Little Pet: Rebellion
Disclaimer: I don't own Thor. You people know this.
Melissa Verdell, head of the Diplomatic Relations Unit in the Morning Star resistance group. At least, that's what I used to be. Now, I'm sitting in some strange cell, still in my slightly tattered uniform. It's been three years since this Asgardian called Loki took over the world. To be honest, not much has really changed, except we are to worship him as a king and a god and aliens have replaced our world leaders. Sorry, but there's only one, and He doesn't use aliens to take over a world that He made.
Being a key member of the resistance, I expect to be stripped, tortured and my mangled body thrown back to my comrades as an example should any other leaders be caught. Given, I actually try to talk to alien commanders to leave the areas we want to liberate, or at the very least, improve conditions, but everyone in the unit knows how to use guns and swords.
A servant girl, kinda small like me, came in. She stuttered over her words, told me I would be moved. I nodded, standing. I can't tell you how hard I prayed while walking towards her. I prayed that if I was to die today, that it be quick and relatively painless. I was prepared to die, but that didn't mean I wanted to. When I asked her where exactly she was taking me, she said it was called the Black Room. So I was to be stripped, tortured and possibly die.
Fuck.
Trying to keep from making my own possibly futile escape attempt, I ask what exactly the Black Room was. She shrugged.
"I heard that the king keeps all the female prisoners here." So King Loki separates all his prisoners by gender. We reach a large door, and she knocks five times. It opens and I thank her, walking in.
Fuck.
It is not a torture chamber, but a harem room. There are girls in all different sorts of attire from pajamas to ball gowns, probably plucked from their own lives, minding their own business when Loki orders for them to be brought here.
"Look! She is part of the resistance!" Oh hell. "Fancy uniform you got, huh, freedom fighter?"
"Actually, I'm part of the Diplomatic Relations unit. We try to make negotiations before the more militant units start shooting. I... don't actually fight unless it's life or death. It just so happened that this time it was actually life or death." I laughed sheepishly. "If an area can't be liberated, we try to make concessions to improve the lives of the people living there." They didn't seem to care much, and I didn't know whether to be happy that they weren't trying to hang me by my own entrails for being a rebel against a near godlike being, or to be reminded of the once all too familiar feeling of neglect prior to said near godlike being deciding world domination would be a good way to spend a Saturday morning.
A voice that I recognize from my college days calls out to me. It's Theresa, fellow nerd and communication major while I was an English major. She no longer rocked the pixie cut she did back in college, but it was now down to her shoulders. We smile at each other and she jokes about me being part of the freedom fighters.
"More like freedom writers. I don't do the combat scene usually." Theresa and I laughed. "Normally this is the part where we are violently separated and one of us dies." Theresa gave me a look, but rolled her eyes.
Well, I was half right. We had to be bathed and dressed in these overly revealing pieces of fabric. I feel like Princess Leia and I am not a Star Wars fan. At all.
Later, we were to put on a show for Loki- in private, thank God- and I was next. Theresa went before me and she said she was scared as hell, but she thinks it won't take much to be impressive. With the way we were dressed, it should not take much.
Thanks for reading!