Chapter Text
Shang-chi just wants to live a normal life, really. Just park his cars. Take his tips. Enjoy his edibles. Sing his heart out at karaoke.
In other words: avoid trouble.
But trouble always finds him, from the very moment he was born.
Which is why he has no clue where he’s being led, why he was stuffed into a crate, and flown over to where the hell he is now, forced up some flights of stairs, hands tied behind his back, mouth gagged with a mix of cloth and tape, rough hood over his head only removed when he’s pushed down to a sitting position, blinking his eyes in the dimly lit confines of a … dirt room?
That’s right. Dirt room. Not dirty.
Well, it is also dirty, as he looks around, and gets slapped in the head for his efforts, kissing the dirt on the floor as a result.
And from there, sideways, he sees his dad who he’s managed to avoid any contact with for the better part of 10 years, Xu Wenwu, mob boss of the Ten Rings Gang, in a wrinkled-to-hell shirt that used to be white, also being forced to the ground - kneeling, hands tied in front, also gagged.
Well that’s not good, for either of them.
Wenwu looks over at him, and Shang-chi experiences blind panic at being found by his dad, before reason takes over and he tells himself that his dad, too, is a victim. As unlikely as that is. Wenwu looks away, giving no reaction that he sees his son kidnapped in a dirt room with him.
And who knows. Maybe he forgot what Shang-chi looked like. Maybe he would rather pretend he didn’t have a son. Or maybe he’s just batshit crazy enough to stage a double kidnapping just to gain Shang-chi’s sympathies and try to lure him back into the Family and its drama.
Knowing his dad, it’s not out of the realm of possibility.
But no, their kidnappers are holding up a camera, one of them - mask over his face - grabs Wenwu by the hair and forces him to look up into the camera, while speaking in some language Shang-chi doesn’t know.
It’s probably an Asian language? They look Asian. But Asia is a large place and Shang-chi only speaks English and passable Chinese, and they are speaking neither. Or they could be speaking Chinese for all he knows. He only knows Mandarin.
The dude reads off the script written on paper held above the camera (seriously?) and at the end, the cameraman holds the camera closer to Wenwu’s face, before the other dude punches him out of the frame.
Shit. That looks like it hurt. Wenwu hits the floor with a grunt but doesn’t get up from his crumpled position on the ground, curling his legs to protect his stomach and privates.
And then they swing the camera toward him, and Shang-chi would very much like to not be punched, thank you. But he’s even worse off than Wenwu because he at least has his hands tied in the front, able to break his fall as he’s sucker punched into the ground.
Shang-chi just has his face. And he’s already kissed the floor once, with no desire to do so again.
But they grab him by his hair too - though he has a two-week old buzz cut so it’s not as easy - and speak some more words he can’t understand, before the expected camera close up and, such is his luck, the head punch.
Ow.
The kidnappers leave them after that, shuffling out one by one and slamming close the door.
That’s it? They’re really gonna leave them here like this?
Wenwu sits up, face red where he was hit - and that’s going to be a large bruise later - and starts undoing his gag. He doesn’t look over.
Well. Fine.
Shang-chi gets his arms under him, curls his legs in, and brings back his tied hands out in front. Then he also works at his gag. He might be a valet now but he remembers his training. Which other valet can claim they’ve killed a man before? Actually, no… he actually knows some one but that’s not the point!
Two can play at this game. He’ll just pretend some random dude is kidnapped in a room with him. That’s fine with him, no biggie.
They both work at their bonds in silence, on opposite sides of the (very small) room. Until Shang-chi starts breaking apart the ropes holding him, and Wenwu speaks up, voice familiar after all these years, and every bit as rude (to him).
“You should leave the ropes on. They’ll probably check at dinner time. And pull your hands back behind.”
“Oh yeah, definitely. No, hi, son, how are you? Pity that we meet like this, kidnapped separately for whatever reason. I’ve missed you, maybe, or at least thought about killing you. But no, he tells you to tie yourself back properly so your kidnappers can feel safe.”
He’s not salty. Who’s salty?
Wenwu blinks at him, clearly not expecting the entire rant spinning off of what he sees as reasonable advice.
“Hi, son, how are you?”
“Don’t placate me! I’m not a child anymore.”
Wenwu sets his mouth in a line and looks away, annoyed.
There’s a pause long enough for Shang-chi to assume their conversation is over, and then Wenwu says, “It’s because of your sister.”
Shang-chi rolls his eyes.
“What are you talking about now?”
“I retired. Xialing is the new boss of the Ten Rings. These men are seeking leverage on her, in all likelihood.”
Okay. So he’s out of the loop. But that’s reasonable considering he’d been doing his best to avoid any association with his past life.
He groans.
“So they kidnapped you. Which is laughable by the way, that you let yourself be kidnapped. And really strange they haven’t killed you. But me? Why me?? I’m not involved, I haven’t done anything, and they kidnapped me all the way from America to wherever the hell this place is!”
“Shang-chi,” Wenwu says, “Do not assume that just because you don’t contribute to the actions of the family that you will be excepted when retribution comes.”
“Great,” Shang-chi says, raising his bound hands toward the ceiling because even though his dad was blunt he did give reasonable advice and Shang-chi will pull his hands behind his back before the kidnappers come back. But not now, partly out of spite and partly because it’s not good for circulation. “Just great.”