Irina came to on the floor, stirring plumes of dust every time she took a heavy breath. Where was she? The factory, she was sure. But where? The room she woke up in was dim; the only source of light coming from the bay shop panel above her.
Why wasn't she dead? Heisenberg spared her for some unknown reason; Irina wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her hopes of surviving this nightmare had been taken away from her; he made sure of this.
So why? He promised to kill her. Could he not strike her down while she lay unconscious? At least then she'd never wake up, having to look that bastard in the eye again.
Irina blinked away tears. She never had any chance of escaping. There was no cheese at the end of this winding metal labyrinth.
Easing into a sitting position, she moaned in pain. Her side and arms burned immensely. A warm tightening feeling washed over her and for a moment, Irina feared that she may pass out again.
The silver lining was that the shackles had been cut at the chain; the cuff remained on her wrists, but at least her hands were free.
Irina eased out of her torn coat, groaning as metal slivers in her hands brushed against the fabric. Beneath her coat, she wore a white blouse with short sleeves; a rust-colored stain bloomed across one side, torn to ribbons where the auger made contact.
Peeling strips of cloth from her skin where the blood had dried, she examined the wound in disgust. It looked as though she had gone through a meat grinder; chunks of bloody flesh hung from her side.
She nervously laughed, despite wanting to cry. At least the green herb she picked up would not go to waste.
But where was her bag? Heisenberg must have taken it.
Irina searched for it, but she couldn't see well enough to locate it. Standing on her feet, she became unsteady. Her brain sloshed inside her head like a bowl of soup. She leaned against a table to steady herself.
This room he put her in was small; a fraction larger than a living room. A pair of spring frames sat against the far wall, but the mattresses were gone. There were some tables and shelves placed around the open space, but nothing of importance. The only thing that caught her eye was a barred window – she doubted that the door would open for her.
Irina sighed. She eased towards the window and peered out; she was in the heart of the factory. How unfortunate. At this point, she hoped for nothing.
Backing away, she sat down on the floor and waited. Her mind was too tired to think.
For what seemed like hours she sat there, listening to the low roar of the machines. She considered resting, but before she closed her eyes, the lock on the door clicked; the gears rotated against the other until the door came open.
Heisenberg sauntered in.
His eyes wandered over to Irina, taking in her heated expression and unkempt appearance. Grinning, he ignored her and grabbed a grease rag from one of the tables, cleaning his hands with it.
Once he was done, he tossed the rag onto the floor and drug over a chair, sitting on it in front of her.
"Let's have a heart-to-heart talk," he ordered.
Irina curled up her nose but agreed with a nod. There were some questions of her own she wanted to ask.
"Why are you here? You must have known how dangerous it was coming here."
Duke warned her, but she didn't expect there to be monsters in the factory. She also never expected Heisenberg to attempt to murder her.
"I already told you," Irina declared. "I came for the treasure."
