Twist of Fate: Chapter 20
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
In the dank area known as Sublevel 28, there were none to hear the cries nor see the struggles of the Centre's two captives. There was no one to lay witness to their frantic efforts as the two were both led and carried down the long, dark hallway and forced into a new room - a new room that sported a pair of heavy chains suspended from the high ceiling. Chains that ended in two pairs of heavy, medieval-looking manacles.
First came Jarod as he was drug into the room, his cries landing on deaf ears as his captors strained to hold the struggling Pretender. And before he could so much as utter another word, another sweeper moved in and landed a vicious punch to Jarod's midsection, causing him to bend over, going limp as he struggled to regain his lost breath. Taking advantage of his momentary stillness, his captors secured the manacles tightly around his wrists while somebody else pushed a small button that caused the lengths of chain to pull taut and then lift up, pulling the man straight until his feet barely grazed the cold floor.
Then came the Slayer, the girl bucking and twisting in her captors' hands, the four men struggling to maintain their hold on her small arms and ankles. But with four to one odds, and Buffy as weak as she was, she didn't stand a chance. As soon as Jarod was secured his two sweepers quickly came to their comrades' assistance, locking her hands in the large manacles and quickly suspending her from the floor as well. Wincing as the metal pulled at her skin Buffy quickly reached up and seized the chain that suspended her, her weak and quivering muscles complaining loudly as she attempted to lift herself - something that would have been no problem without the drugs that polluted her system - and quickly launched out with her feet, sending one sweeper careening away from her. But even as she had the satisfaction of seeing the man tumble into the others, she knew such an action wouldn't be repeated as her strength fled her, her grip on the chain slipping as she tumbled down, unable to stop the small cry from escaping her lips as the unforgiving metal bit into her skin - stopping her quick fall.
Wincing, Buffy blinked away her tears of pain and struggled uselessly as two sweepers flanked her on either side, easily holding her still as Lyle stopped before her. "Okay," Buffy puffed, struggling to catch her breath, "I knew that you were a sick son of a bitch, but I never figured on the kink-" she continued, only stopping as the fist against the side of her face cracked her head to the side. Grimacing, Buffy slowly turned back and met Lyle's stony face. Smiling sweetly, she gently licked at the blood that dripped down her chin and then spit the red fluid into his face.
Pausing, Lyle slowly stepped back, lifting a small white handkerchief to his face, wiping away the bloody spittle. "I promised you a lesson," he said, his words even as he nodded his head, another sweeper moving in to take his place as Willie joined him at his side. "And I never break a promise," he continued as the man lashed out, his fist connecting solidly with Buffy's stomach, the sweepers behind her preventing her from swinging away.
"Leave her alone!" Jarod quickly protested, his cries lost over the sounds of the sweeper's fist connecting with Buffy's body.
But to her credit, Buffy didn't cry out. Sure, she got an even bigger bloody lip thanks to her teeth clamping down on her lips to prevent her scream of pain, but she held it in. During the months of her imprisonment in the Centre, the one thing she had learned to control was her cries of pain. That was the one thing that she still had some control over, the one thing that she refused to give Lyle: the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Grimacing, eyes glazed, Buffy wearily lifted her head and locked eyes with Lyle, a small and bloody grin lifting her lips and showing pink-stained teeth. "And so continues..." she wheezed, struggling to regain her lost breath, "another day in the Centre. Didn't your Mom ever teach you not to hit a girl?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as a thick silence fell over the room. "Especially one that's just itching for the chance to hit you back?" she prodded, twisting in her captors' hold, ignoring the bite of metal into her flesh as she eyed Lyle's purpling nose.
"My mother was never really much of a mother," Lyle shot back, a slow smile lifting his lips as he slipped his hand down into his suit pocket, "probably nothing like yours... was," he added, watching as the girl's face tightened into a look of such hatred this his grin only widened.
"So what? Are we up for another game of Beat the Buffy?" she queried, her voice stiff as she nodded to the sweepers that grouped around them. "Because if so, what's up with the spectators?" she asked, nodding in Jarod's direction and then back towards the open door behind him.
Turning slightly, Mr. Lyle nodded at Mr. Raines before turning back to Buffy with a smile. "No, I thought up a better... game, for today," he murmured as he withdrew a small needle from his suit pocket, the weak light glinting off the glass tube.
"Hmm, drugs," Buffy acknowledged, her tone bored. "You guys are turning me into a full-out junkie! And here my daddy always told me that drugs were bad."
"They are," Mr. Lyle concurred as he closed the distance between them, nodding for the sweepers behind her to hold her still, "yet we appreciate your help in testing them out all the same. Especially this one," he added, noting that he had Jarod's complete attention from just a few feet away. "You see, this one is actually one of Jarod's inventions," he continued, throwing a wink in the Pretender's direction. "I don't think he intended it to be used this way, but I've been told that it's a great persuasive tool."
"No," Jarod broke in, his eyes widening as he apparently realized exactly what the drug was that Lyle held. "No," he repeated again, his head shaking violently from side to side as he began to struggle against his chains.
Surprised, Buffy felt her first real tang of fear as she took in Jarod's severe reaction to whatever drug Lyle was holding. "So we're in agreement," she said quickly, her eyes returning to Lyle's. "Drugs, not of the good. And besides," she added, a frown pulling at her lips as Lyle continued to advance on her position, "Jarod hasn't been here in what.. four years? Five? That means old drugs. Old drugs are definitely not of the good. Probably all expired and stuff," she rambled, her eyes widening as they followed the path of the needle as it approached her. "Hey!" she suddenly cried as rough hands were tangled in her blonde tresses, yanking her head to the side and exposing her scarred neck.
"No!" Jarod roared, twisting violently in his manacles, oblivious to the damage that he was causing himself as the needle sunk into Buffy's neck, Lyle quickly emptying the fluid into her system. And as the needle emptied out and Lyle stepped away, Jarod felt as though he had been deflated, his anger leaving him as quickly as it came as he sagged in the chains, Buffy's head released and her eyes quickly turning to his.
"Well hey, that's not so-" she began as her voice quickly died away, a tremble going through her limbs as her eyes closed briefly. "Uh oh," she murmured, seconds before her body convulsed, every muscle in her body tightening and going rigid as it felt as though liquid fire was pouring through her veins.
"Buffy," Jarod whispered, his voice catching in his throat as Buffy's eyes locked with his own, such anguish showing as a piercing scream ripped from her throat. And from that second on, it was as though the scream never ended. In stunned horror, Jarod and the others watched as Buffy writhed in her bindings, the screams tearing from her throat until she could scream no longer, her body convulsing and blood streaming down her arms from her mangled wrists. Throughout it all, Jarod couldn't look away. Refused to look away. This was his fault. The drug was his creation, built as a way to coerce enemy soldiers to reveal what they knew... thrown out, or so he thought, because the drug worked too well. More as a form of torture than persuasion. And the drug hadn't been thrown out. It had been kept and remade. Remade into this.
It seemed like it was hours later before the last convulsion ended, leaving Buffy hanging limply in her chains, her breathing ragged and her eyes glassy. For a moment more, silence reigned as everyone continued to watch the girl in stunned silence. Apparently, no one else had seen the actual results of the drug. And then, Mr. Lyle broke the silence as he waved a couple of sweepers forward. "Get her down," he ordered, his voice carrying an emotion that Jarod didn't recognize. At first, he thought it could be horror that he heard, but as Jarod got a look at Lyle's bright eyes, he realized that what he heard was excitement. A sick kind of perverse excitement at the horrors he had just inflicted. "Take her away," he continued, watching as the guards began to drag the Slayer's limp body from the room.
"Where.. where are you taking her?" Jarod demanded, his own voice hoarse from screaming. From screaming for them to stop the needless torture.
Almost absently, Mr. Lyle turned his attention away from the open door and frowned at the Pretender. "Well, since my methods of modification have been proven ineffective, I've decided to allow Mr. Raines to have a go at her," he said, a slow smile lifting his lips as Jarod's eyes turned and locked with the doctor. "I'm sure we all remember his past... successes, in these areas."
Just as Lyle knew it would, his words brought a fresh wave of horror to Jarod as Raines nodded once, a small smile lifting his lips, before he walked away, his wheeled tank squeaking behind him. "No," Jarod whispered, his mind's eye flashing to the little boy that grew up to become Angelo: a shell of a man that was ruined by the good doctor. His mind forever lost. "No," he whispered again, shaking his head in protest as he thought next to the little boy that he had saved from a similar fate just years before. And now, his mind brought forth the picture of Buffy's smiling face - the fierce fire that burned in her eyes and the strength that she possessed. After Raines was through with her, the strength would remain but Jarod knew that the fire that burned in her eyes would be lost. Her eyes would be as dead as when he had encountered her in Michigan - only this time, there would be no flicker of recognition. There would be nothing as Buffy Summers would be lost forever, leaving them only with the Slayer. "No, Lyle, you can't do this!" he quickly pleaded, doing something he never thought he'd ever do: beg to the man that cost him his younger brother. "You have to stop him. Please, you have to-"
"Jarod, Jarod, Jarod," Lyle murmured, a delighted smile aimed at the Pretender. "You shouldn't waste your time worrying about her," he murmured as he nodded to Willie behind him. Without a word, the man disappeared out the door. "You have yourself to worry about," he continued as the tall man reappeared at his side, a familiar car battery in hand.
The sublevel was dark and silent, and as Miss Parker's heels clicked on the hard cement floor, she couldn't help the childish thought that she was the only living person left... especially in this hell. Ignoring the shudder that swept through her lean frame, Miss Parker lifted her head high, her short skirt swishing around her long legs as she moved forward as though she belonged there - a look that had taken her very far through the years. With a reputation that spoke of the cold, impregnable ice queen, who would dare to question anything that she did - save those that really mattered, she thought, as images of her father, brother, and Mr. Raines flashed before her eyes. That, and the image of the Pretender that had been her life's pursuit for the past four years. A pursuit that was now over.
Frowning slightly, Miss Parker slowed and then stopped before a ridiculously large metal door, two large sweepers standing before the impressive structure. Smiling wryly, Miss Parker's eyes skipped over the massive door towards the heavily armed guards. It was evident that her brother was taking no chances in allowing his prize to escape again - especially not while under his watch. The Triumvirate could be forgiving of the mistake while under their father's protection the first time... but a second? A repeat mistake? That would be deadly.
"Open it," she ordered, her voice brooking no room for argument as the two hastily sped to heed her command. To do otherwise was another way to invite deadly action in the Centre... talk about a hostile work environment, she thought wryly as the door opened before her on well-oiled, silent hinges. Nodding, Miss Parker quickly stepped past and entered the dimly lit room beyond, ignoring her unease as the door sealed shut behind her. Stilling, Miss Parker allowed her eyes to adjust to the lighting, taking in the small, cold and dingy room with a cot and a toilet against the wall providing the only relief to the monotony - a small cot that contained a large, unmoving form.
"Jarod?" she asked, slowly moving forward and stopping as the body slowly turned on the cot until dark eyes met her own - eyes that were glazed with pain. And as he shifted into the light, Miss Parker finally got her first good look at the Pretender since their separation the day before. And from the looks of it, Jarod hadn't been having a good time of it. Forcibly, Miss Parker controlled her horror at seeing his condition: the meager, ripped clothing, the blood dried and caked over his body, bruises covering more skin than she could see, and what looked to be burn marks covering portions of skin that remained open to the cool air.
"Miss Parker," Jarod returned, his voice low and even while his breath whistled between clenched teeth. From the sounds of it, there had to be a broken rib or two beneath the smatterings of bruises. Lyle apparently had a lesson in mind upon the Pretender's return: a lesson that he had tried to apply before on Jarod's previous return. Evidently, he thought a stronger lesson was in order.
Ignoring the obvious pain that her old friend was in, Miss Parker straightened - her eyes cold and empty. "I've come to say goodbye," she spoke, her voice clipped and even. "I'm leaving the Centre today. For good," she added, watching as something flickered in Jarod's expressive brown eyes. She knew that he was thinking something, plotting something - but his silence unnerved her. As the silence stretched, Miss Parker met his gaze evenly before finally turning away. She didn't know what she had expected - what she had hoped for by coming to see Jarod - but she knew that she was disappointed by this encounter. Maybe the unknown thing that she was waiting for was something that was never meant to come.
"You can't," Jarod finally whispered, halting her hand when it was inches from hitting the door to alert the guards. Pausing, she slowly turned, her eyes raking over his form questioningly. "First you have to do something to help," he whispered, his eyes begging her to listen to his words and to see his reason.
Surprised, Miss Parker slowly crossed the distance between them, pausing when she was still a good foot away, arms crossed tightly across her chest. "I don't know what you're expecting, but you're wrong," she countered, unable to stop the snort at his gall. "This is what I've been waiting for for the last four years: to return you and finally be free of this hellhole!"
"I'm not talking about me," Jarod returned evenly, his voice quiet as his eyes locked with her own. "You know what your brother is doing is wrong," he continued, his voice insistent in its intensity, belying his beaten appearance. "This is the exact thing that your mother fought against. How can you sit there and let an innocent girl be tortured like this? Changed?" he persisted, his voice cracking as his eyes slowly slid away. "How can you let her be taken away from her family? You have me now. You have your freedom. Use it to help her... your mother would have," he murmured, his voice dying away as Miss Parker's stony eyes locked with his, her facade never once breaking.
"Goodbye, Jarod," she murmured, her voice as hard as steel as she turned and walked away, quickly rapping on the door and escaping into the wide hallway beyond. Then, without once looking back at the man that had become such a focal point in her life for the past four years, Miss Parker continued to walk away, her head held high and the clicking of her shoes on the hard floor the only sound to be heard. But just as she was to reach a junction in the long hallway, a door clicked open beside her, releasing a young lab technician who scurried past her, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Pausing, Miss Parker allowed her eyes to skip to the doorway for the briefest of moments, a battle of will and curiosity taking place within her before the curious cat won out. Checking to make sure that the hall remained clear, she moved to the door on the toes of her feet, quieting the click of her heels as she eased the door open a little further and slipped within. Wincing, Miss Parker lifted a hand to block out the bright, sterile light of the room as she moved forward... sterile being the right impression, she realized, as her eyes adjusted to the light and she took in the white-washed walls and beeping machines. It was like she had stepped from the tomb-like Centre sublevel into a mini-infirmary.
Confused, Miss Parker put aside her questions as she heard movement to her right. Turning, she felt her gaze lock with a pair of hazy green eyes, dark lashes a stark contrast to her pale skin. Unable to stop herself, Miss Parker slowly moved forward until she was standing beside the narrow table, taking in the many straps that bound the girl tightly to the table - the girl that sported just as many bruises and contusions as Jarod. "Buffy?" she asked, her voice soft as she forced her eyes to meet those of the girl. "That's your name, isn't it?" she prompted, unnerved by the girl's direct gaze. But her question was answered by a thick silence and confused, she turned and noticed the IV that was taped to her wrist, pumping in a large bag of clear fluids. Closing her eyes against the sight, she was about to turn away when a small voice stopped her.
"Too late.." she whispered, her words mumbled as her eyes flickered, blinked for a moment. "Too late for me," she continued, a small pink tongue peeking between her bloody lip to moisten it. "No help... me... but Faith... need Faith..."
"Who needs faith?" Parker asked, her brow creasing in confusion.
"Coming for Faith... Giles... save Faith," she murmured before her eyes slowly slipped shut, the drugs obviously having finally kicked in.
Frowning, Miss Parker stared at the girl for a moment longer before turning away, slipping from the room and towards the nearby elevator shaft as the her words turned over and over again in her mind, countering Jarod's final plea. Sighing, she tried to force the thoughts from her mind as she ascended out of darkness and into the light of the grand foyer of the Centre. On swift feet she started across the lobby towards the door... towards her freedom. Everything was prepared for her departure. Jarod had been a final, spur of the moment visit, on her way out.
"Miss Parker."
Startled from her thoughts, Miss Parker eyed the two men who awaited her by the large glass doors. For some reason, she wasn't surprised to see them there. After all, they would be the only ones that she would really miss leaving behind. "Sydney," she acknowledged as she stopped before the older man, "Broots."
"We couldn't let you leave without saying our goodbyes," the psychiatrist said quietly, his accented voice betraying his foreign origins as he gently clasped her hands within his own. "You will be missed," he added before he gently, and forcefully, pulled her forward into a gentle hug. Surprised, Miss Parker was about to pull away when soft words were whispered in her ear. "Never look back. Be happy and free - for us all," he urged before slowly pulling away.
Nodding, Miss Parker returned Sydney's gentle smile before turning her head to the thin man beside him. "Well, Miss P," he began, shuffling nervously from foot to foot as he eyed his hands.
Surprising them both, Miss Parker reached past his nervous bumbling and pulled the computer technician against her, locking her arms tight around his neck. Shocked, Broots could do nothing but stand there in her arms, as still as a statue as Sydney hid a laugh behind a forced cough behind him. But, like Miss Parker, as he was about to turn away, her soft breath against his ear stilled his movements.
"I need one more favor before I go..."