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Stolen Property

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"He's late," Alfred grumbled irritably, his heel jerking and bouncing on the ground as he crossed his arms, holding himself tightly as he fidgeted and twitched like an addict through withdrawal. Which wasn't so far off, actually. Ivan was like a drug to him, a tempting and delicious drug and he needed his fix and he needed a hit and he needed him now. What the hell was taking him so long?

"He's never late… why is he late?" he groaned, his chair screeching out from under him as he leapt to his feet, starting to pace like a caged tiger in a zoo, ready to lash out at anyone who so much as looks at him. The door opened and he instantly bounded towards it, ready to shove Ivan against the wall and kiss him breathless and handcuff him to his desk if that meant Ivan would never be late again.

The man flinched away, clutching his satchel close as Alfred got right up in his personal space, blinking before glaring and moving off. "Ugh, it's only you… What do you want?"

"U-uh, sir?" the mailman gulped anxiously, pulling out a small parcel. "They said this was urgent uhm– I think it's a video tape."

"What?" Alfred blinked and slowly turned over his shoulder, staring at the man suspiciously. He walked back and snatched it away from him, ripping open the paper and pulling the tape out, honestly a little startled. He moved to the TV he had tried to give Ivan for Christmas (he didn't want it), and slid the tape into the slot, waiting for the video to start up.

At first the screen remained black, but there was rustling and muffled voices… Soon someone ripped the cloth cover off of the lens and the image focused, Alfred's eyes slowly widening when he saw what was on the screen.
Ivan sat up on his knees, a spreader bar keeping his legs apart but still bound, his hands tied behind his back and his clothing in tatters. A person dressed in all black gripped his hair and forced him to lift his head, a blank expression on Ivan's bloodied and battered face watching the camera with an emotion full of hate. The person dressed in black held out a piece of paper in front of Ivan's face, the secretary glancing at it for just a moment before his jaw clenched and lips sealed shut. Another man came on the screen, Alfred watching silently as the stranger kicked Ivan in the gut, his beloved making an audible exclamation of pain as he slumped over partially, unable to defend himself or stop the torment.

The second time they lifted his head, there was a twinge of fear in his eyes, and he finally gave in to their demands. "Alfred F. Kirkland of Kirkland Incorporated… Th-this is your last warning. Do as we say or I– I won't be returned to you alive. You have three days."

The screen went black, either because the film had ended or because Alfred's fist was currently lodged into it.