Chapter 15

[Broken Notes from the Vault: Station

Buttercup awoke to hands grabbing her roughly. She felt something wet spray her face in a mist, almost making her sneeze. She reflexively tried to bring her hand to her nose, but their hands were strong.

Blinking her eyes clear, she turned her head frantically around. Two large men wearing white gowns over blue scrubs laid her down on some stiff, barely-cushioned surface. She could not identify them through their caps and face masks, assuming she even knew them. One of them held her down while the other pulled straps across, locking down her body and arms, then her legs.

She strained against the humble leather straps to no effect. What was that wet stuff just now? Antidote X?

"Hey!" She screamed, looking around. She was still in the living room of her own home, plucked from the couch she had once again chosen over her own bed. "Help! Somebody! Bubbles! Blossom! Professor!"

Her cries went on as her gurney was wheeled off. Even the two men didn't react. They pushed her in the direction of the Professor's lab. She lifted her head and saw that the wall was gone, replaced by a sloping ramp that curved out of view ahead of them. The walls were cement blocks, painted yellow, while the floor was smooth, undecorated concrete. Incandescent bulbs on the ceiling, bare and regularly-spaced, lit the way.

Buttercup panted and briefly strained against her bonds again. "Hey! Stop! Where are you taking me! Hello? Answer me!"

Seeing her shouting had no effect, Buttercup again quieted to watch their progression along the curving slope. They soon reached the end, where they walked onto a flat, straight hallway of tiled floor and porcelain-tiled walls. One of the men was now walking in front of her, making it difficult to discern the length of the passage.

The only light was that which spilled from the ramp behind them. Above she saw metal support beams laid across the walls, but no ceiling. Beyond that was inky blackness. The wall to her right ended at waist height, with a chain link fence covering the remaining distance to the "ceiling."

Buttercup heard a distant rumbling sound. It quickly grew louder. Almost impossibly loud. With its squeaking and squealing, she soon recognized it as a freight train. She saw the wall to her left light up as the train approached, the shadow of the fence cast upon and moving over it. She looked again to the right, but beyond the fence was still only darkness.

The train zoomed by with a burst of air and a deep rumble she felt even atop her conveyance. The two men didn't react to any of it.

Though it sounded like a freight train, it clearly carried passenger cars. They were zipping by too quickly for her to make out anything, but it seemed like faces were gathered at every window, looking out at her.

The man in front switched to the gurney's side just before it rammed through a pair of swinging doors. The sound of the train was much muffled by the doors when they closed again, and it soon faded entirely.

The cart banged through another pair of doors, and Buttercup heard an overwhelming cacophony of sound. Hysterical laughter, loud banging noises, screams, wails--and the smell was a sickening perfume of sweat, vomit, and something like vinegar or formaldehyde.

Buttercup continued to look about as they traveled. There were rooms to either side, the doors to which were more window on the upper half. The hallways seemed to have more occupants than the rooms, however.

Buttercup craned her neck to continue watching as they passed a wrinkled, white-haired man sitting on a bench, rocking back and forth as he gnawed on one of his fingers, blood dripping down his chin.

Through one window she saw a girl with long, brown hair sitting very still on her bed, knees up to her chest. Despite her calm, the walls around her were practically shredded. Both she and the old man in the hall wore flimsy, pale-white gowns. Buttercup was fairly certain they were patients of some sort.

The hallway seemed to twist and turn more than was strictly necessary, and Buttercup caught glimpses of other patients in various states. It was when they passed a pair in the hallway, a man and woman that appeared to be engaged rather vigorously in coitus, that Buttercup stopped looking, instead staring upward. It seemed there was a ceiling in this place again, with more light bulbs decorating the way.

The bare bulbs hurt her eyes, but she forced herself to stare only upward, trying to ignore the sources of the sounds around her. She felt a tear roll down her temple, and though it tickled mercilessly she could not bring her hand up to wipe or scratch.

No longer watching their progress, she was surprised by another jolt as they passed through a third set of doors. This room seemed much darker, until she was rolled under a lamp of the sort dentists and surgeons used.

She dared to raise her head, but a latex-gloved hand pushed it back down as another pair of gloved hands pulled a final leather strap over her forehead, holding her down fully. Attached to the strap was some sort of cuff, preventing her even from turning her head to the side.

However, she was able to move her eyes freely enough to see many individuals in masks and caps standing over her. Some seemed feminine, some masculine, but there were clearly more than the two that had brought her here.

"Who are you? Where am I? What are you going to do to me?" Buttercup asked in rapid succession.

To her surprise, a man answered. He seemed very casual in demeanor. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. There's just--" he paused, and something out of her view whirred to life briefly, "--a little something wrong with you. Nothing too serious."

"What? What's wrong with me?"

"Something in your brain. No need to worry."

"My brain?" Buttercup asked, panic beginning to show in her voice. One of the figures adjusted the light above her, and it became difficult to see. "What's wrong with my brain?"

"We'll know soon enough, I'm sure. But before we get started, you should really wake up."

"Wake up?" Buttercup asked, squinting, confused.

"Yes, wake up. You really need to wake up, now."

The unseen thing whirred to life again. Buttercup heard rather than saw its progress as its owner circled the cart, until it was near her head, and very loud. She screamed as she felt the circular blade slice easily through her skin before burning painfully against her skull. The man had to shout to be heard, now.

"Wake up, Buttercup! Wake up!"