Fickle Flame | OT7

Out of the Frying Pan & Into the Fire

Her head aches and it feels like there is something trying to bore a hole into her right hip. Shayne blinks her eyes a few times, flinching at the light flickering around her. She takes a moment to assess, it looks like she's in some sort of cave. She's lying on her right side, her hip pressed firmly into the stone. Her eyes rove around but she is mindful not to move her body too much, she doesn't want to draw attention to the fact she's awake in case that man is somewhere near by. A few feet away there is a small fire, the wood smoke drifting up and disappearing into darkness.

The walls are rough, the floor cool despite the heat. The fire adds to the heat, beads of sweat sliding across her forehead and tickling her hairline. Shayne holds her breath, focusing all her attention into hearing, trying to decipher if there is anyone else around. Satisfied she doesn't hear anyone, she shifts to sit up. Only now does she realize her hands and feet are bound. She tenses, putting pressure on the binds on her wrists. It bites into her skin, chaffing and irritating. She tenses a little harder, rolling onto her stomach to give her arms full mobility behind her back.

"Don't bother trying. You'll never break those ropes."

The voice comes from somewhere beyond the light. She shifts, rolling back onto her side and after a few tries manages to pull her bound legs in front of her and sit up. Her head  swivels slowly, eyes trying to pierce the darkness. "Who are you?" her voice if soft but carries through the open space.

"You needn't concern yourself with who I am. What you should focus on is whether or not you'll behave. We don't want to kill you, but we also don't have the patience for a troublemaker."

"We?" She squints into the darkness, eyes finally adjusting to be able to make out the faintest outline of someone.

The scuff of shoes on stone brings the figure closer. The light from the fire catches the contours of the mans face, highlighting his brown hair and golden skin. He's dressed in dark denim jeans, a black long-sleeve shirt, and black boots. "Again, not something you should worry yourself with. Now, I'm going to untie you but you have to agree not to try and run, okay?"

"I- umm, well... okay," she agrees warily, eyeing the man as he approaches. "You're not the same guy," she murmurs as he kneels in front of her. At least she doesn't think he is, it was really dark but she's certain he had black hair and not brown.

The man produces a knife from behind him, six inches of wicked steel catches the fire light. It glints brightly as he leans in, slipping it around behind her. He presses in, his face inches from hers. Eyes narrowed and calculated as he brings his other hand around the other side and grips her forearm. His hand trails down to hers till his fingers come into contact with the bindings. In one quick motion, his hand holding the knife severs the rope.

The instant that her wrists are free Shayne reacts, dropping her head forward and catching the man in the nose. He grunts and there is a stinging pain on her forehead, warmth splatters across the front of her shirt. She brings one hand around to connect with his jaw and the other snags the wrist of his hand holding the knife and twists harshly, expecting the knife to fall from his grip. Her punch connects with his jaw but instead of his head whipping to the side her fist rebounds harshly. Pain lances through her hand and she cries out.

Steel against her throat cuts off her cry. She sucks in a few breaths, adrenaline coursing through her. Her hand is still latched onto the mans wrist, only now it's held in the air with the knife against her throat. She stares at the man, eyes flickering over his features. He looks bored despite the small spatter of red on the bottom half of his face. She furrows her brow which elicits a sharp wince of pain, the haze of her fight response finally dwindling, she realizes that the blood isn't his and the mans nose is undamaged but she can't say as much for her forehead. Blood is oozing down her face, catching in her eyelashes. She blinks a few times, leaving red smears on her cheeks.