Chapter Text
The cold concrete ground of Jyderup Prison didn’t taste particularly nice. Unsurprisingly. Freja’s teeth called out in alarm as she made contact with the floor face first. Sadly she didn’t have much time to catch up with her old friend, the filthy cafeteria tiles, as she rolled to the left to avoid the folding chair which slammed into the ground where her head once was. Jumping up, Freja grabbed the similarly cold concrete wall as she tried to snap out of her daze. As it turns out, chairs do not taste much better than the floor. Note to self I guess.
Clapping herself in the face to wake up, she took a critical look around. The cafeteria was a mess, with half eaten food laying on the floor next to their broken plates, spilled drinks and trash cans thrown over. The inmates seemed to have gathered around her and her opponents in a fighting circle, with the prison guards trying and failing to force their way through the crowd towards them.
She had three opponents, two of which were still standing. A large woman, the one with the chair, knocked herself off balance trying to swing the chair around and left herself vulnerable. The other, a smaller woman with very short hair, was digging around the clutter on the floor for some sort of weapon. The third was a younger one, perhaps around 19, fresh out of juvie. Poor girl picked the wrong friends.
Pushing off the wall, Freja sprinted towards the larger woman, picking up a cafeteria tray off the ground. With a kick to the shin the woman fell to her knees as Freja rammed the side of the tray into the back of her head, once, and then twice. A sharp pain suddenly radiated out of her shoulder as the smaller woman jammed a makeshift shiv into her shoulder blade, before whirling around and going for a slice across the face. Her arm would never reach her in time however, as Freja whipped around and clocked her on the side of her head with her right fist. The smaller woman tumbled to the floor, and Freja was not far behind, punching her again and again. It felt good. It’s been a while since she got to blow off steam like this. Once she was satisfied the girl wouldn’t get up anymore, she stood up, surveying her battlefield. All three women were sprawled out on the ground, two were unconscious with the shorter woman moaning in pain as she clutched her likely broken nose.
Finally, the prison guards broke through the crowd of cheering inmates and demanded Freja put down the cafeteria tray and put her hands above her head.
Freja surveyed the three security personnel. I can take them.
However, she was well aware that she’d be pushing the possibility of parole should she continue her adrenaline rush. So, begrudgingly, she put her hands up as the tray clattered onto the floor.
The guards closed in around her, roughly pinning her to the wall as the other combatants were given medical attention and brought to the hospital wing of the building. From the corner of her eye, Freja spotted the sight of a well dressed Omnic staring at her from the observation deck above her. Great, Max is here. Just awesome.
Freja was uncuffed as she was pushed into solitary confinement, stumbling forward as the door was pushed shut. An entire day of solitary confinement to ‘clear her head’. Her head was plenty clear, especially after those amateurs battered her over the head with a chair. She looked around, inspecting her accommodations for the next twenty-four hours.
The room was simple, which was to be expected. A bed sat on the north-western corner of the room, the door to the south. A plastic mirror with a small sink, together with a toilet, sat in the South-East, which was the only part of the room unsurveyed by the camera placed above the door. All objects in the room were padded, to make sure that any inmate here wouldn’t hurt themselves, or worse. How considerate.
She stalked over to the mirror to clean herself up. Her ginger hair had left the well maintained braids and bun it was in, with her bangs stuck to her face with sweat. The bounty hunter splashed some water onto her face, cleaning off some splatters of blood and dirt. She barely got out of a prolonged sentence due to the others starting the fight, but she was on thin ice. This was far from the first time she was involved in fights around Jyderup Women's Penitentiary, and people were growing fed up.
She traced the blue tattoo on her face, as the green eyes reflected in the mirror met hers. Is this it? Another full year of hostility, paranoia and barely getting out of further punishment?
She was pretty sure that Maximilien pulled something behind the scenes this time. She wasn’t sure who he really was, but he seemed to have reach in a lot of places, including Jyderup.
Finishing her cleanup, she pulled off her long-sleeve shirt and dropped it on the ground somewhere, laying down on the uncomfortably hard bed in her tank top. She didn’t even know why Max had taken such an interest in her. Ever since she was 16 he would not stop following her around wherever she went. She’d had rumours of her being a snitch surrounding her ever since she got sent to jail for assault. It didn’t help that Max kept coming back each month to talk to her.
The robot had the look of some type of fed, maybe from the United States or even Overwatch. He knew things about her, things she never told him. Perhaps he simply read her file. Or, there was more to her theory of him being an operative of some kind than expected.
Freja groaned in frustration as she turned onto her side. She’d be lying if in some ways she didn’t appreciate the effort Max was putting in. He’d made sure she stayed out of juvie when she was 16, and she had his number in case anything went really wrong. She’d called it once, when she was 22. It was a long night, she’d barely gotten away from a much too handsy guy and she just… needed someone to talk to. It was nice, she supposed.
She jumped awake as the door to the solitary confinement cell creaked open. Freja didn’t know when she fell asleep, but her back did not thank her for the awkward pose she fell asleep in. Sitting up, she wearily eyed the door as two guards stepped inside. Freja made no attempt to get up as she stared them down. ‘This room’s taken, get your own.’
Her joke got no reaction out of the guards. ‘You’ve got a visitor, the rich guy. We’re making an exception to have you be able to take visitors while you’re in solitary,’
Freja rolled her eyes, getting up from the bed and grabbing her shirt. ‘Gee, thanks.’ She slid her shirt back on, before holding her hands behind her back as expected. One of the guards stepped behind her and cuffed her to his arm, connecting them so she couldn’t run. The three of them exited the cell as she was escorted to the visitor section of the building. They passed several remotely opened doors, where she mockingly waved to the camera as they passed.
The trip was uneventful, mundane even. Getting out of Cell block A, the one where she slept, was always nice. No arguing, no need to keep your guard up. It was quiet, sometimes interrupted by the sounds of typing or hushed discussion, though discussion of the inmates was kept far away from where she could hear.
She passed by her psychologist's office, a lady who she utterly despised, and the prison's small mosque. She wasn’t religious, but many of the other inmates were. Sometimes when she was bored she’d join in for a service, for which she was welcome, or attend some festivity or another. The Imam was nice, he was easy to talk to and was one of the few people in this building that she didn’t feel judged by when she spoke. A few times a month a catholic and protestant priest would come by, sometimes even a Rabbi. It was something to do, anything other than sit and stew in her own thoughts.
Eventually they took a left into a slightly dim room with a chair and a table, half of which was blocked off on the other side of thick reinforced glass. She was in high security, so she didn’t get to sit next to people that visited her or touch them. As if I get visitors anyway.
Her guest wasn’t there yet, but she knew who it was. Max was the only one that visited her, perhaps out of some measure of attachment or a feeling of responsibility. Honestly, she didn’t know why he bothered.
The guards left as Freja kicked up her feet and rested them on the table. According to the clock it was 13:14, she was a minute early. Which means that in exactly one minute-
At 13:15 the door opened and Maximilien stepped in. The Omnic’s usual fine suit and red tie gave him a somewhat intimidating look, but she knew better. ‘God morgen Max.’
Maximilien chuckled, sitting down on the cushioned chair behind the glass, speaking through a microphone. ‘It's afternoon Freja. I hope your time in solitary did not affect your ability to read the time?’
Freja smiled slightly, crossing her legs on the table. ‘Eh, I’ve been better.’ She crossed her arms, eying him suspiciously. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure? I’m not taking your work.’
Max looked her up and down before continuing. ‘I saw your fight today, are you okay? Did they manage to treat your shoulder wound?’
She scoffed. ‘I don’t need your sympathy Max.’
The Omnic held out his hand, making eye contact. ‘Well I’m giving it to you anyway.’
Freja froze, before quickly reasserting control. ‘I… It went well. The wound wasn’t too deep, so they simply stitched it and gave me some pain killers. They stabbed me with a toothbrush of all things…´
Maximilien nodded in understanding. ´What started the fight?’
Freja sat up, scowling. ‘Wasn’t me.’
Max seemed to pick up on her guarded posture, sitting back slightly and tilting his head. ‘I believe you.’ He let it sit there for a bit as Freja calmed down slightly. ‘Can you tell me what happened please?’
Freja held eye-contact for a while in a battle of endurance. Sadly for her however, Omnics only blinked every few minutes to clean their sensors. Giving up, she turned in on herself a bit, holding her hands between her legs. ‘Yesterday the young one stole an important item from one of the new arrivals. Trying to prove something I imagine.’
Freja dropped eye contact, staring pointedly at a small spot of discolouration on the table. ‘As it turns out, the blanket she took was a comfort item for the rookie.’
Maximilien nodded understandingly. ‘Did you go and get it back?’
She winced, eyes flicking to the door in alarm before settling slightly. ‘I… I guess.’
‘Why?’ Max posited, leaning forward slightly.
Freja bristled slightly at the question. In any other situation it would be redundant, but she understood why he asked it. ‘I bunk with the new girl. It would look bad if I allowed someone to get away with theft from my bunkmate.’ Some sense of an idea or understanding prickled on the back of her mind, but she pushed it back down. It was for my reputation, nothing else. She thought.
It didn’t help that Max looked at her with… Sympathy. Understanding. 'Of course.'
Maximilien and Freja sat in silence for a while. She was unable to make eye contact for whatever reason, which didn’t sit right with her. This isn’t how a bounty hunter for hire should act. Vulnerable.
‘You never explained how they ended up starting it.’ Max pointed out, a small sense of amusement in his voice.
Collecting herself, she slid her mask back on, facial features hardening. ‘I demanded it back from the young girl, and two others joined in on her side. One of them said something about my mother, I pointed something out about her past, then they swung for my face.’ Freja smiled wryly. ‘I don’t remember when the chair got involved.’
Max chuckled at her comment, tapping the table in amusement. ‘Well I'm glad you’re alright. Especially so since-’
‘Why?’ Freja interjected. She had been wondering this for years and it was bugging her that he was acting so… nice?
Maximilien bristled slightly. ‘Why what?’
‘Why are you glad I’m okay, why are you doing any of this?’ Freja pushed.
‘Would you rather have it that I stop?’ While his model couldn’t raise an eyebrow, Freja was sure that if he could he would.
Freja sat up fully, tapping the table in annoyance. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Why do you even care if I’m okay? We aren’t related, I’ve been nothing but lukewarm to you for years and yet you’re: “Glad I’m alright”? It makes no sense.’
Max was silent for a while, looking around trying to find the words. ‘I understand you might be confused-’
Sadly for her, at that exact moment a guard opened the door and informed both of them that visiting time was up in 5 minutes and to wrap it up.
Maximilien straightened his suit and cleared his throat, ironic since he didn’t even need to as an Omnic. ‘I have work for you. An actual client, not the underworld fellows you usually work for.’
Freja groaned, she wasn’t going through this again. ‘I’m not taking your damn work Max! My place is in the underworld, I’m happy there.’
Maximilien huffed. ‘Are you? Are you really? Or are you telling me that to keep up a mask.’
Freja growled. ‘Fuck you! You don’t even know me! Who the fuck are you to tell me about masks anyway? I don’t even know what you do!’ She laughed darkly, glaring at him. ‘I don’t need your damn work. I got things under control when I get out, I’ll manage like I always do. I don’t need your help bot .’
Max winced at the last word. good. ‘I don’t understand why you’re so committed to making yourself miserable like this. The underworld spits on you Freja. That life ended up with you in prison for four years! And let’s be honest, that was very lenient. What would your mother think-’
‘YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT MY MOTHER MAX.’ Freja screamed.
It was dead quiet for a while. Freja slowly recovered from her outburst, as Max righted his tie.’The job is from Overwatch, they’re interested in recruiting you.’
Freja scowled. ‘What does Overwatch want with a convict and bounty hunter? Are they running out of recruits? If they think they can get me in simply because my mother was some big wig in their organisation then they can suck it.’
Maximilien leaned forward slightly, getting out a dossier of sorts. ‘They’re looking for someone for the search and rescue team. Your… occupation makes you especially qualified for such a position.’
Freja thought for a while. She didn’t know why, but this seemed important. A true way out perhaps. Wait, why would I even want that? I’m perfectly fine here.
Freja dismissed it out of hand. ‘No. I’m not working for the damn United Nations. I’m nothing like my mother, and I never will be.’ She got up from her chair without even looking at Max and walked out the door. The guards outside cuffed her as Max stepped out the other side, watching her be escorted back to solitary through a thick glass wall.