stock: typewriter

Fic:The Dreadful Child

Title: The Dreadful Child
Progress: 23/100
Word Count: 1700
Prompt: #62 Game
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.

The Dreadful Child
The muscles of her biceps flexed, wrists twisting as she pulled her hair back, smoothing it down and secured it with a hair tie as she made her way through the curiously blank hallways. Goose bumps rose up along her exposed arms as she moved deeper into the underground sections of Arklay and toward her weekly cheek up with Isaacs. Her bottom lip dipped as her bangs slid free and forward to hinder her sight.
She rolled her eyes before pushing them to the side and her steps slowed automatically as she neared a blind corner, One’s words of caution overriding the white noise of the hall as she made her way around it. Narrowed eyes swept over the corridor, noting the free and clear and the thick soles of her boots became audible once more as she resumed her regular stride. Delicate hands slipped into the side pockets of her cargos, arms tucking into her body in an feeble attempt to fight off the recycled air’s chill as she mentally berated herself for leaving her jacket on the back of the couch that morning.
Her shoulders tightened as the wall beside her shuddered and she paused, turning her head toward the sound and watched, green eyes widening as the drywall cracked. Crumbling beneath the next blow as a large, gloved fist pushed its way through. For a moments time she simply stared as the wall triturated, blinked as pieces collapsed to the floor smeared with blood and the fist was followed by a leather encased arm and shoulder.
The massive body continued pushing until the wall finally gave way beneath insuppressible strength. Creating a gapping hole that split it from ceiling to floor and she swallowed, stared up at the man—or what she assumed was a man—that towered over her slight frame. A hairless head cocked, the hue of his skin nearly gray under the florescent lights as pale eyes narrowed on her.
The hairs along the back of her neck rose, throat drying as her pupils spiraling out to help catch ever movement, no mater how slight, that he made. His chest rose, expanding as he inhaled through his nose, scenting her, and released it out from his mouth. She ignored the large expanse of chest beneath the double-breasted duster, the way the leather molded to his arms, straining to contain and cover them as he flexed. Her gaze dropped, focused on his gloved hands as they balled into fists and her eyes widened at the bit of blood that dripped from them. Splattered on the dust and wall covered floor but the gloves were unmarked, his hands free of wounds.
She looked past him to stare through the hole in the wall and into the room beyond it. Her stomach rolled and her eyes widened at the pool of blood coagulating on the floor. Paling lips parted with a noiseless sigh and she struggled to keep her breakfast down as she caught sight of an upturned palm. She followed the limb up to a Kevlar covered chest and felt something tighten behind her eyes as her vision tunneled and she focused on the body’s security badge. Her brows pulled together as she recognized the Umbrella Corporation’s symbol but not his base location Sheena.
In that moment of startled discovery her guard slipped and his fist connected solidly with side of her face. The pain was instantaneous and knee buckling as she struck the opposite side of the hallway and sagged against the wall. Her eyes widened as another leather encased fist was already being aimed for her face and she ducked, felt the drywall thrum from the force behind the blow and bits of it floated downward to settle over her hair and shoulders.
She tucked her legs under her and rose, using her momentum to barrel her slim frame into his abdomen, arms wrapping around his waist as she shoved him back and away from her. He stumbled over the broken pieces of wall and she released, allowing him to fall onto his back and the floor vibrated with the impact. She attempted to dart past him, make her way to the security station and backup, but thick fingers caught her calf. Stumbled her stride and she was down, forearms blocking her faces fall as she too struck the linoleum tiled floor.
He rolled toward her and a hand found purchase on the back of her neck as the other pushed against the ground helping him to rise and he dragged her up with him. She twisted, arching her back so that she could grip the wrist effortlessly pulling her to her feet. His hold flexed and she grunted as the pressure built, as she felt his fingers tense in preparation of digging into her flesh and her own fingers tightened in response.
Something gave in his wrist, loosened with a sharp crack and suddenly she was on her knees, neck throbbing but free. Her palms struck the floor and she attempted to scramble to her feet as those massive hands caught thin shoulders and spun her face first into the nearest wall. She winced at the overly loud grinding, like that of hair rubbing together, drowned out the wounded sound that escaped her lips as her eyes rapidly began to fill with tears long before the pain registered.
He pulled her away from the drywall and the fresh smears of blood, taking several steps back and she blinked, trying to clear her vision as he shifted forward. Brought her back toward the wall and she lifted her arms, pressed her forearms together to help cushion her chest’s impact and turned her head at the last moment. The side of her face collided and she winced as the pressure building beneath her eyes spread to fill the space behind her cheekbone and her head slipped forward as he stepped back, prepared to crush her again.
The muscles in her abdomen bunched and brought her legs up, boot soles striking the wall. Knees bent to absorb the impact before her head swung back and the back of her skull met with his chin. Her thighs tightened before she pushed off with her legs, slamming him back into the wall behind them and his grip slipped. The leather of his gloves groaning as he released her shoulders, allowing her to land easily on her feet and spin, hands locking together before she struck them against his already abused jaw.
His head snapped back, knocking against the wall and she ducked the sloppy swing he aimed for her and took a few steps back, nearly tripping over the bits drywall. A pointed chin dipped, green eyes narrowing on what was left of the wall decorating the ground. Her searching gaze settled on the edge of a broken support beam and she reached out, tugged it free from the debris. A heavy exhale behind her lifted the hairs along the back of her neck and she turned, brought the two-by-four into his shoulder, wincing as the wood struck.
The swing toppled his balance and he stumbled. She didn’t give him the chance to recover before the broken end was aimed for his face. The grey flesh gave under the blow and red stained her weapon as she pulled back, twisted it around and brought it into his side. He grunted—the first sound he had made—as his ribs gave under the blow. Separating from his sternum with several low pops and he pushed out an arm to catch himself against the wall.
She struck that arm, knocking away his support and his shoulder torqued as he collapsed to his knees. The two-by-four rose up, over her shoulder and she swung it in a downward arch for the side of his head. Her hips twisted to help boost its momentum and the wood struck with a sickening crack. She stepped back as he fell face first to the vinyl-covered floor, heavy boots jerking against the ground as his legs began a convulsive dance and darker bits leaked from the wound she had inflicted.
Her stomach rolled and she took a stumbling step back, away from the life spreading out from him towards her. The pressure beneath her eyes strengthened and she winced, moving further from his now still form and slowly, her eyes never leaving her attacker, she sank to her knees. Heavy footfalls began to fill the hallway, making their way closer as she placed the makeshift club across her thighs and settled her ass on the back of her boots.
Hesitant finger pried themselves from her weapon as the weight beneath her eyes became unbearable and she watched the hall fill with security. Their weapons drawn and pointed downward as she ignored the urge to ask them where the hell they had been and reached up, braced either side of the bridge of her nose with her index and middle fingers. Hands held palm to palm as if she were about to begin prayer and she inhaled through her mouth before straightening her slightly crooked nose.
The pain was instant and throbbing as the blood that had been pooling in her sinus cavity was given a path to freedom and she gagged as it rushed from her nose and down her throat. She coughed, spitting the copper taste from her mouth and winced as the movement pushed air through her battered nose.
Blinking past the tears filling her eyes she watched through blurred vision as two of the head to toe black brigade split from the team surrounding her attacker—the murder—and moved to her side. They each took an arm and helped her to rise as her makeshift weapon clattered to the floor. She looked up, brows pulling together as Cain and Isaacs entered the hall.
Two pairs of blue eyes in varying shades of cold pierced through her and she kept there gazes as she spat more blood but was soon distracted as the pair helping her to stand took her further away from the beginnings of a cleanup and began to ask questions.
Questions, that at the moment, seemed less than important.
The End.
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