From a different perspective
From a different perspective (inspired by Revenge from the past)
It was quiet, late December afternoon.
A tall, strong man with a long, thin scar on his left cheek leaned against the car parked by the sidewalk near the university. The weather had worsened and it was much colder than earlier, but the man didn't think about giving up his plan. During the last few days he'd worked rather hard on it and now he was certain he'd succeed.
He watched the few students who wandered about, coming in and out of the university main building completely ignoring the frosty air and the snow coming down from the dark sky.
This was the best part of it - the few minutes before everything started. He inhaled deeply. He almost could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he forced himself to stay focused and calm. His prey was close and he would enjoy every single moment of it. When he saw a familiar silhouette aimlessly walking through the snow, his evil smirk widened.
He'd dreamed of this particular moment for such a long time, he couldn't waste it any longer. He felt delirious with joy anticipating what would happen next.
To overpower his prey, a mere kid, he didn't want to use the physical force. It wasn't necessary, not now, at least. For him, it was obvious that Sandburg surely didn't know how to fight or that he'd be a worthy opponent. He wanted to unleash his furious temper in his safe place where nobody could hear his captive's pitiful cries and screams.
Slowly he approached his target with a little cleverly hidden syringe in his hand. Within a few seconds it was all done. It was surprisingly easy to follow and then snatch the young man out of the public view without arousing any suspicion.
He cautiously peered around in case there was someone who might have witnessed his actions, but he saw nobody.
He smiled cruelly at his thoughts as he recalled what he had seen in Blair's eyes; the fear and the despair. He just loved seeing pain and fear written in people's eyes; he was very good at inflicting them both.
The kid was so surprised by the fast and accurate attack that he couldn't react at all. In a mere split second Sandburg went limp in his arms, fighting pretty hard to stay awake even though the calming and short working sedating agent in the shot were simply too strong to resist.
For a short while the tall man thought that the almighty detective really should have taught his little friend a few tricks because the kid was so carefree and his defenses were almost non-existent. It was like an inviting an abduction.
'What a damn irony…' he thought, watching with a predatory smile as his captive's struggling and muffled mumbling for help slowly ceased.
He supported and dragged the almost unconscious Blair toward his car like he would have done an injured person back in the days of his lost military career. Careful not to be followed, soon he was heading to his small hideout in the neighborhood of the university. In that place he'd spent the last few years plotting his revenge against Ellison.
He wanted him writhing in pain, screaming loudly and begging for mercy. He couldn't get Ellison in his grip but now Jimmy's friend was going to be a substitute good enough for that.
The small and abandoned house was a really nice place and was spacious enough to help him forget about the narrow prison cell where he was kept for long years, but not about the guy who had kicked him into it.
It wasn't long before he reached his hiding place with his expected guest. Trying to be a good host, he locked the knocked out kid in basement 'guest room' and then went upstairs to find a beer in the old fridge.
He had a few hours to celebrate his success.
****
When Blair finally woke up, he had no idea where he was. His clouded mind swirled with many questions at once.
First, where am I?
Second, what's happening? Who did this to me? Why? Has anyone realized I'm in trouble, again?
To response to the first question, the young anthropologist tried to get a look around. The bad guy had locked him in a very cold, dim place without any windows, most likely the deserted basement of a rather small building. There wasn't much light, so he couldn't see how really big this place was. He found himself more lying than sitting against the wall, probably handcuffed to some pipe, his hands numb overhead.
After a while he realized that he was really thirsty. He would give anything for just one sip of water, truly anything. In addition to all that, his head was throbbing unmercifully…
He had to ease it and he tried to concentrate on calm and deep breathing even though pain wouldn't go away.
Meditation and drugs don't go together. Definitely not together.
Jim's going to murder me in cold blood for this, damn it! Abducted again by some crazy psycho. A few days before Christmas! Just great!
All Blair could do was sit there and wait but he just didn't know what for…and how long…
It wasn't something he liked very much. Or was very good at. Not waiting for a confrontation with a supposedly dangerous and emotional unstable criminal.
Man! Why did this always happen to me? I hate being held in such awful places!
He wanted to scream with but his attempt was curtailed as he heard someone coming down. A short while later he saw a tall, muscled guy in jeans and a military t-shirt with nasty scar on his face. He was wearing a heavy boots, which seemed to be rather old.
"Well, well, look who joined us. Our friend is finally awake." The voice he heard was really unpleasant and rough a lot like its owner, who smiled evilly, asking "Can I get you anything to make your stay more comfortable? Some water perhaps?" But Sandburg could tell that the man would do anything but make him comfortable, and the young man was pretty sure that meant no water. Not for him anyway.
"Who are you? What do you want? I'm not rich. No one will pay ransom for me." Blair heard his own voice getting more and more hoarse. Even though he tried again to persuade his captor, "I'm not an important person, and my friend…"
Suddenly his voice was too hoarse from the dryness in my mouth and throat and he was unable to keep the conversation going.
I will not plead for water. I don't want give him the satisfaction.
He started to cough really hard.
God, how I hate this, now I can't use my words as my 'secret weapon'.
His mouth was dry as paper.
The man kneeled down leaned toward Blair. The distance between them was too short for Sandburg's liking.
"Of course, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is not important. You can call me Hawk. What do I want, you ask? I want my revenge and I'll get it anyway I can!" thundered the scarred man angrily and grabbed Blair's long curls and punched him on the chin.
The punch was strong but at the same time the man didn't mean to knock him unconscious. It was obvious that he wanted something more. At first Blair tried to fight back, kicking and biting although his opponent wasn't pleased about that and kicked him hard a few times in his unprotected ribs.
In the next few minutes or so that seemed to be an eternity all Blair could do was curl into himself and try to protect his body from the powerful blows and kicks that rained down on him.
When the attack suddenly stopped, Blair couldn't believe he was able to take a breath without blacking out from the pain. Or maybe, he was in some sort of shock. In Major Crimes he'd heard the unpleasant but surprisingly comforting stories about people who'd survived severe trauma because of that.
His head throbbed and pulsed with constant pain. From his dry throat came raspy moans when he tried to adjust his position. It was so very cold in that bloody basement.
Hawk didn't talk afterwards and simply went upstairs.
Blair fought against his tiredness and pain. His eyelids slowly fell as he shivered uncontrollably against the cold wall.
Hawk returned a few times, waking the young anthropologist and shouting something about Jim being a traitor and not a brother like he should have been and then started beating and kicking Blair over and over again. Sandburg lost track of time.
When the young man opened his eyes once more, he was certain he had hallucinations from a fever or lack of food and water. Next to him was Jim. And the basement door was open, and there were many very familiar people...
No, it's impossible, he thought frantically. It's just my imagination...
Jim leaned forward and gently touched him to check on him. Blair involuntarily flinched away. He looked up and saw an encouraging smile.
"Hey, it's me, Chief. It's over. You're safe. We got him," Jim murmured soothingly. "Don't close your eyes, not yet. Stay awake a little longer, Chief. Can you do that? Just stay awake and breathe. In a while you'll be in a nice, warm bed."
The end
It was quiet, late December afternoon.
A tall, strong man with a long, thin scar on his left cheek leaned against the car parked by the sidewalk near the university. The weather had worsened and it was much colder than earlier, but the man didn't think about giving up his plan. During the last few days he'd worked rather hard on it and now he was certain he'd succeed.
He watched the few students who wandered about, coming in and out of the university main building completely ignoring the frosty air and the snow coming down from the dark sky.
This was the best part of it - the few minutes before everything started. He inhaled deeply. He almost could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he forced himself to stay focused and calm. His prey was close and he would enjoy every single moment of it. When he saw a familiar silhouette aimlessly walking through the snow, his evil smirk widened.
He'd dreamed of this particular moment for such a long time, he couldn't waste it any longer. He felt delirious with joy anticipating what would happen next.
To overpower his prey, a mere kid, he didn't want to use the physical force. It wasn't necessary, not now, at least. For him, it was obvious that Sandburg surely didn't know how to fight or that he'd be a worthy opponent. He wanted to unleash his furious temper in his safe place where nobody could hear his captive's pitiful cries and screams.
Slowly he approached his target with a little cleverly hidden syringe in his hand. Within a few seconds it was all done. It was surprisingly easy to follow and then snatch the young man out of the public view without arousing any suspicion.
He cautiously peered around in case there was someone who might have witnessed his actions, but he saw nobody.
He smiled cruelly at his thoughts as he recalled what he had seen in Blair's eyes; the fear and the despair. He just loved seeing pain and fear written in people's eyes; he was very good at inflicting them both.
The kid was so surprised by the fast and accurate attack that he couldn't react at all. In a mere split second Sandburg went limp in his arms, fighting pretty hard to stay awake even though the calming and short working sedating agent in the shot were simply too strong to resist.
For a short while the tall man thought that the almighty detective really should have taught his little friend a few tricks because the kid was so carefree and his defenses were almost non-existent. It was like an inviting an abduction.
'What a damn irony…' he thought, watching with a predatory smile as his captive's struggling and muffled mumbling for help slowly ceased.
He supported and dragged the almost unconscious Blair toward his car like he would have done an injured person back in the days of his lost military career. Careful not to be followed, soon he was heading to his small hideout in the neighborhood of the university. In that place he'd spent the last few years plotting his revenge against Ellison.
He wanted him writhing in pain, screaming loudly and begging for mercy. He couldn't get Ellison in his grip but now Jimmy's friend was going to be a substitute good enough for that.
The small and abandoned house was a really nice place and was spacious enough to help him forget about the narrow prison cell where he was kept for long years, but not about the guy who had kicked him into it.
It wasn't long before he reached his hiding place with his expected guest. Trying to be a good host, he locked the knocked out kid in basement 'guest room' and then went upstairs to find a beer in the old fridge.
He had a few hours to celebrate his success.
****
When Blair finally woke up, he had no idea where he was. His clouded mind swirled with many questions at once.
First, where am I?
Second, what's happening? Who did this to me? Why? Has anyone realized I'm in trouble, again?
To response to the first question, the young anthropologist tried to get a look around. The bad guy had locked him in a very cold, dim place without any windows, most likely the deserted basement of a rather small building. There wasn't much light, so he couldn't see how really big this place was. He found himself more lying than sitting against the wall, probably handcuffed to some pipe, his hands numb overhead.
After a while he realized that he was really thirsty. He would give anything for just one sip of water, truly anything. In addition to all that, his head was throbbing unmercifully…
He had to ease it and he tried to concentrate on calm and deep breathing even though pain wouldn't go away.
Meditation and drugs don't go together. Definitely not together.
Jim's going to murder me in cold blood for this, damn it! Abducted again by some crazy psycho. A few days before Christmas! Just great!
All Blair could do was sit there and wait but he just didn't know what for…and how long…
It wasn't something he liked very much. Or was very good at. Not waiting for a confrontation with a supposedly dangerous and emotional unstable criminal.
Man! Why did this always happen to me? I hate being held in such awful places!
He wanted to scream with but his attempt was curtailed as he heard someone coming down. A short while later he saw a tall, muscled guy in jeans and a military t-shirt with nasty scar on his face. He was wearing a heavy boots, which seemed to be rather old.
"Well, well, look who joined us. Our friend is finally awake." The voice he heard was really unpleasant and rough a lot like its owner, who smiled evilly, asking "Can I get you anything to make your stay more comfortable? Some water perhaps?" But Sandburg could tell that the man would do anything but make him comfortable, and the young man was pretty sure that meant no water. Not for him anyway.
"Who are you? What do you want? I'm not rich. No one will pay ransom for me." Blair heard his own voice getting more and more hoarse. Even though he tried again to persuade his captor, "I'm not an important person, and my friend…"
Suddenly his voice was too hoarse from the dryness in my mouth and throat and he was unable to keep the conversation going.
I will not plead for water. I don't want give him the satisfaction.
He started to cough really hard.
God, how I hate this, now I can't use my words as my 'secret weapon'.
His mouth was dry as paper.
The man kneeled down leaned toward Blair. The distance between them was too short for Sandburg's liking.
"Of course, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is not important. You can call me Hawk. What do I want, you ask? I want my revenge and I'll get it anyway I can!" thundered the scarred man angrily and grabbed Blair's long curls and punched him on the chin.
The punch was strong but at the same time the man didn't mean to knock him unconscious. It was obvious that he wanted something more. At first Blair tried to fight back, kicking and biting although his opponent wasn't pleased about that and kicked him hard a few times in his unprotected ribs.
In the next few minutes or so that seemed to be an eternity all Blair could do was curl into himself and try to protect his body from the powerful blows and kicks that rained down on him.
When the attack suddenly stopped, Blair couldn't believe he was able to take a breath without blacking out from the pain. Or maybe, he was in some sort of shock. In Major Crimes he'd heard the unpleasant but surprisingly comforting stories about people who'd survived severe trauma because of that.
His head throbbed and pulsed with constant pain. From his dry throat came raspy moans when he tried to adjust his position. It was so very cold in that bloody basement.
Hawk didn't talk afterwards and simply went upstairs.
Blair fought against his tiredness and pain. His eyelids slowly fell as he shivered uncontrollably against the cold wall.
Hawk returned a few times, waking the young anthropologist and shouting something about Jim being a traitor and not a brother like he should have been and then started beating and kicking Blair over and over again. Sandburg lost track of time.
When the young man opened his eyes once more, he was certain he had hallucinations from a fever or lack of food and water. Next to him was Jim. And the basement door was open, and there were many very familiar people...
No, it's impossible, he thought frantically. It's just my imagination...
Jim leaned forward and gently touched him to check on him. Blair involuntarily flinched away. He looked up and saw an encouraging smile.
"Hey, it's me, Chief. It's over. You're safe. We got him," Jim murmured soothingly. "Don't close your eyes, not yet. Stay awake a little longer, Chief. Can you do that? Just stay awake and breathe. In a while you'll be in a nice, warm bed."
The end