Author: Northern Star
Summary: He'd known her weaknesses the best, and had used them. Never had she expected this battle to go as far as it had, and it to be her losing it.
A/N: This is a standalone, with barely -if not no- shipper content.
HIS REVENGEIt would all be over soon.
That was what she told herself repeatedly as she struggled against her restraints, a mere act to show that she still had her fighting spirit left in her. She would never show her weaknesses to him.
Never.
Many times in the last weeks, maybe months, she'd thought about giving up. To just cry when another fresh wave of pain and embarrassment would seep through her veins. Or when he laughed with that cold, harsh laugh of his. But, every time she came so close to breaking down, another side of her fought, willing her to show she still had power.
But she had to admit; he'd done a damn good job at breaking her. He'd known what would hurt her most, and had acted on it, slowly making her life a total hell.
And that was what scared her. That out of all people, her archenemy knew her the best. Every move around her had been planned, all of them being slow step by step program to make her spirit crumble down into ashes.
At first she hadn't wanted to see the truth. It'd all have just been another fucked up event in her already hellish life. That he was involved in them seemed normal. He was a killer after all, wasn't he?
None of his attacks had been aimed at her physical state, but on those of others.
Logan was the one to fall first. On a simple search for a house outside of Terminal City five, maybe six, familiars had attacked him. When she'd first heard the news she was sure he'd been killed, familiars never having been known for kindness.
But he hadn't been. Instead he'd lapsed into an endless coma, and the doctors had told her that even if he woke, there was no chance he'd ever be the same again.
Still, she'd never let the opportunity slip to sit in a chair besides his bed, or to simply be able to be there for him, in every way possible.
Many nights she'd spend in his room, and she became a familiar person at the hospital. A mistake, she now realised.
He could have trapped her there so many times, but yet he hadn't. He'd wanted to see her suffer, to let that be the last thing she'd remember.
'Well,' she thought, observing the area around her, 'He's done a pretty good job at that.'
Tears forcefully pricked behind her eyelids as she remembered the second part of his revenge plan on her. Because that was what it'd all been, revenge.
It had been a regular night, and she'd just been kicking it with her home girl, O.C, who'd managed to drag her away from the cold hospital corridors for once to spend a night at Crash.
Alec had been there too, just being his usual annoying self, which had actually been a real cheering up for her, because she'd had a reason to kick his ass. They'd just been walking home, when out of the dark shadows of the street, five men had appeared.
At first they'd seemed like stumbling drunks, challenging her and Alec for a battle. They'd refused, the danger of showing superhuman abilities becoming too big. But then one had grabbed Cindy by the scruff of her neck, pointing a gun at her temple. Not wanting her to die to such stupidity, Max had launched her attack, only to find herself shoved back against the wall by one of the other goons.
It'd dawned on her then that these were not just a bunch of stumbling drunks, but it'd already been too late. Two men had held her against the wall as she was forced to watch Alec and Cindy fight for their lives, whilst not being hurt herself by any.
Soon it became very clear Cindy was losing the battle, even as Alec tried to defend her. But he'd found himself rammed to the ground, and she'd let out a yell of help.
No one heard her.
One of the men had held Cindy down, while another held the gun between her eyes. His finger slid down to the trigger, and Max had closed her eyes to not see what was bound to happen.
The soft bang she'd heard was the only real knowledge of the fact her boo had just left the earth, before she'd lost all her grip on reality, surging into darkness.
When she'd woken up, her hands had been chained together, and she was hanging suspended from the floor, staring her archenemy in the eyes.
His laughter had been enough to make her want to scream and kick, but she'd forcefully restrained herself, only glaring at him, hoping to force the anger out through her eyes.
The next few weeks had been a mixture of endless pain and comments that she never wished to answer. Sometimes there was blissful silence, but that never seemed to last long enough. He was determined to make her suffer through her last days, and to see her do so. But that was one thing she would not grant him, instead shutting herself out.
But he'd been becoming restless, getting enough of her silence. Every time he walked in, he'd push just a little further, do little things to make her agitated. But the buttons he was pushing now were almost getting too much.
It was just small things that made it very clear what he was getting at, like the ripping of the front of her shirt till it almost showed her bra. She'd not granted him a whimper for that one either.
Other times he'd sneak up behind her, and stroke her hair away from her shoulder. She'd never offer him a response, but truth was, it was starting to creep her out.
Now, as she hung here, undoubtly living the last of her days, she was starting to wonder if this was just his last step of hurting her, his last form of torture before she'd close her eyes and leave this darkness for another one.
A sudden brush of air on her neck bolted her out of her thoughts, and she sighed, not saying a word.
"Still not speaking, 452?"
She grinned at that, "I don't think it's worth wasting my breath."
He let out a cold laugh at that, "Funny how you should mention breath, 452, as you may have noticed, you're coming close to your last one."
"Then get it over with already!"
He walked up in front of her, a smirk fixed on his face… And a gun in his hand.
No emotions crossed her face, and he nodded, "So it be, 452."
Sticking the gun into his belt, he walked up to her and undid the chains around her hands. She fell to the ground, unable to catch herself with her numb arms.
Another laugh came from his throat, this one even colder and more distant as the other. She told herself repeatedly to get onto her feet, but her body wouldn't respond.
His footsteps closed onto her, and she found herself being lifted from her position on the floor, his hand gripping the back of her t-shirt. To him, she was obviously the equal weight to a paper press.
With ease he pushed her against the wall, smiling. Holding her still with one hand, he reached for his gun with the other. In a slow movement he brought it up to her head.
"Got any last wishes, 452?"
"Rot in hell."
"That is what you will do," his finger dangled close to the trigger. She knew it would come, and closed her eyes, awaiting the silence.
Suddenly she felt something brush against her lips, and opened her eyes in shock, staring straight his blue ones. He let out a hoarse chuckle, and brushed his lips against hers again. She shivered… This was obviously his last show of power over her. The last thing to make it clear that he'd won from her.
"Good night, 452." He whispered, finally allowing his finger to push the right amount of pressure onto the trigger.
Her gasp was inaudible, and her head slumped to her left side as the bullet pumped through her brain. Roughly releasing his hold, he let her drop to the ground.
Never once sparing a second glance at her, he turned away, reaching inside his pocket to pull out a crumbled piece of paper… An address was scribbled across it, and he smiled. 494 had finally spoken after 3 weeks; not knowing his words would be the ones to end his 'Sister's' life… And his own too. Though, running a bullet through his brain had not been as enjoyable as it had been with 452.
As he walked through the corridor, he gestured at Otto to get a clean-up team, and moved towards his car.
It was time to visit some family.