My little workout ended, and a few minutes later, a guard entered with a large stainless steel cup with a wide straw.
“Dinner, Faraday.” Ah. So I was demoted. No more Daystar.
“Oh, hell no. I am not drinking my dinner. I want food,” I said.
“Alpha’s orders,” she said blandly.
“Then tell Alpha to fuck himself. I’m not having that.”
“You want to starve?” Amy asked.
“Why not? Better than living the rest of my life here,” I said.
“They won’t let you die. We’ve had people try that already,” the guard said.
I took a breath. “Look, I know this is your job. I’m sorry I was a bitch about it to you. I’m freaked out and I hate it here. But I’m still not eating that.”
The guard rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Next thing’ll be an injection, if you go a few days refusing to eat.”
“I want actual, real food. I’ll eat that just fine.”
The guard shook her head and walked out, and the door whooshed shut behind her. I could hear guards going into the other cells, serving dinner in whatever form the inmate had it coming. I could hear utensils clanking against plastic trays.
“Really, you’re lucky. This tastes horrible,” Amy said. “I don’t even know for sure what kind of meat this is supposed to be.”
I figured, by the number of meals served and how many times my body was exercised, that two days had passed.
The boring, unchanged surroundings were starting to get to me.
I started humming. Eminem songs, what I could remember. Not that I’d listened to a ton of his stuff, but the guys at the gym where I’d trained had been big fans of a lot of the pre-Confluence rap, and I had Eminem and training, which always made me feel more badass, connected in my mind.
I hummed what I knew, then started putting words to it.
“Bitch, you can’t rap worth a shit,” I heard Monica call when I was partway into my second song.
“Don’t care” I said, going back into it. I started another song and heard Amy join in. She was just as bad as I was.
“Oh, fuck it,” Monica said. And then she started badly rapping the words along with us, all three of us getting louder, worse, the longer the song went on. I couldn’t remember most of the lyrics, but Amy did, and I faux-rapped my way through it.
“Again,” Monica said. “You two are so bad,” she added, and Amy started up again. By the third time around, Dani was badly rapping along with us and I heard a few prisoners in the more distant cells babbling along with us.
Every round had us rapping louder, until we were almost shouting. I didn’t even know why we were doing it. I just knew that for the first time since I’d been locked up, I wasn’t staring at a blank wall and listening to my own breath.
“Hey! Hey, that’s enough,” I heard one of the guards shout, and then Dani started laughing, and so did Monica. And then Monica started rapping louder, totally off-beat, but it was like she’d been waiting to find a way to rebel, and even this small one was something.
“Let’s do this next,” she called, and she started singing Aretha Franklin’s RESPECT. Most of us knew that one, so we shouted it along with her.
We were halfway through the third time through it when my cell door whooshed open, and Alpha stood there with Portia.
His face was a red mask of rage, and I just kept singing, louder. Portia was doing her best not to look at anyone.
“Hey, how about this one?” I shouted. And then I started singing a happy little song I’d heard a few times called “Fuck You.” I was the only one who knew it, but my fellow lady inmates caught onto the chorus pretty fast.
“Enough!” Alpha said. And then he shouted it, and I laughed, and my ladies kept singing, shouting the “Fuck you” part of the lyrics.
“Stop,” he said, and this time, there was some danger to his tone. I ignored him, kept my eyes on him, daring him to do a single thing.
“Get Toxxin in here, knock them out for a while,” Alpha said.
“Toxxin is out on patrol right now,” Portia said.
“Well, hit her or something,” he said, pointing to me.
Portia looked at him in shock. “Hit her? I’m not going to hit someone who’s secured like that.”
“Fine. Go, then,” Alpha said. Portia met my gaze for a moment, then she left, unsure.
The doors closed behind her, and Alpha turned to look at me. “You’re going to learn how to behave.”
“Don’t hold your breath, dickless,” I said, and he moved like he was going to slap me, but he stopped, clenched his fists, then walked out. The singing had died down, but it started up again, not as loud, but it started just the same. My exercise machine started up again, and I worked against the manacles.
That night, I ate the stupid food milkshake thing the guard brought for me. It tasted like shit, but I ate it all.
Apparently, I’d started something. When it wasn’t the middle of the night, when we all seemed to agree we would sleep, there were always at least a couple of women singing, rapping, chanting, whatever. It was not the silent, dead place it once was. Every song, every note was like a protest.
Sometime the next day, my door whooshed open, and Portia walked in. She picked up the small stool near the door and brought it closer to my chair.
“Listen, Faraday. Please, just start behaving, all right? Jenson and I talked him down from just leaking your identity outright, and Jenson and Beta have ensured that your mom’s house is still protected, even if Alpha and Nightbane order the protection to be lifted. If you behave, you’ll get to be back on the team. That’s better than being down here, isn’t it?”
“Nope.”
She looked shocked. “Why on earth would you say that? At least up there, you have some autonomy, right? You can eat what and when you want. Move around. Call your mother,” she added.
“That was a shitty thing to do, bringing my mother into it,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she actually did sound like she was. “But come on. Don’t do this just to spite Alpha.”
“You think that’s what this is?”
She nodded.
I met her eyes. “You were there. He was going to let them kill Dani… Screamer, rather than bring her in. I had it, and he was ordering me to stand down.”
“You’re not a hero,” she said quietly. “You never wanted to be.”
“I’m not. And I never will be. What kind of asshole actually calls herself a hero?”
She blushed a little.
“And here’s the thing. I’d rather rot down here, than work for a man who would let a woman die. Did they even ask why, or what caused her to scream like that?”
Portia shook her head.
“She was hurting. She was scared. She needed a friendly face, not a firing squad. It isn’t hard.”
Portia looked away.
“And what about Amy over there?” I said, moving my head toward Amy’s cell. “Anyone ask her if she meant to crush Nightbane? If she meant to turn to steel at that moment? Because that was an accident, and she was locked up before she had a chance to explain that.”
Portia looked uncomfortable, and she leaned closer to me.
“Look. Useful powers, Alpha doesn’t send them down here. Okay? Like you. You’re super strong. You can fly. You can take a hit and keep going. That’s useful. He’s willing to work with that. Toxxin was down here, too. So was Caine, and he let them on the team. They have powers he can use.”
“So not only are they imprisoned indefinitely, without any explanation, or trial or anything, but they’re useless as well?” I asked.
“As far as he’s concerned, yes. Toxxin and Caine both wear dampeners, but they’ve earned free rein when we’re out in the field. He trusts them somewhat. They’ve earned it.”
I closed my eyes and laid my head back. “I’d rather die.” A few minutes later, I heard my door whoosh, and when I opened my eyes, I was alone again.
The rapping/singing went on around me, and I smiled a little. They were rapping again, and I knew they were doing it to cheer me up a little.
Chapter Seventeen
A few days later, I’d just finished my daily exercise, and was pretty happy with myself. The manacles on my arm rests were getting very, very loose and nobody seemed to have noticed. I had to start working on my legs, so I could smash my way out of all of it soon.
What I’d do after that, I had no idea. But it was a step, something to work toward.
I was listening to my ladies. That day’s singing seemed to be Motown-themed, and I liked it. They sounded pretty good, actually. Or maybe I’d just been in so long that I didn’t know what was good anymore. We all seemed to be of a like mind that pre-Confluence music was much better than the crap that came after. Post-Confluence music was all mindless pop or angsty crap about feeling like you were nothing, because you knew a guy who could fly or some shit like that. Gag. Pre-Confluence music, though? They had real artists. All of Motown. Nirvana. Eminem. Michael Bolton.
My door whooshed open, and Portia and Toxxin walked in, a Jenson following close behind them.
“Suit up, Faraday,” Jenson said. She set a pile of fabric on the stool near the door, and I recognized it as my uniform. She hit a button, and my manacles opened, freeing me. The first thing I did was massage my wrists, which were sore, bruised from the way I was working against the manacles. I didn’t want them to see them.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Alpha wants you to suit up,” Portia said. “We need… we need help,” she added quietly.
“We’re not supposed to tell you that, though,” Toxxin said, and Portia nodded.
“Who are we going after?” I asked suspiciously.
“Not who you think,” Toxxin said. “There was another Confluence the day before yesterday. We’ve got a new batch of powered troublemakers to bring in.”
“Are they actually troublemakers, or are you just blindly following Alpha’s orders?”
Portia blew out an irritated breath. “What do you expect us to do, Faraday? Huh? He’s the boss. He pays for this place, he—“
“Why do you stay?” I asked, interrupting her. “She can’t leave,” I said, gesturing at Toxxin, who looked at me in surprise. “But you have every right to leave. And you could. So why stay, and listen to someone we all know can’t lead worth a damn and has no business being in charge of anyone, let alone a team of supposed heroes?”
Portia’s face went blank. “I have nothing else to do,” she said quietly. “This is all I have.”
I exchanged a look with Toxxin, who looked away quickly.
“Suit up, please, Faraday,” Jenson said.
I took a breath. If I didn’t go, he could end up leaving the new powered people to law enforcement, which, based on what I’d seen with Dani, would not go well. Or I could go, and maybe at least bring a few in alive.
Or, better yet, help them escape before StrikeForce got their hands on them.
Jenson left the room, having delivered my uniform.
“Fine. Keep Alpha and Nightbane away from me,” I said, standing up. I felt wobbly on my legs. Despite the exercise machine, I hadn’t stood in over a week, and it felt like it. I felt weak, wobbly, atrophied. The two of them stood off to the side, giving me room. I pulled off my prison clothes, changed into actual underwear (I’d never realized what a luxury that could be, after wearing the equivalent of adult diapers during my time in my cell) and then slid into the StrikeForce uniform, star emblazoned on my chest. When I pulled it on, my fingers brushed the thin band around my throat, my dampener.
I hated it.
“Who has the power to shut this thing off?” I asked as I slipped my feet into my boots.
“Just Alpha,” Toxxin said.
“He’s the only one with a control?”
“As far as I know,” Toxxin said.
“Hm. Seems like it wouldn’t be too hard to get it from him, if one wanted to,” I murmured. I pulled my gloves on, then my mask. My comm was on the counter, and I popped it into my right ear.
Toxxin and Portia were both watching me, looking uncomfortable.
“You’ve got to stop saying crap like that,” Portia said.
“No. I don’t have to stop saying anything. You have to stop trying so hard to make this all okay. Because you know damn well that it’s not,” I said. Then I pressed my comm.
“Daystar, reporting for duty. Let’s see if I can help you assholes actually do something right today.”
Toxxin and Portia groaned, and all I got on the comm was silence. Amy, Dani, and Monica cheered form their cells.
“Get ‘em, girl,” Amy called, and I grinned beneath my mask. Toxxin and Portia led the way out, up the elevator, across to Command. They both stuck close to me, as if trying to make sure I didn’t try anything. Guards, fully equipped with rifles, were stationed at regular intervals along our route. All of them stood, ready, tense. The awesome thing was that, other than acting loud and nuts, I hadn’t done a damn thing to make them so tense.
“Heroes,” I sneered.
“They’re hired guards. Normal people. Give them a break.”
“If they shoot at me, I don’t give a shit who they are,” I said, and we walked the rest of the way to the elevator in silence. We took it up to five, then walked into the meeting room. Nightbane, Alpha, and Crystal were already there.
“Oh, yay. My favorite assholes,” I said, and Crystal glared at me. Nightbane tried to affect a bored look, but he failed miserably. Alpha approached me, and I felt Portia stiffen beside me.
“You’re only up here because I’m feeling generous, Daystar,” he said, looming over me like a typical middle school bully.
“No. I’m here because you can barely wipe your ass by yourself, and everybody knows it. What’s wrong? Some kind of public uproar about how StrikeForce can’t catch anybody, and why is our government working with them anyway? Something like that?” His face turned a few shades of scarlet, and I laughed. “That’s it, huh? So let’s not pretend like you’re doing me a fucking favor, rich boy. I’m the one doing you a favor.”
“I can put you right back down there,” he snarled.
“Go ahead,” I shrugged. “But then nobody gets caught. I bet the public is starting to fear you, huh? Maybe they saw clips of the police shooting at the poor, pretty screamer girl.”
“Normal people are afraid of all of us,” he said, still glaring at me. “They don’t care of one of us gets killed.” His gaze shifted away from me, and just then, Caine walked into the room.
“In general, they don’t,” Caine agreed, apparently hearing what Alpha had said. “Except that there’s all kinds of video out there of you saving the screamer. Jumping in front of a firing squad to save one scared girl. Made for great news clips for a few days. And now they’re all wondering where you are, because, and I quote, ‘she might be an actual hero.’”
“All of which would end the second we told them who you really are,” Nightbane said with an unpleasant smile. “Them and your mother. That would greatly disappoint her, huh, Faraday?”
“Knock it off, man,” Caine said, and I glanced at him, at the hint of warning in his voice. Alpha gave him a bored look, then looked back at me. “Portia, Toxxin, Caine, Nightbane, take Daystar into the field. Bring in as many new supers as you can.”
I kept my eyes on his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away.
And I sure the hell wouldn’t be bringing any new prisoners or soldiers for him.
A few seconds later, my assigned team and I were standing behind an old Tudor-stye house. The yard had a thick layer of snow covering it, piles of it at the edges of the driveway, and I looked at it numbly, realizing that the world had gone on while I’d been locked up.
“What’s the story here?” I asked quietly.
“Reportedly, the woman in this house can turn just about anything to stone with a touch,” Jenson
’s voice said in my ear. I glanced around the yard, noting a porch railing leading into the house, the back door hanging open. Both looked like some kind of surreal statue or something.
“Go ahead, Faraday,” Nightbane said. “You’re our cannon fodder.”
I ignored him, heard Caine tell him to stop being an asshole. I walked up the back stairs and knocked on the side of the house, since the door was hanging open and made of stone.
“Hello?” I paused and pressed my comm. “What’s her name, Jenson?”
“Um. We haven’t gotten that far, Daystar.”
I rolled my eyes. “No fucking people skills,” I said.
“You’re one to talk,” she said, and she sounded amused.
“Hello,” I called again. “My name is Daystar. I’m here to see if you need any help.”
“You’re not here to help me,” a voice said from above. Second floor. I saw Nightbane move, realized he was going outside to fly in through one of the windows and grab her.
She’d definitely go to the detention facility if he got to her first.
I chased him out, and the rest of the team looked on. I reached him, and before he had a chance to respond, I punched him, hard, in the side of the head.
He dropped like a sack of potatoes.
“Sorry, Nightbane. Oh, wait. I’m actually not,” I said, then I walked back into the house. The rest of the team was staring at me, mouths agape.
“He was messing up the mission. He’ll be awake soon.”
“Daystar, you do anything like that again, and I’m calling your mother,” Alpha said in my ear.
“You call my mother, and I won’t be bailing your ass out again.” And then I pulled my comm out of my ear, put it into one of the pockets on my belt, and I heard Portia gasp in shock.
“What?”
“We’re not allowed to do that,” she said and I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not great with rules,” I said quietly. “Stay here.”
I took the stairs, slowly, letting the woman know I was coming up.
“Hey,” I said. She was standing in the hallway, and the wall next to her, as well as the floor beneath her, was pure stone. She was in her fifties, maybe. Short, dark hair, black yoga pants, and a t-shirt that had the Detroit Red Wings logo on it. “I’m Daystar.”
A New Day (StrikeForce #1) Page 16
