Disclaimer I: RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth.
Disclaimer II: This story contains material that may not be suitable for all audiences. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer III: Seriously, this is the most mature story I've written yet.
Cover Art by: [lucky1717123] on DeviantArt.
Author's Notes: An idea that's been bouncing around my head for a little too long. Gorsouul, you might want to skip this one.
Special thanks to ScottishMongol for his help!
It was the sound of overlapping footsteps echoing through the hallway outside her door that pulled Neo from her hazy dreams. Ta-ta-ta-tap tap tap taptap tap-ap-ap tap tap tap. She struggled to sit up from the bed's soft silk sheets, wincing at the aches and pains from the previous night, and tried to blink away the blurriness in her vision but only earned a wash of dizziness for her efforts. She put her hands to her head to vainly try and stop the spinning. Their drugs hadn't worn off completely yet.
The footsteps were getting closer; she could barely tell them apart, but the small differences spoke volumes. Two pairs of boots and one of squeaky, shiny black shoes, an inconsistent pace, almost a limp, a halfhearted saunter, and an impatient strut that she recognized too easily. It was him, him, and him. She wondered what the occasion was – he liked to give her a day in between to rest; she'd heard him say before it was to 'keep her fresh'.
Neo decided that the three men approaching her room would not find her unprepared. Pushing her bruised arms against the mattress she managed to get up to one knee, then the other, and then she stood, swaying slightly as the bed fought to unbalance her. She used the translucent cloth curtains that hung from the bed's canopy as handholds by bunching the fabric together in her small fists and wobbled to the foot of the bed, feeling out with her toes for the carpet beneath, then dropping to the floor. Solid ground didn't feel too solid, but Neo pushed through her drug-induced vertigo towards the heavy door painted like the rest of the room to look like it belonged in a dollhouse, keeping her arms out to help her stay stable. The weak pull of a heavy chain, connected to a D-ring in the sturdy metal collar strapped around her neck, did not make it easier. She looked back and glared at where it looped through a hook in the ceiling above the bed, then followed it back down to where it disappeared through a hole in the headboard that led to another room. Stupid chain. They used it to control her. They needed it to control her. If she played nice, or if a customer requested it, she got more slack. They kept it tight. Today, it was long enough to allow her to stand by the door.
The usual cold air blew through the small gap between the floor and the door's bottom and numbed her toes, prompting Neo to huddle her arms against her chest. The lacy scraps they gave her and called 'lingerie', 'nightwear', and 'clothing' offered her as much warmth as an extinguished match. She put her ear to the door's chill surface. Tapapap taptap ta-ta-tap tap tap ta-tap-ap. They were very close now, she didn't have much time to get ready. The chain jingled as Neo stumbled back to her bed and climbed back up with the help of the curtains, then stood in the one corner she knew couldn't be seen by the hidden camera that was almost invisible in the corner above the fake dresser. She'd found the camera early in her 'career'; she knew he liked to watch, since he didn't dare touch. What was the fun of having a doll if you couldn't play with it? Disgusting man. Neo felt around the twisted curtain until she felt the square razor blade she'd kept hidden in the canopy press back against her fingers. They used to give her razors to shave herself. They had someone else come in and wax her now. They learned slowly.
Tap-ap tap ta-ta-tap tap tap tap... The footsteps stopped, just outside her door. Neo fished the razor blade out of its fabric nest and held it in her palm. The points dug painfully into her skin. A key was fitted into the door's lock. Shcri-click-ick. The bolt retracted. Chrilunk. Neo put on a wide smile as the door swung open silently on its greased hinges. Her hand tensed, and she felt hot blood start to gather on her fingers.
The first man, the one with the key, was the usual guard who visited her – he was the one who brought her food and fresh clothes, in some effort to build trust with her so she'd be more manageable. His brown hair hung limply across his forehead, dripping sweat into his eyes that were too close together, making him blink. His mouth was, as usual, open, and the rasp of his smelly breath was like nails on a chalkboard to Neo. The armpits of his gray custodial uniform were wet. Mr. Sweaty looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her breasts as it always did, then stepped into the room and stood to the side nervously rubbing at the fat, greasy sausages he called fingers.
The second man strolled leisurely through the door in the wake of the first man, and Neo had to resist gagging as the smell of the man's cologne wafted over her. Neo had seen him only a few times before – he rarely 'inspected' her – but was certain she'd never forget that smell. Unfortunately. Mr. Stinky had the olive skin of a Vacuan native and the dark hair to match, combed back neatly and still slick with gel. He stroked at his triangular goatee as he stepped slowly to the side and examined Neo. His smile revealed a gold tooth; it flashed as he nodded appreciatively.
Then the third man entered, and Neo felt her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Thud thud thud thud thudthud thudthudthud, it thumped, the rhythm speeding at the sight of him. Mr. Manager wore his ironed black suit and tie, his bald head losing its glow as he entered Neo's room with its soft lighting. His greedy, deep set black eyes glittered when he looked at Neo, and his ugly, pencil-thin mustache wiggled as his lips turned downwards. "Why the fuck is she smiling?" Mr. Manager demanded of Mr. Sweaty, whacking him on the arm and making him flinch. "She know something we don't? Why's she smiling?"
Mr. Sweaty mumbled quietly, "W-Well, you tell us to-"
"Huh?! Speak up, asshole!"
"You tell them to tell them to smile, sir." Mr. Stinky explained for what was probably the hundredth time, Neo judged by his tone.
Mr. Manager looked unconvinced. "Eh," His eyes flicked back to Neo, and his brow wrinkled. "The other bitches, yeah. Not her, though," he said, jabbing a meaty finger in Neo's direction, "She hates me, she don't smile when she sees me." He shivered. "Fucking damn, that's creepy. You!" He grabbed Mr. Sweaty's shoulder and pushed him towards the bed, "Get her down from there."
"Uh, uh, yeah, sir," Mr. Sweaty nodded and hesitantly approached the bed, licking at his fat, moist lips.
"Listen up, cupcake," Mr. Manager shouted at Neo, who continued to smile, "we're going on a field trip. Play along and it'll be easy for you, I'll even give you a treat. Got it?"
Neo ignored him, watching Mr. Sweaty as he gradually came closer. He raised his arms, his hands trembling as they inched towards her hips, like he wasn't sure if his boss would allow him to touch her there. She was delicate and expensive property, after all. Handle with care. When his fingertips finally touched her, his thumbs pressing against her flesh as he prepared to lift her, Neo moved. She kicked the ball of her foot into Mr. Sweaty's nose; his head jerked back and his hands left her hips and flew to his face. She heard Mr. Manager swear and turned but was confronted by Mr. Stinky rushing her. Neo retreated backwards toward the head of the bed while Mr. Stinky clambered around the writhing form of his compatriot and onto the sheets, readying the razor in her hand.
There was a tense moment of silence as Neo squared off with Mr. Stinky until the latter charged, every loping step accompanied by a groan from the mattress' straining springs. Mr. Stinky was confident in his superiority of reach, but, from the way he screamed when Neo cut a line clean across the back of his hand, he hadn't been expecting her to have a weapon. Aware of the limits of her advantage, Neo attacked, swiping with the razor and scoring a few hits on Mr. Stinky's face and arms. His blood splattered on the sheets and the curtains and he fell backwards off the bed. Neo followed him, pausing to kick Mr. Sweaty again as he pulled himself up, and fell onto the pair of squirming men. Her breath was fast and her body felt hot as she fought off blind swings from both men, trying to get into a good position among the tangle of limbs.
After a short scramble Neo found herself straddling Mr. Stinky and lunged for his throat, but was yanked away by the chain attached to her neck. Her head slammed into the foot of the bed, and stars sparkled in her vision. She wanted to jump forward and jam the blade into Mr. Stinky's neck but another jerk of the chain bashed her against the bed again and the razor, slippery with blood, slid out of her hand. Neo felt herself panic. Before she had time to think, she was pulled upwards by her neck and dropped onto the bed. She craned her neck and spied Mr. Manager standing by the headboard, wheezing, hauling the chain hand-over-hand. Rushing to her hands and knees, Neo leaped at Mr. Manager but was, once again, held back by the chain and collar around her neck as she was lifted into the air; her feet dangled several inches above the bed and the top of her head pressed against the ceiling. She couldn't breathe; her whole weight rested on the collar cutting into her neck and choking her.
Her hands flew to her throat and she kicked, wriggled, and shook to try and get some relief before she suffocated, but all that she accomplished was to swing in a small circle. From behind her, Neo heard Mr. Manager scream, "Get up, you idiots! Stick her! Stick her!" Her legs came into contact with something and she struggled harder, but then she felt hands restraining her, and then a sharp pinch on her thigh and a cool sensation spread up her body. Her dimming vision dimmed much faster, and Neo felt all the energy leave her limbs. Damn chain, damn drugs. A few more minutes and she'd have killed them all. Her hands dropped from the collar, and she couldn't stop her eyes from closing.
...
The sound of the hand slapping against her cheek reached her brain before the stinging pain did. Neo barely had time to blink before the hand slapped her again from the opposite direction, scrambling her clearing sight, and she cringed in preparation for another.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Mr. Manager exclaimed from somewhere, so loudly it made her head pound. He was nearby, and from the reverberations of his voice, they – she, Mr. Manager, and the slapper – were in tight confines.
"Wakin' her up." The accent hinted at Mr. Stinky.
"Well do it without fucking slapping her! You leave a mark on her and we're out thousands! No one wants to pay for a beat up bitch!"
"You saw what she did to me! I'm just payin' her back."
"For fuck's sake... Wait until she gets returned, then have at it. Until then we need her unharm- unmarked."
"Whatever you say, sir."
Neo cautiously lowered her arms from in front of her head and peeked open her eyes. Mr. Stinky's bandage-covered face smiled back at her.
"Hey, Boss, it worked. Mornin', cupcake," He sneered, then slapped her again. Neo's neck turned at the unexpected impact and her forehead bumped into something hard. When she could see clearly she found herself shoved into the corner of a car's back seat; her head had collided with a tinted window. She tried to right herself but her hands were trapped behind her back, and when she struggled to move them she felt tight restraints around her wrists and ankles.
"Get her up, I want to talk to her."
Neo was pulled upwards by her hair and positioned so she was sitting properly; Mr. Manager was in the passenger seat, twisted around so he could watch. He smiled when she glared at him. "Hey there, dollface. How's the head? Little fuzzy, little messed up? Huh?" The smile transformed into an displeased grimace. Neo was reminded of a squirrel. An ugly squirrel. "Listen up, psycho-bitch, you're going to a special client of mine. He's paying big bucks for you, so you're gonna play nice, got it?" The smile returned, and his pitch rose. "Huh? You gonna play nice? Hmm? Are you gonna be a good girl?"
Neo spat at him, frowning when Mr. Manager dodged.
A brief look of incredulity washed across his rodent-like features, then was replaced by blank, unimpressed neutrality. "That's what I thought." He turned his head to regard Mr. Stinky and sighed, "Alright, give it to her."
Before Neo had time to react – not that the ties around her arms and legs would have allowed her to defend herself – Mr. Stinky shoved his body against hers, pinning her into the corner. "Here we go, baby girl, open up!"
Realizing what was going to happen, Neo redoubled her efforts to free herself, but the restraints held firm. Mr. Stinky put his hand around her chin and tilted her head back, but Neo pinched her lips tight and clenched her teeth. She heard him sigh, and then his knuckles squeezed around her nose. Under other circumstances, she would have been happy that she couldn't smell his nasty cologne.
Air quickly became a necessity, but she dared not open her mouth. Hanging on until her cheeks tingled and burned and tears streamed down her face, Neo's instincts finally overpowered her conscious mind. She gasped, and the second she did Mr. Stinky shoved his fingers into her mouth and deposited a small pill; Neo felt it bounce and rattle off her teeth. Then Mr. Stinky forced her mouth closed and held her by the chin and the back of her head, shaking her head back and forth so she'd swallow the drug. Neo thrashed harder than she ever had before, but Mr. Stinky's weight pressed on her legs and stomach, severely limiting her movement. Saliva swirled in Neo's mouth, and it wasn't long before the pill slipped down her throat. Mr. Stinky shook her for a few more minutes then released her and returned to his seat, breathing heavily.
"Stubborn bitch," he grumbled.
"Did she take it?" Mr. Manager asked from the front seat.
"Yeah, it's in her. She's ready."
"Good. We're almost there."
Neo lay awkwardly in the corner, taking deep breaths through her nose. Colors started dripping and mixing together, lights brightened, and sound dulled. The pain in her arms and legs bled away and a pleasant sense of weightlessness spread down her body. Heat pooled in her face and between her legs, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Thudthudthud-thudthudthud thudthudthudthud thudthudthud thudthud thud thud thud, it slowed to a calm, steady cadence. She smiled. She felt good. Really good.
Through her daze she was vaguely aware of the car coming to a stop and Mr. Stinky and Mr. Manager dragging her out into the sun. The sun was so bright and warm... the light tickled her skin. She giggled. The hands on her arms and legs felt really good. One of the men brushed her hair while the other wiped a wet cloth across her face and undid the binds around her limbs. They were talking to her but their words didn't make sense. Mr. Manager – or was it Mr. Stinky? – took her by the hand and led her up some stairs. They stood in front of a large brown door and Mr. Stinky – or was it Mr. Manager? – knocked. The door reminded her of chocolate. She felt good.
The door opened, she was gently pushed across the threshold, and the door closed behind her. She missed the tickling sun, but the super soft carpet beneath her toes was a good replacement, and the room smelled like expensive candles and fancy wine. A new man appeared from behind her and lay his hands on her shoulders. Neo remembered now what she was supposed to do. She put her hands over his and pulled them to her lips, kissing up his skin. He was soft and warm and tasted good. She stepped forward, draping his arms across her back, and pressed her body into his, her breasts rubbing against his chest through the thin clothing she wore, her hands running down his stomach into his pants.
"Stop." His hands gripped her shoulders again and pushed, forcing her away from his chest and its comfortable sturdiness; her hands slipped out of his pants. This wasn't how it was supposed to go... Neo ventured forward again, puckering her lips and closing her eyes, feeling for the man's belt. "Why are you- Stop!" the man yelled when her fingers tugged at his waistband. Neo pushed more aggressively, pulling one of the hands off from her shoulder and licking the fingers, then leading it to her breasts. Their skin met – with her lingerie providing an ignorable barrier – and pleasure spread like ink dropped into water through her chest. She felt so good. "Would you- Here!" Something cold and wet was touched to her cheek; it burned coolly through the heat that was still pulsing through her head. "Drink!" She obeyed, blindly setting her lips to the edge of the glass, and cool liquid flowed into her mouth, spreading cool down her throat. It tasted good. Neo opened her eyes. The blurred colors were solidifying. Her vision sharpened then grew gray, then turned black. She felt fingers on her cheeks then fainted.
…
Neo woke for the third time of the day – the same day, as far as she knew – in a bed. Her eyelids lifted after a peaceful, dreamless nap to stare across the end of a white pillow at a black-framed painting hanging on a blue wall. The painting was of a watercolor tree with pink flowers over top of a white background, and Neo regarded it confusedly for a moment before she realized with a start that, in her last recollectable moment of consciousness, she hadn't been in a bed. Someone had put her here.
The mattress creaked quietly when Neo levered herself upward and frantically began examining the room. The walls were painted blue and decorated with various paintings, and a clock hung over a white door on one side of the room. Two bookshelves bordered a desk with a lamp and a chair, and a wardrobe with small knobs on the doors stood backed into a corner. To the left of the bed was a nightstand with a short reading light. Windows on the wall behind her let in yellow sunlight that slanted downwards onto a white carpet. Neo looked down. The blankets on the bed were not the same sweat- and semen-stained silk sheets that covered the dollhouse's bed, instead they were thicker, cottony, and had a seemingly innate warmth to the touch. They smelled clean. In her investigation of the bed, Neo discovered that she wasn't wearing the ugly, half-transparent lingerie any longer. Someone – presumably the same someone who had deposited her in this bed – had dressed her in a set of pajamas that were one size too large for her petite body and hung loosely around her shoulders and waist. She hooked a finger behind the collar and pulled; there were no fresh marks on her breasts or stomach. She checked underneath the pants and, to her relief, found no new bruises there either. The someone had not had his way with her while she slept.
Which was, if she was honest with herself, quite strange. She remembered being given Mr. Manager's happy drugs and delivered to a john... Why hadn't he fucked her? She'd been paid for... Was this some trick of Mr. Manager's? Neo told herself to stay cautious, and began to exit the bed.
Whilst she was dangling her toes off the side, she was surprised by the sudden sound of someone knocking on the door. Knock knock knock. She hadn't heard any footsteps! Unsure of what to do, Neo quickly climbed back under the covers and pretended to be asleep, managing to lie still just as the door swung open.
A man's voice asked in a whisper, "Neo? Are you awake yet?"
The sound of his voice made something in the back of Neo's head tingle. A memory, long forgotten and overwritten, itching like a mosquito bite on her brain. She remained still.
"Hmm. The drugs should have worn off an hour ago." Minute trembles vibrated up from the floor and through the mattress as the man stepped into the room, crossed to the desk, and pulled the chair to the edge of Neo's bed, with a stronger tremor when he sat.
Neo tried to think of what to do. He was sitting next to her; she'd have to be fast when she escaped so he didn't have a chance to fight back or warn any compatriots. But, she didn't know where she was, and that obnoxious tickle in her mind was telling her... something. Something so deep down and dissolved by drugs it was impossible to understand its meaning. Escape was the priority, memory could wait. She prepared to move-
Fingers brushed against her head, corralling her sleep-messed hair behind her ear; the contact made her twitch reflexively. A fatal blunder for her plan. The only hope was that the man didn't notice the movement- "You are awake. I'm glad."
No options left.
Neo whipped the blankets towards the man and rolled off the opposite side of the bed, crouching behind the mattress and shuffling towards the door. The man sputtered in surprise when he was hit with the covers; Neo flicked her eyes between his struggles and the doorway, trying to predict which direction held the greater threat. She sprinted for the exit-
-and tripped on the excess fabric of her pajamas. Her chin and hands skidded painfully along the carpet.
"Ah! Neo!"
Sensing the man's approach, Neo started crawling for the doorway, but was stopped by hands lifting her by the armpits. She fought and thrashed against the man's grip-
"Neo, stop! I'm not – ow! – going to hurt you! You're okay! Stop fighting me!"
She was deposited, still struggling, back onto the bed and huddled into a crouch, baring her teeth at the man. But when she finally got a good look at him...
...the memory in the back of her head made her freeze.
The man's orange hair was a little disarranged from when Neo had thrown the blankets on top of him, but still had the slick swirl that hung over one green eye. What dazzling green eyes. They blinked when the man touched a finger to the split in his lip caused by Neo's elbow, his tongue dipping out to clean up the trickle of blood. He had a sharp chin, pronounced cheekbones, and an aristocratic nose. An attractive man, Neo thought, that she could have sworn she'd seen before. A previous customer? Recognition was no longer one of her prominent traits, not after all of Mr. Manager's drugs.
"Damn it, Neo," the man said, still fussing with his lip, "what the hell did they do to you?" He looked at her and glared, but Neo got the feeling he wasn't glaring at her. "Can you settle down for a second? Damn." He took a step and Neo tensed, but relaxed – only slightly – when he made for the door and not for her. He disappeared out of the room and Neo heard some rattling and a large amount of cursing, then he returned with a white cloth held to his mouth. He went to sit in the chair, pausing for a moment and glancing at Neo, as if checking if she would attack him again if he got too close, then shrugged and sat anyway.
Neo was too confused, and curious, to object. She watched silently, her threatening grimace easing.
The man dabbed at his lip with the cloth, examined the small red spots that now marked its surface, and rolled his eyes. He looked at her. "You don't remember, do you?"
Neo didn't move.
"Do you remember anything? Do you remember me?"
Neo shook her head, then cursed inwardly for doing so. She needed to be more careful than that. This could still be a trick.
The man looked incredibly saddened. His eyes fell to the floor and he sighed. "You don't remember anything." It wasn't a question anymore. He looked up and gave Neo a thin smile. "I'm Roman. Roman Torchwick."
The name spurred more tickles in Neo's brain.
"We met a- I met you a long time ago. I saw you at a bar with a bad reputation. You winked at me and beckoned me over. I bought you a drink and asked your name. You said 'Neo', and smiled when I asked if that was it. We talked for hours." Roman licked at his split lip and shook his head, gazing introspectively at the carpet. "You don't remember any of that."
Neo sat back, watching Roman's face.
"That night I took you back to my place and we had sex." Neo's nose wrinkled at this admission – that word had a different meaning for her than for most. Roman continued, "You were gone in the morning, with nothing for me to remember you by. The rest of the week I spent more time inside that bar than outside of it, but never saw you again. Work took me... abroad, and every day I wondered if you were thinking of me like how I was thinking of you. Your eyes, your hair, your smile, your voice, your laugh. I counted the days, the hours until I could wait in that bar for you again. When I got back I looked for you, and then... when I found you..." He shuddered. "What happened to you?"
Neo blinked at him, then realized that he expected an answer. She mimed writing with a pen on paper at him.
It took a few moments of Roman frowning at her with his head tilted before he caught her meaning. "You can't talk?"
Neo rolled her eyes and repeated the motion.
Roman nodded and stood and went to the desk, quickly acquiring a pen but having difficulty finding any paper. Then he suddenly straightened and reached into his pocket. He returned to the bed and handed Neo a large-screened phone. "Use this."
Neo tapped her fingers against the phone, then held it up for Roman to read.
He squinted and read aloud, "They cut out my tongue." Roman jerked back and stared at her, aghast. "Did they rea-"
Neo opened her mouth and showed him.
His hands clenched on top of his knees, his knuckles turning white. "Bastards. How did they... What happened to you?" Neo pulled the phone back and started typing. Roman took a deep breath when she held it out again. "Barely remember. Kidnapped. Drugged. Whored. Kept in small room because dangerous. Violent. Hurt customers. More drugs to cooperate. Forget rest." Neo sat back and watched Roman try to work through this information. Did he suspect that she was lying?
She hadn't forgotten the rest.
No, she couldn't remember much of her life before she had ended up in Mr. Manager's clutches, but she remembered many things after. She remembered the pain and terror of her first customer and the putrid dress Mr. Manager had made her wear. She remembered the sense of despair and hopelessness after her first failed escape attempt. She remembered when her mind had snapped and she started fighting back. She remembered Mr. Manager smiling when he told her how she was going to make him so much money now that she was being marketed as a wild, dangerous woman in need of taming, of conquering. She remembered biting Mr. Manager's tiny cock when he had been 'product testing'. She remembered screaming as her tongue was cut out, and that it was Mr. Stinky holding the knife, and that Mr. Manager was grumbling about having to reduce her price. She remembered starving herself because they put the drugs in her food. She remembered every moment she wasn't on the happy drugs, no matter how hard she tried to forget.
"How dare they..." Neo lifted her head. Roman was shaking angrily, his jaw set tight. His eyes burned. "But now you'll never have to suffer like that again. You're free of that, of them, now. And I'll do whatever it takes to ensure it stays that way."
Neo stifled a laugh and raised an eyebrow. Did he believe his actions changed anything? Fixed anything? Mr. Manager had stolen her life, ruined her mind, and turned her into nothing more than meat, an object of pleasure. But how nice of Mr. Roman Torchwick, to rescue her from that miserable prison. Would he like a kiss in return? Something more? The way he looked at her wasn't identical to the hungry stares of her usual customers – no, it was undeniably different – but still he stared. And his promise to guard her freedom was as empty as her tongueless mouth. If Mr. Manager lived, she wasn't free. Couldn't be, knowing her torturers breathed. She typed a message on the phone and showed it to Roman.
The change in his expression almost made her laugh. "You want to go back?!" he asked, his voice rising. His hand combed through his hair and his eyes searched the room as though an explanation was painted onto the walls. "Why? I mean... I thought... You could go anywhere, but you want to go back?!" The hand in his hair shifted to cover his mouth, a finger tapping against his cheek. "Is it because of... Is there a way I could convince you not to? You could stay here, until you're recovered, and maybe then..."
Neo's eyes narrowed. So that was what he wanted from her. But she refused to be moved from one prison to another. An idea came to her, and she showed Roman on the phone.
He quickly scanned the words, then nodded. "If you'll stay after it's over, then I'd be more than happy to help you. Come with me," He stood and walked to the door, waiting in the threshold for her to join him. Neo tentatively followed him, hiking up the pajama pants so she wouldn't trip again.
Roman led her through his house, and Neo marveled at the size. It was a far cry from the tiny, constrictive dollhouse she'd been confined in for too long, and made her think about Roman's offer to stay. In addition to the house's impressive dimensions, it was lavishly decorated with all manner of extravagance. Animal skin rugs, paintings, collections of pottery and glass, and antique weapons were but some of the indications of wealth that Neo spotted.
Just when they reached a turn that lead to a staircase Roman abruptly stopped and turned around, looking Neo up and down and narrowing his eyes. "We should probably get you a change of clothes. Can't leave you in pajamas forever. This way," He trotted off in the opposite direction they had been heading; Neo followed him until he stopped in front of a white door with a brass handle. "Head on through, Neo," Roman said with a nod of his head, "and pick out whatever you like. My party guests always leave their things behind, you should be able to find something that suits you."
Neo cautiously approached the door and shoved it open. When no one tried to grab and subdue her, she hesitantly entered. Roman began to close the door behind her, and she quickly retreated into the hallway, glaring at him. He looked confused for a minute, then grunted, "Ah," and backed away, hands up.
The room was not what Neo had expected. It was lined with racks upon racks of clothes in varying sizes, colors, and styles, with shelves of shoes underneath and a row of hats above. At the end of the room was a giant five-paneled mirror that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Neo walked through the room, running her fingers over the fine cloth, pulling down items that caught her eye. After two trips down the racks she had gathered a complete outfit, and stood in front of the mirror to change. She was conscious of the open door but paid it no mind – there was nothing private about her body anymore.
When she had finished putting on all the clothes she had chosen, she couldn't help but turn in place and examine how she looked. Her reflection didn't look like her. The girl in the mirror didn't look broken, didn't look damaged, didn't look like an insane, abused prostitute. The girl in the mirror looked alive. Neo touched her newly gloved fingers to the glass; a part of her was surprised that she didn't feel fingers touching back. She looked down at her new outfit – everything was so elegant and fashionable, and clean... When was the last time she had felt this pretty? This clean? This alive?
Neo thought back to what Roman had said. Would she feel this way forever, if she stayed with him? It was a good feeling.
"Almost done in there, Neo?" Roman hollered, the profile of his nose visible in the doorway. Nice man, not to peek. But the question had dispelled the surrealism of the dressing room; Neo's fingers fell away from the mirror. She tugged her new pink jacket straight and kicked the toes of her new white boots against the ground. Her new brown pants swished as she walked to the door. Swish swish swish swish swish. When she emerged, adjusting the cuffs of the jacket – it was just a touch too long – she looked up at Roman and smiled. The tall man took a deep breath and gulped. "Mm. R-Ready to keep going?" He turned away and swiftly strut towards the stairwell. Neo smirked and followed.
After descending the stairs and traveling through a few more expensively decorated rooms Roman came to a stop in front of a massive cabinet that spanned nearly the entire length of the wall. Neo wondered what it contained, and how it would help her accomplish her goals.
Roman turned to her and cleared his throat. "Since you can't remember me, you probably don't remember what it is that I do." A wide grin crossed his face as put his hands on the cabinet's knobs. "I'm a world-class thief and arms smuggler." He pulled open the cabinet's doors.
Neo's eyes widened.
Rows and rows of weapons lined the inside of the cabinet. Pistols, rifles, a grenade launcher, a rocket launcher, swords, knives, and hatchets glistened in the light, but the thing that caught her eye was the long, thin piece of steel in the upper right corner. She reached out and lifted it gently from its hooks, feeling its weight in her hands.
"Ah, the misericorde," Roman grunted from behind her, "Not as popular as they used to be. Still a favorite of mine, of course."
It was perfect.
Mr. Manager, Mr. Stinky, and Mr. Sweaty liked to stick her with so many needles...
Now she had a needle of her own.
She faced Roman, dipped her head in thanks, then, without waiting for her new partner, turned and headed for where she remembered seeing an exit as they had walked here. Roman called after her to wait while he brought the car around, but Neo only barely slowed her pace.
It was payback time.
…
It was quiet and dark in the car as they drove down the highway that passed through town, the last lingering red rays of sunset fading behind them in the distance. Roman kept throwing glances her way, but Neo ignored them. She wasn't sure what he was looking at – her body, her outfit, or the misericorde she gripped to tightly – but it wasn't important to her. All that mattered was getting revenge. Her hands ran along the length of steel impatiently; she wanted Roman to drive faster.
When their trip had first begun Neo had been glued to the window. It had been so long since she'd been outside, and the drugs had fuzzed her memories of the city's skyline. She couldn't tell if it had changed or remained exactly the same. The novelty had quickly worn off and she'd settled back in her seat, watching the misericorde flash in the rhythmic illumination of the streetlights. Such strong, straight, shiny steel. Certainly an upgrade from the unwieldy razor blades she'd used in the past. With this, she could kill. She was looking forward to it.
Neo paid little attention to the route the car traveled – she didn't recognize any street names or buildings anyway – until they slowed to a stop in front of a towering hotel just off the main avenue. Neo craned her neck to look up the building's side. How high was it? A dozen stories? More?
Which one of those rooms had she been in?
She flinched and raised her blade when Roman touched her on the shoulder. In response to her glare, he said, "Better put that away..." and pointed to the lobby doors which were spreading open for a red-vested attendant making his way towards them.
Neo kept the weapon hidden well out of view as the attendant walked around the front of the car to the driver's side. Roman lowered the window; the attendant smiled and leaned forward in a half-bow. "Hello sir, madam, and welcome. May I?"
"Please." Roman switched off the car and placed the keys in the attendants waiting hand, then exited. He shot Neo a glance that told her to do the same, but she didn't know how to hide the misericorde once she was in the open.
She quickly looked around the interior of the car but found nothing other than a briefcase and a purse – both of which were too small – and a sizable pink umbrella. Not the most preferable of disguises... although it gave her an idea. And she was running out of time; any commotion – such as that created by having to explain her hesitation – would draw unwanted attention. Neo snatched the umbrella from the back seat and opened her door, careful to keep her blade concealed as well as she could. Sliding the misericorde along the length of the umbrella's shaft and and underneath the collapsed canopy, she leaned her hastily camouflaged weapon against her shoulder and joined Roman by the hotel's entrance.
As they walked through the door, her escort whispered to her, "Hmm, quick thinking. Well done. And it suits you nicely."
Neo grinned at the praise, feeling good about herself, but her expression turned serious again when they approached the front desk. How would her 'umbrella' hold up under close inspection?
The desk clerk, a dark-haired woman dressed in a faded black suit, smiled broadly when they reached the counter. "Good evening, and welcome to the hotel! How may I assist you?"
"Yes," Roman said slyly, "We require, special, accommodations." He reached into his coat and pulled out a gold-colored card. He tossed it casually onto the desk and Neo watched the woman's smile wane.
"Of course, sir," The receptionist took the card, turned, and placed it somewhere Neo couldn't see. Her new boots may have given her a few additional inches of height, but she was still nowhere near 'tall'. When the woman turned back she placed a long, laminated piece of paper in front of Roman. There were lines of text listing room numbers and features, with prices in bold print and pictures of the girls, along with their dimensions – Neo's breath caught when she saw her own face advertised at the bottom of the page. "Here is today's menu. Please note that supplementary company," She glanced at Neo, "costs an additional fee."
Roman grunted, scanning over the menu. "I'd like to stay in the dollhouse suite tonight."
The woman's smile vanished completely and her face turned apologetic. "I'm very sorry, sir, but that suite is unavailable this evening. She's been, umm, rented out."
"Then send someone else," Roman sneered, pushing the paper back across the counter, "Someone similar."
The woman's eyes flicked to Neo again, then back to Roman. Neo watched her draw a conclusion and thought she looked a little green. She must have been a new hire; Neo had 'met' a dozen men with Roman's feigned preference, it wasn't shocking to her anymore. "Sir, I-"
"Do I need to speak to a manager about this?"
Neo suppressed a giggle. Roman was playing his part fantastically! Though maybe a little too well – it would be bad if Mr. Manager showed up before they were ready. She tugged on his sleeve and shook her head when Roman looked down.
He sighed. "Forget it. Just the room please, keep the girl."
The woman's shoulders slumped in relief. She turned and grabbed a pair of key cards and handed them to Roman. "Would you like me to go over the features of your room?"
Roman tucked the key cards into a pocket and shook his head. "Don't need it. It's not my first... playdate." He winked.
The receptionist shivered and took a deep breath. "V-Very well. The elevators are down that hall and to the left. Your room is on floor B3. En-Enjoy."
"Thank you. Come along, darling!" Roman turned and walked towards the hall; Neo was quick on his heels. They were almost to the hall when Roman held out his hand for her to stop. "Cameras on the ceiling." he whispered. Neo looked up and saw he was right. Little red dots blinked in the corners of the hallway.
Neo chewed on her lip. Mr. Manager – or someone else who would recognize her – was sure to be watching. How would she hide from the cameras?
"The umbrella. Open it." Neo's eyes grew wide at Roman's suggestion. Opening the umbrella would reveal the misericorde! But not opening the umbrella meant discovery, and that would mean...
She opened the umbrella, and was surprised by the white underside. Her hands kept a tight grip around the umbrella's shaft and the hilt of the misericorde as she and Roman walked down the hall, her face hidden from the cameras by the opaque barrier. They reached the elevator and Neo saw Roman push the 'Down' button; a bell sounded and the doors rolled open. Ding! Crish-crunk rattle rattle.
Familiar boots already stood inside the elevator. "Going down, sir?" Mr. Sweaty's nasally voice echoed off the elevator's walls. Neo froze mid-step, adrenaline making her tremble. She couldn't see higher than his waist due to the umbrella's canopy, but could he tell it was her? Was her hair visible? Would he be able to tell by her height? Was the misericorde-
She jumped when a hand pat her on the back. "We are, actually. Get on, darling." Roman's hand pushed her forward and she entered the elevator, finding a place right in front of Mr. Sweaty. She could smell his breath. "Floor B3, please."
"Got it." The doors rumbled closed and Neo felt the strange shift in weight as they began the descent to the lower floors. "What's with the umbrella?"
Neo stiffened, but Roman quickly answered, "It's just her thing. Indulge us, please." Smart man.
"Yes, sir." Neo was slowly realizing this would have been impossible without Roman. Good man. There were so disappointingly few in her experience. Perhaps there was some merit in-
Ding! Crish-crunk rattle rattle.
"This is your floor, sir."
"Ah, thank you." Roman said as Neo stepped off, then continued, "Would you mind showing us to our room?" Neo stopped. What was he thinking? She rescinded her compliments about his intelligence.
"Oh, no, I can't, sorry. Have to mind the-" Neo turned her head when Mr. Sweaty cut off, listening closely. "Oh. Oh. Umm, well, I-I guess I could, heh heh..." Mr. Sweaty walked past her, his belly bumping her umbrella. Neo turned and tipped the umbrella back far enough to give Roman a deadly glare. He was ruining the plan! Roman simply grinned at her and winked, then followed Mr. Sweaty down the hallway. Annoying man. She snorted angrily and stomped after the two men.
Floor B3 was chilly – the cold nibbled on Neo's face and the exposed skin around her waist. She recognized the cold and the color of the walls from the small glimpses she got when her door would open to admit her meals or her johns. Doors were evenly spaced on either side of the hallway, muffled sounds of grunting and moaning leaking through the painted wood. Their small party finally came to a stop in front of a door that didn't look like the others, a third of the way down the hallway. This door, her door, Neo realized, was steel, unpainted, and had caution tape above the threshold.
"This is your room," Mr. Sweaty said, excitement in his voice. Roman stepped forward and inserted a key card into the large electronic lock beside the door's handle. Neo heard the bolt retract, chrilunk, and then Mr. Sweaty led the way inside. The dollhouse looked exactly the same as when she'd been there earlier that day. The chain and her metal collar rested coiled up on a pillow by the bed's headboard. Neo grimaced.
"Hmph. Nice place." Roman grumbled with obvious disgust, "It's soundproofed, right?"
"Oh, of course, sir," Mr. Sweaty crossed to the center of the room and turned to face the pair still standing by the door. He rung his fat fingers as he said, "So, where do we begin? The bed? The floor? Heh heh..."
Neo suddenly understood how Roman had gotten Mr. Sweaty out of the elevator. Revolting idea.
Roman sighed. "Hmm, no, right there is fine. Isn't it, Neo?"
"Neo?" She lowered the umbrella and smiled at Mr. Sweaty. The ugly man's gaze wandered to her breasts, then her face, then back to her breasts, then back to her face. Neo's wicked grin widened when the color drained from his cheeks. "Oh... oh no..." He took a couple steps backwards as Neo revealed the misericorde. "Please, I-I was nice to you! I gave you food! P-Please don't kill me!" Wetness spread from his crotch as he pissed himself, creating another darkened spot on his uniform to complement his armpit stains.
Neo wished she could laugh, wished she could cackle, so that Mr. Sweaty could know exactly how much she appreciated his benevolent care. She stepped forward and raised her blade.
"Please! Please, no! Don't! Sto-"
Schniktht.
So, that was the sound of steel piercing flesh. It was wetter than she had imagined. Neo found it pleasant.
Schniktht schniktht schniktht schniktht schniktht-
"That's enough I think, Neo," Roman caught her arm before she could stab Mr. Sweaty's perforated corpse another time, breaking the feverish bloodlust that had overtaken her. "We have other things to do."
She wanted to continue, but knew he was right. Mr. Sweaty was the easiest of the three targets; they had to get moving. Neo whipped the misericorde downwards – splattering blood and viscera onto the carpet – and walked to the door.
They made their way back to the elevator and Roman pressed the 'Up' button. There was an immediate Ding!
"Well, that was fast," Roman chuckled.
Crish-crunk rattle rattle-
What was that smell? It smelled like-
BANG!
Neo jumped at the sudden, deafening noise, feeling her chest tighten as her mind slowly came to recognize it as a gunshot. Beside her, Roman staggered backwards, a hand clutched to his shoulder. His mouth was screaming but there wasn't any sound, only ringing. Neo looked into the elevator – her heart sunk when she saw Mr. Stinky smiling at her, a pistol held in his uninjured hand. The Vacuan man took a step forward and aimed the gun at her – Neo braced herself for the pain and the cold emptiness of death, but it never came.
"No, little girl," Mr. Stinky's voice cut in over the fading ringing, "I'm not going to kill you. You're still worth a lot of money. No, I'm going to take you back to your room, fuck you 'til you pass out, fuck you some more, then whore you out until there's no one left who's willing to pay for your wretched cunt. Then I'll fuck you one last time before I put a bullet in your head. How do you like that, cupcake?"
Neo readied her misericorde; she'd rather die than be locked in that room again.
Mr. Stinky clicked his tongue. "Tsk tsk. I'm not scared of your little knife – I saw what happened in your room. Did you forget about the camera?"
Neo cursed herself. She had forgotten. Still, it had brought Mr. Stinky to her – one of them was dying here. She crouched and-
BANG!
Mr. Stinky's head exploded. Neo watched his gold tooth glitter as it bounced off the ceiling and fall to the ground. She turned her head and saw Roman leaning against the wall, grimacing, holding a large-caliber black pistol in one hand while the other applied pressure to his shoulder. "He ruined my coat," he mumbled apologetically, "Next one's yours, promise."
Neo dropped the misericorde and the umbrella and rushed to Roman, standing on her tiptoes to examine his bullet wound and pawing tentatively at the glistening injury. Red was spreading down the white sleeve of his coat. Her chest felt tight. She looked up and found Roman's eyes – he smiled back at her.
"Ha! Don't worry, darling, this isn't the first time I've been shot! Perk of the job. This is nothing. Let's keep going."
Reassurances or not Neo was worried, but smiled and let herself be happy for Roman's benefit. She kept her eye on him as she retrieved her weapons, took a moment to stomp her heel into the remains of Mr. Stinky's face, and helped herself to the discarded firearm. It wasn't as though Mr. Stinky would be needing it again. She and Roman climbed into the elevator, and she used the tip of the misericorde to press the button for the top floor.
Crish-crunk rattle rattle. She was on her way to Mr. Manager.
...
It seemed to take an age for the elevator to rise; Neo watched the changing floor numbers obsessively, licking her lips as they got closer and closer to the top.
Ding!
Crish-crunk rattle rattl-
BA-BANG BANG BANGBANGBANG BANG!
A flurry of gunshots pelted bullets into the elevator's door and back wall; both Neo and Roman quickly huddled themselves into separate corners as soon as the first shot went off. After a brief lull, Neo took a deep breath and peeked her head past the doorway. Three men in suits stood in the hallway, pistols drawn and aimed at the elevator. One of them fired when they saw her head, but she had already ducked back into cover.
This was going to make things difficult.
Neo glanced at Roman; he was breathing heavily and sweating, but nodded when he caught her look. She tossed him Mr. Stinky's pistol, which briefly made him fumble between holding his own pistol and nursing his injured arm, then nodded back when he seemed ready.
She closed her eyes, breathed deep, then turned into the doorway.
Before the suited men had time to get a bead on her she opened the umbrella and held it in front of her as she charged down the hallway. The sound of gunshots from both behind and in front of her drowned out any other sound – she couldn't even hear herself think – and bullets whizzed through the umbrella's canopy around her. If she'd been hit she couldn't tell, she was too pumped up on adrenaline.
The first man was on the left side of the hallway. Neo almost ran past him, but caught a glimpse of his shoes and leaped towards him, raising the misericorde. The thin blade speared through his chest and he howled, adding his voice to the violent cacophony. Neo twisted, using the man as a shield against the second guard's line of fire – she felt the thunks of bullets peppering the first man's body as she shoved her way forward. The corpse was discarded when she reached the second man; he tried to hit her with the butt of his pistol but Neo blocked him with her arm. The misericorde slid smoothly through the man's throat and out the back of his head. Neo turned to engage the third guard just in time to see him drop to the floor, two bright red holes in his chest. She glanced back down the hallway and nodded at Roman. He grinned and winked at her, then walked to meet her in the hallway.
"Well, that was fun."
As she wiped blood off her face, Neo couldn't help but agree. She liked this, a lot. The rush, the violence, the sounds, the feeling. And there was still more to come... She turned to face the end of the hallway and the tall brown door that stood there, concealing her third and final target.
The shiny brass handle wouldn't turn when she tried to open the door, but that was quickly rectified by Roman bashing it with one of his pistols. Neo pushed the door open with barely a touch of her fingers, strutting into Mr. Manager's office with a smirk.
Brown leather chairs sat between the doorway and a wide wooden desk that had a pair of sleek monitors next to a telephone and a stack of paper-filled folders. Tall windows looked out over the glowing lights of the city, and the floor was covered in white carpet. A bookcase stocked full of books and binders stood against the right wall. From behind the desk came a hushed, frightened whimpering.
Neo strolled clockwise around the room until she stood behind the desk, then crouched down to look underneath it's surface. Mr. Manager was huddled shivering as far back into the space as his chubby, rodent-like body allowed. She beckoned him out with her finger; he shook his head, but she beckoned again, more insistently. He sniffled and wheezed as he crawled out on his hands and knees, then knelt in front of Neo and clasped his hands together. "Please, please don't kill me! I'm sorry for what I did! I'll do anything – anything! – you ask! I'll give you whatever you want!"
Neo pretended to consider his offer. She gestured for him to rise; Mr. Manager climbed shakily to his feet, his tiny, watery weasel eyes lighting up with hope. Stupid, stupid fool. When he stood in front of her, hands shaking and sweaty, she grabbed him by the collar, leaned backwards, flipped him over her body, and kicked. Upside down on the floor, Neo smiled at the expression of shock on Mr. Manager's face as he flew through the air and into the window.
Krsshshshsh!
The glass shattered at the impact. Mr. Manager hung in the air for the briefest of moments before plummeting, screaming, down the side of the hotel. The subsequent distant splat! was music to Neo's ears. She rolled to her feet and dusted herself off, then strode past an awestruck Roman to the doorway. Elation hummed through her limbs as she realized that her extermination was complete. Now she was free, free of the drugs and the sex and the chains, and could... what? Go back to her old life? The life she couldn't remember and would in all likeliness find impossible to resume?
Roman caught up to her by the elevator. "Now that that ugly business is taken care of, what will you do?"
Neo shrugged to hide that she was considering that very question. It didn't matter what happened now, she thought. She was free of Mr. Manager – her life was her own, and no one would be able to take advantage of her again. She'd survive somehow; theft and murder were not obstacles for her. But...
"You haven't thought about my offer, have you?"
Was that hope in his voice? Neo glanced up at Roman out of the corner of her eye. Should she accept?
She couldn't remember the pieces of the past that he did, but from tonight's events she knew that they were a good pair, and could tell that living with him meant a better life than staying on the streets. To Mr. Manager, she had been an expensive cut of meat to dangle in front of desperate, starving men. But Roman didn't metaphorically gnash his teeth at her, slobber spilling from his mouth at the sight of her skin. No, his eyes savored her, treasured the sight of her, and his touch was gentle, as though he was scared he'd ruin a fragile masterpiece. To Roman, she was a delicacy. And to her, Roman was an unexpected treat. What a perfect pair they made.
Would make, if she stayed.
The elevator dinged its arrival. Neo entered after the doors opened and turned around – Roman was still standing in the hallway, watching her with that oddly affectionate gaze, waiting for an answer. She waved him forward and he stepped next to her, then asked, "Is that a yes?"
Neo smiled,
And nodded.
Author's Notes: Not the most coherent thing I've ever written. I'm a little rusty. I hope you enjoyed it.
Thank you for reading.
Please let me know what you thought.
Keep moving forward.