WARNING: mentions of some non-consensual drug use. Knowing my whump!fic tendencies more warnings will be forthcoming if and when I finish the next part. Speaking of which! Go read the fill someone did right below this one, if you haven't already. (Breathe) So good. Anyway, getting on with it...
There isn’t a whole lot of physical conditioning you can do that will fully prepare you for a well-aimed blow to the back of the head by something weighty and metal. It didn’t knock Matt out cold, but it did send him reeling.
“Matt!” Foggy’s voice sounded distant, as did the ensuing struggle. The bat swung again. Foggy had the presence of mind to shield himself with his briefcase but not the common sense needed to know when to run away and just get help. Credit where it was due, Matt could tell he was tempted. Even knowing what he knew now about Matt’s after work activities, it was like he still had the same version of Matt in his head that he’d had in college… Either that, or he just couldn’t quite bring himself to abandon Matt, regardless.
The bat collided with the briefcase a few more times in quick succession before the latter was knocked to the floor. Foggy scrambled backward. Paget pursued him the few feet into the living room.
This had all happened in the span of less than thirty seconds. By now, Matt was starting to rise. His head was aching. It throbbed in rhythm to his pulse, making the world seem more on fire than ever - and not in a helpful way. His efforts drew Paget’s attention. A foot pinned him back down. Instinctively, Matt threw his weight. He caught Paget by surprise and rolled onto his back, grabbing for his attacker’s leg to throw him off balance. But Paget was an accomplished fighter, and he currently had a considerable upper hand.
The bat came down hard on Matt’s legs, followed by a kick. Matt seethed through the pain and tried to sit up, but the bat was coming down again, aimed for his face. Something intercepted it. Foggy had grabbed for the bat and only succeeded in taking a blow to the wrist. He cried out and dropped to his knees. With his other hand, he grabbed Matt by the back of his suit and attempted to haul him upward. It bought Matt some time and helped him land a punch to the solar plexus that brought Paget down to their level. The bat came down with him, though. Matt remembered nothing of the fight after that.
When Matt came to, it wasn’t all at once. For the longest time, he drifted in and out. He was being dragged. He was being tied up. Paget on the phone with someone. Paget raising his voice at Foggy: “Who knows you’re here?”
He was dragged again. His cheek was against cold linoleum and then it wasn’t. When Matt finally regained coherence, he was on a bathroom floor. His arms and legs were bound, and his head was on Foggy’s lap. One of Foggy’s hands was handcuffed somewhere behind him. The other rested on Matt’s chest. Matt tasted blood and smelled mildew, soap, the mint from toothpaste. He started to pick himself up off the bathroom floor, but found he was too light headed to do it without the use of his hands.
“Oh, thank God,” said Foggy, the tense way he was holding himself relaxing - if only slightly. Matt knew without asking that he’d been out for some time. Foggy had been alone with his thoughts and an incapacitated friend long enough to work himself up pretty thoroughly - not that the situation didn’t warrant it.
Matt tried to sit up again, but the effort made him nauseous. He rolled onto his side instead and tried to maneuver his fingers toward the inside of his elbow, searching.
“That asshole gave us something,” said Foggy.
That explained it. “Us?”
“I may have smoked some pot in college, but our guy’s on a whole other level.” Foggy tried to inject some levity into the situation like he was trying it on for size. Being held captive was a first for him, after all. “It was… a while ago. I don’t really feel it any more. I guess you’re having a harder time coming down.”
Matt already felt like he was down. Down and about six feet under. “It’s been a while?” Matt repeated, his own tongue heavy in his mouth. “How long is a while?”
“I don’t know.” There was a tremor in Foggy’s voice that Matt pretended not to notice. “He had me text Karen. I… I told her, ah, we couldn’t find him, and that we were going home early for the day.”
Matt wasn’t sure whether or not he hoped Foggy had been quick-thinking enough to somehow tip her off. “Did she believe you?”
“Yeah… I guess? She’ll realize tomorrow though, won’t she?”
No message then. It was probably just as well. It was already bad enough that he’d endangered one of his friends. “And then what’d he do?”
“Put us in here, and called someone about- I don’t know. What to do with us, I think? You would have heard better than I did… Jesus Christ, Matt. This is- This is bad. Please, please, tell me you can use your superhero knowhow to get us out of here.”
Matt tried to push past the fuzziness in his mind and really access the situation. His hands and legs were tied. That could be taken care of. Foggy was handcuffed to a pipe near the bathtub. That could be taken care of, too. The bathroom had no window. The door was closed. Through it, Matt heard a TV and smelled Paget’s aftershave. There was a master bedroom between them and freedom that had an armed MMA fighter in it. Taking him out right this second seemed unlikely, sneaking out even more so.
“Loosen this.” Quietly, Matt indicated the ropes around his wrists. “Pull this one. Just loosen it.”
“Which one? The lights are out.”
Matt’s senses stumbled over themselves trying to reevaluate the room. There was so much he was missing that should have been obvious. No heat from an overhead light, fewer cars outside, sounds of night time. The biggest oversight was just how much pain he was in. The residual effects of the drugs were numbing it and a probable concussion had kept him from realizing it, but he’d be lucky to limp out of here.
Foggy’s free hand found the ropes around Matt’s wrists. The pained ways he went about loosening them reminded Matt he’d been hit at least once. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Foggy was silent as he tugged at the knot, which could have been an answer in and of itself. “Better than you, I’m guessing,” he said finally, when Matt pulled his hands away.
The restraints around Matt’s hands were loose enough that he could get them off if he wanted to, but it seemed like a better to leave them on. If he could just wait… If he could just pick the right moment…
There was the sound of someone rising from a chair and the sounds of footsteps. Paget opened the bathroom door.
Re: Fill: Precedent 2/?
There isn’t a whole lot of physical conditioning you can do that will fully prepare you for a well-aimed blow to the back of the head by something weighty and metal. It didn’t knock Matt out cold, but it did send him reeling.
“Matt!” Foggy’s voice sounded distant, as did the ensuing struggle. The bat swung again. Foggy had the presence of mind to shield himself with his briefcase but not the common sense needed to know when to run away and just get help. Credit where it was due, Matt could tell he was tempted. Even knowing what he knew now about Matt’s after work activities, it was like he still had the same version of Matt in his head that he’d had in college… Either that, or he just couldn’t quite bring himself to abandon Matt, regardless.
The bat collided with the briefcase a few more times in quick succession before the latter was knocked to the floor. Foggy scrambled backward. Paget pursued him the few feet into the living room.
This had all happened in the span of less than thirty seconds. By now, Matt was starting to rise. His head was aching. It throbbed in rhythm to his pulse, making the world seem more on fire than ever - and not in a helpful way. His efforts drew Paget’s attention. A foot pinned him back down. Instinctively, Matt threw his weight. He caught Paget by surprise and rolled onto his back, grabbing for his attacker’s leg to throw him off balance. But Paget was an accomplished fighter, and he currently had a considerable upper hand.
The bat came down hard on Matt’s legs, followed by a kick. Matt seethed through the pain and tried to sit up, but the bat was coming down again, aimed for his face. Something intercepted it. Foggy had grabbed for the bat and only succeeded in taking a blow to the wrist. He cried out and dropped to his knees. With his other hand, he grabbed Matt by the back of his suit and attempted to haul him upward. It bought Matt some time and helped him land a punch to the solar plexus that brought Paget down to their level. The bat came down with him, though. Matt remembered nothing of the fight after that.
When Matt came to, it wasn’t all at once. For the longest time, he drifted in and out. He was being dragged. He was being tied up. Paget on the phone with someone. Paget raising his voice at Foggy: “Who knows you’re here?”
He was dragged again. His cheek was against cold linoleum and then it wasn’t. When Matt finally regained coherence, he was on a bathroom floor. His arms and legs were bound, and his head was on Foggy’s lap. One of Foggy’s hands was handcuffed somewhere behind him. The other rested on Matt’s chest. Matt tasted blood and smelled mildew, soap, the mint from toothpaste. He started to pick himself up off the bathroom floor, but found he was too light headed to do it without the use of his hands.
“Oh, thank God,” said Foggy, the tense way he was holding himself relaxing - if only slightly. Matt knew without asking that he’d been out for some time. Foggy had been alone with his thoughts and an incapacitated friend long enough to work himself up pretty thoroughly - not that the situation didn’t warrant it.
Matt tried to sit up again, but the effort made him nauseous. He rolled onto his side instead and tried to maneuver his fingers toward the inside of his elbow, searching.
“That asshole gave us something,” said Foggy.
That explained it. “Us?”
“I may have smoked some pot in college, but our guy’s on a whole other level.” Foggy tried to inject some levity into the situation like he was trying it on for size. Being held captive was a first for him, after all. “It was… a while ago. I don’t really feel it any more. I guess you’re having a harder time coming down.”
Matt already felt like he was down. Down and about six feet under. “It’s been a while?” Matt repeated, his own tongue heavy in his mouth. “How long is a while?”
“I don’t know.” There was a tremor in Foggy’s voice that Matt pretended not to notice. “He had me text Karen. I… I told her, ah, we couldn’t find him, and that we were going home early for the day.”
Matt wasn’t sure whether or not he hoped Foggy had been quick-thinking enough to somehow tip her off. “Did she believe you?”
“Yeah… I guess? She’ll realize tomorrow though, won’t she?”
No message then. It was probably just as well. It was already bad enough that he’d endangered one of his friends. “And then what’d he do?”
“Put us in here, and called someone about- I don’t know. What to do with us, I think? You would have heard better than I did… Jesus Christ, Matt. This is- This is bad. Please, please, tell me you can use your superhero knowhow to get us out of here.”
Matt tried to push past the fuzziness in his mind and really access the situation. His hands and legs were tied. That could be taken care of. Foggy was handcuffed to a pipe near the bathtub. That could be taken care of, too. The bathroom had no window. The door was closed. Through it, Matt heard a TV and smelled Paget’s aftershave. There was a master bedroom between them and freedom that had an armed MMA fighter in it. Taking him out right this second seemed unlikely, sneaking out even more so.
“Loosen this.” Quietly, Matt indicated the ropes around his wrists. “Pull this one. Just loosen it.”
“Which one? The lights are out.”
Matt’s senses stumbled over themselves trying to reevaluate the room. There was so much he was missing that should have been obvious. No heat from an overhead light, fewer cars outside, sounds of night time. The biggest oversight was just how much pain he was in. The residual effects of the drugs were numbing it and a probable concussion had kept him from realizing it, but he’d be lucky to limp out of here.
Foggy’s free hand found the ropes around Matt’s wrists. The pained ways he went about loosening them reminded Matt he’d been hit at least once. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Foggy was silent as he tugged at the knot, which could have been an answer in and of itself. “Better than you, I’m guessing,” he said finally, when Matt pulled his hands away.
The restraints around Matt’s hands were loose enough that he could get them off if he wanted to, but it seemed like a better to leave them on. If he could just wait… If he could just pick the right moment…
There was the sound of someone rising from a chair and the sounds of footsteps. Paget opened the bathroom door.