"Of course they have a fucking dungeon" Amazon muttered, eyes downcast.
It was supposed to be an easy case. A simple slip in-slip out; grab some papers and leave. Amazon should have known it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.
"So Red" a man entered the room, American accent clear, "You plannin' on tellin' us exactly who sent you?"
Amazon remained silent.
"Look, you're a pretty thing and I don' really wanna hurt you unless I gotta. But I do have order's an' if you ain't gonna talk, it's my job to make ya'" he explained. His words suggested he might be slightly compassionate towards her situation but Amazon knew better.
She knew gangs like this and they didn't have the morals to feel sympathy let alone compassion.
"I guess we're gon' be starting now then" he declared, any trace of care gone from his voice.
The first kick came right below her ribs, the impact creating a resounding fleshy 'thunk'. Amazon grimaced but otherwise remained quiet. It was never a smart move to give away your medical condition, even when it was evidently bad.
The second came slightly lower- harder too- landing square on her stomach, the force causing her to wretch and throw up its contents.
"Shit" exclaimed douche numero uno- as Amazon had named him in her head- stepping back from her to fully observe the mess.
Douche numero uno looked a mix between pissed and disgusted, "Bitch just spewed all over the place!"
Okay, definitely pissed.
Douche numero dos- Amazon really needed better nicknames- looked relatively amused at the situation, though it was quickly smothered at his partner's expression. Amazon supposed douche numero uno was the 'leader' of the two.
Her brief moment of peace was quickly ruined by rough hands grabbed at the collar of her shirt, hoisting her up to eye level. Of course, eye level for douche numero uno was a good 4-5 inches above hers, leaving her feet to kick uselessly in a futile attempt to find solid ground. Her hands clawed desperately for some kind of grip on the ones holding her shirt, preventing her from being choked fully.
Obviously noticing this, douche numero uno lowered her ever so slightly. Just enough for the balls of her feet to brush the ground, but not fully rest there, leaving her at the mercy of the hands holding her up for support. It was a cheap and pityingly dirty move in her opinion.
"Any chance of you tellin' us who ya' workin' for yet?" numero uno asked, only a breath away from becoming snarling.
Amazon took her time in dragging her eyes up to meet his, clearing her throat and rolling her shoulders- as much as she was able- before speaking.
"G-Go" she let out a rasping cough, "Fuck yourselves" she finished, spitting at the man's face in the only act of defiance of which she was capable.
Douche numero uno made a noise not unlike a growl and released his grip, leaving her to fall to the ground with a solid 'thunk', hands grappling in vain for purchase on something- anything
"Should'a just co-operated with us Red, this could'a been a Hell of a lot less painful for ya'" Douche numero uno wiped his cheek.
"You could'a even spent the night in one 'a our beds had ya' of just given up a name" he gave an indifferent shrug, "Your loss".
The booted heel made a sickening crack as it came into contact with her left side, right into her ribs. Amazon felt a sharp pain as she inhaled and knew at least one of them had to be cracked, possibly broken.
After that, the hits came in quicker succession. Amazon couldn't really tell where one finished and another came, only that there was a growing mess of red appearing on the floor.
"You can still get outta this if ya just co-operate with us Red" douche numero dos stood above her, arms crossed impassively, standing back for the meantime whilst numero uno had his shot. 'Definitely a bottom' her mind quipped. At least she could still think insulting thoughts. That was something.
"No?" douche numero dos answered for her, clearly aware of her inability to speak and not at all opposed to mocking her for it.
She curled up slightly, awaiting the next blow... but it never came.
"What the Hell is going on?" yelled douche numero uno.
One of his lackeys ran to the door, gun drawn. Amazon concluded there must be another person infiltrating the building, one far less temperate than herself.
"There appears to be another spy, Sir" came the response. If Amazon had it in her right now to be amused she would've been. 'Spy' was a common misconception for her job, even though the differences were more numerous than that of politicians and bakers.
Douche numero uno sighed, a heavy sound meant clearly to show his exasperation with the situation not just to himself but everyone present.
"And I was so, close, to breaking her too" he looked almost disappointed, an expression that made Amazon thankful the mysterious 'spy' had appeared.
Douche numero uno and dos both left together, numero uno giving her another kick on his way out. A silent form of communication Amazon knew all too clearly as 'We're not finished here'.
Deciding to take the short break for what it was, Amazon turned her body around until her left side lay flat along the ground, a position somewhat akin to the 'recovery position' used in basic first aid.
It's not like she could do anything else given her condition.
It was only now, in the relative silence, that Amazon could fully take account of her injuries. She dejectedly realised a concussion was probably one of them as her vision drifted in and out of focus and her mind became foggy. At least it numbed her reality enough to make this seem kind of like a bad dream.
A really, really painful bad dream.
She was brought back to reality by the sound of voices coming from outside the room, though that could just be the ringing in her ears.
"`Tchyo za ga`lima?"
Even to Amazon's half-conscious mind she could tell the words weren't English. The vowels were rounded and the tone flat, almost like... Russian...
'Faulkner', Amazon's brain supplied. She would've laughed had she the physical capability to. Even in her last moments she couldn't keep him out of her thoughts.
The door opened, the creaking sounding impossibly loud with the probable concussion she had.
"B'lyad!" Roman's alarmed voice rang out loud, a likely side effect of her concussion. She also realized he was still speaking in Russian, a habit he had developed in rough situations.
"Holy derr'mo Amazon. You look like shit"
She mustered up the best smile she could, though it came out as more of a strangled grimace from the pain.
"You-" she coughed, spitting a worrying amount of blood up, "Really know how to fla-flatter a girl Fau-Faulkner".
"No, no, nononono" Roman rushed to her side and dropped to his knees, cradling her as best as he could without causing further damage.
"Oh God" Roman was shaking now, shoulders convulsing with sharp, hard breaths bordering on sobs. At any other time Amazon would have taken this as proof of the man's affections, now though, she could only feel painfully guilty.
"We need to get you out of here" Roman tried moving her only to stop as she let out a cry of pain at the shift, body protesting to the movement.
"N-no. You g-go, I'm no-not gonna m-make it any-anyways" Amazon attempted to give a comforting smile but the effect was lost to the mass of blood on her face, matting her hair and staining her shirt.
"Fuck that" Faulkner said abruptly, if not a little too loud in Amazon's opinion. It was kind of like having a hangover, times 9000.
"You are not pulling that martyr shit on me. Not here, not today, Hell, not ever if I have any say about it" Roman stated, determined to get both of them out. And if he couldn't, he certainly wasn't leaving her. He'd grown attached to the over-zealous detective, more than he'd like to admit.
"You're going to be fine, we're gonna fix this" Roman affirmed, though it sounded more like false reassurance to himself than Amazon.
Amazons expression turned serious, "Y-you know tha-that's not gonna h-happen ri-right?"
"I don't care!" Roman was borderline-distraught now. There was no way in all the seven Hells he was letting her go.
"Di-Did anyone e-ever tell y-you, you're stu-stupidly s-s-stubborn?" Amazon smiled fondly. She could feel what little consciousness she had slipping.
And well, she didn't know if she was going to wake up this time.
Roman let out a choked-off sob, though he couldn't stop the small- if not sad- smile that came to his face, "It's come to attention a few times".
Amazon didn't manage to catch what was said after that as her consciousness had already begun to fade, black crawling its way around the edges of her vision. It was almost a blessing at this point; the pain was becoming a little too much for even her to bear.
The last thing she processed was Roman's face above hers, mouth forming something along the lines of 'colourful'. She couldn't really tell.
Amazon came-to in a blur of colour and noise.
She bolted upright and the overload of sensation before realizing just how much of a mistake it was and letting out a pained cry at the movement.
"Fuck. Don't move, stay there. Shit." Roman's alarmed and slightly panicked voice appeared from somewhere to the right.
Amazon let out a long groan in response. Words seemed too hard to form right now. She tried once again to move into a somewhat-upright position only to feel something tugging at the skin on her side, sparking pain along it.
"Nononono, don't move. For fucks sake stay sTILL AMAZON" Roman's voice rose at the end, causing her to stop her attempts at standing.
Roman ran a shaky hand through his hair, "You have stiches in three places, it's a shit job but I couldn't get you to a hospital and you would've bled out. Now please stay still or you're going to tear them out"
Amazon looked around at the room she was in, not that it had changed a lot since she was last conscious. Well, actually, come to think of it, there were about four more corpses present. She blatantly realized Roman must have caused the scene in front of her. Christ, she could barely make out their faces with all the blood.
"What in God's mighty name happened here?" she rasped. Damn, she needed some water bad.
Roman looked around the room at clearly mutilated corpses, looking somewhat penitent, "I thought they'd killed you... I kinda... lost my temper?"
"Is that a que-question or a statement?" Amazon was still a little shocked at the amount of blood present. Not that she had issues with it, she'd just never seen Roman any more than calculated and efficient with violence.
"Uh, both?"
"M'kay"