Hold Tight [Hugh Jackman! Logan! x Reader]

.:FIVE:.

~Jordan's P.O.V.~

"POP goes the weasel!" I sang horribly, successfully irritating the man guarding me. 

Ever since calling (Y/N), I've been bound up by rope to a simple wooden chair I bought at a thrift store about a year ago. I hated the chair, really, so maybe the whole situation is a chance to get rid of the damn thing. In fact, maybe my insurance would help me replace most things in my apartment if it came to a fight, I mused. I was definitely not a fan of this place, that was for certain. It was so...loquacious.

Yes I'm aware you would normally not call a living place talkative, but what else can you call it when there's been two murders and a hostage situation between these walls? I'm superstitious! And that includes what was currently going on.

I wiggled my hands around.

"OI! Probie, ever thought of doing better knots? I mean, whoever thought of using the Clove Knot and the Taut Line Hitch together to tie me down is a total idiot, I would have done-"

"Would you SHUT UP!" The guard jabbed his gun harshly against my temple. I just wrinkled my nose at him.

"Cool your tits, asshole. I'm giving you solid advice here."

"I'm three seconds away from blowing your brains out." He hissed.

"Oof, when was the last time you brushed your teeth, dude? What did you eat, sardines?" I fake gagged, then nearly gagged for real when I heard a small toot echo through the small amount of silence that followed my statement.

I coughed. "Did you just FART?! Oh my god."

The man backed off, sniffling awkwardly. "Uh, sorry."

"Naw, don't be. It's part of human nature, and certainly makes the best jokes." I snickered. "Now if you excuse me, I have a hundred lines about alcohol to sing about."

Taking a deep breath, "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" started to grace the poor man's ears.

If I was any worse there'd be blood.

A door banged open. "HEY! STOP THAT RACKET!"

"SHUT UP! Before you get us both killed!" Guard-Imma call him Jim, he seems like a Jim-growled.

I just raised an eyebrow and kept singing. "SEVENTY EIGHT BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL, SEVENTY EIGHT-"

A smashing blow landed on my ear, making my head ring. "MERDE!" I spat, glaring at the new man in the room. "Honestly, why are all of you wearing such nice boots?! Aren't they expensive to clean?! And where can I get a pair, seriously."

"Why haven't you gagged her yet?" The second man demanded Jim. I'm going to call him Herald.

"Herald, you have fabulous hair."

"Drug her." A deep voice commanded.

Apparently while I was complimenting Herald's amazing curly red locks-he didn't even say thank you, the prick-another, much older man entered the dark living room.

Okay, seriously, where are the women here?! And are all the bad guys just gathering in my bathroom or something. Or even worse, my bedroom?! At least they are considerate enough to save my electricity bill.

"And who are you, oh mighty stick up the ass?"

The man approached, and I faintly recognized his uniform as a member of government; also his face as the man from earlier, I guess. But no branch of legal-or nice-government would act like this. Plus, I haven't done anything wrong!