Killing Olympia

4/365

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sophie's head hurt. Hurt so badly she felt like they were doing density tests on her bones again. Her mouth tasted like blood. Her brain felt like slush, moving back and forth inside her head every time the room pitched forward. Voices. A couple of voices. Something was on her lap, warm and fuzzy. She tried to move, and felt the familiar strain of metal around her wrists and feet. What the hell? Right. That girl in the subway. She'd…drugged her? No. She was immune, even to Ambrosia. All she remembered was a sudden pressure, then…

"I was excited, Jesus," someone else said. She tried to drag her chin off her chest. Tried to look up. The world danced in front of her. Something weird smelling had crusted on her lips. "Besides, she would've bolted!"

"And your first thought was to kidnap a demigod and hope she doesn't wake up and try to murder us?"

"Hey," she slurred. Her lips moved funny. Her tongue was fat and uncordinated, almost as if she was learning to talk all over again. She tried again. Giggled. Shook her head. Focus, Sophie. "Hey, who the…who…"

Silence. She was in some kind of room. Big enough for a few couches, a bank of computers in one corner that glowed softly with blue light, weights in another corner, mats that smelt like sweat and a gaming console on the floor beside her. What is this place? Band posters hung limply off the walls. A microwave was beeping in the corner, and the smell of hot greasy pizza came from inside it. Her mouth watered, and soon after, her stomach quietly growled. She flinched as it echoed around the small room. It was hot in here. Humid and warm and very…lived-in.

Her long list of bedrooms around the country were all hotel rooms. Sterile. Boring. She'd leave them in a mess on her way out, because it didn't really matter to her—there would be about a dozen more on the way, too.

This place actually felt like a room. Like a living, breathing space of four old concrete walls.

And they were standing behind her. She was facing half of the room, and the moment she tried to crane her neck over her shoulder, pain slid down her spine. She tried to move again. The heavy iron chains rattled. They'd either welded these things to the metal chair she was sitting on, or she was still so weak that a messy couple pounds of solid iron incapacitated her. She clenched her jaw and tensed, straining so hard against the chains they bent.

But only bent. Suddenly, she was just as weak as that other clone nobody likes to talk about anymore.

God, the thought alone almost made her want to vomit in her mouth again.

"Great, now she's awake," one of them whispered.

"Oh, we're so fucked, man. She's gonna murder us."

"Get me out of these things and I'll consider only crippling you!" she snapped. Sophie strained some more as beads of sweat crawled down her face. Nothing doing. She cursed and stomped her foot, cratering the ground.

"Did…did she just…Holyyy cheese balls, we're screwed. Did you see what she just did?!"

"Dude, relax," one of them hissed. Then she heard a thump and a quiet ow.

The cat sitting on Sophie's lap stirred. She looked down at it, disgusted. It looked up at her, curious. Its fur was thick and black, sleek like spilled ink. It only had one eye. The other was scarred over and silver, now useless.

It meowed softly and rubbed its head against her belly, and grosgrossgross, get it off, get it off, get it off!

"I won't hurt any of you if you get this stupid thing off me!" she said. She watched it stretch, now fully spread across her lap, comfortable as all hell as it yawned and softly purred. "Five seconds! Five. Four. Three. Tw—"

A girl appeared to her left, dressed in all back with some kind of purple witch hat on her head. The buckle on the hat was a bronze eye, and her own eyes were so hazel they almost seemed to glow. She scooped the cat into her arms and quickly took a step backward, as if Sophie was some kind of bomb that would set off any second now.

Sophie eyed her up and down. A little on the skinnier side. Tongues of black hair spilled from under the brim of her hat. A dash of freckles to boot and a pair of big circular glasses balanced on her button nose. She held the cat close to her chest, stroking her black fingernails through its fur and trying to get the thing to calm down.

"Which Halloween store did you have to rob for that outfit?" Sophie asked.

The girl visibly bristled. "Excuse me?" she said.

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She shrugged one shoulder. "You look like one of those weirdo cosplay people, dude."

The girl gasped, as if she was genuinely annoyed at that. "The House of One has a dress code, thank you."

Sophie snorted. "You're part of the House of One? Right, and I'm the Peacemaker."

She glared at Sophie, fingers still stroking the cat. "You're mean, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry that I'm a little on edge for getting kidnapped."

Silence lingered between them, and then the others shuffled a little closer.

An assortment of weirdos stood in front of her. A stocky girl wearing baggy cargo shorts, a torn tank top, and thick welding gloves was the one that caught her attention first—mostly because she smelt like a mutt. The pair of sharp black ears sticking out of her messy hair was sign enough that she was some kind of Kaiju-human mix. The boy behind her was lanky and slightly hunched, with dark skin and a thick pair of glasses sitting right up close to his eyes that had been taped back together several times over. He stared at her like she was some kind of weird animal he'd found stalking around his bedroom. A pretty Asian girl stood with her arms folded, head tilted, with tattoos pock marking her arms. A streak of blue was mixed into her dark hair. Finally, a kid with messy black hair stood in the middle of them, front and center, reasonably athletic-looking with a smile tugging at his pale lips.

And there was also the bitch who made her pass out. Taller than the rest. Older-looking. Standing behind them with her arms behind her back, still with that haunted look in her eyes mixed with everlasting exhaustion.

It might've been the most sad-looking group of kids she'd ever seen. They might've all looked around her age, apart from the older girl, but God they looked so helpless, like a pack of stray dogs and cats that had been dumped into a cardboard box and left outside in the rain. She even got a little mad at herself for being kidnapped by a bunch of people who look like…this. Cassie would be so mad right now. Gold-Star is gonna tell her how I can't handle situations on my own without someone lording over me. Her saliva got bitter. Sophie smiled at them.

"Fun's over," she said. "And it's time we all stopped fucking around and get me out of these."

"I don't trust her," muttered the Asian girl.

"You don't trust me?" Sophie laughed dryly. "That's rich. Really rich coming from my kidnappers."

The boy with the glasses said, "Just so you know, we weren't all involved in that."

The girl with the wolf ears punched him in the shoulder.

"We'll get you out of those on one condition," the guy with the black hair said. "No violence."

"Fine. Yes. Sure, whatever—I won't hurt any of you. Now just get me out of these."

He grinned, then looked at the older girl. "Irina?"

She pursed her lips. "You kids haven't come across the real Olympia. If that one is anything to go by, she's got the capacity to be very violent. If she didn't pull her punches, I would've died almost a week ago now, too."

"Yeah, well, I'm nothing like her," Sophie said.

"Maybe that's not as much of a good thing as you think," the Asian girl muttered again.

"Listen, if you have some kind of problem with me, just say it and we can figure it out."

"Alright, alright," the boy with the black hair said. He was wearing an old red and white letterman jacket, something that almost hung off his shoulders. A size too big. "How about we all take five? You guys go and get the pizza ready. I'll talk to her and figure this out." They all waited for a beat, and then slowly moved away, muttering amongst one another as the microwave pizzas got pulled out and dished. The boy flipped over an old metal bucket and sat opposite her, rubbing his hands together. She couldn't help but notice the scar tissue on his knuckles. "So." She raised an eyebrow. His heart wasn't beating fast. He wasn't afraid of her. "I'm sorry about this whole thing."

Sophie leaned forward, making the metal groan. "Don't apologize. Just get me out of these."

"And I would, but everyone's kinda afraid you'll hurt them."

Sophie tensed her jaw. Breathe. Root yourself. She pinched her own fingers, sometimes so hard they bled, but it always did the trick in centering her. She'd started doing it ever since she'd fought Olympia and she'd nearly smashed her skull open. She'd never come across someone…something so solid. A force that, if it wanted to, would have murdered her and not even really cared what happened to the rest of her body when she tore Sophie apart.

The telepaths in the Olympiad had wanted to dig the memory out of her brain, like they had with others.

She'd refused. She wanted to remember that kind of pain and anxiety and terror.

Because everything else she faced was nowhere near as terrifying as these people's savior.

"I won't," Sophie said, resting her back against the chair. "Promise, alright?"

"Swear it on your soul," he said.

"Doubt I have one, but fine, dude—I swear it on my 'soul' or whatever."

She immediately felt stronger. Denser. Sounds from beyond these thick concrete walls filled her skull. She bent the chains and shrugged them off her legs and arms. She stood up slowly and massaged her wrists. Suddenly, the entire room was silent. She was still wearing her hoodie and jeans, but they felt filthy now. The boy stood up.

They were about the same height, but he didn't waste a beat meeting her eyes.

He offered his hand. "Name's Max."

"Good for you." Sophie turned around. "Where's the door?"

"Pizza?" the boy asked her through a mouthful.

"What part of 'where's the door' sounds like pizza to you?" she asked.

"You sound like you need to eat something and relax," Witch-Girl said.

"She sounds very wound up," said the Asian girl.

It took everything inside her to not spit back an insult. Max patted her shoulder and said, "C'mon, grab a couple slices. It's the least we can do to apologize for kidnapping you. We can even talk about the gun smuggler."

She paused. "How do you know about that?"

Max grabbed a slice of pepperoni and pulled a seat at a rickety table. "Pizza first, and then we talk."

She opened her mouth to retort, but her stomach loudly growled before she could speak. She put a hand on her gut and hated that the only thing she'd eaten today was burnt toast and watery orange juice thanks to Gold-Star.

The girl with the wolf ears turned the pizza box around. Steam and hot cheese assaulted her nose.

Sophie swallowed saliva. The girl with the witch hat slid aside on the bench and made space for her.

Gold-Star will understand, she thought.

Besides, you can't hunt down a villain on an empty stomach.

That was superheroing 101.