The Remnant (closed for Britwitch and choklatekoneko)

[Scuttle Buttin']

...Did you know that when you landed I was watching
As the sky turned dark as the eyes of a foal
And I’ll know you by the shift of the wind in the cobwebs
The sawdust swirls in the fins of the bullheads
The craters that you made when you lay down dreaming
Strange constellations that you gave new meaning
By the teeth marks you made on bones from the ice age
The smell of the cinder burning slow in your ribcage
Listen in the distance you will hear me like your shadow
Footsteps soft as the tread of an echo...​

Mathieu Collignon was nothing if not punctual. He was many other things, of course, but something inside him needed to live his life by a clock. Always knowing where he needed to be, and when he needed to be there. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been late when things had been entirely in his control. Sure, traffic caused problems now and then, but he'd found one of the benefits of having land that was "away from civilization," as his friends called it, was that traffic was rarely a concern. You were almost more likely to run into a tractor or a stray cow out here than you were a line of cars. Unless they were behind the tractor or cow, of course.

This was why Mathieu was at the small coffee shop, eyes absently scanning the newspaper in front of him and coffee cooling on his table, at precisely four in the evening. He wasn't generally much for coffee, too much made him jittery and he found it hard to think when it seemed he could actually feel the vibration of each atom in his body. But it was when he'd stopped in here one day to kill a little time that he saw her. There was something about her that captured his attention right away. He downed three cups of coffee while she was there, chatting on her phone about what a nice time she was having. He stole glances when he could, and each look sank her deeper into his head.

He followed her when she left, hands in pockets as he strolled casually across the street from her, watching her reflection in the shop windows. Once she returned to her hotel, he walked a bit around the area, familiarizing himself with it.

Later that night, he was as jittery as expected, and his thoughts were jumbled and incoherent, but despite that he managed to reach one conclusion: He had to have her. It was something he'd had the occasional dream about, the porn he sought out on-line whenever he felt like his head might explode if he didn't cum soon. But this was a big step. Fantasy crossing into reality. He'd need to prepare.

When he wasn't working in his basement, preparing it, he was watching her. Following from as far back as he could without entirely losing track of her, he began to work out her routine, such as it was. She clearly wasn't from the area, thus the hotel, and so he knew he was operating on a time limit. It also made her movements a little less predictable than the average person, but gradually a pattern emerged. Time when she was alone, when she was vulnerable, was discovered.

That time is what brought him to this coffee shop at four in the evening on this fine, clear, pleasant day. She would stop for coffee, perhaps sit for a bit and enjoy the weather as she sometimes did, and shortly after the opportunity would present itself. Tonight, instead of her hotel room she would be in his basement. Tonight, instead of sleeping peacefully and looking forward to another day of exploring the area, she would be used by him. Tonight, she would be his.

 

[Britwitch]

“Same as usual?”
“Same as usual,” Samantha smiled at the cheery barista. Within minutes a steaming mug of chocolate cappuccino appeared before her, a delicate, swirling, spiral pattern traced into the foam with chocolate syrup by the friendly young man on the other side of the counter.

The colour of the syrup almost matched the warm brunette of her hair, hanging down her back and almost reaching her waist. Her eyes were a similar shade although with a hint of green in their hazel depths. She had a ready smile and a bright personality to match. It might strike an onlooker as strange that such a happy, sunny, girl would be travelling alone but Samantha had decided to ‘go it alone’ on her tour of the world. She had been working hard and managed to save enough for a whole year away. She wanted to travel on her schedule, on her own timetable and the best, the only, way to achieve that was to travel alone. Her character meant she’d picked up a wealth of new friends along the way, tens of new names added to the plethora that populated her Facebook account. Eddie, the barista, was the latest addition.

Carrying the steaming mug to a table by the window, Samantha opened up her journal and started work on her latest entry. Stopping now and then to sip her drink, letting her eyes move outside the window. She would be in town a few more days then a flight to her next destination. Today looked sunny and bright and the park was calling. She had a paperback to finish, that she’d promised to leave behind with Eddie, and there was a spot by a small lake that was perfect for reading.

Draining her mug, she closed her journal and slipped it into her shoulder bag. Depositing the empty mug back onto the counter with a cheery wave at Eddie, Samantha stepped out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk. A look around and then she set off down the street, following it as it ran slightly downhill and led her to the park. Her delicate curves swaying as she kept a steady but fairly brisk pace that made her hair swing across her back in time with the gentle rise and fall of her chest within her blouse.

The time of lunch hours was passed and so the park was fairly deserted. Finding a suitable reading spot was easier without hoards of people enjoying their half hour or hour’s break. Somewhere slightly shady was needed with the sun still high in the sky and so, within a few minutes of entering the park, Samantha was sat, leant back against a tree, book in her lap and the rest of the world feeling a million miles away.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Following was the easy part. With sunglasses on and a casual gait carrying him in the same direction, he followed her path from the opposite side of the street, certain where it would end. She didn't go to the park every day, of course - what kind of terrible tourist would one have to be to do that? - but on days when it was particularly nice, like this one, it seemed she couldn't resist it. He had, of course, contingency plans in case the weather wasn't nice, or if the weather turned nasty while she was there (this, in fact, would be preferred, but a glance at the sky showed it to be unlikely today), but things seemed headed in a predictable direction currently with no sign of changing.

She arrived at the park ahead of him, as intended, and his palms grew sweaty in anticipation. Hands in pockets, he strolled past where she sat against a tree with her face in a book and began his circuit of the closer areas of the park. His car waited not far away, with blankets in the trunk, a coil of rope in the floorboard, and three sets of handcuffs laid atop them, these last items covered from prying eyes by another blanket that was neatly folded on them.

It was just over twenty minutes before he was back in the area where she sat reading, his progress slowed by a couple that decided to have an argument over packing their baby and all associated gear back into their SUV. Out of frustration, he had to park himself at a bench and stare off at the trees as he listened to them complain about the way the other was doing it before, mercifully, they settled on something and drove off. The nearest people he saw after that were far enough away that he could scarcely identify their features, and a grassy hill obscured the view to where she sat unknowingly waiting for him.

It was time.

All doors to the car were unlocked, he knew fumbling with keys while dealing with her could lead to problems he didn't want to deal with. It was this that allowed him to open the front passenger side door and reach under the blanket, retrieving the three pairs of handcuffs. Two were slipped into one front pocket, the third tucked into the other, and the door was closed. A quick trip to the back of the car let him unlock the trunk and leave it just resting shut but still ready for him if he needed it open, and he was ready.

Wiping the sweat from his palms on the back of his jeans, he moved from the parking lot. With a pause at the corner of a dense hedge, he pulled in a deep breath to steel his nerves, and then rushed around the corner, his face twisting into a mask of concern.

"Oh, god... can you help me?"

His eyes were wide, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he was out of breath from running all the way there as he stopped about a foot from where she sat.

"My car," he exclaimed, thumb poking back towards the otherwise empty parking lot he'd just come from, "I was walking my dog and then I put him in the car and closed the door and then realized I dropped my keys somewhere and now he's locked in there and the windows are up," the words came out in a rush and he paused here only long enough to take a breath before continuing, "I can tell it's getting hot and... can you help me? Please?"

 

[Britwitch]

The air was warming up as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Samantha was about to consider wandering in search of an iced tea cart that she knew was in the park somewhere when her quiet reading as interrupted by a panicky voice.

"Oh, god... can you help me?"

"Are you ok?" Samantha began to slowly put her book down on the grass, eyes never leaving the worried looking young man before her.

"My car," Samantha's eyes followed the direction of his thumb before looking back at his face. "I was walking my dog and then I put him in the car and closed the door and then realized I dropped my keys somewhere and now he's locked in there and the windows are up,"

She was already scrambling to her feet, stuffing the book into her bag, while he paused for breath.

"I can tell it's getting hot and... can you help me? Please?"
"Of course, don't worry...we'll get him out." She shouldered her bag and the pair ran towards the car park. Samantha could feel the heat of the sun through her top, her own heart starting to pound with panic for the animal trapped in the doubtlessly airless car. She'd heard tales of animals left to all but roast in heat like this. She really didn't want to experience one first hand.

There was only one car in the parking area as they entered it. Assuming it had to be his, Samantha started looking on the ground beside it. Looking for the missing keys.
"Were they on a keyring or anything...? Was it just the car keys?" She asked, hoping he'd reply they were attached to something extremely easy to spot and that it was his natural panic that had prevented him seeing them before.

Brown eyes rose to the window and her brow creased slightly. There was no sign of a dog at the window. All the dogs she'd ever known would be doing everything possible to try and attract attention to themselves. Pawing the glass, hurling themselves against it.
What if they were too late already?

She moved next to the car and leant her forehead against the window, a hand raised to shield her eyes and try and allow her gaze to penetrate the comparative darkness inside.
"I...I can't see him...oh god, I hope he's ok..."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

His heart was thudding in his chest as they ran to the car together, with him letting her get just ahead of him. He'd thought about this moment enough, visualized things that could go wrong, ways it could quickly blow up in his face, and he knew one thing he had to do was stay behind her.

Then they were at the car, and he found himself suddenly calm. He had a job to do, and while it was not something most people would think of as a job or as something that had to be done, in Mathieu's mind there was no real way around it. Some people craved ice cream, hid it in their freezer from loved ones and stole spoonfuls of it while they were gone. Some people couldn't quit smoking, puffing their way to an early grave with the full knowledge that it was their destination and yet they could not quit. For him, it was the fear he saw in their eyes, the realization of helplessness as it dawned on them. He'd flirted with it before, walking the fine line between breaking laws and rough play. It was never quite satisfying enough. It was nicotine gum, a poor substitute for what he really wanted.

What he really wanted was now at the car, exactly where he wanted her. Head pressed to the glass, one hand up to block out the light and look inside, and he could tell by her tone that she was confused at the lack of a dog inside. It was time.

"Oh god, you don't see him?" he said, keeping the panic in his voice as his head swiveled around, eyes scanning one last time for anyone that might be looking.

They were alone.

"Are you sure?"

This last bit was said to span the time it took him to withdraw a pair of the silver handcuffs from his pocket, draw in a deep breath, and then he was moving.

Rushing forward, his body met hers with an impact meant to disorient her, possibly steal the breath from her as well, and most of all to buy him precious seconds. His hands moved in unison, one holding the cuffs hitting the wrist that was raised to shield her eyes, the metal loop swinging and clicking suddenly into place. His other hand was reaching for the other wrist, and he hoped she'd be just disoriented enough that bringing it around behind her, snapping the other cuff on it, would go as smoothly as planned. In his head, he thought he could have her arms immobilized in under three seconds. The clock in his head was ticking.

 

[Britwitch]

"Oh god, you don't see him?...Are you sure?"
Samantha frowned, peering into the shadows inside the car. There was no sign of the dog, none at all.
"No, I mean, I guess he could be on the floor or..."
The end of her sentence didn't come out as she'd intended.

Something barreled roughly into her from behind and with a loud groan she collided heavily with the side of the car. The hand over her eyes only just stopping her from cracking her forehead against the metalwork, the force of her collision driving the remaining air from her lungs and leaving her more than a little stunned.

"What the-?" She started to ask but in that time, in that split second everything got considerably stranger.
She felt something cool and oddly heavy slip around her wrist at the same time as it was pulled behind her back along with her other arm. There was a dull thump as her bag hit the ground beside her feet and a short sharp sound as whatever was around one wrist repeated the process with the other.

Her frown grew more pronounced as she pulled and found her arms would not come back around her body. Still leaning against the car she tried to stand away, trying to catch her breath and keep some semblance of calm. There was bound to be some simple explanation.

"What's going on? Hey!"
Samantha's voice was rapidly rising in volume and tension. She pulled with her arms again and heard a vague metallic jingling sound behind her. Handcuffs? Surely not.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She began to turn around. Panic swiftly giving way to fury. "You get these things off me, right now! This is crazy, you're crazy!"

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

In a way, if anything was going to go wrong this would be the time it would. The first grab, when the tone of things took a sudden and drastic change in direction, was when she was under control the least, most able to fight back, and when the chances of someone coming upon them were at their highest. One person who decided to walk past an empty parking lot with their dog, and he was completely fucked. There was no calling this a misunderstanding. It was one thing, and one thing only: a kidnapping.

Mathieu's lips were parted, his breath a bit heavy as he worked, the racing of his pulse and surge of adrenaline making him sweat. It turns out, stealing another person that didn't want you to do so was hard work.

But the cuffs were on, the biggest step complete. This was happening. He had anticipated her legs to be the next issue to deal with, if she was able to run into view of anyone else then, one more, he'd be completely fucked. It seemed her mouth was the real problem now, her volume rising with each sentence, each moment's growing realization that something she should be very alarmed about was going on.

Why the fuck didn't you prepare for that?, he cursed himself internally, not even considering in all his planning that she'd be yelling. He had cloth with which he planned to gag her, of course, but he hadn't grabbed any of it out of the car, and now regretted that. Time to improvise.

As she started to turn, he drove his shoulder forward against hers, hoping to push her back against the car and shock a bit of the fight out of her. A small opening was all he needed, just enough to get his hand over her mouth, and an arm around her body. Enough that her yelling would be muffled, and he could drag her back to the trunk - throwing her in the back seat was a dream at this point, and he had a feeling she'd try to kick out his windows if he did. Keeping her off balance, needing to lean her weight against him so she could stay upright, was key.

He was thankful, at least, that he'd left the trunk down, but not latched closed. A kick of his foot and it was up, ready to accept her. Once closed inside, he was okay with her yelling her pretty little head off. It was a few minutes through city streets to get him to the highway that would get him into the country. When on his land, no amount of screaming from her would be heard by anyone that could come help.

And there would be plenty of screaming.

 

[Britwitch]

Panic. Blind panic.

Samantha had enough of her wits still remaining to keep trying to fight and call out for help. It had been a hot, sunny, beautiful day. Where had all the people gone?

The shove against the car winded her and made her sag slightly, allowing a strong arm to curl around her middle and a large hand clamp over her mouth.

Panic rapidly became terror.

He began to drag her around to the back of the car, towards the trunk. She dug her heels in, tried to kick. All the time wasting gallon after gallon of air screaming into his palm. Muffled sounds and the odd snatch of something louder as her struggling dislodged his hand momentarily. During one of those moments she managed to move her mouth enough to try and bite him. Teeth sinking into the fleshy part of his palm at the base of his thumb. She held on, knowing he'd have to do something about it before long. Intending to scream for all she was worth the moment his hand was gone.

Praying it happened before he got her where he wanted. She cursed that she hadn't really looked at him, that even if she escaped she probably wouldn't be able to tell the police more about him than that he was quite tall. And she thought dark haired...

Her brain yelled at her to stop planning what she'd do when she escaped and focus on the fact that the trunk was less than a foot away.

A half remembered self-defence lesson flitting into her mind and making her stamp on his instep as brutally as she could.

She wasn't going anywhere without a fight. The problem was it looked like it was a fight she almost certainly couldn't win.