Et Stellae Cadent - Season 1, "Solar Flare"

 

5-1-4786
19:02 Universal Standard Time (UST)
Xihga, Ilverth [Et Stellae Cadent]

It’s time. 

There are few things that Gwendolyn enjoys more than watching a plan come together. Fewer as time goes on and things change and shift. And now, right this moment, she’s managed to get all of the pieces in place – and even managed to be prepared for the one that came out of nowhere, though perhaps she’s not quite as emotionally ready for that last one as she’d like to be. Months of work and creeping behind the scenes, and now she’s poised to pluck the last string to bring he design out and into the eyes of the public. Best of all – her twin, her beloved twin – is proud of her for this. He even actually said as much for once, and those words flit about in Gwendolyn’s skull like so many buzzing alerts. 

Brushing white hair out of her face, Gwen adjusts how she’s sitting on the metal beam that’s the primary load bearing beam in the rafters. The light from neon lines doesn’t quite reach up here properly, which means there’s a saeva that’s spawned on another part of the beam that gets jostled by her movement. It hasn’t dared to come any closer ever since Gwen stared it in the eyes some hours ago – instinct driving it to cower before a larger predator. She almost feels bad for the thing, but she can address that when it’s not an unexpected variable in the plan that she’s so carefully crafted. (The plan that her twin is proud of her for, there’s no forgetting that simple little fact despite all of the other moving pieces). Perhaps she’ll find it something safe to eat – an act of charity from one type of monster to another. 

Barring it managing to throw a wrench in her plans, at least. 

Besides, this is Gwendolyn’s favorite kind of perch to claim. It’s the best place to watch and wait for the arrival of – oh, what is the name he gave her? Not the one he uses because the media gave it to him, but the one he used in the call. Ah, it doesn’t matter, Gwendolyn decides. This is a meeting between villains after all. 

Between Gwendolyn and John Doe. Any other information doesn’t actually need to be shared – and in fact probably shouldn’t, lest one or the other accidentally (or intentionally) wind up collapsing the other’s empire. Of course, John Doe has already insisted that his empire is further reaching than Gwendolyn’s, so his face is going to be delicious when… 

The masked man that enters the warehouse does so without any sign of concern or pausing to take a look at his new surroundings at all. As far as his body language reads – he still thinks that he has the advantage here, despite being so far out of the areas that he’s set up shop in. How cute. As if he’s been able to so much as breathe without everything he’s done being reported back to Gwendolyn for the last few months. 

Purple eyes track him as he walks to the middle of the warehouse where she told him to stand, still with no visible indication that he so much as thinks that she might be any kind of danger for him to watch out for. Gwendolyn reaches beside her to grab the briefcase, allowing herself to hum a short sound that is the only vent of amusement she’s letting escape her control. 

Hopping down from the steel beam is painstakingly timed – let it never be said that Gwendolyn doesn’t put thought into presentation – but she’s more than aware of the way the light from the setting sun outlines her and her outfit as she drops. The light glints off broken glass to cascade against dark skin and darker tattoos. She lands with a heavier thunk than her frame implies, and the grin that splits her lips as the masked man turns around is wider than it should go on a humanoid face. Baring rows and rows of teeth is, perhaps, the only actual warning John Doe has about his real position. 

And his expressions are priceless – in the way his eyes widen almost comically, in the way he coughs and stares at his watch for a moment like that’ll reassert a dominance into this situation that he never had. “There you are.” John Doe huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I was beginning to think you got captured by the swell of Atoll in the area.” Exhaling, John Doe nods at the briefcase. “So, I take it that’s for me?” His mask conceals his expression – but Gwendolyn is armed with more senses than the public records indicate.

The way John Doe is still shifting from foot to foot tells her just as much as the way he tugs at his pockets, as the tone to his voice, as the smell he’s putting off. Using a mask is all well and good – but it’s useless when it’s the only thing actually used to help hide something. 

“It is.” She answers, short and simple. The way he bristles is tasty – and almost a distraction to the one string she’d had no choice but to leave hanging. Now that she’s standing damn near face to face with the bastard, the rage bubbles up and tries to leak out of her voice. Glitch, it would be so very easy to just reduce the bastard to a smear of blood and viscera on the ground. And as long as she didn’t leave one of her calling cards, no one would ever be the wiser. 

(That is what’s expected of her – she doesn’t doubt that many of the others involved in her plans still expect just that of her. That her plans will amount to naught. Unfortunately – for fortunately, depending – Gwendolyn enjoys her planned end for John Doe in the long term enough that the short term urge is only a passing thought.)

Because doing that won’t help the victims. 

And it won’t keep her twin’s pride. 

“I’m not handing it over until you let me see the merchandise.” Gwen says, and the word merchandise tastes like acid on her tongue – acrid and sharp. “We’ve not done business before.” The implication to those words hangs naked in the air. She can’t trust him, not on this first meeting. It comes with another baring of those rows and rows of teeth, and perhaps John Doe is beginning to realize that he’s just a salmon in the wide open ocean – because he shifts his weight from one foot to the next. 

“Fair enough.” John Doe laughs, and the urge to damn the plan for that short term serotonin rises as he shrugs and flicks his wrist. He brings up his console window and looks away from Gwen. The window is oddly colored – and opaque, so Gwen isn’t able to see what it is that he’s typing. Still, the magic that flows outwards from the tech says a lot, even if the shadows in the warehouse shiver and jolt as Gwen tenses. 

Glimmering light outlines a door, then it slides open with a quiet hiss of released air and there they are. 

Missing sophonts. Children. Young adults. A number of faces that were shown to her on slides weeks ago, just skinnier and harsher. 

It’s a full on shortcut.pth, Gwen realizes, especially when John Doe reaches through and yanks one of the kids out by a harsh grip on an arm already mottled with bruises. 

Inhale. Exhale. Don’t let any of it show. The mental mantra Gwen has to run in the back of her mind is one that aches, especially as the stench of helplessness and terror assault her nostrils. They’ve all been left behind and abandoned and—

(And for a heartbeat, Gwendolyn can feel fingers slipping out of hers, can feel intense pain in her chest, can—-)

“See anything that catches your attention?” The question is coy, almost teasing. “I’d offer suggestions, but I wasn’t able to find anything about your preferences.” John Doe releases the kid’s arm and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re the illustrious and infamous Gwendolyn! But so very little about you ever makes it to my lake.” It’s a cute reference, and his scent betrays the pride he feels in it. 

“I like playing my cards close to my chest.” Gwen says, rather than answer. She can see movement out of the corner of her gaze, the edges of someone else with a console window. Which means that she just needs to delay for a little while longer. Long enough that she’ll be able to see the signal that means the others are ready. “My face and name are well known, after all – if I let just everyone see the detail of my fins then they’ll all think they have an edge on me.” Like John Doe himself currently does. But he doesn’t seem to take that as an attack on him, merely something to have a good laugh about. “And even if I did use a mask like you, I still have all of this.” Gwen gestures at her scars, shifts her weight to one foot and juts one hip out. It draws John Doe’s attention in just the way she was hoping it would. He releases the arm of the kid without even thinking about it. 

It takes him several minutes to find his words after ogling her (valuable minutes for talking herself down, again, from just killing him and damning the plan) – and when he does, he seems to have lost his ability to look her in the face. “Well, one can clearly see that you’re a woman of unique…. talents.”

The urge to roll her eyes swims up, but Gwendolyn manages to keep a fake smile plastered on her face. “I am – so… do you think I could inspect the merchandise a little closer?” Calling sophonts merchandise still stings on her tongue, but with any luck she won’t have to say it a third time. “I could make it worth your while, I’m sure.” The flirty smile is also forced, but she’s not in a position where she can improvise when it comes to the script. Not this time. There’s too much at stake. 

“I wonder if you taste like the dark chocolate you look like.” John Doe muses, stepping away from the shortcut.pth and reaching for his mask, pulling it off so he can flash a grin at her. “Go ahead, get up close and make your selection or selections. Just don’t damage them too much while you inspect them and maybe try out a few. Afterwards, we can discuss compensation.” He still hasn’t seemed to realize that the kid he dragged out is no longer being held in place, and has been taking steps back and away. 

Gwen’s noticed, though, and she’s noticed the fear in that kid’s eyes. Not that she blames the kid – not with… well, everything. But still…  Gwendolyn dips her head in a nod and swallows her scowl. Of course he also has to be the kind of exoticizing asswipe that compares her skin tone to something to be consumed. 

Joke’s on him – he’s the one on the menu. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see about the kind of compensation I’m sure you have in mind.” Stepping around him, Gwen lingers near the shortcut. Glancing at the kid, she nods briefly in the direction of the movement she’s seen. The heartbeat the kid notices the heroes waiting in the wings is visible enough that Gwen almost misses the shifting in lighting that’s her signal. It makes the shadows deepen further – and there’s the scratching sound of saeva starting to pull themselves out of the darkness. 

Unfortunately for the saeva – this is Gwendolyn’s hunting grounds. 

“There are-” John Doe begins, twisting and spotting the saeva from the rafters dropping down between himself and Gwen. He begins to reach for something in his pants – and then the shadows rise up and swallow the saeva. 

Damn – looks like she won’t be doing something charitable for that saeva. Pity. 

“Saeva?” Gwendolyn asks, tilting her head to one side as she puts all of those teeth on display again. “Don’t worry, they hold no fear for me.” Her tone isn’t the mimic at reassuring that she’s so used to using. No, it’s lighter and airy and she sees the first actual fear start to dawn on John Doe’s face. She was right – it is delicious. 

Gets even more so as John Doe tries to close the shortcut.pth and isn’t actually fast enough to get it shut before the shadows are holding it open. Her grin widens, and widens, and widens yet further as she stalks towards him. 

Presentation – again, though this time it’s in taking up more and more of the unlucky bastard’s attention with her very frame. It keeps his focus on her – and away from the shortcut.pth. The bird-like chirping is what clues her in that the heroes have secured ownership of the shortcut – meaning that John Doe isn’t able to influence it anymore. 

The timing is beautiful, because his back has just slammed back against one of the support pillars of the warehouse. “I love that your kind are always so profit minded.” Gwen leans close, purrs the words directly into his ear.  Her voice drops an octave as she speaks, abandoning the falsetto that had been calculated to help keep his guard low. Now, now she leans back – and she gets to see the fear overtake his face. The dawning terror as it sinks in just how small of a fish he is when compared to her. And oh – he can’t see the heroes, not yet, because Gwendolyn’s formed the shadows around herself and him — enough to hide what’s going on beyond them. 

“You… going to kill me?” John Doe’s gone pale, swallowing several times like there’s more words he wants to say but all of them are stuck somewhere in his throat. It seems to be something that’s making him angry, if the way he squirms is any indication at all. 

“Unfortunately…” Gwen trails off, allows him to have that heartbeat of relief. Because traffickers like him – they always would rather die than be captured, than have their reputations ruined quite so fully. “no.” That one word gets purred, the more for the way the stench of terror deepens. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to – but this isn’t all of the sophonts you’ve had kidnapped, now is it?” 

“The cops won’t help you!” John Doe tries, snapping the words and baring his flat teeth at her. 

That gets a laugh out of her. “Oh no, I know you’ve been paying off cops. I went around them.” There’s a growl that sounds like a bear, so Gwendolyn drops her shadows. As she does – John Doe tries to lunge out of the way, only to get grabbed by the arm by a hero lying in wait. Purple eyes flick to assess which hero it is. Working with Atoll can go one of two ways, most of the time – but if she’s not careful, the heroes will be the ones who foul up her plans. This time, that isn’t the case. The hero lying in wait is the one Gwen approached. Good. 

“I bet you’re as bitter as-“

“Darling,” Gwen reaches – grasps John Doe’s chin. “Read the room – keep that racist comment on the inside, and that’s where your organs will get to stay too!” Her temper’s leaking out, and maybe it shows in the way sharp nails cut into the chin in her hand. Or perhaps in the way her teeth are all on display. 

The heroes and vigilantes she reached out to for this are very specific ones, chosen for very specific reasons – it’s not a coincidence that John Doe himself has the lightest skin tone in the entire warehouse. He seems to realize it, and his face pales another seven shades. 

“Take him, Ursina. Do you want a gag?” Here, Gwen reaches into the briefcase – and pulls out a thick gag. “I imagine he’ll have quite an impressive amount of vitriol as soon as he regains his ability to speak.” 

The hero with an arm on John Doe nods – so quick and stark that her ponytail waves. “Thank you for this, Gwendolyn.” She offers a quick smile that crinkles the corners of those blue eyes. “I don’t think that Atoll would have been able to get him on our own, much less a bead on the SysAdmin who has been helping him like you’ve gotten for us. We won’t let this information go to waste. Of that, you have my word.” A beat of silence, and she glances at John Doe. “…And yeah, give me the gag. I don’t want to deal with his mouth.”

Gwen waves it off. “It’s no trouble Ursina.” she says, as she hands over the gag. “By the way, how’s that arm doing for you?”

At the question, Ursina brings up her prosthetic and flexes the hand. “It’s good. What… what do I owe you? Folk don’t tend to give away tech like this without–“

Shaking her head, Gwen glances over her shoulder to check on the process of freeing the kidnapped sophonts. “No cost.” She says, voice low and private. “I don’t charge for medical things folks need, and I’m not about to start now.” A beat of silence and consideration before she continues. “If you really feel like you owe me, you can keep quiet about my involvement with a certain mega-corp, though that’s more to protect their reputation than anything else.” There’s no response for a long moment, so Gwendolyn looks back at Ursina, arching the one white brow. “…You okay?”

Ursina starts, then nods quickly. “Yeah. Sorry, I just keep having trouble reconciling the two images of you I have. You came to us with this lead and plan and now we’ve got him.” At that point, the hero nods at John Doe as he’s being dragged out of the warehouse by a hero that Ursina recognizes and a vigilante that she doesn’t.  “I don’t think any of us had even considered that he might already have the cops in this area in his pocket. Guess that’s because you have to deal with them a lot more than I do, you’re much darker than I am…”

“Racism very rarely cares for exact shade of skin.” Gwen says, exhaling and refusing to linger on the leftover anger thrumming in her chest. This is not the time or place to get into that particular discussion. Not if Gwen wants to keep her cool. “That and being a known villain of course. Even I have standards. I draw the line at certain actions. Thank you for being willing to work with me though, I wasn’t sure if your group would be the type to put doing good over labels or not. Gotta look out for one another, don’t we?” The question comes with a sly smile, testing and probing. 

That gets a huff of a laugh out of Ursina. “Fair enough. I’ll give you my personal line so if you ever need it for another joint op like this, you can message me directly. Uh… if I encounter problems with the arm…?” she trails off, fidgeting with the metallic fingers. She figures it’ll probably be some kind of shady-

“Big Pharma will service it.” Gwen cuts that thought off. “It’s one of theirs after all, registered in their systems and all. And they don’t charge. If you do encounter a Big Pharma doc who tries to charge, message me.” Now that John Doe is out of the building, Gwendolyn doesn’t mind naming the corp that she’s got more than a slight connection to. All of the folks here have far better things to do than cause trouble for the least profit minded of all the AAA Ranked Megacorps. Free medical care isn’t cheap, but Gwen has no regrets. Not a single one – at least as far as Big Pharma goes. “By the way, this case…” Gwen holds up the case that she never turned over to John Doe. “It should have enough money in it to help them all get back on their feet, if the numbers I had were right.” Those purple eyes drift back to the sheer number of rescued sophonts, and then she remembers there’s one more line she needs to trot out. “Don’t ask where the money came from.”

Ursina nods. She knows better than to ask when given such a clear cut response like that. “Thank you.” Ursina says instead, clapping on Gwen’s shoulder with her flesh arm and shooting a wide grin at her. “My team and I will see to it that they all get back to their families, if at all possible.” She nods in the direction of the victims, trying not to obsess over individual details about various ones. “If you ever need anything else, let me know, alright?” 

“Will do.” It’s an easy assurance to give, even if Gwendolyn has a strange relationship with favors.

With that taken care of though, there’s no real reason for Gwendolyn to linger – so she steps around Ursina and takes note of the massive crowd outside of the warehouse. There’s a similar in the warehouse – but given the choice, Gwen would rather pass by those who are being freed than the folks waiting outside. 

That has a side effect that she didn’t suspect could happen and therefore has no plans for as she walks past the former captives. 

One of them shouts a worn ‘thank you’ and it sets off a cascade – more worn voices thanking Gwen, making her pause for a heartbeat, purple eyes skittering to regard the group as a whole. There are smiles and waves and thanks coming from the group, like they all think she did a very good thing. 

Shoulders hunching, Gwendolyn mutters something that she hopes sounds like acknowledgement but also something that will give those victims some kind of hope. That’s not her job – she’s a villain, not a hero – but being thanked like this strikes down into her chest, sinks into some long forgotten stuffing, dusts it off. And it’s… it’s only polite to respond when one is thanked.  It makes the former captives all light up, and one little kid bounces up and down on bare feet – excitement and pride clear in the very body language. The kid chirps out another thanks, as do several others, and this time Gwen ….strolls swiftly. She absolutely does not essentially run for the back door to get away from all of this softness. Nope.

Still –  it’s never going to stop being strange, is it? Being thanked for …anything.