The Lion's Den

Chapter 2

 Unknown's POV:

    I stand frozen, watching as my second in command, Feliks, holds a silver GSh-18 pistol to this small girls head. All signs of human emotion in her drains to a point of being devoid, and her long lashes flutter shut in peaceful acceptance. 

     I look over her small frame, searching for any other indications of fear. Strawberry curls tumble on her steady shoulders, pushed gently on her cheeks by the settling wind. 

     I've fired hundreds of shots, aimed directly between a mans eyes. Everyone of them has blinked back at me in their final moments, with a plead held on their lips or in the depths of their eyes. She offers me none. 

     And I want to know why. 

     "Stop. Uspokoit' yeye," I command, and her crystal blue eyes snap open and glare at me through the darkness. (Stop. Sedate her.)

     I hold her gaze as a needle is buried in her arm. 

Nova's POV: I don't look down as I feel the needle sink into my left arm. I understand them perfectly, and I knew what was coming. I expect a cloth over my mouth from the man standing behind me, one which I only know is there because of the iron grip he has clamped my arm, but a needle is more uncomfortable. 

     I know I'll be out soon, and I don't want to go down without some type of exhibition of displeasure. So I simply fold my legs in criss-cross apple sauce, just as I learned in Kindergarten, and give these fuckers a front row display of my middle fingers.  

     The one I had heard be called Feliks seemed to almost smile, but my vision was swimming to much to really be sure. My vision darkened at the edges and I dropped my middle fingers before the darkness consumed me completely. 

**********

     I wake up in a room that's not mine. 

     Slowly I sit up, ignoring my burning muscles that are shouting at me not to. 

     I rest on a canopy bed, dark wood extending up and framing sheer drapes. The ruffled comforter is white with two stripes of grey at the foot. Four white walls, and oddly, grey base boards. The overall theme is white and grey, with a few accent chairs and desks scattered around. 

     I timidly step down onto a plush carpet, then clumsily stumble through a door that ends up leading to the bathroom. It's beautiful, with white marble and grey tile walls. 

     A large mirror above the sink reflects my raggedy self, with wild hair and smeared mascara. 

     I decide there is more pressing matters than the state of my appearance, like finding a weapon. Maybe my kidnappers were stupid enough to leave a knife around here. 

     I wander back into the main bedroom, but I come up with nothing but my pink bag I had when I was captured. My phone was taken, and sadly anything that could be used as a defense.      

     I find myself back in the bathroom, where my eyes land on a toothbrush. My mind can't function right with the grittiness on my teeth, so I quickly scrub over them with water. The palm of my hand runs over the handle end on the brush, and I notice it's a bit pointed. Granted, the flimsy toothbrush isn't going to do much damage. Thought I do feel a forceful shove into someone's eyeball could be severely uncomfortable. 

     A sharp knock at the door pulls me away from my morbid plotting. I quickly shove the brush below the waistline of my thick jeans. The door bursts open in rude greeting, as the stranger on the other side doesn't wait to be invited in. 

     "Um hello?! What if I was naked!" I shout in a panic outburst, not controlling my impulsive mouth. I've never been one to think about consequences until it's to late. Like that one time I called my teacher a fat whore. 

     "I wouldn't mind," the intruder inquires smugly. I desperately want to use my toothbrush on him, but I remind myself to not yet blow my cover. I need to wait till I have a clear way out of here. 

     The boy in front of me was only slightly older than me, with sandy blond hair and pale eyes. A few freckles dotted the tan skin of his face, adding to his overall peaceful look. He looks like a sweet guy, but the way he lashes out commands so naturally tells me otherwise.

     "Let's go. Keep boss waiting and he'll kill both of us," he roughly grabs my arm in the same place the injection was, and I flinch. He notices, but didn't loosen his grip or seem to care in the slightest. Okay, I've officially determined him an asshole.

     He drags me down several hallways, a few flights of wooden stairs, and finally into an elevator. He punches in multiple floors in an odd order, and I get annoyed at all the stops and goes we are certain to make. But instead, the speaker beeps and we begin a consistent descent. 

     The smell of heavy dirt and earth fills my nose, and I know we are far under ground level. The elevator halts, and ominously slides open. The atmosphere is cold and eerie, and my senses flood with the taste of anger and danger. 

     Stumbling through the dark halls of this compound, it feels as though cold water hangs delicately in the air, frozen there by the fear of the men lurking them.

     The grip around my arm halts me in front of a dungeon looking door. Wood planks stretched up it, complete with an iron door knob that I imagined would freeze my hand if I touched it.

     "Ready to meet the King?" my captor hisses in my ear as he flings the door open, throwing me carelessly inside.