"Who are you?"
Both men had taken a seat in front of me. The bald one had his elbows on the table and his hands clasped before his face. Every now and then he would tighten his fist, as if testing the leather of his gloves, but otherwise he was still. The redhead had planted himself with less care, with his feet propped up on the table. He was the one who responded to my enquiry.
"Sweetheart, in here I'm the one who asks the questions and you do the talkin'."
My fists tightened. I didn't appreciate waking up to find myself tied to a chair, for one. Having my questions ignored, not to mention being addressed in such a manner, did nothing to improve my mood.
"No point in tryin' to break free, by the way. That chair's SOLDIER-proof, yo."
Without realizing it on a conscious level, I had begun to push against the restraints again. With a deep breath, I forced myself to relax. I needed to conserve power.
The redhead leaned back his the chair and pursed his lips. His examining gaze travelled over my suit until it came to a halt on the name tag on the left side of my chest.
"FitzEvan," he read, testing the name on his tongue. "That your name? FitzEvan?"
"Yes," was my curt reply. "I'm Dr. Therèse FitzEvan."
"A doctor, eh? The medical kind?"
"Cell biologist."
"A scientist, huh."
I was a little taken aback by the way he spoke the word "scientist". A certain kind of admiration was a more common acknowledgement, or if there was anything negative, then at worst perhaps mistrust. Never the pure distaste which this man showed.
"Yes, a scientist," I confirmed, a little uncertain. "I'm a researcher for Cobalt Industries."
I had hoped that the association would be enough to make these men think twice about keeping me incarcerated, but my employer's name evoked no visible reaction.
"Got proof of that?"
"I didn't bring my credentials," I said, resorting to sarcasm to mask my disquiet. "This wasn't a planned event."
The man laughed as he dropped his feet down on the ground and unfolded himself from the chair. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rounded the table with a swagger that spoke of both impudence and exaggerated self-assurance.
"Gettin' your sorry ass captured, ya mean? Yeah, I bet that wasn't planned."
His tone matched his body language. I felt my hackles rise, but let the gibe slide and kept my voice neutral.
"Contact my employer. Cobalt Industries, Research and Development. They will confirm who I am."
The redhead half-leaned, half-sat on the edge of the table, hands still deep in his trouser pockets. I didn't like the smile on his face.
"We might just do that. First tho', you and me and my pal Rude here," he nodded toward the bald man, "are gonna have a lil' chat."
I didn't like the sound of that, either. Until now, my most harrowing cross-examination experience had been a job interview with an abrasive interviewer. This was decidedly higher on the discomfort scale.
"Are you working with James? Does he know I'm being held in here like this?"
The man raised an eyebrow, showing no signs of recognition. "I dunno who this James dude is. Why dontcha tell us more 'bout him?"
So, I had ended up captured by a third party. Part of me was relieved. Another, rapidly growing part was beginning to suspect these guys were bigger trouble than James and his cronies. They didn't strike me as upstanding members of a law enforcement agency, that much was certain.
"What is this?" I demanded. "You can't just keep me here against my will!"
The smile widened to a humorless grin.
"Darlin," he drawled, leaning forward until his face was level with mine, "in here I can do any damn thing I please."
The soft creak of leather conveyed an understated menace as the one called Rude clenched his fist, punctuating his partner's statement.
They were threatening me. They were actually threatening me. I let out a disbelieving snort of laughter. I hadn't gotten this far by letting myself be intimidated by mere posturing.
This far. How far was this, exactly? Who were these people? Was I even in the same country anymore? I had no idea. The only clue I had was the redhead's laid-back accent and that was of no help; I couldn't place it.
The man's smirk didn't falter, nor did his piercing gaze. Did he even blink?
"Let's start with somethin' simple, babe. How d'ya get inside this building?"
A question I couldn't answer. Not only was everything related to the project classified, I was also pretty damned certain they wouldn't believe me anyway. I wasn't sure I believed it myself.
"The name is Dr. FitzEvan."
"Answer the fuckin' question. Babe."
I scoffed, but decided to just ignore the idiotic endearments. It wasn't worth it.
"Look, I'm not answering any more questions until I get some answers! Who are you people? Why are you interrogating me?"
Neither man was impressed by my outburst. The redhead glanced at his inscrutable partner with eyebrows raised in amusement before he replied.
"You're in no position to be makin' demands, Doctor. Now be a good girl and gimme some answers before you piss me off. I'm tryin' to be nice here, but let's face it. I ain't exactly known for my patience, yo."
Something malicious crept into his tone and the unflinching intensity of his stare was getting to me. A few droplets of cold sweat tickled my spine on their way down.
For the first time since I woke up in this place, my current circumstances began to sink in. I was being held captive by an unknown, but unfriendly bunch. One of the only two people who would know where to look for me was likely captured or even dead; the other was the one I had escaped in the first place.
I had made it out of the frying pan in the most incredible, miraculous way possible, only to find myself facing this fiery-haired fiend. Well done, Tess.
It would be wiser to play along for now. I swallowed my indignation and did my best to keep a composed face. Judging by my main interrogator's self-satisfied visage, I wasn't very successful.
"That's better," he crooned. "So, Fitz, how 'bout you tell ol' Reno why an armored scientist would invade Shinra all by her lonesome? That sounds more like a job for, oh I dunno, a terrorist? A pretty dumb one, too."
Shinra. Was that what who they were?
"What? I didn't 'invade' anything."
"Let's call it trespassin' on Shinra property, then. You spyin' on us?"
The situation was reaching new levels of absurdity. If I wasn't a terrorist, I was a spy? I would've laughed, but I was too drained and shaken up by everything I had just gone through to have much tolerance for this nonsense.
"Spying?" I repeated, incredulous. "Look, just let me call Cobalt Industries, or contact them yourselves. They will confirm who I am!"
"You ain't very good at givin' straight answers, huh? I warned ya. I'm losin' patience real fuckin' fast."
I exhaled sharply in frustration. How did he expect me to respond to these ludicrous allegations?
"Look, I don't understand why you're asking me all this. What do you want from me?"
"You're forgettin' the rules again, doll. I ask. You answer. Next time, I ain't gonna be nice 'bout remindin' ya."
The redhead pushed himself off the table and strolled up to my side. He was close, too close. It was a calculated move, of course, designed to put me on edge. Unfortunately, it was working. I had to put in a conscious effort to resist the urge to pull away.
"This armor of yours..." He flicked my shoulder with a fingernail, causing a dull ding. "Pretty fancy. Even talks at ya, don't it?"
Unwilling to crane my neck in order to look at his face, I instead opted to stare ahead at the blank expression of the other man sitting across from me on the other side of the table. I wasn't sure if an answer was expected, but I responded anyway, with one sharp nod.
"Looks a bit heavy-duty for a lab coat, eh?" the chattier half of the duo continued.
In the dark lenses covering his partner's eyes I could see a reflection of myself and Reno, showing a distorted view where the redhead appeared to tower over my shrunken form. I directed my gaze toward the mirror instead.
"It's a hazardous environment suit," I said with exaggerated pronunciation of the words. "Not armor."
"That so? You do a lot of work in 'hazardous environments'?"
I snorted. "Oh please."
Through the mirror, I saw the red-haired man's eyes narrow. I suppose he didn't appreciate the condescending tone.
"The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"Come on," I said with a strained, wry laugh. "We live in one, if you haven't noticed."
After trading a quick look with his partner – well, presumably; I couldn't see the other man's eyes behind the shades, but he moved his head a fraction in the redhead's direction – Reno tilted his head to the side and eyed me with an odd look on his face.
"A 'hazardous environment suit'," he mused after a brief pause, mimicking my enunciation of the words, "with no helmet? That don't seem like very smart design to me, yo."
"It would be a poor design for combat armor as well."
He chuckled, and I suspected he was more amused by my testy tone than my comment. The muscles in my jaw tensed.
"You seriously think this is military tech?" I asked. "This thing is bloody expensive, you know. They didn't make this just so it could get shot up on a battlefield."
"But they made one for you?"
His disdainful voice irritated me enough to lift my gaze to his face. The man was slouching with his hands in his pockets, watching me with hooded eyes and an infuriating sneer on his face.
"I guess they find me valuable," I bit out, allowing all of my aggravation to come through at last.
His smile widened and he glanced over at his partner again before speaking.
"Maybe so, but we don't, darlin'. Hand it over."
I suppose the demand didn't come as a surprise. That didn't mean I was just going to give into it. The suit was the only line of defense I had, and, judging by their interest in it, it was my only leverage, too. Both were valid, rational arguments, which I happily exploited to ratify a refusal that was fueled by a far more petty motivation. How dare he dismiss me, in the blasé tone one might expect to hear from a bored cashier at a fast food joint?
"I'd rather not. My environment seems pretty damn hazardous right now."
I managed to keep my voice even as I responded. Encouraged by this small victory, I stared up at the man in defiance. He didn't look impressed. As I watched, his face drained of all emotion and his eyes turned hard.
"I ain't givin' ya a choice, y'know."
I was startled by his voice; it had changed to something low and frightening. Reno removed his hands from his pockets; somehow, he managed to imbue that simple gesture with implied threat.
I was no longer merely ill at ease. I was afraid.
The bald man was not the more intimidating one of the two anymore, I realized. He was unreadable, but that just made him a silent, unknown quantity. The redhead, on the other hand, had dropped his casual act and now showed his true colors. Some kind of deep-rooted instinct for survival told me that beside me was someone who would not hesitate to hurt people to get what he wanted.
And I? I was strapped to a chair, at the mercy of this man who looked like he didn't have an ounce of it in him.
It was becoming hard to breathe. I clamped my teeth together tighter and snapped my eyes straight ahead again, taking slow, deliberate breaths through my nose in an attempt to stay calm. They're just trying to scare you, I told myself. Plenty of bark, but no bite. Behind the sitting bald man, my pale face stared back at me with wide, fearful eyes.
"Guess you lost the helmet, eh? Too bad for ya, FitzEvan."
Reno's voice was silky and dangerous. Fingers stroked the hair on the top of my head. I flinched away, out of their reach.
"Not very safe without it, is it?"
The fingers found my hair again, only this time they twisted it in a tight fist and yanked my head back with vicious force. I cried out in pained surprise and found myself staring into a pair of ruthless eyes. Reno loomed over me, his face only inches away from my own. He was so close that I could smell spicy cologne and cigarettes. Some of his red bangs touched my forehead, tickling my skin.
"All sorts of unpleasant things could happen to such a pretty face."
He brushed my cheek with a thumb as he spoke, then traced my eyebrow. In any other context, such a touch might have been pleasant, even intimate. Now, it made me cringe. My arms strained against the cuffs around my wrists, but not even the enhanced strength granted by the suit could make them budge.
"Let me go!"
My panicked protest was ignored.
"The eyes are very vulnerable, aren't they?"
My mouth went dry. He didn't mean...? Surely, he wouldn't...?
The man shifted, reaching for something inside his jacket. I heard a soft, metallic click and then cold, hard steel touched my face, just under my right eye.
"What's it gonna be, FitzEvan? Will ya play nice?"
I froze. I just stared up at him in shock as the flat of the blade slid over my cheekbone in a slow, morbid caress. Any thoughts of keeping up a brave face had disappeared from my mind; in fact, all coherent thought was rapidly replaced by rising panic. My breath was coming in uneven gasps and my eyes were beginning to water from the pain in my scalp and my neck.
"Warning. User heart rate elevated."
At such a close range, the suit's electronic voice was audible to the redhead as well. He smirked and cocked his head.
"Scarin' ya, am I? I wonder what else that suit of yours can detect. Let's find out, eh?"
He pushed the blade against my skin.
"No, don't!" I cried. "Please! Stop!"
The grip on my hair prevented me from pulling away; instead I desperately tried to keep my head still. Any more pressure on the knife and it would break the skin, slicing into my lower eyelid. Wetness trickled down my cheeks, but I didn't even dare to blink.
Those unusual aquamarine eyes filled my field of vision, appraising me; so cold and uncaring in the face of my terror. Several seconds passed by while I waited for the stab, followed by agony. All I could hear was my blood thundering through my veins as my heart tried to escape my chest.
"Please, don't," I whimpered. "I'll do what you want!"
When he let me go and straightened up, the relief was so intense it made my head spin. I stared ahead, panting, my eyes fixated on the small switchblade in his hand.
"I knew ya were a smart one, yo. Turn it off."
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat several times, fighting a sudden fit of nausea. I was shaking. I hated the way my body betrayed my weakness to these men, but I couldn't stop it.
"Turn off the suit," he commanded, louder the second time, tossing the knife in the air and catching it again. "Now."
What choice did I have? These men were willing to torture me in order to get their hands on the damned suit. I wasn't prepared for anything like this. I was just a scientist, for crying out loud.
"Fine," I ground out through gritted teeth. "I need to stand."
The redhead stepped aside. With a flick of his head, he gestured at his partner, who stood up and moved into position on my other side.
"No sudden moves," Reno warned as he undid the restraints on my arms and legs. "Just take it off, real nice and slow, and step back."
It was tempting, the idea of sending the bastard flying with a suit-enhanced power kick while he was crouched down. But then what? I wasn't a fighter and judging by the wide shoulders on the tall guy beside me, he was strong enough to match my suit. I could all too easily imagine him grabbing me after such a stunt, followed by the red-haired punk exacting revenge with that blade of his.
Reno freed my limbs, uninterrupted, and moved out of reach. I took a deep breath and hazarded a glance at him. The man was standing in front of me, a couple of paces away, once again in a slack pose with his hands in his pockets. He seemed amused by the hateful glare I sent his way as I stood up, and his lips curled into a contemptuous smirk.
I dropped my gaze to the floor, feeling tears brim in my eyes again. Whether they were tears of anger, fear, frustration, or all three; I couldn't tell. I furiously blinked them away before any could fall.
"Suit, power down."
The weak and shaky voice sounded nothing like my own. For a dreadful second I feared the suit's voice recognition system would fail to identify it.
"Suit powering down."
The verbal acknowledgement was followed by a quiet humming noise as it obeyed my command. No longer assisted by its strength boost, my shoulders sagged under the suit's weight, making me realize how sore and exhausted I was. As I undid the clamps on the side of the chest plate, I noticed my hands were still shaking. It made the task more difficult, and the fact that two hostile thugs watched my every move didn't help matters.
It was a slow process. Each piece that clattered to the floor diminished the physical support the suit had provided, making the battered state of my body more and more evident. The suit had prevented fractures, but there were plenty of painful bruises.
Once the whole suit was in a heap on the floor, I took a step back.
"The rest too."
My head snapped up and my lips parted, a biting remark already on my tongue, before I remembered my position. I looked at both men in turn. My expression must have been a mix of disbelief and pleading.
"You expect me to strip everything?"
"I expect ya to do as you're told," Reno replied, his lazy drawl laced with just a hint of threat. "You ain't wearin' that slinky thing for its sex appeal. I can see the circuits from here, yo."
He was right, I couldn't deny that. The undersuit contained the sensors that the suit's systems used to monitor my status. I looked down at the haphazard pile of suit pieces on the floor, my jaw tight and shoulders tense, trying to come up with a reason that would convince them to let me keep my clothes on.
The redhead didn't have much patience for my hesitation anymore.
"Y'know, since you played along with just a wee bit of sweet-talkin' from yours truly, I'm gonna give ya a choice this time. Either you take it off yourself or we take it off for ya. What's it gonna be?"
The glare I sent his way no doubt made it clear what I thought of his oh-so-generous offer, but I lowered my gaze again as I reached for the zipper on the collar with unsteady fingers. This was a decision I would not let the odious man make for me. The thought of their hands on me made me sick to my stomach. I desperately hoped my protective suit was all they were after.
I couldn't bear looking at either of them as I peeled off the black, skintight garment and tossed it onto the pile. Instead I examined the left side of my ribcage in the process – most of the skin was ugly black and blue, as I had feared.
"Good girl."
Reno's mocking tone made my skin crawl. My hands balled into fists, but otherwise I stayed still, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a more explicit reaction, while he inspected my half-naked body with a mildly bored expression on his face. The fact that the sports bra and boyshorts I wore under the hazard suit were among the more concealing types of underwear was slim comfort. I felt heat rising to my cheeks.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I whispered. "You sick son of a bitch."
The redhead laughed at my accusation; a harsh, mirthless laugh that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Not as much as you think, sweetheart."
Neither man moved. They had my suit now, so what were they waiting for? I just wanted this humiliating ordeal to end already.
"Happy now?" I snapped. "Or do you want everything off?"
The derisive smirk returned and I wished I could have smacked it off his face. Preferably with the aid of my strength-boosting suit.
"C'mon, Fitz, don't be like that. We're pros, yo." He looked me over again, this time with blatant appraisal. "Tho' I gotta say, it'd be an improvement. Those undies ain't exactly sexy, y'know."
My face burned even hotter. "They're not supposed to be," I mumbled.
How pathetic I had become in just half an hour. My normal self would have informed him exactly where he could stick his so-called professionalism. Now, I yielded meekly and hoped that awful man would leave me be as soon as possible. I had no fight left in me.
To my relief, a knock on the door interrupted our exchange before Reno could come up with any more distasteful remarks.
The air was cold on my bare skin and I shivered. I raised my arms to hug myself and rub the goosebumps from my arms while the bigger man opened the door. A petite, blonde woman, dressed in the same suit as the other two, pushed in a cart of sorts.
I glanced up at the mirror on the opposite wall. It seemed I had been right about us being watched. How else would the woman have known to come in at the right time? How many others were on the other side, watching? I winced and looked away from my reflection and its reminder of how much skin I was showing.
The woman and Rude lifted the suit pieces onto the cart while the redhead kept an eye on me; the faint, snide curl of his lip never fading. When they were finished, he followed them out.
"Good talk, FitzEvan," he called from the door. "We'll be doin' this again soon, yo."
With that sinister promise, I was left alone.
A/N:
Team Wingless: Thanks for the review! I can see your point with present tense and I do want to give it a go in the future, but to be honest I don't have enough confidence with it yet to try to pull it off for a whole story. One challenge at a time. ;)