[COMPLETED UNTIL SEASON 5]
Ana Thompson always seems to wind up in the strangest predicaments...
A perpetual victim of Murphy's Law, Ana finds herself arriving in Hawkins, Indiana just prior to the events of November 6th, 1983.
And, just prior to f...
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THE WRECKED PLANE was idle in the snow, where it would remain, becoming a monument to weary travels and failed abduction attempts. They'd started a fire to stave off the surrounding cold, a relief that was altogether fleeting as the harsh wind continued to whip through the trees and thrash at their exposed skin. Yuri had been tied up several yards away so they could have a moment's peace from his gripping and grunting, but they were still stranded, lost, with no direction to aid in their pursuit.
"I'm going to look for civilization. I'll be back in an hour," Murray announced, finally halting his pacing, which had left a deep divot in the loose powder beneath his feet.
His offer received immediate contradiction from the two women leaning close to the low flickering flames. "Murray, no. You can't just leave us here," Joyce disputed, fearful he, too, would be lost should he wander away.
"Not happening," Ana shook her head in utter disagreement. "We split up now, and we're totally screwed." Not that the group wasn't already, but they didn't need to add another issue to the sizable stack they'd managed to accumulate so far.
"Then what do you suggest, huh?" He snipped in irritation, hands rubbing fervently together to reintroduce some semblance of warmth into his fingers. "Last I checked, our comrade over there ain't talking."
With the reminder, three sets of eyes shifted to observe Yuri from a distance. After regaining their footing following the crash, they'd tried to question him, but he'd been less than cooperative. So, they'd left his simmering indignation to thaw in the icy atmosphere, hoping it would spur some sense of self-interest in him. "We could always try again?" Ana proposed, tilting her head in consideration. "I've heard losing a finger can be very motivating."
"Ana," Joyce gasped in shock. "You're not seriously suggesting torture, are you? That's really dark."
"Well, I'm not interested in fucking freezing to death out here, Joyce," she snapped in frustration. "And then there's the bears or whatever else lives in this hell hole. God, I hate Russia!" Ana could feel her nerves straining, sending stray sparks of anger that singed anyone who dared challenge her. Not one thing had gone right on this ill-fated rescue mission, and her optimism was slowly draining like sand through an hourglass.
They lingered in silent contemplation for a second until Murray ultimately inclined his head in agreement. "We can give it another shot," he said with an exhausted sigh. "But you let me do the talking," he instructed Ana with an accusatory finger waved at her face. "You're a few fries short of a Happy Meal right now." She would've argued if the assessment weren't entirely accurate. If one more thing went wrong, she would likely spin out, burning the tread on all four tires as she sped off towards delirium.
Murray approached their captive first, as agreed upon. "Hey! Dipshit!" He shouted at the shivering man, the gaping wound on his cheek no doubt a factor in his animosity. "We're outta here. Last chance," he informed before removing Yuri's gag, spit flying into the frigid air as he did so. "Where's the prison?"
