Chapter song: I'm In Here by Sia
Nebula
It had been nearly three days since she left Kree-Lar, and there was still no sign of Ronan. The ship she stole during her escape was unable to reach warp speed, so she lagged far behind. Pathetic. Soon, she would have to acquire a new ship because this one was badly damaged and running low on fuel. Hal-Dan, that weak-minded excuse of a leader, was to blame for this. She still couldn't believe he had the nerve to do such a thing. Idiot. Ronan will be furious when he hears of this. He will probably kill me on sight.
She considered abandoning Ronan and starting over, but her father's spies were everywhere. She wouldn't last a day on her own.
Ha, my father – what a joke. If Ronan doesn't kill her, her father surely will. Nothing terrified her more than imagining what he would do to her when he finds her.
Thanos. That monstrous bastard. He turned her into his own personal freak. Even in their infancy, Thanos showed no mercy on his so-called daughters, especially her. After several tortuous rounds of surgical modifications, she was transformed into this hideous, murderous cyborg. He stole her innocence and any chance of normalcy. She might have even been beautiful once, like the Terran girl.
Ugh. The Terran. Silvia. Even her name is annoying. Ronan loves her and it's blatantly obvious, not to mention pitiful. Love is for the weak. The way he stares at the little brat is nauseating to say the least. There was a time when she yearned for Ronan's approval; even sought after his affections, but he voiced his disinterest in her shortly after her arrival.
After a lifetime of rejection she handled the incident with enviable grace. It took much more than pointless infatuations to hurt her cold, metal heart. The Terran on the other hand is filled with childish sentiment, making her vulnerable and frail of mind. If her body isn't already destroyed, her soul surely is.
I'm as good as dead.
Silvia
Three Days Earlier
I woke up with a gasp in a cold, pitch-black room. At first I thought I was dead because it was so eerily quiet and darker than I imagined possible, like some horrible purgatory. The pain in the back of my head told me I was very much alive. When I tried to move, I quickly found that my arms and legs were bound by some kind of rope. My feet were spread shoulder width apart on the ground and my arms were suspended in the air above my head, spread taut by some invisible bondage.
Why?
A horrible chill spread through my body as thoughts of imprisonment and torture filled my mind, making my heart race with fear. I struggled wildly against the bindings, kicking and pulling as hard as I could, but it never slackened a single inch. I continued pulling on the restraints even though I knew my efforts were futile, my wrists and ankles begged for release, but I got none. I knew that if I remained still, my anxiety would quickly send me into an uncontrollable panic.
Keep moving. Don't think, just act.
Suddenly, there was a high-pitched metal clinking sound directly in front of me, instantly making me gasp with surprise. I jerked in my bindings and tried to calm my erratic breathing as the slow, steady ringing filled the room. I counted five separate clinks before I heard movement, which was immediately followed by an overwhelming light. I grimaced at the blinding light which seemed to fill the entire room and forced my eyes to remain open. The room I was in was completely white from floor to ceiling, no texture at all, only smooth flat surfaces. I looked at my bounded wrists and ankles and found thin, metal wiring wrapped around them, hooked to the ceiling and to the floor. There was a single metal door in the room only ten feet in front of me, slowly opening up, and in walked a familiar blue man.
Hal-Dan.
"What am – " I shouted.
"Silence," he interrupted, stopping only a few feet away. "We know Ronan is planning a coup to overthrow my rule. Reveal his plans to me and you will not suffer."
My lips parted in genuine shock at the news. "I – I didn't know he was – it's not – he didn't tell me anything," I said, shaking my head. Hal-Dan glared at me, the familiar mistrust prominent in his eyes.
"He is not here to protect you, Terran," he said, his voice stern with warning.
"I don't know anything about a coup, I swear. This is a mistake – he wouldn't – " I gasped.
"He has trained you well," he interjected in a clipped tone. "But I will discover the truth soon enough," he said, his voice growing quiet. A second later, another figured walked through the door. It was Mac-Varr, though at first I didn't recognize him without his usual cocky smile.
"Mac-Varr, you know I'm innocent. Please tell him," I said in a trembling voice. He stared at me for a few seconds before his gaze drifted to Hal-Dan.
"It will be done," he said with a solemn expression. Hal-Dan nodded once and turned to walk out the room.
"Wait! I'm innocent! Please – " I shouted, stopping when the metal door closed.
I looked to my side and watched Mac-Varr slowly walk to the wall to my right, his fingers casually grazing the smooth surface, searching for something.
"You have to believe me, I don't know anything about this," I said, licking my lips nervously. He glanced at me before his finger pushed on the wall, suddenly transforming the wall into glass, revealing dozens of horrible looking devices.
"I usually don't have beautiful women in here," he said as one of the glass panels slid open. Knives.
"If you touch me, Ronan will– " I started shouting.
"Ronan is far gone, sweet Silvia," he murmured as he picked up a small knife.
He playfully twirled the blade in his hands as he began strolling towards me.
"Mac-Varr, please, I swear I'm not involved. He doesn't tell me anything! I'm just his prisoner," I said, my voice rising with hysteria. My breath hitched in my throat as he traced the knife along the collar of my shirt.
"Ronan does not take prisoners," he said in a soft voice, resting the knife in the hollow of my neck.
"But I am!" I shouted desperately.
"I'm sure you would like to believe that," he chimed, grinning with amusement. He slipped the blade underneath the straps of my shirt, threatening to tear the thin fabric.
"Ronan will – " I growled.
"As I said earlier, Ronan is far, far away. You will die in here, Silvia, by my hands of course," he casually added, stepping closer as I began shaking my head. "Your death is inevitable, but whether it will be quick or slow, well... that is entirely up to you."
"But I've already told you, I don't know ANYTHING!" I screamed, struggling against the wire bindings.
Mac-Varr remained still, his smile growing by the second. "From what I have gathered, Ronan's little helper – Nebula, is it? – recruited dozens of followers for his cause. Who are they?" He asked, peering deeply into my eyes.
"I don't KNOW," I shouted angrily. "I'm just his prisoner!" With a swift jerk of his hand, the straps of my shirt were cut loose from my body. "STOP!"
His hands moved quickly, the sound of ripping fabric pierced my ears, making my blood run cold with fear. As I sobbed and begged for him to stop, the remaining last shreds of my dignity were removed from my body, leaving me completely exposed to him. Cold air hit every inch of my body, covering my skin with goosebumps and making me shiver, though I knew it was caused by fear rather than the temperature.
"That's better," he mused, stepping back to examine my body.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I sobbed, closing my eyes with shame.
"In here, there are no secrets," he said in a serious tone, his footsteps coming closer once again. I gasped as I felt the cold, sharp blade of his knife running between my breasts.
"What's this….," he said with faint curiosity. I hesitantly opened my teary eyes and looked down to see what he was talking about. Hickeys. The scattered red and purple bruises were impossible to miss on my pale skin.
"His prisoner, you say? Tsk-Tsk… honestly, Silvia," he muttered with mock disapproval, placing the tip of the knife next to my nipple.
"Please, I – I'm not – " I whispered.
"I have never remembered Ronan to be so… passionate," he said, his eyes lighting up as he gazed into my face.
"Please."
He traced the sharp point on the side of my breast, leaving a faint red line in its wake. "Give me the names of his followers," he ordered sternly.
"I don't know. I swear to God, I don't know, please!" I shouted desperately. Before I even finished speaking, I saw his hand lower to my right rib cage, and immediately I felt a sharp, burning pain. I groaned loudly as he ran the blade down my side, dragging it across my delicate skin with careless ease, making it wet with blood.
It was not a deep cut, but it was enough to leave me wincing with pain. I could feel blood slowly making its way down my skin, gathering on the crest of my hipbone. He brought the edge of the knife to his lips, and much to my horror, he licked the blood away clean, smiling wickedly while doing so.
"What are you?" He asked, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"What do you mean?" I whimpered nervously, feeling sick to my stomach. He chucked softly before walking over to the wall, returning the knife to its original place, and glanced at me with a mischievous grin.
"Come now, Silvia. I've seen what you're capable of – much more than a regular Terran," he said as he picked up a thick black stick with prongs on the end.
"Ronan gave me his blood," I whispered, feeling ashamed for divulging our secret.
"Hmm, how interesting," he said, stopping in front of me. "But that would not explain what happened yesterday in the pit," he added in a low voice. "A half-Kree should not have been able to defeat Jul-Linn."
"Maybe I was lucky," I replied honestly. Almost immediately my body became rigid with shooting, horrible pain, making it impossible to get a single breath in as all my muscles tensed up, instantly starving my body of oxygen. All I could hear was my strangled breathing and a slight buzzing sound resonating throughout the room. It was over before I could really process what was happening to me.
I gasped greedily for air and writhed against the wires, trying desperately to get away from Mac-Varr and the strange stick he held in his hand.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I screamed pathetically as he taunted me with the stick.
"Your attitude displeases me greatly, Silvia," he calmly stated. "If you would only answer my questions…"
"But I AM answering your fucking questions!" I shouted with renewed anger. "I don't know anything about a coup or whatever the hell Nebula was doing!" My throat tightened up as I fought back the urge to cry. "I… I swear… please. He kidnapped me, he gave me his blood, we – we got along at times, I followed him around to parties and did what he told me to do, that's it. I'm just his damn prisoner," I said, lowering my head as tears threatened to spill from my eyes. Stay strong. Don't cry for him.
I could see his black boots in my peripheral vision, standing less than a foot away from my body, far too close for my comfort.
"I believe you," he casually replied, making my head snap up in surprise. "I believe… that you are ignorant about your powers. I'm certain Ronan intended on keeping that knowledge from you. He never did enjoy a woman capable of putting up a fight," he said with a knowing smile. "But fret not, my dear, sweet Silvia, we will discover the truth together, though you may not entirely enjoy it."
My body involuntarily trembled with fear as I thought about his intentions. "There is nothing special about me, please, just let me go," I said. I could barely hear myself over the pounding of my heart. He returned the black pronged stick to its place and slowly made his way back to me, now wearing thin, black leather gloves on both hands.
"Give me the names of Ronan's followers," he ordered, all amusement gone from his voice.
"I don't know them!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Slap. I can taste blood.
"Give me the names."
"I – I don't know. Ple-" I muttered.
Slap. Was that a tooth? Please.
"Give me the names."
"Please, stop. I don't – " I begged.
Punch. CRACK. A rib.
"Give me names, Silvia," he demanded over my screams.
"I – oh GOD – please – I –gasp– don't know!" I cried incoherently. "RONAN! HELP ME!"
"Yes, call for him. It will help tremendously," he muttered sarcastically. "You said he ordered you to do things… like what? Tell me what you did for him," he said in a low voice.
I forced myself to stop crying so I could talk, but my body still shook uncontrollably. "I – I read some p-papers about Earth and –gasp– the Inhumans," I whispered, wincing at the pain in my side.
"The Inhumans? What could Ronan possibly want with them?" He asked with blatant surprise. "What kind of information did you discover?"
I closed my eyes, trying hard to remember what I read, but it all seemed so distant now.
"Governments… on my planet they – they are conducting experiments on them. I – I don't remember the rest. It was mostly just talking about their p-powers. I don't know anything else, please, I swear, I…" I began crying and shaking my head with fear.
I saw him remove his glove, and raise his bare hand to my face. "Shhh," he cooed softly as he rested his hand on my cheek. I grimaced at the contact, disgusted by being touched by this man, and wished desperately for him to remove himself. The familiar tingling sensation I felt yesterday returned, only this time it was much stronger, making my body feel warm all over. I heard Mac-Varr grunt at the same time, and he immediately stepped away slightly hunched over.
He was breathing harder than usual and he was staring at me as if I had just given him great news.
"Do it again," he demanded, straightening himself up.
"Do what?" I asked, my face contorted with confusion.
"Your power," he said in a dangerous voice. He took a few steps closer. "Now."
"I don't know what you're talki-"
Punch. My nose.
I moaned in pain and felt my head go dizzy as blood began pouring from my nose. Every time I opened my mouth, it would be filled with blood, coating my teeth with a metallic taste.
"GIVE ME THE TRUTH!" He shouted loudly, sending specks of spit across my face.
I felt blood dribble out of my mouth as I began to speak. "I – I am. I don't know what powe –"
Punch. Another tooth.
"Mac-Varr, I – I can't," I moaned.
"I will get answers from you, Silvia," he said with a sigh. He stared at me for a few seconds as if he were contemplating something, and then moved closer, once again placing his hand on my cheek.
The tingling sensation grew, spreading across my body, and Mac-Varr remained still, though his expression contorted into one of pain. After only ten seconds his knees began shaking and he fell down to the floor exhausted. My body, however, felt as if it had been injected with adrenaline, energizing me and making me feel more alive than ever.
Every ounce of pain I felt seemed to vanish within seconds and I couldn't help but sigh with relief. When I opened my eyes, Mac-Varr was staring at me with plain shock on his face as he looked my body up and down. Once again I pulled on my bindings to try to free myself, but it still wouldn't give, much to Mac-Varr's delight. His teeth flashed in a mischievous smile, realization coming across his face, and he stepped only inches away from me.
"I do believe I have discovered something marvelous. Your body appears to have healed, Silvia, which means…" he said, lowering his face into mine, "I can inflict tremendous pain, and not worry about you dying on me. Just think, this can go on forever," he said, his eyes filled with madness.
I felt my stomach drop at his words, my tongue became heavy, as if it were made of lead. My eyes widened with panic as he walked back over to the panel of weapons. "No! P-please," I begged as his hands hovered over an assortment of clubs and maces. "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! PLEASE!"
"We will see," he taunted, picking up a wide, metal club with spikes on the end.
"RONAAAAAAN!"
Pain.
So much pain.
By the time Mac-Varr was done, I had lost track of how many times he hit me, as well as how many bones he broke. Everywhere hurt, but I couldn't see a damn thing because my eyes were swollen shut.
Mac-Varr grabbed ahold of my arm, immediately grunting aloud with pain as my body began buzzing with energy. After nearly a minute of contact with him, I could open my eyes again, but I still felt unbearable pain across my body. There were bones sticking out of my calves, like shards of broken twigs, sharp and twisted. Not normal. Don't look at it.
"Well, I believe that should be enough," he calmly stated. I looked up groggily, still weak from loss of blood. I could see blood splatters all across his too-perfect features and that sickeningly sweet smile.
"I'm….not healed," I wheezed.
"Yes, but you will not die. Perhaps tomorrow I will be more generous," he bitterly replied, already walking to the door.
"Wai– "
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Ronan, where are you? Please, save me.
Ronan
Present Day
The scent of burning flesh and Xandarian blood carried heavy in the air, as did the screams and cries of his victims. He no longer kept count of how many he destroyed with his Ultimate Weapon. With the infinity stone, ending life was almost as natural as breathing for him. One flick of his wrist, and dozens would perish instantly, their ashes dissolving into the wind. It was so effortless; he almost despised the act of killing.
Almost.
He despised the Xandarians more than anything else, and nothing brought him greater pleasure than watching them die at his feet. Nearly a fortnight had passed since his departure, and thirty Xandarian outposts had been destroyed. In a few days, their disgusting species will be eradicated from existence, and his family will finally know vengeance. No other society will have to suffer by the hands of the Xandarians and their feeble army known as the Nova Corps, which was now reduced to tiny men who pissed themselves at the sight of him.
An abomination.
He yearned to return to Kree-Lar, where he knew Silvia was waiting for him, but there was still much work to be done. Silvia. As he stood on the bones of yet another Nova Corps soldier who attempted to fight him, he closed his eyes and imagined the scent of her hair, her silky, fine hair that seemed to flow across her shoulders like decadent water.
After another day of obliteration, he returned to his ship covered in blood and ash, though it did not bother him as it did some. He wore the thin coat of grime as a trophy, as proof of his victory over his mortal enemy, and he sneered at the Sakaaran soldiers who cowered in his path.
While he paced his chamber and sipped on the rich wine of his people, his eyes roamed across his bed, remembering the first time Silvia spread her legs for him, granting him access to her warm chamber. She willingly succumbed to him, practically throwing her innocence in his face for him to take, and of course, he could never refuse such an offer. Even a Kree has his limits. Though he often reflected on his intimate moments with her, he was surprised to find his thoughts drifting away from her tight, virgin warmth onto more troubling details. Several times he caught himself imagining the sound of her voice, the feel of her small, soft hands on his body, and her untainted smile when she thought he was unaware…
Stop this!
But he could not.
Even in his dreams he could not escape her.
There was a time when he detested sleeping; he thought it to be a waste of time, only preventing him from accomplishing more important things. But now, he looked forward to closing his eyes at night because his innocent Silvia was there to greet him. However, his dreams had begun to trouble him only a few days after his departure, waking him in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat, muscles tense from an unknown threat. He wrote off his worries as only weakness, a sign that he was thinking too much for the Terran, but his instincts were almost never wrong, and so this troubled him greatly.
It seemed the further he drifted away from Kree-Lar, the more disturbing his dreams became, and soon, Silvia appeared to him in distorted images, only fragments of a body, broken and twisted. Tonight, he only glimpsed her from behind for a short second before she slipped away into the darkness, her moonlit hair the last thing he saw.
The following morning, he sat in his chair and peered out into the cold, vast exterior of space, quietly pondering which military tactics to use next against the Xandarians, though his mind drifted towards Silvia. After the seventh time her face unwillingly appeared in his head, interrupting his strategic planning and mental preparation, he growled loudly with rage and slammed his fists down onto the arms of his metal chair.
"WHY?" He roared. He loathed himself for allowing the girl to infiltrate his mind.
"Master?" His head immediately snapped to the guttural voice on his left.
Korath.
He slowly straightened himself up and glared at his dark-skinned comrade, irritated at being caught unaware for the first time in years. With barely a nod of his head, he gave permission to the cyber-geneticist Pursuer to speak, though he truly wished he would leave him to his solitude.
"Nebula has returned, Master." Ronan immediately stood up from his chair at the news, genuinely surprised and intrigued by this recent development.
For a second, he found himself looking forward to seeing Silvia again, but his anticipation was quickly replaced with doubt and anger. Korath never mentioned the girl, as he surely would have if she were here.
"What of the Terran?" He asked calmly, trying to control his rage.
Korath bowed his head and lowered his gaze to the floor. "She came alone," he replied hesitantly.
"Bring her to me," he growled venomously.
He was standing at the end of the hall facing the expansive window when he heard her enter. Her footsteps slowly reached a halt when she came within twenty feet of him. He sneered at the puny distance she placed between the two of them, as if she thought it made her somehow safe. It will do her no good. Judging by her silence and her unwillingness to get any closer, he knew she had done something wrong, and he felt his blood boil furiously in response.
Silvia.
"Where is she?" He asked, his tone dangerously quiet. His eyes scanned the darkness before him, contemplating what he would do if Silvia had perished. No, she cannot be dead. When Nebula remained silent he felt his eyes cloud over with rage.
"WHERE IS SHE?" He growled, now turning to face her. She cowered like the insect that she was at the sight of him, reducing her worth to less than the dirt on his boots, and he instinctively stepped closer, moving in for the kill.
"Captured by Hal-Dan's forces," she said as his fist found its way around her neck. "Mac-Varr has her. I saw him take her," she hissed as he lifted her off the ground. He was all too familiar with Mac-Varr's demented methods of interrogation.
"And you allowed it to happen," he seethed, throwing her across the room. He watched with disgust as her arm relocated itself, reminding him of how vulnerable Silvia truly was and how she abandoned her there. Silvia could not heal herself like this foul woman before him could. She was trapped in the hands of that cretin and it was all her fault.
No, it was my fault. I did this to her.
He walked towards the quaking woman and watched her black eyes dance back and forth between the exits, obviously planning some feeble attempt at escape, yet she remained still as he came closer.
"They were going to kill me. Leaving her was the only option. There wouldn't have been any point in staying and having us both killed. I've brought you this news, now what are you going to do about it?" She bravely announced as his fingers once again dug into her neck.
I'm going to kill them all.
Silvia
Two Days Later
There were no days or nights.
Only white, blinding light, never ceasing, not even for a minute.
I had not slept for what felt like weeks, Mac-Varr did not allow it.
Mac-Varr.
He said I was his sweet, little Terran.
His Silvia.
He hurt me, but it was because I deserved it. I was a traitor. I associated myself with Ronan, the man who left me here to rot. The man who betrayed me, who betrayed Hal-Dan, our wonderful Imperial Minister.
Who would do such a thing?
I begged Mac-Varr to kill me, to end my pitiful existence, because I did not deserve to live after everything I had done.
I was a traitorous whore, he said, and I agreed.
I stole information from the government athenaeum and used this information to aid the traitor, Ronan, in his plans for a mutiny. I also appeared in the presence of our minister without disclaiming my possession of a powerful weapon – my body – yet another secret Ronan kept from me.
You are so right Mac-Varr. I was a fool to ever love him.
What was I thinking?
He is so merciful, even when he tortures me he shows me kindness. At times, he even allows me to choose which finger or toe I will lose next.
He did not like hurting me. It brought him just as much pain, if not more.
The whips no longer worked on my body, he said, because I had grown stronger.
I do not feel stronger.
The electrical prongs did not cause me enough pain to understand the meaning of truth, he said, so he had to try other methods.
Then he began removing my toes and fingers, and I begged and cried for him to stop, but he would not. It was for the best, he said, and eventually I believed him.
I no longer had a left foot. He severed the flesh right below my ankle, "freeing me of the heavy guilt I wore" he said.
A few days later, I no longer had my right hand. He claimed it was infested with Ronan's evil intents and foul energy.
Yes, remove it. I do not want it.
I could no longer feel my limbs anyways due to them being suspended in the air for so long. Mac-Varr never healed me completely after his sessions, only enough to keep me from passing out or dying overnight. It was the only way he could truly trust me, he said.
I want you to trust me.
I am your Silvia.
Several times he caught me with my eyes closed, whispering the traitor's name in my sleep, and I was severely punished for it. He carved the words "Ronan's whore" into my back, written in the complex language of the Kree, so I would always be reminded of my greatest failure.
I would do anything for him if it meant avoiding further pain. Some days he would not hurt me at all, but it was only on the days when he filled himself inside me. I allowed him to use my body for his own satisfaction, because it made him feel good, and I liked Mac-Varr when he was happy. He said if I bring him pleasure, he will return the favor. He never did though. But I decided a torture-free day was more than perfectly fine, so I never complained.
Every day he injects me with a strange syringe filled with thick, blue liquid, always in the middle of my neck, immediately after healing me. I still don't understand how my body heals itself, or what the liquid does to me, but I do not ask questions because they get me nowhere.
Mac-Varr does not like questions.
I wonder where he is today.
I shivered in the white room, covered in my dried urine and feces, waiting for him to return to me. Mac-Varr hosed me down every other day, which according to him is already too generous for a prisoner. He is so nice to me. A fever spread through my body, no doubt a result of some type of infection, and a cold, slick sweat coated my skin. My mind and body were growing weak from lack of food. I hadn't eaten since before I was imprisoned, but I no longer felt hungry or craved food. Mac-Varr said I could be ordered to death at any minute so there really was no point in feeding me.
I agreed with him of course.
Just as I felt myself begin to drift asleep, I heard the familiar clicking of the metal door, and I jumped wide awake in my bindings. I heard masculine shouting and painful groaning coming through the crack of the door.
Gun shots.
When the door was fully open, I believe I saw one man flying across the hallway as if he had been thrown by something.
I hope Mac-Varr is OK.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw a tall, masked soldier walk through the door. They immediately stopped and stared at me, apparently taken aback by what they were seeing. After a few seconds, they reached up and removed the helmet, instantly revealing long, black hair.
Jul-Linn.
"Hello, Terran."
Author's Note: This chapter was a bit darker than usual, but it's vital for Silvia's transformation. I know many of you didn't want Sil to get hurt... but it's the Kree we're talking about - they aren't exactly merciful, and Mac-Varr is a true sociopath. You should expect a sudden change in the next few chapters... there are going to be a few twists and turns. Thank you again for the reviews and follows/favs. You guys are awesome. Please, let me know what you think. Sorry the update took so long. I'm more busy than usual, but I will continue writing so no worries people! This chapter is shorter than the others, but that's because I wanted to save the action for the next chapter.
Also, Silvia's powers are still developing. No one is exactly sure what she is capable of - not even Ronan. I hope you picked up on his comment... when he noticed Nebula heal herself, he said Silvia couldn't do that - well, so much for Ronan knowing everything.
I'm really excited about where this story is going, and if you could see inside my head, I think you would be too ;)
P.S. - This story is rated M for a reason. It is for ADULTS ONLY - one of the reasons because of VIOLENCE. I stated this in the very first chapter. If you cannot handle graphic descriptions of violence or adult situations... then do not read any further. I am not going to put warnings at the beginning of chapters. You don't get "warnings" in a rated R film, so don't expect them here.