I saved up all my pennies and I gave them to this special guy

[fabricatings]

He's not feeling himself. Not right. Something's scratching, clawing, and it's not because of the pain he imagines. It's not because of his life. It's because he needs something--anything. No oxy? Vicodin. No vicodin? Tramadol. Hydromorphone. Pethidine. All that mattered was that they were opioids and they were strong.

He tricks himself into thinking he can last at least a day with one pill. Briggs is convinced someone stole his tranquilizers, and even rounds on Mike. That's what sets it off--junkies aren't exactly ones for a stable environment. Briggs and Mike are both paranoid, powerful individuals who know how the other operates. It starts off as a fist-fight, Briggs claiming Mike took his drugs for drug money. Mike isn't exactly calm when he uproots the small table and begins yelling right back. The fact that he was thinking about it never comes up, but he goes for a walk.

He's still feeling it, the scratching inside his head. Like an insect, wanting to crawl out of his ear. And on top of that, he swears his gut feels like it's being stabbed. Like that knife is being sliced into him, over and over again. His lip is bleeding but he doesn't care--that pain is nothing compared to the flare in his abs, or the way even his teeth seem to be on fire instead of their usual numb state.

It's late by the time he tracks down his dealer after the other doesn't answer his texts. Slams him against the wall, demanding what he wants. Of course his dealer is out. Turns out, by the time Mike has actually beaten the shit out of the guy, the dealer is right. He's out.

"I know a guy, though," He says. "Hangs out at so-and-so a bar."

Mike's going to have to work for his meal, it seems, and he gives one last kick in the ribs to his dealer, tells him pleasantly he'll see him tomorrow and he'd better have some oxy squared away just for him.

To the bar he goes. He looks like shit--hasn't shaved, long hair--but he also doesn't care. All he cares about is the scratching, the pain--he needs that to go away. He just needs to track down who the fuck his dealer was talking about.

Comments

[heroeswork]

Billy let out the softest chuckle. Reason. That wasn't something he was accustomed to in these situations. Fairly sound reason at that. They'd been seen running into the alley, their struggle must have been heard by at least a few. But it was night, in one of the shadiest corners of the city. They were at the deadend of an alley that was poorly lit. Anyone out on the street wouldn't be able to see them unless they stepped out of the safety of the street lights.

He let his lips drag over Mike's throat again, as if just breathing him in. Not able to get enough of him. Smart and so very, very desperate. "Oh, don't worry about that..." he said, leaning back slightly. "We won't be here long."

With that, he cracked the butt of the knife hard against Mike temple. Precise, with just the right force to knock him out cold.

***

Billy worked fast and efficient. He'd used his downtime to plan it all out. Getting Mike to the truck. Cuffing him and putting a hood over his head in the event he woke up. But it was a short trip. To an old industrial building that Billy knew had no security and no surveillance anywhere nearby. Excellent sound proofing so they could be as loud as the wanted to be.

He'd stripped Mike of his clothes and given him two small items instead. The first was a thick leather collar. Fastened snugly around his neck and held in place with a lock, adorned with several rings which Billy fully intended to put to proper use. The second was far heavier. A solid metal shackle fixed around his ankle. A chain fixed to it, attached at the other end to a bolt in the concrete floor. He was in the corner of the dark basement. Billy was nowhere to be seen.

[47redbirds]

He dreams. He dreams of those birds, all flying from the tree line. The smell, the same one he swore he sensed while I'm Billy's car. There was even the same, muffled sense of peace. Like calm was being fed to him through a white noise monitor, leaving everything humming and bright.

Those birds, he knew what they were. New why there were exactly 47. New why Colin was doing this to him. When he wakes, the white noise turns into a splitting screech, head feeling like it's pounding. Especially at the temple. The calm has been replaced by the indescribable emotion of loss and confusion, swirling inside him as he jerks awake. The chain on his ankle rattles but he doesn't notice yet.

What he notices is the collar, first, and bruised and bloodied knuckles move up to grab at it. Leather. Like some of those sex shows Paige liked to go to. He tugs on it, grunting with the effort, but finds it impossible. Finds himself met with a lock, secure and unable to pick--mike can pick locks, but not like this.

He observes his surroundings: dark. Dark and not dingy, but something close. Poorly lit, regardless. He could run away and--

Fuck. His leg is chained. It still feels like his head is about to explode, and every rattle the links give reminds him of tape from the car. The weird sense of panic.

He gives the hardest tank as he can, as if pulling on the chain is going to work. I doesn't, but his blood runs cold as he turns around.

....Billy's no where to be found. Thank god.

[heroeswork]

Footsteps echo on metal stairs somewhere in the darkness beyond. The sound alone gives a sense of the space, vast and open. Slow, methodical steps. Unhurried. A man who has all the time in the world. There was a loud click and a few lights flicker on in the high ceiling above. Florescent and industrial, unsteady and humming as they warmed up. Just the first switch was thrown, activating just a quarter of the lights. And only a portion were functional. There were dim shapes on the other side of the large room. Things that could have been tables, things covered in sheets, some taller than Mike himself.

Another click and a lamp set into the wall above Mike illuminated his corner. It was far newer than the rest of the place. Billy slowly approached from the stairwell in the center of the wall to the left. He carried what looked to be a large took box at his side, his other hand in the pocket of his jacket.

"Comfortable, I hope," Billy asked as he came to a stop, watching Mike from a few feet away. Seemingly unworried, as he set the toolbox down.

[47redbirds]

He gives another hard yank on the chain, swearing low to his breath. Trying to ignore the chill around the air, trying to forget what this means. He just has to focus on getting out. That's all Mike has to do, just get out. He can think later.

He hears the footsteps and just yanks even harder, not at all blind to what they are. Whose they are. It's Billy. Mike forces himself not to panic, forces himself to instead examine the lock on the collar. Try to figure out how to get out of it.

If he can bide his time and take something from the other, he can probably pick it. It seems like he can get into it, anyway. Mike just has to be patient. Just has to wait.

He can do this. He can do this, even if he's naked and terrified and the lights are flickering on, slowly and slowly and the drug dealer is coming towards him. Fuck his head hurt. The flickering of the florescent isn't helping him no matter how run-down, and the winces is apparent.

Mike's still forcing himself to calm down, taking in everything. Sheets on the tables. He's not sure he wants to know what's underneath, but the lamplight flicks on and he finally tears his gaze away from the surroundings, looking over at how his corner is illumnated.

His eyes bounce from the lamp above him to Billy to the box to the hand in the other's pocket, and he licks his lips, swallowing hard. Mike has to fight the fear. He has to.

"Very funny," He manages, sarcasm wrapped in venom.

[heroeswork]

Billy smiled, confident and amused. He was no longer trying to hide his face. Or anything about himself. He spoke in his natural accent and allowed Mike to proper see him. In the truck and in the bar, he'd always been shrouded in shadow. But not here. He wasn't afraid of Mike being able to identify him. He'd done a little research in his downtime.

He was also confident that Mike couldn't easily escape. Even if he did remove the collar, there was still the shackle. Which was closed with a screw that required a specifically sized allen wrench. Sunken into the metal, so the top was flush. Everything else was welded and bolted. Not easy to escape from.

"If you perform well, I'll at least find you something a bit more...accommodating." He shrugged off the jacket, and draped it over the tool box. He wore a plain teeshirt beneath. "Otherwise, I may need to resort to...extreme measures." His hands planted on his hips, as though he were trying to figure out what to do first. "And here, we need not worry about being heard. Be as loud as you wish."

[47redbirds]

Mike is still positive he can--he has to hold out on that. Needs to. He has to hold on to something that isn't the other's words, and..

Wait, the other's words. They weren't clipped like they usually were. Instead, there's a musical quality to it. A lilt. An accent. Scottish, maybe? Or Irish. That meant two things. One, that the other was dropping pretenses or making some sort of mark. Two, that he was either comfortable enough that Mike wasn't a threat or that mike was no longer a threat because the dealer was just going to kill him.

Either way, all Mike had to do was get through this. Bide his time, try to take something he could shimmy the lock with. Something he could manipulate. He could still do this, he promises himself.

"I'm not a monkey," He points out, trying to keep his cool. Perform well? Perform well with what?

Accommodations, though. That held promise. That held compromise. For now.

[heroeswork]

Billy crouched down. A slow, graceful movement. One knee was lowered almost to the floor, elbows resting on his thighs and hands drooping toward the floor. He was complete at ease. Watching. Observing. Basking. This was all his doing and he was loving every moment of it.

"A monkey wouldn't be nearly as fun," he commented and turned his attention to the tool box. He pulled it closer to himself, opening it so Mike couldn't see inside right away. "But you fail to see what exactly is happening here. You have no way to escape. You're here for my needs and entertainment alone. I hold your very life in my hands. I control everything." He glanced up with a sly smirk, letting Mike tease out the details of that. After a moment, he added, "And I do intend to keep you here for quite some time."

He started pulling up the hinged trays so he could access the deeper compartment of the large tool box. In those trays there certainly weren't any sort of standard tools. There were a few screws, similar to what held the shackle closed. But besides that, there were clamps of several varieties. Cock rings of several sizes and materials. Several items of jewelry. And if Mike were adept enough to recognize them, a few needles frequently used in larger gauge piercings.

[47redbirds]

Calm. He has to keep calm, he has to, and it's a mantra in his head now. Over and over and over again, 'keep calm, stay focused,' constantly repeating over and over again.

Observe. Observe and watch and be smart, be fucking smart about this, Warren. He moves to the wall, standing up, back pressed flush against it. He has no time for decency, not with this.

A toolbox. Screws, or what Mike is guessing for more shackles. Maybe if he 'misbehaves?' The other's talking and Mike's hands go to the collar, the thick leather with rings. Probably to connect something. He takes a breath.

Clamps. He saw clamps in there. What those are for he's not sure, but he's pretty positive he doesn't give a shit as long as they're away from him. Cock rings--which Mike has tried all of once with a girlfriend fresh out of high school. The needles, though. Obviously not for taking blood, or drugs or any of the sort. Something used for piercings, maybe? But why?

He licks his lips, wheels turning in his head. He can't afford to antagonize the guy. He knows this. He knows this.

"You want control? I can give you a guy in exchange for letting me out here. Blonde, blue-eyes, toned body. He'll put up one hell of a fight."

Just keep it together a little longer. Try to ignore his words about no one coming for you, Mike.

[heroeswork]

Billy looked up from his box, quiet and contemplative. Desperate and completely without empathy? Willing to subject someone else to the fate that Mike already knew? Now that was truly heartless. His research and yielded a little information about the people Mike ran with, but none fit that description but Mike himself. But why would he want someone else, when he so badly wanted to see what sort of fight Mike would put up when he was cuffed, plugged, and locked in a cage? He still didn't know if Mike would cry when strapped down and immobilize and forcibly pierced. Nor did he know how long he could last with a ring on his cock before he begged for release. These were all very vital things that Bill wanted to see.

But he feigned interest at the offer, an eyebrow raised. "And just who would this person be? I'd need a name to be sure you're not just trying to slip away."

There was so much he could do with a name.

[47redbirds]

Mike still has to think, still has to get out of this. He knows Colin is playing him. He knows it, he cna feel it, but Mike has to play along. Colin is intimidating him, he thinks. Has to. He's fucking with him, pulling out all of this shit.

Then again, Mike was literally raped in the other's van only a few days ago. There's a reason he still looks like shit, a reason he's been lashing out any way he knows how. Blonde, blue eyed. Like him. Think.

"Gabe," He lies. He doesn't know a Gabe at all. "I don't know his last name, but if you let me set something up I can do it. Hand to god."

[heroeswork]

Billy tilted his head at the name. That was one that hadn't come up in his search. It wasn't exhaustive by any means, so that didn't mean too much. But he couldn't even think of a Gabe that met that description that could even be near Mike's circles. And Billy prided himself on knowing the lay of the land. If there was another junkie out there who even remotely looked like Mike, he'd know.

Oh. How he'd know.

Slowly, and without word, he closed up the tool box. Folded down the little trays with great care, closed the lid and clicked the latch.

"Let me think on it," he said as he stood up. He gathered up the box and his jacket. He looked like he truly was considering it. "I'll be back in a moment." And he turned on his heel, heading back upstairs. Leaving Mike, once again, alone.

[47redbirds]

He's left..... alone?

He's left alone?

Mike immediately takes off, thinking quick and doing what he can. Two more yanks on the chain and he knows that's fruitless. Sheer strength won't work. He has to be creative, and the other's tools are gone. He's left with no other options.

"There has to be a way," He mumbles. Takes in the light fixture, the rest of the warehouse. Surely, Billy would get bored? Move him somewhere? Maybe something under those tables could work. Fuck, he was running out of options, and the other's words were echoing in his head.

If he thought the car was bad? This was going to be worse. Prying the cuff doesn't work, of course, though it doesn't stop him from trying. As a matter of fact, between trying to yank the chain physically out of the wall and panicking, despite the chill in the air, he's already working up quite a sweat, grunting with his efforts.

Maybe if he just keeps at it? He's always been stubborn.

[heroeswork]

Billy used the racket that Mike made to descend the staircase quietly. He lingered just out of sight, savoring the sound. Fury and desperation rang through the space like a beautiful chorus. Intoxicating. But he couldn't leave Mike alone too long. What if his new toy hurt himself?

So he took that final step, moving into the room. "Entertaining yourself, I see," he said, sounding amused. Against his shoulder he held a bar. There were large rings at both ends and smaller D-rings at even intervals down the entire length. He'd had no intention of considering the offer, but rather decided he wanted to put the bar to use, and he'd left it elsewhere. He'd also acquired a few very special items, but those were hidden in the box.

He set the tool box down again, watching Mike. "Now, why don't you be a good boy and get on your knees for me?"

[47redbirds]

Mike stares, mouth half open, mostly in disbelief. He's vaguely aware of what the rod is for--and the first thing that runs through his mind is that he's glad he won't get it shoved up his ass and that it's for binding.

When did that become a 'thank God' situation?

He licks his lips, picking his jaw off of the proverbial floor.

"And if I don't?" He asked. Cautious. Wary. Very much like an unsure animal.

[heroeswork]

Billy could be patient when he needed to be. He'd gone months without a fix before finding Mike. His last was before he'd even relocated to California. And now it had only been a few days. The anticipation and chase had made him hungry for it again, but he wasn't starving. Not yet. He could take his time and make it last properly.

"Oh, that's something you'd find out the hard way. This is your last chance." He pointed to the floor before him with the bar, waiting.

If Mike complied, it would make this so much easier on both of them. But if Mike refused...he had a few ideas for a suitable punishment.

[47redbirds]

Mike's quick thinking only lasts a few seconds, but he swears time slows down. He knows he's not in a position to do much of anything--Colin had made that clear. Colin wants to have power and control, but Mike doesn't want to give it. A rock and a hard place, proverbially.

He has to be careful with how he phrases this. Has to make sure the dealer still has control, even if it's just to buy him time to try to figure out what to do. That--whatever it is--it doesn't bode well.

"Before you do...that," His gaze lowers, and his back is against the wall, standing. Hands up, non-threatening as he can, hair falling in his face. "I was wondering if I could ask you something."

Hopefully negotiation would work.

[heroeswork]

The moment Mike spoke without complying, a shadow fell over Billy's face. A sinister look of utter displeasure. He moved toward Make, as if prepared to grab him by the hair and drag him to the floor.

But the request had him curious. What new twist of logic was he going to try to apply to this? What new act of desperation was he going to try? He leaned close, bringing his free hand up to caress Mike's cheek.

"It depends on the question," he said, his tone sounding almost sweet. "If I don't like it, you'll get twice the punishment for wasting my time..."

[47redbirds]

Okay, Mike. You can do this.

He closes his eyes, trying to hide the revolt he gets as Billy touches him. His jaw sets, he swallows, and he stands up a bit straighter as the other caresses him. That hand on his cheek, like they were lovers...

He clears his throat.

"I was just-wondering... why you started this. Why this."

[heroeswork]

A delay tactic? That was it? Billy was incredibly amused by such a desperate ploy. And so many ways to respond to it. Should he feign anger and punish him for it? Or lead him on further?

He continued to stroke Mike's cheek with his thumb. The rest of his body pressed close, letting out a breath that sounded like a tension being released. Like he'd been waiting for someone, anyone, to ask him just that sort of question.

"Isn't it obvious, Mike?" He said with that feigned relief. "The same reason you started on those pills..." In a snap, his demeanor changed. His hand shot up to grab a handful of the other's hair, his expression shifting into a sinister smile. "Because I needed it."

[47redbirds]

Good. Good, good, he can just bide his time and try to think of a way out. He can ignore that breath near him, even though he finally turns away from the touch on his cheek. If he can use something against the other, if he could just give himself time to breathe--

--How the fuck did this guy know his name? ID? Talking to Kelly? That wasn't important right now, though. Long hair grabbed, Mike winced but tried his best to remain in control of himself.

"We are nothing alike," He spat, all pretenses of trying to goad the other into just talking instead of doing gone. "I am not you, I don't kidnap people and rape them."

[heroeswork]

Billy tightened his grip, letting out a low chuckle. Forcing Mike's head back against the wall. Names were very powerful things. Hence why no one in this country knew his. But even more powerful was knowing a person completely. He didn't need to know Mike's history or who he ran with or even his last name. He knew the type of person Mike was. And that was why he held all the cards.

"No..." Billy drawled, giving a scolding click of his tongue. "You just beat them up when they don't have what you want. What you need. Kelly was none too pleased with how you left him. And you tried to tell me you weren't a junkie..."


Letting out another chuckle, Billy stepped back. And he dragged Mike with him. Trying to force him down onto his knees near where the chain was bolted.

[47redbirds]

He could do this. He could. Mike was a smart guy, he knew this. Knew the right way to keep up just enough of an appearance of being normal. A regular person. Even though he was so deep in denial, so entrenched in shoving all of his problems away.

Mike opens his mouth to say something--to try to counter the fact that Billy is right about the violence, maybe, but he knew Kelly and obviously the guy was a fucking idiot, when that sole accusation burst forth. So casual.

Mike was not a junkie. Was not an addict. Mike was a normal person who needed help with pain with a fucked up health system, or so he swears. The moment Billy begins to drag him by the hair, he reacts, lashing out with a growl. Instead of running away--instead of flight--Mike chooses fight, trying to tackle the other to the ground. He's seeing red.

All he wants to do is hurt the other.

[heroeswork]

Billy anticipated the move. He'd dropped the insult, remembering how Mike had reacted in the truck when he'd been accused of that very thing. So when Mike lunged for him, he twisted. He let go of the other's hair and let the attack's momentum carry him passed.

Swinging around, Billy brought that bar up under Mike's chin. Dragging him back. Both hands gripped it, slamming his captive against his chest.

"That's triple punishment," Billy teased with a grin. "It's almost enough to convince me you want to be fucked."

[47redbirds]

How had Colin learned how to fight like that? Mike took boxing when he was a kid, sure, but this was something else. He's stunned enough to forget he's angry, bar slamming against his throat and almost causing him to slip and lose his footing. Billy has him, though, and Mike crashes down on Billy's chest, glaring at the warehouse since he can't turn around and glare at Billy. It's sudden, and Mike feels the wind knocked out of him and a crushing blow to his neck, the area that probably still had some remnants of bruising from their last encounter.

He refuses to go down without a fight, despite this current setback. Not with those words ringing in his ear. 'you WANT to be fucked.' Triple punishment meant nothing to him, simply because he was too caught up in trying to get out, adrenaline flowing, mixing with the oxy already in his system.

[heroeswork]

Billy just increased the pressure with the bar the harder Mike fought. He seemed content to just use the bar to choke the other out, rather than putting it to it's proper purpose. But there was something else. He'd been too wrapped up in the moment to notice it then. But in thinking back on it, he'd realized Mike had a rather unique reaction to being choked. Was it just a flawed memory, or was there something there? He intended to find out.

He continued to crush the bar against Mike's throat, watching him closely. "Keep fighting," he encouraged. "It means I get come up with more and more ways to break you. Since last time seems to have barely scratched the surface." He sounded as though he enjoyed the prospect of a hard fight. As if he wanted Mike to be hard as steel rather than brittle as a twig.