Participants:
| Scene Title | This Time… |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Bill Dean revels his plan for his daughter, and makes Wendy Hunter disappear… |
| Date | October 17, 2009 |
The Midtown Bunker
It's been almost a week now.
Things have changed, even if slightly. Food, of the campbell's chicken noodle soup variety has been served. Unfortunately it's cold out of the can, but after not having been offered food since being here, it's at least something. Not even a spoon to go with it. The deliveries of food and water have started only after dehydration began setting in, and the humiliating conditions became worse once the cell was hosed out and cleaned.
A fire hose just six hours ago was the drenched bath that both Wendy and Helena were forced to suffer after their 'meal', and still Wendy Hunter has been subjected to withdrawls, while Helena is constantly fed morphine on her regular schedule. Candy's presence, however fleeting it is, seems to be the sliver of hope remaining that rescue might be coming eventually.
By the time the cell door cracks open, some time late in the evening on saturday however, everything changes. "…hey hey, I ain't no holla' back girl, I ain't no hollar back girl!" The mirthful voice of Bill Dean comes muffled thrugh the tiny gap between door and wall, growing progressively louder and more readily off-key than before.
A blue light floods the interior of the cell a moment after, as Bill wanders in juggling a pair of Refrain vials. "Ain't no holla' back giirrrrrl!" His hip thrusts out to the side, a pirouette, and a scuff of his shoe on the wet concrete. "Ahh ladies, you two're lookin' right lovely after yer' baths!" Behind Bill, a pair of masked men emerge with rifles slung over their shoulders, one of them is carrying a ring of keys that jingles loudly in the cell confines.
"You know, a'never did like that song but fuck if it ain't catchy, right?" The plastic cap of a syringe is pulled off with Bill's teeth, and the syringe is pushed into the vial of the phosphorescent liquid, filled up slowly.
"Darlin' miss Wendy, it's moving day!" The syringe is offeredo ut to one of the soldiers, who carries it over towards the brunette, crouching down by her side. "Today is the first day of the extremely short remainder of both o'yer lives." Blue eyes focus down to Helena, "This one's for you, chestnut." The second syringe's cap is plucked off with teeth and spat with a click onto the floor. "You're gon' love it."
"You know, Dad," Helena's been using what little she can of her ability to keep herself from freezing to death after that lovely shower, "I've been thinking. I mean, it's not like I have anything else to do, right?" She looks up at him from her tightly coiled body, wedged as best she can against the rail, to try and expose as minimum of her body as possible, to try and conserve some core heat. "First off? I clearly got my musicality from Mom. What did you do with all my old recital videos you took, anyway?"
She smiles up at him, and it's not kind. If anything, it's pure Evelyn, in one of her more cruel moments. "You made me so mad, Daddy. I mean, for a minute there I think I wanted to kill you. I couldn't imagine anything making anyone so violently irrational and furious. And then I thought…wait a minute. I have."
Still looking him in the eye, she asks in a deadpan tone, "So what did you and mom argue about, that made you so furious with her that it made half the town turn out to stab her in the belly? It was your fault, wasn't it?"
One thing Bill can say about his daughter: she ain't dumb.
She hated the bath, a toss up between which was worse. Remaining in their filth, or blasted with the cold water at forces that one should never feel unless it's some really hot day and someones undone the fire hydrant. But never mind, they're back in their cell with it's mold and stank, and she's eyeing the blue liquid in the syringe that HF nameless goon is bringing over.
"Empath. You're an empath Bill Dean. Projective Empath" Never has she hated one so much. Her dislike of aaron pales. "I can feel you when you get within range. You just light up my god damned world and I can point out how far away you are with every iota of who I am. Tell me, did you know? Did you know you could do that? Do they know that you can do that?" Wendy's spitting mad, part fever talking, part fear of the fact that they're moving her. The cold water did nothing to lower the temperature of her body and she shakes, tremors none so quietly as the syringe bearing man approaches.
"I'm not wrong. I'm never wrong. I know what you are"
"You're one'a them talkative good-natured junkies, ain'cha?" Bill's eyes divert to the man with the Refrain syringe, and the two of them share an uneasy eye contact. Before the man can even ask his question, Bill's hands come up and flail in the air wildly with the other syringe glowing a cold blue. "Of course she's fuckin' lying you stupid piece'a shit stick 'er and get 'er the fuck outta' here!" The stare lingers, brown eyes watching Bill for a moment before the soldier turns, glaring at Wendy before he grabs her by the wrist and jams the syringe into a vein at the fold of her arm.
"As fer you y'little…" those blue eyes of Bill's narrow, "figurin' out… girl." His brows raise, and he looks back to the man behind him. "Go fuckin' uncuff the gangly bitch you twit." Irritation ebbs off of Bill, infectious anger that causes the soldier to grunt as he pushes past the older man. He can't be certain if Wendy's lying, or if Bill is just that much of an asshole to work with.
One soldier administers the Refrain to Wendy, and another uncuffs one of her wrists, then brings them back together and handcuffs her again. "Now… darlin," Bill's focus turns back to Helena with eyes narrowed, "about yer mum. You don't know the first thing 'bout what happened 'tween she an' I. So— so don't go startin' yer mouth up. A'ight? Because right now," the syringe wags back and forth in the air, "you got more pressin' worried."
Helena's eyes drop to the needle. "That's Refrain, isn't it." She doesn't even need to ask, and if anything, she tries to compress herself more tightly. "No." If anyone comes near her, she tries to lash out a foot, flails, does anything her limitedly drug induced state will allow her to manage. "No!" She's terrified of the stuff. She's heard people can become addicted after just one dose, and she cautioned the others from taking it. Not that she'll ever know at least one or two didn't listen.
One of the soldiers is going to be sporting a nice bruise with the force that Wendy kicks out with her foot to their lower leg. "Notice your moods matching his!" She bellows as best she can. "Happy when he's happy, angry when he's ang-" Cuts off, Wendy's face going slack as the hollow tip sinks past skin and into the vein to deliver the payload. She never went for a vein, always for just muscle. Give herself time to sit, to lay back.
Her body is thrilled, oh so thrilled to have the chemical combination skimming merrily through her body, latching onto what it should, dredging from the depths of her mind something good, something delightful from her past that is so far removed from the hell she and the phoenix leader are submersed in. So when they uncuff and cuff, Wendy's eyes are open and seeing beyond them, docile, uncaring, mangled ear visible and a hot red from it's lack of proper care.
"Yes, yes!" Bill shouts out in sarcastic response before taking a kick to the stomach. "Agh— jesus fuck she kicks like a goddamned mule." Wendy's violent thrashing earns a similar response from one of the other men, and the pair of them are struggling to keep her down, even while giving a suspicious look over towards Bill as the high begins to take Wendy, and she's allowed to settle down and become trapped in a memory of so long ago.
"Look pumpkin," there go the holiday themed nicknames again, "you always were a pain in the ass 'bout takin' yer medicine!" A swift kick is delivered to her side, and remarkably she doesn't feel the pain as much as she should, thanks to the morphine high. But muscles are sluggish, responses are slowed, and by the time Bill has a handful of Helena's hair, he's making sure this trip sticks. A depression of the needle finds its way to the side of Helena's throat, plunger depressed slowly as he cradles her head under one arm. "Sssh… shhh," he hisses as she struggles, "come on now, ease up, yeah that's it…" Blue eyes divert to the soldiers watching.
"For fuck's sake you idiots drag Gumby outta' here before she wakes up. Emile wants 'er, I already got what a'needed." Confirmation, painful confirmation. Blue eyes track towards Helena as BIll's men grab Wendy by the arms and ankles and start to carry her out of the vault.
"Hrrrrrk…" Helena hiss-chokes as the needle goes in, but once the drug starts seeping through her body, she grows utterly still, her eyes locking onto something far beyond Bill's shoulder as she slips into dreams of the past.
"Dean, Helena."
Putting a hand on her graduation gown, Helena climbs up the steps of the outdoor stage to cross the distance between herself and the principal. Mom and Dad have surged to their feet, unified in their pleasure at seeing their daughter graduate highschool, even if in all other things, they have since separated their views. Dad's got the camera, and Helena makes sure to turn her head, smile, and wave. "Way to go, Chestnut!" Bill yells from the crowd. Evelyn is trying not to cry.
"You know what m'gonna do…" Bill's voice in the real world collides discongruently with the memory of a proud and happy father, before a marraige came to shambles and lives were torn apart, "m'gonna' make the biggest speech for Phoenix ever." Bill's brows go up as he watches Wendy hauled out of the vault, then settles back down to lay Helena across his lap, cradling her in his arms as he gingerly brushes a lock of blonde hair from her face, watching the telltale blue glow in the vein at the side of her neck fade. "We're gonna go out, an' you're gonna show up t'demonstrate registration at Police headquarters…"
The cheer of the crowd comes as Helena rises up onto the stage, sunlight beating down over the football field where the graduation ceremony is being held. A handshake and a smile, it's all it takes to have that leather folio with her diploma handed over, allowing her to cross back over the stage as Bill and Evelyn watch on with pride in their eyes. It's hard to imagine a better time, that year before everything started to break apart, before the cracked plaster of a crumbling facade on their marraige began to peel away.
"We're gonna 'ave you loaded with just enough C4 t'make you pop…" His head tilts to the side, palm bruishing over her forehead, "an' wire the rest up in a truck outside. We'll make it look all convincing, dead man's switch an' all. Wire you up to a remote activated taser, and at the right moment, zzzap." Bill's lips creep up into a hesitant smile, "then you won't have t'suffer anymore, an' the world'll realize that a terrorist is a terrorist, no matter what kinda' blood they got. See?"
"It's not much…" Three months of time difference in her mind, and Helena can feel the spotty recollection of her father walking her through his used car lot, "but'cha can pick whichever one y'want. I know things're rough between yer mum an' I, but that don't mean I love you any less, darlin'. You'n me, we're gonna be thick like thieves, and… you know, I'll still get t'see ya on the weekends, right?" He forces a weary smile. "Go on… get'cherself something nice. S'on ol' Dad. Just— " his brows furrow, "try'n keep it inder ten grand, yeah?" There's a goofy grin that spreads across his face. This is how she remembers him.
"Can I have the Cabriolet, Daddy?" she asks him, her voice drifting, only showing him a hint of the excitement she'd felt when it was actually happening. "I love the convertible soft top, and you know I can handle a stick shift, you taught me how to drive one yourself!" Does Bill remember that day? Does it throw him off, if he realizes what happy memory is pervading her psyche?
Her forehead wrinkles, and she struggles to focus on the hear and now. "No…" she whispers, "You won't make me…you can't make me." They can kill her, they can hurt her, but they'll need to have a plan if they're going to try and force her to be a human bomb. "I'm not…gonna die by blowing up…this time around."
"You know what's funny?" Bill notes with a shake of his head, "If it weren't for that fella' with the horn-rimmed glasses who showed up with all'a them pictures and names? I probably never would'a found ya. It was like, one'a them angels you hear about kinda up walked into my life and laid the best news ever in my lap." It's a twisted scenario, Bill cradling his daughter in his arms, brushing a bead of sweat from her forehead, even while discussing such horrible things, while Helena is at the mercy of morphine and Refrain.
Gently lifting her off of his lap, Bill lays his daughter down on the cold concrete, checking her cuffs once, then brushes her hair back from her face before standing up slowly. "Daddy's gon' be so proud of you, darlin'…" there's a sickly sweet smile across his face as his hands come and tuck into his pockets. "You're gonna' change the world, chestnut. An' then…" his brows furrow together as he makes his way for the door, "you can go be wit' yer mum…" blue eyes look down to the floor, and his hand rests on the side of the vault door. "Enjoy the happy trails, love. Let it keep y'company till monday." He steps out of the doorway, and draws the vault door closed with a slam of the metal, leaving Helena along in the dark again.
Kept company by the blue fairy in her mind.