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Chapter 5 ~ Elvis KIDNAPPED?!

*Denver, Colorado: Elvis POV*

"Thank you," Elvis breathed into the microphone, as the band played out the last few notes of the final song of the night. "Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. It's been a great show tonight. We've had a wonderful time here in Denver, and we hope y'all will invite us back again real soon." The piercing screams of the audience drowned out the sound of his voice as he continued thanking the crowd and slowly making his way off stage. The room was electric. Crazed women jumped, screamed, and tore at the officers restraining them from climbing onto the stage. Elvis paused every few steps to scan the audience and waive. 

As soon as he made it to the wing of the stage, security and assistants surrounded him. Soaked in sweat and dazed from the screams, lights and adrenaline rush of the show, Elvis surrendered to the direction of those around him as he was ushered into his dressing room. He gladly collapsed into the couch, as he felt cool rags wiped across his face and neck and was handed a bottle of water. After the roar of the crowd, which could be heard even down the backstage corridors of the coliseum, his dressing room was almost eerily silent (thanks to the sound proofing insulation requested by the king himself). It was a welcome relief.

"Hey fellas, what'd y'all think of the show tonight?" Elvis asked, looking up as his mafia and bandmates as they entered the dressing room.

"Great!" "Good show!" "Fantastic!" They replied, patting him on the back as they entered. 

"I tell you what, the crowd was something tonight," Elvis remarked. 

"Red, old boy," Elvis called across the room to Red who was standing just outside the door. "How about fetching a couple of dates for tonight, huh?" The boys whistled and yelled in agreement. 

Red smiled. "Yeah? What are we feeling tonight?" 

They all turned to look at Elvis for his lead. "You know what I like." Elvis smirked playfully. More whistles and nods of agreement. Red had his orders. "Bring'er back to the dressing room in... let's say 20 minutes? By then all you jokers will be outa here." He jabbed at the guys around him.

"Will do, boss," Red nodded in agreement. He had no intention of finding Elvis a playmate for the night, but he couldn't hold back his smile as he turned out of the dressing room. Instead of continuing towards the crowded auditorium, Red slipped down another hallway and out one of the side doors of the auditorium toward the brigade of cars lined up waiting for Elvis's departure.

One by one, assistants and mafia members filed out of Elvis' dressing room until only Elvis and Joe Esposito were left. As Elvis's road manager, Joe wanted to run through some of the details before their trip to Texas that night. He took a seat in the armchair next to the couch Elvis was sitting on. "Come on, E." He reasoned. "Let's just look at this schedule for tomorrow real quick and then I'll get out of your hair."

"Joe, you know I don't want to think about this shit right now." Elvis grunted. 

"I know, but we'll all feel more prepared if you do. It won't take but a second." Joe pulled out a notepad from his jacket pocket and began to run down the list. "I just want to make sure..." He trailed off. There was a knock at the door. 

"Oh thank God, Red is back." Elvis sighed. "This will have to wait, Joe. Could you get the door?" 

Joe gave Elvis a look and huffed as he got up to get the door. "Red, you always have the worst damn time---" Joe's voice caught as he looked up realizing it wasn't Red at the door. "Oh. Sorry, I thought you were someone else." He quipped. "He's not ready yet. It'll be at least another 30 minutes before we hit the road, so come back then."

Elvis heard a rough voice from the other side of the door, "We were told he was ready to go now."

"I don't know who told you that, but I'm the one who gives the orders around here." Joe barked. "We're finishing a planning discussion. Come back in 30 minutes or so." 

Elvis could tell Joe was annoyed and he definitely didn't want to hear him stress over travel details for the next 30 minutes. "Let'em in Joe."

The door swung wide revealing three very large men. Security detail. Elvis noted. They pushed past Joe into the room. Good evening, Mr. Presley, the smallest of the bunch greeted as another closed the door behind them. 

No sooner had the door clicked closed as one of the men grabbed Joe and the other rushed for Elvis on the couch. Joe was a big guy, one of Elvis's best security guys, but these men were linebackers. Joe struggled, yelling for help as loud as he could before his attacker pulled out a rag and placed it over his mouth. Joe slumped over.

After two back to back shows, Elvis was in no condition to put up much of a fight, but he had a slight advantage over Joe in that he had a moment to react before he was tackled by one of the linebackers. He felt a large rough hand wrap around his face, covering his nose and his mouth in its giant grasp. The realization of what was happening set in, as did panic. He struggled against the weight of the man on top of him, twisting and kicking in an attempt to gain leverage. Breaking one of his arms free he punched the man's side before reaching for his neck and twisting himself and the linebacker onto the floor. 

"Chloroform!" a gruff voice spat from above him.

He managed to free his mouth from man's grip. He called for help, but it was half hearted, as he knew it was no use. Soundproofing was nice, but as Joe had warned him many times, it wasn't safe. No sooner had he gotten one full call for help out as his mouth was covered again, but this time, with a damp cloth. The room began to dance. He could feel his strength waining and his body falling weaker and weaker until he was slipping in and out of consciousness. As his body lapsed, he felt himself being picked up and laid out onto the couch. Something held his wrists together and something he felt tied around his ankles. A strange mixture of emotions surged through his body as he fell into darkness. But for the most part he felt fear.