Venom

012

The Cage. The safest prison in New York. Well, not an actual prison. The Peak owned this too-well-known place, and claimed it to be impossible to break out of. And Helen believed that. People were brought to the Cage, and they never came out.

No one - except for Dean and his boss - knew what the Cage even looked like, let alone where it was.
Helen didn't show it, but she was scared. She hadn't been scared - truly, deeply scared - in a while, but the Cage could be literally anything. And she didn't want to be tortured and die painfully and slowly.

Dean had put a blindfold on her eyes, so she didn't know where they were going. She tried to listen to the turns he took, but he was smarter and took four rights and four lefts every other turn, so she gave up quickly.

Helen was in the backseat, handcuffed and blindfolded, and the motherfucker had put music on. Probably to make sure she couldn't hear sounds from the street and recognize places. Clever asshole. "So," she spoke, bored. If she couldn't do anything useful for her escapism, she might as well entertain herself.

Dean loudly sighed. "What now?" he asked, annoyed.

Helen scoffed offended. "No need to be rude. I just wanted to know the name of the song playing." Strange enough, she wasn't lying. The song sounded pretty good.

Dean glanced at her through the mirror in the car. "Dancer in the Dark," he answered.

"By?"

"Chase Atlantic. Now shut up and let me drive in peace," he shut her out by turning up the volume. She tried speaking again, but the music was too loud. He grinned when she leaned in her seat with a thud, angry.

The drive - that would have been of thirty minutes - was, in the end, one hour and a half long. All those added turns had Dean so tired and raging, he eventually parked with a abrupt braking that had Helen slamming against the seat in front of her - Dean's seat. That got a laugh out of him. She hissed a "shut up", but he only laughed harder, opening her door and dragging her out towards the Cage. But she halted on her heels. "Walk."

"Wait," she said. "Look, if you want to kill me, do it now. I don't deserve to be tortured and die hurting like a bitch. I'm a good person," she blurted out, wishing she could see him and analyze his face.

Dean lifted a brow, though she couldn't see it, and scoffed. "If there's someone who deserves pain and suffering, it's you. Plus, you're not even close to being a good person. You're a murderer," he told her, grabbing her arm. She moved away.

"So are you. Come on, just be done with it already. End me."

Dean shook his head in surprise. "You'll give up so easily? Don't you wanna see the famous Cage? I'm sure you'll love it," he stated, dragging her against her will. She yelped, whining.

She started slapping his hand. "Don't! Don't! I don't wanna get tortured!" she shouted, trying to get free of his hold.

Dean rolled his eyes- and then cried out. "Did you just bite me?!" he shouted, and realized that she was running away, blindfold and all. On heels. Was she dumb? Or just desperate? "You little shit," he muttered as he took three steps, reaching her immediately. He took her by the waist and lifted her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Helen started slamming her fists on his hard back. "Let me go!" she screamed.

"Stop being so loud, for fuck's sake," he barked. He was so close to slapping her ass, but that would come out a bit too sexual.

"No! I don't want to get tortured!" she yelled again.

Dean groaned, getting into the elevator of the building. "I won't torture you. Now shut the fuck up. My head is already aching." Throbbing with pain, really. She seemed to calm down.