Realistic or Modern Side Duty

[The Village Witch]

It was quiet that night.

Then again, it was always quiet, and Atalanta wasn't even sure if it was night, a time frame she'd only heard mentioned in conversation. There was no way to tell in the cell. There were no clocks, unlike the laboratory, and the lights were always on, so the only way to tell that time was even passing was by the visits the brute with the scar on his neck made to deliver her meals, and those were far and few between. Not quite the most consistent way to tell time, to be sure.

But yes, everything was always quiet, always bright, always clean, everything save for the dirty little girl pacing up and down the center of the bland room, barren save for the carpet she had dragged into her corner as a makeshift bed. She was never silent--always muttering to herself or singing or patting out beats on every available surface with the palms of her small, calloused hands--but she was very used to everything around her being quiet.

Hence why she jumped out of her skin when a loud thud came from somewhere outside her room.

Giving a startled yelp, Atalanta darted back to her corner and crouched on the carpet, staring with wide eyes at the door. What on earth was that? Her captors never made that much noise, not even the monster of a man that could hardly fit through the door and always came with the intention to bring her to the scientists down the corridor. A few moments passed in quiet, and just when she was starting to wonder if her mind had made up the sound, the door burst open and she let out a scream, startled mind taking a moment to register the unfamiliar man that had just walked into her domain. However, once she had realized just what she was looking at, she hunched over into a defensive position, eyes wide as saucers.

She had never seen him before, but that didn't account for much. Admittedly, the same three people generally dealt with her: the scarred man who brought her food, the huge man who would carry her down the hall to the laboratory, and the scientist who waited for her there, whose face she still did not know due to his surgical mass and large goggles, but that didn't rule out the possibility that someone new had been chosen. Perhaps one of the other men had not measured up. She supposed she had put the monster man out of commission the last time he'd visited--she'd do whatever was necessary to avoid seeing the scientist. Tensing as the stranger stepped into the room, Atalanta pressed herself deeper into her corner, letting out a sharp growl.

"Stay away from me!" she snapped frantically, the itchy fabric of her hospital gown rubbing against her legs as she squirmed as deep into the crevice as she could get, trying to make herself as inaccessible as she could, "I-I broke the big guy's fingers and I'll break yours too!"

 

[Broken Reality]

Odd night they chose for a raid. But again, the Boss had been all sorts of angry that evening, and Tommy remembered well enough his face. It was slightly amusing, those eyes of his, almost popping out of their sockets from the pent up anger, and that red-tinted skin. It reminded Tommy of a lobster in a pot of boiling water. Such an amusing thought, the blonde man could barely hold back a smile. He knew, however, that he would probably get his teeth plucked out one by one for that. The Boss wasn't such a horrible man, but in true mafia leader fashion, he wasn't a saint. He was mellow, however, so seeing him in that disheveled state was a rare thing.

But what angered him so?

Details were few and scarce, but the objective was simple. Thrash the entire southern compound. Kill as many of the south family members as possible. "Those fuckers have crossed the line for the last time." He remembered the Boss croaking before he sent him off.

There were six cars heading in a line towards the compound, which was found somewhere in the bowels of the Industrial. On the outside, the compound was formed of a few houses, as well as a warehouse and other things. However, the important part of it was under the ground level, with laboratories stretching all the way under the other buildings. Each lab served a different purpose. Some were dealing exclusively in preparing drugs. Others in creating and modifying weapons. And one particularly frightening, dealt in experiments of which there were only rumours known. It seemed the Mangano family had their own, personal doctor dubbed all sorts of names, one more sinister than the next. One thing was certain, he didn't shy away from experimenting on humans. The Boss sure learned that when an entire outpost of his men was wiped out singlehandedly by one man who was, once, loyal to him, but now was something resembling a macabre, enhanced puppet of destruction working for the Manganos.

Tire screeching signaled the line of cars suddenly coming to a halt, close to the front gates of the compound, gates guarded by two men. Car doors opened, and a few gunshots set the two guards down. The attack was on. Chaos ensued rapidly as the mobsters started spreading through the different buildings and parts of the courtyard, shooting anything in their way. A grenade was thrown through a window and blasted an entire room, almost making it crumble. A surprise, swift and brutal attack with only one purpose: teach the Manganos a lesson.

Tommy ran across the courtyard, flanked by two of his men who took care of his sides as he shot forward. Sure, the others might've been content with just destroying the houses, and killing men, but he had a special mission. He would set the labs on fire, or at the very least, try. Somewhere behind him, he heard one of his men being shot, and another soon after, which immediately signaled to him that there was at least one sniper hidden, somewhere. His heart raced as he sought out the nearest cover, hearing another bullet wheezing just past his ear as he fixed his back against a wall. The sniper was somewhere behind him and around the corner. So he either tried to make his best shot, or...

There! Just a few feet away from him, a door led to what he presumed to be the undergrounds. However, it was hard to tell. Sure, he had seen the plans of the compound. However, it would've been a safer bet than to get in a fight with that sniper. He spared no other moment before darting towards the door. His foot planted against the door, busting it open in a swift move. The door was locked, thus making him give it a few more kicks before he ran down the stairs. He found himself within an underground corridor, with nothing but doors on either side, and a door at the very end. Checking every door revealed that each was locked. Reaching the final door, he assumed the same state of it being locked, and so, he planted his foot against it with enough force to make it open in a violent manner.

However, what he saw the first moment the room opened to him was utterly shocking. A child was cowering in the corner, shouting at him. A very young, and by the looks of it, mistreated girl. There was the first thought, which, for Tommy, was absolutely gut wrenching. A thought about what exactly a child would be doing there. Her threats were, obviously, just threats, at least to him. The sounds of gunfire outside had ceased, with only one or two shots being heard every now and then. One side had definitely won, and now they executed stragglers and those still left alive. Tommy took a moment to consider. He could leave that little girl there, however... she may have been one of the humans the Doctor experimented on. He was truly torn. He didn't know what he could do, but the gut instict told him the Boss would probably be the best to decide if the girl was worth anything. He had to take her.

Taking a step or two forward, he lifted his hands in the air, to show her he meant no harm. Sure, he held a pistol in one hand, but he had to somehow convince her to not put up a fight. He could have simply pointed the gun at her head and threatened her, though that was below him. Instead, he fixed his green eyes on the girl's, feeling an almost heart ache over how... feral she seemed. It was easy to assume that she had never even seen the light of day.

"You're a brave little thing, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." He said, trying to be as convincing as he could. "We killed the big bad men. If you follow me, I'll take you to safety." He continued. Tommy could be accused of anything, but anyone who knew him knew he was sly. So he easily twisted words to work in his favor. He only hoped that this strange girl would buy it. One hand extended towards her, almost as an offering of peace. "You don't want to live the rest of your days here, do you? Come on."

 

[The Village Witch]

Atalanta's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion as the stranger raised his hands, aiming the strange device--weapon--towards the ceiling rather than at her. It was an unfamiliar gesture, and anything that was new or that she didn't understand made her wary. Perhaps this was unsurprising, given that the little she did know was almost entirely negative and she couldn't quite grasp that not everything had to hurt, not everything was awful and dangerous and demeaning, but she had an inkling that the stranger had been expecting, or maybe hoping, for a different response. She wasn't sure what he wanted from her, but it didn't matter. Atalanta wasn't prone to giving people what they wanted, anyway.

That really was the root of her, wasn't it? She was defiant, contrary wherever she could be, and stubborn as a mule (whatever those were), according to the scientist. No matter how many times she was pulled out of the relative security of her little cell, she continued to drag her heels and bend her escort's fingers back. No matter how many times she was strapped down to the table, head secured in its own socket and arms held down by her sides, she continued to struggle against her bonds. No matter how many times she was subdued, she continued to fight back. It'd be easier to just do as you're told, the scientist had told her once, filling his syringe with a gleaming amber liquid that had made her sick to look at, Everything would hurt a lot less. We'd be able to treat you better, if you weren't so difficult. Atalanta had considered it then, as a tiny girl with bruised limbs who only wanted the pain to stop, but it hadn't taken her long to realize that the scientist wasn't suggesting she let them do as they pleased for her sake, but for theirs. Things may have been easier on her if she didn't fight, but only marginally--it would, however, be much easier for them. And Atalanta didn't want it to be easy.

If she had to fight to keep from being hurt, they'd have to fight just as hard to hurt her.

The sound of the voice made Atalanta jolt back, as if she hadn't expected the stranger to be able to speak, and her eyes narrowed cautiously as she watched him inch forward. Brave little thing, aren't you? That was a new word, brave, and she wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it carried the images of people dressed in metal and tall women stretching their arms in front of children, the sort of characters she used to see in the books they'd let her look at, once upon a time. The words may have been meaningless, but she loved the pictures, and the images the word 'brave' brought her made her want to push her shoulders back and stand with pride. She sort of liked the idea of it being attached to her. She was brave. But then, maybe she just liked being described in a way none of the men who dealt with her had before.

Safety was, again, an unfamiliar word, but another one that carried pleasant images, ones of warm rooms and strong arms wrapped around a tiny frame, but not in a way that hurt or squeezed too tightly. The word 'safety' brought forth the sort of feeling that being alone in her cell did, but even better. The word 'safety' made her feel more protected than the too bright walls of the cell ever had.

It was the final sentence, however, that made her breath hitch, her heart stop in her chest. The stranger was offering an opportunity to escape. She hugged her knees a little tighter, gaze flickering uncertainly over the man, from the eyes she couldn't read to the hand stretched out in her direction, and took a moment to consider. Interestingly, despite how much she hated the facility and the things that were done to her within it, escape had never crossed her mind. It had never occurred to her that there may be more beyond the small underground lab that she knew. To her, the world exclusively consisted of her cell, the hallway, and the laboratory, even though she had seen doors and stairs and knew logically that there was more all around it. It had just seemed so incomprehensible that anything outside of those three spaces existed, when she hadn't seen them. What more could there possibly be? For a moment, the thought of leaving the cell forever was suffocating, and her heart constricted in her chest. This was all she had ever known. Could she really handle anything more?

But then...hadn't she always wanted to be free of this accursed place, free of the scientist and the injections and the pain?

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Atalanta unfolded her legs and slowly got to her feet, putting weight only tentatively on her right leg. The fair skin was covered in tender welts of a putrid maroon color, and they stung when the air hit them. However, it was the one on the sole of her foot that was giving her the most trouble, because her feet were bare and the welt burned whenever it brushed the rough cement floor. Whatever the scientist had pumped into her clearly had not served its purpose: he'd seem quite annoyed at the way her skin reacted, and had sent her away with a frustrated, disappointed sigh that made her think it was something he'd been working on for a while. Good. She didn't want his stupid tests to succeed, though it'd be a lot easier to be smug about his failure if said failure didn't result in more suffering on her part. Steeling herself for the biting pain in her foot and the overwhelming nature of whatever was beyond those stairs, Atalanta limped forward and took the stranger's hand, bony fingers gripping his with an almost desperate fervor.

"Where are we going?" she asked, voice still tight with fear but eyes nervously trusting, just for now.

 

[Broken Reality]

She looked awfully malnourished. There were so many wounds on her body, or at least, the parts that he could see. Puncture wounds in her arms and forearms, those welts that seemed to cover her whole. He watched her rise, and he felt those awfully slim fingers wrap around his hand as she caught a hold. It was impossible for him not to notice her limping, and he again thought, whatever this little girl has been through? She sure must have been one of the Doctor's "lab rats". So much was clear. But what could he answer to her? Obviously, to tell her the truth was out of question. Yet there was no actual lie that he could craft completely out of nothing.

"To the man who sent us here. He hates the people who held you captive as much as you do, so I'm sure you will get along." He said as he started walking, leading the girl to the stairs, and, once there, up the stairs. The door was wide open, and beyond it, the lights of the courtyard were visible. As soon as they reached the top, the extent of what transpired that night became very clear. There were dead bodies scattered all throughout the field. As Tommy walked the girl through, he was able to recognize a few of his own men. The rest, who were still alive, were slowly but surely gathering towards the gates of the compound, ready to leave at his command. They seemed very surprised as their leader approached, holding the girl by her hand. "What are you doing with that kid?" One asked. It was a legitimate question, as nobody expected this sort of "trophy".

Tommy turned his head to gaze at the girl, almost as if he had been unaware of her presence thus far. Before he could respond, however, another of his men informed him of something. "The Doctor managed to get out. We tried to catch him, but we couldn't." He said, news which were honestly infuriating, but not completely unexpected. "That slimy bastard." Tommy spat out in return, pulling out a cigarette and putting it between his lips, lighting it with an irritated sigh. "She's most likely one of the Doctor's sick fucking experiments." He continued, taking a long smoke before signalling with his head towards the gate, the group following the quiet order and moving out, and towards the cars. "We've lost six men, too. But we killed them all, or well, at least most." Another voice called out. Tommy led the young girl to his own car, opening the backseat door to her and closing it after she climbed in, before he entered the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

The group of cars dispersed soon after departing the thrashed compound, leaving behind nothing but bodies and destruction. Tommy had made sure that it would only be himself and the girl in his own car. As he drove, he kept thinking about how exactly to introduce her to the Boss. What if the man was in another one of his foul moods? He was perhaps way too quiet while the vehicle cruised, taking the streets that led towards the center of the city. There was always nocturnal activity in that city. It seemed to never sleep. Neon lights, advertisements, cars constantly traveling the streets and most of all, people. The city was not in short supply of people, and with that, it was never in short supply of criminals. Prostitutes at every street corner, drug dealers, typical run-of-the-mill pickpockets and thugs flooding the dark alleyways, waiting to prey on whoever was dumb enough to venture through, or drunk enough to stumble around. A truly rotten city. But again, most cities that weren't built by the rich shared the same fate. Crime ridden slums.

"What's your name, kid?" Tommy asked, at last, after way too much silence. He had almost forgotten she was even there, and only a glance into his rearview mirror reminded him of her existence. He wondered if she even had a name. She seemed to be well accustomed with speech, so at least that was alright.

 

[The Village Witch]

Atalanta swallowed thickly as the man responded that he'd be taking her to whoever had sent him to the facility that night, musing about how they'd probably get along due to their mutual hatred of the people that had worked with her. Atalanta, however, didn't get her hopes up. Even she knew that shared loathing was not a good basis to build a bond upon--after all, her and the man with the scar on his neck both hated the scientist so much that they were inclined to growl when they heard his name, but that had never stopped the scarred man from jeering as he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the torture chamber that was the laboratory. They both despised the scientist, but they despised each other too, so who was to say it wouldn't be much the same with this man's adviser?

All the same, Atalanta didn't voice her doubt. Instead, she gripped his hand startlingly tight and steeled herself for the worst as he led her outside of the cell and down the corridor. Unlike every other time she had been guided down the hallway, however, they turned right before they reached the big metal doors at the very end, and begin making their way up the ever forbidden staircase. Even just setting foot on the first step sent a thrill of fear and excitement through Atalanta (as well as a bolt of pain as she put pressure on the bad foot)--whatever laid beyond that door at the top was a complete mystery. She was about to enter a world larger than she could comprehend, a world unlike she had ever seen in the bowels of the laboratory, and she was terrified. But that fear wasn't evident on her face, of course. For all any outsider knew, the girl experienced no emotion at all, from the hard, aloof expression her face was set in.

They stepped into the real world, and the first thing Atalanta registered was the scent of death. She breathed it in the moment her feet hit cool, damp soil, and her free hand flew to cover her nose and mouth in disgust. Death was not an unfamiliar concept to Atalanta, who had never had to ask what the red-stained sacks in the corner of the laboratory were, and as she looked around the field of prone bodies, she knew they were all dead. Subconsciously, she stepped closer to her savior, heart beginning to thud in her chest as she started to register things beyond the sea of still corpses. Big brown sticks with green tops were in the distance, and above her, the sky was painted a deep, inky black. The only light came from the big, pale orb, the faintly twinkling specks, and the tall, yellowed lights that stood throughout the barracks. Atalanta suddenly felt as though a boulder was pressing down her chest. There was so much out here. So much to see, smell, and hear, so much to take in and appreciate and hate. Could she handle this? Could she really? She glanced back at the door to the laboratory, and pushed back her shoulders. She'd have to, she supposed, because there was no way she was going back down there.

It startled her, at first, to see that the stranger who rescued her wasn't the only one left alive. There was a group of them, as a matter of fact, clustering up at the big, chain-ink gate that surrounded the facility, and it took everything in Atalanta not to shrink at the way they all looked at her. Instead, she made herself stand straighter, meeting the eyes of every individual who looked her way and listening to them talk. Some of the words didn't make sense, and most of what they said didn't matter much to her, but one phrase stuck out like it was printed in bold:

"The Doctor managed to get out."

Atalanta's blood ran cold and she swallowed again, grip tightening on her savior's fingers at the thought of the scientist being on the loose. She had never thought about him in any setting other than his lab, but the idea of him free in the world was almost more terrifying than the memory of him hunched over his flasks and syringes, trying to choose which one to inject her with. She didn't want to be anywhere he could get to her. Chilled with this new information, Atalanta followed the stranger as he walked over to a big metal box, hesitantly climbing into it when he opened the door. She took in the interior with interest, running her hands over the cool seat beneath her and the strips of black fabric on either side. What were those for? She jumped when the box began to rumble, digging her nails into the seats and sucking in a breath as it began to move. She crawled over to one of the glass squares and peered out, eyes wide in a narrow, dirty face as she watched the landscape fly by. It was only once the man spoke that she was drawn out of her awestruck daze, shifting back into the middle of the seat so she could see him in the front. Name.

"That's what you call someone, right?" she questioned, almost certain she'd read about people asking for other people's names, in those little books however many years ago. She nodded when this was confirmed and shifted a little for comfort, toying with the fraying hem of her hospital gown as she responded, "Atalanta. They called me Atalanta." She hesitated, then leaned forward, tilting her head a little bit. "What do they call you?"