A/N: Just a heads up, this story starts out dark as hell but it'll get much better. I'm trying something different with this story. If I decide to go beyond a one-shot, then this story will be a series of drabbles in the canonical universe and not in any particular order. Consider it a little experiment. Just bare with me. Thank you to all that's been supporting me. I absolutely love you guys.
The coffee pot must be clogged up again. That's the only reasonable explanation for the distinct sluggishness affecting the office this morning. With the exception of a few including yourself, the office was in the grips of a formidable fatigue that most likely wouldn't let up until close to noon. You're honestly grateful that you don't rely on or run off a dependency of caffeine.
Working in a senator's office required a person to remain productive. The environment is exceptionally fast-paced even with your designation as an intern. It's peculiar because you didn't go to school for anything related to politics. In fact, anything politics-oriented bored the hell out of you. The need for money ultimately won out against everything else. You spent nearly three years as a waitress and that could only pay so much of the ridiculously high college tuition.
Frankly, this job didn't pay much either, it was only slightly higher. Without your public relations and communications degree, there was only so much you could do. Temporary settling to work in an office for a political official is better than waiting tables day in and day out. That political official is Senator Robert Hall, well known for his fairness and how often he butts heads with his fellow colleague Senator Alexander Pierce, the Secretary of Defense. It's almost strange given how close the men are behind the scenes but professional and personal life are two separate entities.
Despite not being an expert on the matter, you feel as though people should only choose to work in the affairs of the state if they truly have a passion for it. You believe that wholeheartedly since your own experience hasn't been all that rewarding. The job is easily one of the most mind-melting jobs anyone can get. Your job is just that. You do what's asked of you, take your pay, then go home. That's really all it is. You suppose you'll stick it out until you obtain your degree or a better opportunity presents itself.
From behind your small desk, you took another sip of your green tea. All you do is print papers, occasionally send an email, and sometimes go out to get someone's specially prepared latté. Not ideal but it could be worse. As of now, you can enjoy the pleasantness of the office before it turns hectic, then you'll conveniently take your lunch break.
Right on cue, your co-worker Amy scooted her chair towards your desk, that goofy look plastered over her face. One thing about her, she was never too tired to exchange gossip early in the morning.
"Did you hear? Mr. Hall's supposed to be going to a big meeting today with the security council."
"Over what?" You feigned interest.
She shrugged. "Who knows. The higher ups aren't gonna tell us."
"Well, most of that stuff is confidential. How do you know there's supposed to be a meeting today anyway?"
"I heard Senator Hall talking on the phone about it when he left this morning."
"You know...you can get into serious trouble for listening and relaying that kind of information."
"Who's gonna tell?" She responded in a playful tone before moving her chair back to her desk.
The way she did it made you crack a smile.
A ring of a phone here, the rustle of paper there - surely life isn't supposed to be this mundane. With only a select few up and actually on the move, the rest were resigned to their desk work.
By the fifth hour, you were just ready to go home and rub your feet together in bed. Maybe put on a good movie if you were in the mood.
"Hey _, you mind printing off me a few copies of these?" The man tries to hand you a few papers.
"Why can't you print them yourself? You have two working arms and legs." You protested.
Liam then scratches the back of his head nervously, a flush appearing over his face. "The printer at my desk is jammed and I don't know how to use the printer in the breakroom."
"That's pitiful Liam."
"Please...you'll save me the embarrassment of asking someone else."
"Fine. But you're buying my lunch today."
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Are you delusional?" You shot back, rising from your desk with a labored sigh and taking the papers.
"You can't blame a guy for trying."
"Mmhh."
Though you hate how menial tasks like these made you seem like an errand girl, you didn't mind helping someone out if they needed it. Liam was a nice guy, a little air headed at times but certainly nice. Him and Amy were the first people you befriended when you started out despite them being slightly older than you. Plus they didn't exclusively refer to you as the 'new intern' and nothing else like the majority of the other people in the office did. Nor did the pair have the same condescending and dismissive attitudes as the other employees did when it came to you. Not only that but you've come across the occasional micro-aggression or incentive comment. You made sure to pay HR a visit each time because you don't think you should let anything slide. You'd be doing yourself a disservice by doing so. This of course, caused some tension in the office but you didn't care. It had to be done so if another intern with the same skin color as yours came in they would be treated fairly.
The breakroom is moderately empty by the time you reach it, a bit unusual since it was nearing lunch. You've barely positioned the first sheet of paper on the machine and pressed the button before a loud explosion sends you careening straight to the floor - the sheer sound of it is almost deafening. You land right on your elbow and it causes a shockwave of pain to radiate throughout your arm.
There are three more loud explosions in counting and all you can hear is the terrified cries of your co-workers over the blasts. There's too much going on for you to calmly process.
Stumbling to your feet, thin smoke clouds have begun to invade the space in alarming amounts. Afterwards, gunshots filled the air. From the sounds of screaming and multiple gunshots, pure pandemonium has erupted within the office.
The sudden firing of gunshots in the air makes you drop back down to the floor and your confusion is increased.
Just what the hell was happening.
The blinds of the breakroom were open enough just where you could see a fraction of what was taking place. You couldn't believe what you were seeing.
Men dressed as police officers had stormed the office and were opening fire on every person in sight. They swept through the place with their arsenal of weapons like it was nothing. Your co-workers were getting shot down as they tried to flee and take cover. A literal massacre was unfolding before your eyes. They were strategically, systematically murdering every single person in the office and they wouldn't stop until they'd killed everyone. Including you.
It wouldn't be in their best interests to leave a potential witness behind. Regardless of everything, these men came to kill. And under no circumstances will there be any negotiating.
Given how through they're being in making sure that everyone was dispatched, they would probably do a sweep of the building. This hiding spot, if it could even be called that, wouldn't keep you safe for long. You felt trapped. As much as you want to, you can't move from where you are at this juncture. You stand a good chance of getting caught and you can't outrun a bullet.
It's a strange feeling, watching the people you've worked with for over a year get gunned down so viciously. You couldn't see Liam or Amy from your low vantage point but you knew. You just knew. You suppressed a shiver as it tried to run through your body.
You're in shock that such a slow morning has turned into a violent fight for survival. Nothing could've prepared you for anything like this. Were you next? No. A bullet to the brain couldn't be your fate. Your fight or flight response is starting to kick in.
From the group of roughly six men shooting, one stood out from the pack. The man was clad in black leather and tactical gear. While his face was mostly obscured by goggles and a mask, his long brown hair stopped just above his shoulders. Strange of all, the dark skulking figure had what looked to be a metal arm with a red star on it. He seemed to carry the darkest aura around him.
There was no time to work out the why's, how's, and what's - to get out of this situation alive, you needed the perfect opportunity to escape. Instead of determining a reasoning for the men's motives, this would be the opportune time to look for an escape route. Your car keys were in your purse and your purse was locked in your designated desk upfront. Surely they couldn't have blocked all the exits to the building. The front entrance was clearly a no go since that's where the attackers made their grand entrance. So an escape through the front entrance wasn't possible in any capacity. Since the men seemingly have no idea where you're hiding, you decide that it's time to take a chance.
Just as you've finally built up enough courage to move from your hiding place, the masked man sends the most bone-chilling, death glare at the window. You wanted to desperately believe that he can't see you behind the glass barrier but the way his trained glare is piercing into your eyes, it's evident that you've been made in that moment.
Your heart rate accelerates.
A split second passes before the automatic the man is holding is aimed squarely in your direction and you barely have time to duck. Glass shrapnel is sent flying all around due to the window coverage being decimated by a hail of bullets. Your arms shot up to shield your head and face from the flying debris. With that you need no further prompting. Your legs start moving of their own accord, pulling you up and sending you bolting from the room. Narrowly missing getting hit as you speed down the opposite hallway.
Running from the room, you get a small glimpse of the carnage around the main area - bloodied bodies are spread out over chairs, desks, and the floor. It's an entirely jarring sight - one you can never forget.
Fear twisted painfully inside your gut as you frantically ran down multiple hallways with no clear direction of where you were headed. You didn't dare look back. You wouldn't be able to handle seeing that you were being actively pursued by a dangerous assailant. Your eyes were darting right to left in terror, you've never been so afraid in your life.
With your feet beating across the floor so fast you nearly tripped up a couple of times. Falling at a time like this could end up costing you your life. That's not a mistake you want to make. You could not fight the rising panic in you the harder you ran.
Where is the fucking exit?
During your employment, you've managed to memorize some of the building enough to get around without any problems. But in your panicked state you can't remember a single thing. Your thoughts are absolutely frantic to the point of being incomprehensible.
Just get out. Get out. Get out. That was the extent of your thought process.
Every time you passed by a room that wasn't an exit, it alarmed you even further. It was only a matter of time before he caught up with you. That couldn't happen. You had to think fast, think logically. A hard state of mind to achieve when you're fleeing from a person that meant to do you harm.
Everything seemed like a blur. You'd forgotten just how much you hated the feeling of being chased. Being in the thick of the experience has your anxiety up at dangerous levels.
A feeling of recognition washed over you when you reached a specific hallway. You knew that there was an exit close nearby. You wanted to cry out in relief only you weren't out of the woods yet. In fact you could make out the sound of heavy boots moving in an even pace just behind you. It was further motivation for you to pick up the pace.
When the heavy door came into view once you rounded the corner you felt something whiz close by your ear, a bullet no doubt.
This guy, whoever he was, was really trying to take your head off your shoulders and if you were any slower he might've done just that. He had to be an expert marksman, you just were trying to give him a clear shot.
You ended up running into the door with enough force that it should've hurt on impact but the adrenaline coursing through you made it hard to feel any pain. Even with the outside air rapidly filling your lungs, you didn't cease the mad dash towards safety.
There's people calmly walking around, completely oblivious to a woman in slacks and flats barreling towards them with all she had. As a matter of fact, some of them actually glanced at you like you were crazy. They had no idea the horror you'd just witnessed and you weren't on the type of time where you could stop and explain it to them.
He would probably pursue you until you were out of sight or he ultimately killed you. It was likely the latter. In the moment, you're thankful that you ran track in school, otherwise you'd probably be very dead.
The stretch of pavement on the side of the building was longer than you could ever remember it being. If you were able to make it down the stretch and turn either corner then he would no longer be able to see you. Thus preventing him from having a clear shot, otherwise you're a sitting duck.
Behind you the sound of the door bursting open, likely off its hinges, forced your heart into your throat.
The wind hit your lungs pretty hard and fatigue would soon set in. You ran with everything you had.
Just as you reached the end of the alleyway, another shot rang off in the distance. A woman that just so happened to be passing as you hit the corner like a bat out of hell, fell in a lifeless heap onto the pavement. You felt your stomach drop as the bullet intended for you struck her right in the side of the head.
This time you did stop.
A woman walking her dog in the vicinity screamed. Some people rushed over to attend to the fallen woman, unaware that it was too late for anything to be done. Others were coming.
Your stomach lurched at the sight. Suddenly, you felt numb all over. "Oh god…"
"I'm so sorry…"
Staring down at her with wide eyes, you tried to remind yourself of the current threat. You had to keep moving in spite of. Who knew how long the threat on your life would be extended for.
You gave the deceased woman a look before you turned and fled.
It was hours later when you were able to make it to your apartment in one, shaken, sweaty piece. The first thing you decided to do was shower not just to get rid of the sweat clinging to you but also to wash away all of the guilt as well.
How does one cope after a traumatic experience?
Today was perhaps the worst day of your natural born life and you were speaking candidly. You're honestly having trouble acknowledging that it actually happened.
A few people have reached out to you in order to make sure you were alright once the incident hit the news. Though you did respond via text, you could not bring yourself to answer any of the calls. It was clearly an attempt on your part to avoid talking about what you'd seen though it's not something that can be forgotten so easily. It hangs at the forefront of your mind like a conspicuous headache you can't shake. Every time the tears started to well up, you blinked them away before they could fall.
It's safe to make the observation that you're still in shock. Your mind just keeps replaying everything over and over. As long as you lived you could never forget the image of their bloodied corpses scattered all over. You wanted to think that Liam and Amy had somehow survived but you know it's just wishful thinking at this point. Pain filled your head and heart simultaneously and you nearly doubled over. All of the people you've worked with for the past year, all dead. Gone forever. They didn't deserve that - it was a needless slaughter.
Under the threat of crying, you grit your teeth together.
Truthfully, you don't know how to cope with what you witnessed. You were too paranoid to go straight to the police. How can you inform the police about the police? You couldn't risk it after you fought so hard to stay alive. What if the man and your pursuer were lying in wait for you?
You're not naïve. Eventually, someone would come looking for you and you would be forced to tell what you saw. The authorities would probably be knocking at your door soon, it's only a wonder they hadn't shown up sooner. They probably had to sort through the victims and ID them first. Your stomach promptly turned at the thought. The sight of the dead woman's lifeless eyes remained burned into your mind's eye. Bile was trying to force itself up your throat, lightly burning your esophagus as you willed it back down.
She only got hit because of you. An innocent bystander that just so happened to be walking by. That meant her death was on your hands. It was your fault. You wished you could go back in time and prevent it from ever happening.
Closing your eyes tightly, you sat on the edge of your bed biting at your bottom lip since sleep couldn't find you. Turning on the tv was literally the worst thing you could do and yet you couldn't resist the urge. You need to know what was being said - what was the reason behind all the loss of life and destruction. To further the point, there was no real justification for the massacre. The news anchors all spoke about the mass shooting as if it was the result of some random attack perpetrated by radicalized terrorists. Sadly, you don't really know if there's any truth to it. You only knew what you saw - a coordinated assault carried out by a band of dangerous men.
"Senator Robert Hall, whose office was the target of the attack, could not be reached for comment since he was found shot dead in his transport vehicle along with his secretary and personal driver. Sources say he was preparing to arrive at a hearing at the U.S Senate."
The blood in your veins turned to ice and your mouth nearly hit the floor. No. Mr. Hall couldn't be dead. Whoever was behind the attack at the office had to have murdered him as well. There was no way around it.
You feel a combination of many things - fear, helplessness, guilt, sadness. It all went hand in hand. A stinging ache radiated throughout your chest the longer you listened to the broadcast.
"The FBI have no suspects at this point in time and will continue with the investigation as it unfolds."
Why was the office targeted in such a manner? And to find out that your employer was dead as well. It was all too eerie.
So much was weighing on your psyche that you couldn't even will yourself to eat anything. You're unable to concentrate on one thing at a time, your mind everywhere but the present. You're unnecessarily jumpy at every little noise. Truthfully you can't recall a time where you've been so overly alert. You don't even want to think of the damage the experience might do to your subconscious.
Feeling a headache coming on, you rubbed at your temples. The headache can partly be attributed to stress, the rest is simply hunger. The notion of consuming food at this juncture feels forced on your part but going to bed on an empty stomach would only make it harder for you to sleep and you can't afford to be up all night with your intrusive thoughts. In that instant, your stomach chose to growl for the tenth time. You knew your body well enough to know that ignoring it would only make the cramps that much worse. With that in mind, you chose to compel your drained to make the trek into the kitchen.
The quietness of the apartment is uninterrupted save for your bare feet padding across the floor. It was mostly dark with the exception of your bedroom which was illuminated by the tv and you didn't bother turning on a light, since some light from the kitchen window was coming in due to the blinds being drawn back. You make a note to close them when you finish.
A sandwich should at least abate your hunger enough for you to finally rest. Procuring the bread from the bread box, you then opened the fridge and pulled out the container of meat. Most of your actions don't require much thought, you were just moving in a mechanical fashion. You were barely even focused on the tedious task of making a sandwich.
You don't know why you just became acutely aware that you weren't alone, it was just an unexplainable feeling. The feeling being the strange, unconventional sense of feeling like you're being watched. In an act that was done absentmindedly, you glanced upward, subsequently locking eyes with a pair of terrifyingly familiar goggles. There's a murder in your kitchen watching you. He blinded in nicely with his black and leather attire, regarding you with a cold stare. The fear you felt in that instant paralyzed you, you're shaken to your core.
He tracked you down. He'd come back to finish the job. You should've known. The first escape wasn't enough to lull you into a false sense of security
Presently, how he managed to break into your place didn't overly concern you. The man is clearly an expert at what he does, breaking into someone's place is probably child's play. That thing that did concern you however, was how he got in when you lived on the sixth floor of the apartment building. It's likely he came through the window...the explanation was as simple as it gets but that didn't mean you were off base.
Just how long had he been sitting in the dark corner waiting for you?
The air surrounding the space was overwrought with deadly tension.
The man sat at the table like an inanimate object. The calculating stare the unknown man was giving you chilled you right down to the bone. It's mostly his inaction that scared you.
Sheer panic surged throughout your entire being at that exact moment yet you were too frightened to move. In spite of that, you couldn't shake the instinct to fight or flee when it came to persevering your life.
In the midst of the mounting tension, your eyes unconsciously darted towards the hallway then back to the sitting intruder. In retrospect, it was probably a foolish thing to do since it more or less let him know what your next move would be. For the second time, adrenaline was crashing heavily through your system.
Faster than your brain can even process, your right hand is taking a hold of an empty skillet on the stove and lobbing it in his direction. You didn't stay around to see if you hit the intended target, you just bolted down the hallway to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.
The police couldn't get there in time to stop him from murdering you. You've seen firsthand what he can do. Your breathing pattern had begun to sound like you were hyperventilating more than anything else.
He was fast, faster than you ever thought a human could possibly be. When you're halfway out of the window trying to get down the fire escape, he bursts through the door like it's nothing.
His grip around your ankle is strong, resolute. You don't stand a chance. He pulls you back into the apartment and tosses you into the plaster, your back explodes in sheer unsaturated agony. All of the air felt like it'd gotten knocked out of your chest upon impact. You fell to the floor in a wounded heap, yelping in pain. Pieces of your shattered bedroom door lay scattered all over the floor. In an attempt to get up, you pressed a hand to your back only to recoil in agony.
There was nothing in your life you'd done to warrant being beaten and hunted like this. He was throwing you around the room like a ragdoll.
Still, you refused to believe that all your running and fighting was in vain. You had to do something. Quick thinking had you crawling across the floor towards your nightstand where mace and a stun gun were stored just for an instance of home invasion.
One of his hands swiftly snatches up your left wrist, squeezing the bone there cruelly. The pain in your wrist could not be ignored and you whined as the pain in your wrist started to pulse.
He's on you before you even get the chance to open the drawer. You attempt screaming at the top of your lungs but a blow to your face quiets you immediately. All the fight in you departs, leaving you completely defenseless. The hit has left you dazed, your head throbbing.
He glared down at you with an emotional cowl and you stiffened. The man's eyes show no life in them whatsoever. Taking everything into account, he provided a terrifying visage of darkly coiled power waiting to pounce on you. A bulky, metallic hand came up to retch your hair back painfully, possibly in an attempt to appease his sadism. The manhandling was uncalled for. What did he get out of this? What did he get from torturing you like this?
In a move that was mostly accidental, your hand went for his face, unintentionally knocking his mask away from his face. And you were shocked at what you saw. Disheveled dark tresses lay haphazardly over his piercing blue eyes and pale face. You would go so far as to call him handsome if he didn't look so dead inside. The whole time his mouth remained set in a straight line.
Then without any warning, biting metal slid around your neck and your breathing hitched. The feeling of his metal hand around your neck caused a sliver of exhilaration to shoot through you. You can't deny that you also feel the slightest bit sickened with your reaction. That realization fell to the background as you realized that he was applying too much pressure for you to breathe normally. You can barely pull in air but you doubted he cared.
You suddenly feel your pajama pants being ripped away from your lower half.
With him restraining you and restricting your airway your thoughts are racing. You don't understand what the hell he's doing or what caused the sudden shift - why he's stripping you of your clothing. All the while, he never released the grip on your neck. The intruder then sheathed his shocking warm shaft into your unprepared entrance with no means of protection or care for your well-being whatsoever. The sensation of which was blinding.
Never once did you think his actions would have any sexual intent behind them. You just couldn't believe that your body was submitting to his twisted whims so easily, though it wasn't like you had much of a choice.
Immediately, he set an unbearably demanding pace. He's using your body as if it were a toy, depriving you of oxygen. The grip beyond heavy and arresting - your windpipe was so close to being crushed. The rough handling was still shocking despite him attempting to kill you hours earlier.
Next you're being positioned on your front with your hips hitched upwards. The surface of the floor is uncomfortably cold. You're allowed air for a few moments before he's bringing his whole arm around your neck in an effective chokehold, with his elbow resting on the floor beneath you. The way the cold, bionic arm is strategically positioned at your neckline, it's in all likelihood being utilized to bear a portion of his weight. In this position he applied twice as much choking pressure as before. You gasped at the sensation it produced.
Afterward, he increased in speed and pressure, remaining completely silent to your pleas. With the majority of his body weight molded to your back, the heaviness was keeping you pressed to the floor. He started jackhammering into you with the force of a power drill.
It was all raw power and dominance.
By this point, the hold was gradually tightening and your lungs were screaming for air. A trail of saliva had begun to drip down your chin onto the floor. It's impossible for your mind to function properly. The lack of air created the most euphoric feeling.
Why did it have to hurt so good?
From your core, a burst of warmth started swirling deep from the pits of your stomach. Nothing in this context shouldn't be arousing. He's literally a murder and you're his target. His exerting dominance over you, choking was a means of putting fear into your heart. In a way, he was taking his aggression out on you. Each stroke of hard dick was merciless.
Before long, you were reduced to a panting, sweaty mess unable to draw in much air. The hard thrusts and the hand around your throat was all you could focus on. You're trapped between gasping for air and moaning out, hand clawing at the heavy arm squeezing your throat. You just weren't capable of making coherent sounds. The choked cries of ecstasy were having absolutely no bearing on him.
How can you derive pleasure after everything you've been through?
You try to suck in as much air as you can in your disoriented state, your nails are dragging over the floor wildly. You can feel the vibrations of choked out cries from deep within your throat. The deep, shallow pounding of your cunt was causing you to fall apart at the seams. The pressure in your skull started to mount to alarming levels - your vision rapidly fading. Blood is pounding in your ears, awareness waning out.
The fast rhythm has you immoderately dizzy, like you're floating on nothing. He might actually end up killing you after all. He seemed to be ringing the very life out of you even while he carried out the back-breaking thrusts.
You're the closest to death as you ever thought you could be, dangerously caught in a storm of rapture.
Everything fades to black.
It's morning when you finally awake. The window where you tried to escape is still open, the wind from outside lightly moving the billowing curtains. The first thing you register is the hardness of the floor and how cold your limbs are stretched out. It's because of that you don't immediately decide to pull yourself up. There's a brief moment where you think you might be dead but you doubt the afterlife looked exactly like your bedroom.
It's only when your full awareness comes through or you realize you're aching. Everywhere. Your wrist still feels fractured. The skin on your neck feels raw and mangled. You don't even remember passing out. What exactly happened after you fainted? And why are you not dead?
Of course, you weren't shot or strangled to death but you don't think what he did to you last night is the better alternative.
He probably was long gone by now. Yet he'd left no trace that he was even there. It's to be expected.
After a while, you gather the strength to lift your upper body from the stomach, grimacing at the strain. You're still lightheaded. Worst of all, your back feels sticky - like you fell in something and it ended up drying on your skin. You know exactly what it is, there's no need to question it. And you don't know how you're supposed to feel about it. You're so confused. So lost in what's going on with your life at the moment. You just don't understand. You have all these questions and no answers.
What's next for you?
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