Partners In Crime

24 The Culprit

Derick woke up with a dryness in his throat. He smacked his lips and took in his surroundings since all of this was new to him upon regaining consciousness. The only light source was the outside, the moonlight pretentiously flooding what appeared to be a basement. That's when he started to panic. He wanted to move but couldn't. He felt his arms and legs restricted and the chair he was sitting on certainly wasn't helping things. He kept gesturing side to side as if he were on some revolting rocking chair. But nothing was accomplished and almost tipped over.
Not wanting to exacerbate things, he tried to calm himself down.

Chelsea Fledmen.

The girl was facing opposite him and was also out cold.  Her hair was fantastically frazzled and her uniform had stains torn and bruised, like Derick's. But unlike Derick, she came around a lot sooner.

"W-where are we?"
"Some basement." Derick was panting every word, trying to be as casual as possible.
"You're telling me," Chelsea grimaced. She looked around.
"It looks like it's been put together in an afternoon. There's a bunch of unpainted plywood lying around it's disgusting. Such shabby workmen ship."
"Really? We've been kidnapped and put God knows where from God knows who in some basement. And all you care about is some basement?"
"An inadequate basement more like it." Chelsea corrected him. "Such a pigsty!"
"You don't get it, do you? Our goose is cooked! 110%. We have no idea where we are or how long we've been out. We can't call for help and the kidnappers are going to do away with us!"
"Calm down, will you? Dad will release a search party the second he realizes I'm, I mean, we're gone. Plus, if they wanted to kill us, wouldn't they have done it already?"

Chelsea had a point, even if she came across as uncaringly snarky and nonchalant about it, juxtaposing Derick's frustrated and apprehensive nature. If they wanted to kill them, they would of. So why keep them hostage? Derick did not doubt in his mind that the masterminds were the ones who wanted to make sure the case never got solved. And after several attempts of sabotage, they've done it. Derick scowled, swearing at himself. Of all the times they keep their guard up, this isn't one of them. Perhaps it was because it was the final stretch and there was nothing to worry about. Either it was interesting for them to kidnap the kids in broad daylight during break when no one was around. You'd think someone would have noticed.

None of this matters in the grand scheme of things. They're captured with no way out. Derick began losing it again, ignoring Chelsea's theory.

"This is not how I wanted to go out! Not now! No kid should experience this! I should have never done this! Johnty would never get his name cleared and I'm going to die with the last person I expect!"
"W-w-what?"
"You heard me! All this time I've thought we were friends. But I'm just a mere pathetic pawn to you. I did the same but at least I had the courtesy of not exploiting secrets and abusing trust. Personal trust! You burnt my beanie!"
The girl looked sincerely remorseful that she didn't even bother to deny it, even if how he knew this information came out of left field. She was heartbroken.
"You're just like all the others.  I mean, what was I to expect? I'm the idiot who shouldn't have seen it from the beginning. Just when I thought you changed. What crap.
By now the blonde was trembling like she saw a ghost. She had bags under her eyes and was the most tormented she had ever been. And it wasn't by anything she'd feared. Suddenly being kidnapped and held hostage in someone's basement didn't seem horrifying.
"Derick, I'm sorry! I-I didn't know what came over me. I sub come to peer pressure and-"

An audible sound of the door closing. Footsteps.
The sound of them penetrating the stagnant stairs as they creaked and moaned made both the kid's blood run cold. They hit the ground floor. As the figure stepped closer, so did its silhouette. It was a black man. A man who is ripped right from a horror film.

He was a massive silverback gorilla, with the weight of The Hulk, giving him a run for his money. And it shows. The monumental male was equipped with two sets of hefty, powerful and thick arms. Even his knuckles and fists were intimidating yet mesmerising at the same time. His head was as small as a Minifigure with deadly attractive eyes. He had a diamond ring along with his clothes, wanting to be put out of their misery with how much it's been strained and ripped.
His nose, ears, mouth, shoulders knees and toes looked like they were all pieces placed onto each other, like this man was a Mr Potato Head, with each scar and wound having its own story to tell.