AN: This is a AU fanwork of Shilin Huang's Carciphona.
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Prequel: Olive Branches and Sunrises (part I)
Summary: Veloce made it a habit to usually not get spirited away in the early hours of the morning—and it worked for the last seventeen years— but apparently the universe made today an exception.
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It was at dawn when Veloce found herself sandwiched comfortably within a tightly packed car; barreling down the cliffside scenic route at speeds clearly unfit for the narrow road.
Flanked by two stoic men and windows tinted as dark as their sunglasses, Veloce gave out a long stifled yawn before listening back to the hushed argument between the man and women up front fighting over the radio. While she couldn't understand what language they were speaking in, she guessed that the only source of entertainment she would be having for a while was to see how long the front passenger would last before the driver slapped his creeping hand away from the dial again.
As bizarre as it may seem, being kidnapped(?) in the early hours of the morning was pretty much uneventful and quiet; not to mention with a picturesque view.
While she might have not been an expert on unlawful detaining and false imprisonment [one of the downsides of being homeschooled, she supposed], she was pretty certain there would be at least some form of cliché involving threatening, interrogation, taunting, restraints, or manhandling on anyone's behalf. That's how all the overdramatic went anyways; but then again illegal activities probably didn't have a set rubric or schematics that were required to abide by.
There was, however, the obvious fact of everyone giving her the cold shoulder.
For the most part, her abductors seemed to ignore that she was even there in the first place—occasionally sneaking a glimpse here or there. It was if she had barged in on an important conversation they were intimately engaged in and didn't know what to do with her since she wouldn't leave—not like she could anyways.
Maybe they were as baffled as she was about this situation.
Quite frankly, it felt no different from the infamous 'family-bonding' road trip escapade her mother decided to have with her and Vocruen a few years ago: very monotonous and awkward. Not to mention everyone looking at each other completely confused as to why they where there in the first place. However, this time around it was with complete strangers—
Though come to think of it, the lack of familiarity wasn't too far off either.
Either way, unlike then, she didn't have the particular leisure of sprawling out along the back seat while taking a nap, nor could she be kept occupied by her book-filled suitcase or by the sounds of her mother and cousin feigning confidence about the directions and the fact everything in the world was always 'should be just up ahead'.
It's a wonder she didn't developed trust issues from that trip.
She did discover her strong bladder control, and how to change a tire. At least that counted for something.
For now, bookless and exhausted, Veloce had to settle on watching the parallax of the dim night skyline clashing against reality of the situation. As tedious as everything seemed Veloce doubted she could simply doze off, no matter how tired she was or how indifferent they were to her presence. The notion that she could possibly wake up to find herself in the midst of a human trafficking ring with a missing kidney didn't sit too well with her subconscious.
Try as she might, no amount of sightseeing could ignore the unsettling alarming sensation that had been churning between the pit of her stomach and solar plexus for the last hour or so. If anything the heaviness felt—ominous and welcoming—as a constant nag itching at the sides of her ribcage frantically clawing its way into her throat; threatening to erupt out at any moment. Almost as if signaling that something wondrous and hellish was just around the corner; only if Veloce was willing to look.
It was absolutely nauseating.
Then again, it may actually be the early onset of motion sickness caused from the chaotic driving.
She still hadn't decided yet.
Truth be told, Veloce was glad they were the only ones on the road at this ungodly hour; as they were recklessly traveling in conditions less than ideal for the bottleneck jutted cliffside road overstretching the city. If not for the windows, which Veloce was pretty sure were much darker than what city regulations would allow for, arousing suspicion— a car harboring a single pajama clad seventeen-year-old girl surrounded by adults in sharp suits, who all (might she add) looked innocent enough to commit acts of espionage, had the high probability to cause eyebrows to raise.
Veloce also had a sneaking suspicion they would speed up if faced with the prospect of being pulled over—and while she trusted their adept navigation skills at high speed chases, she really didn't want to be graced with the first-hand experience.
If they were trying to be inconspicuous of the whole situation and not draw any attention to themselves, they obviously were failing.
They might've all been wearing balaclavas while they were at it.
"You know," Veloce nonchalantly quipped, her attention lingering on the approaching sign up ahead warning about possible rockslides flying right past them, "you might want to be careful."
The grunt in the front must have been from an actual sentence the driver directed towards her, as the moment Veloce turned her attention forwards the woman was halfway turned around, staring deadlocked right at her with an expectant look and a thinned mouth. Apparently it was also a question, as her silence was the wrong answer, as well as a sign of impudence, because the woman's expression turned into a scowl as fast as the approaching bend and the blood rushing from Veloce's face.
With a huff the driver took a surprisingly smooth turn, eyes still engaged in a death glare with the intensity that she just had her ancestors insulted, and navigated the three simultaneous sharp bends that followed. The moment they started to approach the incoming incline the woman seemed satisfied that she was finished in making her statement and finally refocused her attention back to the road, where it rightfully belonged. Releasing a breath, Veloce would've given her a pat on the shoulder if she didn't feel the outright urge to punch her in the jaw.
Veloce doubted either of those actions would bode well.
Giving out a shaking sigh, Veloce slunk back into her seat and lolled her head to face the ceiling; settling on closing her eyes to gain her bearings for the time being. Especially considering the fact, dare she say, she actually felt them speed up.
It figures; the one time she was trying the help someone out she unintentionally insulted them. Maybe there was a reason her mother always told her that altruism was akin with failure. With that thought she gave out a groan.
This truly was less than the ideal morning.
The looming fact that she couldn't truly even remember any of it to begin with wasn't helping out either.
Honestly, the only thing Veloce could recount was being haphazardly shaken awake by one of the maids and having the covers flung off. Which, might she mention was pretty tactless considering the fact that spring nights were not the warmest— especially in this area of the Gulf. Still on the cusps of sleep, she didn't have enough time or energy to ponder if the situation at hand seemed shady in the slightest. Especially while dragged out of bed and jostled around by a crowd of shadowed figures, before being led, bleary-eyed and stumbling about, through a series of secret tunnels networking underneath the mansion.
Not really the most quintessential conditions to have a deep coherent debate on the greater facets of life or about concepts of normality.
In hindsight, maybe the underground network should've signaled something. That, or the fact that the maid who woke her up just so happened to be the one who had a personal vendetta against her should've tipped her off.
The hag probably still had it out for her ever since the whole 'accidently set off fireworks inside the house' incident when she was seven—a risky undertaking which ended up accidently catching fire to the women's clothes and eyebrows, as well as a less than pleasant clean up afterwards. Then again, maybe this was a bigger conspiracy at play within the estate; as she was pretty sure the gardener was in cahoots with drug dealers. If that was the case, Veloce had decided that if she ever did make it out of this situation alive, she sure was going to give a stern talking to a long list of people.
Either way, only when the shadowed figures stopped their underground trekking through the depths of pitch-dark, making sure to carefully deposit her neat and snug within the already jam-packed car stalling near the camouflaged one-way exit off the hillside, was she able to situate herself enough to blink away any notion that she was still asleep. It was only after she found herself strapping her seatbelt around with a secured click, watching those shadowed figures disappearing in the rearview mirror as the car lurched forwards, did it finally occur to Veloce that this was most likely a very strange way to start off the day—
A soft tentative nudge to her ribs shook her from her reverie. A quick turn of her gaze found her staring down the man who elbowed her. At that, she glared at him even harder—watching her sharp expression reflecting back at her on his sunglasses. Noticing he had fully captured her attention, the man extended out his other arm with what seemed to be a peace offering—though she doubt a clumsily folded brown paper bag with a restaurant logo would constitute as a convincing token of conciliation to many people.
"Hoongry?" The scowling man brokenly offered as he jiggled the bag slightly, causing the light grease stains along the bottom to peek at her before swaying back.
"No." Veloce grumbled out as she shook her head, only to have him edge the bag even closer—as if expecting her to grab it. "Really, I'm fine."
Trying to hide her grimace Veloce rose her hand up in an attempt to stop him, or the bag, from approaching her any more than they needed to. As kind as the notion was, she doubted whatever was in there was appetizing, but apparently everything was lost in translation because he swiftly settled it right by her lap anyways before turning his attention forwards.
Veloce was about to sneak a glance at the other man to see if he was going to say something, or intervene–but then realized it ultimately didn't matter. She was pretty sure he was asleep anyways. There was no way anyone would spend thirty minutes reading the same page of a newspaper—but then again she wouldn't want to judge.
Before she could tap it back towards him, her stomach gave out a reprimand growl as a response; causing her to flinch. If the man heard anything, he made no notice—his expression seemingly carved from stone as he folded his arms across his chest. Giving out a sigh, Veloce relented. Casually, she retreated the offering to nestle between legs as silence settled between them once more.
Veloce may not have been the best when it came to social interaction—she'd rather due without it, truth be told—but not once did she feel any immediate endangerment from their company. If anything, they were pretty considerate and accommodating to their hostages for the most part. The front passenger, in his own way, had offered her a seat cushion. Even the driver proffered her a jacket and change of clothes to slip on; albeit they seemed far oversized and the women probably would've thrown it at her.
Be it a sense of pride, suspicion, or lethargy, she outright rejected them; a notion she was starting to regret since it didn't seem that it was going to get warmer anytime soon. And while leather had a particular aesthetic appeal, it wasn't exactly pleasant to sit on.
Still in the strangest way, she felt more protected in their presence than threatened; or at least in good hands until they revealed themselves as a part of some obscure cult that needed her as a sacrifice, or something along those lines. At least they would make sure she was to arrive safely.
In all likelihood, they probably had no part in deciding or handling her capture.
After all, they clearly weren't making the effort to call in for a ransom. Though she doubted her mother would've gotten the news of what had transpired anyways—she had a nasty habit of never bothering to pick up the phone for anyone during the most crucial of times. She was probably too busy being half-way across the continent at the moment; speaking at a peace rally; trying to supply illegal firearms to rebel fighters; giving an empowering speech about some global crisis; starting a war; swimming in a pool filled with the tears of blackmailed government officials; disrupting trade for the black-market, or whatever she did on her weekends that seemed important enough to drop their video call yesterday.
It's not like she made that much of an effort in the first place.
Veloce huffed, trying to get blow away the bangs that flung about into her eyes as the car surfed along a particularly sharp dip in the road.
On the off chance, if her mother was truly aware of the whole situation, she was probably waiting for Veloce to snatch a gun and weasel her way out. Her mother expected no less than bull's eyes and ruthless perfection; be it against every target or odds stacked against her. After all, she did teach her many lessons she would rather go without.
Truthfully, if that was the case Veloce would rather see this small journey to the end destination than give her mother any satisfaction. To make her actually worry for once. If only for the time being. It was just—
Something about everything(the breaking and entering—the coordination with the staff)—
Something about them (their impasse, yet attentive nature)—
Seemed—
Off.
Just as she was checking the contents inside the lunch bag—which surprisingly seemed homemade, primed, and evidently rather fresh— the car roughly jostled over something; momentarily suspending all occupants into a leaping dance with gravity. And while Veloce might've not been the most well-versed with linguistics, she was pretty sure the very elaborate stream of words the driver was aggressively hissing were most likely colorful profanities. The smug grin and snicker from the front passenger, followed by the women's retort of an obscene gesture, seemed to be enough confirmation.
It's a wonder the sleeping man was still out of it even after all of this ruckus. She was rather quite amused and somewhat envious.
Though in the driver's defense, they still had a good few meters before they would've rocketed off the guardrail and gotten a close up aerial view of the valley below.
Unfazed, and without a hair out of place (Veloce really couldn't say the same for herself) the scowling man next to her shifted slightly, glancing down at his watch before mumbling out something. A something that was apparently groundbreaking to the point where everyone halted their constant motion to draw up guard. A something of information which seemed to be vital enough for the car to slow down significantly until coming to an almost complete stop—which Veloce found to be quite shocking, to say the least.
The front passenger rolled down the window and leaned himself out, providing some riveting commentary to the rest. And just in a single breath, after a seeming eternity of eccentric event building up to another, everything came to a sudden standstill.
Following the other's gazes over the horizon—searching for whatever enrapturing experience they seemed drawn to, and ultimately coming up with naught—Veloce guessed that there truly were people who were extremely adamant on watching the sunrise every day.
And then—
She saw it first before anything–
It occurred at the same moment right when Veloce decided she should voice something out—whatever it was: be it confusion, or annoyance.
A rapid series of violent outbursts of fire plumes skittering across the skyline below all in a melodic succession.
And she felt the shockwave before any sound—
Flinching as a guttural resonating boom jabbed right into her chest. The windows rattled as the howls from the detonations hit the car in surging waves. Without second thought, the stoic man seemed to brace her with unmovable intent—as if afraid of shrapnel somehow ricocheting off to hit her—only to finally let go when she straightened herself up.
Veloce could hear the other man next to her jumbling about, trying to haphazardly draw his gun out from his belt before seeming to silence down. Newly conscious, he spoke to the others in an urging voice as the second crest of explosions painted the sky; billowing smoke mixing with the brightening morning horizon.
Slowly, the car accelerated.
"What the hell…" Veloce breathed out, hypnotized as the continuing successions of explosions sounding off into the distance drowned out everything.
Every nerve and fiber seemed to be flaring out in alarm, tingling with unbridled anticipation. The heavy sensation gut feeling that had been mounting for so long started suddenly smiled in with eagerness as it bubbled forth—pushing harder against her throat, urging to spill out in manic laughter. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and caused small tremors in her hands, which she had to tightly clamps together least she draw some unnecessary attention that maybe she was—dare she say—actually nervous. Which she wasn't—
Absolutely not!
True Visrin women were never given the leisure to feel fear.
Veloce had her fair share of traversing though war-torn cities when she used to travel with her mother and cousin during international peace negations—a time long forgotten, when her world was young and filled with heroes.
Yet, never once did she experience seeing such a sight; only having viewed such scenes played out in documentaries and news coverage on warzones. It was almost strangely serene watching it from so close, yet so far—the sound waves bellowing against her body and adrenaline coursing— the sky lit ablaze with fire, as if the clouds were painted with blood and ash.
What on earth was going on down there?
"Could hav' been you." A gruff voice said behind her, causing her to refocus back into a reality filled with blurring scenery, tinted windows dark as sunglasses, and adults dressed in sharp suits.
Balancing the dialing the phone on top of the steering wheel, the driver stared at her intensely from the rearview mirror, as if searching for something neither of them quite knew of. Veloce narrowed her eyes before casting them away, biting back any racing words franticly strummed about in her mind as the driver and man up front began speaking to whoever was on the other end on the line on loudspeaker.
Were they creating danger, or running away from it?
"Think too much." The man with the drawn gun hummed thoughtfully. Regarding her with slight nod, he draped his arm on top of the front seat's headrest; lazily motioning out the window with the barrel before pointing it back at her with a lopsided grin, "lose yer life."
While it seemed more as a piece of advice than a threat, the words left no solace behind—only a bitter taste made even more pungent by the smell of homemade food and distant smoke.