Antumbra - A Lost Cause

Behind Enemy Lines - Chapter Forty

When Arva awoke, she panicked. She was tied to a chair, arms bound to the rests, legs affixed to the chair's own, and Arva couldn't break the bonds no matter how hard she struggled. Her pilot suit and helmet were gone, it was cold in here, and when she looked down she could see drops of blood on her shirt and pants. She began to breathe quicker, verging on hyperventilation, terrified. It was like a nightmare, only she knew she was awake. She fought against her restraints, tried to break the chair if she could, but it was metal, and her bonds were leather straps. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, and Arva almost screamed when someone entered the room. She couldn't see the door in the darkness, but she heard it open and close, and the shuffling of feet. She was breathing heavily now, shaking uncontrollably, petrified by the individual who approached her. A man in a coat with a stern face walked up, looming in front of her. He wore a scowl, and Arva swallowed as she realized she'd been captured by the enemy. This must have been someone from the IRT, and though she couldn't help trembling from fear and the freezing air, she forced herself to put on a stoic face. He crouched down to her level, looking her in the eye.

"Tell me," he said with a thick accent, "how do you get machine, hmm?" His English was rough, and his voice was deep and unsettling. Arva remained silent, and the man placed a hand just above her knee, patting it as he chuckled. It made her extremely uncomfortable.

"Simple question," he said, smiling in a way that made her skin crawl, "simple answer."

"I'm just a pilot," she said, "they gave it to me."

"No no," he shook his head, squeezing her leg slightly. The way he held it was violating, and she'd just as soon kick him in the jaw if she could, but she swallowed her pride and suffered for now.

"I'm telling the truth," she insisted.

"No no no, you lie," he said with a smile as he waved his finger, "kobold do not simply have machines, no one give them Argonauts," he stood up, pushing himself off her leg in a way that uncomfortably dug the backs of her knees into the sharp edge of the seat. "You stole, hmmm?"

"I didn't steal anything!" Arva shouted, incensed by the accusation, and was immediately struck across the face. The attack was so sudden, so violent, she was more surprised than in pain as her head snapped to the right. Her cheek felt red hot and stung as the cold air touched it. She'd never been hit like that before.

"Tell the truth!" He shouted back.

"I am!" She shouted, and he struck her again. Over and over he asked, she answered, and was assaulted for her honesty. One hit was so hard it knocked her on the floor, her shoulder hitting the ground hard enough to make her cry out in pain.

"Piszkos hazug..." he muttered, "you tell, I stop the pain. Simple!" Arva shut her lips tight, tears welling in her eyes as she defiantly shook her head. She braced herself for more hits, and they came. He hit her across the face, the arms and legs, kicked her while she was down, hoisted her back up just to knock her over again. It was too much. She wasn't cut out for this, she couldn't withstand this abuse. She kept her mouth shut, even when her lips cut against her teeth when he slapped her. Worst of all, she could tell he was holding back, going easy on her enough so her wounds would merely hurt, not debilitate. He grabbed her by the chin, his fingers slick against her face with what she assumed was her own blood.

"Very brave," he said, seeming to be genuinely impressed, "foolish, but brave, and yet..." he leaned in, turning her head back and forth in his hand, "very pretty for kobold. Like a blue flower, delicate, with beautiful petals. How about I take that beauty away?"

Arva tried not to, but against her will she began to cry. This truly was a nightmare, and she wanted to say something back. Anything to make it stop, but her jaw hurt, and his grip was tight, so when she tried to speak she only managed to cough and spit in his face. Red goo hit him in the eye, and his smile faded as he perceived it as more defiance. He threw her head away as he stood up, cursing in a language she didn't understand. Perhaps light-headed from the abuse, Arva couldn't help but find humour in her crude retaliation, and reveled in her momentary victory as she braced herself for the punishment to come. She thought about Hannah, Gramma, Elia, everyone she'd left behind. She silently begged for their forgiveness, and hoped that Marcus would take care of them as she prepared herself for what was to come.