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 Grant sat on the trunk in a daze. He felt like a sack of shit. He was trying to remember how he had got into the cellar. Had he fainted? He had been working on the chopper out on the tarmac, in blazing 110-degree heat, and had been feeling queasy from the heat, but…no, he was sure that he hadn’t fainted. Oh bugger, his head hurt. If only those hammers pounding away in his skull would stop for a minute, he would be able to think clearly. Shit, this place was going around in circles. He closed his eyes, and leaned back. Yeah, that was better. The anvil-bashing demons in his head were taking a rest, and he didn’t feel like he was on a merry-go-round. He tried to concentrate – he sure wasn’t going anywhere for a while, feeling the way that he did, and he wanted to know how he had got from the tarmac to this dingy little cellar. Pictures started forming in his mind. He had just about finished the maintenance check for Mike. He had looked at his watch and seen that it was just about time for Mike to arrive and begin the flight for the traffic report. So far, so good. Wait. Now he remembered! Out of the corner of his eye he had seen a guy creeping up on him! He had turned to yell at him, and then something had hit him in the back of the skull, and everything had gone black.
He attempted to jump to his feet, and sank back with a groan. He knew he had to get out of here and find Mike, but he felt so cruddy, he had to rest for another minute. He still didn’t know where he was; though the door looked familiar. There was a flight of stairs in the hangar, leading down to a padlocked door, made of similar wood. He staggered to his feet once more, and this time he managed to stay upright. He began to make his way towards the door, wincing at the pain in his head. Before he had gone more than a few feet, the door burst open, and two men brandishing pistols blocked his way.
 "Going somewhere, big boy? I don’t think so. Your head must still be sore; we think that you need a good long rest."
"Get out of my way you fuckers, I…." Ummmmphhh. Despite his size, the two men had no difficulty overpowering Grant. They didn’t need to use their XXXXs – a couple of punches to the stomach and a XXXX to the side of the head, and Grant was face down on the ground in no time. One of the thugs sat on Grant, pulling his hands behind him. Before he could gather strength to resist, his hands had been efficiently taped together. "What the fuck are you…MMMMMPHHHHH." Grant XXXXd as an oily rag was stuffed deep into his mouth, secured with more tape wrapped around his head. He thought that he was going to puke. All this getting XXXX around, plus the vile taste of the disgusting rag in his mouth was making his stomach heave. Despite his weakness and nausea, he continued to struggle against the two men, dislodging the one that was sitting on his back.
 "Jeez, but he’s a big bugger, isn’t he? Come on, help get more tape around him before he hurts somebody." They pulled Grant to his feet, and managed to wrap more tape around his chest, binding his upper arms to his body. The two thugs dragged Grant over to the old trunk that he had been sitting on, and throwing him down on his side, taped his wrists to his body.
"Whew, that was hard work. This guy must have a skull like rock. I didn’t think that …OWWW!!! You bastard! You’re gonna regret that. Get his fucking legs!" Grant had lashed out with his booted feet, and managed to land a blow on the shins of one of the men. In short order, they taped his legs up, below and above the knee. "There that should hold him for a while." Grant screamed through his gag, cursing the two thugs. "Don’t you worry, big boy. You just sit tight for a while, and eventually someone will find you. Once KJZB notices that they aren’t getting any traffic reports from the air, someone should come looking out here. Of course, we’ll be long gone by then. Your pretty boy pilot is going to being dropping us off a long, long way from here." "MMMPHMIIKE!" "Ah, ain’t that sweet. He’s all concerned about the blond. He’s almost as comfortable as you at the moment, all trussed up and gagged, waiting for us. We’ll have to untie him to fly us out, but not for a while. Our cargo has been delayed in the traffic. Ha ha ha."
 Grant struggled in impotent fury once the two men had left. He had to get free and save Mike. Who knew what those goons would do to Mike once he had flown them to wherever they were going? He twisted and struggled against the tape that surrounded his body, but it was surprisingly strong, and held firm. He needed something that could cut through the tape. There was nothing down here; he would have to somehow make his way up to the hangar. After a couple of unsuccessful efforts, Grant managed to heave himself to his feet. He began the slow journey towards the door. Every little hop that he took jarred him, intensifying the pain in his head. His whole body ached from the beating that he had taken. He had only taken a few hops when the door swung open.
 "Where do you think you’re going, big boy? Planning a little trip? I don’t think so. Back up."
Grant was XXXX to hop backwards, as a XXXX was pushed into his chest. The thug laughed when the backs of Grant’s legs met the trunks, and he sat down with a crash.
"MMMPHH. GGGMMWHATMMDOING. MMNOO!" Mike tried to squirm away as the guy started unlacing his boots. He quieted down once the barrel of the XXXX was shoved into his groin. "That’s better, big boy. You keep quiet, and no one gets hurt. I haven’t killed anyone yet, and I don’t intend on starting now. Not unless I’m XXXX to. There’s, that better. Phew, your feet smell, did anyone ever tell you that?"
 "GGMMFUCKMMDOING?" Grant couldn’t understand why this guy was stripping him of his boots and socks. "GMMNNNOOOO. MMSTTOPPP." Grant couldn’t help giggling as the criminal ran his fingers along the sole of his foot.
"You want to know what I’m doing? I’ m taking your boots off, so even if you do manage to free yourself before help arrives, you won’t be going anywhere. These tender tootsies of yours will fry like eggs if you try to go outside and walk on that hot black tarmac. Yep, I figure that you’ll get second degree burns if you try to get help. Because, big buy, I’m not stupid. There aren’t any phones left functioning upstairs, and if you hadn’t noticed, your cell phone isn’t in the pocket of that jump suit of yours. You’re stuck here, all by yourself. And don’t worry about the blond stud – he’ll be OK. Eventually." Giving Grant a pat on the cheek, the thug left.
 As soon as he was alone, Grant renewed his efforts to escape. Once again he managed to get to his feet, but this time he went crashing to the ground. Ouch, that hurt. He didn’t know how much more abuse his poor battered body could take. He swung himself around on his butt, used the side of the trunk for leverage, and got on his feet yet again. Once more he fell to the ground, this time flat on his face. Ummpphh! His jaw got a mighty crack, as it slammed down on the floor. He nearly wept with frustration. This time he couldn’t get up. He slowly inched his way across the floor, making very little progress. He still hadn’t reached the door when he heard footsteps come thundering down the stairs. Oh shit, were those guys coming back? He gave a sigh of relief when he saw deputies come through the door, their XXXXs drawn.
 "MMMPHHHHH!!!"
"MMMOUUUCCCHHH." Grant yelped as the tape was pulled off his mouth, taking some of his hair with it. He spat out the rag. " The pilot, Mike, he’s…"
"Don’t worry, he’s safe. The bozos that tried to hijack the chopper got separated from their cargo, which we were tailing. They’re under arrest, and your friend is safe."