𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐀² - 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♥︎ 𝘑. 𝘉. 𝘉

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈

TW: Kidnapping, torture, fighting, and possible death.

[Smells Like Teen Spirit - Malia J]
1:40 ─〇───── 2:13
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Beverly's POV

I feel sick to my stomach as I can feel the helicopter in the air, travelling past the ocean. My body is bruised from the last mission I had. I don't remember much of it, but what I do know is that I had failed. I had missed a piece of vital information and was beaten badly as a consequence. I remember Winter being sent to his cell before I was forced into the electric chair. He didn't need to be beaten, he completed the mission perfectly beside me.

We have been flying for a significant amount of time, my brain slightly banging against my skull every second. They have yet to tell me where we are going or why. I've been confused since I step foot on the plane and have been ever since. With my body not strapped to the bench like the others, I lean up, looking at the guard sitting on the opposite bench.

"Where are we going?" I whisper.

They don't move a muscle, pretending that they didn't hear me. I lean forward on my bench, trying to get them to see me. They still don't move, not even look or talk to each other. They are like statues, frozen to the spot. I lean my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands together, and lean even more forward in my seat.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where we are going?" I speak a little louder.

Still, they don't move or answer me. Although one of them clicks his jaw, the muscle being prominent as he uncontrollably groans. He looks angry at my question or presence. I'm not sure, it is quite hard to get a reading on them.

"Hello?" I lean back in my chair. "Can someone answer me, please?"

The same guard that just clicked his jaw turns to face me, making direct eye contact. He glares at me, standing from his seat after violently unstrapping himself from the bench. Taking out his pistol from his leg strap, he holds the muzzle in his palm, his fingers wrapped around the metal. He lifts his hand above his head, applying full force when slamming it down onto my skull. The but of the gun hits the side of my head, rendering me unconscious.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

My eyes flutter open, seeing the world around me blurry for a few seconds before I blink, my vision coming back to life. My head pangs against my skull, and a painful headache forms on the muscle. My surroundings look familiar, the metal walls are clean, designed with weapons and no windows, the only source of light being from a modern-looking ceiling light. I'm still on the helicopter.

I move my body, seeing that I am lying on my side on the floor of the plane. I sit up, seeing the guards still sitting on the bench, in their own conversations with each other. I stand from the floor, realising that they didn't even bother to move me onto the bench after knocking me out. Sitting back on my bench, I feel the plane halt violently, the machine shaking slightly.

The side door swings open, revealing a large patch of grass. A guard grabs my arm, forcing me back onto my feet. I falter slightly before getting my feeding and following the other as they exit the helicopter and onto the grass. We walk away from the plane, letting it hover off the ground and fly away from us, joining the clouds. I am forced away from the grass and follow the concrete road, towards a large building. There are red-tinted windows, the sight through them being faulty. The large front doors of the building slowly open wide, allowing us to enter. They slam shut as we walk through, pushing my back forward.

"Welcome!" A man in a blue suit stands at the top of a staircase, his hands spread out wide. "My name is Dreykov and welcome to my home." He begins descending the stairs.

With how close he is getting, I can see his full figure up close. His body is too big for the tight suit, the buttons holding on by a small string. He wears bulky black glasses on the end of his wrinkly nose, them tinkering off the edge. His hair is white, styled to curve over each other far back on his head, the hairline being practically non-existing. This man is clearly the boss by the way he dresses, but he seems more like a coward to me.

"Morana, what a pleasure it is to meet you. I have dreamed of this day for many nights." He shakes my hand vigorously. "You will be training some of my girls to be better."

He looks over at the guards behind me, nodding his head at them. The one holding my arm lets go, hesitantly stepping back. They all follow each other through a door, leading them through and out of the building. Dreykov loops his arm in mine, walking me through the building. He points out a few rooms as we walk, detailing what occurs in them throughout the day. The final room on the end of the hallway stands isolated, the door shut and locked, requiring a key from Dreykov's pockets. He opens the door, pushing my body through the frame and into the room.

It is filled with weapons strapped to the walls, designed with all different types of guns. In the middle of the room sits a boxing ring, a mass group of girls surrounding it, looking into it nervously. Scattered all over the room are guards, large guns strapped to their persons, in constant use. Fighting in the ring, are two girls, both of them not looking older than 12 years old. One of them clearly has the upper hand, pulling the other all around the ring and doing a number on her. She grabs her hair, kneeing her in her stomach. The girl falls to the floor, holding her stomach with one hand and holding the other one in the air, trying to block herself from the girl above her.

"Stop! Please." She begs in pain.

The guards around the room straighten their posture, a few of them grabbing ahold of their guns. A pair of them begin stalking towards the ring, a hardened expressions on their faces. One of the holds up the rope, letting the other slip under it and into the ring. The other enters as well, pushing the winning girl into the corner of the ring. They both hover over the crouched, injured girl, leaning down to look at her menacingly. One of them grabs her by her ear, pulling her to stand. With the hold on her, he forces her to stand still, letting the other recoil his hand and slap her across the face. Everyone doesn't seem to react to the assault, it clearly being a regular occurrence.

The guard that is holding her ear pulls her body closer to him, letting the other hold up the rope and throw her out of the ring, onto the wooden floor. She attempts to scramble away from them, but with her evident injuries on her body, she struggles. They make it to her, grabbing her by her hair and pulling her across the floor, towards the door. Dreykov moves me away from the door frame, letting them drag her out of the room and down the hallway. She continues to scream as they do, thrashing her body around.

"That's why we need you, my dear. We don't tolerate mistakes like that. You don't beg for your life here, you fight for it." Dreykov whispers into my ear.

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