(for the kidnapped prompts) “Are you awake?” Violet asked, her voice absolutely exhausted. She had only just woken up, not sure how long she had been here or how long she had been asleep for. She sighed, rolling her eyes after examining her surroundings. This seemed like a place she’d love to explore if only she were here by her own free will.
Ed groaned, his eyes fluttering open.
Everything hurt.
He squeezed his eyes shut and draped an arm over them to block out the light. This was the worst hangover he'd had in a long time.
...Except he didn't remember drinking anything.
Not hungover. Drugged, he realized. And not his anxiety medicine, nor the usual poison that he'd kicked the habit of years ago.
It took him a moment to process what happened.
He'd been at the big tech conference in Boston, and there was that fancy social dinner at the end of the first day that he hated but unfortunately had to attend because fuck whoever at Encom decided those sorts of things should be mandatory for socializing and networking, especially on the first day when he had barely gotten to Boston less than 24 hours prior, was still jetlagged to shit, and then had a full day where he couldn't escape to find five minutes alone to himself.
So fine, maybe it was an Ed problem, but who's dumb idea was it to voluntell him onto this ridiculous business trip? Ah, Ed spends all his time alone in his office coding. He needs to spend more time socializing. A conference will be good for him.
Ed had stepped out of the stupid, fancy ballroom that the dinner was being held in, out of social spoons and quickly running out of spoons that were meant for other tasks. He had also been feeling nauseous, and couldn't tell if it was a food allergy something on his plate had been in contact with, or something else.
He barely remembered what happened after that. Someone had come up from behind him, asked him if he was alright. Ed had answered in the affirmative, claiming he needed air. The other responded 'good,' and then grabbed him, just as he processed who the voice belonged to: his father's assistant.
Peter pressed a wet cloth over his nose and mouth, and then... blackness.
"No," Ed groused, vaguely recognizing the voice that was talking to him.
Flynn's kid. Whatever his father wanted with her was decidedly not good.
"Does it count if I wish I weren't?" Regardless, he dropped his arm, and propped himself into a sitting position, and hands sweeping the cold tile floor beneath him in search of his glasses.
No glasses. An old tactic. Typical. Unfortunately, he was blind without them, so that would make getting out... challenging.
Tile. They'd moved them from the hotel to somewhere else.
He checked his pockets. Wallet, cellphone, and keys were all gone. No surprise there.
"We need to figure out how to get out of here, now," he finally said. "I need you to describe the room we're in in as much detail as possible.
