Chapter 03: From Bad To Worse

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Genevieve swam back to consciousness.

It felt like she was being washed up on the shores of pain and suffering. Everything seemed to hurt. Her ribs, her limbs, most of all her head. Fighting through the haze of misery, she ascertained that she was lying down and her hands were bound behind her back. Not good. She tried to open her eyes, but one was crusted shut with blood. Even worse. Looking around, she saw that she was laying on a metal floor in one of the infirmaries.

She heard breathing from somewhere. Soft, steady breathing. The kind of breathing that came from a sleeping or passed out person. Slowly, she raised her head and studied the room. She didn't have much of a view. She was next to one of the examination tables, laying on the floor. Slowly, painfully, she rolled over.

Ostergard was lying not far from her, equally unconscious, equally trussed up. One side of her face was bloody and bruised. Obviously Ross had gotten the best of her, too. Where were the others? She didn't hold out much hope for them. They seemed like good salvagers, (well, most of them), but up against a psycho like Ross? They didn't seem like they'd stand a chance. Genevieve cleared her head, assessing the situation.

The first thing she'd have to do would be to get free. From there, she could find out how to hunt down and eliminate Ross.

She knew that she could get her wrists under and around her feet, she was flexible enough, and her feet weren't bound so it'd be a good start. But before she could even start, she heard footfalls coming. Genevieve closed her eyes and rolled back over, fighting that instinct of not turning her back on her enemy. It'd be better if he thought she wasn't awake. She waited, keeping her breathing regular and smooth. Ross approached her and Ostergard's position, muttering quietly to himself. For a few minutes, there was just the sound of movement.

Genevieve pieced together that he was picking Ostergard up and loading her onto something. After a few seconds, she heard the soft hum of a motor. An anti-grav unit. He was loading her onto an anti-grav unit to haul her away to...where? She froze up as he finished, took a deep breath, let it slowly and then began to approach her.

Would he try to take her, too?

That would cause problems.

Instead, however, he muttered a curse and kicked her in the head.

* * *

For a second time, Genevieve returned to consciousness. This time, her head hurt more than anything else. Slowly, she tried to open her eyes, though, just like last time, the right one was crusted over with dried blood. She was still lying in the same position but she could detect no one in the room. Cautiously, she rolled over, her head coming up sticky from the floor, blood from the fresh wound Ross must have opened.

She was alone, good.

Moving quickly, Genevieve brought her knees up to her chest and leaned back, getting her hands around her feet and in front of her. She sat up and checked out the bonds that were tying her hands up. Fairly simple security rope, smooth and black. It was tightly bound, but she was in an infirmary, she could get out of it. Slowly, she stood up and wobbled a bit. A fresh jolt of pain shot through her head, angry and white-hot.

Ross must have been pissed at her, since she'd managed to shoot him, which would explain why he'd kicked the shit out of her after she'd passed out. Genevieve began to move around the infirmary, at first going to the nearest medical cabinet and propping it open. She found all manner of pills and first aid kits, but not what she was looking for. She turned away from it, feeling the press of time. She had no idea how long it had been since Ross had delivered that kick to her head. It could have been half an hour or just a minute. Either way, he could be back any moment. She moved over to another cabinet and opened it up.

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