Caught in the Spider's Web - Part 1 - Short Affair - 12th Oct

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Prompt word - whip
Prompt colour - pink
Word count - 936
Title -  Caught in the Spider's Web

“See, people think it's about using the wrong fork or wine glass, but really, that's not it at all. Don't get me wrong, that can be important, but really it's a question of attitude. You have to know beyond all doubt that whatever fork you choose to use is self-evidently the right one, simply because you chose to use it.”

Napoleon's voice swims through his head as he struggles to get a grip on the chains to pull himself up and take the strain off his arms, if only for a second. It is no use, the cold metal slips through numb fingers as though it were made of air.

His arms are on fire. Already they have been wrenched out of their sockets perhaps, maybe, he thinks, his wrists chained together behind his back then forced up unnaturally over his head until he is dangling from the ceiling like so much meat.

“Now your attitude, in the face of so much decadence, is a perpetual glower. You give the impression that if you should happen to use the wrong fork it's either by way of being a deliberate gesture of disrespect towards the establishment, or else a blatant attempt to get more food in your mouth at a time. Look, tovarisch, there's no point in trying to glower at me.”

“Again.”

The whip bites deep into his back. He can't hold back the cry and he twists, trying to get away, and his toes scrabble uselessly across the sticky floor, tantalisingly close but always out of reach.

“Again.”

Another sharp crack, another line of agony, and then another, and another, far faster than his dazed mind can keep up with. From somewhere far away he can hear the soft noises of pain bubbling out of him, but he does his best not to listen.

“Are you even listening to me? Illya. Illya?”

No. That is not right. There is concern in Napoleon's voice – fear – and that is not what....no.

There is a sudden movement to his left and he jerks away instinctively before he realises it's just Angelique, moving restlessly from her chosen seat. She passes in front of him, looking straight past him as though he is not here – or not real. “You know, darling, he's no use to us dead.”

“Don't worry your pretty little head about it,” Fuller snorts dismissively from right behind Illya, and he forces himself not to react. “I know how to break a man, never fear.”

She sniffs loudly as if disappointed, though in which of them Illya is not sure. For the first time she looks directly at him, and her face is expressionless as she slaps him hard across the face. Her hand is shaking and her nail varnish is chipped. It is the same dusky pink she was wearing three days ago. It clashes horribly with the blood red dress she is wearing today. Her mascara is smudged and her hair is tied up with black lace ribbons. He turns his face away from her and she resumes her pacing.

The whip comes down again.

He tries to listen to Napoleon but it is difficult. He has lost the thread of the conversation and is no longer certain what he has relived and what he merely remembers. The pain is cutting into his mind, like an acetylene torch through a safe, and he must escape it. With growing desperation he recreates the scene. The smoky bar from three days ago. The round tables painted a dirty red. The spider web hanging from the ceiling, its lone occupant drifting ever closer to Napoleon's head. He remembers watching it with quiet glee and anticipation and saying nothing. The smell of cheap cigarettes and sticky drinks. The band playing; so terrible that the violinist had been in A flat while the pianist hovered around an uncertain C. Napoleon. Napoleon sitting on the other side of the table from him, explaining once again why it is on him to go to the ball while Illya must metaphorically stay behind to clean the house.

He concentrates on the sound of Napoleon's voice, the crinkle of amusement around his eyes.

It is not enough. He feels everything, is fully aware as Fuller's hand twists into his hair, pulling his head up so they are face to face, and his vision fills with beady, blood-shot eyes above a broken nose. He forces himself to keep eye contact.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” Fuller murmurs, in a manner he probably supposes to be enticing. “All I want to know is whether you managed to take a copy of the decryption reel from the code machine and send it back to UNCLE. That's not too much to ask, now, is it? Just tell me yes or no, and this will all stop, I promise. Now, what do you say?”

He feels the smile tear across his face. “Have you considered talking to your dentist about your breath?”

Fuller let go of his hair abruptly, and he can't hold his head up on his own anymore. The punch catches him on the back of his neck and sends his head spinning as his vision whites out.

He will die before he tells them anything. That is not defiance. Merely his professional opinion.

As Fuller snatches up the whip again, he tries once more to bury his mind away in the detail of his memories, but everything is crumbling away. He can no longer hear Napoleon's voice.

And perhaps that is inevitable for after all, Napoleon is dead.


Onto the next part....

Comments

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

Oh my, lots of Illya whump and tension! I like how Illya is trying to take his mind off of his torture by reliving the conversation he had with Napoleon. And then you had the touch of hopelessness by revealing that as far as Illya knows Napoleon is dead. I hope you update soon as you have me sitting on the edge of my seat!

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you! Glad you like Illya's way of dealing with the torture here, I thought it seemed plausible. I was thinking of keeping the next part for the next short affair, but I might write it sooner - haven't completely decided.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

EEEEEeeeeek! How vivid and visceral. I was hissing, simpatico with pain as I read it. And then of course there's the cliffie. Waiting anxiously for the next part.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I was trying for something a bit different stylistically. And the next part will be next week, for the next short affair...unless I end up writing it sooner.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Okay, you've officially got me gripped. Illya whump and a heart-wrenching cliff-hanger. Can we have the next part soon please?

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thanks! You did say last week that the words screamed Illya whump....so far it looks like you were right.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

'From somewhere far away he can hear the soft noises of pain bubbling out of him, but he does his best not to listen.' This sentence is amazing. A unique way of showing us Illya's response to pain, it's like poetry.

'The spider web hanging from the ceiling, its lone occupant drifting ever closer to Napoleon's head. He remembers watching it with quiet glee and saying nothing.' The details his mind remembers as he tries to dissociate from the harsh reality of torture, again, unique.

'...he tries once more to bury his mind away in the detail of his memories, but everything is crumbling away.' He can only keep up the tactic for so long.

Your mastery of phrases humbles me. If I had only half of your talent...

Hope the next part of this is posted soon.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so much - I was trying to get this one very vivid and image heavy, despite the dark matter. Glad it worked for you.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This will keep me awake. Both because it's so good and because I'm worried you won't write the rest of it fast enough.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I was going to wait and have this one running over the short affair for the next few weeks, but I think I might need to write the next part sooner. Thanks for commenting.

[rosywonder.livejournal.com]

Very tense, and full of detail. I liked the fact that he notices little things; the colour of her nails, her appearance, the spider's web over Napoleon. I love details, and I am glad too he manages to maintain his acerbic wit through the agony of the torture. A final, and unpleasant twist makes the reader long for the resolution. May it come soon....

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you for your kind words. :) I'm glad you like the focus on the details, it seemed a very Illya characteristic, somehow.

Details

[rosywonder.livejournal.com]

Well i think it is, or should be the characteristic of any good writer. Detail IMO, brings stories and people to life. Good fanfiction can invest characters which we already know superficially in some ways from the tv series with deeper nuances. Thats what makes it so much fun to write, don't you think?!! Now focus, don't keep him hanging about too long .....