Sanctum

by Darkpenn

To rescue a group of mutant slaves, Ellie and Christina need a new ally.

Sanctum

To rescue a group of mutant slaves, Ellie and Christina need a new ally.

[Author's note: This story takes place soon after the end of the story Calibration. It is the third of a four-part series.]

Ellie stopped in front of the apartment where, she had been told by the guy who ran the bar, Deadpool lived. She hammered on the door. "Open up, Douchepool!" she shouted.

But it was Vanessa who opened the door. "Hey, I know you," she said. "You helped me out of that glass tube at the ... well, you know."

"Call me Ellie. Where's the asshole?"

"Out fighting evil, I think. Or possibly at the store."

"Good. Because it's you that I came to see."

"Really? Well, I guess I should invite you in then. I don't know any of Deadpool's friends."

"You still don't. I'm not what you would call a friend. Guy pisses me off no end."

"He does that to most people. Part of his charm."

"If you say so. Anyway, I thought you might be able to help me track something down. You used to work in a strip club, right?"

"Still do. As a waitress. Before that I was a stripper and before that a hooker."

"Then you might be able to tell me if there is a brothel that specialises in mutants. Heard of it?"

"You looking for a job?"

"My understanding is that the mutants who work there are effectively slaves. My plan is more like getting them out, blowing the people who run it into small pieces, and then burning the whole place to the ground."

"Well," said Vanessa. "That's ... interesting."

"Do you object to the concept?"

"Not at all. I have always said that if someone wants to be a hooker or a stripper they should be able to do it, but no-one should be forced into it. You think that these mutants came from the Factory?"

"I think so. Has Douchepool ever mentioned it?"

"No, but he never talks about the Factory. Understandably. You can call him Wade, you know."

"Wade!? His name is Wade!? Now there's a stupid."

Vanessa shrugged. "I heard ... rumours ... about it. About a place that offered ... unusual services ... for specific tastes. I never heard where it was. But I can quietly ask around if you like. I still have some contacts in the profession."

Ellie nodded. "Good enough, and I appreciate it," she said. She handed Vanessa a card with her number.

"And once you've burned it down, what will you do with the slaves? Are you going to just say, you're free now, off you go and have a nice life? I can guarantee that they will be back in the prostitution business within a week, either because someone else snatches them up while they're wondering what to do or because they have to eat."

"I have some thoughts but nothing I'm willing to go into at the moment. As for the brothel, if you can get a location I'll take it from there." She rose to leave, and Vanessa walked with her to the door.

As she reached the street, she encountered Deadpool – Wade – going in. He was wearing a hoodie, with a mask over part of his face and dark glasses. He was carrying a bag of groceries.

"Chicken Noodle!" he said. "You look suitably embittered and estranged by life's rich tapestry of experiences."

"I've missed you too. No, wait, I haven't. Not at all."

"When are you going to grow some hair?"

"When are you going to grow some personality?"

"Funny, you are a funny teen girl. Hey, was that you who caused a bloody swamp of destruction at a piece of freeway I once called my own?"

"It's mine now." She straddled the bike.

"Oh, I am impressed," said Wade, looking at the bike. "And I'm not easy to impress. Oh, look, a blue car."

Ellie sighed. "At some point, Homer," she said, "I would like us to sit down somewhere pleasant so you can tell me all about the Factory."

"Uh, how can I put this, no fucking way."

"Way."

"No. And why do you ask?"

"The more I know about it, the more I know how to help the people who went through it."

"Well, in that case, definitely most certainly no. Which is to say, possibly. Or are you talking about a date on the sly? You young devil, you."

Ellie grimaced. "Such an asshole," she murmured. She started up the bike and was off.

Wade watched her go. "Huh," he said.

Part II

Ellie had to admit: Vanessa had style. Deep cool. As she came across the cafe the crowd cleared a way for her, and then watched her walk by with admiration. Ellie sighed. She knew she would never have ... whatever it was.

Vanessa saw her and came over. She was about to sit down ... and then she saw Christina, who was also seated at the table. She visibly started. For a moment Ellie thought she was going to turn and run. Or pull out a gun.

"The last time I met you," said Ellie to Christina, "you locked me in a torture tube. The time before that, you beat me senseless."

"Maybe you were senseless before I beat you. And it was my job."

"Which you did with a great deal of enjoyment."

"When I saw you in the club one time, you were taking your clothes off and men were throwing money at you. You looked like you were having a pretty good time. Nice rack, by the way."

The two of them stared at each other, thinking unpleasant thoughts.

"Please sit down, Vanessa," said Ellie.

Rather reluctantly, she did.

"So you've switched sides," said Vanessa to Christina. "Is this how you get redemption?"

"Why do people keep saying that?" said Christina.

"Vanessa, you said in your message that you had located the mutant brothel," said Ellie.

"I guy I used to know from the club did some temp work as a bodyguard there. He gave me the address. The bad news is that there is heavy security. The guy who runs it is just a manager, not the owner. My contact didn't know much else."

"So we break down the door and beat everyone who isn't a mutant to pulp," said Christina.

"You heard me say there was heavy security, right? But, no, go ahead, get yourself shot to pieces. Please."

"How heavy?" said Ellie.

"The guy I spoke to is former Army. That means at least a squad of guards, with big guns and solid training. Probably surveillance everywhere. Generally, the security level goes up with the hooker price. And these ones will be expensive. Not that they would see any of the money, of course."

"How many are likely to be there?"

"Probably seven or eight. More than that, it gets hard to manage. "

Ellie was thinking. "Yeah, you're right about a frontal assault being out. At the least, the slaves are likely to get smashed up in the crossfire." She glanced at Christina, who gave a little nod.

"Uh, I have a plan for us," said Vanessa.

Ellie shook her head. "There is no 'us'," she said.

Vanessa sighed. "So aside from the fact that I haven't told you the address, you think you can handle everything, do you? You know how to talk to hookers? And bodyguards? You know what a brothel looks like? Ever been in one?"

"Yes, I have," said Christina.

Ellie and Vanessa stared at her.

"And I gave a big tip," she added.

Ellie and Vanessa both rolled their eyes.

"No choice, eh?" said Ellie to Vanessa.

"Not really, no."

Ellie considered. "Tell me more about this plan of yours," she said.

John Fortescue had problems. The people who owned the House of M did not like to be told that there were ... issues ... with the business. But what could he tell them at the next meeting? After all, the sudden disappearance of control collars from the market wasn't his problem, was it? Nothing to do with him. Perhaps they would understand.

There were no collars left in the storeroom. The ones currently in use had only a few weeks of power left. After that ... what?

He had considered other options. Getting the workers addicted to drugs was an option, but pushing dope onto Factory mutants could cause problems. Something to do with the serum used on them, maybe. The last time he had tried it the hooker had, well, exploded. Made a horrible mess, they had hardly been able to get the room ready for the next client.

Another option was to use collars which gave off electric shocks. Like you used on dogs. He liked the idea but mutants could be tricky. Damn things could start to think that the fact they had powers made them special somehow. Nevertheless, the plan might give him enough time to cash out of the business and make a clean departure before the owners decided that he was somehow responsible.

The intercom that connected to the front desk buzzed. He pushed the button.

"There's someone here who wants to talk to you," said the guard. "She says she has the solution to your problem."

He put the phone on speaker, so the people at the desk could hear it. "And what problem would that be?" he said.

"I am Ms Katt," purred a woman. "And I mean the problem about a shortage of collars for the pets."

He jumped. What ... !?

He tried to steady himself. "We don't have any problems like that," he said. "But I'm always happy to meet with someone with such a sexy voice. I'll send some people to show you the way."

"And I look forward to meeting a man of such ... acumen," said Ms Katt.

In the foyer at the front desk, Vanessa glanced at the Ellie. "Remember, keep your head down," she said. "You're a slave, remember. Hey, I just thought of something. Christina, are any of the workers here likely to recognise you? They might have the same reaction I did."

"No, I was never in that part of the Factory. Never heard of it, didn't even know it existed. Damn, this shirt is tight around the assets." She tried to adjust the uniform she was wearing, working around the large box she was carrying.

"Perhaps you should try not breathing for, like, forever."

"Skank."

"Freak."

"Shut up, both of you," said Ellie. "It's game time."

A group of four men – heavily built and heavily armed – appeared. One directed them to walk along the corridor. Then the men took up positions around them. Cover formation.

Ellie, while keeping her head down, looked around as they walked towards a door at the far end. She had expected the place to be more like brothels she had seen in movies, with over-elaborate carpets and crappy, sleazy music. But this place, with its white walls and polished floor, looked more like an expensive medical clinic. She reminded herself that they were on a high floor of a city skyscraper.

She wondered what happened behind the doors that lined the corridor. She thought that perhaps she didn't want to know.

There were no clients in sight but Vanessa had said that around eleven o'clock in the morning was always a slow time in the skin business. That was why they were here now.

They eventually reached the door at the end, which led them into an ante-office. There were more guards here, including some at a security station with a bank of video monitors, and a secretary. They went into the inner office, where Fortescue showed them to a meeting table which looked out over the city. The four guards took up positions around the office. Vanessa took a seat, with Ellie next to her. Christina, with the package, remained standing.

"Now, I believe you have a business proposition," said Fortescue. "Or is it the other sort?"

"I'm not averse to either," said Vanessa. "I appreciate a well-run business when I see one, Mister Fortescue. You have a good reputation in ... certain circles."

"It's always pleasing to hear that my efforts are appreciated," he said. "As well as my efforts to keep ... this species ... under control. And to give them the opportunity to be productive."

"I agree entirely. Such as this one." She pulled the scarf that Ellie was wearing away from her neck. There was a control collar. "She has her uses. She remembers things better than any tape recorder. Good for business purposes. But she also has other functions. She takes the strap well. I think she even likes it. Don't you, eh?" She poked Ellie in the ribs.

"Yes sir, I do," said Ellie, not looking up.

"You know, I think they all do," said Fortescue. "In their hearts, they know their place."

"True, although it is always prudent to have insurance. Hence the collar. But really, this is not what I am here to talk about. Putting it simply, I would like to invest in your business. Invest quite a lot of money. And I have these." She gestured, and Christina put the box on the table. Vanessa opened it.

A dozen control collars.

Fortescue fought to maintain his cool demeanour.

"As you probably know, no more are being made," said Vanessa. "But before the company that made them was ... wound up ... I took the precaution of laying in a good supply. These are just a small part of that. I will give these to you as a sign of my goodwill. And to show what a useful addition I would be to your group of directors."

"I am not sure that the consortium is considering new members," said Fortescue, "but I would be pleased to put your application for membership to them."

"And just who are they?"

"Uh, I'm not really at liberty to say. But I can tell you that the board includes people with the highest levels of influence. The very highest."

"Sounds good."

"But tell me, how can I be sure that these collars are the genuine article? They could be fakes."

"Don't be silly. You've seen how they effective they are with my pretty little whore here."

"I think I would need something else before I went to the board. A demonstration. On one of mine. In fact, there is one that has just finished with a client."

Vanesa smiled. "Certainly. And in return, I will take the opportunity to ... have some fun ... with her as well. Gratis."

Fortescue considered. "Very well," he said at last. He took one of the collars from the box and handed it to Vanessa. "This way. But I think your assistants can stay here. They won't be needed."

Vanessa smiled again. "Of course," she said.

He led her out of the office and to one of the rooms, accompanied by a guard. There was a mutant there, a woman, waiting.

"Silva," said Fortescue to her, "show our visitor what you can do."

The woman began to change colour, her skin becoming a shade of gleaming silver. She held up her hands, and they started to transform into a substance like mercury.

"You can see the potential, I'm sure," said Fortescue. "But if you prefer something else, we have a delightful young man who can grow whips from his palms and a woman who can make herself look like a pretty child. There's another that we call Vacuum, and I'll let you imagine why."

"Interesting," said Vanessa. "But for the moment I'll stay with this one."

She put the new collar onto the woman. Then Fortescue unlocked the old one and removed it.

Vanessa looked the woman in the eye. "You are really something," she said to her. "If you weren't working here, I'd take you away."

The woman shook her head, as if to clear a blur from her vision. "Wh ... what?" she said.

"I said that I would take you away with me if you weren't working here."

Silva stared at Vanessa.

"But of course, with a control collar working you don't have much choice," said Vanessa. "You should thank me for giving this new one to you."

"You heard the lady," said Fortescue.

"Thank you for giving me this collar," said Silva.

"And now, for the other part of the deal," said Vanessa to Fortescue. She began to remove her studded leather belt. "But I would prefer privacy. I'll join you in your office when I'm finished. I promise not to break her. Too much."

Fortescue smiled. Then he and the guard left. But Vanessa heard the guard take up a position outside the door.

Silva looked at Vanessa. She opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, Vanessa pulled her into her arms and kissed her, to prevent her from making a sound. She pulled back a little and whispered, "There might be microphones, so keep it low. How many more of you are there?" She took the collar off.

"Seven. The others are all in the dorm, I think. It's on the next floor down. But entry to that area is restricted. Only Fortescue can open that room. There's a thing that he puts his thumb on."

Vanessa grimaced. Her careful plan was unravelling. Now she was separated from the others, in a guarded room, and there were large men with guns everywhere.

She gulped. Maybe, she thought, she should stick to serving drinks and taking her clothes off.

She looked at Silva. The woman was trembling. "Please help us," she whispered. "Please."

Vanessa gulped again. She realised she was still holding the fake collar. Carefully, she hung it on the doorknob, and then led Silva to the other side of the room. They crouched behind the bed.

"Scream," she told her. "Like someone is beating the crap out of you. Can you manage that?"

Silva screamed.

Christina and Ellie were in the office when Fortescue returned.

"Well, the collars seem to be genuine and your boss is having a good time," he said to them. He gestured for one of the guards to pick up the box of collars. "Take these to the storeroom."

The man picked up the box and left. Christina put her hand into her pocket, touching the device there. She estimated that the man would be in the middle of the ante-office, where most of the guards were, in five seconds. Four. Three.

"Hey you," said one of the guards near the window to her. "What – ?"

Close enough. She pushed the button on the device. There was an explosion in the next room, and another one somewhere else.

Ellie stood up and threw off her coat. She generated a blast of energy that swept across the room. The window blew out and the three guards went tumbling through. There was a hurricane gust of wind.

"Oops," said Ellie. "Didn't mean to do the window."

Christina unbuttoned her shirt, thankfully drawing a breath. She watched the bodies spiral earthwards. "Meh, seemed to work well enough. I'll go and check the other room. If there's anyone still alive there, well, I'll fix that. As for you, Mister Asshole: stay. Not a move, not a sound." She went into the ante-office, and in a few moments there was the sound of her trademark brutality. Ellie went over to the desk and began to sort through documents. She found a file marked CONSORTIUM.

Vanessa came in, with a silver-skinned mutant. When the bomb in the fake collar had gone up, it had blown the door and taken out the guard. "This is Silva," she said. "And there is a problem. To get the others out, we need the asshole. There's a thumb-print security lock."

"Then actually we only need the thumb," says Christina, returning. She picked up a piece of glass from the shattered window. Then she grabbed Fortescue by the arm. She forced his hand down onto the desk. "Don't worry, this won't hurt."

He screamed as she sliced.

"Huh, guess I was wrong about it not hurting," said Christina.

Fortescue nursed his mutilated, bleeding hand. He turned to Silva. "You have to help me," he said. "After all I've done for you."

"Yes," she said. "After all you've done to me."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. Her skin of her face began to turn liquid. It ran over his nostrils, over his mouth, down into his throat.

He tried to struggle, tried to push himself away.

No.

Ellie had found a large briefcase and was cramming files and papers into it. She stopped as she read one. "Hey, this says that the most recent arrival was six months ago," she said.

"Yes, that's right, a guy called William," said Silva. "Not much more than a kid."

"That can't be," said Vanessa. "The Factory was destroyed nearly two years ago. Unless ... "

Ellie, Christina and Vanessa all looked at each other. "There's another one," said Ellie.

Christina dragged Fortescue's body to the window and threw it out. Just to make sure he was, you know, dead. "We have to move," she said. "There might be more guards. There always are."

They went to the dorm room. There was a guard station with two men outside the dorm room. Not for long.

Christina put Fortescue's thumb on the pad and the door opened. Inside, there were seven mutants, four women and three men, sitting on their beds with the blank-eyed look that control collars induced. Christina set about breaking the collars off.

When the mutants had begun to recover, Vanessa gathered them together. "We can get you out of here," she said. "To a safe place. If you have any possessions, anything you want to bring with you, get it now."

Watching her, Ellie realised that having Vanessa here was, really, the best thing. She knew how to talk gently, knew how to speak to people who were just emerging from dark shadows.

When everyone was together Ellie led to way to the elevator. It took them to the basement carpark.

"And there's our ride," said Christina. She pointed to their getaway vehicle: a mini-bus. The sign on the side said Western Shopping Mall Courtesy Shuttle.

"How did you get this thing?" said Silva as the mutants climbed aboard.

"Western Shopping Mall donated it to our cause," said Ellie.

"We stole it," said Christina.

Then the stairwell door opened. One of the guards stepped out. He was a heavy man and he had a heavy machine gun. He aimed at Christina.

There was a shot. The man's head exploded, and he went down.

Vanessa was behind him. Holding a smoking pistol. Big mother.

Ellie and Christina stared at her.

"What?" she said.

"Nice fucking weapon you've got there," said Christina.

"Desert Eagle 50 cal. You don't think I'd use some girlie-gun Remington, do you?"

"Guess not."

Vanessa looked down at the body. "I really should have let him shoot you. But ... oh well."

They climbed aboard. They set off.

Part III

The bus pulled to a halt and Christina opened the door. The refugees, blinking in the unaccustomed sunlight and the open space, got out.

There were two men waiting for them. One had a bone claw where a hand should have been. The other, an older man with grey hair, was smiling.

"Welcome," he said to them. "Welcome to Sanctum."

END

Note to readers: Darkpenn recently published a novel about a female superhero (sort of). Anyone who is interested can find it on Amazon. Title is I, Viridian: Supervillain. E-copy and hard copy. Author name is Derek Parker. Book blurb is:

This is the story of Viridian: supervillain, fan of Shakespeare, owner of many sexy shoes, carefree and irresponsible at the competitive level, bearer of a mystical gem that gives her incredible powers.

Raised by thieves to be a thief, she was never really a child, or never grew up, she doesn't know which. When she washes up on the shores of Oklahoma City, pursued by shadowy forces and an unknown enemy, she links up with an oddball gang of would-be supercriminals: mastermind Monk, samurai Tantō, strongman Cave, and the remarkable Flux.

And through them she discovers what it is she is looking for: a reason to fight, a reason to stay, a reason to care, and, most of all, a reason to love.