This is the second part of the tale: The Boiler Room Ordeal. If you missed the Prologue or the First part you can visit them here, and here!  Without further ado, here's the second part of

The Boiler Room Ordeal II – Struggling on Quicksand

(Aide Music: Noir Désir - Le Vent Nous Portera (lyrics))

 

As Amélie descended into the shadowy depths of the building, the air grew colder and more oppressive. The sound of machinery echoed through the narrow corridor, and the faint smell of oil and dampness filled her nostrils. She felt a growing sense of unease, her instincts honed from years of hunting and military drills alerting her to the danger.

Lyonel eagerly led the way, hopping into the darkness like some kind of twisted wonderland character, followed by Étienne, his lumbering form wobbling on the stairs' descent. Dominique loomed behind her, his massive frame towering over her while blocking any way out.

—It's all right, Amélie! It may be a little dark, but the steps are very even. You can go down without any fear! —Lyonel spoke with a humor that detracted from the situation, and his intimacy in using her first name without permission only made her more annoyed.

Domenique pushed her by the arm, it was only a slap with his hand, but it was enough to make her take the first steps down. Then he grabbed her arm and squeezed until it hurt and leaned down to her ear and whispered menacingly.

—You've shown courage so far, little girl. But remember, no one will help you from now on. —And he let go with a shove. Boucher was sure it really was a prank now, but she feared it was something worse than she had imagined.

As they descended, Étienne turns, and his face is transformed into indignant fury.

—D-did you really think you c-could be one of us without proving yourself wo-worthy, girl? Do you th-think we're a joke? A bo-boutique you can enter at will? —He spoke nervously as he reached for something hidden in his suit.

He must be talking about the interview he'd had with Monsieur Marchand; she herself was very disappointed about it. She had hoped that he would give her a chance to take the necessary tests and, if she impressed them, join the division. But instead, he handed her the position without a second thought.

She began to sketch out her answer in her head when Étienne pulled out a large revolver and pointed it at her belly, cocking the hammer making the barrel spin, showing that he meant business. She gasped in fright at the sight of the revolver and took a step back.

—Monsieur Blanchet, that's not necessary... —she began.

—S-silence! Do Y-You think it's necessary for u-us to h-have an impious woman who cheats her way in-into the most sacred de-defense that France p-possesses?

Dominique stopped, his face impassive. Lyonel on the other hand gasped when he saw Étienne’s gun pointed at Boucher. Amélie noticed how theatrical was his surprised face.

—Now, now big guy! Easy! You're not really going to blow this spoiled girl's brains out here, are you? —Lyonel speaks with a calculated tone of concern. —Now put the gun away and let's stick to the plan, all right?

Boucher felt in Lyonel an air of “good cop” routine

—Listen to your partner, ... —Amélie tried but was brutally interrupted by Étienne.

—S-silence, harlot! —Pointing the gun at Boucher once more and then adressed to the others. —We can p-put an end to this here and no-now! I-I can remove this Jezebel's opportunism without us having to go any f-further! Allow me a mo-

And this time it was Dominique's turn to lose patience.

—LET'S GET ON WITH THE SCHEDULE! Blanchet, put that gun of yours away before I lose my temper.

With a gulp, Étienne put his gun away in the holster on his lapel.

—Pardon Agent Blanchet's emotional outburst, Mademoiselle Boucher, please keep moving.  —He spoke with measured cordiality, but his heavy left hand pressed down on her shoulder, telling her there was no escape.  Lyonel chuckled and began to whistle a song.

Amélie’s heart pounded in her chest as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The dim light revealed a gas lamp at the bottom, dimly lit. Lyonel and Étienne flanked Boucher by the sides, as her eyes began to get used to the darkness, she could see what the Boiler room hid within its shadows and hidden corners.

By the bottom left of the room was a steel chair, ominously positioned under a single, flickering light bulb. Nearby, she could make out a car battery, clamps, steel buckets filled with filthy water, rags, leather strips and ropes. The sight sent a chill down her spine, and she instinctively took a step back, fully realizing what they intended to do.

—What is this? —she demanded, her voice steady despite her growing fear.

—Just a little test, —Dominique replied, his tone deceptively calm. — You skipped your original test, but you can't skip this one. We need to see what you're made of, Mademoiselle Boucher.

Amélie’s eyes narrowed. —I have every intention of proving myself to you, but not like this! That's madness!

Dominique’s smile was predatory. —Madness is what we experience every day on the field. You have no idea what madness means. Let's give you a little taste.

Lyonel stepped closer, his smirk widening. —It's nothing personal, chérie Amélie. Take it as a rite of passage, as the test that Marc didn't pass for you. Touching her with a finger outstretched on her chest.

Étienne, adjusting his glasses, chimed in. —T-the time to go home and repent for your sins has p-passed, girl. It's time to ask God to g-guide you through the trials to come.

He sighed, clearly calmer now. His tone one of resignation, pity even.

Amélie’s fists clenched at her sides and gritted her teeth. —I don’t like being forced into anything. — She's had enough, if these men think they're going to do whatever they want with her, they've thought wrong.

She glanced around the room, her keen eyes noting the strategically placed items. Her mind raced, piecing together their intentions. She felt a surge of anger and determination. She wasn’t going to let these men intimidate her.

Étienne reached to grab her.

In a sudden burst of movement, Amélie lashed out with a powerful kick, aiming for Étienne’s groin. The blow connected, and he doubled over with a groan, his glasses slipping down his nose.

Lyonel lunged at her, but Amélie was ready. She sidestepped him and lunged forward Lyonel while he was trying to recover from his attack, giving him a powerful frontal kick to his abdomen that sent him back a few steps, she then took advantage of her momentum and hit him with a reverse spin kick with the heel of her foot to his chin, sending him howling in pain to the ground.

Dominique watched with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. He stepped forward, his massive frame looming over Amélie. She knew she was at a disadvantage in terms of size and strength, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Boucher positioned herself to face Dominique, but he wasn’t there anymore, she caught him in the corner of her eye, but he was faster and delivered a body shot with his right fist. She arched wincing and tried to swing a backfist aimed at Dominique’s chin, she barely hit it, but barely hitting it wasn't enough. He grabbed her from behind, caught her left arm on a body hold and lifted her up, like she was nothing. He then draws a sap from his pocket. She tried to kick his leg, hold his hand with her free hand and trashed wildly, but he was too strong. He swung his sap, striking her hard on the side of the head. Stars exploded in her vision, and she staggered, her legs giving way beneath her.

Dominique grabbed both her arms, twisting them painfully behind her back. —You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that, —he growled. —But this ends now.

Amélie struggled, kicking and thrashing, but Dominique’s grip was unrelenting. He threw her on the ground making her fall hard on it.

She was struggling to get up, from her throat a low growl could be heard. Lyonel and Étienne forced themselves on their feet to help, but Dominique barked at them to stay back. —I’ll handle this, —he said, his voice dripping with authority.

Amélie struggled to stand, her head still spinning, she managed to get her body off the ground, supporting herself on her hands and knees. Her stubborn fight against the pain made Domenique laugh coarsely.

—It’s like watching someone struggling on quicksand!

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sap once more, he dropped his knee on her back, making her fall on the floor once more. She was pinned.

—Good fight.

With that he brought down his sap with calculated force.

Amélie’s vision blurred, the pain from the blow to her head making it hard to focus. She knew she was in a dire situation, but her resolve remained unbroken. She would endure this, just as Eliza had cryptically warned her to do.

The last thing she saw was Dominique's cold, triumphant expression before darkness consumed her.