A Funny Thing Happened On The Way Home From The Gym...

Eka breathed deeply. The reason that she even had a fighting chance in some matches was that she had stamina for days, and she was working on that now. A mixture of over-caffeination, her mind wandering, and a genuine desire to get better meant that she had run a lot further than she ever had before. For part of her workout, she had even closed those pretty blue eyes of hers so that she could ruminate on her classes. When she opened them, she found that she had gone quite the distance. Her body was too fatigued from lack of sleep to tell her that she was exhausted from running. That, or she had actually gotten a little bit better at this.

Whatever the case was, Eka decelerated, trying to cool off a little bit before she ended her workout. She looked up to the fan above her, but as she started coming back into her own body she cursed the blades for not going fast enough. Eka grabbed her water and gulped it down greedily, draining her bottle in half of a second. She set it back down and looked at it as if it had disappointed her. The light run soon slowed to a jog, which then slowed even further to a walk.

Her black tennis shoes met the belt with a little bit less fury now that she was walking, and Eka took the opportunity to look around. Most of the women were dressed similarly to how she was, which was to say with very little care for how they looked. Her basketball shorts were white and emblazoned with the University of Alabama's logo right above her left knee cap, and her shirt was the rattiest plain blue t-shirt in the whole of Tokyo. Her hair was tied back, or at least as much as it would be. Long spools of her dark hair tended to go everywhere, scrunchie or hair tie be damned.

She finally pressed the stop botton, and took a step off of the machine. Her blue eyes scanned the room, and did not see anything out of the ordinary. Some women were on the machines, some women were running. A scant handful were in the ring itself, practicing their moves on each other. Eka stood all the way up, and considered her plans for the evening. She had gotten all of her studying done for the day, so maybe she would treat herself to a nice long bath and some Tchaikovsky to wind down on the evening. And then she would try to get as much sleep as she could possibly get.

Eka was walking to the locker room when her cell phone rang. One of the downsides of being a Ph.D student was having to teach classes, and deal with the hordes of idiots who had the temerity to try and acquire new information. It was one of her more problematic students, and Eka had made the grievous mistake of giving him her cell phone number. She pressed the accept call button and held the phone up to her ear. Eka did not even get the chance to say hello before Dmitri started yakking in her ear. He may not have been the brightest bulb in the drawer, but at least he was eager, she thought.

"{Listen, Dmitri...no, you did not understand that. You should...no, again, Dmitri, you are not going to learn anything if you do not read, yes? Just....Okay. Okay. Listen, if you do not understand the link between NATO and Estonia's current foreign...okay. Listen, okay, just come on down to...I know it is late, yes? But tomorrow you have...okay. You have ten minutes, yes? Meet me in cell block D.}"

In the brief moments were Dmitri's ranting when she was allowed to speak, her lilting Georgian accent was there, even when she spoke Russian. With a sigh, she ended the call and rolled her eyes. Maybe she was a little too nice to her students. Usually, when she taught classes, it was in Japanese or English, but Dmitri insisted on speaking Russian when it was just him and her. And he would probably still be speaking Russian if Eka started strangling him for not reading the Political Science textbook. All of it was written on the page, and some of it even had diagrams. And there was going to be a test tomorrow. It was honestly too late for this sort of thing.

It seemed a bit ridiculous, she thought. Maybe not as ridiculous as calling her office cell block D. But if she was forced to be there to deal with crazy students, she should at least have a little bit of fun with how she named it. And in all fairness, she was in room D. It made her professor's a little bit mad that she had a farcical "Welcome to the historic Lubyanka" sign above her door, but she loved political science and history. So she may as well lean in.

Japan had the shittest ciagrette brands ever created.

Sophia felt she had a qualified opinion on the matter. She’d been tasting more than her fair share these past few days. Tempting as it was to simply delve into this bottomless pit of hedonistic deviancy that she'd suddenly found herself contracted to, the ex-operative inside of her had to make sure of a couple things. One, that her back was clear. Two, that it would stay that way.

Since she’d signed herself onto the roster, she simply bided her time. She waited, smoking her cigarettes and watching the streets in silent observation. She lit a cigarette as she walked the streets at night, checked her corners for tampering. She smoked another cigarette when she asked around, looked into the shadows for figures that didn’t belong. She smoked and waited. Smoked and waited. All of which amounted to...

...nothing. Silence. Dead air. It seemed as though she was better at covering her own tracks than even she realized. As it looked, the motherland truly wanted nothing more to do with her. Shame. Just when she was starting to think she was special...

All the same, she was done feeling things out. Done with observation. Done with the shitty packs of cigarettes. Right now, she wanted what she came here for. The only reason she’d ever come to a backward country like this: she wanted to play.

Sophia Nechiporenko:

That was the reason for the thinly-veiled smirk on her face as she pressed her hand against one of the double doors and slowly stepped into the gym. From a glance, one could be forgiven for thinking she’d simply entered into the wrong room. She hardly looked the part for a gym-goer, sporting a pair of jean shorts, her dependable leather jacket draped across her shoulders. Far from proper workout attire, to be sure. But then again, if she was in the right place, that shouldn’t have drawn too many eyes.

This was the fabled Friction gym of AFW, was it not? A gym in the loosest sense of the term. A hive for mischievous activity as much as it was a place of recreation. Sophia sincerely hoped those kinds of rumors were true. She ever-so hated being disappointed.

Stepping from the doors, the Russian walked between the rows of machines and weights, eyeing one potential candidate after another as they passed by her gaze. One managed to impress, a formidable striker by all accounts, working the bag in such a manner that displayed every fine muscle and contours simply begging to be broken down. Sophia licked her lips and weighed her approach. Perhaps complimenting her on her technique, ask for a proper demonstration in a more private-

[“Meet me in cell block D.”]

The language spoken so close to her ear sent an all too familiar chill down Sophia’s spine. She stopped dead in her tracks as the blood curled beneath her skin, her breaths suddenly growing heavy and labored. She wasn’t afraid. That was a comrade that had died years ago on the battlefield, a loss she grieved for but a moment. This was excitement. The thrill of danger she knew was coming, but unsure when. Questions flood her mind as she continued gazing forward with her thumbs hooked on her pockets. Who did they send after her? How many were there? Was she surrounded?

Her lone eye cast off to the side, finding only a single woman, speaking into the phone tucked beneath her long and flowing brown hair. She stepped back and watched the Georgian from behind a pillar as she passed, making a quick inspection of her person from head to toe. Only one? Bold. Her eye lingered well after she’d hung up the phone and began to walk away.

She pushed her back off the pillar to follow after the Georgian. For each step forward the woman took, Sophia took two. Her eye was focused, sparing occasional glances ahead. She timed her movement carefully, waiting just until the Georgian entered the locker room before Sophia closed the distance. The woman wouldn’t even hear the door slide shut behind her as the Russian slipped her way in. She’d slowly approach from behind, barely making a peep against the tiled floors. Then, she’d snake a hand to the top of the Georgian’s head and clamp down, grabbing a handful of those immaculate bangs before jerking her head roughly forward, just enough to expose the back of her neck to a swift knifehand strike.

As soon as she hit the end call button on her cell, her mind started drifting. The long bath was going to have to be a short one if she wanted to go to bed at a reasonable time, and she was probably not going to get all the way through one of Tchaikovsky's symphonies. She could just skip the overture. Dmitri was sure to talk for a while, sure, but she could end the conversation when she wanted to. It had taken her a while to learn how to assert herself with her students, but she was getting it. She would have to, if she wanted to learn their respect.

The second that she stepped into the locker room, she reached for the bottom of her t-shirt. The second that she had gotten her hand on the hem of the shirt, she felt pressure on the top of her head. It was quite strange, really. She had not seen anyone when she entered the locker room, nor would she have any inclination as to why someone would be touching the top of her head. Before she could really ponder what was happening, an overwhelming blow slammed into the back of her neck. The look of surprise on Eka's face lasted for only a second, as her bright blue eyes went wide.

Eka was unconscious before she hit the ground. She fell forward, unable to stop her fall because her arms went limp. The Georgian girl hit the tile floor. Had she been awake, she probably would have seriously lamented her situation, as only the Lord above knew what was on that floor. But she was not in much of a position to protest, given that she was currently in la la land.

Removing her quarry from the arena was easy. Surprisingly easy, in fact. Sophia had drastically underestimated just how common of a sight it was for an unconscious girl to be whisked away by another, visibly stronger woman to destinations unknown. She sincerely wished these kinds of benefits were made clear to her during contract negotiations.

That isn’t to say she wasn’t inconspicuous about things. The moment after the Georgian hit the floor, Sophia was quick to scoop her back up, placing the woman’s arm around her neck and lending her a shoulder as they exited the locker room. To passersby, it seemed little more than a friend helping another to their vehicle. Only it wasn’t her “friend’s”. It was Sophia’s. And she didn’t keep her toys in front.

From the darkest corner of the parking lot she could find, Sophia popped the trunk open, threw the unconscious woman inside, and slammed it tight before she sped off into the night.

…

Some hours later, Sophia would find herself sitting in a steel chair, legs propped up on the table in front of her as she ran a dirty rag over the knife in her hand with slow, methodical strokes. She wasn’t merely looking at the blade as she cleaned it for the tenth time today. She seemed to be staring into it, losing herself in the steel’s pristine reflection. Her thumb traced alongside the cloth, feeling its essence, wafting in the smell of iron lingering on its edge, and found a nice memory to get lost in.

“Rastsvetali iabloni i grushi,
Poplyli tumany nad rekoj.”

It was much later into the night now. The moon hung high in the air, the streets were relatively quiet for a major city, all its residents finally able to rest their eyes for the night. But it was impossible to tell from inside this room. The room afforded the two of them no light, not even a single window from ten feet underground. The building above had long been demolished, its vacant ruins awaiting development. One room, however, was evidently missed. There was a single latch door, beyond which was a small hallway that afforded the only exit to street level.

In the center of it all, illuminated by only a single cone of light from above, was her guest. She stood with her arms suspended above her, in little better of a state than when she’d left the arena. She was still very much unconscious, but the ropes binding her wrists and tethered to a single steel pipe from the ceiling was more than sufficient to keep her upright, facing the exit as Sophia fiddled off to the side.

In the corner behind the Georgian, one could make out a worn mattress, frayed at the edges and discolored closer to the ground. Evidently, the years had rendered it useless to sleep upon. But she didn’t intend to sleep on it...

“Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,
Na vysokij bereg na krutoj.”

Sophia placed the knife down and stood up. She leaned over the table, her long hair draping over her face like a veil of purple locks and broken nightmares. Her eyes lined the table, drifting an idle finger over the various implements at her disposal. A handy collection she’d acquired over the years, one that grew as her pool of playmates grew ever larger. Some preferred to be beaten, others preferred to be poked. Some were fast to submit, others  Some yelled, some squealed. Those memories were laid before her now. She shivered at the simple touch of them.

How would she add to them today?

“Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,
Na vysokij bereg na krutoj.”

Someone must have drugged her. That was the only way that any of her senses were real individually, let alone as a whole. Her sense of touch was telling her that her hands were tied together, and she was standing upright. She could not describe the smell, not that she would find anyone too interested in hearing her out once she started. For a half second, she opened her eyes, and saw mostly darkness. But the weirdest one of all was her hearing. There was an old Russian folk song hanging in the air like a threat, and Eka had no idea how to interpret it.

She groaned. It was the purest expression of all of her confusion, a low dark rumbling that lacked a clear beginning, crescendoed to nothing really, and faded just as suddenly as it had come. Eka had just been unconscious. It had only happened to her once or twice, but she knew what it was when she felt it. And it was not a particularly good feeling at all. Her head was throbbing with pain, and her now stretching body was not feeling too good either. She breathed in, and breathed out.

Finally, she opened her eyes. She had no idea where she was. Through unfocused eyes, the room itself began making itself stark to her in all of its dingy glory. It was hard for her to turn much, but she saw a table over to the side that had a bunch of...no. That wasn't real. She could not look at that. Her blue eyes went the other way and found the shape of a woman. She had something in her hands, and oh crap. It was a knife.

Choosing to ignore reality as it presented itself to her, she looked forward to find a door. This wasn't a good situation, that much was obvious. She pulled against the straps a little bit to find that they were very much firm. Eka still had her clothes on, which was some consolation to her. It was a minor miracle that she left the AFW gym unconscious and still had her clothes on, and Eka was willing to take anything she had at the moment.

Eka closed her eyes again, and hoped she would go back to sleep and wake up in her bed. She was feeling incredibly scared, and trapped. When she opened her eyes, she found the same world. Then, she gulped.

*gulp*

Sophia whipped her head around. Her eye cast a purple luminescence as the lone source of light reflected off her pupil. Her gaze stayed affixed to the quarry hung in the center of the room like a carcass, the butcher’s knife already in Sophia’s hand as she turned on the spot to face the object of her affection for the evening. A wicked smile stretched across her face, pristine white in the faint darkness of the room.

From the outside she moved in front of the Georgian, letting the knife in her hand fall to her hip before she stepped into the light. Her head tilted to the side, her lone eye drifting from the brunette’s feet all the way up to her face. There, it lingered a bit longer. The woman was scared. It hadn’t taken much perception to notice that, but certainly something to note. It was rare to see a soldier lose form so quickly. Even if they were crumbling on the inside, the key was never to show it. A curious candidate for a covert operation. Had she really come here alone?

Let us find out.

With slow and methodical steps, Sophia inched her way into the Georgian’s personal space. Her eye stare straight back into hers, gazing into the window of her soul with such intensity to shatter it. There was a whole world lingering behind her eyes, and she invited her new friend to come and indulge before she was dragged kicking and screaming. Her hand reached up and cupped the brunette’s jaw in her hand, as she brought them face to face. She tasted the woman’s shampoo on her tongue, smelled the sweat still stuck to her skin. Her smile thinned slightly as she looked at her.

[“You’re pretty.”] She chuckled darkly. [“Good.”] Her hand snaked away from her jaw, running down the woman’s chest and to her side as Sophia slowly circled behind her. [“My father had told me it was a blessing to be pretty. Yes, my father. You must have been briefed on him, yes? Stern. Ruthless. Unforgiving. But never without his reasons. On my sixteenth birthday, he looked at me and told me how pretty I was. He told me that this was good. It meant I would stand out over all of my peers. It meant I could bring strong children into this world for the motherland."] Her hands ran up the woman’s right side, tracing her curves, feeling the body beneath her clothes before it came up to cup her chin. [“It meant that I would be...wanted. Desired. That I had worth of some kind.”]

She canted her chin up, exposing her neck in time for the blade to touch against her throat. [“And what of you? You were captured. Are you any longer desired? Held in esteem? Wanted? Are you not just trash to be bled and dumped into the street?”] She sighed and dragged the sharp edge along the surface of her cheek, teasing the soft skin like a razor. [“Oh, worry not. I know the answer all too well. I can see the worth in you yet, carve the reasons into your pretty skin, make you scream them with your pretty lips, make you watch each and every one with your pretty eyes.”]

She went silent for a moment, digging the edge into closer and closer against the woman’s neck, watching the flesh bend and yield against the steel. Just went it looked as if she were about to draw blood...Sophia relented. [“Or…”] She brought the knife away and circled back around to the front, locking eyes with the brunette as inched close enough to feel her startled breaths on her lips. [“Tell me your name.”]

Please. Please disobey.

Eka got the first look at the woman who knocked her out, and she honestly wished that she hadn't. The Georgian girl was pretty acclimated to being around women who looked incredibly strong, but this woman looked shredded. This was not having huge muscles just to have them and show off. Eka got the distinct feeling that this woman was pure form, and she had little to no desire to figure out how that would be applied in such a situation.

Not that she had much time to ponder over it. When this woman touched her, Eka shivered a bit. The Georgian girl wanted to punch this woman right in the face to get her not to touch her. Given what AFW was, she was pretty sure that this was going to be some sort of weird sex thing. She just wished that someone had told her about a prisoner of war stipulation or something when she had signed her contract.

Eka listened to what this woman was saying. In Russian, she said quite a few things that Eka only rarely liked to hear, like ruthless and strong. They implied something that Eka would rather not think about, hard as it was at the moment. And when a hand traced the right side of her body, a sense of overwhelming doom overcame her. Desired was such an interesting word, really. She wanted to be desired, but not like this.

And then the night got a whole lot worse. It went from a weird sex thing to a weird dangerous thing in a matter of moments as the knife touched her skin. The Georgian girl visibly winced, and did everything in her power not to gulp. She did not know if that would mean that her throat would get cut, but she was not really burning to find out. The Georgian girl was literally trembling now. She grew up in Birmingham, which was not a terribly nice city, but for the most part she had been ensconsed in the upper middle class suburbs. She had no idea how to handle a situation like this. One of the worst parts of all of this was that she had no idea who this woman was, or what on earth she wanted from Eka.

No, she very much did not want to be bled. No, she very much did not want to scream in pain. No, she very much did not want to watch as something terrible happened to her. Every single word this mad woman uttered had a chilling effect on Eka, and the Georgian girl was doing everything that she could just to keep it together as this Russian woman looked at her. The Georgian girl took deep breaths, and tried to calm her nerves.

"I am, uh, Eka." She sounded terribly nervous, to the surprise of no one. "Or, uh, Ekaterina. Guramishvili. Ekaterina Guramishvili." She said, sounding as resolute as possible in the situation. "Nice to meet, you, yes? I would shake your hand, but..." It was probably the worst possible time to be making jokes, but Eka had no response mechanism for this. She blurted out in English, not fully processing that the woman was speaking Russian to her.

Sophia didn’t chuckle at the joke. She didn’t do much of anything as “Eka” spoke. Her expression stiffened and her smile receded behind a slab of stone. Her face became unreadable, dead to world as her mind took in the information handed her way and did God knew what with it.

Internally, the ex-operative was piecing together the puzzle of this ever-curious woman in front of her. One thing she knew from the outset: this woman was no soldier. She couldn’t smell the stench of blood on Eka, couldn’t see the distant look in her eyes, and she was shaking a leaf. Russia sooner shot one of her own before allowing them to show fear in the face of danger. If Eka was from Russia at all. She was speaking in English now. Trying to hide her origin? What would be the point in that? She was already caught, clearly understood what her captor was saying. Then why act as though she didn’t know who she was? It was difficult to tell how much of her was being genuine and how much was simply playing dumb.

But did it really matter? The truth would come, one way or another. Eka may have been smarter than she looked, yes. But stronger? Oh. Oh no. There was no one in the world strong enough for Sophia’s creativity. She’d been rather thorough about that.

The Russian roved a curious eye over Eka from bottom to top, noting her body language, the trembling in voice and her body. Their eyes locked, but Sophia’s face remained as still as a portrait for a few moments that seemed to stretch on for hours. Not moving. Not saying anything. Only looking. Staring. Gazing. Letting Eka’s shaky words drift in her mind before she finally broke the silence with what could be considered a response. “Yes…‘But’...”

After another moment of horrible silence, Sophia’s smile returned in the blink of an eye. Just as transparent and forced as it had been the last time. “No need to be so nervous, Ekaterina Guramishvili. It’s just you...and me. And we are going to have so much fun together.” She stepped up to the Georgian as she spoke, reaching a hand up that brushed a lock of the brunette’s hair behind her ear. “Tonight can go many ways. All of them are up to you. But be sure to keep one thing in mind…” She cupped Eka’s cheek in her hand, leaning in and bringing their heads close as Sophia turned and pressed and her lips to her ear. “I have a soft spot for compliance.”

She closed her eye and spread her mandibles wide, as if contemplating taking a chomp of the Georgian’s button nose before she sighed deeply, letting her warm breath waft over Eka’s face. She chomped the air between them with a teasing bite pushed away and stepped away. Slowly she turned around, bringing the knife in her hand out in front of her. She inspected it anew in the cone of light, running a curious finger over its sharp edge. [“Now. How did you find me?”] She raised the knife high into the air, examining the hilt with better lighting and giving Eka a better view of the implement. Oh yes, Eka. It is very much real. “How much does command know? Were you sent alone, or are there others?”

Eka's little joke did not quite have the intended effect. The levity that she attempted to inject into the situation faded out, meeting the rock that was this woman's face. She knew that right then may not have been the perfect moment to joke around, but when her joke failed she got even more nervous. Eka had been certain that she could not power her way through the situation, and now it was becoming even more clear that she could not charm her way out of it. The walls were closing in on her.

It was even more unnerving how this woman literally never moved. It felt that her eyes were looking at a portrait, as opposed to a living, breathing, woman. If this woman said anything to her, she could at least articulate a response. If this woman did anything, she could prepare her body for it. But there was none of that. It was just waiting, anxiety, creeping panic. Her breaths became shallow, and a look of sheer fear was in her eyes.

Then she smiled. That put Eka at ease, but only for a second. Eka had no idea what this woman's idea of fun was, but a woman with that many knives almost certainly had very little good intentions. She was not relieved when the woman brushed her long dark hair behind her ears, nor when she cupped Eka's cheek. Eka was getting the message that this woman could do whatever she wanted to the Georgian girl, and there was no way that it was going to be this nice for long. She had very few beans to spill, but she was going to be a flood of information if Sophia wanted her to be.

Especially after the bite. Eka's eyes went wider than the entire Caucus range when the Russian woman performed that little maneuver. She whimpered a little bit when her captor pulled out a knife, and let her see it.

"I, uh, I mean, how did I find you?" She started stammering. "I, uh, I mean I was at they uh gym and I uh..." Wait. Eka had no idea who this woman was, nor had she been tasked with finding anyone, let alone a psycho like the one in front of her right now. "[I am not sure who you are.]" She stopped stumbling through her words when she spoke in Russian, but her lilting Georgian accent made her seem pretty nervous in and of itself. "[And I didn't find you,]" she said, having felt like she was the one that was found.

"[Command? I am not commanded by anyone. Except for the dean of the college. But he doesn't send me after people.]" Her confusion did little to soothe her fears. "I am not sure what is going on, yes?" Eka finally produced.

Once again, Sophia’s expression failed to offer much in the way of a response. Her face remained still, not a single twitch made out of turn, not one ripple cast upon the lake. The only inch of movement came from a single thread of hair that fell out of place from her bangs, one that was unfurled when she suddenly stopped rubbing the knife in her hand, gazing back into herself again and again.

Her mind was nowhere near as silent. It had greater priorities. Every ounce of information and rattled to and fro within its confines. Truth and lies. At first, it was her profession, telling one from the other, then, somewhere along that winding and nauseous path, it became a game. The lines between the two blurred and she realized just how invaluable such distinctions were. Every lie held some truth, every truth built upon some lie.

How much was true and how much was a lie? Therein lay the fun of it all, the basis for everything sneaky little roaches like “Eka” understood. She’d hack away all of that doubt, trim the fat and savor each and every succulent bite.

A thin smile graced Sophia’s lips. For a moment longer, silence and darkness dominated the room as her prisoner’s last words hung like a giant weight above them. Then, the Russian turned to her side and leaned forward, placing the knife amongst her collection before she turned fully around to face the woman in the light. Her smile brightened, her gaze relaxed. She looked at the brunette with the longing gaze she would her deepest lover.

“...you have such a sweet accent, Ekaterina.” She placed a hand into the pocket of her shorts and slowly stepped forward, her lone eye tracing between the Georgian’s. She stopped in front of her and reached her other hand out to the back of her neck, pulling their faces closer together. [“It is so serene. So delicate. It flows very well with your Russian. I can’t help but want to hear more of it. I want it to fill my ears, to sing me songs at night.”] Their lips came close together, enough to tingle against the damp warmth. [“I want to rid you of every last breath.”]

Sophia yanked her hand from her pocket and, curling it into a fist, and swiftly punched Eka in her vulnerable belly. But there was more. A glint of light, a streak of silver in the dark. It resonated with an unsettling hum as the brass knuckle collided with Eka’s gut, squishing flesh, bruising muscle.