by Krys Janae
Was this the Gale talking, awakening from its much-needed slumber? Was the thirst for more blood rising within her?
“Dani…” Frost wasn’t his usual self, which set off a whole bunch of red flags.
“What?” She sharply asked, her eyes cold as she glared at him. Danika decided she rather disliked this stern version him. To her, it seemed he wanted to bow Olivia’s command, even if it didn’t make a lick of sense. Her shoulders shrugged, her arms still crossed. “I can’t go in there. I don’t want to fucking face that asshole. I just can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” Olivia asked as her eyes flickered, showing the strain that rest behind them.
“Aw, come on, Liv.” Frost chimed in, caught in the middle of their volley. “Enough.”
Danika sighed sharply, and her hands flexed shut in frustration. She was going to fight this thing, tooth and nail, to get her way. No, she wasn’t obligated to do this, as she could just walk away—force them to work this on their own. Then, she thought of Morgan, and her heart broke again. For the first time, she had to put on the hat of reason, clear and unprofane, to get down to brass tax and show them that she wasn’t just some hot-headed bitch, weaseling her way out of an impossible situation. Morgan would have wanted her to, after all. “Look, this isn’t the right play. There’s so much to consider here. Was this all his decision? What if he was being controlled and is still under their influence? What if Dmitri hacked into his brainwaves like he did to Callie, if he’s still controlling his mind?”
“He’s clean, Sloane and Callie checked him on the way in. The base is locked down tight, we’re as secure as we can be right now.” Olivia replied.
“Yeah? And what if I walk right into a fucking trap huh?” Danika snapped. “Morgan’s in the Ward, Sloane’s weak, Callista got her brain screwed with, and now Koa is down.”
Olivia stood up straight. “Yes, well that’s another asset down, and we—”
“People, Olivia. We’re fucking people. Not assets. Do me a favor and take off your Morgan shoes for just a second, and understand what you’re playing with, here.” Danika snapped at her, a little tired of everyone being treated like a unit instead of a person.
“Right…Sorry. I know.” Olivia accepted that with an apologetic nod. “What we’re dealing with, Danika, is Charlie. This guy has interfered with our mission at King’s camp. He injured our teammates, and he may be the key to fixing this. That is what we’re dealing with.” Olivia punctuated each word with the bitter sting of the conviction in her voice. “Danika, he’s your charge.”
Danika scoffed. “Huh. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear anything about consent to kill in there. And just because I rescued him from killer cat-woman at Morgan’s fucking request, I’m in charge of him? Morgan was the one who added him to our little Powered parade, not me!”
“For the last time, Morgan is not in the equation. I am, and for a second there, I thought you were too!” Olivia barked back, this time standing her ground and twisting the knife that had already cut to Danika’s core: Morgan wasn’t there.
Danika held back another outburst. After the revelation of Carter’s military past with Franco, if she even could believe that, and Charlie fighting against them, this was something else she wasn’t prepared to handle. Not now. Danika had tried to play the neutral party the entire time, one foot in the door with the other foot out, since they wanted to keep her around. But now, with the mess Charlie had made, and so many of the team down for the count, she was forced to take on the responsibility of helping to sweep it up.
“Danika, listen to me. You are the only one who can get through to him, I’m sure of that. Most of all, he trusts you.”
“Hmm.” Even with her steely eyes, Danika had no retort. Olivia was right. Again. Everything inside of her was on fire at the mention of that. As it had been drilled into her head this entire conversation, Morgan was in critical care, and the rest of the team were not equipped to deal with a dangerous Powered prisoner like Charlie. Eventually, Danika heaved a sigh. She brushed her palm over her face from the mouth, down, which was one of Morgan’s habits too. Everyone took note. “Dammit…fine.”
“Do you need backup?” Frost asked, maintaining his very serious front as he looked down at her with his icy blues. His hands were placed on her shoulders, and the cold touch penetrated her clothing.
“No. If I’m going in, I’ll do it. Alone. If, somehow, Dmitri gets in, I don’t want anyone else in the crossfire.” Danika said with confidence to her best friend. Not to mention, having anyone else there would be a distraction, and could possibly detour her approach. “Just standby, okay?”
Frost nodded, knowingly. He’d be watching, as usual. She had no doubts about him running in to save the day, if she needed saving. Even if his field days were done, there was no doubt in her mind that he would come to her aid.
“The only parameter is to keep him alive, but I want you to use any means necessary.” Olivia added, in response to her question from earlier.
“Of course.” Danika scoffed as she rolled her eyes to hide the fact that she was actually scared shitless. The gloves were already off, and she was out for blood. “Yeah sure, heard it before. Morgan was never keen on—”
“I’m not Morgan.” Olivia was stone-faced, cold, and void of a smile to show she was not joking. This was unusual, since Danika always saw the lighter side of the fiery-haired woman.
After an extensive beat to consider these words, Danika nodded. She opened the door and descended the steps into the brig. She took each step one by one, careful and calculated, still feeling the aches in her muscles from the night before. She wasn’t rushed, or forced to run, and right now, she had nothing but time. Fear of the unexpected loomed above her, but she made it to the bottom of the flight of stairs before its dizzying effects took hold. What was she walking into? She knew the answer: it was the plight of facing a madman she once deemed trustworthy.
The smile of his was unforgettable and warming, and seeing him on the roof, the unseen interloper, tarnished that. He interfered and put the team at high risk. Danika was so angry and confused, but the anger far surpassed the confusion when she came to his cell door. The three walls inside were pure concrete, with a small slit in one for sunlight to cast its rays on him as he kept his perch in the center of the room. The door had a glass window and a slot for food or exchange of property if prisoners were fortunate enough for such things. The front wall was waist-high concrete and the rest of it, connecting to the ceiling, was a panel of bulletproof glass overlaying steel bars; strong but still allowing for observation.
Danika stopped just as she reached the door. She eyed the camera in the corner at the end of the row, comforted by the knowledge that Frost’s watchful eyes were glued to the monitor.
Charlie was seated on a stool, facing away. When she paused to observe him, his head turned slightly but he didn’t make a sound. Danika’s jaw flexed, and her hands curled so tightly into a ball that everything in her body screamed to let the Gale do its work against him. He was locked away like an animal, punishment for what he’d done back at King’s compound. As she saw it, he deserved more than the four, tight, claustrophobia-inducing walls to this cell. Her blood boiled just to look at him, a sense of déjà vu striking her as she’d seen this before, in the vision Dmitri had hit her with when he attacked them both at her apartment: a lone man in his cell, withdrawn and distraught.
“You know it’s me, don’t you?”
Charlie remained completely still and eventually found the nerve to speak. “Yes.”
Her nerves were still on overdrive, seeking an equilibrium between rage and fear. To calm herself down, Danika fished out the metal carrying case for her cigarettes and pulled the last one out from behind the band holding it in place. She slowly placed it to her lips, half-expecting the judgmental scoff from Charlie as he usually did when he caught her smoking, but this time he didn’t react at all. The tip of the cigarette burned up quick, the loose pieces of tobacco fa
lling out of the paper, burning up into ash before they hit the floor. She took one long drag and blew the smoke into the open slat to his cell. “Super-hearing and all…you can hear just how fucking angry I am with you right now, right?”
“Yes.”
His reserve was irritating.
“How about this? You got eyes in the back of your head?” She raised her middle finger to him, something she tended to do no matter what the occasion, but this time she meant it for its natural derogatory implication.
“Danika,” he said, vapidly, sensing her vulgar gesture without having to look directly at it.
Slamming her hand on the button, Danika opened the door to the cell. She waited a moment before turning her head, casting a glance at the door to see if anyone from upstairs took her action as an active threat and would come stop her from doing something stupid, but as she waited, no one came.
The move was only a test, made to taunt him with that taste of openness and freedom to motivate him to face her. Eventually, she hit the button again to shut the door and lock it down.
Danika snickered. “You know, it’s taking everything in me not to just shoot you where you stand.”
“Huh. Well, why don’t you?” Even though his voice was dry, and monotone, there seemed to be a challenge in his reply.
A slight twitch pulled at her lips. “Because it wouldn't do us any good.”
“…you sure about that?” Charlie posed a challenge, yet again.
“Don’t test me.”
On any other day, Danika wouldn’t be above the violence she wanted to throw at him. Today, she killed a man. Beating Charlie to a pulp would be that nice little cherry on top of her already messed up day.
She took another puff of her cigarette and blew the exhaust to the side, leaning back on the door for support. “We already have enough shit going on, and Doc’s too busy with Koa to worry about stitching you back together if I ripped you apart. Which, by the way, Koa almost died thanks to you.”
Charlie tilted his head, moving for the first time as if he was surprised by what she said. It seemed like he was about to face her, finally, but he resisted, and looked away.
“Do you know what it’s like to inform the next of kin? Huh? That one of his own team members decided to backstab him?” It was a bluff, one she hoped he wouldn’t call her on, since Koa had no other local family in the city that they knew of, other than a loose lead on his sister, Alana. His parents were somewhere on the islands, tucked away in a small village they’d have to research and hand-deliver notice to, in case something went wrong.
“I didn’t kill—” Charlie turned away again with frustrated sigh.
“You didn’t. No. Almost dead, I said.” She pulled another drag. “Actually, I guess I should ask you what happened. Last I knew, you went AWOL after Dmitri caught us at my place, then I saw you get attacked on the cams… What the fuck did they do to you, Charlie? Huh?” The fire behind her voice was rising, her chest heaving for a breath as she continued, “I mean, I just wanna spare myself the melodrama and the mopey bullshit you’re pulling in here. I wanna ask why you fucked the entire op for us—but would you even tell me?”
Again, he breathed in and tried to speak, but Charlie ended up covering his own mouth with his unsteady hands.
Danika listened to his panicked breath. He kept trying to respond, but it seemed as if he was fighting something within himself, preventing him from speaking. The aggressive approach seemed to provoke him, which meant she would continue along this way if she had to. Everyone had buttons to press. She was going to see which ones would make him sing faster. “I take it you made some friends on your little side quest after they took you? Suit you up real nice in some leather getup to give you that badass sorta feel, be the hero that you want to be, and what? You take that as your golden ticket to switch sides and try to kill us?” Danika held the cigarette between her lips and puffed at it, reaching into her back pocket for a photograph of Tabitha. She placed it between her fingers and flicked it further into the cell, where it fell right at Charlie’s feet. “I saw this one on the camera, after you got your ass handed to you. I mean, they’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you say? Do these faces mean anything to you?” She threw second photograph in, this time of Christophe Dmitri, taken from the footage at the gala.
“S-stop.” Charlie pleaded, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Danika grinned slightly at the first sign she was doing something right. Danika took the last bit of her cigarette, and finished it the way she always did, smashing it against her palm, enjoying the satisfying sizzle of the ember as its life was snuffed out in her hand. When she looked up, she was surprised to see Charlie out of his chair. He made a quick stride at the door, with his hands up against the window.
“I’ve seen the other side. I’ve seen what they can do—what they want to do to us… I-I didn’t do any of this to hurt anyone, but you don’t want to have them as enemies… You don’t know the hell they can bring down on you… You d-don’t.” Charlie was anxious, his eyes locked on Danika but his movements spastic and out of control. His glossy eyes were wide, a clear sign he was freaked out by what he’d seen. “Y-You can’t keep me in here either, otherwise I-I can’t keep you safe from them… or King.”
“Keep me safe?” Danika cackled, the sound as sharp as a knife. “Goddamn, that is 24 karat richness from you, Charles, and a threat in that same sentence?” She clicked her tongue, “Now, I don’t find that very convincing.”
“You can’t keep ignoring what I’m trying to tell you.” His voice changed to a heavy, bestial growl, his words spit through gritted teeth.
“This is an absolute shit storm, and you know what we’re trying to do? Keep your ass alive long enough to at least get some fucking clue about why you did what you did. What’s your game, Charlie?”
He grunted, weary with frustration and embarrassment. Instead of the agitated man she’d seen a second ago, Charlie was shutting down, mentally and emotionally. He moved back across the shallow cell and put his back to the wall, sliding down until he was completely sitting on the floor, head hung low in defeat. He ran his tremulous hands through his dark hair, almost pulling as he did. He looked confused by everything, his dark eyes void of the hope and light Danika had seen in them before.
“Charlie…” Danika called out, trying to coax him out of this shell he’d pulled over himself once more.
The life had been drained from his face. When he raised his head a glimmer of amaranth in those hazel orbs could be spotted, until it faded away.
Red eyes…
Charlie gasped, clearly surprised to see her. “Danika…What’s going on? Why am I here?”
For a moment, she had to put down the act. Bad cop, worse cop as a one-man show wasn’t getting her anywhere although this development was leading her down a frightening path. What did he see, and how long had he been sitting in here, fighting the monster in his head? She fought to find her voice before calling out: “F-Frost—is Sloane on comm?”
“No.” He replied. “What’s going on? Do you need help?”
“No—I’m fine. But I need to know, did he touch him?”
“What?” Frost asked.
“When he pulled the teleport home, and did he touch him—skin on skin—did Sloane make contact with him?”
Frost sighed, “Uh, I dunno… Maybe? He was holding him up when they got back, had to restrain him from what Sloane said…I-I think so.”
“Oh no…”
Frost didn’t seem to pick up what Danika was putting down. “Yeah and Sloane was banged up pretty good, I think he’s up in the Ward—didn’t you see him?”
“Shit!!” She said, louder this time as she slammed her palms on the bars.
“Danika, seriously, what’s going on?”
“Frost, think about it. Think about what Sloane and Charlie can do.”
Sloane’s callsign, the name he refused to accept, was Hyde. It was first bestowed on him from Carter as a joke b
ut officially registered to him because after the Turning. There was a beast in his mind, that used his body as a vessel, dishing out some mystical power for violence and darkness. The way it’d been explained to her, a demon was a part of him, a powerful force with deadly intent. Over the years, Sloane had finally managed to control it, after dealing with it over time, but Charlie…
He said once before that he could throw fire, which meant that came from Carter when he’d rescued Charlie during Monroe. Based on what Callista had told him about his abilities, touching anyone who was Powered would replicate that power through him for a time. Charlie was a Powered sponge with heightened everything—and the abilities he’d absorbed from the demon whisperer Sloane must be what he was battling in his fragile mind. Even though it was a temporary transfer, Danika didn’t have the energy to fight it, or the time to wait for the effects to wear off.
Danika finally locked that piece into place. “He’s a fucking pawn, Frost—”
“Wow. Took you that long to figure it out huh? Bravo!” Charlie grinned as he shifted back to his maniacal state. He clapped for her as he smiled, mocking her.
“Fuck!” She cursed under her breath.
“God, you really are a greedy, self-serving bitch, too! I mean you waltz into HQ like you’re some hot shit, like you can throw Morgan around because you’re his niece, but at the end of the day, you crawl back home and hide like the rest of them. The rest of the weak ones who want to get rid of their powers instead of make themselves useful.”
“Piss off, prick!”
“Ohh, and I bet you are just so proud of yourself for your work here? For losing track of me… for letting them get hurt in the fight… How about your work at Monroe? Or should I say lack thereof. If you’d just done more, huh?” He taunted her.
Danika gulped, and silently prayed that he wouldn’t try any of the spells Sloane used. Secure or not, Charlie was now an armed, walking, nuclear bomb. “You… asshole…” She whispered. The tables had turned, her own dirty tactic being used against her, as Charlie whipped out every taboo topic in the book to egg her on.
