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telarynTitle: Predestination
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telaryn
Word Count: 870
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Jo Harvelle
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really.
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Jo Harvelle finally understands what it means when evil takes a personal interest in you.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
angst_bingo's Round 3, for the prompt "slavery".
Everything hurt. That was her first bit of awareness, followed closely by the knowledge that she was lying on a dirty concrete floor.
First word 'what', second word 'dafuck'?
Jo Harvelle had been hunting long enough by now to know that panic was counter-productive until she got her bearings. Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on inhaling deeply through her nostrils while she tested each limb and major joint with minute flexes and twitches of her muscles. The weight on her arms and legs, and the hiss and rattle of chain told her better than any visual inspection that wherever she was, she wasn’t getting free anytime soon.
Memory returned in fragments as she worked. They'd been ambushed; their intel had been faulty. Pete...Joey D...Kayla... Her whole crew, and if any of them had escaped with their lives, Jo knew she'd count it as the most impossible of miracles. She turned her head just far enough to determine that everything seemed to be working properly, and relaxed – her quiet sigh of relief carrying a hint of a sob.
“You’re awake. Good.”
Busted, Jo opened her eyes to see a heavily scarred face looking down at her. If she’d had to guess, she would have bet it was a woman from the curve of the jawline and the point of the chin, but the shaved head and the tapestry of damage covering face, skull, and extending down the heavily muscled neck kept her from being 100% certain.
Human-seeming, though, which definitely narrowed the field of what she was dealing with.
“Get up!” the woman ordered, stepping back to give Jo room to comply. “On your feet.”
Jo studied her captor for another moment, before moving to comply. The tension and effort involved in getting to her feet, with the heavy manacles weighing her down was an education in and of itself – by the time she was upright, looking the strange woman directly in the eyes, Jo knew where every single bruise on her body was.
And there were a lot of them. She wondered in passing what her own face looked like, and then pushed the curiosity to the back of her thoughts. Survive and escape – worry about the rest later.
She realized when she tried to shake her hair back from her face that her captor seemed confused by her behavior. “What?” she snapped, glaring at the woman.
“You’re…calmer…than we were led to believe you’d be,” was the answer she got – and in a hard, bright burst of irony, that frightened her more than the idea of being captured and chained by beings unknown and most – if not all – of her crew dead. Evil was a lot of things, but it was rarely personal for somebody like Jo. Sam or Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, even her Daddy – sure, but Jo? She’d only been personally targeted by a monster once before in her life, and then it was only really because she fit his victim profile.
She swallowed, aware the woman watching her was waiting for an answer. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You haven’t had a chance to disappoint us yet. We are merely intrigued at how different you are from the stories.” Before Jo could recover enough to figure out a way to get more information about her situation and her captors, the women grabbed her by the shoulder and marched her out of her cell.
The dungeon – because as ridiculous as it sounded in Jo’s head, that’s really what it was – appeared to have been retrofit into the lower levels of one of the abandoned Native America settlements near where they’d been taken. Jo recognized several architectural elements and symbols, even though the Native American ‘lore had been Joey D.’s thing.
Her vision blurred for a second, eyes aching with the tears she hadn’t allowed herself to shed. Don’t be stupid, she berated herself. Focus! If she allowed herself to get distracted by every little thought that danced through her head she was no good to anyone – least of all herself.
“What’s that?” she asked, as the sound of tools and voices reached their ears. Before the woman could answer, they rounded a corner onto a rock ledge overlooking one of the biggest dig sites Jo had ever seen. Easily a thousand chained humans shuffled below her, using picks and shovels to excavate the area. Guards were like the woman escorting her – scarred and armored, bearing weapons that ranged in make and style from spiked clubs to the latest in semi-automatic firepower.
“That,” her captor said, looking over Jo’s shoulder, “is where you find the artifact that saves my entire race.”
Startled by the strange choices of words, Jo risked twisting around to face the woman. “What artifact? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You will be able to review our research at the bottom,” the woman said, grabbing her arm and pushing her down the path again. “Now is not the time for stupid questions.”
Suddenly, irrationally upset, Jo dug in her heels. Before the woman could strike her she said, “How do you know I find your stupid artifact?”
Impossibly, her captor smiled. “Because at the point in time I come from, you’ve already found it.”
Author:
telarynWord Count: 870
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Jo Harvelle
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really.
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Jo Harvelle finally understands what it means when evil takes a personal interest in you.
Author's Note: Written for
angst_bingo's Round 3, for the prompt "slavery".Everything hurt. That was her first bit of awareness, followed closely by the knowledge that she was lying on a dirty concrete floor.
First word 'what', second word 'dafuck'?
Jo Harvelle had been hunting long enough by now to know that panic was counter-productive until she got her bearings. Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on inhaling deeply through her nostrils while she tested each limb and major joint with minute flexes and twitches of her muscles. The weight on her arms and legs, and the hiss and rattle of chain told her better than any visual inspection that wherever she was, she wasn’t getting free anytime soon.
Memory returned in fragments as she worked. They'd been ambushed; their intel had been faulty. Pete...Joey D...Kayla... Her whole crew, and if any of them had escaped with their lives, Jo knew she'd count it as the most impossible of miracles. She turned her head just far enough to determine that everything seemed to be working properly, and relaxed – her quiet sigh of relief carrying a hint of a sob.
“You’re awake. Good.”
Busted, Jo opened her eyes to see a heavily scarred face looking down at her. If she’d had to guess, she would have bet it was a woman from the curve of the jawline and the point of the chin, but the shaved head and the tapestry of damage covering face, skull, and extending down the heavily muscled neck kept her from being 100% certain.
Human-seeming, though, which definitely narrowed the field of what she was dealing with.
“Get up!” the woman ordered, stepping back to give Jo room to comply. “On your feet.”
Jo studied her captor for another moment, before moving to comply. The tension and effort involved in getting to her feet, with the heavy manacles weighing her down was an education in and of itself – by the time she was upright, looking the strange woman directly in the eyes, Jo knew where every single bruise on her body was.
And there were a lot of them. She wondered in passing what her own face looked like, and then pushed the curiosity to the back of her thoughts. Survive and escape – worry about the rest later.
She realized when she tried to shake her hair back from her face that her captor seemed confused by her behavior. “What?” she snapped, glaring at the woman.
“You’re…calmer…than we were led to believe you’d be,” was the answer she got – and in a hard, bright burst of irony, that frightened her more than the idea of being captured and chained by beings unknown and most – if not all – of her crew dead. Evil was a lot of things, but it was rarely personal for somebody like Jo. Sam or Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, even her Daddy – sure, but Jo? She’d only been personally targeted by a monster once before in her life, and then it was only really because she fit his victim profile.
She swallowed, aware the woman watching her was waiting for an answer. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You haven’t had a chance to disappoint us yet. We are merely intrigued at how different you are from the stories.” Before Jo could recover enough to figure out a way to get more information about her situation and her captors, the women grabbed her by the shoulder and marched her out of her cell.
The dungeon – because as ridiculous as it sounded in Jo’s head, that’s really what it was – appeared to have been retrofit into the lower levels of one of the abandoned Native America settlements near where they’d been taken. Jo recognized several architectural elements and symbols, even though the Native American ‘lore had been Joey D.’s thing.
Her vision blurred for a second, eyes aching with the tears she hadn’t allowed herself to shed. Don’t be stupid, she berated herself. Focus! If she allowed herself to get distracted by every little thought that danced through her head she was no good to anyone – least of all herself.
“What’s that?” she asked, as the sound of tools and voices reached their ears. Before the woman could answer, they rounded a corner onto a rock ledge overlooking one of the biggest dig sites Jo had ever seen. Easily a thousand chained humans shuffled below her, using picks and shovels to excavate the area. Guards were like the woman escorting her – scarred and armored, bearing weapons that ranged in make and style from spiked clubs to the latest in semi-automatic firepower.
“That,” her captor said, looking over Jo’s shoulder, “is where you find the artifact that saves my entire race.”
Startled by the strange choices of words, Jo risked twisting around to face the woman. “What artifact? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You will be able to review our research at the bottom,” the woman said, grabbing her arm and pushing her down the path again. “Now is not the time for stupid questions.”
Suddenly, irrationally upset, Jo dug in her heels. Before the woman could strike her she said, “How do you know I find your stupid artifact?”
Impossibly, her captor smiled. “Because at the point in time I come from, you’ve already found it.”
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18/11/11 11:31 (UTC)