The armored SUV rumbled through the outskirts of the Slums, each jolt and sway punctuating Edith's thoughts with a grim finality. Her pale fingers traced idle patterns on her metallic briefcase as she sat, surrounded by the silent, blank expressions of her captors.
They approached the colossal structure known as The Wall—the border wall that divided the slums and the metropolis, its sheer size a testament to the chasm between the two worlds. Massive sentry guns turned with mechanical precision—scanning for the identifying implant signal all residents of the metropolis bore within their body.
It wasn't the ideal scenario when it came to returning to the metropolis, but in the end, there was no other way; Edith was coming back—whether she wanted to or not.
A wry smile curled her lips, tinged with a bitterness she savored like a rare spice.
The SUV rolled to a stop at a security checkpoint. MetSec guards, clad in sleek uniforms, approached the vehicle with light tactical armor, combat helmets, and mechanized weapons at the ready. Edith smoothed out her hair and shifted the glasses on the bridge of her nose.
Suddenly, a massive tremor shook the ground and rattled the walls around them.
MetSec officers shouted and scrambled as debris rained down from the upper levels. In the confusion, the guards surrounding the armored van were thrown off balance. They stumbled and fell in an unprofessional heap. One guard even slipped on a puddle and landed on their back. The SUV shook as if caught in a powerful riptide.
Then as quickly as it came, the tremor ceased. The dust settled.
What the hell just happened happened? An earthquake? No. It was way too brief. Could it have been an explosion?
But there were no other signs of something big going off. Whatever this was, it was a surprise to both parties.
As the shaken MetSec personnel regained their composure, they approached the SUV once again. The officer in charge flashed a badge at the van's opaque windscreen. The dark glass dissolved into light, revealing Edith and the others. The officer took a moment to scan the passengers with a handheld scanner before speaking.
"Stay put at this checkpoint. We need to check for damages from that quake. No one's allowed in until we get confirmation from HQ," the officer ordered. His posture and expression betrayed his unease; the man glanced over his shoulders every few seconds. Then he turned and walked back to his station.
Edith's escorts didn't seem bothered. Not outwardly at least; as far as she could tell, they had already recovered their usual unreadable, yet professional demeanor.
"Well..." she murmured to no one in particular. "It certainly seems we'll be sitting here for a while."
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Eventually, the MetSec guard returned. IDs were scanned, weapons and contraband verified in the checkpoint's light field, and gave the all clear. "...alright! Let them through," she heard him say.
The Wall's massive gate slid open with a grinding hiss, revealing the world she had been exiled from. With a lurch, the SUV continued toward the city limits. Once the vehicle passed through, her escorts began to relax, each shifting away from military-like discipline to a more casual state.
The transition was immediate and jarring. The squalor of the slums fell away like a shed skin, replaced by the gleaming, ordered efficiency of the Metropolis.
She sat back with a quiet sigh and gazed out the window at the cityscape.
Glass-windowed skyscrapers broke the skyline with clean edges and polished trim, jutting upward like spears. Aerial vehicles darted to and fro amid a flock of drones—some marked with the symbols and logos of various businesses or agencies.
Even the sidewalks here were marked and segmented into ordered lanes—watching out for people and autonomous traffic as the walkways themselves performed an efficient dance with preprogrammed choreography. It all combined to make the city move with a harmonized order...all people serving a function and playing their part—like cogs in an engine.
She pulled away from the window...wishing her mind hadn't led her on this walk down memory lane...where everything had seemed so simple back then. When she had the world at her fingertips. Now...well...now it was just a reminder of how she'd lost all that she'd held dear...how she'd thrown it all away—if she wanted to be truly honest with herself.
The SUV continued its journey, now navigating the meticulously maintained roads in silence...as she settled back into her thoughts. Every traffic signal was aligned, every curve and edge smooth...not a single spec of litter to be seen. Each of the vehicles driving along the city's streets had an almost mechanical uniformity as they navigated in preprogrammed patterns.
After an hour, the SUV began to slow...and stopped. One of the enforcers wordlessly opened the door to allow her out. With her briefcase in hand, Edith stepped onto the curb and turned to face an all too familiar skyscraper...the Genomics Labs—her former place of employment...now just a cold and imposing place—with more painful memories to give...than warm recollections to receive.
She stepped toward the double-glass doors—through a vestibule—and into the lobby beyond. An elaborate holo-waterfall gurgled from a wall on her left. It flowed between sleek sculptures...immaculate trim...a topiary of grass and hedges...a huge desk to her right manned by a secretary.
Her escort, a taciturn man whose eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts, maintained a professional distance. He swiped a badge across a panel on the desk and ushered Edith forward; she strolled into the atrium to stand before a massive vid-screen displaying a current list of successes from the corporation—images and names flitting past in a rapid blur—presumably showcasing all of their great achievements. She glared at the screen.
If only people knew about the hidden nature of these "achievements," what secrets and research these successes meant...but the public had to be kept in the dark for the sake of maintaining the peace. Or at least, that's what the Syndicate-in-the-corporations said to their flunkies like Edith—as they reminded her of her status—of where her position put her...how useful she could be to their plans.
But all things come with checks and balances; her role allowed her to dictate their vision—even if they could ultimately stop her or impose restrictions to what she did—to where her research could take her...what her limits were. It was all a fine balance between what they wanted and what she could provide.
The government and ethics commission ensured she worked within the framework of what the world had deemed acceptable...they reminded her of her duty to the metropolis and all its people...not just its sponsors or patrons. All within reason.
Edith knew what they meant by within reason. How they stretched the meaning of the words and used it against her. To prevent her from digging too deep...to prevent her from ever going off the beaten path or endeavoring into an impossible hypothesis.
They'd wanted the results—wanted the innovation and potential implications. The scientists and technocrats always did...but that path...that path led to the only real weapon she'd had at her disposal...a weapon that gave her leverage—her Metahuman serum.
Finally, after waiting a few more moments, an elevator—imposing in its own right—squeaked open with a dignified ding. Its occupant—dressed in the blue lab coat uniform—strode forward with purposeful strides, an ID badge pinned to his jacket; his curly, grey hair and even greyer goatee perfectly coiffed...a contrast to the piercing eyes hidden behind rectangular spectacles. His hawkish face settled into an impassive gaze as he came to a halt before her.
"Welcome back to Genomics. Let's skip the pleasantries—shall we? Dr. Salvatore is expecting you in his office." He flicked a dismissive hand and turned. Without a backward glance, he walked off, his lab coat trailing behind him.
Edith shook her head and followed; the rest of the group—as well as her taciturn enforcer—closed ranks around her and the man in blue. Her eyes settled on the grey-haired man's nametag...the only formality he'd been able to uphold. His name was Dr. Luca Kinney...her former direct supervisor—who had always been more interested in chasing an imaginary ledger than his actual job.
Kinney led them into a spacious elevator and tapped a panel on the wall. He keyed in a code—bizarrely elaborate—with more combinations than there were floors in the building. When he finished...a tinny voice welcomed him and acknowledged the "passphrase"—its tone warm. "Welcome back Vice Director Kinney—I see you've brought guests."
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The elevator—keying off Kinney's response—whirred as it slid shut and began to descend—her stomach fluttering in response.
For a minute...maybe two...there was silence as the elevator made its journey; she leaned back against the wall...tried to steel her nerves...but for all her stoicism...she couldn't shake the sensation of coming full circle...returning to her past.
There would be no breaking from what had transpired here; she would have to deal with this new circumstance...just as she had when they'd banished her to the Slums.
So...so be it.
The elevator ground to a stop...and opened—to a hallway decorated with paintings of various lab techs through the centuries...set against sleek black walls and ambient lighting. Each of the scientists seemed to have their own unique spin to their lab coats...some formal...others outlandish...but all striving toward the same goal: the advancement of technology and science.
A familiar phrase hung suspended in a display case. "Technology unshackled...improving lives one day at a time."
They moved like a small but purposeful fleet; they marched past several rooms...stopping at an impassive steel door labeled "Director Salvatore." Another biometric scanner awaited her approach as her taciturn enforcer lagged a step behind—unneeded...unwanted...and quite frankly...in the way.
Kinney waited next to her and tapped his foot impatiently. He gestured toward the scanner; Edith extended her hand. As she laid her hand flat on the scanner—a laser pinged to verify the reading...and with a whoosh...the door slid open...revealing a dimly lit chamber.
Soft ambient music filled the air from hidden speakers, and the room's décor—if that was the right word—appeared as a sea of scattered lab reports on various tables. Each of the report's data—expressed as numbers, figures, and notes—was projected from the scattered paperworks as they orbited a lone figure.
He sat in the room's sole chair, surrounded by his papers, at a massive, disheveled desk—not bothering to turn around. The room smelled of earthy tones and old cigarettes. He idly scrolled through the holoscreen mounted to his desk; a golden watch, clinking on its chain, dangled from a belt loop on his right.
With a stately walk, as if she owned the place, Edith strode inside; the door slid shut behind her as the rest of the group lingered in the hallway...their forms mere blurs through the translucent glass.
She stopped. For a few long minutes...she stood...waiting—hoping her legs wouldn't betray her by shaking, while the man at the desk kept to his work—as though she hadn't even entered the room...her existence becoming nothing more than a ghost of his imagination.
Eventually, as she suspected he would, he took off his glasses—clipping them to the pocket on his coat. He ran his fingers through his shaggy locks and sighed. Salvatore, whose entire attention had been captured by the work on his desk, spoke up without turning to look at her.
"You'll be happy to know that all the forces I sent to cause a bit of mayhem in the slums have been...excised." His words held a mocking lilt; he paused—to glance at something on his screen—before continuing. "Your little...protégé...and Backfire, did most of the work. They're alive, if you're wondering."
The last was muttered with a tone of grudging respect...almost an admission. Edith caught her breath but otherwise maintained a neutral expression.
The corner of Salvatore's lips tugged downward in a wry smile; his hand paused over a data pad, finger poised. "Still, this was a considerable loss of my resources. My first priority will be to consolidate...regroup and whatnot." He glanced back over his shoulder, and she could finally get a good look at his face.
Rugged features and piercing green eyes that could probably command the room with ease. Even though his dark hair was styled to look messy, with flecks of grey in some places, he'd done little to hide the smooth lines of his face. Everything about this man—the way he talked, his clothing, his demeanor—screamed an understated form of wealth and class.
Edith merely smiled cooly, arms clasped behind her back. "And what about my clinic? I'm sure you send your goons to try and scrape whatever data or secrets you believe I was hiding there."
"I figured you expected the clinic to be a target and prepared accordingly." Salvatore tilted his head. "I sent Mirage to scour the place. Unfortunately, she had been killed by whatever contingency you'd left there. Alas, I don't have the personnel to attempt a second raid...and...if we're being frank here...the data you possess is enough to offset my losses."
His words dripped with false compassion...ending on an equally fake note. He twirled his pen, and his features hardened...steely gaze piercing her—his mood shifting back to a casual cruelty.
"But enough of that," he said dismissively. "I know how you enjoy these games...the cat-and-mouse routine." With a sharp movement, Salvatore swiveled his chair to face her fully.
The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. "You came to me relatively willing...which means...I have something you need just as much as you have something I need."
Edith managed a razor-thin smile of her own as she crossed the distance between them; her heels clacked with each step—each movement measured—each footstep weighted with expectation...and danger. Her tone—even to her own ears—held a tone of disconnected politeness. She stopped when her thighs pressed against the side of his desk.
"We could play these games all day." Her gaze never wavered from his—pinning him under its weight...but also hinting at a lingering exhaustion...a forced civility. "However...you already have me...here...at your mercy. So why don't we dispense with the pleasantries and get right down to business."
She tapped one slender finger on the briefcase she carried.
"My Metahuman serum is far from perfect—Axion is probably a one-in-a-billion fluke...if not a coincidence—and while I would normally turn your offer down flat...I recently found out that your Adrenomancer drug might work together to achieve greater efficacy. So...here I am." She lifted the case up—putting it down with a slight thump as she leveled him with a smirk.
"Tell me...exactly...what it is you want...so we can move past this." Her fingers tensed—relaxed...then drummed the metallic casing once again—letting her confidence ooze into her voice. "I'm sure we have a lot more to...discuss."
Salvatore—that rarest of expressions—had the grace to appear slightly...nonplussed. He collected himself, crossing his legs to prop up a clipboard, a slight furrow marring his brow.
"Oh? I was expecting a little more...sparring...banter...word games. And yet...here we are. That was almost refreshing...I almost admire how straightforward you're being...a shame really. In any event...there is one more condition for our partnership...if I could even call it that." Salvatore pushed himself out of his chair and casually strode over to a window.
The skyline of the metropolis could be seen—jagged lines of buildings standing against a backdrop of the morning's sunrise. With a practiced wave of his fingers, he caused the holographic projections and the notes to scatter—to retreat back into a semblance of order. Salvatore moved over to the window with a lightness to his step.
His features took on a calm resolve, the face of someone who had a plan. It made Edith wary...cautionary.
"Something unexpected happened in the aftermath of my foray into the slums. There have been...complications." A slight grimace and a troubled sigh punctuated his words. "Prime had descended into the slums himself to...deal with the matter."
Edith's eyes widened involuntarily; the cool demeanor slipped from her face. It took an effort to school her features back into their earlier neutral expression. Her mind raced.
Oh no... Out of all the heroes that she thought would come...this wasn't in her plan. A seed of dread gnawed at her gut.
Prime. Leader of the Ultimate Guardians. The hero of all heroes. She'd calculated—calculated—that there wouldn't be a response so immediate. What was worse was that he had a history with Virgil.
If they encountered Prime...or rather...when they encountered Prime...then...then...
"And now Prime is dead," Salvatore added dispassionately, not seeming to care or notice the fact he had broken Edith's mental chain of thoughts. His features became placid. He waited—paused for a moment—with an impassive expression and gazed out at the city beyond the window.
W-What?! The world came to a screeching halt. Everything before this was within Edith's calculations—her expectations...but this...this was completely outside her understanding.
"Did Virgil kill him?" Edith asked weakly.
He was the only one who could possibly lay a scratch on Prime...the only one who came even close. If this had happened...then...
"No...Prime was killed by your protégé—Axion," Salvatore remarked bluntly.
Edith reeled. The briefcase clattered to the floor. She reached out with her fingers to grab the desk's edge—steady herself...pull her thoughts together.
Fii managed to beat Prime? Kill him?! This...this...she...she must have somehow...caught him off-guard.
She ran through a thousand scenarios...a hundred thousand explanations. Fii had barely been a Metahuman for half a year and now she had become powerful enough to kill one of the most powerful Metahumans in the world... How?
As if reading her mind, Salvatore raised an eyebrow in her direction. "It appears your little...Axion...is going to become a rather prominent figure in the world stage. The upper echelon of the Metropolis now has their sights on her. I want want her on my side. I need you to sway her to work for me...one way...or the other...before they swoop in. Surely you've guessed—with your keen intellect—my contingency." He fixed her with a dark look.
His veiled threat and underlying meaning were obvious, but her mind still latched on to this monumental achievement. Fii's sheer power was—was...unfathomable...her potential...she had severely underestimated the girl.
Edith covered her mouth with a shaky hand, head slightly bowed. A grin slowly spread across her lips as her gaze rose to meet his—an appreciative gaze.
Her shoulders shook from held-in laughter—all in an effort to contain her excitement and understanding of what Fii's accomplishment meant. She willed herself to speak past her delirium.
"Is...is that all...Dr. Salvatore?" she asked with a raspy tone. It had become almost painful to keep her emotions in check. Edith took a step forward and bent down—tapping the briefcase with a trembling finger.
Her smile spread into a crazed smirk...her gaze never leaving his. She watched with a sense of perverse triumph at how uncomfortable she made him.
This...this could actually work. Plan A has never been so promising.