Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13 and its original characters or plots. If I did, Hogwarts WOULD exist, and the Warehouse would help cover up for them ;)
Author's Note: Alright, so, due to contrary thoughts of a certain friend of mine (you KNOW who you are! Ashley!) I am actually a BIG fan of H.G. =) It might be due to my looove for villainesses (best villainess EVER = Bellatrix Lestrange) or the fact that she's British (yayyy Jaime Murray!) But I figured it was about time to pay her tribute in fanfiction for, even IF this is really short and extremely darkly themed. And by 'extremely', I mean EXTREMELY. Enjoy! Review! ;)
Shoved awkwardly in the backseat of a small car, Helena shifted in an attempt to take some of the strain off of her tied wrists. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She scowled angrily at the black leather seats. She felt so dehumanized, so inane. Such an anomaly.
Yet, she knew she had done it to herself. She felt downright sociopathic. Her fingers itched to claw at her own skin, to tear at her own flesh. If she didn't expect to be smacked again, she would have spat. Not that it hardly mattered. Her dark eyes flashed angrily at the pair watching her in the rearview mirror.
She was familiar with these people. Maybe not personally. But she knew their occupation. She knew how they worked. She knew the ugly secrets they kept. Centuries didn't change their ways. The two in the front seat were no different. And the fact that they were men only worsened their ability to reason morally. Not that she felt any right to argue morality. The dark skinned man in the passenger seat moved his large hand into her view, reminding her of the stinging bruise rising on her cheekbone. The tall, husky one driving smirked.
Helena felt her lip curl back in a disgusted snarl. She knew these people. She knew how they worked. She knew how they punished those who crossed them. And the fact that the two in the front seat were men only made her fate worse.
"What did you tell them?" Helena growled. She thrashed to get into a better position, her shoulder now leaning up against the edge of the dark skinned man's seat. "What did you tell them you're doing with me?"
The two men glanced at one another, silently determining whether she deserved another back-handed blow to the face, a bitter lie, or the cruel truth. The tall man smirked again, their eyes leaving one another.
"You're being taken to a 'secret holding facility'," his deep voice chuckled. The dark skinned man joined in; the two laughing in their seats.
Thrusting herself awkwardly back into her seat, she stared at the ceiling, wistfully laughing along with them. "How ironic! And they think that I'm the evil one." Her own lips pulled into a smirk as the laughing in the front seat ceased. She smiled, her teeth glinting in the sun that still shone through the tinted windows. She chortled as a dark hand closed around a fistful of her dark hair and dragged her partway to the front seat. She laughed as her face was pressed into the leather and warm blood gushed from her nose. Her stomach curled with the loud, wracking laughter that shook her as she felt her shirt being torn from her body. The sound nearly reached a cackle as she was thrown to the back seat, her back bending backwards and her head ricocheting off of the door of the car. She lifted her face to what might have been the sky, a toothy grin plastered on her face as knuckles collided with her jaw. A low giggle escaped her busted lips as she sank to the floor of the car.
She knew these people. "So that's what you told them." She knew how they worked. Helena spat. She knew how they punished those who crossed them.
"Secret holding facility, eh?"
The two in the front seat were no different.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! In that weird...dark...twisted way! (c'mon, everybody has that Tim Burton side of 'em, right?) Review? =D