Hope

Hope tasted the blood in her mouth. Her face hurt like hell. She’d had a lot of bad days in her life but this was definitely up there. The cops had tried to break her, to get her to confess, but she didn’t make a sound.

And why should she? She was innocent. Anyone with two eyes and half an ounce of sense could see that. However, some part of her knew deep down that it didn’t matter.

She looked around her jail cell. The walls, a marble white, imposed upon her tiny frame with decisive arrogance. The iron bars of the lock had been shut tight since the last interrogation. She tried to pry them open with her bare hands but eventually resigned herself back to the bed, lamenting her lack of superpowers.

If only I had my suit. I could be out of here in a flash.

“I wonder how Seb’s doing,” she said, crashing face-first into the bed. It was soft. Courtesy of Captain Bradley, most likely.

She thought of the first case they’d worked together. Double homicide. She was fifteen. He was a rookie detective. And yet, he’d always treated her with respect. And now, she’d never get to see him again.

A sharp noise rang from the iron bars of her cell. She heard grunting and struggling.

A woman?

And not just any woman. This one had dark skin, like the refugees, and appeared to be the same age as her. Hope observed the contours of her body as she struggled against the cop that held her arms in a tight cuff.

She was tall, much taller than Hope, and muscular too. Her long raven-like hair flowed all the way down to her waist, with a touch of red at the very tips. Her jacket, too large to be her own, concealed her body quite well. It was complemented by a pair of denim shorts that while snug from the front, failed to sufficiently cover up her ample bottom.

Hope nearly jumped to her feet when the woman was tossed into her cell. She fell to the ground with a loud thud.

“Hey!” Hope complained.

The officer gave her a sideways glance and spat. “Get used to company, bitch. We don’t got enough room for private cells. Not after what you pulled last night. Try not to kill each other.”

He walked away and disappeared behind the walls of the precinct hallway.

Hope backed up into a corner with her arms raised in a defensive gesture. The woman got up with a grunt and looked smilingly at her. “So, you the bitch that blew up the camp, huh?”

Hope tightened her fists. She shivered as she spoke, “I didn’t do it. I’m being framed.”

The woman scoffed at her. “Yeah, right. And I didn’t steal the flatscreen that was just sittin’ there on the store shelf.”

“I’m serious!” she insisted.

“You better have some proof to work that claim, girl. Like cameras or some shit. That’s the way of the world.” The woman plopped down on the bed opposite Hope like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“T-they don’t have cameras in the camp.” Hope averted her eyes.

“Well, ain’t that just terrific,” the woman laughed, stretching her arms. Her sleeve slid down as she did, revealing a cryptic mark on the underside of her left wrist. It looked almost like a demon.

It felt familiar, for some reason.

Hope gulped as she retreated into a fetal position. Is she mafia or something? Her heart was beating faster than ever. She looked into the eyes of the strange woman. They were as blue as the deepest sea.

They looked familiar as well.

Hope racked her brain but came up empty. Seeing no other option, she decided to confront the woman herself. “Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as politely as possible.

The woman’s mouth widened with surprise. “You don’t remember. You seriously don’t remember.”

“That voice…” Hope muttered softly. She’d heard it before. But where?’

The woman shook her head as she looked at the clock outside their cell. “Wow. That’s gonna make this so much less satisfying.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman sat upright as she did some calculations inside her head.

“Thirty seconds,” she whispered and stood up cracking her knuckles. “I better use it.”

Before Hope could react, the woman pounced at her and threw her to the ground. She punched her in the face. Hope groaned in pain as she tried to break free from her iron grip. The woman seemed amused by her misery. She punched her again, this time even harder than before.

Hope wondered what she had done to deserve this torture but came up empty. She’d always been a model citizen. She always used the correct dustbins and recycled wherever she could. She never jumped a red light and always wore a seatbelt. She even read end-user license agreements from page to page. If anyone deserved to have their teeth kicked in, it certainly wasn’t her. Unfortunately, none of that was enough to stop the woman from taking an almost sensual pleasure in beating the ever-loving shit out of her.

The ruckus was quick to spread.

Within seconds, the prison guards were upon them. It took much effort, but they managed to pry the crazed woman away from Hope, who promptly collapsed to the floor with bated breath. They seized the woman and carried her out of the prison cell. She remained silent, except for her soft muttering, “Four… three… two… one…”

The minute hand struck twelve.

The emergency alarm blared at top volume. Dazed by this, the guards loosened their grip. The woman, taking advantage, freed herself, and knocked them both to the ground. The prison lights flickered with a crimson-red siren.

Hope looked at the unconscious guards lying on the floor. Then, she looked at the woman standing in front of her with an outstretched arm.

What the shit?

The woman barked at her, “You, move your ass. We’re getting outta here!”

Hope’s brain crashed like a decades-old operating system. She didn’t know what to think or what to do. But, for some reason, she felt compelled to grab onto the arm dangling in front of her. As if on reflex, Hope gripped on with all her strength and was promptly pulled to her feet. Her body still ached from the beatdown but there was no time to waste.

Crap crap crap. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I’m gonna die! I’m so gonna die! I don’t wanna die! I’m too young to die.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Even with every brain cell screaming at her, she obeyed. She held onto the strange woman as they ran for their lives. All cells had been opened, freeing every single inmate in the 86th Precinct.

The girls kept to the walls and only moved when the coast was clear. The blaring sirens of the emergency alarm worked to their advantage, as did the flickering lights.

“Wait!” Hope cried. “That way leads to the ground floor parking.”

“So?” the woman demanded.

“Pete’s in charge of that lot. He checks all vehicles before they go in or out, no matter what. Even if we get there, we’re never getting past him.”

The woman eyed her with suspicion. “What’re you thinkin’, girl?”

“We turn around, we take the stairs to the top, and leave via the 3rd-floor parking lot. Mickey mans that booth,” said Hope, breathing heavily.

“And you’re sure we’ll be fine with him?”

“Mickey’s about to retire. He never checks anyone. Heck, he probably didn’t even hear the alarms go off. That’s a surefire way.”

The woman looked around for security before returning her questioning stare to Hope. “You think you can get us to the top?”

Hope nodded. “Positive.”

The woman pressed two fingers against the side of her head. Hope leaned in closer to see a listening device stuck to the inside of her ear. “You got that, old man?” she barked into the earpiece. Some garbled noise came back which sounded an awful lot like angry swearing. “Okay, fine. We’ll meet you there.”

She returned her gaze to Hope. “Our getaway’s gonna be there in fifteen minutes. Better hurry. Sure you know the way?”

“Like a fish in a pond,” Hope declared with confidence.

“Alright, then. Lead the way, girl. Just don’t get us killed.”

Hope crouched down on her knees and gestured for the woman to follow. She placed an ear against the wall and listened for approaching cops. Hearing nothing, she pulled back and searched the hallway for blind spots in the camera movements.

Hope moved in small, precise steps while the sirens blared all around her. The woman followed closely behind. “Not your first prison break, I’m guessing,” she asked.

Hope held a finger to her lips. A cop, clad in full body armor, emerged from the corner ahead. His back was turned toward them. Hope held her breath.

She looked at the woman behind her. And just in time too. The moron was holding a dagger. Hope recognized the blade from the countless times it had been thrown at her. With gun laws getting stricter in Haven City, throwing knives had become a staple with the criminal underbelly.

And this was one of the best of its kind and from the way she held it between her fingers, the woman was intimately familiar with using it.

The cop started moving to the right, his back still facing them. The woman was ready to jump him, but Hope gripped her arm and forbade her with a decisive stare.

“Not yet,” she mouthed. The woman did not resist. Hope wondered how she’d gotten a knife into prison in the first place. Her wonder, however, was quickly replaced by fear of the police officer turning around.

She gulped and took a silent step forward, trying to keep to the armored cop’s back. The woman followed suit. The officer was halfway across the corridor.

Come on! Just a bit more. Just a bit more, and we’ll be free!

Hope thought of the countless times she’d walked proudly through these very corridors. A band of handcuffed criminals in front and Bradley’s squadron behind her, all walking in perfect synchronicity. The joyous chants of ‘Vega! Vega! Vega!’ still echoed inside her head.

And now, they were out for her blood.

She cursed them. She cursed them with every fiber of her being.

The cop, still in front of them, stopped to attend a call. The girls watched with cautious optimism as the officer talked in inaudible whispers, shook his head, and ended the call. They watched as the man rushed forward toward the end of the corridor far, far away from them.

With the cop out of sight, they both exhaled in unison and got up to their feet. Hope wiped the sweat off her brow, turned around, and softly said, “I know my way around.”

The rest of the trip was, thankfully, uneventful. By the time they reached the stairs, most of the security had rushed to the ground floor to deal with the massive outbreak of prison escapees.

They managed to reach the top-floor parking lot without any more close calls. Mickey was, as always, sleeping in his booth. Up close, Hope realized that his snoring was actually louder than the emergency sirens.

“I’m surprised Fluffles here has managed to keep his job,” the woman complained.

“Mickey’s been on the force longer than anyone in the precinct. He’s practically a mascot for the 86th,” Hope answered.

The woman looked at the sleeping old man with curiosity. Then, she inspected the many wrinkles on his chubby face and poked him somewhere between his second and third chin. Mickey turned in his sleep and smiled. “I like him,” she chuckled.

“Stop wasting time!” Hope groaned. “Where’s your getaway?”

“Our getaway,” the woman corrected her.

Hope didn’t respond.

“Something the problem?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Seems like you’re still two minds about the whole getaway part.”

“I’m not a criminal.”

“Yeah, tell that to the cops. Look, if you didn’t wanna get out, you should’ve said so to your dumbass friend.”

Hope’s ears perked up. “M-my friend?”

“Scrawny guy. Glasses. Talks like he’s on ten cups of coffee. Ring a bell?”

As Hope attempted to process this information, a familiar voice called out from the parking lot. “My oh my! Looks like the boy didn’t tell her, after all. Perhaps, she could use a briefing. Prison life can be quite scarring. Especially for one so delicate.”

Hope cranked her neck to look. Her mouth was left agape.

Red eyes. Bright as rubies. And that devilish smirk.

Her fists tightened as he approached.

Trent clapped his hands together. “Allow me to put this as gently as possible. You are being rescued. Please, do not resist,” he said and put a blindfold over her eyes.

∆∆∆

Calm down. It’s all a bad dream. When you wake up, it will all be over and your only problems will be a shitty job and unpaid rent. So, wake up.

The blindfold was pulled off her eyes in one quick motion. The sudden influx of light was painful. Hope squinted and blinked a couple of times to regain her senses.

She tried rubbing her eyes but, for some reason, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t move her arms. Oh crap. She looked to her sides.

Chains.

She was locked up. Tied to a chair with iron restraints. No amount of pulling would accomplish anything. Nonetheless, she cursed and grunted as she struggled to break free.

“Come on!” she groaned but to no avail.

“Ain’t gonna work,” a soft chuckle came from within the room. Hope looked up to see the strange woman sitting opposite her. She was playing with the same dagger as before.

Hope tried to get a better read on her surroundings but found her attempt thwarted by a veil of darkness. The light bulb in the middle of the room only illuminated a small area. All she saw was her own chair, the strange woman in front, and a wooden table between them. There were two glasses of water in front of her. Hope suddenly recalled that she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since last night. Her throat was parched.

“So,” the woman spoke, lifting a glass to her face, “You’re the famous Vega, ain’t ya? Want some water?”

It could be drugged. Hope shook her head.

The woman sighed and drank from her own glass. Hope gulped as each nourishing drop disappear down her throat. “Now,” she said, setting down the glass, “Here’s the deal. My name is Alicia Miller and, starting today, you’re my bitch.”

She held the dagger beside Hope’s throat and continued. “If you try to get the drop on me, I’m gonna carve you up like a pumpkin. We clear so far?”

Seeing no other realistic option, Hope nodded in agreement. Alicia smiled and pulled back the dagger.

“Good girl.” She slammed the dagger into the table, embedding it mere inches from Hope’s lap.

Crap crap crap.

“Couple months ago,” she continued, “you arrested a girl for stealing bread. That girl was me.”

Hope jogged her memory in search of the incident. It sounded vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t recall any specifics. She kept her mouth shut.

“My people were starving. We needed food. Your government never gave a shit about us. We did what we had to do to survive.” Every word that left her mouth was laced with venom. “One day, I decided to hit a bakery, thought I’d get the young ones a little treat. But you, you ruined everything.”

The image was now vivid inside Hope’s mind. She recalled every last detail. She remembered the mark on her arm as she’d pried her away from the shop. She recalled her voice and those eyes, bluer than the deepest ocean, as she’d begged her for mercy.

The owner of the bakery had thanked her. She thought she’d done a good job. She remembered how, for the first time in months, she’d felt happy. She hadn’t felt happy since the Marcel disaster.

She thought this as the woman pointed the dagger at her chin. “Cops put me away for three weeks. By the time I came back, half the folks were gone. Starved to death.”

Hope murmured with quivering lips, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Alicia chuckled. “Of course, you are! Everyone starts feeling sorry with a knife in their face. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you yet. Not while you’re still useful. But remember, I’ll be keeping an eye on you. And once we’re done with the job, I’ll have you all to myself. I can’t wait to get this over with.” She pulled back the dagger with great force and thrust it toward her face. Hope recoiled back as far as she could in her restraints and shut her eyes.

“Miller, that’s enough!” a familiar voice commanded.

The dagger stopped half an inch from Hope’s cheeks. She opened her eyes. Alicia gritted her teeth in anger as she withdrew the blade.

“Miss Hastings, over here!”

Hope looked to her left. The lights had been turned on, revealing the rest of the room. Behind a large mud-stained glass, Trent stood with a smirk plastered across his face. Sebastian stood beside him, waving, and giving her an uneasy smile. “H-hey there, Hopie! Glad to see you’re okay.”

“Seb? What’s going on?” she demanded.

Trent’s words echoed across the room and filled her with terror, confusion, and a deep sense of foreboding dread. “Miss Hastings, allow me to welcome you to the Merry Band.”