The Frozen Mask, Part IV


brian_icon.gif isis_icon.gif tracy_icon.gif

Scene Title The Frozen Mask, Park IV
Synopsis Brian displays the home-murder video for Tracy. Isis and Brian's trip to D.C. comes to a close.
Date August 13, 2009

Washington D.C.

It's been a while. The man who introduced himself as 'Richard Hatch' is lounging on the bed. 'Isis' is laying on the other side of the bed, her hand still handcuffed to the bedpost. Sitting up, 'Richard' looks at the door. And that's when it opens.

Tracy Strauss enters, though she has brought a few things with her. A video camera and a book. The Assertive Woman.

Winters then stands up and walks around the bed to the duffle bag. Picking it up, he takes another set of handcuffs out. Motioning 'Tracy' to go sit on the side of the bed that her body is not taking up.

Crystalline, baby blues take in the vision of Isis's body cuffed to the bed. Isis had become accustomed to this out of body experience, looking back upon her own tiny frame. Never before, though, had she so desperately wanted that misleadingly small and delicate form back for herself.

Tracy's body is puppeteered towards the indicated spot on the bed - each steps lack the grace and confidence that the body had held when this horror of a morning had begun. The body was being returned weak, pushed to its limits, and tense with stress. A sigh passes over soft, painted lips as Tracy sits on the opposite edge of the bed and looks to Brian.

There is one thing, and one thing only that Tracy in Isis' body has been doing all this time. Staring. Staring at what? Staring at who? Perhaps only she may know.

In truth, she's been staring at herself in the mirror. Memorizing every feature, every line, every curve. And being disgusted that Brian is sitting near her, on a bed no less.

As her own body comes in, she sits up, glaring an icy stare out of Isis' eyes that only Ms. Strauss could ever posess. It's not something that goes well on Isis' features.

"Well well," She says, smirking. "Another terrorist. An evolved terrorist! Good work, sweetheart, proving Humanis First right."

"Camera." Brian murmurs. Reaching out, the masked man takes the video camera from Tracy's body. Then flips it out to playback in front of Isis' eyes. "My associates have gone to the trouble of making a video for you." He explains in his deep, disguised voice. "Just watch the little movie and hush." He commands, the movie begins to play.

Playing clear as day, Tracy's body meeting with a rather shady figure. The figure approaches and then is subsequently frozen and shattered.

The flip out closes promptly. Brian watching Isis' face for a reaction. "You look great. But a little icy." A little chuckle is let out. "Quite a secret you have there Miss Strauss. Have fun explaining that and murder to the masses of America." He looks to Tracy's body. "Put your arms around the headboard."

"I'm not a terrorist." Tracy's features contort into a vicious scowl, despite the tired, soft nature in which her denial is voiced. "Humanis First can kiss my ass," she mumbles. She's so eloquent when she's exhausted, yes?

She looks over her Tracy's shoulder, examining the state of her own body to be sure that nothing had gone amiss while the precious cargo was in Brian's care. "I'm not a terrorist," she repeats, this time soft in a tone that pleads for Tracy to understand. She was just a normal girl, a normal young girl aiming to keep people safe from her own worst fears.

Isis turns Tracy's face away as the camera begins to recall the quite real murder.

Tracy watches, and what's amazing is that she's stoic throughout the entire thing. She just watches, smirking even wider at the end. "Quite a falsehood you've concoted." Though it's Isis that gets her attention even more, her smile turning colder. "Oh, hunny." Not usually Tracy's choice of words. But it'll do for now.

"You're the textbook case of terrorist. You kidnap someone else, steal a person's very body, and fabricate a tape of murder and lies? You create terror, you are exactly a terrorist. And never let anyone tell you any differently. You know, I have a very negative view of Humanis First. I thought they were extremeists who hurt innocent people." She looks up and down at her own body. "Maybe they're right, maybe we have more to fear from your kind than you think. Apart from Sylar I've supported the Evolved community, but you spit in the face of everything they've stood for."

She turns back to Brian. "Are we done here? I have a manicure appointment in an hour and a half, and my nails aren't looking so good from here."

"I am not a terrorist!!!" Tracy's sweet tones peek into a sharp screech of annoyance. Usually she was much better composed, keeping hidden the fractures of her mind and personality in front of strangers. But, she was so tired. So damn tired.

Tracy's shoulders slump forward, her hands holding the head of golden locks. "My kind?" She huffs and glares back at her rightful body. "Your kind, you hiding, fucking, coward of a woman."

Her attention hurries back to Brian, watching him for a long moment before shaking her head and looking back down to the floor in front of Tracy's fancy heels.

"Don't listen to her, Violet." Brian says, glancing over at her. "She'll do anything to get a rise out of you. Get ahold of yourself. You know why you're here." He says firmly. Before returning his attention to Isis' body. "My associates will be watching you. If you so much as make a murmur of this happening? This will be on every news station in the world before nightfall."

Then he reaches back into the duffle bag, placing the camera down he brings a syringe back out. He frowns at the real Isis' reaction. "Don't talk to her." He maintains, before walking over to stand over Tracy's body. "Switch back. I'll put her under as soon as you touch." He informs.

"Oh, and you actually have a meeting with the Vice President today. Have fun. And remember, this never happened."

Tracy continues to smile, sitting up. "Yes, Violet." Sure that is a lie as much as anything else. "Do as the boss says. Deprive citizens of their unailianable rights. The Constitution isn't right, this man is. What did our forfathers know? What does this man care, except to listen to 200 years of freedom and liberty would mean giving up what he wants? You're a tool, and you're going to suffer for it as much as he is unless you turn back down. When people, evolved or not, deprive other citizens of their rights, their liberty is taken from them. Remember that." She sits back, smirking at Brian.

"Yes, change me back. There is nothing of this experience I care to ever think on again."

Despite her growing trust for Brian, Tracy's body freezes visibly as her oceanic gaze locks onto the revealed syringe. It is plainly visible that of all things that have passed this morning it is that, the tiny little sliver of metal and fluid, that scares her the most. She curls away as Brian approaches and begins fidgeting, rubbing her legs together to keep circulation flowing to them, to keep herself from fainting or puking. Tracy's lips hover a small distance from one another, making way for short labored breathing. She begins to hyperventilate… until Brian voices his intentions. He wasn't going to stick her, just the misunderstanding bimbo.

She doesn't hear any more of the words birthed on her own rightful vocals, not over the whirring and pounding of her wild heartbeat in her ears, not over the spinning fear consuming her. She simply turns around quickly and makes no effort to ease the harsh, painful, and disorientating exchange that rips and wrenches one consciousness and soul, if one believes in such things, from one body and forces it into the other - swapping the psyches back unto their rightful vessels.

As soon as Tracy's body reaches out, the syringe plunges into the vein in her neck. The drug would set in rather quickly. The needle leaves the skin quickly. Brian takes a step back, reaching into the duffle bag, pulling out a taser just in case the tranquilizer should not set in fast enough. Taking a step back, he glances over at Isis' body.

Pulling his bag back he goes to collect any trace they made of entering the room. Pieces of tape, everything. He looks at Isis, now back in her rightful body. "You okay, Violet?"

It doesn't take long for the tranq to take effect, and Tracy, at home in her own cool, crisp body, manages only to see swirls of these people before her, before falling back on the bed. "This country…will survive anarchists and tyarants…like you…" she manages, before everything goes black, and she's out.

"I'm going to puke…" Isis says, with no real conviction. Her wound up fears compounded with her exhaustion and the disjointed, brutal sensation of swapping bodies leave her weaving back and forth where she sits on the bed, her face carefully turned away from the imagine of the stuck, served, and removed syringe.

Despite her words she holds it together and gives only a meager tug on the shackle, the chiming of chains voicing her want of freedom. "Let's get out of here."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License