Interlude: Prisoner Six Three Five
"Prisoner 634, codename Burnscar. PRT powers designation Blaster 6, Shaker 7, Mover 8, Fire and heat only. Individuals reading or viewing this log are directed to see page four and five of prisoner's file for particulars on powers. Reccomended protocols were properly carried out with a sprinkler system and a blindfold. Chance of escape following interment in the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center rests at 0.00032% with no gross deviations related to the prisoner. Within acceptable limits. Will be processed to cell block C," the voice said over the speakers. Covering the voice was the sound of flowing water.
Kravos forced his eyes open, and saw the mechanical arms holding the girl. She looked young, a teenager, college age at best. Cute, if not for the cigarette burns on her cheeks.
He also saw the oversized monitor, showing a CGI rendering of a face. Dragon, he recognized.
Still recovering from his slumber, he called upon his power. The Chicago Protectorate might have beaten him, but Dragon was no wizard. In fact, she was a Tinker, which meant she used high-tech tools instead. A simple hex would see him freed from these bindings.
"Flok," he said, sending out his energy, when he noticed the spinklers, sending water all around him.
"Prisoner 635, I'll get to you in a minute. Please don't be impatient," Dragon said.
Prisoner 635, that would be him. It was strange… he barely remembered the trial, since the PRT had kept him sedated for most of it. A smart move, for a bunch of normals. Then, using testimony from the traitorous members of his cult, as well as from several Thinkers, they'd condemned him to this place.
He would have escaped in the few moments he'd been awake, but they'd been careful to have several powerful capes near him at all times.
"Now, I know you've been dealt a bad hand Mimi, but that is not an excuse for what you have done. Anyway, Glaistig Uaine is in control of Cell Block C. She doesn't tolerate violence within her domain, but as long as you obey a few basic rules, I think you should be okay in there, because there are no other pyromancers outside of those she controls," Dragon said, almost motherly.
Burnscar just hung there, held aloft by the large mechanical grasper that had lifted her from the secure truck.
"Prisoner 635, codename the Culler. PRT powers designation Blaster 5, Master 6, Trump 3. Individuals reading or viewing this log are directed to see page two and three of prisoner's file for particulars on powers. Reccomended protocols, courtesy of PROT Underscore Myrddin were correctly carried out, with water flow from sprinkler system in constant contact with skin. Countermeasures seemingly effective. Chance of escape following interment in the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center rests at 0.00025% with small deviations in case the prisoner manifests a new Mover power. Will be processed to Cell Block T," Dragon said.
Manifests a Mover power, he thought sardonically, as if he was just another idiot with a parasite in his brain.
Soon, once he was away fromt his damnable overdesigned sprinkler system, he would be free. It would be trivial to escape from this place with his skills. After all, those fools had built it to contain parahumans, not Sorcerors as mighty as he was.
"What, you're not going to give me a little pep talk?" he asked.
"No," Dragon replied. "You killed over a dozen defenceless innocents, and relied on Behemoth's presence in New Delhi to get away with it. To speak frankly, I think it would be useless, since I'm estimating an eighty-four point two-three-seven percent chance that you'll be killed within the first twenty-four hours. Even in there, you are an acceptable target."
"You willing to take a bet on that?" he asked.
"Sure, If you manage to survive longer than twenty-four hours, I'll provide you with water and bread for the rest of your days," Dragon replied.
"I will be depositing you in the elevators now. You'll be provided with a limited amount of oxygen yada yada yada. Mimi, try not to burn anything on the way down because you'll asphyxiate."
The arms carried him away, shifting the vilainess in a different direction. She seemed resigned to her fate.
***
As his elevator slowed down, he could feel the water stop flowing, and his power returned. Power, real power, the type that was rightfully his. Yet not as much as he should have had.
He looked around the cellblock, and started mentally categorizing them. Sure, he could tear a hole to the Nevernever right now, but why would he? This entire prison was filled with parahumans, ripe for the plucking. Then, once he had absorbed them, all that they had been would be his. This was the birdcage, and these were all experienced parahumans that would serve him as a conduit to get to their abilities.
"Hey, mate, what's your name?" one of them asked in an Australian accent. Tall, muscled, shirtless, with unkempt long blonde hair, and the arms of his prison uniform tied around his waist. Gavel, he recognized. Good, the man would serve has his first name.
Kravos laughed, looking at his future meal. The man walked closer, serving himself up on a silver platter.
"Hey goaty, I asked you something," Gavel said nonchalantly, like he wasn't about to get his life sucked out through his forehead.
Reminded of the feature, Kravos stroked his beard, salivating at the thought of the next few hours.
"I am Leonard Kravos, and your next insult towards me will be the last action you'll ever take," he said. As if the man had any chance of survival, even if he started grovelling right away.
Suddenly, a man ran into the cell block from the entrance.
"Boss, we've got a problem! The queen is coming!" the new man said.
"I see…" Gavel responded, and he finally looked worried. "Pyrophage, do we have any coco left?"
"Three packets sir," a cape with an overly large mouth, and flaming eyes, responded. "I'll get right on it."
"What, you think you can just ignore me?" Kravos asked. "Do you even know who I am?"
"Yes" a thousand voices called out.
Kravos turned around, and beheld true power.
Etheral, Ephemeral. Glaistig Uaine. He could see her, standing in the doorway. Her small form covered in a thousand shrouds, each placed to stop her power from radiating out, each failing to stop her mere presence from almost blinding him.
"We know thy name, Kravos, we know thy master," she, they, said. As she spoke, he could see a thousand spirits, standing in her location, speaking with her as one. Around her, spectral capes stood at the ready.
This, Kravos knew instinctively, was not someone he could fight. This was not someone that could be fought by anyone.
"Poarte," he spoke, ready to leave. He would miss a meal, but he would live.
As he spoke, and formed his magical energy into a doorway, he felt, rather than saw Glaistig Uaine change position. She was standing in front of him, holding his hand in hers, and blocking his magic.
"Are you sure you do not wish to stay a while, warlock?" she, they, it, asked him.
"What are you?" he asked, more out of surprise than curiosity.
"I am the Queen of the Earth and of Continuation, I am she who pays the price. I am the seventh Queen and the mistress of this court. I am Glaistig Uaine of the court of the future," she said, looking him straight into the eyes. He tried to turn away his gaze, but couldn't.
She was the Queen of the Earth and of Continuation, she was willing to pay the price. She was of the court of the future, seventh out of twelve. She had gained power and been chained because of it, and she had chained herself to gain power.
He understood how the woman had attained power in that moment. Or, at least, how she had started on her journey. Her power allowed her to absorb the ability of any parahuman killed in her vicinity. And where he had used his magic to take the power of a man, and attempted to take his power through that process…
The Seventh Queen had taken their powers, and with that, their very souls, into herself. A hundred powers meant a hundred souls. And then, from that point, she had somehow attained even greater power, carving out a fey kingdom beneath her mountain.
He looked around, and saw every single villain in the cell-block prostrating before her, and he understood.
Yes, she lacked the sheer numbers that the Summer and Winter courts had, but every single prisoner in this place had been brought here because they were too powerful and too dangerous for the outside world.
Yes, a being like the LeananSidhe was dangerous, but Acidbath? Teacher? String Theory? Those were not to be trifled with either, and there were hundreds of people here. Not to mention those who served her directly, who were part of her.
"When you meet them, tell my fellow queens that I shall be ready on midsummer's eve," The Fairy Queen said.
"When I meet them?" he asked.
"You were about to visit Mab, were you not?" she asked, suddenly less self-assured, slightly more like a young girl.
Of course… This was her domain. To open a portal here, he did not need to wonder where it would go.
As he realized that escape would not be as easy as he had thought it would be, he fell to his knees, still in front of the Queen.
"Now, as for your master," the Queen said.
"My master?" he asked, not understanding.
"Your master, the enemy. He to whom the Walkers kneel." the girl said, walking around him, her gaze keeping him on his knees. "You did not even know you served him, did you?"
"Your Grace?" One of the men, Pyrophage, said. "Thy coco awaits."
Within his hands, he held a tiny paper cup filled with a steaming brown drink.
"Good, good," she replied, a child once again. "Perhaps I shall make you my emissary, next time I have need of one."
"And the new guy?" Gavel asked her, once again standing, courageous now that his queen had her coco.
"He is of little consequence. You may kill him if he turns aggressive," she replied, slowly sipping her hot drink.
"Of course, your Grace," Gavel replied.