The Spare To The Throne

Chapter 2: Blackguards

I woke up to an excruciatingly painful headache. Everything was dark and for a moment, I felt blank. My face was plastered to the floor and unexpectedly I left a river of drool on the ground. Underneath my head laid a pile of paper towels, stained a dark crimson red. I sit up straight, immediately regretting the sudden movements to readjust my position.

I grunted. My back throbbed with an aching sensation and my bladder felt as if it was going to explode along with my terrible headache. I look around, realizing that I'm in a dimly lit restroom. I try moving my hands, but it seemed impossible. Looking down I see that my hands are tied together with something silky. 

A blue tie? Why?

"You've been asleep for almost six hours." A voice said out of the blue.

I gasped, jumping back. Turning towards the direction the voice came from, I see a man sat down against the wall. He wore a tight blue dress shirt that was partly buttoned down. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his collar where I assume his tie that he used to bind my hands should be was popped up. His dress pants were black, matching his blue suede shoes. His somewhat gelled back short black hair stood out, indicating he must've been running his hands through it. This guy gave off a businessman kind of vibe. I cocked my head to the side. He looks so young for a businessman. Then again, he could be a inexperienced entrepreneur. 

"W-what?" I croaked, befuddled.

He didn't reply with an answer, instead he stared.

How impolite.

"I ask the questions here," he says flatly. "Now I wanna know your name and who sent you."

Suddenly memories begin to flood back. I remembered my internship interview, then going into the office, hearing gunshots, and hiding in this restroom. I gasped, recalling the fight I had, and how this stranger choked me into unconsciousness. His threat of killing me rang through my head as if he was right beside me.

 I begin to feel around, searching for my taser and pepper spray. Patting myself down, I frown, feeling nothing in my pockets. Perhaps it was in my purse. I look around, searching for my purse.

"If you're looking for these feeble toys," he pulls out my pepper spray and taser, waving them apathetically in the air. "You're not going to get them back."

I scoffed. "That pepper spray didn't seem so feeble in your eyes," I shot back. "Do you need more water?" I say recalling how fast he ran over to the sink to rinse his eyes.

We silently gave each other glares and I mentally patted myself on the back for replying back to him. My self praising soon came to an end. His eyes darkened, as his jaw clenched. Suddenly he withdraws a gun from his back, loading it with many bullets. I gasped, scooting away.

"I don't like people who talk back," he says. "It's quite irritating."

Appalled and speechless, I attempt to scamper a way.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you." He says, pointing the gun directly at me.  My eyes bulge in fear. "P-please," I beg. 

He stands up and starts to pace back and forth in front of me. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and you will answer them honestly, or eat a bullet. Understand?"

I nod frantically. 

"Use your words when I speak to you," he says, stopping in front of me. "You're not mute."

"O-okay." I stammer, suddenly feeling very foolish for standing up for myself moments ago.

"Comment vous appelez-vous?" He asks.