#hostage situation

The moment Caretaker heard Whumpee's voice over the phone, they KNEW that something was wrong. Usually, Whumpee speaks confidently and with cockiness. But here? They sounded... off. Stiff.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker questioned, "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Oh, it's... nothing," Caretaker could hear Whumpee swallow. "I need your help. Come to the abandoned warehouse near the team base. I found something."

A pause. Then... "And come alone. It's likr Funky Town over here."

Caretaker gripped the phone so hard they would have broken it if they had super strength. Funky Town. The code word the two had shared if either of them were in trouble. Someone was holding Whumpee hostage, maybe even listening in on the conversation.

Caretaker gulped, before they spoke, mustering enough hold to not demand where Whumpee was, if they were hurt. If they said something like that, whoever was holding Whumpee would hear it and would harm Whumpee. "Okay. I'm coming."

They hung up the phone, before glancing at their team, their eyes wide in worry and fear.

Maybe they lack the political or emotional connections to the heroes and decision makers. Or maybe Whumper demanded too much in exchange. It could just be simple math; what Whumper wants would hurt dozens of people. What is Whumpee's one life compared to that?

Negotiations break down.

A hostage Whumpee who isn't really worth killing, either. Who is eventually, confusingly, let go. Who has to wander back into their old life, knowing that no one helped them. Maybe no one even realized they were gone. They're not worth saving, not worth killing, not worth... anything.

"I will pee in the bed."

...

Sammy's Children's Day - Ep. 9

“Did they hurt you?”

Civilian was surprised to see Right Hand. They expected Hero to show up at some point or another to let them know how negotiations went. They didn’t think Right Hand would be given permission to see them. Let alone to see them on her own. But then again… Civilian glanced briefly at the camera in the corner of their cell.

“They’re letting you out and about then?” Civilian asked, ignoring Right Hand’s question. “Suppose they must really trust you after this.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Right Hand pleaded.

“That’s not what it sounds like to me.”

“Your brother is-“

“I know,” Civilian snipped, gripping the sheets of the bed they sat on. “Hero told me.”

“You’re upset.”

“There were other ways you could have helped them. Ways that didn’t involve telling them I existed.”

“If there was, believe me I would have done it,” Right hand assured, though she could see Civilian wasn’t convinced. “Hey,” she called, “I mean it. This was the last thing I wanted to do. And I would never have done it if I thought you were in any kind of danger.”

“You’re saying this isn’t dangerous?” Civilian asked doubtfully.

“They won’t hurt you.”

“They will when they see what he’ll do.”

Right Hand furrowed her brow.

“He won’t risk you like that,” she said, confused that Civilian would think otherwise.

“The two of you have far too much faith in these heroes.”

“The two of us?”

“You and my brother,” Civilian clarified. “That’s something you both have in common. You and Hero too. You both seem so sure my brother isn’t going to retaliate.”

“He loves you.”

“Which is precisely why he will,” Civilian pressed. “Please, Right Hand. You have to tell Hero this was a mistake before my brother finds out.”

“You’re one to talk about retaliation,” Right Hand huffed.

“I won’t say a word. I promise. I don’t-“ Civilian took a second to catch their breath, “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Civilian’s mind went to when they were young and living with their brother. The screams that would echo down the halls and into their room. Traitors and enemies, Villain assured, but none of that made it easier. What helped was when Right Hand would come in hours after the screaming stopped in reality, and would hold Civilian until the screaming stopped internally.

“It’s too late anyway,” Right Hand sighed. “Even if Hero hasn’t made the call yet, your brother had enough people watching you that he’s sure to know by now.”

Civilian held their head in their hands, gripping against their hair as they tried to calm, themselves down. They looked back at Right Hand through teary eyes.

“You have to run,” they pleaded. “He won’t expect you to be free yet. There’s still time to leave the city before he sends anyone after you-“

“Oh, my sweet little bird,” Right Hand knelt in front of Civilian and brushed her fingers through their hair as they sobbed panicked breaths. “It’ll be alright. It will all work out. Just trust me.”

“You. Sold. Me. Out,” they managed to say between gasps.

“I know, and I’m so sorry it had to come to this, but I swear to you I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She pulled Civilian in for a hug, and they found themselves unable to resist the comfort. “Let them try,” she whispered, “and I will skin them alive.”

Civilian clung back tightly as she rubbed their back, beginning to feel their breaths slowing before the click of the door echoed through the room.

“Time’s up,” Hero said to the pair with a pained look on their face.

Right Hand nodded, giving one last squeeze before pulling away. Stopping when they felt Civilian grip her arms.

Civilian looked her in the eyes desperately. It took every ounce of their strength to bite back the words ‘don’t leave me’ though everything else in their body screamed it.

“Run,” they said instead through shaky breath. And hoped to God she would listen.

The smile she gave back was an attempt at reassurance, though it was anything but. She would be back. She promised. And Civilian wanted nothing more than for her to break it.

Later that evening, Hero made a phone call. They hadn’t meant to put it off so long, but their mind kept reeling over what they were going to say and how they were going to say it. Hostage situations from this side of it all was a first. And they’d been adamantly against it all from the beginning. But Right Hand was convincing. And the team was convinced. Which meant Hero was convinced.

The whole situation left a bad taste in their mouth though, so they wanted to make sure they were in charge of it all at least. Partner had offered to take point, worried that Hero was too soft for this approach. Hero turned them down though. They wanted to believe in their team, but the fight with Villain had gone on a long time, and some wounds were fresher than others.

The phone rang for a fair while and Hero began to wonder if Villain even realised their sibling was missing. They were about to hang up when the ringing stopped, and Villain’s voice came through the other end.

“Who is this?” Villain asked.

“You know who this is,” Hero sighed.

“Well, I wondered if perhaps I was speaking to a shapeshifter or changeling. It seemed the only reasonable explanation to your current course of actions.”

“I’m guessing you know why I’m calling then.”

“I do. Though I would love to hear the speech you scripted out for this. Wouldn’t want you to have rehearsed it all for nothing, after all.”

“If you know why I’m calling then I’m not going to give you the whole shpiel. You know what’s at stake, so turn yourself in.”

There was a few seconds of silence over the phone, and Hero hoped that Villain was about to accept.

“Or what?” was the response instead.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Or what?”

“I’m not playing this game with you.”

“I think we both know which of us is playing games here.” Hero didn’t need to see Villain when they could hear the sly grin in his voice. “You’re the one who decided to play kidnapper so come on then. What exactly do you plan to do with my precious sibling if I don’t cooperate?”

“Whatever I have to, if it means you’ll listen.”

“You’d hurt them?” he asked teasingly. “Would you send me a finger every hour I didn’t respond? Or beat them half to death on camera and send me the footage? Could you hurt an innocent? Kill them-?”

“Stop it,” Hero snapped. They pulled the phone away from their ear, unaware if Villain was laughing at them right now or not and they definitely didn’t care to find out. They took a second to compose themselves, deep breath in and out, and put the phone to their ear again.

“I don’t want to do this. You know that as much as anyone. But I don’t like whatever this is you’re planning. I don’t want to hurt your sibling, but if you continue with your plans, if you hurt someone, then I will find the strength to do what I must if it gets you to listen.”

“And if I stop my plans, but don’t turn myself in?”

“Then we keep Civilian until you do. They won’t be hurt but you’ll never see them again. And I don’t think you’re the type of person who can stand that.”

Villain quietened again, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know what the golden rule is?” Villain asked.

“…the what?” Hero’s eyebrows furrowed.

“The golden rule. You know, from the Bible.”

“Uhh… thou shalt not kill? Thou shalt not steal…? There’s a lot of rules in the Bible. You’ll have to be more specific,” they said, before adding, “Didn’t expect you to be the religious type.”

“I dabble,” Villain clarified. “I’m not generally the type to follow a rule because someone said it was a good or bad thing to do. Morals are a social construct after all. But there is one that I abide by though, and that is the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Here’s an example: if I were to kill someone, I should not complain if someone were to kill me. It’s the same for everything else. If I tried to stab you and failed, but you managed to stab me, rest assured, I would consider that well within your right.

“I am not afraid to die if someone is able to kill me, however unlikely. I am not concerned with getting hurt, or someone stealing my worldly possessions, or even finding a bomb under my car when I finish my work for the day.”

“What’s your point?” Hero sighed, trying to get their head around another one of Villain’s monologues.

“In the two years I’ve known your identity, have I ever once come after one of your loved ones?” Villain asked, his voice calm as though he was genuinely asking and not that he already knew the answer. “Surely you didn’t think I was an idiot. That after two years I never thought to put a tail on you and find out who you care about and where these precious people live.”

“How long-?”

“Darling, please,” Villain tutted, “I’ve known since day one and have been keeping tabs ever since.”

Hero scrambled to find pen and paper, writing a note as quick as they could before holding it up to the camera in the room, knowing Partner and the rest of the team would be watching despite Hero asking them not to.

“If you knew for that long then why didn’t you do something?”

“I’m starting to wonder if you ever listen to me,” Villain sighed. “If I went after the loved ones of my enemies, I would be saying to everyone that it’s alright to do the same to mine. I love my sibling. I would never want anyone to think this was acceptable.”

The door opened and Partner ran into the room, package in hand addressed to Hero but already opened by the looks of it.

“My point is,” Villain continued, “if you’ve taken one of my loved ones, then are you not saying you’d be fine if I did the same to one of yours?”

Hero spotted a hint of red-brown seeping out the corner of the little package.

“What did you do?”

“The first finger was a courtesy. Return Civilian unharmed before I run out of fingers to cut away.”

Hero’s heart stopped as they stared wide-eyed at Partner, harrowed look on their face as they silently muttered Lover’s name.

“That, dear Hero, is how we play kidnapper.”

2025 AI-Less Whumptober Day 26 - Knife to Throat

Granting You a Dreamlike Life - Ep. 24

My Lady General - Ep. 1

Destiny of Us - Ep. 10

Love and the Emperor - Ep. 5

3 Will be Free - Ep. 9

Maiden Holmes - Ep. 6

The Last Empress - Ep. 1

Love In Between - Ep. 7

The Game: Towards Zero - Ep. 22 (on Viki) Ep. 11 (on kissasian)

The shrill scream of a fire alarm interrupted Civilian’s journey towards Hot Topic, quadrupling their already quite extensive annoyance with the day. First, they had had to park ridiculously far from the entrance and choose between giving up entirely or dodging several lifted trucks that couldn’t even see them. Then, she found out that the stupid mall map had been replaced by a giant QR code, which she had scanned and studied but Civilian couldn’t hold their phone and push their wheelchair at the same time, causing her to almost immediately get lost.

Now that they had finally made it to the second floor, lights flashed in warning all around them. Groaning, she made a quick u-turn and rolled back the way they had come, towards the elevator sneakily and infuriatingly located in the corner across the entire mall from where they were trying to go. They made it back quickly and wasted no time clicking the down button several times in rapid succession.

Civilian barely noticed that the light behind it didn’t come on and the familiar whirring of the mechanics didn’t commence. They held out foolish hope that the control panel simply had a burned out bulb and the alarm blaring covered the sound of the elevator rising to meet them. Her denial ran out when several moments passed, and the silver doors failed to slide open.

The elevator wasn’t working.

Of course it wasn’t.

They spun around, eyes searching desperately for someone who could help. Real fire or not, she did not want to stick around a blaring alarm any longer than necessary.

Civilian cursed the rise in online shopping that contributed to the ghost town that was their local mall because there was not a soul still occupying the upper level as far as they could see. She was on the side that had mostly closed down, because that’s where the elevator was.

The only elevator.

Rapid-fire brainstorming was taking place in Civilian’s head. If they could get to the more populated side quick enough, maybe they could get the attention of someone on the first floor through the glass banisters that overlooked one of the huge lobbies. She could yell, but would anyone even hear her shouting over the sound of the alarm?

Turns out she didn’t have to find out.

They spotted a group of men coming out of one of the closed down stores. They were all styled in practical black clothing, pockets and coverage galore. It was an odd place for a gaggle of similarly-dressed people to appear from, but hey—who was she to judge? If they wanted to do some urban exploring inside a dying mall in coordinated outfits, that was none of Civilian’s business.

They would, however, be taking full advantage of it.

Several voices bickered loudly, but Civilian only caught a sentence or two with the few words she managed to make out.

“No, you were supposed to pull the alarm after we found the hostages.”

She froze the arm she had been raising to start flagging them down.

I’m sorry, they thought, did he just say ‘hostages’?

Abruptly, the voices cut off as someone in the group caught sight of them. A dozen heads turned towards the elevator where they still sat contemplating their options.

“Oh? What do we have here?” A man in the front announced, loud enough to carry over the ambient blaring, quizzically tilting his head. He turned briefly to address the group behind him as he spoke, “Gentlemen, I believe our problem might just be solved.”

Oh no, those two statements better not be related.

Civilian felt a weight drop in their stomach and slowly started moving backwards as the man in front turned back and started stalking towards them. They jerked as they hit something solid, the leaf in their hair giving away the fact that they had just backed into a giant potted plant.

It was just her luck that this was the moment she found the one thing still alive on this side of the mall. Their collision allowed the man to reach them by crossing much less distance than Civilian would have liked.

At the very least, he should have had to work for it.

He crouched down to their level, which—if Civilian wasn’t so terrified mildly alarmed—would have elicited them to try and run him over.

“You’ll do nicely, I think.”

“Excuse me?” Civilian questioned, moderately indignant.

“It will be refreshing to have a hostage that won’t try and run."

'Can't' Civilian amended in their head with a hefty glare. Their mouth stayed slightly agape, appalled at the audacity.

"Don’t worry, we're a very hospitable bunch. Your time with us will be lovely."

She scoffed, but she wasn't particularly seeing a way out of this. They would have had to be an olympic level trackstar and an expert dodger to evade the fifteen plus people between them and any hope of an exit, neither of which were they even remotely close to being.

Still monolouging, the man had turned his back, though he continued to address her alone.

"I do apologize that the alarm shut down the elevators. It's no matter though."

As if instructed by mere implication alone, two men broke off from the crowd behind him, coming to circle around Civilian like sharks and eying their chair like a cage.

By the time Civilian realized why, it was too late.

“Oh absolutely not–"

Despite her protests, the man gave the nod for his henchmen to continue. Civilian whipped her head around, trying to figure out where the henchman behind her was grabbing her. They felt the world tilt as it seemed both henchmen had found a hold and were now hoisting them into the air. They made it a grand total of one step towards the staircase also located in the same dusty corner as the elevator before Civilian heard the telltale slip of a metal tube and suddenly their chair was once again becoming well acquainted with the ground.

She landed at an angle, almost tipping before the henchman in front had the belated sense to grab the higher side and keep them from falling.

Civilian for once found herself grateful for the seatbelt they usually despised for keeping their hips firmly in their seat, though their back had been jostled quite a bit by the drop. Civilian winced, both in pain and in response to the sound they heard when their wheels hit floor. That sounded so expensive.

If those bastards bent her frame–

A quick glance back revealed one henchman, still gripping a black pole with a ninety degree angle in the center.

That would be their arm rest. Their removable armrest, designed to come on and off with ease, very much not designed as a handhold.

Idiots.

The presumed leader stepped forward.

"Gentlemen, let's not injure the poor lady."

Yeah, let’s not.

Said 'lady' hastily started moving away from the two men that dropped her. More henchmen filled in around them, and the lead man spoke placatingly, "If you could just stay still for a moment—"

Civilian whipped around, their hair twirling with them as they spoke, “So you can drop me down the stairs and make me more disabled? No thank you!”

The group stopped their advancements for the time being, presumably held at bay by the palm that was raised and pointed in her direction.

“Might I ask what you usually do when you encounter a flight of stairs?”

“You think I frequent places without elevators?” Civilian bit, avoiding the question.

“We’re on a bit of a schedule here, darling. You're getting down there one way or another."

Civilian bristled at the pet name more so than the threat. They looked around cautiously, becoming more dejected as she did.

“If we’re gonna do this,” she swallowed. She really did not want to do this. “at least let me tell you how.”

Villain made an open-armed gesture, something along the lines of ‘go ahead’.

Civilian lifted her chin.

“First of all, there will be no lifting.”

She positioned herself backwards facing away from the steps, a move which required more trust than they should have been able to muster in this situation. This was really the second best option.

The first would involve them scooting down the stairs themselves step by step and their chair carried separately. Unfortunately, that procedure would most definitely not fit into this seemingly tight ‘schedule’ they were working with here.

Picking out the closest, Civilian grabbed a henchman’s hand, placing it on a bar that crossed horizontally at their back.

“You hold here, and only here,” they instructed firmly.

“You,” Civilian singled out another henchman that looked like he had arm muscles up to the task and pointed directly towards him, “hold here and here to keep me from falling backwards.”

Not a fun possiblity, trust her.

She patted both sides of the front of their frame to make sure there was absolutely no confusion about how she was going to be handled. The only guy that had spoken watched on quietly but with an amusement that Civilian found to be incredibly out of place. Civilian double checked both henchmen’s hand placements before nodding and taking their hands off the wheels.

They tried especially hard not to think of the impact of acquiring a head injury on their quality of life as they started to descend the stairs. And if the song Jesus Take the Wheel started playing in her mind, then no one needed to know. Certainly not the creepy leader-looking guy who seemed a little too interested in his freshly-acquired hostage.

They were eternally grateful when they were finally placed back level on the floor at the bottom of the staircase, still remaining the same degree of disabled as they had been at the top.

Their gratefulness faded when someone grabbed hold of their push handles, and several locks of their hair in the process. She hissed lightly as she was forced to tilt her head back a bit to relieve the pressure on her scalp. Civilian bit their lip to hold in the lecture on how they felt about being pushed, reminding herself that hostages don’t get complete bodily autonomy.

The henchman behind them didn't notice, and they were soon pushed into the hastily abandoned break room of a bath and body works. They were left facing the back wall, and in lieu of turning around they brought their hands up to their head to gently massage all across their skull.

She didn't know what was worse for her migraine, all the hair follicles that just got ripped out, or the noxious mixing of scents they had traveled through on the sales floor that now lingered on their clothes.

Speaking of bad for her migraine, a screeching sound arose from the opposite wall, causing her to finally turn around and see a metal shelf had been dragged across the floor and was now partially blocking the door. There were no henchmen left in the room, but they had left an opening that was obviously too narrow for their wheelchair to fit through.

Rude.

Civilian scanned the room, searching for any other opening. A door, a window, something they could use to leave. There was nothing but the door they had been pushed in through, and that shelf looked far too heavy for them to move. There was absolutely no way she was rolling out that room.

That left walking.

It wasn’t their favorite activity by a long shot—in fact, they actively avoided it whenever possible—but in a pinch she could make do.

Safe to say, this was certainly a pinch.

As quietly as they could, they locked the brakes on their chair. They couldn’t control the tell-tale click of the seat belt unbuckling, so they waited a moment to make sure no one came running before they proceeded. When no one did, she gripped the armrests on both sides and heaved herself upright as quickly as practically possible. She wobbled slightly as they searched for their balance, but luckily their legs stayed straight-ish and solid enough beneath them. They took one step and then another, wincing at their ankle movements while they did.

Today would have been a great day to actually wear those orthotics.

They tried to distract themselves from the thought that they could be caught at any moment. Her feet were numb with pooled blood, and she knew if she looked down her legs would closely resemble those of a corpse.

Pretty good reason to not look down.

She knew she should have massaged some life back into them before they got up, should have sat at the edge of their cushion for a moment before standing. Should have made sure she didn't hear anyone on the other side of the door, should have found something to support their weight as they moved. So many should haves, but they all required time.

Time they didn’t have.

Maybe if they’d had a warm up period, it would have worked. If the stress wasn’t making their already-unusually-fast heart beat twice as rapidly, if she hadn’t already been sitting for a few hours with no breaks. They really should have succeeded. A couple months ago, she would have.

They made it a momentous six feet before their vision tunneled and sealed off like the end of a Looney Tunes episode. She froze, too unfamiliar with the layout to risk continuing for at least a few more seconds. They shuffled forward carefully, reaching for anything to grab hold of. They caught hold of the shelf, giving them enough confidence to push forward a few more steps despite the ringing in her ears. Funny thing about temporarily losing your sight, you can’t see when two of Villain’s henchmen enter the room and you’re about to walk right into them.

And she did walk right into them.

She squeaked when they collided, losing focus and causing their right knee to buckle underneath them. They didn’t have to worry about falling, however, as each henchman had automatically taken up a tight grip of both of her arms. By this point the black had faded out, and Civilian could see perfectly the seriousness and underlying confusion written on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” Civilian questioned with a snarky confidence that lost most of its effect due to them being significantly out of breath, “Never seen a girl walk before?”

One of the henchmen blinked out of his confused haze, enough to give the other a more pointed questioning look.

“We should tell Villain about this, right?”

If Civilian was any good at guessing, they knew exactly who he was referring to, and they very much did not want to see what would happen if he found out.

“Hey,” Civilian pleaded, temporary confidence draining immediately, “that’s really not necessary—“

“Boss!” The other called out after nodding.

Shit.

He appeared before Civilian could force their sluggish thoughts to prepare. He looked between the two henchman, doing a decently covert double take when he realized who was being held barely upright.

Emphasis on the ‘barely.’ The second this was over, Civilian was seriously starting physical therapy again.

He raised his eyebrow, prompting the henchman to their right to explain.

“She was…erm. Heading for the door.”

“Walking.” The one on her left clarified.

If you could even call it that, Civilian thought numbly.

“Well well,” ‘Villain’ stepped closer, more obviously looking them up and down now, “What are we going to do with you?”

“If you’re smart,” Civilian suggested breathlessly, “sit me the fuck down.”

The leader smirked, but it must have been clear enough that they weren’t joking because he nodded to his underlings and inclined his head toward the other side of the room where a cushioned bench sat against the wall.

“Over there,” he directed.

The henchmen pulled on their arms with what was probably just a fraction of their strength, almost gentle given the circumstances. Their grips were still going to bruise of course, but that wasn’t really their faults.

Civilian couldn’t care less that they were being led away from their actual chair. All she needed right now was a solid surface to collapse onto.

“Better yet,” she thought, slowly and carefully melting out of the seat she had been guided to and onto the floor, heaving their feet up to rest on the bench instead, “Floor time.”

A rich laugh that didn’t come from either of the men standing above her filled the room.

Oh, so she didn’t just think it.

She said it out loud.

Great. That was just…great.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes. There wasn’t a single place in their body that they couldn’t feel their heart beating.

Fuck walking, they thought, I should have just crawled.

Something cold and metal pressed up against their hand that was resting on the ground. Civilian opened their eyes quizzically to see their water bottle hovering just above their fingers. They instinctively moved to grab it, hesitating only briefly when they saw the one who was holding it was none other than Villain himself.

Fluids. Fluids were good.

They positioned the cup by the side of their head, holding it at an angle and turning their head to awkwardly sip a few small mouthfuls of water. They felt the coolness hit the back of their throat and travel slowly down to their stomach.

Too slowly.

She coughed, and a foot at her shoulder nudged her up a bit so she could more effectively clear the liquid from her airway.

"If you could refrain from choking, I do prefer my hostages alive. Greater bargaining power, you understand."

Aspirating, not choking, but whatever.

"If you could refrain from annoying me to death with that fancy syntax—"

"Bold coming from the lackluster escape artist."

Oh. That wasn't just a thought either.

Figuring their hole was already dug, Civilian batted her eyes and lied sweetly straight through her teeth.

"I was just getting my laps in."

Villain’s face turned unimpressed.

"Forgive me, I rather assumed I could leave you of your own accord."

Civilian's throat tightened for reasons they couldn't yet discern. They flicked their eyes to meet his carefully.

"You made an assumption. That's not my fault."

"No," he conceded, much to Civilian's surprise, "but I do intend to remedy that mistake."

Oh, that didn't sound good.

Hands returned to their arms and hooked under their shoulders and Civilian could feel the yank coming from a mile away.

"Slowly!" She warned, desperation lacing her tone.

To their credit, the henchmen did slow her forceful ascent. They allowed them to stop for a moment once they reached ninety degrees, and only heaved them up completely once they nodded. Thankfully, they weren't placed back on their feet, but instead back on the cushion of their wheelchair. They slid back on instinct, aligning their hips as best they could and lifting their feet onto the footplate.

Villain appeared from behind them, reaching into their personal space to click the belt across their lap. Civilian stilled and kept their face blank as they noticed something shining and metal in his hand.

"Once again, I apologize. This industry does lead one to require certain assurances."

He lifted the tool, stabbing it straight into the lock of the seatbelt, jamming it in place.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind following me…"

Like they had a choice.