[Well that's helpful. And probably a lie. Maketh bares her teeth, letting the cold sink into her cheek. It's something to focus on. Something that doesn't fucking hurt.] Car bomb. If you must know.
[She eyes the cell. Nothing in it is familiar except the purpose.]
Maketh Tua.
[She grimaces. It's probably a mistake to admit that. Especially if this woman is a rebel or related to anyone the Empire murdered.]
Where's Kallu? He's going to regret not shooting me.
[Maketh Tua. Maybe that should sound familiar. Maybe her father knows the name.
Doesn't matter now.]
I don't know who or where your boyfriend is, and I'm not into whatevee kink it is makes you wish you'd been shot to death, so I can't help you, Maketh Tua. Welcome to whatever godforsaken prison this is.
[It'd be easier if she knew who's behind this, who kidnapped her before her father could. He has too many enemy businessmen for her to guess with any certainty.
Rita crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, turning her head to look at the door.]
[Ha, hah. She'd laugh if not for the obvious complications. Maketh grimaces. She considers trying to roll onto her back. She can probably do it. She might cry in the attempt, is all. She probably shouldn't cry in front of strangers. Especially not in whatever prison this is.]
He's not my boyfriend. He's not anyone now.
[He's probably celebrating his promotion, Maketh thinks sourly.]
I'd rather be shot than tortured to death, thank you.
[Rita glances at her, sees her grimace. That must be uncomfortable, but she'd been taught you don't touch injured people lest you hurt them more.]
You're a regular ray of sunshine, aren't you? [She rolls her eyes.
A few seconds later, she answers. Her captors know who she is. What does it matter if this soldier does too? If they're here long enough, she'll be dead either by their jailers' hands or Rita's. No reason to keep names a secret.] Vaughn Du Clark. He's very rich. I'm Rita, his sole heir, if I make it out of here without losing my mind.
[Without turning into one of the angry, shambling zombies in the basement.]
I just got blown up, thank you. [Maketh says tightly. She wants to sit up. Put her back against something. At least get a decent look at her surroundings.] And I don't know him.
[She tries to move her good arm. Manages it without crying. That's good. She can feel her legs too, even move her toes, so she's not paralyzed. That's good, she can work with that.]
Is your rich father going to buy you back, Rita?
[In a better time, she might have tried a more delicate tone.]
[The tone Maketh uses doesn't bother Rita. She's used to it, what with the circles she moves in, the way she and her father deal with one another.
The question merits some thought. He clearly intended to imprisoner her himself, keep her and the fact of what the company's product does to people out of the news. It'd be bad publicity to stage a rescue and have it fail, to have Rita end up walking the streets looking like a flesh and blood ghost. There are people who know who she is, powerful people who want the secret formula or the money or a seat on the board. They'd recognize her and cause a scene, and the company's reputation could tank.
But if things are kept quiet, then...]
He might. It depends on the terms of the agreement. You know how it is with people in business. [She shoots Maketh a look that says 'of course you do'. Doesn't matter if she doesn't.]
Either way, I'll be out of here sooner or later.
[It's not a threat, just a fact. If she is starved here, she will cross the point of no return. There's no reason to believe their jailers know the truth about her condition. (They could just see her as "Du Clark's daughter" rather than "a potential plague on the planet, and also Du Clark's daughter.") Maybe that alone will be enough to motivate her father to pay a ransom or have her rescued:
[Despite not being involved in business, exactly, Maketh does know. She's ceased to be an operative in the eyes of the Empire and morphed into a bargaining chip. At best something that might be leveraged, at worst a body that can be broken as an example to others. So it goes. She knows very well what happens to traitors.
It doesn't explain why she's been put in a cell with Rita Du Clark. So far as Maketh can tell, they don't have any connection. No enemies in common, no former allies fixing to make a point.
They're either meant to kill each other or make the blow hurt more.
Maketh exhales slowly.] Maybe you will. Why am I here?
[Maketh counts to five, closes her eyes, and rolls onto her back. Fireworks explode behind her skull. There might be some blood, she can't really tell. The pain is sharp and throbbing, hard to breathe through. Just existing is becoming troublesome.
She doesn't speak until she's sure her voice won't crack.]
Oh. I see.
[Apparently this Rita is important somehow. A player in her own right instead of just some hostage. That's just wonderful.
Maketh prods her ribs with her good hand, one at a time. Testing the extent of her injuries. The initial shock has faded and it looks like she's not going to die just yet. She can probably stand, if she has some help.
She doesn't look at Rita, just keeps her eyes on the ceiling. Breathing slowly, trying to come back to her body.]
I suppose I'm the lesson. They would have been delicate if they wanted what I know.
[Kallus would have just strangled her and been done with it. Maketh thins her mouth.]
Doesn't look like they hurt you. Hmmph. Lucky you.
[If they wanted to teach Rita a lesson, Maketh would be dead. That's how her father operates. It's a bit much for Rita's taste -- a lot much -- but still. Then again, it's not like this is her father's doing.
If only that could give her a clue as to who's behind this.]
Lucky? [Rita scoffs.] Let's see. First, I got left to die by monster attack. Next, I was locked out of the only safe place I knew. Then, I was followed home, where I was tranq'd and brought here.
[Also, she's a zombie now.]
Yeah. I'm lucky.
[In the distamce, the sound of a door opening echoes, but it's too dark to see who's coming.]
Wait until you find out, inevitably, that Rita is now one of those monsters? Well, same... species. Sort of. Same disease. But not a monster. Not like them. Not yet.
At the warning, Rita holds her breath. Imagine that, her depending on a soldier in an actually dangerous situation.
She would've guessed having notice would help prepare her for what's to come, but Rita's heart starts to hammer in her chest (slowly, still more slowly than when she was human, but still faster than 10 bpm) as the footsteps draw nearer.
When the men are within view, she looks to see if she knows them, but no. Strangers. Dangerous ones, judging by their uniforms and the weapons at their sides. One of them unlocks the cell door, and the other steps in, drawing a baton from his hip.
"Maketh Tua," he says. "We have some questions for you."
Maketh tips her head toward the door for a better look, but doesn't move to stand. It would take too long, is probably going to sting like a bitch, and she doesn't feel like giving these people any respect. Whoever they are. She doesn't recognize the uniforms.
The boots, though. She knows those boots. Military. And steel-toed in case someone feels like kicking prisoners.
She thins her mouth.
"That's nice for you."
They have batons. She can barely move. It won't take long for them to cause real damage. Is that why she's here? To get beaten bloody in front of an audience so Rita will understand the resolve of the people holding them?
How utterly pedestrian.
"Ask, then. I'll commence with forgetting you exist."
She keeps her eyes firmly on the ceiling. Endure, soldier. And don't you dare cry.
If this were a normal interrogation, Maketh's training would see her through. But it's far from it.
One moment, Rita is sitting and tense on the cot; the next, the second man swings a fist at her head, leaving her dazed enough that she doesn't notice when he hauls her up off the bed and restrains her with her arms behind her back.
"The longer you ignore us, the worse you make it for this civillian. You don't want that, do you?"
Maketh just closes her eyes. She miscalculated. Badly. These men, whoever they serve, already know her tricks.
"Fine. Just--stop. Ask your damn questions."
Under different circumstances, she might have let this whole thing just happen. She doesn't know Rita, has no reason to care what happens to her.
Unfortunately, Rita happens to be her only chance of surviving this mess. Letting her get beaten won't improve their chances. One of them needs to be able to stand when this is over.
Through the dull ringing in her ears, Rita hears one of the guards ask about troops and movement. There's only one company she knows that would care about that kind of information.
Fillmore Graves buys Max Rager's product because it's as good as a performance altering drug with significantly fewer side effects, less legalese to cut through, and is cheaper than pharmaceuticals. They pride themselves on being the best in their market -- because war is a market, an industry, just like anything else; Dad may be an asshole, but he's taught her well as far as business goes.
If Fillmore Graves have kidnapped a Max Rager employee who's privvy to every secret, along with a soldier, then what's the point here? Are they trying to eliminate the competition in the most literal sense of the word? And-- god, Fillmore Graves are well aware of the zombie problem and of Max Rager's failed attempts fo contain it. They know what she is, and yet they're here actively threatening her for the sake of information. Do they know about Romero mode?
Do they care?
"Let me go." Her voice is not as sure as it should be, because she's still dizzy from that punch, but she still manages to sound fierce, she hopes. "Let me go, she's talking."
The guard holding her tightens his grip on her wrists. "Quiet, Du Clark."
Yes. Quiet, beastial instinct. Quiet, hunger. She's not a monster. She won't become one.
The questions come. Rapid fire. Practical. She knows the answers to most of them, though in a few hours the shifts will have changed and Kallus will have started changing things. If he left her alive, he knows she's a liability and these people - whoever they are - will certainly try to take advantage. So they need answers before anyone in the company makes the changes that render her information - and indeed her life - utterly useless.
She hopes Rita won't try to fight it. This is going to happen. There's no changing that.
Maketh takes a slow breath and lets it out. "There's just a skeleton crew here. They could call for the reserves and get a response here in...I don't know. Three hours. They've probably already brought new officers in. Someone to replace me, my sub-commanders."
It's hard to comprehend everything they're saying, not just because her head hurts, but because it's not her area. She's supposed to become a CEO, not military intelligence. All she needs to know is how to strike a deal with people like Fillmore Graves and how to sweettalk politicians.
Presuming, of course, she regains her humanity, or at the very least her freedom.
Luckily, the longer this goes on, the less afraid Rita is she'll be attacked, which helps calm the violent urges that come with this sickness. As long as Maketh Tua keeps talking, she won't be hurt. She can ignore the questions of what do you want with me and how much longer until you ask my dad for ransom monwy, the fear that the thought of I'm not a weapon, you can't be hoping to use me, you'll die if you do sends through her. She can, if she just keeps breathing evenly.
Maketh almost laughs and regrets it immediately. God, she hurts. Just existing in this cell is exhausting. For possibly the first time in her life, she wants a morphine drip and empty dreams. But there's no place for that here, indeed no time. Focus, soldier. Get your head in the game.
"Why?" Maketh turns her head so she can see their stupid faces. That's not a very good question. They can't know much about the Empire if they're asking that. "Why do you think? Because I failed. Examples must be made. The weak will be crushed."
She pauses. Smiles.
"You really don't know what you're dealing with, do you?"
And Rita does too, at least as far as her world. Someone wants something that Maketh has, so they have thrown her to the wolves, the ones who'll dirty their hands so her enemies won't have to. Rita laughs quietly, derisively, and regrets it immediately when the guard holding her gives her a shake to shush her. She swears under her breath. Her head hurts, damnit. When will her deadened sense of pain kick in?
"This is bigger than the Empire. Bigger than you. Bigger than Fillmore Graves and Max Rager and their dirty little secret."
He looks at Rita as he says that, and her slow-moving blood goes cold. What is he doing, why is he coming towards her with baton extended, turning it on, looking her in the eye as if to confirm her suspicions in the moments before he strikes.
"Don't. Don't, you know what'll--"
But he does. The shock tenses her muscles and stings like it's waking her deadened nerves. It's brief, but it's enough to start the flow of adrenaline that means the worst for them all. Rita doesn't speak, just breathes deep as she tries to keep it together, even as the change starts to happen, her eyes going black.
Of course they're going to hit Rita. It wouldn't have an impact otherwise. Maketh thins her mouth and breathes through her nose, trying not to hear the impact, the crackle of electricity.
Under normal circumstnaces, pain would be the expected result.
Something else happens. Something twitches in her lizard brain, the instinct that says danger, and Maketh looks.
Rita isn't crying. Isn't yelling or saying anything.
Her eyes are black. Utterly black.
Oh. Oh fuck. There were rumors. There was actionable intelligence that Maketh never had cause to deal with but heard about nonetheless. A bio-weapon from an unexpected source. Dead men brought back hungry.
She tries to sit up with a curse, bringing an arm up to shield her face. "What are you doing??"
"'Examples must be made.'" The guard smirks a little as he says it, reaching with his free hand for a tranquilizer gun at his hip.
Rita's breathing becomes shorter and faster as she loses the fight against the virus's hold. This isn't a real threat. They're just toying with her. They're not going to do to her what her dad did to the zombies on the basement. No, they're just trying to scare Maketh Tua into spilling her secrets, by showing her that monsters are real.
But Rita is not one of them. She won't let them do this to her.
Another strike with the baton, erases her resolve from her mind, her skin going chalky white. Before he gets a third hit in, Rita is lost to the violence in her blood, and she hisses at him, holding his stare until he knows what he's up against.
The man behind her shifts, but her monstrous instincts take over, alert her he intends to make her an easier target for his partner. What a fool. She'll eat him before he gets that far. Ripping her wrists out of his grip, she whirls, ready to strike him--
And the other guard hits her with a tranq dart, square in the back. She falls to the ground in a heap almost at once, and satisfied, the guard stows his weapons.
"Think very carefully on how you're going to play this game, Maketh Tua."
With that, the guards leave, stepping carelessly over Rita's body as they go.
Don't scream. Whatever you do, don't scream, they'll use it against you, it will only hurt more. Keep your eyes open and take your punishment, solder, it's for your own good. The pain makes you sharper and you do want to be the best, don't you?
Maketh scrambles back, hitting the wall. It hurts, but her adrenaline is firing too hard for it to really register. They've locked her in a cell with a fucking monster. This is her punishment. Be useful or get torn apart slowly.
How clever. How fucking clever.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, just breathing.
Well. What options does she have now? Wait for Rita to wake up and rip her apart? It's going to be ugly. Maketh knows very well that she's not strong enough to fight back, not hard enough to make it work. She could take her belt off and try to strangle Rita while she's unconscious, but that likely won't be effective. If Rita was exposed to the virus - evidently she was - then she'll be stronger than she ought to be, with a slow heartbeat and deaden sense of pain. Very little is going to even slow her down.
A shotgun, perhaps. Maybe a handgun aimed just so. Certainly not her belt.
"Goddamn," she murmurs. This is an awful mess she's gotten herself into.
The room doesn't answer. Rita, apparently, is still unconscious.
Maketh considers her options. None of them end gently. The Empire is done with her. She failed, she was punished. So it goes. She should have just taken it when the notice came. Someone had to be blamed. It was her fault for running. Now she's going to be snapped in half like a disobedient cadet.
It would have been easier if she'd just taken it head on. They would have killed her quickly, at least. They killed her men quickly.
Maketh thumps her head against the wall.
Well. She has one card left to play. Apparently someone thinks she's useful. That she has information they could take. Given enough time, she'll either give it to them or lose what's left of her mind. Maketh closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. The last card is to remove herself from the board entirely.
Why not? She's dead already. Whatever these people intend with Rita, it's unlikely Maketh will change anything.
Besides, Rita is smart. Probably clever when sufficiently motivated. And oh, she's been motivated now.
Maketh opens her eyes. Sighs.
This part will be messy. It's going to hurt. She might lose her nerve.
No. Never that. She's always been good at committing.
They took her gun. Her hidden knife, too. But not her teeth.
Maketh exhales roughly. How barbaric. But here they are. Desperate situations, as they say. And wasn't it true that the virus was spread by a bite in the first place?
Maybe that makes this ironic.
She bites down on her good arm, and twists.
There's blood. She bites again. A lot of blood. It hurts.
She lets her mind drift. Lets it go.
And comes back abruptly to find herself being shook hard, hands tight on her wrist and Agent Kallus - that motherfucker - glaring down at her.
"Bastard," she whispers.
Kallus narrows his eyes. "You! Get over here, I need your help."
Rita wakes to the shuffling of boots on the floor and muffled swearing. Why is she on the floor, and why is there a dull sche in her back, in her head? Sitting up slowly, it comes back to her. Guards. Interrogating Maketh. Attacking her, the civilian. Triggering Romero mode. The empty shell of the tranquilizer dart sits at her side. What the hell was in that? She hasn't felt like this... ever, she thinks. Not even her worst hangover was this bad.
She breathes deep and looks up sees a man crouched by Maketh, clear on the ither side of the cell. There's no blood on Rita's hands or tongue, so she knows she didn't manage to harm anyone, but that's still the scent of blood in the air, faint but tempting.
The man calls to her. Rita narrows her eyes.
"What happened." It's a low demand, almost a growl. No one gives her orders. She's just a civilian, even despite her condition. "What can I do to help."
'Nothing,' is the answer, and she wants him to say so himself.
"Hold her still." Despite the situation, his tone remains infuriatingly calm. Maketh always hated that about him. Smug bastard. Always looking down his nose at everyone. Always standing on the high ground. She flails, tries to hit him. He dodges. Doesn't let go of her wrist. It's starting to hurt again, a deep ache she can feel all the way up her arm.
Maketh bares her teeth. "Get off me!"
Kallus doesn't even bother to meet her eyes or dignify this mess with a response. Instead he sits on her and shoves her back against the wall, leveraging with his shoulder so she's pinned. "I need to tie this off before she bleeds out. Hold her still."
Like she's not even there. Motherfucker. Maketh snarls a curse and tries to kick him off.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:24 am (UTC)[She eyes the cell. Nothing in it is familiar except the purpose.]
Maketh Tua.
[She grimaces. It's probably a mistake to admit that. Especially if this woman is a rebel or related to anyone the Empire murdered.]
Where's Kallu? He's going to regret not shooting me.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:36 am (UTC)Doesn't matter now.]
I don't know who or where your boyfriend is, and I'm not into whatevee kink it is makes you wish you'd been shot to death, so I can't help you, Maketh Tua. Welcome to whatever godforsaken prison this is.
[It'd be easier if she knew who's behind this, who kidnapped her before her father could. He has too many enemy businessmen for her to guess with any certainty.
Rita crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, turning her head to look at the door.]
Car bombs are my father's style.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:40 am (UTC)He's not my boyfriend. He's not anyone now.
[He's probably celebrating his promotion, Maketh thinks sourly.]
I'd rather be shot than tortured to death, thank you.
[She narrows her eyes.]
Who is your father? And who are you?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:54 am (UTC)You're a regular ray of sunshine, aren't you? [She rolls her eyes.
A few seconds later, she answers. Her captors know who she is. What does it matter if this soldier does too? If they're here long enough, she'll be dead either by their jailers' hands or Rita's. No reason to keep names a secret.] Vaughn Du Clark. He's very rich. I'm Rita, his sole heir, if I make it out of here without losing my mind.
[Without turning into one of the angry, shambling zombies in the basement.]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 01:04 am (UTC)[She tries to move her good arm. Manages it without crying. That's good. She can feel her legs too, even move her toes, so she's not paralyzed. That's good, she can work with that.]
Is your rich father going to buy you back, Rita?
[In a better time, she might have tried a more delicate tone.]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 07:43 pm (UTC)The question merits some thought. He clearly intended to imprisoner her himself, keep her and the fact of what the company's product does to people out of the news. It'd be bad publicity to stage a rescue and have it fail, to have Rita end up walking the streets looking like a flesh and blood ghost. There are people who know who she is, powerful people who want the secret formula or the money or a seat on the board. They'd recognize her and cause a scene, and the company's reputation could tank.
But if things are kept quiet, then...]
He might. It depends on the terms of the agreement. You know how it is with people in business. [She shoots Maketh a look that says 'of course you do'. Doesn't matter if she doesn't.]
Either way, I'll be out of here sooner or later.
[It's not a threat, just a fact. If she is starved here, she will cross the point of no return. There's no reason to believe their jailers know the truth about her condition. (They could just see her as "Du Clark's daughter" rather than "a potential plague on the planet, and also Du Clark's daughter.") Maybe that alone will be enough to motivate her father to pay a ransom or have her rescued:
She'll just have to wait and see.]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 08:12 pm (UTC)It doesn't explain why she's been put in a cell with Rita Du Clark. So far as Maketh can tell, they don't have any connection. No enemies in common, no former allies fixing to make a point.
They're either meant to kill each other or make the blow hurt more.
Maketh exhales slowly.] Maybe you will. Why am I here?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 09:06 pm (UTC)Probably to make my time here more miserable. Possibly to try and scare me.
[Because of course Rita is the important one here.]
Maybe to try snd scare you.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 10:53 pm (UTC)She doesn't speak until she's sure her voice won't crack.]
Oh. I see.
[Apparently this Rita is important somehow. A player in her own right instead of just some hostage. That's just wonderful.
Maketh prods her ribs with her good hand, one at a time. Testing the extent of her injuries. The initial shock has faded and it looks like she's not going to die just yet. She can probably stand, if she has some help.
She doesn't look at Rita, just keeps her eyes on the ceiling. Breathing slowly, trying to come back to her body.]
I suppose I'm the lesson. They would have been delicate if they wanted what I know.
[Kallus would have just strangled her and been done with it. Maketh thins her mouth.]
Doesn't look like they hurt you. Hmmph. Lucky you.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 11:47 pm (UTC)If only that could give her a clue as to who's behind this.]
Lucky? [Rita scoffs.] Let's see. First, I got left to die by monster attack. Next, I was locked out of the only safe place I knew. Then, I was followed home, where I was tranq'd and brought here.
[Also, she's a zombie now.]
Yeah. I'm lucky.
[In the distamce, the sound of a door opening echoes, but it's too dark to see who's coming.]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 11:58 pm (UTC)[What. The hell.
She closes her eyes at the sound of footsteps.]
There's two of them. Get ready.
casually switches from brackets to prose
Date: 2017-01-02 12:08 am (UTC)At the warning, Rita holds her breath. Imagine that, her depending on a soldier in an actually dangerous situation.
She would've guessed having notice would help prepare her for what's to come, but Rita's heart starts to hammer in her chest (slowly, still more slowly than when she was human, but still faster than 10 bpm) as the footsteps draw nearer.
When the men are within view, she looks to see if she knows them, but no. Strangers. Dangerous ones, judging by their uniforms and the weapons at their sides. One of them unlocks the cell door, and the other steps in, drawing a baton from his hip.
"Maketh Tua," he says. "We have some questions for you."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 12:17 am (UTC)The boots, though. She knows those boots. Military. And steel-toed in case someone feels like kicking prisoners.
She thins her mouth.
"That's nice for you."
They have batons. She can barely move. It won't take long for them to cause real damage. Is that why she's here? To get beaten bloody in front of an audience so Rita will understand the resolve of the people holding them?
How utterly pedestrian.
"Ask, then. I'll commence with forgetting you exist."
She keeps her eyes firmly on the ceiling. Endure, soldier. And don't you dare cry.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 12:22 pm (UTC)One moment, Rita is sitting and tense on the cot; the next, the second man swings a fist at her head, leaving her dazed enough that she doesn't notice when he hauls her up off the bed and restrains her with her arms behind her back.
"The longer you ignore us, the worse you make it for this civillian. You don't want that, do you?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 03:23 pm (UTC)"Fine. Just--stop. Ask your damn questions."
Under different circumstances, she might have let this whole thing just happen. She doesn't know Rita, has no reason to care what happens to her.
Unfortunately, Rita happens to be her only chance of surviving this mess. Letting her get beaten won't improve their chances. One of them needs to be able to stand when this is over.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 05:35 pm (UTC)Fillmore Graves buys Max Rager's product because it's as good as a performance altering drug with significantly fewer side effects, less legalese to cut through, and is cheaper than pharmaceuticals. They pride themselves on being the best in their market -- because war is a market, an industry, just like anything else; Dad may be an asshole, but he's taught her well as far as business goes.
If Fillmore Graves have kidnapped a Max Rager employee who's privvy to every secret, along with a soldier, then what's the point here? Are they trying to eliminate the competition in the most literal sense of the word? And-- god, Fillmore Graves are well aware of the zombie problem and of Max Rager's failed attempts fo contain it. They know what she is, and yet they're here actively threatening her for the sake of information. Do they know about Romero mode?
Do they care?
"Let me go." Her voice is not as sure as it should be, because she's still dizzy from that punch, but she still manages to sound fierce, she hopes. "Let me go, she's talking."
The guard holding her tightens his grip on her wrists. "Quiet, Du Clark."
Yes. Quiet, beastial instinct. Quiet, hunger. She's not a monster. She won't become one.
"We're waiting, Tua."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 06:35 pm (UTC)She hopes Rita won't try to fight it. This is going to happen. There's no changing that.
Maketh takes a slow breath and lets it out. "There's just a skeleton crew here. They could call for the reserves and get a response here in...I don't know. Three hours. They've probably already brought new officers in. Someone to replace me, my sub-commanders."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 07:28 pm (UTC)It's hard to comprehend everything they're saying, not just because her head hurts, but because it's not her area. She's supposed to become a CEO, not military intelligence. All she needs to know is how to strike a deal with people like Fillmore Graves and how to sweettalk politicians.
Presuming, of course, she regains her humanity, or at the very least her freedom.
Luckily, the longer this goes on, the less afraid Rita is she'll be attacked, which helps calm the violent urges that come with this sickness. As long as Maketh Tua keeps talking, she won't be hurt. She can ignore the questions of what do you want with me and how much longer until you ask my dad for ransom monwy, the fear that the thought of I'm not a weapon, you can't be hoping to use me, you'll die if you do sends through her. She can, if she just keeps breathing evenly.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 07:40 pm (UTC)"Why?" Maketh turns her head so she can see their stupid faces. That's not a very good question. They can't know much about the Empire if they're asking that. "Why do you think? Because I failed. Examples must be made. The weak will be crushed."
She pauses. Smiles.
"You really don't know what you're dealing with, do you?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 08:22 pm (UTC)And Rita does too, at least as far as her world. Someone wants something that Maketh has, so they have thrown her to the wolves, the ones who'll dirty their hands so her enemies won't have to. Rita laughs quietly, derisively, and regrets it immediately when the guard holding her gives her a shake to shush her. She swears under her breath. Her head hurts, damnit. When will her deadened sense of pain kick in?
"This is bigger than the Empire. Bigger than you. Bigger than Fillmore Graves and Max Rager and their dirty little secret."
He looks at Rita as he says that, and her slow-moving blood goes cold. What is he doing, why is he coming towards her with baton extended, turning it on, looking her in the eye as if to confirm her suspicions in the moments before he strikes.
"Don't. Don't, you know what'll--"
But he does. The shock tenses her muscles and stings like it's waking her deadened nerves. It's brief, but it's enough to start the flow of adrenaline that means the worst for them all. Rita doesn't speak, just breathes deep as she tries to keep it together, even as the change starts to happen, her eyes going black.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 08:41 pm (UTC)Under normal circumstnaces, pain would be the expected result.
Something else happens. Something twitches in her lizard brain, the instinct that says danger, and Maketh looks.
Rita isn't crying. Isn't yelling or saying anything.
Her eyes are black. Utterly black.
Oh. Oh fuck. There were rumors. There was actionable intelligence that Maketh never had cause to deal with but heard about nonetheless. A bio-weapon from an unexpected source. Dead men brought back hungry.
She tries to sit up with a curse, bringing an arm up to shield her face. "What are you doing??"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 09:03 pm (UTC)Rita's breathing becomes shorter and faster as she loses the fight against the virus's hold. This isn't a real threat. They're just toying with her. They're not going to do to her what her dad did to the zombies on the basement. No, they're just trying to scare Maketh Tua into spilling her secrets, by showing her that monsters are real.
But Rita is not one of them. She won't let them do this to her.
Another strike with the baton, erases her resolve from her mind, her skin going chalky white. Before he gets a third hit in, Rita is lost to the violence in her blood, and she hisses at him, holding his stare until he knows what he's up against.
The man behind her shifts, but her monstrous instincts take over, alert her he intends to make her an easier target for his partner. What a fool. She'll eat him before he gets that far. Ripping her wrists out of his grip, she whirls, ready to strike him--
And the other guard hits her with a tranq dart, square in the back. She falls to the ground in a heap almost at once, and satisfied, the guard stows his weapons.
"Think very carefully on how you're going to play this game, Maketh Tua."
With that, the guards leave, stepping carelessly over Rita's body as they go.
cw for suicide attempt
Date: 2017-01-02 10:06 pm (UTC)Maketh scrambles back, hitting the wall. It hurts, but her adrenaline is firing too hard for it to really register. They've locked her in a cell with a fucking monster. This is her punishment. Be useful or get torn apart slowly.
How clever. How fucking clever.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, just breathing.
Well. What options does she have now? Wait for Rita to wake up and rip her apart? It's going to be ugly. Maketh knows very well that she's not strong enough to fight back, not hard enough to make it work. She could take her belt off and try to strangle Rita while she's unconscious, but that likely won't be effective. If Rita was exposed to the virus - evidently she was - then she'll be stronger than she ought to be, with a slow heartbeat and deaden sense of pain. Very little is going to even slow her down.
A shotgun, perhaps. Maybe a handgun aimed just so. Certainly not her belt.
"Goddamn," she murmurs. This is an awful mess she's gotten herself into.
The room doesn't answer. Rita, apparently, is still unconscious.
Maketh considers her options. None of them end gently. The Empire is done with her. She failed, she was punished. So it goes. She should have just taken it when the notice came. Someone had to be blamed. It was her fault for running. Now she's going to be snapped in half like a disobedient cadet.
It would have been easier if she'd just taken it head on. They would have killed her quickly, at least. They killed her men quickly.
Maketh thumps her head against the wall.
Well. She has one card left to play. Apparently someone thinks she's useful. That she has information they could take. Given enough time, she'll either give it to them or lose what's left of her mind. Maketh closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. The last card is to remove herself from the board entirely.
Why not? She's dead already. Whatever these people intend with Rita, it's unlikely Maketh will change anything.
Besides, Rita is smart. Probably clever when sufficiently motivated. And oh, she's been motivated now.
Maketh opens her eyes. Sighs.
This part will be messy. It's going to hurt. She might lose her nerve.
No. Never that. She's always been good at committing.
They took her gun. Her hidden knife, too. But not her teeth.
Maketh exhales roughly. How barbaric. But here they are. Desperate situations, as they say. And wasn't it true that the virus was spread by a bite in the first place?
Maybe that makes this ironic.
She bites down on her good arm, and twists.
There's blood. She bites again. A lot of blood. It hurts.
She lets her mind drift. Lets it go.
And comes back abruptly to find herself being shook hard, hands tight on her wrist and Agent Kallus - that motherfucker - glaring down at her.
"Bastard," she whispers.
Kallus narrows his eyes. "You! Get over here, I need your help."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 10:47 pm (UTC)She breathes deep and looks up sees a man crouched by Maketh, clear on the ither side of the cell. There's no blood on Rita's hands or tongue, so she knows she didn't manage to harm anyone, but that's still the scent of blood in the air, faint but tempting.
The man calls to her. Rita narrows her eyes.
"What happened." It's a low demand, almost a growl. No one gives her orders. She's just a civilian, even despite her condition. "What can I do to help."
'Nothing,' is the answer, and she wants him to say so himself.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 10:58 pm (UTC)Maketh bares her teeth. "Get off me!"
Kallus doesn't even bother to meet her eyes or dignify this mess with a response. Instead he sits on her and shoves her back against the wall, leveraging with his shoulder so she's pinned. "I need to tie this off before she bleeds out. Hold her still."
Like she's not even there. Motherfucker. Maketh snarls a curse and tries to kick him off.
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