Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Chapter Seventeen

Isaac "The Dentist" Fiorelli

"Weasel, Gunner, Sascha and two tall, blonde dudes." She whispers to me before she's gone. Fucking hell.

"How long till your men get here, Damiano?" Scarface scoffs at Malcolm's use of his real name.

"Shouldn't be too long, in a day or two tops." He responds to Malcolm's question. I wish his men were faster. The longer I go without brushing my teeth, the louder the voices in my head get, though, the voices keep chanting about the people Lena mentioned. What does it mean?

"Smiley." I call to Malcolm. His eyes find mine and he nods at me. "When she tripped, she said something to me." His eyes turn curious.

"What did she say?"

"Weasel, Gunner, Sascha and two tall, blonde dudes." Malcolm contemplates my words for a minute. His smile turns bigger, meaning he figured something out.

"I think she just gave us her kill-list." This makes me smirk. Well done, love. "I think I've sat here long enough, what about you?" Malcolm looks at Nico and I.

"I think we could stretch our legs for a bit, right Nico?" I look at Nico for confirmation, and he rewards me with a nod.

"I'm here too, assholes." Scarface adds from behind me.

"You're already standing though, what the hell do you want to stretch?" I ask confused.

"Shut up, Dentist." I just shrug my shoulders at his outburst. He hasn't had his anger-management classes for a few days. I wonder if they will make him keep a diary? The sound of wood creaking interrupts my train of thoughts. Malcolm is straightening his back, his muscles bulging making the chains restraining him creak. He tenses his entire body and arches his back. The chains snap right off. Whew, Impressive. If he was in the same box as I, I would've tapped that a long time ago – if you know what I'm implying.

"You could do that the whole time?" Damiano asks incredulously. "Why the fuck didn't you do that sooner?"

"I've slowly build up the pressure on the restraints, I've only just been able to snap them. Calm yourself, Damiano." Malcolms replies. Scarface sighs heavily.

"I'm going to fucking legally change my name, assholes." That'll never stop me. Malcolm starts working on our restraints one at a time. Ladies and gentlemen, shit's about to go down.

Magdalena

Weasel drags me by the arm into, yeah you guessed it, another new room. This room is bigger and brighter. Dangling lightbulbs are littering the ceiling and there are folding chairs lined up against the walls on both sides of the room. A camera is placed on a tripod pointing towards a thin gym-mat in the middle of the room. Oh god, no more surprises. I feel like I'm in a cheaper, more scary version of the hunger games. Weasel pushes me roughly onto the mat and tells me to wait there, and I do. It's not like I can do much else at the moment. On one hand, I'm relieved that the guys are alive. On the other... I'm doomed.

Weasel returns to the room along with Gunner, Sascha, the two tall, blonde dudes and an additional woman. I go rigid, what the hell is about to go down here? The new woman looks tough. Her dark hair is braided in two French braids, and she's wearing a sports-bra along with cycle shorts – are we going to work out?

"Hello again, Rapunzel." Sascha steps forward to address me. She studies me closely. "I see that you've been roughed up quite a bit." She shoots an angry glare towards Weasel and Gunner, and Weasel averts his eyes to the floor. "Therefore there has been a slight change of plans. You are no longer being sold at the auction. Your value has decreased because of the discoloration on your skin, and no one wants to pay for a girl with a swollen cheek." Maybe that statement should have brought some sort of relieved feeling with it, but it doesn't. "We are going to test out your fighting skills." Say what now? "Tara here, is our handler for our cage-fighting girls. We need you to attempt to fight her, so we'll know if you'll make a good candidate for her team of girls." There are no words to describe what I'm feeling about this situation. I have to fight Tara, the woman who handles the cage-fighters, and also looks like a smaller version of the female Hulk. I do wonder if it's too late to join a religion. I've never been very religious, but now seems like a good time for praying.

"I don't know anything about fighting." I plead in a small voice. Sascha bends down to my level.

"You'll learn." She states, patting my cheek roughly. "Now get up." I do as she says. She nods for Tara to go ahead.

"Let's see what you're made of, kid." Tara says. She takes a fighting position as one of the blonde men turns on the camera to record. I lift my hands and clench them into fists, attempting to copy her stance. My hands are shaking uncontrollably, I know I don't stand a chance. Before I can inhale my next breath, she throws a punch. I somehow, by the grace of god (or maybe Percy Jackson), dodge her fist. She looks at me surprised. "Not bad, but not great either." With that she swipes her foot at my legs and sweeps me to the floor. I land roughly on my back, the mat doesn't provide much protection from the hard ground underneath. She takes this opportunity to land a kick in my ribs, making me lose my breath. She kicks me again, but I shield my ribs with both my arms. I roll out of her reach and quickly get to my feet.

"Please stop." I wheeze pleadingly. She charges at me again, this time landing a punch straight to my throat. I fall to my knees, clutching my throat. I cough violently, trying to get air into my lungs. Tara doesn't care, and doesn't give me a break. She charges again, and I throw a punch out randomly when she gets close to me and my hand makes contact with something. I look up while still clutching my throat with my left hand. I hit her right in her mouth, and she spits blood out onto the mat. Oh shit.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't-" Before I can finish my sentence, she kicks me to the ground and straddles me. She throws punch after punch while I try to cover my face with my arms. She's relentless.

"That's enough, Tara." Sascha ends our fight. Tara gets off me and I curl into a ball. "Thank you for your time, we'll send you the video and will be expecting to hear from you within the next two days. Will that be enough time to contemplate her place on your team?"

"Yes, you'll hear from me." Tara leaves the room without another word.

"We're done here for now. Let her in here. I don't want to deal with the fuckers if we have to retrieve her again." Weasel states, leaving the room, followed by the others. I'm left alone in here. My ribs are killing me, and the punches my forearms received in an attempt to protect my face are starting to make them ache. My breathing is fast and shallow, I can't take a deep breath or my ribs will murder me. My mouth tastes of metal, I don't doubt I'm bleeding. I curl onto the side that's hurting the least to get more comfortable. My mind wanders back to the guys, I hope they're okay. I find myself wishing I was in the same room as them again. I have another name to add to the list; Tara. Fuck that lady.

I don't know how long I've been lying here. It's easy to lose track of time because of the lack of windows and natural daylight. I suddenly hear shouting coming from the hallway. I attempt to lift myself off the floor, but the pain in my ribs stop me. My eyes tear up, I just want peace and quiet for a little longer. I want peace to succumb to my injuries. I want to go to sleep and not wake up again. I might be a bit dramatic at the moment, but I think I'm allowed to be. The door flies open, and slams into the wall. Weasel and Gunner hurry into the room and come towards me.

"No, no, leave me alone." I try to wiggle away from Gunner, but he grabs hold of my arm and hauls me up. I hold my breath to try and lessen the pain, and keep my free arm around my ribs. He pulls me down the hallway and I struggle to keep up, stumbling over my feet while being hunched over. I continuously whimper in pain. We come to the end of the hallway after making a few left and right turns.

"Fuck!" Weasel exclaims harshly. Making me sneak a glance at whatever he has spotted. There are two small windows on each side of a door. I can make out heavily armed people outside and the sound of vehicles pulling up. "How the fuck did they find us this fast!" Weasel is growing more frantic by the second.

"On three!" A voice shouts from outside.

"Shit, office, now!" Weasel shouts. Gunner nods and pulls me after him. We reach what I assume is the office, and I'm thrown to the hard floor while they work on barricading the door with the desk and some metal shelves. I can barely breathe anymore, I'm struggling to stay conscious. What the hell is happening? Weasel and Gunner seem scared. Maybe someone has finally found us? The thought of this whole ordeal being over makes me laugh. Not much, since my ribs doesn't find it that funny.

"Shut up, bitch." Weasel slaps me. Alright, he doesn't find it that funny either.

"Please, just let me go." I plead hoarsely. Gunner turns towards me and aims his gun at my head. Message received, I'll shut up. I close my eyes to rest for a bit, there is obviously not much else I can do at the moment.