and I gasp for a full, deep breath when it’s finally off.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re . . . not going to get hurt?”
“No, I mean, what does it mean that you know I’m going to get out of this? You’re not torturing me for access codes to the Steel Spire, or information on Clayton.”
They knew how and when to quietly scoop me up, so clearly they’ve been watching my movements. If they don’t intend to scare me for information or ransom me, they must have pickedme up for some other reason. Is the timing on this purposeful, or coincidental?
The guy flounders under my questions though, where a lot of other henchpeople have just given me a rough shove and told me to shut up and sit tight.
“Uh...look, I don’t know a whole lot about all that. I just wanted to let you know we’re getting takeout, and back in the van we got stuck between pizza and Chinese...you wanna be the tie breaker?”
Well, that’s not what I expected. But I had a light lunch because I thought I’d be getting food on the way home, so I’m ready to take him up on that.
“Sure. I’m down for pizza.” I shrug the best I can in this position. “You know Ray’s Real Italian? They’re pretty good.”
“Who said we’re buying her dinner?” the agitated one snaps in response, and my stomach growls weakly. Man, why get my hopes up like that? It would be hellish to be able to smell pizza in the room right now and have to sit there while my stomach growls.
Maybe they’re just changing their torture methods.
“Are we not supposed to feed her? Geneva Conventions, dude,” the quieter voice chides.
