leaveittohill:
psychopitcher:
Lester took his sweet time packing for this particular job. Yes, he’d been all too eager to accept it, after all, hauling in Maria Hill, that was something special altogether. But he’d learned that containing his enthusiasm was for the best. He needed to focus right now, running in head-first would get him into some serious trouble. The thin, silver choking wire practically fell through his fingers as he lowered it into his bag, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of it, at the images it ignited within him. It was a last resort, he wasn’t supposed to use it on her unless she really didn’t want to be convinced. But sweet hells, it was alluring. He closed his eyes and swayed from side to side to the imaginable screams of his previous victim. The choking wire had provided him with so much pleasure, he could hardly imagine leaving it at home. And for that reason, he stowed it into the side pocket of his bag. You never know.
Osborn had insisted for him to leave the Hawkeye costume and weapons at home. This wasn’t something that needed to be made public, this was a far shadier mission. And he would don his Bullseye outfit just for the occasion. God, it felt like home every time he pulled that mask over his head. The gloves, despite extensive cleaning, still reeked of his victims. It was his favorite cologne to wear. He packed several throwing weapons, as usual, then placed a bottle of chloroform on top, covering it all up with a dark cloth.
He knew her whereabouts. He knew them damn well. He’d been studying her probably for longer than she’d even had the slightest hint of what was going on. Though packed pretty heavily, Lester still traveled fairly fast, and it didn’t take him overly long to find her. There she was, stripped off her pride but still keeping her head up high. Stubborn woman. He suspected she’d be a tough nut to crack…but he’d crack her. He’d crack her good, then bring her onto Osborn’s team, ready for him to mold to his own liking.
He was so close, watching her from above. She didn’t even have the slightest suspicion he was there. He’d have to leave his supplies behind for now, only take a hand, and maybe a pouch, full of tools to ensnare her with. He’d have to travel light to catch her, so she wouldn’t feel a thing.
Why though? Why make the act of catching her painless? It was exactly that one moment, that explicit look of fear as they realized they didn’t stand a chance, that enticed him. His fingers ran over the contents of his bag, briefly touching the bottle of chloroform, even closing around it in order to pick it up…before he changed his mind. He zipped open the side pocket of his bag and pulled out what felt like an old friend, its presence long overdue. The choking wire.
He landed on the ground quite soundlessly, but stayed in the cover of the shadows for a tad longer just to be sure. When he was very certain she hadn’t heard or seen him, he closed the distance between the two of them as swift as ever. In one trained movement, he’d wrapped the wire around her neck, bringing it together at the back and pulling on each end to cut off her oxygen supply. She struggled. Viciously. His nostrils flared, and he had to restrain himself as not to drag his tongue across her cheek to taste the fear-induced sweat that formed on her brow. Soon, she’d stop struggling. There were phases. Struggle. Weakening. That final blow of strength that could knock a man back if he wasn’t paying attention. Then the blacking out would come. The spasms. Then the last breath. He’d have to stop.
She was stronger than he’d expected, but his grip on the wire was firm. Even though he was sent crashing into a wall, he still held a firm grip on her. When she went limp in his arms, an ear-to-ear grin cracked open his face.
Lester.
Stop.
Lester, stop.
Stop.
He opened his hands and dropped the wire immediately, realizing he’d been pushing just a little too close to that edge. The woman slid down to the ground and he knelt beside her, placing two fingers on her neck just over the artery, and uttered a sigh of relief to find her heart was still beating. Weakly, but she was alive. He pulled a set of thick, yet supple rope from one of his pouches and bound her hands and feet with it.
It was just as Maria was coming up on her building when he attacker struck her from behind. Fuck, she thought as she grabbed roughly at the hands and wire around her neck. She couldn’t get a good enough grasp and her body took over for her, what her hands could not. She tossed her torso back as hard as she could and felt a surge of satisfaction as who could only be a man flung into the wall. But the satisfaction was short lived as she felt the life in her diminishing. This couldn’t be someone of Osborn’s. He wouldn’t want her dead. He needed her for what she knew. So who the hell was attacking her.
She tried her hardest to fight as best as she could, but sooner rather than later the battle was confined to only her mentality as she encouraged herself not to pass out. But what could she do? Her breathing was cut… Her heartbeat growing faint.. And before she could officially give up, everything went black as her body went limp.
….
Maria’s body felt weak. And bruised. Like a night of hell mixed in with a few too many tumblers of scotch only to come to in a morning of too much sunshine. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d experienced such a thing. It would be, however, the first time that she was bound by her hands and feet while feeling this way. She struggled against them, but whoever had tied them had done their job. She was stuck.
It was then that she remembered what happened. She’d been attacked; choked near death as far as she could remember. She blinked into the darkness as she let her eyes adjust and her heart had no problem kickstarting again at the sight. In fear, that was. She struggled more against her bonds as she watched, barely able to see, the figure of a man making his way closer to her in the darkness. The most frightening thing of all of him, was the malicious grin. A grin that Maria had never seen before, but was sure that she’d be getting very used to.
Lester’s fingers tapped lightly against the single lightbulb that lit up the basement, causing it to flicker and light up brighter, casting shadows across the room as it swung from side to side. Hungry eyes were set on his little prize catch, but he had to remind himself of what Osborn had said. She had to be brought in alive and reasonably well. Boundaries, Lester. Boundaries.
The small scalpel in his hand glistened in the light as he flicked it between his fingers. He could see the fear in her eyes as she fixed her gaze on him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste it. Feel it. Hear it. While he had full control over her, he wanted to push her buttons and drink in every last bit of her reactions. Raw fear was what he was looking for. He wondered if he could get some out of her.
He stepped into the dim light, allowing her to get a good look at him before he set to purpose. If it was up to him, she would be unmade and remolded, and there was nothing wrong with looking your maker in the eye before the deed. He moved slowly this time, making sure the echo of every step would drill itself into her mind, increasing the impact of the situation. As soon as he was close enough, dirty fingers sought out her cheeks and pushed them together, and he lowered his head to level with her face. His face was only inches away from hers now, his foul breath creeping over her skin every time he exhaled or whispered to her. His nostrils flared at the smell of fear that lingered on her skin, and he couldn’t resist burying his face into her hair for a moment to take a good, long whiff. He’d always had a close bond with his torture victims. Not in terms of being fond of them, but he liked getting up close and personal. He liked exploring every inch of their body, looking for the weakest spots to take advantage of. By the time she’d join the team, he’d know her inside-out.
“Good morning, poppet. Nice to see you awake.”
He lifted the sharp instrument and pressed the flat side of it to her cheek to alert her of the metal device he would undoubtedly use on her. No matter how much he disliked it, though, he had to set the rules for this game. Osborn sent him on this mission with a purpose, it’d be damn shame if he didn’t fulfill it. Not to mention, he’d be kicked off the team. With Barney Barton around all too eager to take his title, that’d be a huge blow to his ego. No, that wasn’t about to happen.
“You’re a clever girl, aren’tcha? I bet you know who sent me. Let’s just say he’s nearly desperate to have you on his team. And I’m here to make sure you oblige.”
This sounds like a bad idea~ But I am sure you of all people can handle it~