The Trapper

Whaddup, Peaches?

Go ahead. Get the screaming out. The only thing I hate more than talking over people is repeating myself.

[Ostensibly long pause, nothing happens]

What, nothing left in the tank? Well, that's okay. Makes my life a hell of a lot easier. Let's break through the FAQs: No, I'm not letting you go, no, I specifically am not going to hurt you, no, I don't take bribes, and no, I'm not taking the ropes off.

Well I see you are an expert at giving the silent treatment. Makes this a whole lot easier on my end. I'm sure you've stitched your whole situation together by now, right?

[Sigh] At least indicate you're actually awake or still half listening.

{Listener nods}

...I'll take a nod.

Screaming won't do you any good, given no one is here for miles. This little establishment is off-grid and in an area that I'm fairly certain no cop is going to bother leaving the comfort of a warm car and a doughnut stash to go find.

Evidently I'm not stupid enough to let you meander out of here either.

Seriously, the whole silent thing is a little freaky.

Fine, you win. I'll talk more: They call me The Trapper. People sometimes need to acquire other people, and it's me they work through to make that happen. Twelve long years I've been at it. I specifically ain't gonna hurt-cha, but I'm not gonna promise whomever wanted you won't.

You seem perplexed. You sure you don't have any enemies or nothin'? Nobody you've scorned? I wouldn't know your situation or life, so don't look at me like I'd know.

Well regardless, you ended up being a real easy snag. Almost too easy, actually. Usually people put up a fight or have home security or something. Definitely in the bottom five for challenge level. For that reason you made it here a day before you're to be picked up. So, uh, get comfortable. I'll find a radio station or something to pass the time later.

I'm honestly not supposed to really be talking to you. Client specifically requested I not do that. What's she gonna do, know? I don't see how this impacts anything.

Nothing? Not even an eye roll? A huff of disappointment?

…Well. You're a bit of a weird case, admittedly. Most of the time. I'm told to outright kill the people they sic me on. If not, the client shows up and does the exact same thing personally. Maybe some torture on the weekends. In your case, though, it was made extremely clear you weren't to have a scratch, let alone a concussion or a broken bone here and there.

Not really my specialty. That said, the price on your head was about eight times what anyone else has ever paid me. The weirdo that wants you must be loaded.

I'm probably set to take one hell of a vacation after you're out of here. I'm thinking Tampa. You ever been there?

You ever been...anywhere? 

Was that a nod? You really haven't been anywhere, huh. Well, I would hope you get a good vacation, but the odds are high that you probably aren't going to see that in your future.

You seem...quite aware of that fact already. Are you sure you don't know who's trying to get you? You look so...blank. I get some people have some pretty major RBF, but you're kind of on another level here.

Come to think of it, are you even capable of speech? You haven't made so much as a peep from the time I got you to now. 

{Slowly, the listener presents their neck to show a massive scar; seems like they no longer have vocal chords}

Holy— That is one crazy scar. Did you have some kind of crazy surgery or something?

{Listener nods no}

A no...? Was this...on accident?

{Nods no again}

You went mute on purpose? That seems unhelpful. Won't knock personal decisions but that's-

{A third nod no}

...Did someone do this to you on purpose? That's fucked up. Even for me. Really sorry to hear about that. I suppose that explains a few things. I wonder how I didn't notice that when I got you.

Damn. Seems like whatever you did, the client does not want you squealing about it. I guess my gag is kind of redundant.

Assuming you did anything. I don't mean this in a mean way, but you don't really strike me at the type of person who would do...anything. Kinda tapped out awhile ago, right?

Am I like, the first person you've even seen in awhile?

{A nod yes}

Yeesh. Usually it's me who is the anti-social one. Sorry to be the bearer of bad times. Unforch for you, a contract is a contract—I can't break it. Minus the speaking to you, I guess. That's not really a condition I care about. You're still going to go to the client. It's strange to me that they want you alive, though. For someone who seems dangerous enough to forcibly mute, it's a weird liability to keep them alive and kicking. Or still have the ability to write. What a strange position to find yourself in. 

Any other secrets I should know about? 

{The listener flails a leg}

Why did you shake your leg like that?

{They flail again}

You're doing the stanky leg all wrong. Seriously, what's up with it.

Oh yeah. You can't answer. If you promise to not kick me, I will look at your leg. Deal?

...Blink once for yes, flop your leg again for no.

A blink. Well. Glad you trust me, I guess. I'll roll up the ol pant-leg here...

{Speaker rolls up the pant leg}

<fabric sounds>

[Gasp]

Oh my god! Your leg...your veins! An ankle monitor did all of this?! That's not possible. There's no way that could happen...unless. That's a shock collar isn't it. The voltage must be up super high. The client said you had fled on foot...you must have thugged out the pain and just kept walking, right?

{Listener nods}

You've been zapped with 7000 volts, nonstop, and just kept going anyway?? I under-estimated you. Color me impressed. I guess the collar must have run out of juice by now, which is why it stopped going off, right?

I don't know what kind of life you've led or why you're wanted so badly, but I feel sorry for ya. Not enough to override my ticket to Tampa, but sorry enough to give you some respect for your sad, tortured  self. 

[Sigh]

I'll leave the radio on when I head upstairs. Flail when we get to a station you like. I suppose it's the least I could do. You get picked up tomorrow morning. My deepest consolidations to whatever hell you're bound to return to.

Now lets see...where's that darn radio...

{Fade to silence}

END.