Unknown Location
The back of a van, and later, an undisclosed facility.
Continued from Taken!
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| Brooke Bishop | Siobhan Donovan |
It wasn't just some hideous nightmare. Siobhan awakes, she doesn't know how much later, to feeling a bit hungover. Her mouth is dry, and it feels like a hammer is banging on the inside of her skull. It is dark all around, and try as she might, she can't even summon a light spell. She does manage to twist enough to feel Brooke, but it's little comfort when they can't communicate or even see one another. All she can do is wiggle her fingers and press them against the older witch's hand and hope that this ordeal will be over soon enough.
~*~
Brooke has no idea where she is when she first comes out of the drugged slumber and stupor. Groaning a little, she hears that the sound is muffled, and realizes that she's still gagged. With no clue as to how much time has passed, or where they are (other than still moving), the redhead tries to shift her body about. She's still bound, but can feel something on her hand.
~*~
"Well, well, well. Looks like our new friends are awake," Astrid says to Marshall. "We're not quite to our destination yet, ladies. I didn't think you'd be out so long, but maybe that drug works on your particular heritage much better than a regular witch."
~*~
Siobhan tries to make sense of what the witch is saying, but in her half-drugged and groggy state, it makes as much sense as the woman's worries about the Reynards did earlier. The Reynards have nothing to do with them, and even a witch and sorcerer who aren't affiliated should know that Coven witches don't work with the Reynards.
If she could talk, she'd ask why they're still gagged and bound, when they can't use magic. Or she might just make matters worse by insulting and provoking them, so maybe it's best that she's gagged.
~*~
Marshall grunts, which could mean anything at all, but slows the vehicle down and pulls it off the road. He kills the engine and nods to Astrid. "Let's get 'em out to piss and throw up. I don't want to drive with that stench again." The last one had soiled himself badly. Of course the damn pup probably needed to be housebroken.
~*~
"Magical gags afterward then. I still don't want to hear them." Astrid rolls her eyes, opening the door. Two needles are extracted from the glovebox, along with a gun. Just in case she needs to take care of either of them. With one extra, she's not going to worry if she's got to shoot the younger one to keep the older one in line.
Hopping out of the van, she moves around to the back.
"Hurry up with you. You piss in there, you'll be cleaning it up before Marshall will drive."
~*~
When the witch opens the door and looks down at them, Siobhan glares up at her as much as she can. After all, it's hardly possible for them to do anything bond and gagged as they are.
As if hearing her thoughts, she feels the magic binding them fall away. The witch didn't say anything, so she assumes it was the sorcerer, but it's hard to be certain.
"Make it quick," Marshall growls.
~*~
"One at a time," Astrid says. "Marshall filled me in on who you are, little ballerina. You first. You try anything, I shoot you. You're just an extra body, and not the one we need to deliver. Got it?"
Beat.
"You will have a minute to piss, or puke. Right here beside the van. Marshall will shield us in a privacy spell, but your magic still won't work. Scream, you get shot. Try to run, you get shot. I might not kill you, but it'll definitely hurt."
~*~
Siobhan doesn't know what's worse about the situation. Being kidnapped, or being kidnapped and being worthless. It's enough of a blow to her to ensure her cooperation. No one knew she was in town, no one knows she was with Brooke, she's not the target anyway, and no one will know she's gone. Her defiance fades quickly, and she climbs out of the van as quickly as she can with her tight and strained muscles. She doesn't even argue about the location chosen to relieve herself, though she's glad the drugs didn't make her need to throw up.
Once she's done, she returns to the van and sits, wrapping her arms around her knees.
~*~
When it's Brooke's turn, and Siobhan is safe in the van, she tries something. If only to remove the gag from her mouth, and stretch her body. "What do the Reynards have to do with this?" Her voice is groggier than she thought it would be, and her stomach is queasy. The redhead refuses to vomit though.
"And why did you grab Siobhan instead of just leaving her drugged at my place?"
~*~
"Oh-ho, you have no clue, do you? Don't you feel it? The difference? The similarities?" Astrid laughs, but she doesn't bother giving a straight answer.
"Better to grab her than leave a witness who's seen us. I'd hate to be tracked down and have to deal with others. Especially your illicit boyfriend, or the Priory. I'm quite happy where I am, working for who I do. You'll be in their hands soon enough."
~*~
Siobhan knows she should be paying attention. All of her father's lectures, all of her training tells her that every word is a clue. Every sound is something to get her a step closer to getting out of this situation or staying alive in it. In light of how she's been feeling, it's hard to do that now that she knows she's just 'the spare.' The thought summons up images and thoughts of Harry Potter and she half expects Voldemort to jump out and finish her off.
That thought makes her release a sound that's a half-choke/half-giggle. A little voice in the back of her head tells her that it's a sign of shock and/or hysterics, but she doesn't much care.
~*~
"Don't have a clue about what?" The redheaded witch allows the woman to lead her back to the van and lock her up. They haven't been gagged again, but as soon as she sits, she can feel a minimal binding spell on her. She's able to move her body, but she won't be able to move from the spot.
"Look, if you leave her here by the side of the road, I'll be more cooperative."
~*~
"Leave her here? So close to where we're going? So she can lead people to find you? I think not." Astrid slides back into the van. The gun is set back into the box, but the two dosages of the drug are kept handy in case either of them tries something.
"Better to bring her with us. More pay, more advancement."
~*~
"How's that?" Siobhan asks quietly. "I'm just the extra body. Not the droid you were looking for." Probably not the thing to say to your kidnappers, but if they're using her to leverage cooperation from Brooke, then chances are when they get where they're going, Siobhan is as good as dead anyway.
~*~
Marshall starts the van again and pulls back onto the road. He'll trust Astrid to keep an eye on their 'cargo,' although he doubts either of them will try anything. The older is too worried about the younger and the younger has flaked, just as one would expect a Manhattanite Princess to do. Still, Astrid was wrong about one thing. The other hybrid may not be the one they were supposed to bring in, but she's just as powerful, and just as useful.
~*~
"Siobhan!" Brooke hisses the word at the younger witch, and frowns slightly. She wants to tell her that someone will come looking for them. It might be a few hours before Kieran realizes she's missing. She was supposed to head to the restaurant tonight after the sun went down.
~*~
"Exactly. An extra body. If they screw up with one, they've got a spare." Astrid shrugs. Pressing a button under the seat, she swivels her chair around to face them. "Now, we're going to take you in shortly. I want two well-behaved women. Any trouble, and I'll dose you again."
~*~
Siobhan turns her dark gaze to Brooke slowly, as if to ask 'what?' but she doesn't say a single word. She just blinks and turns back to staring forward into the nondescript empty cavern of the transport van.
She can’t remember if she told Harper she loved him the last time they talked. She always tries to tell him that, especially lately, but the airplane was going to take off and the call was breaking up …
A single tear slides down her cheek, hopefully invisible in the darkness.
~*~
“She’s good lookin’ enough. If they don’t use her up, I’m sure there are other uses for that one,” Marshall points out. “Sure Cruz could always use another girl.” The shit ass crazy werewolf uses them up pretty fast, but the Family likes him and have that truce with his pack.
~*~
"Just take her back to the city," Brooke says quietly. "She has nothing to do with this." Hell, the redheaded witch has no idea what she has to do with this. Her father is a farmer in upstate New York. It's not as though they'd be grabbing her for money. If that was even the case, they'd have grabbed Bridget too, and as her sister isn't the one that's here with her…
~*~
There's a snort from the seat where Astrid is looking down on them. "Cruz would have plenty of use for her. Either way, it's not for us to decide. We just pick'em up."
Reaching toward Siobhan, she smirks and drags her cold glove over Siobhan's face. "Awww. The little ballerina is crying. They'll love that."
~*~
Siobhan rears back at the touch. She might be bond, but there’s enough freedom for her to back away from the other woman. It’s instinctive and automatic, but it’s a good sign. It means that there’s some fight left in her somewhere no matter how broken she seems at the moment.
“Don’t touch me.” It’s barely audible, but the words are there.
~*~
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So your boyfriend could get in her head and track you down? Do we look stupid to you?” It’s as many words as Marshall’s managed in one turn of conversation, and somehow they still sound dry and empty. Hearing him talk is worse than not hearing him talk.
Then there’s a change. A laugh which is eerily cold and sharp, like a finely honed blade. “Tears are inspirational.”
~*~
"My…" Okay. Alright. Kieran likely would get into Siobhan's head, and read her like a book to find out where she is. Frowning, she gives her head a slight shake. "No. I honestly don't care if he finds me. As long as she's safe. From the sounds of it, you know a lot about vampires. I'm sure you could find one to wipe any memory of you, and this incident from her mind."
Brooke glances over at Siobhan, and grimaces as the girl is touched.
~*~
"My touching you is about to be the least of your worries, little ballerina." Astrid leans in and whispers, "The very least. I saw what happened to the last batch we brought in."
~*~
Siobhan frowns. The younger witch is still staring off, not looking at or focusing on anyone. She doesn’t know why Brooke is bothering. They’re not going to let her go. Evidently they’re not going to kill her, but she can tell by the intonation and implications that what will happen to her will be a lot worse than if they did kill her.
“My father will kill you.” It’s not said in a loud voice. It’s not a threatening voice. It’s not even the voice of last ditch desperation. Siobhan may as well be talking about the weather, or reciting the periodic table. It’s that sort of clear, concise factual knowledge. Whatever happens, even if they do kill her, Robert Knight will come after them.
~*~
“Your father is a coward who ran from power for some witch pussy. Little girl, our - bosses are not afraid of the good surgeon. Neither are we.”
Beat.
“If we’re not afraid of Red’s daddy, why would we cower at the thought of yours and his black sheep status?”
~*~
Brooke is bothering because if she can get Siobhan out of this mess, she'll feel much better, and more able to deal with the situation.
"My father is human. A farmer. There's a big difference between my father and Doctor Knight." Her words are calm, and she glances over at Siobhan. "Robert is a force to be reckoned with, whether he's considered black sheep or not."
~*~
Astrid laughs at the threat. "Oh, sweet little ballerina, if your father is going to kill me for my glove touching your cheek…" Glancing over at Marshall, she smirks. "I'm sure he'd like to kill a few other people first."
~*~
The stupidity of the witch is what causes Siobhan to shift her gaze to the woman. Does the idiot really think that her father will care that the woman touched her cheek? “You’re stupider than you look if you think that’s what I’m referring to.” Beat. “He will hunt you down and he will find you, and he will kill you and your bosses unless you stop this van right now and let us go.”
~*~
“Is that what Mommy told you, Red?” Marshall smiles and it’s a hideous, cold thing.
Beat.
“Not going to happen, Mrs. Donovan. Save the threats. Don’t bother changing tactics and telling us that hubby and his family will pay for your freedom. You ladies need to understand: we’re beyond money and threats.”
~*~
"Of course that's what she told me. It's the truth." Brooke blinks at the man, then thinks back to earlier. "If you're trying to insinuate that a Reynard is my father, you're way off base."
They've obviously done their homework in the time the two witches have been out. Brooke knows that Siobhan's wedding was under the radar, and there wasn't much of a paper trail. Granted, if Mr. Knightley found out about it, other people could do that type of research as well.
~*~
"Insinuating?" Astrid laughs again, then rears back and slaps Siobhan for her outburst. "We're not insinuating a thing."
Beat.
"Call me stupid again, and you won't make it to where we're going. You may be an extra body, but no one else knows we have you yet, little ballerina."
~*~
Siobhan gasps, but doesn’t make any other sound at the slap. The little hybrid shifts her gaze again, focusing at nothing in the darkness.
~*~
“Get the blindfolds,” Marshall says. “We’re almost there.”
~*~
Brooke mulls over what they're saying, and decides to take it with a grain of salt. They're trying to rile the pair of them up, or at least break down whatever defenses are keeping both witches calm.
"Oh? We're going with real blindfolds?"
~*~
Astrid snickers at Siobhan, and coos, "Awwww, isn't she so cute when she gets threatening, Marshall? It's so adorable, I just want to pinch her cheeks. I can't wait until they go to work on this one."
Reaching into a bag by her feet, she pulls out two thick blindfolds. Looping one around each woman's head, she leans toward them and whispers, "I hope I get to be there when they start cutting you open."
~*~
Siobhan doesn’t resist being blindfolded or being unceremoniously dragged from the van. The magical binding is released and she’s prodded and dragged along. Through grass and over gravel, and then into indoor surroundings. There are stairs, then an elevator going down. Even though she’s resigned to whatever her fate, she’s comforted in knowing that she’ll be avenged.
Maybe she’ll hang around as a ghost to watch it.
~*~
The minute she's unbound, Brooke tries a spell again. Just a simple one. One that any burgeoning witch should know. When even that fails to work, she exhales a sigh. She's not entirely helpless without magic, it's just going to make things much more difficult.
Counting the number of steps they take, and the flights of stairs, she knows they're going down and not up. The elevator would make it more difficult, but there's a feeling of gravity under her, not being pushed upward.
The first thing that can be heard when the doors to the elevator opens are, "Why's there two?"
~*~
Astrid lifts a finger to her lips, and smiles at the undetermined voice. "Two for the price of one. We went for one hybrid, wound up with two. Figured the bosses would like that."
~*~
Later, Siobhan will focus on the confirmation that she’s been given of her suspicions. Right now, she’s quiet. ‘Looking’ down at her feet, but trying to focus on the positive. It’s not easy. Her emotions have run the gamut twice now: from despair, to hope and now, the witch is numb. The very desperate human part of her is hanging onto hope: hope that someone misses Brooke and looks for her; hope that by some miracle her parents feel a disturbance in the force.
Hope that Harper tries to call her and maybe, just maybe, follows up with Jenna instead. Then at least someone will know that she should be back from tour.
Being quiet means she can focus and wait for any opportunity.
~*~
“This one’s a Knightley.” Siobhan’s arm is given a sharp, painful tug. An additional tug is given to her hair and her neck is jerked backwards, causing her to yelp in pain despite herself. “If the mutt has any of that power in her, the bosses should be pleased.”
~*~
It's the 'two hybrid' thing that has the hair on Brooke's neck going up. The witch closes her eyes and quietly says, "But I'm not a hybrid." She did try arguing that in the van, but it seems that was to no avail.
All she knows is that she needs to survive whatever this is and get home.
~*~
"She's got spunk, if not power. The little bitch has a will to survive. She might actually, better than any of the other candidates." Astrid smirks at what Marshall does to the younger witch.
"The Reynards won't care about the other one. It's not as though she's acknowledged. If she were, old Randy would be in a shit storm of trouble."
~*~
Siobhan wants to reach out to Brooke, just so she can have that contact with the woman and steady herself. She’s already shown weakness and she’s trying hard not to show anymore. It’s hard to do anything, however, with how she’s being held and knowing that there have to be eyes on her right now, even if she can’t see them. So she tries not to show any surprise at the alleged revelation, tries not to acknowledge that she’s even heard the words.
Squeezing her eyes shut beneath the blindfold, Siobhan reaches out for Harper. She knows it’s stupid and ridiculous. He’s the telepath, she isn’t, but it’s something to hang onto. That notion of contact, that he might just get a tingle at the back of his neck is another piece of hope.
~*~
Brooke is quietly holding on to the hope that they're just trying to rile her into doing something stupid. The witch rolls her shoulders as much as she's able to, and exhales slowly. She hates not being able to see people, or read their expressions.
~*~
"Keep telling yourself that," Astrid says to Brooke. "So which area are we taking these two to?"
The nondescript voice can be heard again, "With the other hybrid girl. She's not got two magic parents, but two supe parents work just as well. In the back, with the cameras."
~*~
Siobhan vaguely recalls the witch-bitch saying something about others, but thats the first confirmation shes gotten that there are truly others being held here besides she and Brooke. Its enough of a nudge to get her thinking again and not just waiting for the axe to fall.
The walk there is not anymore gentle, slow or careful than the walk to this place. Siobhan is tugged and shoved. The floor beneath her feet is cold and hard, roughened. It reminds her of cement or asphalt, just as she knows that she walked on gravel, grass and dirt outside. Shes been biting her lip against the discomfort because even feet as toughened as hers can only take so much bare foot roughness.
When she trips, the witch is given a very rough tug to her feet and a shove that's meant that she's to keep going.
The sound of grating and clanking is heard and then she's pushed forward, where she stumbles and barely manages to stop herself from going down in another heap.
~*~
“Sorry it’s not the Ritz Carleton, ladies. At least you have a roommate and a toilet,” Marshall barks in laughter. “Enjoy it while you can.”
~*~
Slippers are a godsend. While Brooke can feel the ground beneath her feet, it's not nearly as rough as Siobhan's having to go through. She's shoved against the walls a few times, which tells her that they are still inside. That might make things a little more difficult. So does the ability to not cast. It means that the Coven isn't going to be of any help, and a great deal of the Priory members are out as well.
"Sure, thanks. No beds?" Still being blindfolded has its disadvantages. Brooke can't tell how big the cell is or where they are. She's shoved into it unceremoniously, and she slides across the floor a little. Her hands get scraped as she falls, as do her arms. The side of her face hits the floor, and she groans.
"You get the floor and a blanket. Can't promise that it's clean." Astrid whisks her wrist and the blindfolds and binding come off. "Behave yourselves. The people here? They're not half as nice as I am."
~*~
The sudden infusion of light causes Siobhan to blink and squint. It's not a lot of light, only dim fluorescent lighting provided by the institutional overhead lights. A few are either blown or missing, and one in the corner is doing an annoying half-flicker at irregular intervals.
Siobhan pays no attention to Astrid, turning in a slow circle to get the lay of the place. There is one cot with a mattress that looks as though it's been through war, a swamp, and everything bio-hazardous. An old rusting metal sink stands against the fading gray/green institutional wall. It drips a bit and obviously leaks if the stain on the cement slab floor and around the wall pipe is any indication. Beside it is a toilet, that looks to be as old as the room they're in. It must work, however, because a delicate sniff doesn't provide any odor.
No odor from the toilet; there is the odor of bodies. The old locker room scent of sweaty, musty unwashed bodies pervades with hints of ammonia and bile, and something slightly metallic, beneath it all.
It's truly a cell, Siobhan realizes as she completes her visual circuit of the room. There are bars on the front of it, sturdy thick iron ones. She can't repress the shiver that runs through her as she gazes out at their kidnappers on the other side.
~*~
Spotting the singular bed, Brooke wrinkles her nose. She'd much rather sleep on the damp floor than contemplate what has been on that mattress. She doesn't give the place as much of a look as Siobhan does, mostly because she doesn't care. It's a cell, she knows it's a cell, and there's not much they can do about it unless there's a chink in a spell somewhere. Finding that out is going to be extremely difficult, and not one she can work on if they're on camera 24/7.
"Well, looks like home, doesn't it, Siobhan. We might as well make the most of it." Wiping a drop of blood from her nose from when she fell, she lifts her shoulders in a somewhat defeated shrug.
~*~
"That's right, Red. It's home. For now. Until they need you. You hybrids are hard to find, but… worth a whole lot."
~*~
"Home sweet home," Siobhan murmurs. She looks around again and then opts to sit on a dry space of floor, leaning back against the wall. The floor is cold and hard, but Siobhan doesn't feel like standing for the next few hours.
