#deplorably devoted

The disco ball-like reflection of mylar balloons bobbing gently under the streetlight drew Aster’s attention. They squinted to read the print on a balloon but it spun in the air to reveal only silver backing. The warm light from the streetlight bounced off of the tiny wrinkles and reflective polyester to create a moving silver and gold kaleidoscope in the air.

They were tied to the side mirror of an orange van parked on the street. Three men were waiting there, a driver and two men leaning against the van.  One of them was holding an explosive bouquet of yellow and red flowers in his right hand. The other man was holding what looked like a box against his chest with one arm. The driver’s face was hidden in shadows, but Aster could see the outline of their jaw.

‘It looks like someone is having a great night. Good for them.’

They stole another glance up at the balloons, fighting the childish urge to touch them. Aside from the three mylar balloons, there was a positive riot of yellow, red, and blue latex balloons. Aster had the phantom taste of birthday cake in their mouth when the party guests seemed to notice them.

“Hello!” The man with the cheerful flowers waved with their free hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been doing?” They kicked up off of the van to stand straight. He had a memorable voice, scratchy and low.

Aster couldn’t tell if they knew them in the dark. Which was awkward. “Hello,” they greeted the men, “I’m doing well! Having a party?” Aster coughed again and tried to wave away the cigarette smoke from the club.

Flower Man beamed a smile back and moved a little closer. Their braces glinted. “A surprise party! We’re just lying in wait for the guest.”

“It’s going to be a great time,” added Box Guy, a little less enthusiastically. His eyes were obviously tracking Aster as they walked closer. He pulled a party popper out of the box and gave Aster a conspiratorial look, before dropping it back into the box.

Neither of their voices was familiar, at least.

“Wow, that’s exciting!” Aster peered at the balloons, contorting their left elbow up to their face to block their coughing. One of the paper bags shifted and nearly fell. Their eyes were starting to tear up a bit, but Aster could see that most of them didn’t have any print. “What’s the occasion?” They were starting to feel a little awkward. They wished that they hadn’t stopped to talk.

“New job.” The Box Guy still leaning against the van laughed. His companion looked back with a stern face. The man just smirked. His face still didn’t look familiar. Why had he greeted Aster that way, so loudly?

‘Maybe they’re friends with that new neighbor? I did meet quite a few people at their housewarming party last month.’ Aster rationalized.

“Wonderful, hope you both have a great night!” Aster awkwardly dug out their building key without dropping the bags clutched to their chest. They turned right to take the steps up to their apartment. They were on the top step when the club music paused for a second and Aster heard footsteps.

A chill ran up their neck. That was-

“Surprise,” a man’s voice murmured from right behind Aster.

The strangest thing was pressed up against their back. Aster felt a cold, metal circle surrounded by the straight lines of… the box that the man had been holding?

Aster froze.

‘Is someone shoving a gun in my back? He had a gun in that box of party supplies?’

They waited for a breathless moment for the other person to say something- hopefully ‘whoops’, and to carry on.

Instead, there was the heat of someone breathing on their neck.

‘Why does he have a gun?’

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said in a calm, reasonable tone.

Aster did not want to get into their party van. “My wallet and keys are in my pockets.” Aster said quickly, hoping against hope that that was all they wanted. Maybe whoever it was would go away if they got money. “I don’t have any jewelry on me.”

The gunman sighed, low and disappointed. “Party plan it is.”

Flower Man laughed out cheerfully and shouted, “Surprise!” He grabbed them from behind and lifted Aster straight off of the ground. Aster shrieked in surprise and tried to claw away the bouquet, which was now scratching up against their face. The grocery bags were so heavy that Aster couldn’t push the flowers away. They were just about to drop the bags when someone wrenched the paper bags out of their hands.

“My eggs!” Aster cried, watching as the carton threatened to fall. Box Guy caught the eggs with a grunt and shoved his way past them up the stairs. He turned to wait expectantly.

The heat of a large hand slipped into their back pocket. Aster tried to wrench around to see but the arm snaked around Aster’s waist was tight. There was a tinkling of metal as Aster’s keys were lifted out of their jeans pocket.

“Stop it!” Aster scrambled desperately to get their feet on the ground, but it was no use. The world turned around them as Flower Guy turned and jogged down the steps toward the van. Their stomach swooped nauseatingly with each bounce.

The van engine started up. There was the click of a lock. They were headed toward the back door of the van.

They swung their head around- the club was just down the block, surely someone would have seen. “Help!” Aster screamed. They struggled, kicking at the man holding them prisoner.

“It’s my friend Zair’s engagement party!” someone shouted at the clubbers. It must have been the driver. “Take a balloon! They’re getting married!”

The people outside smoking and talking stopped, and a chorus of whooping began to fill the evening air. A girl sprinted across the street to the front of the van for her balloon. After a moment a few cheering partygoers joined her.

‘The fuck?’

Aster was taken aback as they were being taken back towards the street. It took a few precious seconds for them to comprehend what was happening, by which time they were probably almost at the curb.

The double doors at the back creaked as they swung open.

Aster shrieked. “No! Let me go! Let me GO!” The people outside of the club continued to whoop and whistle.

“Good luck!” A drunk girl slurred, hoisting her balloon high. “Have good party!”

“Don’t let them take me!” Aster pleaded, kicking into the air like that might make the ground closer. “I don’t know these people! Call the police!” They craned to see the driver as he gave Aster a shitty look, laughed loudly, and threw up a fist. “Police, police, police!” He chanted.

And it worked. The drunks around the car started joining in, calling for the police cheerfully.

Why.

The driver winked at Aster and untied a balloon to give away.

“What is happening?” Aster sobbed.

Flower Guy shoved them into the back of the van, chanting cheerfully for the police. Aster caught themselves with their hands and pushed back up, scrabbling to get out before the doors closed.

It happened too fast. The door slammed shut. Aster was in the dark.

Aster stood, staring dumbly at the pitch black space where they knew the door was. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. A minute ago, Aster had been walking home.

The van honked the horn. “Party bus is leaving, say bye bye!” the driver’s muffled voice called out. Partygoer voices chimed in with a chorus of farewells to Aster, off to god knows what grim fate.

The situation didn’t feel real.

The van started moving. Without any ability to see or brace for the movement, Aster slammed face forward into the metal with a thunk and an explosion of pain.

They struggled to a seated position, clutching their forehead with one hand and using the other to brace against the corrugated floor.

The sounds of the cheerful drunks faded away. Aster heard their own shallow breaths. Aster heard the engine. After a minute, faint conversation started up from the front seat.

Bang.

Aster startled, letting out a shout.

The men in the front laughed.

‘One of them hit the back of the cab,’ Aster realized. They swallowed. ‘That’s all.’

The air was stifling. It pressed in on Aster from all directions, stale and warm. They ought to have been a little hot, but they felt cold and disgusting. Their clothes and hair were still a little damp with sweat from their walk home.

Slowly, Aster drew their feet up into a protective posture. It took a while of gingerly scooting to place their back against the wall. Then Aster carefully wrapped their shaking arms around their knees and tried to think of a way out of this.

Realistically, the situation could be better. Getting taken into a vehicle was the worst case scenario because it was impossible to guess how far away they would wind up. But this was hardly Aster’s first time being kidnapped. They’d learned about this. They knew how to survive a kidnapping, Aster reminded themself. They drew in a shuddering breath and pressed their forehead to their knees.

The van turned to the right. Aster’s stomach swooped unpleasantly along with the motion.

It was hard, but they forced their breathing to slow down.

‘That felt like a couple of minutes before the turn. We’re probably on the next major road,’ Aster guessed. They licked their lips, suddenly aware of how dry they were.

No more fighting and no more yelling. Now that they had actually been overpowered and taken away, the best chance for survival was to be compliant and make the kidnappers empathize with them. That meant no anger, no hysterics, no behavior that would be annoying.

Tears welled up. Aster blinked them away furiously and sniffled, trying to reach a physical state of calm.

This was bad. It was really fucking bad. But it probably wasn’t personal. It was probably about money.

‘No one who knew about my professional connections would risk kidnapping me,’ Aster thought, a little ruefully. They’d felt so safe. The risk-reward calculation just wouldn’t balance. Barry wasn’t a villain, by any means, but anyone who was anyone knew that he wasn’t someone to mess with. And Aster, without their family name, was just a small business owner and artist. They liked their life and their job. It was fulfilling. But there was no real material benefit to kidnapping a florist.

Therefore, this was the same old problem. Someone wanted money from their family, and Aster was the easiest person to grab.

‘It figures,’ they thought wearily. ‘No security team, no gated community, no dorm cameras.’

They’d been foolish. They’d made it too easy, been complacent.

The party theme of the kidnapping, though… It didn’t sit right with them. Aster shifted uncomfortably against the bare wall of the van’s siding.

It was awfully whimsical for a bog-standard kidnapping. They could admit that it was even pretty clever. The assault had probably looked like friends playing around. How many times had Aster seen someone lift up a protesting friend and haul them around? You’d see that at least once an hour at a public pool.

But it had to be a financially motivated kidnapping. It had to be. They’d ignored Aster when they offered money, but that was probably because they were too cautious to get dragged into negotiations on a doorstep when anyone could walk by.

Aster really wanted to believe that theory. But the doubt grew as the van took a turn to the left, as it stopped, as it started up again and went around what seemed to be a sharp turn and climbed up.

The van turned, what felt like a loop. It went and went and went until finally it stopped, reversed, and came to a stop. The engine shut off.

Aster swallowed. This might be showtime. They sat up a little straighter and unwound their arms from around their legs.

Gravel crunched outside as someone walked around the van.

Their heart rate picked up. Aster dug their fingertips into the floor a little bit for stability.

The doors were yanked open. Flower Guy and Box Man stood there, backlit by the faint glow of cheap overhead lights across what seemed to be a deserted parking lot. Flower Guy had a party kazoo in his mouth.

Aster forced a trembling smile onto their face.

“You’re the guest of honor,” Box Man explained. He seemed proud of their ruse. He shifted his weight as he grinned down at Aster.

“That was funny,” Aster agreed.

“Very funny,” Box Man said decisively. He cracked his neck. “You’re going to stay here for the night, but you do have to come with us to work in the morning. So you’ll need a coat. We got one from your place.”

Aster watched in confusion as the sweatshirt they’d worn to the gym yesterday was tossed into the back of the van. “Thanks,” they said, a bit delayed.

Box Man shot them a thumbs up. “No problem, what are friends for. Anyway, any food allergies or dietary restrictions?”

That was good news. The smile that Aster gave them was a lot more genuine now. Feeding Aster strongly implied that they didn’t intend to kill Aster. Not yet, at least. “I can eat anything but… maybe not dairy,” they said weakly, thinking about how unpleasant that might be in an enclosed space with no bathroom. “Uh. Is there a restroom I can use?”

“Yeah.” Box Guy pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Port a potty. I’ll take you over in a minute, and he’ll get you some Mediterranean chicken along with a nice wild rice salad, and this beautiful little apple tart.” He pursed his lips in thought. “I think that’s all. Happy kidnapping!”

Flower Guy blew the kazoo.

The goons bustled in and out making a weird little nest for Aster from a few blankets, a pillow, and a folded mattress. Really? They were going to leave Aster in here? No. They couldn’t. Wouldn’t Aster overheat, run out of air? Aster waited to be moved to a building, to be told something. But the doors closed and they were left alone in the parked van.

The van didn’t get hot. It didn’t feel stifled, either. Eventually even anxiety ran out. Aster found it harder and harder to stay awake.

There was no way to gauge the time. It had been late when they were taken, so it made sense that Aster was getting tired.

Aster roused when the engine of another car approached. Aster leaned towards the source of the noise, straining to hear anything that might be useful.

The car turned off and a door opened and closed. There was a conversation, but Aster couldn’t make out much for words. Then another door opened and closed.

A few moments later, there was a muffled voice. Low.

The voice that answered, on the other hand, was higher pitched and much clearer. Something about it instantly prickled at Aster’s subconscious as relevant.

‘That voice sounds familiar.’

Some car doors slammed shut, and a louder car started up and pulled away. Footsteps approached the van, but no one said anything. Aster braced for the door to open. This was it. They were going to have their chance to talk their way out of this mess. Aster swallowed hard, heart somehow racing all the way up in their throat.

There was the electronic buzz of someone’s phone, and then footsteps away.

"Just get here. What?" There was a pause. The voice became incredulous. "Take a bus."

Aster strained to hear their kidnapper outside. The thud of their heartbeat made it hard to hear.

‘This person sounds so familiar. Where do I know them? It’s not Harmes. Definitely not Barry. Obviously this isn’t my Mom. So why do I know their voice, and why can’t I place it?’

"Don't you have your company issued laser?" the voice scoffed.

‘What kind of company issues lasers?’ Aster panicked. ‘A security company? Are they professionals?’

"City bus-" There was a flurry of annoyed finger snapping. "You have a gun! The bus route is wherever you tell the driver to go!" Heels clicked against cement.

The finger snapping startled Aster to attention, and their hindbrain perked up. That was a distinctive tic. They knew who did that.

Aster leaned against the wall, reeling in surprise.

No wonder the voice outside the darkened van was familiar. Aster had heard it on the phone only yesterday, requesting that their floral shop provide cold proofed roses for the Vice President’s birthday party. She knew damn well Aster was locked into a contract.

Sunny Aviichen’s pitch rose. “What do you mean a little old lady needs to get off in Newark?”

Aster swallowed an inappropriate giggle. Their heart rate was up through the roof and sweat was starting to form in their hair. It prickled uncomfortably.

'I guess that call was my last chance to break my exclusivity contract,' Aster thought, shock isolating them from the situation. How was this real? They let out a long, slow breath, trying to force their heart rate to slow. Being panicked wasn’t likely to help them right now. They’d just start to hyperventilate in a parked van.  ‘I didn’t realize that the situation was that serious. I know other good florists, I could have introduced her.’

In their gut, they knew that wouldn’t have satisfied Sunny. She wanted Aster- not because Aster was a great florist, which they were!- but because they worked with Harmes.

Whatever beef they had with Harmes ran deep, strong, and was solely one directional. Harmes never even seemed to remember Sunny’s name.

“She can't walk?- you'renot killing the driver. He can just go back and drop her off when you're done.” Footsteps clacked angrily outside.

The fact that Sunny didn’t seem to expect her employee to gun down a bus driver was reassuring. It wasn’t a perfect guarantee of Aster’s safety, but it did imply that Sunny wasn’t overly violent.

‘That could change if she realizes that I can hear and recognize her,’ Aster thought. They shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a better position and distract from the queasy feeling in their stomach. It was easy to resolve to play dumb. They wanted to go home with all the phalanges they started with.

‘Please let that work.’

Aster wouldn’t complain at all if Sunny Aviichen thought Aster’s head was empty.

It sounded like Ms. Aviichen was finishing her phone call. Her voice got even louder as she snarled, “I’m starting to think you don’t want to be here. All you present are problems. Bring me some solutions!”

Aster held their breath and waited, heart pounding. But no one seemed to be interested in coming back to them. There were conversations and the sounds of feet scuffling on the ground, but they didn’t come in.

Eventually even the adrenaline ran out. Aster fell asleep in their little nest of blankets. They woke up to the sound of the door unlatching.

“Good morning,” sang Box Guy. He flipped a switch as he entered the back of the van. Something started humming. “It’s going to be a busy day today, so you’ll have to excuse our poor hospitality. I thought we’d get you started off with a fruit salad, cheesy scrambled eggs, and a nice rye bread with butter and jelly. Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?”

“...Coffee and juice?” Aster asked. They eyed the space between the man and the door. They probably couldn’t make it. But what if they could?

“Coming right up.” Box Guy had a hairnet on. “Just a moment.” He pulled out his phone and texted with one hand, not letting Aster out of his sight. “Would you like to use the facilities before or after breakfast?”

“Before, please.” Aster tossed aside their blankets and stood gingerly. They were so sore from sleeping on the hard floor.

Box Guy swept an arm theatrically. “Your Port a Potty awaits. I’ve got face wipes and dry shampoo as well.”

‘I want a real shower.’

Aster felt their lips thin. “Thank you,” they said, as genuinely as they could muster. They took advantage of the generous facilities. The offered breakfast was waiting by the time Box Guy took them back to the van, which had gotten a lot colder since Aster left it. Box Guy lingered while Aster ate and made casual conversation.

When Aster finished, Boy Guy fished something out of his back pocket. Something fabric. Aster eyed it with trepidation. “Alright, we are going to work today,” he said cheerfully. “I’m afraid that for professional reasons we really can’t have non-employees involved in food preparation, which includes overseeing it. So I will be covering your eyes today.” He unfolded and brandished what Aster now realized was a cotton pillowcase.

“Okay,” Aster said slowly. These people were really weird. They managed a smile. “I understand completely. Clients pay a premium for professional service.”

“You get it,” Box Guy said happily. “Here we go.” He pulled the pillowcase over Aster’s head. That was fine, it was not good but it wasn’t a surprise.

There was a metallic click. A hand grabbed Aster’s wrist.

“Wait, what-”

A handcuff snapped shut. “Can’t have you totally loose,” Box Guy said. “Here we go.” Aster didn’t fight the hand that pushed them back against the side of the van. “Careful, your balance isn’t going to be very good when you can’t see.”

‘It won’t be very good with one hand secured against the wall, either,’ Aster thought, a little hysterical.

“All set,” Box called out. “What time is it?”

“Shit, we have to go.” Aster craned to see the last bits of sunlight through tightly woven fabric before the caterers slammed the van door shut.

The drive that followed was massively unpleasant. The turns jerked Aster around, unable to brace well because their right hand was secured behind their back. At least their left was free.

‘Did they realize I could take this off?’ Aster wondered. Most of their body was cold, but it was hot and damp from their breath inside the pillowcase.

At least it wasn’t a long drive.

The van stopped. The doors opened. “Hold on, don’t mind us,” said Flower Guy.

Aster didn’t say a thing. They just breathed. And they listened to the sounds of the van being loaded up. Eventually the noises stop, the doors shut, and they go for another drive. The repetition starts lulling Aster to sleep. Numb, they don’t really react when the van stops again.

At least, not until there’s a new voice outside. Aster snaps their head up before they register the words.

“Hey!” There’s a pause. “Do you have a hostage in there?”

Aster felt their eyes go wide. ‘Someone came for me? Who is that? I don’t know that voice.’ They struggled to sit up straighter. It didn’t really work.

It sounds like there’s a fight outside. Aster cranes to hear. There’s a thump against the outside of the van and some scuffling noises. If they’re talking, it’s too quiet for Aster to hear. Someone makes a sound of pain.

It feels like hours. It was probably seconds.

Someone tries to open the van. The lock jiggles.

“Give me the keys, nerds.” The same voice as before calls out. “If I have to break in, Sunny’s gonna be pissed at you.”

‘It’s gotta be a vigilante,’ Aster realizes. The relief is incredible. ‘Who is this? Are they new? Do I know of them at all?’

A few seconds later there is a familiar voice.

“Let’s go.”

Aster blinks back tears. That’s Harmes. Holy shit, the event planners did it. The event planning firm found them.

Something jingles as someone picks up the keys and unlocks the van. Aster stares in the direction of those doors. The cotton pillowcase was sticking to the stress sweat on their face. It was something even more stifling than before.

“Hello, Aster.” Harmes says, sounding casually unsure.

‘I was right. It’s Harmes. Harmes is here and I’m getting out of this van. Sunny can eat dirt.’

“Hey!” Aster tries to say, but the sweaty pillowcase clings to their mouths. They try to spit it out, but it just keeps kinda sticking to their tongue and lips.

Then the pillowcase is mercifully removed. Aster looks up at Harmes, glorious Harmes. Mildly terrifying Harmes.

“Hey.” They say breathlessly, and smile. “Wasn’t sure I was ever gonna see you again, Harmes.”

Then the door swings open again, as an Asian woman with a spiked bat athletically jumps up into the van. She doesn’t pause for a second and kneels down in front of Aster to look at the cuffs around their wrist. There’s a metallic sliding sound and then your hand is free. “That was… not well planned.” Aster turns to look at it, lifting their hand in disbelief. The whole handcuff is still attached. Was the other end just hooked onto something?

‘That’s so embarrassing. I wasn’t actually restrained. Maybe I could have gotten away.’

“Can you get this off?” Aster asks pitifully. “Or do we just need to go and figure it out later?”

The vigilante nods, cocksure. “I can. It’s not a very good lock,” she snarks, pulling out some little metal tools and jamming them around inside the keyhole. After a few seconds, the lock opens. Aster leans into Harmes’ side, accepting the help out of the van into sunshine. It’s a little painful after so long in the darkness.

There’s no sign of Box Guy and Flower Guy. There are some grimy looking cummerbunds on the cement, though, and an empty silver tray.

There’s a jingle. Aster looks over in time to see Harmes casually throw the keys onto the driver’s seat.

Aster climbs in and collapses gladly next to a serious looking woman in a suit, while Harmes and their vigilante friend pile in the car. But try as they might, Aster just can’t stop shaking. Their entire torso is vibrating with adrenaline and exhaustion. The woman in the suit is right up against Aster’s body, and the human warmth is nice.

“Glad to see you made it, Aster!” a person Aster vaguely recognizes as a social media thembo turns around and waves. “Nice to meet you.”

Aster is too tired to really think about any of that. Harmes is a weird person. They have weird friends. The serious woman pulls a small bag out of her briefcase and puts it on Aster’s lap without looking away from her papers, while the person Aster can only remember as “that hottie with the villain hotpants line” drives out of the parking lot and back in the direction of town. Aster peels one eye open politely when the woman next to them begins to speak.

“Apple juice, a sandwich, and a banana. You need to hydrate and eat.” Then she turns back to her papers.

That gets Aster up like a shot, and they eat it with a frenzy. Honestly, it isn’t as nice as the catering leftovers, but a sandwich and juice does wonders for Aster’s nerves.

Eventually the driver switches on music. It’s dark, and the streetlamps pass by slowly. They get brighter and newer as they approach the city center, halos of warm light bathing the inside of the car.

Time passes slowly now that the adrenaline is fading. Harmes’ friends keep glancing at you. Harmes is busy on their phone.

Harmes turns towards you and raises their phone. “Aster, proof of life.” Aster extends a weak smile and a peace sign for the picture.

‘I’m out. I’m safe. It’s done.’

Finally, Aster’s heart rate starts to go down. Everything is going to be okay.

The car ride is quiet. The vigilante polishes her bat with a grin that is concerning, but Aster can’t really bring themself to focus on that. The methodical folding of papers over the rumble of the engine. No one speaks. Aster’s eyes begin to feel tired, and they decide not to fight it. They lean back into the seat of the car, and relax into the tranquility of newfound safety.

They fall asleep almost immediately.

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