Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Redemption and Revenge	By : LLCoyote Category: M through R > Revolution Views: 2516 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own NBC Revolution, its characters or its surrounding fandom. I make no profit from this what so ever.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
I should probably warn you guys right here about the warnings. HA that's hilarious. No but seriously, they're subject to change. I'm not a strict writer. I don't set up a plot/timeline and force myself to stick to it. This story has about three different directions it could take from here. Some are dark, some aren't, some have a shit load of sex, and some only have sex like what will be in the next chapter. I just don't want anyone to go, "Your warning say this and you never put it in!" I promise, I will remove the warning tag if it does not turn out to be true. Also, there are warnings I will NOT warn you about, because telling you would be revealing a plot twist. So there you go you have been thoroughly warned of the warnings... be wary.
Also I made a horrible joke in this chapter. I couldn't resist. I promise I won't do it again.

Rattling chains and rattling chains and stomp stomp stomp—profanity, the breath of horses in the background. Like a horrible incessant song that just never stopped playing. She couldn’t escape that terrible noise and her mind wouldn’t rise from the heavy haze that kept her still and passive beneath the covers. Every now and again the song would be broken and disjointed by the words of another, some man, he kept hovering over her. His words were sweet and soft, like one would speak to a frightened child… but she wasn’t frightened at all. In the rare moments that they would give her the drugs late, she felt nothing but fury and confusion. She wanted up. Had she not been passive and cooperative until this time? By now they should at least trust her to sit quietly while restrained in a wagon, surrounded by soldiers. Hell, they could gag her and she’d be fine with that! She just wanted to sit up, to think clearly, and to be able to shove the overly friendly hands of her ‘care-taker’ away. Those were short lived moments though. Someone would notice she was squirming too much, and then the dull pinch of a needle would transport her back to sweet, torturous numbness. She hated them. Damn the militia, damn every one of these men to hell! Was always her last thought before she was gone again. How many days had passed since she’d been captured? She couldn’t keep track.
She could feel hands on her shoulders, lifting her up gently, and trying to encourage her to stand. Had the drugs worn off that much? Her brain remained clouded but her limbs, though heavy as tree trunks, actually managed to support her… for the most part. Almost like she wasn’t connected to her own body, she felt herself wobble and sway but at the same time, she felt nothing. Shapes didn’t form when she opened her eyes, if they did she couldn’t understand what they were. Colors were everywhere though, they overwhelmed her, swirled in a mass of confusion and light and darkness. She suppressed the urge to fall to her knees and vomit, opting to close her eyes instead. There was a man on either side of her incase she were to topple over. It was funny how hard they gripped her arms. She couldn’t feel the pain like she should, but when opened her eyes she could see their hands clenched deeply into her flesh. Somewhere in her mind she praised herself for recognizing the shape of hands and fingers. They talked over her for a few minutes, someone reminding them not to drop her (very thoughtful of them) before they started to pull her forward. Why didn’t they just carry her? As it was they were pretty much dragging her while she flailed like a codfish on land. Which foot wasn’t she supposed to stand on again? The stairs to wherever they were taking her seemed to be the most daunting task she’d ever faced in her life. It looked like they ascended continuously into nothing, promising an eternal upward climb. She took a daring step forward. LEFT! Don’t use your left foot! She cursed herself. Even the drugs couldn’t stop the flash of white hot pain shooting up her spine when she landed on the broken foot.
Finally she just closed her eyes and let herself fall limp, forcing them to pick her up. She didn’t have the energy to comply with their wishes anyway. Even out of formation the loud stamping boots fell into synchronicity with each other. There was the sound of a door opening any shutting as they entered a warm room where she was placed on a chair. It wasn’t until she was in the suffocating heat of the room that she realized she was freezing. So much that it stung actually. Ropes secured her wrists behind her once again, and her ankles were secured to the wooden legs of her seat. Something went in her arm, another needle no doubt, but instead of the haze thickening, the world became clearer. It wasn’t instantaneous but slowly feeling flooded back into her. The first thing she felt was her injured foot throbbing furiously, followed by her sore muscles, and then the light in the room seemed brighter and brighter. She could hear voices and finally understand them. “Yes sir this is the girl…” A man responded, but it was in a whisper and she couldn’t make it out, “Sir if we could stay a few days I’d be grateful… one of my men committed suicide in the camp before we left.” Now she could hear the other one, but she didn’t look up just yet, it was still too bright and her head was still too heavy. “What? Who?” The second man asked. The first man, which she recognized as the voice of Captain Max, clearly struggled to form the right words, “It was Gregory Hanes sir, he entered the girl’s tent to interrogate her, or so we assumed, and he shot himself.”
“What a tragedy.” The other man responded in a low whisper. She finally cracked open her eyes. Colors flooded her vision, then came shapes, the world was so much clearer now! “She did it!” Cramer shouted. She knew that voice anywhere; the voice of her torturer. Apparently he spoke out of turn, because the two men ahead of her glared at him in shock and disapproval. “Lieutenant Cramer! That’s uncalled for!” The captain scolded, “General Monroe please excuse him it’s been a long ride.” With that, the last piece of clarity returned to her, and her eyes shot up to look more closely at the man beside Captain Maxwell. He took notice of her abrupt eye contact, turning to her slowly with a contemplative look in his own eyes and a malicious, misleadingly kind smile pulled at his lips. His head tilted slightly, and he took a single step forward. So this was Monroe? If she were still drugged she defiantly would have thought he was SJ. They looked unbelievably similar. No wonder people seemed afraid of her brother before they even met him. “Is what he said true Captain Watson?” Monroe asked casually, approaching her like a tiger through the weeds. His blue eyes were so much more intense than his son’s. SJ’s never looked at her so… hungrily. It almost made her shiver as she matched gazes with him. “She was tied to a chair sir, with no means of escape or attack. As hard as it is to swallow, the boy died by his own hand.” Max answered. Monroe gently put a hand beneath her chin and tilted her face upwards, turning it left and then right. He was pondering something; she could clearly see it in his eyes. Whatever it was he brushed it off and let her go.
“Does anyone know her name?” The general asked, looking behind her and then over to the captain. “Well I… I always assumed it was Lilly sir. I never thought to ask.” Maxwell replied awkwardly. Nervously the elder man shuffled his feet and looked at her instead of Monroe. “Excuse me sir… President Monroe sir,” Ah now that was her medically savvy ‘friend’ who had kept her drugged for days, “She told me her name one night sir. I accidently let the drugs wear off… sir.” She disguised her frown. There wasn’t a single memory of that happening in her mind. ‘Tell me I didn’t sleep with the fucker. Even drugged I couldn’t be that much of a slut’ She cursed herself in her head. Monroe fixed his heated gaze on the man behind her. She couldn’t see him, but his voice trembled with fear as he spoke. Over in the corner, Maxwell shook his head in exasperation. “It’s Patricia sir! Told me to call her Pat sir!” He blurted, far too loudly. She froze in embarrassment, and a little fear, ‘Please tell me I didn’t.’ The general smirked at her discomfort, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thank you for confirming that.” His attention turned back to the extremely uncomfortable medic behind her, “Did she tell you her last name?” “Mahiney sir. She said her name was Pat Mahiney sir.” He practically shouted. ‘Mother fucker! I hate myself’ She thought, kicking herself mentally for her stupidity. Did it make it any better that she was drugged? If Monroe didn’t look as though he were going to rip her head off, it would probably be funny. The general, as expected, looked far from amused. Exasperated, annoyed, maybe even shocked (most likely at her immaturity and his stupidity), but nowhere near amused. He glared at her and she flushed red, trying to convince herself that she’d have never said that sober. “She said it was Gaelic! That… that her parents—” “For the love of God shut up Levi.” Max managed to mumble through his hands, which were currently covering his face in embarrassment. She wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she heard him question how the man had a ‘medical degree’.
Clearly annoyed, the general sighed loudly and rubbed his forehead. “Gentlemen, please, wait outside for a while.” Monroe said with a dismissive wave of his hand. His soldiers immediately obeyed filing out without a backward glance. Like dogs. Better than dogs actually. She had to tell her dogs more firmly, and remind them to continue obeying. These men weren’t even bitches, more like marble chess pieces. If Monroe poked one, it never put up a fight. How could it? It was a stupid, unfeeling, inanimate piece of stone. What was amusing was how adamantly she knew Cramer wanted to accuse her. He wanted to rat her out and have her punished for ‘killing’ one of his men. Yet he still didn’t take a stand against Monroe. There was no, “But sir!” or “Wait a minute!” Just mute obedience. It was difficult to hide her disgust. So he could show how tough and brave he was when he was questioning a restrained, helpless victim but not here? Did he truly have so little conviction? She didn’t like the man but perhaps if he were at least an honest piece of people torturing shit, she may respect him for it. No. Scratch that. The disgust would be there with or without his cowardice in front of his ‘President’.
The general pushed his hands into his pockets and sighed; his attention fully on her. “You understand me now don’t you? The drugs have worn off?” His deceptively gentle tone was nauseating but she nodded all the same. His eyes traveled down the short length of her legs, staring at her crudely bandaged foot, “You aren’t in any pain are you?” She nearly laughed. ‘Oh no sir! Thank you for your kind consideration.’ Her head turned away sharply, looking out his window at the dilapidated walls of the city’s buildings. He’d receive no answer from her. She was too likely to say something stupid if she opened her mouth. If he was surprised by her silence, it wasn’t something he chose to show. He made a tsking sound beneath his breath, “I apologize for that. Lieutenant Cramer tends to have a temper… I’ve tried to convince him to curb it after all, we aren’t animals.” She huffed, blinking languidly and turning her chin so that she could scan the room. At least four doors and not a one of them would do any good for escaping. Pitching herself out the window was always possible but the outcome was uncertain and if they caught her before she got there… who was she kidding? There wasn’t a way in hell she was breaking that glass without some serious help.
A hand on her shoulder jolted her attention forward once more. He was inches from her face, looking her over thoroughly. Something akin to, but not truly, concern was etched into his features. “My name is Sebastian Monroe, though you probably gathered that already. I’m the president of the Monroe Republic, and the general of its army.” He explained proudly. She smiled stiffly, “Talk about multitasking.” Damn it! What happened to the plan where she kept her smart ass mouth closed? Surprisingly, instead of snapping her neck, the general actually chuckled. Why wouldn’t he quit staring at her? His eyes were like big nasty bugs, crawling all over her, making her skin prickle and itch. She squirmed ever so slightly in her seat before forcing herself still once again. “So you’re Little Lilly…” He more so stated than asked. She was silently thankful he hadn’t repeated what the medic had said. “A ghost? That doesn’t seem a bit melodramatic?” Alright, so he could be a smart ass right back.
She sighed heavily, “Completely, but the sailors you employ are stupid and brave enough to risk oceans, on boats without electricity no less. The last thing that men like that are scared of, is a woman that barely stands five foot tall… and I don’t know what it is… perhaps it is the salt water or the mist that eventually gets to them but they all turn out unbelievably superstitious. So soon after the blackout too. What used to be fable is now reality. They’ve all seen mermaids or sea serpents, why not a ghost?” “And a wizard. Don’t forget the wizard.” He added sarcastically, chuckling again. She only shrugged in response. He could judge her if he pleased, it wasn’t like she gave a shit what this man thought. She would have pretended to be a werewolf and howled at the moon if it got people to leave her alone on those damn docks... thank goodness the ghost story had worked. “I think I should point out, because surprisingly no one has bothered to ask, Lilly isn’t my name at all.”
He glowered at her, “Do not play this game with me.” His hands gripped either side of her chair and he leaned into her face. Each breath of hot air coming off him made her stomach flip with nausea. “No, no. It isn’t that either. Well… not all of it. I technically am of Gaelic decent.” She rambled. Why was she rambling? Her nervousness was showing the more she spoke. She paused for a second. Why was she talking to him at all? Maybe because it didn’t matter anymore, she was here and they were going to kill her soon enough anyway. Maybe because it just felt nice to hear her voice, even if her throat was raspy and she sounded kind of odd. Whatever it was, she told herself to shut her mouth if she couldn’t control her nerves while it was open. It was clear to see his patience was waning with her, but she chose to ignore it. “You know it’s funny. I’ve had to have been a captive for at least a week now; no one has thought to ask my name… or anything about me for that matter.” She answered, trying her best to stay relaxed and not show him any fear. “Your name isn’t Lilly?” He reiterated her previous statement.
“My name is Blair. More accurately McKenna Blair, two first names. Though the only time anyone ever uses them both is when I’m in trouble.” She said as casually as possible. Monroe narrowed his eyes at her and shoved the chair backwards, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. “See? That wasn’t hard to say was it? Here I thought from looking at your broken foot, and the fact that they drugged you, that you were going to be difficult to talk to.” As he spoke he gestured to her leg, and started to walk toward her once more. Every step was laggard yet methodical. He was trying to dominate her, to intimidate her. She buried her desire to shiver and looked away, giving him a tight smile instead, “I’m pretty sure the foot breaking was just for kicks. You know boys, always playing rough…. Now the drugs, that is probably more about how they think I’m a murderer.” “And are you?” He asked slowly, pushing her hair behind her neck and weaving his fingers through it.
Blair couldn’t suppress the tremble that his touch caused but she stubbornly kept her eyes on his. He didn’t seem pleased, nor surprised, at her refusal to back down. “A murderer? Sure. Isn’t everyone these days?” She answered him in a low whisper. His hand suddenly grasped her hair in an iron clad grip, twisting the strands around his fingers and jerking her head back, “Did you kill one of my men?” The tone of his voice was frightening enough, but the fact that he looked so much like someone she loved was deeply disturbing. He hovered over her like a great malevolent crow, staring with cruel, hungry eyes. There was no escaping his hold. It was almost animalistic the way he held her; with her neck fully exposed to him and his face hovering inches from her own. She wanted to close her eyes so badly, to look away from his gaze filled with ire, but her stubbornness outweighed her fear. If he was going to snap her neck, she wouldn’t die a cowering bitch. Her pride simply wouldn’t allow it.
“As I recall,” She said tensely, “That poor, deluded, man killed himself. Took a gun to his head right in front of me. I was as surprised as they were.” After a long pause, which Monroe took to seemingly stare straight into her soul, he released her and turned away. “What do you know about my son?” He asked carefully. Blair could see his hands trembling by his sides, clenched into tight fists. This was going to get painful soon, and while she’d come prepared for that, it wasn’t something she looked forward to. “I know nothing about your son.” She lied, convincingly, but perhaps a bit too quickly. It would have sounded less rehearsed if she’d have taken a couple of breaths before spitting that out. The general sighed and pushed his hand through his curly brown hair, “Do I look like an idiot to you?” It was so hard to process his deathly threat, and to stop herself from saying something snarky like she had moments ago, like she would have with SJ. She was sure if she made any comment of the sort, it would be followed by unnecessary pain. Clearly, she’d pressed her luck to its limit.
“Fine.” She snipped, “I know everything you’d ever want to know about your son. Perhaps a bit more than you’d like.” His eyes sparkled malevolently as he stared at her. It was almost like he was deciding whether or not to eat her, not what question to ask her. His tongue slipped from his mouth to wet his lips, “So why don’t you… make this easy on yourself… and tell me now? Who says this can’t be civil?” Blair clenched her jaw tightly. Her back tensed against the hard wood of the chair as he spoke. “I do… because it won’t matter in the end. I’m going to stall you, lie to you, and feed you complete bullshit until you realize it isn’t worth the hassle and you kill me. That could be two seconds, it could be two months, I don’t know but it doesn’t matter. Your son is long gone by now and you’ll never—” She was cut off by the back of his hand hitting her so hard that she saw stars and spat blood. Shock coursed through her veins; she hadn’t even seen him move. Her cheek pulsed painfully and she forced the rest of the blood in her mouth down her throat. It was a disgusting feeling. The sound of his knuckles cracking echoed in the open air as he clenched and unclenched his fist. She held off a sarcastic laugh. The bastard had actually hit her so hard that his own hand stung. Good. Torture was so much more… fair, when everyone involved was getting hurt. “Where is he?” The General hissed, pulling her head up to look him in the face. Blair sneered and refused to make eye contact, “I haven’t a clue.” Her tone was easily just as annoyed as Monroe’s. But really, what did the man expect? That once she was faced with the great and terrible General Sebastian Monroe in the flesh, she’d cower and tell him everything immediately? No, she’d come prepared for this part. They would torture her and in a few weeks, perhaps even a month or so, they’d kill her because she wouldn’t talk. She wasn’t a fool.
He hit her again. She didn’t think it was possible to hit harder than he had the first time, but somehow he managed. Her body shook with discomfort and begged her to speak up. As it turns out, theoretical knowledge of pain was nothing compared to the actual feeling of it. She briefly wondered if they’d pull out her teeth and moaned silently. Dying toothless seemed horrifically embarrassing. Living toothless was even worse. Forget smiling, she’d never smile again if she were toothless. She embraced the rabbit trail as long as possible, thankful for the distraction (however morbid it may have been) from her current situation.
She dared to look up at his face. He was literally twitching in his frustration. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were narrow, and his hand was trembling in front of him. Blair questioned herself. It wouldn’t do any good now, but was all if this really worth it? Letting herself be caught? Suffering torture for the rest of her considerably shortened life? Her body trembled with a mixture of pain and fear. SJ had Florence to look out for. Florence who was his wife, her sister and one of her best friends, who was pregnant with a child right now. What would this man do if she just… told him the truth? Surly he would leave them alone. Any sane person would see their child was better off, was happier, this way and would put aside their wants for that. Or would Monroe really be sick enough to hunt them down? Would he be cruel enough to hurt the woman carrying his grandchild if he found her and not SJ? The look on his face suggested this man was willing to do anything it took to get his hands on his son. Cross countries, sail oceans, murder babies. Hell, it couldn’t have been easy to find about her. She didn’t want to know what horrors lead up to the day she saw the militia ride into town looking for her.
It was a good thing though, that she’d found them there. It was good that it was her and not Flo or SJ. Flo would have panicked; SJ would have tried to fight. Both alternatives would have ended badly for them… but this way they might actually make it out alive. It would buy them time to hide. Maybe they could even jump on a boat and sail off somewhere before Monroe gained control of the whole damn continent. Yes. It was best this way. She was manipulative, she was intelligent, she could force herself to be pragmatic and swallow her emotions if it suited her. So what if she didn’t walk out of this with her life? Hadn’t she already gotten what she wanted? No, not exactly, but it didn’t matter now. There was no going back. Her only option now was to make peace with this decision that she’d made.
The general’s hand lifted once more and with renewed strength, she glared up at him stubbornly. Her silent message was well received by the general, who only gave her a demented smile in response. “If you think I can’t break you,” He paused, very gently running his hand down her cheek and stroking her neck with his thumb, “You’re wrong.” His hand continued to wonder, rubbing over her shoulders and through her hair. She would have bit him if she wasn’t mortified by his behavior. She would have preferred that he just hit her again. Was being so damn touchy a requirement in this damn Republic? She tried not to shake. Her full attention focused on not shaking, not showing him weakness. He was behind her now, leaned over her back, his face partially buried in her hair. It was too hot in here. He was too hot. He was too close. He wouldn’t possibly? Her breath caught in her chest. Bile reared up like a spooked horse in her throat. When she thought of torture… that wasn’t where her mind had gone.
Through the bars of the chair, Monroe ran his hands over her hips slowly. He was laughing to himself and nudging her ever so softly with his cheek. ‘Fuck just get away from me.’ She swore, closing her eyes. It didn’t help. In fact it only made it worse. After all she couldn’t see him from where he was. She could feel him and with her eyes closed it only forced her to focus on his touch more. “You can trust me when I say this;” He inhaled deeply, “The militia prides itself on its ability to break people and me… well I learned from the master.” He let out the deep breath he’d taken and backed away from her, casually strolling to the door. His fist pounded against the expensive wood roughly and it swung open. A blonde man stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. He smirked as he entered the room. “Captain Baker here is going to show you to your room.” Monroe said as he bent down to loosen her bonds. His hands lingered on her arms, tapping the thick metal band on her left before pulling her onto her feet and handing her over to the blonde man. Captain Baker took a firm hold on her shoulder and steered her toward the door. “And rest assured… McKenna Blair, you will tell me everything I want to know… eventually.” Monroe said from behind as her new captor pulled her away.

Soooo... yay sex! Bass sex next chapter. It'll be very dubious consent, more like full on rape depending on how you view it. Very technically she DOES consent... anyway. There is is.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Redemption and Revenge