His Barista - Soap MacTavish Coffee Shop AU

17

Everyone'a familiar with the feeling of being on a rollercoaster, even if you'd never been on one. That gut wrenching feeling as the weightlessness overtakes you. In that instance, you feel the joy and excitement of the unknown, wondering what comes next. But sometimes that feeling can also be one of dread and unending fear.

Elsie never had that feeling while living with her parents, their predictable behaviour preventing it. So she wasn't prepared for when it finally happened.
Elsie ignored the obvious unease in the pit of her stomach as she ambled around the grocery store, catching the eye of two men more than once, but brushing it off as strange paranoia. Even after she had sighted them already in the darkened carpark, no groceries in their possession — which she should've seen as the biggest red flag —, she convinced herself she was going crazy. Things like that don't happen in real life to normal people, right?

But then she heard their footsteps bounding against the concrete, a hasty speed heading straight for her. She snapped her head to see them and took a step back, back now against her car door before she dropped the brown paper bag she'd been holding full of her things to the ground and began sprinting back to the store.

She hadn't even made it ten metres before an arm slinked around her waist and pulled her effortlessly off the ground, her feet dangling just short of it. She yelped as he did so, to which he clamped his rough, calloused palm over her mouth, holding so tight that her jaw ached and she pulled desperately at it. She tried to grip her car keys between her fingers firmly enough to use it as a half-assed weapon against them, though it was already far too late for that now.

No one had seen or noticed as they forced a needle into her neck, waiting until she grew limp in his arms before stuffing her into the back of their SUV, quickly binding her wrists and ankles and speeding off.

Every so often the men would peer through the rear view mirror, watching as Elsie's dead weight moved with every turn of their car, talking in Arabic to each other as they did so.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The very first thing Elsie was aware of was her own breathing, heavy and broken and her lips were chapped as she smacked them together, her eyes remaining closed.

It was as if her brain was filled with fuzzy static, like an old boxed TV that needed it's antenna fiddled with in order to regain the connection again; this came in the form of fingers tangling in her messy hair, gripping tight and forcing her head up as she groaned from the pain.

Elsie's eyes finally opened, squinting at the harsh light above her before they adjusted and she was met with a toothy grin and dark eyes.

"Welcome back," The man spoke with a heavy accent, although his English was fluent. He released his hand from Elsie's hair and stood up straight, watching as she had to crane her head to see him. "You've had quite the nap."

She took a deep, shaky breath in before she dared to speak, hoping her words would leave her mouth stronger than she felt. She knew her fear would only feed their hunger, no matter the circumstance of why they'd kidnapped her.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" She asks him bluntly. If she weren't bound to a pathetic metal chair in a place she didn't know, she might've laughed at how clique those questions were, or how she finally understood why the kidnapee in movie's always asked the same.

The Arabic man's grin faded, replaced with an expression almost.. bored?

He sighs. "Straight to the point, hm? That's no fun, Elsie." The sound of her name rolling from his tongue disgusted her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and arms. It sounded so so wrong.

She grimaced, but refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking eye contact.

"Am I supposed to be surprised that you know my name after Kidnapping me?" She quips and leans back against her chair in an attempt to relieve the pain in her joints from not moving for so long.

His grin returns now, something that makes Elsie's stomach gurgle uncomfortably. It was almost like she impressed him with her quick remark.

He clicks his tongue. "Oh, we know a whole lot more than just your name," He says, his voice lowering. "But that's not important for now. What is important, is telling us everything you know about John MacTavish and his team — 141. Who's in it, what they're planning. Everything."

She didn't think her stomach could drop any further, but it did. Hearing Johnny's name, confirming her fear that this was orchestrated because she was with him made her face paler than a ghost's.

But she had to remain strong. So she began laughing at him. It was quiet at first, but it quickly turned manic, her laughter being a substitute for tears. As fast as it started, it stopped when he delivered an open palmed slap to the side of her face so hard that it knocked her sideways with the metal chair, clanking against the concrete where she now lay.

He stood over her as she coughed and heaved, desperate for air in her winded state.

It wasn't enough for him.

She felt his boot press down on her throat until she couldn't breathe at all and he watches as she tries to thrash around, hands and legs wanting so desperately to break the rope around them so she could fight back. Then she heard him start to laugh like she had done, mocking her, degrading her in a way that said anything you can do, I can do tenfold.

"Not so funny now, eh?" He shouts and her face starts to turn a shade of purple, her eyes watering and throat choking. "What's that? I can't hear you, speak up!"

Just as her head begins to spin he removes his boot and places it back next to the other, and she gasps for the air she'd been praying for.

He doesn't speak, only stands above her while she calms her lungs, but she speaks before he even thinks to.

"I'm just—" She starts, coughing a few times before she's able to continue. "— his girlfriend. He doesn't tell me anything about his work."

Her eyes flick up to his and she can't read the expression behind them, though she doesn't know if she cares much.

"And even if he did," She says, voice stronger now as she lifts her head to see him better. "I wouldn't tell you."

His grin returns for the third time and crouches down. His hand is only missing out of eyesight behind his back for a moment before it returns with a closed switchblade.

"I was hoping you'd say that." And it flicks open.