it's over as quickly as it started, leaving a ringing in her ears and a feeling akin to her teeth rattling around in her skull. she shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut so hard that she's seeing spots dancing around behind her lids while curling her fingers into tight fists. she draws in a sharp breath and the metallic tinge of blood hits her lips. she can feel the thick ooze of it running down the side of her face from her temple. she curses quietly in russian, unfurling her fingers and balling them up again, suddenly all too aware that she's strung up by her wrists.
her mind is racing, there are probably at least a hundred questions she can come up with right off the top of her head. maybe it's instinct, maybe it's training. maybe it's just coincidence when her brain flips through the six w's they teach you in primary school: what the fuck is going on?, where am i?, how did i get here?, why am i bleeding?, who fucking got the drop on me? hell, there's even a bonus, do people really tie people up by their wrists? ... she thought that shit only happened in the movies, but here she was, the skin around her wrists being rubbed raw by cheap boat rope and her body dangling a good two inches off the floor.
but all of those questions are gone the second that the sound of screaming breaks through the air. it's enough to bring her plummeting back down to earth, finally opening her eyes and taking in the sight of wherever the hell she is. it's dark and dank. the air smells of gunpowder and mildew causing her nose to crinkle instinctively against the stench. there's another scream. it seems far away, but close all at the same time, like someone is shouting from the other side of a tunnel. part of her wants to strain to try and figure out where it's coming from, but her ears are still ringing and she can't make sense of it. it seems like it's coming from all around her. instead, she turns her sights on the rope binding her hands together above her head, the rope she's been struggling against for longer than she can even wrap her head around. her fingers toy at the strings, slowly, carefully rubbing the rope against a rusty old pipe, praying for it to unravel faster.
this time, her concentration is interrupted by the whirring of machinery. it's far off, but undeniably coming from behind. the air is rattled again by the sound of a blood curdling scream, one that seems far too familiar for her liking. her heart drops directly into her guts, landing with a heavy plop. she feels sick. her fingers curl around the rope and with one quick, focused heave, she pulls her legs up over her head and manages to latch her feet onto the pipe she's been hanging from for she's not sure how long. it doesn't do much more than take some of the stress off her arms, but it's enough. it takes almost a minute, but when the tension loosens and the rope finally snaps, she lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding in, finally free of her confines.
as much as she wants to take a moment to catch her breath, to shake the pins and needles feeling in her limbs away and actually enjoy having the feeling back in her arms, she's reminded by the sound of electricity buzzing and shrieks piercing the air that it isn't a luxury she's afforded. (it's in this moment that she realizes the agonized wails are coming from more than one person and that sick feeling finds it's way back into her stomach and her throat but she swallows it all down and pushes it aside. she doesn't have time to ralph all over the place, she has work to do.) so she curses under her breath and drops from the pipe, landing crouched on the ground with a gentle thud.
it isn't the first time she's found herself in some fucked up situation and chances are, it won't be the last. but there's something off about this one. something doesn't feel quite right. or, at least, as 'not quite right' as something can be considering the unquestionably fucked up circumstances. but she can't put her finger on what it is, so she just follows the noise, staying low and looking for the source of the sounds.
and she finds herself doing that thing again, where she holds her breath and doesn't realize what she's doing until she catches the flash of bright light from under a closed door and suddenly let's out a chestful of air. instinct takes over and her fingers find their way to her side, looking for her gun. but it's not there. in fact, all her weapons are gone and that's when she realizes that she's not just unarmed but there's no doubt in her mind that she's outmanned. she knows she's fucked. but she's not going to go out without a fight.
so she squares her shoulders, lines her body up with the threshold of the door, and takes a deep breath as she carefully reaches for the doorknob and pushes it open.
what happens next all comes on so fast that it's like a freight train right to the face. it's a flash of light and a rush of noise so blinding that it takes her a moment to get her bearings, but it's a moment that could cost her. there's still spots in front of her eyes when she finally manages to bring the room into focus, to make out the figures of the people. one, two, three. one is strung up to what looks like a chunk of chain link fence, another is out cold, tied to a chair, his head is lulling toward his lap and another is down on their knees, hands tied behind their back and looking right at her.
all she can manage is a terrifed and disgusted, "what the fuck?"