Viscious 2: Cult of Kellan

'Gift Horse'.

My head throbs as I slowly come to. I don't open my eyes yet, still groggy and mentally unprepared for the reality of my situation. I hear bits and pieces of men's voices, talking low with panicked tones. I tremble as I open an eye. I have no idea what I am expecting to see, but I am relieved to find I am inside a room. Plush carpet beneath me, and a cracked door not far from me in this tiny room. My prosthetic is gone, mouth gagged, and my wrists are bound, so I rock gently on my sides to edge myself closer to the door. It's torture, even with my leg touching the ground is pure hell. I can't stand it evrn brushed by carpet,, but I must scoot. The effort is exhausting, and my eyes water and threatening to spill tears, but I want to know every I am and who's voices those are.

"Look, all I am saying is that you make more money from her alive. We don't involve Simon. He thinks we carried through with the hit, and you let me turn her over to my friend. He knows some people who would pay out the ass for her. I'll split it with you. It'll be like getting reimbursed, getting rid of her for free."

"I told him, I am not paying for this time. He owes me this. His last goon shot my fucking son...I'm not sure what the damages will be. I want her dead, or at least somewhere that she can never turn up. I am not having this blow up in my face, I can't risk her surving or escaping." I know that voice, it is the voice of Dallas's father.

"She won't. She won't turn up. These guys my friend knows are fanatics. They will take care of her. She'll never resurface."

"She better not. She knows too much now and I haven't come this far to lose everything. She has to go."

"She does." The man swallow hard. "You realize we will have to go back and destroy those cameras right?" There's tense silence, and I use that moment to inspect the room I am in. Thick, plush beige carpets. Burgundy bed spread and curtains. Outdated television and thick dust on a dry erase calender that is poised on a desk by a corded phone. Hotel room? Am I in a hotel?

"I disabled them."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I also deactivated the security system. That's why the alarm never sounded when she had went out the window. "
"Pretty bold move for a one legged lady to try scaling down a damp roof. She's got nine lives, like a cat."

"One life left now. Curiosity might as well have killed this cat." Dallas Sr. retorts. Their feet begin to stir across the floor, and I struggle to get back near where I was.

I shut my eyes and try to calm myself so my racing heart doesn't give me away. I don't have the strength to fight right now, and my hands are bound. My prosthetic leg gone. I feel like my best bet now is to feign unconsciousness and let them drop their guard. I have little idea what happens next here, but I want to preserve my energy for the right moment. The door swings, aging hinges creaking as the heavy feet come closer.

I'm pulled up from under my arms and pulled over a shoulder. My body teeters and I have to remind myself not to try to balance myself or wiggle to relieve pressure on my ribs. I'm unconscious, unconscious people won't be defensive. It's like a trust fall, I have to keep my eyes closed and have faith in the person below me. Never mind that I could be getting carried to my death. Another door is opened, and a blanket is tucked around me. I can feel us going down stairs, and then the scuffing of shoes against concrete. We suddenly halt.

"My car?"

"Yes. You have no connection to her, where I do. If I were to be investigated or questioned later on it would go much smoother if her DNA cannot be found in my trunk. So your car it is." Dallas Sr. explains as the man carrying me grumbles deep in his chest.