The musty smell permeated through the dank basement, penetrating the carefully placed oblivion she’d cocooned herself in months ago. This wasn’t quite what you would call a coma. No, she could wake up whenever she desired, but she hadn’t. There was only peace in her darkness, and she liked it that way. Sure, she missed Jupiter, but he would understand, right?

A grating sound scraped nearby, rusty sounding creak to follow as a door opened. A light is turned on and, even with her eyes closed she is nearly blinded by the intensity. It was something she was used to at this point in time, the hot air rushing in, the sound of limping footsteps and heavy breathing.

Her arms cramped, wrists chafed by the manacles that bound them, just as her neck did by the shock collar that still curled around her delicate throat. She twitched a little, and the chains rattled accordingly, before she could hear the sound of a familiar voice reaching her ears. “Ah, so you finally stir, my flower.” The distinct Romanian voice came barreling at her, and then he laughed. Why was his voice so familiar? Who was this man? “Will you open your eyes for me, now? I have waited ages. Tell me, Gypsy, why have you denied me all of these months? Do you not know what I did for you?” Gooseflesh pimpled her skin as his voice lowered to that of something sickening, obsessed sounding. She was so confused. “I nearly died for you. That is the thanks I get for taking you away from the camp and that giant, red, oaf that you call your lover. Open your f***ing eyes, Xavia Worshalai. YOU OWE ME THAT MUCH!” She felt spittle fleck against her cheek from his impassioned speech, and immediately recoiled, turning her head against her arm and forcing herself to keep her eyes tightly shut. The cruel grip of his hand found her chin and turned her head vehemently back to where it was, before letting go, and finding her cheek with a stinging blow. “YOU B**CH! LOOK AT ME, GOD D**N YOU!* His voice was almost pleading by that point, but he impatiently used both of his thumbs to pry one of her eyes open. His face was a blur at first, but soon came into focus in its ugly and scarred visage. Mr. Beledodia was not in good shape after Martin had found him and nearly killed him. “You see me now, don’t you?” Beledodia became guttural in his ranting, “See what that weasel did to me. The man who came here after you, he almost killed me for you. He almost seems in love with you. You are a slut, aren’t you? HAHA, but you are mine, now, my flower…” The old man caressed her stinging cheek at that point. He laughed it up then, evil, menacing, disgusting… She strained against her bonds and whimpered, but that only fed his ego.

Lucky for her, someone else stepped in, “Sir, you are needed. There seems to have been a disturbance in the alley.”

And then he was gone.
Xavia hanged there for the moment, swaying back and forth as her toes barely made contact with the concrete of the floor, the smell of synthetic flora slapping her in the face. Odd, but she was washed, and her long hair brushed free of tangle… She opened her other eye and looked down to find herself dressed in some kind of silky garment that showed off more assets than she desired to show off. Someone obviously took care of her all of these months. As she looked around, she spied herself in a cracked mirror that was out of place as much as she was in this basement. Her face was healed, she noted, no scars from the cold. What in the world was going on?

The same person who had taken Beledodia’s attention away from her was still standing in the doorway, watching silently for a moment, before he came fully into the room and walked silently over to her. “I have come to help, but you must listen carefully. Beledodia will be back any moment, so the only thing I can do for you this second is to switch collars. He will never know the difference…” And with that, she was free of the shock collar, and one that looked just like it replaced it. “You will have to free yourself from here. I have sent a trusted face to find others and let them know you are here. Now I must go before I get caught. Good luck.”

Confused even more as to the turn of events, she nodded toward the retreating figure, and then he was gone as fast as he came.

In a manner of moments, the old man was back.

He seemed to stalk her like a feral cat would its prey, beady eyes peering at her, tongue slightly protruding passed his thick, tobacco stained lips and yellowed teeth. Beledodia was positively pleased with himself, that he had the freak right where he wanted her. She deserved every second of what he was about to do to her, the b**ch. No way was she about to get let off easily on this one. She was his to play with, a toy for his amusement, something to pass the time and then discard when he grew tired of her. Perhaps he would be merciful and let her live by the time he was through with her. Powerless, of course.

Xavia held her breath as she watched the portly old man, chin lifted slightly, but face expressionless, otherwise. Part of her did not want to believe the sudden turn of tables, yet the rest of her hoped it was so, that all she had to do was give it all she had to get herself out of the mess she was in. She did not want to imagine what would happen if that turned out to be false. But he HAD taken her collar from around her neck and put a different one on. Why hadn’t she just freed herself then? Maybe she wanted to face the man who held her fate in his clammy hands, the one who could snuff her out with the snap of fingers.

It would be oh, so boring if we just let it end at Xavia suddenly being freed by an unknown rescuer, now wouldn’t it? Yes, yes.

It turned out that she decided not to trust her instinct, the one that told her the so called hero was really just a goon. A bonafied, genuine, authentic, indisputable bad guy with the desire to be where the trouble was, that was what he was. The specimen in front of her, though, took it to the next level and beyond with his sick obsession to keep her, and fed the desire to be free of this place. There was only one way to find out, though, and she was not gifted to know what the future may hold, she had to try and get away.

As he closed in on her, his face stopped a mere inch away from hers. She could smell the stale scent of cigars wafting into her nostrils, along with the foul scent of his breath. He also smelled of rage, it seemed, pent up anger and some desire, musky almost with sweat. Fear pooled into her belly, closed her throat a touch and caused an audible swallow to issue, and a smirk slowly lifted the corner of his lips, as if he sensed her discomfort with the entire situation.

The proverbial shot heard ‘round the world.

She used all of her might to mutate and attack, sending vines out to coil around him, throwing poisonous berries in his face, doing this, that and the other thing, and the room suddenly turned cold just as she had him wrapped up tighter than a pig in a blanket, and freezing water was dumped from a compartment overhead, causing her to screech and recoil.

That evil little bald freak! She was weak to the cold, surely as he was amused by the situation. He was knocked on his ass and wormed his way up, stepping back some and eying her. He began to laugh, softly at first, and then began to clap. “Guffaw-haw-haw-haw… GUFFAW-haw-haw-haw… Did you honestly think I was so stupid as to give you the key to your freedom? GUFFAW-haw-haw-haw, utterly ridiculous,” he snorted, then wiped at a fake tear. “My girl, if you wish to play, we shall play. Be aware that I will win, and when I do, you will wish you had taken the deal back when you had a chance. Perhaps now you will understand that I have simple pleasures in life.” He started circling again, leering, wringing his puffy fingers in the sinister fashion. “Dominance, discipline, and inflicting pain, those are what I want for you. I want you to know that every morning you wake up is a start to every day that I will bend you to my liking; that you, the ultimate sin, the abomination, can be under MY thumb, doing as I say. And if you don’t, why, I will just have to MAKE you.”