Wildfire [AO] - [Jem and Michi]

[Michiru]

Brilliant emerald green eyes narrowed in concentration. A toned arm wiped the sweat off a male's brow as he bent over the device in front of him. Red numbers flashed in front of those green eyes as his deft hands twisted various wires with pliers in a practiced motion. Flipping the device over, the male finished attaching the last component, and then carefully attached the device to the desired location. The red numbers began their slow count down towards zero. Ten minutes on the clock, and he had one more bomb to plant. Standing, the male quickly unfolded the pressed white dress shirt, making the sleeves the correct length once more as he fastened them around his wrist. Deft fingers quickly redid the buttons on the front of the shirt as he bent down to retrieve the black vest he had discarded earlier. Finally, fastening his misplaced bow tie, the male smoothed his short red locks back into place before slipping the pliers back into the special place he had created for them on his vest. Image restored, the male, turned on his heal, picked up a tray of champagne flutes and exited the 'powder' room and moved back into the large hall where a charity ball hosted by none other than Antonio Cortez was being held.

The male, known as Andrew O'Riley, was only in the building precisely because of the man who was hosting the ball. Antonio Cortez was a well known entrepreneur, rich and well loved it was practically inconceivable that he would be involved in any shady dealings. Unfortunately for the man, Andrew wouldn't be here tonight if he was as impeccable as he appeared. In the 'underground' Andrew was simply known as 'Bomber', and for a very good reason. There was no one anywhere that was quite so proficient at creating, fanning and controlling flames -literal or figurative- and his specialty lay more in the explosive type of fires than mere arson attempts. Andrew was a terrorist without a cause, as long as you were willing to pay him, and pay him royally, he would create a nice bombing spectacle for any cause. Tonight, he was here on behalf of the Syndicate. The Syndicate had enlisted his talents many times in the past, this time appeared no different than the other times. Mr. Cortez owed his current success to the underground group, and the Syndicate was of the opinion that it was time he paid up, unfortunately Mr. Smithson didn't agree.

Andrew smiled at the ladies who were oggling him as he used the tray to cross the crowded room. He had often been told he was too striking to be inconspicuous. He wouldn't call himself good looking, his Irish blood was obvious, both in his color and his speech, which said nothing about his mannerisms, but according to many of the ladies tonight he was indeed striking. In his line of business, that wasn't good. He would much prefer to have been the type people overlooked, unfortunately, tonight he had had to tidy himself up a bit in order to be able to feasibly be able to pass as a waiter who worked at such a fine establishment. His preferred style of long bangs covering eyes with a slightly scruffy beard, glasses to hide his eyes further and nondescript clothing had had to be sacrificed in order for him to gain access. No matter, it was a simple matter to get back to his non-descript state; after this job, he would have enough money to live more than comfortably for quite a long while.

Ah, finally he had made it to the edge of the ballroom. Glancing behind him surreptitiously, the male lay his still half full tray down on a table at the side of the room and ducked into the hallway. For the most part, his mission had been completed. Bombs were placed strategically at all the structure points he had been able to scope out, only one bomb was left to plant and then he would be able to get out of here. Dropping his 'waiter' act, Andrew quickly rolled up his sleeves as he walked quickly down the hallway, veering off as he reached his destination. Kneeling in the middle of the room, the male fished out the materials he had brought with him. Five minutes and counting. Assembling a bomb didn't take much time, he just had to make sure he allowed himself enough time to get out of the building before all hell broke loose.

Right, now it was time to get to work.

[Jemineye]

She could see the lights already, even as the white stretch coursed to a halt at the grand white doors of the Town Hall. She had been preparing for this all day – all week even – practising the poses and the pouts that she would execute when the door was opened for her. She was very particular with how she came across in the papers. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had been told that she was beautiful. It was therefore only natural that she look the part at all times. Tonight was to be no different. She would be setting the trend for young women her age, everywhere, and most of her friends looked to her for guidance anyway. Some would be in attendance that very night – the ones she had deemed worthy and worthwhile enough to invite that was. They would be waiting for her inside. Because Serena Cortez had declared to everyone – her friends and her family – that she was going to arrive alone. It was the only way in which the paparazzi would recognise her and only her. She couldn’t count the amount of times when she had arrived with another only to be upstaged by them. Her father – Antonio Cortez – was a prime example. But she supposed she could not be mad at him for it; he was a self-made billionaire and an entrepreneur; it was only natural that the papers wanted pictures of him. But Serena was the pretty and pampered daughter. Through her father’s riches, she would make a name for herself - hopefully within the fashion industry. That was why it was necessary for everyone to know who she was. That was why it was so important for her to make an entrance.

So she waited. She felt the door of the driver’s seat open and close and watched as her chauffeur for the evening manoeuvred around the back of the vehicle and halted just outside her door. Gripping her clutch bag, she took in a deep breath as the chauffeur placed his fingers on the handle and pulled open the door. Serena found her winning smile as she place two cream coloured heals onto the velvet-covered concrete of the outside. Holding out a perfectly manicured hand, the driver accepted it and helped her to a stand from the vehicle. The flashes intensified as the cream-coloured maxi dress fell but a mere few millimetres from the floor; she had chosen it for both elegance and manoeuvrability. Her name was thrown at her constantly as she stepped forward; a hand fell against her waist as she strode along the velvet carpet and the camera men were insatiable, hungry for her photo and her attention. And why wouldn’t they? Curly-brown ringlets sat on her shoulders with refined elegance; a single yellow rose had been fashioned within; her eyebrows had been lightly waxed to precision and her makeup was mostly light on blemish-free skin save for the rather pronounced shade of crimson that she had painted on her pouty lips. Pearly whites grinned at the cameras; every now and again, she would stop along the runway, allow for a few snaps and then manoeuvre closer to the door. She couldn’t recall how long she spent out there, but eventually, she came upon the doors, stepped into the building and the doors were sealed behind her.

“Oh my gosh! There you are!”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

When Serena glanced forward next, she took note of two of her friends strolling towards her from the direction of the main hole. Abigail and Caterina were two of her most trusted girlfriends. Abigail with her fiery mane of long red hair and startling blue eyes and Caterina with her Italian flavour and petit figure. Both girls derived from upstanding families such as her own; Abigail, in particular, had an ancestral relation to a duke along the line somewhere. Both girls contributed to her image perfectly. They dressed well and took care of themselves and at times. Tonight was no different. Abigail had opted for a royal blue number to accentuate her eyes, while Caterina had opted for a standard black dress – one could never go wrong with a classic. Serena fought the urge to roll her eyes at her friends’ comments. They should have known her enough by now to know that she never arrived on time; it was always better to be fashionably late. But tonight was a formal occasion and it did not require a scene so she bade her friends a greeting and proceeded into the main hall.

The night was as she had expected it to be – entrepreneurs and high flyers from all around the country had arrived to be in the presence of her father and other like-minded individuals. She could not help but notice some of the glances that manoeuvred her way, however. Some of the men – old enough to be her father – her grandfather – would carefully sweep their eyes in her direction, before glancing away, striking up conversations with others or reassuring their jealous wives that they only had eyes for them. Because Serena could see it on all their faces. Those women who were so desperate to hold back the years with make-up, face lifts and botox. They could never truly be happy with themselves when in the presence of young people such as Serena and her girlfriends. For their would always be the embodiment of the way they had once looked. They would always be a constant reminder of those lost years. And Serena couldn’t help but smile in knowing that as of now, she virtually had the upper hand. For upperclassmen were not ruffians like those thugs and street crawlers that would sooner withdraw a knife for one incorrectly placed glance. Reputation was important.

Unfortunately for Serena, though the night seemed to be progressing flawlessly in her favour, she was not particularly lucky when a waiter sailed by rather carelessly carrying a tray with a solitary wine glass on top of it. Abigail had just introduced her to a friend of her father’s – a high-flyer who had links in the fashion industry. She had believed she had been making a good impression when a flurry of white had danced in front of her and the liquid had sailed over her shoulder and down the front of her dress, staining the material and disappearing into her cleavage. The yelp had been an immediate reaction, which has caused half the room to glance at her in curiosity. The glass landed at her feet with a crackle and shattered on impact and Serena’s pretty face was a picture of horror.

She knew that he was apologising profusely even though all she could hear was silence and all she could see was red. She wanted to rip him apart right there. How could he be so careless. The dress was worth more than he made in a month – probably even a year. Did he not know who she was? Did he not know what he had done?

But before she could erupt, she remembered exactly where she was. In the distance, she could see her father. He had gotten wind of the charade and was staring at her with such anguish that she knew it best not to embarrass him that evening. What was more, was that the fashion connection was also, in earshot. There were images all over the papers about young girls such as herself who were drama queens, throwing tantrums and acting like divas over the smallest of things, But despite the fact that she did have a temper and that she simply despised when things did not go her way, she understood the importance of reputation – hers and her father’s. She could not spoil it here, even though she wanted to tear the clumsy waiter limb from limb.

She exhaled. “...It’s fine...” she lied. “Really. I’ll just go find the restroom.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” she heard Caterina say.

“No...no...I’ll be fine...” this was stated through gritted teeth, but she had already turned her back when this was implied. Gripping the wet material between her fingernails, she coursed through the crowds towards the nearest exit. Once she was out of both earshot and eyeshot of the crowd, she launched into a mild temper tantrum as she coursed her way along the corridor in search of the rest room.

“It’s gonna stain! It’s gonna stain! Ugh!” she groaned. A cheap wine might have dissolved, but this was champagne – and the expensive stuff at that. She cringed at the thought just as she approached a nearly doorway.

Hoping that it might lead her towards an adjoining corridor with a bathroom on it – she supposed she should have had the girls lead her after all – she wasted no time in turning on the knob and granting herself access. What she saw, however, was unexpected. For though the room was not a corridor, it was the presence of a man – a waiter – that surprised her. She dropped the soaked material and put her hand to her chest and she steadied her shock. “Oh my gosh!” she spoke. “You scared me. I swear, you people should come with a bell or something.” She had been about to ask him to direct her to the nearest restroom, however, when she began to realise that something was off. For she was certain that situated just ahead of him was a device that looked strangely like a timer. And said timer was ticking away. Her eyes demonstrated confusion as she took a hesitant step back.

“What are you....doing...?”

[Michiru]

There was a reason he was called the best in the business: it was because he was. When it came to wiring, explosives and fire, Andrew knew exactly what to combine in order to get the best effect. This time, however, he was a little pressed for time. It hadn't been easy sneaking in here in the first place, on any occasion; even scoping out the place had been difficult. But, Andrew knew how to get his way, and there was no way he was passing up a job as nice as this. Not only was the pay extraordinary, but he would get to stick it to those wealthy bastards who thought that they could buy the world with their schemes. It wasn't that Andrew didn't appreciate money, after all he lived off the stuff, and provided the cash flow was significantly high he could be bought for any cause, he just didn't like how these business tycoon types flaunted it. Not only that, the world was rotting from the inside out from these elite types. People would die tonight, there was no doubt in his mind, but it was a neat solution in his mind. This way, he could have an impact and there would never be any blood to stain his hands. After all, it was the bomb that had done the action, there was never any need for him to see his victims before they died like a sniper or any type of assassin or soldier, he was just in charge of the explosives, once they detonated they were out of his hands.

Deftly his fingers twisted wires, snipped here and applied the correct amount of explosive there. It was better to bring the ingredients for making a bomb to the sight rather than the actual bomb itself, it was easier to get by without being detected. Right now, Andrew was just glad that all those wealthy types who were so full of themselves they felt the need to hold a ball to display the wealth they had for a charity, it was paradoxical if you really thought about it. Well, that didn't concern him, the timer in front of him was steadily ticking down the seconds. He had had five minutes to make the bomb for this room, he was down to four, a few more seconds and he would be done. After that, all that was left was leaving these rich bastards to their fates. If Mr. Cortez managed to survive, and that was a big if, hopefully he would understand the less than subtle warning Andrew had been hired to give him.

About to fit the last wire into place, Andrew's hands paused as he heard footsteps in the hallway, heeled footsteps. What was one of those spoiled ladies doing wandering around this part of the venue? No one should be near here at this time. Shit, this wasn't good. All he could do was hope that they would walk on by. He turned back to his work, after all, he couldn't exactly delay timed bombs now could he? It would be rather superfluous to get caught in his own trap. Using his pliers, he was just about to clip the last wire and put it into place when he heard the door behind him opening. There was a rustling of fabric, shit! He couldn't let himself be distracted right now. Snipping the last wire, he tried to block out the sound of the annoying girl's voice. Really, could you be anymore stuck up? Come with a bell? He could care less if he had startled her, she wasn't supposed to be in this area anyways. Just as comprehension was dawning in her eyes, Andrew was able to complete his last bomb. Standing, he reached over to his vest, slipping in his pliers once more and calmly taking out a gun.

Turning to face the girl, there was a hard glint to his eyes as he cocked his gun and aimed it straight at the girl's chest. "Don't take another step princess," his voice came out, obviously colored with the accent of his Irish heritage. "Or more than wine will be staining your pretty dress," he didn't have time for this! Nor did he want to use a gun. Fire and bombs were all well and good, but watching a person die? Andrew didn't think he could handle it. Plus, he hadn't been ordered to kill anyone directly, and according to his research, the girl in front of him was none other than Serena Cortez, the daughter of the man he had been hired to deliver his message to. He didn't want to kill her, she was so young, at least five years younger than him, not that he cared particularly, he just didn't want to watch someone die. For a terrorist, he could be quite the squeamish.

Before she had time to react, Andrew closed the distance between them, twisting her arm behind her back as he forced her to twist her body as well, her back against his chest as he pressed the barrel of the gun to her temple. "Not a sound," he cautioned her as he glanced back to the bomb, three minutes and counting. "Here's how it's going to work princess, if you don't want your pretty skin plastered all over the wall you're going to have to cooperate with me," his voice was came, his mouth right next to her ear as he whispered. "As you guessed, I was making a bomb, and your interruption, while annoying did not stop me from completing it. There are also many more bombs scattered around this building," two minutes, they needed to move. "You're coming with me, I can't have even the slightest chance of you surviving and revealing my face. So here's what we're going to do, you're not going to say a word, and we're going to go out the staff entrance at the end of this hall, then we're going to get on my bike that's waiting outside that door. If you struggle or try to interfere in anyway, I assure you, you'll end up dead long before me. Am I understood?"

Hardly waiting for an answer, Andrew tightened his grip ever so slightly on the girl's arm, taking a step towards the door she had just entered, fairly forcing her in the same direction. He didn't have time for this! All he could do was hope that the girl would follow his less than subtle directions towards the door they were to leave, this step by step nudging wouldn't do and he didn't want to knock her out, his bike would be way to hard to handle that way, with an unconscious girl in front of him. He was already regretting this action, but he knew he wouldn't change his mind and simply kill her outright. One minute, forty seconds left; they were cutting it close. Right now he could care less if someone saw him with his gun to her head, she would serve as an effective hostage -not that he really needed one- though he sincerely doubted that anyone would happen upon them.

[Jemineye]

Her heart thudded loudly in her ears as her mouth fell open at the sight of the hand-sized metallic object with its familiar snout. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run, but she had seen it in movies time and time again: movies where the victims were so desperate to escape that their captors saw no other means of silencing them other than a clean sharp bullet wound to the chest. And though she wanted to run for her life, she knew that the bullet would catch her first, and Serena was much too young to acquire a bullet wound in her perfect skin, a bloody wound that would stain her dress, and overall, much too young to die because of some psychopath killer.

She stopped herself from taking a step backwards, her body tense. She should have had Abigail and Caterina come with her. At least then, she could have made a run for it. He only had one gun. He couldn’t catch all three of them at once and though Serena was no athlete, she did value her life. She would have made it back to the hall in time to warn everyone. She would have made it back with her life intact. But now, she was not so sure she would. And for the first time in her life, genuine was written all over her pretty face. She had once regarded herself as untouchable. Her father’s body guards were like the president’s Secret Service, but now, none of them were in sight and she was pretty much at the mercy of this brute.

She groaned as he twisted her arm and drew her towards him. She could feel the metal pressed up against the side of her head and she suddenly felt faint as the heavy-accented Irish brogue was partially overshadowed by the sound of her continually pulsating heartbeat. It stopped momentarily as he explained about the bomb – the bombs that he had planted all over the building – and her first thought, immediately fell towards her father; her dad who was completed unaware that he was to be the victim of a mass explosion. The entire congregation were all completely unaware that they would all die, her dad amongst them. And then what? She’d have no one – nothing; nothing except a definitive sense of grief and despair.

Her lips trembled. She couldn’t bare it. She could feel her the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. Serena had never been alone in her life. Caterina, Abigail...all them. Gone. At the same time, however, she was afraid for her own life. She was virtually torn – overwhelmed – and because of this, the words escaped her lips before she could stop them. “You won’t get away with this,” she muttered. Unfortunately, her voice was a shaky hiss as the man ushered her into the hallway. She struggled temporarily, but in struggling, she felt the cold, hard metal of the gun pressed against her head and became slightly more obdedient. Maybe if she complied, she'd be able to find an opening. Maybe, they'd run into someone along the way. And then what? Would he take them hostage too. Shoot them perhaps? Wouldn't that alert someone? Did he even care if he did?

So many thoughts were running through her mind. All of them were attempting to find ways to escape without provoking the psychopath. But what could she do? He had a firm grip on her...and her life. On all of their lives. This time, she could not hold the tears back as one strayed slowly along her cheek. At the same, time, however, as she found herself gradually hauled along the corridor, she heard the sounds of approaching footsteps...

[Michiru]

Her mouth dropping open in shock at the sight of the muzzle of his gun might have been humorous if the situation wasn't quite so dire. The bomb was completed, time was running out and Andrew suddenly found himself faced with a young wanna be div and no way out of the mess without taking her with him, or killing her on the spot; neither of the options were pleasant to him, but what was left of his kind nature won out in the end. That, and he really didn't like the sight of blood. Well, at least the girl wasn't a complete idiot and she remained stock still as he leveled his weapon at her chest. No doubt she was more concerned about the dress than anything else, not that it would be in very good condition after a ride on his bike. Chist! He was actually going to do it wasn't he? He was going to bring this arrogant little girl home with him because he didn't want to kill her; wonderful.

That decision made, against his better judgement, he acted on it. She didn't seem to be accompanied by anybody, not her 'possy' or her father's bodyguards, that was good. Andrew saw no reason to be gentle with the girl, he probably wrenched her arm more than strictly necessary, but he was rewarded with the sound of her groan, good! Maybe it would do the little princess some good to know what it was like to be inconvenienced. He explained the situation to her calmly, though he didn't expect her to remain calm in the face of all her 'friends' and her father's imminent death. Actually, Andrew was hoping she would go into shock for the moment, it would make the situation much easier, of course, he was running the risk of hysterics but well...if it came to that he would merely knock her out and leave her next to the bomb. That would practically guarantee his identity remaining safe, but his long latent conscience decided to kick in and protest against leaving a young girl to be blown to smithereens. He could feel the girl trembling against him, and then came her brilliant retort.

"Very imaginative Princess," he muttered darkly under his breath, shoving her towards the doorway and down the short hall to the exit. His patience was rapidly running out, they had a little over a minute to get out of the near vicinity of the building and the girl decided she felt like struggling. His grip on her arm tightened, at this point he wouldn't hesitate at breaking it, as the cool metal of his gun pressed deeper into the base of her skull. The none too subtle reminders that her life was in his hands, quite literally, seemed to spur the girl on to complacence, good,that was good. Green eyes glanced down at his watch, which was also steadily ticking away. A minute left, fuck, the girl had put him back further than he would like to admit. The sound of foot steps caused him to groan. They had to be kidding! What had he ever done to deserve this? Killed hundreds of people, plotted hundreds more deaths tonight...well yes, but he could at least be given his life without the need to negotiate with a stuck up princess and now an unknown adversary rounding the corner.

His footsteps paused, they were feet from the door. "Keep your mouth closed," he advised the girl darkly as he turned them around. Now he was inching backward, eyes trained on the hallway as he waited for his back to bump against the door frame. All he had ever asked was to get his job done in private, he prided himself on his ability to maintain a low profile and completely all his tasks in complete secrecy, today it was one problem after another. He could not handle two hostages. Finally his back pressed against the door, unfortunately at that same moment an unfortunate waiter rounded the corner. It only took the man a second to realize what was happening, unfortunately Andrew was fast with his gun. Taking careful aim, the man dropped dead with a single shot, a red stain spreading across his chest. "I suggest you don't make me do the same to you," he warned Serena, easily opening the door now and shoving the girl outside in front of him.

"Get on the bike," he ordered curtly, releasing her and at the same time shoving her towards the machine. "Don't do anything stupid remember," he moved his hand to remind her that his gun was still trained on her. Waiting for her to climb on the back of the bike, Andrew easily swung on as well. In one swift movement he tucked his gun away, undid his tie and grabbed Serena's wrists from behind him, wrapping them around his waist and tying them tightly with his tie; the only thing he had that resembled rope. He couldn't risk her attempting some sort of idiotic heroics in an vain hope to escape, not with thirty seconds left until the bomb exploded. "Hold on tight," he taunted as he shoved his helmet onto his head, revved the engine and took off, burning rubber as he accelerated as fast as he dared in the confines of the alley. No sooner had they made it to the end of the alley and turned away from the building than was there a massive explosion behind them. Andrew accelerated, having no real desire to be hit by flying chunks of building. 'Well, that takes care of that,' he thought in satisfaction. Now the only problem was, the extra passenger he had not counted on.

[Jemineye]

When she heard the footsteps, her eyes widened in relief at first. This meant that someone was coming – that someone would surely see them and that she would be saved. Wouldn’t it? Her wishful thinking was a flickering comfort as she felt herself halt within the man’s grasp. Her thoughts immediately flew that what he might do. Would he threaten her life to scare the unsuspecting individual away. Surely then, they’d try to alert her father about the situation. But that wouldn’t tell them about the bomb however. That wouldn’t tell them that their impending doom was less than a minute away. She opened her mouth, but then froze as the metallic object jerked the side of her head, reminding her of its presence. She supposed she could warn the individual, but she was too afraid; too afraid that the man might leave an ugly hole in the side of her head and terminate her existence right there and then. She gulped at his comment.

Just like a doll, she complied – only reluctantly – as he manoeuvred them to face towards the direction of the approaching footsteps. Her heart-rate skyrocketed at the anticipation – would she escape, would she die or would the person approaching them absentmindedly catch them. What happened next, however, completed shocked her as the person – a waiter – rounded the corner and she saw the flash of metal out of the corner of her eye coupled with a tremendous noise that sent the waiter to his knees – the platter that had been wedged in his hands clattered on the floor next to him as his very life essence drained away from the gaping hole in his chest.

Serena’s eyes widened in horror and the chilling message from her captor served to make her lose herself to his continual jostling of her person. She had never seen anything like that before. It was the type of ordeal that occurred in movies and although, she knew that happened to everyday people, she had never suspected that she would ever see a person killed before her very eyes. There were very few people that Serena actually considered or cared about. Waiters, waitresses and people like them were considered particularly low, but she would never have wished death on any of them. She suddenly felt weak and light-headed. For if this man – this psychopath – could so easily take a life with no remorse, she reckoned that her life was just as insignificant.

It took her a while to register that they were outside and she felt herself fly forwards from the suspension of his grasp and out into the open. One of her heels caught onto the bottom of her dress, but she managed to save herself anymore embarrassment, prohibiting herself from falling face-first onto the ground. His order comprehended, she glanced back at him - pretty face a picture of perfect anguish – but the gun served as an angry reminder of the life she could lose and incidentally, she approached the motor. Grudgingly, she slid herself onto the back of the motorcycle, her eyes cast downward and her thoughts still whirring. It took her a while to realise it, but she was trembling: trembling because of what she had gotten herself into: trembling because of what she had seen and trembling because of what she knew was about to take place.

Even as he slid in front of her, she remained silent, failing to protest as he cupped her wrists and tied her hands around his waist. As the motorcycle hummed to life, she tilted her head towards the building as it receded into the distance. She felt her eyes proceed to water and her breathing became unsettled as the seconds ticked by. And no sooner had they entered onto the high road was when the most angry explosion ruptured behind her coupled with the sound of the most death-defying scream she had ever heard. It wasn’t until she felt the harshness in her throat that she realised it had been her. And the tears fell from her eyes almost non-stop as the building proceeded to fall into itself at the lack of stability and the onslaught of golden flames.

Serena closed her eyes tight in hopes that it was some bad dream. But her tears were real and the cool air rushing passed her ears was real as well. And the explosion. Her father, her friends: they had all been inside. And she would never see them again. Ever. And for the first time in her entire existence, Serena Cortez felt lost, because in actuality, she had lost everything, lost everyone and she would be damned because of it.

[Michiru]

He didn't need her getting any ideas that the person rounding that corner would save her, right now he couldn't let her go, she knew his face, and there was just something fundamentally wrong about putting a bullet in a young girl's body. No matter how much he threatened her, Andrew knew that he wouldn't actually do what he threatened; he just couldn't. Still, she didn't know that, and the threats seemed to make her at least semi-willing to comply to his requests. She moved with him, more like flopped with him like a sad little rag doll, but she didn't resist. When the waiter rounded the corner, Andrew leveled his gun, took a single shot and sent the waiter to his knees as he toppled over dead. If Serena could have seen his face at that moment, she might have revised her opinion about him being a cold blooded psychotic killer; his face paled and he glanced away, transforming his discomfort into roughness as he hustled them both out the door. Yes he carried a gun, who didn't in this day and age? But that didn't meant he was comfortable with shooting someone, he would much rather have them blown to bits by his handy work than watch them die; it was much more conducive to peace of mind and an easy sleep at night.

His orders were short and precise, even if the girl was in a state of shock, which she seemed to be, she should be able to comprehend them - he didn't want to waste anymore time. As he shoved her towards his bike, he noticed that her heels caught on the hem of her dress, fortunately she didn't fall, he had a feeling any amount of pain would snap her out of her stupor and she would suddenly become much less cooperative. His green eyes showed no compassion for the anguished look she shot back at him; he wasn't any more comfortable with this than she was. Taking a hostage was not what he had been hired to do, and this was no longer hostage taking, he was kidnapping and entrepreneur's daughter, and not any entrepreneur...Cortez...he knew of the man, had done his research. Then again, if everything went as planned, then Cortez would be dead and he wouldn't have to worry...except he now had a girl in his custody that he didn't know what to do with.

She was shaking...Andrew felt a flash of pity until her remembered the position they were currently in. Cursing his own softness, he jammed hi helmet onto his head, easily mounting the bike that was like an extension of him and securing the girl to him before revving the engine and getting the hell out of there! His timing was, as usual, impeccable. Though he would have preferred to have a little more distance between him and a building that was about to ignite now that it had blown up; he had left nothing to chance - or so he believed. The sound of the explosion was coupled with a scream from behind him, wonderful. Revving the engine, Andrew tried to drown out the sound of that tortured cry as he sped onto the highway, heading out of town to one of his 'hideouts' in the neighboring principality.

He was fairly certain that the wetness he felt on his back was not rain, but he didn't take a glance behind him to catch a glimpse of the crying face of Serena Cortez. No doubt she was trying to come to grips with the fact that she had just lost everyone she held dear...and he pitied her, he really did, but there was nothing her could do to change the situation even if he had been willing - the only thing he would change about the situation was that the girl would never have stumbled upon him and he would not be dealing with these complications. Turning his mind from the future, Andrew concentrated instead on the road in front of him, handling his bike and getting the fuck away from the mess he had just caused hopefully with no one noticing a passenger that did not necessarily belong on the back of a motorcycle.

Twenty-minutes passed before Andrew slowed and turned onto the street of an out of the way neighborhood. The apartment he rented here was small but neat. It was not inexpensive, nor was it too expensive, non-descript, it was perfect for a lay-away between jobs, or for stashing a kidnapped daughter of a rich man. Pulling into the underground parking, Andrew turned off the bike, slouching against the handlebars for a moment before tugging at the knots tying the girl to him. That done, he slid off his bike, putting the helmet under one arm he offered a hand to the still trembling girl to aid her in getting off the vehicle without her tripping on her long gown - that would have to be the first thing to go, he decided, though what else she would dress in he wasn't entirely certain at the moment. "Come on," he said roughly. "I don't want to wait around here for someone else to see us."

[Jemineye]

((OOC: Sorry Lol. This post is probably a reflection of my distraction lol))

Though her body remained compliant on the back of the motorcycle, her mind was elsewhere, eyes cast down at nothing in particular as the tears continued to trail down her cheeks and spoil her makeup. For the longest while it seemed, she could feel nothing – not the cold air as it whipped against her skin due to the speed they were travelling, nor the staining of her tears against her cheeks. She felt empty; dead. The pretty dress and all that was associated with it seemed a distance memory. Not even the sounds of the street – the people, the cars, the motorcycles and lorries – nor the transition between neon, street lamp and natural light – served to deter her. The only sound she could hear was that of the explosion and the only light she could perceive were the colours of death that had enveloped the building and brought it to its knees.

Her memories. Memories about the lavish apartments she had spent her life living. Memories of the birthdays and the Christmases. Memories of the parties and the holidays to exotic locations. Memories of smiles and laughter. Taking part in the Little Miss Beauty Pageant. Taking pictures in the streets. Going to celebrity house parties and drinking expensive champagne even though she was in actuality under age. Going shopping; testing perfumes and makeup; trying on dresses and shoes in the boutiques. Going to spas and being pampered, massaged and exfoliated. All of them seemed so very distant now.

She made no sound. She perceived nothing. She didn’t even see the busy high street alter around her and the noisy setting manoeuvre into something quieter. When the motorcycle proceeded to withdraw speed, she began to comprehend that the streets were no more and that they had arrived at a car park. A rather chilling breeze trailed through her hair and caressed her shoulders and for the first time since driving away from the building, she lifted her head. A headache was eminent making residence in the leftmost part of her temple. She felt heavy and fatigued – potentially the pain of what had just occurred.

Her hands suddenly fell free. The friction against her wrists had diminished and another gust of wind caused her to hug her shoulders. She then lowered her head again and her attention, still somewhat absent, prohibited her from seeing the man slide from the bike. She only heard his remark. The words were incoherent. A mere sound and when she looked up again, she saw that his hand was outstretched. Was he beckoning to her? Why? Did he expect her to take his hand? To touch him? Why would she do that? He was the reason why she felt like this. He was the reason why she was there against her will. He was the reason why she had lost it all.

She hunched her shoulders, hugging herself even tighter. Her body manoeuvred backwards instead. In turn, she withdrew her hands from herself and pressed them into the leather, sliding off the bike herself. Now, situated on the opposite side, she turned her back on him and held herself close yet again. It was not as warming, nor as comforting as it should have been – the cool air was a constant reminder of her turmoil. Her eyes cast ahead of her at the silver tarmac that she was desperate to disappear into.

[Michiru]

He untied her wrists from around his waist, paused to collect his thoughts and then slid off his bike. Andrew was not comfortable with the situation in the slightest - he hated when things got out of his control, and by now things were far beyond his control. Still, there was no use complaining, he had taken things this far, it would have been much easier to shoot the girl than be saddles with a semi-comatose teenager who, no doubt, would soon be waking from her shocked stupor and be regaling him with curses, tears and fits of the teenage-drama-queen act that he really had no patience for. He had to admit that getting so far without her bursting into hysterics was more than he could have hoped for, he just hoped it lasted until they reached him apartment. Then again...even if it didn't, now he didn't need to worry about a motorcycle, he could just knock her out and carry her up to his place with no problems - actually, that idea wasn't sounding half bad, he could pass her off as drunk if anyone happened upon them in the hall. Green eyes glanced over to the shivering heiress, and he decided against that course of action for now, he would only resort to violence if she made him.

Andrew watched in mild concern as blank eyes seemed to half focus on his outstretched hand. Shock for certain than, those this lifeless doll act was making him more than a little worried. If she remained like this in the morning, then he would try an old family recipe to get her to snap out of it: shot of whiskey down the throat, warmed the insides and woke the brain up. As the girl pushed herself backwards, effectively completely rebuffing his offer of help, Andrew ground his teeth in anger. He was attempting to make some sort of effort here! Obviously he wasn't planning on hurting her, well, to him it was obvious, and he certainly hadn't wanted to bring her here in the first place. Women were so frustrating! Not to mention kidnapped women! -not that Andrew actually had any experience with kidnapped women, since this was the first time he had been driven to such lengths in the course of his work.

Shedding his caring persona, obviously she wasn't going to except it from him anyways, Andrew strode around to the other side of his bike, gripped her tightly and quite unsympathetically by her upper arm and began to drag her unceremoniously toward the elevator. "You want t'do this the hard way?" his accent was thick, a sure sign that he was losing what little temper he had. "Fine," he jerked her roughly to a stop as he called for the elevator. If he had had a jacket, he might have slung it around her shoulders, as it was, he was taking slight pleasure in her discomfort as they waited in the cold underground garage. When the elevator arrived, her jerked the girl inside, still gripping her arm tightly, he wouldn't be surprised if it bruised during the night but his patience was wearing thin. "I think you know the deal by now, not a sound," his free hand closed around his gun in silent warning, it would not take long at all for him to draw it and shoot her, he doubted that she was that swift on her feet.

Reaching the top floor, with thankfully no interruptions this time, Andrew led the girl forcefully to his penthouse suite, if such a term could be applied to the average apartment building. It was nice, it served his needs and no one else shared his floor, which was a blessing for more than one reason. Right now, he was grateful he didn't have to worry about any nosy neighbors, and there was less chance of anyone hearing if the young Serena Cortez decided to scream her pretty little head off - not that he was going to let her scream for more than a second if she planned to start with the hysterics. Opening his door, Andrew pushed the girl into his apartment, locking the door behind him. Distractedly he ran a hand through his red hair as he tried to figure out what he was going to do next. Detain her...he wanted a shower and there was no way he could leave her unattended - even if she was little more than a rag doll at the moment. That decision made, Andrew ushered the girl into his bedroom as he retrieved some rope and a chair.

"Sit," he commanded, shoving her into the chair as he said it. Grabbing a handkerchief that would make an okay gag for the moment, Andrew tied the girl to the chair and gagged her as well before turning back to his bedroom door and locking it. He doubted she would get out of her bonds - he knew how to tie knots like a marine - but it never hurt to be cautious. "I have to have a shower," he said shortly, not really caring if she tried to make response or not. "You're obviously not going anywhere, try to behave and I might let you have a shower as well," he finished, striding into his en suite and slamming the door in his wake. Leaning heavily against the door, an explosive sigh escaped him as he fully began to realize the situation he was in. What the hell was he going to do with Serena Cortez?

Turning on the shower, Andrew stripped and stepped under the warm water; he felt positively filthy. He had killed a boy in cold-blood today, had kidnapped a girl and probably caused the death of hundreds more with his bomb. Resting his hands against the wall of the shower in front of him, Andrew let the water run over him as he tried to banish the guilt. This was his job, he had no problem with causing explosions, the pay had certainly been worth it in the beginning, but now he had to figure out what to do with an heiress who would soon be without a father, if the man hadn't died already in the initial explosion he was certain the fire would finish the job -and if it didn't? It was a slim possibility, so slim Andrew wouldn't let himself think about it. Finishing his brief shower, Andrew wrapped a towel around his waist and strode back into his bedroom to see how his 'guest' was faring so far.

[Jemineye]

Still holding her shoulder, his comment was icy and unexpected even though it should have been. When she turned her head next, however, all she saw was the flash of colour as his hand reached out and cupped her arm and wrenched her from her standing place and into the direction of his choosing. She groaned upon contact and summoned the will to fight against him. She drew her shoulder towards herself, utilising her freehand to push away from him. Her feet attempted to root her in position, but the heels on her feet were no means of stability of grip and she soon found that it was no use. He was far stronger than her and her body – albeit against her will – submitted against him as he drew her towards the elevator.

As soon as doors open, she was hurtled inside and narrowly missed tripping on her dress for a second time. Her hands immediately flew up in protest, but she stopped root dead at the sight of the familiar silver object that his other hand had clasped around. Her throat ran dry and she swallowed to moisten it. How could she have forgotten that this man – this psychopath – held her life in her hands? That he could shoot her at any minute? How could she forget that she was still a victim? That she was still at his mercy? Her head lolled forwards, ringlets now dishevelled from so much wind and movement. Cautiously though, she peered through her tresses at the man as a million and one ideas drew a course through her mind detailing what this madman might do to her.

When the lift arrived, she was forced into the hallway and the next thing she knew, she had been literally thrown inside an apartment. Heels clattering to stop, she peered into the exterior and her heart caught in her throat. An apartment? He had brought her to an apartment. She had half considered that he might lock her away somewhere dark and leave her to rot, but an apartment. It now seemed much worse than that. She wasn’t given time to take in the place properly because before she knew it, the door had been closed and locked behind her and she was ushered through the apartment and into another room.

When she saw the bed, she began trembling again. “No...” he voice was a whisper. The tears proceeded to prick from the corners of her eyes. Now she knew why he had kept her alive. He had kept her alive as some sort of sex slave. “No. Please!” The very thought caused her re-evaluate the pain and the fear that she had undergone the moment he had withdrawn the gun and revealed himself to be more than just a waiter. She felt disgusted and sick, but then how could she even comprehend the inner thoughts of a crazy person: a person who could shoot another so remorselessly and only care of his succession escape. So this meant that she was some sort of prize; some sort of dish. She felt her knees buckle beneath her just as a fresh line of tears slid along her face.

But she never hit the floor and surely enough she was forced onto a chair. An hysterical scream erupted from within the belly of her throat as she tried to struggle. She didn’t want to be anyone’s sexual reward. She just wanted to go home to her normal life and her friends and her father. Her attempts, however, were futile as she found herself fastened to the chair and her mouth gagged so that any more screams of desperation were eliminated. Still she struggled against the binds and her eyes squinted shut as the tears continued to roll along her cheeks and into the abyss. And then he left her and for a good five minutes, she attempted to pull against the binds. In doing so, however, she did herself more harm than good, her wrists becoming sore at the purposed friction.

Eventually, she stopped, but the tears did not. She suspected that he would have his wicked way with her to rub salt into her emotional and physical wounds. He was much stronger than her after all. Would it turn him on if she struggled? Her teeth sort to grit together beneath the gag, but instead, she merely tasted the material and gagged on it. And then what next? What was worse than the systematic destruction of everything she held dear followed by the degradation of her body, her dignity and her mental and emotional well-being? He’d probably kill her after that. Leave no trace. She trembled in the chair, but eventually, she stopped shaking and stared at the ground ahead of her. Her shoulders slouched in acceptance. She was as good as dead.

When he re-entered the room, she didn’t bother to acknowledge him.

[Michiru]

At least she was showing a little will to fight, though it was so pitiful Andrew had to hold back a laugh. Honestly, did she think that she could get away with a simple shove with one of her weak hands as she tried to pull away? His grip tightened, at this point he really didn't care if he left bruises. He gritted his teeth as the girl dried to dig her heels in, all that she accomplished was to make a horrible screeching noise as the scraped across the pavement of the garage. Getting quickly tired of the noise, he jerked her forward, off those damn heels, and after that she began to walk on her own. It did not take them long to get to the top floor, and after he reminded her that he literally held her life in his hands, she seemed content to hold her peace, for now at least.

Throwing her into his apartment, Andrew didn't give her much time to take in her surroundings. After her had locked the door behind them, it was a matter of a few short seconds before he decided that if he wanted to have a shower, he would have to detain her in his bedroom as he used the en suite; wonderful. Dragging her toward his room, Andrew grabbed a chair from the kitchen, drawing it in after them. He paused, only for a brief moment, as he heard her whimper something that sounded like a denial? His green eyes looked down at the disheveled head of the girl in his grasp, and saw her glancing in horror at his bed. What the hell? Did she think he was going to rape her? No fucking way! An arsonist he might be - and now a kidnapper- but he wasn't going to sink as low as rape. Not to mention, neither of them were looking too fresh right now, though that was really not his concern. Sex was the last thing on his mind at the moment. Growling a curse under his breath, he set the chair on the floor and pushed her into it, studiously trying to ignore the tears that were leaking out of her eyes.

Her scream was desperate, shrill, piercing and unexpected at that particular moment. He had merely put her in a chair, seriously, the girl was delusional. Why would he want to sleep with her in the first place? Clenching his teeth against the unbearable noise, Andrew gagged the girl before tying her tightly to the chair. While going about his task, Andrew had had to dodge more than one kick, though her struggles were merely an annoyance, they were doing nothing for his mood at the moment. Having successfully detained her, he turned his back, ignoring the tears coursing down her face as he retreated to his bathroom. Shower, that was all he wanted. To feel the hot water pouring over him and hopefully washing away some of the filth and guilt he felt. Kidnapping Serena Cortez had not been in his plans, and now she seemed to have some sort of delusions that he wanted her for sexual favors; as if, he could have any number of beautiful and experienced women if he needed to release some steam sexually.

Finishing his shower, Andrew re-entered his room. He wasn't surprised to see that the girl's wrists were rubbed raw, no doubt she had been struggling for the entire time he had been occupied in the washroom, as he had known, it did her no good, he was good at what he did. Sighing, he walked over to the closet, keeping his towel tightly wrapped around him and retrieving a pair of jeans and a polo shirt before turning his green eyes back towards the girl. Her pretty face was marred by the tears that continued to fall from her eyes. "I don't know what you're thinking," he said softly, crossing the room toward her, standing in front of her and looking down on her slender form. "But let me tell you this, I take no joy in little girls like you, you are a miscalculation nothing more, if you don't do anything stupid, I won't hurt you. Understand?" shaking his head, Andrew retreated back into the bathroom in order to get dressed. Once he was clothed, he hung the towel on the back of the door. Right, now he had to figure out what to do next.

Once more entering back into his bedroom, this time Andrew crossed to his bedside table, taking out a bottle of whiskey and a small glass. Pouring some of the liquid into the class, he turned back to the girl who was still fastened tightly to his kitchen chair. Raising the glass to his lips, he took the entire shot in one go, then poured himself another before walking to the end of the bed and settling himself facing the girl. His green eyes were unreadable as he regarded her. Tear stained face, disheveled hair, stained dress, well now, didn't she just make a pretty picture. "I'm going to take the gag off," he informed her quietly. "Don't scream or it's going back on," standing once more, he placed his whiskey on the edge of his bed before leaning over the girl and untying the makeshift gag. "Now," he said softly, his accent had diminished somewhat as his calm had returned. "Do you want to have a shower Ms. Cortez?"

[Jemineye]

He didn’t believe him for a second. I won’t hurt you was merely just another form of comply, or else. And even if she did comply, then what? She had never found herself in such a circumstance before, but she had seen the movies. Men like him could not be trusted. They were not men of their word; they were not honourable. They did horrible things and relished in the pain of others. A promise was only a promise unless it benefitted them personally and her compliance was a benefit. Her life, however, was not. She knew this now and gradually as she remained sitting in the chair, she was beginning to accept this. For life seemed so fleeting. It arrived and one’s life was her own, but it could be taken away just as quickly and today, she had observed this firsthand.

She tilted her eyes to the side, but then surely enough wished she hadn’t and averted them back towards the space of wall ahead of her. Him arriving in a towel only served to make the sickly feeling in her stomach increase. She sat rooted in her chair, body tense, because she knew that at any moment, if he wanted to, he could unbind her from the chair, throw her across his bed and take advantage of her right there and then. She held her breath. The gag was service enough at keeping her quiet, but she reckoned that if she avoided eye contact as well, he might decide to delay. Some men simply couldn’t help themselves. They’d look into the face of a beautiful woman and submit to their desires. She didn’t want to satisfy whatever appetite he might have.

She exhaled through her nose when he proceeded towards the doorway again. She caught a glimpse of the clothes in his hands and closed her eyes as a brief relief descended upon her. She couldn’t understand why he had not taken up the opportunity, but decided that he was simply biding his time. Murderers, thieves and kidnappers were all the same. They played mind games – mainly because their entire act was a mind game. This one was no different. He had adopted the role of a typical waiter and lied his way into her father’s banquet in order to do what he’d done. She suddenly felt weak again. Her knees might have buckled beneath her if she weren’t sitting down. Her stomach churned again.

When he re-entered, she tensed again. It didn’t matter that he was fully clothed. She knew and yet didn’t know what to expect from him, but she cautiously watched his movements out of the corner of her eye. She saw him withdraw what looked like a bottle of alcohol and a glass from his bedside draw. Her initial thought was that he was some sort of alcoholic. What layabout kept a bottle of alcohol next to his bed? This worsened the feeling in her stomach. Serena had drank alcohol before, but had never gotten so out of her head that she couldn’t remember a thing. Caterina had been there once, however. It had been a rather humorous experience. But alcoholics – particularly alcoholic men – were no laughing matter. Alcohol could make one lose their inhibitions. She highly doubted that this murderer had any to begin with nonetheless.

She leant backwards in her chair as he approached. Her hazel eyes were laden with concern, perfectly shaped eyebrows arching in caution. When he spoke, she complied nevertheless. She didn’t doubt for a second that he would put it back on and the taste of the foul material between her lips was pestilent; she didn’t want to even consider where it might have been. Glad of the tension alleviated from her jaw, she cast her eyes away from him, eyebrows still heavily accented with caution. When he spoke again, her eyes lifted towards him and her lips arched downwards. “A shower?” she repeated. There was disdain in her tone. “So you can peak at me? I don’t think so, you pervert”. She spat out the last word and turned her head away from him in true princess fashion. “Why did you bring me here?” she stated when she eventually spoke again. “As some sort of prize for your triumph.” She had intended to spit the last word too, but it came out in the form of a shudder as she compared it to its underlying meaning. The ‘triumph’ had been the successful destruction of the Town Hall.

[Michiru]

It was obvious she didn’t believe him, both by her actions and the disbelief in her eyes; what did she take him for? A sexual predator? Honestly, he had thought he had explained himself to her, apparently not. Then again, his rather clipped sentences couldn’t really be seen as a true explanation, but still. He had explicitly told her that he derived no pleasure from torturing, or sexual abusing, girls like her; was she really so stuck up as to believe that he was going to rape her even after he had said that? Unbelievable! Andrew had been secretly hoping that she wasn’t that type of spoiled, rich, entrepreneur’s only daughter, all in vain it appeared. No doubt she was coming up with false delusions in that pretty head of hers based solely upon her own self image and trumped up Hollywood films that in no way represented the truth in his world. Sure there were a few bad eggs, but not all terrorists were as callous, manipulative and cruel as Hollywood tried to portray them. In fact, Andrew considered himself to be quite the gentleman…under less extenuating circumstances perhaps. It was not his habit to kidnap pretty girls from the places he bombed and then use them in that way.

He didn’t miss the sudden intake of breath on her part as he came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. She must definitely be having delusions. No matter how pretty the girl was, her personality, so far as he had seen it, was enough to make him never want to touch her, or take advantage or her, in that way. She was merely an inconvenience, nothing more, but apparently she couldn’t entirely grasp that concept. He was in no mood to attempt to explain it to her again. Annoyed, he grabbed some clothes from his closet and retreated back into the bathroom to get dressed. There! Maybe that would make her wake up from her delusions. Not only had he not touched her, he was getting dressed, and out of her sight! There was no need to flaunt himself in front of her, the situation was awkward enough already, he did not plan on adding fuel to the fire.

Whiskey, he needed some whiskey and now! He didn’t know if he would be able to deal with this princess completely sober. So, after clothing himself, he crossed the room once more, completely ignoring the girl he had tied to the chair in favour for a shot of good strong whiskey. Pouring himself a shot in a small glass, he turned before taking it, regarding the girl on the other side of the room before pouring the strong liquor down his throat. Now, it wasn’t usual that someone had alcohol beside their bed, actually it was probably the mark of an alcoholic, not that Andrew particularly cared what others might think of his habit - for habit it was. He kept the whiskey next to his bed to ward off the nightmares that still came occasionally. The fire of it sliding into his gut was enough to burn away the memories he had tried to years to put behind him. It was at times like this – not that he had ever had a time like this before - that he was grateful for it being close at hand. Pensively, he poured himself another shot before taking the glass in hand and crossing the length of his bed once more to sit at its foot and try to figure out what to do with the girl he had inadvertently kidnapped.

He couldn’t help the amusement that entered his green eyes as she leaned back in her chair at his approach, as if that would save her if he had any ill intentions. Still, he suppressed as quickly as possible, noting the concern in her hazel eyes as she arched an eyebrow at him. Placing his whiskey beside him, it was a comfort just to have it near, Andrew spoke to her softly, leaning forward to relieve her of the fabric he had forced into her mouth. A hardness entered his eyes once more as he saw the accusation in her eyes when he asked if she wanted a shower. He was just trying to make her more comfortable and she…Raising a hand, almost as if he was to strike her, Andrew quickly diverted its path and ran it through his cropped hair instead. The obvious disdain and condemnation in her voice was almost too much for him to handle. In fact, he was tempted to ravage her just to prove her right! Maybe then he wouldn’t have to worry about her poison words and she would behave for fear of him doing it again! But no, that wasn’t in his nature.

“I assure you Ms. Cortez, if I wanted to take a peek at you I wouldn’t have to use a shower as a pretence, or have you forgotten? You are in my apartment, I have no neighbours and you are tied to a chair. What would it take, do you think, for this,” a pocket knife appeared in his hand, one of the many tools of his trade, “to rip through that pretty dress of yours?” he cocked an eyebrow at her, almost speculatively as he put the knife away again. “I would think of that next time if I were you miss, next time you think to insult me,” raising his glass to his lips, Andrew took a small sip as she kept her head turned away from him, just letting the silence sit heavily in the room. Sure enough, she was the one to break it. “Because I don’t know what to do with you,” he sighed softly in response to her question. “You saw my face, it’s a problem I had not foreseen. So, until I can come up with some alternate plan, you will remain here in my custody. I assure you Ms. Cortez, you are no trophy, I would have preferred if you had remained in the building,” not the nicest thing to say considering that the building he was referring to was now no more than a large pile of rubble, but it was the truth. “Any more questions?” cocking a brow of his own, Andrew proceeded to finish off the remainder of the whiskey in his glass.

[Jemineye]

Serena gulped. Her lips thinned and the hardness of her eyes receded as her captor proceeded to explain what he would do to her if she insulted him again. She could feel her heart pulsing in her chest as he removed the metal object from his person and showed it to her. Thus, it planted a million possible scenarios of what could take place. Would he plant a dozen holes in both the garment and her, thus ending her life painfully slow? Would he rip right through it and permit her to suffer the humiliation and then have his way with her? Or would he kill her and then, like some sick freak, degrade her lifeless corpse with wicked ways and immoral intentions? She almost retched and felt the bile rising in her throat. Instead, however, she turned her head away from him, glad that her bouncy brown curls had enough volume to obscure her face from him.

Because she didn’t believe him. Not for a second. Because he couldn’t be trusted. There was no telling what he might do. People like him were usually unstable. Serena had never been around the mentally ill before, but she had heard the stories. People like him need locking up. But he kept on implying that she was some sort of inconvenience to his plans, and that it was nothing more, but that did not make sense. After all, he had just threatened her – that alone had said enough. But if she had truly been just that – a wrench in the works – why had he not disposed of her yet? Why had he not just pulled the trigger and killed her like he had done that waiter? Because that how men like him for rid of inconveniences really. So why make her suffer? Why make her clamber onto the back of his motorcycle and watch the people most important in her life, blown to smiverenes? Why bring her to his place in the middle of God-knows-where and tie her to this chair in the middle of his bedroom no less?

When he answered her question, however, his tone had softened somewhat and she had lifted her head up and peered at him sidewardly. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would have been better off if she had been inside the building and died along with her father? She would have been oblivious just like everyone else. Would it have been quick perhaps, painless? Dying, however, was still a fear. Knowing that she could die at any moment the killer desired was even greater. She suddenly felt like crying again, but she willed away the tears that were threatening to build within her eye sockets and cast a trail along her cheeks. Instead, she inhaled and spoke softly.

“Why don’t you just let me go?” she lifted her head a little more and peered up at him, pleadingly. “I promise I’ll tell nobody,” she lied, convincingly. “I just wanna go home and bury my father and friends.” This was true. It was gradually beginning to set in that they were gone now. But she was her father’s only daughter. It was only right that she, herself, organise a fitting funeral for the man that had meant even more to her than she had realised. She gulped again. “Please! I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here. Just let me go!”

This time, the tears did sting her eyes, but she did not glance away from him. She couldn’t believe that she was trying to bargain with him, but she was desperate. She wanted to show him that she was serious about telling no one about what had transpired here. Deep down, however, if he was foolish enough to let her go, she would stop running until she was safely under the watchful eye of the police – of the FBI even. And then she would have him hunted down like a dog and sentenced to life behind bars. There he could rot for the rest of his life. There he could feel exactly what she felt at this current moment time, having lost everything.

[Michiru]

He saw fear enter her eyes, and despite himself, he was a little gratified by it. Her gulp proved that she had heard, and understood, what he had told her. Yes, perhaps he had been a little too harsh, there had really been no need to take his knife out, but her presumptuousness was more than he could handle. For starters, he didn’t even want her here in the first place! Raping her, well, that just didn’t appeal to him at all. Though it was a rather tempting prospect if it would make her stop fixating over it; honestly, there were some issues there that he didn’t even want to think about, let alone address. Just how high was her opinion of herself if she was so dead set on thinking that he wanted to rape her?

Then again, it seemed as though the knife had the opposite effect of what he had intended. Sure, she was scared for a moment, but then that idiotic brain of her kicked in, and he saw sickness and revulsion cross her features before she turned her head away. Of for the love of…What was she thinking he was going to do now!?! He had meant to alleviate her fears of him using her body in that manner, it seemed that all he had done was to increase them…and he had no whiskey left in his glass! What was it going to take to get Ms. Cortez to believe that he wasn’t planning on doing anything to her besides making her as comfortable as possible in her ropes? He was already regretting that he had un-gagged her, the possibility of him untying her was getting more and more remote. No doubt if he did untie her, she would flinch back and command him not to touch her, or she would start off on more delusions, probably of him dragging her to his bed and…oh great! Now he was as bad as her! Shaking his head, he stood up once more, this time heading to his bedside table where the bottle of whiskey rested to pour another glass for himself. Three in fewer than three minutes, she was setting a new record for him.

He had thought taking her along with him to be a mercy to her, but more and more he was thinking that it might have just been better to leave her behind, to have shot like he had done that waiter. At the same time, he knew he never could have done it. Some said he was squeamish, many couldn’t understand why the top arsonist and terrorist for hire in the business couldn’t wield a gun, but he could slaughter thousands with a well placed explosive or match. It was complicated, fire was in his blood, the way the flames danced, the smell of powder, the sound of rubble showering down around him, it was like an elegant symphony that he was conducting. Sure he knew that he was taking away people’s lives, but he didn’t have to see it, and that was the crux of the matter. Killing that waiter today, he knew that he would be getting little sleep for the next few weeks. Even contemplating killing Serena made him feel ill. But just how was he supposed to explain his whole complicated, and messed up, life story to a stuck up princess from the privileged walk of life? She didn’t know that her entire existence was built upon filth, dirty money acquired through quite a dangerous organization. She had no clue, and it would take much too much work to explain it all.

Her question gave him pause. Yes, how to explain it all without confirming her fears that he was a complete lunatic? His tone softened, his eyes became slightly shadowed as she tried to find the right way to answer her. What exactly was he going to do with her? Up to this point he had merely been improvising, but now that she was here, he was going to have to answer that question, and soon. He thought he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes, but she was getting frighteningly more composed by the minute. If he had seen tears, she quickly fought them back, taking a steadying breath herself. Shaking his head, he asked her if she had any more questions; he wasn’t guaranteed to answer them, but he would at least hear her out.

He wasn’t surprised as her question, and he at least had an answer to that. “Because I can’t,” his voice was harsher than he had intended. She was trying to play the sympathy card, and it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t some greenhorn, sure, this was the first time he had been forced to kidnap someone, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. “I’m sure your father has many others that will bury him for you,” he said shortly, turning his back on her, leaning against the wall as he exhaled sharply. He couldn’t let her go; it was dangerous to keep her here. She had seen his face; he couldn’t even ransom her off as a convenient way of ridding himself of her. It would certainly be useful right now if he knew of a way to block memories. Then again, he had been trying on himself for years and he still hadn’t been able to find a solution that actually kept the memories at bay. His fist connected angrily with the wall. “Damnit! I can’t!” he exploded, turning to face her just as the tears rose to her eyes. Shit! The last thing he wanted was a weepy teenaged drama queen on his hands.

“Don’t think you can fool me with tears,” he said darkly, crossing the room in two strides, his hands gripping his glass in a white knuckled hold. “I haven’t come this far in life only to blow it by letting a deceitful girl like you sweet talk me into idiocy,” that was it, he had had more than enough. Glancing down at the glass of whiskey in his hand, he shook his head slightly. Maybe it would knock her out long enough for both of them to get a bit of rest. And maybe the after effects in the morning would shut her up long enough for him to be able to figure out what exactly he was going to do from here on. With no warning, he positioned himself in front of her, in one swift movement he tilted her head back, forced her mouth open and poured the alcohol down her throat. He then placed one large hand over her mouth so she couldn’t spit it back out. No matter how much it took, he was going to make sure that Serena slept soundly of alcohol this night. It was the only solution he could come up with on the fly, and no matter how temporary it was, it was more appealing that dealing with her one moment longer.

[Jemineye]

She recoiled at his sudden explosion, leaning back in the chair as he accused her of being devious. Her lip proceeded to tremble. She wasn’t sure if the outburst was alcohol induced or otherwise, but the more she spent in his company, the more she found herself hating him even more than initially. The tears didn’t stop falling however. Her breath caught in her throat and she only exhaled a shuddering breath when he had stopped his verbal onslaught. All he could seem to think about was himself. Could he not fathom what she was going through? A mere few hours ago she had been the daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur. Now she was nothing – nobody. But how could she expect a mere psychopath to understand. He blew people up for a living and probably took the lives of thousands, stealing thousands away from their families. How could he fathom that?

“Murderer,” the word escaped her mouth even before she could stop it. It was a whispered hiss, though audible enough, but before she could even comprehend what was happening, she felt a hand pushed her head backwards, and her mouth forcibly wrenched open. There, the foul discoloured liquid sailed into her open mouth and ended up partially up her nose, sliding along the side of her face and spilling down her neck and into her clothes. She almost felt like she was drowning in it. As the contents touched upon her taste buds, she attempted to closed her mouth shut – the taste was awful. Everything, however, happened much too swiftly for comfort and before she could try anything, the hand from before snagged shut over her lips as she swished her body side to side as if that might stop the ordeal.

It did nothing, however, and as she peered up into his eyes pleadingly, she allowed whatever was in her mouth to sail along the back of her throat and into her gut. The feeling was horrible. A hot burning sensation proceeded to fizz in the pit of her chest and she gasped for air as soon as he let go, her head lolling forward as if she had been systematically violated. But she had been, hadn’t she? Forced to drink something that she knew on her life she could never drink again. And it had been horrible. Just what had his intention been, exactly? To get her rip-roaring drunk? To numb the pain she felt for losing her family? She lifted her eyes and glared at him. Now that the drink was all over her, she presumed that it’s start to stick. Alcohol over makeup over blemish free skin could not have been a good combination. What was more was that the drink itself had a strong smell and that she herself would probably smell of it. She felt disgusted, but the burning of her throat and her chest did not subside and thus she kept her mouth firmly shut. She turned her head from him again, the messy curls covering the leftmost portion of her face. Because if she ever got out...no...when she got out, he was going to pay.

~

Head heavy, she awoke with a sweltering headache. She couldn’t call how, in actuality, she had managed to fall asleep in an upright position, but as her eyes opened and her vision began to steady, she came to see that she was perceiving things horizontally instead of vertically. In actuality, she was no longer strapped to a chair, but instead situated on something a little softer and warmer than she had anticipated. Her eyes flew open as she perceived the standard television set situated directly in front of her, accompanied by many other items that belonged in a standard home. Upon herself was a standard blanket and she had seemingly been tucked away beneath it. When she shifted her eyes along the length of the room, she realised that during the course of the night she had been moved from the chair she had been strapped to, into the living room quarters. For further along the room she could see the very same door she had arrived in, and what was more, not a murderer in sight.

She inhaled. Her first instinct was to move and get as close to that doorway as possible. As she attempted to do so, however, she found that she was unable to do so, for both her hands had been expertly tied together and said binds had been fastened to another line of rope which disappeared along the end of the sofa bed and underneath it. It seemed that it she was ever to attempt an escape, she could be forced to try and take the sofa with her. Irritated, she flopped back down against the soft exterior. Her face adorned a grimace and her head had adopted a throbbing sensation; her throat felt roar.

As she stared ahead of her at nothing in particular, she began to contemplate. Why hadn’t he just left her on the chair in the first place, because clearly she had not moved there by herself – at least she couldn’t remember doing so anyway. She cringed. The mere thought of him touching her was repulsive; it sent an awkward tremor along her spine. What was more, was that beneath the sheets, she could still smell the underlying scent of stale alcohol upon her person. Clearly whatever stains she had acquired from last night were still upon her ensemble. Not only this, but her body felt sticky and unclean. She could feel the makeup on her face and felt repulsed by it. After all, wearing makeup to bed was a skincare no-no, but this was not a simple mistake; this was a crisis. She suddenly desired to have a shower more than ever now. Just because she was being kept like an animal, did not mean she had to smell like one. What was more, however, was that she was also, hungry.

[Michiru]

It was fortunate that he had turned his back on her before he lost his temper. He was well aware it could be an explosive thing, whether he had had alcohol or not; and today had already been stressful enough. Serena Cortez was not making things any easier for him, or for herself. As he spun to face her, his green eyes hardened at the sight of tears in her eyes at that pouty, trembling lip. He wasn’t an idiot; women’s tears had absolutely no effect on him. Women, in his experience, were all devious and deceitful bitches, only looking out for their own best interests. Frankly, Andrew wasn’t willing to put himself at risk just in order to calm her down. Sure he was being a little selfish, but it wasn’t as if he had had anyone to rely on for most of himself, it had always just been him, so of course his life was all about him. Frankly he could care less about the little diva strapped to his chair. If she hadn’t walked in on him they could both still be living the lives they were used to! Or at least, he could be living the life he was used to; she would probably be in small bits trying to be identified right about now.

As she hissed that word at him, he merely smirked. “Do you think that’s news to me?” he asked darkly, his hands clenched tightly around his glass. Yeah, he was a murderer, and he knew it. You couldn’t go around blowing things up and not know that you didn’t kill people. Sure, he was a murderer, and she was stuck here with him giving him a large headache. Peering down into the amber coloured liquid in his glass, Andrew sighed slightly. The least he could do was return the favour, and maybe get a little peace and quiet so he could get a bit of sleep before having to think about some sort of solution to this mess. He was far past the point of being gentle. He was fast, he was strong, and the girl he was trying to overpower was tied to a chair; it didn’t take a statistician to figure out how this was going to end up. Forcefully tilting her head back, one hand on the back of her jaw to open her mouth, Andrew empty the contents of the glass into mouth. The only regret he felt was that it was a waste of such good whiskey. Some of it spilled, and he doubted the girl was going to appreciate it’s taste, not when it was being shoved down her throat like this.

He kept his hand over her mouth as she stared up into his eyes pleadingly; his eyes were impassive as he waiting for her to swallow. When he saw her throat convulse he removed his hand, taking a step back and watching as she gasped for air. His arms crossed over his chest as he waited for it to take effect. He doubted that Ms. Cortez was a heavy drinker, it should only take a short amount of time before she started feeling it. When she lifted her eyes to glare at him, he only smirked; already they were glazing. She turned her head from him, but it was less than half an hour later that her body slumped over completely. A single glass? Really, that was all it took for her to pass out. At least he hadn’t had to waste too much of his good whiskey then. Releasing another sigh, he ran a hand through his hair before trying to figure out what he was going to do with her now. Well, first, he wanted to sleep; he needed sleep, but he hardly thought she would be any easier to deal with if he left her passed out like that all night.

Shaking his head, Andrew moved around to the back of the chair, undoing her bonds, then, he easily hoisted her into his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder as he carried her out to the living room. Laying her in one of the more comfortable chairs, he then turned to his sofa. Despite the fact that he never had any visitors, Andrew had bought a sofa bed when furnishing this place. Who knew what had possessed him, but at least he would finally be able to use it. Pulling it out, he threw some extra sheets on it before laying the girl out on the bed. When she was asleep, she wasn’t that bad. Her poisonous mouth was shut, her accusing eyes were closed, and she looked somewhat innocent; he thought that he might almost be able to like her if he didn’t know what her personality was like. Covering her with a blanket, Andrew went back into his room to retrieve a longer coil of rope.

This was his last chore, and then he could collapse into bed. Lashing the girl’s wrists together with expert practiced knots; Andrew then fed the remained of the rope through the back of the couch and tied it to one of the legs. There. If she could manage to somehow miraculously roll herself out of the bed, she would have one hell of a time trying to escape with a sofa attached; undoubtedly she would wake him if she even tried. That accomplished, Andrew turned his back and headed back to his room, gratefully throwing himself onto his own bed and let exhaustion take over as he fell asleep.

~

“No!” Andrew woke up to the sound of his own scream. He sat bolt upright in his bed, his chest heaving as sweat began to dry against his fevered body. Placing his head in his hands, he groaned. That had not been the restful night of sleep he had needed. He had pretty much surmised that it wouldn’t be, the events of yesterday were just too much, it was inevitable that his past come back to haunt him. As his breathing slowly returned to normal he turned to his bedside, reaching reflexively for his whiskey. He stopped himself though, he needed to face his captive sober first, if he found her to be as insufferable as she was yesterday, well, then he could go back to a semi drunk state; at least then he could relax and not do something to her he might seriously regret.

The feeling of dry sweat on his body was not at all pleasant, but he was also fairly certain that Ms. Cortez would be regretting her hasty refusal of his offer for a shower the night before. Instead of a glass of whiskey, Andrew withdrew a cigarette, lighting up he inhaled deeply before standing. Reaching for a shirt, he covered his bare chest – if he appeared before her half naked he could quite accurately guess where her mind would go and he wasn’t up to dealing with that in his current state. His bedroom opened up between the kitchen and the living room. Going to his door, he opened it and peered out, wondering if his ‘guest’ had woken from her alcohol induced doze yet.

Taking another drag of his cigarette, he exhaled slowly before walking toward the back of the couch. “Water, shower or food?” he asked her quietly. No doubt he did not make the most prettiest of pictures this morning. He was covered in sweat, his eyes were probably bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his mother had always said he looked like bear when he woke up in the morning. “Or would you prefer to remain in those clothes for the duration of your stay?” he cocked an eyebrow at her as he stood at the foot of her bed, his lit cigarette in one hand as he waited for an answer.

[Jemineye]

Serena juddered at the sound of the loud scream that fell through the crevices in the bedroom door a mere few metres beside her current position. It served as a reminder that the man situated merely next door to her was still alive and present...and above all, dangerous. She wondered if something had happened. Had he dropped something? Wounded himself, perhaps? She suddenly felt a defining sense of satisfaction, even though it was fleeting. For once he could feel some sort of pain, but it would be nothing to the pain she had felt the previous night when everything had been taken away from her, just like that. Irrespective, it did not mean her situation would improve. If anything, it might serve to make him irritable. Perhaps he’d hit the bottle again to numb the pain.

Sitting up, as far as her clasps would allow her, she pressed her back into the sofa and withdrew the covers off her form. That was another thing she had found strange. Why give her a cover? Had he been trying to be nice? She shook her head and almost laughed at the thought – the mirth convulsing through her lips like a sneeze. Maybe he’d gotten really drunk last night and confused her for a guest. Even that sounded stupid. Or maybe he was trying to confuse her. After all, people who blew up buildings were usually those who drowned cats in childhood. Surely, he couldn’t be of sound mind. This didn’t serve to make her feel any better and any mirth that had once been, completely vanished.

At the same time, she heard the movement and her head snapped into the direction in question. Surely enough, there he was in all his ‘glory’. She adopted a neutral expression, tilting her head forwards and peered towards the blank television screen that sat in front of her. She uttered not a word to him. At home, the maid would have woke her up and drawn her curtains for her, stating a cheerful ‘good morning’ before implying that breakfast would be ready for her in an hour. She was now beginning to realise that she had taken those things for granted big time. She wondered if she’d ever see the maid again.

She smelt the smoke before she saw the cigarette; her eyes briefly glimpsed the nicotine base before returning to their default position. “...I would appreciate it if you didn’t smoke around me,” she could not hide her disgust. So he drank and he smoked. He was a total disaster area. Didn’t he know that cigarettes were bad for him – were bad for her? She was passive smoking, here. And there was nothing more repulsive than a object designed not only to make one smell back, but one look bad as well. Serena would be damned if she ever took up smoking. Sure, she had heard the stories about them repressing appetite. Loads of models smoked to maintain their figures. But cigarettes also, aged the skin and Serena did not want to look tired and haggard at thirty; it just was not on.

She grasped his remark, but remained silent at first. She did not want to let him see her in weakness anymore, but she had to admit that she craved all three of them. Her stomach was screaming hunger, her throat was baiting water and her skin was decomposing in the ambience. If she declined now then she really would be worse for wear and Serena did not want to get to that point. She did not want to die by his hand, but she did not want to die by her own either. She exhaled. “I would like to bathe...” she stated neutrally. Serena was in the habit of showering twice a day. The fact that she had missed one was an abomination in itself. She could feel her skin dying on her face; she needed to access fresh water and soon. She would, however, be weary. All men were perverts in some way other. It was just a case of Serena protecting herself.

Her stomach then grumbled a little louder and very unladylike, but she maintained her impartial disposition. Right now, she would have been tucking into a continental breakfast – a couple of light croissants smothered in apricot jam, a banana and a glass of orange juice. Her eyes lowered in remembrance.

[Michiru]

It always happened. It was inevitable every time he saw blood blossoming across someone’s chest, saw the light leaving their eyes…why then did it always hit him so hard? A past half remembered; a childhood better off forgotten; one that had invariably changed him, made him the man he was today. Andrew was under no illusions. He knew what the world thought of him. Knew that he was in the wrong. But fire was in his blood, he had been reborn amidst the flames, and as a result he felt the need to constantly make them. However, building fires was not going to pay the rent, so he had found a suitable solution. The sound of rubble falling, the perfect timing of as bomb, the impeccable sound of crackling flame, bathing in the heat and light he had created; it was exquisite and he knew he would never be able to abandon it. That made him a murderer; an arsonist; a horrible person who tore families apart just as his had been. He was okay with that, which only condemned him further in the eyes of society.

Reaching for a cigarette, Andrew let the flame of the lighter and the smoke in his lungs calm him down. There was no way he could face his ‘guest’ in such an unkempt state – at least not in such an emotionally unkempt state, he could care less about how he looked to her in terms of appearance. No doubt, she looked ten times worse. He did have some sort of vague hope that she had been at least semi comfortable last night. He had covered her with sheets and a blanket, the only concessions he could make; there was no way she would have been entirely comfortable, after all, her bonds were totally and completely necessary. Andrew was under no illusions; Ms. Cortez would run for the hills as soon as she was given the chance. That simply meant that he could give her no chances, no matter how uncomfortable it was for her, or how unsettling it was for him.

He climbed out of bed, throwing on a shirt in order to forestall any more hysterical delusions, and then made his way to his living room. Yes, she was already awake, and she had managed to pull herself into a half sitting position, effectively dislodging the blankets he had been so kind to provide. She was purposefully not looking at him; her eyes were neutral as she stared at the blank television screen in front of her. Well, at least she hadn’t…or never mind...She glanced in his direction briefly, disdain obvious in both her eyes and her tone as she made some sort of derogatory comment about his smoking before turning away from him again. Well that was too damned bad! He wasn’t going to quit smoking just because of some unwelcome house guest. Breathing in deep, Andrew released a stream of smoke into the room. “That’s too damned bad,” he said non-chalantly, sticking the cancer stick into his mouth as he positioned himself to stand in front of her.

His green eyes showed nothing of what he was feeling. She looked like a mess, and he felt bad for her, but that wasn’t exactly his fault now. He had offered to let her shower last night; she had thrown the offer in his face and had thus only worsened her state. “I would appreciate it if you could act a bit like the human girl you appear to be,” his brogue was back. It had been a long and hard night, he was not in a good mood, and she was not making it any better. His displeasure was displayed not only in the stiff way he held himself, the smoking cigarette still held between his lips, and in the strong brogue of his native land that only came out when he was under extreme stress. Wonderful, just what he needed to deal with, as if he needed another thing to reinforce the fact that he was having a bad couple of days. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his homeland, but it wasn’t something he enjoyed advertising either. “Guess we’re both doomed to disappointment,” raising his fingers to the white stick hanging out of his mouth, Andrew inhaled a lungful of smoke again, revelling in the taste, and in the annoyance he was certain to cause as he released it back into the room. That accomplished, he gave her three options – for some reason he was feeling a little kind at the moment, he shouldn’t have been, but he was.

Silence greeted his questions. Really? She was going to play it this way again? Well then, he wasn’t going to show her any mercy. He was feeling like having something involving the blender, and searching through as many pots and pans as possible. Perhaps he would get the microwave going as well. News wouldn’t hurt either as he waited for…So she wasn’t quite as stupid as she acted. Butting out the remainder of his smoke in the ashtray on the table in front of him, Andrew nodded slightly. “That’s fine, but you’re gonna hafta realize m’luv, that I can’t exactly let you shower without a few provisos,” there it was again. He sighed slightly, retreating to the back of the couch in order to untie the longer piece of rope from the leg of the sofa. Holding onto it, and looked down at her. “Come on then,” he nodded toward his bedroom door. Waiting for her to stand herself, Andrew did nothing in order to help her stand on her own; it wasn’t as if she would welcome his help anyways, even if he did offer it.

Leading her to his room, Andrew kept hold of the rope as he cleared his bathroom of everything except for soap, shampoo, a towel and a face cloth. That completed, he turned to look at the girl. “I suggest you not do anything stupid now,” he closed the distance between them in order to undo the knots around her wrist. He wasn’t going to make her shower with the rope around her wrists - that would be a little too cruel. “You’ve got ten minutes, and I’m going to be waiting out here,” he indicated the chair that still occupied his room. “I won’t have to come if you don’t make me,” he shrugged slightly, indicating she could now enter the ensuite. “We’ll figure out clothing after you’re clean,” with that, Andrew retrieved the chair he had previously indicated, and situated it right outside the door to the bathroom. There was no point in taking any chances.

[Jemineye]

Serena wrinkled her nose as the murderer rather indifferently blew another puff of smoke into the room. Her neutral demeanour momentarily disappeared to reveal disgust, as she was not used to being in such environments for longer than necessary. When on the street, she could avoid people and simply bypass them or head into a public place where the air was clean. In here, she was a prisoner. She averted her eyes from the television and instead glanced at nowhere in particular, keen to fizzle him out of even his peripheral vision. “Human?” the words slid from her mouth before she even realised it. “What do you know about being human?” There was acid in her tone. The nerve of him to talk about her behaving like a human and yet he had done the most inhumane thing possible and stolen the lives of hundreds without any remorse whatsoever. How could he possibly even understand what human was? The thoughts whirred in her mind and as they did so, her face did nothing to hide the grief.

Despite this, she decided not to press the matter, keen to prohibit the amount of words she wasted on him. Though she was sitting upright, her head still felt rather heavy. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol he had rather gallantly shoved down her throat and simply because of misery. But rather than give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower, she remembered herself and lifted her head as if she were above him – like a proud peacock – casting her eyes at the blank television screen. This was when he asked her what she would be willing to do, and for a while she had hesitated, but had chosen the shower. She was aware of how dangerous this could have been, but right now, though she was hungry, she desired nothing more than to bathe.

Again, she remained hard-faced, even though out of the corner of her eye she took note of him unravelling the rope from beneath the sofa. As he manoeuvred around the front, he spared her no time and literally tugged her to a stand. The bed sheet slid from her form and slipped behind her as she was forced to plant a foot onto the ground. She was not sure what had happened, but both her shoes were now missing; they had cost her father a fortune. Her eyes furrowed at the temporary selfish thought, but then briefly softened at the notion that it had been her father that had bought them for her.

“You’re hurting me,” she retorted as she was reluctantly tugged into his room like some sort of dog and forced to watch him clear the bathroom. She rolled her eyes at the notion. What did he think that she was going to do? Slit her wrists? Or maybe he considered that she might try and slit his? Nothing would have made her happier. Incidentally, however, he left her with the very basics and as he loosened the straps on her wrists, virtually flung her into the interior and closed the door, specifying that she had ten minutes. Ten minutes? Just who did he think she was? A woman like her took more than ten minutes in the shower. A woman like her took more than ten minutes to pamper and dress herself. Gradually, she strode before the sink and nervously glanced at her own reflection. Her eyes widened. A woman like her looked positively grotesque.

The first thing she noticed was her hair. The curls that she had expertly sought to tong to perfection were a scattered mess; it resembled a bird’s nest. It had shrank in volume and was somewhere between a mop and bed-head rolled into one. Then of course, there was her face. Her mascara has ran significantly, trailing her cheeks and making her look like a sad clown. A eye-lashes were in clumps and the eye-shadow had distorted, giving off the impression that she had accumulated two black eyes. Then of course, there was her lipstick. The vast majority of it had smudged. Most of the colour was either missing or has slid across her face onto her cheeks; the concealer looked as if it had welded to her skin. And overall, she looked like a complete abomination.

Unable to contain her composure any long, she suddenly burst into tears. The sobs were silent, but her lips arched downwards and her eyes squinted shut as the tear streaks slid along her face. She was horrified – horrified at what she looked like; horrified at the predicament she was in; and horrified that the God she believed in, had let her fall so far from grace that she felt as if she could no longer believe in hope. She slumped before the sink and allowed herself to sink into despair for a while, dropping to her knees at the base of the sinks and sitting there, silently crying to herself, peering up at the white-washed ceiling. Eventually, however, she managed to pick herself and stare at her own reflection once more, before she gradually began the process of applying soap to face.

Extremely nervous about being a young woman in a male stranger’s apartment, she stepped into the shower fully clothed and only disrobed when she was safely inside. She tossed the expensive dress over the other side so that it rested high up on the shower cage, before she turned the water on and allowed it to rain upon her. She barely flinched as the cold water settled against her skin. Gradually it began to warm up and she watched nothing in particular as it slid through her hair and onto her shoulders, sticking her tresses to her back and shoulder. Then, suddenly, feeling a little weak against, she incidentally lowered herself to the bottom of the shower and sat down, propping her knees up and planting her arms on top of them. There, she rested her forehead on her arm and peered down at the drain beneath her, completely losing track of time and any sense of reality.