Chapter Text
Lappland’s senses returned before she fully stirred to consciousness. Her eyes still wouldn’t open just yet, plunging her into abyssal darkness, but she could hear and smell. Or rather, she would be able to, if her every sensory nerve wasn’t dedicated to pain. Her head felt like it had been bashed in with a sledgehammer, just judging by the sharp ache, as though knives were being driven into her skull. The rest of the white Lupo’s body wasn’t spared, either – errant patches of blazing agony were pockmarked across her skin, spanning her chest, her abdomen, her thighs and her arms. Wounds, she was decidedly sure of that. The only question was, how…
Before Lappland could even finish thinking the query, hazy memories swam lazily to the forefront of her mind. That’s right. She’d been prowling the Siracusian streets, staking out a critical location in enemy territory that she and Texas were planning to hit tomorrow. Her partner had offered to go with her, worry clear in golden eyes even if she wouldn’t outwardly express it, but seeing how the other’s ears, shoulders and tail drooped with exhaustion was more than enough for her to decline. I’m not a puppy anymore, babe, she’d laughed as she stole a kiss (not that Texas seemed to mind). I don’t need you watching my back all the time. Get some sleep – I plan on keeping you up once I’m back.
Looks like I won’t be able to keep that promise, Lappland mused to herself, almost laughing at the irony of it all as she continued to review her memory. The surveillance had gone well, at first – despite her stark white fur and hair making her stand out in the darkness like a phantom, she was deceptively stealthy. The problem had occurred when, without Texas to be a cautionary voice of reason, she had drawn a little too close to the target mansion, overconfident. Whether it had been a trap from the start or if she had simply paid the price of hubris, she had no way of knowing – but the result was the same either way. Guards melted out of the shadows, hackles raised and weapons drawn as they growled, spitting insults and curses at her in Siracusian tongue. Now, Lappland prided herself on being a formidable warrior, but even she didn’t stand a chance against the impossible odds she’d been presented with then – though, she thought smugly, she certainly took a few of them down with her. Hopefully Texas wouldn’t go looking for her and end up in the same situation.
Right, the situation. That was the next question: what exactly was her situation? Her enemies could have killed her, certainly, but Lappland figured it wouldn’t hurt so much if that were the case. Then surely she’d been captured; that was the way the Siracusian underworld worked, after all. Leaving her be was far too dangerous, particularly if they knew of her rep (some did, some didn’t; it was always a delightful gamble). How shameful of her, really, to end up in this position.
Finally, her senses began to register something aside from the pain. This sensation was decidedly cold – sharp at her back, more gentle at her front. A tight feeling that dug into her skin, covering her from her neck to her toes. Lappland could already guess the sources, far too familiar with how these sorts of things worked (it wasn’t even her first time, though it had been a long while since the last time she’d been captured), and as she finally managed to crack her eyes open, her suspicions were only confirmed. Leather straps kept her tied firmly to a metal table, stripped naked aside from her bra and underwear. At least her captors had let her keep her modesty, Lappland thought as she continued to observe her surroundings, unable to help grinning a bit despite it all.
The room itself wasn’t much to look at all. Small, cramped, covered in filth, lit only by a dim light bulb barely holding onto the ceiling by a wire. Typical of an interrogation room, but Lappland found herself feeling disappointed anyway. Really, did they not know how lucky they’d gotten with their catch? They wouldn’t even spare her one of the good quality chambers! How rude. She knew this family had the money to afford it.
The single steel door scraped open with a sound that was quickly frankly offensive to Lappland’s sensitive ears; she pinned them flat against her head and took a look at the newcomer. A black-furred, masked Lupo, at least twice her height. An enforcer, if Lappland had to guess, a small thrill down her spine. When it came to interrogations, she much preferred the large brutes over anything else; even if the session was more painful, some part of her had to admit she found it fun to rile them up. They just made it so easy! Even Texas could resist her teasing better than some of these guys.
“What’re you smiling about, bitch?” The dark-furred Lupo growled, stalking closer, tail lashing behind them. Their voice was a scratchy, guttural contralto. “You’re at our mercy now. You’re in for a world of pain, mutt.”
Lappland hadn’t even been fully aware of the expression she was making, but at those words, she allowed her fangs to become fully bared in a wild, jackal grin. Seemed like it pissed her interrogator off to see her so upbeat, so she had no plans on stopping anytime soon. In fact, she’d plaster on the crazy, deranged act even thicker. “Good evening to you too!” she trilled, tail tip twitching, laughing all the while. “You’re not very polite, are ya? Not even giving me a hello? Did your mama never teach you man–”
A hand that swiftly closed around her throat cut her taunt short, squeezing tight and pressing their thumb right into her esophagus as Lappland choked, sputtering as her lungs cried out for air. “Talkative little bitch, aren’tcha?” her interrogator growled, hot, foul breath fanning onto her face. “Consider yourself lucky. If we didn’t need you talking, I’d have cut your damn tongue out already.”
Lappland would’ve undoubtedly offered up some smartass reply if she were not currently preoccupied trying to breathe despite her windpipe being crushed. Thankfully, the pressure relented after a moment, giving her room to speak; though it would have been morbidly funny if she’d wound her captor up badly enough to kill her before they even had a chance to get any information out of her. Talk about getting the last laugh, huh?
She drew in a deep breath before she spoke again, licking her lips a bit. Cocky arrogance punctuated her every word. “Lucky for me, unlucky for you, sure.~ You know, I’m not gonna talk no matter what you do to me.~ So you may as well save yourself the time and just kill me now, yknow?~”
The dark Lupo growled in obvious displeasure and anger, and she saw one hand flex into a fist. “You wish, little brat. You’re not getting that mercy.” Before Lappland could formulate a clever response to that, they reached for something out of her field of view, lifting it so she could see it. The cheap light glinted off the edge of a short knife with a jagged, serrated edge. It looked dull, too – no way it would leave a clean cut if it dug into her flesh (which, inevitably, it would, she knew). But…
Aw, it’s clean, Lappland thought, her ears drooping with disappointment. There isn’t even a speck of rust on it. Amateurs!
Her interrogator clearly mistook her body language for fear. The smug satisfaction radiating off them was almost palpable as they brought the tip of the blade to rest against her forearm. Lappland had to repress a breathless giggle, and if the knife was in the hands of a certain other Lupo, with burning golden eyes that lit a fire in her heart (and other places), she might’ve been shivering with excitement. Was she crazy for reacting this way to such a dangerous situation? Probably. Oh well. “That’s right, bitch. If you don’t want to end up with your blood dripping off that table, you’ll answer my questions.”
Lappland decided it would be amusing to feign fear. It was a simple mask to slip on; ears flattened, eyes wide and trained on the glinting edge of the blade, a thick swallow. She would’ve faked trembling, too, if she wasn’t secured so firmly in place. A quiver injected into her voice with ease. “What do you want to know?” It was tempting to plead and beg, just to plaster the whole act on heavier – but no self-respecting mafioso would break at just the hint of a threat. She’d leave the pathetic whimpering for when she next saw Texas. Speaking of which…
“We know you’re the little white wolf that runs around with the last heir of house Texas.” Oh, wasn’t it funny that they were calling her a little wolf, when their quarry was even smaller (if only by a centimeter)? The knife tip dipped a little deeper in implicit threat as her captor continued, “Tell us where she is, and we’ll let you go. We’ve got no interest in a mangy dog like you.”
At those words, Lappland had to suppress howls of manic laughter, her eyes widening further. Oh, oh, oh! They really had no idea who she was? What fun! What an idiot, too. Were her tail not pinned firmly beneath her body, it would’ve given her away with its excited swishes. Let her go! What a funny idea. Even if she believed it, someone who knew the stories of house Lappland’s sole survivor wouldn’t even dream of making that pretend promise. And to even think that she would sell out her most beloved partner… This would be a very long night. But a very entertaining one.
Apparently, her interrogator quickly grew frustrated with her silence, as moments later, the knife tore into the skin of her arm. As predicted, the serrated edge sent shocks of burning agony through her veins, but Lappland didn’t so much as make a peep, let alone scream. Masochism and experience mixed into a very useful cocktail for this situation; it would be very hard to break the white Lupo, if it was even possible.
The lack of any tangible reaction clearly pissed the dark-furred Lupo off more, as moments later, the knife struck down her other arm, to identical results. “Did you not hear me, you little bitch? Where the hell is the last heir of Texas?”
Lappland very deliberately took a moment to respond. When she did, she didn’t even bother to look her interrogator in the… mask, instead focusing on the beads of blood welling up from the open cuts on her arms. “Oh, no, I heard you loud and clear, Mx. Lupo,” she hummed, blinking slowly and lazily. “I just don’t feel particularly motivated to answer. Hey, you got any talent for Arts at all? I bet a few blasts of that would get me talking.~”
The knife plunged into the side of her abdomen without warning. This, at least, caught Lappland off guard enough to elicit a hiss, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. The blade twisted within her flesh for a moment, rending the wound open further, before being withdrawn with a gut-turning squelch. Blood flowed fast and free from the new gaping hole, and Lappland estimated that unless this goon had any competency at interrogations, she’d be dead in five minutes. “Mm! Alright, tough guy, you get a point there. That one kinda hurt! Can I suggest rubbing some salt or lemon juice in, though? That torture method is pretty fun!~”
“Mouthy little…” Her captor growled, and tossed the bloody knife to the side, reaching for something new. “So, you think you’re hot shit? Fine. Let’s see if you can keep that up when you see what little toy I’ve got for you.”
Another blade was flashed in front of her eyes – no, not a blade. A crystalline shard, black and glistening; Lappland recognized it right away. How could she not? Originium? So, their plan is to infect me with Oripathy if I don’t cooperate. It wasn’t a half-bad plan; if she wasn’t what some people would call barking mad, it might’ve worked. As it were, Lappland’s own life was an afterthought to her. Being Infected would change nothing so long as she had Texas at her side; and if she caved to save her own skin, she wouldn’t have that luxury.
“You know what this is? A shard of Originium, bitch.” Her captor leaned closer, right in her face, growling in a low voice. “This gets into your bloodstream and your life is over even if you somehow escape this place in one piece. So, I’ll ask one more fucking time: Where’s the goddamn Texas brat?”
“...” Lappland hummed, pretending to think, then scrunched her face up. “Phew! When was the last time you brushed your teeth? You should seriously consider a mint, babe, your breath sti–”
The shard stabbed deep into her thigh. Unlike the knife, it was neither twisted nor pulled out; it was simply left in her leg, the toxic mineral seeping into her veins. A few breathless giggles escaped Lappland’s lungs, tail tip twitching madly, and the taller Lupo scoffed derisively. “Let’s see you laughing in a few minutes, you psycho. This time, you won’t be choking from my hand crushing your throat.”
True to their words, a minute later saw Lappland trying to futilely thrash in her restraints, lips bubbling with blood as she choked and coughed, throat and lungs constricted. The Originium shard remained lodged in her leg, and the dark-furred Lupo leaned over her, a syringe filled with liquid in hand. A life-saving stimulant, she’d recognized, before her nausea and vertigo made it impossible to think clearly.
“If you want this medicine, if you want to survive, then tell me what I want to know!” her captor growled. Lappland only faintly heard them; her ears were ringing, and felt stuffed full of cotton. “I don’t care if you die here, miserable and pathetic. Where the hell is she?”
The white wolf giggled with air she didn’t have. “...Liar,” she coughed, red dribbling from her lips. Her vision swam with dark spots. Any moment now. “You’ll… never find Texas… without me.” Her final words, maybe, a bold gambit. But they were mocking and derisive, and they would cut into the other deeper than any knife. Failure was the greatest wound for people like them, after all.
She closed her eyes and fell into the abyss.