Ophiucus the Fallen wasn't dead…yet, but judging by her thirst, the distinct lack of feeling in her arms and the double vision she kept experiencing, she wasn't that far off from the Underworld.
She had always known that in order to escape she needed to pass through Hell but even in her darkest dreams the torture she was enduring was almost too much to bear.
A week. A measly seven days, that in any other case would have flown by, had stretched like seven centuries in that inhospitable desert of an island.
But the worst part wasn't the burning thirst or the continuous rumble of her stomach, a rumble she couldn't stop because how in the name of everything do you hunt, skin or dig with metal mittens?
No the worst part was the voice in her head. The terrifying goody-to-shoes – she might her referred to her as perfettina – whose voice had tormented her incessantly since her escape from prison, begging her either to reconsider murdering Athena or to remember her name, usually both in the same sentence, over and over again.
She was always droning on companions, friends, family even; people that were supposed to love her – like that ever happened outside stories – that had given her a second chance, the family and the affection she had never had.
Always depicting a world too good to be seriously true.
But how do you get rid of a voice in your head? The already more-dead-than-alive girl didn't know, but what she was sure of was that if that voice didn't stop she was going to die, victim of a mad impulse of suicide, just to shut the voice up!
"Look what we got here…no doubt another nice young victim of Athena's justice ne? Shall we take her with us or do we have mercy on her soul right here right now?"
Even if she couldn't really see them – the mask had a sort of filter over her eyes that really complicated things – she knew they were three men and of the worst species. Brutes, thieves, murderers, even rapists probably. Perfect! Exactly what she needed to get out of that Gods' forsaken island!
Perfectly aware of the fact that she couldn't talk anymore like a normal human being the girl knew she had to resort to more basic and universal means of communication.
With a mask on and gloved hands there wasn't much she could do in the seducing department, but the men in front of here weren't that picky, she realized when she saw the hungry looks her battered body had garnered.
Moving her arm in a very bad imitation of the universal "come hither" sign she beckoned them close, counting the different steps and trying to judge their build and brute force.
The three men slowly advanced, predatory grins on their faces that she was sure were going to send her other personality into a fit – maybe if she was lucky she was going to get rid of her as well – circling her like predators with their prey.
When one of them tried the direct approach she quickly caught his hand mid-air, brought him forth towards her and impaled him with his very same knife that she had taken from his belt.
"Please stop it! In the name of justice don't kill them! Don't become a murderer please…"
Again with that voice! Damn it! If that shit continued she was going to loose her mind sooner or later!
"Well, well! I see that you aren't like the others…when they get dumped here their fighting spirit has already been broken…they only await the time when merciful death will come to take them…but not you…you are different! There is still fire in your soul, a strong desire to live and not die here. A purpose if you will…but alas, you have killed my mate and for that you must be punished! Josè, kill her!"
When she saw Josè she knew that her chances to escape alive from that Island had plummeted dramatically, but she still couldn't give up! Her master had assigned her a mission and she wasn't going to disappoint him by dying before accomplishing her goal.
So she closed her eyes, ignored the persistently annoying voice in her head, and tried to bring up the memories of a time far away, when she had been a student, an apprentice, trying to win a cloth like many other orphaned children.
The massacres that passed for training that had killed more than half of the competition were sure to come in handy now, she thought, when faced with an adversary that was at least double her size, and while she was at a distinct disadvantage.
Moving rapidly to her left she then pivoted on her right foot to kick his opponent in the face, without much success but at least the sand she had inadvertently brought up managed to blind him for a couple of precious seconds which she used to escape his clutches.
From then on she felt him, more than saw him charging towards her like a bull.
The image of a golden bull, one with an open and kind face, superimposed themselves to the harsh reality for a moment, blinding her to the attack coming her way.
"Damn it! I if don't stop these illusions they are going to kill me!"
The impact was devastating, but somehow she managed not to loose consciousness, knowing fully well that if she did that she was signing her death certificate.
When her enemy charged again, no strange images were forthcoming so she could see the attack and easily avoid it, all the while implementing a strategy for her victory.
When the enraged bull attacked her for a third time, she knew she had won. At his approach she jumped higher than him managing, if just barely, to land behind his body and then she turned around and punch his off-balance form with all her might.
For once luck was on her side and the last she saw of her enemy was his body mid-air, arms flailing around in a pathetic hope of stalling the inevitable fall.
She didn't have time to congratulate herself on her victory that a traitorous cold iron impaled her from behind.
When the dagger shot out of her body, in preparation of a second, fatal, strike, two very different things happened, almost simultaneously: a blinding white light enveloped her body before shooting out towards the equatorial skies and finally – finally – a blissful silence descended in her head once more, and simultaneously a new deep voice stopped the dagger from completing its merciful mission.
"Don't kill her Alejandro!"
The man called Alejandro, pivoted on his heels dragging her unresponsive body with him.
"But Boss, you have seen her! She has killed two of my best men practically without breaking a sweat! I have to avenge them!"
"You will do no such thing! If they managed to get killed by a young girl who looks more dead than alive than they aren't worth of your revenge! If nothing she has done me a favour! But that's exactly why I want her alive! She'll come with us and her presence will more than compensate me for my losses!"
"But…"
"No buts Alejandro! Take her with us!"
Not one to capitulate so quickly, even in front of his boss, the thug punched her so hard that finally unconsciousness claimed her.