Just doing my job
folder
Original - Misc › Superheroes
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
25
Views:
2,363
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Superheroes
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
25
Views:
2,363
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Ballard of Sophie Wren
Part 14: The Ballard of Sophie Wren
“How much longer are we going to be down here?” Ren asked as we made our way along the seemingly endless passageway under Kay’s base.
Not wanting to be seen leaving by the way we had entered, and assuming that the Conspirators had access to satellites with ground-penetrating radar that had been launched by the American government to find Russian missile silos during the Cold War, the vast network of tunnels under the mountains were our only option.
“Kay said there was an exit about ten kilometres away.” I looked at the map she had given us, my flashlight doing little more than outlining the darkness, “I have no idea how far these tunnels go.”
“Can we just pick up the pace a little?” Ren sounded agitated, “I’m not that good with confined spaces…”
“Now is not a good time to announce that you’re claustrophobic.”
“I’m not claustrophobic: I just have a problem with confined spaces…”
“Ren, that’s the same thing as claustrophobia.”
“Can we not talk about it? It’s something I’ve suffered from since I was young.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“Ren, I’ve known you five years, yet I know almost nothing about your past. I don’t even know your real name or when you were born.”
“Sophie…”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Sophie, Sophie Wren, but I doubt it’s my real name. I don’t know where I was born: my mother gave me up for adoption when I was only a few months old. It is not something I like to talk about.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was a whore, ok? She was a prostitute who got pregnant when a condom burst. I don’t know much about her, but from what I found in the record, she made it very clear that she never wanted to have me, but couldn’t afford an abortion.”
“So you were adopted?”
“Oh yeah, people line up to adopted the bastard children of Parisian whores. This is the real world Nathan: I was sent to a government run orphanage. That’s where I met Artemus. Every few months they tested us to see if we had developed meta-human abilities. When mine started to manifest, I was transferred to a special school run by military intelligence. Someone had the bright idea of using orphaned superhumans as spies and assassins.”
“Sounds like a bad TV show.”
“Yeah, well, I spent two years being trained by the best the French government had to offer. I can build or disarm a bomb, kill a man with just my thumbs, crack a safe and bug a telephone like the best of them: I’m a real-life James Bond.”
“Certainly different to life at the Academy: we got the dame schooling as everyone else, but with extra classes teaching us how to control and use our powers.”
“The place I grew up was more like a prison camp: the instructors told us that we belonged to France, and could be used in any way the state saw fit. The guards all had different views as to what that meant.”
“Why didn’t you fight back?”
“We were young, our powers not fully developed, and some of the guards were also superhuman; nothing spectacular, just enough to keep us all in line. The training regime was nothing short of brutal: half of us died in the first year, those who survived were…” Ren trailed off for a while, “I have never been what you would call ‘normal’ by any stretch of the imagination: my time in the orphanage was unpleasant, and I already had a reputation as a trouble maker by the time my powers started to emerge. One of the guards took a particular interest in braking me…”
“Ren, if you don’t want to talk about this…” I tried to stop her, but I had a strange feeling that she was completely unaware that I was even there by that point.
“The first time was just after what I believe was my fourteenth birthday. He was a low-grade superhuman, a thug with added muscle. At first al he’d do was hit me, try and beat me into submission. But that wasn’t enough for him. One day he…” Ren stopped, tears flowing openly down her cheeks.
I didn’t know what to say, I never did in situations like this: it is an unfortunate part of my former job that you came into contact with people who’d been abused in some way or another. The screening system is not perfect, and there are always one or two superhumans who slip through the cracks. For the most part they’re no trouble; most don’t even realise that they are anything other than normal.
But there are always one or two who find out, and use it to their own advantage. There was an unspoken rule at the Special Intervention Unit: some people wouldn’t give themselves up peacefully. It was against all the rules, and officially it wasn’t tolerated.
But then you come across a case like the paedophile who used his powers to trick kids into thinking her was some sort of comic book hero. No one asked any questions when he was dragged into a police station, coved in cuts and bruises by two SIU officers.
Part of me was sickened that they had done that to him after he’d given himself up, but another part was sad that I wasn’t there to help them.
I’d never come across anything like Ren’s story before, but I wasn’t total surprised: superhumans are different, and people are always scared of what is different. Fear leads to anger, and when some one who is anger is put in a position of power, then tend to abuse it.
I tried, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort Ren. I stood there in silence for a minuet, looking like a fool. For want of anything better to do, I opened my arms and let her fall into them.
Ren was sobbing, years of repressed emotion finally coming to the surface, swamping her.
Artemus nodded, then carried on along the tunnel, the light from the lamp he carried stopping some way off. I had to trust his judgment that his old friend would rather he wasn’t around at a time like this. I guess Ren, like most people, doesn’t like people seeing them with their defences down.
We stood in silent darkness for what felt like hours, Ren grieving for her lost childhood.
I couldn’t help but think that Kay would have been a better choice for Ren to open up to like this; she is a trained and qualified philologist. But the revelation about our shared past had dropped an impregnable barrier between the two women, making anything other than barely concealed hostility impossible.
“I’m sorry about that.” Ren said after a while, “It’s something I try and block out of my memory most of the time.”
“You needed to talk about it, and I was here for you.” I hugged her slightly, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone the big bad Ren has an emotional side.”
“You’d better not.” She laughed slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she pulled back a bit, “Thank you, just for being a friend.”
“I will always be your friend.” I smiled, “Now don’t take this the wrong way.” I kissed her lightly on the forehead, “Come on, this world’s not going to save itself.”
To Be Continued...
“How much longer are we going to be down here?” Ren asked as we made our way along the seemingly endless passageway under Kay’s base.
Not wanting to be seen leaving by the way we had entered, and assuming that the Conspirators had access to satellites with ground-penetrating radar that had been launched by the American government to find Russian missile silos during the Cold War, the vast network of tunnels under the mountains were our only option.
“Kay said there was an exit about ten kilometres away.” I looked at the map she had given us, my flashlight doing little more than outlining the darkness, “I have no idea how far these tunnels go.”
“Can we just pick up the pace a little?” Ren sounded agitated, “I’m not that good with confined spaces…”
“Now is not a good time to announce that you’re claustrophobic.”
“I’m not claustrophobic: I just have a problem with confined spaces…”
“Ren, that’s the same thing as claustrophobia.”
“Can we not talk about it? It’s something I’ve suffered from since I was young.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“Ren, I’ve known you five years, yet I know almost nothing about your past. I don’t even know your real name or when you were born.”
“Sophie…”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Sophie, Sophie Wren, but I doubt it’s my real name. I don’t know where I was born: my mother gave me up for adoption when I was only a few months old. It is not something I like to talk about.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was a whore, ok? She was a prostitute who got pregnant when a condom burst. I don’t know much about her, but from what I found in the record, she made it very clear that she never wanted to have me, but couldn’t afford an abortion.”
“So you were adopted?”
“Oh yeah, people line up to adopted the bastard children of Parisian whores. This is the real world Nathan: I was sent to a government run orphanage. That’s where I met Artemus. Every few months they tested us to see if we had developed meta-human abilities. When mine started to manifest, I was transferred to a special school run by military intelligence. Someone had the bright idea of using orphaned superhumans as spies and assassins.”
“Sounds like a bad TV show.”
“Yeah, well, I spent two years being trained by the best the French government had to offer. I can build or disarm a bomb, kill a man with just my thumbs, crack a safe and bug a telephone like the best of them: I’m a real-life James Bond.”
“Certainly different to life at the Academy: we got the dame schooling as everyone else, but with extra classes teaching us how to control and use our powers.”
“The place I grew up was more like a prison camp: the instructors told us that we belonged to France, and could be used in any way the state saw fit. The guards all had different views as to what that meant.”
“Why didn’t you fight back?”
“We were young, our powers not fully developed, and some of the guards were also superhuman; nothing spectacular, just enough to keep us all in line. The training regime was nothing short of brutal: half of us died in the first year, those who survived were…” Ren trailed off for a while, “I have never been what you would call ‘normal’ by any stretch of the imagination: my time in the orphanage was unpleasant, and I already had a reputation as a trouble maker by the time my powers started to emerge. One of the guards took a particular interest in braking me…”
“Ren, if you don’t want to talk about this…” I tried to stop her, but I had a strange feeling that she was completely unaware that I was even there by that point.
“The first time was just after what I believe was my fourteenth birthday. He was a low-grade superhuman, a thug with added muscle. At first al he’d do was hit me, try and beat me into submission. But that wasn’t enough for him. One day he…” Ren stopped, tears flowing openly down her cheeks.
I didn’t know what to say, I never did in situations like this: it is an unfortunate part of my former job that you came into contact with people who’d been abused in some way or another. The screening system is not perfect, and there are always one or two superhumans who slip through the cracks. For the most part they’re no trouble; most don’t even realise that they are anything other than normal.
But there are always one or two who find out, and use it to their own advantage. There was an unspoken rule at the Special Intervention Unit: some people wouldn’t give themselves up peacefully. It was against all the rules, and officially it wasn’t tolerated.
But then you come across a case like the paedophile who used his powers to trick kids into thinking her was some sort of comic book hero. No one asked any questions when he was dragged into a police station, coved in cuts and bruises by two SIU officers.
Part of me was sickened that they had done that to him after he’d given himself up, but another part was sad that I wasn’t there to help them.
I’d never come across anything like Ren’s story before, but I wasn’t total surprised: superhumans are different, and people are always scared of what is different. Fear leads to anger, and when some one who is anger is put in a position of power, then tend to abuse it.
I tried, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort Ren. I stood there in silence for a minuet, looking like a fool. For want of anything better to do, I opened my arms and let her fall into them.
Ren was sobbing, years of repressed emotion finally coming to the surface, swamping her.
Artemus nodded, then carried on along the tunnel, the light from the lamp he carried stopping some way off. I had to trust his judgment that his old friend would rather he wasn’t around at a time like this. I guess Ren, like most people, doesn’t like people seeing them with their defences down.
We stood in silent darkness for what felt like hours, Ren grieving for her lost childhood.
I couldn’t help but think that Kay would have been a better choice for Ren to open up to like this; she is a trained and qualified philologist. But the revelation about our shared past had dropped an impregnable barrier between the two women, making anything other than barely concealed hostility impossible.
“I’m sorry about that.” Ren said after a while, “It’s something I try and block out of my memory most of the time.”
“You needed to talk about it, and I was here for you.” I hugged her slightly, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone the big bad Ren has an emotional side.”
“You’d better not.” She laughed slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she pulled back a bit, “Thank you, just for being a friend.”
“I will always be your friend.” I smiled, “Now don’t take this the wrong way.” I kissed her lightly on the forehead, “Come on, this world’s not going to save itself.”
To Be Continued...