Written by Delilah Draken (pen name same)
"You didn't tell anybody you had… visitors."
The words slice through his mind like a hot knife through butter, echo in a way that makes him long for a kind of pain he buried miles deep under his black soul. The voice, nearly a whisper but loud enough to be heard in even the most crowded of rooms, is full of promises, sweet fantasies created to keep him in line. The body belonging to this perfectly tuned instrument has lost its appeal to him years ago.
She can't touch him, has no power over him. He only has to remember that. Never forget why you hate her, he reminds himself. Never forget what she did to you the last time you fell for her. Never forget, she is not worth your pain. But a tiny part of his mind is still in her thrall, follows her lead to places he really doesn't wish to see again, and not even Cyrus with his understanding eyes and tales of old can make this raw wound heal up.
"Miss Dagny," he repeats, wishes to use another name, call her queen, goddess, anything to make his thoughts stop going in this direction. Cyrus once called her Christine, Erik's Christine, a beautiful Delilah that only waits to cut his hair. True, he never understood where the vampire gets his strange nicknames from, but somehow, deep inside where there once was sunlight and now only darkness and despair reigns, the words hold a wisdom that makes him want to cry.
Slowly he walks to her, takes her hand, raises it to his lips. This is it, the sweet taste of roses and dreams. This is what he wishes to forget, what he despite everything else can't deny. Her hand touches his hair and guides him to her lips. Here he has control, can make her ignore what she came for to learn. With his arms around her body he turns around, still attached to her mouth and looks at the two he has to protect now, hopes they get the message.
Run.
A short moment later Cyrus and the boy - Marty, Marty, Marty, the boy has a name - have vanished from his view and he can concentrate on things much more in need of his whole attention. Like the beautiful demon in his arms.
"You shouldn't have done that, my dear." she says with a frown. "There is always a price to pay."
Written by kleenexwoman42 (pen name kleenexwoman)
Cyrus hustles Marty out of the room. "We can go back to my cell the back way," he whispers. "We'll be safe there."
"Wait, who was that girl?" Marty asks.
"The Grey Lady of the colony," Cyrus says. "She used to be a Geno. They keep her around to pacify some of the more dangerous inmates. Hurry up, will you?" He grabs Marty's arm and drags him down a side hallway.
The man looks frail, but he is really quite strong, and Marty feels like his arm is being dislocated. He breaks away from Cyrus's grasp and rubs his arm. "Pacify?"
Cyrus snickers, not unkindly, and pushes him down another hallway. "You haven't noticed? All the inmates here are men or androgens. Women are kept in another colony. They don't want us freaks breeding."
"Oh…"
"You noticed what those Genos did you to in the cafeteria? Mind control. They teach it to Genos. Doesn't work on me, of course."
"Why, do you have some kind of mind power of your own?"
Cyrus laughs again, shakes his head. "If I did, I'd use it. I'm just lucky, I suppose. My poor dear Phantom holds more power over me than she does. I know she uses it on him, otherwise he'd never look at her."
Marty thinks this is slightly unfair; Dagny wasn't exactly Madonna, but she wasn't ugly, either.
"He's obsessed, you see," Cyrus says. "His poor Princess. He talks about her all the time—careful." They duck into a doorway as two Genos walk down the hall, staring straight ahead.
"Yeah," Marty says. "I know. Was she really a princess, or…?" A stupid question, probably. But for all he knows, the future is just like "Star Wars" and there's really a girl out there with cinnamon buns taped to her head, talking to droids.
"Hm? Oh no, he just calls her that. Personally," Cyrus says, "I don't think she really exists. But it gives him something to live for, and that's more than most of us have."
Dagny pushes Erik away. "You," she says. "You freak. You disgust me."
He knows what she wants to hear from him, the subtle conditioning she's been trying to instill in him for years. Trying to wear him down, get him to admit that he's nothing more than a monster. He usually resists; his sessions with her are a mixture of tantalizing pleasure and sweet pain that invariably end with her storming out, frustrated, screaming to the Genos that she'll never touch him again. Today is different. Today, he must pretend to capitulate, buy time for Cyrus and Marty. If he lets her leave, she'll go after Marty (she's given up on Cyrus long ago; the vampire man laughs at her kisses and won't respond to her caresses, no matter what she does), and his only hope for escape will be stuck here, a slave to this woman.
He crouches on the floor. "I'm sorry, lady."
He can tell without looking up that she is smiling. "You should be sorry. We take you in, Erik. We feed you and give you a place to live, and this is how you repay is? By harboring a rogue scientist and his servant? Shame, Erik, shame." She stands closer to him, brushing the top of his head with her fingertips. "Now is that gratitude?"
"No, lady," he whispers.
"And you were doing so well, too." Her voice is soft, like she's talking to an animal or a baby. "So well. You hadn't killed anyone for a month. We gave you a place, Erik, a place to hide. So you didn't have to be afraid of yourself anymore."
Erik nods, trying to determine what she wants now. "Afraid of myself."
"Because you are, Erik." She bends down and looks him in the face. "And you should be. You can't control yourself. Like a wild animal." She slaps him. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe.. "You are afraid, Erik. You can't help it, poor baby." She caresses his face. "Poor thing, so scared that you'll kill again. That you'll kill someone you love."
She stands up. "Like you killed your Princess."