2:36 AM
"Sir Farceur, Class I," the diplomat spoke into a blinking panel on the wall before him. As the security system recognized the pitch and pattern of his speech, the door to the basement steps unlocked and slid open. Farceur descended into the subterranean detention block.
Long and narrow, it consisted of a hallway with five reinforced prison cells on each side. They were widely spaced along the hall, and each about half the size of an agent's quarters. On the walls between each cell were two-way radios that linked directly to the war room and the Class I barracks. Being among the top agents had some perks, but one of the drawbacks was being on call for any emergency, day or night.
As Farceur reached the first two cells, he cast a glance to his left. The cell there contained no visible occupants. He then quickly looked to his right, expecting to see the short, attractive but pernicious form of Stardust inside. She was nowhere to be seen. He peered closely into the small polycarbonate window, putting a hand on the door as he did so—and it rattled in its frame. The cell door was open.
He stepped back, a lump leaping from his stomach into his throat and a surge of nervous adrenaline rushing from his heart out to his limbs. But even in his state of near panic, his brain didn't stop working.
It was impossible to open the door to the basement from either side without authorization. So she was still in here. And a quick look at the door in front of him told him that it was indeed cracked open a hair—he mentally slapped himself for missing that in his tired, complacent state—while the rest were sealed firmly. And she should not have been able to open any of those doors on her own anyway.
Most likely, she was still inside her cell, and trying to bait him in.
Farceur was no close-quarters-combat expert on the level of Rook, Draygoon, V3N or Hrly, but he had been certified in FBI techniques of apprehension and force continuum, and the emergency two-way was within arm's reach. He was quite confident as he pulled the cell door open and strode inside. He would not be intimidated by a prisoner.
"Come out, Stardust. You cannot possibly think that you could surprise me or attempt escape here. There's nothing you could arm yourself with in these cells to take me hostage with, so you'd never even open the security doors. And even if you did, you'd have to evade the entire Rook Squad to get out of this building. I'm not even going to mention what the perimeter drones would do to you even if you miraculously managed that. Honestly, Stardust, what are you thinking?"
"Call for help," rasped a tiny voice from behind him. He whirled around in time to see a minute figure squeezing out of a gap in the inner side of the cell door, a hole too small for even the slenderest finger. The tiny keyholes allowed for the manual release of prisoners in the event of power outage.
The tiny person hit the floor and immediately started to expand. It grew rapidly to its normal height of five-nothing.
Farceur tensed, ready to rush Stardust. He was now inside the cell with her between him and the door.
She unfolded her wide, fairy-like wings to fill the whole doorway, and the motion made her shiny green dress glimmer in the industrial lighting. Beneath her soft flop of orange hair, she sneered at him. "Call to them."
Unfazed, Farceur started forward, with the intent to seize her and place her in a pain-compliance hold before she had the chance to grow any more. But he was a pace too slow.
Stardust continued to grow as she met Farceur's advance. Technically there wasn't a limit to her control over her size, but as she went above seven feet tall, gravity and decreasing blood pressure began to undo the strength gains provided by the extra weight and muscle mass. As she went smaller she had the opposite problem, as well as decreased brain function as the grey matter experienced pressure in her shrinking skull.
Easily becoming bigger and stronger than Farceur during the two steps he took to reach her, she struck him in the chest and hurled him against the rear wall of the cell. The back of his head rapped the drywall, sending starbursts of color across his vision.
Reaching her optimum size, Stardust shrieked and charged bodily at Farceur as he lay sprawled on the floor. He barely managed to save himself from the brunt of the blow by seizing the mattress off the cot beside him and yanking it between them like a shield.
Enraged, Stardust lifted the mattress and threw it to one side. Farceur had planned on this, and his tight grip on the cover ensured that he went with it. By the time she realized he wasn't there, he was tumbling on the floor behind her. She spun, and he shoved the cell's small endtable into her path—an instinctive measure and a rather fruitless one, he knew—and scrambled backwards on his rear through the doorway. He grabbed the two-way beside him and yanked it to his mouth.
"CONTAINMENT FAILURE! REPEAT, CONTAINMENT FAILURE!! SOMEBODY GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THE FUCK—"
Stardust backhanded the endtable, flinging it at Farceur. He sprawled on the floor, dropping the two-way, and the table flew over his head and smashed to pieces against the far wall, obliterating that radio. She charged at him, but he threw a leg up and across, catching the cell door with his foot and slamming it shut, getting the satisfaction of seeing her face impacting the clear plastic window.
She would not be deterred—she shrank herself down as fast as she could and threw herself through the keyhole again. Not bothering to open the door, she merely wormed her way through the innards of the lock mechanism and dived through the external hole.
Farceur lashed fists at her ferociously in her small state, but she was adept to this strategy, zipping about like a housefly until she could get to a safe enough distance to expand again. She fled from him, growing as she did so, and when she turned to face him, a full seven feet again, he was holding a mangled half of the endtable.
But neither would attack again—the audible hiss of the basement door opening echoed through the hall, and Stardust whirled away from Farceur. He realized he'd done what she'd wanted—called for backup. They would have to open that door to come to his aid, giving her some slim chance at escape.
As she hurtled up the stairs, her wild grin quickly became an infuriated snarl upon seeing Kich's titanic figure filling the doorway. She did not check herself, but redoubled her efforts and threw herself up the flight with all the strength she could muster, barreling into him with a shoulder charge directly into his midsection.
He didn't even take a step back.
Stardust screamed as her arm was wrenched by the impact, and in the next second Kich caught hold of her. She tried to force her way past him, but he was on a higher step, he was stronger, and he knew what he was doing. Trapping both her arms, Kich shifted Stardust's weight and twisted her to the ground. He placed a foot on the small of her back, holding her there until Rook appeared by his side, pointing a finger at the back of her head.
"Back to your cell, bitch," the commander snapped. Stardust knew his voice. Not eager to have the flesh melted off of her skull, she obeyed, waiting patiently for Kich to remove his foot, allowing herself to return to her standard height, and walking calmly to her wrecked cell.
Rook held the door open for her while Kich approached Farceur. "What happened?"
"She was able to get inside the manual lock and disengage it. I don't understand how. It's tamper-proof from that side—she should have been shocked by the electronic lock from doing that."
"No longer an issue," Rook muttered, placing a hand on the lock mechanism. When he took his hand away, the metal was warped.
"But if the electronic locks are malfunctioning…"
"Wake up Epidemic, then, he can easily stand guard and hold this door shut tonight. In the morning we'll install deadbolts instead of these pieces of shit."
"Yes, sir."
Kich blinked. "Do you think BRiT's little outburst could have caused the locks to short out?"
"Yeah, probably. Look, for fuck's sake, let's all just go to sleep."