Fran's hands had been tied, literally and figuratively.
She wasn't sure how she had gotten into this situation. One moment she was leveraging her rights with the hired muscle at the door, and the next she was on the damp floor of what she assumed was the basement—hogtied. She had a splitting headache, and a smell of mildew and dirt pervaded the air. In the dim lamplight she spied blood smears on the floor next to her, gathering they were proof of the muscle's delicate handiwork.
"Violence," she huffed wryly in a breathless wheeze, "what can't it solve?"
She struggled against her bonds to no avail. Each squirm only tightened the ropes binding her hands and feet together.
She had nothing left but to beg Walter Harper for her life, and even that had been taken away from her now. Nothing left. Not even tears.
"Figures I would get myself into this, but I don't know how to get out of this one. This is...this is pretty bad..." Francine felt hopelessness take over, and for a moment she wondered if there was a higher being out there. "Ha, like I would pray to him...what has He ever done for me?"
She suddenly felt very alone. Very stranded. Suffocated by the darkness lurking in the corners of the room.
"Even so...some help would be nice...then I'll take care of those bastards..."
"My, but you are in quite a bind," a silky smooth voice purred from beyond her view. A chuckle at his own joke followed.
"Who's back there? Are you Mr. Harper? If you are, please let me talk to you! I'm begging you, please—" She struggled to turn and face her visitor, but she only managed to tighten her bonds again. They dug into her skin far enough to draw blood this time, causing a shriek to exit her lips and cut off her speech. She bit her lip in response, hoping to assuage the pain.
"No, no," the voice mused, and she heard boots step closer to her. "I am far worse than the men you came to see. Call me...Loki." His speech was poised and proper, ready to woo or destroy with equal discrimination.
Ever the sweet talker, hope tinged Fran's raspy speech. "Do you owe them money, too? Or do you owe them a favor? If you take me with you to see Mr. Harper I can get him to—"
"You will accomplish nothing by speaking to them, Francine Jacobs, daughter of Franklin. Words have forsaken you this time. They intend to kill you later tonight. They will watch you beg for mercy then kill you for their own amusement. I would help them do it if I didn't have better plans for you."
"A job?" Relief and enthusiasm gave her new life. She didn't see the delicate web he wove around her. "You want to give me a job?! I'll do anything, mister, anything! Just get me out of here, and take me with you!"
"Excellent news, indeed. I shall take that as your acceptance." Loki clapped his hands together happily in preparation. He continued to approach her slowly.
"Now, upon your release I expect your full cooperation and assistance."
"Of course, of course. I said anything, didn't I? Just cut me loose."
Loki leaned down to speak quietly and confidently in Fran's ear. She still had not seen the face of her assured liberator.
Fear gripped her as she heard his velvety whispers, "Kill them with your bare hands only, then sever their..."
When Loki finished speaking, he stepped around to enjoy the horrified look on her face.
"That isn't what I—! What are you? Some kinda monster?"
"Well, yes, of course," he agreed. A large grin crossed his thin lips, but did not touch his piercing green eyes. "Oh... now I understand your dilemma. I assure you, Francine Jacobs, you have indeed prayed to the wrong god."
Loki snapped his fingers, releasing her from her bonds, yet she did not rise. Instead she only raised her hands in defense, warding away the evil which stood before her.
No words left her mouth. Her face contorted more with each sob, mouthing "No" over and over while Loki laughed with thrilling satisfaction.