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Scott is a serial killer on the prowl for his next victim. He abducts Morgana, who he quickly finds out will not go down easily. Scott and Morgana engage in a dance of wits, both trying to out manipulate the other. Scott has Morgana under his thumb, or so he thinks. Who is the real captive? "Um...so are you Italian?" She asked. He glanced back at her in the rear view mirror. "Huh? No, no, just regular American." "That's kinda problematic," she murmured. "Oh, sorry." "Are you a mob boss then?" "Nope." "Then...then why did you kidnap me?" He paused. "I have some unresolved issues from my childhood, especially pertaining to my mother I think that's where this all started—"
"Um...so are you Italian?" She asked.
He glanced back at her in the rear view mirror.
"Huh? No, no, just regular American."
"That's kinda problematic," she murmured.
"Are you a mob boss then?"
"Then...then why did you kidnap me?"
He paused. "I have some unresolved issues from my childhood, especially pertaining to my mother I think that's where this all started-"
She blinked. "So...let me get this straight: You're not a rich, hot Italian mob boss, you're just a greasy kidnapper who's presumably gonna Murder me?"
He shrugged. "I have some issues with that statement. Uh, I'm pretty well off but I wouldn't say rich. I also wouldn't call myself greasy."
"But you do plan to murder me? She screeched.
He glanced away, "uh...why don't listen to some tunes?"
He turned up the radio as Megan the Stallion played softly. The young woman started crying loudly behind him, as he glanced back in concern.
"Gee, look, I uh...I realize this is awkward but-"
"Why did I even get in here?" She sobbed.
"Oh...I held you at gunpoint, remember?" He waved the gun, "Still have it by the way, just letting you know."
She sobbed louder making him frown, setting the gun down.
"If I had've known this was a regular kidnapping I would've fought harder!"
He shrugged. "Well, it's not my job to manage your expectations. You shouldn't let popular culture influence your life so much. Even if I was a mob boss that doesn't mean I wouldn't still kill and torture you. They're good guys yknow?"
"You're gonna torture me too!" She screamed, wiggling in the duck tape.
He winced, silently turning up the radio.
"Stop avoiding my questions with rap music!"
"I'm sorry' I don't really love confrontation! Now please let's just listen to Cardi B in silence or I'll pull over and duck tape your mouth!"
"I can't believe you would do this," she sniffled. "And in black history month! Are you gonna whip me and make me call you Master!"
He cringed. "No! Of course not! I'm not that insensitive."
"But you are gonna torture me?"
"Well I'm not racially insensitive! I'm a complex character okay?! God, you know what? You are the worse kidnappee I've ever had. And next time, I won't be picking up a black girl. Because I've been kidnapping white girls for a long time and they shut up when you yell at them."
"Well I don't!" She screamed.
"I noticed! And that's rude of you! It's simple etiquette for a hostage to comply with demands. It's what you're here for."
She glared at him. "Burn motherfucker. Die slow."
He reared back. "You can't-!"
He pulled over. "That's it. That is the last straw. Now I'm duck taping your mouth. We could've avoided this. I just wanted some pleasant conversation and you made me angry."
She stared at him in disgust. "I want you to know I flipping you my middle finger. You can't see it, but it's aggressive."
He sighed, taking off his mask.
She paused, looking away. Damn it he was cute.
"Look, I know this isn't ideal. But I'll give you a second chance, but you can't keep hurting my feelings with your very harsh words."
"You know it's typical of a man to say some dumb shit like that. Here I am, in the back of your vehicle, duck taped up, your hostage and you have the audacity to tell me not to hurt your fragile fucking feelings."
He purses his lips with a sigh. "I want you to know that I'm being nice now, but you do realize once we get to our destination, all the anger I'm withholding will come out right?"
She stated at him blankly. "Giving you finger again."
He rolled his eyes, starting the car up. "Right of course."
"And who the fuck says tunes? You lame ass Mayo-packet."
He frowned. "Stop bullying me. That doesn't work out in your favor."
"What are you gonna do? Cry to your mommy about it? Oh that's right. You two don't have a good relationship."
He glared at her. "You know it's around this time I typically start to feel guilty. Thank you, for making sure that's impossible."
She shrugged. "You're welcome."
"We're here," he parked the car. "I'm going to carry you in,"
He got out of the car, picking her up effortlessly, carrying into the house.
"Thought you'd be screaming," he remarked.
"You said it's not your first time. Means you were able to torture and kill people without the authorities being called. So there's no one here."
He raised his brow. "Oh wow. You watch CSI huh?"
"I actually have an interest in mental health, and psychology. Unfortunately it looks like I won't be starting school this fall, because you're planning to kill me."
He frowned. "Well, now. You can do some armature study on me, I'm a real serial killer and you don't get to see that often!"
She snarled. "You're pedestrian. But I guess I'll take what I can get."
He set her down on the couch in the otherwise barren room. The only thing here was a couch and a TV.
She wiggled uncomfortably. "I want a snack."
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