Blank Mastermind, Part 11: Ransom

Okay, I’ve learned by now.

I’ll just shut up and give you guys the part and save rambles and updates for the bottom this time, okay?

Just the necessities up here.

So far, we’ve had our hero villain wake up with amnesia, make friends with his enemy’s sidekick, hide his memory loss from his henchmen, secretly foil his evil plans, get captured by his enemy (aka Amazing Man) and… where we last saw him… he was stated by an unknown party as the ransom to get Amazing Man’s son back.

Whew, that’s a lot.

It’s a lot better if you just read it. *gestures below*

Part 1: Waking Up

Part 2: Dallas

Part 3: Bad News

Part 4: Taking a Drive

Part 5: Meet the Gang

Part 6: All the Good Villain Bits

Part 7: Explosives

Part 8: Short Circuit

Part 9: Hospitality

Part 10: Kidnapper

And, join us for part 11!

kermit-freaking-out-muppet-show

Part 11

The Ransom

 

The seating arrangements were a bit different than last time on this trip to Logan.

 

This time, I was the wounded bargaining chip twiddling my thumbs in the back, while Dallas sat shotgun, casting occasional, worried glances back at me.

 

Charles did a good job of hiding it, but I could tell he was relieved about the ransom. I didn’t really blame him. I mean, “give me the jerk that you probably don’t want in your house anyway and enough money for a semi-large shopping trip and I’ll give you back your adorable son”.

 

Barely a decision.

 

Dallas was strangely doubtful of it, though. He slipped my pocketknife back to me before we got in the car. Nice. I could give up a fight, I guess. Though a gun would be a bit better for my chances

 

I brushed my fingers over the knife clip on my pocket as I watched different shades of black and grey speed past as we drove along. Quiet, classical music came from the radio up front and I appreciated it for simply not being Schoolhouse Rock.

 

I shifted my legs up and swung them onto the seat next to me, stifling a yawn. Nothing moved in the front seats. I tipped my head to see if Dallas was still awake. He was. Just staring straight out at the road. Man, these guys were quiet.

 

I cleared my throat a little, “Sooo . . . Charles.” That name was so goodie-two-shoes. He needed a nickname. “What superpowers do you have?”

 

He turned his head and glanced back at me for a second with his brow furrowed. I gave him what I hoped was a charming grin. If he could see it in the dark.

 

“You really don’t remember anything?”

 

“Well, there’s always the Alamo.”

 

Charles glanced back at me. He sighed. “Flight and super strength.” His voice was tired.

 

I nodded, “Cool.” He sounded reluctant to explain, so I didn’t push for more info.

 

I let my head fall back against the car window. The rattling of the bumpy road on the glass jackhammered my head for about ten seconds before I’d had enough. I wanted to sleep, not knock myself out. I sighed and put my head against the side of the seat instead, folding my arms across my chest.

 

Just when things were starting to get fuzzy and fade away, the car started slowing down and I slid forwards in my seat. The tires crunched against the gravel and the motor rumbled to a stop.

 

There was a click as Charles put the parking brake on. “We’re here.”

 

Figures.

 

I swung my feet down off the seat and stretched my arms behind my head. My fingers brushed against my bandage and I pulled on it a little.

 

Did I want to be handed over as a prisoner looking like a wounded man? On one hand, I might get some sympathy. On the other hand I’d look pretty helpless and pathetic.

 

I gave the bandage another tug and it collapsed into my lap in a white heap. I stuck it in my pocket. No chances on looking pathetic now. Except maybe my hair. I patted at the spikes shooting up all over my head.

 

No, it was punk. It would work with the leather jacket. I was fine.

 

Charles took a deep breath, “Well . . . dear Lord, keep us all safe tonight.” He clicked the handle on his door and it swung open letting in a gush of cold. Dallas zipped his hoodie up higher and followed suit.

 

I fiddled with my disobliging door lock and stumbled out gracefully a few seconds after them.

 

Road dust still hung in the air and I muffled a sneeze in the crook of my elbow. Charles stuck his hands in his coat pockets and nodded ahead of us, a slight breeze ruffling his light hair.

 

“Looks like our man is already here.”

 

I wiped at my nose and looked up.

 

Bad News’s truck.

 

My mouth fell open.

 

Charles licked his lips and pulled a hand out to look at his watch. “Ten o’clock, on the dot. Let’s be on time, shall we?” He failed at sounding encouraging.

 

I regained control of my jaw and swallowed as we walked forwards. I’d thought for sure . . . no, I was still sure that phone call wasn’t made by any of the gang. But then what was Bad News doing here?

 

Well, this was our haunt . . . maybe he just happened to be around? In the exact spot we were. At ten at night.

 

Yeah, no. Something was up.

 

All of our shoes made scuffing noises against the dirt at an uneven beat as we walked towards the black truck. The moon reflecting silver off the paint was pretty much the only reason I could see it.

 

It looked almost holy. Which was wrong because if there was one thing Bad News and his truck were not, it was holy.

 

Something moved around the side of the truck. I squinted at it. It was probably a person. Though he didn’t look big enough to be Bad News . . .

 

He walked around to the front of the truck and leaned on it, the moon glinting off the hood behind him and silhouetting spiked up hair and something small and pointed dangling from his mouth. Lovely. More gang members in on the kidnapping.

 

Charles stopped. “Hello?”

 

No answer.

 

I kept walking forward, “Roy?” The shadow didn’t move and I wondered if he’d heard me.

 

I took a few more steps, making the distance between us even smaller. It seemed like he’d turned into a statue. I stood still, watching him for a few seconds.

 

I blinked.

 

The shadow shot forward and something just about pulverized the left side of my jaw.

 

The ground came up from in back of me and hit that spot on my head that seemed particularly attracted to pain at this point.

 

The stars above got suddenly brighter for a second and bounced around crazily as I blinked up at them. The shadow, who was now quite obviously Roy stood over me and swore.

 

“I never thought you’d do something like . . . like this.” His tone was an angry hiss.

 

I blinked again. Do something like what? Like be a ransom for a kidnapped little boy? Right there with ya, Roy.

 

My train of thought was cut off as his fist hit my nose. I smelled blood, but my hand refused to move up to shield my face.

 

“Of all the low-down, dirty. . .” Roy pulled me up by the collar of my coat and reared back for another punch. I closed my eyes hard, bracing for it.

 

“Get off,” said a voice that sounded far away and quiet.

 

There was no noise for a bit, but I didn’t open my eyes.

 

“Mr. Tucker, get off of him.” A stronger voice, but it still sounded kind of far off.

 

I felt Roy shift a little. “You’re kidding me. You’re in with them?” His fist unclenched from my jacket and I fell to the ground again. A few more things were said, but I didn’t make them out.

 

After a few seconds they got a little clearer and I opened my eyes. More footsteps on gravel near my head. I pushed up onto my elbow and put my hand to my nose. It came away wet.

 

I held my sleeve cuff to it and turned my head to see an enormous shoe next to my hand. Bad News’s voice came from somewhere up in the atmosphere,

 

“Bloody nose?”

 

I looked up at him. Again with the sunglasses. Gotta block out that blinding moonlight. “Um . . . y-yeah.”

 

He nodded and looked back up.

 

I pulled myself to my feet, trying not to fall against him as I did. A bit of blood dripped off my sleeve onto my shirt. So much for not looking pathetic.

 

Roy was right next to me and still looked like he wanted to clean my clock. I swallowed down the sick feeling in the back of my throat.

 

Dallas pushed his way into the group, scowling, “Is this how you treat your ransom?”

 

Bad News frowned and pushed his fedora back to scratch his head, “Ransom?”

 

“Ransom, my ear.” Roy smacked my arm away from my nose and grabbed the collar of my coat again. I coughed. “Where’s Cardboard, you double-crossing scumbag?”

 

Cardboard?

 

“How should I know? Catching cockroaches in her dumpster, probably. Or maybe she’s taken up boxing.”

 

That awful pun earned me a hit to the stomach. I curled in as much as I could with the iron grip on my jacket and moaned.

 

“But . . .” Charles sounded confused as to why we were all talking about packaging instead of the reason we came in the first place. “Where’s Leif?”

 

Roy’s grip loosened a bit, but it didn’t seem like it was on purpose. “Leif? That Viking guy or something from history?”

 

“No, the one that’s my son and got kidnapped. We agreed to meet the kidnapper here with the ransom.” Charles gestured to me. I felt so important.

 

“What about Cardboard?” Roy let go of my jacket and I went to my knees, coughing.

 

“We didn’t take her,” Dallas shook his head.

 

Bad News gave his tie a tug. “We were supposed to meet the kidnapper here too . . .” he patted his coat pocket, “Got the ransom right here.” A smile pulled at the side of his mouth as he looked down at me. “Never heard of a person being the ransom before.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Chuckle it up, News.” I wiped the blood off my face with my sleeve as I stood. If I kept this up, my coat would be brown, not black.

 

Roy pulled the toothpick from his lips and snapped it between his fingers. “What a joke,” he spat and swore some more. Dallas looked close to plugging his ears.

 

I didn’t peg Roy as someone with this big of a temper. Maybe he only brought News’s truck to carry the body of whoever took his little girl.

 

“Geez, the bickering, guys . . .” a New York accented voice came from surprisingly close by. Everyone jumped.

 

A man in a black baseball hat, ski mask and jacket stepped forwards onto the gravel, pulling Cardboard with one hand and Leif with the other. Both looked grubby and scared.

 

Charles and Roy looked like coiled springs.

 

A glint of white teeth showed through the ski mask’s mouth hole. “You got the ransom?”


And we all know who that is.

Anyway, announcements and questions and stuffs.

So, I’m officially attempting to make this a weekly thing, so wish me luck with that. *waits for things to quiet after that wonderful piece of news*

Also *drumroll* I have a plot outline now.

*crickets*

“Great, Rosey. More stuff we can’t know about.”

I mean… yeah. But now I know where I’m going kind of. So I can do foreshadowing things and not be frantically building the rollercoaster tracks in front of me as I go.

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So I’m also thinking of maybe changing up the featured image thing on here. I mean, it’s a nice banner that I’ve made and stuff, but maybe I could find Unsplash pictures that are a bit more specific to the part itself. And then maybe just put my banner at the top of the part or something?

Just tell me what you guys think about that idea.

Aaand *blows raspberries* there was something else…

Oh yeah. I entered the Go Teen Writers contest with the beginning of this thing, so hopefully that goes well. 😀

And a good story song to leave off.

 

See you on the next cliffhanger!

~writefury

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44 responses to “Blank Mastermind, Part 11: Ransom

  1. Oh my gosh the Alamo. These are the comments I live for.
    This is good. I’m not allowed to fall in love with it any more because it would be creepy but you’re not making this easy… *glares at you*
    I wish you luck on the Writing Contest, you’ll probably win. 🙏🏻❤️

    • I WANTED TO USE THAT LINE FOR SO LONG. Seriously, I came up with a ton of jokes about remembering the Alamo like half a year ago and just now got to use them and I’m so happy. :3
      *smiles innocently* Sorreh. 😛
      Aww, thanks! ❤

  2. Wait, we know who he is?! Am I totally forgetting something, or are you pulling our leg? New-York accent, eh? Wait, I have it! *snaps fingers* It’s Donald Trump!
    Eh, maybe not. Maybe it’s the guy who murdered Wolfgang’s family. Maybe he also did some really bad stuff and framed Wolfgang for it with Amazing Man. Maybe I’m kind of clueless and wondering what on earth I’m missing.
    Every week sounds good. Please do it!!! *is torn between puppy dog eyes and threatening glare*

    • *looks at the character* I haven’t explored him much…. but I’m pretty sure he’s not Trump. XD
      Yeah, you’re a little off-base there… got one thing right, though! *won’t tell you what*
      *bows* and I shall try.

      • I know I got one thing right: I’m pretty much clueless. 😉
        But that’s okay. That means I’ll enjoy it even more when I find out his real identity. 😀

        • OH HOLD ON.
          Okay, you misunderstood. We don’t already know the kidnapper person. When I said “and we all know who that is” I was talking about the ransom. Wolfgang is the ransom. XD

          • *light bulb moment* Oh, okay. Thanks for clearing that up! 😉 Although I’m guessing we kind of indirectly know him some how… 😉

  3. These jokes *just dies* I love this.

    ALSO NO WE DON’T KNOW WHO THE KIDNAPPER IS!

    Roy has quickly risen to my top three favorites. 🙂 Dallas is adorable, and I still think something is off about Amazing Man.

    I seriously need the next part now why is it not next week yet. *flounders like a dying fish* <– did you get it? Flounder? Like the fish… I'm going to shut up now. XD

  4. What are you doing to us! I went into Dallas and Wolfy withdraw cause I didn’t get to read the next part for a week and a half!
    *dies* *comes back to rant more*
    WHO. IS. HE?!?!?!?!?!?! He’s lucky he’s not real, or he’d get a dozen girls at his throat in about two minutes. Also, I think Roy is very sweet now. Cause he’s that much concerned and almost fatherly to Cardboard. I love the protective, caring side you brought out in him. Poor guy.

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