Vengeance: A Fan Fiction (Ch1)

You might want to check the post below for the prologue, before you read this.

Chapter One

‘Cold,’ was Derek’s waking thought. ‘Why am I so cold? I must have kicked my sheets off again…’
He sat up from his flat-out position and rubbed his eyes.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said, jolting him out of his post-sleep reverie. The voice was unexpected, out of place – yet somehow familiar.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Derek saw the owner of the voice swim into view in front of him, smiling.
“Sure is dark in here, Kara,” he replied.
“I know,” she said. “I almost couldn’t see you lying there.”
“Racist,” he grinned.
“Now don’t you start that again,” Kara scolded. “That one’s too old now.”
“Will you two keep it down?” Another voice cut in. “I’m kinda sleepy.”
“Who are you?” Derek asked in the direction of the voice.
A clean-cut teenage boy’s face appeared through the murk. His features were chiselled, his hair swept back and trailing over his shoulders, a light auburn, bordering on the silver. His eyes were the deepest blue, and bored into Derek’s own hazel ones with a friendly assertiveness.
“I’m Grant,” he intoned, with a voice that was almost a low growl.
“Kara, you’re staring,” laughed Derek.
She turned away, her ginger hair cascading in front of her face, and blushed. Derek simply smiled.
“So how did you guys get stuck here?” Grant asked, breaking the silence.
“I was woken up by these large, powerful men shining torches in my eyes, and dosed with something that knocked me out. I’ve only just woken up here – what’s going on?”
“I was at the gym,” said Grant. “This tiny guy challenged me to a weightlifting contest. Bet me I’d lose. He was the scrawniest thing I’d ever seen; he was so weak that his skin was a kind of pasty grey. I accepted against my conscience, and we started lifting.
“This guy was bizarre. I can’t explain it. He just kind of concentrated, and muscles seemed to come out of nowhere. We lifted twenty, thirty, forty kilos, he didn’t even show any sign of weakness. I ended up lifting too much, I think. I must have passed out from the strain – I woke up here, just like you guys.”
“I was coming home from work. I was late for dinner, so I took a back alley home – against my better judgement, I guess.” Kara smirked. “These big guys in black rushed me. I screamed like crazy – I thought I was going to be raped for sure - but before I knew it they hit me, knocked me out and I woke up in the van on the way here. I could see Derek asleep on the other side of the van, and another guy slumped in the corner that I didn’t recognise. They opened the door and grabbed me before I could do anything and chucked us all in here. I thought I saw a couple of other people before they slammed the door and the lights went out.”
“How many other people?” asked Derek.
“Only a couple. And no-one’s come in since we did, so one of them must have been you, Grant.”
There was a groan from the darkness.
“Where am I?”
“We don’t know,” said Derek. “But you don’t have to worry about us. We’re friendly.”
“What hit me?” asked the voice. It sounded as if its owner was the youngest of the group, male, and scared. “I was sitting in the garden, playing video games under the tree, when this grown-up comes up and asks me if that’s the new Warriors game. I told him it was the old one, that I’m not allowed the new one. He said he’s get the new one for me if I went with him.
“We went for ice-cream first, and that’s the last thing I remember.”
“What’s your name, kid?” asked Grant.
“Mike,” replied the boy.
“How old are you, Mike?”
“Almost sixteen.”
“Come here, so we can see you,” instructed Derek.
They heard him stand up and walk over to them, tentatively, following their voices. His face finally became visible. For a fifteen-year-old, he looked a lot younger – his golden hair wasn’t pigmented, and hung in a rough bowl cut around his head, with a few locks on his fringe dangling in front of his eyes.
“Is that all of us?” asked Kara.
There was no reply from the blackness.
Grant exclaimed in surprise.
“I’m such a fool!”
He delved into his pocket and came out with a Zippo lighter. He flicked it open and lit it in one smooth movement. The light flared, and they all recoiled, the bright light affecting them much more due to them being accustomed to the light.
“I always carry this with me,” Grant explained, as their eyesight returned. “You never know when you might need a flame.”
“It’s no use if you forget you have it, though, is it?” Derek smiled.
“Oh, get lost.” Grant shot back. “I thought of it eventually.”
Derek was about to spit something back, until he noticed the grin playing over Grant’s lips.
A quick scan of the room with the lighter confirmed their assumption that there were no other captives. They sat and made idle chat, but soon the conversation died away, leaving them only with the knowledge that all they could do is wait and see what was going to be done with them.
Time passed. It was impossible to tell whether it was ten minutes or two hours, but the door clicked open, revealing a white strip of light across the floor, highlighting the huddled four.
“One on the little one, two on the rest, quickly.”
Seven men, their features blackened by the light behind their heads, rushed into the room and grabbed the group. There was a struggle with most, but Derek gave up after the most perfunctory of fights, still partially drugged, and was dragged out quickest. As he left, he saw Grant, struggling on, eventually causing another guard to assist in taking him out. Derek, being dragged backward, watched a long, silver corridor extending into nothingness, the black uniforms of the goons clashing horribly. They reached a set of doors with meaningless serial numbers printed on them, and were thrown through.
The first thing that ran through his head was how pristine it was. It looked like a scientific facility rather than the den of a kidnapper. Derek looked around, and saw that Kara and the other captives weren’t there – he assumed they had gone through one of the other doors.
He was all alone in unfamiliar surroundings. He stood up, shakily, walked around the room, taking in every detail. There was a gurney in the middle, cold and unfeeling, no sheets dressing it. There was a small aluminium table next to it, with a drawer set into it. Derek rattled the handle; it was locked.
Casting his eyes around the room, he noticed that it was much smaller than it had first appeared. Across one wall was a full-length mirror, and dominating the room was a large conical structure, with two doors set into it. Neither had a handle, just a white square set into the metal next to each one, about the size of Derek’s palm. He placed his hand onto it, pressing gently. The panel glowed red for just a second, and beeped softly, somehow illuminating the whole room, reflecting off every surface, darkening the tone, filling him with a sense of dread.
He shivered, and stepped away from the console, watching the colour drain away from the walls, once again drawing into contrast the difference between his skin and the colour of the room. Bright, stark white, everywhere, almost strangling him.
This was worse than being in darkness. It was so clinical, so… emotionless. At least darkness could hide something. Here, it was all out in the open, blindly showing that there was no feeling there, nothing at all.
Derek made his way over to the mirror; cupping his hands against his face and peering into it, trying to see past his reflection to the people he was sure were watching him behind.
“Hello?”
No response.
“Let me out.”
Silence.
He smacked his fist against the glass.
“Let me OUT!”
No reply. Not a murmur, any indication that anyone cared.
He slid down the glass, slumping on the floor. It was no use. He would have to wait and see what these people wanted from him. It wouldn’t be the ransom money, he was sure about that – these people had a more sinister agenda, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Derek held his head in his hands, and a tear trickled down his face.