"Penny."
Penny opened her eyes. Above her was a man she did not know, with dark hair and glasses. He had one of her IV tubes in his hand. Next to him was a woman, standing partially in shadow. She couldn't see him very well.
"We're going to give you some psychic protection against the Arachnos telepaths," the man said. His voice was oddly stiff, as if he wasn't used to having to dispense such a mundane thing as a beside manner. He added the contents of a syringe to the IV tube, and the liquid inside turned an odd, reddish color. "Don't worry."
Her eyes half closed. "...but..."
"Don't worry," the man repeated. His voice was hard, not comforting.
The other figure stepped forwards. She had the tall hat and long, flowing coat of an Arachnos telepath. Its colors designated one of the Fortunata clans. The man stepped back, and she could see the glitter of the spider on his Arachnos uniform, not quite hidden by the stolen lab coat. She was in trouble.
Her eyes floated to the tube still attached to her arm, now a deep, dark red. Then she closed them and went to sleep.
The Arachnos woman spoke for the first time. "She's unconscious?"
"She'll sleep for hours."
"The guards will be found before then." The Fortunata didn't yet approach the bed, looking down at its occupant. "You are sure this plan will work?"
"So far everything has worked perfectly. Paragon believes that Girl Genius is responsible for certain crimes - "
"For our work, you mean," the woman frowned, "I don't like giving credit where it isn't due, and frame-ups are notoriously unreliable."
"Well, they bought it, hook, line, and sinker. Even she believes it."
"Hmph," Fortunata stepped forwards. "This is an awful risk. I needn't tell you the consequences if it fails."
"It will work."
"It had better." The Fortunata placed her hands over Penny's ears.
Penny had a long and very detailed dream.
She opened her eyes to see that she was floating, looking down at a house in a field, surrounded by impassible trees. It looked like a nice house, very lived in, with trails leading here and there. It had a sound roof and a garden with flowers... a nice house. From the roof also floated a silver string, but the string had been cut. Penny looked at her wrist and saw that there was a string there also, tied in a loose bow, of the same color as the string tied to the house. The string on her wrist had also been cut, but it had been re-tied to a string of a totally different color - a wicked, cruel red - which issued from one of the thick trees surrounding the house. It was this string which anchored her in place.
She looked back at the house. It seemed familiar. She felt as if she should recognize it, or have some feeling for it, but she didn't. She felt remote, disconnected. The end of the silver string, dangling on top of the house, sparked a little.
From the dense forest issue a black wave. She thought at first that it was water, but upon gazing at it, she saw that it was actually made of countless, small, black, spiders. An odd emotion issued through her, but she couldn't identify what it was. The thread on the house sparked in a rather hopeless manner.
The spiders swarmed the house.
Penny thought at first that the spiders might eat the occupants of the house: but it seemed to be empty. They split into two large masses, both working frantically. It became rapidly apparant that the first group of spiders, in the field, were digging an enormous hole: the actions of the second group were more mysterious. The hole expanded rapidly under the hard work of the spiders. In seemingly no time, it was big enough to swallow the house.
It seems that the spiders had planned it that way, for no sooner had the hole been dug when the first group of spiders joined the second, and systematically disassembled the house. Rather than being destroyed, the house was taken apart nail by nail. The outer walls went first, so fast that it almost looked as if they had exploded outwards. This seemed as if it should have been awful; but Penny could summon no great emotion in watching it.
After the walls went the ceiling, so that she could see the inside of the house, which was being dismantled also. Determined and methodical, the spiders took apart the interior as cleanly and completely as the roof and walls. She could tell what the rooms were briefly - kitchen, bedroom - before they were gone. The supporting structures and beams of the house were soon exposed, and in a surprisingly short time, the skeleton of the former house stood alone on the hillside.
Still seemingly determined, the spiders streamed to the hole in long uneven lines. Each spider carried a bit of the house: a nail, a screw, a shingle, a bit of wire. Larger groups of spiders worked together to carry larger items like panes of glass, and absolute swarms were required to carry very large things like doors. Large and small, they streamed to the hole in uncounted millions, working frantically.
In the depths of the hole, the floor of the house began to take shape. The spiders reassembled its pieces as if working a gigantic jigsaw puzzle. Earth was packed in the spaces where the skeleton of the house had not been placed, and around the earthen pillars, the house grew with surprising speed. Stairs sprouted among the roiling black mass: walls grew up; furniture wove sluggishly to its proper place. In a very short time, the rooms of the house were as pristine and perfect as they had undoubtedly been on the hillside. The last thing to reform was the roof, which cut off Penny's last glimpse of the cozy living areas. Their job completed, the spiders streamed out of the hole again. The house looked exactly as it had before. Only its location had changed. The spiders paused for a moment, surrounding the hole, twenty feet deep on every side, looking down at the house in the depths of the earth.
Then they buried it.
It took a surprisingly short amount of time, and when they had finished, only a large brown spot of packed earth showed where the house was entombed. Only the skeleton of the home, bare and gaunt on the hillside, showed that it had ever once stood in the sunshine.
The spiders approached this skeleton, swarming over every inch of the exposed beams and rafters, and began madly spinning webs. This took longer then removing and reassembling the house had taken. But presently, the floor and walls took shape, ghostly and transluscent. In time, Penny could make out other shapes: shapes of furniture, couches and curtains, bookshelves, even individual books.
She had been fairly high during this entire process, watching from above: but now she began to float nearer. She was not anxious to touch the spiders, but they seemed equally anxious not to touch her, for they scattered away from the area where she would touch down. Down she came, down, down, down, until she landed lightly upon the front steps, facing her own front door. It could not have been woven more perfectly, down to the texture of the wood, the dings of the doorknob, and the panes of transparent glass.
She reached out and grasped the doorknob. It was solid, as if it had had a genuine doorknob underneath - but one that had been tightly wrapped in silk. It turned under her hand, and she opened the door and stepped inside.
The living room was rather eerie. It seemed to look just as it had before, with a couch and bookshelves, and large bright windows, and a fireplace. But none of it was real. If she looked very closely, she could see the spiderwebs from which everything had been woven. The fire in the fireplace was not real, but was rather several pieces of ragged, brilliant silk, which ruffled in the breeze in a firelike way. It was a cold house, and she shivered in front of the false, teasing silken flames.
From everywhere and nowhere she heard a voice: "This is your home now. This is where you will live."
And she woke with a start.
Penny blinked as her vision cleared. She was staring at angry faces in front of an oddly-curved, otherwise blank wall. All of the people facing her were chained together, and wearing orange jumpsuits. She recognized the jumpsuits - the zig?
Her head ached. She lifted her hand to rub at the sore spot, only to discover that her hand didn't go anywhere. She was shackled too, and wearing an orange jumpsuit, like the rest of the prisoners here. Looking down she saw that there was no name on her jumpsuit, just a number - 42200179. She was a prisoner then?
She might have asked a question, but to her left a door suddenly slammed open. A man stepped through it: he wore the red and white uniform of a longbow agent. Even for a longbow agent, he was unusually heavily armed. He scowled at them with the cold stare of a man who was used to dealing with unruly prisoners.
"All right you #$(*%(!" He spat at them, and Penny wasn't the only one who jumped a little. "We're landing at the Zig in five minutes! Upon arrival you WILL stand up and file out in an orderly fashion! And there will be no wiseguys!" He had a long rod in his hand - it looked like a cattle prod. It sparked alarmingly in the air for a moment, and then before anyone could say anything, he went back to the room he had come from, and slammed the door behind him.
An older man sitting across from Penny looks disgustedly at the Longbow Officer as he walks out of the room.
"Bullying trash. These manacles... and this steel cell... that is all that's keeping him alive."
He sighed, and leaned his head back against the cold metal. He chuckled softly, and said, "But that won't last forever."
[ QUOTE ]
"Bullying trash."
[/ QUOTE ]
"What did you expect," another prisoner chuckled a little from the corner. "We ain't here to be coddled." A two days growth of whiskers added to the hard, weathered look of his face. A scar ran over one of his eyes, now a milky white from some old injury. His expression seemed set in a permanent scowl that only deepened the lines on his face.
"It is simply ironic," he continues, with a distinctive british aristocratic drawl, "That those who call themselves heroes are just as ill-mannered as we "criminals". And with a lady present, too," he gazes at Penny, "They ought to be ashamed of themselves..."
[ QUOTE ]
"It is simply ironic," he continues, with a distinctive british aristocratic drawl, "That those who call themselves heroes are just as ill-mannered as we "criminals". And with a lady present, too," he gazes at Penny, "They ought to be ashamed of themselves..."
[/ QUOTE ]
Penny wasn't sure how to respond to this. Her sense of disorientation had not decreased; if anything it had become stronger.
She knew she was going to jail, though she was uncertain of how this had come about. She didn't remember getting into the flier... didn't remember much of anything. She remembered Jason, but couldn't recall, now, exactly what he had looked like.
You need to try and get over Jason. The line came unbidden to her head. Where had she heard that? Had one of the people here said that? No... she didn't think so... she thought perhaps that had been said earlier, by someone else entirely, though she wasn't sure who.
Still... the thought, whoever had said it, was correct. This was a new life... time to leave the old things behind. Whatever they had been - whoever she had been - it didn't matter now.
Her thoughts turned to the shouting guard. She was quite certain that she had witnessed true heroism in the past, and equally certain that this person didn't embody it. "He's not a hero," she mumbled, partially in response to the statement, and partially to herself. "He's just a guard."
She was distracted from the statement by a sudden awareness of her hands, which she had been observing, but not really seeing. They were black, encased in some delicate-looking mesh. Surely not part of the Zig uniform? And now that she had become aware of it, she could feel the firm, slightly heavy caress of body armor under the orange jumpsuit. Body armor? Why had they left her her body armor?
Because they couldn't get it off, that's why.
Again, the thought came from nowhere, and while it didn't feel quite true, she knew that it was. No one in a ordinary lock-up would have been permitted such a thing: but in the Zig, full of criminal "supers," body armor hardly mattered, and might even improve her chances for survival.
She found herself chilled at that thought and her thoughts returned to her fellow prisoners. Both of them looked as if they would be quite at home here, as if they had been in and out of lockups before, and were used to the system. Penny's sole brushes with the law had been in the form of parking tickets, though she was certain she must have had an extensive criminal background to be sent to this place.
She worried suddenly that they would think she was trying to argue with them. She was young, with an honest face, something that would not serve her well here. She didn't know it, but she looked as if she ought to have been sent to Juvenile Hall, rather than the maximum-security Zig.
"Er - I mean - " she said hastily, trying to make her last statement seem less argumentative. Her voice trailed off momentarily - she wasn't certain how to recover. "I've heard rumors about this place," she finally fumbled on. "Are they true?"
It wasn't a spectacular beginning, and she supposed she would get a reputation right away for being a kid whom people would pick on. But it couldn't be helped now.
[ QUOTE ]
"Er - I mean - " she said hastily, trying to make her last statement seem less argumentative. Her voice trailed off momentarily - she wasn't certain how to recover. "I've heard rumors about this place," she finally fumbled on. "Are they true?"
[/ QUOTE ]
Someone in the shadows of the flier scoffed, leaning back. He seemed normal enough, except his hands were entirely covered by gloves, and his face by a make-shift hood, but other than that, normal.
"I don't know what rumors you heard, girl," he muttered casually, "But they're probably true. Villains aren't known for their openness, but when it comes to the Zig, most find it rather hard to lie about."
He leaned forward from the shadows, grinning... But his skinless face looked grotesque in such a grin, his skull having to cause the emotion, "But then, you must be pretty strong or smart to get yourself in here... Tell me, what on earth did an innocent girl like you do?
[ QUOTE ]
Someone in the shadows of the flier scoffed, leaning back. He seemed normal enough, except his hands were entirely covered by gloves, and his face by a make-shift hood, but other than that, normal.
"I don't know what rumors you heard, girl," he muttered casually, "But they're probably true. Villains aren't known for their openness, but when it comes to the Zig, most find it rather hard to lie about."
He leaned forward from the shadows, grinning... But his skinless face looked grotesque in such a grin, his skull having to cause the emotion, "But then, you must be pretty strong or smart to get yourself in here... Tell me, what on earth did an innocent girl like you do?
[/ QUOTE ]
There was something in the way that Penny looked at him that hinted she might possibly be more than she seemed. She didn't seem alarmed by his skeletal appearance, though there was some cautious respect in her face. Her return gaze was almost... appraising. As if carefully sizing him up.
But the look passed quickly when she heard his question. Her brows furrowed uncertainly and a vague dullness crept over her otherwise-bright eyes. She looked almost confused at the question. "Well, I..." Her voice trailed off. "... surely there must have been charges?" She said it not directly to him, but almost to herself.
"Information brokering," she said just after this. "Selling secret... secrets... that type of thing." But her furrowed brows, and the slighly-confused look in her eyes, hinted that she hadn't any idea of why she was here. She had presented her best guess.
"Er... what are you in for?" Her voice was awkward, but she seemed genuinely interested.
[ QUOTE ]
"It is simply ironic," he continues, with a distinctive british aristocratic drawl, "That those who call themselves heroes are just as ill-mannered as we "criminals". And with a lady present, too," he gazes at Penny, "They ought to be ashamed of themselves..."
[/ QUOTE ]
The other man merely shook his head, as though it was a topic he had already went over before and didn't wish to waste his time with it now.
[ QUOTE ]
"He's not a hero," she mumbled, partially in response to the statement, and partially to herself. "He's just a guard."
[/ QUOTE ]
A slight grin actually broke through his stone-like expression.
"True," he nodded appreciatively, as if that little statement of fact alone had bumped his opinion of her up a few notches.
[ QUOTE ]
"Information brokering," she said just after this. "Selling secret... secrets... that type of thing."
[/ QUOTE ]
"What kind of information," the man pressed, his interest piqued from her strange behavior. If there was one thing a prisoner could describe, it was how they ended up here. This girl's vague explanations had sparked his curiousity.
[ QUOTE ]
"What kind of information," the man pressed, his interest piqued from her strange behavior. If there was one thing a prisoner could describe, it was how they ended up here. This girl's vague explanations had sparked his curiousity.
[/ QUOTE ]
"Er - " she looked marginally alarmed, not at him, but at his question. "The - it - I - " She sighed. "OK, you have me. I don't know. I don't remember. I presume they hit me with something... I am not sure."
Her brows furrowed. "But it is a good question. What would I have sold? Weapons technologies depreciate too quickly... whats-his-name in the black cowl has the algorythym market completely locked up... security coding is so situational..." She sat back against the wall, "It might have been some sort of hardware, maybe. People get wierd over hardware... you get collectors and things... it must have been something like that... don't you think so?" She was frowning now, with her brows furrowed.
"Well, my dear," the englishman says, "The only way to answer this question is with another. What do you know? What information could you possibly sell someone?"
He looks around at other active prisoners in the room, "It isn't hard to imagine what the rest of us are in for... but you must've had some highly dangerous intelligence if you ended up with us."
[ QUOTE ]
"Well, my dear," the englishman says, "The only way to answer this question is with another. What do you know? What information could you possibly sell someone?"
He looks around at other active prisoners in the room, "It isn't hard to imagine what the rest of us are in for... but you must've had some highly dangerous intelligence if you ended up with us."
[/ QUOTE ]
"Well," Penny mused thoughtfully, "I had access to - "
But exactly what she had had access to remained an unknown. The flier, which had been descending for several minutes, now gave a muted shudder which indicated to all on board that it had touched down.
Almost at once, the door opened back up, and three guards appeared. The first one was among them, but he had been joined by two more, who both seemed to be as heavily armed as the first one. "All right," shouted the first one, "you #$(*&, stand up and exit the flier," he pointed to the opening hatch beyond. The rod he held in his hand sparked threateningly. "Now MOVE!" He looked quite ready to strike anyone who was too slow.
The englishman stands and prepares to march out of the flier. "It seems this mystery may never be uncovered," he remarks as he passes by Penny.
Michael looked about fifteen. He was ripped from his military training, which put some meat on his bones, but his face was that of a young boys. Though there was a strange anger that aged him when his gaze was concentrated. As the flier made its way, he tried to sleep but couldnt manage over the conversation. When the door opened he waited for instructions. He caught only the tail end of the conversation between the Englishman and the girl. As he was being shuffled off, he stumbled into her slightly to confirm his suspicions. Then he made a point of being next to the Englishman.
Michael leaned in close at the first opportunity. You a mutant?
The only response the englishman made was a slightly raised eyebrow, and a small twitch of his lips.
"We had best be going, fellow convicts. The mighty and righteous await us."
"I'll take that as a yes." Michael pressed on as ordered by the guards.
As they were led out into the suppression zone, Michael saw the sky for the first time in a while. It was clear, without bars or windows as if someone could just fly away. Of course, with the suppressors, you couldnt so much as manage a high jump. They didnt affect Michael, as he had no super powers to speak of, but he took note of those who seemed most affected. He mentally tagged them as mutants. He took stock of how many didnt even look human, much less white, Anglo-Saxon. Here he was, confined with the inferior gene holding scum that he tried so hard to wipe out.
Were this his world, the world he left, these creatures would already be dead long ago. Countless biological agents were introduced to kill off those with inferior genetics, until only the strong survived. In that day, he wouldnt spend fifteen minutes in the hands of the enemy. There would be black helicopters hovering over the prison, and rockets slamming into guard towers. Black clad special ops soldiers would blow holes in the prison to get him out. He could almost see it as they shuffled along.
His daydream faded when they were ordered to stop at the first gate. The prisoner transfer process had begun. Each prisoner was being asked their name by the guard. One tried to get smart, but got the stick instead. Probably one of those tough villains who is immune to everything, because without his powers in the suppression field, he doubled over and whimpered like a puppy. When they got to Michael he sang out proudly, name, rank serial number.
Helsinger, Michael. Archon. One one niner two five niner one six three. He got the stick, but he didnt double over.
You give me your prison number, maggot, and you aint no Fv(%ing Archon in here. Youre just a piece of $#!t convict like the rest, you read me? The guard was very efficient in his dispensing of pain. Michael had been here before, he gritted his teeth and tried again. Helsinger, Michael, eight eight four dash six one six. The guard moved on.
[ QUOTE ]
You give me your prison number, maggot, and you aint no Fv(%ing Archon in here. Youre just a piece of $#!t convict like the rest, you read me? The guard was very efficient in his dispensing of pain. Michael had been here before, he gritted his teeth and tried again. Helsinger, Michael, eight eight four dash six one six. The guard moved on.
[/ QUOTE ]
Penny stumbled a little when Michael bumped her on the flier, but the guards didn't notice. The slight stiffness of the body armor was apparant under the orange jumpsuit when she was bumped, but otherwise it was all but invisible. She moved quite freely, or would have save for the restraints.
She gave the sky a long look when she exited the flier; but not any longer or harder than she looked at anything else. Her eyes continued to move, looking over the high guard towers and great wall, the courtyard with guards moving here and there, the other fliers lined up in neat rows, and the old, gray prison building.
The flier guards were met by some other guards who were similiarly dressed. This new bunch of guards had a leader, though Penny didn't know who else would know that: in traditional Longbow style, it was only his insignia that marked him as such.
"Fresh meat for the Zig," he growled, and some of the other guards smirked. His electric rod looked exactly like the others, but the occasional sparks it produced had a purplish tone. She took due note of the color before shuffling out with all of the other prisoners.
The Captain took over shouting from the flier guards. "All right you #$(%*&!" He shouted. "You're fresh meat for the Zig! Line up over there in rows ten deep! MOVE!"
Penny moved.
She stuck close to the Brit, which was easy to do as everyone was bunched up. She managed to manuver almost to the very end of the row.
She had hoped to watch the guards as they went along the row, but they started at her end, with the big man at the corner, then the fellow who had bumped into her on the flier, before moving on to her.
"Name and prisoner number!" Barked the Captain.
Penny opened her mouth and then paused. She couldn't remember her last name. It had fallen into the black hole which seemed to have swallowed so much of her life.
The Captain didn't appreciate the delay. "Name and prison number!" He shouted again.
The purple rod was powered by plasma energy. The body armor dispersed the shock, but the force of the blow was still enough to knock her off her feet. "Get up and answer the question!" he howled at her.
Penny scrambled to her feet. "Penny - 42200179," she stammered.
"Your FULL name you #$(&^!" She was prepared for the blow this time, though the simple difference in weight and size meant it didn't make much difference.
"I don't remember."
He raised the plasma rod again.
"I don't remember!" She knew she must be brave now that she was in the Zig, but she couldn't help but flinch from his upraised hand.
He paused, glaring at her, but lowered his hand, smirking. "I bet you don't," he spat, but moved on to the next person.
Penny looked after him as he moved down the row. What, she wondered had he meant by that?
"Marcus Kirke," Kirke answered along with his number when it was his turn. He made no show of bravado, no defiant stands. For him it was just business. The robberies, the assasinations, the fights with the city's heroes.... none of it was personal; just business. 'Personal' made things sloppy, and Marcus Kirke didn't LIKE sloppy.
Blind hadn't said a word until he got off of the flier, a lingering glance on Penny made it obvious he seemed to be slitting what would be his eyes at her. However, soon enough, he grinned his skeletal grinned, and came up next in line.
"Name and number, buddy, before I shove this into your eye socket like last time." a guard spoke, slightly bored. He had seen Messenger a number of times, and every time, the necromancer annoyed the hell out of him. It turned out that this time was no different.
"So, how are the kids Paul? Eating their greens? You made sure they got my present, right--" Blind began, only to have the stick shoved into where his stomach would be. The flash of light the stick emitted struck the skeletal figure hard, sending him down into fits of coughing up a black, tarry liquid.
"Listen up, if you ever talk to me again, or you EVER mention that 'gift' again, I will kill you, got it?"
Blind grinned as he stood, but knew that the threat wasn't empty.
Mashing down a man's baby, disguising it as a meal, and serving it to his living children probably wasn't the best way to get into somebody's good book.
"Smith, Keith. Four-One-One-Dash-Eight-Two-Two."
Paul glared at him another moment, daring him to speak. When he didn't, the guard moved him on, switching sticks to a more suitable type. He knew the last name was false, but no matter how much they had tried before, Smith was the only one they could get out of him.
"Dr. Julius Greene, gentlemen," the aging englishman says in a clear and proud tone, "Prisoner number-ooouuff!" he grunts and falls over as a baton butt slams into his stomach "dandy, we know who you are!" The guard screams into his face. "Get moving."
[ QUOTE ]
"Dr. Julius Greene, gentlemen," the aging englishman says in a clear and proud tone, "Prisoner number-ooouuff!" he grunts and falls over as a baton butt slams into his stomach "dandy, we know who you are!" The guard screams into his face. "Get moving."
[/ QUOTE ]
Penny paid close attention to the names down the line, thinking they might be important later. But she didn't have much time to consider them, for as soon as names and numbers had been established, and registered into the touch-pad that the captain had with him, they were being herded someplace else.
Penny offered a hand up to the Brit without even being aware she was doing it, for she was watching the guards. A moment later they were all being hustled inside. She looked up briefly at the sunset and wondered when she would see the sky again, before ducking her head and moving with the rest.
The strip-searches were as extensive as she had expected them to be. She had thought that the guards might give her trouble over the body-armor, but there were several individuals in line, both male and female, who had similiarly grafted armors, or even robotic body parts. The guards snarled at her, but her jumpsuit was returned, and she was put back in line.
"Line up for the tour, you scum!" One of the guards shouted. "You WILL keep pace! Now move!"
Michael never even considered that tour meant an actual tour. The guards had spent so much time trying to convince the convicts that they werent afraid of them, he figured theyd just lock them away in a tiny room as soon as possible. But there were endless corridors and rooms that stretched on forever. The place was truly huge. The guard kept talking about how you WILL shower here, you WILL work here, those of you who are lucky will get to work HERE, those of you who do not behave, will be working HERE.
Phrases like reactor core scrubbing made him believe that some areas of the Zig were not equipped with maximum power suppressors. Hed learned to react poorly to things with simple names. The house didnt sound good. Nor did doing time in it. There werent a lot of surprises about security. The Zig kept it pretty straight forward. There were only a few sections where your powers would be useful enough to bother with, day room, exercise yard, in your cells. In these places youre either trapped in by admantium bars or under the watchful eye of vehicle mounted weaponry.
Then there were the costumed freaks patrolling everywhere. Some flew, so
even if you flew, and got into the yard, and got enough energy to fly away or teleport (not counting getting the teleportation shield down), youd just be hunted down and shot out of the sky by the costumes. Best case scenario, you get to the war wall and become some noob heros catalyst to the big time.
Michael wasnt interested in escape at this point. He needed to know more about this time. He needed to see if he could find any other members of the Fifth column who hadnt surrendered, been killed or joined the council. About five behind him in line was a huge Arian. He made eye contact and nodded, and got the nod back. Then he got the shove from the guard, and he shuffled along behind everyone else.
"Looks like Meat..." a large white man chuckled from behind a similarly large blue man.
"Looks like everyone else," the blue man replied.
Every couple of days... More newbies.
Shadowshock watched them get paraded around. The message was clear.
"We caught more of you, scum."
"Yet the streets are still full of costumed freaks," the blue brute muttered, "So... Who cracks first? I got ten cigs on the chick..."
"I'll match that for the college professor!" his cellmate barked.
Bets resounded through the block, mostly hushed and whispered, so the guards wouldn't know. Shadowshock glowered at the little girl.
"You better not disappoint me," he growled.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Blind didn't much care for the way they were led around like animals, but he was used to it by now. Six times, was it?
"No," he muttered quietly, grinning, "Seven by now, if not more."
"Shut it, filth," a guard beside him shouted, causing nerve endings in the necromancer's skull to spin in a rolling of the eyes motion, "Or I'll zap you right back to he--"
"Didn't come from there." Blind managed to get in, before a stick jabbed into his side, causing him to shake. He stopped, grinning still as he continued in silence.
Paragon City hospitals could be crowded at the best of times. But this one seemed filled to bursting: doctors and nurses picked their way down hallways narrowed by makeshift beds, lining both sides of the walls. In spite of the number of people, things seemed to be fairly quiet. Most patients were sleeping.
Six people navigated deftly through the narrow corridors. Two wore the bright red-and-white uniforms of longbow agents. Four wore business suits, three men and one woman: all four of the suited individuals carried briefcases.
They door they approached was surprisingly heavily guarded. More longbow agents were there, alert and angry looking. The suited woman approached one of these and spoke to him briefly. He nodded and stepped aside to allow them to pass. But before they could do so, the door opened, and a woman stepped out.
"Hey, hey, hey!" She was dark-skinned and dark-eyed, her frizzled and graying hair trying to escape the bun it had been caught in, her severe glasses flashing in the sharp hospital lighting. She wore blue scrubs that looked as if they had been slept in. They were unmarked save for a small piece of embroidery that read, "Dr. Stanton." She glowered at them with the attitude of a tiger looking at its prey. "No one told you that you could go there!" She said as she closed the door.
"I don't need permission," the suited woman turned, her blond hair and gray business suit as crisp and sharp as if she had just stepped from a salon.
"Ruth Meyers," Dr. Stanton shot back, making no attempt to move, "You have a library full of law books. You must know what's in them, or are they just for show?"
"Girl Genius is under arrest," interjected one of the men in chilling tones.
"Girl Genius saved a lot of lives," shot back Dr. Stanton. "A *LOT* of lives. You see all of these people? If Girl Genius hadn't done what she did, they - would - be - dead. All of them. We would be swimming in corpses by now. Go on, look at them!"
"Be that as it may, we have the right to interrogate - "
"Not against a doctor's orders you don't," snapped Dr. Stanton, "And as her attending physician I am telling you that six people barging in is too many. Everything is over, everyone who is going to die has already done so, and everyone who didn't die is going to make it. You can wait."
"Esther," Ruth said, and her tone had softened, "We have to talk to her. It can't wait."
Dr. Meyers growled and thinned her lips. "Fine," she said, "ONE of you go in and talk to her. Not six. ONE. The rest wait outside."
"Girl Genius is highly dangerous - "
"When she is in her suit, I am sure that is true," returned Dr. Stanton, unmoved.
Ruth rubbed the bridge of her nose as if trying to rub out a new ache. "Is she even awake?"
"Finally," Dr. Stanton responded, who looked as if she had had a very long night. "She'll definitely pull through. But she's too weak for half a dozen visitors, Ruth, I mean it."
The two women glared at each other for a few minutes. "All right," Ruth said at last, "I'll go in alone." All four Longbow agents looked alarmed, as well as the other lawyers.
"Are you sure that is wise?" This came from the longbow captain, who had spoken for the first time.
"I'll be all right. I'll call if I need anything."
"Softly," growled Dr. Stanton, who had her arms crossed.
"Softly," agreed Ruth. "All right?"
There was a silence. "You have five minutes," Dr. Stanton growled. "And if there are any changes in her life-sign readings, I personally will throw you out on your ear. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Dr. Stanton stepped aside.
"Ruth - " This was from another one of the lawyers. All three of them were looking concerned. One of the longbow agents was talking softly into his comm-unit.
"I'll be all right," she said with a confidant smile, the first smile she had showed since she came into the building, and walked through the door.
In spite of the overcrowding of the area, the room held a single occupant. She was a young girl with brown hair, tall and willowy, who looked as if she might have been nineteen, but certainly not older. Behind her, life-support machines beeped and hummed. A few looked as if they had been pushed aside mere moments before. Dr. Stanton had been right - six people barging in would have been too many.
There was a chair nearby. Ruth pulled it up and sat down in it. The girl in the bed didn't respond. Her skin was so porcelain-pale, and her breathing so delicate, that had it not been for the patient beeping of the machines behind her, Ruth would have thought her dead. "Girl Genius?" She said softly. There was no response. "Girl Genius?" She said again. "Penny? Penny, it's Ruth - wake up." She touched her hand briefly, careful not to bother the mesh of wires and tubes. "I need you to wake up now."
Penny's eyes opened.
"Can you talk?" Ruth's voice was urgent.
Penny gave some smile. "...morning..." her voice was low and very hoarse, but audible. Though clearly very weak, her eyes seemed almost as bright as ever.
"You know what's happened?"
"...serum worked...?"
"It worked," Ruth said reassuringly. "Don't worry, Penny, it worked. The docs say no one else will die."
"...how many deaths...?"
"Don't worry about that now - "
"...stop it... I can take it... how many?"
Ruth hesitated, but the look on Penny's face was so ferocious that she knew the girl wasn't going to let it go. "About two hundred."
Penny's eyes flooded. "... wasn't fast enough... damn..."
"Those deaths weren't your fault."
"...and... ones that were...?"
Ruth's brows furrowed. "I want you to know how complicated you have made my life," she growled.
"...under arrest...?"
"Of course you are. What else could we do? You knew what you were doing."
"...tried... to avoid casualties... does that matter?"
"Naturally it matters. If you were a cop, you would be placed on paid leave while the incident was investigated. But you are a contracted test pilot, a civilian, and I just don't have that sort of leeway."
"...so... what happens now...? Trial... Stronghold? Rikers? Devil's Isle?"
"You have no inherent super-powers on your own," Ruth said, "Normally there would be a trial. If convicted, you'd be sent to the appropriate facility to serve your sentence... likely Rikers. But..."
Penny's eyebrows shot into her hairline with some energy, considering her position. "...but...?"
"But you've done something remarkable - something that very, very few people have done and survived." Ruth looked at Penny significantly. "You've opened the door to Arachnos."
Penny blinked. "...say that again...?"
"The base where you got the serum was an Arachnos base. By the way, excellent job in selecting the design to sell to them for it - that agent will have a lot of explaning to do when his superiors realize he sold you the critical antidote in exchange for a suit design they already had," she chuckled momentarily, before her face again became solemn. "But nevertheless, you survived the encounter, and the door is open. We want you to go back." Her eyes searched Penny's face. "We want you to infiltrate Arachnos."
There was a silence. "...don't have the clearance for that..."
"I know," Ruth said heavily. "But it's the only chance we will have for this. You were there at the base, you know what Arachnos is planning. They have got to be stopped. It would be a long-term, open-ended assignment, under deep cover. You would be given a new cover, and your origins would be known to a few at Arachnos, but no one else. Girl Genius will be 'missing' after her successful and heroic attempts to stop the Arachnos bio attack, and your new persona would go to Arachnos, and feed us any information you can."
"...at the end of which I would be killed..." Penny was frowning. "...arachnos doesn't mess around... when they find out..."
"We would have a prearranged extraction point. You would have to make it there, and we would get you out."
"...if I could make it that far..."
There was a silence. "If you could make it that far," Ruth agreed. "I won't lie to you about your chances if you screw it up."
"...and if I refuse...?"
"I press Article 114, which permits your trial in front of a judge instead of a jury. If convicted under Article 114, you'll be sent to the Zig as a registered super-powered individual," her voice was hard.
Penny's face was hard too. "...and if I agree...?"
"I press Article 114, which permits your trial in front of a judge instead of a jury. If convicted under Article 114, you'll be sent to the Zig as a registered super-powered individual. I use my discretionary authority to register you as a danger to yourself and others, strictly limiting your contact with the general population of the Zig, particularly those super-powered individuals who will not be kind to an unpowered ex-superhero. You'll be issued a set of body armor which we conveniently 'can't remove' and you will be issued a nanite-rifle, a stock of raw nanites and a series of self-repairing drones - all the basic equipment you will need to make contact with Arachnos and begin infiltration."
There was a long silence. Ruth pretended to shuffle papers in her briefcase while Penny wiped her eyes. "...what will you tell Jason...?"
"Penny..." Ruth's voice was gentle for the first time, "You need to try and get over Jason."
"...yeah, I... I know..." Penny's voice sounded if she had swallowed something bitter. "...he'll be assigned... to another pilot...?"
"Yes, certainly. Only the best, Penny, I promise you that."
Penny smiled ruefully. "...if you make sure... she is my same size... give him that new equipment he has been trying to requisition... he may not even notice that I am gone..."
"Does that mean you are in?"
"...do I have a choice...?"
"No. There's too much at stake - this comes right from the top. There's too much at stake. I am sorry to do this to you."
"...then... I guess I am in..."
"You'll get more information when you have recovered," Ruth said, and rose to go as Dr. Stanton opened the door.