A Quiet Life Denied

The sleek black car pulled away from the curb, leaving Zane standing on the sidewalk in its wake, the scent of exhaust hanging in the morning air.

"Good luck," Blair called out the window, her voice laced with her usual brand of lazy sarcasm.

"Yeah," Zane muttered to the empty air, a strange weight settling in his stomach. "I'm gonna need it."

He started walking towards the college entrance, his steps feeling heavier than usual. The sun was bright, casting long, sharp shadows across the pavement. Students milled about, a sea of faces filled with the normal, everyday anxieties of results day. Their chatter and laughter felt distant, like a movie he was no longer a part of, the volume turned down. He felt a profound sense of disconnect, an outsider watching a life that was, until recently, his own.

Then he saw him. Jason, the young police officer. He knew him through Lena; he'd been around her family functions a few times, a quiet but solid presence. He was a few years older, but always came across as a genuinely nice guy, the kind of person who seemed to radiate a calm, steady competence.

I should probably greet him

As he got closer, he saw that Jason was standing stiffly by a parked car, talking to a couple of guys. Something felt off. Jason's usual relaxed posture was gone, replaced by a rigid stillness

The gun pressed harder into Jason's back, a small, insistent point of cold steel. Zane, still oblivious to the danger, walked up with a friendly smile.

"Hey, man, it's been a while," he said, giving Jason a casual wave.

Jason's head snapped towards him, his eyes wide with a raw panic that Zane, in his own distracted state, mistook for surprise. He forced a smile, but it was a brittle, terrified thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Z-Zane. Hey. What's up?"

"Not much, just heading in for the results," Zane replied, his smile faltering slightly as he finally registered the tension radiating from the officer. He gestured towards the men standing with Jason. One had his hand on Jason's back, a little too familiarly. The other was sitting in the car, his face a mask of bored indifference. "Who are these people? Are they your friends?"

Before Jason could force another word out of his tight throat, Zane saw it. The glint of sunlight on the polished black steel of a handgun, held low and pressed against Jason's side by the man leaning against the car.

The man with the gun just nodded slowly at Zane. In a single, fluid motion that was both terrifyingly fast and unnervingly casual, another man stepped out from the alleyway, pointing his own gun directly at Zane's chest.

Jason's jaw tightened.

Zane's stomach dropped into ice. His knees wanted to lock. He couldn't even breathe—

"Oi."

The voice cut through the air like a blade.

"What's up?"

Franz.

Of course it was Franz.

"Why the commotion? Are they giving something out for free here?"

Few moments before...

....

....

The engine of the motorcycle roared as he weaved through the morning traffic at a dangerously high speed. He pulled up near the college gate, the bike rumbling to a stop as he pulled off his black helmet, running a hand through his messy hair.

He noticed the scene immediately. It was a small, frozen tableau of wrongness in the middle of the bustling morning. The young police officer from his apartment that morning, Jason. There was a man behind him, sticking unnaturally close. Franz tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the subtle cues of a hostage situation.

Yup.

He thought a flicker of cold amusement in his mind.

Definitely got a gun up his ass. Maybe karma's getting to him.

< what's happening?>

[Franz is back to being a cold-hearted jerk again.]

Oh? Is that what is happening?

Where were you? he asked Arcadia, a hint of annoyance in his thoughts. I didn't hear from you for a while.

<Just had something to do.>

Sure. Be all mysterious.

He started walking towards the gate, fully intending to ignore the entire situation. It wasn't his problem. Then he saw Zane, our lovely protagonist, walk up to them with a dopey, friendly wave. And a moment later, another man appeared, putting a gun on Zane.

Did that just happen?

[Yup.]

Fuck.

Present...

Franz's arrival shattered the tense standoff. The man holding a gun on Zane flinched, his head turning towards the new voice. Just as he did, another man came up silently behind Franz, pressing the cold barrel of a pistol into his back.

Franz didn't even flinch. He slowly raised his hands in the air, a look of theatrical panic on his face.

"I surrender!" he announced, his voice loud enough for the students milling nearby to hear, cutting through the morning chatter. "I'll never sell drugs to students again, I swear! Just let me go, alright?!"

Heads turned. Phones were pulled out, their screens glinting in the sun. The kidnappers' carefully controlled, low-profile situation was suddenly the center of a dozen curious stares.

The man behind him spat, his voice a low, furious hiss. "Don't you fucking cause a commotion." He tried to play it off to the small crowd that was forming, forcing a laugh. "We're just friends! He's joking around!"

The man in the driver's seat of the car leaned over, his face a mask of cold fury. "Just put them in the car! People are gathering!"

This can't be real, Zane thought, his heart hammering against his ribs, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. I'm just a student. What did I just walk into? Who is this guy, Franz, that people are pointing guns at him? And now they're pointing them at me! He felt a rough hand grab his arm, the grip like a steel vise, shoving him towards the open door of the car.

He was pushed into the back seat, scrambling to adjust himself as he was squeezed into the right side. Franz was shoved in next to him, and then Jason on the left, his face pale and grim. Two more men climbed in, one on either side of the doors, their guns still pointed at them, their presence sucking all the air out of the small space. Another sat in the front passenger seat, his weapon resting on his lap, his cold, dead eyes on them in the rearview mirror.

The doors slammed shut, plunging them into a claustrophobic silence. The car lurched forward, pulling away from the curb and melting into traffic, leaving the confused students and the safety of the college behind.

Zane's mind was a roaring void of panic and disbelief. He looked at Jason, who was pale and sweating, his professional calm completely gone, replaced by the raw fear of a man who knew exactly how badly this could end. He looked at the armed men surrounding them, their faces hard and emotionless. Then he looked at Franz.

Franz was leaning back against the seat, perfectly relaxed, as if he were just on a casual drive. He had started whistling a soft, cheerful tune, the sound an absurd and terrifying counterpoint to the life-or-death situation they were in.

"Why," Zane whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at the back of the driver's head. "Why is this happening to me?"

A/N

Thanks for reading this chapter!

Please comment.

XOXO

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Thanks for reading the chapter! Please keep commenting; it really helps. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and I'm looking for a character illustration of Franz. If you have any ideas for his design, I'd love to hear them.Thanks for reading the chapter! Please keep commenting; it really helps. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and I'm looking for a character illustration of Franz. If you have any ideas for his design, I'd love to hear them.Thanks for reading the chapter! Please keep commenting; it really helps. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and I'm looking for a character illustration of Franz. If you have any ideas for his design, I'd love to hear them.Thanks for reading the chapter! Please keep commenting; it really helps. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and

. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and

illustration of Franz. If you have any ideas for his design, I'd love to hear them.Thanks for reading the chapter! Please keep commenting; it really helps. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and

. I'm also thinking of changing the cover, and