Fair warning, this chapter gets extremely dark towards the end. There are comments made and situations implied, so please be mindful when reading if you feel uncomfortable with sexual situations that are more on the non-consensual side. Other than that, pretty normal chapter. But again, this one gets darker than before in certain areas.
"Вырубить ее! Давайте сделаем это немного интереснее, не так ли?" - Cut her down! Let's make this a bit more interesting, shall we?
Despite the creak of the chains as Eva swung side to side, the noise of the cellar had all but vanished. Guards were gone or watching from their stations, their interest in torturing and taunting Eva had long waned and shifted into boredom. Her blood, sweat, and urine dripped down her sides, thighs, and ankles down to the cement below. Her hair stuck to her forehead while her eyes refused to stay open for longer than a few seconds. She was toeing the line between consciousness and comatose, and it took great effort to breathe, but somehow she found enough to sing.
It had been a long time since Eva ever opened her mouth to channel the once Rachel Berry, but if there was anyone she could count on to give her hope, it was the loud-mouthed, determined brat that she'd perfected over the years. Haunted by the memories of her fathers and family, Eva's voice, hoarse from disuse, echoed in the silence as she began to sing an old Russian lullaby:
Bayu-bayushki-bayu,
Nye lozhisya na krayu
Pridyot serenkiy Volchok
I ukhvatit za bochok
On ukhvatit za bochok
I potashchit vo lesok
Por rakitovyi Kustok
On her second go-round, guards poked their heads into the room and whispered to themselves, but Eva paid them no mind. Switching from Russian to English, Eva kept her head down as she continued to sing:
Baby, baby, rock-a-bye
On the edge you mustn't lie
Or the little grey wolf will come
And will nip you on the tum
Tug you off into the wood
Underneath the willow-root
"Enough with the singing!" one guard yelled.
She smiled to herself and sang louder, slower, and paid no mind to the men around her.
Warren Evans listened from the top of the stairs as Eva sang. He felt nothing for her, not anymore. If there was guilt in his heart, it was buried beneath the vengeance and anger and hurt that came from Hiram before his meeting Leroy. Warren was nothing but a farmer boy without Hiram, and he did everything in his power to ensure that Hiram stayed on top, but then Leroy came along and ruined it all. He couldn't understand how someone so powerful and so influential could fall for someone so emotionally wrecked. It was disappointing, to say the least. Did he feel bad for being responsible for not only Hiram's death, but for Noah's mother, Leroy's, Sam's, and his wife's death? Not really. He just felt terrible that they couldn't see their potential the way that he could.
But Bostitch, Bostitch understood what it took to be in control. He made the necessary effort and cared not for the people around him. With power came isolation, and if you weren't comfortable with the separation, it could kill you. Either that or someone close to you. Warren appreciated that about the man, and though his life was on the line every second of every day, Warren still felt proud to be associated with such greatness.
He turned the corner and reached the foyer in record time. He hadn't a single clue how he made it to the front so quickly in the castle-sized home, but when he arrived, Warren found three guards lying in a heap off to the corner. Standing against the wall, about as nonchalant as a bull in a stadium, stood the girl Sam called 'Eva's unfortunate missing piece in a psychopath's puzzle.' She looked tired, stressed, and twirled a blood-covered blade between her fingers.
"Ya know, the plan was quite simple," she began, her voice quiet and breezy.
Warren reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, and the moment he moved, a sharp pain shot through his neck, and he dropped to the floor, choking on his blood.
"The plan was for me to get captured and find my way to Eva alone," she continued, strolling across the marble. Her bare feet made not a sound as she sauntered over to him, her heels dangling from her fingers, and she slowly sat beside him.
"But when I saw that only four guards were keeping me from walking right up to the front door and ringing the doorbell, I decided 'what the hell?' It was a little tricky, but I managed. After all, I am nothing if not talented with a blade. Too bad I didn't have my rifle." She made a gun with her left hand and closed one eye, mimicking firing a weapon. "If I had a rifle, well, no need for fantasies, right?" she said.
Santana, if he remembered her name correctly, brushed a piece of hair from his face before she yanked the knife out of his throat. She wiped the blood on his face before the blade hovered over his right eye.
"When we first arrived, there were guards all over the place. However, by the time I split from the group and started my walk over, I encountered no guards. No traps, no tricks, and no bullets. I have to ask you, what exactly is going on here? Where is Eva?"
Warren, despite the blood pouring from his throat, didn't even try to form any words. He stared at her unflinchingly, and she shrugged.
"Yeah, I knew it was useless, but at least I can kill you and let Sammy rest in peace," she said coldly.
Warren's last image was that of a knife headed straight for his eye, but beyond the immense pain, Warren felt every emotion he'd bottled up over the years. In his last moments, Warren died as a tortured soul.
Santana stared down at the dead man and only felt remorse for Sam. She glanced to the ceiling and said a small prayer, hoping that it reached Sam's ears and that he knew she did it for Eva.
"Hey!"
Santana sighed and turned slowly with her hands raised in the air.
"Who are you?"
His English was broken, but intelligible enough that she smiled and said, "A friend of your newest prisoner."
"What?"
Santana rolled her eyes and slid another blade from beneath her sleeve. She may have given the others her gun, but only Tina knew about the blades hidden under her shirt. Santana waited until he was close enough before she struck, stabbing the man twice in the stomach before dropping him to the floor gently. She grabbed his gun, checked it, and grabbed a radio off his waist. Wiping off the earpiece, she put it in her ear and was bombarded with a bunch of gibberish. She wasn't fluent in Russian, but Eva taught her enough to hopefully keep up with the conversations throughout the house. She pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to Tina, not trusting anyone else at the moment, and went on her way, gun in one hand, blade in the other, and her shoes forgotten on the floor beside the dead guard.
Tina checked her phone after it vibrated, read the text, and sighed. She snatched the gun from Brittany's hands and shot twice at the two guards before them.
"Hey! What happened to us being quiet!" Quinn hissed.
Tina held up her hand and waited. Five minutes passed, and no other guard showed up to the sound of gunshots, and Tina returned Quinn her weapon.
"The guards are all in one spot. These are the castaways," Tina said quietly. "Santana believes something is going on in the house that pulled all the guards off their posts."
"And you know this how?"
"She just texted me and said Warren's dead, along with five others guards. She left one of them outside the front door."
"Why did she text you?" Brittany asked, a little disgruntled.
"Probably because I had the least to do with Eva's disappearance act, and because I'm not going to tell her she needs to wait on back-up."
"I wouldn't tell her that!"
"Oh? So you're completely fine with her roaming around that house by herself, possibly un-armed?" Tina asked.
Brittany shuffled and huffed, "No, I'm not. This is a suicide mission!"
Tina rolled her eyes and pushed past Brittany, saying, "Duh. It's been a suicide mission since the moment we boarded that plane."
"You mean to tell me you're okay with her being un-armed?" Quinn asked, somewhat defending Brittany.
Tina stopped briefly and looked over her shoulder at the group. "She's not un-armed," she said.
"She gave us her gun," Noah pointed out.
"Then I gave her knives," Tina said with a shrug. "You guys would've noticed that had you not been so caught up in planning how you're going to get her out of the house without Eva. I mean, honestly, do you have any hope that Eva is still alive?"
No one responded, but Tina could see they were trying to think of an answer that would sound great to her ears but wouldn't be close to truthful.
"Don't bother," she said blandly, cutting off whatever bullshit lie they were thinking of. "Just make sure Santana doesn't catch wind of your doubt, or you'll seriously end up being buried under the rubble once she's through with this place."
Tina walked off, leaving them behind, and kept her sighs to herself. She hoped her words rang true. She'd grown to like some of them, but she was loyal to the one with the most power. And that was Eva. Without Eva, Tina gravitated towards Santana, and her servant's heart prevented her from showing any ounce of empathy for the people behind her.
"Swing, little Eva, swing."
She whimpered in pain, the first sound she'd allowed to slip past her mouth after their abuse, and stared at Bostitch with the eye that wasn't swollen shut. She was fighting sleep, and the swaying of her body wasn't helping her stay away.
"Earlier, I mentioned that I wanted something from you, but I believe we might be having, what you say, a miscommunication?"
When she began to drift off, Bostitch snapped his fingers and someone threw ice water in her face. She woke up with a shout and exhaled sharply before focusing back on Bostitch's blurry form.
"Focus on me, little Eva. Listen very carefully to me, I want nothing from you. Nothing of the average sort. But I do want your ribs removed from your chest cavity. I want your heart resting on my mantle. I want your breasts sliced and craved from your skin and fed to my dogs. I want my men to have sex with your dead corpse and pump you full of their seed. I want your eyes plucked from your skull and stomped on." Bostitch came closer, and his large frame nearly had Eva pinned against the wall. "I want you treated like the trash you are, and I want your body to be so malformed and degraded that your own fathers will turn away from you in the afterlife," he whispered sharply.
Eva had bile rise in her throat at the images but forced it down. The last thing she needed to do was throw-up on the man that literally held her life in his hands. She cringed as his strong hands grabbed her head and jostled it like a snowglobe.
"I know I told you to keep it close, boys," Bostitch said, releasing her head and stepping away. "But now, now, you can have your fun. When she's nearly there, call me, and I will start collecting my prizes."
There was cheering, and Eva struggled hard against her chains. She couldn't figure out why the guards were slowly streaming down the basement. She thought it was her singing at first, but at that moment, she knew why. Bostitch was tired of the games and ready to move on. Eva tried moving back as the first guard got close enough to tear off what was left of her shirt. The second guard ripped off her pants, using a knife to slice through the fabric and also a little of her skin.
"Вырубить ее! Давайте сделаем это немного интереснее, не так ли?" one guard yelled in Russian.
Eva heard him and groaned. Had the guards from before been there alone, she would be excited about being cut down, but with so many in one spot, she knew exactly what was about to happen. She was forced to the ground, held down by three different guards, but before the fourth guard could unbutton his pants, a familiar voice echoed in the basement.
"As cliché as this moment is, all I gotta say is back the fuck away from my fiancée before I cut your dick off and shove it down your throat."
Eva twisted her head, stared through the bodies, and cried out in relief and joy. Santana glanced down, and Eva's relief turned into fear.
"When I'm done with them, then I start on you," she threatened.
Eva groaned again and closed her eyes as the first shot rang out.
She was either going to die at the hands of a guard or the hands of her fiancée. Either way, she was afraid she wouldn't make it out of that basement alive.