MANIPULATING THE MANIPULATOR

CHAPTER ONE

DISCLAIMER FOR THE NEXT 10 CHAPTERS -
- swearing
- talk of sex
- talk of alcohol
- harm to body
- past trauma
- torture
- kidnapping
- angst

"So, who would you pick?"
The faint sound of some shitty bar song elapsed in my ears and I paid my undivided attention to how the liquid swirled in my raspberry cruiser when I stirred it with my black coated paper straw as it was growing soggy from being in the liquid for too long.
Save the turtles, I guess.
My fingers absentmindedly drummed the polished wood of the table. Reality slapped me in the face when Rebecca spoke up. Even then, it took me a hot second to commemorate myself before replying.
"What?"
I asked, my gaze going up to her with a light tilt of my head as her eyes rolled in an obvious gesture. Both of my hands moved to clasp the bottom of my bottle so that I wasn't fidgeting as much and didn't look like an antisocial nerd. Rebecca repeated her question that I genuinely didn't hear before after zoning out.
"Kiss, marry, fuck. Tom Hiddleston, Theo James and Chris Hemsworth."
That question alone reminded me vividly of those times at highschool parties with an empty vodka bottle and a hell lot of people in a circle. I was drained after dancing all night as my social battery had well run dry, but that didn't impose on me being rude.
I had a good thought, I knew all the men, and they were all pretty fucking attractive. I shrugged using my hands before letting them splay themselves on the table, my skin to the wood sending a chill down my spine.
"Uhm, kiss Chris Hemsworth."
I count on my fingers as I speak each of the three names.
"Marry Tom Hiddleston and fuck Theo James."
I say bluntly, my gaze measuring the room and how the neon streamer lights caracended the walls and how the dance floor was written in an array of flashing colours as people lived on the high of music and alcohol. I looked back to Rebbeca, admiring the way her brown hair made in layers broke down her shoulders and framed the edges of her face to make her blue eyes pop to a tinge of green. I saw how the silver she wore adorned her skin tone and complimented her facial features and how the pale green silk dress on her hugged her curves and made a formal match to her eyes.
"Can't say I blame you, Theo is one hot motherfucker."
She says with a subtle shoulder shrug, taking a sip of her cocktail and exhaling just after. Her eyes avert my own to look over my shoulder, magnifying at the sight behind me.
"Brady and Harrsion coming our way, and they look drunk."
She says, focusing intently on her drink in front of her and I gaze behind me. She was right, two familiar faces stumbling their ways toward us. Both holding half-full glasses of beer in their left hands.
Well this was going to be fantastic.
When they finally reach us, Harrison practically falls on Rebecca, slinging his arm lazily around the both of her shoulders, leaning on her and the chair she was on for support.
"How ya ladies goin' tonight?"
He says, his Australian accent pulsating my ears even over the music. Brady stumbles behind Harrison and puts his drink on our table, so uncarely it almost tips and falls. He then presses his chest to my back, holding both my bare shoulders to stay upright. They got a bit touchy, even after only a few drinks.
"Oh my god, fuck off, Harry!"
Rebbecca giggles, pushing Harrison off her so that he is slumped forward of his forearms, leaning over the table again.
"Yes, ma'am."
Harrison teases, chuckling short after and taking another swig of his drink before letting it sit on our table. I personally didn't care about Brady. It was either this or him falling face first onto the ground.
Which, I admit, would be very amusing.
"How many drinks have you two had?"
I ask, glancing over my shoulder to Brady before looking back to Harrison, watching as his half-lidded eyes pave the both of me and Rebecca's faces. He looks at me when I ask, counting droopily on his fingers.
"'Round six or seven, but who's counting?"
Brady speaks up from behind me, his slightly ragged breath falling onto the back of my head at a slightly quicker than normal pace that sent cold chills up my spine.
"Ugh, who cares how much? You girls wanna dance?"
Harrison speaks up. Offering his hand to Rebecca. It was clear as day that the idiot liked her, he was just too chicken to do shit about it. Brady, who had now gained more strength in his limbs, moved off me and to the other side of the table that was opposite Harrsion, taking a sip of his own beer. Rebecca gives me a look, silently asking me whether I wanted to dance or not.
I didn't feel like dancing, honestly. The situation between my Dad and Mum was weighing too heavily on my mind to be thinking of anything. I had come to this party to get my mind off it, but it seemed to weave its way back into my mind no matter what I did.
Before I even got the chance to answer the streamer lights and dance floor lights cut out, music too, leaving the room in near complete darkness and silence for a split second before everyone was groaning and shouting complaints that the party had just gone out. Most of the complaints were sluggish from everyone's alcohol induced mindsets.
"What the hell?"
Brady spoke up in the midst of it all as we all looked around the room, finding the source of the outage. So did everyone so it seems before everyone's eyes landing on a figure in the darkness, holding the wire to the system creating the lights and music. The figure flicked the actual light beside him, startling all our eyes. It took a second for me to realise it was The Dean of our school.
"Alright, party's over! Back to your dorms!"
He says, his voice booming over the room, despite the complaints. It had been well past curfew, but college students don't listen for shit, anyway. Eventually, everyone begins to file out of the room, slumping their shoulders as they walk back to the dormitories.
"Guess we're saving that dance for later, huh?"
Brady said, trying to make a joke but in efforts sounding all sluggish. He takes a deep breath before nodding to the two of us and walking to Harisons side of the table and directing him away by his shoulder.
"See you girls around!"
Harrsion yells over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. Me and Rebbeca both giggle, amused by the entire situation and its sudden downfall.
"How the fuck are we friends with those idiots?"
"You're asking me?"
I reply, rolling my eyes playfully as I take one final sip of my cruiser before looking at Rebecca. Her eyes scanned the room before she reached for her purse that was idly handing on the chair she was sitting on and hung it loosely across her shoulder before standing up.
"Let's get out of here, I can tell your dying to get back to the dorms. College parties aren't for everyone. Plus, I can't handle getting scolded by The Dean tonight."
It's not that college parties weren't for me, I just didn't have it in me to dance to anymore songs from the 80's. Or hold Rebecca's hair back while she was throwing up in one of the toilets.
Gross.
I also didn't want to talk to The Dean, his overpowering height and voice may as well be blatant figure of my goddamn nightmares.
Just like cats with no hair.
I mirrored Rebecca's movements, grabbing my purse and hanging it across my shoulder before standing up. Rebecca didn't even wait for a reply of my own before linking her arm with mine and directing me back to the dormitories in Brown.
"You seem out of it today. What's on that mind of yours, huh?"
She asks, leading the two of us down the dimly lit hallway of our college, the commotion from the party room slowly fading with every step of the two of us, which pulsates the walls due to the clanking of our heels.
"Global warming."
I say sarcastically and Rebecca gives me a mock look of disappointment, knowing I had my sarcastic tendencies from time to time. Her eyes repeat the question for her as I look to her at my side, our footsteps falling in unison.
God, this stubborn woman.
"Social battery is dead, you know?"
I said, it was partially true. I had other things on my mind other than just feeling dead internally, but it was nothing that Rebecca truly needed to know about. Turning another corner, there was a comfortable silence that hung over the two of us before Rebecca broke that silence in a calming manner.
"Makes sense."
She said simply before we finally reached dorm 201. My room. She detached herself from my arm and I went to my purse to get my keys. Opening my door, my gaze flickers to her for a second.
"Do you need anything else before I leave?"
"Nah, I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
She says before I close my door behind myself, met by the darkness that engulfed my surroundings. My eyes adjusted before I flicked the lights one as it lit aglow to the room. My room was a simple dorm room, with personal artefacts layering the space. It had a desk, joined with a chair and computer. A basic, yet rather comfortable, queen sized bed in the direct middle of the back wall. My closet doused in my clothes, almost jammed in. I showered and got into more comfortable clothes. A black hoodie and matching sweatpants.
No, not everyone wears a fucking lingire set to bed, especially not in the middle of winter.
Leaving my bathroom, I felt a weird sense of unconformity. As if I wasn't alone in my room. Those feelings were proved true as soon as they entered my mind as the light was suddenly cut off. I didn't get a second to comprehend that I was pinned to the door of the bathroom, which I had just closed entering my bedroom.
Two calloused hands grabbed the curves of my waist, digging into my skin. It was a rather muscular frame, from what I could make out from the moonlight casting their silhouette, he must have been a man. He pinned his body against mine, essentially sandwiching me between the doors' surface and himself.
This all happened in the quite literal blink of an eye. Before I got the chance to scream or pull away, he cupped his hand over my mouth with one of his hands - which was concealed in a leather glove - leaving little to no breathing area. His other arm moved to lay limp at his side. He moved one of his legs in between the two of mine to pin me further into the wall, making it almost impossible for me to escape.
"Don't fucking move unless you want to die, дорогой."
What happened to normal everyday introductions?
He spoke in a gravelly, low voice that sent a series of shivers both up and down my spine. He didn't speak English at the end of his sentence, which I could only guess was Russian, from how it sounded. My eyes remained large, flabbergasted by the view pressed against me.
No, because random Russian men pinning me to a door is a normal occurrence to me.
My eyes trialled for what I could. He was a rather large and tall man, he must have been 6,0 feet, at least a head taller than me. He had a black tactical vest and jean pants on with necessary padding in the needed places. There were laced tactical boots to go with.
His entire outfit is a clad black alignment with an array of machine to normal guns strapped on his body. This includes bombs and blades, the never ended weapons on this man's body. It took me a second to realise that his left arm, that was hanging to his side, was completely metal, not an ounce of flesh.
The arm was lined in metal plates for flexibility and my gaze stretched up to the bicep, noticing the red star that sat itself there. I had no idea what it symbolises, but I didn't want to find out. Moving to his facial features, the facial harmony may have well been written in the stars. His face was carved as if the greek gods took him to a scalpel themselves, from what I could tell at least, there was a black muzzle covering his lower face from my view, only with miniature holes for breathing purposes.
His eyes were an icy blue, like the chills that rise like goosebumps on your skin on a cold night. His expression lacked the entirety of emotion, leaving room for only coldness and calculation. His hair waves down to the middle of his neck in a chocolate like colour, slightly sticking to the edges of his face thanks to the light layer of sweat that was forming.
And, all together it made him look irrevocably majestic.
Ironic, the one majestic man in my life is a killer.
"Now, if I move my hand, don't make a sound. Do so and I won't be afraid to slit your throat. Got it?"
He says, his voice almost taunting me into making a sound, just so he could kill me. However, I wasn't one of those idiots in horror movies. So I nodded. He removed his flesh hand with a fast haste, his metal hand immediately reaching for his gun holster and flipping the restraint up, just in case I made a move. His flesh hand moved to pin my shoulder into the door, just for good measure. For a moment, I didn't talk, I didnt move. Hell, I didnt even breathe until I realised I wasn't. I swallowed hard, so much it hurt my throat. He still had my body pinned to the door, refusing for any wiggle room. After taking one of the deepest breaths in my entire fucking existance, I spoke.
"What do you want?"
I asked, not caring just how stupid the question may have been. He was here to kill me, wasn't he? Kidnap me, hurt me. It didn't matter what it was, none of the choices had a good outcome. A humourless chuckle left is lips, muffled under the muzzle to make it sound only that much more dark.
"Right, you don't know. To put it plainly, дорогой, I'm here to take you back to my organisation."
He says, his voice holding a cold amusement to my confusion. I had all right to be confused, it's not an everyday occurrence that I get fucking kidnapped, is it now? I don't think my eyes even stopped being as wide as bowling balls since the second he pinned me to my bathroom door. I was scared out of my mind.
Scratch that, I was scared out of my soul.
The hero's did their job at keeping the villain's away. The civilians had to adapt. I was a civilian, I didn't even think I was going to be the public caught in the crossfire, however.
He took his pistol from his hollister and used the muzzle of his gun to tilt my chin up to look up at him, cocking it and ghosting his finger too close to the trigger. I didn't know what to say, I knew I should submit, agree to his request. However, I didn't want to give up that easily. This was my life, my choices.
But the gun just told me to shut my pretty little mouth for once in my life.
"Now, you are going to slowly pack a bag of your necessities. No devices of any kind, I will be checking."
He says, his voice never faltering to stay completely emotionless and non-feeling, his eyes only matched. He stepped back, giving my body leeway to move as I adjusted to the feeling of not being pressed down by his crushing muscle weight. I pushed myself off the door as it creaked behind me, my hands finding my opposite upper arms for some sense of security. Not like that would help against a guy like him.
He looked like he could snap my neck like a goddamn twig.
So, ever so slowly, I packed a bag, agreeing to his terms. I only had one thing on my mind; stay alive. Everything else was collateral damage. His gun followed me everywhere from where he stood next to my bed. I only grabbed what I knew I would need as my mind raced with thoughts I wasn't fast enough to chase.
Who was this man? Why was he saying he was going to take me away? What was his organisation? Was he alone? Was I going to die? Could I escape? What did that red star mean? Why did he have a metal arm? How did he get into my dorm?
So many endless questions; a plethora of thoughts. I didn't listen to him when he said no devices, I packed my phone and hid it in a secret compartment of the bag I was using, praying he wouldn't notice. Finishing packing, I put my bag on my bed in the direct middle. I didn't trust the man enough to breathe the same air as me, so I stayed as far as I could have, pressed up against my wall.
As soon as I put the bag on my bed, he grabbed it and tugged it closer to him, opening it and digging through the items inside. His face was still stone cold, tenison all over his body with no spectacle of relaxedness or calm.
Tell me why I almost felt bad.
He almost immediately found the compartment that was hiding my phone, taking it out with a small scoff.
"What did I say, seconds ago?"
He says, his voice slightly raised with firmness. His eyes narrowed in my direction and my breath caught in my throat, unable to speak until I quite literally forced the words out of my mouth.
"No devices..."
I said so quietly it may as well have been a whisper, but it must have been enough for him to hear because he crushed my phone with his metal fist. I gasped, my eyes widening even more at the sight as the debris pieces of my phone fell from his fist onto the bed and the floor. I had no idea how he did that, even with his metal arm, but all I could do is watch. He opened his fist, flipping his hand to the side and letting the rest of my phone's debris fall.
"Don't disobey me, дорогой, it won't end nicely for you."
He says before zipping my bag up and holding the handle in his metal hand before moving over to me to grab my arm in a tight grip in his flesh hand. I flinched as he did so. He led the both of us to the window next to my desk and he went down a rope that must have been how he got up in the first place. He moved his flesh hand from my arm to my waist to secure me against tight him until we got back to the ground before moving his arm to its original spot. He took me to a jet that was hidden in a dark alleyway, its black paint matching into the shadows. The only thing that managed to stand out was the red skull with octopus legs on the side of the jet, a circle around it. I didn't speak, because my thoughts were speaking for themselves.
I didn't want to die, so why was this feeling like my last moments?