Mr. Jeremiah raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't truly seem taken aback, though; in fact, it only seemed to entertain him. "What's going to happen," he said amused, "is that you and Miss Abernathy will be used for ransom. Your government is in shambles right now; I don't imagine they'd want to risk losing two of their highest agents." He shrugged. "If they do though, we can certainly work with that." He smirked down at Francis. "Thoughts?"
"No. Just let her go and take only me. She isn't high up, anyways," he said, only to make it sound like her being there wouldn't effect much. "Just let her go." To him, this was a point of convincing.
"Your attempts at persuasion are terrible," Mr. Jeremiah said, laughing. His chortle was deep and from his chest. "No, we're keeping the both of you. You two are quite valuable, did you know?"
Francis immediately tried to jump at him, momentarily forgetting the bonds and the chair. He cried out when the chains bent his wrists. Sitting back, he watched Jeremiah, his hands shaking. "I don't care. I don't care."
The man leaned against the cell wall, a grin spreading across his face. "Your little friend was fairly quick to regain consciousness, you know. We took care of that fairly quickly, though." (THIS GUY IS A REALLY BAD GUY)
(I HATE HIM.) Francis, who was looking down, quickly looked up at him, hatred in his eyes. "What did you do? Why?"
"She seemed a little upset," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "Kept struggling. It made it pretty difficult to move her anywhere. Another quick hit took care of that."
He restricted himself to stillness, only glaring. "Don't you touch her. Don't touch her. I'll kill you. I swear I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. I will watch you breathe your last breath with my hands around your throat."
Mr. Jeremiah only raised an eyebrow. After a moment, he leaned down until he was face to face with Francis. His breath smelt like cigarettes and mold. "But Mr. Craw," he said. "How are you going to do all that tied up in your chair?" He smirked and then walked back to the door of the cell before turning back to look at him. "I would be careful who you threaten, Mr. Craw," he said. "After all, I do hold your li-" He was cut off as a hand reached through the bars and stabbed a needle with a bright pink end into his neck. His expression turned to one of confusion, but a second later, he sighed, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell to the ground. Poppy stood there, her shoulders heaving with small gasps. She seemed relatively unharmed besides from the rather deep cut on her cheek, but her eyes were wide with fear.
She didn't respond at first, just nodded quickly. She kneeled down next to Jeremiah's body and searched until she found the keys and pulled them through the bars, the metal clinking lightly. She unlocked the cell door and hurried over to him, going around him and unlocking his chains, her fingers brushing over his wrists gently.
Despite the gentle touch, he winced. They pretty messed up from his struggling. "Is he dead? If he's not dead, then you might want to turn away once I'm free."
She undid the last chain, and they slid off his wrists. "He's not," she replied, her voice slightly hoarse. "He's unconscious. Phos thought of everything, it seems." She came back around to the front of the chair, and held his head in her hands, her eyes demanding his attention. "Even though I hate the guy, we don't really have time. Okay?"
Seeing her face, he hugged her. "Oh my God, Poppy. I was so scared. I thought I wouldn't see you again. Oh my God." He was shaking terribly, his head buried in her shoulder.
"Shh," she soothed, stroking his hair with one hand while the other rested on his back. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm going to be right here." She kissed the top of his head, although with his arms around her, he would be able to feel that she was trembling too. "I'm here."
He let go of her, pulling back. "Alright. We need to leave now," he said, before stepping over to Mr. Jeremiah and kicking him in the side as hard as he could. The crack of ribs echoed momentarily as he stepped over the unconscious man.
Poppy winced at the sound of the ribs breaking, but she stepped over him and followed Francis into the hallway, locking the door behind them. "I passed a staircase on the way over here to find you," she whispered. "I think it leads up to the exit."
He took her hand, ignoring the throbbing pain in his wrist. "Let's go. I don't want to stay here any longer."
Her fingers intertwined with his, and she nodded. "Yeah. Come on." She led them back the way she had came, turning a corner to reveal a guard with a pink dart in his neck lying next to a staircase. "They dragged me from up there," she said, frowning. She rubbed the bump that butt of the gun had left on her head as she thought. "If I remember correctly, the room we came in should be right at the top of this staircase."
He shot her a worried look, but continued climbing the staircase. "I can't wait to get out of here," he said quietly, adrenaline rushing through his body as he eagerly stepped up the stairs.
