"Lorna, could you pass me the Tabasco please?"
She walks over to Dana Burgo, commanding the security panel and enjoying several slices of thin crust sausage pizza. They eat quietly, keeping their sharp eyes on their designated monitors and glass-topped panels with ears open for Jules' speech. It's 2:25am CST.
Lorna Cruz couldn't be more excited to be where she is. She initially focused her studies in Bioastronautics, but her summer stint in Nepal to collect insects at high altitudes changed her focus. Such insects would be viewed as "alien" to most due to their unique adaptation to the harsh environment. She immediately changed her studies that year and is responsible on discovering fifteen new insect species over the course of ten months in the Himalayas. Her specialty: behavioral and physical adaptation.
Dana went to college to study law enforcement and had a number of jobs as a bouncer at local bars and concert venues. His ticket inside is his Uncle Robert Palmer, Head of Tactics at Site R. Having worked many jobs thru the midnight oil, this one is a no brainer, yet having never encountered an "unknown" makes him a little nervous.
At every half hour mark, each station verbally gives a status report. The only station remaining quiet is Bruce's. The system's logged into two laptops at his temporary rental home, one acting as a backup, and for the first three nights he struggled to get any shut-eye. Terribly anxious she may awake while he's asleep has him on pins and needles. As the digital clock displays 6am, he rises to shower, makes a pot of coffee, drinks a cup, and fills the thermos with the rest.
Loki stands on his balcony with lavender tea in hand. His mind wanders through the distant Void above, eager to hear more of Jules' health. The right index finger circles clockwise along the ceramic lip, the rising steam graces his cool skin, and his eyes lock on a glow of soft ivory nestled within the glitter of black slate. Midgard, so far away yet so very close to his heart. Never in his lifetimes had he ever imagined to endure tender thoughts for Thor's domain. All because of one mortal whom saved his life, shared her unnatural gifts before his midnight blue eyes, and carried a stone his Father yearned to keep for himself.
'Safekeeping from the unseen enemy has always been your justification. Preposterous! I shall prove your casuistic scheme is erroneous!'
As the sun breaks over the horizon, the interior full spectrum lights begin to slowly brighten her home but fails to bring her to rise. Overnight, she readjusted her position to lie on her left side, sharing her expressionless face to careful eyes behind the thick wired glass. Bruce pours himself a cup of coffee and quietly clicks thru the hourly readings. Jules lets out a stretch of her left arm and exhales.
"Hmph.", Moose shares soon after.
Bruce quickly looks up to view her and his heart begins to jog as he watches her body shift under his security blanket. With less than twenty minutes left of his shift, Dana readjusts to sit stiff and with his fingertips he taps the screen upon the table for a quick systems check.
"System's in the green.", he blurts with urgency.
"Temperature is 78 degrees. Enviro check is complete and functional at 100%", says Lorna.
"Bruce?", asks Moose.
Bruce takes another sip of his coffee, makes a few more passes of his fingertips on the glass top monitor, a click of his mouse to his laptop, and stands up for a better view.
"As of 8pm, her readings have been consistent to show no physical movement and her health's in good condition. No physical motion until 5:34am and the present. Her heart rate is up, which leads me to believe she's finally awake."
Moose taps a small silver rectangular container to remove a toothpick and begins to fiddle it between his lips. Oral fixation is his way to calm his nerves. Just then, Jules opens her eyes, squints hard, and blinks heavily.
"Showtime, people.", Moose says with a hint of pride.
Her narrowed eyes stare off into the distance of a gray haze as she stretches once more but with an audible yawn. The arms pull out from under the white comforter, clumsily rest upon the soft cotton, and her fingers curl in lightly to hold on. Ever so slowly, her brown eyes move across the ceiling for a sign or signal from God. She heard Him speak before and wonders where He is now. All these years she never believed in a specific God figure except to casually praise them based on ability. However, death softened her ideals to accept the possibility she's been wrong.
"God?", she whispers.
Lorna looks at Dana for his opinion, but he says nothing. Bruce narrows his brows. He knows her position on God.
"Hello?"
She looks down at the comforter and is surprised to see it in white with her naked pale arms in full view. A few graces of the skin confirms her body is solid. Her eyes examine the walls once more and discovers herself in a gray box.
"I must be in a coffin.", she says with obvious disappointment.
Her words bring a shrill up Lorna's spine and she noticeably shrugs. Moose spots Lorna's behavior and disregards it.
Jules looks at her hands and stops silently, for The Empress holds her still. She presses the back of her right fingers against her quivering lips and tears easily escape her. Quietly, her eyes take in the beauty of the pink conch pearl and recalls a slick Bruce harnessing her naïve persona into believing the ring was for Laura. A giggle escapes her and she sits up to better appreciate the gift.
"You buried me with your promises?!", and proceeds to cry out loud into her hands.
"Excuse me for a moment.", Bruce says quickly and leaves the room. He paces the hallway five times, leans into the wall with eyes closed to clear the painful emotions, and returns to his position. Her cries over the speakers brings him to clear his throat. Lorna and Dana share a quick glance loaded with "What was THAT about?".
Jules grabs a fistful of the soft comforter and presses it to her face to absorb the tears. She holds still, takes in three obvious deep breaths thru her nostrils and pulls away in shock. She wails loudly.
"You buried me in your blanket?!", crying into the comforter.
Both Lorna and Dana turn around and glance at Bruce. He's taken a seat and has his right palm against his face.
"Let me guess. You tested the blanket on yourself.", Moose snips.
His right hand flies away.
"Believe me when I say I NEVER suspected she'd know I used it!" His eyes are wide with a look of surprise and Lorna responds eagerly to explain the science of smell.
"It's a proven fact the female's sense of smell is much better than of men. Especially when it comes to sweat.", and she continues on with greater emphasis. "A woman can tell by the scent of the man's sweat if he's interested in her sexually ...".
"THANK YOU, Lorna, for educating us on the human nose. Refocus, team.", Moose says coldly.
Every dinner, both Loki and Thor shared a meal in the dining hall in the accompaniment of their close bachelors and Sif. On occasion, Volstagg joins them to brag of their day of tender muscles, bruises, and favorable outcomes of war and hunt of wild boar. Loki's curiosity of Jules is too much and burns deep inside, for he had suffered from heartburn.
"Brother. Any word on the ailing mortal who sleeps?"
"Nay. Heimdall is to notify me if death takes her."
"But what of her wake? Is he to tell you as well?"
Thor chews at the rather large piece of potato and shares a curious grin.
"What is this I feel from my brother? Has your heart fallen for this mortal whom sought to slaughter us?"
"No! I only wish to hear that our presence was beneficial. That is all.", he argues and proceeds to chew at the wild smoked hen. Thor can't help but find his brother's behavior amusing. He chuckles and drops the conversation as he gulps down his mead.
Jules sleeps once more, facing the opposite direction with her body tucked into a fetal position. Everyone, but Moose, relaxes with lunches set upon their station table. Moose leaves, giving Jim and Frank to openly chat about random shit and Bruce updates Tony via text of her status.
At 3:47pm, she sits up, stretches, and looks at the room ahead. Moose picks at the rear left molar with an able toothpick, closely eyeing her facial expressions and body language on his monitor. A sleuth of cameras are set on every wall and above, giving each station access to zoom into all areas of her room. She pulls the covers off her legs, attempts to stand but struggles with a lame right leg. The hairs on Bruce's arm rise at her discomfort. With her off the bed, he can't determine the amount of pain she's experiencing. She begins to crawl ahead to the small room jetting from the wall, peeks inside, and enters. The only camera for view is hooked up to Bruce's station. Moose stands behind Bruce to watch her approach the toilet and sits on her rump.
"Now why in God's name would I need any of this?"
Chewing on the stick, Moose lets out a quick snicker. Jules struggles to stand up, pulls her shorts down, and takes a seat back on the john. An urge to piss questions her situation, and the only way to prove God won't be coming is to piss away. The hot liquid leaves her and a strong odor of ammonia tells her she hasn't pissed in good while or had a decent drink of water.
'Something doesn't add up. Either I'm dead or I'm someone's bitch. Which is it?', she cautiously thinks to herself. The right leg is terribly sore at the hip, bringing her right hand to rub it. Unconsciously, healing's distributed and her leg is lame no more. She wipes herself, pulls up on the white shorts, and flushes the answer she doesn't want to see. She's alive and no one is coming for her.
Standing under the door frame, she scans the gray room for details. She notes the smooth satin concrete floor, the glossy gray painted walls for the bathroom, and the outer walls and ceiling has a smooth luster. She turns right and walks along the walls, feeling the glassy surface with just the tips of her right hand, and slowly circles the room. Her eyes lock to the floor as she allows her tactile focus search out discrepancies on the walls. Jim has a hunch what she searches for, exciting him with a raring to go stance. At the 6:15pm mark, Moose asks for a verbal status check.
"System's in the green, sir. But I'd like to share an observation, if I may?", says Jim.
"Share away."
"I believe she's searching for a door, sir."
"Hmph.", exhales Moose. "Mr. Dorn?"
"Temperature holds at 78 degrees. Recycler's at 100%. Her first meal is ready for delivery."
"How do you feel about Mr. Hunter's opinion?", asks Moose.
"Considering the nature of these glass walls? She's not going to FIND an imperfection. It's practically perfection in the making. As for the door? Impossible to find. The gaps measure 7 micrometers. A fiber of cotton is 10 micrometers."
"Dr. Banner. Your assessment?"
"Boredom.", he says in a dull tone. All three turn to look at him. "She behaves much like an animal locked in a cage with no means of enrichment. She's been pacing for nearly three hours straight."
Moose looks at Jules and lets out a "Hmph." Five minutes later, both Lorna and Dana enter Observations to relieve Jim and Frank. Verbal exchanges take place between the four and a recap of their system check is discussed. Bruce heads out to the restroom and then to Vendoland for coffee, for his thermos had run dry. Moose packs up his briefcase, exchanges light dialogue with his team, and leaves for the day.
Loki observes the heavily dressed metallurgist pour molten steel into a mold designed by himself with a smile now reaching to his ears. The radiating heat wraps him, as he verbally lays a spell upon the yellow glow. The hot steel flashes blue-green, as it heats quickly in a second to infuse the magic, and slowly begins to cool to a dark silver metal. The blacksmith picks up the four-inch long blade and pounds away at his anvil, humming to a tune to match that of his movements. Sparks of blue fly at each strike and he heats it to an orange hue every two minutes. In the end, an exquisite six-inch dagger's produced. An engraver takes it, lays an intricate design of lines as requested by the payee, and is then polished by Hilda. She polishes all the weapons on commission, for she has sight no other holds. Any imperfection can't escape her. By days end, he observes five pourings with five blades in completion. The total payout is equivalent to half a million dollars, but for Asgard it's in gold.
In Loki's past two lives, he'd been nothing but a nightmare for King Odin. Every situation Loki created was like sending something to Hel in a handbasket. On his third return, Odin and Frigga set out strict guidelines for Loki's rearing and education with a future set to work in the Foundry. So far, his mischiefs have been mild and tolerable. As long as he keeps bringing wealth into Asgard through his labor within the Foundry, Odin's heart remain soft for his son.
As the first shift leaves and the sun sets to the west, the interior lights begin to dim slowly until it's dark altogether at 7:30pm. A soft white light glows along the corners of the bathroom floor and the main room is dark. Jules continues to pace the floor, passing the cold turkey sandwich on white bread, two chocolate chip cookies, and a cup of water sitting on the floor inside a clear box against the corner of the room. The appearance of food shocked her at first. It's introduced as she paced the opposite side of the room. She only stood over it briefly and continued her walk. Yet inside, she was screaming. Angry and emotionally hurt, she questioned why God would allow a dead person to feed and piss. Why suffer in death as if alive?
'Truly, this must be Purgatory. Limboland. I'm not dead but should be. No one could survive a fall as high as ...'.
She stops dead in her tracks.
"Wait a minute.", she says a loud.
All three look at her with Bruce rubbing his chin, watching her face closely in detail. Her eyes shift side to side as she recalls Lori leaping to her death. A frown comes on strong, turns left to lean her back against the wall, and slowly slides down to sit.
'I'm not dead nor alive. Which is it? If I had to flip a coin, I'd bet it'd land on "living". This feels all too real. And the meal?'
She crawls to the food, lifts the sandwich, smells it, pulls it apart, and does the same to the cookies. The water she smells and sips. She returns the cup, feels the interior wall of the box for a mechanism to close it, and eventually crawls to the bed in greater confusion. With the comforter wrapped around her shoulders, she stands and continues her counterclockwise walk around the room. Left hand holds the soft embrace at heart level and the tips of her right fingers glide on the smooth walls. She stops to adjust the comforter, for it drags heavily behind her. The drag's eliminated by creating a hood over her head and her face is all but hidden as she continues her walk. Bruce runs a physical diagnosis and reports it verbally to the team with much pride, for her wearing it outside of bed has made his invention more valuable. Her readings also brings a sense of attachment and comfort. Symbolically, he views himself consoling her through his creation. He lets out a few chuckles.
"What is it, Dr. Banner?", asks Lorna.
"I just find it comical she'd carry the blanket, like so. I never imagined she would wear it during my trials.", ending in a few more chuckles.
"How late do you plan on staying, Dr. Banner?", asks Dana.
"Why? Are you kicking me out?", he smirks.
"Nah. Just curious.", and turns to look at his monitor. "How much longer should we allow the food to sit?"
"When she reaches the bathroom wall, pull it."
Lorna pulls up several small screens on her monitor and taps an orange box with her index finger to activate the box to retract. Hearing the box move, Jules drops the blanket and makes a wild dash in the darkness for it.
"Whoa!", blurts Dana, as he watches her sprint in lime green across the room on his monitor. She can barely be seen through the glass but the night vision has her spot on. A low thud is heard as she runs into the unseen wall, followed with a long groan.
"Oooh. That's going to leave a mark.", jokes Dana as he makes a quick assessment of the containment system. Lorna's fingers also fly as she checks the air pressure and currents for possible breaches. They both verbally share their findings, just as they were trained in simulation training, and Bruce watches her chest rise and fall from her listless body, crumpled on the floor just three feet shy from the corner.
"I think I'll be crashing here for the night.", Bruce sighs. "Coffee, anyone?"
9:24pm. Light movement's carried in the still air, bringing all three to focus ahead. Jules props herself up in a long moan and the night vision observes her rubbing her forehead.
"Fuckers.", she mumbles and stands up. She follows the wall, locates the comforter, drags it to the bed, and lies down. As she lies still, Dana turns to Bruce.
"I think her reference to "Fuckers" was directed to her belief.", pointing up to the ceiling. "Yet ...I can't help to think she may know she's very much alive."
"If I saw food offered in my cell? I'd believe I'm alive.", says Lorna.
"She's independent, terribly stubborn, and her inner confidence is poor. But put her in a box with little to go by? Her keen perception and sensitivity to her surroundings will lead her to the truth."
"And what's the truth?", asks Dana.
"Us. What she's feared all her life has come to fruition. Becoming a guinea pig. People like us wanting her to disclose her abilities behind closed doors. Or glass, in her case."
Both Lorna and Dana sit quietly, looking at each other with dumbfounded faces.
"How long did Mr. Wavell say you'd be working here?", asks Bruce to Dana.
"Four weeks? Maybe six?", looking at Lorna for confirmation, which she nods in agreement.
"Better plan on doubling it, unless he has something else in mind to squeeze it out of her.", and finishes his coffee. "She's in tip-top shape and her readings tells me she's in dreamland. On that note, I'm going home for a little shut-eye. Don't hesitate to call me if she starts running into walls again."
"What?", asks Dana in worry.
"She won't be running into any walls.", Bruce smiles as he packs up his things. "But if she does?", he ends with his hand symbolizing 'call me' next to his ear as he walks out.
The top of the hour comes and goes with each verbally noting a system status check. Lorna couldn't resist to ask Dana for his opinion on Jules and Bruce.
"I bet they were engaged.", nodding her head in a strong agreement.
"Nah. Probably hooked up at one time or another. Like, you know. Workplace romance. Friends with benefits.", he says.
"No way. Have you seen that ring? I looked it up. It's a Mikimoto called The Empress. Take a wild guess on what he spent!", she says excitedly.
"Um. I'm not into jewelry, so I wouldn't have a clue."
"Oh, c'mon! Take a guess!", she says, clapping her hands together.
"Five grand."
"No! Sixty-five thousand!", she nearly squeals.
Dana's lower jaw falls open and Lorna laughs at his expression. "I've never heard of anyone in a friends with benefits relationship spending that much money on a ring!"
"Maybe it's a tax write-off.", jokes Dana.
Morning arrived with everyone posed and ready for action. All but Jules was up and at it. Bruce cautiously filters through the hourly overnight readings for signs of trouble. Worries she may have injured herself with a concussion from her run-in brings a cold sweat to build upon his forehead. Despite what he reads holds true and correct, he sits nervously and slightly slouched to his right. Fingertips fire away upon the glass table, double checking all his fancy equipment had to offer. Moose sits at his desk, sifts through his emails and watches Bruce's behavior out of the corner of his right eye.
"Do you have something to share, Dr. Banner?"
"No."
"Then why are you unsettled?"
Bruce scratches the back of his head with his right hand, followed with a loud yawn and a stretch.
"Concerns of a concussion. Reinjury. It's what, 8:58am, and she's still sleeping." Silence lurks the room and Bruce breaks it. "What's the protocol if she doesn't wake up by 9pm?"
"And why 9pm?", asks Moose.
"She would be asleep for 24 hours straight. 12 is much, as is 18 hours. He readings state she's asleep, but there could be underlying issues the equipment cannot detect."
"Like?"
"Internal bleeding."
"She's a healer.", staring Bruce down. "NO ONE is to enter her domain under any circumstance without my grant. I know what you're thinking, Dr. Banner. The answer is NO."
10:23am. She rises out of bed without her blanket and enters the bathroom for a quick piss. Bruce watches her slouch over as she relaxes on the toilet, hands draped over her knees, and follows up with a quick eye rub. The bump on her forehead is long gone, as well as the tender bruises from last night's collision. Much like every morning, she begins her daily routine by securing Bruce's scent around her body.
'Are you willing to carry this burden, Jules Harper?'
"What the Hell?", she says under her breath, looking up at the ceiling for a sign.
A male voice resonates in her head, as she paces the room in a clockwise pattern. His question comes at odd intervals and it's not a voice she's familiar with. Never does she answer, out of fear the question belongs to a man behind the gray walls. Despite the deafening silence, she's becoming accustomed to her new life and feels a sense of security under Bruce's scent. Breakfast consisting of a plain bagel and veggie cream cheese with hot green tea is served, as she approaches the far wall. She accepts the tea, walking along the walls and savoring the aroma. Second shift leaves with the first shift taking their respectful seats, verbally sharing the hourly system status to Moose. Bruce watches her body temp rise two tenths of a degree each time she take a sip and this brings him to smile. All his hard work into the development of a medical sensory comforter is paying off. The empty cup she returns into the box, and as she sat to relieve herself, the box retracts.
'Figures as much.', as she wipes herself clean.
She turns on the shower, enters it with her shorts and tank top, and washes down with the bar of soap. The shorts come off first for a wash and then the top. She steps out of the shower to set them on the edge of the sink to drip dry and returns for a final soak. The dial turns to hot with the water pelting the shoulders of her back. An agreeable moan leaves her, bringing Bruce to shift and cross his left leg over his right. With no shower door or curtain to obstruct her body, he fights the temptations of pleasure to blur his concentration.
'Damn it, Jules! Hurry it up!', he says within as she stands still with hands clasped to her chest.
"How are we looking on the water, Mr. Dorn?", asks Moose.
"Environmental controls at 100%. The temperature is 79 degrees with a humidity increase by 4%. The recycler is keeping up with the output, but the hot water will be out in six minutes."
"Kill the shower. I think she's had her fun."
"Yes sir."
The water shuts off, leading Jules to turn around and inspect the head and dial. She doesn't complain until she realizes there's no towel to dry herself off.
"You provide me with a shower but no bath towel? That's like having a toilet but no toilet paper to wipe myself with, you moron!", she yells up to the ceiling.
Everyone laughs but Moose.
"You're lucky I even provided you with toilet paper.", he notes in a callous tone.
Bruce's heart skips a beat as she exits the bathroom wet and bare skinned, assuming she'd begin pacing in the nude to dry off. Instead, she grabs his scent and wraps herself in him before she resumes her daily behavior.
Lunch is a bowl of chicken noodle, four saltines, and a cup of water. Her stomach growls at the smell of sustenance, but she hisses at the angry belly. If she doesn't know who's serving her, she won't eat. The hot tea she makes an exception, for not only was she thirsty but has a weakness for it.
'Funny. God knows me too well.'
The security blanket comforts her as she continues her trek around the room. Few hours later, the box retracts, she makes a mad dash for the corner, and fully investigates the wall. Her fingers glide slowly, meticulously, and with her fingernails she scrapes in search for the lip of the door to the wall. Moose smiles, props his feet up on his desk, and bites into his deli sandwich. Butt naked, she bends down to yell at the wall.
"Garcòn! Hot tea, por favor!"
As she walks back to retrieve her blanket, Moose whistles like a man out to grab a piece meat. Bruce takes in a slow deep breath, exhales with his eyes closed, and shares his displeasure in a professional tone.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your personal opinions of my girlfriend to yourself."
Both Frank and Jim look at each other with grins and raised eyebrows. Moose responds with a smile and another bite of his roast beef sandwich.
Thor, bored to his wits of watching Marcus train a particular defensive battle move with a group of new recruits, takes his horse to see Heimdall for an update on the mortal and his lover, Rachel.
"Greetings, God of Thunder! I have not called for you."
"And I am thankful for it. How does she fare?"
"Which one?"
"The one who sleeps."
"Jules is awake, aware, and very angry. Your Rachel is well. Busy with mundane technology as always. All work and little play, your lady.", resting both hands above the handle and the tip of the sword balances on the surface of gold.
"Awake?"
"Aye!", Heimdall responds with a strong nod.
"Angry? Why?"
"She is imprisoned, my Liège. She is not yet aware of such, only to scold profanities at God. She believes she is dead and awaits in Purgatory.", he ends in a chuckle.
"Imprisonment? Purgatory? Mortals do have an affinity to punish self with Demons. Something I never can understand.", Thor says with a touch of sass. "Why imprisonment?"
"To show her powers. The mortals want to see it for themselves. Midgardians fear her, Thor. They fear what they do not understand. Much like you.", smiling at Thor.
Dinner of meatloaf, rice pilaf, and carrots fills the air and her stomach angers forth loudly. She only removes the hot tea and sips it around the room. As the sun sets, the lights begin to dim. As Lorna and Dana settle in, the lights turn off. Frank whispers to Lorna.
"Bruce and Jules? GF/BF. He said so today."
Lorna's eyes light up.
"Not engaged?", she whispers back.
Frank nods "no".
Too dark to see her way around comfortably, she checks on the top and shorts to finds them dry and stiff as boards. A couple hard flaps of the outfit, she dresses and heads to bed. The plastic cup, still holding tea, she sets down next to her pillow. With hands behind her head, she stares off to the ceiling with glorious thoughts of escape.
'Are you willing to carry this burden, Jules Harper?', says the male voice within.
"What if I decide not to?", she asks out loud.
All four in the Observation Room look at each other with questionable eyes. With no response, she asks again but with a touch of her personal opinion to a growing displeasure of his repetitive question.
"What if I take whatever burden you're referring to and shove it up your ass?"
"Who's she talking to?", asks Lorna.
"Shhh!", quips Moose.
With nothing more said, Bruce shares the only logical answer which makes sense.
"God."
With both Bruce and Mr. Wavell gone home, Lorna and Dana drop their guard to relax. Dana pulls out a deck of cards.
"Euchre, poker, war, or go fish?", smiling with his teeth.
Lorna's eyes light up, thankful she's partnered up with a similar free-spirited mind, and responds "War" with glee. Dana glances at the monitor in fuzzy green, constantly noting Jules sleeping position. With seven lives left to her name, Jules sleeps quietly as the mice play.
