Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Does she always talk this much?” Fury asks the question over my head.
“She’s actually much less trouble when she’s talking,” Justice replies. “It’s when she goes quiet that you really need to watch her.”
Fuck it. Before they can get any deeper with me, I yank my hand from Justice, turn and book it toward the exit. I am smaller than them which makes me more nimble, and being more nimble gives me valuable seconds. They can’t turn as fast as I can, but once they’re on a straight path, they can beat their wings and easily overhaul me.
I am almost at the door when eight hands grip me. It’s a lot of hands, and I am swung up and off the ground between the two mutant monsters. I can’t even fight them, because all my limbs are controlled. They have me by my arms and legs, and there’s no escape.
“Justice! Let me go!” I scream. “I do not consent to this. I have done enough. I want to go back to my old life.”
“To the lonely apartment, and to the job that inexorably strips every vestige of innocence and joy from you? The one that turned you from someone who upheld the law into someone who took that law into her own hands and made her judge, jury, and executioner?”
“You said you were fine with that!?”
“I accept that what happened, happened. I understand my role in it. I failed you. And I failed Rage. I intend to stop failing.”
They are carrying me away with long strides. I am being taken back into the bowels of this facility. The waiting room was not the only place where the 50’s reigned supreme. Everything about these inner chambers is built in the style of the 40’s and 50’s. Smooth curves and wood panels, pastel colors and fascinating lines dominate what seems to be my new prison.
“Justice! They’ll come for me! They’ll find me, too. And then you know what will happen? They’ll burn this fucking place to the ground. Let me go, you stupid sonofabitch!”
“Did you get a room ready for her as I asked?” He asks the question over my head.
“Yes,” Fury says. “It’s up here. We imagined you might have some trouble getting a human to agree to captivity.”
Captivity. There’s a fucking trigger word.
“Justice! What are you doing!?” I’m surprised, and I hate that I am surprised, because that means I wasn’t paying attention. How did I not notice his intention to capture me?
“You need some time to think about things,” he says. “This room is unoccupied.”
They push open a door with a curve at the top. I don’t know why that matters, but it does. There’s a faint coziness about everything here being perpetually undermined by the oddness of it all.
I am thrust into the room. I turn around and give Justice my very best betrayed expression. I am fucking pissed, but I am also things beyond pissed, because this is so weird. Many weird things happen in the life of a New York detective, but this is beyond the weirdest. It’s a little exciting. Shouldn’t be, but is.
“I’ll come and talk to you soon,” he says.
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. Turns out you’re a huge fucking liar.”
He gives me a stern look, because he has no shame, and shuts me in. I am left to explore my environment.
The room is bigger than my apartment. It is carpeted in baby blue, a hue which is carried up from the carpets to the matching drapes, walls, bedding, oh, and when I look up, ceiling. There are a few natural wood accents in the form of cabinets and the bed frame itself. Beige and blue appears to be my fate for now. An ensuite leading off the bedroom is similarly decorated, but it is pink, not blue. Pink tile, pink shower curtain, pink ceramic toilet and bath. It’s a nightmare of cohesive design. The very notion of the color white appears to have been anathema to the person who outfitted these spaces.
It’s not what I’d call good decor, but hey, someone thought it was good. They’ve given me what’s very likely one of their best rooms.
“Oh my god, that’s a television.”
I suddenly realize that the big box at the end of the bed is not a piece of decorative whatever. It is a big box, very large, very rectangular, with an even bigger brown-gray screen and knobs. I should possibly be focusing on escape, but I wonder if this works. I turn a knob, hit a few buttons, and it makes a sound like a magnet turning on. The screen crackles, and a black and white image appears. It’s an old tv show about cowboys. It’s actually pretty interesting, or at least, it’s enough to take my mind off this particular predicament until Justice returns.