Chapter Text
The face they were looking up at was unfamiliar, but certainly not one of a total stranger, not with a voice like that.
The elusive Dr. Zor finally had a face.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day,” Zor remarked. They lifted a lit cigar to a port in the mask they wore and took a puff. The smoke escaped through the mesh-like material in unsettling trails. “A bird that cannot be killed can at least be caged. ”
Phoenix couldn’t help but scoff at that. They’d been in plenty of precarious situations over the last decade, and they had always found a way out. Surely, this time would be no different.
“We know your tricks, Agent.” They couldn’t help but notice how Ghost spat out the word Agent as if it were bitter on her tongue. “You won’t be getting out of this one.”
“I would like to see you try, though. It would be quite entertaining.”
Their head dropped a bit when Zor finally let go of their chin, before they were able to get their bearings and lift their head on their own. Their body still felt fuzzy and distant, but the fog that clouded their mind was slowly lifting. The Agent was aware enough now to realize that the room really didn’t offer anything for them to work with, as far as they could tell. Not ideal, but they’d figure something out.
“You’ve already proven to be quite alluring bait,” Zor said. Phoenix could practically hear the amused grin that must have pulled at their lips behind their mask. The Agent sneered at their captor, before that expression faded, as the realization of what those words meant started to set in.
They weren’t the only Agent locked up.
Zor took another puff of their cigar through the mask, chuckling as they blew out the smoke. They turned on their heel and began to walk toward the door, turning their head to look at Phoenix over their shoulder from the corner of their eye. “Be seeing you, Agent.” With that familiar phrase, the tall individual made their way out of the room.
Phoenix could only watch as Ghost turned and followed her employer, hardly sparing them a glance.
Mason grimaced as he returned to consciousness; his head hurt -hell, everything hurt- and the light overhead was far too bright. It was difficult to piece together where he was, as he put what felt like all of his energy into forcing his head up to look around. He couldn’t quite see the walls thanks to the harsh contrast between the bright, focused light above him and the darkness that lay just beyond its reach. An attempt to raise a hand to his head led to the realization that he was bound. His wrists were tied behind his back and further contained by a single mit, while his legs were bound to the legs of the chair he sat on.
“It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
Mason froze. He knew that voice immediately. It took great effort for him to resist craning his neck to look toward its source. Footsteps approached him, one set slow and deliberate, a second set heavier, following the first.
“I figured the whole incident in Vihti would have you reconsidering your occupation. You’re still at it though, I see.”
The bound Agent refused to speak. The footsteps continued, slowly making their way around from behind him until the two stopped in view. He noted how tall one of the individuals was, the impeccable suit they wore, the mask that covered part of their face. They puffed on their cigar through a port in their mask, and he watched as the smoke escaped through the mesh-like material.
His focus turned to the other individual, schooling his expression. The Operative nearly had Phoenix’s face, aside from looking just a bit older. This had to be Megan, their older sister, Operative Ghost. Knowing what he knew, this could go poorly for him.
“Not as quick on your feet as you used to be, though. I’m surprised you’re even still a Field Agent.”
Mason bit his tongue to keep from replying. If Zor thought he was still a Field Agent, so be it.
“I know they won’t talk, not without a bit of convincing . Perhaps you could help.”
The Agent gulped despite himself. That did not sound good.
Ollie paced in Reginald’s office, overcome by the need to do something as he waited for Dr. Prism to show up. It hadn’t been easy to explain what was happening, especially with the thought that someone higher up could potentially catch wind of the situation, but he’d managed to tell the scientist enough to have her on the way immediately. Now, he was just waiting for her to arrive, and it felt like he’d been waiting for hours. He probably had been, honestly; Dr. Prism was currently assigned to a different lab, where she could be specifically monitored to ensure she was actually on the Agency’s side again.
A knock at the door halted Ollie’s endless pacing, and he quickly went to see who it was. He peeked out into the hall and let out a deep sigh of relief, allowing the woman inside. As soon as Dr. Prism was through the door, he shut it behind her and locked it before turning to her.
“You said something happened to Reginald and Phoenix, what happened?” Dr. Prism was keeping a level head so far, but Ollie had a feeling that wouldn’t last too long.
“ Well… Agent Phoenix was captured by Zoraxis in Los Angeles. When we -well, Lead Support Agent Crane- informed Director Morales, he didn’t want to risk sending an extraction team. Said the odds were too poor, that the Agency’s had bad luck in the past getting captured Agents back alive, so they weren’t going to send anyone until Phoenix got back in contact. So, Agent Crane came up with a plan and, well… Then he got captured, too…” Ollie rambled, gesturing with his hands as he did.
Dr. Prism was quiet for a moment, as he waited for her to process everything he’d just said. He couldn’t quite read her expression -he’d never been the best at that, really-, which kept him on pins and needles until she finally responded.
The inventor let out a long, slow sigh. “You’re telling me, that Phoenix and Reginald have been captured by Zoraxis?”
“Yes,” Ollie squeaked. “Agent Phoenix’s earpiece is still transmitting from L.A, I’m also getting pings off Agent Crane’s, but I think his earpiece was damaged; I can’t get a proper read on where the signal is coming from. I doubt they’re still in Los Angeles, though; it’s not the most secure facility, and Dr. Zor knows how good Agent Phoenix is at their job.”
“You lost them?!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Ollie took a breath; losing his head wasn’t going to help anything. “I’m trying to find them, I really am. I just need help, and I thought you could help; you know Phoenix and Reginald better than I do, you know Agency operations better than I do, you know the tech, you’re smart, and, well, I figured I could trust you to not bring this to Director Morales immediately upon finding out what’s happened…”
Dr. Prism huffed a sigh, setting her hands on her hips. “I should report this, report you, but…”
“But?”
“But I have a good idea of how that all would end,” she answered. “What do you need help with?”
“Well, first I think we need to find out where Zor has them,” Ollie supposed, making his way over to the desk. “I’m getting a signal from Agent Crane’s earpiece, but it’s weak; I don’t have much to work with. If I remember correctly, there are two, maybe three high-security bases that are still staffed, so that narrows things down.”
“What’re the options?”
Ollie watched as Dr. Prism made her way over to the desk, stopping by a screen set up which had a map displayed on it. There was a point highlighted over California, labeled Agent Phoenix - Los Angeles, California. A line of text was also displayed, along the top of the screen, Agent Crane - Signal Unstable.
“The iffy one would be Algiers. I don’t remember if that location is still manned to the point where Zor would find it secure enough.”
“Algiers…” Dr. Prism hummed, starting to fiddle with one of the dials that ran along the side of the monitor. Different parts of the Mediterranean Commonwealth were highlighted, eventually resulting in a message reading, Agent Not Found.
“That rules out another possibility, too; Munich’s also part of the Mediterranean Commonwealth,” Ollie figured. “We need to check the Hudson Federation; along the Canadian Rockies.”
“Got it. Keep an eye on the screen, tell me if there’s a change in the reading.”
Sections of the Hudson Federation were highlighted, and Ollie watched closely, until something finally changed. “Right there! Agent Crane - Unnamed Peak, there’s coordinates,” he exclaimed, grabbing a pen and quickly copying down the coordinates that were displayed.
“Step one done, Now we need to actually get there,” Dr. Prism sighed.
“And we’ll need more hands. I don’t think this is a job only the two of us can handle. I don’t know who else we could get, though…”
“I may just have an idea for that.”
Phoenix groaned in the silence. It felt like they’d been left alone for ages, attempting to free themself from their bonds. They had tried to utilize their telekinesis, only to feel a sharp pain in their temple and find their vision going purple around the edges. Obviously that wasn’t going to help them. They would need to do this the old fashioned way.
Somehow.
They didn’t know how long they’d been trying to wriggle their hands apart and out of the mit, before the door to their cell opened. Squinting against the change in the light, they could make out three standing figures, along with one who seemed to be sitting. The Agent watched as the group entered, and the sitting figure was brought in, carried on a chair similar to their own, which was set down and bolted to the floor, utilizing a handful of holes in the cement. The other person was struggling, with a bag over their head. Two of the newcomers left shortly after the chair was secure, leaving the third standing figure with Phoenix and the other seated individual.
“It would seem your precious Agency thought you might get lonely,” Zor derided, stepping slowly over to the second restrained person and quickly removing the bag from their head.
Phoenix couldn’t help but gasp. They hadn’t thought the Agency would send someone so soon, and had no idea who they would even send, if they sent anyone at all. They would never have considered their Handler could end up here.
Yet, here he was. Restrained, stripped of his jacket and belt, with a line of dried blood running down the left side of his face, narrowly missing his eye, and it seemed he’d also suffered a bloody nose. It was odd to see him like this, without his jacket and headset. The shock was clearly mutual, as Reginald was stunned into silence, but there was something else mixed with that shock and worry, something Phoenix couldn’t quite place.
“Isn’t this a pleasant reunion?” Zor mused. They took a puff from their cigar as they stepped closer to Phoenix. “Maybe this arrangement will make one of you a bit more cooperative .” The mysterious doctor tapped their cigar, allowing the ash to fall onto Phoenix’s shoulder. “Nothing to say?”
That was when Phoenix felt a sharp pull on their hair, followed by the familiar feeling of being burnt. A spot where their jaw met their neck stung and burned, and the Agent screwed their eyes shut and clenched their jaw, doing whatever they could to avoid giving Zor the satisfaction of drawing a sound from them.
“Maybe you just need a bit of time.”
Nothing more was said. Zor pulled away from Phoenix and made their way out of the room. The door slammed and locked behind them, leaving Phoenix and Reginald in the room. For a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was that of Phoenix’s breathing, as they breathed through the worst of the lingering pain of the fresh burn.
“Thank goodness you’re alive,” Reginald sighed, keeping his voice low but sounding relieved.
“What are you doing here?” Phoenix questioned, keeping their voice similarly low.
“Attempting to get you out of here. Things went a bit pear-shaped…”
“But why you, specifically?”
“I was willing to take the risk.” Reginald’s tone wasn’t as light-hearted as it normally was with that statement. It was more serious, leaving little room for further questioning. “I’ll explain further after we get out of this, and we will get out of this, Agent.”
“There’s someone else coming?”
“It’s better to assume we’re on our own. If help does come, it’d be welcome help, but a good Agent always plans for the worst. How are your hands bound?”
“Fingers interlocked, wrists tied, and there’s a mit over them.”
The older man sighed, “Either this is standard procedure for them, or they figure we’re equal threats,” he deduced. “I can’t slip out of my arm, either, unfortunately.”
Phoenix could see the gears turning in Reginald’s head, as he took in their shared situation. They were trying to find a way out, as well, and could only hope that they would be able to pull a plan together before things had the chance to escalate.
Operative Ghost made her way through the halls of the facility, on her way to Dr. Sans’ suite. Other Operatives stepped out of her path, and quiet whispers followed her.
“That’s the Ghost?”
“That’s her. I thought she was in L.A.”
“ I heard she captured the Phoenix.”
“Wonder what Sans wants with her, that hall goes right to his suite.”
“I heard rumors about some kind of implant.”
Ghost took a slow breath and did her best to tune the other Operatives out. Dr. Sans was a skilled, methodical man, and she doubted he’d risk his position near the top of the ladder by maiming or killing an Operative that Zor had taken such interest in. Even with her own reassurance, Megan’s heart was pounding, seemingly harder and harder, with every step towards the suite.
Upon arriving at the stark white doors, the Operative pressed the call button on her left. She didn’t receive any verbal response, instead there was merely a buzz that signaled for her to enter.
The suite itself was mostly white and grey, brightly lit and smelled sterile to an almost overwhelming degree. The space was split-level, with the area where she came in overlooking where Dr. Sans was currently making preparations. Zor’s Lieutenant stood out against the sea of grey and white, wearing a dull red smock over his clothes. He was gathering a number of instruments on a tray, most of which Megan only vaguely recognized.
“There is a gown for you up there. Remove the outer layers of your uniform from the waist up, along with your boots; I don’t want you tracking in dirt,” he called. “I’m just about ready for you.”
Megan didn’t question him; she was in no position to do that. She simply found the gown and went about following Sans’ instructions, removing her boots and various pieces of her uniform. She couldn’t help the quiet sigh that escaped her as she pulled off the tactical vest, rolling her shoulders once the weight was no longer pressing against them. Her gloves and long sleeved shirt followed, along with the light grey T-shirt she wore under that. She looked over the bruises that still stood out against her skin, still fairly dark in color, seemingly refusing to fade. Her mother had always said that she bruised like a peach, Elliot and Adrian -Agent Phoenix- had, too. Shaking her head, Ghost pulled on the gown and tied it into place, before pulling off her knit cap and setting it on top of the rest of her clothes, before making her way down to Dr. Sans.
“Tie your hair up, it’ll be in the way,” he told her, handing over an elastic band. It wasn’t ideal, but Megan had nothing better to use, so she took the elastic and tied her hair back with it, getting the bright red locks out of the way.
“So, this will let me do the same things Agent Phoenix does?” she cautiously asked, as she situated herself on the table Sans indicated as he pulled together the last of what he needed.
“Should all go well, yes,” the doctor answered. “I modified Prism’s design slightly -at Zor’s request-, but it will be functionally the same. I don’t have time to put you out completely, though I doubt I need to. You simply need to lay back, turn your head to the left, and breathe normally.” As he spoke, Dr. Sans pulled out a mask connected to a length of tubing and settled it over Ghost’s mouth and nose, securing it with the strap connected to it.
There wasn’t much she could do at that point, as Sans set about securing a couple of light restraints to stabilize her head and chest -just in case, he assured- and turned on a bright, focused light above her. She could only listen as he apparently readied what he needed, unable to see what was going on. A cold substance was rubbed over her skin along her hairline on her temple, and she felt a couple of sharp pricks that led to an odd burning sensation.
Things were a bit fuzzy around the edges, and she couldn’t really feel Dr. Sans’ hands on her, which she supposed was the point of whatever gas he had her breathing in. She couldn’t shake the painfully helpless feeling that weighed on her, knowing that Zor’s Lieutenant could do just about anything he wanted to her in this state. She’d felt this way a small handful of times, back during her training. Those days had initially filled her with a sense of panic, until she had gotten the hang of suppressing those emotions in order to make it through and continue on.
A buzz interrupted Dr. Sans’ work. She could have sworn the man growled low in his throat before stepping away from her. She heard him pull off his gloves before answering the buzzer.
“What is it? I’m in the middle of something,” he demanded.
“Operative Beaker, Sir? I was told to see you immediately, I can come back at a later time if you-”
“Sterile smocks are to the left of the door, as are shoe covers. Put them on before entering further than the doorway,” Sans told him, before pressing the button to buzz the Operative in.
Megan couldn’t see what was going on, but knowing Beaker was entering the room was an odd sort of comfort. He couldn’t prevent anything bad from happening to her, but at least if something did happen, she wouldn’t be alone. She listened as the door opened and shut, as Sans pulled on a fresh set of gloves, as Beaker made his way towards the two of them and took a set of gloves, as well.
“You came in at just the right time,” Sans hummed. “An extra set of hands will make this easier.”
“Dr. Sans, I don’t know if I qualify-”
“If you don’t think you qualify for something as simple as handing me my tools, you can see yourself out immediately.”
“My apologies, Sir.”
Beaker was nervous, even with how fuzzy everything felt, Megan could still tell that much. She couldn’t offer him any comfort, though. She could only listen as Sans requested various tools and Beaker handed them off to him.
There was no way to know how much time went by, before Megan heard Sans step away and noticed Beaker undoing her restraints and removing the mask from her mouth and nose. The table was set to an angle, propping her up into a more upright position.
“That’ll do it. You’ve got a handful of stitches, don’t go scratching at them,” Sans informed her. “Operative Beaker will be able to take those out for you in a few days.”
Ghost could only nod slowly, giving a quiet hum. Everything was still too fuzzy for her to really form words. She watched as the others cleaned up, taking care of the various instruments and pulling off their smocks.
“Operative Ghost reported that you had a hand in the apprehension of Agent Phoenix. Is that correct?”
Beaker seemed startled for a second, glancing over at Megan before answering. “Yes, Sir. The drug she used has been a pet project of mine for a while now.”
“I’ll admit, I’m intrigued. Tell me more; what did you use, how did you pull this together?”
Megan watched as Beaker pulled his small, leather-bound notebook from his coat pocket and flipped through a few pages. He managed to avoid the question of where he had gotten his materials for a while, but eventually had to confess that he’d been pilfering small amounts of different substances to use. Sans didn’t seem pleased by the revelation, though more than that he’d seemed surprised and even a bit impressed.
“This drug of yours could prove to be useful for the current project,” Sans eventually supposed. “It’ll be seen to that you have the equipment you need. I expect work to start as soon as you have everything.”
“I- Uh- Of course, Dr. Sans. Understood, Sir.”
It wasn’t too long before Ghost -with some help from Beaker- was up on her feet and pulling her uniform back on -though she admittedly skipped the cap and vest, opting to carry them for now-. Everything was still a bit fuzzy around the edges, and she was silently grateful that Beaker was by her side to help her navigate the hallways.
“Told you,” Megan quietly said, as the two of them walked down a hall lined with doors, on the way to the room she was assigned.
“Told me what?” Beaker asked in reply, taking the key from Ghost’s hand to unlock the door they stopped by.
“That I’d put in a few good words about your work,” she told him. She couldn’t help but smile a bit as the scientist helped her inside and onto the sofa with a quiet chuckle.
“Yeah, you did.”
“Beak?”
“Hm?”
“Stay here, for a bit?”
Her scientist friend gave her a small, warm smile. She watched as he shut the door and took off his coat, exposing more of the warm brown skin she hardly got to see much of outside of his face. He approached and sat next to her, leaving his coat and her vest abandoned on the table for now.
“Of course.”
They sat in silence for a time, until Megan eventually drifted off to sleep, her head resting on Beaker’s shoulder. The last thought crossing her mind at that point had nothing to do with the two Agents so many floors below them, nor did it have anything to do with Daniel Sans nor Dr. Zor. She was simply hoping that Beaker would still be there when she woke up.