Chapter 2: Plan

[Chapter 2: Plan]

As a seasoned paparazzo, Ian knew all too well what the media was like -- especially the film industry, which was a crucial part of it. So, he wasn't kidding; this situation could really happen.

Having Touchstone Pictures and her agent pay big bucks for Kate to save her? "Hey, you're the one who helps us make money; get your priorities straight!"

His words left Kate Beckinsale feeling utterly hopeless. She stood there stunned, as though she could faint any moment.

...

Meanwhile, Ian desperately searched for a way to save himself.

The cabin was sparse -- just a bed and a couch, with nothing sharp in sight. Even if there were, Charlie Mills had a gun strapped to his waist outside. He sat out there, puffing on a cigar, his weapon plainly visible.

Wait! How did Ian even see his cigar and gun?

He blinked in disbelief as a bizarre sight unfolded before him. He could clearly see Charlie Mills' large figure, yet there was also the obstructing wooden door in the frame of his vision.

At that moment, it felt like his perspective had split into two parts: one part that showed the inside of the cabin and the other revealed the outside. It was... some kind of x-ray vision?

Ian was stunned.

He blinked hard. Closing his left eye, he could see Charlie at the helm of the boat. Closing his right eye, he saw the cabin. When he shut both, well, he saw absolutely nothing!

'So, I can see through with my right eye?'

"Great!" he thought, "What good is this power at a time like this?"

...

Turning his head, he noticed he was tied back-to-back with Kate. To his surprise, he could see through her clothes as if she were wearing nothing.

At that moment, Kate was just 27, in her prime, and Ian felt light-headed from the unexpected sight. Sure, he had this newfound ability, but it clearly wasn't enough to cut the ropes binding him.

His reckless daydreams faded as the harsh reality of the situation came rushing back. He quickly scanned the area, his eyes sweeping over the couch. There, underneath it, glinted a small fruit knife that likely fell long ago and had been ignored by the boat's owner.

With the boat still gently swaying, Ian and Kate moved slightly as they were tied together. Kate appeared dazed, and Ian's gaze returned urgently to the knife beneath the couch.

His eyes began to ache slightly. Damn it, this x-ray vision wasn't that great at all; using it for a while already made his eyes strain?

He knew he had to stop using it. "Don't depend on anyone else; there's only one way out," he whispered.

Kate looked confused. "What?"

"There's a knife under the couch. Get it out and cut the ropes; it's our only chance."

Kate's spirits lifted. "A knife?"

Ian hissed, "Could you be any louder? You want him to burst in here and check it out?"

Her face paled, "I'm sorry."

She strained forward, trying to reach for the knife, but it was just out of reach. "Can you move a bit?"

Ian wriggled around. "I'm trying to move."

They both pressed forward, and Kate desperately extended her leg toward the couch. However, the gap was too tight, and she groaned in frustration. "I can't reach it."

"Just push harder!" Ian urged.

"It hurts!" she said, close to crying.

"Come on, just bear with it; it'll be over soon," he encouraged.

"Why don't you try?" Kate retorted.

Ian sighed. "I'm bigger; I can't fit. Just hang on."

This was a mess.

After thinking for a moment, he said, "Just take off your shoes and try again."

Kate quickly kicked off her high heels and plunged her delicate foot into the gap beneath the couch.

Her eyes lit up. "I felt it! But it's stuck."

Ian frowned. "You don't want your life to end here, do you?"

His words gave Kate courage. Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed her foot deeper beneath the couch, finally grabbing the knife, but she winced. "I'm bleeding!"

"Just great," Ian mumbled.

"What did you say?" Kate asked, surprised.

"Nothing," he replied, as they both slid closer to grab the knife.

...

It was an old, rusty fruit knife. Ian gripped it and began using it to cut the ropes binding him.

"Man, this is dull!" he groaned.

"How did you know there was a knife under the couch?" Kate wondered softly.

"I'm a reporter," Ian answered, "A good one needs keen insight. By the way, I'm Ian Carr."

Feeling the ropes loosening, Kate asked, "What do we do once we're free? Jump overboard?"

"Don't count on it; he's got a gun," Ian replied.

Kate gasped. "So we can't escape?"

Ian didn't answer but focused on freeing himself. He wiggled his sore arms and began to untie Kate, feeling his fingers brush against her stunning face. His heart skipped a beat; he was tempted to glance at her graceful form, but he held back.

...

"There's only one way to do this: lure him in and take him out! If we're lucky, one quick stab might do the trick... He's alone on the boat, so we have a good chance," Ian said.

Kate's ropes fell away as she shifted her sore shoulders and glanced at Ian, finally realizing he was quite attractive.

However, his words startled her. Did he actually have the guts to kill someone?

She noticed that Ian's expression was calm; there was no fear in his demeanor, almost like he had done this before.

In truth, even Ian was surprised. Being a journalist certainly took guts, but to this extent? That wasn't just Ian Carr; it was like he had blended his courage with previous Ian's.

"What if we don't get lucky?" Kate asked quietly.

Ian grinned. "Then we both get shot."

Kate inhaled sharply.

While the thought of being kidnapped terrified her, she also recognized that sometimes people could be fiercely driven when pushed into a corner.

At that moment, she knew there was no other option; they had to act!

...

Kate looked at Ian. "Let's do this! What's the plan?"

"Wait a second," Ian said, getting up to activate the auto-capture feature on his camera, setting it in a corner to capture what was happening.

Speaking softly to the camera, he stated, "I'm Ian Carr. I just got kidnapped by a murderer along with Kate Beckinsale. Luckily, I found a knife under the couch... That guy's armed, and I need to take him out, or we're both dead."

Kate was shocked. "What are you doing?"

"Gathering evidence to prove we were acting in self-defense," Ian explained, tightening the rope back around Kate's wrists. He leaned in closer, whispering in her ear, "Get ready to scream; whether it grabs his attention depends on your charm."

His warm breath brushed against her face, making Kate blush slightly.

Ian examined the knife; it was just an ordinary fruit knife. To kill with it, he needed the right angle.

He positioned himself behind the door, practicing a few jabs. He decided a swift slice to the throat would be most effective.

...

"Charlie Mills! I need to pee!" Kate's sudden scream pierced the cabin.

Charlie, steering the boat, frowned, reluctant to comply, yet he approached the cabin; the space was too small for any other option.

As he took a peak inside, he discovered Kate sitting on the floor, her legs slightly apart, revealing her white underwear.

His heart skipped a beat as instinct drew him in, and he found himself fixated.

But in the next moment, panic set in. Where was that kid?

Suddenly, Ian lunged from the side, thrusting the knife fiercely at Charlie's throat.

Thud!

Blood spurted everywhere.

"Argh!" Charlie cried out in pain.

But he wasn't dead yet.

That dull knife, along with Ian's lack of practice at murder, meant he hadn't struck a fatal blow.

Charlie quickly clamped a hand to his throat while instinctively reaching for his gun.

Ian wrapped his arms around Charlie's, and they rolled around on the floor, wrestling fiercely.

Kate managed to free herself and stood up, raising a vase to smash it down, but with the two rolling around, she couldn't find her moment.

Then came the sound of a gunshot.

All three froze in place for a moment.

After a beat, Charlie staggered, blood pouring from his abdomen.

Ian pushed himself upright, gripping Charlie's gun.

He aimed it at Charlie. "Charlie Mills, you kidnapped and tried to murder us. Do you think you deserve to die?"

Amidst the blood gushing from his wounds, Charlie attempted to plead. "Let me go... please..."

Bang.

A shot rang out.

Born as a privileged kid, Ian had tried everything -- guns included.

But this shot needed not skill, just courage.

The bullet struck between Charlie's eyes, and he shuddered before collapsing, lost in despair and disbelief.

"Why ask that after shooting me?" were the last thoughts that flickered through his mind as he fell into the void.

*****

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