Kier Keaveny is no ghost in a shell (dislocation) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-04 17:08:00 |
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Kier had long since run out of ideas for escape. It had been forever since he’d woken up after the last time he was tased and, wonder of wonders, it never got any easier to take. But the pain of that was mild in comparison to the rushing thoughts of what they were doing with Astrid and Vanessa. Part of him wanted to be optimistic and think that they’d been deemed unnecessary and left out on a road somewhere to be picked up by a truck driver with a heart of gold and PB&J sandwiches. The rest of him wondered if they hadn’t been stripped again and left for dead. Or worse. He wasn’t in any position to feel guilty for not being able to stop them being taken, but he did anyway. Nothing came apart to fashion into a weapon. There wasn’t a seam to cling to in the walls to catch a glimpse out the window. The small door that their food trays came in through were solidly bolted on the outside and he’d given up trying to kick it out. Still, Kieran held out hope. A crazy, stupid hope that there would be a moment that he’d be able to slide into and act decisively within. Grab a gun or a taser. Incapacitate someone even if he was swarmed over afterwards. Even if they killed him. It was better to die here than out there, strapped to a bomb or whatever. He couldn’t put his family through that. He’d put them through enough. He plopped down onto the cot next to Daisy. “I had a dream last night about cake. What do you think that means?” he said, completely randomly. It wasn’t even true, but to talk of families and memories was like walking over landmines and no one wanted to be blown to pieces. Daisy attempted to crack a smile. It was hard to feel happiness here, in the cool darkness of their holding cell, but she was trying. She was trying for Kieran, and for Jack and for Damien. Daisy had struggled to keep track of how many days they'd been here, in this new place. She did know that now that Astrid and Vanessa were gone, and with them, so were their chances of being tracked. If their friends were looking for them, it seemed unlikely that they were looking in any of the right places. It was so easy to feel hopeless here. Still, she leaned into Kieran, her side touching his. It was comforting to have someone next to her. At least she wasn't alone. "I'm guessin' it means you're hungry for cake," she answered him, her attempt at a joke falling flat. Daisy followed it with a sigh. "Sorry. Not very creative right now, I guess." “My mom makes this cake,” he said after a moment, traipsing gently over the memory, “she only makes at Christmas. You roll out the dough and then you sprinkle the whole thing with cinnamon and chocolate and then you roll it up in a tube and stuff it in a bundt pan.” There was more to say but he didn’t say it. Christmas cake and then Christmas and then everything he was missing and then pain. Hopelessness. Kier sighed too. They were all worn around the edges, the time locked up eating into them in small bites and, sometimes, larger chunks. When they got out, he bet he would look at Daisy and Jack and Damien and think ‘I hadn’t realized we’d got so skinny’ or ‘everyone has such bouncy hair and bouncy laughs’, like it was a surprise that they’d existed in a way that was not this Now they were stuck in. “You know, they should have spent time training us for this. Instead of just powers all the time. What to talk about. What to do.” Daisy mused on this for a moment. There might have been a time in her life when she would have scoffed at such a remark, a time when she might not even have given someone like Kieran the time of day in the first place. That was before IVI. Since their capture, Daisy had adopted a permanently serious mood. She treated every comment said by the others with intense regard, never wanting to ignore any idea or theory they might have. And if death was coming for all of them, Daisy thought that they all deserved to be taken seriously, at the end. It was the least that they could do for each other. "Probably couldn't have really predicted it, I guess," she answered thoughtfully. Daisy kept her voice soft, so as not to disturb the others too much. There was no real privacy here. "That they'd just lock us up together in a room like this. I mean -- it's kind of weird, right? We've been in here for days, now. What're they keeping us here for? Like, is there some kind of deal being worked out? Are they ransoming us for money?" Daisy was pretty sure that of the four of them that were left, her family was probably the wealthiest. But would her parents even pay a ransom to get her back? She wasn't sure. And anyway, no one had come for them yet. "I just think that -- " But Daisy's thoughts were cut off. As if on cue, the locks (non-electronic, old fashioned deadbolts -- they'd been prepared for a technopath, it seemed) in the door clicked loudly out of place. Daisy's breath caught in her chest and for a moment she felt like she was being suffocated by panic. Breathe, she closed her eyes, concentrating. The air came. As it did, Daisy reached out, grabbing Kieran's arm. Something was happening. Where Daisy sought to calm herself, adrenaline flooded through Kier at the sound of the sliding metal-on-metal. Were they coming in to bring Astrid and Vanessa back? Were they coming to take more of them? Was this the moment of rescue? Jack turned from where he and Damien had been contemplating if there would be any use in boosting Kier up to the window - extreme contortionism was handy, but this one had bars arranged in a way that made Jack doubt if even Kier could force his skull outside the cell. He wasn’t particularly surprised by the sight of guards with guns trained on them, but all the same the sense of impotent rage put a soured expression on his face and prompted his hands to curl. It was going to begin now, whatever was to be done with them. He didn’t know if Astrid and Vanessa were alive or not, but their removal and the subsequent relocation of the remaining four led Jack to guess that they had discovered the girls without anklet or bracelet had not simply forgotten to don their tracking accessory on the day they had been taken. Seven days, he reminded himself, though the ever-present counterpoint inside his head raised the regular doubts about how long he’d been sedated before they had first woken up together. The fourth day since being moved. Help wasn’t going to come for them, but their guards had. "Blondie, you're coming with us." There would be no need to clarify who they meant, even if Daisy hadn't been the only female in the room -- the man's eyes were trained on her alone. The other guards were watching the boys with fingers on the triggers of their guns and tasers, ready to react to any attempts of protest they might make. Daisy swallowed hard. Her arm was still on Kieran's own and she gripped it tightly, pulling him toward her instinctively. She'd seen what he had done when they'd come for Vanessa and Astrid. Kieran was unpredictable and angry -- they all were, but there was no use fighting these men. None of them stood a chance against their kidnappers' weapons. "Don't, please," she whispered. "Don't make me watch them hurt you before I go, please." He could feel her squeeze more than hear her as he stared at the guns pointed at him. If he could just get one, if he could just disarm one of them in this close a quarter, it’d be enough. Enough of a distraction, maybe take out one or two before the end. They’d get out and away. Kier leaned in and hugged Daisy tightly, suddenly, whispering right back into her ear. “If you see a way out, go. Don’t look back. Promise me.” He didn’t let go of the older girl, waiting to hear them come forward to physically remove her. She didn't promise, but Daisy nodded. There was momentary relief. If she was going to be taken to her death, Daisy didn't want to watch anyone else harmed in the process. She pulled herself from his grip and tried to stand. If she was going to go, it was going to be on her own terms. She didn't want the others to have to watch her be dragged from their sight, kicking and screaming. She took a step toward the men and the one in front reached out for her and found a rough grip on her arm. Fear and dread hit her then, like splash of freezing water on Daisy's face. She turned to the others. "If I don't come back, tell them I love 'em," the words poured out in a desperate stream, though Daisy There was no time and no need to define them. The man yanked on her arm. “I will!” Jack yelled after her, even though he couldn’t be sure she could hear him with the door slamming shut. It was going to be something he heard twice more, if he was very unlucky. Rage was bubbling in him again, a roiling boil in the pit of his stomach. He could just let it out, he could topple his cot, throw his pillow, trash the whole of their pitiful room. He could scream, he would have screamed, he should have screamed so loud that they would have to relinquish their weapons to cover their ears or suffer the consequences. But despite a capacity to reach a painful pitch without so much as straining and an adequate ability to get loud, Jack wasn’t Enver. “Come here,” he said instead, motioning for them all to gather at the window. “Kier we’re going to boost you up, you’re going to watch for her.” It wasn’t likely they would see anything, and through the fogged glass, it would be nearly impossible to discern if any moving figures were actually their Daisy, but a task was better than idle hands. As the door slammed Damien flinched, the sound horribly loud and final. Fear had him frozen, anger left him furious but they wouldn't have been able to stop them. Damien was silent, and he looked to Jack as the other boy addressed him. Jack seemed to have a good idea, even if Damien was skeptical as to whether it would bring any results. Doing something was better than stewing in rage and futility. “Got it,” Damien said, making his way across the room to help. |