~~~
Leniniora's POV
Location: Diana Tower
Date: October
~~~
"Anyone got a cigarette?" I ask. Mostly because I'm bored, a little because I fucking need to do something with my mouth. I'm so fucking hungry. "Or a blunt?"
The boys around me glare, but not a single one responds.
In their defense, they're all still a little tied up still so I don't hold it against them.
We can't all be bondage experts, after all.
It only took me 15 minutes to escape my handcuffs; less than that to untie my legs and pull the gag out of my mouth.
After that, I got bored and created a shiv out of the gag and the cuffs.
The guards are giving me a wide berth, clearly not wanting to get in shiving distance after I'd choked out one he'd tried to stop me from taking off the cuffs.
The next one to get in distance had been slammed against the wall until his nose was one with his tonsils.
After that we had one more incident that included a stun gun and a pencil, and then they seemed to get the point.
The torture gang is still wriggling about, some a little wrigglier than others.
Most are covered in blood, and the handful of kids that have caught some bullets are probably bleeding out. The Blackbeard boy and the guy with a wheel name have given up trying to get me to help them out, thankfully.
Typical Millennials, so entitled and always expecting someone to get them out of their own messes.
Blackbeard is now sawing away at the zip tie on his wrists with a dull piece of metal on the seat.
Amateur.
Three of his friends still have their shoes; he could use their laces to saw through the thick plastic.
I debate on suggesting it but decided against it when my eyes catch on those nice leather boots with the sturdy ties.
Russian Sonny is all tied up. And his boots are mine for the taking.
I haul myself up, off the hard bench I had been handcuffed to earlier, and some of the guards raise their guns.
I raise my hands up and shoot them an innocent smile.
"We're cool, guys. I just wanna grab something from one of the little wiggling monsters." I murmur.
One of the men grimaces but not a single one moves to stop me as I shove one of the tall, blonde wonder-twins off the Russian Sonny.
Whichever one it is makes an indignant grunting noise before trying to head butt me and throw himself back onto the hulking form of the dying man.
I have a brief moment of cluelessness at his overly aggressive hostility, but as I shove at Russian Sonny's body I get it.
He was attempting to stanch the blood flow from the bullet wound in Russian Sonny's side with his body weight.
Blondie tries to elbow me off in the head, but I've had enough of his little tantrum.
I kick out, getting him right in the ribs and he goes sprawling.
Some of the little bastards try to rise up, but one of the guards shoots his gun and the loud sharp sound of the shot has them stilling and attempting to cover their ears.
Not me though, cuz fuck em. Won't make me look like a pussy.
I traddle the bucking Russian and quickly unlace and remove his boots.
He and I have fought over these bad boys over half a dozen times, and not just verbally. I'd given up hope on getting to keep them.
With the situation we're in though, he might not be alive too much longer to enjoy them. So the next in line for custody is me. And I'm collecting them early.
New boots! Yes! I mentally congratulate myself on getting the boots.
I tug the shoes onto my sock-clad feet and dodge Blondies attempt to body slam me as I get up.
Muffled cursing is flung in my direction as I make my way back to my designated bench seat, but I ignore the whole lot.
I lean my head back and close my eyes.
Conserving energy at this point is a must. Who knows when the next time to nap will come by.
I've got shoes now, so it won't be as hard to run away now. Or kick ass.
This wasn't how this was supposed to go.
These little brats weren't supposed to come along and stumble into my trap.
It was supposed to be the Mav's.
Dontavia is right, I growl in irritation. They're lucky I didn't kill them.
In any other situation, I would have. The knowledge they might have about Cyan and Kay'ari may be priceless though. Especially for Cyan.
I had weighed the options of killing them and guaranteeing that the girls' new identities would be safe, versus learning what they knew and I decided that I like Cyan and Kay enough to take the chance that these snot nosed brats won't blow the girls' cover.
The answers the men may or may not possess could potentially alleviate some of the emotional destruction my invention has wrought on the girls.
I can see the direction Cyan is going. This isn't the first time I've witnessed a demon sprout from the wreckage of an angel's ashes. I can see the darkness swallowing up her soft heart, and I don't know if I can risk keeping what these boys might know from her. The little girl that I met so long ago is almost gone, and I don't think what's being left behind is a totally whole person. Looking into her eyes is like falling into a pit of glass shards.
I'm not sure how much of her there's going to be left to save, if things keep going the way they are. She pretends to be okay. She smiles, and laughs and yet I see the way her soul is slowly fading behind her sad little eyes. While Kay'ari has found the kids to live for, Cyan has only found more heartache and more problems.
I like to think giving her the identity of 'Cyan' might help her. Maybe she'll find some semblance of herself in the shadow of Cyan's place. Only time will tell. I hope the boys might help her too.
"For real though. I need a cigarette." I mumble. No one responds. Fuckers.
~~~
The van stopped a few times, for long periods of time and I imagine it had to do with the security team I'd hired. I am most definitely not paying them the last few installments of their contract fee.
They were supposed to tell my mother about the location of the safe house, after I'd lured in the psycho-sisters, but considering she never showed up I guess they did something else. My best guess is they saw the torture squad go in and decided to wait and see what the situation was. Their utter lack of abilities irritates me.
Finally, the van stops and the doors of the stupid thing swings open.
Maniacal laughter fills the air, and I nearly roll my goddamn eyes out of my head.
"Are you all stupid?" I ask, directing the question at Rodney the dick-less wonder, "Because including you in anything is absolutely ridiculous. I mean, you don't even have a working willy. Mine's bigger than that stump you pee with."
Rodney cackles, and for a moment my eyes sweep over the exasperated eyes of my little torture squad. A snarl rips through the air, and I look up just as one of the guards grabs a good handful of my hair and drags me to the door of the van.
I glance behind Rodney as I'm tossed out of the van and grunt as I hit the hard pavement at his feet.
One of my own buildings looms above us, looking ominous in the dark.
Diana Tower.
It's more proper to call it a skyscraper, as it has many floors; maybe 50 or more. Hopefully the renovations I started all those years ago have been finished by now. It was one of my pet projects, a mixture of a hotel and an office building. It even had some rental properties closer to the top of the building. I'd been working on a restaurant contract right before I'd been kidnapped.
It's also where Auroura had lived, back in the day. This was where it all started.
Where the Mav family killed her.
Rage fills me, probably the product of a memory that's just out of reach, and it's all directed at Rodney. He's done something here. Something unforgivable. He might have very well been the one who killed her.
"I'm gonna fuck you up, Dickless McPeestump." I find myself shrieking.
I lunge at the little fucker, but someone behind me drops my ass to the ground with a heavy boot to the knees.
I swing around to do something, ...but the Mav sisters both have guns pointed right at me as they come around the corner of the vehicle.
"Are you gonna shoot me again?" I ask, lifting my hands in the air.
The guards inside of the van toss out the boys one by one. One notices Blackbird's bonds are nearly sawed through and three more zip ties replace the one. Poor thing.
"Are you going to tell us where Little Pink Pearl is?" Britania snaps at me.
I pretend to consider it. That gets me a swift kick to the bullet-hole leg.
"Ow." I whine, in my most monotonous voice.
One of the boys starts flipping out, screaming against his bonds and I look over to see the computer-y wonder twin fighting with one of the guards. It looks like Russian Sonny is just about bled out. He's at the end of his line.
"Are you gonna do something about that? You can't sell him off if he dies." I look to Dontavia, and make sure to remain aware of her reaction to my words.
"I'm going to imagine that's why we're here. You're going to sell them, and me, off to the highest bidder to buy yourself a ticket out of the country?"
It's a long shot guess but the twitch in Britania's lip and the small smirk on Dontavia's face gives me the affirmative I need. I roll my eyes.
"So I'm pretty sure it's only going to cost you money to hide Russian Sonny's body, not gain you anything. He's worth more alive than dead." I reason out for them. It might be a mistake, but looking at the boys in various stages of panic around me, I get the feeling they wouldn't be much use if one of their own died in front of them like this.
"Why do you care?" Dontavia asks, suspicion dripping like venom from her voice.
"I don't." I respond back, holding her gaze. "I'm just tired of seeing people die." I move my sights on Britania, "Aren't you?"
Before I can sway Britania, of whom I know is a little more moral than her other siblings, someone grabs a fistful of my hair and lands a solid hook to my jaw. The force of it has me colliding with the ground hard and the pain making me a little dizzy.
Despite what the kids think, I haven't been eating anywhere near what I need to be working at full cylinders. I was barely eating enough to remain at half my usual energy level. The shooting and physical abuse are wearing down what little stamina I still possess.
"Can you not fucking hit me?" I yell up at Rodney, who's looking down at me with a nasty little sneer.
"Stop trying to manipulate us." He hisses down at me. I briefly consider spitting at him but Dontavia's voice pierces the moment.
"Someone cauterize the wound. She's right, we need all the blood money we can get. It's not going to be cheap to get us all out." Dontavia walks into my field of vision to shoot a nasty glare down at me. She always hates when I'm right.
One of the guards pulls out a lighter and another passes over a thick metal ring that spans over 4 fingers - brass knuckles.
After it's heated up, and Russian Sonny's restrained by a few of the other guards, I watch as the burning ring is pressed directly into the wound. Sizzling fills the air, along with the nasty scent of burning skin. He regains conscious long enough to let out a low groan of pain.
A shiver drives a sharp path up my spine. Burning flesh has such a distinctive scent, not unpleasant but not nice either. The smell makes my stomach roll, the past threatening to make me sick.
"We thought your family would pay a ransom for you, but that won't be happening now that Cyan Lavele has come home. Funny how I didn't even know we had such a prized cow, right under our nose." Dontavia's voice pulls me out of my nausea, and her words take a moment to sink in.
I smirk up at her, a little proud that I fucked up their plans without any actual thought into how far LPP being Cyan would change things..
"Shame. Am I going to be sold off to a Dom? I've always liked a rough fuck." I'm just delaying the inevitable now. Whatever was going to happen after this, either was going to suck or get me into a lot of trouble later.
"Don't change the subject. Why did you tell the press we stole your cousin?" Britania circles me, and Dontavia starts doing it too. Something about this bothers them. It's more than not being able to get ransom money for me. "Why not tell everyone she's Auroura Diana's daughter? Why lie?"
The question catches me off guard. Why didn't I do that? The answer is right on the tip of my tongue but I can't quite bring up the actual reasoning.
"No fucking clue." A light bulb blinks out a detail to me, that inner stream of conscious thought answering her question. "Oh no wait, I remember!" I shout.....and then laugh, "Nope, it's gone."
It isn't gone, I'm lying but they didn't need to know that. The more they look into something that isn't important, the less they'll be focusing on the shit that is.
A kick to my side has me crying out. Pain radiates through my body like lightning, I definitely have a broken rib now, to go along with all the other injuries. The fingers that are still healing from the blonde nuto-kid twinges painfully against the concrete underneath me.
"Oh yeah. That's going to jog my memory." I grumble, sarcasm thick in my words.
A deeply accented voice breaks through the air, and for a moment I'm almost certain I know the person connected to it. Just for a moment though. "We need to go in. The auction will start soon, and we still need to divide the merchandise into their category of selling point."
I'm hauled up by one of the larger guards, and another one slaps a pair of cuffs on my wrists. The Mav kids walk in front of us, through the doors of the back door of the building.
After that it's a whirlwind of grunts and flailing on the torture gangs part, with me chilling out on the shoulder of one very buff a-hole.
We're promptly taken to the ballroom, by-passing a bunch of closed doors and dark hallways. The whole place has been completely changed since I've set foot in the cursed place.
Where it had all once been dark brick and metal, now it all holds smooth painted walls with pretty pastel colors.
The ballroom is the biggest change to my eyes, but that could have been because I'd spent the most time here during the original construction and opening. I'd spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on decorative glass chairs and hand crafted stain glass tables that had been replaced with generic fancy-shit furniture. I'd help build the raised platform that was meant for the bands, also replaced. I'd stolen the chandelier that wasn't hung where I left it.
Irritation floods my blood. It had been a pain in the dick to steal that fucking chandelier. Not to mention getting it to hang right over the dance floor.
I ignore the large crowd of people staring back in our direction in favor of looking around for the chandelier.
Beefy biceps drops me on my ass, and I jump to my feet. I keep searching.
Some of the torture gang are looking around with varying degree's of rage, panic, and false bravery. Most are still attempting to escape their binds, save for Blackbill of whom appears to be searching the crowd and taking note of the exits.
"What are you looking for? I can promise you there is no escape, Leninora." Dontavia appears next to us and I give her a dirty look.
"I'll escape later, you twit. Where the fuck is my chandelier?"
All the Mav children give each other stupid little sneering looks and I roll my eyes at the sheer amount of adolescent fumes they're giving off.
"Okay kids, out with it. " I snap out at them.
"We donated it. When we bought the building." Dontavia boasted.
I feel my eye twitch. What the fuck.
"What the fuck do you mean you bought the building? Who the fuck did you buy it from? It's my building." I ask. I feel my temper rising, the renovations taking a more sinister edge in my mind.
The Mav's were well aware of what this building meant to me.
I look into Dontavia's eyes and see only snide satisfaction at my disbelief. She knew what this place had been for myself and Auroura and for whatever reason, she was basking in destroying something I'd created. Something I'd created with Auroura.
"If I didn't want you dead before, I certainly do now. Just a heads up." I fucking loved that chandelier.
Britania and Rodney walk off, seeming to be more than a little proud of themselves at throwing me off.
Dontavia stares down at me for a brief moment before also walking away. I quell the childish urge to stomp my foot or shriek at them. Who'd sold the building? I could have sworn I'd left people I trusted to hold onto my assets in the event of becoming unable to do so myself.
I turn to face the people chilling out in the ballroom. I take a deep breath and call out,
"Does anyone have a cigarette? Or a blunt? Either would be appreciated at this point."
~~~
All they gave me was a bump on the noggin and a good kick in the spleen.
More guards crawled out of the woodwork to split up our little powwow group.
I ended up in the "Ransom these ones off" group. Apparently they were going for the double dipping method for me; pretend to ransom me back to my Mother but then turn around and hand me over to the highest bidder.
It's a smart move. It's also a clear indicator of their desperation to escape.
I'm shackled down with cuffs on my ankles and full arm cuffs that fit like they'd been made just for me. I appreciate the effort, but I'm done playing around.
I find myself more and more upset being where I know Auroura died.
Blackbeard, Victor Morgan, The Wonder Twins, and Blake Coaltar are also in the Ransom group with me.
Of all the people to be leading us to our designated waiting area, it's Rudolph that gets the pleasure.
Little history lesson, this guy was one of the main coordinators of the Kidnappings. He spent years stalking the names in the Cathedrael archives, and then setting up the Mav Estates. I'd seen him do some very unspeakable things to some of my favorite people.
He's also named Rudolph. Like the reindeer.
Try and guess how often I bring it up.
"So. Rudolph? How's the North Pole? Played any reindeer games lately?"
Rudolph turns a sneer in my direction and grabs my hair to bring me close to his face. What is up with everyone grabbing my fucking hair today.
"You better pray I don't win the auction for you." He hisses into my ear. "Because if I do, you and I are going to be playing lots of reindeer games. And you're going to get nice and comfortable with my south pole."
"Is that a euphemism for your cock?" I ask, and one of the torture gang kids groans. I look back at him, and as he glares at me I send him a cheeky grin.
A loud squeal from one of the walkie-talkie's stops our little procession.
"Team Basilisk, we can't get ahold of Team Viper. Team Razor has also gone silent. Permission to investigate?"
I can't hide a smirk. Amateurs.
Rudolph looks back at our group and seems to weigh his options. Before he can make what I imagine would have been the wrong decision, Dontavia's commanding voice rings through the radio, "Don't bother, with Leninora in the building we'll just have to assume that she's set up traps to create problems. Trust in your team, just get the merchandise up to the office and start on the videos. We have a small enough window to make this work as it is."
I'm full on grinning now. Some people give me way too much credit. I hadn't set foot in this building in years, so I have no idea how she'd expect me to have set up traps but her suspicion of me works in our favor. Whatever was going on was already in effect if whole teams were cut off.
Either the teams were already being disposed of, or the plan was to make sure communication was cut off and then the next phase of the operation would commence.
I'm a little disappointed in the Mav kids. They've spent years sending the girls off to do things, and yet when they were on the receiving end they fall for the same song and dance they'd sent to others.
I take advantage of the situation, like I'm certain I'm supposed to. I'd kept the shiv, it was safely weaved into my hair, and I lift my hands slowly to yank it out before anyone notices.
I maneuver it until it's placed just right, unscrewing the bolts of the cuffs on my wrists. I'd been chipping off the sealant on them, and now the bolts move with ease.
Once the bolts are loose, I shake my arms and the bolts slip out and I catch them before they drop while also holding the cuffs in place.
The element of surprise is more or less my specialty. It works for me every time.
I refrain from checking to make sure no one was watching as we continue walking through the building.
Dontavia and Britania had gone with one of the groups that were going to be auctioned off, and Rodney apparently had some 'merchandise' to check on.
It takes everything in me not to point out all the things they've changed.
We go up, all the way to the top floor, and as we're walking down the hallway that leads to the Important People Offices, I catch a scent I'm very familiar with....black pepper and lavender.
My mother's perfume, something I get her for every birthday she pretends doesn't exist.
It's not mingling with the scent of coffee though, so I'm pretty sure it's not my mother.
That woman can't go without a cup for more than a few hours. That leaves me with one person: Cyan.
It also means my mother let her use her perfume, which means Cyan made it back from the safest place I know just to turn around and go to the place I know is most definitely not the safest.
Someone's getting a spanking.
I get shoved hard from behind and I turn around to bark at the idiot. I hadn't realized I'd stopped to sniff around like a hound dog. I glare at beefy biceps, but continue toward our destination.
We walk up to an office door, after endless walking and a few trips in elevators.
I stare at the plaque on the door and push myself around Rudolph and the other guards to stand right in front of it. I lift my hand and run a hand over the engraved words, feeling a swell of different emotions nearly pull me down into a fit of sobbing tears. I shove it down, but that connection to her still forces an involuntary reaction.
I start to laugh, deep belly laughter that shakes my whole frame.
Auroura Diana.
It was her office, most likely left exactly as she'd left it. She had hated it, working in an office building, but I'd talked her into it.
She was an author during the life I'd shared with her, and before that she'd been an artist. She told me that she was meant to be out in the world exploring it's surface, not looking down at it from a castle window...I'd countered that a Queen needs a good vantage point to see every nook and cranny of her kingdom.
She'd laughed at me, but ended up agreeing. I'd bought her a telescope after she published her first book and she'd set it up, right in this very room.
Everyone was looking at me like I was insane, but I ignored them.
I put the code in, knowing it wasn't something anyone would have dared to change. It was a sentimental thing for all of us, and even the Mav children would respect something so integral to our existence here in this wasteland of a world.
I creep in....and curse aloud. I swing the door shut behind me.
The room is darker than the hallways and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.
The bookcases that span the room are familiar, and so is the desk that sits in the center of the room.
Huge floor to ceiling walls of window let in some natural light, enough for me to realize there is someone sitting on Auroura's desk, with their legs crossed underneath a blood red lace dress and a laptop balancing on their lap.
She looks so much like Auroura in that moment... The girl's hair is curly like Auroura had always preferred and she holds her spine straight.
However, her hair is darker in the low lighting, and Auroura had been taller by a foot and a half. Despite those differences, Cyan has the same cherub features as her mother and the same wild green eyes that mirror the wild greens of Cathedrael's land.
Those same eyes meet mine and then jump to look behind me with a decidedly bloodthirsty glimmer. She looks back at me and makes a gesture that I understand well. It's time to fight.
I quickly throw off the cuffs and throw my weight against the door of the office as it starts to open. I wave my hand over the security keypad, and after a metallic click of the locking mechanism, it blinks red, signaling that it's re-locked, and will take a few minutes to allow anyone else in.
When I look up, it's to find the office once again empty. She didn't want to be seen quite yet, which is fine. I know what to do from here.
Just as I'm about to turn around to prepare a battle stance, a fist jumps out of thin air and it takes me a second to realize it's forming sign language letters.
A single finger is held up, and I take that to be the first priority.
"Lead some guards away" I quietly repeat the phrase out loud.
The hand holds up two fingers and forms the second priority.
"Find Rhonda and Maria." I let that one sink in.
I had thought everyone made it safely to the hospitals, and/or the safe houses. Shame on me for assuming, I'd been too caught up in rounding up the Mav family to check up on everyone. Cyan and Kay'ari were going to kick my ass.
Three fingers wave in my face and I roll my eyes.
"This is a lot of shit to remember." I hiss at the seemingly floating hand and it drops two of those fingers in the universal 'go fuck yourself' gesture before flying through the next objective.
"Help captives. All of them. Extraction on helipad G." I can't help but roll my eyes.
"I'm not wearing my cape today. I'll help Rhonda and Maria, but the dick brigade is on their own. One of those assholes cut off my finger and then refused to put it back on in the way I wanted it." I lift my hand to show off the new stitches, the severed finger clearly reattached expertly.
Despite my obvious attempt at trying to get some sympathy and throwing out the fact that I wasn't going to be helping all of the captives, Cyan continues to give me the final priority,
"Kill order approved for Rodney, and Dontavia. Detain Britania if possible."
With that, cold metal is pressed into my hands and I nearly weep in joy when I bring the shining gun into sight.
Its a stupid thing to be enamored with, but the gun in my hand is something I truly have an infatuation with.
Pretty gunmetal grey body with black detailing and polished silver threading in the leather grip spells out my name.
It's a hand gun, special made for me and it had been a present, many lifetimes ago. Generations have held this very gun.
I turn my back on Cyan and lift the barrel of the gun to point at the office door.
Nostalgia rushs through my blood at the stance, and a surge of adrenaline has me hooting out loud as the door swings open.
I shoot off two rounds, and rush at the handful of guards at the door.
I knock into the one with a weak left leg, and he falls into the guy behind him. I angle the gun up into the liver of one of the guys I recognize from the Slaughterhouse and squeeze off another shot.
Someone tries to grab a handful of my hair and I grab his wrist and brake it by slamming the door on it.
Instead of taking on anyone else I take off toward the stairwell.
I watch BubbleBourne and his merry band of idiots try to take down the guards keeping them out of the way and smirk as Bubbles gives me a look full of rage when he realizes I'm leaving them behind.
He really shouldn't have expected any less of me.
Gunfire rains through the air, and when I open the door the noise echoes loudly before I slam it shut behind me.
A stinging in my leg tells me I've been hit but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.
I leap over the railing and monkey-jump from floor to floor, and when I hear the door above me open I shout out to whoever is following me, "Down the hatch, muthafucka's."
I slow my pace so they can keep up and have to slink back off the railings when the guards start to fire shots at me.
I reach the 4th floor a few minutes later, and grin at the sound of heavy breathing and cursing coming from a few floors above me.
I leave the door open, and race down the darkly light corridor, grinning madly as I come to a door marked 'Security.'
The whole building should have 5 security offices; two on the ground floor, one higher up toward the residential area, and the one in front of me.
What most people don't know is that this particular security office isn't just an office.
When I think about it, I'm probably the only surviving person to know the secrets of this particular room.
Instead of using the security pad on the door, I walk over to the air duct and open my eyes wide, allowing the retinal scanner hiding inside it to scan my eye.
The door to the 'security office' beeps quietly and the security pad lights up, allowing me to put in my code to open it.
Once the code is entered I walk in and walk to one of the boring metal desks that I've drilled down into the floor and jump up on top of it.
I had been worried that the new building owners might have changed everything, but thankfully they left this room alone and I find the switch built into the ceiling.
I flick it on and off three times, and the room almost immediately starts to buzz with the energy only hardcore machinery seems to give off.
The door slams itself shut, and I hop off the desk to walk over to the back wall that's rearranging itself like in one of the Indiana Jones movies.
Some of my old technology comes out of their hiding areas around the room, but it's been so long that I'm sure most of it probably doesn't work anymore.
Shouting comes from behind the door, and I will the armory to hurry. It looks like it works, because seconds later the wall settles and a few dozen weapons come out of hiding to be showcased for my viewing, (and using) pleasure.
Along with the armory, I spot extra clothes, and leather holsters set aside in some built-ins.
I know better, but looking at the little pile of clothes melts my heart. Auroura always liked to pick out my outfits.
I decide to take a moment to change. I pull off the jeans and t-shirt combo I've been wearing the past few weeks and slip into a stretchy pair of dark jogging pants, a faded magenta ribbed tank top with guns emblazoned all over it, and a pair of old tennis shoes.
I gently set my new boots into a glass case meant for special display trophies, and hastily strap on a Kevlar vest, a few different holsters, and braid my hair back out of my face.
I'm just shoving some ammo and a fun little Taser thing into my waist pouch, when one of the computers powers on and a soft voice warns me that someone is trying to enter the room. Nothing outside of a chainsaw will be able to penetrate the walls of this room: the whole point of using the retinal scanner and the switch is to let the mission control room know that this panic room needed to be locked down.
Despite that little bit of security, if they use the master code the system is designed to give me 5 minutes to escape through the overly large air duct system.
As fun as crawling around in the spider and dust-bunny ridden tunnels sound, I have other idea's for entertainment this evening.
"Initiate building takeover sequence 14.2" I order, and a soft voice asks for my confirmation code. I give it, almost fumbling the last two numbers as my memory fades a little the more I push.
Almost everything I remember about before my time with Dontavion focuses around Auroura, and the things I've done to keep her safe: this panic room being a great example.
Little things like what my favorite thing to eat or my mothers middle name are obscured completely, but it seems the drugs aren't a temporary fix after all.
Nearly everything is clear again and more memories pop up everyday. Initially it was like I'd gone through a temporary reset during my little 'detox' vacay, but after the fever went down, it was like a rush of memories just poured in.
That in and of itself is going to be a problem, especially if I told Cyan, or Kay'ari. I know them both well enough to know the moment I tell them I could fix their memories they'll want it all back.
All of those horrible, awful, terrible things that had happened to them, memories I'd erased so the horror of it wouldn't kill them from the inside out; the girls would want it all back and knowing the full extent of what happened to Cyan and Kay'ari I can't in good conscious give it all back.
Not only that, but I also don't want to lose my two best protégé's to the past. I've gained a vague recollection of the girls' past history and knowing what I do gives me all the more reason to keep the secret.
Especially after I thrust Cyan into the public eye like a prized pig at a Kentucky Pig Roasting.
She isn't aware of it just yet, but the level of scrutiny and lack of privacy that comes with the Lavele and Lockheart name can be nearly debilitating, especially considering the circumstances surrounding her reappearance.
I dig myself out of the spiral of thoughts, realizing my five minute break are about to end.
I pat myself down, making sure I have all my gadgets, guns and doodads. I'm missing a few of my favorite pieces but that can't be helped.
Sequence 14.2 is a security measure that calls for being swift and quiet. Carrying around a flamethrower kinda seems a little outside of those definitions. So does the battle axe, if I really thought about it. I put that back on the wall.
The room darkens to the point of nearly being pitch-black, signaling that sequence 14.2 is underway, and I have my handy dandy night vision goggles on so I can see.
I walk toward the door and kneel down next to a part of the wall that had taken months to perfect.
I put just the slightest bit of pressure on two areas of the pressure plate and it makes a soft sound, and then a swish as it opens and reveals a hole just big enough for me to squeeze through.
I crawl through, being mindful to be as silent as I can muster, and come out behind the idiots flailing around in the dark.
The whole building is undergoing a temporary blackout, giving me enough cover to sneak around at my leisure.
I take nearly a full minute just chilling out as the men standing before me yell into their walkie-talkies and listen closely to their conversations.
It's mostly just a bunch of babbling about finding a generator, and something about Rudolph's feeds going dark. Nothing's said about the merchandise or any prisoners.
I decide that I'm not going to find anyone hanging around these losers, and walk away.
I head toward the nice restaurant on the far side of the building. I tell myself it's just for surveillance purposes, surely I'll hear something sitting at the restaurant.
In reality, I'd just like to sit down with a nice big steak, some roasted potato's, and a big glass of wine. Or four glasses of wine.