Well done, dummy, I think to myself. Go sneak onto a deadly island and tell no one. Of course you won't get captured.
At least I'm not shackled anymore. I could feel the cold metal bumping against my wrists and ankles when they first threw me in this cell. Very uncomfortable. Now I'm just locked in a very small cell with the tiniest bed I've ever seen, a small, smelly bucket in the corner, and a blinding red light that drains any hope I have of escaping.
Cassie is so gonna have to make this up to me.
I have the basic makings of an escape plan, though. It'll be more developed once I get a better understanding of how the red sunlight lamp works. It doesn't help that there are two working cameras watching me every move in this cell, though.
I'd like to think I'm making the most of this situation, though. I channel my inner optimist and try not to ponder on the fact that they could easily enter the cell and kill me. Instead I'm making small talk with the guards. None of them respond to me, though.
"How's your day going?" Silence. "Mine's fantastic."
"How long have you been a trained killer?" Silence. "I've been one for about a year now."
"How did you end up in the assassin business?" Silence. "I was taken from an interdimensional prison and brainwashed."
Finally, at long last, one actually answers me.
"What were you doing before you joined the League?" I ask a red hooded one as he delivers me my second meal of the day.
"Something similar to what you were doing before you got yourself captured."
I pause in the middle of chewing a piece of stale bread, taken aback by the fact that I actually got an answer. I wipe the crumbs off my face and say, "You were shut up inside all day trying to learn how to act human?"
My question gets a small smirk. He's the only guard who doesn't wear a mask. I wonder why.
"Maybe closer to what your friends are doing now."
I gaze at him for a moment. He's quite tall, towering over me by a few inches (according to Kal I'm five feet eight inches), all of his features sharp enough to cut glass, and his jet black hair is tousled, slightly falling over his dark blue eyes. They're beautiful, really. Most things on Krypton were warm colours; red, orange, yellow, etc. Seeing cool colours, especially blues and purples, indicated something was important. My father told me this often when he looked at my own blue eyes. They're light, like the Earth's sky. I told my father I didn't think having blue eyes made one special, but he disagreed as my cousin and my mother had blue eyes also. Now, looking at this man's deep blue eyes, I can't help wondering about what my father would say if he ever saw eyes such a shade.
"You don't seem like the vigilante type," I tell him.
He gestures to the large sword strapped across his back and I correct myself. "I mean like a decent one. No offence, but I can't imagine anyone in this place ever being a hero."
"Who said I was a hero?" His voice is rather deep, giving a dark edgy effect.
"Fair enough." I take a sip of the horrid water I've been provided. "Heroes are overrated, probably."
"And why is that?"
"Dunno. Some people I guess aren't worth having heroes."
He stays silent, waiting for me to expand. I place down the glass of water and gesture for him to sit on the floor with me. To my surprise, he joins me on the ground.
"Humans aren't that great," I say bluntly. "They actually seem kind of awful."
He laughs slightly. "Don't I know it. Can't imagine you've met many nice ones."
"All I've met are nice ones." On that I don't expand. I've only been on this planet a few weeks and already I get the gist of humanity. They're greedy and violent. That's why they need heroes.
"And none are worth saving?"
"I'd probably die for any of them," I say truthfully. "But my life's hardly worth anything so that's not saying much."
"At least you have a life, you shouldn't take that for granted." At this, he stands up. I stand up too.
"What's that supposed to mean … Is this not where you want to be?"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Supergirl."
Supergirl. So the name, it seems, has stuck. It's funny, really, how a name so simple could hold so much meaning.
Days go by, and I don't think about who's coming to rescue me, because realistically, I don't know if anyone would. Kal would bend over backwards, to get me out, sure. But who's to say the Shadows don't have more weapons to attack Kryptonians? Besides, it took weeks for them to get Tim back. Why should I return any sooner? Come to think of it, I don't even know if he has been rescued. I have no idea how the mission played out. One minute I was knocking out assassins left and right, and the next I'm in a cell with no powers.
Maybe I can ask the ninja (who's name I still don't know as he refuses to tell me). He's still the only guard who sparks conversation with me. Why? I don't question. I'm just grateful for some level of human interaction.
I don't question what they want with me either. I know nothing about them. For all I know they're just adding to their collection of prisoners. All of my thoughts are spent figuring out an escape plan. I think I've figured out how to disable the red sunlight lamp, but there are two cameras in my cell. If there was just the one, I could disable it, then the lamp, but the second they see me fidgeting with anything in this cell, guards will come straight down and stop me faster than I can get my powers back. Plus there's the question of how long it will take for me to get my powers back. I'll probably need to return to the surface where there's yellow sunlight, and I'll have a hell of a time sneaking out of here without my powers.
"What's your name?" I ask for what feels like the hundredth time when the ninja brings me food again.
He says nothing as I take it. I fall back on my bed and shove a spoonful of rice into my mouth. "Mine's Kara," I tell him.
"I know," he says. I don't ask him how he knows. Probably through spies or some other strange assassin method.
"So what do I call you?"
"You don't need to call me anything."
"I'm going to get it out of you one of these days."
"If you do, I'll set you free."
I smile and stick my hand through the cell bars. "Deal." To my surprise, he shakes my hand. "You have to stay for dinner," I tell him. "These conversations are the highlight of my kidnapping."
"You're very upbeat for someone who's locked up."
"I've been through worse. Although I'm sure you think this is the worst thing that can happen to a person."
"I don't even think death is the worst thing that can happen to a person," he says, and there's something about his voice that makes me think he knows. Like he's experienced it first hand.
"Then what is?" I ask, hoping he'll share. He's like a closed book with pages stuck together. I have to open them slowly and gently so I don't damage what's in them.
"You first."
"Survival," I say immediately. "It's different from living, and so much worse. Now you."
"Injustice," he tells me. "Bad things happen all the time, and there's not a lot that can be done to prevent them. But no one should be allowed to get away with them." He's not looking at me when he speaks. He never does. But again, there's something about the way he's speaking…
I can't describe how badly I want to know this man's life. I can't shake the feeling it's hauntingly similar to mine.
"It's worse when you have no one to blame," I say quietly. I look down at my feet. "Krypton was beautiful. The ideal planet. There was order and democracy and segregation wasn't a thing. But nothing's perfect. And our core was unstable. We abused the resources Rao gave us until we reached the point of no return. My father and uncle and a small team of scientists predicted Krypton's end, and they tried to warn the High Council. But no one would listen. Everyone was so greedy that our last chance of salvation was an infant child and teenage girl." I'm not entirely sure why I tell him this. Maybe it's to let him know I've known pain, and he can share his with me.
"Maybe Krypton didn't have segregation or dictators," he begins. "But Kryptonians were greedy and ignorant enough to let their planet explode. That's a bit of common ground with humans."
I start to realize he's right. I've never thought Kryptonians as a species were perfect, or superior … just unconnected. How could I be in touch with something so far from what I know?
"You're right about most humans, though," he agrees. "Most of them are bastards who would sooner send their kids to the streets before giving up anything of value."
"Is that what happened to you?" I ask.
"I had a family who loved me. But they're gone now."
"And you didn't get justice for them?"
"Something like that."