P. Stormcrow

The worst part of torture wasn’t the actual act but the anticipation of it. Finn had a taste and now left stewing in the darkness, her mind spun one possibility after another, picturing what the next round would entail. And given that these guys seemed to be experts in employing magic, she couldn’t help but imagine every single psychic torture scene ever described in the fantasy and sci-fi genres.

No amount of training covered this. Time ticked away. She had no idea how long she laid there in the darkness.

Screw it. There was no way she was going to lie here like a damsel in distress. 

Okay. First. Get up.

Grateful that no one was around to witness this embarassing act, she squirmed until she brushed against some kind of wall. That was positive sign. She used it to brace herself until she wiggled her way upright into a sitting position.

Next, get free.

She shuffled across the floor, putting some space between herself and the wall then leaned forward until she was almost folded over in half. Countless online videos had proved that zip ties could be easy to break out of, but she only hoped that they weren’t just boasts. She extended her arms as far out as her flexibility allowed her and brought her hands down hard against her back.

No luck. Again.

Another try. Still no budging. Fuck, it hurt.

Third time’s the charm, right?

She bit her lower lip and cut off a whimper as the nylon bit into her flesh. As she gave herself a brief respite, she forced air deep into her lungs, reminding herself that she was lucky she was breathing at all.

And shuddered at the thought that they would return any minute.

Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.

One. Two. Three.

She rammed her wrists hard against the curve of her back one more time as she pulled her hands as far apart as the ties allowed. To her surprise, they snapped without a sound and she found her hands freed at last.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. 

Okay, this was also positive. Rather than wasting time looking for something sharp, she reached down, undid one of her shoelaces, and threaded it through the gap between her legs, pulling against the tie. With a tight grip on both ends, she moved her feet back and forth as much as the restraint allowed, rubbing the plastic against the lace, and gasped as it too snapped.

It worked. It fucking worked. She had never been this thankful to her training instructor before.

Her heart thudded so loud that she worried the kidnappers would hear. But she pushed on ahead, scanning the room as she re-thread and tied her shoe back up. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and now she tried to pick out anything she could use as a weapon. 

They had stripped the laundry room bare. Damn it. Finn punched the wall. She needed an edge if she had any hope of overpowering whoever walked through that door. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

No. She only had one shot. Slow and careful. She rose to her feet and worked her limbs to restore blood flow, addressing the stiffness before she rubbed her raw wrists. No other exit either. Fuck. There had to be something.

A ha! A large bottle of detergent. It looked like it held a good 180 ounces of liquid. She stretched to retrieve the container only to find it empty and as light as a feather. Disappointment threatened to overwhelm her until she remembered her interrogation.

She didn’t dare turn on the tap, afraid it would be too loud, but much to her delight, they had left the sink full still. How ironic that her torture instrument would be her weapon. With a grin, she dunked the oversized plastic bottle in, letting the water rush in until it grew much heavier.

Next, she grabbed a cheap, flimsy stool and set it by the entryway, careful still to not make any noise. She pressed her ear against the door.

“Yeah. Everything’s packed here. Ready to go.” 

Finn strained to pick up any other voices, but there were none.

“Not a peep.” Another pause. “Yeah. Okay see you soon.”

It had to be a phone conversation. Were there two or one out there left? She waited, but only heard movements. It was now or never.

“Hey,” she shouted, but it came out as a scratchy whisper and her throat burned. She winced, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Hey!” At the same time, she kicked the door, then scrambled up on the stool and hauled the heavy bottle up with both hands.

“What?” A growl accompanied the word. Heavy footsteps grew louder.

“Need bathroom.” 

Silence. 

“Please,” she added.

Silence again. For a moment, Finn worried her captors would be content to let her pee in her pants. The resulting humiliation and discomfort would be another form of torture. 

When the footsteps resumed, she breathed a sigh of relief, but the reprieve was short-lived. The handle jiggled, and the door creaked open. Adrenaline pumped through her system and blood roared in her ears as light spilled across the entryway 

Now!

Just as Muscles crossed the threshold, Finn lept and swung the container with all her might. It connected with the side of his head, and Finn felt a shot of triumph. 

He stumbled forward then fell. She didn’t wait, but swung the plastic bottle down again until she was certain he was out. When he stilled, she inched closer, ready to bring the detergent down again, and nudged him with a shoe tip.

No reaction.

And no one was running in to investigate either. Some luck at last!

From the rise and fall of his body, she knew she had just incapacitated him, which meant she had to act fast. She ran out and scanned the rest of the cabin before heading to the large dining table covered by duffle bags, briefcases, and a couple of boxes.

“Mmm.” 

She glanced over her shoulders at the still-gagged Eric but ignored him as she until the bags and opened the cases. Knives. Guns. Magazines. Flashlight. She inserted a fresh magazine on the 9mm they had confiscated from her and pocketed the other more commonplace weapons, including shrugging on a shoulder holster. She paused as she sighted the watch Damien had gifted her and pocketed it before she hurried to the other prisoner’s side.

“Listen close. Follow my lead and I’ll get you out of here. Understand?” Finn whispered as she undid his gag. 

“Who the hell are you?”

She almost answered a Stranger, but she stopped herself. “FBI.” She took out a folding switchblade, engraved with runes. But she had taken it for a much more mundane purpose and now she used it to cut the zip ties binding him.

“Research,” Eric croaked and stumbled toward the table himself.

“Hurry,” Finn hissed, glancing at the door. It wasn’t just that Muscles could wake up anytime. Salt-and-pepper and Smoker would also return any minute now.

“Got it.” Eric held up a small black plastic case.

She racked the gun, held it up along with the flashlight and motioned for him. “Stay close.”

They crept outside into the pitch darkness of the forest. She had hoped against hope that they may have left the van here, but it seemed like she would not get that wish tonight. The cold air nipped at her but she ignored it as she glanced up at the sky. With no idea of where they were, she only hoped that picking a direction and sticking with it will lead them out sooner or later. On the plus side, the skies had cleared and now she was able to at least follow the north star.

It took a while before she stopped wincing with every crunch of a twig or leaf under her boots. It didn’t help that Eric kept cursing under his breath every time he stumbled over a root, and she had to turn and remind him to keep quiet. The thought of putting the gag back on him tempted her, and she had to rein her temper. He was lucky there was no time to stop. The priority was to put as much distance between them and the cabin, but she worried about the trail they were leaving behind. Still, if they found another house with a working phone, she’d be able to get in touch with her team.

“Finn? Finn.”

The comms patch! Thank fucking God the three mercenaries were sloppy. Relief flooded her system. She pressed on the little bandaid behind her ear. “Damien.”

“Fuck. Are you hurt? Where are you?” 

The worry in his rapid line of questioning was clear, and she answered right away in hushed tones. “I’ll live. Not sure where we are except we’re in a forest. There was a cabin, but we just broke out. We’re heading north. I have the vic with me.”

“Good. Keep moving and hang in there. We’re close. I’m coming to get you, Finn.”

She closed her eyes for a moment to hold back tears. “Thanks.”

“Always, partner. Now move your ass and check in again in five.”

A small genuine smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Bullshit. Like you ever listened to me.”

She laughed silently and motioned for Eric to follow once more.