Chains

                                    

                                          
Matt awoke with a groan, the sharp pain in his side consuming his clouded mind. He took in a deep, shuddering breath and yawned. The damp air filled his lungs and settled there. It was cold and his covers were apparently missing, making Matt even more uncomfortable.
                          
'Wha— Did I leave the window open? Ugh. Great. Now I have to get up.'
                          
Matt tried to roll over so he could close whichever window he had accidentally left open, but was held back something could not get off his bed. His chest hurt at the pressure.
                          
'Huh? What's this?'
                          
All of Matt's thoughts were scrambled and his mind was fuzzy. He patted his chest down with the little mobility he had until he touched what felt like cords. He rolled a piece of cord that laid across his chest between his fingers. It didn't move much and was pretty taut. To his surprise, Matt realized that there really were cords and that he wasn't just making things up in his drowsy, sluggish brain. This realization immediately brought Matt's thoughts into focus.
                          
Matt tried to pull at the cords again. They didn't budge, but Matt was able to notice what felt like a complex knot. Fiddling  with it, Matt was able to stick the tip of one of his fingernails under a section of the knotted cord and began loosening the knot.
                          
'I swear, if the Rouges Gallery is playing another prank...'
                          
A hand shot out and tore Matt's exploring fingers away from the knot. Startled, Matt gave a yelp.
                          
"Oh, shut it! I don't like the ones who are whiny," said a deep, gravely voice, obviously irritated. Definitely not a frequent customer, Matt couldn't place who's voice had just snapped at him. Someone he had met at some point, or at least heard on the radio or news, but didn't actually know.
                          
Matt twisted his neck to face the disembodied stranger. "Do I know you? Who—"
                          
"Who I am is none of your business. We've met, though I doubt you remember. Don't annoy me and you'll be fine. Now stop squirming and picking at the knots, I'm trying to clean your cuts."
                          
Matt felt a cold, wet cloth being rubbed on his upper arm. It stung a bit. Matt winced and tried to move him arm away.
                          
The voice gave an agitated sigh, but slowed his movements to a more gentle pace. "Don't move. You're only making things more difficult. I have very little patience and will tighten your restraints if I have to."
                          
Matt increased his squirming. He wasn't going to listen to anyone that thought they could threaten him, even if they could follow through. "No," said Matt in his best Batman voice.
                          
The man laughed. "No? What do you think is happening to you right now?"
                          
Matt stayed silent, not wanting to show that he really had no idea what was going on.
                          
"You are in a warehouse in Gotham. You were brought forcibly here discuss something quite important. You didn't go calmly and my men, unfortunately, were a bit rough removing you from your apartment. You and your apartment are in need on some repairs. Now that you know, will you stop moving?"
                          
Now that he knew that he'd apparently been kidnapped, Matt was definitely not going to stop moving. "Where do you think I'm going to go? I don't know where I am. Not to mention you've decided to use me as a punching bag."
                          
The man growled, but just continued inspecting Matt's cuts and bruises with his fingers and cloth. He didn't tighten Matt's restraints. "I am not responsible for that. Hired goons are such a hassle and they don't even do the job right. These kinds of operations are supposed to be handled delicately, you know. I'm a professional, but it appears that the fools I work with are not. I apologize Mr. Murdock for their behavior and treatment of you, I can put all of that aside as we discuss the future. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay with us."
                          
Matt relaxed his posture. The man, whoever he was, was irritated, but Matt didn't think that the man was going to hurt him, not yet anyway. He wanted something.
                          
"Where am I? Specifically?" Matt asked.
                          
"Somewhere. Mr. Murdock, the reason that you are here and not in your lovely apartment is that there is something I want from you. You have access to both the heroes of the Justice League and respective their enemies through your cafe. That puts you in a very powerful position."
                          
"I guess..." Matt did not like where this was going.
                          
"It does, and a lot of people are interested in that power. I am one of those people. I would like to work closely with you and I want you to tell me what—"
                          
"You do realize that I don't know any of their real identities right? I can't, like really can't, tell you anything like that, so there's no point in asking," interrupted Matt. The sooner his kidnapper realized this, the sooner he could possibly leave. Hopefully Matt's lack of knowledge wouldn't upset the guy though.
                          
The guy gave another exasperated sigh. "I know that! That's not what I was going to ask. Don't be rude. Listen to what people say."
                          
Matt snorted despite himself. "Don't be rude? You've wrecked my apartment and kidnapped me! I'm currently being held captive and you think I'm being rude. That's totally fair."
                          
Matt heard a faint mutter of, "It's so hard to be nice to these..."
                          
"I apologized and if you will just listen to me, you will see that this is worth all of the hassle," the man said, speaking up.
                          
"How?"
                          
"Murdock's Mochas has such popularity. It makes such a good product. It draws in so many customers. It has such a community impact. You really have a good thing going."
                          
"And? Buttering me up won't help you if you don't tell me what you want. Have you really gone to the trouble of kidnapping me to talk about my cafe?"
                          
"You've really won the hearts and loyalty of so many people just with your food and drinks. They'd do anything for you."
                          
"What about my fabulous personality? I like to think that's a factor too."
                          
"Imagine if you could have more! Don't you want more?!"
                          
"Get to the point," Matt groaned.
                          
"How would you feel about partnering with me to make Murdock's Mochas a world class restaurant chain?"