Johann Weisman had everything: good income, status, and a life of extravagance. A celebrated doctor turned
businessman, he lived in a world where nothing came cheap. He scoffed at meals below $20, considering
them an insult to his refined palate.
One evening, to celebrate securing a new contract, Johann and his business partner Hans set out in search
of a fitting restaurant in Vienna. Their demanding tastes and fussiness turned the search into a prolonged
ordeal, as they scoured the city for an establishment that could match their impossibly high standards—even
though every venue they encountered was among the most expensive in town. They sneered at each upscale
spot, dismissing the polished menus and lavish decor as unworthy.
At one glittering venue with sky-high prices, Johann spat, "This dump has the unrefined charm of a grimy
cafeteria built for drifters," while Hans derided another, branding it "a pathetic food truck on wheels that dares to
charge extortionate rates." At yet another high-end restaurant, Johann smirked and added, "This looks like a place
for the homeless." Their disdain was palpable, their arrogance unrelenting.
After nearly 5 hours of scrutinizing menus and scoping out venues, they finally settled on an upscale location
that promised a first-rate experience. Bringing with them aged whiskey and expensive cigars, the pair were
preparing to indulge freely. But they were kicked out after only 20 minutes—abruptly told it was closing time.
They staggered out into the city streets, their judgment clouded by their revelry. They didn’t notice the black
van parked nearby until it was too late.
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The van screeched forward, headlights blinding. Before Johann could react, rough hands yanked him back. A
hood was shoved over his head, muffling Hans’s protests as they struggled. Their kidnappers moved swiftly,
bundling Johann into the van while leaving Hans behind. Johann’s world blurred into darkness.
Johann’s new reality began in a dim room in the beautiful rural town of Bad Goisern on Lake Halstatt. His two
kidnappers' goal was to demand a ransom of 2 million.
The two kidnappers were Robert and Rune—known to their friends as Rob and Run. They sat slouched in the
dim room, their cigarettes dangling lazily from their fingers. A half-empty bag of fast food sat between them,
grease stains spreading across the table.
Rob: "After we get the money, we’ll be set for life. A life of eating and drinking without work...or learning,.... Just
happy days ahead."
Run: "Yeah....our dream lifestyle is not far away...Ha, ha..."
Then they started to laugh, which got louder and louder, their mouths stretching wide, exposing every inch of
their cigarette-stained front teeth.
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Eventually, the kidnappers dragged themselves back to reality and walked into Johann’s room, the ransom
note clutched tightly in the first one's hand.
"Alright, doc," Rob said, leaning against the doorway with a smirk. "Time to make your family cough up the
cash. Two million bucks—that’s all we’re asking. Not too much."
Run chimed in, "Yeah, they’ll pay to get you back. I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re worth it, right?"
Johann, calm and composed, met their gaze. "My family’s wealth has declined a lot, We don’t even have two
thousand, let alone two million. They won’t pay you two million."
Rob and Run looked at each other for a while, then Rob’s smirk faltered, replaced by a confused frown. "What’re
you talking about? You’re rich!"
Johann: "You're wasting your time..."
The two kidnappers looked at each other, not knowing what to say.....
The two kidnappers grew increasingly frustrated. A few hours later, they inspected Johann's clothes and took
most of his money and valuables away, leaving only some coins.
Johann’s response remained unchanged, and boredom crept into the kidnappers’ routine, dulling their edge.
Cigarettes became their distraction, their escape from the monotony. They smoked constantly, the acrid fumes
filling the small room.
Noticing this, Johann attempted to turn the situation to his advantage. “This air,” he said one evening,
coughing dramatically. “It’s unhealthy. You’re smoking yourselves to death, and you’re taking me with you.”
The kidnappers laughed dismissively. “No, you’re bluffing, doc,” one of them sneered, exhaling a plume of
smoke. “We’ve been smoking our whole lives, and we’re fine. I don't think it's harmful.”
Johann frowned, retreating into silence. He bided his time, observing them as they grew more restless and
started chain-smoking even more.
Over the next few days, the smoke thickened, clinging to the air like a suffocating fog. Johann, who had been
coughing intermittently, noticed the kidnappers themselves beginning to cough more frequently. They rubbed
their throats, visibly annoyed.
Sensing his opportunity, Johann struck again. This time, his words carried more weight. “You see? Even you
can’t ignore it anymore. This air is toxic,” he rasped, clutching his chest. “It’s not just me—it’s affecting you
too.”
The kidnappers, though still skeptical, exchanged uneasy glances. Their growing discomfort validated
Johann’s claims, and he seized on their hesitation. “If I die,” he said weakly, “you lose everything. No ransom.
You’ll have nothing to show for your trouble. I need a specific medicine to counteract this.”
Their resolve finally faltered. Reluctant but desperate to keep him alive, they asked Johann what medicine he
needed. Johann provided them with a list of ingredients: vinegar, ground nutmeg, crushed chili peppers, and
adelwez. He explained that the ingredients must be cooked together and insisted the concoction be prepared
with all windows closed to retain potency.
Johann explained carefully, emphasizing that the ingredients must be cooked together in precise proportions
to ensure the mixture’s potency. He insisted the concoction be prepared with all windows tightly shut, claiming
that even the faintest draft could weaken its effectiveness.
Many people know it's dangerous to cook while closing all windows, but not them.
Knowing nothing of the risks, the kidnappers followed his instructions, bolting the windows and sealing every
crack.
The small, dimly lit room grew increasingly stifling, the air turning thick and oppressive. As the mixture simmered on their wood-burning stove, an ominous transformation began. A new toxic gas crept into the room, its presence subtle but a bit dangerous. Apart from that, the lack of ventilation caused carbon monoxide levels to rise imperceptibly, unnoticed by the kidnappers who remained focused on their ransom plans.
Johann, fully aware of the consequences, stayed low to the ground, breathing the marginally clearer air near
the bottom edge of the door. From his position, he watched intently as the effects of the gas began to take
hold. Gradually, their movements slowed, their once-brisk actions reduced to sluggish, clumsy gestures. Their
speech became slurred and incoherent, their heads drooping as if weighted down by invisible hands. Johann
remained still, his heart pounding, as the room sank into a suffocating silence.
One by one, they fainted. The older among them slumped heavily against the wall, his cigarette slipping from
his limp fingers to the floor below. The other stumbled forward, falling to his knees as he mumbled something
incomprehensible before collapsing in a motionless heap.
Your analogy, hiring a pedophile to work in a daycare *_* , entirely your choice of words, illustrated my point, not yours as to which one was peculiarly unsuitable for office taking into consideration the crime and the office. 
