Arendelle's Lost Daughter
Chapter III: Wooden Bird
"God-fucking-dammit! Freeze." The masked man pointed to Elsa, "You are not to move a muscle till I get back."
As he threw back on his trousers, fiddled with his keys, exited Elsa's cellar with a hard slam, and locked it twice, the clown muttered a slew of curse words under his breath. It was clear that he was fuming. He angrily trotted towards another cellar door, trying to find the correct cut of metal to enter.
The banging continued, all the while.
As the furious clown approached the lock, he dropped the entire ring of keys accidentally– adding to his frustration.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he shouted, echoing through the dimly lit concrete hallway.
Finally, with a loud click, the door flew open to show one battered Isak Brynjar, chained in the corner. Isak was using the heavy iron around his wrists to beat against the rock behind him– the source of the aggravating banging.
The clown stood there, breathing heavily in the cellar doorway. Isak looked up from his dejected state directly at his furious tormentor, trying not to show an ounce of fear.
The truth was, he was terrified.
"I see you called me in here early tonight. No matter, we'll do this now, I suppose." Clown spoke as he shrugged and made his way over to the table opposite from Isak.
Nothing was said for several moments. Clown started calmly towards the table, scanning for the perfect instrument of torture.
"Hmm…" he began, floating his hands above each tool. His eyes lit up at one. Picking it up, he turned his body towards Isak slowly.
A rusty saw.
"Do you like it? I figure since you use your arms to interrupt my time with our girl, you should lose them first!"
"You're a fucking coward." Isak spat, following the clown with his eyes as he circled around him like a vulture.
"A coward? That hurts! Hmm. Maybe I'll go ahead and cut off your legs as well… Eh, too complicated? No, it's fine. Boss did order me to kill you tonight. And, you'd surely bleed out from that. What do you think? Should I cut your arms and your legs off?" Clown questioned as Isak felt an intense fear rise up from his stomach, but he kept his face in a scowl and began to respond.
"You don't fucking scare me. You're just a small, weak kid hiding behind a twelve-year-old's Halloween mask. I've killed men twice your size and four times your strength." Isak's bravery was reaching its limit while the saw progressed a little too close to his personal space.
Suddenly, Clown stopped in his tracks and tilted his head to the side curiously and began speaking.
"Oh! Well, then, Special Operative Brynjar,"
He set the saw on the floor, and slid it over to his prisoner.
"Kill me! I want to see how it's done!"
Isak's eyes never left the saw. He wasn't sure exactly what his chained hands were meant to do with it, but he knew he had to try something.
"Pick it up. Go on," Clown encouraged.
A long, tense silence washed over the space. Isak looked his tormentor in the eyes as he carefully and steadily reached for the weapon.
Clown began slowly lifting his hands towards the ceiling, sarcastically surrendering.
As Isak made contact with the saw's wooden handle, Clown let out an obnoxious gulp. Isak, now with full control over the weapon, sat still, waiting for his chance to strike.
"Well… take your shot!" Clown spat, growing inpatient.
Isak continued to stare down his enemy with icy eyes.
Suddenly, Clown began to move his left arm rapidly.
"I'm bored!" he exclaimed as he quickly unholstered a 45, pulled the hammer back, and took aim directly at Isak's head.
Isak's eyes widened as he instinctively moved his bruised hands to the saw's handle, swung it upright perfectly towards the barrel.
—
Elsa heard an extremely loud bang from inside her dark cellar. She flinched and fell on her stomach, protecting her head.
What was that?! She shouted in her mind.
—
The smoking gun spun around several times on Isak's smooth concrete cellar floor, disarmed from Clown's hand. The saw made its way to the opposite end of the cellar, making a loud clank as it came to rest. Isak recoiled back against the wall, panting. Everything happened so quickly. His eyes darted frantically around his body, making sure he wasn't shot.
Clown chuckled, and pointed a couple inches to the right of Isak's head at the wall. Indeed, a fresh hole in the thick concrete housed the still burning bullet.
"You're quick, alright!" Clown exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I like playing with you! The girl makes it too easy!"
Isak continued to catch his breath, hand absentmindedly moving to search for Isla's Bluebird to calm him. He brushed over his left pocket. Nothing. Then his right. Just as well. He quickly lifted his backside and searched through those pockets. Empty.
Where is it? Where is it? He panicked in his mind, darting his head around the cellar.
"Looking for this?" Clown questioned, digging around in his trousers. He pulled out the bluebird, fiddling with it in his greasy hands.
Isak's heart stopped. He locked his view to it as Clown haphazardly waved it around in the air.
"You know, we stripped you of some really advanced technology! What's a Spec Ops doing with a wooden bird? Yesterday I thought, what is this? A bomb? Poison?" Clown looked at it from all angles inquisitively as he spoke, "But no! After my thorough inspection, it really is just a wooden bird! Seriously, what the hell?"
"Give that back to me. Please." Isak's brave facade fell quickly into desperation. Clown noticed this, and began to feel excited. He looked back at his prisoner's bird and chuckled.
"Heh. How do I know you're not trying to trick me? For all I know there's a little microphone in here, recording all we say or tracking our location!"
"It was a gift, okay! This isn't a game, I'm not trying to trick you, I just- please, give me the bird." Isak had his chained hands cupped out in front of him, beckoning for Isla's gift to return back into the rightful hands.
Clown smirked. He took a long, pensive moment, then made his decision. "Hmm. Well, I can't take that chance, now can I?"
The masked man quickly returned back to the table, and grunted as he retrieved a heavy jerry can. Setting the bird safely in the corner of the concrete cell, he began dousing it with a tiny amount of gasoline. All the while, Isak struggled with his restraints, trying his absolute hardest to break free. Of course, he wasn't strong enough.
"No, NO, NO! You fuck! You fucking twisted fuck!" Isak felt a strange mix of rage and hopelessness flood his brain. He kicked and tugged, the chains weren't giving in.
Clown turned around to face him, tilted his head, struck a match and held it up in the air.
Isak halted, frozen in fear. The angry flame danced in his pupils.
Clown flicked it behind him, landing perfectly atop the liquid. In an amazing flash of light and smoke, Isla's Bluebird was instantly immolated.
Isak let out a breathless sob, clenching his chest with shaking and stiff hands.
Clown looked to the ash black corner, flames gently dying.
"Well, that was anticlimactic! Guess it wasn't a bomb after all!"
Isak's head was limp, directed downward. His hands still gripped his heart as he quietly sobbed.
Isla! I failed you again! was all he could think.
Clown noticed his prisoner's state. He began arrogantly trodding toward him.
"So, that's all it takes to break a Spec Ops, huh?" Clown continued to advance, feeling powerful.
"What a joke. And, it's so strange, because you didn't tell us anything while we beat the shit out of you!"
Now only two feet from Isak, Clown leaned down to level his mask with Isak's face.
"But no, you're just a weak, scared little boy."
Isak continued to cry, trembling and gasping for breath.
"Our guys are good, though. We did find out something I think you'll want to know before I get rid of you…"
He moved inches away from Isak's ear, and began whispering.
"We've sent after Isla. She'll be a wonderful addition to our proj-."
Isak's hand moved quickly to grip Clown's chin, using his other hand to wrap the chain once around his neck. Gaining advantage, Isak flipped the flailing man over onto his back, using his legs to weave between his tormentor's legs, and placed his entire body weight on Clown's chest.
Isak spared no time in grabbing the rusty chain's end with this left and tightening it as hard as he possibly could. Clown's neck popped open and blood spilled to the concrete below him. All the masked man could let out were squeaks and gasps. He used his free arm to try, vain, to loosen the extremely painful metal that was pinching and choking the life away from him.
Isak ripped off the mask of his tormentor and began using his fingernails to gouge out his left eye. Clown tried to scream, but nothing came out. He used his only good eye to catch a glimpse, in horror, at the manic madman that bested him. Isak was primal. Clown knew, right then, he was going to die, and it thrashed a hopeless dread around in his brain.
I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Please, God, help me!
Clown threw his shaking hand from the chain to Isak's face, trying desperately to deter him.
"I WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU FUCKS, YOU GO NEAR ISLA!" Isak's voice was visceral, completely uncharacteristic of his normal tone.
Clown started to feel a strange emptiness begin in his toes, moving its way slowly to his waist.
I'm dying, he thought. My life is over.
Clown's hand started to weaken, his wrist finally limping, fingers curled. He began to hallucinate; the dark background turning shades of purple and red, and his killer's eyes becoming accentuated and intense.
Isak saw Clown's life dwindling, yet he still impossibly tightened the chain.
Isak's enraged eyes were the last thing Clown ever saw. By Isak's hands, he was forcefully pushed into that mysterious darkness that no one is able to describe further.
—
Elsa was deathly afraid, laying there in a thick darkness. From the moment she heard the loud bang, to the strange thuds, shouts, and the smell of smoke, she crafted several anxious possibilities in her mind; they all lead to her impending punishment.
She shivered there on the floor, wrapping herself in a chained hug, trying to warm and calm herself. She couldn't shake the feeling that she did something very wrong.
They're coming to hurt me! Oh God, please, no! She thought, desperately.
Suddenly, for a moment or two, it was terribly silent. Calm before the storm, she thought, dreadfully. She locked her eyes in the direction of her cellar door she was sure was about to open, nervously brushing her hair.
And she was right. She heard the familiar clicking of locks, and her heart began beating out of her chest.
The door slowly opened, letting the dim light from the hallway stream into the dark cellar. There, a new, broader silhouette stood tall.
Isak couldn't see a thing. I don't think anyone is in here, he thought.
He looked around outside of the door and saw a switch poking out of a mangled electrical box. He toggled it, and instantly heard the gentle whirring of electricity as it brought to life a dim, fluorescent tube hanging in the center.
Elsa yelped, and recoiled back as far as she could go, rattling the chains as she moved. She hated that light. It meant trouble.
"S-st-ay a-a-a-away! P-p-please!" she pleaded with her eyes shut tight, clenching her hair even tighter.
Isak saw her. Elsa Asta. Her hands were chained tight, just as his used to be. A torn tunic thankfully covered her modesty, and her long platinum-blonde hair covered the rest of her curled figure. Isak instantly noticed her intense bruises, burns, and lashings, lining her entire figure, all but her face.
Oh my God, he thought to himself, in disbelief. That fucking bastard!
Seeing the girl in person, he instantly forgot his plan. He just stood there, frozen.
"P-p-please don't h-hurt me!" Elsa spoke, breaking the silence. The fact that she had never seen this man before frightened her even more.
What's he going to do with me? She imagined the worst.
He snapped back to reality after hearing her sweet voice, his heart breaking in two after processing the words she felt she needed to say.
"I am not going to hurt you. Ever. I promise." he simply said, trying to calm her. He obviously didn't know the horrors she faced, nor how often Clown said one thing and did another, but he felt he needed to try.
Elsa never heard those words spoken to her in this setting. She felt her heart leap in her chest, as she quickly shook the offered hope away.
I don't believe that! She thought.
But she would never respond in such a way to one of her tormentors.
Isak felt the air grow cold and tense. What do I even say to her?!
"How're you feeling?" he gently questioned, instantly cursing himself.
Are you serious, Isak? 'How're you feeling?' Could you have said anything worse?!
Elsa was beyond confused. It was certainly a question she has never been asked within these walls. Her powerful grip on her hair loosened a tiny bit.
She sent a tiny nod in response.
Isak began to step inside of Elsa's hellhole, causing Elsa to instantly recoil against the wall. She yelped in pain as it irritated her whipped back. Isak noticed this and stopped on a dime, taking a few steps back.
"Sorry!" he said as he threw his left arm upward, and began to rub the back of his neck.
He noticed the cellar's contents for the first time, his heart breaking at every object. A system of pulleys that repositioned her for different types of torture, a metal chair next to a table of tools; whips, bats, sticks, knives, lighters, blowtorches, and a picture.
What is that picture of? He thought, curiously. Of course, he was sensitive enough not to ask.
Elsa dared not to move. What is going on? Why doesn't he just come and hurt me already?
She finally noticed his scars. His wrists– they looked similar to hers, albeit not nearly as bad. His face and neck were bruised and his legs had deep cuts.
Your knee! She noticed that his left knee was mangled and bloody. Isak was leaning on the frame of the door for support.
"A-a-re y-you n-new here?" Elsa asked, innocently. She felt like this question could get her hurt, but she had to ask it. Something didn't seem right.
Isak sighed, but began to speak. This is going to sound like a load of shit.
"Mrs. Asta, my name is Special Operative Isak Brynjar. I was sent here, by your father, to bring you home."
Elsa choked on her own saliva and began coughing violently.
"W-w-w-what?!" Elsa exclaimed. What kind of cruel joke is he playing on me!
Isak had no idea the weight of what he just said. For years, Elsa dreamt of this very moment. Someone coming in here and telling her that she was free. And by her father himself? It couldn't be! Elsa chose to push away the idea, she knew this was just a cruel, sick joke.
My father banished me here. Why would he ever want me back?
Suddenly, the two heard a door swing open down the hallway, and a large voice beckoning for Clown.
"Clown? Everything okay down here? You're late for debrief, you fat fuck!"
Isak sprang quickly into action, pulling the wires out from the light switch socket. He entered Elsa's cellar, shutting the door hard, hoping that the man would think Clown was in there.
Elsa gasped at the quick movements he made. The two alone in the cellar, Isak began to instruct her of the plan.
"Mrs. Asta, please listen to me. You have to help me here, I can't do this without you. I broke the light, he won't be able to turn it on. Darkness gives us the advantage here, but he's going to be extremely suspicious. Bad news, he will have a gun, and it will be drawn. More bad news, I don't have a gun. Clown left me with no ammunition. You need to get his attention as soon as he walks in, that way I can come up behind him and take care of him. His absence is going to quickly alert the men upstairs. He won't have much time. I will unlock your wrists and you need to follow behind me as fast as you can. Got it?"
Elsa couldn't believe that was happening. She let out a tiny gasp.
"Y-y-yes sir!" She played along, fearing what he'd do to her if she didn't.
"We're going to be okay," he said, mirroring his Isla.
Elsa gripped her hair tight.
"What the fuck? Clown! What did you do?"
The door swung open, revealing, just as Isak said, a tall man, with his gun drawn.