Previous Chapters: http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic/8/ravager4s-fan-fic-archives/660884/#1
Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters or locations. All rights belong to DC Comics.
Rating: M
Note: Alright, so this is my first M rated chapter in the series, largely in part for a specific instance of dark subject matter, which, while not described in detail and only heavily implied, is still a bit... horrific, which, well, it was meant to be. I took a chance on this one, going in the direction that I went with it, and I just hope it doesn't end up coming across as horrendous because of it. Let me know if it goes too far, I'm always able to retcon some plot.
Rose Wilson: The Ravager #9
Int. The Orchid Lounge Nightclub – Night
Weaving around her opponent's attack, Rose delivers a hard uppercut to his chin, then follows it with a thunderous knee to his chest. As he stumbles back, she leaps and spins, whipping her leg around and kicking him square in the side of the face. He goes down and stays down.
Announcer: Folks, I don't believe it, but we have our winner of the night! In her debut here in the upper brackets, Lillian Wilson has come out on top! Keep in mind that she participated in her first fight just one month ago in the lower brackets, and now she's the one to beat. Simply incredible!
Releasing a long breath, Rose places her hands on her hips and walks out of the arena, heading toward the corridor that leads back to the locker room. Right now, she plans on taking a long, hot shower to relax her sore muscles.
This really hadn't been like the lower level tournaments; she'd actually had to work for it after a while. Even though her first fight had been simple enough, the following ones grew increasingly difficult. Sure, she had still emerged victorious with little difficulty, but this new crop of fighters is far more talented than the fodder she beat before. She makes a mental note to not let her opponents land as many hits as they did tonight; they can probably land a few on their own anyway, with their skill, and they know to hit where it hurts. The third man she fought had even been going for pressure points.
As she's about to enter the locker room, the fight club manager comes running up to her down the hall, waving his arms at her and laughing.
Manager: Aha! I knew you wouldn't disappoint! I can't believe what you just did, that was freakin' amazing!
Rose: You mind? I really just want to take a shower right now.
Manager: Right, right, of course, no problem. I just wanted to let you know that you really impressed a lot of people tonight. You came in like you owned the place and tore those other guys apart! You got a real future here, kid, if you keep winning like that.
Rose: Yeah, well I'm hoping I don't have to keep it up too long. Just need a bit of cash to last me a while.
Manager: Whatever you say, Lil. Just passing along the info.
Rose: Another thing, don't call me Lil.
Manager: Uh... right, sorry. Lillian.
Rose: By the way, you can leave my earnings in my bag while I shower. I don't want to stick around here any longer than I have to.
Manager: Sorry, no can do.
Glaring back at him, Rose narrows her gaze. What the hell kind of crap is he trying to pull?!
Rose: I just fought my ass off out there, you @$$%&#@! Now you're not going to pay me?!
Manager: No, no, no, you don't understand. I can't leave you your earnings because the boss wants to pay you himself, meet the new champ. He'll be waiting upstairs in his office when you're done; I can show you the way.
A cool breath passes her lips, as she relaxes.
Rose: Oh... alright then. Give me fifteen minutes.
After showering and changing back into her black jeans, grey turtleneck, and dark leather jacket, Rose follows the manager up to the actual nightclub part of The Orchid Lounge. The pulsing music assaults her eardrums as soon as they're through the doors, moving through the crowds of dancing patrons, past the bar, and around the tables.
He leads her up to the second level of the club, away from the noise and the people, and down a long, dimly lit hallway. A sign on the doors at the end of the corridor reads: Owner, Arnold Pavoni. A pair of tall, bald, and massively built men stand on either side of the doors, their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses; no doubt the club owner's own personal security bouncers.
Manager: Alright, the boss is right through there. Just keep in mind that he runs everything around here, and he's the one paying you for tonight, so be respectful.
Rose: Uh huh, sure.
Manager: Okay, uh... well, he's waiting, so go on in. I'll see you next week.
With that, the manager heads back down the hallway. When Rose steps forward, one of the big goons reaches for the door handle and opens it, nodding her through. She gives him a curious look, then walks inside the office; the door closes behind her. The man sitting behind the desk is dressed in a white suit, with a black tie. He's overweight, too, his large gut squished between his desk and his soft leather chair, and though his hair still has its dark color, he's lost all but a small strip around the sides of his head.
He notices Rose enter, but doesn't address her right away, as he's in the middle of speaking to someone over an intercom. Instead, he merely glances up at her and waves her farther inside. Standing behind him in the corner of the room is another one of his security goons, this one even bigger than the previous two, and just standing there with his arms folded.
Pavoni: What's taking you so long, Jerry? She ready yet or what?
Jerry/Intercom: Yes, just about. You did want Holly this time, right?
Pavoni: Yeah, yeah, the one with the two different colored eyes. Haven't seen her in a while, we'll have some real fun.
Jerry/Intercom: In that case, I'll bring her right up.
Rose glances at the intercom curiously as it cuts out. Does this guy send his employees out to pick up prostitutes for him or something? Because that's sure what it sounded like... Talk about sleazy. But it isn't any of her business, so she simply forgets about it and folds her arms.
Rose: So, you wanted to see me?
Leaning forward, Pavoni brings his hands together and smiles at her.
Pavoni: Ah, yes, welcome. I saw your performance tonight, you know, and I have to say that you put on quite a show. I was a little skeptical when my manager came to me and urged me to put you in the top bracket, but you proved that you're one hell of a fighter. Not only that, but you kept the crowd entertained, and that's important. The more entertained they are, the more they bet; the more they bed, the more money I make.
Rose: Yeah, well I'm not here to make you money, just so we're clear. I'm here to make myself money.
An amused chuckle exits the man's throat, as he begins to light up a cigar. Taking a puff, he gives her an understanding nod.
Pavoni: Of course, I expected as much. Just thought I should let you know how good you are for the business; that means I like you, and when I like you, I pay you more. Nico, the safe.
The big guy standing in the corner moves at the command, walking over to the other side of the room and entering the combination of the wall safe. Once unlocked, he reaches inside and pulls out a few thick stacks of hundreds, then gives them to his boss. Pavoni begins thumbing through the cash, placing each hundred dollar bill out in front of him one at a time, counting the total out loud.
Pavoni: Five hundred per victory, that's two thousand off the bat. And then of course the bonus, since you won tonight's tournament; normally another two grand, but as I said, I like you. So, I'll throw in a little something extra. That brings the total to six thousand.
Rose's breath catches in her throat, stifling any sort of response she might have made to the revelation of her total earnings. In one night, she more than tripled the amount of money she'd saved up so far.
Yeah, I can definitely get used to this.
Pavoni: Once again, I want to tell you how much you impressed tonight, not only me, but our frequent customers, as well. They like you; you're young, you're sexy, and you kick a whole lot of ass in the ring. That's the kind of thing that really gets them going!
Rose: Just trying to make a living.
Pavoni: Of course, of course. Now, here, take your money and go get some rest. I'll see you back here next week, yes?
Taking the fat envelope from him, she briefly looks inside and runs her thumb over the wads of bills.
Rose: Oh yeah, I'll be back.
Pavoni: Excellent, I look forward to it!
He briefly leans forward over her desk to give her a handshake, which she returns, though she can't help but cringe at how grimy and sweaty his hand is. Pulling her hand back quickly, she gives him a small wave and finally leaves the office. The dim hallway is just as quiet and empty as before, with the exception of one small change. About ten paces away, and sitting in a chair up against the wall, is a young girl, no older than nine or ten years old.
Dressed in a simple white dress, the blonde haired girl swings her legs slowly, her feet not even touching the floor. She raises her gaze briefly and looks at Rose, before turning away again suddenly. Rose stops walking for a moment, narrowing her eye at the girl and wondering what she's doing here of all places, at a nightclub. She must be the daughter of one of the guys who work here... maybe even Pavoni's. After all, what other reason would there be for someone her age to be here?
Still, there's something strange about her, something that Rose can't quite put her finger on, even though she feels like she should know exactly what it is. After a couple more moments pass, Rose eventually continues on her way, now with a strange, nagging sensation in the back of her head.
Ext. Silverstone City Streets – Night
Two minutes later, Rose is outside and sitting on her new motorcycle, which Dick had given to her as a parting gift. She never would have accepted it, if not for the fact that her previous one had been destroyed during her crash while under the influence of Scarecrow's fear gas. With no other mode of transportation, what choice did she have? As she sits there, though, holding her helmet up and staring at the visor, she can't shake that weird feeling that something's wrong. She's missing something... and it's killing her, not being able to figure out what it is.
That's when it happens, a precognitive flash running through her mind. But this isn't like anything she's experienced before. Normally, her precog gives her a brief look of an incoming attack, no more than a couple of seconds notice before it happens. But this... this is something else entirely. It isn't just a couple seconds, it's near ten, and it doesn't involve any attack directed at her. Rather, it's a series of several different images, all pasted together quickly like some kind of crazy slideshow. She sees the girl that she'd just passed in the hallway. She sees Pavoni's office. Then she sees Pavoni and the young girl together, and then...
Oh my god!
Instantly, she's off and sprinting back into the club, pushing past and practically knocking over the bouncer at the front door. Rose suddenly realizes what was so odd about the girl.
She had two different colored eyes.
Int. The Orchid Lounge Nightclub – Night
By the time she's halfway down the hallway leading to Pavoni's office, a half dozen security goons are chasing after her. She doesn't care, though; they won't reach her in time, and even once they do catch up, they'll find themselves in a world of pain. Sprinting towards the double doors at the end of the corridor, she plows straight through the pair of men guarding it. Two punches, an elbow, and a knee is all it takes to get the both of them to drop to the floor like bricks.
Bursting into the office, Rose doesn't slow up. She lunges straight over the desk at Pavoni, who's shirt is already mostly unbuttoned. He barely even has time to register what's going on before she lands on him, driving him down to the floor.
Rose: You sick son of a @#$%!
One punch, two punches, three, four... she's crazed, wild, swinging with everything she has. Within seconds her hands are coated with his blood.
Rose: You'll be lucky if I don't kill you!
Before she can continue her assault, however, she feels multiple pairs of hands grabbing at her, trying to get her off; security has finally caught up. Instantly, she turns from Pavino and starts attacking the other men, albeit nowhere near as brutally, needing only to knock them out so they won't give her anymore trouble. In minutes, the half dozen goons are lying on the floor motionless.
Taking in a few deep breaths, Rose glances back down at Pavino, who's barely moving and groaning in pain, his face covered with bright scarlet. Slowly, she begins to calm herself. As much as her gut is telling her to continue pummeling the scumbag, there's something more important to take care of first. Her eyes dart around the room, finding the young blonde girl standing in the corner, watching everything with wide eyes, terrified. Swallowing a hard knot, Rose moves forward slowly, gently, not wanting to startle her.
Rose: It's alright, I'm not here to hurt you, promise. I just wanted to stop the bad man, that's all.
When the girl doesn't try to run away, Rose reaches forward and lifts her white dress back up from around her ankles, putting her arms into the sleeves. Rose's jaw tightens, nausea bubbling into her stomach, as she finishes clothing the the girl, who isn't doing a thing to help herself.
Rose: Holly, was it?
The girl doesn't say anything, but slowly nods in confirmation.
Rose: Right, Holly. That's a pretty name. Everything's going to be okay, Holly, I promise, no one's going to hurt you anymore. Come on, let's get you out of here.
Unfortunately, they never get the chance to leave. Whether she's not paying attention or her precog just doesn't feeling like kicking in at that moment, Rose doesn't see what's coming. An inhumanly powerful blow connects with the back of her head, sending her stumbling forward in a daze. The next thing she realizes, a massive hand is lifting her up by her neck and slamming her into the wall, denting it. A quiet grunt of pain bursts from her lips, as the impact forces the air from her lungs.
Standing there and holding her against the wall in a grip that she can't break free of, is the big guy from before, Nico. She's not about to let him hold her, though, oh no. Winding up her fist, she throws a vicious punch directly at his face, connecting with full force... and barely even causing his chin to move. Instead, he just stares at her, emotionless.
Okay,notgood.
Nico pulls his arm back, still holding onto Rose, and then swings her over his head and slams her down on top of the desk, caving it inward. She falls to the floor, coughing up a small spray of blood and trying to blink away the bright spots forming in front of her vision. Meanwhile, Pavino is slowly recovering, crawling back up to his knees.
Pavino: You little #$@%!
Stumbling to his feet, he walks over and swings his leg forward, kicking Rose across the face. Still dazed from being slammed through a desk, and still held down by Nico, she can't do anything to stop it. She winces, feeling her lip split open. Pavino steps back again, beginning to wipe his bloodied face clean with his shirt.
Pavino: %@#$, I need to get cleaned up. Call Jerry, have him come take Holly back. And take this piece of #$%@ down to the facility, tell Mordred I got another subject for him.
Rose makes another desperate attempt to escape Nico's grasp, but his strength really is incredible, easily superhuman level and much greater than her own. Realizing that she isn't going to get away, she glares up at Pavino with ire seething from her body.
Rose: You will suffer for that, do you hear me? If it's the last thing I do.
Pavino: Don't worry, girl. It will be.
The last thing Rose remembers before falling abruptly into unconsciousness is Nico's huge fist driving straight into her face.
Int. Underground Facility – Night
Rose awakens sometime later, groggy. A small groan escapes her lips, as she blinks a few times in attempts to clear up her vision. Everything is blurry, and there's a bright white light shining directly on her face that practically blinds her. And ugh, her head throbs something awful, a pounding ache directly between her ears.
Okay, that Nico guy hitswayto hard to be normal.
As things start to come into focus, Rose lifts her head and looks around, wondering where she is. It's a large room, with a tall ceiling and white walls. Surrounding her is a variety of various medical equipment, from IV drips, to heart monitors, to tables of different sized scalpels and drills and devices things that look like they're straight out of a horror movie.
Groaning again, Rose blinks a couple more times and then tries to sit up, only to realize that she can't move. Glancing down at herself, she notices that she's lying on a slanted medical table, with thick leather straps wrapping tightly around her chest, arms, waist, thighs, and ankles. Also, her clothes are gone, a revelation that sends a a disgusted shiver down her spine.
Okay, Rose, so you're bound, naked, and in some kind of operating room. This hadsobetter not be some pervert's idea of a good time.
Just as that thought runs through her mind, a voice reaches her ears. It's a calm, but very creepy voice, sounding half deranged and half giddy.
Voice: Ah, you're awake, good. I was wondering when I'd get a chance to begin.
Rose moves her head, looking to her left to see a thin man dressed in medical scrubs, a white doctor's jacket, latex gloves, and a stethoscope around his neck. His scraggly black hair is peppered with a bit of gray, and stands wildly on end, as if he's never touched a comb before in his life. And those eyes... one of them seems to stare off in another direction as the other, which is milky and appears dead. Just the sight of it makes her want to throw up.
Rose: And who the hell are you supposed to be?
Dr. Mordred: Ah, ah, a good question, my dear. You may call me Dr. Mordred. Pleasure to be acquainted with you.
The doctor then takes an overly theatrical bow, before standing straight again and then walking towards her, all the while grabbing at his elbow, like some kind of nervous habit.
Dr. Mordred: Yes, yes, you are a fine specimen, indeed. But I heard you won tonight's tournament; makes our meeting odd, premature. Must have done something to upset the boss, yes. Otherwise, you would not be here yet, no.
Rose: What are you babbling about? And why am I strapped to a table? And for that matter, where the $#%@ are my clothes?
Dr. Mordred: No worries, no worries, I just needed access. I have a little bit of work to do, you see. Well, a lot of work, okay, yes. Can't do it when those pesky clothes are in the way, no.
Rose's gaze begins to narrow venomously at the man.
Rose: I swear, if you even think about-
Dr. Mordred: Oh, no! Not that! Please, you insult me; I am a professional. Things are strictly business, I assure you.
Rose: Yeah, that doesn't reassure me at all.
Giggling like a madman, Dr. Mordred moves back over to one of the nearby tables and grabs at a syringe, then pokes the needle into a bottle of unknown liquid and begins to fill it.
Dr. Mordred: Don't worry, my dear, it will aaaall be over soon. You won't feel a thing, I promise.
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Chapter #10 Preview: Rose is trapped and about to become the subject of a madman's twisted experiments, but can she escape and get some answers about where she is and what's going on? She certainly doesn't intend on letting anything stop her from helping the young girl, Holly, and anyone that gets in her way is going to pay the price! Also, is Pavoni really the one running everything, or is there another person behind the curtains? Find out next time!
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