Blake Bertrand was completely isolated and terrified.
The young lawyer's chest was heaving as he struggled to keep his panicked breath with a large gag in his mouth. He had no idea where he was, how long he'd been there, or even where he'd been grabbed from. The last thing he could remember was putting his head to the pillow and going to sleep for the night. Only, instead of being woken up by his alarm in his bed, Blake awoke in a panic having found himself bound by chains, completely naked, to a metal chair. The chair was extremely uncomfortable, its unyielding steel so cold the wolf could feel it through his thick, protective fur. His wrists had been secured together with a set of police issued handcuffs, and each wrist shackled to the chair with two more sets of cuffs. A heavy chain had been tightly wrapped around his body, starting over his shoulders, down and around his chest, across his belly, before reaching all the way down to his knees which bound his torso to the chair. Lastly, his ankles had been shackled together and then to the legs of the chair, just like his wrists.
For hours, Blake had desperately fought to remain calm in the dank darkness, the cold yet humid air feeling damp on his thick fur. The gray wolf had been abandoned in the darkness and could only wonder how and why he'd ended up in this dank dungeon. Scariest of all? He had no idea how he was going to get back home. Nothing, in Blake's opinion, made a grown man feel more like a little boy than wanting to go home and not knowing how. It didn't matter if you were attending a business party you had no escape from, or waking up chained up in a strange dungeon.
At first, it had been too terrifying to process! In desperation to free himself, Blake had used all his strength to pull against his bindings, thrashing about like a fish on a dock. The young lawyer had screamed himself hoarse, shouting for so long, so hard he thought his vocal cords would break, but to no avail. The massive gag in his maw ensured no sound came from his mouth, and even if it had: who knew if there was even anyone around that could hear him? After a couple of minutes of this, Blake tired himself out enough he was able to calm himself down. Keeping this up, he knew, would only serve to injure himself. So, Blake took a deep breath and began to think things through. The lawyer hung limply in his bindings, conserving energy, and began to give himself a little pep talk: You're smart enough to figure this out. Plus, you're important enough, people will come looking. You'll get free.
Blake decided to use his biggest strength, his brain, and began to look at the situation as if it were a case of his: exploring all the angles, looking for any weakness in his opponent's case. When handed a fresh case, the defense attorney would always start by analyzing the known facts in an attempt to figure out what his advantages were. The problem? There was little in the way of 'known facts' and what he did know certainly didn't seem to work out in his favor... he wasn't even certain who his 'opponent', for lack of a better term, was!
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Agonizing over what he didn't know wouldn't help... focus on the known. That's what an old professor of his used to say all the time. First things first, where was he? Blake looked around, but couldn't see much. The room was so dark, the wolf's keen eyes couldn't even see the end of his snout! Blake could see so little he had first thought he was blindfolded, but the room was just that dark... and cold. He strained his sensitive ears but heard nothing except for maybe another person's extremely soft breathing. Blake wasn't positive at first. It was so soft, he wasn't entirely sure if he was really hearing it. Perhaps the 'breathing' was simply the product of an overactive and fearful imagination. However, the longer he listened, the more certain he became. There was indeed another person in the room with him: but who? His jailer watching him struggle for freedom, or was there another prisoner in the room?
Again, Blake shook his head in an effort to clear his mind. The fact someone else was in the room certainly made for an interesting tidbit, but in and of itself really told him nothing new. Blake decided to leave that idle speculation, for now, and focus on the other things he knew for sure. Only... the eerie, near silence made the wolf feel more claustrophobic than everything else. Having lived in the city his entire life, Blake wasn't used to such quiet! But, it did help the first puzzle piece click into place. Blake was somewhere remote, he guessed.
Touch, sight, touch... he mulled things over, coming to the conclusion he'd gone through three of the five senses, and only able to taste rubber from the gag in his mouth, he went to his nose. He couldn't smell much either, just the subtle earthy tone of dirt. Was he underground? A root cellar maybe? The city dwelling wolf had never been inside a root cellar, but he was going off what he'd read in mystery novels. He remembered reading the fictional account of a man who'd been locked up in a root cellar. He wondered how accurate the author of that novel had been in describing imprisonment in a root cellar? Was it enough to go off of?
Unable to discern much more, he turned his attention to an internal list of suspects. Who could have possibly done this? As a lawyer, Blake knew there were probably a couple of people that wouldn't mind seeing him dead. He actually ran through the suspect list quickly in his head. Top contenders had to be his wife's ex-husband, both because Blake was the direct cause of their breakup and for representing her in divorce court. Then there was his second wife, who was angry after their particularly nasty divorce. She'd filed after catching him cheating with his current wife, but that hadn't stopped him from using his keen legal mind and lessons learned from his first marriage. He'd taken her and her fourth string lawyer to the cleaners! Even in his dire circumstances, Blake smirked, thinking of the fat man in the expensive suit. Who else... Blake couldn't forget about the deadbeat gang banger who owed him thousands of dollars for legal representation in a case that hadn't exactly gone the defense's way. That was the law sometimes though, when you were fucked the best lawyer in the world couldn't save your ass. Or there was the prosecutor who'd actually threatened to kill him after a non-guilty verdict in a very public court case, which had likely tanked the young lawyer's career in the district attorney's office. Those were the prime suspects, yet none of them seemed to fit the bill. While all those people had their motives, Blake considered none of them to be the 'triple threat'. None of them had the means, brainpower, and the balls to actually go through with something like this.
Suddenly, there was a loud explosion of noise somewhere off to Blake's right, rattling of chains and screams of terror through a gag. The sudden outburst scared the shit out of Blake, and the bound wolf slowly turned to face the noise, wondering what the hell it was before he finally figured out it was his fellow prisoner. He'd been so consumed with his thoughts, he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. His fellow inmate it seemed had finally woken up and realized his plight.
Figuring out the source of the noise and realizing it was an annoyance more than an actual danger, the wolf settled back down in his chair. He waited for the other man to calm down. Perhaps once the other man settled, he and Blake could find a way to communicate, even with their gags, and put their minds together in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on! Blake soon discounted this thought, for as the minutes ticked by the other man did not calm down. Blake sniffed the air again, and could smell the man's sweaty desperation. In fact, had the other man actually soiled himself? He reeked of booze, poor hygiene, and now his own shit. He was a drunk, no doubt, but the heavy smell of alcohol didn't cover up the acidic smell of pure fear.
At first, Blake was sympathetic for the man.
They were perhaps total strangers, but they were experiencing the same pain and fear, both men falsely imprisoned and facing uncertain doom. Who better to commiserate with than the fellow damned? Blake's feelings of camaraderie quickly faded as his compassion turned to pity. The wolf found the man's useless blubbering to be pathetic, and as it dragged on Blake quickly started to lose patience. Blake needed help, and this man was only hurting him. Perhaps his gnashing of teeth made the stranger feel better, but his loud commotion was making it impossible for the defense attorney to calm down and focus. Eventually, exhaustion won the day and the other man settled down... and started to cry.
This is pathetic... The wolf thought to himself, listening to the man sob pitifully, shaking his head.
The hours continued too slowly whittle by... or maybe it was only minutes. Truthfully, time ceased all meaning for Blake. The only thing to break up the monotony of his prison was the continued outbursts of his fellow prisoner. Sporadically, Blake heard the other man's chains rattling while he struggled in vain against his bondage. Other times he would wail mournfully into his gag. After a while, these fruitless outbursts, thankfully, became less and less frequent and shorter in length as time dragged on and man lost hope. It was during one of these lulls when a new sound filled the silent bunker. The sound of metal scraping on metal, a big key going into a heavy duty lock. Then the quiet howl of rusty bearings filled the air, a gust of fresh air blowing in from outside as a metal door slid open.
Blake instantly perked up. The breeze felt incredible, fresh cool air replacing the stuffy, stale, sour air that filled the cellar. Blake hadn't even realized how desperate he was for some clean oxygen until he had it hitting him in the face. Even more reassuring though were many new smells that were carried by the wind. For a canine and his keen nose, smells were the best clues he could have. The breeze carried the odor of the country, but the wolf didn't recognize any of them. Again, he was a city boy through and through; he didn't know what cow shit, fertilizer, and freshly harvest corn smelled like. Yet, while these foreign odors told him nothing, not directly, sometimes what's missing that is important. There was no noxious odor of car exhaust wafting in from a congested road. No smell of food cooking, someone was always cooking in the city, or the sweaty bitter scent of humanity congregated in mass. Good, bad, or indifferent, these were the smells of a city. And their absence seemed to confirm he was somewhere remote, far from where he'd always lived and worked.
"The fuck do you want!" The wolf growled loudly in his most menacing voice, although it didn't come out very menacing or even intelligible through the gag in his mouth.
Despite the open door, little light penetrated into the darkness. Blake noticed the other man seemed to leap in surprise in his chair, his chains rattling loudly in the dark as he suddenly sat up. Apparently, his fellow prisoner didn't realize until just now there had been someone else in the room with him. Blake briefly wondered if the stranger felt embarrassed, as he'd spent a great bulk of the time crying. The proud wolf thought he would have felt ashamed, had their roles been reversed, and it had been him crying like a baby before a stranger. Blake couldn't worry about that now, however. The young lawyer's heart was racing in his chest, as it often did when Blake was about to start opening arguments in court. That same feeling of helpless impatience, when you could only wait to make your move. Blake stared with total concentration towards the door, watching and listening intently as the door slid open, allowing a small trickle of silvery light to enter the dungeon. Moonlight? It must be nighttime outside. Blake guessed it had to be about a day since they'd been captured. He wasn't hungry or sore enough for any more time to have passed, but he could definitely remember going to sleep the night before.
The door stopped, reaching the end of its track with a loud clang. Blake continued watching as a shadowy figure dressed all in black entered the dungeon. He took a few tentative steps inside, groping along the wall blindly as if looking for something. Too late, Blake realized what that 'something' must be. Before he could close his eyes, bright light flooded the dungeon. Any light would have been painful enough, Blake's eyes were adjusted to the total darkness. However, the extra powerful spotlight positioned right in front of his face, it seemed brighter than the sun itself and ranked highly on the most painful things Blake had ever experienced.
