Hello. This is an unbeta-ed(ish) fic. This is a bit random, the idea just popped in and I figured, why not.
This is not my first fic, I write under another account. I DON'T OWN WAREHOUSE 13. IF I DID, IT WOULD GO ON FOR A GAZILLION SEASONS.
SNATCH
There was no need for chitchat. Claudia smashed her arm through the side of the car window and unlocked it from the inside.
On the other side of the narrow street, HG was dragging an unyielding woman by her hair as she struggled against her flailing limbs. The woman was screaming with a gag in her mouth and there was a dark liquid coming out a gash on the side of her face.
"You are going to be quiet darling, or I'll have to shut you up myself." HG muttered into the woman's ear as the hostage bucked her body against her captor.
From the side of the car, Claudia threw her accomplice a dirty look, "Just shut her up!"
Giving the younger woman an equally dark look, HG hissed, "She has to remain conscious."
The redhead rolled her eyes as she returned to the car. After fidgeting around in the dark, there was a popping noise then a low beep. She ducked farther down in the car for a moment and then reappeared. In her hands she held a small laptop device and a cell phone. After hefting the laptop into a bag on her shoulder, she casually tossed the phone across the street as if it was trash. It shattered into separate pieces upon impact.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
HG had already locked and loaded their hostage into the backseat of the getaway vehicle. Simultaneously, both women opened their doors and climbed into the car.
In the backseat the woman stared bug-eyed while making mewling noises around the gag in her mouth. HG, who sat in the driver's seat, gazed at her through the review mirror. In the mirror, the image of the woman was quite pathetic. Her hair was a tangled mess and her cocktail dress was torn on the left strap. There was also red lipstick smeared all over her lower face.
Tired of the woman's mewling noises, Claudia reached backwards and slapped her clear across the cheek.
"Shut the frack up!"
As if she needed to be any louder, the woman burst into fierce tears. Behind the gag there was the sound of her muffled diatribe as she struggled against restraint and attempted to fight herself free. Both of the women watched the act with matching blank expressions.
When the woman began to show signs of tiring, HG touched a hand to the crook in Claudia's arm and gave a gentle squeeze.
"I think you're going about this the wrong way. You're supposed to be gentle darling, or they'll never open up to you."
To put emphasis on the point, HG turned towards the woman and gave her an infamous smirk. The tired hostage threw her a deadly glare, but the look did little to faze the dark eyed woman. Instead the corner of her mouth seemed to go up in slight amusement. It gave the hostage a chill.
"Now dear, would you like for us to remove the sock?" HG's tone of voice was as gentle as a nurse coming to checkup. Hearing the British lithe did something strange to the hostage. Though she was shaking with fury the woman nodded her head, a yes.
On the passenger's side, Claudia snorted.
Mentally marking her score, HG reached forward and gently pulled the dingy gag from the hostages' mouth.
"There you go."
With the gag removed, the woman sat with her mouth hanging open, she was too stunned to react.
"Better?" said the redhead.
There was a moment of pause as the hostage blinked between the two psychopaths. Though she was speechless, her mind was a storm. To keep herself sane, she forced her mind to form a catalog of the attack.
Her hands and legs were bound and she was in the middle of nowhere. The two assailants, both women significantly smaller in stature, had somehow managed to manhandle and kidnap her in the middle of a Parisian club district. After concluding the assessment, the woman did the only thing she could think of doing.
Scream.
"Help! Help! Somebody, helpppp!"
Annoyed, the young redhead folded her arms and turned sideways in her seat. "See, I told you we should've just knocked her out."
HG's brow crinkled in frustration. This was not going as planned. Reaching into the glove box, HG turned to the screaming lady. Her beautiful face was marred with a mixture of blood and tears.
"Darling, you've left me with no choice." HG pointed a glock into the woman's face. As she cocked the hammer, there was the unmistakable sound of three clicks.
Faced with death, the woman silenced immediately.
The dark haired woman gave a breath of relief. Considering she was safe behind the trigger end of the gun, the hostage thought the woman strange.
"Thank you dearie."
With her feet folded underneath herself, Claudia flicked open her laptop. On the screen was an image of the very woman they were holding captive on the back seat.
"Could you please tell us your name? We'll like to clarify some research."
Two pairs of eyes turned towards the captive. One curious, the other blank. Finding her voice, the hostage pushed her words through quivering lips.
"M-m-Myka."
A sarcastic smirk appeared on the younger woman's face, "Ok, M-m-Myka, do you have a last name?"
Eyes narrowed at the back of the snarky captors head, Myka spoke again, this time her voice was strong.
"Bering."
"Great." Claudia snapped the laptop shut and held out the palm of her hand. "Twenty bucks. You said she wouldn't stutter."
Beside her the darker haired woman guffawed, "This is uncalled for, we just pulled a gun at her head. What do you think she would've done?"
"We, I think you mean, you. You just pulled a gun on her, I'm just sitting here doing the research."
At this, the paler woman's nostrils flared. "Why you incorrigible little—
From the backseat, Myka watched the two women bicker with a stunned expression on her face. Was this supposed to be some type of sick joke?
"Care to share Curly?"
The snarky redhead was viewing her through the review mirror. Myka had already determined that she was more dangerous than she appeared. Her actual appearance, sort of nerdy and tomboyish, literally contradicted her inner venom.
"I think she's asking what exactly is going on in the pretty little head of yours." The darker woman's eyes gleamed as she spoke. It appeared that she thought she was the charming one of the two. Myka wanted nothing more than to wipe the condescending smirk off her face.
Giving them both the stinkeye, Myka turned up her nose,
"If you must know, I was just thinking about how royally screwed the both of you are. And how before this nights out, not only will the both of you be dead, but I'll be comfortably back in my home sipping a vintage Merlot, not giving a damn."
"You think?"
The redhead's brow quirked, she bore a look of genuine surprise. With an unladylike snort, the hostage turned her head sideways, and gave her assailants the cheek.
"I know."
From the corner of her eye, Myka watched as the two women exchanged a signal. Reaching an agreement, the darker haired woman's eyebrow twitched once then she turned around. Facing the captive, the pale woman spoke, her voice low and throaty.
"Righty-ho then."
In terror, Myka leaned backwards as the dark haired woman reached forward and grasped one hand over her mouth and the other around the area between her neck and ears. HG met her gaze and watched curiously as the woman's green eyes widened in panic.
Poor girl.
HG pressed onto the pressure point until Myka's eyes rolled backwards and her body went limp. Ridding her hand of smeared lipstick and shifting the car into gear, HG turned towards her accomplice.
"Now, where were we again?"
Claudia re-opened the laptop. This time the screen opened to a news article. Brows furrowed, Claudia read aloud."The Bering Dynasty, Stock and Mining royalty. Five generations of hard earned oil wealth has been led by the current eldest heir, Warren Bering. He is in the process of retiring and is currently living in Montenegro with his wife of forty years, Jeannie."
"Together, Warren and Jeannie have two daughters, Myka and Tracy. The youngest is married to a banker and lives in Manhattan New York, and the oldest is single and currently living a bohemian lifestyle in Paris, France."
Claudia looked up from the file as she closed it. A cocky smirk played about her lips.
"Myka Bering is worth at least twelve billion dollars."