[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.
It's not hard to piece together what happened. There's blood, there's Maketh resisting the man's help, there's the place where Maketh is injured.
Rita almost doesn't move. She shouldn't be near fresh blood right now, not so soon after going Romero. Right? She doesn't know enough about sentient zombies to make a guess, but it seems right.
Then he snaps at her, and the pieces fall into place in Rita's head. Maketh Tua is going to die if left untreated, and there's no reason for that. In fact, Fillmore Graves want her alive, which can only mean that Maketh did this to herself.
Damn. That takes balls.
Admiration can come later, though. Rita gets up and walks across the cell, pinning Maketh back against the wall as soon as the man moves away.
"Shut up, Maketh. I'm not letting you die." She manages to hold back a smirk, and the explanation for the statement: that Maketh could be her ticket out of here.
Despite having the misfortune to be posted at the ass-end of nowhere, Agent Kallus is still at the top of his field. There's no point in dying the facts. He's one of the best at what he does. There's really not much point in fighting him like this. Even at her best, Maketh knows she could never really hurt him in a fight. Not in close quarters, at least. And this is far from her best. The most she can do now is flail stupidly and try to headbutt him because he won't let go.
Smug motherfucker.
Maketh bangs her head against the wall with a curse when Rita moves to hold her back, glaring up at the ceiling. Her arm hurts. She hurts all over but it's different now, a deep ache that feels like it's tunneling straight into her chest. It throbs. She can't really feel her hand and Kallus hasn't let go of her wrist. He's applying a pressure bandage, wrapping it tight. Why he's here at all is a mystery.
Kallus finishes his work efficiently, then leans back. He's till sitting on her. Probably doesn't want to let her up yet. Probably thinks she's being irrational.
Fuck him. See how he likes getting blown up.
Finally he lets go of her wrist, guiding it up to rest against her chest. Even then he doesn't look her in the eye, focusing instead on Rita. "Keep it elevated. Don't let her take the bandage off for at least an hour."
"You fucking bastard," Maketh spits. "Get off me! Why are you even here?"
Again, he addresses Rita and not her. "There's going to be a power outage in three minutes. The parking garage is one floor up. Take my transportation. They won't stop you. Tua knows a safehouse when you're out."
This is a lot to take in after getting shot full of pretty powerful tranquilizer, but Rita manages to focus, to listen to this man. He and Maketh know each other, and clearly their relationship wasn't flower crowns and tea dates.
"They won't stop us?" It's 'us' because he's helping them both. "You're sure of that? I don't know who the fuck you are. What do you want? Who do you work for?"
Ah. So this is car bomb guy. Makes sense why Maketh looks like she'd tear into him if she could.
Rita could break out of here easily given enough time left starving, but the slight chance that she could end up a shambling, angry monster for the rest of her life is wholly unappealing.
There isn't much ceremony. Kallus just hauls her up and pushes her against the wall until he seems convinced she can hold her weight. Maketh snarls, batting his hands away. It hurts but she's upright, she can fucking move. And the door is open. She hadn't noticed that earlier.
This time he meets her eyes. Maketh doesn't know what she sees there. It's not regret. Not kindness, either. They mean nothing to each other, or at least they shouldn't. "Go. I won't help you again."
"Oh, I know."
And with that, Maketh headbutts him as hard as she can.
True to form, he goes down like a rock.
Maketh resists the urge to spit on him.
"Kick him a few times," she suggests, holding her bad arm to her chest. "To make it look real."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
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."
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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.
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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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Date: 2017-01-02 11:31 pm (UTC)Rita almost doesn't move. She shouldn't be near fresh blood right now, not so soon after going Romero. Right? She doesn't know enough about sentient zombies to make a guess, but it seems right.
Then he snaps at her, and the pieces fall into place in Rita's head. Maketh Tua is going to die if left untreated, and there's no reason for that. In fact, Fillmore Graves want her alive, which can only mean that Maketh did this to herself.
Damn. That takes balls.
Admiration can come later, though. Rita gets up and walks across the cell, pinning Maketh back against the wall as soon as the man moves away.
"Shut up, Maketh. I'm not letting you die." She manages to hold back a smirk, and the explanation for the statement: that Maketh could be her ticket out of here.
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Date: 2017-01-02 11:55 pm (UTC)Smug motherfucker.
Maketh bangs her head against the wall with a curse when Rita moves to hold her back, glaring up at the ceiling. Her arm hurts. She hurts all over but it's different now, a deep ache that feels like it's tunneling straight into her chest. It throbs. She can't really feel her hand and Kallus hasn't let go of her wrist. He's applying a pressure bandage, wrapping it tight. Why he's here at all is a mystery.
Kallus finishes his work efficiently, then leans back. He's till sitting on her. Probably doesn't want to let her up yet. Probably thinks she's being irrational.
Fuck him. See how he likes getting blown up.
Finally he lets go of her wrist, guiding it up to rest against her chest. Even then he doesn't look her in the eye, focusing instead on Rita. "Keep it elevated. Don't let her take the bandage off for at least an hour."
"You fucking bastard," Maketh spits. "Get off me! Why are you even here?"
Again, he addresses Rita and not her. "There's going to be a power outage in three minutes. The parking garage is one floor up. Take my transportation. They won't stop you. Tua knows a safehouse when you're out."
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Date: 2017-01-03 01:14 pm (UTC)"They won't stop us?" It's 'us' because he's helping them both. "You're sure of that? I don't know who the fuck you are. What do you want? Who do you work for?"
How can she trust him?
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Date: 2017-01-03 03:12 pm (UTC)Kallus ignores her, addressing Rita again. "No. But I'm giving you a chance. Take it or rot in here. Your choice."
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Date: 2017-01-03 09:10 pm (UTC)Rita could break out of here easily given enough time left starving, but the slight chance that she could end up a shambling, angry monster for the rest of her life is wholly unappealing.
"Fine. Let's go, Tua."
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Date: 2017-01-03 11:08 pm (UTC)This time he meets her eyes. Maketh doesn't know what she sees there. It's not regret. Not kindness, either. They mean nothing to each other, or at least they shouldn't. "Go. I won't help you again."
"Oh, I know."
And with that, Maketh headbutts him as hard as she can.
True to form, he goes down like a rock.
Maketh resists the urge to spit on him.
"Kick him a few times," she suggests, holding her bad arm to her chest. "To make it look real."
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Date: 2017-01-03 11:59 pm (UTC)So Rita can say she did nothing, if this ends up failing.
"He said we can take his transportation. You'll know what it looks like, right? If this is a basement, it'll be easy to get to the first floor."
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