Legal disclaimers: see earlier Parts.
Disclaimers: see earlier Parts.
The Last Day
Havana, Cuba, 2005
Anna Espinosa's eyes blinked open, shut, blinked open again and stayed that way. Every muscle in her body ached, every bone creaked and every single bruise screamed at her mind as though she was being beaten with a baseball bat-again-even as consciousness returned once again.
After the pain came the belated realisation that she was naked, hanging upside down and sticky with her own blood, fresh and drying. She had open wounds all over her body, inflicted by knives, whips, chains, people's fingernails and even teeth. She suspected that she was in shock, at least on some level, because the kind of pain she should have been suffering with such massive injuries should have left her incapable. Instead, her mind seemed clear.
More of her memory returned and she winced as she recalled being held down by dozens of hands as fists, feet and other instruments of assault, including some sharp ones, dug into her body harder and deeper with each blow. She'd screamed despite herself, pain tearing its way out of her throat in awful animals howls as her vision flared red and then went abruptly black as her abused body could stand no more.
She had dim recollections after that, she'd been in and out of consciousness for she didn't know how long. Sharp new pain had brought her back briefly and she'd woken up long enough to witness their attackers tearing her clothes away and grabbing at her body, laughing, utterly uncaring of any pain to her.
The next thing she recalled was being slapped awake only to have what she'd known was strong alcohol forced down her throat, so much that she'd almost choked three or four times. She'd finally vomited, unable to take in any more, which had led them to beat her unconscious again.
The last time had been when she came to being dragged into the warehouse she was now in by her hair, her bloody, battered form covered with mud and muck of all descriptions. She'd been put in some kind of chain lift which had been looped around her wrists and ankles, barely aware and weak as a newborn child, before they'd hoisted her up to three feet above the floor upside down. The rush of blood to her head had knocked her out again-and then she came to the now...
She heard screams, far off, smelt the whiff of smoke past the stink of dried oil that filled the battered old building she was in. It was black as Hell on a dark night in the structure, but a little light was coming through doors which weren't perfectly fitted and chinks in the walls and roof which had to have been caused by decay. She got glimpses of rotting straw, wooden walls held together by steel bars hammered into place, wooden pillars thick with rot holding up the roof...
She'd-they'd been imprisoned in a barn? In the middle of riots in Cuba, following yet another failed attempt by the CIA to create an uprising against Castro?!
From what she remembered before they'd been captured Havana was effectively a War Zone, with the Military on the streets shooting on sight anyone not obeying the Curfew while buildings burned and thousands rioted against the Government. The streets were barricaded in places with wrecked cars and buses, civilians with firearms were shooting each other as much as at troops and besieged police and Molotov Cocktails seemed to be the order of the day.
To call it a civil disturbance was like referring to the Second World War as a bad dream. Chaos and anarchy ruled until law and order was restored, which was what had led to their capture and abuse. They'd thought-she'd thought that just two more women in a crowd of thousands wouldn't be seen, let alone noticed by anyone who mattered. She'd been right, in the worst way-the men who'd taken them hadn't cared who they were, they'd just wanted young female flesh to play with and they'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Pulling weapons hadn't done them any good, unless they were willing to risk shooting themselves as the crowd surged in all directions at once, making simply aiming a superhuman feat. Once the group had gotten in close it was all over, regardless, they hadn't cared what state either woman was in when they dragged them down. She'd suspected that even alive was optional after seeing the mad joy on their faces as they'd nearly beaten her to death...
Her mind finally caught up with her as she took in the broad mass of drying blood on the rough wooden ground beneath her. She'd been strung up at least a couple of hours, given the fact it was dark now excepting moonlight, but for all of the evident injuries she'd suffered and the mess beneath her the hadn't damaged anything vital or she'd have bled out by now. Then she saw the second blood trail, which was visibly still fresh and growing...
Her eyes tracked it back, suspecting what she was going to see but needing to be sure. She had to twist in the chains to such a degree that she felt her skin start to tear before she got a good look at the source-and she caught her breath, despite herself, at what she saw.
Sydney Bristow-currently, apparently, a woman who genuinely believed her name to be Julia Thorne-was lying slumped on the floor near the double doors. She was lying on her right side, with her left leg seemingly forced back behind her, her arms both sides of her head, her hands limp. Her eyes were shut, her whole body limp and Anna honestly couldn't tell if she was even still breathing.
Hair torn from Sydney's scalp in a fight was still lying by her head on the floor, while there was just enough light for Anna to see the blood on Sydney's nails. Sydney was naked, like her, so Anna could see what could only be a stab wound in her right shoulder, a misshapen area of chest on her lower right side which could only be broken ribs. Bite wounds were evident in Sydney's breasts and, Anna knew from experience given what she could see, Sydney had been repeatedly throttled given the odd swelling around her jaw and collarbone.
Worse than any of that were three particular wounds, though. Anna distantly recalled hearing Sydney screaming, for she had no idea how long, the guttural laugh of a number of men's voices and what could only have been the sounds of fists on flesh and breaking bone. Sydney had fought like hell and gone down fighting, but it hadn't been nearly enough.
The abrasions and torn skin between her legs, right over the groin, added to the fresh blood still coming from the injury told it's own story. Sydney had been raped, likely gang-Raped, left so badly hurt she was probably bleeding inside. Then there was the knife wound to her throat, a broad and deep slash wound of the kind an amateur would make trying to cut another human beings throat. Blood drenched Sydney's neck and chest from that alone, forming into a pool she lay still in around and beneath her even as she lay still. The last wound, one even Anna couldn't quite take in, was the knife sticking out of Sydney's chest right over her heart...
Anna knew when she saw that she was going to die. The Covenant was going to kill her for letting their prize Project die, let alone like this. If she was very, very lucky they'd just shoot her in the head and dump her body where it would never be found. If she wasn't, they'd flay her alive and cut her into small pieces while she was still alive before feeding the remains to wild animals.
Even if, by some impossible Miracle, Sydney survived her injuries, not even an Agent as professional and resilient as she was would ever recover from an assault like this, Anna wouldn't have herself. Pain and loss were to be expected, they came with the job description when you were a Spy, but what had happened here... Dead or alive, "Julia" would never, ever be the same after this.
A thud echoed from the doors, then another of increased force. Then a car engine roared-and what looked like an old jet-black Hearse backed through the closed doors with such force the heavy doors came off of their hinges. The doors out of the way, the car stopped sharply and Cole stepped out of the drivers seat, gun in hand, in his black suit and tie sharp, white shirt crisp, as ever. He looked like Death itself stepping out of a Hearse dressed for a Funeral backed by moonlight with a weapon in his hand.
If he wasn't a part of the Styx Sisters team, she would have simply stopped breathing there and then on seeing him. His presence meant she actually stood a chance of getting out of this nightmare alive-then Talia stepped out of the passenger seat, the back of the car opening as Selene slid smoothly to the floor.
Talia, her hair bound up tightly against her head, was wearing a form-fitting jet black bodysuit, with armoured gloves and body armour built into the uniform. Sheathed combat knives were fastened about her forearms, two handguns in holsters were around her upper thighs, a combat webbing harness settled around her waist containing gear and ammo. A remarkably thin and sharp sword-length blade ran up her back, it's silver hilt appearing above her right shoulder. Talia had had the weapon custom made, that was all Anna knew about it.
Selene had a pair of Roman Gladius sheathed one to each hip and a specialised holster at the base of her back which held both of her handguns and a small knife. She wore a combat webbing harness around her waist like Selene, but that was where the similarity of their uniforms ended. Selene's uniform was more armour than clothing, her silver-grey "shirt" was plate mail reinforced with Kevlar, as were her leggings. Her boots were toughened leather tipped with steel, while she wore gauntlets rather than gloves which had knuckles tipped with tiny blades which could cut metal-Anna had seen it done. A low-riding mask of the same colouring covered the lower half of her face, while her hair was in a tight ponytail down her back.
Three of the five founding members of the Styx Sisters, one of them many times over the most dangerous, all arrived intact and looking as though they'd passed through the chaos everywhere unscathed because they simply beyond such things. Anna wasn't sure whether or not to be glad or terrified of their arrival-but she knew for sure the moments she saw the expression on Talia's face when she saw "Julia".
Y
The first thing Selene saw when they broke through the doors of the barn they'd finally managed to track their missing members to was Anna Espinosa, hanging upside down nude in chain, bloody and battered. She actually stopped to admire the view for a few seconds, since Anna was worth a good look physically even if she could hardly stand the woman personally. If Anna ever stopped thinking of herself as some kind of dark Goddess the world was supposed to revolve around, maybe that would change...
Then the gleam of much paler skin lit by moonlight on the floor caught her attention. She looked down-and her heart skipped a beat as she took in Julia's terribly abused body. She breathed in sharply, then looked over at Talia, who she knew was much more fond of Julia than was really wise given just what they all did...
Talia's expression was impossible to describe, her dark eyes so empty Selene didn't dare meet them. The older woman wasn't moving at all, she wasn't even breathing, but Selene knew better. She'd once seen Talia go from standing still to Butcher in less than a second, six men dead from a single gunshot wound each in less time than it took to tell, the sevenths still-beating heart punched right out of his chest in Talia's hand in front of him.
Talia knew Death like a Lover and practised her skills to the point that she could kill people in her sleep and not be disturbed. She wielded any weapon at all like she'd been using it for ten years and knew it backwards and forwards as soon as she picked it up, even if she'd never seen it before. She didn't loose fights and never gave a second chance, nor did she ever need one herself. Most importantly, for all of the fact she was amongst the most passionate and fiery women Selene had ever met, Talia never, EVER lost her temper. But the look on her face now...
"Lei è morto, lei la femmina stupida" Talia said in her native Italian, her voice simply devoid of emotion, as she looked straight at Anna. Suddenly she was walking forwards, drawing out her blade in a smooth, graceful arc before she rolled the weapon over in her hand. She'd do it, Selene knew, but she didn't even know if she should stop Talia. Anna had sworn she could keep Sydney safe, keep them both safe, but she'd failed in her assignment utterly and completely.
Surprisingly enough, it was Cole who stopped Talia without even using words, from his position by Julia's prostrate, unmoving body. He slapped his hand against the wooden floor sharply, the crack of meat on wood causing Talia's head to snap around. He held a hand over Julia's mouth and gestured, by means of showing rising and falling movements, that Julia was still breathing and so still alive. That made Talia sheath her blade and almost jog over to Cole and Julia.
Selene beat Talia to Julia's side, where she checked Julia's pulse for good measure. Slow but steady, just like her breathing, but the skin she touched was cold and clammy and slick with blood. At best, Julia was in shock. At worst, she'd lost so much blood she was on the verge of bleeding out and there would be nothing they could do to save her in the field.
Talia ran a practised eye over Julia's body and shook her head, clearly not liking what she saw. "The knife isn't deep enough to have wounded her heart, but the chest muscles will be all torn up and I think the attacker nicked a vein at least. The shoulder wound isn't deep enough to be more than an inconvenience, but she's loosing too much blood. If her throat had been cut properly she'd be dead, but the cuts deep enough she's going to need Plastic Surgery to get rid of the scar. Cole, I need bandages and a suture kit if you can find one, any antibiotics too" said Talia, switching back to English.
Cole was back at the Hearse and digging through the car for anything useful by the time Talia finished speaking. It only took him a few seconds to find what there was, but it wasn't much. He returned bearing Panadol tablets, a single bandage roll and a packet of plasters. Talia just shook her head, sighed and got to work.
"¡Ayúdeme, alguno de ustedes, o yo juran que sobreviviré este matar justo alguno de ustedes!" Anna snarled suddenly, trying to wrench free of her restraints and only succeeding in setting herself rocking back and forth. Her words made Selene wonder if she realised Talia spoke Spanish, since some people would gut you just for the suggestion of insult, let alone the actual words-and Talia was definitely one of them.
Talia didn't pause in binding up Julia's wounds, doing what she could with the throat wound and shoulder before turning her attention to the knife. While still looking at the knife, her eyes twitched, then she slowly turned to look at Anna dead on.
"Анна, прямо сейчас Вы даже не стоите мое презрение, уже не говоря о моем внимании. Просите, что это не изменяется, или Вы проведете десятилетие, прося умирать каждый день" Talia snapped back in flawless Russian, even down to the accent. Then, padded bandage pressed against Julia's chest, she slowly, carefully pulled the knife out, even as Anna blinked in astonishment-or fear, Selene wasn't sure.
Blood immediately began to flow out of the wound, thick, heavy blood, but Talia was just as quick at binding the wound and applying pressure to slow down the bleeding. Without being asked Cole took over as Talia stood, the knife still in her hand with Julia's blood dripping from the blade. Talia slowly walked over to Anna, who had gone utterly still-and dug a line of blood across Anna's belly with the knife before dropping it right beneath her. Then she drew her blade, cleanly cut through Anna's chain bindings with a single strike and sheathed it even as Anna fell helplessly to the floor with a yelp of pain.
Talia grabbed Anna's head as soon as she'd landed and knelt as she wrenched the other woman half upright, so they were eye to eye. Then she shook Anna so hard that the other woman's teeth rattled to make sure she had her attention.
"We own you now, woman, never forget that" said Talia, softly, her voice so cold that Selene felt a chill. Then she dropped Anna to squirm free or not and strode back towards Julia, shaking her head while snarling in barely controlled anger where Anna couldn't see her...
/End of Chapter 37. All Reviews welcomed./