Sounds of Silence
Characters: Nostalgia Critic, OC, Various members of CA
Rating: PG 13 for now
Genre: AU/Science Fiction
Summary: Critic wants more out of life. He runs into a woman that seems to be exactly what he's looking for. There's just one slight problem...
Chapter One: Escape and Meeting
Sirens blared through the prison compound, sending lances of pain through the skulls of everyone within earshot. Lights flashed in staccato bursts, their patterns designed to cause nausea and disorientation and quell any ideas of escape. The inmates of Prison Planet 29213 were the dregs of Society, the castoff rejects of a world that had achieved Utopia. The 'physically and mentally deficient' were sent here to rot away in isolation while the rest of Society carried on quite nicely without them. Escape was near impossible, even without the alarms and lights. Planet 29213 was a Dead World, its atmosphere a deadly mix of ammonia and carbon dioxide. Only a few inmates had managed to get more than one hundred feet outside before choking to death on the poison air. Guards, visitors(what few there were) and the Warden traveled to and from the Planet via 'jump-holes', small pockets of space/time that allowed a person to go from one planet to another in the time it took to walk down a corridor. Any prisoner attempting to jump was shot on sight.
But that didn't mean that they stopped trying. Prisoner 34213, a young woman of about 32 years with close-cropped blue-green hair and dark blue eyes, had been sent to The Planet, as it was called, when she was twenty and her 'deficiency' had become public knowledge. She had attempted escape thirteen times since and was considered a High Risk, her cell constantly monitored by cameras and guarded by no more than five guards at a time. She glared at them in silent, defiant rage. They stared back, uncomfortable with her 'flaw'.
'Bastards. I'm going to get out of here, and there's not a goddam thing you can do about it.' She stuck her hands in the pockets of her prison uniform, fingering the small metal object she had managed to lift from a Visitor. She knew the dangers of opening a jump hole without having exact coordinates, but anything had to be better than rotting away in this poisonous Hell.
The lights flashed three times then went out, followed by the sirens. A guard came forward and tapped twice against the clear wall of her prison, leering at her. "Bedtime, dummy." She smiled sweetly at him, and he snorted. "Dumb bitch doesn't understand a word I say."
34213's smile turned hard, and before any of the guards could react she pulled the 'jump-hole' creator out of her pocket and slammed it hard against the back wall. A Door opened, its swirling blackness making her nerves falter for a millisecond before she closed her eyes and dove through.
Nostalgia Critic sighed as he turned down the street leading to the studio. Lately he'd been...out of it. He just seemed to be going through the motions of reviewing and living. Rob had put it pretty well when he told Critic "You're turning into a damn zombie, and not the kind that eats brains." Critic couldn't deny this, and he had told Rob that he would try to find things to make his life more interesting, but really, after being the Universe, what was left for him? He still remembered it, still had flashes of his time in The Plot Hole. He had seen and experienced so much. Some of it was good, some of it caused him to have screaming awake nightmares for months(and considering he had become inured to his twin's perverse mind, that was saying something). In desperation he had gone to Linkara to ask for a spell to erase his memory of his...imprisonment, but the magician/reviewer had warned him that such a spell would likely cause more damage than it would heal. Eventually, the nightmares trickled off, but never fully died down. Last night's had been a doozy, and Critic woke up in a cold sweat.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the young woman appear in front of his car until it was too late. "SHIT!" He yanked the wheel hard to one side, sending his car into a tailspin, and sideswiping the woman, who went flying into the nearby ditch.
Critic's car shuddered to a stop on the side of the road. He unbuckled his belt with shaking hands and got out, dodging traffic as he dashed across the street. "Shit shit shit shit!" He climbed down into the ditch and knelt beside the woman. She wasn't moving, her eyes were tightly closed, and she was covered in blood. "Oh, no. Please don't be dead." He placed his fingers on her neck, wondering briefly what sort of uniform she had on and why she had dyed her hair that peculiar shade, and was relieved to feel a faint but steady pulse.
He was about to call 911 when her eyes flew open.