(A/N) Hey all, time for the first of our fourth round of chapters, taking over from one hell of a cliffhanger in TunelessLyric's last chapter! Now, there might be a bit of a delay between this chapter and the next one, so at least we're leaving you all with a long one! Also I'd like to mention that one of our writers – AuroraBlix – is looking for writers for a Fireteam Crimson fic, based on Spartan Ops, so if you're interested head on over to The Crimson Collaboration forum, which can be found under General forums! Also, our Facebook account will shortly have a video of myself taking on the Ice Bucket Challenge, along with already having a bunch of our writers doing the same thing. The link is on our profile, so check it out!
OxesBox AND PeoplexLikexGrapes: Bet you didn't see it coming, at least! ;) More surprises are in store, and everything you think about certain characters will be flipped on its head – this, I guarantee!
Enjoy!
Chapter Seventy-Six – Two Stones, One Bird
Agent Colorado
Written by Minaethiel
"She hadn't tasted fear for a while- hadn't let herself taste fear. When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: I will not be afraid. For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they had kept her from shattering in the darkness of the mines."
– Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass
It had been what I considered a stalemate for two weeks.
Two weeks without any Freelancers busting down the door to pull us from the fire.
Two weeks in which we had absolutely nothing to do but sit in our "rooms" and cope with both the crushing boredom of inactivity, and the anxiety at the thought of our hosts suddenly turning hostile.
Well, at least I was trying to cope with the boredom and the anxiety. I hadn't gotten to see anyone else since we had exited the Pelicans after our capture at Snowbound. Had Harper not been in the same bird, I bet I could've easily hi-jacked the damn thing, killed the paltry amount of troops on board, and single-handedly brought the other Pelican down to liberate my captured teammates. We could've signalled for a rescue, and been out of this mess in a matter of hours. Of course, that would have happened only after killing Pennsylvania and Harper, and shooting Arkansas' bird down as well. Rescue would've just been the icing on the cake at that point.
That little daydream had been shattered pretty quickly, and it sure hadn't helped being forced to sit on Harper's lap so he could continue to restrain my arms. I hadn't had the best physicality to fight back at the time, but he was smart enough to understand how my anger could have acted as a stimulant. Wounded or not, I would've taken any chance to cause some havoc on that Pelican. The worst part was being forced to listen to him go on and on about his plans for me. It took every ounce of my minimal self-control to not react, both verbally and physically. At one point I found myself wishing for West or Utah's continuous blabber in the place of Harper's. Well, either that, or death, and I wasn't fortunate enough to receive either option. When we had finally landed at the compound that the Crimson Sun evidently called home, I had been almost dizzy with relief to be handed off to basic grunts instead of having Harper handle me the entire time.
To be fair, I wasn't exactly poorly treated. Not like I had expected. It almost freaked me out to have the enemy be so accommodating, but then they were probably still trying to stress how they weren't the enemy. Please. As if people that had shot up my teammates weren't the enemy. How stupid did they think we were? I hadn't really taken a liking to any of my fellow Freelancers, but I was confident none of them would crack. All of us were the best of the best, chosen for our immense skills and loyalty. Then again, Arkansas and Pennsylvania had been the same way, according to North, I reflected, almost hesitantly. With this thought, a surge of anger shot through me. Whoever cracked would have a death wish. I didn't suffer traitors well, not at all, and it was just another reason that I was glad I hadn't truly gotten close to anyone on the ship. It made it easier to pull the trigger on them if I ever had to.
Stop it, 'Rado. You're thinking too far ahead for a scenario that probably won't even happen. Once the other Freelancers know where you are, you'll get busted out and find that everyone stayed loyal, just as it should be. Keep cool, keep calm, keep collected. I don't remember when I had developed that mantra, but it reminded me to stay sane and calm in the face of the current situation. I had had my patience and temper tested a lot in the past two weeks, most notably when either Arkansas or Pennsylvania had stopped by.
Arkansas had been my first visitor, and only on the second day of captivity too. When he had come in I had been staring mercilessly at both the door to my cell, and the door into the hallway, willing them both to disappear. The homicidal look on my face had probably been what kept everyone away, not that I had complained. The two guards that had been posted at the door had been shifting nervously too, making me even more irate. My bad mood hadn't improved upon seeing Arkansas, though the relief at it being him over Harper had been evident. The crazy bastard still hadn't visited me yet, though he had been quite detailed on the Pelican about his thoughts for "bonding" together. Regardless, though Arkansas was more of a welcome sight than Harper, he still wasn't welcome in my presence in the least. Narrowing my eyes, I slipped defensively into a corner, more comfortable with solid walls at my back even with the iron bars separating us.
"So, the great Agent Arkansas comes to inspect one of his prizes," I sneered with hostility. "I'm going to help you out right now. The only thing you're getting from me is my name and serial number. So don't bother wasting my time with stupid questions and pointless interrogation tactics."
Closing the door behind him, he took a casual stance against it, effectively blocking me from the only means of escape, should I somehow break down the door to the cell separating us. To add to the advantage, he was fully armoured, minus the helmet, which he cradled between his left arm and armpit. None of this had stopped me from raising my head, an arrogant dare on my face. Surprisingly, he didn't seem the least bit bothered, which was infuriating in its own right. I prided myself on my attitude alone usually forcing people to take a step back. It worked on marines, most of the time. With Freelancers, everyone seemed unaffected.
Arkansas made tool note of this. Instead he looked me over quickly.
"Your wounds?" he questioned coolly, not even caring to broach the question fully.
"Fine," I responded tightly. The last thing I wanted was to display any weaknesses.
Raising a curious eyebrow, he responded in that damningly calm tone of his.
"We're not the enemy you know. We are merely trying to punish those whom have seen fit to go above and beyond the term of 'war crimes.' That includes several Insurrectionists as well as UNSC officials."
"War crimes." I scoffed in scorn. "Please. I should listen to the man who wilfully freed the murderer of thousands, shot his own teammate on the way out, and used aforementioned murderers' resources to get a bunch of rabble together to kill even more people? Who's the real villain here, Arkansas? You're no better than the people you're killing."
I had to admit, I wasn't expecting him to laugh. Surprise kept me silent, though anger boiled underneath it. What the hell was so funny? He had to know that it was only a matter of time before Freelancer busted down his front door, kicked the asses of everyone in here, and sprung those of us whom had been captured. So why laugh when his probable death was going to be sweeping through the facility at any point? Taking my weight off of the wall, I couldn't resist the impatient note in my voice as I cut into his laughter.
"What's so funny? Finally realized you're completely screwed?"
"Not at all," he responded, waving away final shreds of amusement. "In fact, if I had any lingering doubts about what I was doing, they'd be completely gone at this point. You're so blindly devoted to your superiors that you'll overlook anything. They could blow up an entire city in front of you, and you probably wouldn't bat an eyelash. However I have the resources and the dedication to bring murderers like that down. It's only a matter of time."
"I'd say you were more insane than Harper, but then I'd be insulting myself, because that's exactly how I feel about assholes in your little Insurrection. But hey, you can keep thinking that killing top UNSC minds will give you closure or whatever it is you want. In reality you're killing people that could help fight the Covenant. So way to go, bravo, you're potentially fucking over our species because you're a self-righteous prick." I couldn't help but clap sarcastically, a scornful scowl creeping across my face. "Now is there anything you actually want or are you just here to piss me off?"
He cocked an eyebrow, looking at me expectantly.
"Actually, I was hoping for an engaging conversation."
"Unfortunately for you, I don't 'engage' with Insurrectionists and murderers. Hey, you might have more luck talking with Kent; he's always up for an 'engaging conversation.'"
He still didn't make a move towards the door, which didn't do anything to ease my impatience or hostility. Arkansas obviously couldn't take a hint when someone wanted to be left alone. For a minute there was silence, which I spent sizing up my captor. If I had my armour and weapons, I was positive I could take him. I narrowed my eyes when he finally broke the oppressive silence.
"Why do you hate the Insurrection so much? You are right about the Covenant; they're aiming to wipe us all out. So why spend your time and energy fighting other humans when the real enemy is glassing colonies and burning worlds?"
"Why do you care? More importantly, in what universe did you think I'd tell you anything about my motivations?"
"Everyone has a reason for fighting. Everyone has a reason to hate something."
Blake and Aaron's faces flashed in my head for a moment, but I scowled in response.
"I don't need to justify or explain myself to you."
"Why are you so against sharing your reason for being here?"
I lifted my head defiantly, snorting in annoyance.
"I'm here because your psychotic lackey shot up my teammate and nearly gutted me."
"You know what I meant," he said in an unreadable tone. "You share your reason, and I'll share mine."
I remembered the conversation I had had with North and South when nightmares had kept me up. I already knew what Arkansas' problem was. Pretty much all of the Freelancers knew.
"You have to know that your reason for going traitor isn't a secret. Why should I share something you could use against me when I already know your whole sob story?"
"Are you afraid of me using the information, or are you afraid of talking about it?"
"I'm not afraid," I snapped harshly, taking a threatening step forward. Arkansas didn't move or flinch, instead giving me that same neutral look.
I sighed, shrugging my shoulders angrily. "Oh for the love of- fine. If it will get you to leave me the fuck alone I will tell you at least that. I hate the Insurrection because it's responsible for the deaths of my younger brother, and, as a few months ago, my boyfriend. Satisfied? Will you leave now?"
"You're not the only one who chose to do something about the… injustice done to your loved ones. Why do you think I'm here? And not still in Freelancer? Something happened to the people I loved and I was lied to for years about it. So I decided to do something about it. That doesn't sound too much different for you either. How long have you been fighting for them?"
I felt myself tense, weighing the question before sighing in exasperation.
"Nearly a decade. Why does it even matter to you? Who cares how long it's been?"
"No matter how much times passes the anger doesn't really fade, does it?" He pressed. "No price that you pay is ever going to be enough for them, will it?"
I didn't dignify either of those questions with a response, as he probably already knew the answers. He was baiting me, that's all it was. He had no clue who I was or where I came from. Crossing my arms defensively, I nodded towards the door.
"I think I'm done being social for the day."
"Plenty more days for you to change your mind," he replied, moving towards the entrance. On a whim, I found myself sighing.
"Wait, wait… are the others okay, at least?" I asked, hating the small inkling of legitimate concern that had been eating away at me so soon into our time of isolation. Arkansas paused and seemed like he was hesitating before turning his head slightly.
"They're fine."
That had been the extent of my first visit with Arkansas. Looking back on it now, his first visit was probably the more… civil of the two. However both of Arkansas' visits had been nothing but pleasant when compared to the one time Pennsylvania stopped by. For normal people, scary would be too tame of a word to describe him. Pennsylvania had definitely proven to be an opponent to avoid on the battlefield, and intimidating as hell to boot. For once the iron bars that had been my captors were actually good protection. The guards posted in the room? They weren't so lucky, not that I cared about them. Better they reap the consequences of my words than me.
When Pennsylvania came in, it had been the day that marked a week of captivity. I had decided upon a routine of at least some minor exercises to keep limber in case shit happened to hit the fan. The two guards had immediately gone rigid when he passed through the doorframe, his very presence creating a tension in-and-of-itself. While Arkansas had given off a more controlled, manipulative vibe, Pennsylvania made sure to let his gaze fall heavily on all of the occupants in the room; a silent warning that everyone was alive because he wanted it that way. Also unlike Arkansas, Pennsylvania didn't bother keeping his helmet off in my presence. The stark difference between the two former Freelancers was enough to cause me to wonder how these two were working together without any problems cropping up? Each time Pennsylvania looked at me I felt like a toy, and the height he had over me didn't help. Finally, I couldn't take the hostility in the air anymore. The choking pressure was causing sparks of nervousness to shake my hands slightly, and to hide it I could feel my temper bubbling to the surface.
"Ok, what the fuck do you want? I already had a 'chat' with Arkansas, and I don't like ANY of you in here with me." I stopped and glared through the bars at the red-armoured behemoth balefully.
Where I would've been able to see the reactions of anyone else in here, there was no reading Pennsylvania through the cold face of his visor. A wave of unbridled hostility washed over me, and I leaned back slightly, almost shocked by the force of it. Oh, he wants to play it like that, does he? He has no idea who he's dealing with. Not that it was easy to hide any effects of intimidation. Hell, in close quarters with an opponent of his size I was pretty screwed. He was making it rather apparent that the thought of beating me into a pulp was crossing his mind too as he cracked his knuckles. Nevertheless, I lifted myself off of the floor and leaned against the wall, staring at him without trying to present any form of pleasantness.
"So, silent and brute-like. You and Maine must have gotten along beautifully. Of course, Maine hasn't shot anyone on his team yet, so I suppose you two are different in that way, at least. He, unlike you, has a sense of loyalty," I goaded venomously.
There was no response except for that maddening silence and obvious loathing. Frowning, I racked my brain for something- anything- to get a response. Something to show that he wasn't the one in control here even if he was outside of the cage.
"You know, you don't make for good conversation. I could probably get a more invigorating discussion out of Utah, and he suggested I dress up as a snowman in Snowbound."
The guards, at this point, were looking incredibly nervous. Cowards. Granted, Pennsylvania could without a doubt handily beat the pair in a fight, but the least they could do was show some stoic behaviour in the presence of their betters. Tearing my stare away from them I refocused on Pennsylvania, fully prepared to play what I hoped was my trump card. The feeling of being a punching bag was still heavy in the air, and I shoved down my misgivings before spitting out what I hoped would elicit a response.
"I'll bet the only reason you're being silent as the grave is because you're still brooding on how you never hit the top spot on the 'board."
North had actually helped with that titbit of information. I didn't know how much Pennsylvania cared about the board, but had that been me always failing to snatch number one, I know I would've been pissed off. And this time… this time I got a response.
"Is that so?"
Each word dropped with a lethal matter-of-factness. It was a dare, perhaps. Maybe it was a warning. Whichever it was didn't matter to me, and I raised my head defiantly.
"You know it is."
He took one step towards the bars separating us, but didn't say anything else. The only sound that echoed was the faint sound of grinding metal as Pennsylvania's fists clenched together. I took the reaction as an invitation to continue.
"You're still not Number One either. You take orders from Arkansas. Does that make you Number Two, or Number Three since Harper entered the picture?"
No words he could've said would have matched the power of the fist he flashed out and slammed into the face of one of the guards. The back of the man's head left a dent in the wall, and he slumped to the ground. Unconscious or dead, I wasn't sure, and the other guard made no move to help him. I could see fear on his face at Pennsylvania's sudden, violent outburst. Looking closer at the fallen guard, I could see blood smeared on the front of the visor very faintly. I didn't care for the man himself – if he was dead it would make me just a touch more content – but it was alarming how much damage his fist had done with just a single strike. North had once told me that Pennsylvania was at his most dangerous unarmed. I hadn't really thought to ask about the magnitude of his strength; it hadn't seemed important at the time.
Now, however, it was pretty important, considering his demonstration of force. A small inkling of me thought it would be wise to back down, but I couldn't do it. To submit was to admit defeat, and I hated losing.
"I wonder if the other Freelancers paid for you losing your temper," I pondered, examining the man on the ground. "I'll bet Carolina never did. She probably turned it back on you since she is Number One."
Just like with the first guard, there was no warning as Pennsylvania struck. His fist sang out and impacted the man in the shoulder so hard that I heard bones either dislocate or break, and the unfortunate guard slammed into the wall with amazing force. Only then did I really shut my mouth for the first time, especially when the newly wounded man groaned in utter agony. Even with his own men he had absolutely no restraint, and that was assuming he actually hadn't been holding back. I could only wonder what he'd do to the rest of us if we faced him in a fight. His visor flicked towards me, and I took the liberty of backing up far enough to stay out of his reach if he tried anything. Walking to the bars, he crushed a hand around one.
"You don't seem to respect your fragile position here," he began, pinning me with the anger I could feel radiating through the air. "I have orders not to lay a hand on any of you… but then again, I had orders not to lay a hand on any of the men either."
He was managing to threaten both my team and myself in a single sentence. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't retort. Though I was prideful, I wasn't stupid enough to risk the safety of the team to make myself feel superior. He seemed to pick up on this. Turning away, he stepped over his fallen subordinates and into the hall, slamming the door behind him.
That visit still made me nervous each time I thought about it. Step a toe out of line once on his watch, and it wouldn't necessarily be me who paid for it. The threat on my team was the reason why I hadn't attempted any escape when my guards were incapacitated. It wasn't that I truly cared for the other Freelancers – well; at least not that much – but we were teammates. The only allies we had right now were each other, and I wasn't going to be the one who screwed us all over for the sake of my pride. Still, it was humiliating to have to back down. The only reason I had was because there were others at risk. Damn it; there always had to be someone or something else that had me on a leash, even if it was inadvertent.
I hated myself for it at the moment, but I hoped they were faring better thanI was. I was about ready to climb out of the walls with how anxious I was. If we ended up having to escape ourselves, every other Freelancer on the ship owed us "newbies" a drink. Maybe three. I sure could've used a strong substance to stomach my last visit from Arkansas three days ago.
Needless to say, he hadn't bothered with any pleasantries since I wasn't going to respond to them in kind. It wasn't any kind of interrogation, but it sure as hell wasn't a visit without purpose. I had gotten replacement guards rapidly, and it seemed like they were there to stop me from doing any kind of mouthing off. Any harsh words were usually met with, "shut up!" or, more often than not, ignorant silence. Today, however, was bound to be interesting. At least, that's what I had originally thought when Arkansas dismissed the guards into the hallway, leaving us alone. I hadn't been able to quell my curious stare. He was armoured as usual, but I figured I had recovered enough to put up a fight if the cell door were open. So why he'd even take the risk of removing his back-up was a mystery to me.
"Blake."
The world stopped for a minute. I blinked once in confusion. The reaction wasn't because I didn't recognize the name itself, but because I didn't know how he could've known.
"What?" I asked unnecessarily.
"That's who you lost. Why you're here at this moment fighting."
I gritted my teeth, casting my eyes to the ground.
"Get out," I hissed quietly. "Just leave me alone, Arkansas."
"You don't ever wonder about, or doubt, what the UNSC told you?" He challenged. "You've never wondered if it was actually a UNSC bullet that killed your brother?"
"If I doubted it, I wouldn't be here," I practically snarled back, snapping on my fiercest glare to throw at him.
"If I had doubted the UNSC, maybe I wouldn't be here either," he retorted calmly, my glare meeting his mask of indifference.
"Well we've both made our choices then," I snapped back. "Now leave me to mine and get out."
"First I would like you to explain something to me."
I actually laughed; the sound echoing off of the walls, though the only amusement I felt was how bold he was being with me. I may have been on his territory, but…
"What in the hell makes you think that I have to explain anything to you? I actually want to hear your reasoning for this."
"I want to hear the reason for your hypocrisy," he said with a raised eyebrow. "You hate the Insurrection for taking away your brother and your boyfriend you said. Why do you do the same thing to innocent people?"
"What in the world are you talking about?" I already had an idea about what he was referencing, and it pissed me off that he knew so much. But how had he gotten his hands on the information secured in my file? Chances were the information had been moved into a more classified area now that I was involved with the project. Had he risked hacking into secured databases for it? Did he have information on the entirety of our little group here?
"Fifteen casualties; at least five of them children. Mowed down against orders in front of their families for fighting for the Insurrection. Two months suspension from duty."
"You seem like a smart man, Arkansas," I said a sweet tone laced with venom. "You figure out my motivations."
"I want to hear them from you."
I glared again, but humoured him, walking lazily to the bars and hanging my arms through.
"It's simple really – incredibly simple. I wanted them to know exactly the same type of anguish they caused me. That's it. That is the only thing I wanted to accomplish that day. Satisfied?"
He nodded slowly to me, completely unperturbed. "For the moment, yes."
"Good," I said with an unfriendly smile. "Now get out."
Luckily for him, he had listened. I could only imagine what I might've tried if he had kept talking. I would have probably tried to break the bars from the ceiling, if I truly lost it. Lying back on the small bed that had been provided for me, I shifted restlessly as I crossed a leg over my knee and hooked my hands behind my head. The ceiling was the only thing that I really paid attention to. I had a hell of a lot of time to think and relax. If potentially deadly enemies didn't surround me, I would've considered this two-week period a vacation.
Still, I wasn't one to be inactive for long.
Whisking off of the bed I began doing my familiar series of stretches before moving onto push-ups and crunches. Even though I looked like a complete idiot, I had also taken to jogging in place. Otherwise there was really nothing else to do besides wall-sits. Today my guards were looking especially bored as they watched me go through my usual routine. Sometimes I believed the pair would hope that I would try to escape, if only to be able to shoot something.
Nevertheless, they were to be sorely disappointed. I hummed a trending tune to myself as I stretched, optimistic for once. These guys were playing on borrowed time. It was only a matter of time until Freelancer busted down the door and sprung us. After that it would be a pure slaughter. Smiling, I almost didn't hear the door open. My back was to the front of the cell as I began my round of wrap-up stretches, and I sighed.
"Can't you idiots leave me by myself for more than a few days? If I wanted to tell you anything, I'd just send for one of you. So I'll keep this short," I said matter-of-factly, addressing whoever had decided to join me on this day, "I don't want to talk about my file, I don't care about how big or bad or intimidating you are, I'm in the middle of my exercises, and I'd prefer to be left in solitude for them."
Still I didn't hear the sound of the door closing, and I growled, finally turning around. Surprise raced through me, and instantly I was put into high alert.
It wasn't Arkansas.
It wasn't even Pennsylvania.
Instead I was looking into the highly amused and arrogant face of Ian Harper.
I hadn't forgotten a single threat he had made, and I'd be damned before he went through with any of them. I could tell that he hadn't come unprepared either. Knives, pliers, a fucking torch… I narrowed my eyes dangerously. I'd been trained to deal with basic torture in case I got captured during a mission in my old squad. However, the word "basic" implied simple knife work, withdrawal of food and drink, and ever-present beatings. I was in no way prepared for torches.
"What," I asked dangerously, "in the hell are you doing here?"
Smiling brightly, he patted his instruments. "I'm here for a bit of fun."
"As I understand, you have orders not to touch me." Actually I had no idea what his orders were. However, I could only hope that Pennsylvania and Harper had been given the same set of orders.
"Yeah… I'm not that big on orders," he said with a laugh.
Instantly my eyes darted around the cell to see if there was anything to block the door with. Everything, however, was pretty much bolted down. The only thing I could move was the minimal bedding I had been provided with. Since that search had been fruitless, I readied a defensive stance, and, for once in this entire ordeal, wished anyone else besides Harper was in the room. Something else caught my eye though – the guards were gone. Somehow I knew they weren't going to inform Arkansas or Pennsylvania of Harper's presence.
For a minute it was just both of us staring the other down, although his 'stare down' was only that self-assured smirk and wild-lit eyes. Then he opened the door to the cell. I reacted instantly, throwing myself forward with my fists primed for a fight. Just as he had in Snowbound, he easily parried the attack and grabbed my right wrist, using his opposite hand to crush my left hand in a harsh grip. I growled, pulling back slightly and bringing my right leg up to send a brutal kick into his gut. He huffed out slightly, and his grip loosened, but he drew closer and slammed me into the iron bars. The loud racket had me half hoping someone would investigate, but I never dared to trust slim chances. Right now I could only take care of myself.
I wrenched my right arm towards me, which inadvertently brought him closer, and I threw my head towards his to head-butt him. Stars burst into my vision and I tore myself to my left. It wasn't towards the entrance to the cell, but it was away from him temporarily. Looking at him now, I could see that the only effect of my spirited offense was a slight bruise that was forming from where I had slammed my head. Taking up my stance again, I stared daggers at him, my breathing hardly lessened. I thanked whatever forces were out there that I hadn't allowed myself to slip into a state of laziness.
It was clear, however, that he had tired of the game of cat and mouse. Harper made a great show of stretching, and since he was in the way of the door I couldn't rush past without opening myself up to an attack.
"You get out of here, and I won't jam those pliers into your neck," I half-promised and half-threatened. He chuckled, flipping the same damned knife that he had stabbed me with off of his belt. Harper was also fully armoured, save for the head, and I highly doubted that I could take him in hand-to-hand while I was unarmoured. Harper laughed, waving a hand.
"Sounds like fun; you can go first."
If he meant first as in 'first to draw blood,' then I was more than happy to oblige him. He may have had a knife out, but I had to be more nimble, and without armour I could be even more flexible. Perhaps I didn't need any combat gear to win. And hey, if I managed to successfully kill Harper and escape with the rest of the team… the thought of my name blowing past all of the veterans was a tantalizing scene. With the thought in mind, I narrowed my eyes and leapt forward, with one hand lunging for the pliers, and my other hand ready to deflect any strike from the blade. I felt the pliers in my grasp and smirked, only to watch out of the corner of my eye as Harper smoothly pivoted away and slammed an elbow into my back. I fell forward, off balance, and crashed to the floor. Without missing a beat, Harper had both of my hands restrained with handcuffs and then shoved me against the bed frame to further restrain my arms.
I glared hatefully at him, which didn't do anything except to make him smile wider.
"You were so interested in these pliers earlier… Let's give you a closer look."
Without warning I felt the tool dig into my left arm, and I slammed by teeth down on my lip to keep from shouting. First rule I'd been told: distance yourself as much as possible from the pain and don't focus on it. The more you focused on it, the worse it would get. Second rule; do not display anything to your captors that would give them an advantage. However while those rules would work for now, that damned torch was always at the back of my mind. I'd been burned before by hot ovens and matches, but a torch? Not even once.
With each new cut and slice, I grew more and more furious while trying to force my muscles not to flinch away. What the hell was Arkansas thinking working with this guy? Harper didn't even follow his orders all that well, and Pennsylvania was just as bad at it. Still, I kept grinding my teeth, watching blood run down my arms as impassively as possible. Maybe if he got bored enough he'd go away. If I were even luckier, Arkansas would walk in and kick his ass for disobeying orders. The scene distracted me for a bit, until Harper sighed passively.
"You have to react eventually," he declared. Flipping the bloody pliers back onto his belt, I quickly assessed the damage, wincing inwardly. Gouges, cuts, stab wounds… Blood was either drying in streaks down my arms or was still slowly sliding down. He was going to pay dearly for each and every scar that formed from the deeper injuries. At first I thought he was going to move straight into knife territory, but then his hand found the torch.
I blanched inwardly, feeling my rules slide down the drain as he flicked it on. I could feel my heart rate accelerate out of fear, and fought against the rising panic. No way in hell could I grin and bear the feeling of being burned. I had barely been able to keep myself in check with each new wound the pliers applied. Still, I kept my stoic mask up as well as I could, willing pretty much anyone to open that door.
I wasn't that lucky.
At first it was a slow burn- more a tease than anything, as he kept the flame mere inches from my skin. I could feel the heat radiating down my arm, and once more I had to fight myself in order to hold my ground. No fear, 'Rado. No reaction. My lifeline was being unresponsive.
That was what I was telling myself before the flame finally licked at my skin. Immediately I had to clamp my teeth down on my teeth so hard on my lip that I split the skin. Eventually I couldn't restrain myself, and as the pain became a blinding source of agony, I finally screamed, stopping only when I ran out of breath. Hot anger and shame rushed through me, which only intensified as I felt tears slide down my cheeks. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, and only grew worse as Harper dragged the flame down my left arm. My legs he had pinned, but that didn't stop me from struggling wildly to get as far away from the torch as possible.
"I'm going to destroy you when I get out of here!" I screeched out, partly out of fury, and partly from the pain. "No one in this base is going to stop me from ripping you apart!"
Oh, and how I meant it! With each second and each inch of skin I felt practically deaden I couldn't feel anything other than anger and agony growing. Finally, he leaned back to examine his handiwork, and I couldn't keep my eyes from drifting down. All I could see was angry red flesh and welts where the burns had been less severe. However where the torch had lingered longest I could tell the burns were the worst I could imagine. The edges of the wounds the pliers had made were practically charred black, and I inwardly winced. Who knew how many nerves had been damaged, or how my arm would function. The burns extended down to my shoulder from where my wrists were. My left hand was slightly burned as well, though compared to everything else it was a minor injury.
"I think it's an improvement, don't you?"
Right then I would've completely lost myself to my vast reserves of hatred (despite not being able to do anything), but the door swung open, and Arkansas stalked in, Pennsylvania and another man on his heels. At that moment, Harper decided it would be a good idea to draw his knife again, and pin my left pinky finger with it. The force was enough to slice the skin slightly, and I gasped slightly as he aggravated the burns on my ruined arm.
"Ian," Arkansas said with a low growl I hadn't heard before, his voice reverberating through the room, "what in the hell do you think you're doing here?"
"Just having a bit of fun, Arky," Harper replied cheerfully, "you know how I get when I'm bored, and she's been so much fun."
A snapping retort was on my lips, but Arkansas beat me to the punch.
"Get out of there, Harper. Now! Get out of my goddamn sight, or you'll get the same treatment as the rest of the Freelancers, only your cell will be smaller, danker, and stench of shit will be a hell worse."
Harper seemed to consider for a minute, and I almost thought he'd obey as the force lessened. However I should've known he wouldn't listen.
Harper slammed the entire force of his body into the knife, and I screamed even louder than I had before as blood began gushing down my hand and over the cuffs.
"Penn, Grendel, I want him out of here now and thrown into one of the empty cells. Find one without windows, or light, and post a heavy guard outside until I'm ready to deal with him" Arkansas ordered furiously. "And get me a medical team down here ASAP!"
I fought to keep more tears from running down my face as I examined my hand, now an appendage shorter. However, there was a distinct lack of movement from beyond the cell. It took me a second to register that Pennsylvania and Grendel… weren't actually moving. In fact they stood behind Arkansas like two imposing statues. Grendel looked over at Pennsylvania, and the former Freelancer gave the smallest shake of his head – a universal 'don't move.' It took a few seconds for Arkansas to register that no movement was being made.
"I meant now, Penn," Arkansas pushed, authority in his voice.
Finally, after a few more seconds, the two moved into the cell, wrenching Harper's arms behind his back and leading him out. I wasn't surprised that they didn't move to release me. But my release was the last thing on my mind as I caught sight of someone new in the doorway as Harper moved through with his captors, a laid back smile on his face. I could see the familiar sage armour and black trim, but more importantly, she bore no restraints.
Nevada.
My armour had been taken from me when we had arrived. If she had hers back… The thermometer broke as pieces from Arkansas' last visit fell into focus. Nevada must have given him the information he had.
"You… you BITCH!" I screeched out, pulling against the handcuffs that had been secured to the bed frame. Fiery pain raced down my arms at the abrupt force, but I wouldn't stop struggling. "I'm going to kill you when I get out of here, Nevada! How dare you turn on us!"
I couldn't form many coherent insults in my head, but they tumbled out nonetheless. As the medical team finally arrived, I could barely hear them, as Arkansas not so subtly ordered for me to be sedated. It was a good plan. Otherwise I would've take them down too before I got to Nevada. As for Nevada, she didn't react in the least, unless there actually had been a flash of pain in her eyes. I didn't honestly care at that moment.
"I swear to god you're going to pay for siding with them! Traitorous son of a bitch! I should've known you couldn't stand against captivity! I knew I couldn't trust you!"
I barely felt the injection the first medic administered, but it sure didn't take long for me to start feeling sluggish and tired.
"Wait until I get back to the Invention," I snarled, no longer yelling. "I'll tell everyone what you've done. Maybe the rest of the Freelancers will help me to tear you apart! No one will be around to protect you after we catch you, Nevada!"
The handcuffs fell away and my arms dropped. Immediately I went to rise, fully intending to start a fight, but my legs didn't support me for long, and it was the medical team that caught me, gently leading me out of the cell. Both Arkansas and Nevada kept well out of my reach as we passed.
"I swear I'll get you, Nevada. Get you and everyone else in this damned base!"
I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore after that, but as the pain and anger faded away, I was left with a single, unwelcome feeling.
Betrayal.