One guard, a long-time veteran of her team, met her halfway. "Thanks boss, you're the best."
"Can't let our people starve down here." She winked.
He shifted nervously, "Is it true what they say?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Depends on what they say."
"Um, Dave was telling me he heard you had a run in with Gobble before you joined up with GG."
She flinched, then grinned malevolently. "Oh that. Yeah, I was there when Gobble attacked." She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "He ate my boyfriend, while I watched."
Without another word, he turned and fled back to his buddies. When he glanced back, she winked at him again.
Idiot. I guess I'll have to sit Dave down later for a chat and remind him how much I don't like to remember that story. She smiled wider and thought about killing things.
The rest of guards dug into the pizza while she continued to the cell door. A slot in the middle opened to her key, and she was sliding the smaller box inside when the intercom clicked on.
Honeydew's syrup-sweet voice filled the room. "Hey honey, how's jail bird duty treating you?"
She's taking this remarkably well. I mean, this is the same woman who once threatened to cut Scorch's nuts off with a butter knife when he changed the channel without asking. The Villain shivered. The Darkling's are bad enough, but now GG is screwing with our memories, even if I believe him that it is just a few like he says it is.
"Not bad, though it helps that the jailbird is easy on the eyes. How are you holding up?" Angela asked.
"I think I forgot something, but I'm sure I'll remember when the quarantine is over," Honeydew said. "Good Touch says I'm over the worst of it and I won't be able to pass the virus on to anyone else after a few more days."
Angela sighed. "Yeah. If you need anything, let the guards know, okay? GG told me the same thing."
The intercom didn't key back up.
The other cell of the basement, larger and baffled to contain any incidental screaming, was her next stop. Inside, a couple of sturdy chairs with leather straps, a panel of sharp steel tools, and a few red splashes stained into the concrete floor completed the decor. The floor drains were the most useful for the rare person resistant to mental Manifestations and Scorch's special brand of questioning. The red stains were fake, skillfully painted to resemble arterial sprays. They served as an additional tool of intimidation during interrogations, but without the actual stench of rotting blood.
Reclined off to the side, Blood Clown had tilted his chair back against the wall as a makeshift recliner while he loudly crunched through a bag of extra salty potato chips.
Scorch had his back to the door, staring down the prisoner in the center of the room. An average looking white guy in a sweat-stained undershirt, who strained not to stare at the table in front of him.
They'd strapped his left arm to his side, the other was splayed out on a metal cutting board attached to his chair, with bits of leather keeping his fingers separated. Inevitably, his eyes would dart wildly to the serrated knife buried tip first in the table, then away like it had burned him...only to swing around the room and rest on the knife again. Scorch was patiently standing behind his prisoner and watching him. Every so often he would lean down to whisper something in the man's ear.
Screamdream stopped next to Scorch's young protégé by the door. "Anything new from our friend?" She whispered. "It's not like Darkle to be wrong about Prime stuff, but GG is getting antsy and wants his hands on our new recruit as soon as we know what her powers are."
The teenager sniffed his fingertips, ignoring her question. "I don't get why we can't just go in and nab her. Why all the dancing around when we could have her in five minutes?"
She chuckled. "We don't know what her Manifestation is. Kid could be another Scorch, or a Dingbat. Losing half our team to brain damage or third-degree burns is counterproductive. We tried it in the early days. It's not worth the risk."
"Or another one like you, Screamdream?" He giggled to himself. "I doubt the world could handle two of you."
"If it were another like me, we'd lose the whole team to friendly fire. Now don't make me ask again. Have we gotten any new intel from this guy?" She waved towards the prisoner.
He belched and scratched his belly through the holes in his dirty white t-shirt. "Nah, this asshole doesn't know squat. I juiced up the knife and left him to watch, but it has been a few hours and he swears on his mother's grave the little bitch doesn't have any powers. Says Kevin would know. Do ya think he's talkin about Darkle? How does he know about GG's pet doctor?"
"Yeah, well, he admitted earlier the kid is a patient of Kevin's. Between the girl's bravery at the bus fire, and being one of Darkle's patients, GG thinks the good doctor pulled a fast one and hid a Prime from us." Screamdream waved towards the terrified prisoner on the other side of the room. "If anyone knows what she can do, it has to be this guy. His coworkers say he's a control freak, and a guy like that wouldn't miss a Manifestation literally living under his nose."
Scorch glanced over and yelled at the dirty teenager, ignoring Screamdream. "Pay attention Blood Clown. I'm getting started, go ahead and drop your power."
"Sure man." The kid closed his eyes for a second, then nodded and went back to his food.
The prisoner dropped like a puppet with cut strings. His forehead hit the table with an audible thud.
It's pretty impressive he has lasted this long against Blood Clown, but Scorch is on a whole other level.
The Villain flipped a jagged knife into the air and caught it by the handle, its tip half an inch from the prisoner's nose.
Flinching with every movement of the blade, the terrified man seized violently, nearly flipping over his chair as his eyes rolled up in his head. Not an uncommon reaction after prolonged exposure to Blood Clown's fear spikes.
Screamdream dropped into a seat next to the other Prime to watch.
Scorch jammed the blade into the wood between the prisoner's fingers, leaving it quivering tip first in the table and walked away. It would be at least a minute before the prisoner recovered.
Strolling to the display case, he took his time selecting a new knife, long and slim, with an out sized grip; more of a fillet knife than a fighter's weapon. "Perfect," he growled, loud enough for the prisoner to hear.
Some people are used to dealing with situations they can't control, and people who will not listen to them. This prisoner was not one of those. He seemed the type to have rarely been told no, and he was having a hard time dealing with his new reality.
The stench of his fear dripped off him, pooling on the floor and stinking up the room. The kind of fear that comes from someone who was powerful, in charge, unstoppable...until violently reminded otherwise. The kind of guy who wouldn't necessarily break swiftly but would shatter when he did.
Drawing a thin red line from the prisoner's neck with his new knife, Scorch leaned in close. "Well Zimmer, or Summer, or whatever, it looks like you and I need to have a talk." He chuckled. "I have to warn ya, you are probably in for a rough time, depending on what you tell me."
The prisoner opened his mouth to speak, but froze when the razored tip of the knife touched the roof of his mouth.
A tiny drop of blood slid down the blade to splash against Scorch's hand. Then another.
The blade slid out exactly like it had gone in, butter smooth.
The man is an artist at terrorizing victims.
"I didn't ask you anything yet, Mr. Mouth, I just said some stuff. You might wanna pay real close attention...and tell me what I wanna know." He leaned down until their eyes were inches apart, the knife still between them. "Big people want to know more about this girl, and you don't wanna to be in the way when a man like GG has a powerful need."
He circled the bound man. From behind, he asked, "What's her Manifestation, Mr. Mouth?"
The bound man grimaced, licking the blood off his lips. "I've told you all I know, besides that isn't a—"
The prisoner's body stiffened as the knife smashed into the small table, handle first, then relaxed as he realized it hadn't hit him.
Using the tip of the knife, Scorch slid the prisoner's sweat-slicked brown hair out of his face.
"I asked you to tell me about her powers, Mr. Mouth. Not to hear what kind of lady she is." Scorch chuckled. "Did that little jump jog your memory?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know what you want from me," the prisoner cried.
His next scream drowned out the meaty thud of small bones snapping. Another thud had the prisoner harmonizing with his own echo.
"You gotta give me something, Mr. Mouth, or I'm gonna have to keep on breaking things." Scorch stepped back a few feet. "What kind of powers does that little girl have? It has to be something special to cause so much trouble."
Blood Clown chuckled and whispered to Screamdream, "As much as I love a good show, I'm grabbing some strawberry ice cream. You want some?"
"No, this is all the dessert I need. You go ahead and take your time; I'll cover the door until you get back." This debacle is starting to make me look bad. I need to wrap this girl up in a bow before GG gets back from his trip.
"Please, please. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want. Please." The prisoner slumped against his bonds, tears streaming down his face. The last two fingers on his hand were crooked and raw, leaving crimson streaks on the tray as he involuntarily strained against his bonds.
"That didn't sound like any answer that I've ever heard, you sure that's what you want to go with?" Scorch waved the knife near his own face, blood lightly dripping off the handle, and made a poking motion towards his own eye.
"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you. Um, Sam has mental powers. Like, uh, the ability to always say no; she can't control anyone, just nothing makes the kid listen. We tried to keep it quiet, but now you know, too." He looked up with pleading eyes. "That's all I know. You can have the little shit too. Nothing but problems since we came back from the orphanage, even gave Kevin some trouble, and he has a PhD in weirdos."
Damn it, I'd have lost if we bet on how long he'd last. Well, when the world gives us lemons, we make pie and give it to someone we don't like.
Scorch left the prisoner, strolling over to where Screamdream waited. "You hear all that? We've been working on him most of the day. If there's much else, I don't think we're going to get it."
She nodded. "I think we should verify things with his wife, then send someone disposable out to collect her."
"Will do, boss." He chuckled and wandered back over to the sweating man in the chair.
"Hey man, I think we need to give your lady a call. Just to make sure her story backs you up." Scorch held up a cell phone. "What's her number?"
The prisoner convulsed, shaking his head back and forth hard enough his chair tipped over sideways. He hit the concrete hard, struggling against his bonds and spitting bloody foam from his mouth.
The Villain waited patiently until he recovered. "What's her name? Moldy bread? Mildew?"
"Please, not Mildred. You'll ruin everything if you hurt her," Jon sobbed.
Scorch pushed the tip of the knife into Jon's left nostril, sliding it slowly deeper as he spoke. "Then I have an idea for you, Mr. Mouth. How about you cooperate, and we clean you up with a story about an accident. She comes to get you, and you make sure she tells me anything I want to know. If you both tell me the same story, then you both get to leave with all your pieces." He pulled the tip back out, "Then you make sure the girl stays home and we pick her up in the morning. If you play things right, you get to kick back and admire how nice your smile is with all your teeth. Deal?"
Jon groaned. "Yes, oh God yes. Take the brat off my hands, please? We won't make any trouble and if anyone asks, Sam ran away. Is that okay?"
"It'll do for now." Scorch left Jon moaning into the concrete.
Blood Clown had come back in for the last part and was crouched next to Screamdream as the big man sauntered over to them.
"You sure have a way with people." She shook her head admiringly.
"It's a gift, Ma'am. Where do you want to go from here?"
"I want to give Super Snitch a chance to redeem himself." She said.
Blood Clown snickered.
"Put a small team at his disposal and give him whatever information he needs. Make it clear he's in trouble for letting it get this far." Screamdream paused in thought. "GG wants me to give Darkle a call at his safehouse now that we are finished here. Either she slipped his noose, or he's hiding something. Regardless, I want whatever speculation he has on the brat. This kid is reminding me of someone else I used to know, but I can't quite put my finger on who it is."
If I have to deal with one more of Super Snitch's messes, I am going to spend a few hours making sure he never forgets I can make an LSD trip seem like a slip-n-slide.
"I don't like it, but you're the boss, Ma'am." Scorch leaned over and slapped the teenager on the shoulder hard enough to rock him backwards. "Cleanup duty."
Blood Clown hopped happily to his feet. "I'll have him ready for his wife. He's going to be so terrified of his shoes that he has to go barefoot for a month. I've been practicing."
Scorch turned waved a finger under Blood Clown's nose. "No more powers. We need him to hold it together long enough to get our hands on the girl. If he doesn't give us what we want, then you can play with him."
"Yes sir." Blood Clown offered a sloppy salute.
Super Snitch and a couple of guys should be able to snatch a weak Telepath without a lot of trouble. She's not as strong as GG suspected, but her tricks might be useful to get close to a judge. That or she will fetch a nice price from Alpha. Screamdream shivered. Just before she turned on us, Dew said she knew what happened to the kids we sold him. Is that why she ran?
Chapter 23
Tuesday May 25th, 2010
A small patch of sunlight moved slowly down the wall until it came to rest on Samantha's face. She tried to open her eyes, but only one eye opened most of the way. The other eye was glued shut.
Blinking furiously, she reached for a phone that wasn't there. Sigh. The light could only mean it was a bit before noon because the sun was high enough to reach through the small window above her bed. The bed was across from where she slumped huddled against the wall, without blankets, on a mildly soggy floor.
Wait, I'm back at Jon's. Shit. The last thing I remember, I'd made it out to the pit and wasn't planning to ever come back.
Propping herself up against the door, she checked herself for damage and surveyed the room through her good eye. Crusted patches of blood covered her hands and shirt. The dried blood fell to the floor, joining the chunks already littering the tan carpet.
Am I dreaming? She pinched her arm. Ouch. Guess not.
The switch in the hallway didn't work, but there was just enough reflected light for her to use the mirror.
Lines of dried blood ran from both ears,down to meet another line from her nose. Blood had pooled against her bra, and then dried into the fabric. There would be no saving the crusty top either, so she shucked everything off as a solid mass and washed up in the sink.
Jackpot, the water still works, so I won't have to stumble around like a murder victim. Go me. Wait, am I an attempted murder victim?
Greedily sucking water directly from the tap, she washed her face while she was down there. Her hair took the longest to clean, but whatever she missed probably wouldn't be obvious.
There were no visible wounds other than a small lump on the side of her head and the eye that had been dried shut. Both ears and the lump were slightly tender, though the eye worked fine after the blood was cleaned out of it. Whose blood was it then?
In the bedroom, she dumped the dress onto the bed with other clothes she'd planned to leave behind.
A ratty old bra, one size too small, a black t-shirt, and some torn jeans later, she stepped back into the hallway...and stopped as a vague memory surfaced.
Dropping to one knee beside the bed, her gras
ping hand found the strap of her knapsack tangled around her true prize, the small carved box. Everything slid out together, safe and dry. Shifting Star would later tell her adoring brother about her daring escape from the very maw of the Heroes, but first she would have to actually get away.
The box was too large to fit in the already-full knapsack, so she held it close with one hand and slung the knapsack over her other shoulder.
She Manifested.
It came faster than before, almost faster than she could direct it. Her eyes crossed slightly and her ears buzzed for half a second, then her hearing expanded to reach from the crickets in the back yard to the vehicles rumbling past in the street out front. No one else moved through the house, but a badly maintained vehicle seemed to be idling at the curb.
I wonder if Christy's still blue. I never did test to see how long the dye would last. Dismissing the idle thought with a shrug, she climbed the stairs.
The scent of mildew was strong, but it grew worse as she worked her way towards the front door. Her steps squelched as she walked, leaving soggy footprints in the thick carpet.
The biggest surprise came as she reached Jon's room. The door to the Master Bedroom hung wide open. I feel like a homunculus is going to pop out any second now, and monologue me to death, it's that ominous. What exactly happened last night?
Jon's room was worse than the rest of the house. Drawers were open and empty, discarded bits of clothing scattered across the floor. Most interesting were the pools of slowly drying blood on both sides of the bed.
Here's where the woman in the horror movie decides to investigate further—which is my cue to get out. I hope Mildred is okay, but I’m noping right out of here.
A heavy knock came at the front door, too slow to be the police, too heavy to be a neighbor.
Samantha tip-toed down hall to use the peephole.
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