Alberto
Alberto dragged his gaze up from the dark floorboards and looked up at Eleanor. She was abashed, her eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching her perpetrators as her mind whirled, piecing the situation together. And then he saw it in her face, the realization settling in that he had outed her to these criminals, he had given her up with what would seem to be very little shame or regret.
Eleanor looked to him, her eyes meeting his, screaming an unspoken question that rang in his head, why?
She didn't know what words her captor had spoken into his ear with such casual indifference, what he had told him of the plans he had for Eleanor unless Al told him the name. She was better off now, although she would never believe it.
Now that these criminals knew who she was, knew what she could do, he hoped they would not hurt her. It would take a band of idiots to damage something that they needed to work, and they needed Eleanor. And something told him that these weren't idiots they were dealing with, at least judging by the man with the knife, staring down at his girlfriends beautifully perplexed face.
The heel of his hand collided with Eleanor's left temple. She did not see it coming and no noise escaped her lips as she collapsed, her legs falling limply and her lifeless body held up only by arms caging her from behind. Her head lolled softly backwards onto the masked clowns shoulder. Alberto shuffled on his seat, hands coiling into fists, they weren't supposed to hurt her. A gun clicked behind him, hindering any idiotic, heroic response he was thinking of giving.
The man turned to Al, his head turned to the side to convey an expression of pity, "Starting to miss her already?" Al swallowed, his face tense as he watched him step towards Eleanor, "She was so good at making you money-" He stood so close to her now that her dropping head touched lightly off his chest. His hand slipped under past her neck, his fingers unraveling her hair as it began to fall loosely down her shoulders, "and so good at-..." He lowered his head, inhaling slowly as his nose tipped off the side of her neck, just below the jawline, breathing in the scent of her hair and her skin.
Al knew what she smelt like, her shampoo came in a blue bottle and had pictures of coconuts on it. And now someone else was touching her, someone else had their hands in her hair. He tried to suppress the sudden surge of anger and jealousy by reminding himself that he had willingly handed her over to him. He didn't love her, remember? He just really, really liked her. A lot.
His head lifted from under her, eyes closed whilst finishing his inhale and hands uncurling from her hair as he extended his fingers as if stretching them. He rolled his shoulders back, opening his eyes before cracking his neck to the side, almost looking as though he was compressing a shudder, "Ahhh, oh, now-" He winced at Al, "-now I don't just see the attraction. I can taste it-"
Alberto made a move to stand up suddenly from the chair. The gun behind him dug into his shoulder as a very serious threat but he ignored it, trying to stand up and do something, anything.
The man laughed, bounding towards him with an excited satisfaction, expressing muffled giggles as he pushed the other masked clown back, snatching his gun from his hand and pointing it between Alberto's eyes, "Ah, ah ,ah... " He knelt down as he had done earlier, except this time Al was restrained, "No no, don't worry, I wont hurt your little pastime." He shook his head as if the mere suggestion was offensive.
"Because I know what its like to have someone play with your toys," He nodded like he understood what Alberto was going through, "-trust me, I know. And especially with your beautiful, fragile, prized porcelain doll. But I don't wanna play with her," He shrugged innocently, biting his bottom lip as though he was thinking hard, "no, no.." He edged in closer, tilting the gun away casually as he watched Al's frustrated expression.
Then he shoved the barrel against his neck, "...-I wanna break her."
The silencer on the gun emitted a soft zip sound as a bullet lodged itself into Alberto Falcone's throat. An odd place to shoot someone, but effective. It hurt, but he couldn't scream, he couldn't breath. He would choke on his own blood, the only sound being the soft splutter of his frantic tongue.
The man threw the gun onto the floor, looking at the other two, "Take whatever you want...-" He stepped over, putting a hand out as Eleanor was dropped onto him and the silver necklace around her neck was ripped off. Eleanor's body pressed against him, her chest pushed up against his. He looked down at her with a perplexed amusement, not sure how to handle her until he looked over at Alberto.
Al was still there, barely, but still holding on. Still staring at the man holding Eleanor Tyrell in his arms, who was now holding her hand, controlling it like a puppet. Her hand waved at him, the man mouthing something as the lights left his eyes, knowing now that this was the end.
"Bye, bye."
Eleanor
Everything went black.
She was annoyed with Alberto. No, she was angry with him. But she couldn't remember why. Why?
The ground was moving beneath her. She was so drowsy.
She thought he loved her. But now he didn't. But now he didn't. Why?
Her head hurt. She was so cold, she wanted to get into her soft warm bed-
Her bed. In her home. Someone was in her home. In her home? Who? Al? No, she was angry at him remember? Remember? Remember? Why don't you remember-?
Eleanor's eyes shot open, her legs moving suddenly underneath her. Her hands rose, slapping against the interior walls of the van. Her body jerked upwards to a sitting position, frantically taking in her surroundings. She had been lying down on her back on the cold hard floor of the moving van, it had white internal walls, an empty canister in one corner and several used strips of old bubble-wrap floating around.
It was otherwise empty. Now clowns with guns, no scarred man with big bad knives... Which meant they were the ones driving this thing. Eleanor pulled herself to her feet, stumbling as the floor seemed to shift beneath her, rendering her off balance as she stepped towards the back. She raised a foot and dug her heel into the door, willing for it to open. But the force of the kick just hurt her foot instead, her boots no match for the vehicles defenses. She pushed her full body weight onto it, slamming two or three times against the back door in the dim light but it barely budged.
"C'mon!" She spoke into the silence, panic lacing her shrill cry as her head turned towards the front. A small square grid sat in the middle of the wall, a metal sheet of tiny square holes. It was probably for ventilation, but she could bet they would hear her through it.
Eleanor staggered as she made her way towards it, nearly losing her footing as she threw her cheek against the cool surface of the grid, "Let me out!" She sounded so feeble and meek, the helpless victim, "Now!" She added, hoping to make herself sound a bit more confident.
Nothing.
"Let me go!"
It was ridiculous. She could hardly expect them to stop the van and graciously grant her wish.
She heard someone speak, it was a low mumble to her but she heard it.
"Where are you taking me!?"
Her fist met the grid in frustration, indenting a square pattern into her skin. Another low mumble, what sounded like a laugh this time. Eleanor scowled, her inhales sharp, "If-" Her voice was strong this time, "-you do not tell me what the hell is going on-... and not by dragging me to some secret location or shoving me in the back of some van-"
She swallowed, catching her breath, "-I will not help you whatsoever, in whatever you want done... If you don't let me know whats going on- in a civilized manner," She added hastily, "I will not give you anything. So good luck finding a blackhat better than me. And if whatever you're planning is big-.. then lets face it-" She inhaled, edging closer to the grid, lowering her voice slightly but not altering the tone, "-you need me."
There was no muffled laugh this time, not even a sound from the front of the van. Maybe it had worked, maybe it hadn't. It was a pretty convincing speech from what she thought. Eleanor let her hand slide off the grid as she waiting in the silence for a reply, or even a sign that they had heard and contemplated her offer of sorts.
She had almost given up, nearly about to sink down onto the floor when the van began to slow down, grinding to a halt and turning right to what she hoped was a parking space. A sound from the front and then a door opening and closing. A shuffle and then the door opening once more to another murmur.
The door closed again.
Footsteps outside the van, moving from the front to the back.
The back door of the van opened, shining light into the vehicle .
"Try anything-" A clear voice finally spoke from the grid, unfamiliar, "-he says he'll cut off your tongue."
