A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! I'm still adjusting to college life, and the homework is kinda kicking my butt right now. With that said, I wrote this as I procrastinated for midterms. (I hope this doesn't become a habit.)
Shoutout to AnetheIndominusChomper and theWeekendSquared for reviewing! You guys make me so happy!
Laughter, boisterous and arrogant, wrenched Nick from unpleasant unconsciousness. He whipped his head up to find the source of the sound and immediately regretted it. The world tilted, and he leaned, and the rope around his neck tightened just a little bit. He coughed into his gag; all that could be heard was a faint "huff."
The guard took no notice. He yawned and leaned against the door to the bunker's sole meeting room, where the rest of the Reds had disappeared less than half an hour ago. The conversation in that room had started hushed, but by now had reached school-cafeteria levels. An occasional, staccato burst of laughter made it through the mumbling from the door.
Nick blinked, trying to keep blood from running into his eyes. He didn't dare lift his head again. Better for his eyes to sting than for him to suffocate. He tried to take slow, even breaths through his nose, but the deeper he breathed, the more his ribs ached. They weren't broken, but bruised. Badly. And it was hard to breath evenly with his rope necklace.
Another bout of laughter. Nick attempted to focus, pushing past the pain radiating from everywhere but his numb hands.
The guard lost all interest in his charges. He cracked the door open and made a sexist, violent remark, spurring the laughter into a higher volume. But a softer sound caught Nick's ear. Careful as to not catch the guard's attention or slip back into unconsciousness, Nick raised his head a fraction of a centimeter. It was Knox, at the opposite end of the row as where Nick had been sitting before being dubbed the punching bag. Knox made eye contact with him and shifted his leg to reveal Nick's lock-picking kit.
Nick's heart fluttered. So, each member of the Shades had managed to free himself. Now it was all about playing the waiting game. They needed a good opportunity to strike, and with the element of surprise, they just might have a chance at getting away alive.
The door to the meeting room swung open so hard it ricocheted off the wall behind it. The resounding clang made Nick jump. (In his defense, his nerves were shot.) Axel strode in at the head of a lively, arrogant mass with a smile on his face that could curdle milk. Nick aimed a death glare at the man but subconsciously shrank away.
Axel glanced in Nick's direction. "Oh, good. You're awake." He checked his watch. His tone sounded more like it belonged to a child waiting for Santa Clause than to a life-or-death hostage situation when he said, "Seven minutes, Nicky."
Nick shuddered.
A radio crackled to life. Bones, there's a sit—and the line died.
The Red holding the radio—"Bones", apparently—tried a few times to get the other guy back, but nothing but static got through. Bones cursed.
Axel turned on him. "Is there a problem?" He didn't seem too happy.
Bones rolled his eyes. "Nah. He's probably just drunk again. I'll go wake him up."
As he climbed the steps out of the bunker, a different Red yelled, "Don't you want your gun?"
Bones opened the bunker door and started hoisting himself out. "Unlike you, I ain't afraid of the dark." The bunker slammed shut while the rest of the Reds laughed.
Axel gazed up the steps to the bunker's door with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Any minute now your Boss is gonna walk in here. . . I can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees you!" He turned towards Nick again. Nick's heart rate picked up as Axel approached him. The man pushed back his bangs and examined the two black eyes developing. With a thumb he wiped at a cut on his forehead still weeping blood. Nick winced.
Axel clucked his tongue, fingering the thick rope around Nick's neck. "Five minutes, and I'll pull this thing so tight you can't breathe." He illustrated his point by tugging a little. Nick wheezed, tugging on his restraints. "I'd tell you about how it will feel, the tightness in your chest, the burning in your limbs, but you already know, don't you?" Axel brushed the bruises already forming around Nick's neck from last time he had pulled the rope, only to loosen it the moment Nick had passed out.
Axel laughed as he watched Nick tremble. "You scared, kid?" He pulled out his knife and wiped some of the blood off with Nick's shirt. When it was sufficiently clean, he prodded a particularly deep gash on Nick's thigh with the tip. Nick squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. His trembling grew to full on shaking. Axel grinned.
"Two minutes."
~xXx~
Crack! I wince and grab the foot settled on my chest. A quick wrench to the side and a soft popping, and the guard raises his foot. Then, off balance more because of the alcohol than my fighting skills, he spills onto the ground. I spring to my feet, ready to take him on.
A low growl rumbles from his direction, but he doesn't move. Cautiously, I roll him over with my foot. A bit of drool runs down his face as he snores again. Well, it makes my job easier. I fish his handcuffs out of his pocket and snap them around his wrists. Then, agonizingly slowly, I lift his torso.
A sharp pain shoots through my chest. I drop the guy's arms and run a hand over my ribs. My fingers hit a notch, sending another wave of pain through my rib cage. Yep; seems like this guy finished what his friend started earlier. But broken ribs are the least of my worries right now. If somebody comes out of that bunker and sees the unconscious dude lying in the middle of the clearing, they might get suspicious. I steel myself, lift his torso again, (and maybe whimper a little), and begin the torturous journey of dragging him back to the trees to hide with his other friends.
"Hey!" I drop the guy and spin around. A new menace, fresh from the grave. Er, the bunker. Sticking out of his pocket is a walkie talkie remarkably similar to the one I lifted from the first guy I took down. I pull it out of my pocket and speak into it.
"The name's Marcy. I'm here for Nick. Now will you take me downstairs like a civil human being or would you rather join your friend here?"
~xXx~
I'm all too aware of the tightness in my chest as the guy swings the bunker door shut. Immediately the low murmur of quiet conversations rises from the floor below. The guy grips my arm almost too tightly and half-shoves me down the steps. I breathe deeply, trying to push through my claustrophobia, but it only makes the aching worse.
Okay. This plan is stupid. But what was I supposed to do? Forget that Nick existed and visit his shallow grave in the forest years later with the Flock to honor his memory with flowers and a poem recited by heart?
When we reach the bottom of the steps, I'm confronted with a sea of people, some speaking and some not, but all generally facing away from me. I don't bother trying to see what they're all staring at; instead I search for escape routes. There's a door cracked open across the room, but no windows or doors in the small room behind it. The only notable thing in the room is a line of men sitting on the floor against the wall with identically dismal faces. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize the only way out is behind me.
Gah, I hate being underground.
The guy holding me clenches his fist and says, "Come on, princess." I shudder at the way he says it. Creep. He pushes me backwards through the crowd and I just barely keep from sprawling on the floor. Four dozen eyes watch me.
I'm suddenly very aware of the amount of dried blood covering me. As I'm not the kind of girl to make formal introductions, I start off with a witty remark. "What are you staring at? Never seen a girl without her makeup before? Give me a break, it's two in the morning."
A slimy voice that I recognize from the phone answers from behind me. "Honey, I almost thought you weren't going to show." I turn around and my heart skips a beat.
A big guy, like "burly" big, looms four inches over my head. His smile reminds me about the stories I told baby Angel about "stranger danger". But it's what's behind him that catches my breath.
I register the handcuffs first. Then the white, bloodless hands inside of them. Bloodied arms. A mop of disheveled dark hair.
His bruised eyes are closed. The blood drains from my face.
"Nick." It's barely more than an exhale, but it's enough to broadcast my intentions. Just as I lean forward to charge the guy in my way, he steps back and pulls on the end of a long rope. A sputtering coughing sound comes from Nick, and I stop dead in my tracks, following the trailing rope to its loop around his neck. But a small part of me is relieved; he's still alive. His swollen eyes open a fraction, and when he sees me they grow as wide as the personal pizzas Iggy once made for each of us. He starts to shake his head, but winces against the chafing rope and stops.
I turn to address the beefy guy, my teeth grit. "I will only tell you once. Let him go." My hand closes around the knife in my pocket.
The man's smile falls. He addresses the lackey who had brought me downstairs. "Bones, where'd you find this chick?"
Bones sheepishly makes his way to the front of the crowd. "She was up top. Said she was the boss, or something, Axel."
Axel laughs shallowly. "And you believed her? She can't be older than the kid. I bet she's his girlfriend or something."
"We're not dating." I wince. It just kind of came out, a habit developed over years of strangers mistaking Fang and me for a couple.
"In that case, baby. . ." A hand squeezes my shoulder. Without thinking, I grab it and pull forward, flipping the man over my back. He slaps to the ground and moans. I hide the gasp of pain caused by my ribs behind a death glare.
"Yes." Axel breaths. I snap my attention to him. "I thought I recognized you. You're that chick from the fight the other night." I don't respond, only harden my gaze.
Another voice pipes up from the crowd behind me. "Yeah, she's the one who janked up Mike's face." I very clearly remember not hurting anybody during that fight, but whatever.
Axel strokes his chin while studying me. "What's your name, kid?"
"Marcy."
"Well, Marcy, here's the deal. You're going to give us some information."
"What makes you think I know anything?"
"You'd better hope you know something, or your boyfriend is dead."
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets and clench my fists, one hand gripping the knife. Just in case. I stare at Nick. He imperceptibly shakes his head again. I wait a minute, debating whether or not I should say anything. When I let out a huff of breath, Axel smiles in satisfaction.
"What do you want to know?"
"First of all, where is your boss?"
"My what?"
"The only way you could have known to come here is if you overheard the phone conversation between Nick's mommy and me. You've been with her recently." I can feel Nick's eyes watching me, asking questions I can't answer. Won't answer. Axel doesn't notice. "Tell me where she is."
"She's—" I make the mistake of making eye contact with Nick. He's pleading I don't tell, protect the family that wouldn't protect him. I sigh.
"I can't tell you. Ask me something else."
"Answer the question."
"I can't."
"You don't have a choice. Tell me where your leader is or I yank on this rope so hard that Nick's head pops off." Nick's eyes widen, but he straightens his posture. I search him, trying to ask permission to tell them everything. His brow furrows, his jaw clenches. He would rather die than have me rat out his aunt.
I wait too long to answer.
Axel suddenly tugs on the rope, pulling it taut. Nick's face starts to turn red.
In my panic, I don't anticipate the arms that wrap around my torso. When they squeeze, it feels like my shattered ribs shift in my chest. I hiss. My elbow connects with my attacker's face, and I hear a crack. He deserves it. I lunge away from him and pull my knife from my pocket in one fluid motion. Axel sidesteps my charge easily, but it's not him I'm after.
I see the look of recognition on his face as I speed past him. Then something snags my foot, and I have to make a Maximum Ride split-second decision. Just before I hit the floor, I launch the knife through the air.
The blade slices cleanly through the rope, uncoiling from Nick's neck and falling to the floor in front of me. He gulps for air. But I don't have time to enjoy my relief; a tug on my left foot pulls me backwards, and I blindly kick out with my right foot until it connects with something solid. The hold on my only strengthens, and I take the chance to look backwards to aim my next kick better.
A shock of pain rolls up my arm. Axel twists his boot, grinding my hand into the floor. I grit my teeth.
"Now that I have your attention," Axel says, "I'm going to ask you again." The hold on my feet gone, I try to sit up, but he signals his lackeys, and it's like a hungry pack of wolves had been released; I'm the steak. In seconds, they have me on my back, arms and legs outstretched and restrained. I pull at my arms, but earn a kick to the side. I gasp, my ribs taking time to settle back into bearable levels of pain. Nick, more confident with air in his lungs, pulls on his handcuffs.
Axel leans over me, his wicked grin back on his face. "Where is your leader?" I stay quiet, even when he nudges that tender spot in my ribs again with his boot. Then he walks around behind my head, and I have to crane my neck to see what he's doing. He wrenches my knife from the wall where it stuck and approaches Nick. I thrash, but the lackeys' holds hold.
Axel begins twirling my knife and circles Nick like he's prey. Nick stares at the floor and takes slow, shallow breaths. Making sure I watch, Axel stops behind Nick and wraps an arm around his torso to hold him steady. He raises the knife.
"Wait! Stop!"
Axel only glances in my direction. "Tell me where she is!"
Nick's eyes leave the floor, begging me not to say anything. My heart pounds in my ears, watching the blade hovering inches over Nick's abdomen. I'm suddenly reminded of my nightmare, the one where I fell out of the tree.
"Tell me!" Axel lowers the tip of the blade to Nick's stomach.
Screw his aunt. I can't watch Fang die again.
"She's—"
"I'm right here."
A/N: Like what you're reading? Hate it? Found a mistake? Let me know!
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