SPACE STATIONS > TRIM

Jailbreak, Part II: Electric Boogaloo [Daglobster]

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DragonSong:
Annabelle's first attempt at escape had not gone well.

Honestly she couldn't even remember much of what had happened after the alarm system she'd been suppressing suddenly came back online--she'd badly misjudged just how much of her power she could use with the stupid TRIM chip embedded in her temple--and within thirty seconds she'd been tased unconscious and dragged back to her "dormitory".

At least, she assumed that was what had happened. Her memories of the first few days after that were a blur of white coats, bright lights, and a wider variety of pain than she'd ever really thought possible.

The next thing she could really remember was waking up in her hospital cot, one wrist cuffed to the bed, with one of the doctors standing over her, explaining that they had updated her chip. They had control now; without approval from a computerized control unit, Annabelle had no access to her powers at all.

It felt like losing a limb. She could feel the phantom tingles of electricity sometimes at the tips of her fingers or sparking behind her eyes, but the moment she reached for it, the feeling vanished.

In all of the five years since she'd been found and brought to TRIM, she thought that might be the most effective torture they'd come up with. It had been nearly two months of this, and even after enduring dozens of previous tests and experiments, she thought much longer of this might actually kill her.

Fight...

Annabelle sat up in bed, looking around the darkness of her tiny cell. That--that was a voice. A voice she didn't recognize. Where...?

Fight it, my child.

Her eyes widened as she realized the voice was inside her head. "Oh gods." She looked around, though now she knew it was useless. "What--what's going on?"

You must fight. It was a whisper, fuzzy and barely audible, almost like static. Cannot...much longer. Go now. Go while...doors are down.

Annabelle got the distinct feeling that there was more to the message than she was hearing, her brow furrowing in confusion as she tried to figure out exactly what the voice was trying to tell her. Perhaps she should have been more worried about anonymous voices in her head, but honestly? At this point, it barely even phased her.

And the voice wasn't completely unknown, somehow. Almost like a memory of a dream, something she couldn't quite grasp.

But she didn't have time--or honestly really the inclination--to prioritize that train of thought. "Go while the doors are down", what did that mean?

As if in answer to her thoughts, she saw the red glow of her door lock flicker, then blink to green, and heard the unmistakable snick of the automated lock turning open.

She was frozen on the bed, wide eyed and staring, for a long, elastic moment. Then she burst into movement, launching herself off the bed and racing for the door, barely pausing a moment once she'd cracked it open to check the hall before she darted out and began running for the far door, bare feet hardly making a sound against the cool tile.

She reached the door, fingers closing around the handle, and the harsh blare of an alarm suddenly ripped through the hall. She froze, terrified, memories of her last attempt racing through her mind--but it wasn't a door alarm, it was an emergency alert. Someone must have realized the door system was offline.

Go while the doors are down.

Alright. She could do this.


Either by miracle or by design, the path from Wing Alpha down to the southwest docking point was almost entirely clear of doctors and technicians. Annabelle had memorized the guards' routes from her last escape attempt and there should have been more people down here, but the emergency protocols had called them all to an upper level.

All but the two standing at the main door. Annabelle stopped dead once she caught sight of them, then ducked back around the corner and poked her head around again, more cautiously this time. Okay, there were only two of them, and they were probably distracted by the alarms. If she took them by surprise...

A sharp pain jolted through her head and she had to bite down on a cry, clenching her eyes shut as electricity surged through her blood--

Her eyes snapped open. Electricity.

She could feel her magic again.

Not knowing how long this would last, spurred onward by a surge of wild, giddy relief and joy, Annabelle dashed out into the hall and went barreling right for the guards, sparks jumping from her fingertips as she raised her hands and focused the energy down her arms and gather in her palms. If she could just toss a ball of electricity at them, it would be enough of a distraction for her to rush through, grab the first ship she saw and put this place far behind her.

The magic pulsed through her blood, surging into her hands, ready to be released. The guards were going for their weapons, but she was faster, throwing her power forward with a shoot as she charged directly toward the door between them.

Something happened. Something sharp and hot and dangerous that made both the chip in her temple and the core of sparks at the center of her magic protest painfully. The electricity sprang from her hands, hotter and fiercer than she'd intended, singeing the edges of her hospital-regulation scrubs, but she couldn't pull it back, could only watch in horror as the guards jerked and spasmed, then went limp, collapsing to the ground.

It didn't look they were breathing.

Annabelle felt the floor slide sideways beneath her feet, her stomach twisting sickeningly. Her steps slowed, vision pinpointing to the uniformed figures on the floor. Oh no. Oh no no no no no--

Focus! Another jolt of pain, this one actually drawing a cry from her lips. Run, now! I cannot maintain...fading.. will not be able to help you again.

"I'm sorry," Annabelle whispered as she ran through the door into the docking port, vision blurred with the start of tears. "I'm so sorry."


Official TRIM ships were all on the same wireless locking system, which was also down along with most of the doors in the facility. Annabelle ran for the first single person craft she saw, a generic security vehicle, and managed to both jump start the ship and slip her consciousness into the navigation system just long enough to input random coordinates before she felt her power begin to fade again.

A soft sob caught in her throat at the loss, but she tried to swallow it down, curving the ship toward the slowly opening docking door into open space. She punched forward, accelerating to max speed as quick as she could.

A ragged, hysterical laugh joined the muffled sob in her throat and she sank back in her seat. She had no idea where she was going, what it had cost, but she was out.


By the time the emergency at TRIM was under control and the patients counted, it had been nearly six hours since Annabelle's escape. Somehow, she was the only subject who had managed to utilize the chaos effectively, though there were plenty of other injuries from patients and subjects attacking the staff. Enough that the core staff couldn't mobilize quick enough to send someone after her.

"Call in one of asset recovery operatives," Annabelle's lead doctor, a psychic called Garth Farrow, ordered his assistant as they watched the security video of the young woman attacking the two guards. "One of our best--someone who isn't scared of a little lightning."

Daglobster:
Saendyr shot up in bed as his communicator started beeping loudly and flashing. He never wanted to miss a call from his employer, of course, so his reward for wanting to be quick to pick up the phone was a 3:46 AM call from Mr. Trim.

Excellent.

The window blinds were open halfway and the lights from passing hovercars filtered past occasionally as he reached dumbly out beside his bed. His apartment wasn't huge but for a flat in Tynova it was pretty comfortable. Three rooms and one bath, trash incineration included.

He sat up in bed and held the communicator up, the blue light illuminating his purple skin. The call was from ARC Dispatch.

"Talk to me."

"You have been activated. Report in to Dr. Farrow at TRIM immediately, and come ready to work."


One of the benefits of working for a shady research laboratory was that the commute was always fast. One short transit ride to the Thanatos Inc. headquarters in Tynova and Saendyr was already halfway there. Of course, the Thanatos Inc. building frequently dispatched shuttles full of employees and technicians to their orbital assets, but a couple of those went a little farther than that, and damn fast to boot.

He was through the lobby and heading up, passing through a security zone afterwards and through a clearance zone after that. The security depot. He found his locker, armored himself up, and picked up his weapons from the quartermaster. The dispatch had mentioned that the doctor had specifically mentioned "lightning" so he made sure to pick up an energy harness restraint and an extra drum magazine of rubber bullets.

Once he had everything, he hopped on one of the shuttles, alongside some reinforcements for the several injured guards, and they took off and sped up into the atmosphere.


It was around two hours total after he was called in that the shuttle was landing inside one of TRIM's sealed hangars. Saendyr stepped down, ready for duty and also carrying a duffel bag with spare clothes in case he had to stay on the move.

He looked about as he stepped down into the hangar, and if nobody was waiting for him then he would make his way over to one of the guards and ask to be taken to Dr. Farrow.

DragonSong:
Farrow’s assistant was a squirrelly little man with a sharp jaw and weak chin, tapping one foot anxiously as he waited for their operative to arrive.

Seandyr was certainly a distinctive character, and the assistant had no trouble spotting him and quickly making his way over to give a short, clipped, “The Doctor is waiting to see you,” before turning on his heel and leading the agent down a series of halls to Farrow’s office.

The moment he knocked in the door it slid open with a soft whoosh if air, revealing Dr. Farrow hunched over a datapad in his desk, frowning as he re-watched the footage of the incident yet again.

He barely acknowledged Seandyr, and ignored the assistant entirely. “Ah, you’re here. Good. How much did Dispatch brief you on?”

Daglobster:
Indeed, Saendyr literally stood out from the others in the hangar, a quality which he had his inhuman legs to thank for. He walked on those slender, three-toed feet of his rather gracefully, picking his way across the hangar before Farrow’s assistant intercepted him.

Sendyr looked down at the assistant, one of the many Suits and Labcoats that made this place their permanent workplace. He was a little disappointed he didn’t make it to TRIM’s weapon lockup (half his kit was in there!) but he supposed he’d just have to go afterwards.

He didn’t waste any breath talking to the Labcoat guiding him through, and when they arrived to Dr. Farrow’s office Saendyr gave the assistant a curt nod before stepping in, removing his helmet as he did so. At the doctor’s question, he chuckled and tucked his helmet under his arm.

“Hello, Dr. Farrow. Told me a decent bit. Brought my rubber gloves and everything,” he said as he walked up. He was already heavier than the average human and the military spec body armor he wore certainly added some weight of its own. His footfalls were heavy and he had a calculated, precise manner of walking.

He bent a bit to peer down at the datapad, wincing when he saw the looped footage of Annabelle streaking around the corner and cooking those two guards in their armor. His stomach tightened a bit when he saw the escapee was a human test subject, quite unlike the rogue operatives and lab monstrosities that he was used to.

Still, as he watched the footage, Saendyr could understand why they’d called him, and none of their usual manhunters.

“How long ago?” Saendyr started, and then straightened up to regard Dr. Farrow. Time was of the essence and every moment meant a bigger head start for Annabelle.

“And how did this even happen, anyhow? I’ve got a report to write after this, you know.”

DragonSong:
Dr. Farrow watched the bounty hunter's face when his attention focused on the video--because dress it up however you like, as far as the good doctor was concerned, their Recovery Operatives were little better than bounty hunters. Just bounty hunters with exclusive contracts.

"Mm." Farrow pursed his lips and steepled his fingers just in front of his face. "The answers to those two questions are connected, conveniently enough. It's been nine hours and twenty three minutes since the security failure that allowed Ms. McAlistair here to make her escape. It's been almost nine hours exactly since we lost contact with her inhibitor chip." His fingers flew over the datapad, drawing up the readouts from Annabelle's chip, which did indeed cut out eight hours and fifty-seven minutes ago. Farrow tapped a spike in the readout for her magic that flared just before the escape itself. "See that? That shouldn't be possible. We've spent the better part of decades of study here making sure that that is not possible."

Frowning, Dr. Farrow turned the pad so he could bring up a new screen, muttering under his breath, "Of course, technically, the door failure shouldn't have been possible either. We're still working out how that happened, exactly. Some sort of outside interference that, again, shouldn't be possible." he glanced up at Saendyr and added, almost as an afterthought, "If you can manage to get any information out of her, be sure to get it to us as quickly as possible."

He turned the datapad back around, showing a tracking screen. Like the rest of the readouts from Annabelle's chip, the tracker cut out just about nine hours ago, but the general trajectory seemed to be heading for Edanith.

"We need her back, and we need her now." Farrow lifted his eyes, expression stony. "I'm giving you access to all recent and current information from her chip, such as it is. If it comes back online, you'll be able to track her easily. Additionally, I'm giving you access to roughly thirty-six percent of the video documentation of Ms. McAlistair's...treatment. Perhaps more knowledge of her abilities and what we have thus far tested with her will allow you to...better apprehend her."

He paused, lips a thin line, then added, "Do try not to get yourself killed by this one. The amnesia makes her a surprisingly valuable test subject."


Edanith
Annabelle woke up slowly, in pain and confused. It took longer than it really should have for her to realize she was in a small space shuttle, not her dorm back at TRIM. It took even longer after that for her to remember exactly how she'd gotten here--the doors failing, her mad dash through the facility, killing those two guards, stealing a ship...

And crashing a ship, apparently. Or just about.

The red, dry earth of Edanith was encrusted all over her viewing panel, and a closer look revealed that she seemed to have somehow managed to plow the ship into the surface at just the right angle and just the right speed to avoid completely obliterating the vehicle. Even more miraculously, as far as she could tell, she had only a handful of scrapes and bruises from the ordeal--probably a twisted ankle, it was sort of hard to tell.

All in all though, not bad.

The voice in her head was gone too. She thought maybe she should be upset about that--whoever the owner of the voice was had essentially saved her after all--but honestly she was just relieved. Savior or not, whoever--whatever--that voice was hadn't given a single damn when she killed the guards. And it hadn't been shy about hurting her to get her to do what it wanted either.

Groaning, Annabelle forced herself to the shuttle door and smacked the release button, all but tumbling out onto the sandy earth. A quick glance around told her that she was in a long rut that ended in a sort of crater around the small ship, and beyond that...

Nothing. Just red earth and wide sky.

"Well." Annabelle glanced down at herself, then back to the shuttle, then down again. She had nothing. No supplies, no real clothes besides her hospital-issued scrubs, not even a pair of shoes.

She also had no choice.

"Forward then," she murmured to herself, climbing slowly out of the small crater and setting out into the barren Edanith frontier.

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