“I think it’s full, sweetheart.” Ariana snapped back to reality and dumped a little of the water out.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t just make your own coffee.” As if of its own volition, the water darkened to a thick black color. She set it back on the coffee burner, flipping the switch to turn on the heating plate.
He chuckled. “Right, I’ll just run to the store.”
She walked away, moving as far away from him as she could get. “It’s ready.”
Bending the magazine enough so he could see her and the coffee pot, he cocked an eyebrow. “Serve it to me, sugar.”
“Are you kidding me?” She held up her hands. “Please explain to me how this is supposed to work.”
He grunted. “You’re the one who wanted to be tied up.” The Enforcer resumed reading. Ariana’s face twitched in annoyance. She rose and grabbed a mug from the dish rack, obediently filled it as best she could, and walked over to him. He accepted it only after slowly folding the magazine in half around its spine. He looked Ariana up and down as he took the mug. “Anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like your mother?”
Ariana smiled courteously, yet artificially. “It’s been said.” She turned and went to her seat.
“Front and back,” the Enforcer said with a chuckle. Ariana stopped, shutting her eyes in irritation. “Shame she had to die.”
“She didn’t have to,” Ariana said, straightening. She moved immediately to her chair and sat, looking off into the distance.
“Suit yourself.” He took a long gulp of coffee. “She was a fine piece of ass back in the day.”
“Shut up.” Ariana was beginning to tremble. She looked up at him and saw that he was watching her unwaveringly.
“Never understood why she shacked up with your dad. Pencil-necked geek.” There was no aggression in his tone. He was merely doing this to get a rise out of her. He leaned forward. “If he couldn’t save her life, I bet he couldn’t even get her…”
“Please, don’t talk about my parents.” She could feel rage boiling inside of her, flowing over her like drunkenness. She knew his type, the people who used authority like a hammer, reveling in the minor bit of power they had. He would have been a perfectly fine hero on any other day of the week, but put him in charge of a powerless group and he became a tyrant.
He bit his lip and smiled wickedly. “Why? What are you going to do?” The Enforcer laughed arrogantly. “Get on your knees and beg?”
Ariana closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. There was no fear of ruining anyone’s drink… except maybe Mr. Cleese’s… but the very real fear of crying in front of Fuckwit the Enforcer was very, very present. “Just… don’t.”
He banged his coffee mug on the table. “Refill, Brown. Now.” She inhaled deeply and rose to her feet. “The thing I don’t get is how your daddy let it happen.” She grabbed the coffee pot and walked slowly toward him, her vision wavering with rage. “Was he too busy pissing himself to stop Arbiter?” Ariana was standing over him now. He brought up the coffee cup. “It was probably for the best. Let her die before she knew she married a sack of useless shit.” Ariana was trembling as she finished pouring the cup.
“Can I go now?” she asked, swallowing hard.
He took a long swig, not breaking eye contact. “If she was still alive,” he snorted, “both you and her would be calling me daddy.”
She swung the carafe as hard as she could against his head. The glass shattered on impact, ripping into his face and splattering him with coffee she had inadvertently made stupendously hot. Glass shards, flecked with blood, spun off into the air and clattered onto the floor as he collapsed off his chair, dropping his mug in order to clutch at his wounds. He was screeching as his skin turned an angry red, a color helped all the more by blood and coffee mixing. Ariana dropped what remained of the carafe, horror at her actions subduing any lingering rage.
“You cunt!” he shouted, flipping onto his back. She knelt beside him and yanked the keycard off his belt before bolting out the door. “Get back here!”
The guard station was right next to the entrance to the rest of the facility, a fact that temporarily rendered Ariana indecisive. Whether she chose the cells or the rest of the prison, all she knew was she couldn’t stay with the Enforcer who, very likely, was going to kill her. Her thoughts went to her father, and she sprinted to the metal door leading to the Fortress proper. She swept the key through the slot only to be greeted by a timer ticking off five minutes until the locks disengaged. “Damn it!” Apparently, the doors were only immediate when someone on the other side overrode the countdown.
“I’m going to fuck you up!” the Enforcer roared from the break room.
Ariana turned and ran back toward the cells. As she passed the door to the break room, the guard leapt out at her, managing to snag her legs as he finished his dive. Stumbling, she nevertheless maintained her momentum and continued forward.
“Ariana, what’s going on?” Mr. Cleese shouted as she ran by his cell. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was pressed against the cell, a glass of something in his hand. She didn’t stop to explain. She didn’t have the time, and more importantly, she didn’t have a plan. The prisoners that could see her began to shout.
“Someone’s free!”
“Run, girl!”
“Haul ass!”
Someone boomed above the others. “Damn it, Cleese!” She looked behind her as the Enforcer recoiled from Mr. Cleese’s cell. Fresh, dark liquid was dripping from his face. Ariana turned and motioned with her hands toward the guard. She focused through the adrenaline, mentally projecting her ability out of her fingertips. In response, he clawed at his eyes as the scotch transformed into coffee. He gave a short bark of pain, but he didn’t slow down. His path was shakier but doggedly forward.
Ariana turned back and ran as the assembled convicts started to chant and bang whatever they could against the cells. She wasn’t sure how they would feel when she retreated to her cell, locked it behind her, and cowered in the corner. Not that she cared. What mattered at the moment was safety, and there was only one place which…
The gunshot caught her off guard, making her instinctively duck down. The shot went wide, but she didn’t turn around. She neared her cell, maintaining hope that the guard wouldn’t shoot a defenseless villain behind bars.
Another shot and she practically dove for the card reader. She swiped the card when a figure infiltrated her view from inside the cell.
“What are you doing?” Marsh asked. He looked terrified. “Are you crazy?”
The wrong cell. The wrong fucking cell! “Sorry!” she shouted, moving toward the right chamber. The Enforcer intercepted her, tackling her to the ground. He was heavy, the combination of gear and muscle squeezing the air out of her. The key card went skittering out of her grasp.
She watched it vanish from sight as the Enforcer rose, leveling his gun at her. He ejected the magazine and put it in a pouch before taking another one and sliding it back into the grip of the weapon. He shook his head. “No rubber bullets this time, bitch.”
The pop of locks releasing was drowned out by the now furious cries of her neighbors. The Enforcer’s baton was ripped off his belt by Marsh. Before the guard could turn to him completely, the actor smashed the weapon across the hero’s face. Due to adrenaline and acclimation to his skull being used as a punching bag, the Enforcer barely reacted to the blow. He recovered from the strike and brought the grip of his pistol down on Marsh’s head, sending the prisoner to the floor.
“I’ll get to you in a second, Marsh.” He turned back to Ariana. “Now, what to do with you?” He smiled wickedly.
“Start up the stove, motherfucker!” a familiar voice screamed. The Enforcer wheeled around just in time to see Tim leaping into the air, his hands interlocked above him. The guard brought up the gun, but the villain was too fast. Tim brought his fists down like a hammer, smashing the Enforcer’s head with a devastating blow. The gun hit
the ground with a clatter, loud but barely echoing in the chaos. Ariana rolled out of the way as the two men collapsed, Tim ending in a crouch on top of the unmoving Enforcer. She looked at him, shuddering with relief and joy. Her friend, her lover, her companion, stood upright and offered his hand to her. “We gotta fry up some bacon, baby,” he said with a cocked grin.
She grabbed his hand and he yanked her upright, the momentum carrying her forward into his arms. She was crying and her hands were still bound and pinned between the two of them, but she didn’t care. “I thought I’d never see you again.” She buried her face into the nape of his neck. “I love you,” she gasped. “I love you so much.”
His hand, comforting and supportive, worked its way up to the back of her head. “I love you, too.” He heaved, slightly, her savior overcome with the same emotion.
“Not to be rude, guys,” Marsh said from his position on the floor. They looked at him as he rubbed his soon-to-be-swollen face. “But what’s going on here?”
“We’re taking over, baby,” came the confident voice of a pinstriped mobster from down the hall. He smiled, pushing up his trilby hat with the end of his machine gun. His boyish grin and curly hair made him look less like a hardcore criminal and more like a child playing cops and robbers. “The Italian Mob just saved your ass.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CONTAINMENT
THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPENED TO THE PANOPTICON. Arthur stepped out of the oversized car, Catalina, Mat, and Talia fanning out behind him. Catalina and Mat already had their weapons drawn as they moved in opposite directions, checking corners for signs of life. When they met in the middle, Catalina motioned to the ramps leading down to the observation deck, where they disappeared.
It was everything he had ever dreamed of made solid. The monitors flickered between different cameras, showing the occasional guard about to be caught unaware as droves of goons descended into the various halls. Tim had already liberated A-Wing from the looks of it, but the others were being more systematic about the entire ordeal.
It was like magic, in a way. Something that had been classified as too unfeasible to allow a villain to build was standing, and he was its master. The surge of energy was enough to keep him riding high as violence erupted on the monitors, some Enforcers refusing to surrender quietly. He strode toward the central security computer, swung the backpack with Mollie inside of it off, and set it on the floor. Sitting down, he felt a rush of power as he pushed toward the console. He tapped at the keyboard and a screen popped up with numerous separate windows, each labeled ‘high-security’.
“Damn, Art, you certainly don’t dick around with this stuff, do you?” Mat asked, his head angled up at several monitors as he made his way back up from the observation deck. Catalina cracked her neck and knuckles as she approached him from behind.
“People can’t come and go without my knowledge,” Arthur said with a degree of annoyance. “Of course, this place should have more security personnel, but hey.” He tapped out a series of keystrokes before spinning in his chair to face the others.
“Works in our favor, doesn’t it?” Talia muttered, crossing to Arthur as he leaned over, took the computer out of its backpack, and began to withdraw cables.
“So what’s the next step?” Catalina asked, adjusting the rifle strung across her back.
Arthur plugged a cable into Mollie. “I just locked the heroes out of the system, once again making this place a Fortress.” He ran the cord into the USB port of the security computer. “Mollie here is going to bring the defenses online.”
“And only use them if necessary,” Mollie chimed. “We are here on a mission of mercy.”
“That’s my girl,” Arthur said with a smile. He pulled the Home Drive from his pocket and slid it into a spare port on his laptop. “Just in case.”
“You worry too much,” the virus cooed.
“Tier Two liberated,” a voice over the headset buzzed.
Catalina brought her hand up to her earpiece. “Acknowledged. Begin defrosting procedures on Sleeping Beauties.”
“Copy,” came the reply.
Mat laughed a bit. “It’s like being in a military movie.”
Talia’s eyes flicked across a series of monitors above her, watching the color images sweep back and forth across the yard. “I can’t believe they’d leave something like this so… open.”
“Heroes have won everything, ever,” Arthur said, watching the same bank of monitors. “Leaving this place minimally defended is perfect. It leaves more time for… I dunno…” He struggled to think of something specific that heroes did. “Heroic things.” Excellent. Well done, dumbass.
One of the cameras swept to a far corner. The resolution wasn’t great at the distance it showed, but two lights flanked something in the perimeter wall. “What’s that?” Talia pointed at the screen. “Something in the wall?”
Arthur squinted at the screen. “Did you see anything unusual while you were in the system?”
“No, everything was pretty much as expected.” Talia kept her eye on the camera feed as it moved away, obscuring the view.
“Mollie, any anomalies?”
“Not from preliminary analysis.” Something whirred in her computer. “But I have detected a threat in the high security level above us.”
Arthur squinted. “What?”
“Well, he does not know he’s a threat yet,” Mollie sighed, bringing up the video feed. Sure enough, an older man in a lab coat, with wild hair and headphones, was watching a sleep chamber and taking notes.
Arthur felt Catalina leaning on the arm rest of his chair. She was suddenly in his vision as she leaned ever closer to the screen. “Why don’t we make him aware of his new status?” She pushed off and went back to the elevator.
Unsure of why he felt the need to supervise her, he stood up immediately. “Wrong way, Catalina.” She stopped and turned to him. He jutted his thumb in the direction of the other elevator, the one which led higher into the Panopticon. “It’s this one.”
Catalina made her way toward it. “I’ll take care of the pest, you three stay put.”
“Mollie can handle things here,” Arthur said, taking a step toward the elevator. “We should all go.”
The mobster cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
Talia, in sync with Arthur, stepped forward. “He could be a valuable source of information.”
“Or a hostage!” Mat shouted, apparently pleased to be included in the game.
Catalina looked them over and rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She walked to the elevator. The card reader changed color thanks to an unheard command by Mollie. “Fun for the whole family.”
The doors opened as their earpieces hissed to life. “C-Wing liberated.” Before anyone could give them clearance, the goon at the other end continued: “Poor dopes. Most of them are in sleep units. Proceeding to defrost.” Arthur hit the button for the high security floor, and the doors whispered shut. With a barely audible hum, the elevator started its ascent.
“Alright, birdies, this is Mama Falcon,” Allison announced on the earpiece, much louder than necessary. “We’ve landed on ‘level four’ and are proceeding to thaw the meatsicles, over.”
Talia, Arthur, and Mat all turned to look at Catalina, who was engaged with intently watching the doors. “Anyone says a word and I’ll break their fingers.”
Talia shrugged. “Fair enough.”
They felt the car slow, then stop before the doors whispered open. The large room was painfully fluorescent, the sickly green-tinted light spilling over the banks of computers and monitors. At the far end, the man in the lab coat was watching the sleep chamber intently, occasionally making marks on a sheet of paper. Catalina brought her gun up and motioned Mat to go around to the other side, cutting off at least two of his escape routes. Arthur and Talia trailed behind Catalina as she approached.
“It’s about time you got here,” he said, his thick German accent echoing in the chamber. “I asked for my Pizza Rolls an hour
ago.” He turned, then shuddered in shock at the sight of Catalina approaching. “Who are you?”
“We’re the new owners of this place, doc,” Catalina chimed.
The doctor quickly turned to run, but was met with the muzzle of Mat’s gun pointing in his face. “Ah, probably not the best move, there.”
“H-how did you get in here?” he sputtered. “The Fort is…”
“Impenetrable,” Catalina interrupted. “Yeah, we get it.” She gestured to the sleep chamber. “Who’s your guest of honor, Maelstrom?”
He stared at her, fear electrifying his eyes. “You know my name?”
She smiled. “Can’t think of too many other former Nazis calling themselves heroes.” Catalina took a step forward, causing the man to cower. “Answer the question.”
“In this chamber is the murderer of our beloved Dark Saint.” He straightened, trying to appear defiant in the face of death.
“Zombress…” Talia said, shocked. They hadn’t actually been able to kill her… so they made her a prisoner, drugged and sedated her to the point of irrelevance.
The others exchanged looks of surprise. They had all thought… known that she had died that morning. Since no one had come right out and said otherwise, Arbiter merely let people’s imaginations leap to the logical conclusion. The assumption that she was dead was all that was needed.
“Yes, the so-called Queen of the Dead and Fear.” He snorted in contempt. “And there, she shall stay for her terrible crime.”
“And who’s that?” Mat asked, snatching the doctor’s attention. He gestured with his gun to another occupied sleep chamber partially hidden behind a bank of computers.
“No one of concern to you,” Maelstrom said, his attempt at subterfuge sabotaged ruined with a notable increase of nervousness.
“Let’s ask them, then,” Arthur said, moving his way past Catalina. Dr. Maelstrom stood agog as he approached, pivoting to keep him in eyeshot as Arthur walked past him on his way to a keypad. He tapped at the buttons, rapidly pounding out a sixteen digit long pass code, whereupon a red light turned yellow. He took a step back from Zombress’s chamber when he was finished.
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