Most of the characters and situations in this story are completely fictional and a product of the writers own imagination. The only one that isn't, is the lovely and ever cruel and cold bastard, Mikhail. We have darkknight0307 to thank for him. Forgive the long wait on this new chapter, apparently we have to separate the paragraphs according to speakers! Didn't know that! Well here you have it everyone! For all the people who favorited the last chapter, please leave feedback. I would really love to know what you all are thinking! And suggestions are always welcome.
"Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves-regret for the past and fear of the future."
Fulton Oursler, 1893-1952
*
Emily felt the cold before she felt anything else and for a brief moment, for a few blissful seconds, she thought she was dead. It was when those seconds passed that the familiar smell of sulfur mixed with the musty scent of the commander's tent reached her nostrils. Moments after that, a sharp pain split mercilessly into her skull where, what she figured had to have been His pistol, had connected with the back of her head. "Fuck." She thought groggily to herself, and began the painful task of forcing her eyes open.
In any other situation, in any other place and time, she might have laughed when she realized the drug Lord had decided to tie her securely to a chair this time, but at that moment it took all that she had not to let the ever growing fear in her mind consume her. The tent was pitch black around her, and if the pain hadn't been there to remind her that her eyes were actually open, she would have been hard pressed to believe that they were. She hated the dark...even more now so then before. The faces of her men floated before her eyes even as she struggled to figure out a way to loosen her wrists, which had been securely and expertly tied to either arm of the uncomfortable metal chair she was seated in. It was hopeless...and she knew he would have taken extra precautions to make sure she did not cause him any more inconvenience. Emily sighed, forcing herself to accept the fact that she was now completely and utterly alone. "Just get him to kill you quick..." She thought to herself. "Please God...let him kill me...let him...." Emily could not remember the last time she had thought to pray, but hell, why not...all she had was time now.
" De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine:
Domine, exaudi vocem meam:
Fiant aures tuae intendentes,
in vocem deprecationis meae.
Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine:
Domine, quis sustinebit?
Quia apud te propitiatio est:
et propter legem tuam sustinui te, Domine.
Gloria Patri, et Filio..."
Her stomach gave a violent and painful twist when a soft, cold, and amused chuckle came from somewhere in the darkness around her.
"et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper,
et in saecula saeculorum. Amen."
He finished the latin prayer with the accuracy of one who had been speaking the language fluently since childhood...and she knew if by some twisted humor of God, she was allowed to walk away from this camp, that she would never be able to utter the prayer again.
Where was He? Emily became increasingly frustrated at her slight delirium and the realization that he was somewhere in the tent with her, and she had no idea where. The silence dragged on for what seemed like hours, though most likely it had only been a split second.
He was there. His hot breath close to her neck, sending a feeling of disgust washing over her. "God...cannot help you here, Major." He whispered into her ear.
"Just kill me motherfucker...I'm not going to tell you what he said. So how about you save us both the frustration and..." Once again, her words were cut short by that cold laughter, but at least her suggestion had been enough get him to move away from her; how far away she wasn't quite sure...but as long as she couldn't feel him....
"Oh Major, Major, Major....I'm not going to kill you!" His voice dripped with amused derision, and Emily could hear the sound of his heavy boots, pacing around her like some kind of hungry wolf stalking it's prey. "For now anyway, I simply wish us to become more acquainted." There was a click and soon to follow was a flood a bright light that forced Emily's eyes closed once more. "Forgive me for being such a terrible host earlier, I must admit that way out here in the middle of nowhere, it is easy to forget one's manners." His voice had dipped back to that deceitfully soothing tone, that one that almost made Emily want to let spill all that she had to tell from her lips to gain his mercy... and she might have, had she no pride.
"Fuuuuuck you." Emily said through a bored and groggy sigh, only to be rewarded with another soft laugh.
"Soon...perhaps..." He said, matter of factly, "Allow me to make up for it now, are you hungry?" She heard him ask, and running out of witty remarks by now, she simply shook her head no. A lie of course, as the last time she had had any conception of time what so ever, she had been 48 hours without food. Only her captor knew now how long exactly it had been.
"Thirsty then?" He offered instead, only to be met with another shake of her head. Emily let her eyes drift open a bit and found him standing over her. She could not judge exactly how tall he was from where she was sitting...hell, even when she was standing, most people towered over her small frame. Perhaps 5'11?
"What the hell does that matter?" Emily scolded herself harshly and lifted her eyes slowly up to meet his. "You mind stepping off asshole?" She breathed with a sarcastic cock of her head.
The man ignored her, like Emily knew that he would, and simply continued to talk. "My name is Mikhail...but I imagine you already knew that..." The room filled with the sweet scent of tobacco at the same time the sound of the flick of a lighter made her flinch into awareness. She'd never in her life smoked a cigarette, but as he placed one between her lips and lit it for her a moment later, the idea did not seem nearly as repulsive to her now as it had in the past. He allowed her to take a long drag before he continued speaking. "The United States has made it very clear that your 'Alpha' team does not now...and never has existed...You were never a liability to them, I am sure. Nor were you ever the supposed leader of that team. Attention was successfully diverted from Alpha's teams actual leader...One Jason Lucian Marquez, a retired Marine Veteran and current contractor, through your ignorance. This lack of information, as it were, ended his life much earlier than was needed and has kept you alive much longer than I would have liked." Emily snorted and set her boots firmly on the ground.
"Your really know how to charm the girls you know that, Mikhail?" She snapped and took another long drag.
Mikhail was quiet for a long moment, seating himself on the chair opposite Emily and simply staring. She held his gaze, refusing to allow him to see the fear his silence was causing to stir in her. His face was completely unreadable...a fact that was more disconcerting to her now than it had been the first time she had seen pictures from his file in the operation report. This was Mikhail...Czar of the dangerous underworld...feared King of the drug culture, human trafficking, illegal weapon dealings, and god only knew what the hell else. Rumor of how dangerous this man actual was had traveled through the base, but a part of her had known that no matter what, it would never touch her...until she had been assigned to this mission. Even then though, she was sure that it would be uneventful. "Get in, get out." Was her orders. Get proof...solid, undeniable evidence that Mikhail was here. Radio in, and another team would take it from there. Simple...in theory.
