No One Trustworthy
Chapter 1: We've Had Enough
Irma was good in school.
She had a way with Math and Chemistry. These subjects came naturally to her, but where she really excelled was in her inherent snark. It wasn't something she'd formally learned in school, but definitely a skill she'd acquired in the public education system. She had a snide or sardonic response to almost anything. Over her sixteen years of life, she had learned when it was appropriate to allow her comments to spill out and when it was best to bite her tongue. Though just because she had learned when it was appropriate did not mean she followed those standard rules of practice.
She wondered if following social norms would have saved her from this fate.
Irma thought back to the day she ended up in this never ending hell. She had gone for her 'spit results', or at least that's what she liked to call this genetic testing assignment. She didn't care how much the Neanderthals had bred with Homo sapiens to contribute to her DNA. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn't want to know that answer.
"Hello, I'm Ms. Campbell from the Worldwide Genome Project. Are you Irma Langinstein?"
Irma's lips pursed at the middle aged woman. "Yes," She said in a smooth tone, "That's why my ID, which I just provided to you, says 'Irma Langinstein'. You would think spending all day looking at letters would mean you could read."
The woman didn't bat an eye at Irma's cool retort. "I'm here to present your DNA test results."
"And here I thought you were only meant to state the obvious. Okay, let's have them then. Oooof," Irma mumbled when a red headed blur bumped into her. "Thanks, April. I almost forgot I was standing."
"Sorry, Irma…gotta go to class. Late." The redhead called her fragmented apology over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.
Irma's eyes narrowed and she leaned on one hip, looking back toward the woman who had her results. "Are you friends with April O'Neil?" The robotic way in which she spoke gave Irma the creeps.
"Oh yeah, we're like totally best friends. We paint each other's nails and do our hair. We have sleep overs and watched Care Bears all day." Irma's raised tone was clearly mocking, but the concept seemed lost on Ms. Campbell. "We sit next to each other in Trig." Irma stated matter of factly with a sigh and lazy glance to the side, sure that her initial wit had been missed or dismissed for the fact that Ms. Campbell must be over forty.
"Irma Langinstein is friends with April O'Neil," she repeated.
"There you go again...stating the obvious. Except for the part where you're wrong and just stuck on repeat. I guess your comprehension skills are just as finely tuned as your reading then? What does this have to do with my DNA results again?"
"LET ME OUT!" She beat on the door to her small room. That interaction had been the last one she'd had with a human. That human had been April O'Neil. She scowled, annoyed by her. She was still out there, no doubt, having fun. Possibly flirting with that boy she'd been hanging out with. Casey something? "And I'm stuck here," she complained aloud. "All because I didn't want to bother with an 'adult'. Some adult..." she mumbled. "Do they even come in age ranges, or are they spawned from other Kraang fully developed?"
Irma had the wrong idea about why she was there because no one had spoken directly to her about her purpose in the Kraang facility.
She slid down the smooth surface and flipped over to sit on her backside, repeatedly and rhythmically bumping her head lightly against the door. Days had rolled into weeks and weeks into months; but she had no idea how long she'd actually been in the holding room. It was more like prison and the questions they asked were just strange. She spent half the time trying decipher their alien language rather than actually answering any questions they had.
"Does one known as Irma Langinstein know of the one known as turtles?"
"What…? I don't even know what that means. I think your universal translator is malfunctioning. Get it fixed and restate the question."
"Kraang does not know of malfunction, malfunction is not knowing in Kraang. Kraang must know if Irma Langinstein knows of the one called turtles."
Irma sighed and groaned. "Thank you for clarifying that. I was a little confused about the malfunction part, but I had the turtle part. No, wait," she said dryly, "I have no idea what you're talking about. WHAT turtles?!"
At this point, sitting alone in her jail, she would claim she knew ever turtle on the planet, a few tortoises, and the pope if it would get her out. She was pretty sure they had tested on her brain, at one point, and opened a vein to collect blood. This, she assumed, was what it was like to be abducted by aliens. She was just glad they hadn't gone for her reproductive tract yet. That, however, went back to her thought that these aliens spawned full grown and completely functional; reproduction wasn't on their radar.
"Pssssst!"
Irma heard the hiss faintly through the door. She glanced up over her shoulder and toward the small square window which led to a hallway. A face appeared in the small space. A human face.
Irma was on her feet in a second, mouth slightly agape. "Get me out," the note of pleading hysteria in her voice betrayed the typical cool exterior.
The girl nodded. "Yeah. You bet! Give me five seconds."
It was as if she was in a glass bubble or speaking through water. Irma could make out her words, but it was though distortion of the heavy door separating them.
The face disappeared and a moment later the latch of the door snapped and the door drifted open slightly. Irma moved, a little uncertain of whether or not she should trust this. She was about to try and pull the door open more when it was suddenly jerked back and Irma jumped.
"Come on! There isn't much time," the girl's voice was hyper as she quickly urged Irma forward.
She didn't have to be told twice, Irma didn't care how untrustworthy this girl might be, if it meant out - she'd follow. The door was open and Irma was going to do all she could to escape through it. There were alarms going off and the entire place seemed like an epileptic's worst nightmare for the way the lights flashed and bounced against the metal walls.
"Not very discreet, are you?" Irma hissed.
"My mom's here. We have to find her." The girl disregarded Irma's comment completely. "Come on," she caught Irma's wrist and darted off down an adjacent hall.
Irma was pretty sure her feet were going to give out, or she would trip from the speed at which they were going. Though Irma just wanted out, she had no interest in looking for this girl's mother...who cared? Irma cared about Irma right then and that meant getting out as soon as possible. But to do so, because Irma had no clue how to navigate this place, she needed this strange girl...so there was no option but to follow in search for the girl's lost mother. She made a little jaunty sound in the back of her throat as she was drug along and they passed rooms with random letters etched into the metal over them. The girl was mumbling the letters as she went.
Irma looked up at the doors they passed.
D.R.R.E.M.S. - C.I.A.R.A. - T.R.A.L.R. - F.A.W.K.C.S.
They skidded to a hault. "Here!" She dove forward, clearly with the intention to throw herself into the door; but it opened before she could and three Kraang droids filed out. "Detain subjects, Kraang."
"Yes, Kraang." The second confirmed.
"Oh no, not you." Irma groaned, knowing this was the end of her five minute escapade in free life. Though her words did nothing in the battle against the blasters the sentinels held.
"This way!" Irma felt herself jerked to the side and the two of them pitched forward into the room which had T.R.A.L.R. printed over it. The door hissed closed behind them and Irma's companion leaned on it.
"You got a name, hot shot?" Irma's voice was trembling between shallow gulps of air.
"Jenny. Jenny Fox. Though I like the sound of hot shot. You can stick to that one if you want," she grinned back at the purple haired teen.
Irma was flustered and annoyed with her cavalier approach to everything that was going on right now. This girl, Jenny, had to be close to her age. Their dress was similar, albeit Jenny's was far more flamboyant. Her side pony tail was yellow blonde and kinky from some intentional process - possibly crimping. Irma couldn't imagine teasing her hair or whatever made it stick out like that. The skirt wasn't a smooth plaid like Irma's, but instead fluffy, knee length crinoline. To top it off, she wore fingerless lace gloves.
"Do you?" Jenny asked. "Have a name?"
"Irma," she panted. "Now what?"
Jenny was still leaning on the door and was also trying to gather her thoughts. That much was clear. She nodded, "We'll need to go up," she pointed up. "Through the ceiling tiles. All these rooms have maintenance access in the back corner. You never found that in your room?"
Irma's nostrils flared and she cursed herself for never even trying to find a way up. She was too disgruntled to even think about it. "Fine, then lets go." Irma said smoothly, calmly, disguising her annoyance. But the sound of blaster bolts on the other side of the door, tinking off the metal, made her jump. "NOW!"
Jenny smiled. "I'll give a you a boost."
That boost had been what Irma remembered before she felt the flesh of her knees scuffing away as she crawled through the small access tube, designed for creatures the size of a brain. After what seemed like nearly an hour of the hot, small tube Jenny stopped her. "Here."
When Irma turned back Jenny was already lowering herself through the small square below them. Later, Irma decided, she would have to ask Jenny how it was that she knew her way around so well. It was possible that she was just craftier and escaped her cell more frequently. But why were they both prisoners in this place? Had Jenny also smart mouthed to the Worldwide Genome lady? And if she had escaped her cell before...what brought her back? These were all questions for later.
"Do you really know you're way out of here? I feel like we're running in circles." Irma complained as she tumbled through the ceiling and made an 'oof' sound when she landed, unceremoniously on her backside.
"That's because this place is intentionally built like a maze. We're almost there." Jenny said pulling Imra to her feet and then immediately pushing her along. "Go, go, go!"
Irma felt like a ragdoll being jerked in every direction that she could be. She'd run more than she had in a long time, and she was just ready to be done with this chase.
The small, bubble like opening that Jenny stopped them at made Irma's stomach turn. "You can't be serious…" Her complaint was not met with a response in words, instead Jenny shoved Irma into the opening hatch. Once more, Irma felt the sensation of a future bruise meet her backside when she landed hard on the ground.
She squirmed to get on her knees and adjust her glasses just as Jenny was climbing in next to her, and the sound of laser bolt sounded in the background. The door-hatch hitched shut with a click and Jenny smacked the console in front of them. As soon as she did it was like every light in the small capsule lit up and suddenly the thing shot forward like a bullet from a gun. Irma felt her insides jump into throat as the tiny space around them spun. Through the concave window, Irma saw only water and bubbles ahead - behind them the Technodrome sat ominously under gallons and gallons of water.
"We did it! We actually friggin' did it!" Jenny exclaimed and threw her arms around Irma's neck. The latter did not share in her zeal.
"Yep, that's great, now...can you...uhhh…" she patted Jenny's arm.
"Oh right, you're a personal space kind of girl." Jenny grinned and leaned back, letting go of Irma's neck. "Now that I'm out of there, we can start making a plan to bust my mother out…"
A single eyebrow on Irma's forehead rose.
::Author's Note:: There was something unsettling about Irma being a Kraang. We wanted to put a different explanation to that concept. There were so many things about Irma that were not Kraang-like. Despite being controlled by Kraang Subprime, it seemed somewhat of a quick addition with hardly any lead up. Please consider this a fun re-envisioning of what may have happened instead.