tw: psychological torture, non-consensual touching/sexual violence, threats of sexual assault, graphic descriptions of physical assault, gun violence/gunshot wounds
Chris wonders what color the sky is and tries to imagine a sunrise. Pained cries and satisfied grunts float through the vents on-and-off, the girls' tormented faces seared in her mind, and she tries to tune it out for her own sanity as her hands subconsciously try to free her. I will get to every one of those girls plays in her mind on a constant loop. Her body, at least, has seemed to numb itself through a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline.
The same men that she's been subject to for days return as if they're coming in from a smoke break at work. They look at Chris in the corner like she's a piece of meat, and she draws her knees up to her chest to be as small as she can.
She tries, unsuccessfully, to protect herself from any more of their rough hands pulling at her clothes, running over every inch of her body, and whispering what they're going to do to her in her ear in vivid detail that she knows she won't ever be able to forget. Their smell lingers long after they go back to their cigarettes and cards.
Chris keeps repeating to herself that she'll survive this, that she has no other choice but to survive this, but her breaths have turned to shallow wheezes. Her mind is fried, her shoulders are on fire. She feels hot, and her peripheral vision conjures streaky, glowing forms of the team that seem so real until she turns her head.
When they finally leave her alone at one point, her sense of time destroyed, the silence is deafening and disorienting, only broken up by her tapping her nails and jangling the chains that keep her trapped. It calms her for a few hours until Huevo storms in. Her hand drops immediately and her body stiffens, the tension making her breath stick at her ribs. She tries to press herself further into the wall but stops when a brown bag with a large M lands in front of her.
A yelp escapes when he releases a chain and her body careens towards the floor, already battered and unable to brace itself on anything. Instinctually, she curls around herself, but Huevo yanks her head up by her hair until he's an inch from her face.
"I thought I'd be generous. You can eat up, and maybe you'll reconsider what you can tell me in return." He sets a cup down next to the bag, the ice making it sweat down the side, and then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a shiny silver key.
"Give me your wrists." He demands, and she does. The cuffs squeeze before they pop off, thin rivulets of blood dripping down. "Good girl. I'll be back."
Huevo closes the door behind him. It feels like the first real privacy Chris has had in however many days. She examines the chain around her ankles before anything else, looking for any crack or mechanism that could free her. There's no weak points in the chains she can exploit, and the table is devoid of anything useful.
Her hands run down her legs and up her side, but as soon as they hit her ribs, she's ripping them away. The flare of pain is near unbearable and she knows that the carnage under her shirt has to be bad, but she doesn't have it in her to look.
Closing her eyes, she feels around for the bag and removes everything in it: a small bag of fries, a rectangular box, and a stack of napkins.
She stares at the spread for a moment and debates the odds that it's laced with something before her biology gets the best of her and she tears into it.
Any thoughts of savoring it or not getting sick leave her the second the salt hits her tongue, scarfing down the food down and chasing it with half the water in a matter of minutes. Even though every moment is a struggle right now, she knows being fed is a good sign.
As long as she knows where the safe houses are, and they don't, she has leverage, a reason to be kept alive.
She exhales.
"We're almost there. I can feel it." Hondo informs the team as soon as they step into HQ, thanking Donovan again for 50-Squad's work. Mugshots and lists line the screens around them and they crowd around to navigate it all.
"Tan's hunch was right. A CI of Cortez's gave up information about a private flight charter that Los Brazos de Bronce has on their books. They hacked the flight logs and found that Joseph Estévez and three of his men left Mexico two weeks ago and arrived in California."
"Where do we go from here?" Tan asks.
"We have a list of known aliases and associates of these men. We're looking for any and all property they own or have been near in LA in the past. We have BOLOs out with their pictures, and alerts for any credit transactions. Nothing is too small, so overturn every rock until we can say for certain exactly where Chris is."
Like a bullet, the team springs back into action, looking through every receipt and blueprint they can get their hands on. Around 2:30pm, Luca speaks up.
"I think I got it."
His words stop everyone in their tracks, setting down whatever they're doing to listen to him as he circles a few things on a map.
"We've got four major properties owned or operated by Estévez's people flagged by the DEA for drug production. Two of them are further north, one is a dive bar off the shore, and the last is a warehouse. It's isolated from any other businesses or residential areas, and it's not near any major airports, train stations, or beaches."
They follow along, not building up their hope too much, and wait for him to say what's making him so certain.
"The DEA also flagged José Rivera as a possible Brass Arms newcomer, and he only lives a few miles away from the warehouse. Records show he's unemployed, but he's bringing in $2500 every two weeks from an unknown Mexican account. An hour ago, his credit card was used at a McDonald's a little over a mile away from the warehouse, and traffic cameras catch his car taking an exit that leads to a service road reaching the property. If Chris isn't there, someone who knows where she is must be."
His hand keeps tapping the side of his tablet like he's nervous, and they can tell from his eyes that he is, but after taking a moment to think everything through, Hondo nods.
"Luca's right. This is our best option. Tan, pull blueprints for the building. We need to know every entrance and exit point, and get thermals ready so we can tell how many people are inside when we get there. Everyone else, prep Black Betty. I've got to talk to Hicks. We do this once, and we do it right. Got it?"
Their jaws are set in determination as they go about their tasks, anticipation and anxiety growing in tandem until an hour later when the plan has been made, the van is loaded, and they're rolling out.
Her stomach is grumbling again by the time Huevo returns, now empty-handed. He kneels in front of her again, grips her shoulders, and asks if she has anything to tell him.
Silence is her response.
"Fine," Huevo spits, dragging her to her feet. "I was hoping you'd play nice, but I have one more gift to see if you'll cooperate." He gets as close to her as he can, his breath hot on her ear. "But, Christina, this is your last chance. If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'm not doing you any more favors with my men. After they're done with you, it'll be my turn."
Chris fixes her face into a stone wall, refusing to let even the slightest emotion show as he presses into her until her back hits the wall. His hands move south to unbutton her jeans, then slither even lower, brushing over the front of her underwear. She knows it's for no other reason than to let her know he can, but a short whimper escapes nonetheless.
Smirking, he clasps the cuff back on her wrists, and leaves her stunned and shaking to bend down and undo the metal on her ankles. He grabs her elbow and yanks her over a foot to then throw her against the opposite wall by the door. She catches the wall with her shoulder, which keeps her from collapsing, but stars dot her vision as Huevo stalks towards her.
"I've read that the tit-for-tat strategy doesn't work like your war experts predict." He starts, digging his nails into her and guiding her by the elbow through the basement. She may as well be trudging through mud.
"Sometimes, they say, it's better to keep showing good faith, even in the face of foolish disrespect." Huevo stops, clenching his jaw and squeezing her arm tighter. His eyes search hers for understanding, and he smiles. "So, I'm sure you won't keep your mouth shut after another olive branch on my end, will you? Walk."
Chris's steps are heavy and uneven, each one more pained than the last. Her vision swims, sending her stumbling, and his nails dig deeper. He leads her through the basement and out a side door to a staircase that goes up to an alleyway. The only thing that keeps her moving is Huevo a step below her, her clammy hands not helping give her any grip on the railing as her head spins.
Reaching the top, the air is harsh on her skin despite its warmth, and she has to blink back against the blinding sun. It's so bright after so many days in darkness that it makes everything else look too saturated. The barrage of LA noise form squawking birds and horn honks far too much for her mind to process. Her head starts to pound as nausea overcomes her and she groans.
Her legs give way once she's back on solid ground, the rocks scraping her knees but she doesn't care. A cursory glance of her surroundings tells her there's no easy escape route, even if she was in a position to run.
Putting her hands to the earth, she takes a few clipped breaths. She can barely move. She knows Huevo won't wait forever, and that eventually he'll take her out even if she doesn't give anything up.
"So-" he says, voice crisp and angry, only to be cut off by a loud pounding from the other side of the building.
The energy in Black Betty is tense as Luca drives as quickly as he can through LA. Behind him, the team sits in silence, thoughts of what they could be walking into abound. Deacon's lips mumble out a quiet prayer, and Tan has his gun in a vice grip.
Street's hands are tremoring, his mind racing with what ifs. What if she's hurt? What if they're too late? What if she isn't there at all? He closes his eyes and squeezes his thumb in his fist, but his nerves only grow, and Hondo takes notice.
Trailing his eyes over the rest of the team to take in their state, he clears his throat loudly. His strong voice echoes in the van.
"We're going to find her, and our main priority is getting her and any other victims out of there alive. What happens outside of that, I don't care. Chris would never quit on us, and we're not going to let her down now."
No one dares voice their fears about what finding her could mean, and what it couldn't. In an effort to distract his team from the dread that's building up, he has them run through their positions again, and again, and again, until Luca cuts in.
"We're as close as we said we'd get by van. I told all backup to come no further than this cross-street by vehicle, and to do it with all lights and sirens off. Are we ready?"
"We're ready." They echo, shuffling out of Black Betty and throwing a battering ram and extra guns over their backs.
"Tan, you've got the drone?" Hondo asks, a small white device lifting off from the ground as soon as the words are said, and the screens on their armbands lighting up with the video feed.
"It's going to take me a minute to get close." Tan mumbles as he steers the drone and watches the feed. He circles near the building twice before approaching the upper windows.
"No bodies on the second floor, one side Moving to the first floor." He repeats this process, going side-by-side and floor-by-floor.
"Moving to the four side and—" He cuts off when a figure comes into the frame. They're only partially visible around the corner wall.
"Visual on another possible suspect and another victim. I'm moving back to get a larger perimeter and try to get a better visual from the back without alerting anyone." Tan says, Hondo spreading the information over his com.
They wait with bated breath as he gets the drone to its next position, gasping at what's there.
They can't be certain that it's Chris, but they can see the back of someone's head and a smaller body curled on the ground. The angle is too high for much detail, but a gun is clearly sticking out of the man's waistband, and his hand is itching to pull it. Tan loops the drone back around as quickly as he can. No matter who, it's clear they need to get in there now.
"We are still approaching from the one and breaching the warehouse from the one and two." Hondo says, tone clipped.
"We do not want to spook whoever is in that alleyway because I doubt he'll hesitate to shoot. Medical will be behind us to set up directly outside but we do not have a lot of time once we breach. Deacon and Tan, get set on either side of the alley. The second we're inside, you both break. Prepare to apprehend as soon as possible. Luca, Street, and I will go in and clear the building with 40-Squad. Is everyone clear?"
"Clear."
"Stay liquid. Let's go."
They move on quiet feet, keeping everything as tight as possible until they get to the front door. Deacon and Tan split around each side of the building, confirming they're in position and waiting for more information.
"Alright, you two be prepared to move. This door is locked and reinforced, so we're going in with the ram, and whoever's around is about to know we're here."
The booming sound of metal on wood makes both Chris and Huevo jump and look around for the source as he pulls his gun. The familiarity of the noise settles in the back of Chris's mind, but her adrenaline is going too fast to make note of it.
But the yelling, that they both make note of.
"LAPD SWAT, hands up, now!"
Before the cacophonous voices have quieted, Chris's body is moving on instinct and she's lunging at Huevo to get the gun out of his hand. Despite her injuries, she manages to barrel into him hard enough to knock him down, the gun sliding a few feet away.
"Bitch!" He yells at her, shoving at her head and ripping at her hair, her teeth finding his forearm and drawing blood. Rocks fly and dig into them as they struggle to gain any ground and get their hands on the weapon.
The longer they fight, the more Chris knows she's in a losing battle. Her vision is getting blurry and every time she makes contact is weaker than the time before. Huevo gets an arm hooked around her neck and tosses her off him, her vision whiting out.
When she comes to, his knees are pinning down her hips and she's completely at his mercy, the gun trained on her forehead.
More yelling and the crunch of rocks under boots reach her, and Chris draws on every last reserve she has to take Huevo down.
Slamming the cuffs across his face and wrenching her legs to the side with all her strength, she's got enough force left in her to throw him off. Scrambling for the gun, she gets both hands on it as he spits blood and wipes his mouth, crimson coming off on the pressed cuffs of his dress shirt.
Whoever is yelling is getting closer, but her awareness of everything else falls away. The world tunnels to just her and Huevo.
He starts to run towards her again, and with the last wisps of oblivion wrapping around her, Chris hopes her aim is right, and she fires.
Ringing fills her ears, worse than it ever has in all of her years, as she sees the bullet rip through Huevo's shoulder and his body reel backwards and fall from the shock. Watching him go down, another rush of adrenaline hits her, and she's back on her feet, racing towards him. His blood stains the ground as he writhes in pain, but she doesn't care. She wants to make it worse.
Chris is a sniper. A killer without a second thought when she has to be. But she's never wanted another person's blood on her hands. Until now, she thinks, for the girls and her family and herself. Her knee pins his wrist to the rocky ground as her fists beat his face. She can't separate her hands, but watches as the edges of the cuffs catch him and tear open the skin. There's an audible crack of his cheek or nose or a tooth but she doesn't stop as more blood pours from him and he bucks underneath her to try to regain the upper hand.
"Fuck you!" She shrieks. More broken, painful shouts follow with another round of uncontrolled punches until he stops moving underneath her. The fact that she can't breathe escapes her as she wraps a bloody fist around a gun, his gun, and aims it at his temple.
From across the alley, Deacon and Tan share a look as their shock wears off and they can finally move again. Deacon races towards Chris as Tan calls for multiple ambulances. She's too locked in on Huevo's swollen face to even register the noise. Her knuckles are white around the gun as tears leak down her face.
Steady your heart and fucking shoot. Her mind repeats, but nothing about her feels real right now. Huevo's face multiples in her vision, so she can't even find her real target. All she can hear is her choppy breathing and her pounding pulse, and it's deafening. She's barely alive, her body swaying dangerously, and she realizes, through some small voice in the back of her mind, that more than revenge all she wants is to rest. She's about to drop the gun when the feel of a new hand on her shoulder has her spinning and aiming it again, prepared to shoot.
"Woah, Chris, it's Deacon, it's me." Deacon's hands are out in front of him, trying to show her he isn't a threat. He kneels at Huevo's head and has to stop his own instinct to look down at the man and wince.
"It's over, Chris. It's me. You can stop."
She's shaking like a leaf in a storm as the world blurs out around her. Suspicion and fear linger around her, but turns to realization after she looks him up and down.
"Deac?" She whispers, disbelief creeping into her tone, and tears lining her eyes.
"Yeah," he says with a soft smile. "We're here."
Despite the pain that's starting to quickly build in her chest, Chris stands and presses herself into his arms with a gargling gasp, gun now loose in her grip. Deacon wraps his arms around her, whispering to her that she's safe.
She nods, but her breathing starts to falter, shaky breaths speeding up and then catching. Her exhales turn to wet, panicked wheezes. He pulls back to look at her, and starts to say something she doesn't hear.
The gun hits the ground as her knees buckle. She feels his hands on her, trying to keep her from falling, but his voice blends and swells with the rest of the noise. As the near-certainty that this is the end settles on her, Chris lets herself go.
hello! as per usual, thank you for reading! it feels odd to say "i hope you liked this" on a chapter like this, but i do hope it made you feel things, and i am very excited to hear what those things are! our poor girl :( but they found her! (no spoilers for the next ch ?) confession- this chapter and the next have been some of my favorites to write so far, bc as much as i love whump, i love a rescue so so so much, too. (and don't worry, though it's winding down, the whump isn't over yet.) please comment, kudos, etc, and let me know your thoughts! i can't overstate how much i love and think about talking to y'all basically all the time lol. until next time, xo, A