A/N: Warning for gore, excessive violence, torture &... well, just plain sadism. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Claymore. But I do own Sora. Crimson Foxhound and I share ownership of Elvira.

A/N 2: Broken Pact is the one-shot sequel to Awakened Redemption, the fic by Crimson Foxhound and starring Gray, his OC. It's also the interquel between AR and our upcoming collaboration, Awakened Redemption II: Pride against Fidelity.

It's waiting, always trying

I feel the hands of fate, they're suffocating

Tell me what's the reason, is it all inside my head?

Can't take it no more!

-----Final Destination, Within Temptation

#01: Imprisonment

Dark.

It was the only word that came to mind when she opened her sore eyes. Pitch-black darkness. Sora tried to move – and regretted it immediately. Tiny stabs of pain coursed through her awakened body, and her hair felt dirty and matted in what was probably blood. She could, at the very least, still feel her limbs. That was something. She closed her eyes wearily. Time seemed to freeze within this shadowy realm; she wondered how many days had passed since Elvira had captured her. Perhaps thirty, or forty days? And she was so exhausted. She needed to escape. She hadn't awakened to simply die at the hands of some sadistic woman -

Clunk.

Her eyes snapped open. Fear stabbed at her heart. The darkness rendered her pride and joy – her sight - compeletely useless. Sometimes she thought she saw... things in the shadows, flitting about. Other times she saw familiar lives, people who hurt her with words. Still other times she was comforted by a short-lived embrace with her parents, the only ones who'd ever loved her. In this abyss, nothing was impossible. Sora had no doubt of it.

Clunk. Clunk.

Her heart began to race. She wondered what she'd see in the shadows again. Would it be a vision of hope, or one of torment? Elvira's features were a blur in her mind; she couldn't recall a clear picture of the Awakened Being. Too long... she hadn't seen her for too long. But Elvira had mocked her, had tricked her. Her mind – it was being fooled, day in and day out. Even now she thought she could hear sounds: footsteps resounding across the stone floor.

Illusions. All tricks of the mind. They happened everyday, more frequently as time passed. The footsteps lasted forever. They weren't real. But sometimes they were. Sora wondered if her senses had failed while she was held captive here, in a place where she was blind. Perhaps her eyesight had already failed, and her ears were going. But if anything, her sense of touch seemed heightened, perhaps because the others were maimed.

She hated Elvira.

No, hate wasn't a strong enough word. She loathed her; detested her. She wanted to wrap her red, clawed hands around that skinny little neck and squeeze until the last of the insect-like beast's life left her. But of course, with one arm pinned to the wall by means of several jagged spears and her legs crushed, even the ability to kill – or die – was denied to her.

Her right arm throbbed painfully. She'd counted the number of spears. Five of them. One through the palm, the other at the wrist, another in between elbow and wrist, one at the elbow, the next in between elbow and arm, and the last one driven through the shoulder. These five Elvira had left in her body, keeping her fastened to the wall. And to close off all possible escape routes, the sadistic woman had taken both her clawed legs in that massive pincer of hers, and crushed them through and through. Sora had blacked out shortly after, but not before Elvira finished ripping her butterfly-shaped wings to shreds. Now they dangled, several strips of flesh held together by mere tendons. Those actions had been done in the first few days, or nights – she had no sense of time anymore – and had ensured her captivity. Even now, her Yoki worked desperately to regenerate the wounds. She wondered how long she could keep up.

The clunking faded. Sora closed her eyes again, now hearing her name – and status - instead. It was being called by so many different people: mother, father, friend, Elvira, Lindy, even Garnet...

"Well, it looks like you're finally awake. I thought I'd overdone it."

Her eyes opened again. They stung and watered. She could see nothing, of course. Even if Elvira led her to a brightly-lit room, Sora doubted she would be able to see: this woman had slashed her eyes, and from the pain, they were still regenerating. Her throat felt raw and dry – it would, after the particularly agonizing treatment Elvira had subjected it to when she'd last been aware. Have you ever tried pushing barbed wire down your throat and then quickly pulling it out? Elvira had adopted the idea, using her whip instead of wire. It hurt like hell, and worst of all, she couldn't scream because her larynx was nearly destroyed.

I hate you.

"Still can't talk, I see? Your regeneration seems to be slowing as the days pass."

I hate you.

"Oh well, it's no matter, sweetie. I have plans for you today, though you slept a little longer than I would have liked."

The sound of metal scraping against stone reverberated across the room. Sora's spine tingled with fear. Not again. The darkness made it impossble to predict when Elvira would send the first blow – it came shortly after she drew a breath. Metal pierced flesh with ease. Her body arched in pain, straining against the burning injuries on her arm. Despite her best attempts at biting her bleeding lip Sora still groaned. Her half-recovered vocal chords burned at the strain. It looked like today was another of those pincushion days. Elvira was using spears again. Spears were the best, Elvira had said, because their tip was shaped like an arrowhead. It easily went in, but pulling it out was much harder since it would tear through the flesh upon exit. The knowledge didn't make the agony any easier to bear, however.

Elvira filled her torso with spears first, and proceeded to bully her crushed legs. By this point Sora had tossed self-control to the wind and was screaming – or would be screaming, if her voice box was working. It was not, though, and the action strained her wounded throat, adding to her woes. Warm blood streamed down her body, forming an oddly therapeutic rhythm that she clung hysterically to. Drip-drip. Drip-drip. Drip-drip.

Elvira's cold fingers lifted her chin. "You're evil, you know that? Killing a Claymore when she could have gone back..."

Why must you harp on that?

Drip-drip.

"I've always lost to you. Now I'm stronger. Let's see how you win!"

I didn't ask to win.

Drip-drip.

Brutally, Elvira yanked the spears out of her body, making sure to give them a sadistic twist before freeing them of her abdomen. By the time she was done, Sora's body was little more than a shapeless mass of dangling flesh. But she was alive, if only barely. Elvira made certain of that. For her to die would be the worst failure, the worst loss.

"K..."

"What? Did you say something?" Elvira said softly, her tone sarcastic and cold.

"Kill me," Sora rasped, feeling her Yoki spike to unbearable levels in a desperate attempt to keep her alive. Her head ached fiercely from the Yoki rise, blurring the distinction between dreams and reality.

"Then it wouldn't be fun anymore, would it?" she responded cheerfully, proceeding to yank out the spears in her arm. This hurt much more than the ones in her torso: the spears had been left there for days on end, and the wounds had closed tightly around the weapons. She made another soundless scream as she hit the ground. Pain exploded through her mangled legs, robbing her of breath.

"Well, you're free! Go on, run like a little mouse!" Elvira cooed.

This... game again.

"Run, run!"

I could choose not to move.

Elvira stepped on her crushed feet, eliciting another strangled cry. But that would mean more. She started forward, crawling blindly across the stone mortar. The rough surface scraped across her numerous wounds, but she gritted her teeth in despair and continued. Maybe this time I'll escape. The thought had come to her every time they played this damned 'game'. Each time she'd failed. But she couldn't help retaining the hope that one day, she'd succeed. No matter that the chance got slimmer with every passing hour. No matter that she might die trying.

Each time they did this, there was hope.

Even if that hope was fleeting, it was still hope. And as long as Elvira didn't take that, Sora knew she could survive. But for how long?