Joan's eyes fluttered open, and a thousand-pound truck slammed full force into her head. Her vision was still blurred and her body felt foreign.
"PK?" she whispered, hoping the presence AI system would confirm that she was still alive.
"You've been out for an hour," PK responded. "If you weren't a superhuman, there would've been a chance you wouldn't have woken up."
Although Joan's vision was blurred she could still make out PK's glowing form in front of her. She glanced around, trying to examine her surroundings through the pounding in her head.
She sat on a bed with both her hands and wrists tied to the headboard with rope. As she craned her neck sideways, she couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. It seemed like a typical apartment building. The only thing that was atypical was Joan's unfortunate situation.
Joan yanked on her restraints, testing how tight they were. As expected, whoever had tied them knew their knots. It was tight. But it wasn't enough to hold down Joan. As she began to rip apart the ropes with sheer force, the sound of a door slamming open startled her.
Two sets of heavy footsteps approached from her right where the kitchen was located. Instinctively, Joan collapsed on the bed and shut her eyes, feigning unconsciousness.
"How's our little pet?" Damien's familiar baritone voice echoed throughout the room.
His question was followed by an unfamiliar voice. "How'd you manage to catch the Black Lion. As expected, nothing is too much for our leader." The voice chuckled.
Joan's blood ran cold. Leader? Were they talking about Damien? The possibility of Damien being the leader of the Eagles had not once crossed her mind. That meant Amarya had been familiar with the leader of the Eagles…
A cold metal brushed along Joan's skin, and she resisted the urge to shiver at the cool touch. "I wonder… How should we mark her up?" Damien asked. "This bitch has been pissing me off recently."
He pressed the blade into her cheek, drawing forth droplets of blood to the surface. Joan, accustomed to military training, neither flinched or showed any signs of discomfort. Her breathing remained steady as she stealthily worked on escaping from the restrictive ropes.
After being satisfied with the red liquid dripping down her cheeks, Damien moved the knife to her neck and pressed the sharp edge against her vocal box.
"Should I cut it out?" Damien asked the other boy. "She'd never be able to talk," Damien cackled. "I'd never have to hear her damn voice again."
Despite his threats, Joan's expression remained tranquil as she hastened her secret struggle against the ropes. If Damien stalled for another minute, she'd be able to break free.
But Joan's future seemed bleak when the sharp edge of the blade began to pierce her skin. Fear began to flood her veins as she instinctively leaned back to escape the knife.
Damien grabbed her hair, preventing her from moving away. "So you're awake, huh? Quicker than I expected, but why should I stop?"
Joan's eyes snapped open. "Aren't you afraid of law enforcement?"
"Law enforcement," Damien laughed. "The law around here doesn't mean shit. How you gonna call the police when half of the telephone poles in this area are jacked? You're too funny."
Joan gritted her teeth. She wouldn't be able to break the restraints quickly enough.
Damien twirled the knife in his hand and dragged her body toward him. The grin on his face sent shivers down Joan's spine.
Morals seemed to not be Damien's dictionary. And neither was sanity.
"Oops. My hand slipped," Damien said as he knife dug into the soft flesh of Joan's neck.
Joan's heart pounded with fear as she writhed. Butt with Damien's hand in her hair and her hands and feet bound behind her, she had nowhere to run.
"PK! PK! PK!" she whispered to herself.
Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass enveloped Joan.