| |
|
Finnegan Larson -
When Finn woke he was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists in chains. His feet were also in chains, connected to the ground. His head pounded and the room was dark. He had no idea where he was, or really, what happened. Everything was dark, quiet, cold. The enemy had stripped him of his clothes except for his jeans, leaving his chest bare. |
|
|
| |
 |
Sera sprinted through the smoke and debris, heart pounding in her chest. The explosion had sent a shockwave through the area, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of burning metal and scorched earth. She had to find Finn. Her mind raced as she dodged chunks of rubble and broken glass, every second feeling like an eternity. She finally reached the place where they had been moments before, but there was no sign of him. Panic gripped her chest. She turned to Zoya, who was picking herself up from the ground, looking shaken but unharmed. “Zoya, where’s Finn?!” Sera's voice cracked with urgency. |
|
|
| |
|
Finnegan Larson -
Finn looked around, as far as he could while being hung from his wrists. No windows...one door, probably locked... padlocks on the chains on his wrists and ankles... and he was about 3 feet off the ground, suspended by his wrists. His memory slowly came back to him, he was horrified. He was in an enemy base, in a holding cell. For torture. . Zoya -
Zoya looked up at Sera. "I'm not sure, but we need to get to the jump point," she said, scrambling to help Micheal up. "He's probably already jumped, and either way, we need to go now." |
|
|
| |
|
Sera's pulse quickened, a bit from worry about Finn, but also urgency of it all. "If he's already gone, then we'll have to catch up," she said, voice steady despite the chaos. "But we can't waste time. Get him on his feet, Zoya" |
|
|
| |
|
Zoya -
Zoya nodded, helping Micheal stumble weakly over to the jump point. The three of them jumped safely and they all got their orange juice on the other side. |
|
|
| |
|
After they landed, Sera began looking around, trying to find Finn. When she was unable to find him, panic started to fill her mind. She pushed past people, apologizing in a rushed manner. "Finn?" She calls out |
|
|
| |
|
Finnegan Larson -
A figure entered the dark room, but it was too dark for Finn to make out the person. "Who are you?" Finn asked. "That's none of your concern, Finnegan," the figure growled. "Now, where is your little girlfriend?" it asked. Finn froze, his blood running cold. He refused to say a word. "Well?" the figure growled. Finn stayed silent. "You know, I'll get an answer out of you eventually. I will find her," the figure warned. Finn clenched his teeth together. "Alright then, Mr. Larson. If that's the game you want to play, fine," the figure said and turned to leave, leaving Finn confused. However, his confusion instantly melted as he felt a harsh whip hit his back, tearing into his skin. Finn screamed in pain as whoever was behind him continued to whip his back, tearing his skin to shreds. Little did he know, the ransom note from the figure was on its way to the hidden location. |
|
|
| |
|
"Finn? Where are you?" Sera repeated, louder now, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks from the frantic edge in her voice. People around her glanced curiously, but none of them seemed to notice or respond to the name she was calling. Her mind raced. What if something happened to him? What if he got lost, or worse... She couldn't finish the thought. No, she couldn't let herself think that way. She had to find him. Her steps quickened, pushing through the crowd, her eyes darting from person to person. She checked her phone again, hoping for a message, a call, anything. Nothing. The panic in her chest twisted tighter, and she felt a wave of dizziness. Where was he? She wanted to scream, but instead, she only called out again, her voice trembling, a crack of fear escaping her controlled exterior. "Finn! Please, where are you?!" |
|
|
| |
|
Finnegan Larson -
After what felt like hours, the whipping finally stopped, leaving his back in a bloody, torn-up, mess. His voice was hoarse from screaming and blood trickled down his back, dripping down onto the floor. . The ransom note had arrived at the secret location, and one of the officers found Sera, distressed, but there was nothing he could do but give her the note addressed to her, with no return address. "This is for you, ma'am," the officer told her and gave her the note. |
|
|
| |
|
Sera stood frozen, her heart racing as the officer handed her the note. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the paper, an ominous chill creeping up her spine. The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with the stench of desperation and pain. Somewhere nearby lay the boy—the only boy that mattered—his battered form etched into her mind, leaving no room for rational thought. “Ma’am,” the officer said, attempting to gauge her reaction. But all she could see was his broken body, blood pooling on the floor; a haunting reminder of what was at stake. She felt a sharp intake of breath as she unfolded the note, her mind racing with dread for what might be inside. The words sprang forth, bold and taunting: “Your time is running out. Pay the price, or lose him forever.” A surge of rage coursed through her, intertwined with the icy grip of fear that clenched her heart. They had crossed a line, and the remnants of her composure began to crack. Sera had imagined this moment for days, but nothing could prepare her for the frantic, taunting message they had sent. “This can’t be happening,” she murmured under her breath, the note crumpling in her hand. She turned back to the officer, determination blazing in her eyes. “Where’s the nearest contact we can reach?” She needed every resource, every ally she could muster. The thought of losing him—for even a moment—was unbearable. She was done with hesitation; panic had no place here. “They think they can control me with this,” Sera hissed, gripping the note tightly enough to dig into her skin. “But I won’t let them win.” With a newfound resolve, she straightened, feeling a fierce fire ignite within her. This was no longer just a game. This was war, and she would do whatever it took to bring him back, to heal the wounds they had inflicted—no matter the cost. Sera’s resolve was unyielding; she would not lose him. Not now. Not ever. |
|
|
Evening Thunderstorms, Hail Possible
