Spectrum

1.2: Black

Ropes were wrapped around the young man's waist, legs, and arms, not allowing him to move about the back of a moving… something. He did not know what he was in, for he had never left his flat pardoning the occasional walk and to garden with Mister Caspian. Fear was not the furthest thing from his mind, but something that was battling it for top spot of his emotions was curiousity. Where was this automobile going? Why was he bound? What did the man mean by 'a whole lot less than darkness'? Isn't that all he could see too? What even was 'darkness', and how does one 'see' it? Confusion was another emotion nearing the top of the list, a long list of questions extending to the furthest recesses of his mind. 

Darkness, see? How does one see? Is it even something that can be done? Where am I going? How am I moving? Where even am I? These thoughts ran over and over in the teen's mind like cogs on a wheel, and it made him sick to his stomach. All these things he did not know, all these things that Mister Caspian should have told him, all these things… 

As the wheels of the automobile Tate currently sat in slowed to a halt, the driver's door was opened and the man stepped out. Now, if Tate could have seen the man, he would have seen a rather skinny yet slightly sinewy character with murky brown eyes and hair to match get out of the car (which he matched the height of) with stubble dotting his chin. He had thin, pale scars lining his arms, and torn clothing that would have put any decent designer to shame. 

To put it quite frankly, the imposter looked like a truant, down to the crazed look in his eyes. 

Heat fell upon the male's skin as his kidnapper opened the hindquarter doors of the automobile, grabbing him and yanking him out of the back. The imposter was determined to not have to carry his captive, so he untied Tate's legs so that he could walk, but quickly clamped a chain on his wrists. 

Not that he would have to worry about the boy running off anyways; his surroundings were foreign to him, and a blind couldn't get far without at least having a decent grasp of where he was.  

"Move." The gruff voice commanded from behind the boy. "I am not moving your lazy-ass body for you." Tate took a few wary steps forward, trying to get accustomed to his new surroundings. It smelled different, sounded different, and felt different to the boy, who could smell what smelled like dirt and trees surrounding him. He could feel rocks and some long amorphous objects beneath his feet, which told him that if he tried to run, his attempts would be futile, for the odds were against him in him escaping without tripping over anything that fell in his way along the path. 

"Where am I moving too?" he asked the question in what he thought was under his breath, but his captor heard him, and grunted in response.  

"Don't get smart with me, boy. I should just leave you out here to die from starvation and thirst, but the SRU wants to meet with you first. Then we'll decide what to do with you from there. it doesn't matter to me what happens to you from here, but I guess you're important and special, and whatever to the Boss. So, if you want to live, I'd suggest you don't be smart with people, even people from the lowest of ranks."

While this short exchange had been taking place, they had slowly maneuvered through the forest and had come to a rather large warehouse, which, on the outside, appeared to the boy's captor as a large abandoned logging storage, which was a proper facade for this area. However, this was not the case.