Part Two:

Potential

Vin Tanner woke up with a start.

He pushed his head from the pillow in a supreme effort, fighting the swirling fog in his mind that threatened to drag him down its soft, warm comfort which each length of his journey. The drowsiness in his bones was more than just sleep, he knew that without any doubt in his mind because normally he was a light sleeper and could wake up at the slightest sound. The difficulty in just keeping his eyes open as he forced himself away from the mattress was not natural as was the bitter taste in his mouth and sparked a memory in him of the time when he had woken up after Will Richmond had shot him. He was racked by the same stupor that had beset him from being heavily sedated in order for Alex to perform surgery on him to save his life.

He sat upright and felt the room spin uncontrollably for a few seconds as he attempted to regain control of his equilibrium. His insides felt rubbery and Vin knew that he had not quite shaken the effects of whatever had been put on his pillow to steal the last few hours from him. He was slid clad in his long johns as he felt himself to his feet, using a herculean effort to keep from dropping to his knees as he forced himself to take a step. His legs were uncooperative and the best that he could manage as he staggered towards the chair uncontrollably was to grab the table it sat against, before he could collapse to the floor.

Looking outside the window, morning shone into his room like a powerful strobe of light and the sounds of day could be heard from the street below. He could hear the voices of people going about their business, their footsteps loud against the boardwalk as they made their way up the length of town, chattering to friends and neighbours. Horses trotted enthusiastically up and down dirt track that ran through the heart of town. The heat of the air told him just how late in the morning it was and he knew with a sinking feeling that whatever the reason for his sedation had been, it was more or less accomplished with the discovery of how much time he had been asleep.

This gave him a renewed determination to regain control of himself. Allowing himself a few seconds to accustom himself to being awake, he made another attempt to move and was met with decidedly more success. This time he made it to the door and did not care that he was clad in long johns only as he twisted the door knob and stumbled out into the hall. His heart was pounding with fear because he knew there could only be one reason for his being drugged like this. Someone had wanted him out of the way. With his increased heart rate pumping blood through his limbs, the effects of the sedative began to dissipate and by the time he had reached the door to Chris Larabee’s room, he was more or less running.

Bursting in through the door, Vin Tanner stopped short at the doorway and knew that he was too late.

The room was empty. Evidence of Chris’ habitation was obvious by the black hat that was perched on the nightstand and the gun belt that hung at the edge of the bed head. There was no signs of a struggle, save for the remnants of broken glass not too far from the door. Vin let his gaze sweep across the room, feeling this tightening in his chest that whispered taunts of failure at having not been there when Chris had needed him most. Vin lowered himself to the fragments of glass and picked up one of the broken shards. He took a breath of it and knew that it was wine, not whisky or bourbon like a man would drink but wine.

Something a woman would drink.

Chris had not been alone in this room and yet the bed was made, with only the covers drawn back to show that it had been intended for use even though the sleeper had never made it there to sleep. Chris’ boots were still at the foot of the bed and however, he had left here, he had done so wearing his long johns and his pants. Everything else that had come with the gunslinger from Four Corners remained behind. Vin let his gaze sweep across the room, studying every aspect of it and knew even before he had shifted through what was left behind that he would find nothing to give evidence as to what had been Chris’ fate.

Without any doubt he knew that a woman had come in to this room last night and possibly attacked Chris with the bottle whose remains were at his feet before having the gunslinger removed from this vicinity. Whoever it was had also taken the precaution of rendering him unconscious with the concoction that had awaited him on his pillow to ensure that he would not be there to offer Chris any assistance during the entire procedure. Poisons and potions was a woman’s tool and Vin knew the bad feeling that he had endured through the night before in the company of Laurel Chase was not incorrect. He knew that she could have been the only one who was responsible for this.

Vin did not know how much time he had because the kidnappers had an extremely large gap ahead of him. He was assuming that Chris had been kidnapped because the possibility that someone had caught him off guard in order to murder Chris Larabee was more than the tracker could stand. Withdrawing from the room for the moment, the effects of the sedative were more or less gone by the time he returned to his room and started to get dressed. The judge was in town and the sheriff in Vesta City might be able to lend a hand as they started the search. He knew it was Laurel Chase he had to find because there could be no other explanation.

Returning to his own room, he pulled on his clothes and tucked his Winchester into his holster, hoping against hope that Chris was still alive and not beyond his reach.

*********

Hours later, Vin was gathered outside the jailhouse with Sheriff McMasters and Orin Travis in attendance. Following Vin’s revelation that some foul play had befallen Chris Larabee, McMasters had ordered a search of the entire town of Vesta City, hoping to some clue as to the whereabouts of the missing lawman. Vin himself had tried to pick up tracks around the hotel but with the dust storm raging outside, anything that might have yielded useful information would have been obscured at the first gust of strong wind. Let alone, managing to remain in place throughout the night for him to find it the next morning.

Vesta City was not that large a community despite the dubious use of the word ‘city’ and most of the community had been indoors during the night, having no wish to battle the weather not to mention the undesirables that roam the streets in the darkness. Thus, no one had seen anything out of the ordinary. After Vin had gotten dressed, he had questioned the hotel staff as to whether they had seen Chris leave. Like everyone else, they had noticed nothing unusual even though they did confess that a minimum staff was on hand during the night and so it was likely someone could have come and gone unnoticed. Unfortunately, as Vin was to learn throughout the course of his search, that was more or less the stock standard response of everyone regarding the subject.

"Any luck?" Orin asked once the trio of men had congregated outside the jailhouse hours after the alarm had been given.

"No," Vin shook his head. "Nobody has seen nothing." The tracker grumbled.

"Well I talked to Mr Olsen at the livery," Sheriff McMasters drawled, having something to add even though it was not much. "He say that big China man you saw with the woman Chase, bought a horse and wagon."

Vin was not surprised. "Any idea which way they were headed?" He asked, not really expecting an answer.

"No," the man shook his head in answer. "The Chinaman just bought the horse and wagon and didn’t say much else. I get the impression that Olsen was glad to see him go."

"Well the man could break you in half with his hands." Vin pointed out. "Smartest thing your Mr Olsen could have done was to keep quiet and not give him any reason to do that."

"Are you sure it’s this Laurel Chase who’s taken Chris?" Judge Travis finally asked. It was hard to believe a woman could pull off such a feat of kidnapping on someone like Chris Larabee. The gunslinger was the sharpest man he knew and he could not imagine Chris letting his guard down long enough to let a woman get the better of him, not to mention betraying Mary for one. "I mean Smiling Pete had a gang, I wouldn’t put it past them to take some kind of revenge on Chris."

"No," Vin shook his head, having already considered that possibility and dismissed it just as quickly. "This ain’t their style. They wouldn’t waste time trying to drug me in my bed. They’d just jumped me and be done with it."

"Tanner’s right," McMasters nodded in agreement, fully versed in the habits of Pete’s gang to know that this was too subtle for the likes of them. There was a certain amount of surgical precision in this that was beyond the ability of Pete’s gang to accomplish. "They ain’t that smart and in a town this size, they couldn’t have come into Vesta City without anyone spotting them."

"Still doesn’t answer the question why she would want him?" Travis mused unhappily, ever mindful of how this might effect his daughter in law. With Mary’s time so close, it was the worst possible thing that could happen now.

"I don’t know," Vin replied heavily. "There was something about the way she way she was looking at him that’s wasn’t quite right." He paused, uncertain how to describe the unease he had felt the moment Laurel had seen Chris. It was almost predatory, like someone who was out hunting and found exactly the kind of quarry she desired to catch. At first Vin thought it was because of how women normally behaved around Chris but on deeper reflection, it seemed like more than attraction. He did not doubt that her interest was sexual in some way because he was not that ignorant about a lady’s manner but there was calculation in her eyes that did confine her intentions to being merely that of lust.

"Well I’m getting two kinds of stories," McMasters added. "Olsen says the Chinaman bought a horse and wagon, Bishop at the stage depot said that the driver told him that he was taking his passengers on to the next stop this morning. Depending on who you talk to, the lady could have either left town by stage or a wagon."

"It doesn’t matter really," Vin retorted. "The fact is, she’s still gone and she took Chris with her."

Vin wandered away out of frustration, hating to feel this helpless when Chris was out there, kidnapped for God only knew what purpose and Vin whom he relied upon to watch his back had let it happen. Vin did not know who to feel angrier at, Laurel Chase for kidnapping his best friend or himself for not being on guard enough to keep it from happening. He stared at the town around him and the dusty horizon in the distance and did not have the slightest idea where to start looking, knowing only that he had to.

"It’s your call Vin," Judge Travis spoke up. "What do you want to do?"

Vin let out a deep breath and faced them again. "Only one thing to do," the tracker said after a moment. "I got to get riding to Four Corners and get the others."

**********

Chris felt a soft hand on his brow.

It caressed the skin with almost gentle deliberation, allowing the soft palm to brush lightly against the clammy skin of his forehead. He took a breath of her scent into his lungs and felt it tickle at his insides with its tantalising fragrance. For a brief instance, while he was trapped in that place between wakefulness and dreamscape, he thought it might have been Mary touching him and his hand unconsciously flew to take her hand in his because he wanted to feel her so much. However, the more he was drawn into the reality of consciousness, the most recent memories he had suddenly converged upon him and reminded him his situation.

Chris grabbed the wrist and pulled it towards him, reacting the way Chris Larabee only could when attacked. He flung her on the bed, clamped his fist around her throat and pulled back his fist ready to strike if she did not tell him what he desired to know. His brain was still a fog of vague sensations and he supposed he should not have been the least bit surprised when he heard the click of a gun in his ear, following that sudden burst of life. Laurel Chase did not struggle in his grip. If anything she wore an expression of confidence on her lovely face as he pressed up hard against the pillow with his hand around her throat.

Chris glanced over his shoulder and saw the huge Chinaman that Vin had been talking about, wearing that same nondescript mask of indifference, even though he was holding a gun to Chris’ ear. There was no need for him to say anything thing, the trigger pulled back waiting for release on the gun spoke far more clearly than any verbalisation that he might produce to his possible target.

"Now that we have that sorted out," Laurel replied coolly, "do you think you might let me up or do you wish Mr Zhang to put a sizeable hole in the back of your skull?"

Chris glared at her and swallowed the bile of defeat in his throat at the realisation that for the moment, he was her creature. Releasing her with clear animosity in his withdrawal, Chris staggered away from the bed and reached for the flaring pain at his exertions on the back on his neck. As he touched the raw flesh tenderly, he noted that he had sustained a sizeable wound form her sneak attack inside his room. However, the pain of that injury was inconsequential to the heaviness that still pervaded his limbs. Although he was moving, he was having great difficulty keeping his movements from being sluggish and lacking the usual agility he was accustomed to. It did not take a great leap of conceptual logic to appreciate that she had drugged him. He could feel the bitter aftertaste of whatever she had given him still on his tongue.

As she picked herself up from the brass bed that he had awaken from, Chris noticed that she was now dressed very much like that the lady once more. The robe in which she had attempted to seduce him was gone, replaced instead by the finery that he often saw Julia Pemberton wearing. Her hair was pinned back with ornate hair accessories and once again, he could not deny that this was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and possibly, the most dangerous as well. She walked across the carpeted floor of a room that looked like the inside of a very expensive hotel suite, with Persian rugs on the floor and other displays of wealth in its antique furniture and fabric wall paper covering its walls. There was no windows, Chris noticed and only one door. That worried him.

"What do you want with me?" He asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Laurel sat down at the wing chair near the bed, smoothing down her dress as she did so and gestured Mr Zhang to withdraw for the moment. The huge oriental did not leave the confines of the spacious room but rather fell back to the door. However, his eyes were fixed firmly on Chris with enough intention in that dispassionate face to indicate that any threatening move towards his employer was going to be met with his utmost displeasure.

"Why don’t you get some more rest Chris." She gestured towards the bed. "You haven’t shaken off the effects of the sedative I gave you for our journey here. Perhaps you might be a little more responsive when you’re a little clearer about things."

Chris took a step towards her and paused, noting the big man behind him and faced her again. "I’m clear enough. What do you want?"

"That’s such a broad term." She said evasively. Rising to her feet, she glided across the room and went to the cabinet where a bottle of liquor was perched on top of a platter with several matching glasses. Without asking, she poured them both a drink, perfectly aware that he would not drink if she just offered him one. Men like Chris Larabee were not fools and they did not allow anything to slip past their notice when their instincts were geared for attack as his was now.

"Drink this," she handed him a glass and was unsurprised when he took it. "It will make you return to the land of the living a little smoother."

Chris saw her take a sip from it and decided that he could use a drink and he was not going to play the game of trying to guess whether or not she was trying to poison him. She had gone to too much trouble bringing him to this place alive for her to turn around and kill him at first opportunity. Taking a sip of the drink, he savoured it in his throat and was forced to begrudgingly admit that it was helpful in awakening some of his senses.

"Feeling better?" She asked, returning to her seat again.

"Yeah," he nodded and then responded. "So what the hell do you want?"

"Not one for small talk I suppose," she let out a sigh and then met his eyes once more. "Then again I suppose you’re not much for that sort of thing are you Chris? As much as you refuse to believe it, you’re not that entirely unique. I see that life has not been kind to you and you’ve used it to make you a very formidable creature where most would have allowed grief to break them."

Chris frowned, disliking her in depth analysis of his psyche, particularly when some of the things she was saying that was not entirely wrong.

"I’ll bet you are still a force of nature aren’t you?" She gave him a little smile. "Before that band of gold neutered you like gelding and took away everything about Chris Larabee that made him a killer."

"Are you going to tell me what you want or not?" Chris gave her look of pure impatience. "Or are you gonna bore me with more talk."

"You are my guest Chris," she rose to her feet, not at all perturbed by his abrasive manner. "You will stay here and you will be my prize stud and you will love every minute of servicing me and performing the tricks I require of you. You will do it with a song in your heart because by the time I am through with you, you will barely remember her name, let alone why you even cared in the first place." She flashed him a cruel smile.

There was such confidence in the way she made her threat that it chilled Chris to the bone. "Her name is Mary and she’s my wife and there is no way you are stopping me from getting back to her." He said defiantly. "Now why don’t you save the talk and just tell me why I am here?"

"All in good time Chris." She said with smile. "At the moment, you need to rest and reflect on your situation."

"My situation?" Chris bristled, hating this game she was playing. "What’s my situation. You’ve kidnapped me; you have some strange idea that I’m going to just forget my wife and son! That’s my situation."

"Your situation," she said a sharp contrast to the anger he was displaying and for the first time, Chris had some idea why he sometimes drove the rest of the seven crazy by being so damn cool all the time. This was a hell of way to find out. "Your situation is that I have chosen you for greatness. I am going to make you stronger, faster and better than you have ever felt in your life. All those hidden impulses, those ones you don’t tell anyone about, you know the ones I mean don’t you Chris?" She stood up and started walking towards him, her blue eyes burning with perfect understanding.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." He retorted and felt a constricting inside her chest because there was truth in her words that had sparked something within him.

"Yes you do," Laurel answered smoothly. "The ones that keep you civilised and law abiding. The impulse that wants you to pull the trigger in a fight, not to back down or play it safe according to some ridiculous concept of morality. I suspect its been there all your life, crushed in the darkness, crawling through the notion of good and evil, gasping for breath and leaving just enough impression for everyone who comes across you to know that its there. Come on Chris, I can feel the demon waiting in the dark, it wants freedom because its time has come. You’ve been half a man all your life, let go of it and watch it make you a god."

"You’re insane." He found himself whispering.

"And you’re a coward." She returned just as sharply.

Without thinking, he lashed out. A balled fist catching her on the cheek with such swift strike that even Chris did not have the time to question what he had just done. He was aware of Zhang’s footsteps crossing the floor in seconds, before a fist slammed into his side and drew all the breath from his lung and sent a scream of pain through him that dropped him to his knees.

"Stop!" He heard her shout as Zhang stood above him, poised to shoot.

Laurel had tumbled to the floor and felt blood on her broken lip. It was not a severe injury but it had the result she desired. She stared at him as he remained on his hands and knees breathing hard and recovering, not form the pain she suspected but rather his actions. He was not a man accustomed to lashing out in anger. His was an ordered existence with ordered violence, which made him as feared and predatory as the rest of the world knew him to be. She took Zhang’s outstretched hand and stood up shakily, staring at Chris for a moment before a small smile crossed her lips.

"You see," she replied. "Its not that hard, is it?"

**********

"It’s working." Laurel Chase told Zhang as they walked down the corridor from the room where Chris Larabee was being held prisoner. "The initial dosage is starting to imprint itself in his system. We’ll move into the second phase of administration. Fortunately, his natural hostility is making the drug work more effectively than normal."

She wiped the blood from her lips where he had struck her and examined it in her hands for an instance. "Damn he was fast." She commended, feeling a ripple of excitement at the amount of potential she had seen briefly in that room. "I’ve seen many come and gone in these halls Zhang but he is promising to outstrip all the others we’ve had in this place."

"He’s dangerous." Zhang commended, not liking how Larabee had hit his Lady.

"Yes he is," she agreed readily. "That’s why he’s going to make us a fortune."

************

What the hell had happened to him?

Chris stared at his hands after Laurel and her henchman had gone trying to understand what had motivated such an incredible outburst of rage. He did not lose control like that. Not ever. He could count the instances where rage had overcome him so profoundly that he did not have the slightest sense of what he was doing. Yet when he had lashed out at her, what was so frightening in that brief margin of time between realising what he had done and striking her, was the fact that Chris had found it strangely liberating. Like something long buried inside of him had finally found expression. If he was not so mortified by what he had done, he would almost call himself sated.

Worst of all, what she had said did not sound entirely alien to him because Chris knew what she was talking about even if he refused to indulge its existence in him. Yes, he knew that he scared people, he was Chris Larabee, notorious gunslinger. However, was it just the reputation or was it him personally? Did people look at him and see something bubbling beneath the surface of his cool eyes, did they think that he was some kind of monster waiting emergence at the slightest provocation? He could not blame them if they did, after all, he knew he was intimidating. His manner had always been that way, even before Sarah and Adam had died. However, he could not deny that it had become decidedly worse with their passing.

Why was he racking his brain with this? Chris blinked hard and sat upright and looked around the room. His prison was rather luxurious even though he could not understand what Laurel Chase was attempting to do with her talk about demons and unleashing that part of him he had under tight control in order for him to reach some state of enlightenment. There was only one thing he ought to be doing right now and that was getting the hell out of here. He looked around the room and started ransacking the drawers in the cabinets, wardrobe and even the night stand. She had left nothing that could be used to aid his escape and he felt a slow chill as he noted the clothes inside the wardrobe, particularly after he realised that they were all his size.

The parallels between her and what Ella had done were too frightening.

Finally, he made his way to the door aware that it was probably locked and had every intention of breaking it down to secure his freedom. He was not for one minute staying in this place any longer than necessary. He twisted the doorknob and to his excitement, felt the lock was unsecured and pulled back to find it very much open. However, when the door swung wide, Chris found himself standing in front of a secondary door and this time, it was made of steel bars. As his fingers knotted around the length of steel, he knew that this door would not budge as easily as the one before it. He peered out as far as he could and found his room to be at the beginning of a corridor which similar doors like the one he had just used. Unfortunately, it appeared this was the only room with reinforced bars.

Obviously, Laurel was not about to let him languish in squalor but he was not going anywhere.

He tested the bars even though he knew they would be secured and impregnable. Swearing under his breath, the suspicion was soon proved a reality and he retreated into the room again, slamming the wooden door hard in a show of frustration at his continued incarceration. He hated this! He had no idea where he was or for that matter how long he had been unconscious. She had drugged him with something so he had no sense of time and for some reason, he could not settle down and let his patience take control like it normally did when he was faced with untenable situation. He paced the floor of the room and knew that he had to get out of here.

He had to get out of here before he really lost control.

**********

"What do you mean you lost him?" Buck Wilmington demanded of Vin Tanner when the tracker had returned to Four Corners. Even though the first place Vin should have gone was to Mary, he did not know how to approach the woman in the condition she was in and tell her to her face that her husband had been kidnapped without any clue as to who might have taken him. He knew he was being something of a coward when Vin found himself at the saloon instead and felt somewhat gratified to see the rest of the seven there. Besides, they had to get a search underway as soon as possible.

"I told you already." Vin said trying not to sound defensive but unable to keep from doing so when Buck’s tone sounded so accusatory. "We ran into this woman and she seemed to like Chris but there was something about her that did not sit right." Vin tried to explain his impressions on Laurel Chase and wished he had the words to articulate unease she had engender within him a little clearer to his companions.

"And you believe that this lady was responsible for kidnapping Mr Larabee?" Ezra asked in a gentler tone, perfectly aware of the close knit relationship shared between gunslinger and tracker to know that Vin was probably feeling bad enough without Buck berating him any further.

"I’m sure of it." Vin replied, confident about that much at least, since he had no other information to offer his companions.

They were inside the saloon, congregating around the saloon after a day of fending off some rowdy railroad workers that had breezed into town, liquored up and looking to spend their day off by indulging in too much drinking which ultimately culminated in something more violent. While no one had been hurt, there were at least two men presently on their way back to their rail boss with minor injuries when Josiah had taken account of their behaviour with them.

"There was something on my pillow." Vin explained. "She put something on my pillow to knock me out. Felt like the stuff Alex uses when she does operations. I was out for most of the night."

"Could have been ether or some form of sedative." Nathan pointed out. "Either would have done the same thing."

"She wanted me out of the way so she could get to Chris." The tracker responded as if admitting it would leave a bad taste in his mouth. "I woke up the next morning and Chris was gone. Everything in his room was still there, even his guns. I found some glass and what smells like wine I think came from the pieces of a bottle."

"That is how she tricked her way into the room." Ezra declared to no one in particular even though his opinion was universally agreed with.

"Chris ain’t the type to be taken in by no lady," JD spoke up in their leader’s defence. Chris Larabee had a better sense of people than anyone he knew and most of the time, he could spot the enemy a mile away. JD could not believe any reason that would allow him to be swayed by a woman especially when they were all aware of just how strongly he felt for Mary.

"Well you ain’t seen this woman." Vin found himself unable to keep from voicing that statement about Laurel Chase.

"I take it the lady is handsome." Ezra looked at him, somewhat surprised by Vin’s choice of words. The tracker hardly paid attention to such things and for him to make the statement when his wife was one of the most fetching females Ezra had ever known in his life was nothing to dismiss. It was possible for there to women who were so beautiful that it literally paralysed the mind of all good sense. Not even someone as indifferent as Chris Larabee might be able to escape that power.

"Handsome don’t even begin to cover it," Vin replied taking another deep swallow of his beer. "I ain’t never seen anything like her. It was like looking at something that made you want to forget all the other women you’ve ever known just to get one minute with her, walks into a room and every man knows it. If you can get past that, it’s actually kind of scary."

"Really?" Buck looked at the tracker wondering if the man was exaggerating and knew that it was not in Vin’s nature to be bombastic about his descriptions and the existence of such a captivating creature had inspired Buck’s interest more than he liked to admit.

"Left me staring with my mouth open," Vin confessed. "I don’t think Chris would cheat on Mary for anything but it might have been enough for him to be just a little less careful than he ought to have been. I’m saying she got in the room and broke that bottle over him."

The rest were agreeable to that scenario.

"So we better start searching." JD drained his glass and rose to his feet before he noticed that Vin was making no such moves and neither was anyone else at the table for that matter. JD let his gaze sweep across the faces that were looking to Vin for direction but the tracker did nothing or made no move to get them up and searching.

"I don’t know where to start." Vin said softly. "By the time I woke up, there were no tracks to follow. Vesta City was in the middle of a dust storm and this Chase woman and her man were gone. Only thing I knew was they got themselves a wagon but even that’s not enough case they had half a night’s head start on me. The men at the stage coach depot claimed the driver said the lady was leaving on the stage with him so I don’t got any idea where to begin. The stage driver ain’t gonna be back to Vesta City for another two days and I had to come back here and tell you boys what was happening."

"Well I would suggest we start by telling Mary." Josiah said sombrely, aware that Vin had come here directly after riding into town and Chris Larabee’s wife had no idea yet that her husband was missing.

Upon hearing that suggestion, Vin felt the urge to get another drink and raised his glass at a passing barmaid to indicate as much. When he set his mug down again, he raised his eyes to the others and remarked quietly. "I’m gonna need a drink before I have to tell a pregnant woman that her husband is gone."

No one at the table could blame him for that.

*********

Chris had been inside the room for almost a day and his incarceration was already starting to make him feel like a caged rat. Even though he had been left to his own devices following his brief meeting with Laurel Chase, Chris felt as if he was ready to jump out of his skin from the sheer need to escape these four walls. The room had been provided with a water closet so he did not even get a chance to leave its confines for that purpose. The only person he had seen after Laurel and her lackey had left was a young boy who had slipped some food through a slot at the foot of the bars that was just wide enough to let a tray be slid in but offered no way of escape. The food like everything else in his prison was first rate and he had to admit he was hungry. Besides, there was no sense in starving oneself and being less than capable when the opportunity for escape did present itself.

He ate a little and found the meal surprisingly good and felt trapped between annoyance and satisfaction when he finished it, wondering what on earth Laurel had in mind for him. She seemed so damn confident that she would bend him to his will. What inspired that kind of certainty, Chris wondered. In either case, the next few hours provided no such answers and at regular intervals, meals would arrive like clockwork. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, it was an infuriating ritual that took the place of a clock. He hated not knowing what time it was an as the hours widened and he felt the familiar drowsiness that came with sleep, Chris guessed that it must be night.

Finally, having no other recourse but to wait her out, he relented and gave himself into his slumber....

*********

He woke up to the sound of cheering in the far away distance.

Lying against the soft mattress, he tried to discern the sound that rumbled softly through the floor, travelled through the matter of his bed and mattress to seep into his hearing in soft, distance echoes. Chris listened closely, straining his ears so he could distinguish the sounds he was hearing with greater clarity. There was a crowd nearby, a large one by the number of voices he was unable to separate from one another. They were cheering, some were chanting and the revelry that breathed in every bit of applause and shout was apparent even from here.

 Chris sat up in his bed, trying to understand why he was here. Hearing all that cheering outside did not offer answers but served to wrap his confusion in a further layer of this riddle that was Laurel Chase. He found himself walking to the doorway and swinging the door open confronted once again by those damnable bars of steel. Seeing those length of metal snapped the reason inside of him so easily that in retrospect, Chris would wonder how it had crumbled so quickly when in the past, his ruthless control of his emotions was something he was proud of.

"Let me out of here!" He started screaming. His fists knotted around the bars.

No one answered and the silence further infuriated him. "I said let me out of here!" He demanded again and was greeted with that same deplorable quiet or ignorance, he could not tell which. The sense left him and he stormed back into the room and tore the metal tray his food had been served on, up ending the empty cups and plates that were resting on it. Chris wanted out of here! He was no animal to be trapped like this! He wanted to go home to Four Corners, to Mary and Vin and all the friends that was left behind! He wanted to go NOW!

Riding on a wave of pure adrenalin, he smashed the metal tray against the bars, creating a loud clang on impact. He continued to do so for a few minutes, creating powerful echoes of noise through the corridor as he put enough force into the effort to bend the tray out of shape. Still no one came and he returned to the innards of the room, this time grabbing a chair and slamming into the bars with every ounce of strength he could muster. The effect was nothing less than fatal for the piece of furniture concerned for it crumbled in his hands, splintering by the force of impact. Legs buckled, wood splinter and the entire construct came apart in hands before reaching the floor in a messy heap.

Its destruction felt good. Chris could almost feel a physical pleasure in being able to vent his fury and felt that if they were going to keep him prisoner, they were damn well not going to have an easy time of it nor was he going to cooperate with her. That bitch was not going to make him perform like some circus animal or service her like some stud horse! He grabbed the nightstand and repeated the same procedure. Chris began to systematically destroy every piece of furniture in the room, if he could not smash it, he tipped it over. His rage was such that he no longer cared about the consequences for his bad behaviour because if they wanted to reprimand him, they were going to have to come into the room to do that.

Maybe it would be that fucking Miss Chase, he thought viciously. Let her come in here and he’d show her what it was to cage him up like an animal. This time it would be no fist either, maybe he would give her something to really get upset about. She wanted him to be the demon, he could do that and maybe he would show her what it was like to provoke things she had no business trying to bring into the light. Nobody made him do anything he did not want to! Nobody!

"You hear me!" He screamed loudly as he picked up another chair. This time brought it down against the hard surface of the floor, collapsing it immediately. Broken pieces flew about in all directions; some dug into his skin, stinging him with splinters, which Chris barely registered. His rage was such that he did not care. "I am gonna sit here quietly and let you keep me like some kind of a dog!"

God, he wanted to hurt her! Chris found himself thinking as he continued on his path of destruction, so wired from the feelings inside of him he barely knew how to contain himself from expressing pleasure with each new thing he broke, with each exertion of rage. Service her! He snorted. She had actually used the word serviced, like he was one of those stud horses he had on his ranch, rutting with the mares. Suddenly visions of her on her knees, of him riding her, of his showing her who was master and who was the one who would be screaming in pain when he exerted the full force of his wrath upon her, filled his mind with delicious waves of vengeance. Chris found himself breathing hard, delighting in the rape images in his mind, the satisfaction of hearing her whimper when he trust into her in a hard, satisfying rhythm.

To his utter horror, he found himself hardening at the thought.

The realisation of what he had been just fantasising about in his head was so horrifying that Chris felt his insides heave with disgust and he found himself running for the water closet. Dropping to his knees over the cistern, his nausea culminated as he retched violently. Chris did not know how long he remained hunched over the white ceramic, knowing only that for an instant he had gone down a dark path that gave him an insight to something terrible inside him. He could not even eject the contents of his stomach and all that emerged was bile, souring the inside of his mouth with its venomous taste. Chris wiped his lips and staggered outside once more, his mind filled with violent images and yet the person he was had brought things into perspective.

Chris looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror of the dressing table. It had been one of the few things in the room that had survived the onslaught of his rage. He noticed his image in the glass but had not really taken a close look. The man in the mirror was barely a man. Chris had never seen himself so savage but he knew front the sweat glistening of his bare torso and the glimmer in his eyes that was fast fading away with the return of his senses was enough to frighten the hell out of him. For a few seconds, he could only stare at his reflection.

What the hell was happening to him?

Even when he was trapped in that prisoner, with the designation of Inmate 78, he had more control over his senses than this. He had been in this room for a day, at least he thought it was a day, he could not be sure because the lack of window had robbed him of his ability to make the distinction. He had only been confined for a day and already his entire psyche was starting to unravel at the imprisonment. He could not understand it. His stomach recoiled in disgust when he thought of what he had been thinking in regards to Miss Chase a moment ago. Chris Larabee was not a rapist! He did not brutalise women for the sheer pleasure of it.

And yet envisioning it in his head had been pleasurable, his body’s reaction betrayed him with even though Chris should have been recoiling at the very thought. When he had seen it done to Alice and Inez, he had thought that there was nothing more disgusting than to treat a woman that way and here he was, so damn angry that he had entertained the possibility. Not even when he had found out that Ella had killed his wife and son did Chris feel the rage that would make such an act of violence justifiable. He had to get out of here! He had to get out before it got any worse, before being trapped like an animal made him one.

"LET ME OUT!" He screamed on top of his lungs and put his fist through the glass, shattering it with a loud crack of sound, uncaring as to the pain that flared from his knuckles as pieces of glass spilled onto the wooden surface of the dressing table with loud, sharp noise. Barely registering the pieces of glass that dug into his foot from the broken mirror and just about everything else that he had broken in the place, Chris flung himself at the bars again.

"Let me out!" He started to pound against the wall next to the bars, the sound dull in comparison to the racket he had been making. He could peer through the bars and see only a section of the corridor that ran from him further into the place where he was kept. Who was behind those doors and why could they not hear him. Surely they had to know he was here! Why were they just leaving him in here! Chris wanted an enemy he could face, one he could fight. Not an enemy whose intention was to drive him insane with this endless game of waiting. Yet, somewhere within all those feelings, a part of him was asking why he was so impatient when all his life, it was his practise to let the enemy come to him not go after them before he was ready. What had changed now?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He could hear them clearly once he paused long enough to listen. His heart was pounding inside his chest with excitement. Now he was going to show them what it meant to keep him trapped like this. Chris heard two sets of a footsteps and rustle of silk that could only be produced from the long skirt of a woman’s dress. He withdrew into the room, awaiting their arrival, breathing hard.

A few seconds later, Laurel Chase and her oriental companion were staring at him through the bars. The lady let her gaze sweep across the room and seemed relatively unperturbed by the destruction she had witnessed around her. They were both dressed in evening wear with Laurel wearing her dark hair up and clad in a low cut shimmery red dress with a taut bodice that gave an ample view of her creamy breasts. Her lipstick matched the dress and if it were not for the fact that he was half crazed trying to escape the room and the fact that she was keeping him prisoner, Chris would have complimented her on her appearance. Both Laurel and Mr Zhang wore a similarly dispassionate countenance as they surveyed the damage, appearing just as unconcerned by what he had wrought within the confines of the room.

"My goodness," she commented, raising her eyes to Chris. "You have been busy."

"Let me out of here!" He hissed, throwing himself against the bars and forcing the duo to take a step back instinctively.

"No." She answered coolly.

"LET ME OUT!" He roared, reacting to those words like he had been scalded with something hot. "Let me out or I’ll slit you open when I do get out!" He forced his arm through the space between the bars, his fingers clawing air wildly to reach her.

"That will be a neat trick, Chris." She said unperturbed by the threat.

"I have friends!" He shouted in desperation. "Friends who will find me! They won’t give up until they do!"

"I’m sure they won’t," she offered him a cold smile. "Unfortunately, until that time, you are still my guest."

"I ain’t your guest!" He shouted. "I’m a caged animal!"

"Well you are certainly behaving like one," Laurel answered and then let out a small sigh. "Still, we can’t let you remain in that squalor indefinitely," she sighed, glancing at the state of the room he was meant to occupy. "Get dressed Chris and we’ll go for a walk while I have your room dealt with."

Chris felt confused because she had relented so easily and reminded himself that if he wanted to get out of this room, he would have to cooperate. "Get dressed?" He looked at her, still a little taken back by her sudden agreement to let him out.

"I’m assuming your tantrum had not reached the clothes in your wardrobe so if you would clothe yourself appropriately, I will instruct Mr Zhang to let you out of the room."

"Why?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"Because," Laurel said with a little smile. "There is something I would have you see."

*********

Chris tugged at the collar of the tuxedo he was forced to wear and was once again bombarded with memories of what Ella had put him through before he discovered that she had killed Sarah and Adam. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Mr Zhang watching his every move as they left the corridor. He had not doubt that if he made one wrong move towards Laurel, the big man would shoot him with the gun he held aimed at Chris’ back. Begrudgingly, Chris decided that he was just happy to be out of the room for the moment to even contemplate the thought of escape, at least until he knew more about the place of his captivity.

Upon reaching the end of the corridor, the cheering that Chris had heard earlier seemed to grow louder and more intense. He wondered why she was dressed this way and started to realise as they left the corridor which emptied out into a large room which looked strangely reminiscent of some of the training rooms, he had remembered from his days at the Academy. He saw all the equipment that went with such training like punching bags, floor mats and the like. The room was empty but it seemed to have a larger entrance that led elsewhere through which Laurel was leading him.

"What is this?" He asked, unable to deny that his curiosity was getting the better of him. He still could not see any windows to give him some idea of where he was or what time it might have been.

"It’s our sparring room." Laurel said easily, noticing the interest even though he was still too new too fully understand what it was she would required of him when the time came. His first response would be refusal. It always was. However, time would erode that resistance.

"What is this some kind of fighting school or something?" He asked as they cut through the place and exited through the large wooden doors on the other side of the room. She waited until he opened it as she was too crafty to allow him the advantage by taking her hostage. Chris frowned at his helplessness but until the opportunity presented itself. He would have to ride this out for the moment.

"More or less," she said evasively and let her eyes moved up and down the length of him as he looked around the room, trying to understand what she had in store for him. Damn, she thought to herself, he had been a beautiful man in his own clothes but in the tuxedo he was wearing, he could melt the resolve of any woman who cast her gaze on him. Laurel had never wanted any man as she wanted Chris Larabee but she was not unmindful of the fact that he was here to make her a lot of money and until she had him fully in control, she would not presume to make any advances upon him.

"I must say Chris," She found herself unable to resist commenting. "You do wear a tuxedo well. I am rather surprised."

"You insisted." He grumbled, unhappy that he was forced into this get up. He would prefer his own clothes. The cheering was louder now, it filled the room with its roar and Chris had an idea that whatever was its source, it was coming from the next room.

"Well the occasion demanded it," she replied, aware that he was still searching for a way to escape even if the possibility seemed rather remote at the moment.

Chris stepped through the doors first and was greeted with an explosion of sound, masked initially by the thick stone walls of the previous room. Above him was night sky, with a canvas of stars above him, which went a long way to settling the discourse that had been running through him earlier on. Taking a deep breath of the cool night air, Chris felt the heated emotions that had made him so savage come under control a little and for the first time in hours, he felt some semblance of his normal equilibrium returning to him. Only after he had regained some sense of control and had remembered that he was still a prisoner, did Chris remember to take stock of where he was. There was only one word that could be described as he surveyed the scene before him.

Arena.

It looked like an amphitheatre from Roman times, carved into the rock floor of a canyon. Spectators were gathered around the circular hole in the ground, all dressed up in finery with waiters moving up and down the aisles, serving expensive bottles of wine. They peered into the ring below them and as Laurel led him there with Mr Zhang having moved in close enough for Chris to occasionally feel the brush of the hard gun barrel against his back. No doubt, the man was reminding Chris that just because they were out in the open did not mean he was any less a prisoner than he had been when he was confined in his room earlier.

Most people who saw Laurel coming, stood out of her way and those who did not offer polite greeting while keeping in mind the formidable bulk of Mr Zhang who was always close by. It was obvious that she was in charge of this place and by the number of patrons in the stands, cheering with exultant looks in their eyes, filled with lust for blood and savage fervour, he guessed it was extremely popular. Laurel led them through the amphitheatre to what appeared to be her private box, which gave her the best view of the match currently taking place within the ring. Chris let his gaze move across the crowd, more interested in their reaction and how they would come to such a place for this kind of entertainment.

The entertainment was two men who were presently fighting it out on the floor of the ring. One opponent was an enormous Indian who was way taller than Buck and Buck was tallest of all the seven and almost as wide as Josiah. His opponent was Caucasian and just as powerful looking with thick veined arms and a big black moustache which incidentally was the only hair on his face since he was bald. Both men were engaged in nothing less than bare knuckle fist fighting, slugging it out for all it was worth, with blood spurting from broken flesh as each strike was made.

Chris watched just as mesmerised as the rest of the crowd for a moment as the two combatants fought for what were literally their lives. The sound of flesh against flesh echoed thought the ring and incited a more fervent roar of applause with each new gush of blood. The Indian was a force to be reckoned with, his large arms swinging like jackhammers, each blow filled with power and force until the enemy was reeling back, unable to fend them off any longer. Chris found himself staring at the display of pugilistic brutality, thinking to himself that the Indian was slow. The man concentrated too much on physical strength to down an enemy instead of making his blows count. He could get the same results with carefully delivered strikes, rather than the repeated succession of hits that was merely wearing his opponents endurance.

Had he been fighting someone who knew what was doing, the Indian would not have lasted this long. Fortunately, his present opponent did not seem up to the task of launching an intelligence offensive, let alone a capable defensive and was being worn down with each blow that connected with his jaw. Chris did not give him much time that he could remain conscious.

"He’s done." Chris found himself commenting.

"Not quite yet." Laurel responded.

"Aren’t you going to stop it?" He looked at her. "The Indian’s got him beat. He’s done." Chris was expecting whomever was referring this contest to emerge from the shadows and draw the fight to its conclusion.

"You are correct Chris," she met his eyes with pure innocence. "He is done but the fight is not quite over yet."

Just as Chris realised what she meant by that remark, he saw the bald man crumble to the floor. His face was barely recognisable through the blood and the pulpish flesh of his battered face. The Indian paused a moment, breathing hard and looked up at the crowd. His face was frenzied, almost maniacal with savagery and as he bared his teeth to the crowd, he uttered a loud, primeval howl. The crowd became absolutely wild and they broke out into a loud chant, almost rhythmic in its synchronosity and sounding just as primeval as the braying indulged by the Indian and it was not hard to discern what they were demanding in such unison.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

With the verdict given, the Indian wasted no time and Chris watched in rising horror as he saw the Indian straddle the fallen man and slip his thick arm under his neck.

"Stop it." Chris demanded.

"The vote is not up to me Chris." Laurel replied coolly, more or less expecting the reaction from him. He was after all a former lawman but what he had done to his room following the dosage he had been given was more or less stripping that veneer of morality away from him, like the layers of an onion. He had not reached the place that would put him in the same place as her star attraction but it would not be long now.

Chris turned sharply to the ring. He felt his stomach hollow as he saw the final act of the play coming to its conclusion when with one sharp twist, a squelch of snapping bone that was masked by the sound of the roaring crowd around them, ended the fight most decisively. The body in the large Indian’s hands went slack and remained still as the winner released him, much to the delight of the paying audience.

"This was murder!" Chris swore in disgust.

"Really?" Laurel met his gaze. "I thought it was giving the audience what they wanted."

"Audience?" He retorted, glaring at the people in the stands in their fancy clothing, who probably never worked a day in their lives. "This ain’t no audience! This is a bunch of rich folk, who are so bored with their lives, they’ve got to watch this to feel even remotely alive!"

"That may be true," Laurel nodded, impressed at his insight but his mind was not what she wanted of him. "However, they’re willing to pay me and that is how I created this place." She gestured to the amphitheatre and everything else that went with. "Come on Chris, that there is my star attraction." She glanced at the Indian. "He brings in more kills than any of the fighters I have in my little games."

"I don’t see how," Chris drawled, unable to resist commenting despite himself. "He ain’t that good. He doesn’t think when he fights, he just hits like some kind of a battering ram. Smart man and not necessarily a stronger one could take him down easy."

"Like you for instance?" She asked.

Chris looked at her sharply and understood at last why he was here. "You’re absolutely crazy if you think that I’m going to fight in there like some prized bull!"

"Oh come on Chris," she leaned closer to him. "You didn’t find it all that offensive did you?" She challenged him in that voice again. The one that slipped into the dark place and inspired the dark emotions he had felt not too long ago. He could smell her skin close to him and revelled in her perfume. He wondered at that moment what it would like to have her go down on him, to picture that smug expression pleasuring him just before he took her.

What the hell was happening to him?

He pulled back from her, feeling beads of sweat on his skin, as the crowd around him became overwhelming. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they cheered the next fighters coming into the ring after the body of the last loser had been removed and the Indian had stepped out of the stage. He was a married man for God’s sake! He loved his wife. Instinctively, Chris began fingering the wedding band around his finger, as if he needed to make him remember Mary. He had to remember Mary because there was something growing inside of him that was threatening him to make him forget her.

"You might as well let me go," he said hoarsely, once he had regained his composure. "Cause I am never fighting in that ring like an animal.’

"Of course you will," Laurel answered with complete confidence. "You will do it because deep inside yourself, in that place you’re too afraid to look at, what you just saw was tantalising. I brought you here because I know that you can be the best that has ever been inside this ring. You are quintessential hunter Chris Larabee."

"No!" He stood up from his seat and saw Zhang brandishing the gun in a warning for him to sit down since Laurel was not done with him yet. "I am not a killer."

"You may delude yourself with that trinket you wear around your finger," she glanced at the wedding ring that he was fingering with even more insistence now. "But we both know that you are a killer. You move like a hunter, like someone whose always on the prowl, whose watching and waiting for trouble to come and perfectly content to strike back at those with the audacity to try and attack you. Isn’t that what Mr Tanner was for?"

"Vin is my friend!" Chris returned, wondering why he was being so defensive. He knew who he was! He had no need to justify it to this woman with all her insane notions about what made him tick inside. "He ain’t around for nothing except that."

"I think we know otherwise," she said just as smoothly, countering every word he said like it was game of thrust and parry. Her cool demeanour was a stark contrast to the agitation he was feeling even if he did not understand why he was feeling it. "Mr Tanner keeps you under control. He has from the first moment you met him. Let me guess your life for the better took place when he entered it did it not. Didn’t you tell me that you were wandering around mostly before you and Mr Tanner met in Four Corners?"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about." He declared amidst the crowd cheering at the newest combatants battling it out in the ring below them. "Vin and I are friends, we fought together, we ride together. I trust him with my life."

"No," she shook her head with that infuriating confidence. "You trust him to keep you on the path of righteousness because without Mr Tanner’s unswerving nobility, you would be as you were before. Chris Larabee was a notorious gunslinger, with a reputation for putting a bullet in man just for looking at him wrong, isn’t that the reputation you were meant to have? You see I did my research very carefully after I selected you for my latest acquisition and it’s easy to see that Vin Tanner is your conscience. Without him, you’re what you were always meant to be, a killer."

"You don’t know anything." He growled. "Vin is my friend and you’re just trying to make me crazy with your talk! I won’t fight for you."

"Oh Chris," she shook her head disappointed. "In the end, you won’t just fight for me, you’ll die for me."

TO BE CONTINUED