Exsilium - A Widowtracer Fan Fiction

Four

[08.22.2068]

Amelie Lacroix Nee Gulliard was plucked from Chateau Guilliard, her home in France. Talon operatives made their way into her family estate on the eve of one of Amelie's famous last ballet recitals, and abducted her when she arrived home late that night. They took her to a base of Talon operations, where she was dragged by her arms, flailing her feet behind her. Two hefty Talon agents in black armored suits hauled her into a room inhabiting a narrow hallways in a dark basement. Amelie could hear her voice echoing back up the stairwell she was pulled down. The two guards thrusted her forward into a chair in the center of the room, where her wrists were immediately restrained. Her wrists were followed by her ankles after she managed to stomp on the foot of one of the agents with her black heel. This earned her a swift punch to her cheek, causing her to squeal in pain. He eyes watered as she glared back at the guard.

"That's enough." A deep, masculine voice was heard from mere feet away.

Standing at the door was a large Nigerian male with bulging muscles, and white face paint strewn across his cheeks and nose.

"I never said to abuse my guests." He spoke to his workers, who nodded and apologized instantly.

The man walked further into the room and stood over Amelie. He wore white baggy shorts with a red sash tied around his waist tightly. His build intimidated Amelie as he stood over her, like a skyscraper towering over the city leaving nothing but a dark, shadow cast onto the public below. His nostrils flared ever so slightly as he breathed in a out, looking down at the dancer restrained in the chair in front of him.

"You're The Successor." Amelie observed.

He nodded to her.

"My name is Akande Ogundimu."

"I've heard about you, and the things you do." Amelie shook her head, frowned at him in the up most expression of disapproval.

"You say that like I'm a monster Miss Lacroix."

"If you're not a monster then, what are you?" The french damsel sneered.

"Darling I am merely a business man." Akande chuckled.

"Here at Talon we provide the world with the diminished remains of their hope, fueling their strength through a means of conflict."

Amelie shook her head at the broad male.

"You're a terrorist group." She spat.

"Now Darling, we like to avoid using the T word, it takes the humility out of the things that we're trying to do here."

"You don't say!" Amelie sarcastically countered.

"But I suppose you've gotten a little too mouthy for your purpose, Lacroix."

"And that is?" Amelie questioned with her eyes narrowed into slits.

"That will be clear enough to you in dear time, Lacroix."

"Let's begin." Akande spoke, not to Amelie, but to a slim number of scientists that at some point had gathered at the door.

The pack flocked into the room on command, flourishing anxiety into the french dancer. They began to poke and prod at her, kneading the skin on her face with their hands, and sticking wires to places such as her temples, and the back of her neck. She became lightly hysterical once more, trying to fight them off, her words vile and loud, becoming more agitated that her anger didn't ward them off or phase them. The anger that raged through her veins slowly evolved into fear, as they did not stop, or explain a single thing before they did it. She begged uselessly for them to stop, that they didn't have to do this to her, but she felt the current regardless. She shrieked in a piercing pitch of pure agony, and pain, as a surge of electricity swam through her skin, into her bones and infiltrated her brain. She felt the burning everywhere, and her body flailed in the chair desperately. Her lungs became tired, her throat dry, but still she continued to scream, and began crying hysterically, hearing only the clanking against the chair, of the metal cuffs around her wrists. This went on for hours, they wouldn't stop. Amelie became soaked with sweat, and the neckline of her loose purple blouse drench in her tears.