The city was quiet and there wasn't a soul in sight. George was royally screwed.
The man pulled a rope out of his car and, as he was tying a tight knot to George's hand, suddenly the sweet sound of an engine came from around the corner. A white car pulled up to a gas pump and someone climbed out of the driver's seat. George's heart was racing and his head was pounding with hope. HELP ME! He wanted to scream.
The person began walking towards the store, and George's captor looked at them warily, taking his attention momentarily from George's hands. George seized this opportunity to counterattack. He let loose a yell of pure terror and anger and slammed his forehead as hard as he could against the guy's nose. He cried out in pain as blood gushed from both nostrils, instantly soaking the mask. He then brought his knee upright in the perfect spot between the guy's legs. He collapsed, spewing profanities and fumbling with his hand for the gun in his pocket.
In a fit of trepidation, George lunged at him and knocked him on his side. The gun flew out of his pocket and scraped across the concrete pavement, coming to a stop a few feet away. George ran after it and picked it up, aiming it directly at the guy's chest. For a moment, nobody moved - aside from the intense trembling in George's hands. He had no idea how to work a gun. He didn't even know how to shoot one. He kept his fingers off the trigger and aimed the barrel at the man's lungs.
"Don't move!" George exclaimed as the man tried to sit up. The man stopped. Suddenly, the guy from before jogged over - the one who had distracted the robber and surely saved George's life.
"Holy shit, what just happened?" He asked. He was wearing a beanie and had black hair that almost went to his shoulders.
"This guy was trying to kidnap me and rob the store. You just saved me," George said. He was surprised by how shaky his voice was. He felt dizzy with adrenaline. He had almost just gotten kidnapped.
"Fuck," the guy said. "Should I call the cops?"
"Yes," George said, and the man pulled out his phone before dialing the emergency number and holding it to his ear. Not a moment later, he was explaining the situation and location to the dispatcher.
The attempted kidnapper was holding both hands over his nose, which was surely broken. He didn't move, just cursed quietly and once in a while shifted his legs uncomfortably. George's forehead hurt from hitting him so hard. A minute later, the guy hung up with the dispatcher and turned back to him.
"Okay, they'll be here in five minutes," he said. George sighed in relief and felt himself wobble a bit. "Do you want me to take that?" The man offered.
"Yes, please," George said, and handed him the weapon. The guy held it firmly, aiming right at the guy's head. George shuddered and stumbled backward, leaning against a pole. His heart was beating so fast it hurt.
"Yo, are you good?" The guy asked.
"No," George replied. "I almost just got kidnapped. Do you think I'm okay?" He asked, unintentionally snappily. "I think I'm gonna have a heart attack."
"Well, don't do that," the guy suggested.
"Can I use your phone?" George asked. His breath was coming shallow and he felt drenched in sweat.
"What for?"
"I need to call someone."
"I just called the cops."
"I need to call my boyfriend," George said. The word felt weird in his mouth, but he liked it.
"Oh." The guy nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket before unlocking it and handing it to George.
"Thanks," George said between breaths. It felt like his lungs were slowly shrinking. He was probably in shock, or going into shock, or something like that. "What's your name?" George asked. He felt like he should at least know the name of the guy who had just unintentionally saved his life.
"My name's Alex, but you can call me Quackity," the guy replied. George nodded and searched through the phone until he found the 'Phone' Icon. He quickly dialed Dream's number, which he had memorized, and held it up to his ear. He was still trembling. Badly.
"Please pick up," George mumbled as he waited. Dream was usually good about answering his phone - but then again, it was the middle of the night. George huffed when he hung up after two rings. Dream probably thought it was a prank call or something because he didn't recognize the number. George tried calling again, and this time Dream answered when he realized it wasn't a random person.
"Hello, who is this?" Came Dream's voice.
"Dream," George exhaled in relief. "I've never been so happy to hear someone in my life." George felt to be on the verge of tears.
"George?" Dream must have picked up on his distress because his tone was immidiately confused and concerned. "What is it?" He asked. "Why are you calling from a random phone?"
George took a deep breath to speak. "I am at Kwik Trip right now. We just almost got robbed and I almost got kidnapped," George said bluntly. He didn't feel like watering it down - he didn't even know how.
There was a moment of shocked silence.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Dream asked worriedly, and in the background George could hear shuffling mixed with footsteps as Dream got out of bed. "Are the cops there?"
"They're on their way. And yeah, I'm fine," George replied.
"Are you sure? You sound like you are having trouble breathing - are you in shock?" Dream asked. There was the sound of keys being picked up and a door opening.
George paused. "Okay, I'm not fine. Can you just hurry up and get here please?" He admitted.
"Yeah, I'm on my way right now." The sound of footsteps running down stairs.
"Good. I'll be right here if you need me," George said.
"Hold on - are you safe? Did the guy get away?"
"No, we are holding him at gunpoint right now until the cops arrive," George said. Sound of footsteps on pavement. Car door opening and closing. Engine igniting.
"Okay, keep him there. Stay safe. Keep a good distance away from him," Dream said, and George heard the faint sound of tires screeching on the road. "I'll be there in five minutes."
"But you live ten minutes away," George said.
"I'll see you in five," Dream repeated. More tires screeching. A car honking.
"Well, don't get into a car crash," George said.
"I won't. Stay safe."
"Okay," George said, then hung up. He brought the phone back to Quackity, who was standing exactly how he'd left him. "Thank you," George said, and Quackity nodded.
"Sure," he said. "So how'd this guy almost kidnap you? You don't look like a kid," he said. George looked at him.
"What do you mean? He pointed a gun at me and tried to force me to get in the trunk of his car," George said.
"Well, yeah, but you're not a kid. This would be called adult-napping."
"What?"
"Yeah, adult-napping. Where an adult kidnaps another adult."
George looked at him. "Okay then," he said with a scoff. Quackity smirked. George had no idea what he was trying to pull. He was making jokes while pointing a gun at someone? He had a man's life within his grasp - and he was cracking jokes about adult-napping?
"You're not going to shoot me," the guy's gruff voice suddenly came from behind the ski mask, and George looked at him, all amusement gone from his eyes. The guy propped a hand on his knee and slowly stood up. George took a step back nervously.
"Oh, yes I will. Take a seat, buddy," Quackity said, waving the gun at him. The guy laughed - a terrifying sound considering the circumstances.
"Wanna know how I know?" He asked. Quackity and George were silent. "Because there are no bullets in that gun."
George and Quackity both froze. George looked at the gun. It looked scary enough. But when Quackity opened the chamber, he revealed that the guy had been telling the truth - there was not a single bullet inside of the pistol.
"Well, that's unfortunate," Quackity muttered.
The man pulled out a switchblade from his back pocket and stood to his full height. Quackity took a step back. The man held up the switchblade and light glistened across the edge menacingly. "I think I have enough time to skin you both before the cops get here. What do you think?"