The Mask of New Paris ✓

*Teaser: Abducted*

When Reed opens his eyes, darkness greets him. The air around him is humid. A faint scratching noise draws his attention to a darkened corner of the room. His hands are bound together behind his back. His legs are feeling numb.

He stretches his neck, hearing a satisfactory crack as his vertebrae click. An itch terrorizes the stubble on his cheek. His mouth feels dry and his throat aches. Dust is whirling from the wooden beams above.

A series of footsteps approach in an adjacent space. The door creaks open, allowing a beam of light to enter the room. As Reed looks at the vague shadows that approach him, he's still trying to blink away the black spots in his eyes. A rough hand lands on his shoulder, accompanied by the soothing and melodic voice he has been hearing for the past days.

"Mr. Whitacre." It says, emphasizing his name with a little squeeze in his shoulder. Reed looks up, wanting to see the face that belongs to the hand, but it remains in the dark.

The sound of knuckles cracking, Reed glances at the source of the sound. A man, round and sturdy grimaces at hi mand chuckles at Reed's reaction. He knows what is coming. Every day since he was locked up in this room, the two man arrive. One asks questions, the other one delivers the punches. Reed's muscles shift underneath his creased shirt, preparing for one blow after the other. A dull ache on his left cheek reminds him of the questioning from the day before.

"Here we are again." The calm voice says, introducing the interrogation that will follow without doubt. The hand leaves his shoulder and instead firmly grasps Reed's chin and forces him to stare in the direction of the shadowed features of his captor.

"I have a surprise for you, Mr. Whitacre." The man continues, forcefully pushing Reed's face away from him before Reed got the chance to actually decipher a feature or two. The man stalks away from his captive, the heels of his shoes echoing in the room. The man takes his position next to the door post, clasping his hands behind his back and balancing on his heels as if he's a little child waiting for a surprise.

"Perhaps you would like to know what it is." The man suggests causing the other one to gruffly snort.

"You know..." the man at the door starts, pacing back in front of Reed. Reed warily observes him, the way the man struts to the center of the room, casually without a care in the world. "We thought that the married life might change your mind... You know, draw your attention away from us."

A deep unsettling fear holds Reed in a tight grip as a breath remains in his lungs . Unwanting to hear the rest of what is about to come, he's forced to listen to the taunting voice of his unknown captor as it continues.

"We didn't think she would care enough about you to go and search for you, that we tell. And we most certainly didn't expect her to get on the right track."

Reed's thoughts flicker in panic. If they hurt Annabelle, he wouldn't know what to do. Ever since he left her alone in that hotel room, his thoughts have wandered over to her, hoping she would be safe and wise enough to go back home to Eauville. New Paris had proven to be a dangerous place. He cared for her deeply. If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself. If he had just told her from the start about his suspicions, she would at least be aware of the men who are now after her.

"She's quite clever, that wife of yours." The man said, bringing Reed back into reality with an alarming crush. "In fact, I am quite entranced by her. A simple woman from Eauville, following her husband to the wonderful world of New Paris society. She figured it all out... Well, most of it, that is."

Reed wanted to shout, scream, kick and punch. But he had fought against his bindings and failed. The rope around his wrists still caused the wounds to open and hurt.

"Since I am so fond of your dearest Annabelle, I thought it appropriate to invite her." The man continues, a smirk laced through every syllable of her name.

"Don't you have anything to say, Mr. Whitacre?" The taunting voice continues as Reed struggles against the rope around his wrists.

The man lets out a haughty laugh. He turns his back on his captive. "The world is changing, Mr. Whitacre. However, we both know you are one of those few who refuse to accept that change."

"Luckily for us, we can make you."

With those final words, the man leaves the room, giving Reed enough time to capture the nice fit of a dark costume and a mop of neatly trimmed dark hair atop of his head before he turns around the corner and disappears from the view.

The other man laughs. "Now it's just you and me." He says right before the first blow hits Reed square in the stomach.