Green & Black: The Prisoner
Language: a bit
This could be lumped in with "Female in Peril" exploitation stuff that I really hate. But it's meant to be straight-up sadistic.
THIS IS NOT CANON. This is an AU of my AU Arrow story "Green & Black."
In G&B, Malcolm Merlyn has captured Felicity and is holding her prisoner much the same way he held Walter, and for the same reasons. He's made a deal with Oliver for them to work together trying to clean up Starling City. Diggle was arrested in Merlyn's warehouse, but also as part of the deal, the charges were dropped and he's been freed.
(A Private Detention Facility)
Felicity gripped the wooden arms of the chair. Sweat from her palms slicked the smooth, dark wood. It was a thick, heavy chair, and she was strapped into it securely at ankles, wrists, and elbows.
It reminded her of an electric chair.
A panicked look around and up proved that wasn't the case: no tin cap to fry her brain. But if it wasn't an electric chair, it was almost certainly a torture chair, an interrogation chair. It sat in a pool of yellow-white light, while the rest of the room remained dark.
Get ahold of yourself, Felicity! They had no reason to interrogate or torture her. She had to stop letting her imagination run away with her. Don't panic until there's something to panic about!
She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out through pursed lips. Better. Now just don't think!
She heard a door open ahead of her in the darkness. There was a sliver of lesser darkness for a moment, blocked by a tall shadow, then the door thunked solidly closed. She didn't see anything until the form of the Dark Archer melted out of the blackness. Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Do you know why you are here?" the inhuman voice rumbled. "A prisoner in this place."
She swallowed forcefully, trying to see his eyes. The hood and the mask shadowed them. Her voice came out surprisingly level, considering the circumstances. "As insurance," she said, swallowing her fear again. "Against my friends doing anything Mr. Merlyn doesn't like." You see? Valuable hostage, here.
The figure nodded once, slowly. Then he said, "Your friends have broken the terms of the deal."
Her blood turned to ice, causing her to shiver. "Y-You're going to kill me?" Her throat tightened until the last of her words came out as a squeak.
"No. That would severely limit your usefulness."
She should feel relieved, but her limbs were still shaking.
"I just want you to know," the dark figure said, advancing slowly, "this has nothing to do with your behavior. It is not your fault." He brought up his right hand, and Felicity could see the tool he held, like pliers, but with thicker, heavier jaws. Bladed jaws. Bolt cutters. Instantly, her mind flooded with every mobster movie scene that involved bolt cutters and fingers.
"Oh God, no!"
He grabbed her left hand, tried to peel her fingers off the arm of the chair. She clung with all her might, crying, "No no no!" all the while, but it was no contest. He gripped her pinky in his gloved fist and pulled it straight. "No, no; I need to type!" She tried to kick, but the leather straps cut into her ankles. "Don't! Wait! Wait!" She leaned forward over her arm; she had to make him listen! "It's the first time, right? Don't- Don't-! Just hurt me, as a warning; they'll never do it again, I promise! I swear, they won't, just don't cripple me!"
The black hood turned slightly, but she still couldn't see his eyes. "They'll need proof."
"J-Just t-tape it!" She gulped. "Or send... photo..." Hyperventilating was making it difficult for her to talk. "They won't do it again," she cried softly. "If they do..., then... you can... but..."
He straightened and looked over his shoulder. Felicity followed his gaze to the upper corner of the room. A small LED glowed in the darkness. A camera! They could tape this. She trembled in silence while the Dark Archer thought it over. Or got his orders over the Bluetooth. She glanced anxiously again at the hidden camera. Was Merlyn up there, watching? Afraid to get blood on his expensive suit?
The Dark Archer released her hand and turned away. Felicity wrapped her fingers back around the arm of the chair. There was a slight thump as he set the bolt cutters down, then he turned back. He pulled a matte-black knife from his belt, the thinnest razor edge the only part that gleamed.
Felicity squealed as he grabbed her jaw with one black-gloved hand and forced her head to the side. "Hold still," he growled softly as he leaned over her and began cutting her face.
The blade sliced in at the corner of her eye, and she started screaming. She felt her cheek split open like a nectarine under the knife, and blood began pouring over her skin. He stopped at the corner of her mouth and started again at her temple. She shrieked and thrashed in her bonds; she couldn't help it. The pain was so sharp, so intense. She couldn't get away. His hand was like a vice; the smell of leather filled her nostrils.
A third cut notched her ear, and that hurt like hell. She was bawling helplessly by the time he finished; her face and neck were wet with blood.
He let go of her and stepped back. Was it over? White light flickered in her eyes and she flinched. It was the flash to a mobile phone camera. She must look a fright. She sobbed more, imagining Oliver and Diggle getting the image.
"You're going to be all right," the Dark Archer said. Between the dark shadows and her tears, she couldn't see him. "Remember, this is not your fault. Your friends are responsible."
He left her there, crying and bleeding, until the guards came. They stuck her with something, and her head lolled as the light shrank away.