A splash of cold water wrenched me back into the conscious world, leaving me drenched and spluttering for air. I tried to blink away the haze that had fallen over the world… before realizing that I wasn't wearing my glasses.
"Wha-"
I failed to say anything more as pain overtook me, a deep headache which was followed by a wave of nausea. I curled in on myself, seated uncomfortably on a simple wooden chair. Despite my compromised state I noticed that my arms were handcuffed together behind my back, and that my legs were bound to the chair legs by what looked to be fairly hefty rope. If it wasn't for the fact that my heart was already beating at a rabbits pace I imagine it would've sped up by now. As it were it was all I could manage not to hurl the contents of my stomach on my shoes.
"Good, you woke up. Wasn't sure if you would."
A low, raspy voice called out. I didn't respond immediately, and another, vaguely familiar voice responded in my place.
"I told you, old man! I didn't hit her that hard!"
The 'old man' didn't respond vocally, but I heard the shifting of clothes in front of me. After a moment the familiar voice muttered something that I failed to catch. The old man let out a tired sigh.
"Hey girl, look at me."
I ignored him, still feeling sick. A hand grasped my wet hair, almost at the root, and yanked my head up violently and I failed to prevent a pained gasp from escaping my lips as my stomach made a flip. Dull green eyes pierced my own for a moment, before he raised a hand before my face.
"How many fingers?"
"Two, but-"
He released his grip and I collapsed back down again, retching from all the sudden movements forced upon me. I heard footsteps going away from me, and then the old man called out "All yours."
"Finally" the familiar voice responded.
A new pair of footsteps approached as my stomach finally settled down, gritting my teeth as I felt a hot breath next to my ear.
"Hey bitch, remember me?"
I glanced up, squinting at his face. A small, flat nose on a thin face set in an ugly sneer. Angry brown eyes stared daggers down at me as I tried to draw on my fragmented memories, anxiety growing in my chest as I grasped at that feeling of familiarity. Suddenly, it came back to me, and my eyes widened as I spluttered out-
"You-!"
"Yes, me. And trust me, you'll fucking regret what you did to me."
Having finally regathered my wits, I responded heatedly.
"Nothing less than you deserved, you creep!"
I saw the punch coming, but the instinctive attempt to bring my hands up to protect my face failed as my arms were still handcuffed behind my back. Instead I got hit square in the left eye, rocking back before slumping over again, headache redoubling in intensity.
"You like that, bitch?"
"Your vocabulary is astounding" I shot back defiantly even as I tensed for another blow. Instead I heard a 'click', followed by a flash of steel. The blade of a knife hovered an inch away from my face.
"Care to repeat that?"
The voice was low, dangerous. I pressed my lips together in a flat line, and slowly turned my head towards him again, holding his cruel gaze for several seconds without saying a word. Suddenly he pulled his knife back, a self satisfied smirk appearing on his face.
"That's what I thought."
A dreadful calm fell over my mind like a blanket even as I felt my fingers twitch behind my back from the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I'd made a mistake engaging at all; he held the monopoly of force in this moment and could always escalate beyond what I could do, which was to say practically nothing, and attempting to call a bluff involved horrific risk for marginal gain. I needed to regroup and analyze the situation.
I tore my eyes away from his, back towards the floor. It was only a distraction at best, and a source of agitation on his end at worst. It's not like I could defend myself if I saw him winding up for a punch anyways. No, better to-
"Hey b- cunt, my eyes are up here."
I wondered if I was about to chip a tooth with how hard I'd clenched my teeth together, but forced my eyes back up, looking at his ugly fucking nose instead of his eyes. His smirk had only widened, and it wasn't hard to realize that the prick got off to this petty display of power. He did, however, momentarily stumble over his words there, presumably about to say "bitch" again before catching himself. My jab landed home after all if he's feeling insecure enough to change his behavior ever so slightly in response. The question was if I could do anything with that.
…
Not like I have anything else to work with, better to cling onto this slight weakness with my fingertips than to try grasping in the dark for another one. A plan of attack was rapidly forming in my mind even as I saw the prick open his mouth and-
"So, what do you have to say for yourself now, huh?"
Well, time to ignore my own conclusion from just a minute ago and start antagonizing him again. I relaxed my jaws ever so slightly, made sure my face was as neutral as I could make it, and then raised a single eyebrow.
The seconds dragged on as the asshole looked increasingly flustered, until he snapped, waving the knife in front of my face and yelling out "Bitch, I asked you a fucking question and you-"
"I just find it a bit amusing, is all."
My flat, emotionless voice overrode his bluster without much difficulty, and he was left spluttering, red in the face from anger and embarrassment, so I continued:
"You don't even know how much you fucked up, do you?"
The asshole in front of me just stood there, gaping like a fish, while the old man perked up from where he'd been leaning against a wall. I ignored the latter as I continued to talk as calmly as I could, maintaining the momentum I'd built up.
"Have you grabbed my wallet yet? If not, it's in my front left pocket. There's an ID-card there I want you to look at."
After taking several moments the prick finally managed to collect himself enough to hesitantly move forward and fished my wallet out of my pocket like I'd told him, knife apparently forgotten even as he kept hold of it in his right hand. I struggled to maintain my neutral demeanor as my mouth threatened to split into a grin. He took two steps back and went through my wallet, until I heard him gasp.
"The PRT-?"
"Yeah, you messed with the fucking PRT, asshole."
I let the corners of my lips twist up into a tight smirk of my own, before continuing, his eyes now full of fear as they stared into mine.
"You better start thinking about how you're gonna salvage this before the hammer drops on your head. Personally, I'd suggest letting me go before going into hiding, or moving out of the city. That way you-"
"Give me that!"
My voice fell quiet as the old man snatched the ID-card out of his hands, squinting at it for a few moments before barking out a single, harsh laugh.
"'Taylor Anne Hebert - Junior Analyst', selling ourselves a bit high are we?"
I bit the inside of my cheek as I quickly glanced over the old man now that he'd gotten involved. Bald… not actually that old I don't think, maybe forty-ish although it was somewhat hard to tell given how blurry everything was without my glasses. He wore a red polo shirt and tan cargo shorts, which wasn't what you'd associate with 'hardened gangster', but the hard look that he gave me, as well as his general demeanor suggested otherwise. Fuck, he was still looking at me expectantly, waiting for a retort.
"It doesn't matter how 'low' I am, I'm still a member of the PRT" I hissed out, and to my frustration he immediately retorted.
"I think it matters plenty, given that you were dancing around that fact just earlier."
"Would you guys just 'let it go' if somebody kidnapped and killed one of your lower ranking members?"
"'You guys'…?"
"Yeah, the Empire, right?" I guessed. An educated guess mind you, given that the asshole had been tormenting a black girl before I pepper sprayed him and that 'old man' over here is a literal skinhead. The lack of a response all but confirmed it, so I continued on, trying to regain my momentum from before.
"Look, if I disappear the PRT are going to retaliate; they will see this as an attack that they have to respond to. If you let me go on the other hand it won't be nearly as bad. I'll tell them that-"
"Shut your mouth."
"You-"
The world goes white for just a moment, and as I come back to I'm slumped over in my chair again, blinking stars out of my vision. Head spinning, I could feel a bruise forming around my right eye. Fuck me, why did he have to hit so hard? Realizing that I could hear a voice talking pretty close by, I tried to listen in, although the loud ringing in my ears made it difficult.
"-still got the kit, right? Yep. Uhuh. Look- just shut up, alright? I need someone to disappear. Yeah, I got 'em here, at my place in the docks. No, they're still alive. At my place in the docks."
I glanced up and saw the prick and the old man standing a bit away from me. The prick looked… nervous. Maybe a bit pale? Paler, that is. The old man was talking on the phone while simultaneously holding a finger up towards the prick, shushing him.
"-look, you know the cops don't patrol here, especially at night. No, the fucking slants won't bother you either as long as you don't drive straight through their turf. Just- just get your ass down here pronto, you owe me, remember? …Yes, we're straight after this. Alright, great."
He ended the call and put his phone in his pocket, then looked at the prick expectantly.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn't we let, like, let her go? I mean, this is the PRT we are talking about."
"A bit late to back out of this now, Lukas."
"I'm just thinking-"
"No, you're getting cold feet. I really don't care to listen to you attempting to weasel your way out of the consequences of your own actions. I'm going out for a smoke."
The old man stepped away from the conversation, quickly leaving the room. The asshole, Lukas, glanced at me, then pulled out his own phone and started typing. Shit, this was really bad. Looks like they're going to kill me and dump my body in the ocean or something. I'm not sure why they haven't killed me yet, but I'd rather not find out when exactly they intend to pull the trigger on that. I need to escape my bindings if I want to stand any chance of surviving tonight. Careful not to make any sound, I started testing my handcuffs. Not too tight… I think I can slip them. That'd still leave my legs, but it still gives me more options.
One step at a time, right?
First I had to decide which hand I'd try to slip the cuffs with. It probably didn't matter that much, but I remember the idea that you might have to dislocate your thumb in order to do this sort of thing. That might just be movie bullshit, but if it isn't… better to injure my non-dominant hand. And with that I folded my thumb in on my left hand, and slowly shimmied it out of the cuff…
There!
I let out a sigh of relief, before tensing up again. Had he heard that? A quick glance showed that no, Lukas was still engrossed with his phone. Despite that he was still a problem however. I could probably get my legs free by hand, but not without alerting him. It'd be slow to boot. If I had his knife however…
I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, but a new surge of adrenaline swept away the pain. Could I really be planning to…? Fuck, it was him or me, wasn't it? If my legs weren't bound I could have tried something else, maybe just knocked him out, or just running as fast as I could. Instead I was tied up here, still effectively helpless unless acting from ambush. And it was this fucking dickwad that knocked me out and kidnapped me. And it's pretty clear he's just gonna stand aside while his nazi gang buddies execute me. It's all his fault, he's fucking scum. He doesn't deserve any better.
I sucked in cold air through my teeth, the icing pain lancing through them helping me center myself, and as I breathed out I let all my roiling emotions go at the same time until the only thing left was the cold.
"Hey, Lukas!"
His head shot up.
"Wh- How do you know my name?"
I blinked in bemusement.
"I heard it in the conversation you just had with your friend. Anyways, you're not going through with this are you? Killing me?"
He looked torn for a moment, just looking at me, phone still in hand but not typing.
"I- I don't…"
"Come on Lukas, you're not that stupid are you?"
"Shut up, don't say my name!"
He put his phone away while taking a single, hesitant step in my direction. My lips thinned out into a flat line, almost a smile.
"Lukas, Lukas, Lukas… be reasonable. If you get charged for the murder of a member of the PRT you're going to get life for sure. Why don't you just let me go instead, that'll-"
"I said SHUT. UP."
He was advancing on me now, his red face growing in focus as he came closer, while his hand pulled out what I was looking for. His knife. A switchblade to be precise. Fairly long blade too. I didn't get to study it further as his left hand shot out and grabbed me by the collar while his knife came to a stop under my nose.
"I know what you're doing you manipulative bitch, I won't let y-URK!"
While he had been busy talking, staring me in the face I'd snuck both of my hands around from where I'd been pretending they were still handcuffed behind my back, placed my right hand on his to direct the knife then pushed with left. Taken completely by surprise he hadn't resisted as the knife plunged into his throat, but almost immediately after he jerked the knife out while taking a step back. I instinctively flinched and closed my eyes as a spray of blood hit my face, and by the time I opened them again I heard the knife clattering to the floor as he took another step back, both hands closed around his neck in an attempt to stop the blood leaking out of him. A pointless gesture. He opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was more blood. So much blood…
With a wet gurgle, he sat down on the floor, wide eyes staring into my own. For several seconds we just looked at each other until he keeled over, flat on his back, hands still on his throat. And then his hands too fell back, and he was fully splayed out on the floor. I could still hear the blood flowing out of his body in the quiet room as I stared dumbly at him, before-
The knife!
Still tied to the chair, I leaned down and picked it up and immediately went to work cutting myself free. Despite my somewhat clumsy cutting I was making good progress, even as I saw the growing pool of blood reach my shoes. Swallowing my rising gorge, I kept at it until I was free, the remains of the rope used to tie me falling loose. I took one look at the body and was shocked at how quickly the skin had turned almost chalk white.
Then I proceeded to almost jump out of my skin when the door outside opened.
"Alright, the boys are almost here, so let's just…"
I stared at the old man as he stared back, smoke wafting from the cigarette stub he still held in between the fingers of his right hand. For a moment nothing happened, then I charged towards him while he dropped the stub and plunged his hand into the front of his shorts. I reached him before he could pull the gun out, slamming the knife into his guts while pinning his right arm with my left as well as my body weight. A pained gasp left his lips as I pulled the knife out, but his left hand shot out and grabbed my wrist before I could strike again. I tried to press forward despite this, then I tried to pull my hand back, but he held an iron grip so I made no headway.
Then I remembered a self defense trick I'd learned before.
I let go of his right arm with my left hand and grabbed the thumb of his right hand with it. Shifting slightly so I could get the proper leverage necessary, I proceeded to push…! The old man let out another ragged scream as the force dislocated his thumb, and with it I managed to tear my right hand out of his grip. Then I stabbed him again, and again, switched to targeting his torso. First stab glanced off a rib, second managed to sink in deep, and-
A hammerblow hit my right ear, the world disappearing for just a second before I came back to, on the ground. I looked around, vision swimming, and saw the old man kneeling in front of me. His right hand was clutching a snub-nosed revolver while his left was pressed against his blood-soaked shirt. I tried to get to my feet, but found that my limbs refused to work properly. Meanwhile he slowly, painfully lifted the revolver towards me and-
-BANG-
The world disappeared once more, replaced by a bright white muzzle-flash and a wave of concussive force. I let out a soundless gasp and blinked the brightspot out of my vision, and saw him again. His gun hand was shaking violently now, but he got it on target once more, and… slumped over on himself.
For several moments I could only stare, then I remembered to breathe a shallow breath in. And out. And in and out. It felt as though my lungs had shrunk, that their capacity to hold air had diminished. Had I been hit? Despite barely being able to move my arms I tried to pat myself down, but the only thing I managed to do was smear my blouse with more blood. My breathing was becoming irregular, and the shakes had spread to my whole body now. Was I dying?
No… no! I need to focus, I need to get up…!
I flipped over on my stomach, got my hands and knees under me and pushed myself up into a kneeling position. My head swam, sick trying to force its way up my throat. My fingers were cold, numb. I tried to get up on my feet, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. I need… I need to grab… the gun! Yes, I wasn't secure. I crawled forwards, unbothered by the lukewarm blood now covering my hands until I almost bumped into the body. I grabbed his arm and got it out from where he'd hidden it under his body; he wasn't providing any resistance at this point, completely lax, and it wasn't difficult to pry the revolver out of his hand.
Okay, now I can get up.
One foot under the other, somehow I managed to keep myself standing on the first attempt, if only just. Now I need to… need to do what? I gnawed at my lower lip, lost in thought, or a lack of it. It was so hard to focus. I need to… safety. Backup! I need to call for backup, 911! I patted my pockets with my left hand, and for a moment I felt something like panic when I noticed that my wallet was missing, before I remembered what had happened. Then I found my phone, flipped it open and started typing the number in, smearing the keys with blood as I did.
"...what's your emergency?"
The voice sounded low, distant even as I had my phone pressed against my ears. Oh right, hearing damage from the gunshot. I forced the words out of my mouth even as I had to grit my teeth at how weak my voice was.
"I- I need p-police… and an ambulance, and- and the PRT too."
"Okay ma'am, I need you to tell me where you are and what is happening. Can you do that for me?"
My voice regained some of its strength as I clung to the instructions, and I answered to the best of my abilities.
"I'm somewhere in the docks, don't k-know where. I was, uh, kidnapped. Managed to get free. There's… there's two people dead."
I bit my lip as I wondered how I'd even start to properly explain this, when I suddenly heard a phone start to ring. It was coming from the body of the old man. I felt ice go down my spine.
I'd forgotten something important. He'd called for friends. They were coming here.
I wasn't safe.
"...still there? Hello? Are you still-"
"I'm still here, but there's more- they're coming, I need help. Now. I need help now, they're coming-"
"Ma'am please, I need you to take a deep breath and calm down for me-"
"N-NO! You don't understand, they-"
The phone stopped ringing. I felt something inside my chest tighten. Breathing was becoming more painful.
"No…" I whimpered out.
Several seconds passed, the voice in my ear forgotten about, before I heard the door handle rattle. I turned to look, and sure enough, the door handle was slowly being lowered. I pushed myself flat up against the wall, perpendicular to the exterior door, revolver aimed in that direction one-handed.
The door slowly creaked open.
"Jakob? Are you there?"
A voice called out from outside. I clenched the grip of the revolver tight. The door continued to inch open, bit by bit. I could see a hand on the inside of the door, my finger on the trigger twitched, but I held my fire. I heard a hissed curse, and the hand fell away.
"They're dead."
Someone else started talking, further away, which turned into a hushed conversation. My arm was growing tired, but I kept it trained on the doorway. I was thankful that the voice on the phone had grown silent, but at the same time it only added to the tension. As if they too were waiting with bated breath at what was about to go down.
The conversation died out, replaced by complete silence. The seconds stretched on, and then…
A head peaked past the doorway, looking straight at me.
I pulled the trigger, instinctively closing my eyes at the same time.
-BANG-
The concussive force wasn't much better on this end, and I almost lost my grip on the revolver. I opened my eyes again, squinted. No body, no blood. Had I missed…?
I got my answer when the next thing that came around that doorway was a handgun, turned in my direction.
-bang bang bang-
I felt a punch in my gut, air leaving my lungs as I fell over. The back of my head hit the floor, stars forming in my vision, but I retained the clarity of mind to get the revolver back on target and start pulling the trigger again.
-BANG-
-BANG-
-BANG-
-BANG-
-click-
-click-
With the last of my strength I hurled the now empty revolver at the doorway, then let myself fall back, bloody hands covering my face. Too weak to look my death in the eyes, I waited.
And waited.
I gathered the courage to peek through the fingers of my hand, seeing…
Nothing…?
Well, nobody at least. Had they… left? I was pretty sure I hadn't hit anything, and besides there were two of them, right? I raised my head a little, feeling woozy, and looked around some more. To my surprise I saw the third guy, the one who shot me, I think, splayed out face first a couple steps inside the doorway. His hands were empty, the gun nowhere to be seen, and as I stared at him I could see his chest moving up and down ever so slightly. He was still alive, still breathing… but unconscious?
It didn't make any sense, but an enormous headache prevented me from trying to deduce what had happened, so I simply gave up, letting my hands fall down beside me. Too hurt to do anything else, I just focused on the simple task of breathing, trying to stay awake.
I was failing at that too.
My left hand rose as I waited.
I was losing time.
Sirens became audible.
I lost consciousness.
…
