Joint Log | Capt Ivanova, Cmdr PontBrillant, Mikkal - "Bulletproof" - PT I/II

Posted on Fri Oct 24th, 2014 @ 12:08am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant & Mikkal

2,867 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

The night had come a calling once again, a late moment in her ready room had lead to yet another note -- another request for her to meet Vlimar, another request for her hand that she'd ultimately deny him. It would be the last time... The last time she'd allow for these notes to be sent and received, the last time she'd entertain him. Only a few months had passed since her world had come screaming to a halt, and that wouldn't be easily forgotten. She wasn't ready to move on with that aspect of her life, not yet and likely not ever. The Captain had sighed, tucked the note in the waist band of her uniform as she always did, and made her way down to the ships arboretum. If she closed her eyes she could have walked the winding path of beauty, even in the dark she knew it well. Her fingers trailed along the hanging leaves, caressing night blooming jasmine as if it were a passing lover as she strolled towards the wooden bridge. 'Their' bridge, the place where these excursions had begun and the place where they'd come to meet their end.

He wasn't there.

A small, sardonic, smile tugged at her lips as she knew his game. He was always watching the little Queen with his usual measured dose of care, want and need. As of yet he'd kept his promise, hadn't touched her, hadn't violated the rules she'd left him with -- and for that she was ever grateful, no matter how much she knew it tortured him. Rochelle came to rest at the apex of the bridge and once again peered down into the synthetic moonlit waters of the creek, the koi churning beneath her reflection in wait for whatever treat she may have brought them.

In the shadows, he'd been waiting for her for a while now. He hadn't known when she would receive his little note and as such had elected to wait for her there no matter how long it took. He'd arrived in the arboretum what felt like hours ago and, immediately, crouched down under a low evergreen tree, hiding his form in the darkness in hopes of not having his little secret endeavor found out. As time passed he waited until, reflected in the light of the artificial moon, the petite silhouette of the Captain appeared as she stopped at the apex of the bridge and leaned towards the water.

Immediately, he exited his cache and began to walk towards Rochelle silently until he reach the edge of the bridge. He stepped on the first plank, heading directly towards her.

She heard the creaking of the bridge, the sound of foot falls against the stained wood. They didn't sound right, too long apart, too heavy. She turned to face the source, aching to see who they truly belonged to only to feel her blood freeze in her veins. "Mikkal." Rochelle greeted, any thoughts of fondness quickly dying and stilling in her breast as she watched him approach, standing rigid. "Enjoying the night?" She asked of the envoy.

He approached the Queen emotionless until within centimeters from her. Stopping in front of her, his body arched to where his eyes were looking at hers from above, menacingly. "So that is how one meets with you... Alone." he stated, obviously referring to the secret messages she and Vlimar had been exchanging.

A tall bronze hand lifted to brush across her cheek, "You are so beautiful and strong." he stated, almost coldly. "You would be an acceptable mate." he concluded.

Rochelle stepped away from his touch, turning her head to further avoid his hand as she did so. "I have no intention of taking a 'mate'." She replied, "Though, I appreciate your compliments."

Mikkal immediately blocked Rochelle, cornering her between his hand, the ramp and his body. "Together, we could be powerful" he said with anger leaching out with the word powerful. His breathing quickened as his muscles tensed up with the building of his aggressive posture. His eyes widened as he grabbed her arm. "We could rule Atlantis through our bond, you as Queen, and me as your King..."

Time... It slipped idly through her fingers as the days ticked on in boredom and quietude -- but here, now, it stopped and froze with violence promised the moment he invaded her space for the second time. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up, her ears straining to dissolve the words that he threatened her with, the promise of power and togetherness... of the bond. Her eyes immediately flashed to the blue mark that branded her wrist and the back to him as he looped his fingers around her slender bicep. "Let go of me." She growled, her voice low and filled with the promise of reprisal should he fail to listen to her. "I have no intention of taking you as anything, let alone as my King."

Rochelle tried to tug her arm from his grip and lifted her other hand towards her combadge. Her hospitality was over, done with -- she'd get him off her ship one way or another even if it meant throwing him from an airlock at that juncture. Warning sirens blasted deep within her head as she knew that something had snapped, that Mikkal couldn't be trusted in the least. Part of her wanted to scream, the other parts all said that no one would hear her if she did. No one but him.

Mikkal tightened his grip around her bicep as his free hand moved swiftly towards her Combadge, intercepting her hand with a heavy slap as he plucked it from her uniform. The badge fell with a thud a short distance on the wooden bridge, lodging itself in the space between two planks, stuck, far enough from Rochelle to not be considered a threat to his plans. The Atlantean quickly raised his left hand from her bicep to her throat, encircling it's entirely, slowly adding pressure to Rochelle's pharynx. His eyes were now bloodshot, his breath was rapid and irregular and slight foam began to form around his lips. Suddenly, he reached behind him and slowly withdrew a knife from the waist of his pants, around 6 inches long, with an irregular blade, obviously made to pierce and damage anything it encountered.

Slowly passing the knife in front of Rochelle's eyes, as if to taunt her, Mikkal slid the flat of the blade along the side of her face and trailed it down her neck without applying pressure. At her throat, he pushed the sharp edge of the blade against her skin, menacingly.

"You will mate with me until you bear me a child and the mark of my bond. Then I will rule under your name!" he stated firmly, slowly running the knife down her neck to her breasts, dragging the blade painstakingly lower and lower.

Flinching, the woman bucked in his hands in momentary panic until the cold, hard rail bit unforgivably into the tender flesh under her shoulder blades. His hand at her throat, squeezing, choking -- it was the miner, the one who had kidnapped her, held her... In that moment they were no longer cast under the silver glow of moonlight, they were in the dark, wet mine on Notura. He was illuminated by fire, crazed. She was wild eyed, scrambling for purchase, trying to find her 'out' as he threatened to steal from her the very essence of her life. There were no drugs to induce hallucinations of Andrea or Landon, no head wound to cloud her judgment. There in that moment it was blind instinct that drove her, bringing her hands and nails to the one that held her throat, clawing at him while the knife tore at her modesty.

"You're too late!" She choked, her fingers hooking under his and trying to pry him away. "I'm already pregnant." It was a lie, a horrible, callous lie designed to stall him, make him falter. "With Captain..." She coughed, her fire filled eyes boring into his as she continued to brace against the railing, praying it would break beneath her meager weight, knowing it never would, "Neyes." Oh Landon, forgive her. It was the only thing plausible, the only thing that quickly came to mind.

Mikkal's fury only grew upon the revelation. He looked like he was going for the kill, the end. His hand on her throat tightened, squeezing harder and harder, drawing a laugh from his lips. As tears rolled down Rochelle's cheek, probably due to her body trying to fight off the lack of air, he pushed her against the rail and pressed his knife down against her flesh, barely breaking the skin. Its onslaught stopped only long enough for him to grab the tattered remnants of her collar, pulling on the textile with his entire strength, ripping the fabric and exposing Rochelle's breasts, hidden only by a thin black bra that survived the show of strength. Mikkal kept pulling against what his knife had already ruined; tunic and slacks, until everything down to her knees were exposed. Immediately he moved his massive body to try to force his waist between her legs. For a split moment he looked at Rochelle's almost naked body with satisfaction, moving remove the rest of her underwear, his right hand lowering slightly to rest on her shoulder.

She gasped for air the moment he released his strangle hold, and that was his ultimate mistake -- giving her an in. Coughing, Rochelle was forced to wait for her oxygen depleted blood to circulate and accept new sustenance, an act that left her seeing spots as blood rushed to her brain and left her feeling woozy, weak. It wasn't acceptable. The entire ordeal wasn't acceptable, not to her, not to conventional wisdom -- nothing. The torn pieces of her uniform fell away from her body, hitting the wooden planks below with pathetic whooshes of spent fabric pooling together and the night air was quick to rush in to steal the territory that had been relinquished by Mikkal's brutality. Pin pricks of sanguine welled at the sites where his knife had broken the skin, each one in stark contrast to her delicate porcelain complexion -- a reminder that what was happening was wrong and foul, such purity wasted by a monster. He'd bought her story, or maybe he hadn't, either way it had only served to infuriate him further and the smooth, taut plain of her of her lower belly betrayed her lie. Landon had perished nearly five months ago.

The mistake... The sudden clarity as the oxygen levels regulated in her head finally brought her back to it with the realization that her tender throat was free, she was breathing. Her chest heaved with the knowledge, gulping in heavy breaths as her attacker was hard at work and suddenly she was a wild cat. Using the rail and his body as leverage, she launched forward, her fingers and nails ripping for the bastard's face and eyes. Even if he was successful, even if he ultimately killed her, she'd mark him with his guilt. A slender leg, still partially bound by her duty boots and the remnants of her slacks, slipped between his, hooking around his ankle and knee. His hand was trapped between them, his knife useless and flat against her flesh as she used that railing, her feeble weight, the storm of her nails and the element of surprise to her advantage. It would be him or her at the end of this, one or the other.

She'd kill him or she'd die trying.

Mikkal struggled to keep his balance as the momentum shifted his attention. He went to grab the knife tightly, but his arm was already going forward to grab the rail in hope of stabilizing himself. His other hand tried to return to its initial position around the Phoenix's throat, as he worked to push her back, his body against hers, feeling aroused and angry at the resistance he was receiving. This would be hard to get, but would bring him oh so much satisfaction, he thought. "Ohhh, you like it hard." he claimed, as he tried to steal advantage back from the petite woman.

"Fuck you!" She spat, the obscenity quick to leap from her dignified lips as her hands and arms blocked his and settled purchase on his face. The leg between his jerked upwards roughly, her knee connecting with his most prized possessions once, twice and a third time before she pushed at his head, trying to guide him away from her as he kept her so uncomfortably pinned against the harsh wooden banister. She had the advantage now, she could feel the tide shift and bring forth her only attempt at revolution against him. Failure was not an option.

Wood blanks beneath them creaked as she shoved forward against his much larger, heavier frame with a strangled growl of contempt and effort. Digging a thumb into one of his menacing blue eyes, the wet fleshy pop was sincerely satisfying - the sensations of blood and fluid running down her hand and wrist, dripping onto her rib cage and belly as she fought, however, were not. There was anger there, something deeper than just the primal urge to survive and protect herself -- the emotional tidal wave of sadness and despair at losing Landon, her deep rooted anger and hate for the men who had driven them to that point of no return. Everything she had bottled up, every tear, every stabbing of that welling pain exploded in that moment. She was the Phoenix, devoid of anything else but the need for retribution for more than just this man's attempt to steal from her her dignity and chastity. More than just the black eye he'd already given her. It had been his greatest mistake of all to challenge such a woman, to think he could ever overpower her simply because she appeared so frail and little.

Mikkal began to scream at the excruciating pain being inflicted by the petite redhead. His voice reached a higher pitch than one would think he was capable. The gouging of his eye, more so than the kicks to his groin, immediately incapacitated him, felling him to his knees. Blindly, he held his eyes and began to swing the knife he held towards where he knew Rochelle had been last. His mind, his guttered mind was now concentrating wholly on the pain and the hope to feel resistant against his blade, meaning that, at the end of it, some part of Rochelle would be marked forever by his hand.

He fell, screaming and she shied away from him sideways and towards where she'd last seen her combadge fall -- praying it was only stuck and not lost in the water below. The tangle of her slacks, however, caught at her legs, ripping them out from under her and allowing Mikkal's blade access to one of her thighs. It was a graze, a searing hot graze that brought forth a muffled cry as she hit the deck and kicked out at him, "You sick son of a bitch!" She yelped as her boots connected with something, some part of him and gave her that much needed edge to crawl away. A few feet away and lodged between two planks, her combadge glinted in the artificial moonlight and Rochelle's fingers found it quickly, pressing it and delighting in the sound of its chirp, "Ivanova to security! Emergency in the arboretum!" She yelled, her voice shaking with a heavy mix of anger and adrenaline.

Mikkal felt the kick under his jaw, right at his throat. He felt a renewed, sickening level of pain, then... Nothing. Black.

It was over. Over.

-=- Security Offices -=-

Vlimar returned to the offices after his regular shift to catch up on various duties that were left behind during the transition and the new assignments of the members of his team. He'd put his office in silent mode to avoid hearing the low-grade chatter coming across internal communication. As he put away the last of his work, Ensign Sorensen entered his office, opening the door violently and not knocking prior.

"Sir, emergency from Captain Ivanova, Arboretum." she said.

Vlimar, who was about to ask her how she dared enter his office in that fashion, immediately got to his feet and crudely pushed his chair in as he began to run from his office, shouting: "Secure the sector, contain, but no one enters until I give the go!" Somehow, call it intuition, Vlimar had an inkling of what may have happened. Especially when considering Rochelle rarely went to the arboretum prior to the first riddles and messages he'd thrown at her.

He ran. Oh how he ran.


The turbo lift was not fast enough for him, he kept commanding it to use emergency speed, destabilizing the plateau it was known to have for comfort.


---
Continued in Part II
---

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

&

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
SOC
USS VINDICATOR

&

Mikkal
Envoy of Atlantis Prime

 

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