Beginning at the start…

Her mouth went dry when his sinewy hands locked themselves around her tiny wrists. She chose not to fight when her cold arms were pinned above her head in a bone-crushing grip, one she knew from experience was impossible to break. So weary was she, that now the woman only sought to keep her secrets as her days grew numbered. She had known of the life expectancy of hostages for as long as she could remember and knew emphatically that she was nearing the end of her tether.

Looming over her, her captor roughly pushed her aching thighs apart with his knees, their encasement of soft material contradictory to their wearer's harsh actions. She stared into his face, seeing irritation and satisfaction- irritation that she had not broken, satisfaction that he was the one who got to mete out their revenge on her, to be the punisher for her betrayal of them.

She knew nothing glared back at him when he looked upon his prey, seeing naught but arctic winds and flat depths.

She heard numbly as he undid his fly, tried not to feel anything as he violated her. Her blood gushed to the floor, previously inflicted wounds forcibly reopened and her insides were left searing as she lay, prostrated at his feet.

On the cold, harsh concrete floor, her ivory limbs began to shake of their own accord. His mouth broke into a sick grin at this development and through a concussed haze she fought the instinctive urge to retch.

"What is that fucking bitch made for?"

Her captor's voice, bouncing off the cavernous walls, bit at her sensitive ears, angry and harsh.

Petrified, her heart thudded a staccato as fast as a mouse.

His inner thighs worked, pinning her slim frame in place. His eyes, grey as slate, bore into her, probing and evil.

She fought the reality of her situation with sentimental memories and focused only on the objective, not his occupation of her.

A moment later, his fist smashed into her jaw, her captor impatient at her unresponsiveness.

"Answer me!"

Driven by fear, her mouth opened at the order and her throat began to work desperately to formulate an answer. Her voice came out soft and rasping, blocked by blood and disuse as it pushed against her ribs.

"She's- to end you-"

Despair sunk its knife into her gut and she felt her insides twist in the shame of betrayal, her innate sense of family honor dented.

Satisfaction glinted in his gaze as he shifted his crushing weight from her small body and on to his haunches.

Something rose within her, angry and unrepentant.

The image of her nine-year-old sister surfaced in her mind and she reaffirmed her strength.

She bit her tongue, metallic red filling her mouth. She was not a traitor- she would die first.

Her captor saw her resolution and rage overwhelmed him. He pushed into her and ground her petite frame into the floor, her pelvis and kidneys bruising as her assailant tried to come.

"Answer!"

She turned her head away, swallowing the blood in her mouth, it was thick and slow going down.

He let out a snarl of frustration.

It stung when his hand slapped her across the face forcing her head sideways, the vertebrae in her neck crunched with the force of his blow. Her teeth slipped, digging crevasses into her lips, blood running rivulets down her chin.

The cell before her spun; a miasma of blacks upon blacks it was foreboding and scary. She began to cough, spitting blood onto the damp concrete floor, her legs moving weakly to her chest. She felt the action of her burning diaphragm stimulate her interrogator. He ripped further into her, faster and harder.

Then, for a moment it all ceased.

A hand caught her jaw in an iron like grip and she stared up into frenzied grey eyes. His gun dug into the bruised temple of her swollen left eye, cold and loaded.

"Tell me you fucking whore! Or I blow your brains out!"

There was a wild rage in his eyes and for a heart stopping moment she thought he might do it.

She almost didn't care.

He grunted a moment later and she felt as he pulled himself from her. His removal left her burning and empty on the slimy concrete floor.

He stood, on the verge of spilling his seed and looked down on her starved form, sneering.

"Get up! Up! You piece of transgenic scum!" He yelled venomously. Hands caught around her throat, he hauled her to her unsteady feet, his gun dug underneath her chin.

She gagged struggling to breathe, stumbling and choking on his jerking grip, a rushing in her ears. The dark cell before her swam, the faces of the others blurred. Feeling as if she were pushing her way through watery currents, he forced her to her knees in a matter of seconds, laughing with those around him, his cold gun pushed between her bloody lips, oversized and loaded.

The knowledge of the impact such a shot would make resonated soundly in her hazy mind. She would die instantly, her skull prized open, grey matter spraying across the back wall.

Terror shook her.

Her vision darkened around the edges, stars sprang before her open eyes.

She had to be brave- for him. Only for him.

Her hands clawed at the ones locked around her throat.

She couldn't breathe-

She couldn't-

She-

Her vision was consumed by a white haze and only one thought crossed her mind.

Zane.

Suddenly, her captor released her throat.

She collapsed to her knees instantly, heaving in shuddering breaths and emitting racking coughs. Her vision cleared. She was still alive. She reigned in the pain when he wrenched her swollen jaw open. Unbalanced, she fell forwards, hands slapping against the unforgiving floor. She lay, curled in on her side gasping for air.

"Where-is-that-bitch-4-5-2?" His tone was deathly quiet and she could only gasp as his tazer connected with her back, muscles convulsing as the electricity tore through her, tearing at her insides.

She hated the smug evil Brother with every fiber of her being. She wanted to see him burn in hell for his crimes.

She looked up at him, gaze fiery, body in shock.

"I. Don't. Know." She asserted thickly between bloodied lips.

Duty.

Growling, he bore down on her and reasserted his grip on her, pushing her backwards against the dank wall. She shook all over, her muscles protesting against the awkward angle as he expertly inserted himself into her mouth.

Discipline.

Her tongue pushed flaccidly at his stiff form as she tried to get him away from her.

The last defense.

Mission.

His seed spilt into her mouth, slipping down her throat. His hand was covering her nose: she couldn't breathe. She pushed at him- fingernails scratching at the palms of his hands, fists pummeling blindly into his flesh, and yet nothing happened, there was no reaction... the effort was pointless. He clutched her wrists in an iron grip, holding them above her head, pushed into the wall. She swallowed his seed desperately, fighting against his restriction of her oxygen, wanting him to finish, wanting to last another minute. Soldiers did not give up.

After what seemed like an age, she was kicked into the wall a second later, her stomach burning and churning, heaving in shuddering breaths, before she felt her throat begin to work. She lay on her stomach, forearms taking her weight, dry retching. Stomach twisting, she lifted her head to look at his vindictive face which bore down on her and spat at his feet before collapsing to the ground.

The nearby sound of firing rounds played dully through her mind and she was reminded of childhood expeditions in the forest, her gut tingling with a discordant sense of hope. She heard dimly as those who had been watching her interrogation cried out in pain- bullets tearing through their skulls. She felt their blood spray onto her naked form.

Once again, his hand wrapped itself crushingly around her bruised throat and he pushed her limp, naked form, possessively into his stocky gait.

His gun was at her head and her mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

He was breathing hard into her ear, chest heaving, reeking of arousal.

She could not speak. She could not breathe. She could not think.

Where?- Where was he?

He had said he would come for her.

Dully she heard frantic shouting and sensed victory among defeat.

"I'll shoot her! Take one more step and I'll shoot the transgenic abomination!"

Flecks of spit settled on her cheek.

A part of her was disgusted, another shaken.

She knew who these men were, whom they belonged to, who they had murdered.

Faintly she heard: take him out.

She watched the shot whizzed past her bare shoulder, dazed. She felt the impact; it reverberated through her immobile form. His hand had convulsively tightened as the bullet tore through him and he let go of her throat as he fell backwards into the wall.

She fell to the floor like a tonne of bricks, curling into a ball, coughing blood onto the damp concrete cell, head buzzing and dim.

Then, nothing.

Silence.

"All clear." A cool and collected voice from above.

She felt warm arms scoop-up her naked form and felt as if she were viewing herself from afar. She was pressed against kevlar and warmth, carried from the cavernous underground chamber. Subconsciously she traced the path her rescuer traversed as he fled enemy territory. It was when the cool winter air of outside hit her body, she that she was jarred by the reality of her situation.

She was still alive. It was as if she were seven again, new to the world.

"We have the target." Her rescuer's voice was matter-of-fact as he spoke to his commanding officer.

He spirited from the compound under the blurring vision of the stars and comets above, past fences and the roaring sound of gunfire. As he set course through dense forest trees, her discomfort grew among the scent of earthy loam and heavy pine. She weakly pushed at her rescuer feeling sick to her stomach: her head spinning and it was a struggle to breathe. She needed to get onto her own two feet. Eventually he become aware of her ever-mounting distress and finally halted in a protected area, the copse of the trees shielding the pair from attack. Signaling to his teammate to take point, he gently lowered her down from his arms to the shadowy forest floor. Her legs crumpled when her numb feet hit the earthy ground and he deftly caught her before she fell, holding her tiny form as she violently vomited a revolting mix of congealed semen and blood. She was gasping, shuddering against the stabbing coldness of the icy midnight air as stray tears slashed onto her naked breasts, when the world began to spin and blur.

"We gotta go. Now."

He paid no attention to her fragile state when he hoisted her roughly across his shoulder, before making haste to a hum-vee situated in a nearby clearing. It's motor was on when they approached. Swiftly, his colleague opened the back door and her rescuer deposited her naked and shaking form into the military issue vehicle. Fighting to remain conscious, she heard both doors slammed shut, his teammate rushing in beside her as the engine sprung to life, gurgling and reverberating the vehicle began to move out.

"Status, men?"

Chills shot down her spine in the muted warmth of the vehicle at the sound of his voice and it's demand.

The stranger in the front passenger seat turned to face the back of the hum-vee, face shrouded in shadow.

The hum-vee rocked when it swerved onto the gravel back road of the compound, her head connecting sharply with the side of the door. Attentively, strong fingers soothed away the stabbing pain in her forehead and moved down to press into the tender flesh of her neck, searching for a pulse. She saw that the darkness of the cavern was filled with white haze and she could barely make out his face in between the mess.

"Stable, but only just." She felt her rescuer's voice reverberate in his chest, a rumble of low thunder.

"Sir? You got any clothes in the back?" The teammate asked.

Eyes rested on her on her critical and assessing.

"Bag in under the seat, Kilan. See what you can find."

That voice.

She found herself trying to laugh and outwardly spewing racking coughs inside the security of the hum-vee. Rolling her head from her rescuer's chest to face the front of the vehicle, she met his steely gaze through the haze.

"You're- supposed - six feet under- bastard." She wheezed out as Kilan lifted her a-ways up from her rescuers arms, slipping a t-shirt over her head.

"I thought I taught you kids never to underestimate your enemy, Jondy." Donald Lydecker replied, impassive to her nakedness.

She let out a dry laugh, before unconsciousness enveloped her.


As always, feedback is much welcomed.