Mark led the way through the corridor, and kept at Iosif’s pace, but let him walk on his own as he clearly wished to. Opening a door into another corridor, Mark soon brought the boy to some kind of dining hall, which was currently pretty much empty. “Just wait here a second, I’ll be right back with that water.” He reassured, before turning and heading through another set of doors that assumedly led to the kitchen, if the sounds and smells reaching Iosif from even here were anything to go by.
As the leader’s movements were relatively slow, Gideon is successfully able to duck under him, leaving him to grope at open air with a growl of frustration, trying to reach down and make another attempt at grabbing the slippery metahuman.
None of the faces gathered with him seemed to ring any bells, though some stood out more than others. Inamongst their number was a pair of identical twins, a girl with long red hair almost as out of control as a real fire, and a disconcertingly insectoid-looking man. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, a speaker crackled into life from somewhere overhead, “I imagine you’re all wondering why you’ve been brought here, and the reason is simple: I needed a group of lowlifes that nobody was going to miss.”
Mosh Pit’s eyes narrowed with rage, “Oh yeah? And who the hell are you supposed to be?” He snarled.
With that, a holographic screen flickered into life, bearing the image of a wiry middle-aged man with with a beak-like nose and eyes hidden behind the glare of rounded spectacles, “My name is none of your concern, but you may call me the Black King. And your king has a quest for you.”
“You have a very high opinion of yourself, ‘king’,” Khan says, staring directly into the screen (or a camera, if one is visible). “I must be honest, I care not for ‘quests’ handed down by those arrogant enough to call themselves ‘kings’. However, if you are offering a path from this cage, then I cannot ignore it.”
So I was originally aiming to punch him but uh, it looks like I forgot to state my intent
Whoops
IC:
Gideon responded by leaping up and aiming his knee directly towards the ruffian’s nose. It would tick him off, sure, probably make him call for backup.
But what’s important right now is stopping him from turning me into a tent stake. And yelling at myself later.
While the smells were good, Iosif’s appetite wasn’t improved by throwing up just a minute ago. He leaned his arm against a table, hoping it didn’t retract or break from under the minimal pressure.
Of course the water could always be poisoned. He looked about for any outlets without making an obvious effort.
Geosh’s attempts to follow him were mostly unfruitful. Upon descending the subway stairs, the mysterious figure was absolutely nowhere in sight. However, if he listened closely, he might hear…
“…”
“…Luthor. He was right, there’s two…”
“…Tomorrow. The hall-”
There was a sudden scuffling sound and two clicks of shoes against concrete. Then, silence.
Geosh couldn’t find the guy, and as he turned around to leave he heard faint voices. “Luthor… why does he seem to be mixed up in everything today?” Geosh wondered as he went the direction that he thought the voices had come from.
A cold, sharp laugh bursts from the speakers, before the ‘King’ regains control of his face, “Bold words for a pawn I could kill where he stands. But what’s a little banter among colleagues?”
The screen suddenly changes, the man’s face replaced with a distinctive and, to many of the inmates, recognisable, insignia:
“Intergang.” The King remarked, for anyone who happened to be living under a rock, “A dangerous, but necessary cog in the criminal machine, notable for using all manner of alien technology, particularly Apokoliptian. I don’t normally involve myself with such matters, but recently they stepped over the line, and intercepted a military convoy carrying incredibly precious cargo: a Mother Box.”
“This technology comes from the New Gods, and so despite fitting into the palm of your hand, it possesses unimaginable power. We’re not yet sure who it belonged to, but the important thing is that it’s here, and as long as it remains it will be a threat to national security. If this device came into the wrong hands, all manner of chaos could be sown. Your mission is to infiltrate Intergang’s headquarters here in Metropolis, retrieve the Mother Box, and bring it back to me. In the event that this isn’t possible, you must do everything you can to destroy it. However, keep in mind that so far all our attempts to do the same have been fruitless.”
“So let me get this straight,” One of the other inmates piped up, “You want us to stroll in under Bruno Manheim’s nose, grab an alien superweapon, and then come give it to you?”
“You will be compensated for your efforts, of course. Provided you’re successful, I’ll be sure to get your sentences shortened, and get you on parole earlier still.”
As his knee connected, Gideon would hear a sickening crack, the criminal swearing loudly as he stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. He glared in the direction of his hapless subordinates, “Don’d jusd sdand dhere, helb me!” He snapped, as blood began to seep out from between his palms. They stayed exactly where they were. The leader growled in frustration, “Fine, jusd ged in dhe druck, shobkeeb brobably already called dhe cobs!” He decided, lumbering towards it himself, before his two minions scramble to do the same.
A few moments later, Mark returned with the water, handing it to him with a smile, “There you go kiddo. Need anything else?”
Gideon dusted off his shirt with a scowl at the gang as they departed. There was no reason to chase them; the minimal stuff they would get away with was not worth grabbing onto their truck and attempting to puncture a tire.
Instead, he decided to stand there and scowl at them until they left. Unless they try to run me over. Then I’m kicking their windshield in.
No outlets. Rats.
Iosif shook his head slowly as he looked at the water for what felt like half an hour and was only about thirty seconds. He very cautiously drank a small amount of it and was instantly reminded of the taste of stomach acid.
Rubbing his mouth to hide his lip curling up in repulsion, he downed the rest of the glass in one gulp, which didn’t seem to be the most effective at cleansing one’s mouth… Or drinking water. Trying not to cough, he looked suspiciously out of the top of his eyes at the smiling Mark.
So if this is spiked, I should have about an hour. Hopefully I’ll receive some warnings before then.
It was the men’s restroom. The door was swinging as he walked up to it. No sound from the inside; very likely whoever was speaking had quietly ducked out when they realized Geosh was there.
No sign of anyone around, and the next subway train wasn’t scheduled until an hour from now. Nothing could have pointed more clearly to a complicated web of intrigue, and yet with so little strings to follow.
They seemed to have gotten the idea by now, as their truck screeched away from him as fast as possible. Inside, the shop staff started to nervously inch their way towards the door, a few of them going to reclaim their near-pilfered goods. Meanwhile, a rather out of shape old man who seemed to be the owner ran his way over to Gideon, clasping his golden hand in both of his and shaking it vigorously, “Thank you sir, thank you so much - if it weren’t for you, those thugs woulda cleaned out my whole store! I-is there anything I can do to repay you? I can’t offer much, but I’m sure we could work something out…” He panted, slightly out of breath from even that light sprint.
Mark stood in slightly awkward silence as he waited for the kid to drink it, before lightly prodding him with “Go on now, it won’t bite.”
“Hey, careful now,” Mark warned as Iosif went at it a lot more enthusiastically than expected, “We don’t want you to choke. There, is that a little better?”
“Where’d they go? Do I really have to play hide and seek?” Geosh thought as he started to look around outside the restroom. “Maybe I should put up my armor… just in case.”
It didn’t seem necessary. There was no sign of life anywhere in Geosh’s line of sight or range of hearing down in the underground terminal. However, there was some mild commotion up above, and people mumbling into their phones began to descend to await the slow arrival of the next train.
The figure had given Geosh the slip, Switchblade had gotten the kryptonite with an insanely involved plan, and the only thing left over was questions.
Iosif nodded once and looked back down into the bottom of the glass. I could break this and jab the base underneath his jaw until he choked out. He cautiously set the glass on the table he had been leaning on.
Just an option.
With his free hand Gideon adjusted his collar and beamed a golden smirk down upon the old man.
“Heroes don’t ask for reimbursement.” He politely retracted the hand the shop owner had wrung so violently. “And neither do I. Your safety is my reward.”
He went over to the curb, brushed aside the trash, and breathed a sigh of relief to find his phone un-stepped-on. “These hoodlums may decide to come back, you know.” I feel like such a selfish… Selfisher. That’s a word now. He scribbled out his phone number on a piece of paper with a pencil so heavily used there was barely anything left of it. “Call me if they ever try to harass you again.”
“Good.” He nods back with a small smile, “Now, you’re a bright kid, so I’m sure you can-”
Mark was suddenly interrupted by a loud slam of one of the doors into the cafeteria, and something whizzed into and around the room so fast it was nothing but a blur, giggling and whooping the whole time as a gust of air was whipped up in its wake.
“Oh bless you, sir, bless you!” The owner praised with a grateful fervor, “There’s not many masks that make their way down here, even Daybreak steers clear of us.”
“They ain’t the only ones.” He sighed grimly, “The streets are full of these punks now, all jumped up on that Snakebite stuff… But if any more do come along, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”
Iosif slid backwards, jumping into combat position and trying desperately to not completely lose his spacial awareness. His eyes very slowly marked the direction of the air, which didn’t seem to help in any capacity because whatever was causing it was moving entirely at random.
Wait… Iosif became visibly confused as his mind finally recognized the input of sound. That… That’s a voice.
“I’ll see you around, then.”
With a casual salute and a smile, Gideon marched down the street in the direction he had come.
…And that means I’ll have to scratch the likeliest candidate for accepting my resume. It’s not like I can make it super pretty when I don’t even have a computer. For the love of peace, I wish there were some ACTUAL masks who could do this work for a change. What if I don’t want to devote myself to everyone who’s in danger?
Rounding a corner, Gideon locked his jaw and forced the gold to retract from his skin. I guess my real superpower is becoming vulnerable. Maybe I don’t really have that much of a choice in the rest of my life…
It was indeed a voice, a young girl’s voice, from the sound of it.
“Hey, hey, slow down Trisha!” Mark pleaded, “Come on, what have I told you about running inside?”
“Awww, fiiiiine!” The blur grumbled, her voice seeming to come from everywhere in the room at once. A blink of an eye later, and the blur materialised into a chestnut-haired girl who couldn’t be any older than ten. Even as she stood she was clearly brimming with energy, fidgeting on the spot, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Really sorry about her.” Mark murmured to Iosif, “I try to keep her mellow, but you can only do so much with speedster kids.”
“Hey new kid!” Trisha yelled to Iosif as she zipped over to him, “Wanna play? What can you do? What’s your favourite color? Do you like running? What about a race, can we race pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeease?” She begged him, her sentences becoming more of a rapid and incoherent jumble of syllables by the second.
“Please, calm down, Iosif needs a bit of space right now, okay?” Mark murmurs, settling a palm on the girl’s shoulder.
“Okaaaaay…” She sighs, zipping back to where she was standing before.
Iosif reeled backwards until Mark politely stopped Trisha from assaulting him with a barrage of blended vocabulary. He stood for another second, one hand on his throat, breathing in short bursts, until he felt his heart begin to slow towards a normal pace.
He made a concentrated effort to regain his composure, but he was still noticeably shaking. Uh… What the heck do I do now? He said she’s a ‘speedster’, and I don’t-
As Gideon walked down the street, he would find it to be eerily quiet in comparison. Nobody seemed to dare come outside these days, with all the drugged up hoodlums about, and down a couple sidestreets Gideon might even spot a couple of people shooting themselves up with Snakebite, their bodies swelling and contorting unnaturally as their muscles increased in mass.
Mark gave another sideways glance at Iosif as he murmured, “You know your way back to your room, right kid? It’s just I should probably help Trisha find something to do.”
He quickly turned his attention back to the energetic girl with a warm smile, “Hey Trish, how about we go and get out the treadmill for a bit? Or I could take you to the track?”
“Treadmill’s good, track’s too small.” Trisha chirps.
“Attagirl.” Mark nodded, starting to move away from Iosif and lead the girl to wherever that treadmill was… Before she zipped ahead again, unable to wait for him, “Trisha, wait up! Please don’t run inside!” He called after her as he broke into a run himself.
Gideon stopped, walked past the side street, turned gold, and spent a solid ten seconds staring directly forward before rubbing his brow in irritation.
“I’m just one guy.” Gideon hissed to himself. “How am I supposed to content with a whole city of these idiots? Sure, I’m invincible, but if I decide to knee everybody in the nose, they’re gonna find where I live.” And then my parents, and then my real name, and then…
With a groan, Gideon continued walking, practically dragging himself away from the pair. They technically hadn’t done anything super illegal yet aside from, y’know.
Iosif watched after them for a moment or so, clutching his arm almost instinctively. He could feel one of the ports in his skin through the sleeve, the metal almost tugging at his skin for any electrical current in his body.
Wait a minute. He looked at the door behind him. The other kid. Now her. Is this… A home for failed government projects?
He still wasn’t sure what government meant. Even less sure about ‘friendly’. Did it mean on the behalf of a friend? And if so, why could you not befull? Or maybe you needed to represent yourself when you were befull. But if Iosif’s suspicion about the intent of the facility was true, then maybe… It would be worth talking to some of the others around here?
It couldn’t hurt more than it has before. He retreated out the door he had come through in a stealthy fashion. I mean, actually it probably could. But maybe I could help some of them be free. That’d be worth it, I think.
Geosh left the subway with more questions then answers. “I’m gonna drive myself crazy if I keep trying to think of answers; I’ve got to find something to take my mind off this.”
Pausing to think, she shrugged back in response. “Better then them being lazy about it. If I can get some American Dollars and make them shut up, why not?”
The rest of the district was just about as awful, crawling with Snakebite users or actual members of the gang of distributors themselves. Some of them gave Gideon funny looks, but if he passed them by without any trouble, they’d probably leave him alone. Probably.
Luckily for Iosif’s sanity, he did not encounter anyone on his way back to his room - save for a janitor who was mopping up his sick.
“I’m afraid that information is classified.” The Black King replied coolly.
But the inmate from before wasn’t satisfied either, “No, I don’t think you get it. This isn’t some errand, this is a suicide mission!”
“Fatalities are highly probable.”
“Screw that, I’m going back to my cell.”
“That is no longer an option. Over the past week or so you were each taken from your cells in the night and had remotely triggered explosives implanted into the backs of your necks. If you try to go AWOL, I will press the button, and you will die.”
A tense atmosphere washes over the inmates, some looking enraged, others terrified, and a few, including the vocal, out of shape inmate challenging the King, rolled their eyes disbelievingly, “You’re bluffing. If you needed us this bad there’s no way you’d just kill us. What if we all decided to leave? You wouldn’t have anyone to go on this mission of yours.”
Khan watches the inmate with interest. An implant in his neck… he hadn’t noticed such a thing, but he wasn’t willing to bet his life on such a thing. He wondered if this stranger would. Or if he was about to become a… demonstration.
