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@hangyoubyhooks
❝ Premonitions ❞
The Fisherman moved behind her, cutting her hair-tie first to let her hair loose before he cut the zip-tie, letting her arms loose. He was still between her and the table, though the way to the locked door was free. “Tell mme ab-bout yourself, Annnna,” the Fisherman said, unblinking, as he studied her expression, tilting his head to one side in a curious fashion, now ignoring the two men on the other side of the room completely.
Rojas scooted back, wobbling as she tried to stand. It took longer than she wanted, but she was eventually on her feet, keeping her distance from him. There was a moment that she glanced at the door, knowing that she’d need to take the key first before she could even try it. But there was nothing around her that she could use to defend herself, and the tools he had laid out were behind him. Trying to snatch the key from his person was risky, with that exact-o knife in his hand. She needed to think.
"There’s nothing interesting about me," she answered, uneasy with how much attention he was paying to her now. "I’m just a surgeon."
"I d-did not s-s-say you c-could s-stand," The Fisherman said, but for the moment he remained where he was, his dark eyes watching her with an unblinking sort of curiosity that may have made her skin crawl.
"I d-don't nneed interes-s-sting, Annnna. J-just you," he said, taking one careful step towards her, not raising his knife, though he still held it at his side. It would be interesting to see what she would do, a little mouse backed into a corner like this. No way out. No way to know where she was. No way to know who he was, alias or otherwise.
By Scorch of CoRE
Autumn Equinox Suspension, CoRE, 2013
❝ Premonitions ❞
Oh. Was that supposed to hit a nerve?
It did, to her displeasure. She could feel the involuntary thought of Does anyone care that I’m gone hit her face-first. The shine of tools caught her gaze, and it helped pull away from the influx of pain that statement had given her. Some of them were recognizable- enough that she could name them off, as if in the medical closet at work. But there were objects there that she couldn’t put her finger on, and she thought it was for the best that she just stopped while she was ahead. There was the same pinch of recoil as he came near, but Rojas wasn’t intent on trying to be stubborn about letting him near. Her first thought was that the exact-o knife was for the zip ties, and she kept that thought in her head to avoid panic.
The Fisherman moved behind her, cutting her hair-tie first to let her hair loose before he cut the zip-tie, letting her arms loose. He was still between her and the table, though the way to the locked door was free. "Tell mme ab-bout yourself, Annnna," the Fisherman said, unblinking, as he studied her expression, tilting his head to one side in a curious fashion, now ignoring the two men on the other side of the room completely.
Christopher Jennell, Wes Naman Photography
❝ Premonitions ❞
Rojas froze up a little as his gaze turned to her again. She took one last glance at the two on the other side of the room before shaking her head. Maybe because she was a part of SHIELD, but she wasn’t keen on making quick assumptions like that. Knowing her name was one thing, but knowing about her occupation at SHIELD was a whole different issue. That meant enemies, which was.. bad, at a minimum. Rojas swallowed the lump in her throat to give a verbal, “No, I don’t.”
"You were easy to g-g-get to. Nnnnot easily mmmissed," he answered for her, moving to the table and setting the hooks aside before he took off his gloves and deposited them in a small waste basket. The table, the wastebasket, and the small package of gloves were the only real notable items in the room until the Fisherman pulled out a small leather-bound set of tools from his jacket that unrolled easily into the table. Rojas--being a surgeon--would recognize most of the tools, though some would be quite foreign if she looked close enough.
"L-let's get you c-comfortable, hmm?" he said, moving over to her with a small exact-o knife.
Reblog if I can send you darker starters.
hangyoubyhooks replied to your post: -
//you love it.//
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❝ Premonitions ❞
The doctor pushed herself into a sitting position as the man started to lean his attention to the other captive. It was no consolidation when the surgeon thought at least it seems sterile. No. No, that’s not what she’s supposed to be thinking, not supposed to make dry humor in a situation like this. But she was struggling to keep the anxiety from spilling over, just wanted to breath and stay calm. Why was she here? What did he want with her?
Rojas caught the unhooked man’s gaze for a moment, and frowned at the quick aversion. She wanted to do something- run, for the most part, but there was no use in trying to door by now. Her legs were still tingling from paresthesia, but she could do nothing except lean her weight on them, trying to ebb away the numb feeling. She was trying to stop thinking of how it must feel to have those hooks dug into the skin of the knees as well, between thick-thin flesh and so close to bone. Just the far enough thought made her let out an inaudible hiss. No, no sound. Maybe if she just stayed quiet, and pretend she wasn’t here, all of this would disappear.
Once the Fisherman was finished getting the air out of the man's knees, he helped the man to his feet. He supported him when he stumbled, making sure he could walk before he chained him up to the wall beside the other man, hands above his head instead of behind his back.
Looking to Rojas, the Fisherman took the hooks in hand with his bloody gloves, studying her for a long moment with his dark eyes. "D-do you kn-knnow why y-you're here?" he asked, the first thing he had said to her since she had been brought down here.
I will now respond to "Fisher-mun"
❝ Premonitions ❞
There was plenty of shuffling, of rough handling from being dragged from one area to the next. The feeling of the slight drop in her stomach as they went down the elevator was her only real indication of just where they were going, though it didn’t help any. The smell of dried blood and bleach hit her senses hard, and it was a faint reminder of a sterile operating room, when something of infection was being assessed or a time of death was called. But this was much stronger, and it only made the fear below her anger set in deeper.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim room as the bag was taken off, and it only gave a visual to the reek. She shut her eyes, hands balled into fists behind her. Oh God no. Her initial sense of bravery was dissipating fast, eroding away as the fear leaked through.
The door was closed, and the Fisherman locked it with a key around his neck. He tucked it back into his shirt before he walked over to the man hung by hooks. "G-good mmmorning, little f-fish," he mused, tugging on the man's hair lightly, though the man didn't seem to register his touch. Moving over to the ropes tethered to another hook on the wall, the Fisherman gingerly lowered the man to the ground so he would lie on his back.
The Fisherman seemed to have forgotten Rojas was there as he moved over to a small table with nothing but a small package on it. He pulled out two blue gloves from the package, putting them on before moving back to the man. The man's hands were bound, but his legs were free besides the hooks in his knees.
"Nno t-t-tearing, that's g-good, little f-fish," the Fisherman cooed approvingly, taking the hooks gingerly out of the man's skin, setting them aside on the ground for later sterilization. The Fisherman then pushed on the man's skin where the hooks had been, causing a grimace and small whimper of pain from the man. The blood bubbled as the skin was pressed, leaking out the sides a good amount on each wound, but the man lay perfectly still. The man glanced over at Rojas before averting his eyes, not wanting to get in trouble.
Destruction can be beautiful to some people. Don’t ask me why. It just is. And if they can’t find anything to destroy, they destroy themselves.
(via consequentiae)