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Joey’s hand hovered over the light switch.
His jacket was still swinging where he’d chucked it over one shoulder, and the keys jingled around his fingers before falling to a stop. A second before, he had stepped out of the back without a care in the world except clocking off and getting over to Shawn’s. That was when he saw them.
The shitty yellow light from the kitchen behind him didn’t reach to the middle of the bar, where the guy was standing. Joey had been ready to open his mouth, tell the stranger they’re closed and he was just locking up.
But his legs had clamped up, something freezing him in his tracks.
He couldn’t see the guy, aside from his large silhouette, but Joey knew the intruder was looking right at him. Equally motionless, some freakish mirror of Joey. Waiting.
Finally getting something to move, Joey gulped. Tentatively, his eyes flickered beyond the stranger, finding the dimly lit street outside bare. He felt like he shouldn’t be taking his eyes off the guy anyway, like he was some venomous spider.
Joey had just locked up the back. He was the last one in tonight, lock-up being an easy job. Usually. All he had left was to leave through the front door and lock it.
Didn’t look like that was much of an option right now.
Quickly trying to weigh his options, he felt oddly suspended. The world stopped dead, the moment ready to shatter when he picked his move.
One foot shuffled backwards.
“We’re… we’re closed.”
Leaving his breathy words behind in the silence, Joey turned and slammed the door. It took three strides to sprint to the back of the bar before he was thrusting the key desperately into the lock.
But he wasn’t alone in his hurry. The door was flung open, swinging back on itself as the hulking figure crossed into the kitchen.
The key was already turning, but Joey couldn’t help looking back. Stomping towards him, the stranger’s face became visible, deep ugly shadows carving into it from the stark light.
Joey managed to twist the lock, shouldering it open as the man advanced. He backed out stumbling into the small alley, ready to lock the door in his face and run for his fucking life, but two arms got there first.
An impact jolted him from behind. Before he could react, he was surrounded, arms pinned to his side by biceps crushing him. Doubling over, he felt his feet scrape over the ground, being lifted by the constricting grip and he kicked and squirmed for nothing.
He was gasping for breath and scrabbling for purchase on the ground when he looked back up, the first guy stepping calmly to obscure the light from the doorway.
Joey panted, throwing himself about with hardly any effect, grunting with the effort. His hair was falling into his face, breath short from the struggle. A burning glare didn’t stop the man who was mutely watching, now reaching into a pocket.
The glint of metal made Joey’s eyes widen, heart jumping up a gear.
He kicked and thrashed. The man only came closer, and the light cut out completely, door swinging shut on the street and Joey’s vision.
~
“This better be good Joe, where the fuck have you-“
“Clown.”
Shawn's anger evaporated from his mouth. What the fuck? He had half an urge to pull his phone down and check the caller, but he knew it had been Joey's number. So he kept the ringer glued to his ear.
“I suppose you were expecting your friend,” the grinning voice on the other end of the line said. Way too fucking smug. Shawn's blood was slowly turning to ice as he was forced to wait for this fucker to talk. Whatever he had to say couldn't be good.
A shriek and several booms of laughter erupted behind him, making him spin around. Corey looked over to him, grinning and pointing towards whatever the fuck Sid was up to now.
“Oi, tell Joey to hurry-“
Shawn screwed up his face and widened his eyes, sharply gesturing across his throat. This was serious.
Corey got a weird look on his face, a line appearing between his eyebrows. But he did shut up, turning to whack Mick on the shoulder. When the larger guy turned around, probably ready to kill, he was met with Corey's serious expression, nodding towards Shawn.
With the other guys glancing his way one-by-one, Shawn breathed in through his nose, but it didn’t stop his grip on the phone from quivering.
The man on the other end carried on.
“So glad to have got in touch. See, I've been making friends with Joey here. Feisty one, isn't he? I'm sure he'd have something to say about that unfortunate incident at that club the other night...”
Shawn knew what this was about. He had expected something from that fight. Anyone would be pissed to lose so much shit from right under their noses. He was prepared for retaliation, be it a shoot-up or...
But Joey??
“What the fuck do you want?” Shawn snarled. He'd had enough of being dictated to. He was starting to catch up with what was going on, and they weren't going to like what was coming to them if he was right.
“I expect we can agree on a fair price to put this behind us”
An odd sense of calm fell over Shawn. His hands stopped shaking, tightening on the phone instead.
“Where.”
~
Joey winced before his eyes were even open. His skull felt like it was pressing inwards, threatening to cave in.
Eyes cracking open, the shapes in front of him swam, refusing to settle and making his stomach lurch. He groaned, eyes falling shut again. He settled for shifting, trying to get more comfortable.
Then he stopped.
His head was hanging forwards since he was sitting up, but couldn't support it. But when he raised it, the floor seemingly swaying, and tried to stretch, roll out his shoulders, something bit into his wrists. Pinning his arms back.
What the...?
Against his instincts, he forced his eyes open again, choking down nausea as he twisted, trying to see more. His hands stayed clamped behind him, stinging pain lancing through his wrists at each motion. The angle had his shoulders pulled uncomfortably, back of the chair digging into them, unmoving.
Drawing in a breath, the air tasted of dust and fumes. Seemed about right with what he could see now his vision started to cooperate.
It honestly looked like Paul's dad's garage, if it was empty and someone had decided to paint with cobwebs and brick dust instead of… y’know, paint.
Okay, seriously, what the fuck. He was meant to be seeing Shawn tonight. Unless this was Shawn's idea of a sick joke. Joey didn't know the half of what that psycho got up to (and he didn't really want to) – but Shawn would never.
After another blink, a hazy image came back to him from the bar. There had been that guy-
"Ah, look!"
Joey's eyes flew shut again, cringing at the exclamation that came from nowhere. The ringing in his head circled but parted like clouds, letting him hear footsteps coming through the abandoned space.
"I had my doubts, I must say I was afraid we gave you too much, considering your size. But here you are."
Joey reacted late when a face swam into focus, blinking before pulling away. The chair didn't let him go far either, shoulder screaming at the weird angle as he pressed backwards
The man laughed at his efforts and just stepped closer, straightening up.
"Not much of a friend you've got, letting you get caught up in all this"
"Who are you?' Joey grit out, venom lacing his voice despite the effort not to slur.
The man turned a steely eye downwards.
"Someone the clown should have thought about before he sent his fists flying," he said.
"And that's why...?" Joey would have gestured to the scene, but the ties on his wrists sliced into the raw skin again. He huffed in frustration, trying to keep still.
"Very good. He's going to be sorry," the man snarled.
Joey screwed up his brows.
"Hate to point it out dude, but you're the one who came to my bar and drugged me. Don't think he asked you to do that. It's all on you."
Joey could claim he was trying to lighten the mood, but he couldn't say he was surprised by the slap that rang out a second after his words.
He did walk right into that.
The sting on his cheek didn't register, but his head whipping to the side reminded him of the nausea he had just shaken off. Under the turbulence seizing his skull again, he let his eyes close and breathed.
There was a breath out from above him too.
"I don't want this to be ugly," the man said, words reaching Joey's ears through the fog. "It doesn't have to be."
Joey thought his previous words held true, but he kept his mouth shut this time.
~
Shawn marched back to the group, but didn't join them. His phone was in his fist, and he grabbed his jacket with the other.
"Dude, what's going on?" Corey asked. The others had clearly caught on that something was happening, no more joking around. They all stared, intent.
"They've done something to Joey."
Paul paled. "Shit."
"Yeah, shit. They want the shit we took and more. So let's go show them what we think."
"We still have it, right?" Chris asked, uneasy.
"Most. In the basement," Shawn shot over his shoulder, already heading to his car.
~
"Like I said, I don't want this to be too hard on you" – Joey scoffed, but the man, surprisingly, ignored it – "but we will have to dress you up a bit."
Joey couldn't help the grin spreading wickedly over his face. Apparently he hadn't had the same education in self-preservation as most people.
"I love dressing up."
The guy glared at him, but got a sinister smile of his own.
"Then you won't mind this."
The bigger man pulled back an arm – on the same side he slapped Joey too, which was plain inconsiderate – and brought a fist down this time.
With the tooth-rattling impact, Joey felt something cold split skin at his temple, tearing across his forehead. Tingling numbness spread across that corner of his face in a chilling wave before a sting crawled over and out from the wound. There was the ringing in his ears again, vision clouding as he gasped in the fucking crusty air, tasting the-
Blood?
His eyes snapped open. It felt like it had happened in a second, but if there was already blood sliding over his cheek, pooling in the corner of his lips, he must have blacked out.
Forcing himself upright, his focus was snatched right away by a knife in his face.
His lips parted, searching for some form of what the fuck man, but the blade only came to rest on his lower lip, stopping him.
Bewildered, he raised his eyes to the cold ones staring down at him, eating him up.
"Very good," the man said, "I don't think we'll need much more. Now, if you hold still-"
But he was pushing the sharp metal down onto Joey's lip and he panicked, yanking his head away. He hissed at the nick of the cut that joined his swift movement.
The man tsked, mockingly shaking his head.
"Now, now," he chided, hand coming up to catch Joey by the chin. Joey jerked his head left and right, but the hold only tightened, fingers bruising his jaw.
"But it is perfect," the man admired, "now you certainly look the part."
Joey’s glare burned up at the man. But at last, he was lost for words. This guy seemed to twist everything back at him no matter what he tried.
Still, his kidnapper’s infuriatingly neutral face turned, leaving Joey a few moments to himself. His eyes traced after the guy as he began to pace slowly in front of him, though he was facing the opposite wall the whole time. Maybe on purpose, he held the knife behind his back. Its glint in the low light and the thin but clear edge of his own blood stared back at Joey.
As the measured footsteps kept falling, Joey’s eyes stopped bothering to follow their owner.
Being kidnapped was kind of cool, he supposed, but a lot more boring than he would have expected, he thought as he eyed a particularly big cobweb. It hung like a cloak from a shadowy corner, twitching occasionally when the man turned, dust bubbling around his feet.
Joey hated waiting. The guy he was stuck with wasn’t much for conversation, so he was alone with the stinging of his wounds. He tried to relax into the uncomfortable position, just too tight to let him rest. Rolling his eyes towards the cracked ceiling, he let a song fill his mind.
Soon enough, he discovered his head throbbed just the wrong side of pain to let him nod along. He settled for tapping his toe.
Zoning out to the taste of blood in his mouth and fog in his head – half from drugs, half the punch he was landed – Joey hardly noticed the man’s pacing steps slow until they stopped completely. Blinking in the new silence, his toes also stopped tapping their rhythms.
His heart ratcheted up a notch when the guy turned to face him again. Joey scrambled to salvage his expression from dropping into fear the way it tried to. He arranged his mouth into a vague snarl, but the man only scoffed.
In one brusque motion, the man brought the knife from behind his back again, swinging it forwards so his body followed the weapon towards Joey. So much for keeping his heart rate in check. Joey couldn’t help his eyes widening, glued on the knife which sliced towards him-
And stopped.
The man just beside him, the blade below his chin.
Joey forced himself to stay in place. Swallowed once. And then he heard it. The roar-sputter of an engine growing louder all too fast outside.
He was startled by how quickly he recognised it. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Because the image that filled his mind to the sound of that protesting engine was Shawn’s old car, helped even more by the fact Shawn always insisted on going too fast when the poor beast could hardly make the limit in the first place.
It hurt how hard he hoped then. The engine cut, and his heart was on a ledge. If that wasn’t his friend coming for him, he was staring down a barrel with no defence.
The blade jolted higher, nicking skin. Or maybe it had been Joey that moved. Staying still for this bastard wasn’t easy with the way the room swayed under him the longer he had to keep his head up.
Closing his eyes, he forced himself not to imagine Shawn walking towards them on the other side of that door. He really should be focussing on not slitting his own throat.
A ringing blow against the metal garage door made them both stiffen. Joey winced in the aftermath as clanging echoed through his skull.
As it petered out, a tinny ringing sound filled its place. That was Joey’s ringtone.
His captor shifted. He wasn’t being as careful with that literal knife at his throat as Joey would have liked. But, given their positions, Joey tactfully held his tongue.
“Clown.”
Joey actually bit his tongue now. Something about Shawn being addressed as a clown with such a straight face. But the tension radiating from the guy behind him told him that snorting with laughter right now wouldn’t go well for him.
The crackling voice that responded through the phone was incomprehensible, but even without hearing the words, Joey’s heart lifted clear of its perilous ledge. Shawn.
“Very well.”
The man moved some more – seriously, was this on purpose? – and a new noise came to plague Joey’s ears. A grating, scraping groan that made his hair stand on end. It took a few seconds before he realised it was the door lifting from the ground. Weak amber light from a distant headlight steadily spilled over the floor.
The door’s long ascent was stopped not halfway up. A burly hand reached under and shoved the metal upwards impatiently.
This place must have been old. A crease was left behind in the sheet of metal which screeched to a stop, letting Shawn step under it.
With only the faint orange light behind him, his face was deep in shadow. His eyes were buried in pools of it.
Nothing struck Joey as off (beyond the entire situation), but his captor’s knuckles tightened around the knife’s handle.
“I would invite you in, but your manners have clearly escaped you,” the guy spoke up between Shawn’s loud footsteps, “but, then again, we aren’t going up in flames. Maybe you’ll learn to behave yet.”
Shawn didn’t reply, didn’t even stop.
A sharp tug on his hair forced Joey’s face upwards, the knife biting again.
The footsteps stopped.
The new angle had Joey facing Shawn fully, and his friend looked down at him. Somewhere in the darkness, his eyes filled with rage. Joey felt the slow crawl of blood over his skin, suddenly aware of the tang of it on his tongue.
Shawn didn’t look up at the man holding him.
“Get the fuck off him.”
“Not so fast. I believe we had a deal.”
“You believe, do you?” Shawn drawled, finally meeting his eyes. “Well I don’t believe in deals where my fucking friends are the goods.”
“Careful,” the man warned. “Your friend is a right brat, and I’ll have no problems ending him if you make one move. I dare say I’d enjoy it.”
When his knife pivoted under Joey’s chin in a show to rile up Shawn, his gravity tilted with it. He hadn’t noticed how he was relying on the blade as a reference to stay upright. He tried to correct himself, but a drop of blood had already dripped into the outer corner of his eye.
Blinking it out, he glanced over at Shawn, who hadn’t moved. The man must be right, Shawn was too far away to get to him.
God, what did they give him? It was strong, but not in a fun way. He wished he was drunk. Maybe his head would stop pounding too.
“Who out of us should be careful, do you think?” Shawn replied despite the distance, “have you noticed anything, or are you really that blind?”
The man gulped.
“You are the clown. I don’t need a mask to know that.”
Oh yeah. Joey hadn’t even noticed. He had only ever seen that mask staring at him from the corner of Shawn’s room. The Shawn in front of him right now looked normal.
“See, I do need the mask,” Shawn responded, chillingly calm. “Don’t need people who recognise me.”
“Then you fucked up, clown.”
If Joey had been concentrating less on the dizzying ache behind his eyes, he would have clocked the waver in the man’s voice.
Shawn scoffed.
“You still think I’m the one who fucked up. Well, I guess it was stupid to forget that old thing,” he clapped his meaty hands together, a small smile on his face as he shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to kill you.”
A sudden piercing press of the keen blade snapped Joey right back to the room. Why wasn’t Shawn moving? The knife squeezed tighter to his neck.
The man’s voice was right in his ear.
“And how will you-”
A sudden impact jolted the knife away from Joey’s throat. Something pushed his chair from behind, jostling him.
The movement set the world to spinning again. Joey gritted his teeth. This was getting really fucking annoying.
A weight pressed on his shoulder. Before he could react to it, it was gone. There was someone in front of him. Almost on top of him.
He blinked through the blood at them. It was Paul. But there wasn’t this much blood before, was there? How much did he bleed?
Dazed, he found Paul again. Paul was smiling, like he often did, but with another blink Joey saw more of a grimace. It took another moment to take in his position, half-squatting in front of Joey’s chair, arms outstretched past Joey. He was… holding something?
Another shadow came into view from behind him. Peering around Paul’s shoulder, Joey made out Sid, wiping something long against his trousers. It caught the light then, a glint of amber. It’s enough.
Eyes widening, his swimming thoughts whirled back to the warm blood seeping over his shoulder. And though it made his head throb, Joey snapped his head back to face Paul.
Paul moved slowly, stepping around Joey. It was too far for Joey to twist his neck, his arms pinned too tight behind the chair, but he saw Paul’s hands on the man’s shoulders, pushing him up, the back of a lolling head.
They went out of sight and something thumped to the ground.
The roiling pain in Joey’s head dropped to his stomach. It wasn’t his blood clawing hot into his skin.
Beefy fingers grabbed Joey’s chin, forcing him to look away. The body pressed on the back of his mind, as if he could feel it behind him, even though with his head pounding it was difficult to focus on much.
His vision was filled with Shawn. Through the darkness, he looked grainy, but Joey could see his eyes roving across the wound above his eyeline.
Without noticing or even meaning too, Joey sagged into the hand supporting him. Shawn forced him back up again, finally looking him in the eye.
“That bastard,” Shawn growled.
“What the fuck, man?” Joey found himself blearily saying.
“Hang on,” Shawn’s thick fingers slipped from Joey’s face. He may not have needed them to stay upright, but Joey still let his chin fall to his chest.
They reappeared at his wrists, jostling the rope. Joey cried out when they tightened with a sharp tug, but a second later the coarse fibre of one strand grazed its way out, and the whole knot fell away.
Unprepared for the sudden release, of having no binds holding him, Joey was too late to catch himself. Luckily, Shawn was one step ahead. His sturdy hands were beneath Joey’s shoulders before he even noticed himself pitching forwards. After so long seizing up against the pinching edges of the chair, the muscles burned with the new movement.
“Stay with me.”
Shawn’s voice, rough in his ear, made Joey shake his hair back from his face, straighten his back.
“’m right here,” he stubbornly returned.
Pausing for a moment, Shawn drew back minutely. As if assessing whether Joey could actually sit on his own. With the space still unsettled around him, Joey gave in to just slumping back against the chair, now he could do that without ripping an arm from its socket.
Shawn’s lips drew together.
Bending onto one knee, his broad fingers tugged at the ropes on Joey’s ankles too. His gruff voice was still very clearly directed at Joey, even if he no longer looked him in the face.
“The fuck did they do to you, man?”
Joey shrugged. Then regretted it, a jolt of agonising cramp shooting along his shoulders.
His bitten-off cry probably did little to convince Shawn of his next words.
“Not much. Just punched me, wanted it to look bad.”
“It looks bad for him, alright,” Shawn eyed the collapsed figure darkly, yanking particularly hard at the rope.
Even though he could turn around now, take a look, Joey didn’t try. It only now crossed his mind that the guy might not be fully dead – and that maybe it would be better for him if he was.
“Didn’ bank on tonight being my first time on drugs,” Joey added, helpfully.
Shawn’s eyes were blazing, even among the darkness, as he straightened up.
“An’ they gave you something proper at that.”
Shawn scrutinised Joey, frown fierce and displeased. It may not have been aimed at him, really, but Joey shifted.
“Dude, can we just get the fuck out of here?”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Clasping his hands, Shawn looked around, taking in the whole scene. When had Mick got here, and Chris too? They stood either side of the door, Joey now saw, flanking Shawn.
Seemingly satisfied, Shawn ducked down to get one chunky arm around Joey, easily reaching to his other side. Even as he lumbered upright, lopsided with the need to support the smaller man, Shawn felt more stable to Joey than the solid chair and concrete floor had at any point in this whole shit-show.
“What did you even do to piss this guy off?” Joey groaned as they emerged beneath the dented door. Aside from two cars waiting, and a third van sitting dead, there was nothing around. The track under their feet was dirt, nothing but scratchy bushes lining it.
He had been in some deep shit, that much was clear. The realisation passed through him, but then Shawn was lugging him closer to the first car, where he saw Jim waiting at the driver's side.
A glance at the truck behind showed Craig, arms folded on the wheel. And a fleeting glimpse of Corey, crouching by the back, working on something – with the chain piled at his feet?
Joey spat out a laugh.
“Never mind,” he grinned, “everyone’s always mad at you, psycho.”