BAILEY HOPED it was another one of her nightmares, haunting her and causing her to wake up sweating in her bed. However, she awoke on the hard floor of an almost empty room, surrounded with desks of scientific tools. She was cold, but sweating, and weak and tired... it took all of her strength to open her brown eyes.
"Let her go!" A familiar voice shouted, "Bastards, let her go!"
Despite her ringing ears and throbbing headache, she managed to hear the shouts of worry, desperation, and anger from Robin. Bailey groaned, rolling onto her back to face Robin, who crawled over to her.
Robin's voice was hoarse from shouting, as she rested on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, "Hey, can you hear me? Bailey, are you okay?"
Bailey groaned, attempted to raise her hand to touch the side of her sore head but she soon realised her hands were tied together- as were Robins. She was too weak to speak, the throbbing in her head becoming agonising. Bailey found the strength to lift her head, looking onto directly down to the floor to see a few droplets of blood that obviously came from the wound on her head.
Bailey panicked, attempted to speak, "I-I... My- No. No." Everything she wanted to say came out at once, as her brain still adjusted to consciousness again.
"Hey, Bailey. Look at me." Robin reassured, but the look of pure horror in her eyes made Bailey doubt her. She comforted, "It's okay. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get out of here, okay? It's just a scratch."
A scratch that led to her possibly bleeding to death. Bailey thought, though her mouth was too weak to fathom the strength of words. Robin's expression didn't reassure Bailey, but knowing that Robin was by her side calmed her down.
Bailey frowned, "Wher—Where's Steve?"
"He, uh, he's with the Russians." Robin explained, "Sacrificed himself to get questioned by them, so we didn't have to—"
Suddenly, the door buzzed, reopening as two guards dragged Steve's lifeless body inside of the room. Except it didn't look like Steve at all: blood covered his face, a black eye swelled, cuts and bruises stained his skin, his head hung low, his eyes shut.
"What did you do to him?" Robin shouted accusingly to the soldier who seemed to be in charge. She knelt up, shouting towards the man louder, "What did you do—" She was cut off when the Russian slapped her around the face, before he ordered his two colleagues to tie the three up in chairs.
Bailey was dragged to her feet, the world spinning around her as she squirmed weakly in the guard's grip. Tears swelled in her brown eyes, as the three were tied together on their chairs with belts strapping them so they couldn't move.
"Steve, wake up. Steve!" Robin repeated desperately, "Bailey? Bailey, are you okay?"
The Russian man approached the three, lifting up Steve's head by pulling his hair and scoffing at his beaten up face. He then approached Bailey, placing his hand on her chin and guiding her head to the side to take a look at the cut on the side of her head. Bailey started to sob silently, feeling almost powerless. Robin turned to look at her, straining her neck,
"Don't touch her!" She warned, enraged.
"It looks like your friends need a Doctor." The man remarked, his Russian accent still heavy it was harder to understand his English, as he walked over to face Robin. He bent down on her level, "Good thing! We have the very best." He glanced at his colleagues, before laughing sinisterly.
Robin spat in his face, her eyes glaring into his. Bailey turned her head to watch as the man wiped his face. The Russian man's laughter turned to anger, as he began walking out of the room with his men, "You're going to regret that, сука."
