Chapter 2

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The drive to hell seemed eternal. Blindfolded, banged up and bleeding, Misty had zero ability to judge where she was headed. She felt as though she had spent the last few hours riding a looping rollercoaster in the dark. Misty was beyond disoriented! She had no idea if she was even sitting up or lying down. Her entire body felt like one giant pulsating wound. Team Rocket had even switched automobiles twice throughout the journey, which only confused her further!

Misty did not utter a word to her abductors for the remainder of the ride. On the contrary, she pretended that she had passed out. It was her hope that the Rockets might engage one another in a conversation, perhaps slip a small detail as to where she was going. Unfortunately Misty's acting was in vain, an ancient tomb was probably a livelier place than the automobile. The driver never even stopped to refuel and the gunman never flinched. Neither man even had the need to cough or sneeze.

When at last the Rockets reached their destination, Misty was dragged (still blindfolded) into some sort of elaborate building. She was pushed inside of several elevators (traveling both up and down), also shoved around dozens of corridors, up stairwells, down stairwells, inside doors, out doors . . .

An Alakazam's Confusion attack would have seemed dull compared to this confounded treatment. Misty might as well have been sucked into a black hole, for her body was already moving against her will throughout a dark maze.

Finally, after what felt like a twelve kilometer hike, the two Rockets pushed her inside a room and onto the floor.

Dried blood had formed a snarl within Misty's hair and her scalp itched terribly. She knew that wishing for a shower was too much, but still she longed for these Rockets to at least un-cuff her so that she could scratch. Her hope was not granted, the only thing they removed was her blindfold. The light quickly invaded her sight and Misty winced loudly, the brightness like Poison Powder in her eyes.

This room held Misty a prisoner now. And this room was freezing cold. Ceramic tiles were like cubes of ice. Misty's summer dress and heels did little to shield her skin. Team Rocket must have had their central air system cranked to the maximum.

A lone Rocket guarded the rooms only exit. This man did nothing but glare at her. Misty tried to ignore him. Her two abductors had disappeared after dumping her inside this room. Misty was relieved that they went away, the gunned man's violent assault haunted her. She did not need a mirror to know that her forehead displayed a massive bruise. Bashing her head into the limousine window once would have been plenty. He had no reason to do it four times.

Misty listed her ailments in her head:

Lightheaded.

Nauseated.

Migrane.

Aching forearm.

Shivering.

And starving, too.

Misty struggled against her lungs, forcing herself to breathe. Panic could overwhelm her at any moment. Her emotions were wielding a ferocious battle within her. A part of her wanted to cry and beg for mercy, while the rest of her wanted to curse and scream at these kidnapping lunatics! But, somehow, Misty found the wits to remain silent, probably for the first time in her life.

Misty instructed herself to remain calm until an opportunity presented itself for her to make a verbal plea. Maybe some half-way reasonable Rocket member would eventually turn up? She could make an excellent case as to why these savages were wasting their time kidnapping her. Misty knew that Ash could never give Team Rocket what they wanted. He would condemn the world if he relinquished their unnatural Pokemon back to them. Team Rocket might have created the Pokemon, but there was no way that they could have control of it again. It was a lethal weapon in their hands, that had been proven once before. Over three thousands gravestones stood as a reminder. And Misty sure as hell did not want to join them!

Saving ShardOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora