I know it's probably not very smart to start a new story when I haven't even completed the others yet, but this is an idea I've had in my head for a while and I really wanted to get it out.

Please enjoy!

When he came to, panic set in immediately. Why couldn't he see anything? He tried to yell, call for help, but his lips couldn't move. The thick layer of tape that spread from cheek to cheek silenced him, which made him realise that something was over his eyes on purpose - so that he couldn't identify anything.

"Well! Look who's awake?" He heard a voice laugh and panic told him to get away. That's when he realised his hands, he was unable to move them as cold metal around his wrists secured his arms behind his back, around a pole or something. "Hey, hey settle, petal." The voice soothed, but it wasn't comforting. If anything it made him panic even more. He struggled, and yelled, but it was no use. The tape muffled his pleas and, what he could only think were handcuffs, secured him to where he sat. His feet and legs didn't make contact with anything but the floor, which only caused him pain. "Looks like we got a fighter here, B."

"Oliver Tyler?" A second voice said sternly. He sounded a lot deeper and older than the first voice and Oliver imagined him to be around his father's age, where signs of age were beginning to show. He stopped struggling, but didn't relax. These people knew his name. How did they know who he was? He heard movement around him and tried to follow the sounds of shuffling feet around the room with his head, as though he could somehow work something out from that.

"You never told me he was so pretty, B." The higher pitched voice said and he felt the back of a hand stroke the side of his face and he jerked away from it quickly.

"Stay the fuck away from me." Oliver said, although he knew it would come out as nothing but a mixture of grunts, but he threw in enough hatred to make it clear what his intentions were. The voice laughed a malicious laugh, sending a shiver down the back of his spine.

"George, leave him." The lower voiced man said sternly, like he was telling a toddler not to play with his toys.

"But, B." The voice – George – whined sarcastically. "You said-,"

"I know what I said." The second voice – B was what George had referred to him as – sounded firm, and Oliver decided that he must be the man in charge here. "Go get the kid some food." He ordered and Oliver heard more movement before the sound of a door being opened and shut with a creepy creaking sound. At least he wouldn't be caught off guard. He followed B's footsteps as he moved next to him and heard him sit down with a tired sigh. "So here's how it's going to go. We're going to keep you here for a few days." With that Oliver's body tensed. The man must've seen it. "Relax, Kid." He patted Oliver's shoulder as his father had done whenever he had done something worth praise. It wasn't too often. "We're contacting your parents and as soon as they get us the money we need, you get to go home. As long as you and your parents don't fuck us around, everything will be fine."

Oliver took in a long slow breath and let it out even slower. So he was being held for ransom. His father was a highly respected lawyer. There was no way he couldn't get the money they needed. He just had to make sure he didn't "fuck them around" and he would be okay, he just had to do what they say. The obviously don't know him very well as he's never been too good at following orders. He jumped when the door creaked again and knew that George must have come back.

"So Ollie. I'm going to take this tape off your mouth, and you're not going to give me any trouble, are you?" B asked, as though he had a choice in the matter. He was handcuffed to a pole, what was he going to do? "You're going to do exactly as I tell you." Oliver nodded obediently. Then out of nowhere, a fist made painful contact with his left eye. He let out a cry of pain, but it was muffled by the tape. His body swung to the side with the effort but was pulled back almost instantly by a hand gripping his chin.

"Good," B said harshly, even through the blindfold and tape, Oliver could feel his breath on his face. It smelt of cigarettes. Somewhere behind B, George was laughing hysterically. "Because I can make your stay here extremely uncomfortable if I want to. Got it?" Oliver nodded as best he could with the hand harshly holding his head in place. The man patted his cheek playfully – not the side he had just hit, thank god – before gripping hold of the tape and ripping it off, not taking any care to avoid the pain it caused Oliver. "Good boy." He said gently as Oliver gasped for air to avoid yelling in pain from both his eye and his now stinging face.

"What-," Oliver panted hesitantly, worried that he'll receive another blow, "why are you doing this?" He chose's his words carefully.

"Did he say you could ask questions?" He felt the floor vibrate as George stormed towards him, followed by the kick to the chest that made him double over, gasping for air. He was surprised when B didn't protest after only moments ago, he had told George to leave him. "I didn't think so." George spits down from above him.

"He didn't say much of anything, to be fair." Oliver said as soon as he had enough oxygen back in his lungs to get those words out.

"Oh for fucks sake." George sighed. "Forget the food, can we just gag him again, please? His cocky, rich-boy, attitude doesn't make him nearly as cute."

"All I want to know is if this has anything to do with my Dad and his job." Oliver said simply, trying not to cringe at Georges words. His father's a very respected lawyer and has handled many high profile cases. The chances that this has something to do with that are almost 100%. "Because if it does, you might have to rethink your strategy. I'm not sure Dad would be willing to pay to get me back."

"Oh. Poor little rich boy." George mocks. "Poor, spoilt, rich boy doesn't get along with his rich daddy."

"More like he doesn't even know that I exist." Oliver explains truthfully. "And when he does it's usually because I've done something wrong."

"Look kid." B chimes in, obviously bored of the conversation. "I don't care about your pathetic problems. If it's that bad you just have to hope that mummy dearest has some control. If not-," Oliver shudders as the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked interrupts B's threat. "Then you're never going back." Oliver opens his mouth, but at the last second lets out a long sigh and closes it again, thinking that for now, it's better to keep his mouth shut and stay low for a while. "Feed him." B barks before the door swings open and slams shut. He's gone.

Oliver doesn't need to say much as he get's fed. George does enough talking for the both of them. Unfortunately not about anything useful. He spends most of it explaining the plot of the movie Rush Hour after I had said that I had never seen it.

"Oh man," George gaffed. "Maybe we'll watch it later-, oh wait." And burst out laughing presumably at the realisation that Oliver was in fact blindfolded. Oliver didn't find it funny. He took his food willingly, opening his mouth like a baby bird and took the spoonfuls of luke warm macaroni and cheese that had obviously come from a microwave meal – something Oliver definitely wasn't used to – but he was hungry, so he ate every bite.

"Oi, kid." B storms into the room, and he could feel it made even George jump. "Parents want proof you're alive." He says casually, as though all he had said was "Your parents want to know what time you'll be home." Oliver hesitated as the room fell silent. What was he on about? Was he going to cut off a finger or something?

"Well go on. Say something." Then he realised that he must have a phone. He wanted Oliver to say something to convince his parents that the money they would be sending wasn't getting wasted on a dead body. In that moment he made a decision. They wanted him to speak.

So he wouldn't.

"For fucks sake, kid." B sighed after the room had stayed silent. "Don't play these games with me."

"Oliver?" He heard a small, tinny sounding voice. "Oliver?" It was his mother. He could tell she had been crying or still was. That made it all the more difficult to stay silent.

"Okay then." George sighed, he barely had time to register the sound before he was practically deafened.

"Holy shit!" Oliver yelled out of reflex as the gun went off, making an almost ear shattering bang echo in the room. He heard his mother scream on the other end.

"Alright smart ass, the next one goes through a body part." George said, as though it hadn't even affected him. Oliver on the other hand was heaving for breath as his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

"Okay, okay." He said quickly, still recoiled against the pole he was attached to as a weird sort of protection. "I'm alright Mum. These people are psychotic, but I'm fine."

"It's going to be okay, sweetie. Just do what they say, okay? Everything will-,"

"So as you can see," B cuts her off and if his arms weren't tied behind his back, B would have received a kick in the balls, "your son is perfectly fine. But if you break any of the rules then that can change. Little Ollie here has already learnt that the hard way, haven't you son?"

"Fuck you." He spits in the general direction of the voice, but as he hears the door swing open, a fresh piece of tape is plastered over his mouth.

"Now is when the fun really begins." George whispers, his face only inches from Oliver's and he can hear the smile on his face. A hand pushes his head roughly to the right and George chuckles as he too leaves the room, leaving Oliver alone for the first time since being kidnapped.


Holy shit.