"The bigger the prize, the greater the cost."  -- Street proverb
 

Turner woke with a gasp as a meaty hand fell across her face.  "Wake up, slitch," growled a low voice.  She groaned as pain flared in her head and face, focusing itself in her nose and left cheek.  Her ears rang from the impact and she mumbled fuzzily, "Gimme five more minutes, mom."  She was vaguely aware of a coppery taste in her mouth.
Thick fingers  roughly grabbed her hair close to the scalp, jerking her head up.  She tried to focus her eyes, but her left stubbornly refused to open.  The sight of the ork and troll before her woke her sufficiently.  ‘Oh, drek!  I’m so fragged!’
An attempt to leap to her feet brought home the fact that she was firmly tied to a chair.  Her right hand was strapped down so that it lay flat against a nearby table.
Lank spoke again.  "Ya fraggin’ slitch.  Tell us how ta contact yer friends or yer hoop’s gonna be iced."
Turner stashed the fear in a back corner of her mind and tossed them a cocky grin.  "Ya kiss yer mother with that mouth?"
A fist buried itself in her stomach, stealing away her breath.  Coughing, the air bubbling through her broken nose, she glared at them.
"We want the necklace.  Yer gonna get it for us."
"No can do, Lug and Thunk ," she wheezed out.  "Ain’t gonna happen."
Lank nodded at Turk.  The troll gabbed hold of her right hand, and with a swift twist, broke her middle finger.
"Ahhh!"
"Tell us!"
In response, she spit in Turk’s face.
The spittle slid down the side of the large nose and a strangely disturbing light entered the troll’s eyes as he slowly wiped it off his face.  "Hey, Lank, kin I play wi’ the chica?"  He leered suggestively and Turner struggled to suppress a shudder.
"Chill, Turk.  We need some answers first.  Then we’ll see."
Turk shrugged and pulled his weapon.  He ran the barrel of the gun gently down the side of her face and across her neck, bringing the muzzle to a rest at the hollow of her throat.
Lank continued.  "We knows ya got the necklace stashed somewheres.  And you or yer chummers know where it’s at.  All ya got ta do is give ‘em a call.  We get the necklace and ya get ta go home."
Turk continued running the gun’s barrel up and down Turner’s body, never touching her with his hands, but obviously demonstrating his enjoyment in the process.  The elf deliberately ignored the troll, focusing her attention on the ork.  She shook her head.  "Somehow, I just can’t seem to bring myself to trust you.  Maybe it’s me, but you lack credibility."
Turk quickly reversed his grip on the gun and smashed it butt first on her outstretched hand.  Turner actually heard the bones break and a strange snapping sound as a wave of pain radiated up her arm.

~ The pain causes her military training to kick in.  Unable to escape physically, Turner withdraws deep into her mind, retreating into her secret place where the pain became a distant thing.  She sits on a bench overlooking a shallow pond, the sun creating soothing shadows on the water, willing to spend as much time here as necessary.  ~

Lank noticed the glassy stare in the elf’s eyes and he swore.  "Drek."
"She dead?"
"Nah.  But it’ll take more than what we’ve been doin’ to bring her back."
Turk’s brow wrinkled at that.  "Want me to hit her again?"  He smiled in sadistic glee at Lank’s, "Just make sure ya don’t kill her."
Turk smashed his gun a couple more times down upon Turner’s hand, shattering bone and dislocating a couple of fingers.  There was no reaction from the elf.  Dropping his gun, the troll began to methodically beat Turner.  Hands the size of hams slammed into vulnerable parts of the body with no discernible response.
Finally Lank stopped him.  "We’re gonna have ta try somtin’ else.  Go fill the tub."  As Turk lurched off, Lank leaned closer to Turner and whispered in her ear, "Let’s see how long ya can hold yer breath."

~ Turner swings her feet back and forth, gently stirring the grass at her feet.  She’s dimly aware of what’s happening to her meat and a flash of fear chills her at the mention of holding her breath.  She pushes it resolutely away, determined to stay put.  ‘Nothing can hurt me as long as I’m here.’ ~

While the tub filled, Lank amused himself by lighting his cigarette and applying the cherry-red butt to sensitive parts of the elf’s body.  Burns now decorated the insides of her arms, the area behind both ears, and in the hollow of her throat.  ‘No reaction.  She’s good.  But no amount of hiding in her head will help when she’s drownin’.’   "Ya done in there?"
Turk came back into the room.  "It’s filled."  He untied the elf and dragged her unresponsive body into the bathroom.  Dropping her so she draped across the edge of the tub, Turk positioned himself up against her back, aroused by the proximity of a helpless victim, grabbed her hair in one meaty fist and pushed her head beneath the water.

~ Turner glances about in apprehension.  The sky had darkened suddenly.  Standing, she watches in horror as the pond seems to swell, growing larger and larger until it laps at her feet.  Turning to run, she’s swept off her feet by the water, which quickly rises above her head.
 Suddenly, she finds herself seven years of age again, at the tail end of a family outing, terrified and trapped underneath the pier and unable to escape the cold waters.  Panicking, she searches for an escape.  With no other option, she comes back to herself, her secret place no longer safe. ~

Turk gave a wide grin as the elf began struggling beneath him.  Her hands slipping on the bottom of the tub, frantically trying to raise her head above the water.  He leaned in closer for a moment, savoring the scent of fear flowing off her.
Lank gave a signal and the troll pulled Turner up.  She gasped desperately for air, her lungs burning painfully.  In mid breath, he forced her back under.  She thrashed about, unable to get any leverage, her right hand useless in supporting any weight at all.  Water began filling her lungs as her body tried to draw in oxygen that was not available.
Turk brought her up.  Lank waited until she had stopped coughing and asked, almost conversationally, "Will you contact yer friends now?"
"N - n - ."
Turk pushed her under again, this time rubbing himself against her, her defiance exciting him.  Maybe he’d get to have a different kind of fun with the slitch later.  In her panic, Turner brought her heel up sharply in a kick, dangerously close to keeping him from having any fun for quite some time.  Angrily, he threw her to the floor and glared at her with daggers in his eyes.
Coughing and retching, mucus dripping from her nose and water gushing out of her mouth, Turner sobbed.  As if from a great distance, she heard Turk state, "I’m gonna frag that slitch."  Instinctively, she tried to huddle in  on herself.
Lank stepped forward, placing himself between his partner and the elf.  He spoke quietly, his voice almost friendly.  "Looks like Turk has taken a liking for you."  He studied the figure on the floor, but other than the first knee-jerk reaction, she didn’t respond to his comment.  "Maybe I’ll let him have his fun after all."  Still nothing.  "’Course, I could call him off, if ya call yer chummers up."  Only wheezed breathing answered him.
A glint shone in the Lank’s eyes as he turned to the troll.  "Hey, Turk.  Ever do it in a tub before?"  A wail of denial echoed off the tiles and Lank smiled in satisfaction.

**

Vixen returned to Mask’s after an excursion to Turner’s apartment.  Catching the two shaman’s attention, she waved a hairbrush at them.  "Will this do?"
Mask turned around. "Yeah, put it on the table."
Karina jumped when the telecom rang. She stared at it a moment, then ran to answer it. Blaze stared back at her, a worried look in his blue eyes. "Mist! Turner called.  She said that Lank and Turk want you to meet them at the docks tonight at 22:00. They will trade her for the necklace."
"Is she ok?" she asked anxiously.
Blaze shook his head. "She looks awful. Broken nose at least. But she’s still alive. You need help?"
Karina choked down her anger and fear. "No thanks, Vixen and I will handle this.  Tell Potshot what’s going on and give her a heads up. When we get Turner back we’ll bring her there."
"Will do," he replied.
Karina hung up and stood there a few minutes, shaking in rage.
Mask stepped up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Lock it down, girl. Anger gives strength but if you don’t control it ,you’ll just get yourself killed."
Karina struggled to follow the advice and finally was able to get control over her emotions. When she did answer it was with a flat, quiet voice. "You coming with us tonight?"
Mash shook her head regretfully. "Can’t, I have a meet I have to be at myself. You’ll do fine. Just remember what I told you and be careful."

Vixen left for awhile to talk to Mr. Carti  and came back with a faint smile. Then she and Karina spent the rest of the day cleaning weapons and making sure their armor was in good repair. They didn’t speak much, each lost in her own thoughts.
Karina slipped into the medicine lodge that afternoon and spent a couple of hours meditating and then walked across the street to the park and went through her katas one at a time.
By sundown they were ready to go. Karina grumbled at bit when Mask forced them to eat, but once Mask reminded her that fighting took energy, she quickly settled down and applied herself to the meal.  While Vixen arranged for transportation ,Mask and Karina put together a medkit.
"You don’t know how bad off Turner is, so you need to be prepared for the worst. Remember to do first aid before you try any healing spells," Mask told her.
"I will. Good luck tonight," she said.
Mask gave her a quick hug. "You too."
****************************************************************************

A special Thank you to my beta readers,Norcumi , "Incognito" and Maven.

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