Iron Heights High-Security Metahuman Wing. As the newest resident in the cell block, Professor Providence is already a bit of a minor celebrity among the ranks of the other prisoners. The guards refuse to talk to her or look her in the eyes. They fear her. Other metahuman inmates know what she's done, and they know of the carnage she caused in her little war. They avoid her gaze and keep their distance. They respect and fear her. Reputation is the truest currency that can exist in prison. However, her constant ranting about her being God seems to be getting on people's nerves if the riot that is currently underway means anything at all. It's a magnificent frenzy.
Depowered metahumans all fighting each other and the guards, physical violence being employed instead of their abilities. It's a hysterical insanity out there, and Candice revels in it. The noise fills the void where her powers should be, and she knows that the other inmates feel the same as she does. Helpless and weak. She riled them up for a reason, though. The boredom of prison life isn't something that is discussed much and she now knows why. It's been about four days, yet if feels as if it's only been hours. It's an absolute misery not knowing the exact moments as they pass on by. Timing has always been important to her research. The riot takes some of the edge off, manipulating the others was far too easy, even without her powers. Put together a group of people who could have been Gods, take away their powers, then say they can't ever leave. Watch the madness unfold. Priceless.
She's just so bored here, the metahuman wing doesn't do any sort of yard time, and the visits from the Flash aren't even slightly entertaining anymore. He keeps being all preachy and insisting she release Captain Cold from her power, she keeps saying she will if she's let out, he says he can't do that…. It's a long ordeal, and it just doesn't get any better. Besides, with her powers on lockdown, she can't actually control what happens to Snart. Whatever echo of her power that remains in his mind is acting on its own, fuelled by Snart's own inner thoughts. When she had him under her control she had just been laying the groundwork for that sort of event. However, she hadn't planned on actually proceeding with it, he was just supposed to be the bait in the trap. Candice settles back on her bunk, the sounds of the riot fading out of focus as she concentrated. She had a visit from the Arrow once. Nothing like waking up with a weapon pointed in your face and a demand to release your only chance out of here. He was far too easy to convince to leave. They'll fold soon if they really want to her to save Snart they'll let her go free. She only has to worry about his criminal associates, they could be a potential problem in her powerless state.
Whenever she concentrates she can still feel the echoes of her power whispering in the recesses of her mind. The smallest fragmentations of her ability remain locked up tight in her brain. So close, like a soothing balm behind thick bullet-proof glass and her only available tool is her fists. She misses the strength she felt from it. Misses the rush of endorphins from each new toy she took in using her mind. It's as if they stole one of her limbs and gave her a crutch made of razors. The feeling is foreign and out of place, artificial and searingly painful, a white hot knife twisting in her side.
The sounds of the riot are winding down now, just a few shouts and the noise of cell doors slamming shut. Someone got tazed, she can smell the electricity, the burned skin and singed hair. Probably Mardon. Or maybe Monteleone. She thinks he was called Tarpit... or it was that Fells kid… what did he call himself? Geomancer? Even Candice understood that the kid has serious some issues he needs to work out. She could help him, help the others work through their issues. She could change their lives and set them back on track. Even without her powers, she could help them, all of the knowledge the counselor had is now hers, but it's so much more fun to watch them self-destruct in a fiery meltdown.
Looks like it was Fells, the guards are dragging him to the infirmary, it appears electricity did not sit well with him. His hair is standing as if he was electrocuted. Wait. He was electrocuted. Candice knew that she shouldn't laugh at that observation, but she couldn't help it. This monotony was practically driving her to tears.
There's a reason prison doesn't work the way it's supposed to, but it does work. The memories the counselor had featured a lot of prisoners, people destroyed by the system meant to make them better. There may be no structure to encourage people to better themselves, but the only motivation they need is there in spades. Hatred. Those who hate prison enough either attempt escape or work on early parole. But even with this, many prisoners still end up stuck in the broken system, committing worse and worse crimes just to stay alive in there. There's a reason many former prisoners suffer from forms of PTSD. And in the metahuman wing, you can almost never leave.
A few of the guards should soon be escorting those who have guests to the visiting center. Candice stood, knowing she would once again be one of the selected inmates. The Flash will probably be there again. It's been almost four days, and he's been more desperate for her help with each visit. Hilarious. If she didn't know better she would say that he actually cared about that criminal… no, it can't be that, that's just ridiculous. The Flash is a hero, and Captain Cold is a villain. That's not how things work. If she had her powers she could find out for sure. Maybe it's a strange form of Hero Syndrome, a need to prove themselves as competent, or flaunt their bravery. What better way than reforming a villain? Not that it could ever happen, she's been in Snart's head, and it's not a very pretty picture. It's a wonder he hadn't sent himself into a dissociative coma before she got to him. His family issues alone would drive most to madness. Not to mention his weird obsession with the Flash…
Ah well, it's not exactly her place to judge anyone. Just to get out of this place by any means necessary. She would take the deal the Flash offered her. Even if it means giving up her final piece on the board.
*Providence Waits*
Lisa Snart sat in the waiting room of the prison's visitor center, her foot tapped anxiously and she drummed her fingers on the bench beside her. Being this close to law enforcement made her extremely uncomfortable. But she would willingly sit through a literal Hell if it meant helping her brother. There's an atmosphere of thinly veiled panic in the room, the other people, guards, sign in workers, other visitors, they all have looks of dread and woe on their faces. There's a woman crying next to her children as they leave the visitation room. When they had entered they wore such painfully fake smiles that didn't reach their eyes. Visiting people you care about is hard.
She understood the pain, locking away emotions so no one can see how you truly feel. It's a familiar concept, one she's had plenty of practice with growing up. Being here just reminded her even more about those dark days of childhood. Lisa clenched her hands into fists, she missed the weight of her gold gun. She wasn't quite as obsessed with it as her brother was with his cold gun, but it would have been comforting to have, especially in this place. The off white walls and hard rows of wooden benches around too small tables put off an aura of stifling confinement. Her foot continued to tap nervously. The Flash may have gotten rid of both her and Lenny's records, but they could still recognize her as Golden Glider. It was unlikely, but still within the realm of possibility. She was wearing her hated blonde wig and fake glasses just in case. 'Proper preplanning prevents piss poor performance.'
A little mantra she was taught once by an old man named Steve and his kid Mike. That one, 'All Cops Are Pigs' and 'Deny, deny until you die'.
They were an interesting family.
"Ms. Lisa Star?" Her old stage name when she was with the traveling Futura Ice Show. Even with no records, she wasn't willing to risk using her real name in this place. "We're ready for you in the visiting room, you have fifteen minutes." It wouldn't take that long to get what she needed. She followed the guard into the viewing room, rows of phones separated by glass. There were a few others there, most of the prisoners stoic in their incarceration, their visitors teary eyed with wavering voices and forced smiles.
She sat down and picked up the receiver of the phone, glaring at the person behind the smudged glass. Candice Providence grinned back, almost giddy in her confinement. "Well, well! I must say that I was not expecting you to visit me so soon! The Flash, yes of course, but you Ms. Snart are quite the surprise!" She leaned back in her chair, settling down in the hard plastic.
"Did you know the food here is considered to be Kosher? Because I did not!" Candice sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. "It's still terrible, though, don't know why I expected any differently. I hate your glasses, by the way, they do absolutely nothing for you." Candice leaned forward, staring straight into Lisa's eyes, from behind her horn-rims, voice taking on a heavy condescending tone. "Please tell me you're not here to make some sort of a pathetic impassioned plea for your brother's freedom. I've gotten that one already from The Flash in every one of his visits. I know it by rote at this point, and I'd rather play a different game now."
Lisa ground her teeth angrily, god damn, she was already itching to kill this woman. "I'm not here to beg you for your help," she gritted out, rage enveloping each syllable. "I'm here to make a deal." This was a bad idea but it was the only way.
"What kind of deal would this be?" Candice was intrigued. Did the Flash know about this? If not, this could be quite fun to go along with.
"Your freedom for my brother's recovery." Lisa hated that she was offering this psycho her freedom, but it was the only option to get Lenny back to consciousness. She would do anything she could.
"Well, colour me impressed, Ms. Snart. For an insect, you have a surprisingly adequate sense of commerce and deal making." She leered at Lisa through the glass. "I presume the Flash has no idea about this little business proposition you've brought to me, now does he?" She took note of the angry glare still gracing Lisa's face and smiled smugly in return. "No, I didn't think so." Candice leaned forward, nose almost touching the smudged pane, breath fogging the glass. "So tell me, how is this plan of yours supposed to work?"
*Providence Waits*
This getaway car smells like Chinese food. And not even good Chinese food. It smells like the food from the place in the mall, the one that was shut down because a customer saw a rat and one of the employees stepped on it. Gross. Was it called The Lucky Dragon? Lucky Star? Something like that. Whatever it was called, the food was terrible and the getaway car smells almost exactly like it. Couldn't Lisa have gotten a car that didn't smell like grease and old chicken? Seriously, the car was just gross.
Mick has been sitting outside of the prison for almost an hour, waiting with the motor running and with the windows rolled down, hoping to get rid of the stench. Lisa told him that this plan would be simple, she'll go in, bring out Professor Providence and he drives them all back to STAR Labs. Should be real easy, right?
No. Not easy. It's never easy. Every time one of the security guards so much as looks over at the car Mick grows more anxious. This should have been over and done with almost thirty minutes ago, yet here he was, still sitting outside the one place he never wanted to return to. He hated feeling trapped, ever since back in school with the meat locker incident...
He tightens his grip on his heat gun, the 'Hot Rod' he calls it, drumming his fingers on the barrel. Lisa said not to bring it, but what she didn't know can't hurt her. He can't just leave it in one of the safe houses. Besides, if all goes to plan he won't even need to use it. But when does it ever go to plan? At least if it goes up in flames it won't be his fault, not this time, he's just the driver on this. But Lisa would probably figure out a way to blame him anyways.
The sound of the passenger and rear door opening and slamming shut pulls him out of his thoughts. "Drive dammit! The guards are gonna notice she's not in her cell!"
Mick takes off the brake and speeds off out of the parking lot. Goodbye Iron Heights, hello drama at STAR Labs, he thinks, looking into the rearview mirror at the unwanted passenger. This plan better work or she's dead. I'll kill her myself if I have to. Burn the bitch to a crisp.
Candice notices the quick glance and kicks the back of the seat. "What? What are you looking at? What do you want you mongoloid?"
Lisa turns back in the passenger seat, "shut up bitch, you don't have any say in this!" she rattled the keys in her hand, the corresponding cuffs still around Candice's wrists, restricting bother her power and her movement. "You can talk once we get back to the Labs."
"I'll talk whenever I feel I should do so!" The madwoman sneered, glaring at Lisa. "You need me to save your brother, and don't you forget it."
"You're going to help no matter what!"
"Well, maybe I should also explain your little betrayal to the Flash!" Mick ground his teeth, listening to the ongoing squabble between Lisa and Providence rise in volume. He drove carefully, not needing any sort of police interference. This was going to be a very long fifteen minutes.
*Providence Waits*
Paragon the Inevitable lay in slumber in the cold, dark, sewers beneath the city, their body at rest but their mind active with their ever changing plans. At first, they had yearned for only power, and now they had new ideas for their ascension. They need not subjugate the humans, no matter how easily the wills of mankind may bend before them. In the moments after their awakening, they had been obsessed with gathering strength and power, and as the saying goes, knowledge is power. Now, knowledge of all things was their ultimate goal.
Learning of the world's Absolutes; Sciences, Mathematics, History, and the Humanities; Literature, Art, Philosophy. their views on the world changed, no longer did they desire to be the destruction of the world. They no longer desired to be the New God.
They learned the philosophical teachings of The Buddha, Zeno, William of Ockham, Karl Marx, Socrates, and Plato. Morality and Ethics, the very things eschewed by their creator, these became their obsession.
They still had plans to rise, plans to battle, but now on very different terms.