0010: Trapped in Darkness

When Carlos regained consciousness, he was disoriented, trapped in a cramped, dark space barely large enough to fit his frame. With his hands tied behind his back and his legs bound, he struggled futilely to free himself. The gag in his mouth stifled his screams for help, which faded into exhausted whimpers over time. He could feel the motion of the vehicle, deducing he was likely in the trunk of a moving car. After what felt like an eternity, the motion ceased and the confined space was abruptly exposed to light as the trunk lid was flung open.

Standing above him were the two masked men, looming large and intimidating. Before Carlos could take in his surroundings, one of them quickly covered his face with a sack, obscuring his vision and deepening his sense of vulnerability.

The men hoisted him up efficiently, one gripping under his armpits and the other by his legs, and carried him into a building. The echo of their footsteps suggested a large, empty space — likely a warehouse. They set him down on an iron chair that was bolted to the floor, securing him tightly to it. With a swift motion, they removed the sack from his head, and Carlos squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light.

In front of him stood the two masked men and an elderly Caucasian man who appeared to be in his early seventies. The elder man exuded an air of authority, and his expression mixed disappointment with concern as he looked Carlos over. Carlos’s fear peaked, prompting an involuntary reaction as he began to wet himself.

Observing this, the elder man sighed deeply and shook his head, turning to the masked men. "Didn’t I tell you to be gentle with him?" His tone was stern but carried a hint of regret.

One of the masked men responded apologetically, "I’m so sorry, sir. He tried reaching for his phone, and I had to act quickly to avoid complications."

The elder man shook his head again, his disappointment evident. "You certainly did. Look at how terrified he is. What's that smell?"

"I believe he pooped himself, Sir," the masked man replied.

The elder man's gaze softened slightly as he addressed Carlos. "I don't blame you. If I were in your shoes, I probably would have done the same. How hard was the blow?" he asked, turning back to the masked man.

"It knocked him out, sir," the masked man answered.

With a frown, the elderly man warned sternly, "Don’t let it happen again. He’s our guest, not our prisoner. What good is he to us dead?"

"I understand, sir. It won’t happen again," the masked man assured, nodding earnestly.

The elder man then turned his attention back to Carlos, his demeanor shifting towards a more diplomatic tone. "Now, let’s talk. You’re probably wondering why you’re here. Let me explain..."

“Listen,” the elderly man began, his voice calm yet firm, “I apologize for the rough handling. We needed to ensure you didn’t escape or call for help. It’s imperative you understand.”

Carlos tried to respond, but his words were muffled by the gag. Observing his futile attempts to speak, the elderly man motioned to one of the masked men. "Remove the gag," he commanded. Turning back to Carlos, he added sternly, "You must promise not to scream once it's off. We can't afford another incident like the one earlier, understood?"

Carlos nodded vigorously from side to side, signaling his comprehension of the precarious situation. As the gag was removed, he drew deep, ragged breaths, his voice hoarse. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" he managed to ask, his tone laced with both fear and urgency.

The elderly man pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Carlos. “My name is Edgar, and you, my boy, are connected to something very valuable to us,” Edgar explained, his gaze locked on Carlos’s eyes. “You’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps the right time, depending on how you look at it.”

Carlos, still trying to process his situation, responded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a regular guy.”

Edgar chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not quite, my boy. You see, the person you've been moving with is of great interest to us. We've been tracking her for a while, and your involvement, whether voluntary or not, has brought you to our attention.”

Feeling his panic rise, Carlos said, “I don’t have anything to do with any of this. I swear.”

Edgar leaned closer, his expression serious. “That may be, but you might unknowingly hold the key to what we need. For now, you’re safe here. No harm will come to you as long as you cooperate.”

Carlos nodded, understanding his precarious position. Edgar stood up, signaling to the masked men. “Make sure he’s comfortable. We have a lot to discuss, but it can wait until he’s settled.”

As Edgar walked away, the tension in Carlos's muscles eased slightly, though the uncertainty of his fate hung heavily in the air.

After a few hours in the dark warehouse, Carlos began to hear echoes of footsteps approaching. Each step resonated through the vast space, matching the rhythm of Carlos’s escalating heartbeats. One particular set of footsteps sounded louder, like the sharp tap of polished shoes against the concrete floor. The footsteps halted abruptly, and a commanding voice followed, "Switch on the lights."

Moments later, bright lights flooded the space, blinding Carlos temporarily as the bulbs were positioned directly in front of him. The same authoritative voice, spoke from behind the glare, "Why is this place still stinking? Didn't you clean him up?"

"No sir," came another voice, less authoritative.

From the sound of the voices and the setup, Carlos recognized that it was Edgar and his team. However, the blinding light obscured his vision, preventing him from seeing them clearly.

Edgar's voice continued, authoritative and impatient, "Do that now, and when you're done, let me know. Be quick with it."