Everything Clicks - An AJR Music Video Fic

IV - Role Models (Adam)

In case I hadn't made it very clear before, I don't remember anything between entering the second facility and the events I'm about to describe. I don't know that Jack or Ryan do either. Whether that fact was caused by drugs, trauma repression, or something else, I can't say with any kind of certainty. All I know is that between walking the path and what I remember happening afterward, I haven't even the vaguest idea what could've been done to me or my brothers. That concept scares me. Even now, I try not to think about it.

The three of us woke up in near-perfect unison. I dazedly glanced around to try and gain a sense of where I was. I found that I was sitting upright, and just after that, I found that I couldn't move any of my limbs further than a few millimeters. Immediately, I panicked. What had the Figures done now? How far would they stoop to ensure that we felt tortured? If that was their goal, they'd achieved it a long, long time ago. And I think I speak for all of us in saying that I wanted it to end as soon as possible.

I soon gathered that my arms had been tied back with rope behind my chair, and my legs were tied at the ankles. The same was also true with Jack and Ryan. It was a classic hostage scene, only this time in real life. Just as soon as the three of us had woken up, a general vibe of panic and unease had set in the room. I got the feeling we were going to be interrogated, or tortured, or maybe even something worse. I hoped not. My heart began to beat what had to have been a million times a minute, and I could feel my hands shake behind my back. I must've looked like a mess.

In my frantic worrying, I hadn't even noticed the changes in my surroundings. Rather than dwelling in cells or on a track, the three of us sat in an open, empty warehouse, the same one we had seen in the distance on our way here. In comparison, it was a bit of a scenery change from our last holding place. However, less concerned with the location change, I was more worried about one other detail I noticed. Surrounding the walls were what looked to be armed guards, carrying heavy and terrifying weaponry. I didn't want to wonder why they were there. I didn't think three musicians from New York City were a major threat to security. But hey, I guess you never know. Knowing that they were there, I was afraid to even move a muscle.

"What's going on?" I heard Jack mutter as quietly as possible.

Ryan shook his head with disconcertion. We had once again found ourselves in a scenario where we had no idea what to expect. By this point, that confusion and fear almost seemed normal. I hated it, we all hated it. That was probably the intention.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a push door opening and closing behind us, followed by multiple sets of heavy footsteps. I didn't dare turn around, I feared what I might see.

"So...these are the ones, sergeant?" A voice uttered with a slight Southern twinge, breaking the dense silence and echoing through the sparse warehouse.

There was no verbal response, but I assumed that the answer was yes.

After a few seconds, the footsteps began to scatter around the room, and I saw that most of them came from additional guards. As if those were necessary. One set of footsteps, however, seemed to be getting closer and closer to us. I wasn't sure whether to address it or ignore it. Making a split-second and hopefully life-saving decision, I opted for the latter.

The footsteps started to slow and grow incrementally louder until I saw a silhouette out of the corner of my eye, coming around my side. Without moving, I looked over. Strolling in front of us was a man, rather built with muscle and his hair cut close to his scalp. He was dressed in a casual-looking shirt and pants that resembled military attire. Whether he was actually military or not, I was in no position to assume. But based on the 'sergeant' thing from earlier, I had my guess.