Taking my message from the veins | Jarchie ✓

Twelve.

Darkness.

That's all that surrounded Jughead, just an endless pit of black, his breath escapes ragged and warm, the hands tied securely behind his back wriggle under the constraints. A groan passes his lips, a throbbing pain resonating from beyond his scalp— he recalled trees, a desperate escape, the fight for survival in all its greed, and he remembered the strike to his head, harsh and heavy, purposeful, enough of a blow to cause his consciousness to slip between the cracks.

And now it's here, stranded in a cold room, bound to a chair, something over his head, it's texture course, a bag maybe, and he's left to dread what comes next.

What Jughead isn't aware of is the man stood in the doorway, a cascade of darkness around him as he awaits instruction, the man hadn't made his presence known— he hadn't moved an inch. Just remained poised and ready— he wouldn't have counted himself as a moral man, usually he doesn't portray emotions, his job is his job, it had to be done, but as he eyed the teen before him his guts seized. He's at least ten years younger than any other unfortunate person he'd stolen for someone else's purpose.

The man doesn't have kids himself, but he knew that somewhere out there in the wide world would be two parents worried sick for their child— praying for it's safe return. That thought alone made his moral compass tilt between what's right and what's wrong— then he's stuck in that thought.

The man began to question himself. Am I doing the right thing? And in this business, hesitation made people weak, it was the fine line between staying alive and being killed. If he didn't follow orders there would be no mercy— so he swallowed back his rising doubt and cleared his expression of all intention, of all clear emotion.

Then, the phone buzzing from within the man's pocket penetrates the thick silence, it makes Jughead stir, his head lifting, he can't see a thing but knows there's someone in the room with him. The man's heavy boots tread the floor with purpose as he takes the call outside, the fresh air that meets his lungs clears his head— to think he was going to blow a shit load of money in the name of mercy.

"Prep the boy for interrogation." He knows the voice, he knows the man behind the words, knows his power, so doesn't argue and obliged like an obedient dog.
~*~*

There's something morose hanging in the air as Archie and the others struggle to come to grips with had just taken place. The tension is palpable as they each take turns to stare at the other, occasionally glancing at the door, hoping it'll spring open and reveal Jughead— it doesn't happen.

They rack their minds, wondering who had been behind the hands that grabbed Jughead. Cheryl claims she saw nothing, just thin air replacing where Jughead was, and Archie believed her— the desperate expression on her face spoke a thousand unsaid words; that's she's sorry she can't tell him more. He's quick to reassure her— "this isn't your fault Cheryl."

There's only one assailant that would want to take Jughead and was desperate enough to do so. And Archie's looking right at the daughter of said person.

Archie's hot on Veronica's tail and he wrongly takes his anger out on her— she has helped them— and somewhere in the panic he's forgotten that. "Think Veronica, where would your daddy dearest want to take Jughead?"

Veronica's helpless, mouth opening and closing as she fights to find words, she wanted to relive Archie's tension but can't. Not one of them can. Only when they have Jughead back will Archie be alright again. For now, he was walking around with only half a heart.

"Arch," Betty's voice drowns the thoughts racing around Archie's head and he turned to look at her— awaiting her pity. "We'll find him, I promise you."

"I know," Archie nodded, defiant. "Because I'm not resting until he's back where he should be."

Where he belongs, at Archie's side.

"I'm going to call my mom, she may have the answers," Veronica stood to her feet, preparing to walk away but not before she linked eyes with Archie, seeing the terror, reflecting her own, in them. "I'm going to sort this, I'm sorry Archie."

#

Jughead's eyes took a second or two to acclimatise to the light as the bag was removed from over his head. The first thing his stare settles on is Hiram Lodge stood a few feet away— his arms folded and adorned in a suit. Behind him are two men, blank faced, they so almost look bored. 

"Jughead Jones," Hiram spoke, taking a step forwards, as calm and composed as always despite the current predicament. "I'm so pleased you could make it."

Jughead scoffed, features contorting into a glower, all its strength aimed solely at Hiram. "As if I had a choice."

"You wouldn't have come if I'd have given you one anyway," Hiram stated, his shoes shifting against the floor once more— steps leading him closer and closer to Jughead. "Sometimes you have to play the bad guy."

Jughead gulped, wondering how far Hiram was willing to take this 'bad guy' act. "That can't be difficult, it's in your nature after all."

Hiram gave a dismissive smirk. "I'd be careful, I don't appreciate those who talk back." He warned, creeping closer still.

"I bet you don't," Jughead mumbled under his breath, heart thumping within his chest, his calm exterior falters as Hiram stops at his feet— smirking stoically. This his voice raises and Hiram can hear him loud and clear. "What do you want from me? From us?"

Hiram beamed at the question, lowering himself into Jughead's eye line. "Just think," he began. "All the power I could have if I was to show the world two young boys who's veins glow— it'll be a phenomenon and I'd be right in the centre of it."

"But what have me and Archie done to deserve that? We'd be viewed as freaks!"

"It's unfortunate that this is happening to you," Hiram's tone held no pity, no real, genuine, emotion. "But what can you do? Life is tough— at least you'll be together."

Jughead's heart raced, feeling alone, hoping to god that Archie was safe. "But were not together, do you see Archie?"

Hiram straightened his spine, standing rigid, furrowing his brows. "All in good time, Jughead, Archie will come looking for you and then he would have walked directly into my trap— I'll have you both."

Jughead gulped, he knew that Archie would already be searching for him, and like a magnet he would eventually be pulled towards this place. He just hoped he didn't come alone and the others would be with him. Maybe he'd even come armed, hiding a weapon behind his back...

"Now," Hiram shook Jughead from his thoughts, something alluring about his tone. "Let's find out how to make your veins glow, shall we?"

##
Hiram's such an idiot🙄 I wonder how he'll try to make Jughead's veins glow... o_O
Sorry it's been sooooooo long!