Discussion of potentially raping someone, attempted rape, mass shooting
Voices growled back and forth over her. They were irritating and noisy.
"Come on, she's out like a light, why can't I take her?" one voice asked, it sounded strangely nasally.
"No, Frank says to watch her. We need her for tonight. I'm not jeopardising everything for your fucking dick." another answered.
"You know you want it too," the first retorted. "We can share."
Nike groaned. Neither seemed to have noticed, too absorbed in their conversation. She peeled an eye open and the light pierced it like a needle. Where the hell am I? The bed was as hard as stone, and it seemed she was stuck with Scars and Tenner. Instincts told her to keep still, gather information and figure which way was up.
"Fuck no, Scars. I'm horny, but I'm not quite that stupid," Tenner growled
"Look we're not getting another chance like this again," Scars pointed out, bumping against whatever she was lying on.
Tenner didn't reply. Nike couldn't tell if he was being won over by Scars' argument or he just didn't deign to reply. She kept her eyes shut, willing her traitorous hands to be still, counting breaths to calm herself. The content of the discussion was unnerving to say the least. Cautiously she tested, pulling slightly at her core. Her biotics leapt to life. Ok, ok. Not helpless. I can work with that.
The jingling of a belt being undone yanked her back to reality. Fear seized her chest despite knowing she could defend herself. The buzz of a zip being slid open sent a chill down her spine. "Look if you're just too scared, I'll help myself. You can watch."
A hand tugged at her cargo shorts and she flinched away, biotics blazing to life. Her eyes snapped open in time to take in Scars' slack jawed expression. His nose had swell twice its normal size and white tape stretched over it, holding it in place. His eyes bruised in a vague shape of her fist. She regretted not using her biotics to augment her punch.
Her hand flashed out to grab the front of his shirt, tugging him so close she could smell his fear, "Fuck off Scars." And she shoved him away.
Scar's pants fell around his ankles, his underwear wrapped around his thighs. His dick hanging out, half hard but rapidly shrinking as he realised his predicament.
The click of a pistol engaging made her stilled. She turned to face Tenner, the grin that split her face was wild and predatory. With adrenaline rushing through her veins, her hands were steady. The gnawing that encompassed all her waking hours silenced. "Try that Tenner and you won't keep those hands."
Tenner frowned but made no move to fire. Scars struggled to get away from her, falling on his ass in his haste, fouled by his own pants.
"All right," Tenner holstered his pistol. "No guns. We don't need them. We've got the kids."
Nike stiffened, getting off the table she had been sleeping on. "Where are they?"
"Out, errands for Frank," Scars gasped, attempting to look tough as he stuffed his flaccid penis into his boxers.
"Where are they?" She repeated, her biotics flared brighter with every word.
"You do your part, you will see them again," Tenner said, confident in how much she valued Alex's and Tiny's continued well being.
He isn't wrong.
Nike's head pounded. Whatever Scars had injected into her with was lingering in her body. She only had that burst of energy and now it was fading. Her hands shook, her biotics spluttered as her guts clenched. It hungered for both food and Red Sand in equal measure. She snarled and put out her biotics, far better to appear strong than to have her weakness out on display.
The doors burst open and Frank entered. Alex was trailing after him, head hung low, her face spotting a bruise the size of Frank's palm. Nike clenched her fists and jaw so tight it ached. Frank took one look at Scars and chuckled. Alex tried to inch away but was quickly halted by an arm darting out snake quick to grip her shoulder. Frank's fingers matched the bruises on there too. Nike remembered bearing those same bruises when she was younger.
Frank levelled his eyes at her, bright and almost maniacal. Her breath quickened. "You have a job to do," he declared. "You're helping me make a grand statement today."
She didn't speak. Frank had all the cards, she had nothing but her shaking hands to fight him.
"Do this for me and you'll have my promise, the kids will be unharmed and no more Red Sand." His smile sharpened.
Nike's eyes darted to meet Alex's. For once the defiance, the fire, the passion in them was banked, the embers still burnt but they had been violently, forcefully doused by reality.
"I'm going to keep Alex here with me. Tiny's being looked after by Cutter. Don't worry about him, Cutter will care for him well."
That was the first bit of good news she heard all day. Still worry and dread were twin snakes that coiled around her throat, threatening to choke her.
"Come on, the people came here to see the Champion fight, let's give them a show," Frank said.
Nike had no choice. She sneaked one more glance at Alex who looked at her with eyes so wide, so scared. All she could only was nod, accepting whatever fate had installed for her.
Scars and Tenner peeled off earlier, to carry out their part of this plan. Nike's footsteps echoed down the long tunnel leading to the ring. The crowd's roar reaching her ears even from this distance. She wasn't alone though. Alex's lighter but faster footsteps scuffed against the concrete, polished by the feet of fighters past. No doubt propelled along by Frank's grip on her shoulder. More keenly, Nike could feel Frank's laser focused eyes between her shoulder blades. It itched terribly. Her breath was tight in her chest as she panted audibly. Trapped along all sides and no allies to be found, what else could she do but to bow? They stopped at the barrier. It barred her entry into the ring, just like her counterpart on the other side.
"Fancy seeing you here, Frank. You've been up to some things around the Slums I hear," the guard at the barrier sneered. "The Dowager is going to fix you up real good after this."
Frank shrugged but didn't speak. Instead he reached into his pocket and filled the fucking syringe. Alex took the chance to edge away from them, her eyes wide and wild, realising the shit she was in now. Nike's mouth went dry, panic gripped her but yet a part of her was clawing for the contents of the syringe. Alex stared with morbid curiosity. Nike averted her face, ashamed at what she had become.
Another fucking Red Sand fiend.
A quick prick and Red Sand was coursing through her veins, burning a path up her neck into her head. The endless hunger finally sated, her hands steadied. She lifted her head, feeling more alive than before. The headache that was chipping away in her head gone. Colours leapt up, brighter and more vibrant. She saw everything with utter clarity. Frank's hand gripped her shoulder, his touch burnt but she didn't dare pull away. His fingers dug into her skin. "Win, Nike. Win for me my golden goose."
She nodded. As he pulled away, Alex snaked her hand into hers. She looked down, surprised. Alex didn't speak. There was just one small squeeze of her palm, and it was gone when Frank yanked her away. Nike stared at Alex confused with the gesture, but the moment had passed.
"Show time, Nike," the guard said. The barrier fell, allowing her into the ring.
Nike looked up at the Dowager and waited for the customary bow. The window remained stubbornly opaque. Her opponent glanced at her, she shrugged. This was highly unusual but the crowd wouldn't be denied any longer.
"Nike of the Reds has reclaimed her throne as Champion," the announcer shouted. "Will she keep it, will she lose it to Hayate of the Guardians, a rising star of the Ring. Will there be a new champion tonight?"
The crowd's roar threatened to bring the Underbelly down to its knees. Nike closed her eyes and savoured it. It sang to her in a way no other rush could. One way or another, she wasn't coming back again. Frank was out of control and she couldn't stay in the Reds any longer. She needed out.
The music blared from the speakers as the crowd took up the song.
It's our time to make a move
The barrier between the fighters dropped, Nike launched herself forward.
It's our time to make amends
She was on fire, biotics coming faster and stronger.
It's our time to break the rules
Alex and Tiny were the only thing in her mind as she unleashed her biotics.
Let's begin
"Stay down," she barked.
"Never," Hayate growled through gritted teeth.
Nike kicked, it caught his chin, snapping his head up and his arm gave way. His head slammed down again on the floor. Blood gushed from his nose.
"Give up."
His hands twitched, trying to brace himself off the floor again. "No!"
This was not right, he was finished, to continue was just bullying. It felt wrong, it was wrong. She glanced at the crowd. "Finish him! Finish him!" they chanted.
She gritted her teeth against the distasteful task. Her palm burst out in blue flames and she brought it down on his face.
And that was when it all went sideways.
She didn't hear the gunfire over the cheers of the crowd at first. Nike was busy cataloging her wounds. Knuckles torn and bruised, throbbing at the abuse; ribs ached from being battered and hammered by biotic-fuelled hits. Only her amp was a source of comfort, a steady warmth at her neck. No danger of glitching today. But she was already feeling the comedown from the Red Sand high. Though her biotics was still sparking and leaping to her every call, eager for more blood, for more action, she was also moving more sluggishly. The monster in the pit of her guts had opened its wide mouth, hungering for more Red Sand.
Gunfire, louder and more insistent this time . Shrieks of terror rang as the crowd caught onto what was happening. They stampeded.
Nike was trapped in the ring, the barrier wasn't deactivated. She whirled around and saw people marked in Reds' colour, fully armed and armoured firing at the Dowager's guards. The crowd was caught in between.
"Shit, shit, shit," she cried, pulling up a barrier as bullets raked across the air, ricocheting everywhere. The barrier wasn't rated to hold against bullets of any kind.
Rushing to the barrier, she slammed her fists against it, there was a momentary flare of bright orange, rippling out. It didn't budge.
"No, no, no!"
Gathering her biotics, she charged against one of the pylons that maintained the barrier. The pylon groaned, but it held.
Slugs were whizzing through the space, all of them zipping by too close for comfort. She took a deep breath and charged again and again and again. The pylon groaned louder with each impact and eventually it bent. The connection was broken and the barrier of that single panel flickered and died with a low hum.
Alex, Tiny!
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she tried to get her bearings. The rapid high whine of a rifle reminded her to take cover, she was practically naked against these fuckers.
Blood were splattered against concrete walls, smeared across the floor where people dragged themselves to safety. Bodies littered the ground, many were trampled beyond recognition. Her gouge rose and her guts churned uncomfortably. Lips twisting, she searched body after body for some kind of weapon. There was nothing. Most of them were just the downtrodden in the Slums, spending what little credits they had on a bet, hoping to win big.
Well, they won something today.
Step by step, from cover to cover, she hid and snuck along, trying to make her way back to the prep room. She had left her pistol and blade there. Gunfire rang out in the corridor as she pressed herself against wall. The door was just fucking around the corner. She held her breath. Maybe she could just inched closer towards the edge and peek out.
"There! That's Nike! She's one of them!"
"Fuck." She pulled back when she saw a rifle lifted in her direction.
Bullets slammed into the concrete throwing up shards everywhere. She hissed as they stabbed her. She hesitated despite herself, eyes lingered on the door to the prep room. Heavy thumps of armoured troops approached. She had to move or die. With a growl of frustration, she turned and ran. Thighs burning at the abuse it was taking, her breath harsh against her ears, she fled.
It was weird to see the Underbelly devoid of people. The stalls stood empty, sizzling food left to burn. Machines where games of chance were played, usually filled with cigarette smoke and loud music, now stood impossibly deserted. Desperate people, hoping the next pull, the next button press would turn their life around, slumped over the machines as if protecting them. The music cheerful and enticing, a stark difference to the reality surrounding them. Plays of greens and blues splashed over the blood, darkening it, turning them into something harmless. A mere stain.
Nike ran and ran. Her barrier, her only protection, fizzled and died. She didn't have the energy to maintain it. The telltale glow of blue was giving her position away. Something slammed into her left shoulder and she stumbled and fell. Tumbling, she smashing her face into the floor, scratching it up. Pain wasn't something she could give in to. Forcing herself back onto her feet, she ran on. Her shirt grew wet and heavy as something trickled down her back. On and on, she ran, legs leading her without conscious thought.
Only when her lungs burnt with desperate gasps did she slid up against cover, and she took stock of her situation. Grimacing, she pressed a palm against her shoulder and bit her lips to hold back a scream. Her hand came away red. She had never been shot before, not like this. She had suffered her share of bullet grazes but this time she could feel the bullet embedded against her flesh and bone. Most of the time, people shied away from her when they realised who they were up against. But Frank had turned everyone against them. As she blinked away tears, a flash of Reds' colours zipped by. She followed.
It was Krycek, looking worse for wear. He had armour, but it didn't seemed to have done him any good. It was shattered in parts. His hands shook the way hers did.
"Where the fuck is everyone else? Where are Alex and Tiny?" she hissed.
A vicious smile split his mouth. "With Frank," he replied, fumbling for something in his pocket. A syringe filled with Red Sand emerged and she recoiled. "Don't worry, I'm not sharing."
He bit into the cap securing the sharp end of the syringe and yanked. The cap came free between his teeth and he spat. It clattered onto the floor, discarded and useless. She couldn't help but watch as he injected himself. Her body jerked in respond at Krycek's groan of pure pleasure. It wasn't horror or fear, it was yearning and want. She wanted to snatch the syringe out of his hand, she wanted that shot for herself, but she clenched her fists and forced herself to keep still.
I'm better than this. I have to be.
He keened, shuddering as his body accepted the drug. Blue erupted from his skin, flaring and sparking like an aura around him. Nike could feel it against her skin. She averted her eyes, opting to keep an eye out for the Dowager's people and racking her head how she was going to find Alex and Tiny in this fucking mess instead.
Before she could register it, there was a scruff of shoe against concrete, and pain exploded across her shoulder. She screamed as Krycek hastily covered her mouth with his hand. "Now, now, no screaming. We don't want others to find us, do we."
White blotted out her vision. His palm pressing, probing and digging into her gunshot wound. Each attempt to shift, to ease the pressure, just made him leaned into it that much more. His cheek pressed up against hers and he hissed, "That's for our unfinished fight the other day."
Tears streamed down her eyes as her knees buckled, agony overwriting all thought as she screamed into his hand. Her lungs heaved as he eventually relented, hauling her sagging body up to her feet. "Come on, let's go. Frank's looking for you."
Blood streamed from the wound and it was all Nike could do was to press a hand against it without passing out. Hopefully, Frank needed her enough to not let her bleed out. Lightheaded with legs that refused to work like they used to, she stumbled along, nudged by Krycek's pistol towards the Dowager's throne room. A bunch of Reds were guarding the elevator. Nobody seemed surprised to see her in this shape, ushered along like a prisoner. So much for being the golden goose, the Champion. Her thoughts were so bitter, her stomach roiled.
They boarded the elevator without a word. As it rose, Nike's guts churned with anxiety. The doors opened to reveal Frank's inner circle, one she now knew she never belonged to. They were milling around outside the secure doors. The holo-lock was stubbornly red, she observed with no small amount of pleasure despite the circumstances. Tenner was hard at work hacking them, his fingers tapping furiously at his omni-tool.
Her bare feet sank into the plush white carpet. Every other time she was up here, she loved the way she sank a little into the carpet but not today. It squelched with every step she took. She left footprints of red. Blood and dirt, that was what she was reduced to. No more valuable than the mud she rose up from. And apparently, she hadn't risen far enough. She grimaced at the tacky feeling of semi-dry blood on her skin.
Frank was pacing back and forth, a tiger with coiled energy ready to lash out. He glared at her arrival.
"What took you so long?" he snarled at Krycek.
"There was resistance."
"Nike!" Tiny cried.
Nike whirled around, they were hidden behind Cutter's bulk. As she made to go towards them, Frank closed the gap between them in a flash. She twisted to avoid his arm but slowed by pain and blood loss, he shoved her into the corner, right into a pile of dead. Broken bodies and gaping holes in mangled remains marred the pristine furnishing. She fell heavily against the shattered pieces of armour the fallen wore, a pained yelp rushed from her clenched jaw.
"Leave her alone!" Alex shouted, fighting against Scars' hold as Tiny's scared whimpers rang out. It galled her to be so helpless, to be so useless in protecting them, but she remained on the ground, taking the chance to catch her breath. Blinking hard, she chased the grey edges of her vision away.
"You have one more job to do," Frank's breath beat down on her bowed head.
"You fucking promised!" Nike fought to sit up.
"I did, didn't I? I lied. Just one more, then you're done," he replied easily.
There was a familiar snick of a blade flicking out. He was holding a blade — hers.
As he slid the blade into position, there was an audible click as the blade locked into its deployed position. Fingers gripping the mechanism, he flicked his wrist. The shape edge swung back into the frame. Another flick, another click. Open and close. Flick, click. It was as clear a threat she had ever seen one. She gulped, mastering herself.
"You're going to do it aren't you?" Frank asked, his voice sickeningly sweet.
Her eyes darted between Alex and Tiny, then back at him. "Let them go first. They are just going to get underfoot."
"No."
One moment, the blade was held lazily in Frank's hand, the next it was pressed against her left cheek. The cold metal burnt. Nike held herself still. "Let them go," she repeated, hard eyes meeting Frank's.
"No."
The blade bit into her skin. A sharp inhale was all she allowed to escape her lips. Nothing more. Blood welled up as a line was dug deep into her face, slicing and piercing. She winced. A trickle flowed down her face like a tear.
"Just do what he wants!" Alex shouted, her voice cracking, fear overwhelming her. "Please!"
"Listen to the girl, Nike," Frank purred, the blade twisted its way down her check towards her jaw.
"Please," Tiny added his voice to Alex's.
For a long moment everything was at an impasse, but the tension went out of her body. She was too exhausted to keep resisting. "Fine," the word exhaled like she was giving up. Her body went slack as she slumped against dead bodies.
"You'll get a fine scar from that. You'll look so badass," Frank whispered as he eased off. "Just a tiny little payback for that insult so long ago."
"Why the fuck do we need her for?" Krycek demanded, helping himself to a fresh bunch of Red Sand filled syringes.
She grunted and shakily rose to her feet, bracing against the wall. Compared to her shoulder, the long gash down her face, was nothing. She could barely move it without her vision dimming.
"She owe me," Frank replied. "Payback for our first meeting."
Cutter, Scars and Tenner averted their eyes. Krycek just looked confused while Nike went cold. The consequences of a scared little girl lashing out at her attackers had came back to haunt her. Jaw set, she marshalled her strength for what was to come. Frank was lying. Neither she nor the kids would be allow to walk out of Underbelly alive. She could feel it in her bones, but she'd be damned if she was going to lay down and die.
"You should get ready," he warned. "I'm sure Tenner is about to be done any moment." That line he delivered sarcastically as he turned his attention to a sweating Tenner. The blade pocketed, he picked his special shotgun up to nudge Tenner. "Right, Tenner?" he prompted.
"Sure thing boss. Plan coming to fruition and all that."
Alex and Tiny hurried over, crying and trying to be strong in turns. It was only with Alex's quick thinking Tiny didn't bowl her over with his weight. Nike didn't think she'd get up again if he did. Cutter clomped over, his eyes taking stock of her injuries. "Nothing personal Nike," he muttered. "Just business." He shoved her clothes and pistol into her hands. "Best get ready."
Fuck was she going to go into battle barefoot and clad in nothing but her fight attire. "Help me," she growled, pulling on clothes and shoes, trying not to blackout in the attempt.
Gunfire rang out somewhere below them. Alex and Tiny flinched. "Behind me," she hissed.
"Got it!" Tenner crowed in triumphant as the heavy doors slid noiselessly open.
Gunfire erupted from beyond the freshly unlocked doors. Everyone was prepared for heavy resistance. This was after all the Dowager's last line of defence. But what nobody expected was reinforcements from the rear. The elevator chimed loudly as the doors slid opened. More of the Dowager's crew poured out. Pinned, that was what she was, between two sides, three if she wanted to count the Reds as her enemy. I guess they are now. Her jaw tight as she erected a barrier, backing Alex and Tiny behind her.
The Dowager's mocking laughter rose over the din. "Come to take my throne, Frank? You're overreaching, boy."
Lyrics taken from Renegades by X Ambassadors