Noise: A Self-Para
Hunter blinked a little as he awoke, an annoying fuzziness in the forefront in his mind causing his vision to blur much longer than normal. It took less than two seconds for him to realize the situation, though, regardless of his lack of vision, and he drew in a sharp breath, attempting to sit up. Handcuffs locked around his wrists yanked him back down, though, and when he grunted in disapproval, he noticed the duct tape firmly strapped over his mouth. Taking a few deep breaths through his nose in order to try and steady his heart beat, his eyes scanned the room, vision finally clearing up. A staircase was directly in front of him, maybe about ten feet from where he sat, and at the top, there was a putrescent white door, presumably locked from the outside. He didn’t know exactly where he was -- only who brought him here. He sat up as best as he could, leaning back against whatever he was cuffed to, and stretched his legs out, trying to figure out how long he’d been out for. Maybe a few hours -- maybe even a few days. Ever since his initial kidnapping, honestly, days started to blur together, and time started to seem like some kind of cruel joke. He swallowed, wincing at the scratchiness in his throat. If the person who brought him here didn’t kill him soon, he though grimly, dehydration might do it all on its own.
And then, the door at the top of the staircase flew open. He barely flinched, his head lifting being the only movement he made. A pair of shoes made their way down the steps, slowly padding their way towards him. Only when they stopped in front of him did he look up to meet his captor’s eyes. They leaned down in front of him, reaching down and peeling the duct tape from over his mouth in a quick, solid motion. He grunted a little, but knew better than to yell for help. When they spoke to him, he didn’t even bother listening. The words were a jumbled mess, twisting their way to him enough so that even if he did want to hear them, he wouldn’t be able to. He blinked, staring at the grin in front of him, and that alone said enough to make him snarl. “Fuck you,” he whispered, just before another blow to his head came.
