Pigritia slowly walked down the cell-block corridor, slowly trailing her fingers across the bars of numerous cells lining the wall. Every time her nails made the light tapping noise, the occupants backed away like scared, timid animals. And that is all that they were. That is what Hearthome made them. Pigritia hated this place, hated these cells below Hearthome, the cells where Warden Hearthome threw those he deemed incurable and not worthy for respect. The presence of these cells weren't exactly a secret to those in Hearthome, but most preferred not to even think about it. This cell-block beneath Hearthome had two entrances: the main entrance was at the back of the dorms where a small underground roadway led into the main bulk of the cells. The second entrance was the one that Pigritia and her allies used in order to meet, the elevator shaft in the dorms.
"Pigritia."
The tinging of metal stopped as Pigritia's fingers stiffened. She took a deep breath behind her mask before turning around.
"Time is not up yet," Pigritia said.
It was the true Irae. Not the puppet that had been given to Pigritia, but rather a true member of the group known as Purgatory, just as Pigritia herself was. He and Pigritia were two of the three members of Purgatory that had put themselves within Hearthome and although Irae claimed to be there to supervise Avaritia, who had joined only a short time ago, Pigritia strongly suspected that he was here to supervise her as well. This was something she found it very hard to be happy about.
"I am fed up of waiting," Irae growled. This Irae was nothing like Marcus Morris, who had simply been chosen because of his near-matching size. This was a man who could and had killed without a second thought. A man whose anger was unmatched. He was truly a representative of the Sin given to him: Wrath. "It is over, Pigritia."
"It is not over until the task is done," Pigritia replied, walking up to Irae without fear. She knew of the threat behind that mask but Irae would never harm a fellow member of Purgatory. At least, Pigritia had to believe that.
"You will never complete this task," Irae took another step forward. His very presence seemed to radiate the threat he held behind his posture. "You have lost your chance, Pigritia."
"The Weapons are nearly in my grasp," Pigritia said slowly. "Just a little longer."
"A little longer? How long must we wait? This infiltration of yours has been nothing but an utter failure. You have lost the puppets given to you. One of whom has been murdered by a man you claimed would do no such thing. These are important resources, Pigritia. No, you have lost sight of your mission. You lost that sight the moment you put yourself on the List."
"I didn't put myself on the List, Irae," Pigritia shook her head. "The List is separate. Of course I am going to try to free myself from its bonds. The weapons are my priority."
"No. It's too late. These weapons of yours have been deemed unimportant." Irae held up four thick fingers. "You have four hours before I have Avaritia commit a Purge."
"What?!" Pigritia couldn't contain her surprise at this suggestion. "I was trusted with this plan, you wouldn't dare get in my way."
"You think this is from me?" Irae shook his head. "She ordered this. Even you would not go against that, correct? No, I thought not. Four hours. Do what you must in that time. If you can find your weapons, then all the more for it. That is the instructions. If you stay in Hearthome, you will be cast out from Purgatory."
Pigritia could feel her temper slipping from her. She had been designated her sin of Sloth for the patience she had in her plans which could often take place over weeks or even years. However, that patience did not correlate for her emotions. She could admit that she was quick to temper, although her temper would not nearly be a match with Irae's if he were to lose his.
"I cannot leave Hearthome, Irae. You know this. She knows this."
"Irrelevant. She will be part of the Purge if she is still present. She and all the puppets. It's done, Pigritia, the plan has fallen through. Sometimes we must accept this fact. I expect to see you in four hours at the North Wall. Avaritia and I will be waiting for you. This is not the moment to take your time." With that, Irae turned and started to stomp away.
"And why did you allow Conner Shepherd to go free!?" Pigritia suddenly called.
Irae glanced back. Neither of them could see each other's faces. Neither of them knew each other's identities. Yet Pigritia heavily suspected that Irae was smiling beneath that mask.
"Just because an action doesn't factor into your plan doesn't mean it won't factor into others."
With that simple and yet terrifying statement, Irae disappeared down the corridor.
"…Damn it, Penny…" Pigritia whispered for none to hear but those forgotten imprisoned and left the other way.
The location that Pigritia had chosen as the site of operations used to be an old storeroom. It had been set up like an apocalyptic shelter. There were canned goods, bed rolls, bottles of water, anything one would need to survive in the room without having to emerge. Irae had mostly been living here, while Pigritia made her own uses out of it. Other than the three of them, no one else made use of it, especially as Averitia was playing his role above in Hearthome proper.
That was, until Pigritia had taken Professor Johann Schneider.
"So, has Jason decided to change his mind and trade for me?" Johann Schneider said from his position in the corner, where his hand had been zip-tied to a pipe. There were a few bruises over his aged skin but otherwise the old professor seemed in good condition. His clothes were a little ruffled and there was a loose cloth tied in a loop around his neck. Pigritia ignored the old man and fished out a small bottle of water before bringing it over to Johann. "No? Well, I shouldn't say that I'm surprised. Many thanks." Johann took a drink of the water. "So the Purgatory, hm? I was never told that name. I wonder, is that a secret name, something you keep from the Department?"
Pigritia did not respond. She took the bottle away from Johann's lips and tipped her mask slightly above her mouth so she could take a drink.
"You know, if you simply let me go then I suspect you will at least be captured without violence. I may not be one of them, but I am well trusted, and to get me back, Jason Ryan will do whatever is needed."
"You're lucky I do not kill you myself after his murder of Paul," Pigritia threw the bottle against the wall. "He started this."
"I am surprised you can say that so simply. No, he did not start this. You started this when you took John, Oliver, and Imogen." Johann chuckled to himself. "Or I suppose your infiltration started this."
"And they got out of there alive, so you know that I am good for my word. I can… accept Paul's death. I understand emotions were strong. Yet the message has been sent. Your life for theirs. I just want my people back."
"Why?" Johann questioned. "I heard them referred to as puppets. What use have you to get them back?"
Pigritia crouched in front of Johann. "Despite what you may think, I don't heed needless violence."
"I am sure Imogen Banks would have something to say about that statement."
"That was—" Pigritia sighed. "Paul went off-plan. He shouldn't have done what he did. But do not try and excuse the actions of Imogen Banks. She was a violent bully who injured patients. Her death will not be mourned."
"All loss of life should be mourned," Johann's eyes grew steely. "The act of a death should not be mocked." Almost imperceptibly, Johann glanced at a blood stain across the wall. "When Jason Ryan finds out what—"
Johann's words stuck in his throat as the sound of a blast as if someone were mining with dynamite echoed through the chamber. It was close enough that small bits of dust peetered down from the roof. Both Johann and Pigritia glanced up at the same time.
"That was an explosion…" Pigritia muttered.
"What kind of plan are you conducting?" Johann asked quietly. "Nothing in Hearthome could explode like that without some human intrusion. Have you taken to bombing now?
Pigritia looked at Johann sharply but didn't grace him with a response. Instead she walked over to one of the bags on the floor and took a moment to rummage through before pulling out the pistol. She hated the thing. It was supposed to be a prop, something she could use to instill fear. Instead she had fired it at John Doe and nearly killed the man. That was something that wasn't part of her plan. The stupid man just had to involve himself. It wasn't like Conner Shepherd. Conner was a killer, a murderer, somebody who deserved every ounce of violence directed at him. John… John was just an inquisitive bystander. Yes, she had taken him, Banks, and Ollie. But to instill fear and lay the groundwork for manipulation. She had cut into John, yes, but that wasn't serious. There was only one death that was necessary in this plan of hers, and that was the death of Conner Shepherd.
"Your hands are shaking."
Pigritia jumped as if shocked. Sloppy. For a moment she had forgotten the prisoner. She looked at Johann again and held the pistol in her hand.
"Maybe there is more truth than I believed in the words you said," Johann said calmly. "Perhaps you don't want death. Those shaking hands are not the hands of an experienced killer. So step down and hand yourself in. The Department can be more forgiving than you might think."
"It's time to be quiet, Professor," Pigritia stepped towards Johann and pulled the cloth around his neck up, sticking it in his mouth as a gag. Johann did not protest. Pigritia often left him ungagged as the man was intelligent enough to offer conversation despite his status as a prisoner. It was when he started slipping in questions and implications like he did when Pigritia gagged the old man and his mouth again.
Her head wasn't in the right frame of mind. The pieces of her plan were slowly switching places. Imogen never should have been murdered. Paul should never have been killed in response. John should never have been shot. She herself should never have been on this God awful List. And that was it. Pigritia knew that this is what had gone wrong. The plan had originally been so simple, to manipulate Conner Shepherd. Instead she found herself butting head-to-head with Conner in a way she had never intended. She was intelligent, yes, but Conner… Pigritia could not be certain that her intelligence could outwit Conner's own, despite her posturing in front of him.
"Char! Char!"
Pigritia stiffened and turned quickly, anger swiping over her. That was not a name that should have been spoken so freely. Even though she wasn't looking at the professor, Pigritia could feel the man's ears prick up.
"Charlotte!" And there she was.
Penelope.
Appearing with sweat on her brow as if she had just ran a marathon. There was an unusual expression on her face, a smile that sent shivers down Pigritia's spine. It was not an expression that fit either of their faces particularly well.
"Jason Ryan is dead!" Penelope stepped forward and carelessly hugged Pigritia tightly. Pigritia had to actively push her backwards quickly. She seemed to realise what she had done and stiffened slightly, one hand immediately rubbing the bandaged arm. "…Jason Ryan is dead, Pigritia. I told you that the Lord's work would pay off. I told you. There was an explosion, a burning van, and the administration building was crumbling as I left."
"What? You're not making any sense," Pigritia raised her hand. "Jason Ryan is dead?"
"Yes!" Penelope said as she caught her breath. "And the others, they have escaped. They must be on their way here now. You should have seen the expression on Conner Shepherd's face when he said it, he looked so defeated. We won, Char, we beat him!" Penelope ran a bandaged hand through her hair. It was strange to see her so excitable. Her expression then flickered a little and her eyes narrowed. "But I believe you may be in trouble. Robyn and Noah, they were saved. That means the List has come back to you, is that right?"
Pigritia tried to take in the information that had just been told to her. An explosion, the List… it was taking her a moment to wrap her head about it. Penelope herself was taking the moment to control her breathing. She must have run quick and fast.
Heavy footsteps suddenly echoed from the corridor. Multiple footsteps.
"Get behind me, Penny," Pigritia immediately stepped in front of her and pointed the pistol at the corridor. She had used it once. She could use it again. Especially if it was to defend what was hers.
The footsteps grew louder and suddenly three figures practically fell through the door. Pigritia lowered his pistol in relief. One was feminine and small. Another was tall and slender. The third a more average build. All of them wore the telltale masks of the Sins. Pigritia couldn't believe her eyes and it only affirmed what Penelope had just said. It was those that wore the masks of Superbia, Libidine, and Gula. Dave, Derrick, and Rebecca had found their way back. A moment of happiness sprung behind Pigritia's mask. The real Irae simply didn't understand. Yes, these people had been manipulated, but nevertheless, they had worked closely with Pigritia. These were her people, her time, manipulated or otherwise.
"Pigritia, thank God," Superbia said, voice distorted from the mask. He took a step towards Pigritia. All three were panting. Libidine was clutching at his waist. "Thank God we got here in time."
"Jason Ryan is dead," Gula panted from behind her moon mask, approaching Pigritia. She was clutching at her leg. "We managed to surprise them, the explosion—"
"Where is Morris? Where is Irae?" Pigritia asked, looking for the big man.
"He held them off," Libidine said slowly as he pressed his hands against his ribs. He stepped closer to Pigritia. All of them were covered in dust and sweat, wearing resident clothes as if they were prisoners. Jason must have dressed them up when he imprisoned them as a display of power. A little strange, but Pigritia couldn't think on that right now. "The one known as Berlin. The bastard killed him. Cut him down."
All three of them were close now and some deep instinct of Pigritia's kicked in. Something was very wrong. This was too good to be true. And wasn't it a little strange? How had they set up an explosion to free them? And why did Libidine seem a little taller than usual. And wasn't Superbia a little too broad in the shoulders? And Gula had come up to her neck before, now she was a few inches shorter.
And they had been too quick. They had arrived shortly after Penny had. That didn't account for time of escaping the DHP, of getting out of the administration building, and getting to the dorms.
It was do or die. She had to act before they did. "Penny, let's go!" With that shout, Pigritia pulled Penelope with her and charged towards the weakest link of the wall in front of her – Libidine, who was still holding his waist. At the same time Pigritia used her free hand to push Superbia backwards and ducked under a reaching grasp from Gula. While the grasping fingers of Gula failed to get ahold of any skin of clothes, it did catch a hold of Pigritia's mask. She felt the mask peel from her face but Pigritia had to ignore that and pushed forward. And just like that, they were passed.
If she had been alone, Pigritia would have fought. She was well-trained in the art of combat. However, with Penny with her, Pigritia could not endanger her life. Pigritia was not averse to retreating, as she had done before.
They ran down the corridor and it took Pigritia a few moments running with Penelope to realise that the three were not following. No matter, it was time to get out from beneath the depths of Hearthome and get out into the forest. Then she could put her thoughts together.
A whistle cut sharply down the corridor.
"Char!" Penelope grabbed Pigritia's arm and pulled it tightly. The two of them stopped.
The corridor was dimly lit with the brightest light coming at the end of the corridor that led to the elevator. There were two other corridors branching out – one led to a communal shower area where these prisoners of Warden Hearthome were washed and relieved. The other led to the exit out into the back of the administrative building, kept heavily locked. It was at the end of the elevator corridor where the light shone the brightest that a shadow was leaning against one of the walls, one foot up against the wall, head turned towards the two women.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," the voice echoed out in mocking sing-sing. "I guess you took me for a fool."
Conner Shepherd slowly straightened up off of the wall and took a step towards the two of them. Conner looked at Penelope, in her residents clothes and her bandages. He then turned to Pigritia and at her tank-top and floral tattoos. And then he looked to their faces. "It's like looking at two sides of the same coin, huh?"
Their faces were carbon copies of the other. The same slant of the eyes, the same depth of the nose, the same point of the chin, even the same tint of the eyes. It was as if there were two Penelope's standing in front of him. One with bandages, the other without.
"Penelope and… Penelope…" Conner said, taking another step forward. "Or rather, only the one Penelope, eh?" Conner looked towards the bandaged Penelope. "Yes, we know each other quite well by now. Chess fanatic. Poker face." Conner turned his head to the tattooed other. "And then we have you. We know each other quite well, as well. Itchy trigger finger. Likes to place guilt. Knows how to fight. It's nice to put a name to the face. And no, it is not Penelope. It is not Pigritia. Charlotte Hayes. Twin sister of Penelope Hayes. A pleasure, indeed."
Charlotte and Penelope looked to each-other, their expressions mirrored just as their faces. Charlotte tried to control herself. It only seemed like they were trapped. Sure, Conner Shepherd might know who she was but that really didn't mean anything anymore, did it? Besides, no-one would believe Conner if he said that Penelope had a twin sister. It was the kind of conspiracy Robyn would make up. No, she could still spin this, still play this. The checkmate was still within her reach.
"The two of you can come peacefully and you will be detained without force," the voice came from behind them. Charlotte and Penelope turned behind them.
The three figures stood behind them. Only it wasn't Superbia, Libidine, and Gula and it certainly was not Dave, Derrick, or Rebecca. Their masks were off. Looking at each of them in turn, Charlotte's lips peeled into a snarl. She gripped Penny's hand tighter. The first was the agent she had stabbed through the thigh, known as Wasp. The second moonlighting as Liberdine was none other than John Doe himself, although he stood back from the others, still holding his waist, but there was a superior smile on his burned face.
The third was Jason Ryan himself.
"'How could I have been such a fool?' That must be what you're thinking, no?" Conner's voice echoed out. "You let your guard down. You've put your sister in trouble. And you're wondering now, just how much do I know? How much indeed. Are you wondering if I know about the fake Sins? Are you wondering if I know about your past with Penelope? Are you wondering if I'm just pretending I know, or that I actually know? Are you wondering how? You shouldn't wonder too much."
Charlotte slowly turned around again. The four behind her, two of them likely no threat in Johann and John, one old, the other too injured. Wasp was injured, but likely still could fight. Jason was fully healthy. And in front of her, Conner Shepherd. She could likely fight Conner and win with ease but not before Jason or Wasp got on her. Plus she couldn't leave Penelope alone, Penelope was not a fighter by any means, she was a patient of Hearthome. So that meant left or right. To the dead-end of the shower area or the locked end of the back exit.
"I'm done playing your rigged game of chess. Chess is just no fun when there are two queens," Conner took another step forward. "How about we play a game of tag, instead? Or hide and seek? I don't mind. Whichever ends with me capturing you. I'm happy either way.
Charlotte Hayes took a deep breath. Penelope Hayes took the same breath. The two of them already knew what the other was thinking. Conner Shepherd may have thought he had the upper hand, but the game wasn't over yet. There were still pieces to play. Together, as one, they uttered a single word under their breaths. "Run."