Mikey is blindfolded, and he can't move, his arms are restrained and fear is piercing his heart. There is nothing but darkness. He can't even hear, they plugged his ears. Classified.

He never expected to get caught, he checked. No cameras. No bugs. No wires. Everything was perfectly planned out. They could get those clients, they could know where each corner it is that they control, and also who may be double-crossing his own.

He's surprised he hasn't died yet, but he also knows Patrick plays fair. He keeps his deals.

The truck stops moving, and Mikey doesn't entirely know where he is when they pull him up to his feet and force him out the back. He doesn't hear anything, doesn't see anything, doesn't even know where to put his feet. They walk for a while, then stop, and he feels a harsh punch to his gut before they start walking again, this time faster, and rougher.

He is terrified, because he could die. Becuase this could be it, or at the very least, the start of a long, traumatic punishment. They stop again, and this time he feels the hands on his arms get rougher and something hit the back of his head, hard.

He is out.

***

When Mikey wakes up, he knows a few hours have passed. There is a bruise in the back of his head that he feels throbbing slightly. He parts his eyes and squints, a bright light is shining in his eyes. He's in a room. It's cold, and it's empty. The walls are concrete, and he can't move his hands or his legs. He's tied to a chair. It's utterly silent.

It stays like that for hours. He eventually falls asleep again, but he can't move, there's nobody around. He tries yelling for someone, but there is no answer. The only door is across the room and way too far away for him to get to.

He loses track of time, he doesn't know how long he's been there, how long he has left. At some point, he starts to get really hungry, and yells for food, but there's nothing. No reply. No sounds. The walls must be soundproof or something.

He's starving, and the isolation is starting to get too much. He gets bored, and then he falls asleep. At some point, but he can't really remember, he thinks someone opens the door, but it's only temporary.

Then, he wakes up, and he's free. There's a tray of food on the floor. An apple, some soup, and water. He takes it down fast, doesn't even think twice. He's starving. And when he finishes, he begins walking around the room, his legs are cramped. The chair is gone, the lights are still bright.

He gets bored eventually, knocks on the door, tries opening it. Nothing.

He sits down and falls asleep on a cold, hard floor. He stays like that alone for what must be a week. He swears. The light is always on, without an inch of human contact with anybody. Without anything to talk to him, it's lonely. It's dehumanizing.

He falls asleep, and hopes when he wakes up, something will have changed.