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MTV Chapter 74
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 02:22:31 +0000 UTCJason hoisted Christine’s unconscious form, her lithe body limp in his arms, and secured her to the passenger seat of the Mercedes with thick nylon ropes, the coarse fibers biting into her skin. The abandoned factory lot was silent, save for the distant hum of LA’s nightlife, the city’s pulse a faint echo in the desolate night. He dug into his pocket, retrieving the high-tech phone Stanfield had given him, its sleek surface gleaming under the moonlight. Flipping through his contacts, he found Christine’s manager and dialed using the encrypted line, the screen flashing a cryptic string of asterisks.
“Hello? You’re Christine’s manager, right?” Jason’s voice was smooth, laced with a dangerous calm.
The manager’s tone was skeptical, her voice crackling through the line. “Who the hell are you? Looking to book Christine for a sponsorship? Why’s your caller ID all stars?”
Jason’s lips curled into a predatory grin. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m a professional kidnapper, and your precious Christine is currently my guest.”
The manager laughed, a dry, dismissive sound. “Buddy, I get a dozen of these prank calls a day. I’m busy as fuck, so quit wasting my time.”
“Hold your horses,” Jason said, his voice dripping with mock patience. He leaned over and slapped Christine’s face, the sharp crack echoing in the car’s confines. Her eyes fluttered open, blazing with fury as she came to.
“Your manager doesn’t believe you’re in deep shit,” Jason said, his tone taunting. “Say something to convince her.”
“FUCK YOU!” Christine roared, her voice raw with rage, her pale blue eyes burning like twin infernos, promising a slow death if she ever got free.
Jason held the phone to his ear, smirking. “Just one curse, but you heard that, right? That’s your golden girl’s voice.”
The manager’s composure shattered, her voice trembling with panic. “You fucking lunatic! You actually kidnapped Christine?”
Jason picked at his ear, feigning boredom. “The last idiot who talked to me like that got a beating and now behaves like a fucking lamb. Keep running your mouth, and your boss might pay the price.”
The manager went silent, her fear palpable even through the phone. Christine was her meal ticket, the cornerstone of her career. One wrong move, and her world would collapse.
“Fine,” She said, her voice tight. “How much to let her go?”
“Straight to the point. I like it,” Jason said. “One hundred million dollars.”
“A hundred million?!” The manager shrieked. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
Jason’s laugh was cold, cutting through the night air. “Christine’s the hottest star in America. A hundred mil’s a steal. Haggle with me, and the price doubles.”
“Alright, alright!” The manager stammered. “One hundred million, no problem. But you better not lay a fucking finger on her.”
“As a kidnapper, I’ve got some professional standards,” Jason said, his voice mockingly solemn. “Wire the money to my account, and Christine walks free, unharmed. But I’m warning you—call the cops, and you’ll regret it.”
“I know the drill,” The manager said, her tone resigned. “Send the account details. The money will be there in an hour. Just keep your promise.”
---
Jason hung up and texted the Swiss bank account details to the manager, his fingers moving with practiced ease. He turned to Christine, who was glaring at him from the passenger seat, her face a storm of rage and betrayal. “Your manager’s a pushover,” He said, grinning. “If all our clients were this easy, we’d be swimming in cash.”
Christine’s eyes narrowed, her voice a venomous hiss. “You’ve got your fucking money. Untie me, you piece of shit.”
Jason shook his head, his grin widening. “Not how it works, sweetheart. No money, no freedom. Rules are rules.”
Christine strained against the ropes, her wrists red and raw. “Then loosen these fucking ropes. They’re cutting into me, you asshole.”
He tilted his head, his gaze raking over her with a teasing edge. “With your fighting skills? No way I’m letting my guard down. You’d probably snap my neck the second you’re free.”
Christine stopped struggling, her curiosity piqued despite her fury. “Three years ago, you were barely better than me in a fight. How the fuck did you get so strong so fast?”
Jason’s smile turned sly, the kind of look that screamed conman. “Get your manager to wire me another hundred mil, and I’ll make you as badass as me.”
Christine’s face twisted into a scowl, her expression screaming 'I don’t believe a word out of your lying mouth'. Jason sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “Fuck, no one trusts an honest guy these days.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “By the way, have you thought about my offer? Join me, and I’ll hook you up with an upgrade, free of charge.”
Christine’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “You kidnap me, extort me for a hundred million, and have the fucking balls to bring that up again? Your nerves are thicker than your skull.”
Jason pinched his cheek, smirking. “Well, shit, if you’re not joining, guess I’ll just keep you tied up and drag you back to New York with me.”
Christine’s face flushed with rage. “You fucking prick! Didn’t you just say kidnappers have professional standards?”
Jason’s grin was pure malice. “Standards? Fuck that. With enough cash on the line, principles are just bullshit.”
Their argument stretched on, a heated clash of wills, their voices echoing in the empty lot. Christine’s anger suddenly cooled, her voice softening as she looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “If I go back to New York with you, can we start over?”
Jason rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. “Why the fuck does every serious talk with you turn into some sappy romance shit?”
Christine’s voice was raw, vulnerable, a stark contrast to her usual icy demeanor. “Because unlike you, you heartless bastard, I’ve spent the last three years drowning in loneliness and regret. I missed you, Jason. It fucking hurt. Seeing you with Harley? It tore me apart, made me jealous as hell. Maybe leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
Jason went quiet, his jaw tightening as her words sank in. The air between them grew heavy, charged with the ghosts of their past—nights of wild sex, whispered promises, and a love that had burned bright before it crashed and burned. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Fine. Come back to New York with me.”
Christine tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “What about Harley?”
Jason’s grin returned, wicked and unapologetic. “Easy. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, I’m in your bed. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, I’m in hers. On Sundays, I fly solo. I’m a fair guy—everyone gets a piece of me.”
Christine’s face twisted in disgust, and she spat at him. “You fucking pig!”
[Ding! Villainous ally recruitment successful.]
[Ally: ‘Christine Vineyard’ (Vermouth)]
[Source: Detective Conan]
[Abilities: Cold Weapons Mastery (Level 3), Driving Mastery (Level 5), Stealth Mastery (Level 5), Combat Mastery (Level 5), Firearms Mastery (Level 6), Disguise Mastery (Level 8)…]
With the system’s confirmation ringing in his mind, Jason untied Christine’s ropes, the nylon falling away to reveal angry red marks on her wrists. She rubbed them, her eyes blazing, and before he could react, she swung, her hand cracking across his face in a stinging slap.
Jason reeled, stunned, his cheek burning. “What the fuck—”
Before he could finish, Christine lunged, her lips crashing into his with a fierce, hungry kiss. The car became their battlefield, hands tearing at clothes, bodies pressed together in a frenzy of pent-up desire and unresolved history. The kiss deepened, raw and desperate, as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment, the world outside fading to nothing.
An hour later, the fight was over, leaving them breathless and disheveled. Jason stood in front of the car’s side mirror, inspecting his reflection with a scowl. “Fucking hell, Christine, could you have gone any harder? My lip’s busted, and look at these goddamn hickeys. How am I supposed to show my face tomorrow?”
Christine lounged in the passenger seat, her body relaxed, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. She didn’t say a word, but her expression said it all—those marks were her claim, a bold declaration of ownership etched into his skin. In her world, if she couldn’t have him entirely, she’d make damn sure everyone knew he was hers, at least for now.
