The Cumberbottom Incident: Rhett and Link

Chapter Eight: Face to Face

Link's POV-

I hold my breath as we lean against the door. Marcus's voice vibrates shrilly off the other side of the door. I look towards Rhett's direction in the darkness of the room. My mind races as I try and analyze the situation. We got abducted by some maniac, and we are in what appears to be an old hotel...

Before I can finish my thoughts,  I feel pressure on the other side of the door. Rhett and I wedge our feet under the door to keep it from opening. I have a weird feeling that the threat we are laboring to prevent is really not that much of a threat at all. What if this guy is just a loon with a lot of time on his hands? 

Rhett pokes my arm and I try to read his motions in the darkness. My eyes have only slightly adjusted to the dark and I can only guess what he is trying to say before he whispers, "Just walk over here, behind the wall..." I am just about to follow him behind the wall, when the door is thrown open by a pair of obscenely large hands. Before I know it, those hands are clasped tightly around the collar of my t-shirt.

A very tall, burly, bald man is staring into the very depths of my soul with black, unforgiving eyes. Marcus slowly walks next to this guy who is slowly strangling me and tuts, "You can put him down, Lyle." I get shoved to the ground promptly and I gasp for air. I fix my crooked glasses and squint into the dim, yellow light that spills in from the hallway.

I hear Rhett breathing behind the separation wall by the side of the door. As I scramble to my feet, Marcus starts to talk. In the tone of voice that maniacs have, really. 

"Well, well Mr. Neal..." he raises an eyebrow so far up, that it seems the arch of his eyebrow is touching his hairline, which is receded quite a bit.

 "I see that you and your friend have made it out of your--pardon the cliche--holding cells if I may." I can feel drops of cold sweat form on the back of my neck. I feel intimidated by this guy, even though I am at least a foot taller than he is. He continues slyly, yellow light bouncing off his purple sequined jacket: "You might want to tell me where your friend is Mr. Neal..." His eyes shift around the room. Before I can respond, Rhett walks into the light and stands next to me. His hair is disheveled, and by the circles under his eyes, I can tell that he is tired, and irritated.

We both have no idea how long we've been here, it could be hours or even days. "Why do you want us? Just let us go..." He groans. I shift closer to him to half hide myself behind his height.

Marcus clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "Oh, Ronald--" 

"It's Rhett."

"My apologies, "Rhett"...You were brought here for a reason of course. Why would my team go through all the effort and spend all this money for nothing? Hmm?"

 I scoff, "You call a tall guy with abnormally large hands and the cliche villain side-kick get up, a team? A team?  Really?" I immediately regret mentioning the man who just tried to strangle me by the way his eyes shift towards me and a sneer forms on his lips. I scoot one inch closer to Rhett and hold my breath. 

"I think you have underestimated me, Neal." He claps his purple-gloved hands and immediately three men appear behind him, holding the familiar tranquilizer rifles across their chests. One of them wearing large sunglasses and a black hood. His features strike me as an image of him running along the highway median flash in front of my eyes. That's him!  I push the thought aside and take a step back.

The bruise on my arm still hurts from being punctured by one of those darts earlier. I decide to back down. We need to find answers to where we are, and being cocky won't solve out problem; even though I wish it did. "Okay then..." I say slowly, "We will do whatever you want, as long as you don't hurt our team, or our families..."

I see Rhett shoot me a look from the corner of my eye. I choose to ignore him. I don't need his input right now. The short, purple clothed man clasps his thin fingers together and snickers. Showing rows of crooked, yellow teeth. 

"Now we have something to work with, boys--" all men behind him stand at attention, rifles ready. I cringe. Not again... Marcus waves his hand at their artillary, "No, don't shoot them, we don't have time for that. Come with me..." Rhett looks at me, eyes wide. Before I can explain myself, we are pushed into the hallway and are lead to an unknown destination with barrels pointed at our backs, and the heavy breaths of Marcus's gunmen echoing in the expectant silence...