The Plot Thickens

The Boy Who Couldn't Speak.

"Ah, Weaver. It's nice to see you again," his captor said to the boy. He was met by only silence. Figures.

"Now, you can do what we discussed earlier, yes?" he asked. Still silence. But what was he talking about? What did they discuss. Doodle was filled with nothing but fear and anger. He just wanted to go home.

The boy Doodle now knew as Weaver approached him, while the other man fled the room immediately, but not before giving Doodle a taunting glare before leaving. Jackass.

The child threw aside his tablet, it's squishy case protecting it from shattering. Doodle gave him a pleading stare, one filled with betrayal and sorrow. The one guy in the server he liked, and he turned out to be a terrorist. Just his luck.

Much to his dismay, the boy returned the stare, also filled with sorrow, and pity. Maybe there was a semblance of the boy he knew in there.

Doodle quickly changed his reaction when Weaver pulled out a small knife out of his back pocket, holding it close to Doodle. The tension in the air was high—but there was no way Weaver would kill him, right?

Doodle's breathing increased, his heart seeming like it could break free of his chest at any second. Weaver still held the gaze of sorrow, and it seemed his hands were trembling quite a bit. Or maybe Doodle was just seeing things.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest when Weaver swiftly gripped his hands, and raised the knife. Doodle's eyes widened, before swiftly shutting. He didn't want to watch.

But then, much to his surprise, Doodle's hands felt free. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that the ropes that bound his hands were now cut, his arms now regaining their mobility.

Doodle was flooded with relief, and would have smiled if it weren't for his gagged mouth. Weaver then proceeded to free him from the rest of his bindings, and he couldn't help but give the small child a big hug.

But there was no time to dilly dally. They had a revolution to stop.