Capture Me

One Point Five Legged Villain

Warning!

This chapter contains drug-use, adultery, adult and child prostitution, and violence. If you think these might cause triggers on your mental well-being, please skip this one and wait for the next chapter to be uploaded. Thank you!

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Three days after hospitalization and a long way to recovery, the now-one-legged woman sat in a white room devoid of anything except for the metal chair she was situated and a metal table covered with a gray fabric.

She wasn't bound, which to her was an insult, for them to think that she couldn't fight with the situation she was in was laughable but also very cruelly true. She also felt naked in the blue hospital gown she was in. The pain she was feeling was barely tolerable for she was long past her medication, the gnawing feeling of ache slowly crawling from her bandaged knee up was threatening to make her lose her sanity.

The silence and the antiseptic smell accompanied her. She knew what was coming, her very long due ticket to hell, she had nothing to lose though, so why not drag everyone with her? What was the point of them succeeding without her anyway?

She walked through everything while the people she called boss sat in their golden chairs and made themselves looked clean while she did all their dirty works. Her one mistake though that she took this one transaction for granted and believed in the security of the large number of people carrying heavy-equipped firearms would provide.

What was the point of killing that fucking curly pig Rodrigo if she wouldn't be able to live past this? Her competition was down, she had acquired wealth, and on her way to living a new life to finally revel the aftermath of the filthy things she'd had gone through but all crumbled because she believed in those dickheads.

She gritted her teeth, the pain was increasing and she didn't think she could handle it anymore. She didn't even minded the door opening as she was concentrating on not succumbing to the hurt she was feeling.

"Looking chummy." Said the man who entered.

She followed him with her eyes as he went and stood a foot in front of her.

This person was a stark in the room, the place was all white while he was in all black.

Her mind was blank of thoughts already consumed by the pain, she didn't think she could even talk or answer what he was about to ask.

"Anna," Was all he said but it got her attention. Nobody called her that for so long, she couldn't even remember for how long she stopped using that name. "Petrov. Saying your last name has the feeling of-how to say this-power. Your real name suits you better than Rebecca-"

"Quit bullshitting and ask!" She cut him off, she couldn't take the pain anymore that she thought she might pass out any second.

The man's eyebrows raised, the ghostly smile on his face obviously indicated that he was amused by her approach. "Oh? So the bribe I came with meant nothing?" He walked a few steps to the table and set down a covered syringe and then went back to her.

"That," he pointed at the lone thing on the table, "is morphine, the dose is enough to alleviate your pain for hours." That was all he'd said but the dangling continuation that he would give it to her if she answered his questions automatically whispered in her ears.

She clenched her teeth tighter, it took all of her to not scream in pain. She wouldn't stoop to that level even when she was already at her lowest.

"Ask!" She shouted which made her head throb more adding to the already big pain she was feeling.

His dark-brown eyes were cruel, unfeeling, and lacked sympathy for her. "No need to shout, Anna-"

"Quit fucking calling me that!" Her screams seemingly got louder. That name reminded her of nothing happy or even close to that. She drowned in anger whenever they called her that. She was sold for a fucking dollar by her own mother who gave her that name and she cursed that dratted slut every second of the day she lived in the hands of those abusive men. Funny thing, she was now working for a person whose country's money bought her.

No one knew the story of Anna Petrov after she was bought and given to those vile people, no one knew how she became Rebecca Alastair and she would take that to hell with her like that. Better they labelled her as the she-devil than knowing how she was defiled beyond salvage.

She only dreamed of living a good life after escaping the pitiless clutches of her captors, but was it wrong to achieve it faster by taking shortcuts?

Her heavy breathing echoed in the wide, empty room. "Ask." She told him again. She felt her insides dying from the pain so might as well rat some people before that happened. He would kill her either way anyway.

Anthony Garick didn't think that a person like Rebecca Alastair or Anna Petrov would easily give in to what he wanted. Maybe it was her leg's pain or maybe it was something else entirely.

"I only got one question," He told her.

Her blue eyes were glazed but they still looked at his with defiance.

"Who made you do all this?" He stared her down, his hands rested inside his front pockets.

"Peter Maccintosh," She answered without blinking.

Honestly, Anthony wasn't even surprised. He had that suspicion that he was somehow involved. The guy had several cases filed against him but he won them without a sweat and he thought he got high chances of winning the presidency election.

He expected Rebecca to mum up after that and walked to where the syringe was.

"The running mayor, three senators, and his vice president are in on it too." Her vision darkened for a second. "Emel, his VP, accidentally killed his wife when she found him in the middle of fucking one of their maids. I heard he buried her around his house." She went silent again.

Anthony went to her and clamped her forearm, her thin veins bulged prior being squeezed. After uncapping the syringe with his lips and teeth, he slowly injected the medicine into her.

He removed his hold on her forearm and he could tell that the sigh of relief that went out from her was a sign of the instantaneous effect of morphine in her veins.

She slumped on her chair. "They asked me to kill the cops and everyone to cover their filths, trade children for armory, sell women for drugs, kill for silence," She still talked but in a slurred, highly sedated voice.

Her pupils were blown up when she once again directed them to his. He got up after administering her the medication and went back to standing in front of her.

"I'll take it from here." He told her and brought out a silver gun.

There was no surprise on her dazed face.

He pointed it at her forehead and unceremoniously clicked the trigger.

She heard the explosion of the gun and the crack its bullet made in her skull but it there wasn't any pain at all. She stared at the man's face devoid of emotion and then to the ceiling as her head tipped over.

Is it done? She asked herself.

"At least you didn't feel any pain." Were the last words she heard and it sounded so far away.

Like a click of a light switch her world turned black.

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A/N: I figured I would sorta give a bit of a back story of how Rebecca became the way she was.

If you didn't skip this chapter, thank you for reading it and hope you enjoyed!