every_blossom_blooming | [out of game]

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Nina was losing track of time. How long had it been since these superstitious idiots had figured out that her hands were somehow dangerous? She stared down at her arms, which were bound together, from her elbows to her fingertips, like she was praying, with duct tape and rope. When she'd tried to bite through the tape around her fingertips, they'd put some over her mouth. It hurt, and she couldn't even heal herself like this. She could offer no comfort to her fellow prisoners.

She noticed that their number dwindled, too. Men would come, take someone, and leave. Nina imagined they were selling them off. They were saving her, she could only imagine for who or for what. She tried not to think about it too hard, just tried to wait for a chance. Maybe if they sold her, they would pass on a warning. Maybe they wouldn't.

She didn't know. The not knowing ate at her.

One night - and she wasn't even sure if it was night time - something woke her from a dead sleep. The cells all around her had been empty for days. She heard noises: men yelling, gun shots. The door burst open and someone fell through it, scrambled across the floor to get away from violence happening in the other room.

What was happening?

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Frank had been watching the warehouse for longer than he wanted to admit, longer than he should have been, longer than was excusable for the people that had come and gone form it. He'd tracked down a fair number of the young women, and some men, that had been trafficked out of it, but tracking down the traffickers wasn't as easier as the people they sold to. Dealing with those scumbags hadn't been so hard. Dealing with the wholesalers, that had proved the sticking point. But he had to do it.

There were some things you didn't do. Frank didn't have much of an opinion on sex work, but you couldn't sell another person like they were a thing. And some of these girls and boys--well they were just that. Girls and boys, barely older than his kids had been. He could not abide.

So when he could finally make a move, he did.

The last guy had the keys to the cells. Frank didn't need him to be alive for this. There was a part of him that felt bad for the kid. As far as he could tell, all he'd done was lock and unlock cell doors. But ignorance was no excuse. There had been plenty of time to unlock those cells.

Frank murmured a shushing sound at the kid as he leveled a gun at his head. He'd make it quick at least.

She stared at the scene playing out before her, and for a moment, Nina thought she could just let one man kill the other. Nina closed her eyes, because she knew what it was like to feel powerless. So she kicked her cage door hard. Maybe it would get her shot - maybe the man with the gun was not actually a rescuer, but something worse.

It didn't matter, really, as long as he could get her out of the cage. As long as he had no idea who or what she was. She could already hear sirens, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to pay close attention to her in a hospital, or to ask her questions.

She needed to get out of here.

Frank stopped at the noise. He'd known there was at least one left, but he hadn't been expecting noise, a fight--had he? Maybe he just hadn't been expecting to fall into the room with the cages themselves. He kept the gun pointed on the kid and looked up.

She was older than some of the others, more full bodied, and bound like she was a threat. Frank didn't know what to do about that.

"Please," the kid on the ground said. "Please, I didn't know nothin' about it. Please, man, please, just lemme go."

"Stop talking," Frank snapped. He bent down and ripped the keys off the kid's belt. "You stay there. I'm not done with you."

The kid stayed there, looking ready to piss himself. Frank crossed to the young woman's cage and worked through the keys quickly until he found what appeared to be the right ones to open hers. It took some trial and error before he got hers open.

Nina resisted the urge to kick the door while the man worked to find the damn key. She kept her eyes on the kid on the ground; she didn't want him to die, but she didn't want him to get away, either. She could make that happen.

As soon as she heard the lock click open, she surged forward, practically shoving her way out. She couldn't even rip the tape off her mouth, not with her hands wrapped together in duct tape. So she looked imploringly at the man who had just freed her, and, in case he was dense, she tried to touch her mouth.

Frank caught her before she could bolt, before she could get away from him. He shushed her the same way he had the boy, though there was a difference there. The menace had gone out of it, as much as a man that looked like him could be unmenacing.

He couldn't have her running off. He'd neutralized most of the warehouse, but he could hear, in the distance, the sirens and he didn't trust the cops to handle any of this any better than the people that had been running this whole situation.

He pulled his knife out of the sheath on the back of his belt and looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Easy, okay? I won't hurt you."

It was easy, careful work to slice through the tape holding her hands together. He didn't know what that was about, but giving her back some of herself seemed vital, so he started there.

She stared down between them, intent, watching as he cut her arms and her hands free. As soon as she could move her fingers, she reached up to rip the tape off her own mouth. All she wanted to do was scream, to release the primal, pent-up feelings inside her that she hadn't been able to express verbally for too long.

But she stayed quiet. Instead, her sharp, green eyes snapped to the boy on the ground, because he was making little noises of protest.

"No, don't let her go, she--"

Nina's jaw clenched and one hand shot forward, then she clenched it into a fist and jerked it back. The boy choked like the air had been knocked out of him and then he was unconscious.

She looked at her rescuer like she was daring him to try to tie her back up again.

"You promise?" she asked, her accent heavy now that her voice was free.

Frank had no idea what he was looking at, what he'd just seen. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure that the cops should not get their hands on this girl either. In the moment, Frank didn't feel qualified to deal with whatever he'd just stumbled across. But he'd come into this situation prepared to help whoever it was still left in these cages as he'd helped the ones he'd been let out, sold to the highest bidders.

A quick glance said she was the last one. He disregarded the unconscious lump of the boy on the floor and grabbed the young woman's elbow.

"Come on," he said. In the distance, the sirens were getting closer. "If you don't want to end up in another cell, we gotta get moving."

He wasn't going to hang around for the cops, and it would be better for her if she didn't.

As soon as she was on her feet, she jerked her elbow free from his grip. It made her stumble and she caught herself on the edge of the cage, taking a moment to regain her balance. She'd been off her feet for a while; pins and needles moved from her feet up to her knees. She wiggled her toes and tried to get the blood flowing properly again before she stood straight.

Nina didn't want to wait for the police, so she moved closer to him; she followed him. She had no reason to trust police or anyone else, but he at least had freed her. She stayed quiet as she followed, not bothering to remember the twists and turns they took to get out of the building.

Once they were out on the street, though, where people might see them, she grabbed his hand and pressed close to his side. "Don't pull on me," she said. "People will think you are kidnapping me."

There was a brief moment, as they stepped out onto the street, where they paused. Frank stripped off his leather jacket and slung it across the young woman's shoulders, as if it belonged there, or as if it were much cooler out than it was. It did not cover her nearly as much as he was expecting because, he realized, they were nearly the same height. He hadn't noticed, when she was folded up or even in the moments of--of, well, whatever had happened to that young man in the warehouse.

Then he wrapped an arm casually around her shoulders. Like they were just two people out on the street, coming home from somewhere. He pulled a baseball cap out of the back pocket of his jeans and fit it on his head, pulled low to shield his eyes.

He didn't particularly like being spoken to like he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, but he didn't naysay her. Instead, he simply headed toward the main road, and then down a few blocks, without giving up that casual touch across her shoulders. He walked slowly, but with purpose, away from the warehouse as if they'd never been there at all.

His coat was warm, and she found herself surprised that it sort of smelled nice. She watched him transform himself, hiding beneath the brim of his heat with his arm around her shoulders. He wasn't much taller than she was, and if she'd still had her heeled shoes, she would've been taller. She wondered what happened to them.

Nina stayed quiet for a few blocks and let her arm drape around his waist.

"What's your name?" she asked at last, keeping her eyes ahead. She calmed her heart; now was not the time to be afraid. "Where are we going?"

"You're too tense," he said gently, but he couldn't blame her. He didn't know what they had put her through, but he couldn't imagine being relaxed after being caged like an animal, with or without the tape involved in it.

But he answered her questions. They were waiting at a crosswalk and it was quiet. People walked past them and nobody seemed to notice that the young woman had no shoes on.

"I'm Frank. We're going somewhere safe," he assured. "So you can get cleaned up and figure out where you need to go."

"I'm working on it," she said, without any heat. She was trying to relax but it didn't come easy. When they stopped, she looked at him.

"I don't have anywhere to go."

Maybe that was a little bit dramatic, but it was true. She couldn't go back home, because the only thing there was what had gotten her in this mess in the first place. She was new in this country and had no where to go here, either.

"Not having anywhere to go is different than figuring out where you need to go," Frank insisted. And it was the truth, after all. He had places he'd come from, places he could go, but they were not the places he needed to go. That was how he was in this whole situation, after all, wasn't it?

At least he'd tracked down everyone that had been through that warehouse, as far as he knew. That was some relief. So now it was on to the next thing.

"Either way, a shower and some food'll be good," he said. He didn't press for her name, because she hadn't offered it, and if she wasn't comfortable giving it to him than he wasn't going to push.

"Saints, I want to be clean," she sighed. She was quiet after that, and she paid more attention to where they were going, even if everything felt and looked unfamiliar. SHe'd spent so much time keeping it all together that now she was starting to feel tired, and worn.

She just wanted to rest.

Nina kept a brave face, though, for as long as they had to travel.

Eventually, they climb up to a subway track. Frank bought her a fare card and handed it over without question or comment, and then stepped through the turnstile. He waited for her on the other side, calm and collected, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

It was easy to be calm and collected in this moment. The platform path was clear, the night mostly silent, and they had gotten away. They weren't far from somewhere where she could rest. A brief ride, and they'd be from the Bronx back down to Midtown.

Nina wanted to collapse. The farther away they got, the more exhaustion she felt creeping in. There was only so much she could do to keep herself going; only so much energy she had to move around. She tried to encourage her body; she let herself sit during the subway ride.

By the time they left the subway, Nina felt like she was on autopilot. Her legs were moving, but she didn't feel them. She was in danger of tuning out when she heard a dog bark. That made her jump and she nearly hid behind her savior when he opened the door to a strong-looking dog on the other side.

"Hey, hey," Frank said at the dog, shushing at him as the dog whined and panted, tail thumping back and forth enthusiastically. "Quiet down, ya mutt. C'mon."

The apartment was spare, a warehouse type thing with a table arrayed with a police scanner and bright lights and guns, some folding chairs set about. There was something that passed for a bed beyond a small partition, mattresses and blankets on the floor. A tiny kitchenette, a doorway to a bathroom. The dog had a crate and floor mat, food and water bowls. Everything was in neat, military precision.

Frank grabbed the dog's leash. "Shower's over there," he said to his guest, and gestured toward the bathroom door. "I gotta take him out."

Nina calmed her heart as she followed him inside. Something about the place made her want to stay alert, but she was too tired. She looked in the direction of the bathroom, then looked at the dog, which seemed very happy to see the man.

She stayed there, standing in the middle of the room until he was gone. The rest of the room held some interest for a moment, but eventually she drifted toward the bed, such as it was, and she collapsed in it.

Whatever happened to her, whatever he planned for her, it could wait for a few hours. Nina put herself to sleep with a small gesture; she didn't even stir when the man and the dog came back.

When he came back and found her sleeping, he shushed the dog softly and let him off the leash. The dog stayed away from the partitioned off 'bedroom', such as it was, instead following behind Frank as he busied around the apartment quietly. He started food, something that could cook over time until she woke up, and then he dealt with showering himself.

When all was said and down, he settled into one of his chairs and just let himself be boneless for a moment. The dog came over and licked at his fingers before retreating to his crate.

Frank didn't know when he drifted off exactly. He couldn't call it sleep, but he definitely wasn't conscious any more.

When she woke, she didn't remember where she was. Not at first. She sat up slowly and rubbed her head, and slowly it all came back to her. She could hear the quiet snoring of the dog in the crate, and when she concentrated, she could hear and feel the breathing and heartbeat of the man that brought her here. He was asleep.

Nina eased out of bed and took her boots off. Her feet hurt, even if they were comfortable shoes. She followed the smell of food into the little kitchenette, being as quiet as she could. More than once she glanced at the man in his chair curious. He looked like a soldier.

She wondered how long she'd been sleeping. A few hours, maybe. It wasn't quite daylight yet, but she didn't think it was far away. Nina found a jar of dog treats on a high shelf and took the whole thing down as she went over to the dog. She sat on the floor and set a treat down between her and the open crate.

"Think I should wake him up?" she asked the dog. "I think the food is ready."

Frank was awake before Nina said anything out loud, aware of the way that she was moving around the apartment. He stayed where he was, eyes closed, while she futzed and until she actually spoke up. Not trying to rouse him but certainly not keeping her voice down about it.

"It's been ready," he said, eyes closed still until he decided to move from the chair he'd been resting in. He gave her her space. The dog was watching her and the treat intently, but only came out of the crate once Frank was up and moving around.

Nina jumped a bit when she heard his voice, and she pouted when the dog perked up for him. "Well, I suppose he really is your dog, isn't he?"

She sighed and managed to get to her feet. She still felt stiff all over. "What did you make?" she asked, drifting back toward the kitchenette once Frank was up.

"I saved him from dog fighting," Frank said. It was more complicated than that, but it was the long and short answer. He'd cultivated the trust, but the dog did care for him now that he had proven things could be good.

"Chicken and dumplings." He moved toward the kitchenette, giving her plenty of space. "Figured something hearty would do you good. You manage to pop in the shower yet, or you just pass right out?"

"I saw your bed and I put myself to sleep," she admitted. "I haven't had any good rest in a long while. Do I smell bad?"

Nina looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers. She still had ligature marks around her wrists. She'd work on that later. She didn't think she was offensive, but she also wasn't sure she was the best judge of that anymore. She did need to wash her hair.

"I won't break, you know," she said when she noticed the space he gave her. "And I don't bite, not really."

"You'll feel more like a human being after you shower, is all," Frank said, with a tone of personal experience as much as anything else. Sometimes, just the warmth of it was enough. Sometimes, it was good to go through the whole process of bathing. He could go and pick her up something if she asked for it. Otherwise, she was stuck with his rather generic things.

He glanced at her, and raised an eyebrow gently. "No, you won't. But you don't know me, and I don't want to assume you want me close."

"Close or not, unless you are going to shoot me, I think I could kill you before you could kill me," she said with a shrug. "And if you were going to do anything else to hurt me, I think you would have done it by now."

Nina tucked her hair back as she considered a shower. She rubbed her clothes between her fingers. "Do you have anything else I can put on? I don't want to get clean and then put on something dirty again. It feels terrible."

Frank thought of the boy in the warehouse, and all that he could not explain and didn't think he ought to be asking about. He didn't question her, but he also didn't say a damn thing about whether or not he thought he could take her out if he needed to.

"Only my own stuff," he said, but considered it. "Probably some sweats and stuff. It'll fit, for now. Until you figure out your feet."

He grabbed a couple bowls for the soup and held one out to her.

Nina accepted the bowl and leaned against the counter. She didn't want to sit again; if she did, she might fall back asleep. She ate a few bites of her soup before she said,

"My name is Nina Zenik. Who are you?"

"Frank," he said, which he had told her on the street but if he was honest it made sense that she might not remember that. He dished out some of the soup for himself and covered it back up in the crock pot.

He ate quietly, and didn't expand on that. It was better for both of them, honestly, if she knew less of him. If he was just some guy, just some good Samaritan, then there were fewer questions and complications that arose.

Frank got the impression that this Nina girl could cause a lot of complications.

"Frank," she repeated quietly, realizing he'd said it to her once already. Nina shook her head a bit and ate more, because the food was good and it would help her focus, help her recover.

"What are you going to do with me, Frank?"

Frank leaned against his counter and ate. He watched her picking at her food, more slowly, but that was alright. It was a slowness of pacing herself rather than finding the food off putting, and he could appreciate that.

"Let you use my shower and put you in some clean clothes? Get you a burner phone so you can track down anyone you might need to?" He shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not going to do anything with you."

Nina shook her head. "I have no one to find," she answered. "There is no one here with me. And who will I go back to in Ukraine? The boy that sold me? No."

She had no family to speak of, nothing left behind. She'd wanted to leave and make a new life, and she'd fallen for someone that spoke convincing sweet nothings. Silly girl, Zoya's voice said in her ear. She looked down at her bowl, she ate more.

Frank nodded a little bit. This little hovel of a flat was not built for two people to share it. It wasn't really built for a single person to squat in it like he was.

He had the distinct, itching suspicion that he should get in contact with some people he knew and see if they could get her safely out. Not back to the Ukraine, but somewhere. Somewhere safe. Curtis could do it, probably. Billy, maybe--he'd read he'd just established a private military contract group. There were people on the outside of all of this. But none of them knew Frank was still alive, going after the gangsters and cartels and shit, and now traffickers.

He looked at Nina speculatively. "You're still gonna need clothes," he said.

"I can get clothes and money, as long as you don't have too many questions about where or how I got them."

Nina pushed her food around. She had few options, and he was not offering her a place to stay, as far as she could tell. There was one bed, and it was clearly his-- whatever it was. She wouldn't call it a home, there was nothing homey about it.

He didn't particularly like the sound of that, the implication. It smacked too close to what he'd just broken her out of, and the remarkable fact that she could stumble right back into it again. Not with the same men, but with different ones this time. There were a lot of really shitty guys out there. Frank was doing what he could, cleaning up the messes of the world. Sometimes, it meant dealing with the big fish. Sometimes, it meant the little ones.

"You're welcome to a roof over your head until you figure yourself out," Frank said with a shrug, looking at his bowl. There was only one bed, but Frank didn't sleep much anyway. It was no skin off his nose to move to a chair instead, or the floor next to the dog.

The dog, he noticed, that had gravitated toward Nina's feet, sniffing up at her bowl like she might slip him some of her dinner. He gave a quick little hiss to get him to back off.

Nina said something sweet to the dog as Frank gave it a hiss. "Go on, pup," she said, turning a little as if she meant to protect her food from him. Maybe she'd slip him a treat later.

"I promise nothing will come back on you," she said, wondering if that was what caused the furrow in Frank's brows. "I need to find some way to be legal in this country, or look like I am, if I have any chance."

She finished her soup and set it aside as she turned her full attention on Frank again, studying him.

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