Hostage

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One man aimed the barrel at my head, while his buddies roughly tied my hands behind my back. The last thing I saw was the blindfold tightly wrapped around my eyes. Then a few seconds later, I smelled the rag coming towards my face and I lost consciousness.

I was greeted again by a slap. And another slap. And then a bucket of frigid water that made me shiver me timbers. “Ah!” I shuddered. “Chill out!” A few more gallons of water greeted my face. Rough hands removed my blindfold. I shook my head like a poodle and slowly opened my eyes. My eyes settled on a generously proportioned, mustachioed man, dressed simply in a solid black t-shirt and large jeans.

“Ah, sí,” he chuckled. “How nice of you to finally come around.” Beckoning to one of his servants, he garbled something in rapid Spanish. The thin, young man quickly complied, bringing an ornate plate adorned with tacos and nachos with cheese. The ample man took his time dipping a few fried tortilla chips in the freshly melted sauce, swallowing them whole, before turning back to me.

“Now, my friend. I understand you are a killer, no?”

“Yep. That’s me.”

The fat guy chucked again. “Sí, está bien. So will you work for me?”

My response was eloquent as a concrete wall. “Huh?”

A wide grin stretched across his face. “You will work for me. You kill this man.” He held up my faded mug shot of The Monkey.

“Dude. I was trying to do that before you captured me and knocked me out.”

“Well, that was just a little present in case you try to mess with me.”

I glowered, rubbing my sore wrists. “Who are you then?”

“That is none of your business, chico. Just kill this hombre. Now go.”

My three buddies hog-tied me again. The cloth made a vaginal reappearance. Consciousness fades.

I came to lying on my back on the counter, next to my dead friend.
I looked to my left. “Euch.” I looked to my right, and I rolled off the counter, landing on my feet, surveying the parking lot. My capturers were obviously professionals because there were no traces of them ever being there. They were kind enough to give me my pistol and knife back, but they took my wallet.
However, right now that was the least of my worries. I had to find a way to get to the elusive Monkey. Then I remembered something. I walked over to the dead clerk’s body, I picked up the piece of paper that fell out after I kicked him in the stomach. I unfolded it three times before I could read its contents.
And I gave myself a mental kick.
On it was my picture, and the dead man’s instructions. Of course, they were written in a specific dialect of Spanish, so I whipped out my iPad to translate it. There was an app for that, so I read the clean black text of the iPad. With horror.
When you see this man, press the alert under the desk. Stall until we arrive.
I looked under the desk. I should have expected it when I set off an alarm and was sprayed in the face by yet another consciousness-losing gas.
“Eff…emm…” I gasped as I faded again into blackness.





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