Chapter 2. Mama Said The Pistol Is The Devils Right Hand
There were a few moments of nothing, just all consuming darkness, and the sensation of freefalling that confused her until a flash of bright white light assaulted her eyes, and she slammed into the hard ground, leaving her winded and disoriented, and trying to blink the black spots out of her vision.
The intense dry heat was the first thing that registered and a thought of, is this Hell?, floated across her mind until the spots cleared and she observed a group of men standing around her yelling in a language she couldn't understand.
It wasn't until two of the men roughly hauled her up, yanking a limp Teddy out of her loose grasp, that it began to click that they were in danger.
She weakly began to struggle, trying in vain to remove her arms from the bruising grip of the hands holding her up.
The men were still screaming at her, fingers poised on the triggers of scarily large guns, but her mouth felt like sandpaper and opening it up to say anything felt like a monstrous task.
She didn't remember closing her eyes, but she cracked them back open when a calloused hand roughly grabbed her face.
The look in the man's eyes chilled her to the bone, because she'd seen that same look on the faces of unrepentant Death Eaters.
It was a look of pure evil. A look that said: You're at my mercy and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. A look that screamed danger.
The dangerous man smiled predatorily and quietly spoke to one of the men holding her up.
She heard a whoosh of air, felt something crack over her skull then fell limp into unconsciousness, her last fleeting thought being, the Devil looks different then I'd thought.
But then again, maybe it was better that she'd be unconscious for what was coming next.
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When she next approached consciousness, she wasn't sure how long she'd been out for, but the sharp pain between her thighs had her thinking it had been a while.
She took inventory of the rest of her body while keeping her breathing even, as to not alert anyone watching, if they were watching, that she was awake.
She was stretched out spread eagle style, with her hands and feet bound to keep her in the position, naked as the day she was born. She was laying on a firm bare mattress, and there was a horrifying stickiness pooling under her bum that she resolutely did Not think about.
Her wrists and ankles burned from the rope they tied too tightly.
Not wizards then. They wouldn't use rope when a spell would be much more effective. Good. Rope is good. Rope I can get out of.
Her body felt like one massive bruise and everything ached terribly, but she'd been through worse during and after the war.
She opened her ears to her surroundings but all she could hear was her own breathing, and the blood pumping through her body.
Unfortunately, with the opening of one sense, there was a floodgate release to all the others. Suddenly she was choking on a bitterness that filled her mouth and the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke and sweat.
Her bruised and battered body throbbed in sync with her heartbeat, and a stabbing pain accompanied every panicked pull of air.
That is, until a soft whimpering caught her ears, and everything stopped because she'd recognize that sound anywhere. Teddy. Oh Merlin, that's Teddy!
Giving up all pretense of still being unconscious, she thrashed her head until her blindfold slipped completely off her face.
The room was small, and adequately lit by a singular dirty lightbulb mounted in the middle of the ceiling.
It took only seconds for her eyes to adjust this time and lock onto her godson. Only, instead of a blue haired five year old, there was a tiny wolf cub curled up in a cage. Its huge amber eyes staring straight at her.
"Teddy!" She croaked out. Her throat burned from the dryness. "Its okay baby, everything is okay. Im gonna fix this okay? I'm gonna get us out of here, so don't be afraid, cub."
She kept up her hoarse rambling while the small wolf continued whining, but slowly settled down, closing his eyes, and putting his trust in his godmother.
Alba couldn't be more grateful when a few minutes later, her cub was asleep.
She took a few moments to center herself before scanning the room again. The only new thing she noticed was a camera mounted in the corner of the room, pointed directly at her and a big metal door right underneath. Her clothing, bag and most importantly, her wand, were all missing.
Fuck.
She wasn't one for wandless magic, and her core was still severely depleted from the trip through the Veil. But even more, she wasn't one for giving up either.
With all the strength she could muster, she directed her magic to her bindings and worked on loosening them.
Hopefully the next time someone came in, they would be undone and she'd have the element of surprise to take them out.
She worked diligently, as stealthily as possible, not wanting to alert whoever was monitoring the cameras what was happening.
Little did she know, her captors were more focused on holding down a dying billionaire, while a renowned doctor from Gulmira, Afghanistan, performed open heart surgery on his thrashing body.
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A/N: Its been way way way too long since I last looked at this fic. I was severely stuck with how to start this chapter in a way that made sense but would also have a good flow. However I cracked my notes back open and decided to go from a very different angle. Hopefully you guys find it interesting, though it did come out a bit darker then I'd originally planned. *shrug* I blame the muse. Anyways, please let me know what you guys think, the feedback really helps! Is there any direction you'd like to see this go? My plans and notes are everchanging, so nothing is really set in stone until I post it lol.
-BBP