Within moments, Darren’s old friend Emmett had vanished and he was truly left to fend for himself in this prison he once called home. Thankfully the design of the place remained unchanged even ater all these years, so he would have no problem finding his way around. The first thing the man does is find the nearest supply closet and sneak in — changing his wardrobe to scrubs, a white coat, and a face mask to conceal his identity before heading down to the holding cells.
Once he was in the detainment block, the man notices that there are four guards patrolling , but he didn’t have time for strategy or diversions , his daughter was in danger. So Darren did what he did best and had his clones take care of business for him. Four guards , four clones would buy him enough time to find her. As his counterparts are brwaling with the guards, Darren runs through looking in each cell to find his daughter. He rushes ast all those who are not Rena until his attention is caught by the red stain of blood on cell window along with a woman’s voice.
”If you’re planning on getting out you won’t without any help. I’m a fifth level post human, cryokinesis. Get me out of here and I’ll help you!”
These words cause the man to stop in his tracks and look over to her, the ferocity in her eyes along with the blood that stained her fists let him know she meant business. So, with no hesitation he uses a keycard he swiped from one of the guards to open her cell. “We don’t have long until this place is in total lockdown, I need to find my daughter and we can get the fuck out of here.” As soon as the door opened, a red light flashed and an alarm sounded. Reinforcements were coming. “Let’s go!”
Tracy bolts into actions. The first thing she decides to do when she says goodbye t the dreadful cell she was in was to see if her abilities functioned when out of the cell. To her surprise, they did. The air immediately became cooler as she ran by the long hallway, and that’s how she knew. Turning her face to the side, she sees people begging for help, but it’s out of her reach— this facility was going on lock down soon, as the man had said— and right now there was no point in feeling sorry, though. There’s nothing she can do.
Tracy turns her head to Darren, already breaking a sweat— her legs were a little weak since she hadn’t been given the space to exercise or do anything for months. “What’s your daughter’s name? Maybe I know her,” says Tracy, panting. “I know they have this girl over at cell block B, and another in cell block A. They’re names are I think… Lilly and Irina?” She tries to catch her breath before speaking again. “I think those’re their names, I could be wrong.”
The sound of prison guard fighting someone off is heard. Being in that place for so long made her memorize the places and cells to an extent. She could tell that came from the nearest cell block from them, only worrying her more.
Bridget Strauss, Thermo-Hydrokinesis (i.e. The ability to raise temperatures to a boiling point and…
Gemma wonders absently, as she scrawls another note on the file she’d stuck in the clipboard earlier, if Ms. Strauss actually thought that insult would perturb her, though quite honestly there were interrogators in her department that would rise to such a petty insult. Not ones that she intended to allow to stay in the ranks, but nonetheless, they existed. "Great, actually." She replies coolly, deciding that she would pass this one on to Mr. Cantor after all. "I’m not sitting in a cell, after all. Seems like a great improvement over being you." Perhaps the faint smirk and the very nearly extravagant shrug was too much, but several inches of bulletproof plexiglass tends to add a boost of confidence to anyone on the right side of them. "Feeling morally superior, by your standards, how’s that working out for you? It honestly doesn’t seem worth the downsides, you know. The handcuffs, the interrogations, all that jazz." She taps her pen against her clipboard, then glances up at Tracy. “Speaking of those, does the five o’clock or the seven-thirty slot suit you better? Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your vibrant social schedule or anything.”
The woman obviously took some sort of pleasure out of seeing her like this, for whatever reason it may be, and Tracy isn’t calm. Her eyes resemble a tigress enraged and ready to go in for the kill, but of course— the damn glass was in the way. So she raises her fist and it collides against it, leaving a stain of red, crimson blood behind. No cringing, not even a single twitch. The pain is there and strong, but Tracy ignores it and doesn’t remove her fist. “When I get out of here— and trust me, I will get out of here— you better watch yourself— because I will be coming for you.”
That was it, for the most part— all she really had to say in return. No big words, no sass, no filter. Just an honest declaration of what she intended. It’s not the first time that a hit list had been created.
When Nexus began to capture the rebels, Micah sanders fell under their radar. Tracy finds out and protects Micah with all her might, but the ability nullifier was used on her and she was unable to fight. Tracy was taken into custody, charged for numerous violations of the law, murder and treason for manually removing her Post-Human tattoo. She’s considered extremely dangerous and is being held in a room that prevents post-humans from being able to use their abilities. To this day, Tracy hasn’t shown any signs of aging.
Emmett Nicholas Powell:
Emmett was never trained by AJ in this timeline, and so he never became a field agent as easy as it was when he was trained by her. He was trained by Vivian instead. Emmett had constant competition being in a team with Anabel, who he secretly envied. And Darren who he strongly disliked at first, but despite the competition he managed to make it into field agent in a few years.
Caleb Damian Brighton:
Caleb’s mother manifested abilities (Electrokinesis) and it was deemed dangerous, she was bagged and tagged and experimented on until she got in a coma and died. Caleb committed treason and left Nexus. He removed his tattoo thanks to Ronnie Simmons, someone had met in the past. Caleb is now neutral and considered a criminal. He’s now neutral because there’s too many rebels that would want him dead, but is affiliated with a few.
Ronnie Alexis Simmons:
Ronnie decided to stay and fight in NYC as far away from his mothers as possible to keep them out of Nexus’ reach. He’s administered post-human identification tattoos before and figured out a way to remove them. He’s currently affiliated with the rebels as a nurse for those wounded and in need of health.
"Oh, I don’t ever assume that I know the answer to every aspect of a question. Overconfidence is an Achilles heel for anyone and everyone." Not the guy down the hall, she shakes her head at the list in her hand and crosses another name of her list with the pencil held carefully in the other. "Freedom is an obvious one, Nexus’ downfall another, but I doubt that list ends there. I could let you out of there for a little while, but you and I both know where you’re going once the doors are unlocked." Maybe she’d let Cantor handle this one, he was getting fed up with the case he was working right now and a nice, normal interrogation was less draining to him than picking through the leavings of the morgue downstairs, or so he always told her. Then again, it wasn’t like she had anything (or anyone) important to go home to either. "How’s that undying loyalty thing working out for you? Seems like a ripe crock of shit to me, considering that you’re still here. I assume me unlocking your door so we can chat more would be on that list either, but I’ll leave the offer open."
Where was she going with this? Both of them clearly knew that she could not be let out, not by a split second. Was it all a game to her? — That strikes a nerve that sends her to the edge. “Here’s a better question. How’s being a condescending bitch working out for ya?” Tracy’s tone drops, not even trying to put a filter over the words that came out of her mouth. Her torso assumes a straight posture as she sits up and walks towards where the shatterproof glass separated her from the black-haired woman, standing as tall as she could, and pushing out her chest to show strength despite the circumstances.
"What do I want?" Gemma repeated, mulling over the question for a moment as she leaned against the door of the cell, clipboard in hand. She had a free space in her day and several very resistant prisoners that could be prodded a little closer towards the edge in the space of that time. The few things that she did want in life had very little to do with the woman in the cell, who honestly was just another unfinished file on her desk at this point. Tracy Strauss, yes. Used to work for Governor Pegg, that turncoat Rebel crony. "Better coffee in the cafeteria, perhaps. Not to have to wear shoes that aggravate my bunions. That’s a short list though, compared to yours. What do you want, Ms. Strauss? Do tell." She doubted that the woman would tell her much of anything, but it might entertain for a moment or two while she narrowed down her list of who to take to the interrogation room next.
Tracy further tilts her head as she narrows her eyes dramatically. A short list list of the things she wants? Negative. It’s simple, really. It’s a basic desire, one we call freedom. She awaits for it, the chance to revolt and fight— to once again be have access to power— to feel strong again, but within these four walls there was nothing can be done to help the situation. It’s the cruel reality, and accepting it is only dulling the situation further, making things gloomier and nearly hopeless. But the fact that she asks the obvious puts a grin in Tracy’s face, followed by a forced, singular and utterly sarcastic laugh. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.”
The footsteps of a stranger echoing the hallway. Tracy sits uncomfortably within the bed of her cell, next to it, a small screen with a brief overview of the inmate within; including her name, her threat level, her ability highlighted as kinesis. Now Nexus had began to rank Post-Humans by their ability. In Tracy’s information sheet, she’s ranked as the highest number.
The shadow neared her cell until the person’s face was visible. She crossed her arms in front of her chest out of habit as she tilts her head to the side with a hostile look in her green eyes. “What do you want?”
Would you like a cupcake? They’re really good, I made them myself.
I remember trying your cookies, but I don’t recall ever trying your cupcakes. So I think I’ll accept your offer.
Favorite Ali Larter Photos. (x)