Guts Over Fear ◇ NIKITA

Welcome to Hell

Alys woke up with a jolt, caused by her door getting kicked in by armed as well as armored police flooded into her room, all pointing large machine guns at her while one man came over to her. She held her hands up beside her head as she laid on her stomach, the man's gloved hands closing around her forearms and cuffing her wrists behind her back as she put up no struggle. "Alys Gordon, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you--" The blonde drowned out the rest and stumbled forward as they forced her to exit the hotel.

The sirens around her hurt her ears, the flashing cameras of the press blinded her, and her chest was starting to hurt, hardly making any movement before she felt like she was being stabbed in both lungs. She was panting by the time they held her head and forced her into the backseat of a patrol car, the two officers in the front seat glaring at her. One had grey hair and hard eyes, the other much younger and seeming to be a rookie. "What's wrong with you?" the younger one questioned, noticing her breathing.

"Asthma," she whispered out, her gaze turning out the window. The older cop turned around again and started the car before the younger one turned around, pulling his attention from the panicking girl and to the road as he began to drive back to the station. The drive was silent, with the exception of the blaring sirens above their heads, and Alys hated every second of it. She could hardly breathe but she left her inhaler in the room.

Despite the sharp pains in her chest, she forced herself to breathe through the pain, the sounds ragged and wavering. The younger cop grabbed the radio and hit the button, waiting for the static to pass before speaking. "Hey, Cheif, the girl's claiming to be an asthmatic and she's breathing pretty hard back there. Over." If you could call this breathing, Alys thought with a short and quiet whine.

"She's got perscriptions for Albuterol and Metaproterenol," the man on the radio confirmed. "I'll send someone with her inhaler to the station. Over and out."

"Just hang in there," the cop spoke to Alys, meeting her green eyes in the rearview mirror. This wasn't normal. He was being nice to her, despite being acused of killing not just one, but two of his colleages. Especially in America, where she noticed people were a tad more violent than in England.

When they finally arrived at the station, all of the officers glared at her as she was led to an interrogation room and left alone. She walked over to the table and sat down, fiddling with the chain on her cuffs as she waited for someone else to enter the room. In the two way mirror, her reflection looked frightened, dark circles under her eyes and her straight hair a tangled mess. A few minutes later, a middle aged man in a suit carried a brown bag over to the table, studying the uneven pattern of her breathing.

He worldlessly reached into the bag and slid her inhaler across the table, her cuffed hands desperately reaching for the plastic and bringing it to her lips. As Alys held her breath, she set it on the table and looked up at the cop. "Why am I here?" she asked in a raspy voice.

"You're wanted for killing two of our officers, Miss Gordon," he sighed, his stature tired but his eyes alert.

"Why would I do that?" she asked with a scoff.

"I was hoping you could tell me." He reached into the bag again and pulled out the Beretta she had stashed in her duffle bag, only now it was attached to a silencer. "Recognize this?" Alys shook her head, only partially lying. "It's a Russian make, very expensive. It was used to kill my friends."

"I didn't do it."

"You know, lying to the authorities isn't very smart," he said, more defensive this time.

"I have no reason to lie. I didn't do it," she reenforced. With a tight frown, the detective returned the gun to the bag and pulled out several photos, letting them drop onto the table as he stood.

"Look those over until someone comes back." The one on top was a picture of the corpses, their dead stares unsettling her stomach. She bit back a gag, but the gag caused her to cough, the coughs choking her and stealing her air. She noticed the red light on the camera had gone off, leaving her to gasp for air helplessly. Alys grabbed her inhaler, her eyes widening when she took out the metal vial of medication and finding it unlabeled.

She was starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen, her muscles starting to go limp and causing her to slip off the chair. From where she laid sprawled and gasping on the floor, she saw the door open and the older cop from the patrol car walk towards her before she felt her lungs give up and her head fade out.

◇

Alys's chest was sore, like she had spent a day breathing in a plastic bag, and her head throbbed, the bright light stabbing at her closed eyes offering no consolation. "Alys," a soft, feminine voice coaxed. "You're alright, Alys. Just breathe."

"It hurts," she huffed out, slowly opening her eyes. She was in a room that had an odd, yet pretty, design to it, and she was laid out on a soft sofa thing, sat across from a woman with long red hair. "Who're you?" Alys wheezed as she sat up.

"My name is Amanda."

"Where am I?" She fidgeted hopelessly, trying to think of a reason for why she would be here and not in a prison cell. "The last thing I remember was..." She paused, "It felt like I was dying. I couldn't breathe."

"That's because you did die," the woman stated matter-of-factly, with a tight lipped smile. "We switched out your Albuterol for Mercury vapor. It caused your brain and lungs to shut down and, for about five and a half minutes, you were legally dead. We revived you and brought you here." Alys frowned at Amanda's use of 'we' and 'here.'

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alys carefully sat up and stared down at the tea set on the coffee table  before looking back to Amanda. Her smile only grew, like she knew she was cleverer than anything beyond Alys's knowledge.

"Welcome to Division," Amanda chuckled.