Operation Wyldhand 5.16
I jerked awake, and tried to reach for Daphne. Instead, white hot pain shot through me, my body spasming against the restraints. I shuddered, keeping as still as possible. I certainly didn't want to move after whatever that had been, and couldn't, significantly. If that was what had kept me unconscious, I wasn't going to trigger it again. Inch-wide black straps crossed my body, attaching to the edge of the bed I was in. I was in a windowless concrete room, and as I examined my surroundings, the door slammed opened, hitting the wall. Three armed PRT officers advanced through, weapons aimed at me.
A fifteen year old girl, tied down to a bed.
A machine blooped behind me, and the guards relaxed, slightly. Their weapons weren't aimed at my elevated forehead anymore. The middle guard, who had to be higher ranking by dint of more colors on his armor, ordered, "Do not move, or try to activate a power. If you do you will be shocked. Once more as a warning, and then to unconsciousness. Are you going to cooperate, or do we have to stun you again?"
I tried to nod, but that only made them raise their weapons back up to my face. I took the hint and replied, voice cracking from lack of water, "Y-yes."
The lead officer nodded, and motioned for his fellows to leave. I tried to croak out a question. They ignored my unintelligible noises, and closed the door behind them, much more gently than they had opened it. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. Cold air blew down on me from a vent right above my head, chilling me. All I had on was a hospital gown, and it didn't keep much warmth in.
I had been captured by the PRT. I didn't know where Daphne was. I was tied to a bed, that shocked me if I moved. My disguise was still up, otherwise I might have been dosed unconscious as a hero-killer, instead I had been left awake as vigilante who attacked gangs. Problematic, especially in my methods, but not supremely dangerous. I still wasn't known as Defiler, at least to them.
I only had one viable option, and that was to break out now. Rescue Daphne on the way, or find out where she was being held. The capes who had attacked the hospital had wanted us alive, and if they had taken her, rather than the PRT, she would still be alive. Or else. The PRT might consider her a villain, but she had put her trust in me, and I had gotten her crippled and captured. And she didn't have to be a villain.
I was going to get her out of this, one way or another.
I debated trying to get shocked again, to try to talk the officers entering the room. My plan was foiled, by an orderly coming in, and silently pressing a straw to my lips. I drank from the tiny cup, draining it in a few seconds. Throat no longer sandy, I tried to ask him something. And got shocked for my troubles. I spat water out, body twitching. He left immediately. I was starting to get irritated. Was no one going to to at least give a semblance of courtesy? They 'knew' my sister had been taken right in front of me, after I had... admittedly attacked them as well. But I had cooperated up until then, and hadn't harmed them. Well, no more than a quick nudge.
The door opened for the third time in five minutes, revealing Director Wilkins, followed by Caldwell. Neither looked very happy, and the latter was walking awkwardly. I had hit him with more than a nudge then. I almost apologized, words catching in my throat. Nothing I could say would soothe his justified anger. 'Sorry for kicking you in the balls to save my sister' wasn't very diplomatic.
"Ms. Waldon. We were having a discussion yesterday, before we were interrupted," the Director grimly said, "Before some new evidence came to light."
I didn't respond. I had plenty to say, but I couldn't say it, not without being shocked into oblivion. I glared at him, communicating my frustration with the situation. Either he was able to interpret glares, or he guessed that I wanted to talk, as he said, "You can talk. Don't move much, though."
"Where is my sister?" I immediately asked, a hint of urgency tinting my voice with panic. Caldwell left, leaving the door open, and the Director came forward, resting his hand at the foot of my bed.
"Captured, unfortunately. Legend arrived on the scene, and saw them trying to grab you. He discouraged them and they retreated."
Caldwell walked back through the open door, dragging a chair behind him. He set it at the end of my bed and left, leaving me alone with Wilkins. He sat down, arms folded, and waited for me to speak.
"And why couldn't Legend stop them from taking her? Or were you just focused on capturing me?" I snapped, irritated. Where they so focused on capturing someone who had gotten away, that they ignored Damsel? What kind of a heroes-
"No. While you were distracting us, and then fleeing the hospital, Ballistic, one of the members of the team who attacked, damaged the hospital further. After Legend nearly froze them to the pavement, he stopped the hospital from collapsing."
"They destroyed the hospital?" I gasped, horrified. All that just to get to me?
The Director shook his head, and uncrossed his arms, pulling out his phone and giving me a good view of his holstered pistol, "No. One of the Travellers' usual MOs when heroes show up is to pin them to a spot, and then escape while they are distracted. Damaging a hospital's structure is a serious escalation, but not unthinkable."
I let out a sigh of relief. How many people were in that hospital? That I had endangered just by being there. I stopped that thought cold. I hadn't endangered them - these 'Travellers' had. I hadn't asked to be attacked in a hospital. They had chosen the location, probably to restrict Damsel and I from using our power's to their fullest.
And they didn't know my full abilities, a tiny corner of my mind whispered. The little bubble of hate subsided after its input. I tilted my head fully up, both to get a better look at him, and to test the limits of the electrification. I asked, "So the Travellers have my sister?"
He shook his head. "Not really. It's been over a day, and we have a fairly good idea of what is happening. You managed to irritate someone in the Mob, and they responded. They hired the Travellers to capture you, and Damsel. They bombed your sister's apartment, injuring two of my officers when they went to investigate. The numerous suspicious vehicles being reported across the city, at every place we could have taken you to. And now I want some answers. Who are you? "
I sure wasn't Defiler. I answered, "Shadow-cape is good enough. And yes, I am the one who gave you all those gangs, practically gift wrapped."
Wilkins leaned back, phone going back into his pocket. He looked at me, clearly thinking hard. I interrupted his thoughts, more interested in Daphne than the PRT, "Where is she, then?"
"We don't know. But, we are looking. I do not tolerate the actions the Travellers have taken in my city. And I certainly don't condone the ones you-"
He was building up for a long-winded speech on something. I didn't have time. Daphne might even be in the Mob's hands already, and every moment spent here was one I couldn't spend looking. One in which she might be tortured or dieing. I had a guess on the stunner: the bed shocked me when it detected elevated heart rate or significant movement. I hadn't had time to test the former, but the latter was clear as midnight.
The vent above me was perfect. Shadows pierced through my skin, shedding the false layer, revealing myself beneath. A being of shadows. Even before I had fully become a thing of shadows, I was jumping. Straight up, five feet to the ceiling. I passed the grate on the ventilation shaft, and found myself in a dim tube, a few inches in diameter, only lit from below. I stopped to catch my breath, as lingering twitches of electricity rocked my frame. I hadn't quite escaped in time.
I could see fine, though, and I had to head up. Air conditioning in larger buildings was on the roof, to my knowledge, and from there I could escape. I bounded down the tube, slimmer and faster than any snake. I caught quick glimpse of other rooms like mine below me through more vents, with unoccupied beds. And the way up was blocked. A sheet of metal was blocking the pipe. A PRT building had to be ready for all sorts of capes, and plenty could turn gaseous. A logical way to prevent escapes, but not especially helpful to me.
I slid away, before moving full steam ahead, fist forming out of shadows ahead of me, green fire wreathing it. I punched the edge of the thin sheet of metal, trying to deform it enough to slip through. Instead, I broke it in half, parts of it still crackling with green light. I nearly flew through, taking advantage of my lack of weight as a shadow. I bounced between the walls of a vertical pipe, heading at least two full stories up. Another pipe blockage stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't head up, especially with several inches of metal in the way. I didn't fancy my chances punching through that. I turned left, reasoning that most people would turn right. The unexpected course would be more profitable, escape wise.
I slid next to a vent, stopping. Marble floors, embellishments, the whole nine yards. Dozens of people stood around, easily half of them children. Tour groups, maybe? Which mean this was the PRT Headquarters, from the decoration. I just had to wait, and bide my time - There! Several uniformed officers started herding the groups out, apologizing for the interruptions. I shot out, crossing a dozen yards of marble, and hid in between legs. I slid forward, almost as low as a sheet of paper, staying in the small patch of shadows directly beneath people. The lights were too bright and too many to get any other shadows.
The frosted glass doors didn't let me see the time, until I passed through them, and felt relief that it was night. Relief, and apprehension, as it had been more like 36 hours than 24 since I had been knocked out by my stupid escape attempt. I needed to find these 'Travellers.' And I had nothing but a hospital gown, and I needed to make a call. I waited, until one teacher, or chaperone, pulled out a cellphone. She made a quick call, to what could only be a bus driver from the context. And she put the phone into an outside pocket of her purse.
I grabbed it, children making noises of surprise as I rose up from the ground, and sped away. The lights of Time Square shone down on me, even as I tried to desperately find some patch of darkness. I couldn't hide under the light of a forty foot television. A quick run, sticking as low as possible, and I made it underneath a car, all the way across the Square. I looked back, and could see officers boiling out of the lobby I just left. I could almost see little question marks floating above their head as they searched for me.
With the undercarriage of a car right above my head, I dialed my newly acquired cellphone. The call was answered on the third ring. I spoke, both clearly and urgently. I needed this, more than anything. Without his help, it would take much longer.
"Number Man. I need your help."
The Number Man's voice, calmly answered my near frantic request, "Of course. What do you require?"
"The Travellers. I want every bit of information you have, starting with where they are. Now," I half-pleaded, half-demanded. I was desperate, and I knew he could tell. But I had to find her.
"I'd want something in return," he said, the tone of his voice unchanging.
"Anything," I readily agreed.
"One favor, in the future," he replied.
"Deal! Now, information," I hurriedly said, something as I heard the car above me turn on. The engine nearly blocked out the Number Man's voice.
"Two hours, and I will call your current number," he said, before hanging up. Two hours? What was I supposed to do with two hours? Our new apartment was destroyed, according to Director Wilkins, along with all my equipment. I had no money. I could only recharge, and get ready. To strike those bastards back. The car above me left, and I moved out from underneath, away from the Square. Someplace to sleep, hidden. A parking garage, not a hundred feet down, a giant illuminated 'P' sign sticking out was perfect. Everything left, consisting of Daphne's van, and my original apartment that I no longer had key for, were too far away. I passed through the entrance, headed down. Three levels down, I coiled up in a corner, falling asleep with the ease of switching a light.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The cell phone woke me up as it rung, and I pushed 'talk'.
"Where," I demanded.
"50th Street, due northwest of where you were held by the PRT. In between 9th and 10th Avenues, in a red brick building, above a deli."
Relief flooded through me, lifting my spirits. I didn't have to attack every Mob holding in NYC just to find her. Caution tempered my relief, and I asked, "Who are they, and what are their powers."
"Trickster, the leader, can switch any two objects he can see. Genesis is a powerful Changer, much more varied in her selections then you. Sundance is a Blaster capable of firing masses of heat imitating the Sun. Ballistic can accelerate any object to a uniform speed, just below the speed of sound, regardless of weight. They have two additional members, who function as a support team. I'd advise keeping a lower profile-"
I hung up, silently apologizing. I didn't have time for pleasantries. Then I snapped the phone in half, dropping it at my feet. I left the garage, and after a quick query to the garage attendant, headed west. Luckily, I was already on the west side of Times Square, and didn't have to try to cross it or route around it. I reached 8th Avenue nearly a hundred feet from the garage, and kept heading west. After I hit Ninth street, I turned north. How close were they to the PRT? That seemed insanely stupid for a group of villains. Not even a mile away, the largest collection of heroes in North America sat, ready and willing.
I'd have to be quiet. 48th street. Close. 49th, and 50th. I stopped, not turning the corner onto the stretch of buildings hiding Daphne. People stared at me, and my hospital gown as I moved with purpose. Maybe before, people staring at me, or muttering behind their hands would have had an effect on me. Not tonight.
The last time I had tangled with the Travellers, I had come off the loser. I had nearly lost everything. Every little thing I had gained since coming here. And they were trying to take Daphne from me. They wouldn't succeed. I wouldn't let them. Speed would trump stealth, tonight.
I stepped around the corner, Deli sign a nice red glare, happily proclaiming where I was to go. A couple nearly stepped on me as they walked East. I headed to the door next to the large windows of the deli. A small metal plate contained rows of buttons and names. A small speaker covering sat underneath. Intercoms, for deliveries to the upstairs apartments, reasonably. All but one had faded lettering, names of families or tenants. The third floor's little tag was blank. I didn't care who saw me. Dozens of people must have been behind me, and more we're walking down the side of the street I was on. Some were looking at the crazy girl, nearly undressed.
I shifted form, easily. Shadows replaced skin, hair, and hospital gown. I could hear murmurs of surprise and shock, but ignored them. Later. The door, instead of a peephole, had a small section of glass. I broke it and jumped through, streaking up the wooden stairs.
The third floor apartment had light's shining outside onto the landing. I slipped underneath the door, and examined the apartment. Daphne was wrapped up in a ludicrous amount of rope, on the pale brown couch. Across from her, in an armchair, sat a rather handsome blond young man. He was alternatively watching over Daphne, and an unconscious girl in a wheelchair. Various styrofoam containers of food littered the apartment, and the faint smell of rotting meat was pervasive.
"Oliver?" A woman's voice asked from behind a door, startling both of us. He got up, walking to a closed door behind the couch, stopping in front of it. Not opening it, which was curious.
"What, Noelle?" Even I could tell the now-named Oliver was exasperated. A good view of him rolling his eyes was another hint.
"I'm hungry. Is the Deli open?"
He winced, and rubbed his hands together. A nervous habit. Why couldn't any of my enemies have stupid nervous habits I could use against them? Like an urge to leave money out, or drop their weapons at the sound of a dog barking? "We can't, Noelle. They're already getting suspicious of how much meat we buy."
Noelle's voice turned petulant, and she whined, "Fine. I want to see Krouse, then."
"He will be back soon-"
I interrupted him by slamming his head into the shut door. His nose broke, the sound of cartilage audibly crunching. He struggled slightly, arms reaching back to grab me, before I adjusted my grip on the back of his head, and slammed him again, this time temple-first. He crumpled to the ground, blood leaking from his ruined nose. The door sagged in its hinges, cracked down the middle and splintered.
"Oliver? Oliver, are you hurt? I smell blood," Noelle said through the door.
I ignored her, and moved to grab Daphne. Oliver was the most combat capable member of the three here, if he was on guard duty. With him out of the picture, I could just leave. I released the shadow form with a twist of will, to leave another way. I didn't know if the rest of the Travellers were coming, but I did know only one of them could fly.
"Who are you? What did you do to Oliver!" Noelle interrupted me again. I continued to pretend she didn't exist, and left the living room. The kitchen had a block of knives and I pulled one out to cut Daphne free. I stepped back into the living room, brandishing the knife.
The broken door exploded into splinters, a mass of something huge blowing right through the already damaged door. I barely had time to see an unnatural number of limbs and eyes, before I was pushed to the ground, skidding back across the living room. Whatever it was, it stunk of meat and sweat. A tentacle made of hands apparently growing out of even more hands grabbed hold of me, pulling me in closer despite my struggles. I sliced down with the knife, barely able to get a foot of swinging distance. But the knife did glow green, and when it cut, a high pitched woman's scream matched the desperate flailing of a severed tentacle.
Noelle's voice. She was evidently the more combat capable of the three.
More tentacles, followed by arms, grabbed me, arresting the movement of my knife hand. I tried to switch it to my other hand, but it was futile. Green flames sputtered at its tip, useless. She could see me - an eye the size of a hubcap was not two feet away, staring at me. I tried to writhe out of their grasp, but I couldn't. She drew me into the mass of limbs, pressure squeezing me down. I couldn't breath. My head felt like it was being crushed. I had to get out. Had to escape.
I remembered what I had done last time, in a similar situation. When my options were limited, when my body wasn't suited for the task at hand. An opportunity to let out some very justified anger.
My fear, that I wouldn't save Daphne, became anger. My desperation to get out, became anger. It boiled over, and I let it burn away my flesh, detonating in a wave of green flames. Noelle, for it had to be her, wasn't moved by the fire. She did scream as it burnt away the limbs holding me. Not that they could've held me anymore.
Claws digging into the cheap wooden floor of the apartment, I propelled myself forward. I kept my now expansive wingspan tucked in. My bulk, lesser than her's, but still substantial, allowed my amateur tackle to take us both through her bedroom, full of already destroyed furniture, and through the brick wall.
The bronze spider formed above my head, standing amongst the buildings, even as a shallow sea of shadows lapt at our feet.
Noelle, half of a woman, and half a monstrous menagerie of limbs, got to what passed for her feet. A chunk of her lower body had been burnt away. What looked like tumors were already growing behind her damaged limbs. She looked down at her damage, and then at the gaping pedestrians who had quickly made space for us.
"I'm hungry."
