Kai was angry.
Anya peeked through the window as he stormed into the warehouse, the door flung open with such force it banged and bounced against the wall.
Anya shrank, unbuckling herself to crawl across the seat to the other side and huddled on the floor. A cold sweat started, along with her rising heart rate.
Agent Fisher parked the car and before she could even get out, the director tore the backseat door open, hands slamming on the roof, glaring death at her.
"It's not Anya's fault!" She cried, before he could say anything.
"This is every bit your fault." He growled, reaching in to grab her by the back of her dress.
"No!" She screamed as he dragged her out of the car.
"No! Nononono!" Anya knew where he would take her. "Anya's sorry! It was by accident! She yelled, sobbing, as Kai carried her back inside. Fisher disappeared from view as she watched on, her face clouded as the door closed.
The director stalked down the halls, his daughter kicking and screaming, her hands reaching for his that wouldn't let go
"ANYA'S SORRY! ANYA DOESN'T WANT TO GO THE DARK ROOM!!"
"YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT BEFORE RUNNING AWAY AND EXPOSING YOURSELF!!" His voice a yelling growl. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS COMPLICATES MY PLANS?!" Kai reached the end of a hall.
A door without a lock.
Because it didn't need it.
"NO! NONONONONONO!" Anya screamed, Kai's hand pushing it open. The other hand tossing her inside. He followed, slamming the door behind him, a seething rage suffusing the room. The dim bulb hanging from the ceiling not offering much light.
Anya picked herself up as he strode for a cupboard in the corner, a whimper escaping her.
He wrenched open the door, pulling out a length of coiled leather. A hand grabbing for one end as his arm lashed out.
Anya moved back as the whip cracked loudly against the floor, a sickening echo rebounding off the walls.
—————
Yuri was sick of this.
They were getting nowhere. She had nerves of steel, her mouth a sealed trap they couldn't pry open no matter what they tried. Pulled teeth. Needles under the nails. Electricity. Broke a knee. A hand. Her nose. Several ribs. Even when they blared alarms to keep her awake, she slept through them. One of their best tactics, driving the person to insanity and resignation, reduced to white noise.
With a disgruntled sigh that was more of a groan, he entered the room and dragged a chair to sit across from the spy.
She sat relaxed, staring him down, her hands cuffed to the table that was bolted to the floor.
She reclined against the back of the chair as her legs stretched under the table and crossed at the ankles.
Even covered in blood, mangled hands, and a crooked nose, her face was stoic. Almost amused at their attempts to break her. She raised an eyebrow like she had all the time in the world. A prompt for him to speak.
Yuri sat, crossing his legs, hands resting interlaced on his lap. He was not leaving until he got what he wanted.
"You're tough to crack." He said simply.
A smirk crept over her face, an off-setting effect taking rest in Yuri's bones as a scoff escaped her.
"Nothing you do to me could compare to the horrors I've seen. You think the SSS is so intimidating, but all I see are children running around with sticks in their hands." She rebuffed, utterly unimpressed with their efforts.
"Is that so?" Yuri calmly responded, refusing to let her get to him.
She nodded subtly, like it was just a fact.
"And what have you seen?" He asked.
She didn't answer. Her face remaining closed to him. Unreadable.
That was fine. He'd change that soon enough.
"You're facing a lot of time if you don't speak up." Yuri let her know. "You've handled it well so far, but even you would break after a couple months of torture."
She had the audacity to laugh. "You can try." She chuckled.
This woman irked him.
"You seem very confident." Yuri observed.
A small shrug.
"Why is that?" He asked. He wanted to know what kind of training she'd gone through to achieve this level of composure.
She, of course, didn't answer.
Yuri was at a loss. She sat so relaxed. As if she had gotten comfortable here. Ready to sit in these cells like it was home. She was so unbothered.
Yuri leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, fingers still laced.
"See the thing is, if you don't give us what we need, we have no use for you. And you have quite the history as a criminal. I'd just as soon have you executed." Yuri meant these words, a rage that she'd caused his sister pain.
There.
A crack.
So small and subtle. Gone in an instant, the crack plastered, and painted over.
"If you don't like that outcome, then I'd suggest telling us what you know. I can offer leniency if you do." Yuri pushed. It was the last play he had left. Torture did nothing. Talking did nothing. He had no leverage against her. Only death remained. Fully committed to making it happen if it came to that.
For the first time since her stay with the SSS, the woman seemed to take him seriously. Her face remained unreadable, but less relaxed.
Yuri waited, impatiently patient, as she considered his words.
She was quiet for a long time and matched his gaze, refusing to look away. Yuri couldn't tell what she was thinking. Unfazed.
Then a flicker.
Uncertainty.
Fear.
But not from the prospect of death.
Trepidatious hope.
Though he didn't know for what.
Then she asked un unexpected question.
"What will you do with the one who has the girl?" Her voice steady and calm.
"We'll destroy them." Yuri answered without hesitation. Anger towards the instigator deeper than that for 'Susan.' Yor wouldn't be grieving the way she was right now if it weren't for them.
The fury and conviction seemed to hit a note with the spy. Truths longing to come out, but hesitation holding her back.
"I have conditions." She finally conceded and the torture had never felt more pointless to Yuri.
"You have conditions?" Yuri was shocked she had the arrogance to try to negotiate in her situation.
She nodded.
"What are they?" His eyes narrowed.
"I need you to rescue someone else first. And I need you to do it alone." She said.
Yuri took a deep breath, leaned back on his chair. 'Rescue' He repeated. 'She needs someone rescued. Is she being blackmailed?
He didn't know if he could promise her these things, if it was as serious a situation as he suspected.
"Just you. Or not at all." She reaffirmed as if reading his thoughts.
"You'd resign yourself to death if I don't accept these terms?" Yuri's disbelief of this woman's insane calmness grew.
Another nod.
"Who?" He referred to her first condition.
"Do we have a deal?" She asked.
Yuri was caught between the information that was so tantalizingly close and the bitter taste of accepting an enemies demands. But if he didn't, he was left with nothing.
"Fine. It's a deal." He said. "Who?" He repeated.
"My son. Elijah."
That took Yuri by surprise. Spies didn't have families. "You have a family?" He asked.
"I have a son." Was all she offered.
"Do you know where he is?" Yuri asked.
"First, I need assurance that even if I'm locked up, he will be taken care of." She said.
Yuri nodded begrudgingly.
"He's being held at the same facility as Anya."
"What?" Yuri had a bad feeling.
"It's a lab for human experimentation. I need you to get Elijah without being noticed, before freeing Anya."
Yuri wasn't sure what to expect but it wasn't this. He'd led operations to take a couple labs down before, but they weren't a common thing.
Yuri's thoughts immediately went to Yor if she found out about this. How would she feel? How would she deal with that? She'd be so angry and upset.
He didn't care much for the chihuahua, but he wouldn't wish that on anyone.
"I see. . . " Was all he said. "And why is it so important I get Elijah first? Or by myself for that matter?" He asked.
With the continued unflappable demeanour that was 'Susan Hopkins', she said: "Because if any SSS agents are seen near the base, Elijah will be killed. The director knows where I am. He'll know it was me who gave him up if he gets one whiff of you guys near his lab. It has to be a stealth mission." She finished.
This was much more complicated than Yuri expected.
"Where's the lab?" He asked.
"Get a map and I'll show you."
—————-
Vincent hadn't had much information.
The name of the organization, the number to call them with. But no knowledge of the lab's location, the director's name, or anything else useful, really.
Most communication was spurred by the organization, telling him who to look for at the event, what they looked like, other details, etc, etc.
Wanting to find Anya straight away, they hadn't asked too many more questions.
Finding the lab was the priority.
If Vincent couldn't give them the location, they'd have him make a call and trace it.
——————-
Kiara Mastden lounged in a private room of her club, her finances laid out before her as she reviewed the papers. Her blonde hair hung around her shoulders, feet up on the cushions, relaxing after making some business deals.
A hand massaged at her scalp, the relief of taking out her braids and pins she often styled her hair in. A pen marked down notes and records with the other.
She took her glass of water when there was a clatter down stairs, the sound of piano keys banging suddenly, an abrupt end to the song.
The sounds were muffled by her closed door.
Normally this wouldn't worry her. Occasionally there were fights and her security took care of it.
But the club was closed.
A scream.
Frantic yelling.
She sat up, glass placed back on the table, ears trying to pick up what was going on.
Another scream. Something smashed to the ground. A sickening crunch so loud she could hear it from her room.
She shot to her feet, heart pounding as she moved closer to the door and listened.
Footsteps thudded up the steps to stop at her door, flinging it open to show one of her security guards panting, sweat on his brow.
He was a professional. He was good at his job. She had never seen him sweat before.
"Hanson? Wh-"
"We have to go n-"
A blade sprouted through the front of his neck, blood drizzling and spurting from his new piercing. He 8lasted all of three seconds, unable to cough or choke, horrific gargling noises, before his body fell.
And revealed a woman shrouded in black with another blade in her hand and red eyes that seemed to glow.
Kiara screamed and stumbled back. Her couch caught her by surprise as she fell into it.
The woman glided forward and pulled her knife free from the guard's dead body in passing, barely a bother.
Mastden sat frozen, eyeing the woman who oozed killing intent and intimidation. She was emotionless.
No-
Her face was still, but she exuded death. A burning wrath she was struggling to rein in. Waiting.
The Thorn Princess came to stand in front of her, Kiara unable to look away from the blood-stained knives in her hands.
"Kiara Mastden, I presume?"