[ +- ] Spoiler
Two Months Ago
The harsh buzz of the opening door set Dave's teeth on edge as the burly prison guard swung the door open to the claustrophobic room. You gots your mandated thirty minutes. No more. Got it? the drab gray room was narrow with a gray table at the center, sectioning the halves of the room into equal parts, and a thick wall of plexiglass bifurcated the narrow table. "Yeah. Got it. Not my first rodeo here...Gil. Dave read the guard's name derisively from his ID badge as he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair on his side of the plexiglass. Across from him, locked in the gunmetal gray helmet and chained to the table with prison issue steel manacles, sat his old friend Danvers Ellison. I...*wheeze*...wish to see you with...*wheeze*...my own eyes.
Gil banged his baton on the metal grate at the door, Helmet stays on, Danvers. Those are the rules.
"It's from Return of the Jedi, Gil..." Dave sighed. "Just a movie quote. But, um, I forgot you haven't seen the prequels have you, Danvers? Probably better off. the metal helmet Danvers was forced to wear gave his voice a muffled, metallic tone not unlike Vader's. A mandatory precaution on the part of the TANC to prevent a possible escape attempt, the helmet's metal face shield prevented him from seeing anything in his surroundings.
Rhianna 2012? Danvers asked quizzically. The red light on the inconspicuous dome camera in the ceiling glowed to life.
"No. Al, 1983. he sighed, lifting his arms to stretch in the uncomfortable chair. Next to the door, Gil stiffened and gripped his baton tighter either from anxiety or fear. He knew he was alone in a cell with two metahumans and that served to make his already damp pits sweat just that much harder. He hadn't been briefed on their files, he wasn't that important but he'd heard the scuttlebutt.
Sarah Michelle Gellar, 1987. Danvers nodded to Dave. "Fight Club." he responded after thinking for a moment. Norton or Carter? he replied quickly. "Norton. Tho there's maybe a Carter around." They both laughed in that way old friends do.
What are they talking about? a middle aged man paced back and forth in the small room. A bit pudgy and wearing a suit, sans the jacket that lay neatly folded over a nearby desk a concealed holster and pistol lay atop it, he thumbed the filter of an unlit cigarette. We only get the chance to monitor him like this twice a month. He glanced up at the monitors looking into the small room with the helmeted prisoner and his bulky visitor. Tell me you're picking up something, Helene.
"I'm not sure, Phil..." the woman seated at the small desk replied hesitantly. "I'm just a Skimmer, not a real telepath and they're speaking in that code again. I'm getting flashes of recognition, old memories associated with what they're talking about but I can't tell if they're even talking about anything or just playing some kind of fucked up game... She tapped the pen in her hand rapidly on the blank journal paper in front of her, her opposite hand cradling her head as she closed her eyes. "I can pick up the big guy, Draven, just fine but it's only half of the conversation.
Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, mild agitation evident in his body language as if Helene couldn't sense it blaring out of his mind. We need something. Go deeper if you have to.
Her eyes opened and narrowed at Phil, "Draven I can do that with. He's mind-blind. Danvers is psychic. I can feel it. You won't let me read his file but I know he's not a telepath but he's definitely psychic. That makes him pretty dangerous to probe too deeply. Plus, you told me you don't want him to know he's being spied on so I have to take it easy.
Phil sighed, Push as far as you can. He turned to the two technicians in the room, Make sure you record everything in case they slip up and say something important. He looked at the monitors and put the unlit cigarette to his lips for a moment as he watched the two metas for a long minute as they babbled in that inane self-referential code. He closed his eyes and imagined taking a long draw from the unlit cigarette trying to calm his nerves.
Helene sighed as she stared at Phil's back while he mentally enjoyed his cigarette. The anxiety radiated off him in sour waves that Helene could easily pick up. She felt bad for Phil, despite how much of an asshole he could be to her sometimes, because she knew the difficult position he was in all the time. Guilt over possibly letting Phil down began to surmount her misgivings about probing deeper into Danvers' mind. Phil had done so, so much for her, her wife and daughter. Sometimes loyalty sucked. *I am Helene Gracie and I can do this...I am Helene Gracie and I can do this...* she repeated her mantra
over and over in her head as she closed her eyes, pictured and image of herself with her wife and their daughter on a warm sandy beach somewhere to calm her nerves before again pushing her mind into the other room with Danvers and Draven.
Diesel, 2001 through 2010 skipping ’06. Dances said decisively. Dave rubbed his forehead as if trying to avoid an immediate reply but relented, "Big Trouble in Little China and Grey's Anatomy, yeah. Maybe even Gremlins. 84 but not 90. Definitely a Banner case. " Ah. Resistance is fu... Danvers uncharacteristically paused a moment in his reply. Futile. The pause arched Dave's eyebrow warily. That was new...
"I'm still not getting anything but a bunch of garbage and an oncoming migraine, Phil. I'm sorry. she sighed and Phil turned away from the monitors. He stuttered. Did you hear that? Phil's cigarette hung on his lip for a moment before falling to the floor. Helene.... The look on Phil's face sent a chill down her spine. She didn't want to but she followed the angle of Phil's frozen gaze down to her journal open on the desk in front of her. She would've used it for notes on anything she'd seen if she'd been able to get inside Danvers'thought patterns. She hadn't been able to manage that feat and it should've still been blank. Instead, the phrase 'I SEE YOU HELENE' covered every inch of the page in scrawled letters beginning nearly illegibly but perceptibly improving with each iteration and line. In horror she yelped at the discovery, finding her hands smeared with ink from the page.
For Fuck's Sake, break the connection, Helene! Phil backed away from the desk and from Helene, desperately wishing he had another cigarette. Helene's thumb clicked the end of her pen in an unnaturally rapid fashion and stood up from the desk. Her eyes locked on Phil's, "I can't break loose, Phil. Phil, HELP ME!"
Phil took another step back and his eyes went to one of the recording techs as of willing the young man into action. A moment of hesitation later, the technician raised his hands and moved slowly towards Helene and slid back behind her as she stood at the desk. "... don't... please..." she whispered. The technician slowly moved to remove the pen from her hand, the clicking reaching a crescendo before stopping as the man grabbed Helene's wrist. With a motion almost too fast to see, Helene stabbed the man just below the navel and once in each leg before she screamed out in terror at the sudden uncontrolled attack. Unnoticed in the chaos, the monitors caught Danvers helmeted face slowly swivelling to look up, directly into the cell camera.
Tears rolled down Helene's face as the young technician hit the floor groaning in agony. "... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... she whispered between panting breaths.
Phil's eyes neither blinked nor left Helene. Get Danvers back to his cell. Get him out of that room! NOW! he hissed at the other technician. Locked momentarily in fear while she watched her co-worker bleeding out on the floor, it took her a good minute and Phil yelling once more to motivate her into action. She picked up the phone and sobbed the order to someone on the other end.
Still holding her pen in a death grip, Helene felt the cooling heat of blood on her hand. She didn't think the wounds were lethal but they had to be excruciating. Her Skimming ability made it impossible to ignore the grinding pain radiating from the technician she'd stabbed along with the sense of betrayal and hate from him. Phil's excitement and fear rolled off him in stinking waves.
Gil's radio sputtered and he replied back curtly, Visit's over, Draven. Time ta go. Sorry, looks like you just get twenty two minutes this time. The guard banged his baton on the metal door to emphasize a little haste. Never one for being rushed, Dave stood slowly. "I'll be back in fourteen days for another chat."
The clatter of a squad of armed guards could be heard rushing down the hall on the opposite side of the plexiglass and Gil practically dragged Dave out of the room and back towards Processing to leave.
Just hold on. Danvers will be back in his cell and you'll be okay. Phil put his hands up in a calming gesture and took a step towards Helene. Her hyperventilation eased just a bit and Phil took another small step forward, almost to the desk. Helene softly begged him not to get too close but he took another small step forward, hands still raised. His eyes betrayed him. A quick glance down towards the gun laying on top of his suit coat and she Skimmed his intent for the gun. Once she knew, Danvers knew and once Danvers knew... Helene's hand flashed to grab the Automatic before Phil could lunge for it. Stepping a couple of big steps back after Helene grabbed the gun, Phil wanted to put some distance between him and the business end of his own weapon. "Oh God, Don't Make Me Do This!" she sobbed as her arm raised the heavy piece and thumb disengaged the safety. Her finger squeezed off three rounds
KAPOW KAPOW KAPOW
The shots went wide, hitting the wall, one of the monitors and the recording equipment Hit the floor! Phil yelled as he dove to the side in the too small room. Danvers can't see in here. He's shooting blind! Not that it mattered in such close quarters. With the recording equipment holed through the camera audio spilled over the room's speakers. Phil, Helene and the Techs could hear the guard team opening the door to Danvers' side of the visitation cell. Helene's arm still waved the gun around erratically.
From the cell, the audio crackled as Danvers' hollow metallic voice spilled into the room, Itst been fun but my time's up for now and it's time to go. You could almost hear the smile in his voice under the helmet, Say Goodnight, Gracie...
Instead of the release from Danvers' psychokinetic grip, she felt her arm tighten it's grip on the gun and slowly bend inward at the elbow. Phil's shiny Automatic turned towards her face in what seemed like slow motion. She broke down completely as the yawning maw of the muzzle seemed to take up her entire field of vision. She felt her finger tighten on the trigger.
KAPOW
Today
Lines of beaded sweat ran down the hour shaped glass in the heat. Amber colored liquid, fruit, ice and a jaunty paper umbrella warmed in the glass as the hot breeze blew and the waves crashed on the shore. Top you off, Hun? Irena asked innocently from the lounge chair to the left. it's a really nice view but I hear it's better a couple more drinks in... The tan skinned woman reached over for the half-empty glass. Helene's hand intercepted Irena's, "No. I like the view As-Is. Helene released her grip on Irena's wrist, perhaps her grip was a little tighter than she'd meant it to be. "I'd just like to...to see it for a bit longer. It takes me a bit longer to really take everything in these days." Helene raised the oversized sunglasses as if to emphasize the point to her wife. Helene still bore the white bandages around her right eye. It'd be months more still before the surgeries healed but the docs thought the reconstructions were going well. She seated the sunglasses back on her face and immediately felt bad for snapping at Irena. She was trying to be sweet and supportive but Helene wasn't ready for things to go back to normal. There was no 'normal'...not anymore. Not since she'd run into that Floyd guy when she was desperate for a job. Not since whatever happened to her afterwards that made her hear other people's thoughts. Not after Phil hooked her up with a job sniffing around in people's minds. Not since...The Incident at the TANC that cost her an eye and nearly her life.
She stopped Irena as she started to walk away, "You know, I think I would like that drink after all, Rennie.
Her hand lingered on Irena's long enough that she hoped said 'sorry' for earlier.