"Tell us what we wanna know, Detective Man and you'll get off a lot easier,"
"Over my dead body,"
"Oh, it will be if you don't start talking,"
Firey couldn't see who he was talking to on account of the tight cloth that covered his eyes but sure as hell felt the kick to his stomach that knocked over the chair he was tied to.
He was winded and the vomit that came from his throat felt disgustingly acidic. He was a mess, lying in a tied up ball on the ground.
"You're supposed to be one of the best, huh? Imagine if everyone could see you now," the unknown person laughed sadistically.
Firey wriggled helplessly, trying to escape his ties as he heard footsteps approach him, he winced as he felt a cigarette be put out on his shoulder.
The person left the room, leaving him in a puddle of his own blood and sick with water from the broken pipes leaking down on him, if all of this continued he'd die of hypothermia before they got any info out of him.
Once more he attempted to struggle by thrashing around but it only resulted in him smacking his head off the dirty, mould stained wall.
It was freezing, the sweat that dropped from his body was cold, his hair was damp and dirty, everything seemed to cling to him like he was covered in a layer of honey.
A year ago, he was safe and warm in his nice apartment with his wife, now here he was stuck in the basement of a drug cartel, covered in filth, on the verge of passing out from the sheer chills and pains he felt.
He was crying, a top-level investigator like him was crying, ugly, heavy sobs that sounded more like wheezing due to the damage his airways received from multiple chokings and the icy air.
How long had he been here? He had no idea, he lost count a few days in, so far he estimated a few weeks, at least.
Was no one coming to save him? Why weren't they attempting a rescue, he still had the tracker that had been inserted into his ankle, surely they could find him.
He had no idea how far he'd been taken, it happened after the assassination attempt had gone wrong, their cover had been blown, B had accidentally set off the bomb too early and they immediately became targets.
It turned into a bloodbath.
There was only three of them on the team and a whole group of ganglords against them.
Bullets went everywhere, Woody had managed to take a few out but the last Firey saw of him, he had half of his brain splattered on the wall.
Firey had taken the gun from his hand and hit a few of them, dual wielding with his own gun, but the recoil had damaged his shoulders.
In a last ditch effort and possibly a moment of insanity, Detective B had set off the backup bomb, blowing half the place up and knocking Firey down in the blast.
He had been thrown against a pile of boxes, hitting his head off a metal pipe, leaving him dazed and fading in and out of consciousness.
Through the smoke and haze he made out a large figure walking toward him with a gun in their hand but just before they took their shot, Firey heard a muffled shout and he was roughly picked up, taken out into the cold night then thrown into a van and that was all he remembered from that day.
He had no idea if B managed to make it out of there but that was all Firey could place his hopes on. If B made it back able to talk then the chances of rescue increased dramatically.
YOU ARE READING
Gone Without You
Fanfiction"You're supposed to be dead, I watched them bury you," She thought all of the hurt she felt had finally stopped, she thought she had finally moved on. But he had the audacity to come back. After everything she had been through, doesn't she deserve a...
