Friday morning, somewhere that isn't Fandom [NFB]
Cold.
That had been one of the few things Nadia had been able to think about for who knew how long. It was cold.
She was lying on the floor of a tiny room, her hands cuffed behind her back. Every so often, one of the men who'd grabbed her would come in and inject her again, just when she was getting coherent enough to start to think about escaping.
She was cold, she felt ill, she was scared and she wanted to go home.
But this time . . . she was starting to get past that. She started to notice other things, that her limbs weren't feeling as heavy, that there were small objects on the floor that she might be able to use, if she could just reach them.
She'd have to get her hands out from behind her back, first.
She started to shift, just a little at first, to try and pull her legs through the circle created by her arms to get her hands in front of her. She had to be careful--if they heard her moving around, they'd drug her again, and she didn't know if she'd get another opportunity.
When her shoulder popped out of joint, she didn't even feel it.
Almost . . . almost . . . there. She lay shivering for a moment longer, forcing down another bout of nausea, then started running her hands along the floor for something she could use. As a weapon or to pick the locks on the handcuffs.
The door swung open and a cartel agent ran into the room, handgun drawn. "//Hey, want's going on here?//"
She was out of time.
Well, if they'd wanted her dead, they could have done that already.
She barreled forward at the agent, bringing up both hands in fists towards his solar plexus.
The man doubled over as the wind was knocked out of him, dropping his gun.
Nadia brought her hands upwards, then, hard into his face. One of her hands didn't quite want to work properly, but she ignored that. She had to stay focused on her training.
She could handle these guys. She just couldn't let them drug her again.
There was a sickening crack as the goon's nose broke under her hand. He fell back against the wall, clutching at his nose.
Nadia dove for the discarded gun, stumbling slightly as she went. She fumbled her working hand around it, then raised it to point at the agent's head.
She had to swallow twice before she got her mouth to work to form words. "//Who are you? Why did you grab me?//"
"//The... the...the!// the goon stammered.
No good. She was running out of time. She knew there were others.
She shot a glance towards the door, fighting past a wave of dizziness, then swung the gun into the side of the goon's head and ran, gun still gripped as tightly as she could.
The goon went down for the count. As she ran, Nadia might have heard a commotion as the goon's friends found him unconcious in the room.
She did, and she forced herself to run faster. She made a sharp turn, and suddenly found herself outside on the deck of a boat.
Crap. Boats complicated things. Only way off was into the water.
Well, she was a strong swimmer. She'd never feared the water. She ran for the stern of the ship, glancing over her shoulder, preparing to fire at anyone who might come after her.
There was shouting behind her as a number of goons rushed out of the doorway onto the deck, guns drawn.
Nadia fired three shots as she closed the distance to the railing at the stern of the boat, then dropped the gun to free her hands as she reached out to vault over it.
One of the goons flew back to the wall, a bloody hole in his forehead. Another cursed as he clutched at his shoulder, but the third one stayed up, he took a shot at Nadia as she climbed, but missed.
Nadia hit the water feet first.
She'd forgotten something, though.
It was November. In the Northern hemisphere.
The water was cold.
The shock of it left her gasping and choking underwater, disoriented. For a moment, it was as if it were April, and she was trying to swim away forever again. Any moment, Walter would pull her out.
She sank for a few moments, then started to kick towards the surface, desperate for air. She'd promised Walter she wouldn't do this again.
She coughed harshly as she broke the surface, trying to expel the water she'd inhaled.
A hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed Nadia's arm, helping to pull her up to the surface.
Nadia instinctively grabbed back, momentarily forgetting that she'd been trying to escape in her desperation to get out of the water.
"//Rather colder than what we're used to, isn't it?//" El Pistolero asked as he pulled her onto the dock.
Dock.
She was on a dock.
The boat was at a dock.
She didn't have time to facepalm, though. She tried to scramble away as she recognized her "rescuer" as the shadowy man who'd kidnaped her in the first place.
Unfortunately, El Pistolero still had her by the arm and had a freakishly strong grip.
"//I'm sorry, but you're still our guest until he arrives.//"
A single, bright spark of pain shot up from her dislocated shoulder as she tried to pull away and she gasped. She kicked out at the man's knee.
"//Who?! Why are you doing this?//"
The man danced quickly to the side, avoiding the kick and trying to pull her dislocated shoulder into an arm lock. "//If it's any consolation, it has nothing to do with you. We could care less about you. You're just a way to get to him to come to us. So we can kill him.//"
More pain slammed up from her shoulder out of the fog of the drugs, and she felt her knees give out.
"//Wh-who?//" She wasn't foolish enough to think that they wouldn't kill her once whoever it was came. She tried to struggle, but that only sent more pain through her shoulder. "//P-please, who?//"
"//I already told you,//" El Pistolero said. "//Him. We want him.//"
"El. Nosotros queremos El!"
They wanted the?! She'd been kidnaped by crazy people.
She was doomed.
"¡¿Qué El?!" Nadia shook her head, letting her body droop limply for a moment before stomping down towards El Pistolero's foot and throwing her weight away from him, trying to break free.
El Pistolero winced as she stomped on his food and twitched his arm again. The air pistol shot out of his sleeve and he fired another dart into Nadia's neck.
"Yo estoy buscando..." he said. "Para un Mariachi."
The drug worked as quickly as before, and Nadia felt her arms and legs grow heavy and the pain in her shoulder fade out. But she finally made the connection.
Hell, the shadowy man above her even looked like him. Well, sort of.
"//But . . . he's just a dance teacher. . . .//"
"Oh?" El Pistolero asked, kneeling down to pick up Nadia. "What kind of dance teacher doesn't have a name?"
The bastard had a point. And there was the way he'd talked about the Day of the Dead. . . .
And he'd told them they should have run away from the bar fight.
What if he ran away, now?
Nadia pushed weakly against El Pistolero, even as she started to shiver again. She wouldn't be getting another chance to escape, she was quite certain of that.
What if El Mariachi never came?
The goons set her back down in the tiny room none-too-gently, and Nadia landed with a wet *thunk*.
She curled up on herself as best she could with her injured shoulder, shivering violently.
Cold.
[ooc: preplayed. NFB due to distance and not open for interaction, but OOC commentary is welcome]
That had been one of the few things Nadia had been able to think about for who knew how long. It was cold.
She was lying on the floor of a tiny room, her hands cuffed behind her back. Every so often, one of the men who'd grabbed her would come in and inject her again, just when she was getting coherent enough to start to think about escaping.
She was cold, she felt ill, she was scared and she wanted to go home.
But this time . . . she was starting to get past that. She started to notice other things, that her limbs weren't feeling as heavy, that there were small objects on the floor that she might be able to use, if she could just reach them.
She'd have to get her hands out from behind her back, first.
She started to shift, just a little at first, to try and pull her legs through the circle created by her arms to get her hands in front of her. She had to be careful--if they heard her moving around, they'd drug her again, and she didn't know if she'd get another opportunity.
When her shoulder popped out of joint, she didn't even feel it.
Almost . . . almost . . . there. She lay shivering for a moment longer, forcing down another bout of nausea, then started running her hands along the floor for something she could use. As a weapon or to pick the locks on the handcuffs.
The door swung open and a cartel agent ran into the room, handgun drawn. "//Hey, want's going on here?//"
She was out of time.
Well, if they'd wanted her dead, they could have done that already.
She barreled forward at the agent, bringing up both hands in fists towards his solar plexus.
The man doubled over as the wind was knocked out of him, dropping his gun.
Nadia brought her hands upwards, then, hard into his face. One of her hands didn't quite want to work properly, but she ignored that. She had to stay focused on her training.
She could handle these guys. She just couldn't let them drug her again.
There was a sickening crack as the goon's nose broke under her hand. He fell back against the wall, clutching at his nose.
Nadia dove for the discarded gun, stumbling slightly as she went. She fumbled her working hand around it, then raised it to point at the agent's head.
She had to swallow twice before she got her mouth to work to form words. "//Who are you? Why did you grab me?//"
"//The... the...the!// the goon stammered.
No good. She was running out of time. She knew there were others.
She shot a glance towards the door, fighting past a wave of dizziness, then swung the gun into the side of the goon's head and ran, gun still gripped as tightly as she could.
The goon went down for the count. As she ran, Nadia might have heard a commotion as the goon's friends found him unconcious in the room.
She did, and she forced herself to run faster. She made a sharp turn, and suddenly found herself outside on the deck of a boat.
Crap. Boats complicated things. Only way off was into the water.
Well, she was a strong swimmer. She'd never feared the water. She ran for the stern of the ship, glancing over her shoulder, preparing to fire at anyone who might come after her.
There was shouting behind her as a number of goons rushed out of the doorway onto the deck, guns drawn.
Nadia fired three shots as she closed the distance to the railing at the stern of the boat, then dropped the gun to free her hands as she reached out to vault over it.
One of the goons flew back to the wall, a bloody hole in his forehead. Another cursed as he clutched at his shoulder, but the third one stayed up, he took a shot at Nadia as she climbed, but missed.
Nadia hit the water feet first.
She'd forgotten something, though.
It was November. In the Northern hemisphere.
The water was cold.
The shock of it left her gasping and choking underwater, disoriented. For a moment, it was as if it were April, and she was trying to swim away forever again. Any moment, Walter would pull her out.
She sank for a few moments, then started to kick towards the surface, desperate for air. She'd promised Walter she wouldn't do this again.
She coughed harshly as she broke the surface, trying to expel the water she'd inhaled.
A hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed Nadia's arm, helping to pull her up to the surface.
Nadia instinctively grabbed back, momentarily forgetting that she'd been trying to escape in her desperation to get out of the water.
"//Rather colder than what we're used to, isn't it?//" El Pistolero asked as he pulled her onto the dock.
Dock.
She was on a dock.
The boat was at a dock.
She didn't have time to facepalm, though. She tried to scramble away as she recognized her "rescuer" as the shadowy man who'd kidnaped her in the first place.
Unfortunately, El Pistolero still had her by the arm and had a freakishly strong grip.
"//I'm sorry, but you're still our guest until he arrives.//"
A single, bright spark of pain shot up from her dislocated shoulder as she tried to pull away and she gasped. She kicked out at the man's knee.
"//Who?! Why are you doing this?//"
The man danced quickly to the side, avoiding the kick and trying to pull her dislocated shoulder into an arm lock. "//If it's any consolation, it has nothing to do with you. We could care less about you. You're just a way to get to him to come to us. So we can kill him.//"
More pain slammed up from her shoulder out of the fog of the drugs, and she felt her knees give out.
"//Wh-who?//" She wasn't foolish enough to think that they wouldn't kill her once whoever it was came. She tried to struggle, but that only sent more pain through her shoulder. "//P-please, who?//"
"//I already told you,//" El Pistolero said. "//Him. We want him.//"
"El. Nosotros queremos El!"
They wanted the?! She'd been kidnaped by crazy people.
She was doomed.
"¡¿Qué El?!" Nadia shook her head, letting her body droop limply for a moment before stomping down towards El Pistolero's foot and throwing her weight away from him, trying to break free.
El Pistolero winced as she stomped on his food and twitched his arm again. The air pistol shot out of his sleeve and he fired another dart into Nadia's neck.
"Yo estoy buscando..." he said. "Para un Mariachi."
The drug worked as quickly as before, and Nadia felt her arms and legs grow heavy and the pain in her shoulder fade out. But she finally made the connection.
Hell, the shadowy man above her even looked like him. Well, sort of.
"//But . . . he's just a dance teacher. . . .//"
"Oh?" El Pistolero asked, kneeling down to pick up Nadia. "What kind of dance teacher doesn't have a name?"
The bastard had a point. And there was the way he'd talked about the Day of the Dead. . . .
And he'd told them they should have run away from the bar fight.
What if he ran away, now?
Nadia pushed weakly against El Pistolero, even as she started to shiver again. She wouldn't be getting another chance to escape, she was quite certain of that.
What if El Mariachi never came?
The goons set her back down in the tiny room none-too-gently, and Nadia landed with a wet *thunk*.
She curled up on herself as best she could with her injured shoulder, shivering violently.
Cold.
[ooc: preplayed. NFB due to distance and not open for interaction, but OOC commentary is welcome]