Characters:Billy Kaplan, Kidnappers, Mephisto Setting: Somewhere in India Content: Mild violence Summery: What will become of Billy Kaplan? Set the day after this
When Billy awoke it was with a throbbing headache and the taste of cotton his mouth. The cotton belonged to the hastily tied gag, and his face twisted in confusion as though hoping to squirm out of his binds. His hands were tied as well, behind his back and to the rungs of the rusty metal chair on which he was sat.
He shifted, and a new face seemed to take notice, approaching him with a smile the young man found entirely disturbing. He looked to be Indian, and when he spoke it was in a language Billy wasn’t familiar with. He had another vial like that first man had, and Billy reared away from it after his last experience with it. Was it some kind of acid? Who were these people?
The man chuckled, letting a small amount spill out onto his fingers, and Billy frowned as it left him unharmed. Then he flicked it in Billy’s face, and he jerked violently, the droplets burning. A sharp pain, but a quick one, and it faded quickly. Still, he didn’t understand.
He couldn’t use spells. Not so long as he had this gag on and was tied like this. The only power he had available to him was flight, and he decided it was best to keep that under wraps until an opportunity to escape presented itself.
The man was joined by the men who’d first taken him, and several others, all chattering and glancing towards him every now and then. Billy twisted about, trying to get a greater sense of his surroundings, and not let the panic take hold. It was there, right on the edge, just waiting to consume him, but for now, shock was holding it at bay.
Finally, he heard one name amongst the men’s words he knew, and it had him blanched with fear. Mephisto. He eyes flicked to the forgotten vial, left sitting on a nearby table, taking in the two lines forming the cross on its label. Some small part of him still had the cheek to think that was hardly fair, seeing as he was Jewish.
He didn’t have long to simmer in his fear before the devil himself appeared, having been summoned by his kidnappers. He was everything Billy had always feared, the thing that haunted his nightmares, the thing he came from, and in person that fear was amplified twenty fold.
There seemed to be some bartering going on, and it was several minutes before the mutant king of the underworld approached Billy, a discerning look on his face. Billy stared up at him, unblinking, heart beat echoing in his head, and he shrunk in his chair.
Mephisto seemed amused by this, kneeling so he was on eye level with this supposed soul fragment, peering at him with great interest, strong fingers gripping his jaw with a surprisingly light touch. Such a timid little thing to have come from himself, and it intrigued him. He stood there for sometime before standing and shaking his head, turning back to the men who had called him. “No,” he said, speaking in their tongue, “He has a fragment, but he is not of this world. I cannot simply reclaim. His piece will not fit.” They did not like this answer, and tried to argue before Mephisto hoisted one of them up holding him outstretched by the neck while he explained. “If you have two pictures, and tear them both into pieces, you cannot simply take a piece from the first picture and tape it to the second, even if they were of the same subject,” he hissed, “They were torn differently, and it is the same with the boy. He is no good to me. If I want him I will make a deal of my choosing, and you will not profit from it.”
The man was released, and Mephisto looked back to the boy, giving a small chuckle. Wonders would never cease.
In a blink he was gone, back to his own dimension, heedless of the damage he had caused here, and the kidnappers were left with a teenage mutant to get rid of. One had drawn a gun, saying he would take care of the boy himself if he was useless to them, but he was brought down by the voice of the man who had snatched the boy off the street.
The boy could still be of use. Before they had snatched him they had seen him speaking with one of America’s more famous businessmen, Mr. Stark. Whatever their relationship, Stark certainly had the money to spare, and would certainly pay to see the child returned unharmed.
The man didn't share this information with his fellows however, not yet. He wanted to see if he would accept first, and then he would prove himself the real brains of the operation. The mood stayed tense, but the gun was put away while the one man set about finding out the contact information for Stark, someone dragging the chair holding Billy off into another room, closing the door and leaving him sitting mute and blind in the pitch black nothingness, blinking back tears, and trying to sort out what the hell had just happened.