Chapter Text
Morag stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets. Head tilted against the unseasonal hailstones and burrowing her nose into her scarf, no matter how her breath condensed across her glasses bringing visibility even lower in the gloom.
Fucking wind, just a bit further, cutting behind the chippy and then through the sports complex carpark already emptied for the evening. Bot would grumble about being fed late, but if ever a creature could be bribed with food, 'Bot was them.
But, as she moved out of the meagre shelter of the building walls, the howling wind loud in her ears there was... Silence.
Morag groaned. Muscles stiff and shivering, hair darkened by water plastered to her forehead. Had she slipped? That was embarrassing, at least no one would have seen her. Not even the aggressively bright yellow of her coat would have made her visible in that rain. The rain, that was not falling on her, and the coat that she was not wearing.
Turning her face into the floor, rubbing on a rough blanket, that could be a good sign. Cold fingers found a colder metal floor. That was decidedly Not a good sign. Neither, now that she considered it, was having her nose and eyebrow directly against the floor blanket. With no glasses. Shit. Very much not good, worst day, 0/10 do not recomend.
Right, stay calm, where was she. Blinking blurrily and willing knees to unlock she sat slowly. Jacket, hat, scarf, and glasses gone, shoes still on and socks sodden. Great. The left side of her body was also soggy and achy beyond the cold. Presumably she fell into the puddles when whatever happened happened. This was not a bed, and doctors were unlikely to leave her in wet clothes, so this wasn't medical. That left only bad options.
The space was gray with dim lighting above. And there was some kind of delineation she could see through around her. A cubicle? Reaching out and moving towards it made her stomach drop as the bars of a cage came into focus. Don't panic... Ok, she was going to panic. All those quarterly trainings at work to recognise signs of wage slavery and trafficking, and here she was on the wrong side of it. How long had she been here, who would feed Bot, how long until anyone realised she was missing, and what good could that do her.
Ok, ok... Not ok but going to have to put that aside for now (forever, whispered a quiet part of her mind). Ah, when her meds wore off and withdrawal hit, panic was going to get So Much worse. But, box it away.
When in doubt, hit it with a brick. Just had to work out what 'it' was, and what was a relevant brick. It looked, as best as she could tell, like the inside of a metal lorry, divided into these cages. Maybe larger than a lorry, the gloomy blur beyond her focal length seemed wider than that. Maybe a ship? But it didn't feel to be at sea, and given the weather she remembered she would have expected to feel the movement of the deck. Although deck felt like the right word for the flooring.
Looking about again, that shape had moved, and might be saying something. Yeah, that was a face, and maybe hand actions close into their chest. Which she couldn't really see.
"Hello?" She tried. Squinting towards the figure, person, presumably fellow captive. The response was an immediate "cchhh" noise and the hands moving sharply over their mouth. No noises then. Moving with a mix of stiff clumsiness and exaggeration Morag raised her hands over her eyes in the shape of glasses, then out into a wide shrug. Hauling herself onto her hands and knees to crawl over closer to this potential ally.
They turned out to be a grim faced young woman, although the grim face was probably the situation rather than character, maybe. They were also dressed in dry office clothes. Deciding to risk a whisper, while miming between this woman and her own cage. “Can you see my glasses?” Croaked out, thankfully acceptably quiet, volume control was something Morag would have to remember to work on. After a few moments of peering the response came, negative. “No” softly and gently whispered back. Morag sagged, reaching to the bars, they reached back, their warm fingers curling against her own.
It was no good. Morag howled at this friendly contact, tears spilling from her eyes and breath catching in sobs. No boxes for this. It wasn't fair. It shouldn't happen to her. It shouldn't happen to anyone. There was a mix of hissing, shushing, and soothing noises. There must be more people here, but Morag was too overwhelmed to try to understand them. Gulping, and trying to talk, but her cheeks were stiff with frustrated emotions and only a quietly broken keen made it past her lips.With a clang of metal a door opened and a new figure stalked in. All noises in the hold were silent save for the steady crash of heavy bootfalls. Something was snarled in a deep and hissing voice of venom and disdain. Electricity coursed through the cage and Morags muscles, seizing tight and spasming painfully. The captor kicked at the bars and stalked out again.
There was nothing to hear but her own overwhelming breath and heartbeat. An exhausting cry left her shivering against the bars, her neighbour leaning up in support, despite the spreading dampness leaching into their clothing.
"Who will feed my cat?" Morag whispered before falling into a distressed sleep. How that was the priority right now. With all the personal danger and unknowns, but Bot depended on her, she had a duty to sweet little Robot. Friends had keys, and it shouldn't be more than a day out of contact before someone would check on her. Find Bot, and feed her, reassure her. Deliberately not thinking about what any friend might fear finding at her flat. Much safer to think that the most spoiled cat in Scotland would be grumpy, hungry, and demanding when someone made it, but not in danger, please not dangerously underfed. Please not dead.