The first thing he felt was the throbbing of his head, long, painful throbs that pulsated through his body. He could feel the pounding in his chest, to his fingers, and all the way to his toes. With each slow breath he took it seemed the pounding only started to grow worse. The second thing he felt was the jarring swirl of sickness in his stomach. The way his throat was tight and the taste of bile was on the tip of his tongue. His stomach would lurch and the tightness in his throat would only grow. The third thing he felt was the awkward way his body sat, the position of his arms behind his back and the rough material around his wrists. It was only in those few moments of grogginess when he was first waking up that he hadn’t realized something was off. That he hadn’t realized there was an odd rocking sensation and the sound of waves was unusual. He was blissfully unaware… until his eyes blinked open.
Slowly his dark eyes caught site of the Ironman boxer shorts he was wearing, the covers of his bed must have been kicked off sometime in the middle of the night. Except… he wasn’t in bed. Confusion grew in him and mixed with the gross feeling in his stomach, making him swallow roughly—only agitating the throbbing further. A sigh escaped his lips as he wrestled for a moment to move his arms so he could pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the hangover he was experiencing, but pain shot through his arm and up his shoulder. For a moment he couldn’t figure out for the life of him what was happening… the wind on his face and the scent of sea water in the air not leading his slow mind to any conclusions. But with another struggle to move his arms, his first thought that he had just slept on them funny, he felt the first wave of fear.
Dark eyes widened as he looked up, expecting to see the dank but familiar four walls of his messy apartment. However, he was met with an unfamiliar site, the ship deck of a boat. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out he had gotten here, why he was here… but as he tried to recall the previous night’s events, his lagging mind whirring slowly to life, he felt not only the throbbing in his head intensify but only little bits and pieces flashed before his eyes. There was alcohol—lots of alcohol—pain something reminiscent of when he felt eh emptiness of losing his brother. The nausea only grew in his stomach and he made a gagging sound as he struggled to pull himself free of his confines. But the rough rope which he was tied to rubbed painfully against already raw and sensitive flesh. Teeth clenched as he hissed, no longer trying to wrench himself free. The entire night was blank to him, gone and only coming back in slow flashes. But, Hiro was starting to realize, there were more pressing matters than what had already happened—like what was currently going on.
Jaw clenched tight, he looked up and took in his surroundings. Had things been different he would have been equipped to hand whoever it was to had taken him in the middle of the night form his home, but he was in nothing but boxers and a messy wife beater. There was nothing he could really do about his predicament, his genius brain throbbing any time he tried to think anything greater than ‘what the’, leaving him to flounder. It only dawned on him though that… didn’t he have a friend over? Had they been taken too? Was someone… Samara? Lola? Hana? Here with him too? Breathing deeply, the cool salty air stinging his lungs, he strained against the ropes. “Well… this isn’t good.” he deadpanned, his voice raspy and rough. He swallowed roughly before falling back against the metal of the anchor he was tied to. “Any bright ideas Hiro?” he asked himself, his eyes closing as he tried to focus and think past the pain. But he just seethed, the throbbing waking up the sickness. “Just…” he swallowed back some bile. “Just have to find a new angle…” It didn’t occur to him that he wasn’t alone…