“Patrick… Patrick wait!” she gasped, trying to stall what she was beginning to see as inevitable. As the front of her pants came unbuttoned and the zipper ripped open forcefully, she knew it was coming soon. Yet her heart raced in refusal of it.
“No.”
His fingers grabbed the front of her panties, and for a moment she stopped to consider it. But when she felt his fingers brush against her skin, lower than she expected, a surge of adrenaline kicked in. Her body was finally on her side and demanded that she fight her way out of this dire situation no matter the cost. With her nerves screaming at her with anticipation of what failure would feel like, she began to slap at him. She tried to slap at his face and wriggle free at first. Then, when she realized this wasn’t working, she tried to take a mental breath and reason through her response.
“Kick him between the legs, you idiot!” she yelled inside her head. “Elbow him in the face! Kick him right in the side of the kneecap and run as fast as you can! You’ve done it in your mind a thousand times—now is the time to use it! Kick his ass!” But as his iron grip tightened around her body, fingers digging into some very sensitive places, she began flailing wildly. Then, she flailed wilder still—she was losing all control of her faculties and she knew it. His grip only tightened, and his laughter only became more triumphant. He was enjoying this, and he wanted her to know it.
“He’s stronger than me.” she thought as the tears began to flow. “He can do whatever he wants to me, and there isn’t a fucking thing I can do about that.”
The blow to the side of her face came so suddenly that it didn’t even hurt. A flash of red and a popping sound that was hard to describe was the only real way she knew that it had happened. It felt like she was upside-down under water, still trying to reason why air wouldn’t enter her lungs the way that it normally did. Yet, she still paused to contemplate this strange sensation, attempting to reason through what the proper response was. She was still fighting of course… but only somewhat.
Then, after a few moments of confusing numbness, it began to hurt. As she started to wince at the sudden headache and equally sudden reality, another blow caught her in the eye. This time, the flash of red only went away in half of her vision, and the headache became intolerable. Finally, she stopped fighting and sank down to her knees.
“I’m going to take care of you, Vivika.” she heard his voice say through the dizziness as she felt her legs open, “I’m going to take such good care of you.”
‘Click, click, click, click, click’…
The camera shutter opened and shut repeatedly. It made a barely audible sound as the scene with Vivika and Patrick unfolded before the wart-covered face of Open-Wide. Truth be told, he couldn’t see precisely what the camera was taking pictures of. Mirrors in cameras made an awful amount of noise when they went up and down and he was reduced to looking through a bland pinhole, much like sights on a gun. Of course, he didn’t need to know exactly what the camera saw. The camera only had monochromatic capabilities, which gave it an especially good resolution—a useful thing at night—and the development of the photos could account for a wide variety of exposure issues.
But at this point, the photos were merely ‘window dressing’, as his word would be more than sufficient. Open-Wide’s case officer already suspected that this dimwit had been less than altruistic in his asset handling. His case officer really only needed the word of a trusted agent to confirm his suspicions. Then, hopefully Patrick would be removed from the team and Open-Wide would be one step closer to accomplishing his goaclass="underline" being rid of all the damn drama.
Needed or not, however, the pictures would certainly embarrass Patrick. That alone made the effort worth it.
Patrick really should have known better. Sure, he was young, and impetuous, and stupid, and all sorts of other negative words that Open-Wide could think up if he really felt lent to it; but he should’ve really understood the difference between business and pleasure by now. Open-Wide understood, especially with the long weeks he spent away from his wife and children. But regardless of the ease with which a scared asset’s nether regions presented themselves, sex never ended well for anyone in this profession—especially for twerps like Patrick. No, he had a knack for being where he ought not to be, and for making the dumbest possible decision while there.
Their Case officer hadn’t really put him to this task, truth be told. It was more of an unofficial suggestion… perhaps more accurately, Open-Wide took certain duties to heart, and his case officer was responsible enough to see the worth in them. This was counter-intelligence after all.
Open-Wide had made his mistakes, same as everyone. Hell, maybe even his case officer before him might have made a mistake or two. But that would have been years upon years ago, and he would have never done something as stupid as this. Perhaps this would finally be the nail in Patrick’s coffin. Their case officer had a soft spot for youth, and wasn’t much for brutality. He always thought too much about his ‘grand-kids’ whenever he had to do something disgusting, and had long since lost the taste for things that had to be done.
But this… indiscretion… of Patrick’s wasn’t something that had to be done… and this Patrick’s case officer would have to deal with. Their case officer may have been the only one in the unit with a distaste for blackmail and the occasional torture; but even Open-Wide had a distaste for rape. And this—the scene imprinting itself onto the minute length of photo-film as clearly as it would Open-Wide’s mind—was rape of the highest (or lowest) order. This asshole was about to get what was coming to him. Then Open-Wide need only ruin the Dragon Lady and he would finally have his beloved HVA back in working order.
Vivika rocked back and forth, back and forth. She was too shaken to stand up right this moment, let alone walk away. Her entire skin felt the way a limb does when it’s been asleep for a long time. If she moved any more than she did with the rocking, the pins and needles became too much to bear. The achy, burning feeling of something torn seemed to agree with that assessment as well. She was soaked through with the adrenal misery that only an eviscerated nervous-system could excrete, and her shattered nerves screamed warnings over and over, as if she was still in the throes of the last few minutes. She couldn’t sit still, certainly, but she also couldn’t stand. Thus, she allowed herself a compromise: she would just rock in place, furiously rubbing her arms and screaming inside of her head.
Logically, she knew that it was over. Yet no matter how many times she tried to remind herself of that, it didn’t feel the same. No—before she had simply been penetrated by a person. It was a single-minded act, with a very simple conclusion at her expense. After he finished, it was finished. Over—poof!
Yet now, something else began to penetrate her. Now something nearly as bad began: the complete and utter confusion of who, what, and where she was now.
“Everything is different!” her brain screamed at her, “You didn’t fight hard enough and now everything is different! Everything you were… everything you knew… all the ways you went about living your simple little life… it’s all different. Welcome to the new reality of a world you never knew before—that you now know even less about!”
Was it her fault it had happened? Surely it was… somehow, in some way, she could have fought harder. Did she really even fight at all? No, she had simply lost her cool, flailing about without a single tactical thought in her head. She had simply given in to his madness like a fool and a weakling.