"And that lovely sound it makes when the bone snaps! Hah!" Roach likes this man! He was pink, sure, but he had an understanding of how the world worked that tickled his fancy quite well. He had to say he was shocked that his dear housemate had hidden him from her for so long, so shocked that he simply had to say it.

"I much say I am shocked that my dear housemate Megan hid you from me for so long! Old acquaintances, you said you were?"

"Yes... Very old. Old as time. But you don't want to hear about the past, do you? The present is so much more... enticing." Oh~~~ The way he spoke sent a shiver up the giant cockroaches nonexistent spine! He was so... dark! So drab and dreary! One might event say he was delightfully detestable! He wondered what the man tasted like, but knew that his roomie wouldn't like him eating the houseguests, especially the ones she liked, and how could she not like this man? He was one in a million!

"Oh this is so very true, my good lad! Bringing me back to the present, I do recall I had quite a chore list to fill out! Most importantly, I was to grab dinner for my pink fleshed room mate and myself. She was to eat a hamburger, and I was to eat a fast food salesman! Perhaps, would you like to assist me on my journey?" His both sets hands met in the middle, holding each other, as if he were begging just a little. Perhaps they could make a stop, and cause some delicious havoc?

"No. I'll stay here and wait for Megan. She and I haven't seen each other in so long. I couldn't keep her waiting. That would be wrong." Roaches hands dropped, and his antennae drooped. "Oh... I do suppose your desire to stay and wait has merit. Well, should you not be here by the time I get back, It has been quite a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps some time we could have you over for dinner!" His mandibles clacked a few times, and he held out an insectoid hand.

A strong looking human hand grasped it, and shook it firmly. "You never know. Maybe we'll have you over for dinner some time."

The Roach paused, tilted his head a little bit, failed to decipher the meaning of his sentence, failed to care, and failed not to leave. He was out the door rather quickly.

A smile slowly formed on Trenton Mikal's face. "Now, my little spider... Hurry home to the web... We have so much catching up to do."

Who would have thunk it? The only other store within six blocks that owned a damn box set of Horse in the city, and it was literally just down the street from her!

With a grin on her lips, the twenty five year old took the stairs up to her floor two at a time. She was more than a little excited to just sit and relax for one night, especially with the surprise she had planned for her roommate. She hadn't told him about the dvd, mostly because she wanted to see the look on his face when she showed it to him. It was decided, rather quickly, that she would spring it upon him after dinner...

Rounding the top of the stairs, she paused momentarily to catch her breath. Her cheeks were pink and she felt light as a feather. Just down the hallway, her door sat waiting. She practically skipped over, comfortable around her own home, and slipped her lock into the key.

It was unlocked. "Damnit, Greg!" Nothing fanned the flame of her ire more than unlocked doors. Call her paranoid, but she still clung to old habits. With a huff, she clutched her bag to her chest, and stomped into the house. She could hear shuffling off in a back room, and figured he was busy with something. "Roach! You left the door unlocked!"

Eyeballing the living area for a moment, she shrugged off a sudden, strange feeling that washed over her and marched onward, toward her room. She'd hide the bag under her bed until dinner was over.

"You went and picked up dinner, right?" She stopped just inside her door to slip her sneakers off, and glanced at herself in the mirror.

Her room was so... Quaint. He really had to give it to her, it was impressive how little she'd changed. All he needed to do was glance at her belongings... her clothes, her niknaks, and he could already tell she was just as shallow as ever. That was okay, though, because she was his shallow little witch. He placed the girl's grandmother's dress on the bed before him... Such a waste to throw it out like that. She would need it, after all.

His hand wandered down to the ring in his pocket. The dress was understandable, but how could she throw away this? It was unforgivable... He would have to punish her for it. He would be adding it to a long list of things he'd be punishing her for. His head lifted as he heard the girl enter, and he stepped into the closet of her room, peeking through the crack as she called out to her absent room mate. Little did she know the fool was gone, and by the time he got back, she would be long gone.

She entered the room, and he stepped out just in time for her to look into the mirror at his approaching form. He stood just behind her, examining her body with his eyes, as if he were assessing a slab of meat "I liked the old you better, but I suppose I can live with this." His hands shot forward to restrain her, one moving a chloroform soaked rag to her mouth, and the other grabbing her about the waist. He whispered into her ear as he gripped tightly. "You ran from me... That was a mistake. You can't always run from your mistakes."

She was busy assessing a fading bruise on her cheek, when something separated from the shadows behind her. She was fully prepared for it to be Roach.. it was always Roach...

But when it wasn't, and she recognized the face staring back at her in the mirror.... She froze. Her mind shut down fully, and she was pretty sure her heart stopped dead in her chest. Trent... was standing behind her. Trent... was in her room. An icy stillness washed over her, and before she could react he enveloped her in his own special brand of hug. The rag that was pressed to her nose and mouth smelled terrible, and panic jolted her back into action. She latched onto his arm and kicked, effectively knocking her feet into the dresser her mirror was balanced on.

As his words sank in, while the world tilted and started to fade, the reflective glass toppled from it's pedestal and crashed onto her floor. Large jagged pieces bounced across the room, and her eyes slipped closed as she went limp in his arms.

***

When she woke up again, the world felt like it was gently rocking. Probably because she was leaning forward enough that her head could easily loll from one side to the other as she regained consciousness. Groggily, she blinked and tried to raise her head. It was a task in and of itself.. but after a while she managed. There was something behind her, rather uncomfortable and hard... but she wasn't able to remove herself from it, as she had been tied rather securely around her middle to whatever it was.

A few questions jumped to the tip of her tongue, and she grunted, raising a hand to her eyes. Where was she? The last thing she could remember was--

Megan sucked in a breath, and forced her head up, jolting tired neck muscles in the process. "...Trent..." A look of absolute horror splashed onto her features as she slowly took in where he had taken her... A cozy little church. Pews lined up in rows all the way back to the entrance doors. She glanced down her herself, noticing for the first time that she was dressed in a very familiar gown... and her heart sank straight through the floor.

She was in her grandmothers wedding dress. In a church. With the man she had been avoiding for nearly five years. She shuddered visibly, the color washing from her cheeks, and pinned her eyes back on the man. On him... She couldn't even think of anything to say. After a moment of staring, she noticed that she was not the only person present. Three others, an older couple and a young woman, sat huddled off to the left of him. She could hear very soft prayers being spoken... but didn't know why.

Off to the right, her eyes alighted on a new face, and one that was very familiar. They were handcuffed together, and to the pew itself. If possible, her heart sank even further. "...What.. what is all of this?" The fact that she had found her voice at all was amazing, but it still lacked it's usual bolster. It was pale in comparison, and filled with so much fear. She could feel panic creeping in, slowly giving her back a little bit of strength.

Deep down, she knew the answer to her own question... but she was far too distracted at the moment to pay any attention to the tiny, inner voice.

Vicente was a mass of confusion. Every since…every since he woke up on that highway bridge, the assassin had been a whirlwind of memories and emotions that he really and truly did not want to recognize. He remembered absolutely everything that occurred when hey boy spat on him: him finding Megan, meeting her roommate Greg (the roach), sneaking back into his own apartment, then…the event that followed that. He remembered all of it! Even to the following day when he found Andrea…

He growled at that thought! Andrea was her name! He had found that little harpy that had escaped from him the first time! And he lost her! Just like that! And…what was with all that he had been spouting off about wanting to be young? That…couldn’t be…right?

Ever since waking up on that hard concrete, once again his old, belligerent self, the assassin had been trying to drown the memories in alcohol. Megan, the boy, his reams of youth, failing the gods, he didn’t want to remember any of it. That was why, after he had awoken and gotten his bearings, the assassin bee-lined it straight to the nearest bar and to the quickest shots of tequila. He was still a bit confused but the memories were pretty straight forward; after all, they had only occurred yesterday!

So much needed to be done, though. He needed to talk to Falcone, to continue his hunt for Andrea, and…maybe…talk to Megan. She destroyed his favorite clock radio after all!

Unfortunately, so confused was the assassin that he did not catch that he was being watched the whole time that he was in the bar. Nor did he notice the drugs that had been slipped into his drinks, nor the to large burly men that had been paid to haul his unconscious butt out of the bar, tie him up, and throw him into the back of the van.

Nope…Vicente didn’t notice any of that.

****

In the blackness behind his eyes, Vicente felt absolutely nothing. He didn’t feel the trunk ride, or the notice when they had stopped, or when he was dragged into an emptied out church. Vicente didn’t notice a damn thing as he sat there, slouched over and bound up pretty tight. As a matter of fact, he probably would have been most comfortable simply remaining in that sitting position. The darkness was comfortable, calming, but as he sat there, voice suddenly erupted through the dark…

>> "...What.. what is all of this?"

Megan… he inadvertently growled. Eyes slowly opened as the assassin grumbled and tried to shake the groggy pain that was behind his eyes. He snarled as he attempted to move but found that he was stuck fast, tied up rather intricately.

A snarl fell from his lips as his eyes finally adjusted and Vicente straightened up, just enough, to see that he was both handcuffed to someone he didn’t know, and to the wooden pew that he was situated on. This…was not good…

The fries would not last until he got back to the Mansion. Drew was sure of that. They were fresh and hot and would be all soggy by the time he managed the walk back to the Mansion from McGeneric's Burger Castle.

Yeah, Drew had been up late as usual and decided that a late night burger run was just what the Doc Prof ordered. Maybe not in so many words since Drew hadn't willingly gone into the man's domain in months but Drew thought it was implied at least. So he'd walked, because he didn't feel like firing up his car at this time of night just for a burger, all the way to the nearest McGeneric's and gotten himself a burger, fries, and one of those shakes with the candy bits in it. It was chocolate.

With his bag of deliciously unhealthy food clutched in one hand and the shake in the other Drew was coming up on the church he'd passed on the way out. Except there seemed to be some activity this time. A guy carrying a woman into the church and from what Drew could see she wasn't conscious. Drew frowned as his do gooder tendencies acted up. There was no way he could just walk by now.

"Guy better have enough cash to buy me new fries. These will be disgusting by the time I get done here."

With a few more mutterings to that effect, Drew followed the man into the church.

"Hey! Is she alright?"

Benefit of the doubt first. Mind you that was before he saw the hostages and various implements meant to restrain people and did he mention the thugs? Greaaaat.

"Yeah, I think I want you to let her go now. And them too."

A dismissive nod of the head was all the guy carrying the lady gave him in response. The thugs responded immediately though. The burger and fries went flying first as Drew dodged a punch. The shake followed immediately after, spilling out on the church floor. On the bright side though the valiant shake did not give up it's life in vain. One of the thugs slipped on it as they lunged for Drew again. He might have won if they hadn't managed to flank him. Just for the sake of appearance Drew struggled as they dragged him over to a pew and handcuffed him there.

The thugs left after that and returned some time later with a guy that was out like a light and smelled like a Mexican dive bar. Drew's nose wrinkled as they cuffed the two of them together.

"Just great. And me without my phone or com." he muttered.

Now he had to get out of here, rescue the girl, rescue the hostages, and do so with some random Joe strapped to him. The lady woke up finally at about the same time as Sleeping Beauty did.

"Good morning. Hope you slept well."

Drew was unable to keep all of the sarcastic lilt out of his voice.

It all came together nicely in the end, didn't it? Sure, there was a little hiccup with a minor witness getting involved, but all of the witnesses would be dead before long, so it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

The thugs he'd hired at high recommendation had proven invaluable, and while he enjoyed their company so greatly, their usefulness had expired. He reminded himself to tend to that after their guests awoke, which would be any minute. A 9mm pistol was held lazily in his hand as he paced about, carefully pressing his suit down to be sure it wasn't at all wrinkling. He was nervous; how couldn't he be? He was about to get married, after all.

He passed the small family seated at the pews off to the side a few times, and heard another whimper from the young one. He was driven to a halt, and spun toward her; she yet out a yelp as if struck... how quaint. "No crying. Smile. This is a happy occasion. You wouldn't want to end up like your dear brother, would you?" A pistol gripping hand motioned toward a pair of feet just visible around the corner. Another whimper was heard, and he sighed dryly, shrugging, and turning to head back toward Megan just in time to see her stir. She spoke, and he smiled pleasantly.

"Ahhh, my little Spider, you are awake! I apologize for the barbaric treatment of you on my part, but I had to be sure we made it here on time; it would have been locked up if we came any later." He strolled on up to her, looking her up and down, and frowning a little. "I heard it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony... Oh well, you and I were never the lucky type anyway." His head lifted up as he heard the old one stirring, and the idiotic would-be hero piping up like he had a right to speak. His face wore a look on unreasonable rage as he spun on them, and leveled his gun's sights on Drew.

"WHO SAID YOU COULD SPEAK?!" He kept the gun pointed as he approached, stopping a few yards away, and taking a deep breath. "I... Apologize. You are my guests... I only ask that you stay silent... after all, this is my wedding." He gave an insincere smile before turning and walking away. "Jason, Carlyle, come here, will you?" The two thugs approached as he walked, and matched pace with him as he headed down the isle, and to the back door, setting his gun on a chair as he passed. "Carlyle... Remember what we talked about before? Do it?" One of them gave a stiff nod, and pulled a knife, plunging it into the back of the other one, who struggled for a moment, and then went limp as Carlyle lowered him to the ground. "Great, now, I left your payment just outside the door in the trash can. Enjoy." The man turned to open the door, and Trent, as if it were an every day activity, reached over into one of the nearby pews, pulled a fire ax he'd stashed there, and smacked it into the back of the man's skull, leaving it where it landed.

He turned and patted his hands together lazily as he picked up his gun walked back toward the alter, and the late thug fell to the ground.

"Good. That takes care of that. Now, shall we get down to business? I'll need our guest's names so I can record the witnesses" He stopped at a podium just to the side of the alter, and pulled out a pen, ready to scribble down some names on a document. He looked up at them for a moment, a pleasant smile on his face. "Well? Don't everyone chime in at once."

She couldn't keep up with what was going in. For a few, panicked moments, she struggled with the rope that bound her to the large wooden cross, part of an elaborate backdrop behind the podium.

She just wanted to free herself, and leave. Escape through a back door or something while Trent was distracted... but the damn ropes were tied too tight!. She could barely get her fingers between her stomach and the bindings, without it digging in painfully.

She didn't bother to hide the fact that she was attempting to pry herself free when Trent turned back around, then made his way toward her. She did however, lean as far away from him as she could.

"Ahh, my little Spider..."

She felt her skin crawl, and automatically started pumping as much of her energy as she could into a full sized batch of spiders all along her back. She was too shocked to say anything back, but she reacted to his words accordingly. She shuddered, and as soon as he turned his back sh set about trying to turn and reach for wherever the knot in the rope was behind her.

Part of her wasn't surprised at the guns presence, she had never known him to be shy when it came to weapons. But the venom in his voice, and the anger that rippled through him caught her completely off guard. With another fear filled tremble, she doubled her efforts to free herself. Behind her, she could barely feel the knot... but no matter how hard she strained her arms, and tried to turn herself for more reach... she couldn't grasp it. He had bound her too tightly.

The burst of energy that had hit her from the shock of the whole situation was wearing off swiftly, leaving her little more than a shaking mess. She was starting to feel things again... just as she had the night she had left him in Oregon, all those years before.

"Carlyle... Remember what we talked about before? Do it?"

She watched, icy eyes honestly filled with a mix of fear and disbelief, as one of the men was swiftly taken down by the other... and then as the last was taken down by Trenton. Megan turned her eyes away at the last minute, unable to keep a soft, distressed whine from slipping from her. Her knees felt weak, and she was all of the sudden thankful that the rope around her midsection was present to keep her standing. The situation was starting to feel more and more impossible... Two people were dead (and one she had yet to notice). "...what happened to you...? You weren't like this before..." She probably knew than answer to that question as well... but didn't give herself time to think on it. He had always been a little violent, strong willed and intimidating. It had been one of the many things that had drawn her to him.

"We don't need witnesses for this... Please, Trent..." The timidness of her own voice grated her on the inside. She hadn't heard herself sound like such a soft, yellow bellied weakling in such a long time, that it only proved to force her further back into the past. She refused to look at him, instead deciding to stare across the room at the three strangers huddled together on a bench. The girl was young, if only a little younger than Megan herself. The unwanted feeling of guilt dig it's claws into her, and she shuddered again. A voice somewhere within kept whispering that this was all her fault, and it was.

She knew that truth well, and couldn't hide from it.

She was tired of running, anyway... she was tired of being someone else. And.... She was very, very tired of trying to outrun the blame. The anger that usually bubbled inside was quenched and buried. Her words were as hollow as she felt. Slowly, she turned her eyes back toward where Rafael and the other boy sat. At least one was a familiar face... though she doubted he could do much while handcuffed like that. Roach though... if he had been with th-- Like lightning, a pang of pure, unbridled fear shot through her. Where was Roach? Blue eyes shot to Trent, wide, accusing, and searching.

"Where is Gregory? What did you do to him!?" He had been at the apartment when she had left... she knew he had. The door had been unlocked, but not broken. Panic sprung back up, and pushed from oomph into her words.

Vicente heard absolutely nothing. All he could make out through the blackness of his mind were a few muffled voices, the sound of someone being commanding and shouting, and the smell of blood in the air. The assassin had opened his eyes just long enough to see Megan (looking terrified) but, for whatever reason he was still feeling extremely groggy. The only conclusion that he could come up with was that he had been drugged…again.

The assassin was usually so careful about his drinks, especially when he was about in public. But after everything that happened, he really should not have been all that surprised. After all, he woke up from a massive migraine and a flood of memories that did not seem to make a lick of sense. Of course he would try to drown the memories and forget everything that happened.

But it was obvious that it was a bad decision on his part. For whatever reason, someone had drugged him and now had him bound in a place that did not at all feel familiar. But as he attempted to open his eyes again to the harsh light, he growled and winced. Everything hurt and he could swear that he was seeing double. This was a turn of events that the assassin was simply not happy with.

He coughed and hacked as he tried to get the taste of dirt and blood out of his mouth. As he did so, he breathed heavily and looked around the room, willing his eyes to focus. It was then that everything slowly began to return to a sense of familiarity. Raising his head, he looked at the church and felt a pang of remembrance; he knew this place.

He dug through the hazy memories, digging deeper and deeper until he finally released where the hell he was…the church. It was the church where that the little green witch managed to get away from him! He bared his teeth as he struggled against his bonds, only to find that he was handcuffed to someone else; a young man that looked as if he had been roughed up pretty good.

The assassin tried to pull his wrist free but the handcuffs were tight and he could barely move. The drug was still in the middle of wearing off when he looked up to see a man, a deranged and psychotic looking man standing before everyone with a book and pen in hand.

>> "Good. That takes care of that. Now, shall we get down to business? I'll need our guest's names so I can record the witnesses…Well? Don't everyone chime in at once."[/b]

He growled, slightly drunkenly from the drug still coursing through his system as he glared up at the man with the book. It was obvious that he was behind all this…

“Voy a quitar a su cabeza y empujarlo donde el sol no brilla!!” he growled as he slumped slightly and glared at the person who was handcuffed to him. “What the hell is going on here!”

This guy was one heck of a ham, strutting up and down his self appointed stage. If he thought he was impressive or terrifying then Drew had news for him. He was about as scary as a fluffy little duckling in his eyes. So when the man whirled on him for speaking and pointed the gun flush between his eyes Drew did not flinch. He stared down the barrel dispassionately.

"Ask all you want, fella. I think I prefer to keep talking."

The situation wasn't a good one, his snarking aside. Frankly Drew was tired of ending up in situations like this. So that could possibly explain the tone he took with their captor. A captor that casually ordered one minion to kill the other and the killed the remaining man without even a flinch. A man who, if the earlier strutting was to be believed, had already killed one innocent. Drew would have to get out of these cuffs and get that gun away the crazy guy.

"Well I'll start, my wonderful host, I'm Vic McClane. Great to meet ya."

The burst of angry Spanish directed at Crazy Guy alerted Drew that his pew-mate was awake and not exactly happy. The glare drew nothing but a raised eyebrow.

"Well you got wasted by the smell of it and this guy's minions, who are dead now by the way, nabbed you. Seems we've been forcibly invited to a wedding."

"THE SEXY HAS OFFICIALLY RETURNED TO THE BUILDING!"

Hot damn did he make the most darling of scenes reentering into his home of homes, kicking the door open, sliding in on the hardwood floors, a pair of socks he'd traded a rack of ribs to a hobo for. In his mind, the piano was playing; it was a shame he had no shades.

Also a shame that there was not a single soul with which he could share that entrance with...

"Megan, my dear, I find your lack of presence disturbing! WHY AREN'T YOU HERE?!" He listened for an answer for a moment, realized the fact that she didn't answer might be related to the fact that she wasn't there, and decided to employ some expert sneaking skills in order to enter her private domain.

In short, he tippietoed through her open door, and had a peek around!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...what happened to you...? You weren't like this before..."

He froze in place, and his eyes locked onto hers... how dare she say that. How dare she ask what happened to him. "You. How could you pretend not to know what happened to me... You happened to me. I stood at that alter for hours waiting for you. Your family, my family, all of our friends watched as my heart was pulled from my chest. That's okay, though... I found out why you left. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't strong enough to control you. I am now. I will take you, and I will hold you down so that you can never escape." An intense stare turned into a kind smile in a flash. "Now now, don't act like you don't know how this works. A marriage is not legitimate without witnesses. Don't worry, though, They won't be around for when we consummate our relationship. If you want, you can even help kill them."


That drew a whimper from the family in the corner. He didn't care; they were
cowards, and they would do what he said because he had the means to scare them into their place.

"Your pet bug is fine. There was no need to kill him; he was too dull to even fathom my intentions."

His eyes wandered over the witness list; he'd already placed the preacher's name on it... It looked as if there were only four other lines for names...apparently you really didn't need a whole lot of witnesses for the bonding of two souls.

It also appeared that not all of their guests were of the same mentality as the quaint family. The detestable mercenary was still not all there; fair enough, though. He'd given the guy enough sedatives to keep him seeing double for a while. "Your name."

The other guest... He was even more detestable than the mercenary that had deflowered his one and only love. Well, that wasn't really true, but he seemed the type that wasn't really afraid of the danger he was in, and was so, so proud of himself for that. What he needed to realize, was that Trent didn't care if he was afraid. Real men didn't do things to make people afraid of them, and they didn't do things in order to terrify people, at least not without a reason to do them. Real men did bad things because in the end, they would get what they wanted out of it.

So, just in time for the defiant one to mouth off, give him a name that he was fairly certain was either fake, or unfortunate; considering his attitude, he figured it was fake.

"You talk too much."

His hand clenched the gun, he lifted it, leveled it on the girl in between her cowering parents, pulled the trigger twice, and rolled his eyes as he heard screams of pain, and anger. The preacher stood up, the gun was aimed at his wife, he withered and went to comfort and console his daughter as her life blood ran from her body and onto the church floor.

"That is what happens when you talk too much. Your name."

"You."

She flinched, but stood her ground. (not that she had much, seeing as she was tied to a freaking hunk of wood) It was what she had been expecting deep down, and though it touched a nerve, she managed not to crumble under the intensity in his eyes.

"How could you pretend not to know what happened to me... You happened to me. I stood at that alter for hours waiting for you. Your family, my family, all of our friends watched as my heart was pulled from my chest."

Her resolve weakened a little more, and she dropped her eyes from him. She didn't want to hear it... and she especially didn't want strangers hearing it, but there was no stopping it now. She had gone and opened her damn mouth, and brought it upon herself. Her hands balled into fists against the rope around her waist, and she clenched her teeth together until the muscles complained. While he spoke, reminding her of what she had done to him, she let a ball of silk build up inside her mouth. She didn't need to speak anyway... what was there really to say in response? Sorry I ruined your life... can you let me go now? After five years, and countless name and lifestyle changes, she knew that asking nicely wouldn't work....

"That's okay, though... I found out why you left. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't strong enough to control you. I am now. I will take you, and I will hold you down so that you can never escape."

The very notion of... that, it just didn't sit well with her. She felt cold, tired, and weak. The urge to run was slowly fading, as well as the desire to. What was the point anymore? He was just going to keep finding her... When he mentioned consummating the marriage, sealing the deal or whatever, she couldn't stop a bitter laugh from escaping from her. He set her mind at ease when he admitted that Gregory was fine, and now that she was free from worry for her... her friend, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

She didn't need to fret any more, now she could be purely ruled by rage and justified terror. Both of which only doubled as a new body flopped to the floor, while the sound of a gunshot reverberated off the walls. He had killed a girl. Someone who had done absolutely nothing other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She felt her heart racing in her chest, and brought her eyes back up to look at the after math. The girl was dying...

Inwardly, Megan fully accepted the blame for that. Even though she hadn't been the one to pull the trigger, she had been the cause of the mess that had brought Trent into the city. The guilt that swelled in her chest, a small bundle that no one other than herself knew about. She sucked in a breath, bit down on her own tongue in order to keep from lashing out at Trent with venomous words.

Vicente was still too groggy to really tell what was going on. He heard snarky comments being shot back and forth and snippets of his kidnapper’s plans and arguments for why he was doing this. Apparently this had something to do with Megan since she was tied up at the very front of the church, in a wedding dress, and they were the witnesses. Vicente was not happy about this. First of all, he still had a score to settle with that little spider queen for ruining his last job and, second, once the man said consummate, he was ready to leave. That was the last thing that he needed to see. He was still haunted with memories of his own tryst with that woman.

He definitely did not need to see a honeymoon before his eyes.

But as he tried to get his mind to stop being fuzzy (which was proving far more difficult than he would have liked), he took not of the man’s increasing irritation with both him and the young man that he was handcuffed too. Apparently the young man was also being somewhat difficult with his answers. Vicente liked the boy already.

Then a gunshot rang out, again, and that started to sober him up further. So far he knew that he had killed two of his henchman and now he shot an innocent girl that was sitting in the pews up ahead with her cringing family. Vicente could have cared less about them, but the last thing he wanted was for that gun to be trained on him, especially since he was bound this way. If he was going to die, it was going to be in a fair fight.

He demanded names again, but Vicente was still feeling a bit out of it as he ground his teeth and tried to slow his breathing. Why was it that whenever he was around Megan he was either drugged or effected in some way that left him incapacitated? He really, REALLY needed to get her out of life and stop being dragged into her affairs.

He felt the gun being aimed in his direction again. Whether it was trained on either the boy next to him, or himself, he didn’t know, and quite frankly, he just didn’t care. He needed to focus on clearing his mind just long enough to remove the sensation that the drugs were giving him.

But a scoff did fall from his lips at the man’s request for their identities.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?” he asked a bit weakly but a sarcastic smirk on his face. “Only a coward threatens a bound man.”

Drew was not fond of guns. In fact he rather hated the devilish inventions. They snuffed out lives far too easily. It took more willpower than Drew thought he had not to flinch as the weapon held in the madman's hand spat out two bullets. His expression visibly darkened as the child's life was cut short before her parents' very eyes. It was quite possible that the parents would hate him later, since the madman attributed his murder of their child to Drew's cavalier attitude. It was something he was trying not to blame himself for. At least, not until he'd killed the man that had pulled the trigger.

That thought stopped his mental processes short. Kill? No, even though the guy was a crazy axe murderer Drew wouldn't kill him. It wasn't a responsibility he could step up and take. Not while remaining sane. Focusing back on the task at hand, Drew leveled a gaze at their captor. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. So he smirked even though his eyes were cold.

"I wouldn't get to attached to that thing. I'm going to pry it from your fingers before this is over. My name is Vic McClane."

Drew wasn't bothering to pay much attention to the bound woman at this point. He was more concerned with that gun and how soon he could take it off of the guy holding it. For that matter he wasn't watching his partner in bondage, and wasn't that a thought for later, either. So his weak sounding taunt was a surprise when it reached Drew's ear. It did back up what Drew was attempting to do though so he said nothing, just smirked at their warden as though he agreed with the statement wholeheartedly.