Drusillia prepared tea in an ornate kettle, a souvenir from her visit to District 1 when her parents sent her around touring universities. The plate at the bottom warmed itself up when hands gingerly rubbed at its bottom, something to do with friction multiplication or some other science she wasn’t all that interested in understanding. The true marvel to her was how good the tea would taste when it came out, sparkling clear water from even the blackest of sludge pouring into a cup with black tea bags. She treasured these idle moments, the calm before the storm, the peace before Samuel had entered her life.
She glanced up at her hostages; Meister Aindo of the Wired Oceans workshop, a young distorted boy named Peepers who was likely Nest born, and Maw, the latest addition and the peskiest of the bunch. Everywhere she moved, she could feel his eyes pierce through her as if trying to slay her with a stare. Honestly, he should’ve just gotten over the whole predicament. Drusillia had informed him that his cooperation was paramount and his treasonous acts against her mission meant for quick and decisive actions on her part. The missing arm was resting on a makeshift nightstand, nothing more than a couple of boxes, with the red thread tugging and moving about to Foreigners movements. Disposing of Maw was preferred but without knowing whether the operative abilities of the thread would cease if he perished forced this new situation upon her.
How droll this whole affair was.
Peepers wasn’t in much of a mood to speak after she’d chased off whoever was nearby. At least its the most likely reason for a sudden change in his behavior. Her echolocation was unable to pinpoint the individuals whereabouts but Drusillia was certain that this position had been compromised in some way. Maybe she’d have Maw wander around the facility and check for traps, have him suffer on her behalf to regain what little respect I have for the two-bit hoodlum.
The Meister was the true valuable hostage in all of this. He could undo everything J Corp had hired the Seven Association and her team to take care of. If they had only allowed her to take care of the disposal process, she wouldn’t have needed to scramble around this District to handle Sam.
“You were too close.” Her handler had said after the successful raid conducted in the Outskirts of Samuels operation. She hated to admit that they were right, at least somewhat. Drusillia had gotten close to Sam, and his wife and child (although they were a more boring lot in her mind). That ambition was what enraptured her to him, a feeling like a moth to a flame, skirting the edges of its heat to avoid getting burned.
And to see him devolved into this Foreigner caricature made it all the more disgusted in herself to have fallen for something human.
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“Can I have some tea, please.” The voice was hoarse and weak. Meister Aindo turned their bagged eyes, smacking cracked lips at the sight of the tea cup. Drusillia obliged, taking another glass from within her case and pouring him a cup of tea. She motioned for him to lean his head back and she slipped him a sip of the stuff. Of course he choked on the liquid, but she couldn’t have his hands free by any means. “Thank you, Drusillia.” He simply stared at her, a light having left his eyes a while ago, an expectation that death was inevitable for him.
“For someone as respectable as you, think nothing of it.” Drusillia replied. She meant it too, someone of his caliber hiding out and away from the eyes of J Corp, or so he had thought. The corporation had invested far too much in their Singularity to have it be defeated by some hermit in the backwaters, but so long as he strove to keep out of the public eye and remain low, they didn’t deem him much of a threat. Until Sam.
“You’re lost in thought again, Drusillia. I didn’t expect a Banshee to be so contemplative in a high stakes situation like this.” Meister Aindo prodded. She allowed for these conversations, if only for her own sanity.
She sighed, “I am just reminded of all of the mistakes that have led up to this point. If this or that could be changed, whether we all would be in this building here today.” Peepers had his eyes closed and Maw’s face was tight with contempt. Understandable responses for the actions that have all taken us here.
“Ah. And what mistakes would force me to leave my home? Or bring this child and that scoundrel here, if not for our connections to you and this Arenas?”
“The act of knowing is enough of an action to have forced all of our hands. I am merely looking to the interests of my employer and their employer. They do not want Mr. Arenas to succeed in his ascension and you in particular are the only one who can crack the partitions made on his mind. The others, by mere interaction with this rogue element, needed to be sequestered.” The Meister laughed at her statement and she was confused as to what part of it was funny.
“If the act of knowing something is enough to cause the full force of a corporation and an association to come down on us, then this Arenas must be a worthwhile person to know.”
“…He was. But then he committed to actions that forced the intervention of my benefactors to dispose of him.” She placed his cup on the nightstand and glanced at the twitch arm of Maw, its compass moving to and fro. Juxtaposed to her tracking paper, it showed no sign of tampering.
Would her Sam show up when they faced each other, or would that man be just a stranger to her? Her job conditions preferred the latter, to take out a creature of monstrous strength while it was incapable of tapping into that well of power, but personally she would like to talk to Samuel again. To talk about the mind and the power within. To listen to his theories about the voices that whispered in all of us since the Whitest Days incident.
To see him confirm that the voice was a component to the Distortions when he successfully split himself apart?