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Jessica Jones: Arrested by the Crooks
🕑 Added 2021-02-04 20:52:36 +0000 UTCThe smell of oil, pressing bodies and rotten food permeated the air, everyone deeply enrapt in their phone or in not making eye contact with the people around them. The walls were stained with things I didn’t want to think about, trash tucked into corners or mashed flat from the numerous apathetic people that marched through here daily.
Ah, the New York subway system. I should have known that when SHIELD comes to Jessica Jones with a PI job, they weren’t looking for someone to stake out the Waldorf.
Keeping my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket, I swept my gaze around the subway platform with the bored stare I’d perfected since moving to this city. People were milling about like ants. The usual working stiffs in ties and skirts, the punks and hustlers, the wannabe artists, all walking with their heads down, pushing through the sea of humanity. A woman in overstressed sweatpants was bawling into her phone at someone named Ricky, a street musician was playing an off-key version of “somewhere over the rainbow” on the trombone and a group of punks were leaning against the far wall, a few of them eyeing me thoughtfully.
I glanced at the punks for a moment. Nothing new there; I always attracted the classiest guys. I was hot, no doubt. Great legs, dark hair, tight butt; I know what they were looking at. Something about the tight, ratty jeans, worn out leather jacket, and the bargain bin tank top seemed to make losers think we were meant to be. It was almost enough to make me consider changing my look.
Ignoring the tatted-up Romeos for a moment, I slipped my phone out of my pocket and made like the rest of the people in the station. But I wasn’t checking my Facebook and this doohickey wasn’t just a phone. According to the SHIELD bozo that gave me the job, it had a built-in meta-scanner along with dossiers of the super creeps I was tracking down. I keyed on the scanner gadget and made my way through the press of people, following the readings it gave me.
I wasn’t after any big names. They had some telepathy, minor blasting powers, shape shifting and had been using them for mostly nickel and dime type stuff. Four of them, all men, all young, all escapees from low level super prison. If they had been a big threat, SHIELD would have had their own people on it.
I didn’t care. Money was money.
The doohickey was actually pretty useful. The screen showed colorful shapes of the people around me, sort of like a thermal scan on the movies. People were colored based on their meta human potential. The most normal person in the world would be a dark blue, while I was a bright red, but most people were somewhere in the middle. Everyone had a little bit of meta potential, I guess.
I strolled around casually, occasionally looking up but mostly keeping my eyes on the screen. The only lead I had was these guys were working out of the subway somehow and this was the fifth stop I’d been to, walking around with my doohickey. I didn’t have high hopes that I’d run into any of them this time, but hell, I charged by the hour. If I was lucky, it would be another four stops before I saw these jokers.
When I finally did see them, it was with my naked eye.
Some jerk bumped into me and I looked up to scowl at him. I should have thanked the guy; if he hadn’t made me look up, I might not have seen them.
Three men were standing just at the “subway personnel only” sign that was set in front of the maintenance doors. I recognized Alvin Caudelle, John Hutton, and Patrick Kelly from their dossiers, but in those pictures they had been wearing prison orange. Now they were dressed to the nines, in pressed suits and shiny shoes, silk ties loosened and looking utterly relaxed.
No wonder they had been able to hide for so long. They looked so much like mid-level stockbrokers, I had to check the doohickey to be sure. They didn’t light up as red as I had, but they stood out amongst the rest of the crowd like jalapenos at a blueberry convention.
I kept my features flat and bored, but I was thinking fast. Bringing these guys in would be great if I wanted more SHIELD contract work. I’d already handled plenty of guys more bad ass than they were and if there was just one or maybe two of them, I could strut over and conk them on the head before they knew what was up. But there were three; that could give me trouble.
I stood still for a moment, pretending to be enrapt in my phone as I thought it through.
SHIELD wouldn’t be happy if I tore up a subway or one of these idiots flash fried a couple of civilians. The smart thing would be to watch them, tail them and wait until one of them was alone, or just call it in.
And so, for once in my life, I did the smart thing. I waited a second to avoid any suspicious movement, tucked the phone back into my pocket, then slowly turned on my heel towards to the exit.
I collided with another man in a suit, lean with a thin mustache and a welcoming smile. When he spoke, it was with a British accent.
“Careful, my dear,” he looped an arm around my waist, “You almost took a fall.”
I’d like to say I had a quick retort, but I just gaped at him, blinking all doe eyed. The man I’d bumped into was the fourth meta, Charlie Floyd, the telepathic one.
And he had a snub-nosed pistol pressed just under my left breast.
I slowly looked down at the gun then back up at him. I was strong, but a bullet in the heart would kill me just as fast as anyone else.
“Let’s not do anything rash, please,” he said, “I know you have powers. If you do anything too sudden, I’m afraid I’ll have to end your life.”
Charlie kept me close, keeping the pistol between us and smiling like we were good friends. No one around us could see the gun; it looked like we were acquaintances, maybe old flames, having run into each other on accident.
I swallowed, “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please,” his eyes twinkled, “I expected they would send someone after us eventually. I didn’t expect someone so… fetching.”
My brow lowered and I scowled. Right, a telepath. Kinda hard to pull off a lie on someone that can read your mind.
“Now then,” he let his hand slip from my waist, “Stay very still.”
I did what I was told but looked around quickly for other options. Never a cop when you need one and no one was even glancing in our direction.
“Don’t be stupid,” I said, my voice tight, “Shoot me and cops will be all over you.”
“Then I recommend you do exactly as I say,” Charlie dug in his coat pocket, “If we’re confronted, my friends and I will make an even larger mess.”
I didn’t have much of a response to that. These guys weren’t exactly Thanos, but they could still handle some cops and cause a shit ton of collateral damage at the same time.
From his pocket Charlie produced a white sticker, circular and raised. He bit the tab and pealed the back off with his teeth, then gently smoothed it on my skin, just below my collar bone.
There had to be some way to get away from this creep…
“Relax,” he said, “It’s just a little medicine. And I would stop thinking about escape. That’s not an option at this point.”
I flinched, glaring at him. It was one thing to know someone was probably reading your mind, another for them to tell you what you’re thinking.
“Listen, ass hole,” I snapped, “You’ve got a cute shtick, but the second you slip up I’m going to take your head off. This is not how you want to play this.”
He moved beside me and hooked my left arm into the crook of his right, pressing the pistol against my ribs. It was graceful, almost like a dance move, and I was so surprised I just blinked at him like a moron.
“My dear,” he smiled patiently, “The moment that intent enters your mind, I’ll simply pull the trigger. You are going to accompany me outside and it is in everyone’s best interests for you to do it quietly and pleasantly. Like we’re going for a nice little stroll.”
I wanted to grab him by the jaw and turn that smug smile of his inside out. Literally.
“Like hell.”
“Oh?” he arched an eyebrow, “Would you prefer I pull the trigger now?”
I wanted to tell him to get bent… but I didn’t. He was right. I could punch him into next week if I had time to swing, but there was no way I could do it before he put a bullet in my heart. Not without some kind of distraction.
I looked around for a moment, hoping for exactly that. If I were an Avenger, I guarantee at that moment someone would have noticed the gun, screamed and threw off Charlie’s concentration just long enough for me to throw him into his buddies. But I don’t live a charmed life. No one noticed the gun, tucked under our arms. No one was even looking at us. I couldn’t even see the other three thugs anymore, which wasn’t good. They were probably taking positions, ready to hit me from all sides if Charlie messed up.
“I assure you, you have no control of this situation,” he said, “Now… shall we?”
I’d been outsmarted and outmaneuvered. He had me, he knew it, I knew it and he knew I knew it. And so I walked, letting him lead me back towards the entrance, quietly. Just like he asked.
It wasn’t my proudest moment. As we walked up the steps to street level, I scowled at my feet like a teenager being dragged to a family reunion. I glanced around every now and then, but no one was rushing to the rescue, no one was watching and quietly calling the cops, no one was even making eye contact.
Hurray for the friendliness of New Yorkers.
“Where are your buddies?” I grumbled once we were in the open air.
“Not to worry, they’ll be along,” he replied, “And left this way.”
We turned onto one of the less busy streets, passing less people, which was good and bad. Bad in that he would more likely getting away with shooting me, good in there’d be less chance of collateral damage if I had to throw down. I just needed an opportunity.
I was looking around for something to use to my advantage when I noticed a strange taste in my mouth. You know how after you take some strong meds, you sometimes get dry mouth, but also kind of a taste like old pennies? That was starting to creep up on me and the sticker he’d put on my chest was starting to throb. A tingling was spreading under my skin, from my scalp to my fingertips. I blinked and shivered slightly, feeling light-headed.
“That would be the medicine, my dear,” Charlie explained as he led me along, “You should feel a bit puny for a few moments, but it will pass.”
I tried to glare hotly, but I had a feeling I looked more worried than dangerous. His smile broadened a bit at the look and his eyes twinkled.
“What… the hell is it?”
We turned into a narrow alley and the tingles spread down my legs, to my toes.
“It’s a transdermal patch, introducing a serum into your system to dampen your powers.”
I blanched, gaping at him.
The ass hole just smiled, “Temporarily, of course. I have more permanent apparatus to neuter your abilities, but they’re a bit difficult to carry in a coat pocket.”
After staring for a moment, I shook it off and scowled. I was getting really tired of this guy surprising me.
“That’s not how powers work, dip shit,” I snapped, “If there was some cream I could put on to make me normal, I’d have used it a long time ago.”
Charlie just shrugged, “You’ll see for yourself. Let’s stop here; this should be fine.”
We stopped and he turned to face me, backing up a pace but keeping the gun level with my chest. He was still smiling, his eyes roaming up and down; the prick was enjoying every second of this.
I tried to ignore my dizziness and glared back at him, feeling sullen and useless.
“So lovely,” he sighed, “And so fiery. I shall have to thank SHIELD for sending you after us. I expected this to be much more of a chore.”
“You’ll wish they sent someone else when I’m tearing you a new ass hole!” I snarled.
But even as I said this, my cheeks warmed and I knew I was blushing. I scowled even harder, hoping to hide it. Goddamnit, what the hell was wrong with me?! How was this prick able to keep making me act like a fucking teenager?!
“Charming,” he chuckled, reaching into his other pocket, “Now turn around, if you please. Face the wall.”
Still stung and humiliated by how easily I was being handled, I just glared.
“Please,” Charlie said, “You’ve been well-behaved so far. It would be tragic if it was all for nothing.”
My eyes smoldered into his, furious, daring him to do it
He cocked the pistol.
I managed to hold the glare for another moment. In this neighborhood he could blow me away, then stroll across the street and buy an ice cream without anyone stopping him. I could keep glaring at him and die in a gutter for no reason or do what he said. I didn’t have any other options.
Not feeling at all super heroic, I lowered my eyes. I shuffled in place, turning my back to him, face towards the wall.
His footsteps came from behind me a moment later and I heard the ratcheting clicks of handcuffs.
“Just relax, my dear.”
He took my wrist and I stiffened. If he didn’t have the gun in his hand, I could turn and—
“Ah ah ah,” the gun barrel pressed into my back, “Careful now.”
I gritted my teeth and glowered at him over my shoulder. Goddamnit, how was I supposed to surprise a telepath?!
“You can’t,” Charlie answered, “It wouldn’t go well for you, particularly without your powers.”
AARGH! Ass hole!
“Perhaps,” he answered me again, “Now stay still.”
I shared some other NC-17 words with him, but I let my shoulders slouch, glaring down at my toes so he couldn’t see the embarrassed flush of my cheeks.
He took my wrist and I let him maneuver it behind my back. A moment later a cold, metal cuff closed into place around it and he took the other one to repeat the process. He probably took the gun off me for a second, but I stayed still, letting him cuff my other wrist. He’d made his point.
Click-click.
The cuffs held my hands tight behind my back. I’d been handcuffed before, but they had felt fragile then, like toys that would break if I swung my arm around. Now they felt uncompromising. Final. Like I wasn’t getting out of them this time. Were my powers really gone?
I started to have a sinking feeling that I was really screwed.
“Nice and safe,” Charlie took me by the elbow, “We may have to wait for a few minutes, but my colleagues should be along shortly. Then we can get out of this dirty alley way.”
He turned my arm and I followed it around to face him, my jaw working as fear started to creep up on me. He didn’t have the gun in his hands now. I flexed arms, trying to snap the handcuffs like cheap plastic.
They didn’t budge.
“I’ll have to search you,” he took my chin, tilting it up to look at him, “Is there anything you have on you which you’d like to tell me about? It will make things go a bit smoother.”
I winced as I strained at the cuffs, the metal grinding into my skin. They didn’t even creak.
I know he noticed when my eyes widened. He was telling the truth. I didn’t have my powers. Not only couldn’t I take him by surprise, but it wouldn’t matter if I did. For the first time in a long time, I was truly helpless.
I felt very small, looking up at him, jaw slack, eyes as big as saucers, a crease forming in my brow as I struggled to fight panic.
My captor watched me with a patient smile, stroking my chin with his thumb.
“Well?” he asked again.
I swallowed a huge lump in my throat, struggling to organize my thoughts. He’d be able to tell if I lied to him or even if I was holding something back. Why was he even bothering to ask?
I considered that for a moment and decided it didn’t matter. If he didn’t already know, he’d find out. Why bother fighting it? What was the point of fighting at all?
My worry faded to resignation. The answer was there was no point. He wasn’t just right about my powers, he was right about everything.
My shoulders slumped, defeated.
“Left pocket of my jacket,” I sighed, “It’s a scanning thing they gave me. Finds metas.”
He reached into my pocket, still holding my elbow in case I tried to pull away. He didn’t have to; I didn’t move while he groped around and found the phone-like device.
“Thank you,” Charlie tucked the scanner into his own pocket. He leaned a bit closer, “Is there anything else?”
I told him. I told him where my wallet was, my keys, my actual cell phone, my notepad, everything. Every time I did, he thanked me and gave me a pleased nod, like I’d passed some kind of test. A couple of times I tried the handcuffs again, but they stayed firm and unbreakable. All my attempts managed to prove was that my powers weren’t coming back any time soon. I really was his prisoner.
Once I had nothing else to tell him, he told me to stand still and began patting me down. He moved briskly but professionally, feeling inside my coat, then down my ribs and waist, under my bra line, anywhere a wire or something small could be hidden. I expected him to take more liberties, but he stayed on task, combing his fingers through my hair, ruffling through all my pockets, checking me thoroughly and dispassionately.
I let my eyes and thoughts wander as he did. People passed by the alleyway and a few looked in our direction, but this wasn’t the type of neighborhood where anyone stopped to help. I didn’t bother calling out to them either; unless a superhero or a SWAT team wandered by, there was nothing anybody could do anyway.
While he turned me around to paw down my legs and checked my boots, I wondered what this was all about. Since he’d known I was watching them, he could have just given me the slip and moved on somewhere else. Now that he had me here, depowered and at his mercy, he could cuff me to a pipe or just shoot me and be on his way. There were tons of ways he could be done with me and go back to thieving, but instead he was going through all this trouble.
Toward the end of his search, Charlie had found a five-dollar bill in the back pocket of my jeans and I had a pressing question.
“What…” I asked slowly, “Are you going to do with me?”
He felt along the inside of my thigh, then pushed up the backside of my coat to check my lower back.
“Let’s not to think about that too much, my dear,” the thief said pleasantly, “We won’t simply be letting you go, after all.”
Finally finished with his search, he took me by the elbow and turned me sideways towards him. I looked at him warily. He was eyeing me with the same thoughtful expression my stepmom had when she perused a Denny’s menu.
“That being said,” Charlie stepped closer, “I can guarantee you that your odds will improve drastically if you prove yourself… cooperative.”
His palm slid across the tight seat of my jeans. There was nothing professional about that; he groped over one side of my ass and was crossing the taut denim to the other side. My jeans weren’t completely skintight, but I had a good butt that forced them to strain, making the back pockets round. He felt around in a slow, wide circle, clearly taking his time, enjoying it.
I flinched but stayed where I was. Him handling my ass made me want to knock his head off, but even without the cuffs I knew I couldn’t. What was I going to do, kick him in the shins? And he’d probably see it coming anyway.
I settled for scowling at him, trying to focus on that instead of how he groping me. And how I was just standing there, letting him.
He gave my butt a little exploratory squeeze.
“Oh, such a pout,” he smirked, “You do have lovely eyes, you know.”
“Bite me.” I growled.
“Charming.”
The creaking of brakes drew my attention to the street. A dark blue panel van had pulled up at the end of the alleyway and stopped. The driver tapped on the horn twice and Charlie smiled.
“It looks like our ride has arrived,” he patted the seat of my jeans, “Let’s go, then. Nice and easy.”
He started forward and drew me along with the hand on my butt. I paused only a second before I let him lead me, lowering my head to glower at my feet.
Our pace was brisk, but we weren’t really hurrying, giving me plenty of time to dwell on his hand. I could feel the halves of my rump pressing in and out against his palm, a shifting rhythm that matched my steps. I ground my teeth in frustration for letting myself get caught like this. I had made it so easy for him.
After a few more paces, he spoke up.
“Tell me your name now, please.”
I glared up at him, feeling bitter and not overly charitable.
“Why don’t you just read my mind, ass hole?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t know it,” he raised an eyebrow, “I said I wanted you to tell me.”
I glared at him for another moment, before relenting and looking away. It’s not like it mattered. He literally had my ass in the palm of his hand. Giving him my name wasn’t exactly going to make things any worse.
“Jessica.” I grumbled, “Happy now?”
“I’m certainly not displeased,” he grinned, “It’s been quite a fortunate day for me so far.”
Charlie leaned towards me, like he was sharing a secret.
“Although,” he said in a softer voice, “It would behoove you to be more careful with your tone around my colleagues. I wager they won’t find it as amusing as I do.”
We reached the van and the panel door slid open, hands reaching for me before I noticed the faces they belonged to. They took me by the arms and “helped” me inside, Charlie hopping up right after.
As soon as we were in, the door slid shut and the driver pulled away from the curb.
The van’s interior was bare metal, the seats and upholstery having been removed or never installed. The extra room was taken up by a few plastic crates, like the kind you’d get at the Container Store to keep arts and craft stuff.
One of the men, a red head with a scar over his lip, reached into a container and withdrew a roll of duct tape.
“Open wide.” He smiled at me.
He’d been in the subway, one of the guys I’d spotted. Patrick Kelly. This whole thing must have been a setup from the beginning, three of them drawing my eye while Charlie took me from the side. And I’d walked right into it like a tool.
I gave Patrick a level look, but I did what I was told. I opened and he pushed a wadded cloth inside, filling it and pressing down my tongue. My nose wrinkled in disgust and my expression got a little more heated, but he just ripped off a strip of tape and laid it across my mouth. Cupping my jaw in either hand, he placed his thumbs in the middle, then smoothed them out over my lips and cheeks, making sure the seal was nice and snug.
“Mrrmhh…” my dark eyes flashed angrily above the gag.
He didn’t seem overly impressed.
“So, who do we got here?” the other man looked me up and down, “A SHIELD agent?”
John Hutton. The dossier I’d been given was vague about his powers, but said it involved something with lizards.
“See for yourself,” Charlie tossed John my wallet.
John caught it and began flicking through the contents.
“Her name is Jessica Jones,” Charlie continued, smiling at me, “She’s a private investigator, but it appears she was hired by SHIELD to help track us down. On a trial basis to see if she can handle bigger jobs, she believes.”
“Wellp,” Patrick sneered, “I think you just failed this trial, sweetie.”
I scowled at Charlie first, then Patrick, but I couldn’t put as much venom into it as I would have liked. The men had formed a little triangle with me in the middle. Without my powers I couldn’t help feeling cornered, insecure, and surrounded.
The van hit a bump and we all swayed. The crooks managed to reach out for something to balance themselves, but I staggered into Charlie, who put a hand on my shoulder to keep me from falling. I glared at his hand, then at him, but I could feel my cheeks getting warm. Damnit, I hate feeling helpless.
Charlie clucked his tongue and grinned at me in a way that only made me flush hotter.
Goddamnit. And this shit head knew exactly how I was feeling.
I tried to pull away but he kept his grip on my shoulder, reminding me how much stronger he was without my powers.
“Pretty thing, isn’t she?” the ass hole looked me over thoughtfully, “And a meta human, I might add. Very strong when she’s not wearing a medicinal patch.”
“A meta, huh?” Patrick frowned at that, “You sure she’s… under control?”
“Positive,” Charlie replied, “But… we do have a few of those prison necklaces, do we not?”
Patrick frowned at his partner, then at me. He looked me up and down again, but not so admiringly this time. More like he was wondering how big a hole he’d need to bury me in.
“I understand your concern,” my telepathic captor said, “But she’s been quite cooperative. Even helpful, one could say.”
He stroked a loose strand of hair from my forehead and I flinched, bristling.
Prick.
Not that I could say anything in my defense. I’d been a goddamn model prisoner for him so far.
He brushed a finger through my hair again and this time I just let him, scowling at him bitterly. So much for being a bad ass superhero.
Patrick’s expression hadn’t changed. He slowly looked back and forward between me and Charlie, turning the roll of duct tape over and over in his hand. He started to say something but grunted and changed his mind.
“Yeah,” he said instead, “I’ll bet she has…”
With that he turned and dropped the duct tape into one of the containers, then began scrounging for something else.
I looked at him, my brow furrowing slightly. Something about how he’d said that made me think there was something more significant behind the words. Like it meant something to Charlie.
I glanced back at Charlie but he didn’t seem moved. He glided his fingers through my hair and smirked at me, his eyes twinkling. Like he was enjoying watching the thoughts bounce around in my head.
I looked away, but my suspicion remained. What did he mean ‘I’ll bet she has’?
Still going through my wallet, John plucked out one of my business cards, holding it up between his index and middle finger.
“Hey, she’s a PI all right,” he read, “Alias Investigations. We got an address here too. It’s, uh… actually it’s only a couple of miles from here, I think.”
I groaned inwardly, rolling my eyes at my own bad luck. Of COURSE, one of them would know the area well enough to be able to lead them right to my home. After everything else that had happened today, why not?
Charlie placed a finger on my cheek and I let him turn my face towards him, staring at him flatly. His brow lowered and he looked through my eyes, concentrating. I expected him to say something smug or maybe threaten me but instead his gaze lingered, staring deep, his eyes focused on something inside mine.
Before it could occur to me that he was invading my mind, he was already smiling again, having found exactly what he was looking for.
“That’s where we’ll be going, then,” he said, “Her office has a few bits of valuable equipment. And more importantly, she has some documents that will be very useful to us.”
I stiffened. Their dossiers and the other paperwork SHIELD had given me. The ass hole had reached into my mind and now he knew about everything I had there. I hadn’t felt a thing, but he’d just leafed through my memories like he was browsing a magazine!
“Mrrrh!” I jerked my face from his hand, glaring.
“Uh oh,” John laughed, “She didn’t like that!”
Charlie narrowed his eyes but kept smiling, “Now, now, Jessica. Mind your language.”
“Maybe this will cheer her up,” Patrick retrieved what he was looking for, “Some nice, shiny jewelry.”
I looked over my shoulder to see him approaching me from behind with something metal in his hand. It looked like a wristband of chrome segments connect by a wire mesh, at least an inch thick and two or three inches wide. It had a glass face on the front, almost like a watch, but instead of putting it on my wrist, he moved to my neck.
I flinched away and tried to face him, but Charlie grabbed my arm before I could turn all the way around.
Patrick sneered at me and held up a hand, palm up. With a faint woosh of igniting oxygen, blue flame licked up from his skin, engulfing his hand. Unhurt, even grinning broader, he held his palm out, drawing it towards my face.
I leaned back, my breath catching in my chest, but I couldn’t go far with Charlie holding my arm. His hand moved towards my neck and my eyes grew wide as I felt the heat under my chin. It quickly went from uncomfortable to painful, biting at my skin.
“MMPPH!” I yelped beneath my gag, trying to jerk away.
“Stay,” Patrick told me, “Still.”
I swallowed and stared at him. The firelight was dancing in his eyes, making his grin seem demonic. All he’d have to do to kill me, or at the very least alter my definition of pain, was to move his hand a couple more inches. I’d have a scar for the rest of my life, if he didn’t just melt my esophagus.
I realized right then that I wasn’t just annoyed. I was scared. I’d thought of myself as tough, even disdainful of danger, but I’d had my powers for most of my life at this point. Suddenly without them, I didn’t feel brave at all. I felt like I’d been put in the body of someone feeble, who couldn’t defend themselves, at the mercy of everything around me. How much of my confidence had come with knowing that I could bench press a cement mixer?
The fire in his hand went out, but I continued to stare at him, shaken. I must have looked pretty scared because he and Charlie both chuckled.
“Now lift your little chin nice and high,” Patrick cooed, “Look at the ceiling.”
My brow furrowed for a moment, not wanting to take my eyes off him, but then I did was I was told. I lifted my chin, craning my neck back and exposing my throat. Then I stayed still, just like he wanted.
“Good girl,” he said, then reached for me.
I began to feel very tired as he bunched up my hair and lifted it out of the way of my neck. He looped the metal band around my throat and the mesh between the segments flexed, letting him stretch it all the way around my neck then connect both ends in the back with a formidable clack. It fit snugly without choking me and I stayed where I was, letting him collar me like a dog.
Once the collar was in place, he let my hair fall back down and reached around to press a button beside the glass face on the front. Something inside the collar hummed and immediately the mesh went rigid, not constricting but becoming as solid as a steel bar. It went from a watch band to unrelenting metal that had been expertly fitted to my neck, something I wouldn’t be able to remove without a miracle and a diamond saw.
“There we go,” Patrick smirked, “Welcome to our world for the past six months, sweetie. As long as you’ve got that collar on, your powers go bye bye. Try to take it off, it goes boom.”
I lowered my chin and then just let my head drop altogether, hanging, feeling as defeated as I ever had. I couldn’t fight them, I couldn’t keep secrets from them, I couldn’t even not do what they told me.
Charlie patted my butt and I didn’t even bother looking at him. I stood there, letting him feel the round shapes wobble beneath my tight jeans.
“See?” he grinned, “Quite a cooperative girl. One could hardly ask for a more pleasant prisoner.”
“Yeah, hardly,” Patrick drawled, reaching back into a plastic container. He withdrew a few black zip ties, all bunched together, “All right, hon. Let’s get you a little more secure for while you wait in the van. Don’t want you trying to run away.”
He knelt down, pushed my knees together, then looped a zip tie around them.
Before he finished, Charlie suddenly spoke up.
“Actually,” one side of his mouth quirked up, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Patrick paused and looked up just as he was about to cinch the zip tie shut. He squinted at his British colleague, borderline annoyed.
“Chuck, I don’t care how ‘cooperative’ she is,” he said, “I’m not leaving her in the van with her legs free.”
“You won’t need to,” Charlie replied, “As she won’t be staying in the van.”
He crooked a finger under my chin and tilted it up. I wearily met his gaze, not having the heart to glare.
“It might be suspicious if four strange men entered her office and began carrying things away,” he explained, as much to me as Patrick, “She’s going to come with us and explain everything to any nosey neighbor with a meddling query.”
I swallowed, my eyes getting a little bigger.
“She’s going to give us combinations to safes and passwords to computers,” he continued, narrowing his eyes, “And do everything she can to make our work as quick and efficient as possible. She’ll do this because the sooner and cleaner we get out, the less likely it will be that we need to destroy the building. You don’t want that, do you, Jessica?”
I didn’t hesitate for long; there wasn’t any choice. Looking in his eyes, I shook my head, like a well-trained schoolgirl.
He smiled.
Comments
Thanks! I had fun with this one! Will post the second part next week, unless snowmageddon continues!
Yo Yo
You’re a very talented creative writer mate. Loved the searching scene in particular and Charlie’s character. I’ve found that fleshing out the protagonist makes it that much more satisfying when she’s ultimately beaten and defeated. Great work!
Thanks! What do you think of Charlie?
Markus Jones
Loved it! Great work! The first person narrative was great for Jessica's inner thoughts. I really liked the quick setup and how easily she was defeated, doing the small patch in public was awesome. Also loved the simplicity of just using a gun to keep her under control, the simple options feel so much more real and a lot more humbling for the heroine.
