She had thought something was wrong, from the moment she had walked into the room, but she hadn't known what until the two bodyguards on either side of the door had started forwards and seized her arms, and the third man, the one in the suit, had put a hood over her head, and a garrotte around her neck. She'd struggled, frantically, but it hadn't done her any good. The noose had tightened, and tightened, until she was gagging for breath, and then, just as she thought she was about to pass out, there was a 'crack' and the pressure had been released. The garrotte had broken. She'd fallen limp in her captor's arms, near helpless and gasping, lungs burning. Then they'd begun dragging her over to the chair she remembered seeing on the extreme left of the room. Sophia knew once they got her onto that chair, and tied her down, there was no hope. Regardless, she bided her time, sucking air back into her ravaged lungs, and continued hanging limp in her captors' arms. As the neared the chair, and the man in the suit began to pull out a bundle of zip ties from his pocket, she made her move.
Sophia stomped down on the foot of the man to her left. He grunted but kept his grip on her arm. The man in the suit stepped forward and hit her, full in the face. Sophia's head snapped back. Her stomp had served no purpose than to let her captors know she was awake and fighting, and encouraged the leader to apply 'disciplinary actions' to her. It was very fortunate for her that that was her aim in doing it.
The man in the suit was all too vulnerable. Sophia's head, thrown back from the punch, rolled with it, and came back, hitting Suit in the middle of his face. She felt something give, and judging by the spurt of blood it had been his nose. He stumbled backwards. Sophia felt the man on her right's grip lessen. He, evidently, cared about his leader. Good. She curled her leg around his and threw her weight towards him. Despite the tight grip on her other arm, it was enough to overbalance the man, and he tripped over her leg and landed hard on the ground. Sophia made to spin back to deal with the last man, but her earlier choking had made her weaker and slower, and instead she felt herself being spun away. As her last upright attacker grabbed for her free right arm, Sophia flailed, but as he reached it and twisted, throwing Sophia's torso forwards and her arse out, she screamed in frustration. The man secured her arms with one of his, and grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair, twisting her head over to one side. The man she'd thrown, after checking on his leader, who had slumped back into a chair, nursing his face, returned over to her. He drew a knife. Sophia struggled, but her opponent's grip was ironclad. The man in front of her drew back his knife. As he moved in, Sophia played the only card she had left. She drew up her knees and let her full weight rest on her captor's arms. Gravity did the rest. Unprepared for the extra pull on his arms, the man holding her bend over involuntarily, just as the man in front plunged his knife forward, aiming for where Sophia had been a second ago. The blade passed over her head, and continued into the eye socket of the man holding her. That took care of him.
Sophia's arms were suddenly free, and she made great use of this. The man in front of her had frozen, stunned into inaction by his murder of his comrade, and Sophia came at him. As weakened as she was, she was still more than a match for a hired thug. The man looked up as Sophia loomed over him, once, before she hit him in the face. As he rolled away, she pulled the knife out of the dead first goon, and advanced with it. In her periphery, Sophia saw the man in the suit rising up, and spun to face him. He took one look at her and made a run for the door. Sophia hurled the knife in front of him, aiming for the door, as a warning shot. Her aim was off. She managed to hit his tie, pinning that to the door instead. Good enough. Sophia turned back, just as the man on the ground rose and jumped at her. Sophia sidestepped, but was just too slow, and the two of them tumbled to the ground. Sophia squirmed away, out of reach, and kicked out, hitting the man in the head again. An small explosion nearby showered her with wood splinters from the floor, and Sophia turned to see the man in the suit, still pinned to the door, with a Beretta Compact pistol in his hand. As Sophia scrambled to her feet, he aimed again, and only Sophia's desperate dive sideways saved her. If he had had any real training, he should have hit her already. As it was, she wasn't going to last much longer. Sophia saw the muzzle of the weapon levelled at her again, but as the man fired she managed to pull her other opponent in front of her. The bullet went through him, and clipped her ribs too, before blasting out of her back. Sophia screamed and dropped the dead body of her less-than-bulletproof human shield. She stumbled forward, towards the man in the suit, who appeared to be trying to clear a jam in his handgun. His movements were made awkward by the knife pinning his tie to the wall, restricting his arm motions. Sophia managed to reach him before he could do anything about his weapon. She punched him, once, in the face, hard, and he dropped the gun. Sophia dropped too, as the shock hit her, but she had enough presence of mind about her to grab the dropped Beretta. Sophia crawled backwards, and managed to lever herself into the chair that her opponent had sat in before. He was tugging at the knife now, but her throw had embedded it deeply enough in the wood that there was no real way he'd get free. Sophia pointed the pistol at him, and he quailed.
"Who sent you? Who are you?" She needed this information. Before she blacked out. Her other hand was fumbling for her phone, in her back pocket. The man seemed to want to spit at her, but the presence of his pistol in Sophia's hand curbed his enthusiasm for defiance. He looked away. Sophia wouldn't let this go. "Who sent you! Tell me!" The man looked at her.
"Why? I'm dead anyway." Sophia's desperation to get answers before she blacked out got the better of her professionalism. She lowered her aim and fired, shattering a kneecap. The man dropped, pulled up by his tie, and screeching. "Alright, alright…they were rich. Something about a woman. You're someone's friend. You…you knew him well once. Your death was meant to hurt him. Badly. Okay, that's all I know." Sophia was relentless.
"I want a name. A name!" The man hung there, as shock began closing down his system. Sophia shouted again. He seemed to 'wake up' temporarily.
"The man who hired me…he called himself Tredskow. That was his name." Sophia gritted her teeth. She could feel consciousness slipped away. Her other hand flipped her phone out into her lap, and flicked it open.
"That's not a name," she said.
"That's all I have," he retorted. Sophia managed to speed dial the Inspector. She let the phone ring out, and could barely lift it to her ear.
"I've been shot…help…" was all she could get out. The Inspector was saying something on the other end of the line, but she couldn't hear him. The phone slipped from her fingers, though she managed to keep hold of the Beretta, as much because her own blood on her fingers had gummed it to her hand. Sophia slumped into the chair.
It was two hours later, when she awoke in a hospital bed, that Sophia discovered that, while she had been unconscious, a sniper round had shot through the only window in the building and hit the man in the suit between the eyes. They hadn't been able to draw a line on her. Whoever had ordered the hit, this 'Tredskow', he was covering his tracks well.