ic The Doctor Is OUT [IC]

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Regardless of Casey's decision, Terrifica wouldn't be alone, as Agent Thornton turned to her.  "I've already been to Blackstone without any luck, so I think I'll come along with you to the Institute."  Despite Thornton's own skepticism about the relevance of those reports, she had already seen enough of the super-genius to trust her instincts.  

 

"Well, I would like to attend the interrogation," Sergeant Pines said to Miss Grue, meanwhile.  "Seems we've learned about all we can here.  I can give you a ride to the ferry, if like."  He could only guess about Daphne's usual transportation methods, so if the alien turned her feet to rockets and flew away, it probably wouldn't surprise the officer.  

 

* * *

 

The Blackguards thankfully weren't surprised either, but that wasn't to say that Sea Devil and Singularity were warmly received.  Once they and Miss Grue regrouped, their welcoming party consisted of eight prison defenders, two wearing MAX armor.  Everyone was meticulously professional in avoiding signs of aggression, but the trio and their police escort didn't have to be psychic to feel the tension in the air.

 

Under an icy silence, the Blackguards took the heroes across the Bay to a small but foreboding island.  It didn't look like much upon approach; the only apparent structures were the dock and boathouse, and at the top of the rocky hill, a second outpost.  Miss Grue might be confused, depending on her personal experience, but Aquaria and Jessie knew full well what waited for them underneath the surface. 

 

A second group of Blackguards met them on the docks.  The leader, an officer in the same uniform as the others but with a pose of authority, had vanilla folders in one hand.  The other wasn't too far from his sidearm.  

 

"There you are," the man said, his tone implying that he almost wished they weren't.  "We've already heard from AEGIS--" this, too, sounded like an unwanted development-- "so let's just get to it.  You want to talk to two prisoners, yes?  The male teleporter is currently in his cell; the female is in the exercise area of her security corridor with a few other inmates.  We have interrogation rooms prepared.  How do you want to do this?  Do you need them both?  Together, or separately?"

 

* * *

 

On the other side of Freedom City, Terrifica and Thornton drove--together or separately, as suited the hero--to Wading Way, the business district of the Downtown area.  They wanted a property just beyond the "Golden Row."  Their destination was much like the other nearby skyscrapers, at first glance; the FCI tower "only" had forty-five stories, making it less than half the height of Pyramid Plaza, but it was still a beautiful, smooth pillar of steel and green-tinted glass.  The dawn light currently lit the east side to a brilliant emerald gleam.  

 

However, as Thornton pointed out when they arrived, they actually wanted one of the squat brick buildings around the tower's base.  These were much older, dating back to the mid-1900s, and housed the labs and other such essential components, whereas the skyscraper was for offices, administrative space, and entertaining clients and investors.  All in all, the FCI properties took up most of a city block, without immediately appearing to be part of the same company.  

 

Terrifica would also note the construction vehicles parked around the building they moved toward.  "I'm told the fire department left a few hours ago," Thornton told her.  "They've had to cut water to this building thanks to the other damages.  Scientists and most other personnel were relocated elsewhere, except for a few witnesses.  Repairs are on hold until you have a chance to look around."

 

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The Night Before

 

In one second, Tristan was sitting at the table on his brother's patio, watching his life fall to pieces.  The next, he was tangled in something, his vision dark, with squeezing pain all across his body.  His lungs had compressed in an instant.  Nerves registered this at the same time as heat against his ribs.  Understandably, his overall reaction was to gasp for air and flail against whatever was wrapped around him.  Panic set in so strongly that he almost began the Leviathan transformation.  If he had, then he would've sacrificed his secrecy, but on the other hand, it might've ultimately saved a few lives.  Time will tell.

 

Something grabbed him, prompting Tristan to lash out with his elbow, for which he took a punch to his right ear.  The thing around him--perhaps a sheet?--pulled in multiple directions, unraveling clumsily, until at last, he was free.  Well, relatively speaking.

 

Still fighting to regain his breath, and slowly wondering why the back of his dinner jacket was wet, Tristan blinked the dazed spots of light out of his eyes and looked around.  He was lying on a floor, and standing over him were several dark figures; he couldn't make out their features, as the only light was above and behind them, shining down from a hole in the ceiling.  Tristan thought he could see another room up there, and there was clearly a metal ladder leading down to his position, anchored into the concrete wall.  Next to him was a crumpled heap of thick, industrial canvas, which was probably what he'd been ensnared by previously.  For reasons he could only imagine, little red embers of heat were still fading from one side--he thought about the lingering warmth on the front of his shirt--and right next to it were dark, damp spots.  Water started to leak out and pool around the tarp.

 

"Never getting used to that," one of the shadowy people, male by the voice, said.  

 

"So trippy," another agreed.  Someone followed that with a laugh.

 

"Get up," a third voice ordered.  He reached for Tristan's arm, and when the doctor resisted, punched him a second time.  Then there was the barrel of a pistol pressed against his nose.  

 

"You wanna try me?"

 

"Hey, uhh, don't we need him?"

 

The gun moved down and dug into the skin over Tristan's knee.  He struggled to keep control of his rising fear--as well as plenty of confusion--and slowly lifted both hands over his head until the backs of his palms touched the cold floor.  After a moment, his captors--still just dark, blurry shapes as far as he could see--pulled him to his feet, spun him around, and gave him a hard shove forward.  He then faced a short hallway that ended in a vault door; above it, to either side, were automated gun turrets jutting from the walls.  Under calmer circumstances, Tristan might've noticed the rust on the barrels, or the cobwebs running between them, but instead these weapons only frightened him more.  Had one of Leviathan's enemies discovered his secret somehow?  Independently of his own brothers?

 

He agonized over that theory and others like it, until he was forced ahead to the door--which, for all its thickness and security measures, wasn't even closed; it just pushed aside--and into the next room.  It had a desk and a few tables, and buzzing machinery, but he focused on something else.

 

"Tristan!" Dr. Harold West called out to him.  The older, bald scientist had a bloody, split lip and fear in his eyes.  West was one of the FCI's leading doctors, part of Tristan's personal R&D team.  As were Dr.s Collier, Reeves, and Daza, who all stared back at him too.

 

"Wh...what is this?"

 

As one, the other researchers turned to the far wall.  Two whiteboards were attached to it; one had some early notes and formulas, but the other was bare except for a demand written in red marker.

 

Fix what you did to us, or die here.

[Avenger Assembled]

Sea Devil kept a brave face on - and a translucent armored plate on over that face. "Singularity and I will meet the female and Miss Grue will meet the male. You can turn yourself into Mister Grue," she suggested to Daphne, "so you can meet him as one of his own." She wasn't entirely sure how they would get the respective teleporters to speak of their crimes, but she was confident that between the two of them, she and Jessie would come up with a way to make the criminals sing their songs - and they certainly wouldn't be left trapped down here at the bottom of this dry mockery of a cave, no. And if they did nothing, we will report to the others and our time here will be over. A prospect that was becoming more and more appealing with so much Surface-worked stone over her head.

[EternalPhoenix]

Terrifica had brought her own transportation with her, so she simply followed the AEGIS agent to the FCI complex. She knew where it was, of course, however which building they were heading to was another matter. She swung one leg over and got off her cycle, parking it once again. “Is there any kind of renovation going on? There seems to be a few too many heavy vehicles here.” Water again. She pondered friction heat. Not all speedsters were immune to it. Then again, teleporters could use just about anything for a teleportation medium. Apparently, there was one who teleported using a hell dimension as a shortcut. After Agent Thornton had replied, she added. “Interesting. Can you show me where the damage trail starts? I’d like to examine it while you prepare the witnesses. I have no patience for those who cannot get to the point quickly, and I would like not to speak sharply to any of them. They’ve been shaken up enough already.”

[Heritage]

For a moment, Casey was conflicted; she was hoping to use her tenuous connection to the duplicator to perhaps earn her trust, but then Terrifiica asked her to join her at the other crime scene. Part of her wanted to assert herself and join the Blackstone group, but the part of her that had been raised to obey adults and authority figures was much too deeply rooted to be overcome. Besides, she really could be a big help to her mentor in finding clues.

 

"Okay, I'll go with you, Terrifica."

 

Miracle Girl could fly, but right now Casey wasn't feeling super up to it, so she asked to ride on the back of her mentor's cycle, which was actually kind of cool. It also gave her a little time alone with her thoughts as she closed her eyes and let the wind rush through her hair.

 

Once they arrived at the lab, she hoped off the back of the bike and took to the air. "I'll start with a quick scan from up here."

[Electra]

Oddly enough, Singularity seemed to become calmer the further the party progressed into the Blackstone prison complex. The nerves and uncertainty she'd obviously felt at the crime scene had faded away, replaced with a quiet that was almost like serenity. Ignoring the borderline hostility of the guards, she walked the corridors like someone well familiar with the route. Apparently noting Aquaria's overt discomfort at their surroundings, she licked her own hand several times and then put it reassuringly on the Deep One's arm. "It's okay," she reminded Aquaria, "they're keeping things safe down here. Let's see if we can talk to the woman nicely, she might trust people like you and me more than actual police officers." Both their security anklets had turned from green to amber upon entering the prison, but since neither of them were actually violating their probation, it didn't seem like something to worry about. 

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"I think you're probably right," the guard told Singularity.  From the way he said it, it didn't sound like a compliment.  "This woman, Holly Page, does not like law enforcement."  He flipped open one of the vanilla folders as they all gathered into an elevator and began a long, long descent. 

 

"She's not a teleporter, actually," he clarified.  "That's just the male.  Page can split herself into multiple copies--at least, according to the police reports of her capture.  She hasn't demonstrated this ability here.  Not that she's any less dangerous; she's wanted in six different countries for violent crimes, including murder.  Page is an enforcer for a crime syndicate based in the Pacific; they operate primarily in eastern Asia, Polynesia, and our own west coast.  She grew up in California, where we're told she was originally recruited.  Her friends specialize in drugs and human trafficking, and Page herself is a documented killer, among other things.  We still aren't sure why she's in this part of the world in the first place.  When we sent her fingerprints to the Feds, they told us they actually thought she was dead.  Whatever her deal is, she won't talk to us, or AEGIS, or anybody with a badge who's tried to question her.  She won't even ask for a lawyer." 

 

He switched to the other, much thinner, folder.  "Her partner, the teleporter, is a bigger mystery.  We know that he goes by 'Owen,' and he's a pain in the ass.  That's about it.  He jumps around a lot, but never very far.  We still don't know how his power works, so it's hard to contain him, but something in the prison has to be working, because he never teleports beyond the room he's in.  Maybe he has limited range, or maybe he's blocked by a substance we possess but haven't directly identified.  He also hasn't poofed out of restraints or his security monitor yet--" the man's eyes flickered down to Singularity's anklet, "--so that's something.  Either way, this guy's crazy.  He talks in riddles and answers questions that nobody actually asked.  Until we know more, we're keeping him isolated.  It's probably for the best anyway; I'm pretty sure that if the other prisoners have to put up with him, then he won't last long."

 

The elevator came to a stop, and as the doors opened, the heroes were faced with an expansive cavern.  A few dour buildings were isolated by drawbridges in case of a riot, and around the edge of the artificial cave ran the monorail that led both above and below, down to some of the world's most dangerous criminals. 

 

"The interrogation rooms are over at Command and Control," the guard told them, pointing out the building they wanted.  "Prisoners are coming up in a minute.  Do you need anything else?"

 

* * *

 

"I don't know if I'd call it a trail," Thornton mused.  "But the closest spot is probably in the lady's room, ground floor."

 

That wasn't difficult to find.  Terrifica entered through a very ordinary but deserted lobby; she would note the stack of plastic yellow Caution!  Wet Floor signs, over a dozen piled in the corner, but otherwise there wasn't much to hold her back from going directly to the restroom.  Here, the problem was easy to see.  The old metal plumbing underneath both of the sinks was broken, right at the lowest point of the U-bend running out of the wall and then up to the faucets.  They clearly weren't burst from the inside, or cut; the tops of the pipes were folded somewhat inward, like they had been hit with something blunt and heavy until they broke apart.  The remaining vertical ends, connected to the sinks, appeared to have been slightly bent away to create more space between the disconnected components. 

 

Miracle Girl could see all that and more.  Very little of the complex was hidden from her, so what she could find mostly depended on how much time she planned to invest.  She couldn't spot anyone suspicious; if nothing else, whoever or whatever they were searching for had already departed.  If she wanted, she could follow the plumbing from Terrifica's position throughout the building; it looked like several other restrooms were similarly damaged, some more than the first, as well as the sink of a break room down in the second basement level.

 

The next floor down, the third basement, was the "very little" category that she couldn't see.  It was protected by some kind of field; to Casey, it fizzled like carbonated soda bubbles, turning everything within it to a static blur.  This wasn't particularly suspicious, or even uncommon, though; Freedom City-based corporations had good reason to protect themselves against rivals with her kind of talents, for fear of espionage.  She was probably looking at the research labs. 

[Tiffany Korta]

 

In her few years on Earth she’d gotten used to the general hum of humans minds, with the occasional strong random thought or mood pinging against her psychic defenses. But a place like this full of strong emotions, mostly negative, was bombarding her defenses. Daphne wasn’t one to be in a bad mood, but it did leave her a little... irked.

 

“But why would I change gender like that? I mean I understand the need when in disguise, but I’m me why would I want to be anyone else?” with the instant psychic buzz she might have been a little more short than usual

 

“Would it not make more sense if we all work on the same person? Wouldn’t it make sense for you to have a psychic in the room as you question them? The man seems the most likely to be involved and if you want to play good cop bad cop I can always be invisible and in the background whilst you do you stuff.”

 

True she got most of her interrogation knowledge from Cop Shows, but she was sure it’d work just fine here.

[Avenger Assembled]

Aquaria laid a cold, wet hand on Jessie and pulled her lips up slightly in a careful imitation of a Surfacer smile that didn't make it look like she was planning to bite off somebody's head. Turning to Daphne, she said, "You don't have to grow one of their-" Aquaria made a gesture with her hands held far enough apart that it was hard to tell if she'd ever actually seen a human male's genitals. But a quick sideways glance at Jessie with her great bulging eyes suggested it was time to change the subject. "Okay. We will speak to the female together first, and then the male." The description of the male Surfacer had unnerved her more than she wanted to admit - Surfacers who had been wounded in their minds like Jessie she could understand and get along with easily enough, but Surfacers disturbed in their minds as a true sickness were sometimes...blasphemous. It was unsettling. 

 

When Holly Page was escorted into the interrogation room, Aquaria Innsmouth had partially retracted her armor against her limbs, exposing her face and much of her muscular, tattooed amphibious body - blue ink dark beneath green and white glistening skin. 

[Blarghy]

GM

 

They had a little time to get settled in the brick and tile room, complete with an obligatory one-way mirror.  The Blackguards brought in four chairs, three on one side of a steel table and the last opposite to them; in front of the single seat were strong rings built into both the table and the floor for shackles. 

 

Soon, the door opened and they were able to at last see the prisoner.  She was muscular for her average height, with strong shoulders and legs, and moved nimbly despite the chains on her ankles.  Her skin had a nice California tan; her short hair looked black at first, but the recent roots were chestnut brown, suggesting that she dyed it before her capture.  By now, the injuries she sustained had largely healed, although some fresh scrapes on her calloused knuckles suggested that she might not get along with all of her fellow inmates during the brief time they interacted in communal exercise areas.

 

The woman's brown eyes were keenly observant, and she appeared confident when she first entered.  She thought she knew who was waiting for her.  She was wrong. 

 

"Jesus!" she shouted when she saw Aquaria, and then Miss Grue; Holly Page leapt backwards reflexively into both of the guards behind her.  The visible fear lasted only a moment.  She recovered quickly, now looking angry at herself for the outburst.  The tiny frown stayed on her lips while she was escorted to her chair and secured by both hands and feet to the metal rings. 

 

She looked back and forth between the three heroes, studying them, until the Blackguards left the room.  Her jaw tensed when the door shut, and she asked bluntly, "Who are you?"

[EternalPhoenix]

Terrifica carefully examined every damaged water pipe, carefully observing the nature of the breaks. What could possibly cause a need for so much water? She revisited her various ideas, and couldn’t quite narrow the list down. She sighed, slightly frustrated. The only new information here was that the perpetrator had the power to break through mental piping. Which did make a speedster more likely. In fact, all of this damage, more or less simultaneous, almost ruled out a teleporter. But not entirely. Some of them could teleport quite quickly, enough to seem to be in multiple places at the same time. One of those with superhuman strength could have done this. She added a possible vendetta against plumbing to the list of data, and sighed again. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, and then stepped out of the restroom. “Agent Thorton? Is the first of the witness prepared?”

[Blarghy]

GM

 

It appeared so, as Terrifica emerged to find the AEGIS agent accompanied by a security guard.  She introduced him as "Curtis Keys, the night watchman for this building."

 

"Strange thing to have heroes involved in," the man said.  "Can't complain; I've never met one up close, so, it's an honor, ma'am.  But I still think this whole thing is just a big, weird prank."

 

"Just give her a rundown of the damages," Thornton instructed.

 

"Well, you've seen the pipes.  They're like this all over the building.  Flooded the whole damn place.  But we also had that fire in the records room, where we store backup physical copies of employee records.  Nothing's missing, but a lot of the files got burned, and it set off the alarms and sprinklers.  Hardly anything was fully destroyed, and I hear that our computers are untouched, so if this is corporate sabotage, then whoever did it isn't very good at their job.  Lock on the door to that room was broken, bashed in by something.  I can take you to see it if you want."

 

"Tell her about the air.  You asked about that earlier," Thornton reminded Terrifica.

 

"Oh, yeah.  I figured it was just the air conditioners acting up, but it didn't last long.  Just felt a breeze here and there.  Had to pick up a few papers that got knocked on the floor.  Nothing serious.  Oh!  And it's not what you're here for, but somebody raided the fridge last night.  I went to get my dinner--well, breakfast for me--about 9 o'clock, and the whole thing was cleaned out.  That was about, I guess, ten minutes before the whole place flooded, and then the fire alarm went off."

 

"I think you'll have to take that up with your HR manager," the agent smiled dryly.  "But thank you for being thorough."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The Night Before

 

Rest wasn't easy for Dr. Oliver Graves these days, but he had just managed to nod off when a knock at his door roused him again.  He felt a spike of anger, followed by tentative worry and even more hesitant optimism; maybe this was one of his assistants with news about his projects.  After his four most promising experiments escaped late last year, destroying large portions of his research in the process, he had to start over at a new facility.  Worse, now that damned Mr. Teal was looming over his shoulder.  The cheery old man supposedly worked to help recapture the missing metahumans, but Graves hadn't seen much progress there, and he grew increasingly resentful about having his work constantly reviewed.  Teal wasn't even a scientist, far as Graves could tell, so he assumed that the man was here on orders of their shadowy employers to monitor him after the previous mishap.  

 

Luck wasn't on his side; when he answered the door, he found one of Teal's grim bodyguards on the other side, and was led through the compound to his office.  There, he found the other man sitting at his desk peering over documents.

 

"Ahh, Oliver, good.  Please join me; I have a few questions.  I do apologize for disturbing your rest."

 

"It's after midnight," Graves grumbled.  Still, he complied; the men flanking the office door looked fully capable of breaking him in half if he objected.  

 

"Mmm, yes.  I will move straight to the point: what role has a..." he squinted through his reading glasses at the paper in front of him, "Dr. Tristan Nicholas Delacroix played in your experiments?"

 

The question surprised Graves.  He almost replied 'None,' but his groggy memory began to return, mostly as it pertained to the assault on the OCEAN offices some time ago.  

 

"Very little, and none of it to his knowledge.  He, or rather his family's corporation, markets some enhanced digestive enzymes that are highly efficient.  None of that herbal supplement garbage; these actually work, but they are so expensive that it is far more practical to just buy more food.  Only applicable for some specific malnutrition cases, really."

 

"Mmm."

 

"Oh, and Dr. Delacroix also published some research during his time at Harvard about overall digestion.  It was mostly theoretical, but he calculated optimal performance of the stomach, intestines, pancreas, and liver, for the purpose of extracting maximum calories and nutrients versus the energy these systems require.  A rate of return sort of deal, you know.  His papers also discussed the increased strain on those organs in such a scenario, as well as heat output, and what sorts of improvements would be needed to sustain the changes without eventually killing the subject.  As far as I could determine, he and the FCI never put any of it into practice.  I assume the costs limited their interest, which is a shame, because Delacroix seemed to have all the pieces for building a better gastrointestinal tract, including its satellite organs.  I don't know why he never put it all together."

 

"Some people just lack vision, I suppose.  What did you use his research for?"

 

"Project Heat Sink, once the sixth group of patients starved to death in about four hours.  They still required large, regular meals, but at least now it is somewhat manageable."

 

Mr. Teal leaned back in his chair and put one hand in the pocket of his jacket.  "Mmm.  I see.  And that seems to be a theme with your research, yes?  You started with some very promising serums and medical operations, capable on their own of creating the results you wanted, but the side effects were inevitably fatal, necessitating further adjustments.  The devil is in the details, as they say."  He smiled grandfatherly.  

 

"The base procedures came from Dr. Hanks," Graves replied, growing a little defensive.  "You can criticize him if you like, but I think we have all made enormous strides toward improving human weakness."

 

"Yes, yes, of course.  Both of you are utterly brilliant.  Please don't take offense, Oliver; I merely want to help."

 

The old man pulled his hand back out; he held a string of beads between his fingers.  At first, Graves thought it was a Rosary, but as he looked closer, they seemed odd.  The chain obviously lacked a cross, for one, but he also saw that the individual beads were detachable, held together by a clasp on either side.  

 

"Are you Catholic?" he asked, mildly amused.  "I wasn't aware."

 

Mr. Teal turned his head to look at the doctor; his smile was sweet as always, but seemed to have a secret now.  "Inspiration can come from all sorts of places, Oliver.  I would certainly describe myself as spiritual."

 

He rubbed a particular bead between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth.  Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but for a moment Graves thought he saw a pale gleam from within the tiny sphere.  He realized it was made of glass.  Suddenly, his chest squeezed with inexplicable poignant sadness, and he had no idea why.

Mr. Teal went back to leafing through the documents, leaving his guest in silence until Dr. Graves spoke again.  He found it unusually difficult to get the words out.

 

"W...why do you...ask about, ah...Dr...Dr. Delacroix?"

 

"Oh, my apologies!"  Teal lightly patted the side of his head.  "My mind does tend to wander.  I was thinking that our missing friends may have seen some of your records in the process of their dramatic exit, and perhaps gotten the idea that he was involved."

 

"Because of Copy Error and Temporal Displacement?  When they attacked his charity?"

 

Teal chuckled.  "In the future, you should work on your code names, Oliver.  They should roll from the tongue, like poetry.  But yes, that is part of my suspicion, although the lion's share comes from a more recent development.  I am told that about two hours ago, the young Tristan vanished abruptly from a dinner party and has not been seen since."

 

Graves' eyes widened like saucers.  "Heat Sink!"

 

"You and your names," Teal chortled again.  "Though I suspect you're right.  I hope that the authorities will waste time investigating a different lead first; they still think your other experiment, Owen, is a teleporter, the poor man.  Obviously, Julia is the real culprit.  She must still be in Freedom City after all, probably tethered by her husband and her special needs.  I wonder: could Tristan help her?  He must be absolutely bewildered."

 

The doctor thought about it, his hands shaking with excitement.  They were close again!  "Possibly, given sufficient time and resources.  It certainly wouldn't be quick.  Even if he had my notes, which he doesn't, he would have a long road ahead of him to reverse all the alterations I made."

 

"I assumed as much.  Well then, we will just use this opportunity ourselves.  I have friends at work already, but what I need from you is a way to catch our dear Julia when we finally locate her.  We already know that standard enforcement is of little help.  No sense in sending more of our people into the meat grinder without purpose.  You still have the means to replicate her core talent, yes?  That unbelievable speed?"

 

"...Yessss, but..."

 

"But the subjects will die very quickly without undergoing months of adjustments first," Teal finished.

 

"Yes.  I may be able to limit the process a little.  Less of a result, but still enough.  With the right equipment, a trained team might overcome Heat Sink with sheer numbers before they liquefy.  Include painkillers and euphoric substances to keep them going as long as possible..."

 

"It's for the greater good.  We still may want to leave the consequences unmentioned when we brief our soldiers, of course."  He raised one finger to his lips and smiled again.

 

Mr. Teal then gestured to one of his grim bodyguards.  "Be a dear and put on some coffee, would you?  And assist Oliver with whatever he requires.  We have a long night and plenty of work ahead of us.  Smile, my friends; tomorrow will be a grand day!"

[Avenger Assembled]

"We are here for you," croaked Aquaria, studying the woman with those black and gold eyes that from a Surfacer's perspective were nearly on both sides of her head. "We need to know why you are here and why you did what you did." She didn't quite have the right neck muscles to nod, but she could bob her head and shoulders, as indeed she did, clinging to the back of the chair with her hands while her feet still touched the ground. "I am Sea Devil. This is Singularity and Miss Grue. We have been in this place before you. We can sing for you to the guards... if you can sing for us now." 

[EternalPhoenix]

Terrifica smiled. “Speedster, with imperfect powers. Heightened metabolism requiring extensive caloric intake to continue functioning. Lack of immunity to the heat of friction, requiring large amounts of water to prevent him or her from burning up.” She looked at Thorton. “You said nothing was missing. Was there any access to restricted or proprietary data? Specific employees? Projects? Experiments?” She was smiling quite confidently now. “Data can be stolen with the press of the button these days. A camera, more likely a smartphone. A burner, if they're smart.” She held up a hand to forestall the response. “Also, you might be able to track that speedster to his or her base of operations, if AEGIS’s satellites were in the right place and had access to infrared vision. This speedster would shine like a torch when using his or her powers. He or she could also be traced by tracking damage to water systems, but that will take longer.” She lowered her hand. “Thank you, Mister Keys. You’ve been very helpful.”

[Heritage]

Miracle Girl's scan was pretty thorough, and her hearing was good enough that she heard everything the security guard and Terrifica said, and her conclusion was the same as her mentor's: a speedster with imperfect powers. It also somewhat matched the imperfections of Copy Error's duplication; no wonder these powers seemed more like curses that needed to be undone!

 

Casey floated back down to the ground by the other three and cleared her throat. "Um, I have a feeling I know the answer to this question, but can you tell us what goes on three floors down? I'm guessing your bosses blocked out x-ray vision for a reason."

Edited June 20, 2017 by Heritage

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The prisoner leaned forward a little while she worked out what exactly Sea Devil was saying.  Hearing a well-armed Deep One utter 'We are here for you' had a definite chill to it, and although she'd never admit it, Page was a little thankful for the Blackguards on the other side of that glass. 

 

"So you want to make a deal," she gathered.  "About the doctor, right?  That AEGIS agent from earlier said he was missing."  Her lips twitched with a very brief, and a little cynical, smile.  As a career criminal with ties to a lot of bad people, she refused to deal with law enforcement because of more than simple distaste.  Being too friendly might give her old crew more reason to hurt than help her, if she ever found a way out of her current predicament.  Outsiders, however, especially ones with their own shadowy pasts, might serve as a useful buffer.  Of course, even this distance would mean nothing if she opened up about her cartel and its activities; Page's knowledge of her fellow involuntary metahumans was about the only coin she had to safely spend. 

 

Unless she decided to abandon her old life and turn to Witness Protection, anyway.  She had trouble considering this even in the privacy of her own mind, but it was an option.  The outside world thought she died months ago on an operating table; this could be her one and only chance for a fresh start.  Sea Devil and Singularity were both living proof that it was possible. 

 

"Just what are you offering?  Better treatment in here?  A reduced sentence?"

 

* * *

 

Agent Thornton's expression was professionally composed, and in any case her eyes hid behind her dark sunglasses, but she seemed to listen with rapt attention, and as soon as Terrifica finished her analysis and suggestions, she took out her phone.  "Excuse me; I'll report in with my superiors and see what data and resources we can get." 

 

While she stepped away for a little privacy--not that she'd get it from Miracle Girl--the security guard answered their questions.  In contrast to the agent, he was openly interested, caught up in all the excitement. 

 

"The room with the fires only has employee records," he explained.  "It's for backup files.  Employment history, disciplinary notes, some personal information like home addresses, phone numbers, and emergency contacts, those sorts of things."  Keys didn't think of the obvious possibility, because as Thornton said earlier, law enforcement was keeping the other four missing scientists as secret as they could, but Terrifica might realize how their culprit found those individuals, and maybe Delacroix himself. 

 

Miracle Girl's arrival soon redirected his attention, she being the statuesque, glowing sun goddess that she was, but after Keys stopped staring, he answered her too.  "Now, that's where restricted data would be.  Past Basement 2, it's all secure records and labs.  I don't know about x-rays specifically, but those floors have a lot more security.  More cameras, better systems, more guards...I'm not cleared to go down there, but I don't think the damages and other weirdness went that far.  The police didn't investigate those floors, anyway, and they aren't scheduled for repairs like my part of the building."

[Tiffany Korta]

To the person they were here to talk to Miss Grue did nothing just floating slightly above the ground with her arms crossed. But it was mostly an act, Daphne knew how these scenes tended to go and were trying to unnerve them into revealing something important. She was also helping the others find out if what the prisoner was saying was the full truth.

 

I'm just going to feed you her emotional state, so you can see if she's telling the truth. I won't be reading anyone's minds I promise. If you need me for anything else just think it and I'll pick the thoughts up.

 

It wasn't true mind reading, she'd found that humans found such things... unsettling, more a gathering of surface thoughts and emotions that she gathered. To help Aquaria process it all she projected the words around the prisoner, like that British detective show she'd watched.

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The Night (and Days) Before

 

After her friends (well, allies) were taken in by the police, Julia Cole's hardest task was finding new representatives who could actually interact with the world at normal speeds.  Her husband was wholly unsuited to the task, and she herself could only accomplish so much with written notes.  She made numerous forays into the city, gradually widening her routes--mostly following Freedom City's waterways for safety--and searching for possible candidates.  By definition, she needed criminals.  Normal people wouldn't want to do what she required, and in any case wouldn't be good at guarding and motivating hostages anyway, but this raised new problems.  First, she had to find such individuals with only frozen glimpses into their lives, like stepping into photographs.  Except when she came across someone in the midst of a crime, she had little way of knowing who might fit her criteria.  When she did see active misconduct, she wasn't always comfortable with its nature.  On multiple occasions, some poor citizen was about to suffer a horrible fate, only to blink and find that their assailant was now scattered across the alley or room, the pieces often on fire.  

 

To further complicate the issue, Julia felt wary of organized crime.  How could she be sure that members of a proper syndicate would obey her instead of their previous bosses?  Payment and threats of violence only went so far.  She had learned that the Delacroix family enjoyed a long history in Freedom City; who could say what gangs were secretly on their payroll?  

 

Julia agonized over her choices for ages, paranoid thanks to her extreme isolation.  In the end, she took what she saw as the safest option.  She had found a street gang of kids in their late teens based not far from her hidden bunker.  After checking in on them for another week--it cannot be stressed how much patience this required, given her viewpoint of time--for any signs that they might have ties to bigger fish, she finally made contact.  

 

They weren't much to look at.  Titled simply after the name and street of their high school--which the members hardly attended and, with only two exceptions, inevitably dropped out--Foster and 8th, or the F8s, the West End's nature as an ethnic melting pot brought about some intriguing results.  Most of these kids were of mixed heritage, or unattractive to the standard gangs for other reasons, and initially banded together for protection.  In a strange way, it was impressive how they overcame longstanding barriers, albeit mostly in the name of getting high and mugging the occasional lone pedestrian.  

 

That was how Julia came to notice them, and took to haunting the basement where they generally hung out.  It was owned by the parents of their unofficial leader and the eldest at nineteen years old, Luca, a mostly Hispanic and Tai young man with a dash of Brazilian.  After stealing all the ice from the freezer and using it to cool off a little, Julia went downstairs and propped her handheld whiteboard up against the TV; her note boiled down to "You all work for me now."

 

She left for a while and came back to find them standing up, mostly surprised and confused, although a few of the boys looked to be nervously laughing.  A spark of frustration made Julia put her fist through the wall with ease, but she resisted the urge to hurt anybody just yet.  Instead, she went back out to the street, down to a local jewelry store, robbed it--she used a broom from the custodial closet to break the display cases and sweep the glass out of the air; she learned by now that she had to be careful of those little shards, or they'd break into dust against her durable skin and make her itch--and brought back about two hundred grand in ornaments.  Julia dropped it all at Luca's feet, went home for a nap, and came back again.

 

Nobody was laughing that time.

 

And so, to the present (sort of): despite lingering anxiety, Dr. Delacroix listened to the gang's side of this story with skepticism.  They were largely delighted about the arrangement, especially once they learned that their new patron had some kind of connection to fire, which everyone agreed was very cool.  Opinions varied on exactly who or what they served, but they already abandoned their old gang name and now went by "The Arsonists" and dressed in red.  

 

This is just dumb, Tristan thought.  I've seen real supervillain gangs, and they don't operate like this.  Maybe, maybe they got caught up with some old, washed up guy who can't scrounge up anybody better than half a dozen teens.  It'd have to be a seriously feeble villain to use mystery to control these kids; whoever it is, they're too scared to show their face, and that says a lot.  If they exist at all...

 

Admittedly, Tristan's resolve shook a little when he first went to the whiteboard and started to write, Who are you?  He got halfway through "are" before his message vanished and was replaced by, Doesn't matter.  You have the blood samples you wanted.  Fix me.  WORK.

 

This led neatly into another problem (and then another theory): the lab he'd been taken to was decades outdated, its equipment last relevant in the eighties, and even then, focused more toward tech and gadgets than medical study.  Tristan already doubted that he could do much here, and his fellow doctors reached the same conclusion; they didn't need to discuss it to keep this information to themselves for now.  Their guards might be inexperienced, but they already demonstrated a willingness for violence.  Tristan didn't think they'd go as far as murder, though, now that he had a look at them; Luca was the only one with a gun, and when he wasn't talking up his troops or snapping orders at the scientists, he actually looked a little nervous.

 

So, Tristan's theory: Luca, probably alone, had found this bunker somehow and claimed a few devices left behind by its previous owner.  He was now using them secretly to trick the other teens and his hostages.  Why, Tristan wasn't yet sure, but he felt more and more confident about his idea.  If nothing else, it calmed his nerves to believe that he was only dealing with a weird Wizard of Oz pay-no-attention-to-the-man-behind-the-curtain scenario.  He could go through these kids like tissue paper if he found an opportunity to shift; that was his only real problem.  It was pretty frustrating to be trapped more by his own secrecy than the peril around him.  On some level he realized that risking his own life was one thing, but gambling with his FCI teammembers just to preserve Leviathan's privacy was highly irresponsible, to say nothing of unheroic.  He countered this by promising himself that they weren't actually in serious danger, and if that changed, then so could he.  After all, he wasn't the first hero to hesitate on matters of secret identity, right?  Everything was sure to work out fine.  He just had to be clever.  

 

And I can definitely outsmart a few high school dropouts.  If I can get out of here, just through the front doors and out of sight for a bit, I can come back with scales and put a quick end to this.  I just need to figure out how.  And I guess, where here even is.  That'd be useful information to have.

 

...Although...maybe I don't need to go that route.  I'm not sure what Luca really wants with this whole game, but I can probably convince them to go for ransom instead.  Or just make them like me, so they give themselves up.  There's a name for that.  The opposite of Stockholm Syndrome.  Can't remember it, exactly, but it's a thing.  Yeah, that could work!  And it's better than bringing in Leviathan anyway; unless we're near the Bay, his involvement would seem awfully convenient.

 

Tristan set his team to work on the vials of blood and turned his attention to the gang members.  He first directed his attention to a huge teen bursting with fat and muscle, mostly Caucasian and owner of a hilariously bad goatee, and his smaller friend whose heritage was so multifaceted that he just thought of himself as "Mediterranean."  Tristan gathered that their names were Anthony and Marco, although the latter now insisted that everyone call him "Blaze" and kept playing with a lighter.

 

"So...how do you sell that jewelry, anyway?" Tristan asked as he toyed with a microscope that was older than himself.  "The stuff your new boss brought you."

 

"You just gotta know the right people," Anthony said.  Eyebrows scrunched around the room, however, and Tristan wondered if this was the first time they actually thought about how to move stolen goods without being quickly caught.  

 

"Ahh.  I was just curious, is all.  ...And I mean, I'm sure it's worth a lot, but you know that I'm worth more, right?  I have to say, this isn't my first kidnapping, but it's the first time that I wasn't being sold back for the price of a private island."

 

"Because you're working," Luca reminded him, taking interest now.  "So work."

 

...I am really going to enjoy throwing you through a wall.  Just wait.  Juuuuuust wait.

 

Tristan tilted his eyes down toward his equipment.  Trying to sound subdued instead of bitter, he asked Dr. West, "Do you have those blood films ready yet?"

 

"Almost, almost."

 

After a long silence, Anthony leaned in a little.  "How much are you worth?"

 

"He's working," Luca reminded his friend.

 

"I'm just curious."

 

Tristan said a number that made even his team pause and look at him.  Another silence followed, until Luca just said, "Bull----."

 

"I mean, that's not all just sitting in a bank.  I'm not Scrooge McDuck.  Most of it is FCI stock, and the rest of my portfolio.  I have to make some calls if I want more than a few million at a time.  You know how it is."  Tristan had never set foot in a K-12 school before, let alone gone through the public system, but on a whim he tilted his head toward the biggest of the teens and joked, "That made it harder for guys like this to steal my lunch money."

 

He earned some laughs, not fully understanding the notes he hit with these kids who were often victims of bullying themselves before they turned to the other side of that cycle, often ineffectively until tonight.  Around the room, Tristan thought he saw new ideas swirling in their eyes, and even Luca was quiet.  

 

Oh man, this is so going to work.  Whether they let their guard down and I can get away for long enough to change, or they ransom me, or just let us all go, we are out of here.  It's only a matter of time.  I do kind of hope I don't need Leviathan, just this once.  That'd be awesome, if I can beat this just as Tristan.  

 

He couldn't help but smile, already daydreaming about the newspaper headlines and interviews.  Everyone would tell him how brave and smart he'd been under pressure.  The guards looked calmer and more cheerful too, and even though the older scientists were smart enough to conceal their hopes, they also sensed the possibilities here.  

 

Then Tristan blinked, and he was lying on the floor with a face full of splinters.  The desk he'd sat at, now broken almost in half, collapsed on top of him.  Through a daze, pain beginning to flood in, he could hear someone start to scream in the background.  It kind of set a new tone for the rest of the night. 

Edited June 28, 2017 by Blarghy

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The Night Before (About Half a Second...Before)

 

Julia stared around the room, hands trembling and nostrils flared with rage.  She was trying to hold the worst of it back, kept telling herself that she had to act carefully, but it was like pushing against the tide.  In this moment, she just wanted to--and probably could--kill them all.

 

She didn't come back expecting full results, but no new notes were on the whiteboard, most of the scientists were roughly where they'd been when she left, and worst, her underlings were grinning like idiots.  Their frozen faces turned toward the youngest doctor, sitting at a desk, who was also smiling.  No, smirking.  What was he telling them?  As it often did in this soundless, lonely Hell, Julia's mind bounced between all kinds of possibilities, most of them bad, filling in the gaps as humans tend to do.  On this rare occasion, her suspicions of foul play were actually accurate.  She worried that Delacroix might be trying to subvert her little gang for his own ends.  That wouldn't do.  No.

 

Julia stalked across the floor, her skin already starting to heat up uncomfortably despite her relatively slow speed, and stopped at the first boy she came to.  She still didn't know most of their names, but this one was skinny and had nice, olive skin; he stood next to the big fat one with the goatee.  She thought, choosing her move carefully, and raised one hand.  She pressed her thumb to the flesh just above his left eyebrow and held it there.  She rolled it back and forth, like she was being fingerprinted, watching the effects she had seen so many times before. 

 

When that was done, her fury slightly sated, Julia went to the whiteboards and wrote, Now look what you made me do.  Who wants to work?  Who wants to HURT?

 

"There," she said to herself.  Back across the room she went again, this time to Delacroix himself.  "And what should I do with you?" she asked.  The woman looked at him for a moment; slowly her eyes came down, at which point she made an unfortunate discovery.

 

"There isn't even anything under this microscope!" she shouted, finding it empty between his pale fingers.  Without thinking this time, she slapped her open palm across the back of his head...and right through the desk.

 

"Oh God!"  She spun around, putting both hands up to her face.  "Oh God oh God oh God, I killed him!"

 

She tried to breathe, breathe, breathe, but her body just got hot, hot, hot, and the rage threatened to overcome her entirely again.  As slow white fire began to spark to life across her skin, Julia ran, back down the ladder two floors below to the safety of the bunker's dining and living level.  Here, Caleb's icy aura immediately started to help, at least in physical terms.  Once she was back in the closed bedroom where her husband still sat on the floor, trying to set up the same game of Solitaire he'd been struggling with for who knew how long now, Julia ran immediately to the furthest concrete wall from him and started viciously kicking it with her bare feet.

 

"Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!"  Rock shards and dust gathered in the air around her while she cried and screamed.  That was her last chance!  If she lost the kid, then what could she do next?  Go back to that horrible lab and try capturing some of the other doctors?  Would they even still be there?  She had doomed not just herself, but her husband too.  Sure, this was mostly Delacroix's fault, but that was a small comfort at best. 

 

She stayed down there for a little while, sobbing napalm tears, until at last she regained some measure of control over herself.  The most she could do for now was go back upstairs and see the extent of the damages.  Leave another message for the rest of the scientists.  She'd give them some time to come up with something, and then probably kill everyone when they failed. 

 

But to her utter astonishment, Dr. Delacroix somehow wasn't dead.  Hanging there in the air between fragments of his desk, he didn't look too bad.  Ok, yes he did, but his skull appeared to still be intact, and his neck wasn't bent at some awful angle, so she'd take it.  Under other circumstances, Julia would be quite curious, as she knew by now that other humans were hopelessly frail compared to her, but she wasn't about to question this turn of good fortune.

 

He was nonetheless heading for the floor at speeds that would probably finish the job if she didn't intervene, so she thought for a moment, then went and retrieved the sturdy tarp that she used to keep air friction from peeling off his baby-soft skin when she first kidnapped him.  She wrapped it around the scientist to protect against her body heat, then with the utmost care, rotated him so that he wouldn't impale himself on the wooden shards in his face when he landed.  Even more slowly, Julia lowered him to the ground, like the world's most serious game of Operation.  Once his body touched down, she shimmied the tarp out from beneath him, wadded it into a makeshift pillow, and used it to cushion his head. 

 

"Please, whoever's out there listening, if there is any justice left in this world, let this jackass live long enough to help me," Julia begged the silent heavens.  "Because I just don't know how I'll keep from murdering everyone in the West End if anything else goes wrong."

[Blarghy]

On 6/20/2017 at 4:56 AM, Blarghy said:

GM

 

The prisoner leaned forward a little while she worked out what exactly Sea Devil was saying.  Hearing a well-armed Deep One utter 'We are here for you' had a definite chill to it, and although she'd never admit it, Page was a little thankful for the Blackguards on the other side of that glass. 

 

"So you want to make a deal," she gathered.  "About the doctor, right?  That AEGIS agent from earlier said he was missing."  Her lips twitched with a very brief, and a little cynical, smile.  As a career criminal with ties to a lot of bad people, she refused to deal with law enforcement because of more than simple distaste.  Being too friendly might give her old crew more reason to hurt than help her, if she ever found a way out of her current predicament.  Outsiders, however, especially ones with their own shadowy pasts, might serve as a useful buffer.  Of course, even this distance would mean nothing if she opened up about her cartel and its activities; Page's knowledge of her fellow involuntary metahumans was about the only coin she had to safely spend. 

 

Unless she decided to abandon her old life and turn to Witness Protection, anyway.  She had trouble considering this even in the privacy of her own mind, but it was an option.  The outside world thought she died months ago on an operating table; this could be her one and only chance for a fresh start.  Sea Devil and Singularity were both living proof that it was possible. 

 

"Just what are you offering?  Better treatment in here?  A reduced sentence?"

 

Miss Grue's silence, and presence at all, was plainly unnerving the cartel enforcer.  She tensed and frowned while she waited for a response.  Miss Grue might get the impression that she was waiting for the alien to read her mind and trying to feel such intrusions, clenching her mental muscles--underdeveloped as a normal human's were--with great suspicion.  Despite this, Page hadn't demanded a halt to their talks, and even as she tried to keep her thoughts as clear as possible, she was still open to at least the idea of an arrangement.  She had information they wanted, and desires of her own.  The heroes' nature didn't offend her like AEGIS and the police, so if Sea Devil was willing to make credible offers, then she might very well cooperate.  Page's loyalty to her fellow kidnappers was far weaker than to her syndicate friends, let alone herself. 

[Heritage]

Casey nodded, seemingly satisfied with the guard's answer, and she flashed him a hundred watt smile. "Thank you, sir; your help is greatly appreciated." Then she turned back to her mentor and sighed. "Do you think there's anything else we can get from here?"

 

But then she did something rather interesting; she engaged her super-speed while standing still. She wasn't running around or even moving her hands, but there was a slight motion blur around her as she spoke at a speed no normal person would be able to process, manifesting as nothing more than a short burst of sound.

 

But she knew her mentor Terrifica was far from normal.

 

>>"I could be wrong, and maybe I've seen too many bad spy movies, but what are the chances this lab had something to do with the creations of these super-people? I'll bet you five dollars there's files on all of them in that sealed basement.">>

Edited July 25, 2017 by Heritage

[EternalPhoenix]

Terrifica heard Miracle Girl, and understood…most of that. It was something she had to go back and replay it in her mind. The central problem was that while her mind was fast enough to process any sensory information at an equivalent pace, her physical ears (the drum, the bones inside) still obeyed the normal laws of physics. So all she initially got was a quick burst of sound. However, Terrifica and Miracle Girl had worked together long enough for the former to know when the latter was engaging in speedy activites. It was slightly surprising. Very, very few people Terrifica worked with ever picked up on her mind being as fast as it was. Though with that said, MG was a bright girl and the supergenius had worked with her more than anyone else.

 

Terrifica had been having similar thoughts since she walked in the building. Of course a place like this had its secrets. “I wouldn’t take that bet.” She said softly. She was incapable of speaking with such speed. However, she could whisper too quietly for a untrained man to hear. “I’m quite curious.” She had come this close to reaming out the security guard for the gap in checking. However, it literally wasn’t his job and mostly likely would have lost him his job if he had checked in the slightest. These firms could be awfully paranoid. With good reason, true, but paranoid. She spoke up again so everyone could hear. “Is there any way I could at the very least know if that hidden area had been breached? It seems to me that if I was an imperfect speedster, I would like my powers either repaired or removed. And what better place for it than a biotech firm such as this one? And what better place for such high level research to be conducted than in such a secure area?” She smiled, and it was not an open and friendly smile. “In truth, what I would really like to know is what this firm was working on that attracted such attention. I am somewhat of a scientist myself, you see. Perhaps I could help speed things along?” She spoke directly to Agent Thorton, who was still on the phone. “When you’re finished with that, perhaps you can assist with a bit of leverage here. Additionally I’d like to speak with you privately, off the grounds of this facility.”

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Keys's enthusiasm began to give way to uncertainty; he wasn't sure what was happening now, but he could definitely pick up on the shift in Terrifica's mood, and her final comment to the AEGIS agent was rather telling.  Thornton, distracted as she was, quirked her eyebrows at the mention of "leverage," and gathered more from Terrifica's request than the security guard could. 

 

"--From the Vaults, if possible," she continued quietly over the phone.  "I know it's short notice, but we may need something to even the odds.  Just pass it up the chain and see what's available.  Yes, I know the last requisition caused more harm than good; I'd prefer I got something that's already been tested this time, rather than me being the test.  Thank you; call me back ASAP."

 

"Well..." Keys began, "like I said before, we don't think that this guy got into the labs.  I'm not sure, since five minutes ago I didn't even know we'd apparently been invaded by an actual person, rather than just a bunch of weird disasters.  I know that none of these damages go further than Basement 2, and the police didn't go down past that to the secure levels when they investigated a few hours ago.  I'm sorry, but I can't give you a tour myself, or access security tapes from the labs; I'll have to talk to my boss about that, if it's what you want.  We make new medicines here, not superhero stuff, but I guess it's possible that somebody looking for help might try to find it at the FCI, like you said.  Not sure why they wouldn't just ask for help, unless they're bad.  Which, I mean, I guess they are, since you're going after them, obviously."

 

Agent Thornton looked between the three of them, waiting until the security guard finished rambling, and jutted her chin toward the front doors.  "You want to go talk now?" she asked Terrifica.

 

"But you can still see the personnel records room, where the fires were!" Keys interjected again.  "That much, I can do.  And security tapes from these upper levels."

[Avenger Assembled]

"If your song is sweet enough," agreed Sea Devil. "Singularity and I have both known many who have been freed from these cages." She shot Jessie a nervous glance, found her a helpful wall, so didn't push her any further. It's working! she thought of Jessie's strategy, making a point to thank her once they were away from their prisoner. "But first you must sing for us. Did you help take that man?" She made a small croak, brek-kek-kek, then said with her goggle eyes staring straight at Page, "Before you speak, you should tell the truth. Lies make a falssse song."