Dione_dee
12-03-2012, 04:58 PM
I'd love feedback!
Darkness. Her sense of time was slipping away, followed swiftly by the feeling in her arms and legs. They had been bound for what felt like days, the rope they had used pulled so tightly her limbs shook. The ground she lay upon was rough and covered in a kind of liquid she didn’t want to identify. Yet she was grateful for any stability after the awful van ride that had brought her here. Here. Oh how she wished she knew where that was. Any clues to her surroundings were difficult to make out in the dim light that streamed through the windows. Her kidnappers had been silent their entire journey here, yet there was an obvious hierarchy between them, one was in charge, the other obeyed. What did they want with her? Had she simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or had she been chosen for this?
The barricade had been established 30 minutes before the Hostage Rescue Team arrived. The Military were due on the scene any minute, and the Chief Sergeant in charge of the operation was growing steadily uneasy. The longer the situation took to defuse, the more emotionally damaged the hostages would become. Not only that but the delay would make the hostage takers grow frustrated, the Chief had no idea how they would react to the negotiators or presence of law enforcement. Out of his depth was an understatement. His men were itching to go, even more so after information came through that the hostage was a young female, mid 20’s, the same age as many of their daughters or sisters. “How long Chief?”; one of his men had grown tired of the silence. “Until I say.” He replied.
“How many of them are there?! They’re like f***ing fleas on a dog the way they’ve got this hill covered.” The dulcet tones of Jones rang out from the next room. He grimaced at the vulgarity of his colleague, given his own choice he would prefer to work with someone who shared his mindset. Quiet, determined, unyielding. He was proud of what he did, and rarely took orders from anyone concerning jobs. He chose his own weapons, own location and own colleagues. Yet for this job he had needed someone, fast.
She moved awkwardly and a dull pain throbbed through her left ankle. Her cry muffled by the cloth stuffed into her mouth, silent tears dripped to the floor beside her. Most of her senses had deserted her, all she had left was sight and sound, not that there was much to see. From her twisted angle on the floor she was looking up at what appeared to be a steel drum, suspended from the ceiling by cables. It looked old, rusted from disuse. She could only guess that she was being held in a factory of some kind. Twisting to peer around, every muscle in her body ached. Dark shapes. That’s all she could make out. She thought they might be machines, but she couldn’t work out what they did. So she let her body relax, and awaitedthe men’s return.
He was growing restless. The windows were dark giving him no clue as to what was happening inside. The young girl inside haunted his thoughts; was she scared? Had they harmed her? He imagined her inside that dark building. Bound, gagged, terrified. The men around him were as frustrated as he was. It was time to make a decision.
Spotlights had been set up by the HRT. It seemed they thought they could blind him. In actuality, they were providing him with exactly what he wanted. Their silhouettes lit up by the huge orbs gave him not only their numbers, but their positions. Planning the escape would be easy. He knew this place like the back of his hand. Growing up he had helped his father work in the factory, grinding down scrap metal for reuse. Memories of running and hiding amongst the drums came to mind. He shook his head to make them disappear.
Footsteps echoed through the frigid air around her. Shuffling to give herself a better view she found herself face to face with a large black boot. Unable to stop herself, her eyes travelled upwards, past black nondescript jeans, and a navy sweater, to the face. The face she had been unable to keep from her thoughts. She would recognise him anywhere; his image was etched onto her consciousness as strongly as that of her mother or father. Never one for religion or a reliance on higher powers, she began to pray, to anybody, or anything.
The weight of his standard issue Glock burned his thigh, and starting forward he unholstered the weapon. Beckoning the team around him silently, he edged toward the large iron-wrought factory door.
The HRT would be moving in soon. The woman on the floor seemed to be pleading with him; her eyes were a shade of green he hadn’t seen before.
Pitiless. There was no mercy in his eyes. Then she knew. She was a distraction, not even worth ransom or barter, she would be used as he saw fit to keep the officers outside occupied.
He was moving at speed now, flanked on either side by his men, moving like clockwork, falling into positions at each entrance. He flattened himself against the wall by the door.
He considered the colour for a further minute or two until a noise outside brought him out of his musings, and he turned.
The door burst open and a tall man stepped through. Surrounded by white light she struggled to make out his face. As her eyes adjusted she watched, helpless, as his eyes flicked from the silent man opposite, to her prone body on the floor, then back again. His gun was pointed at the quiet man’s chest and she watched in horror as a second gun rose to meet it. There was silence, the kind of silence that led to something. A single shot rang out across the empty room. She closed her eyes. Darkness.
Darkness. Her sense of time was slipping away, followed swiftly by the feeling in her arms and legs. They had been bound for what felt like days, the rope they had used pulled so tightly her limbs shook. The ground she lay upon was rough and covered in a kind of liquid she didn’t want to identify. Yet she was grateful for any stability after the awful van ride that had brought her here. Here. Oh how she wished she knew where that was. Any clues to her surroundings were difficult to make out in the dim light that streamed through the windows. Her kidnappers had been silent their entire journey here, yet there was an obvious hierarchy between them, one was in charge, the other obeyed. What did they want with her? Had she simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or had she been chosen for this?
The barricade had been established 30 minutes before the Hostage Rescue Team arrived. The Military were due on the scene any minute, and the Chief Sergeant in charge of the operation was growing steadily uneasy. The longer the situation took to defuse, the more emotionally damaged the hostages would become. Not only that but the delay would make the hostage takers grow frustrated, the Chief had no idea how they would react to the negotiators or presence of law enforcement. Out of his depth was an understatement. His men were itching to go, even more so after information came through that the hostage was a young female, mid 20’s, the same age as many of their daughters or sisters. “How long Chief?”; one of his men had grown tired of the silence. “Until I say.” He replied.
“How many of them are there?! They’re like f***ing fleas on a dog the way they’ve got this hill covered.” The dulcet tones of Jones rang out from the next room. He grimaced at the vulgarity of his colleague, given his own choice he would prefer to work with someone who shared his mindset. Quiet, determined, unyielding. He was proud of what he did, and rarely took orders from anyone concerning jobs. He chose his own weapons, own location and own colleagues. Yet for this job he had needed someone, fast.
She moved awkwardly and a dull pain throbbed through her left ankle. Her cry muffled by the cloth stuffed into her mouth, silent tears dripped to the floor beside her. Most of her senses had deserted her, all she had left was sight and sound, not that there was much to see. From her twisted angle on the floor she was looking up at what appeared to be a steel drum, suspended from the ceiling by cables. It looked old, rusted from disuse. She could only guess that she was being held in a factory of some kind. Twisting to peer around, every muscle in her body ached. Dark shapes. That’s all she could make out. She thought they might be machines, but she couldn’t work out what they did. So she let her body relax, and awaitedthe men’s return.
He was growing restless. The windows were dark giving him no clue as to what was happening inside. The young girl inside haunted his thoughts; was she scared? Had they harmed her? He imagined her inside that dark building. Bound, gagged, terrified. The men around him were as frustrated as he was. It was time to make a decision.
Spotlights had been set up by the HRT. It seemed they thought they could blind him. In actuality, they were providing him with exactly what he wanted. Their silhouettes lit up by the huge orbs gave him not only their numbers, but their positions. Planning the escape would be easy. He knew this place like the back of his hand. Growing up he had helped his father work in the factory, grinding down scrap metal for reuse. Memories of running and hiding amongst the drums came to mind. He shook his head to make them disappear.
Footsteps echoed through the frigid air around her. Shuffling to give herself a better view she found herself face to face with a large black boot. Unable to stop herself, her eyes travelled upwards, past black nondescript jeans, and a navy sweater, to the face. The face she had been unable to keep from her thoughts. She would recognise him anywhere; his image was etched onto her consciousness as strongly as that of her mother or father. Never one for religion or a reliance on higher powers, she began to pray, to anybody, or anything.
The weight of his standard issue Glock burned his thigh, and starting forward he unholstered the weapon. Beckoning the team around him silently, he edged toward the large iron-wrought factory door.
The HRT would be moving in soon. The woman on the floor seemed to be pleading with him; her eyes were a shade of green he hadn’t seen before.
Pitiless. There was no mercy in his eyes. Then she knew. She was a distraction, not even worth ransom or barter, she would be used as he saw fit to keep the officers outside occupied.
He was moving at speed now, flanked on either side by his men, moving like clockwork, falling into positions at each entrance. He flattened himself against the wall by the door.
He considered the colour for a further minute or two until a noise outside brought him out of his musings, and he turned.
The door burst open and a tall man stepped through. Surrounded by white light she struggled to make out his face. As her eyes adjusted she watched, helpless, as his eyes flicked from the silent man opposite, to her prone body on the floor, then back again. His gun was pointed at the quiet man’s chest and she watched in horror as a second gun rose to meet it. There was silence, the kind of silence that led to something. A single shot rang out across the empty room. She closed her eyes. Darkness.