Anguirus sat in her closet, where she had been spending most of her time trying to over come the anxiety that gripped her skull. She read the words on her dog tags over and over again. She had found it amusing how they had to put a soldier's gas mask size on it. Well, Anguirus found it amusing when she was seven. Her phone buzzed from it's place on the floor beside her. She had a text from Sherlock. It read:
"It's not too late. -SH"
Anguirus ignored it.
Today was going to be about Charlene and Jacob.
Exiting her closet she made a be-line to the living room. Confusingly, there was no one there.
"Where's my family?" A male voice sounded, imitating a woman.
"Well, Anguirus, it seems that you were the only one here that didn't know that little Jacob had a football game."
Anguirus turned around and looked at Moriarty. He was eating an apple with a pocket knife, shoveling small pieces in so he wouldn't disturb the stitches on his lip.
"You know you should really get your addiction to citric acid checked out. It can't be healthy." He said amusingly.
"Now," Moriarty threw the apple core behind him and it landed on the floor, "Let's get going."
A sharp pain exploded from behind Anguirus' head and she fell to the floor, unconscious.
"I said use the needle!" Moriarty sighed dramatically, "Try not to damage my toys!"
Anguirus was awake, but kept quiet, feeling out her surroundings. She had awoken with a strong headache, but that had subsided into a dull throb. Her hands and feet were tied to a chair and there was nothing but silence.
"This isn't Russia," She thought to herself, "Think."
A heavy metal door opened and Anguirus decided to tough it out and show no fear. Looking up, she saw an angry man with blonde hair charge towards her at a fast pace. When her reach her, his open palm came in contact with her cheek at a fast speed.
"HEY!" Moriarty yelled, "Touch her again, Moran, and I will remove your hand."
"Sorry, boss. I just had to get her back for pushing me off that building."
Anguirus spit blood onto the floor and looked at Moran, challenging him with a deep stare. Slowly, she started to grin, her teeth covered in blood.
"Now, now, little monster," Moriarty tutted, "We're not here to start fights."
He stepped in between Moran and Anguirus. "I know I said a couple of days, but in all fairness, you did give me stitches."
Moriarty started pacing in front of her, but Anguirus was still staring at Moran. She was going to make him so uncomfortable that he will actually become afraid.
"I want to untie you and invite you into my home, I really do. But I have to discuss some things with you first. Like these." Moriarty held up her dog tags.
Anguirus stiffened and stared at them, wishing that she had tucked it into her sports bra so they wouldn't have fallen out.
"United States Marine Corps? That is very impressive. Doesn't seem to be your scene, though." Moriarty walked up close and put the chain around her neck, "It makes it all the more fun searching for your records."
Stepping back, Moriarty clapped his hands, "Moran's going to untie you now! I'm sure you won't try to run away because if you do, your family will die."
Moran walked behind Anguirus and undid her restraints. When he reached down to grab her arm, she yanked her elbow up, knocking the air out of him, and straightened her arm out and hitting him in the face as he doubled over.
Moran coughed, "Fucking bitch."
Although, Anguirus didn't try to run. She didn't attempt to attack Moriarty. She wouldn't have even if the snipers weren't aimed at her.
"You are just so precious." Moriarty smiled, "Follow me."
Anguirus got up and walked up to Moriarty with Moran trailing after, grumbling. Moriarty didn't move for a moment, just kept staring at Anguirus while smiling, chewing his gum obnoxiously. A bag flew over Anguirus' head, but instead of causing a huge scene, she stayed still. This was her plan. Plan 'Freak Everyone Out Until Released' was a-go and, to be truthful, she was excited about it. Anguirus could finally act how she wanted and not keep herself in a bottle. Let the fun begin.
"Sorry, not sorry about the whole bag thing. I just don't want you to know your surroundings." Moriarty emphasized surroundings by saying it in a higher tone than usual and cracking in the middle. Much like the voice he used when he would imitate Anguirus. A hand connected with her lower back and she was being lead out of the metal doors. The clicking of their shoes on cement reverberated off the walls, telling Anguirus that it was a very long hallway. When it came to a stop, she heard the click of a button and a rush of air. An elevator.
"You're going to love it, Anguirus. It's just your style." Moriarty said quite seriously.
The low scoff was heard coming from Moran's mouth. The elevator stopped and the doors opened into a very musky smelling room. Moriarty pushed her forward and another set of doors were open, filling Anguirus' nostrils with fresh air of the outside world. There were no cars. There were no crickets. There were no birds. It was like all of the animals were afraid of the insane man that had constantly held his hand to her back. Or they were afraid of Anguirus' fate.
"Don't worry, little birds," Anguirus thought, "I'm a soldier."
Or she was. It's been seven years since she had done anything remotely Military. Their feet scuffled across the damp grass and then stumbled upon more concrete. Another door opened and Anguirus was pulled inside. It smelled of fresh linen and pine. It surprised Anguirus. Moriarty always smelled of expensive, women-repelling cologne and mint gum. This was not in his character. The door slid shut behind her and the bag was pulled off of her head. Anguirus blinked, getting her vision assorted.
"I hope it's to your liking because you'll be here a while. Or maybe not." Moriarty sighed and loosened his tie, walking over to brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, "Moran, you can leave now. Anguirus, make yourself comfortable."
Anguirus looked at Moran and stomped at him. He looked at her before chuckling out the door that they just came in. Anguirus looked around. It was a cabin. A very small one, at that. She was currently standing in the living room behind a brown leather couch. That brown leather couch was situated behind a glass coffee table that had several remotes lined in a row on it's top. That glass coffee table was situated in front of a flat screen television that was drilled into the wooden walls. Anguirus turned to the left and walked into the kitchen and immediately to the refrigerator, opening it. She searched the drawers and was disappointed to find no lemons and no limes. Just a few apples.
"Oh, yeah. I want to see how long you last without killing the inner lining of your stomach." Moriarty called, clicking one of the buttons on one of the remotes.
Anguirus walked back all the way across the living room to the hallway. The first door on the left was a bathroom with a very tiny shower snuffed in one of the corners. Further down on that wall was a closet with doors that folded open, revealing a washer and dryer. The door opposite of that was a bedroom with very boring walls with a boring bed frame and a boring bed-side table with a very boring lamp. Exiting the room and proceeding to the door at the very end of the hall, Anguirus heard Moriarty laugh very loudly. She ignored him and opened the last door. It was a less boring room. Anguirus could tell that it's been lived in for a while. It was Moriarty's own personal chambers. The thought was very amusing Anguirus. Since when did a monster sleep at night?
Anguirus stood in the hallway, unsure what to do. She attempted to keep as much distance between herself and the living room by pressing herself against Moriarty's door. She needed a dark place to sit and think. Anguirus needed to be secluded so she could think of a legitimate plan of action instead of just throwing all human mannerisms out of some stupid metaphorical window. Anguirus was not built for this. The Marines had sculpted her into a ruthless machine, but all that went out the window when she had her break down.
"Anguirus, I'm not going to bite, you know." Moriarty paused, "Well, not hard enough to leave stitches anyway." He chuckled.
Anguirus still didn't move.
"NOW!" Moriarty yelled, causing Anguirus to break out of her little panic-induced trance.
She slowly crept down the short hallway and stared at the maniac on the couch. He was looking intently at the television. There, centered on the screen, was Sherlock and Anguirus. Sherlock's mouth was moving, but noise wasn't coming out. There didn't need to be noise, Anguirus already knew what was being said because she had heard it before. Moriarty was watching a tape that contained Anguirus' last visit to the younger Holmes.
"'Do you have any fruit?'" Moriarty mocked in a high tone before chuckling, "That is so strange. Come sit, Anguirus." He swiveled his head to look at her, "Or should I call you 'Z' like all your new friends?"
Anguirus stared at Moriarty with an uncaring face. That particular face has gotten her into a lot of trouble before. The most recent trouble included scarring. After a moment, Anguirus stepped forward. The only seat in the living room was the couch that Moriarty had decided to sit in the middle of. He had taken off his jacket and tie and undid a few of his buttons on his shirt. He had his arms spanning the length of the couch and a leg crossed lazily over the other. Anguirus decided to sit on the arm of the couch.
Moriarty threw his head back and laughed, "I was wrong. You are very ordinary." He turned his attention back to the screen, "Did you really just eat his fruit? Or did you send him a message?"
Anguirus was a bit surprised that he didn't catch on to the Morse Code. Then again, her back was facing the camera. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit. Where was the camera?
"I don't know if you noticed," Moriarty mumbled suddenly into her ear. Anguirus tensed. She hadn't even noticed him move over.
"I know Sign Language." He suddenly leaned back and patted her once on the back, "So don't be afraid to talk! We are mates now, after all." Moriarty let out a deep chuckle that resounded with a devilish manner.
Anguirus stood up and walked robotically into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the refrigerator, and taking the biggest bite she could. Turning around, Anguirus was suddenly pinned to the fridge. Moriarty's hands holding up her own as she clutched hard onto the apple. She struggled as to not choke on the apple in her mouth as Moriarty stared into her eyes, his ablaze. He was breathing hard through his nose and Anguirus couldn't figure out why. She kept the uncaring look and Moriarty leaned his head into the crook of her neck, grazing it with his nose.
Trailing up her jawline, Moriarty paused his lips on the shell of her ear, "Who's going to give into the craving first?" He whispered breathlessly. He breathed in and backed up slowly, a happy look on his face, "Well, Night!"
Moriarty made his way across the living room before turning back, "You should take a shower." He said with a crinkled up nose.
Then he slammed his door.
Anguirus tilted her head to the side in contemplation while finishing her apple. What if she were to leave right then? What if she were to walk out the door and find her way back home? Walking over to the only means outside, she crouched down and examined the handle. On the inside, there was a little pad. Anguirus frowned. It was fingerprint activated.
"I don't hear the shower running!" A sing-song voice came from the hallway.
Anguirus stood up and made her way into the bathroom, locking the door. There were no windows, which was understandable. She went up to the mirror above the sink and looked into her reflection. She never felt like she was the hazel-eyed and freckle-covered girl that was always staring back at her. Touching the mirror, Anguirus raised her eyebrows. It was made out of plastic. Moriarty sure did baby-proof this place. Anguirus took off her clothes and turned her back to the mirror to check out her scars. They were vertical lines that went the length of her back, stopping around her hip bones. The Marines had offered to pay for a reconstructive surgery, but what would be the point? Battle scars are made to be proud of. Anguirus itched a scab on her arm and stepped into the hot shower.
Reaching for the shampoo, Anguirus' eye twitched. Moriarty had lime-scented shampoo. "Prick." She thought.
After she was clean, she turned off the shower and got out. Anguirus' clothes were no longer strewn around the floor. Her clothes were actually not any where to be seen. Sitting on top of the toilet were brand new clothes. There were black sweat pants, a white t-shirt, and some new undergarments. Anguirus picked up the bra and scowled. It was an actual bra and not a sports bra to mash her chest into place. Anguirus' breasts weren't that large, but they were big enough to be a hassle. She put her clothes on and exited the room, pausing in the hallway. Where should she go? Into that boring room?
She decided that that was for the best.
