Chapter Text
Vi was still groggy from the chloroform as Marcus guided her in front of a tall desk, where an enormous gray skinned man sat sneering.
“Officer. Does this look like an orphanage?”
“Special circumstances. This one needs to disappear.” Marcus, as usual, was humorless. He placed a bag of coins on the desk in front of the Warden. The giant weighed the bag in one hand thoughtfully, then looked down to inspect his new inmate. She was obviously young, maybe 15 or 16, filthy, covered in bruises and smeared with blood, which flowed freely from her nose. Clearly, she’d had a rough night. Years ago, he might have had a moment of compassion for the child, but this place had eroded his humanity.
“Disappearing prisoners go to Cell 12, Level 40.” He handed over a ring of keys.
“No records,” stated Marcus, and pushed Vi toward the mechanical lift.
Marcus guided Vi down a long corridor that echoed with the sounds of forgotten humanity. A brief scream reverberated in the stone walls, and then the place momentarily stilled as the stopped in front of cell 12. Marcus fumbled with the keyring, finally unlocking the door and pulling it open with an ear-piercing squeal.
Vi froze in place for a moment, fear taking over her attempt at stoicism, but Marcus shoved her from behind, slamming the door. She stumbled, caught herself, then turned to glare at Marcus as he secured the door. Looking up from the lock to meet her gaze, he stated, “I’m saving your life.”
“This is saving my life?”
“Silco doesn’t know you’re here. I’ll tell him you’re dead.”
“For how long?”
But Marcus had turned to leave.
“Hey! How long?” She screamed at his retreating back. As it became apparent that he would not reply or relent, she screamed in frustration and turned to punch the wall with all the fear and grief and anger that had been boiling in her body, ever since she landed in that alley with Vander, or whatever he had become. As she did so, her fist shattered, and she screamed again as pain exploded in her arm. She fell to her knees, cradling her broken left hand in her right while Vander’s lifeless face flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth to avoid crying.
The sound of movement at the far end of the cell startled her and she scrambled to her feet, instinctively raising her fists in front of her face, though of course one of those hands was useless. There was another person in the cell, sitting against the wall in the corner where the light couldn’t reach. They rose to their feet, and slowly straightened, as though unfolding stiff bones after a long hibernation. Their clothes had once been black, but were now faded and hung in tatters around the edges. Their dark hair had been shaved close to the scalp.
As they stepped into the dim light that entered from the corridor, Vi could see that they were older, maybe Vander’s age.
Vander. Vi felt her throat tighten with grief, and she squeezed her eyes shut again to stop the tears from coming.
“Stay away,” she said, as her cellmate approached, but they stepped closer. They had green eyes that seemed to be lit from within, in stark contrast to their otherwise dusty and faded appearance.
“I mean it,” said Vi, “leave me alone.”
The stranger didn’t back away, and didn’t respond. As they stepped within Vi’s reach she swung her right fist at the stranger’s face, but stumbled as she hit only air. Vi felt the stranger’s hand clasp her left wrist, and cried out in pain. She tried to pull away, but they held her tight, fixing Vi with a gaze that was equal parts compassion and amusement.
“I can see you’re very tough,” they spoke in a low, soft voice. Vi tried again to hit the person with her right arm, but this time found her wrist locked up, and now both hands were incapacitated, the left one screaming in pain, growing hot and seeming to shift and rearrange itself under the skin. All at once she was released and stumbled back, realizing as she did so that the pain was rapidly dissipating. She flexed her hand and found it solid and painless. Her wide eyes raised to her attacker’s in confusion and amazement.
“The guards don’t know I can do that,” they said conspiratorially, with a small smile. They flexed their own left hand with a slight grimace, then lightly shook it out at their side.
“Why?”
“I was hoping to get some sleep tonight, not listen to a kid cry over broken bones.” They approached Vi again, eyes intently fixed on Vi’s, but this time Vi didn’t move or attack. “But that’s not the only thing you’re crying about.”
Vi scowled, and wiped the tears from her eyes with an arm. “I won’t keep you up.” She retreated to her own corner, sitting down and hugging her knees to her chest. She dropped her forehead to her knees and closed her eyes. Her cellmate stood and looked thoughtfully at her for a long moment.
“I’m Galen” they said, and then returned to their own corner, where they laid down on their back, one arm behind their head, and turned their head to the wall. There was a long silence in the cell, while outside the sounds of the other cells resumed as though the whole cellblock had been holding its breath, and now exhaled with distant shuffling, coughing, snoring, the irregular dripping of some water somewhere. Into that busy silence, a cracked and begrudging introduction.
“I’m Vi.”
-
Vi was jolted awake by the sound of nightsticks dragged along prison bars. Her bones ached from the cold concrete floor. At least she’d finally slept. Tossing and turning in the night, replaying the events at the factory, she had thought she’d never sleep again. Now, as she struggled to place herself in the groggy fog of interrupted sleep, Powder’s sobbing face flashed in front of her eyes.
That hadn’t been a nightmare.
That was real.
And so was this. In front of her, a stone wall. She sat up and looked around. Light from diamond shaped fixtures in the corridor cast shadows through the bars into the cell, where a solitary person stood facing the corridor.
She started and jumped into a fighting stance before last night’s events came back. Galen turned and took in Vi’s defensive posture, a smile teasing at the corners of their mouth, “Good morning, sunshine.”
Vi looked away and forced herself to stand more casually, as a guard came into view at the door of their cell.
“Still alive, I see.” Somewhere, a loud kachunk sounded, followed by a chorus of cell doors swinging open. Galen walked forward into the corridor, and Vi followed, joining a line of prisoners that was then marched down the hall. Some gave her curious looks, but Vi pretended not to see, her eyes fixed on Galen’s back. The group arrived in a large room full of tables and chairs, brightly lit by humming fixtures. Vi followed the line to receive a tray with a bowl of foul-smelling mush and a chunk of bread with questionable blue spots. Inspecting the ‘food,’ she fell a few steps behind Galen, and when she looked up, a man was standing in front of her.
“Looks like the boys downstairs sent us a little gifty.”
Vi stopped short, and tried to spot Galen, but the prisoner blocked her view. He was not particularly big, but an adult man, so bigger than her. Like the rest of the prisoners, his clothes were faded and ragged, but she could see that he was well muscled. She glanced to either side, sensing that the room had grown quiet. Instinctively, she rolled her shoulders, first one, then the other. The man leaned down to speak quietly near her ear.
“What say you and I take a little walk.” His breath stank, and the leer on his face left no question as to his intent. A cold calm took over Vi.
“Just a little walk?” She clarified.
“Just a nice little walk. Get to know one another.”
Vi nodded, mostly to herself, and then swung her food tray as hard as she could, striking his face and nearly knocking him down. As he turned to face her again, his face dripping with the mystery sludge that had been in her bowl, she greeted him with a punch that dropped him to the floor. The people nearest to Vi took a small step back. The room was silent and all eyes were on her now. With the man on the ground, Vi could see Galen sitting at a nearby table, watching intently.
The man on the ground growled and got to his feet. He took a menacing step forward, but stopped as another inmate whispered something in his ear. He broke the combative eye contact he’d held with Vi to turn and look behind him at Galen, and Vi, craning to see around him, thought she saw a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of Galen’s head, though their shining green eyes were laughing.
The man turned back to Vi, hesitated, then spat, “Fuck you, bitch,” and stalked away. Vi watched him leave until she was sure a surprise retaliation wasn’t coming, then collected her now dented meal tray and empty bowl, and sat next to Galen.
“What just happened?” she asked in a low voice.
Galen shrugged, and wordlessly offered the bread from their tray.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat it anyway. You’ll need your strength.”
Vi took the hunk of bread, inspecting it for a mold free portion, but before she could take a bite, found herself flanked by two enforcers with nightsticks brandished.
“Come with us. We need to have a little chat.”