over me, and I scream, crying out for help. But no one comes.
“Shhh,” he says, bringing a soaked rag to my lips. “Time to go to sleep, girlie.” I struggle, fighting against his crushing grip, but I’m no match for his strength. I feel a scratchy burlap bag slide over my head as my eyes slide shut.
*
When I open my eyes, I’m staring down at my lap. Head hanging heavy, I’m sitting, but only because my hands and feet have been tied to a chair. Purple hair dangles in my peripheral vision as I cautiously survey the scene. Foggy from the ether-soaked rag, it takes a second for me to get my bearings. Gray concrete floors, a metal garage door, cardboard boxes stacked high: Am I in a warehouse? Where? And more importantly, why?
I swallow hard, throat screamed raw, like my fear tried to scratch itself out from the inside. How did I get here? What did they do to me in transit? My body aches, feeling like I just went through a rock tumbler; I picture myself in the back of a windowless van, banging around like a loose pinball. I must be covered in black-and-blue bruises. Blue. My favorite hero crosses my mind, the thought of him out of commission even more heartbreaking at this moment. A fat tear rolls down my cheek, salt coating my quivering bottom lip. This quickly evolves into a full-body convulsion, as deep, aching sobs rattle my core, shaking my shoulders and everything else.
“Don’t cry,” says a female voice behind me. Surprised to not be alone, I try wiggling free from my binds, but rope burns my wrists and every movement feels like torture.
“Who…who’s there?” I ask, voice wobbling. I hate the sound of it—weak, afraid. Yet I couldn’t make myself sound more confident right now if I tried.
“Relax, I’m not one of them.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m strapped to this chair too.”
Oh. I move my fingers to feel a second pair bound to mine. Knowing I’m not on my own in this hostage situation makes me want to grab on to this stranger for dear life. But I don’t. Mostly because I can’t.
“I’m Bridgette,” she reveals, and my heart leaps in recognition. I know that name! Bridgette Rey! Vaporizer’s girlfriend, the envy of WarNats everywhere. I don’t spend as much time following the comings and goings of hero significant others as some fans do, but I keep them on my radar because I’m nothing if not a completist.
“Really?” I gasp, too rattled to keep any residual fangirling at bay. I’ve seen her face in countless forum posts. Vaporizer always saves his girl (much to his fans’ dismay), meaning that if she’s here, help is definitely on the way!
“Yes, and I guess your reaction means you know who I am,” Bridgette continues. “I’m sure we’ll be out of here soon, wherever here is.” She sounds tired, almost blasé, as if being tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse is not a complete nightmare situation. Is this, like, just a regular Friday night for her?
“Do you think Vaporizer will come?” I ask.
She exhales sharply. “Yes, he’ll be here. He always seems to make time for things like this.” What does that mean? His girlfriend has to be at the top of his priority list, right? I can’t even imagine a scenario where that wouldn’t be true. “You must be dating Joy, right? The one who replaced Charles?”
“What?”
“Blue Streak?”
“Yeah, I know his real name—”
“So you must be with her, or else you wouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t under—”
“They like to take the love interests,” she sighs, as if it’s the most obvious statement in history. “It adds that element of intrigue. Plus, it usually gets the Warriors to their trap faster.”
It makes sense, of course. In every Warrior Nation news brief I’ve read, the hero and villain are always given top billing, but the hostage? Not so much. The kidnapped become an afterthought once the day has been saved, though I certainly do not feel like some cast extra right now. But if that was the plan here, they missed the mark.
“But I’m not with Joy,” I say, as if that matters now. I’m still here, kidnapped, regardless of my relationship status.
“Huh. Weird. Well, I’m sure they had a reason for abducting you. A lot of these villains may be reckless, but they’re not dumb.”
I don’t understand, though. Why me? Why was I a target? I’ve only been part of Warrior Nation for a