The Undoing Of Heroes | ✓

thirty one

(a/n: here's your absentee writer with another chapter! enjoy!)

thirty one

WAKING up was a dizzy mess. A horrible, painful, dizzy mess. I hadn't been knocked out, or put to sleep by drugs. No, it had been that goddamn sidekick of Mirage's, casting some kind of gas over me. 

"Ouch." I grumbled, carefully reaching up to touch my forehead. It was flaming hot, and pounded painfully, "What the hell?"

I was lying down on something hard and bench-like. I sat up as quickly as I could without feeling nausea rolling in my stomach, cracking my eyes open. Realisation struck me like a wrecking ball, and I shot back, my back colliding with a hard wall. 

A hard, concrete wall. I was in a cell. A cell. 

I do not belong in a cell, I thought, planting my feet on the smooth floor. I stood up, glancing back at where I had been asleep. A flat bed with a sorry excuse of a pillow and a pathetic sheet, which looked as if it was made out of plastic. I fought a shudder, and instead rolled my shoulders and heard them pop in response. 

Ouch. 

I still felt as if someone was sitting behind my eyebrows, hammering on my skull with an iron crowbar. The pain made it hard to see clearly, and a fuzzy film seemed to cover my vision. The annoyance of feeling weakened lingered in the back of my mind, but most of all it was fear keeping me upright. 

Fear, and adrenaline, keeping my heart pumping ridiculously fast. Sweat dotted my hairline, and I could feel my lungs shuddering after more fresh air. The surrounding air was uncomfortably damp, and it seemed to do more in the way of suffocating me rather than being breathable. Inhaling deeply, I forced myself to grasp ahold of my situation. 

I was injured, without a doubt. I wasn't sure to what extent, but I wasn't exactly fit for fight. Whoever had captured me had made sure of that, and that blasted sidekick - 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and my head shot up. Everything that'd ached and pulsed seemed to fade as I focused on those heavy footsteps, gradually drawing closer. A pair of dark boots stopped outside my cell, and through the bars I saw an officer frowning at me. 

"Awake?" He asked gruffly, snapping his fingers. I debated zapping him, but found my energy drained to the point of where I could only produce a futile spark. A grin spread across his lips, "You've no idea how delightful it is to see you rotting in here. You'll earn your place soon enough, scum."

Quelling my annoyance, I leaned back against the wall and just stared at him. I would never give an asshole of a guard the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. I could get annoyed, sure, but I wouldn't get mad when I couldn't shove my powers down his throat. 

The guard picked up a walkie-talkie, pressing a button before speaking: "Officer Maine. She's awake. Send the escort." His eyes darted to me, and his other hand came up to shield the walkie-talkie from my prying eyes, then he whispered: "No, I don't think she's at full strength. Less than half. Certainly. Thank you, Sir."

Less than half?

I'd never been at less than half. I'd never been at half, period. 

You've fucked up real bad this time, Rae, I thought to myself, tipping my head back with a sigh. If they wanted to escort me somewhere, I'd wait until I was there before wreaking havoc. I needed all the rest I could yet, yet I was tempted to attempt a breakout on my own.