In the Darkness

November 5, 2014: Locked in a cell deep underground Starfire has a conversation with a drugged Magneto

The Sun City

It is a dungeon under the city acropolis. Not very interesting.



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Mood Music:

Last thing Koriand’r would remember was Zaladane’s snarling face as lightning blasted from her hands. The electricity that knocked Starfire out would have been just mildly painful if Garokk hadn’t taken away all the solar energy in her body. ‘His power’, he said.
It is dark when the Tamaranean princess awakes. There is a single brazier giving some light in a corner, but it is not for their comfort. Some concoction of black flowers floats over the red-hot coals, the scent of strange flowers heavy on the air. It is the Black Lotus flower, which saps the will of humans that breathe it. But it has little effect on her.
Unfortunately that she is not drugged is not a great advantage. Koriand’r is in what passes in the Sun City as a high security prison. A room excavated in the bedrock under the city with four simple cells, separated from each other by bronze metal bars. When her eyes get more used to the light, she can see they also put Magneto in another of the cells. The man seems to be resting, his back against the stone wall.

When the sun keeps you going, the heat generates you to your core… Being stripped of that leaves you in a state that is persistant dream walking and the feeble feeling of disarray and disbelief in putting it all together when it is so /different/ just to pick yourself up off the floor.
Starfire's eyes have been open for minutes… maybe an hour.. maybe more, but it took that time for her to breathe deep, blink away the visualization of what last had happened and settle with it as a reality. The pool of flame huen hair rests around her like small rivers and puddles of disaster that she felt more inwardly then outwardly.
It's a fire in and of its own but it tears one apart before they pick themselves up. Pressing her hands to the floor she rises to all fours, that hair covering her features until she looks up and out, her eyes carrying that felinistic incandescent green glow against the eerie dark lighting, only stopping in their flicker of a hunt upon Magneto.
Rocking back she rests upon the heels of her feet for a moment until she comes to a stand in one fluid motion, walking to the bars where one hand twines around the cold metal and /tests/…
As she suspected. Nothing.

Those metal bars are quite sturdy. She could have bend them if at full power, but no normal human (or normal Tamarean for that matter) could force them to open. There is a door with a simple lock, but the key is nowhere in sight. There is another metal door to leave the room, but it is several yards away, beyond the bars, and surely locked too.
When she stands up, Magneto turns his head slowly. The man’s pale eyes seem half-lidded, but he is obviously awake. “Good morning,” he murmurs. “Ah. The drug doesn’t have an effect on you… good,” he breathes, “but keep quiet. Let them think it does.”

Starfire directs her eyes to him once more, pupilless but not empty. Fathomless as his reflection is directed back at him, her hand already tried just a tug, a tug that would rip a bike rack from its chained rest. Not enough.
When Magneto speaks that grip fluxes, her fingers re-enwrapping in a ripple motion to get a better grip and that honed sinew beneath tawny skin flexes with the strain, her eyes narrowing. "This is not /good/. Nothing good about it.."
An exasperated sigh escapes her now and she releases the bars only to run her hands back and through her hair to make the gesture final in its display. Now she sets to pacing, silent on are feet as she starts looking over her surroundings then back to the unknown man, the ones… Father?? "So what if it does not? I am still disabled?" Starfire says, holding both her hands up, looking at them as she paces back and forth behind the bars, the motion feline - predatorial - emphasising the building rage.

“Crippled, yes,” admits the downed man. “But not helpless,” he adds, managing to put some anger in his voice despite the haze of the drugs. A gloves hand grips one of the bars, and he stands up slowly, breathing heavily. His vision is dizzy, and the alien woman is just a blur somewhere beyond the bars. But he can figure out the layout of the cells from her movements. “Have you… been jailed before?” He asks. “I have. Many times. So stop, and think. What they have not taken from you yet? Make a list.”

The anger in his voice and what he says in the beginning makes Starfire pause, her head is lowered staring at her hands as they curl into fists with his rising anger. His standing and the low rustle of him rising makesher head turn back towards him, one green eye split by the stray strand of red that criss crosses across her face from that mass of hair. Her exhasperation a look work easily, her rage one held in but dancing through her core and reflected in every muscles twitch.
His question and own personal affirmation have her staring deadpan at him, her jaw working but dark purple lips not parting despite it, but the hatred is kindled anew and comes with the swift pivot on her heel. "A long time ago, once. I swore the last. They haven't taken my life, they never will." As if the beast pacing behind the cage just had to test the assured reinforcement again - in a different area she grabs the bars and pulls, then opens her other hand when it refuses to give and slams it against the offending bar.
Damn you for not moving.
Gripping that bar she leans forward, pressing smooth cheek against it, her fingers still working over the metal. "My armor." And in the back of her mind, she hopes… not her friends.

A small, humorless smile appears on Magneto’s lips. “They didn’t take mine either. Just the helmet.” Unfortunately, Brainchild took away all his high-tech devices when he was imprisoned in the mutates’ tower. He was more careful than Zaladane in that regard. But Zaladane has used a good tactic against him. Drugged, Magneto is finding very difficult to think and concentrating.
“Do you have weapons?” He asks, leaning against the bars. Pale, but standing stubbornly.

Starfire watches him, not releasing the bar, nor the lock of gaze tha rises as he does. "Why were you jailed?" She inquires as her body shifts in stance, pressing and leaning against the bars to prop herself there in her relent to stop trying at them.
For now.
Slowly her head shakes, the metal bar indenting a path along her cheek with each gesture. "Garokk took my weapon. As I stand here now I am just an alien looking human. With armor." Her armor currently that veiled tech, not work or suited on, leaving her in just the purple strapped bottom, arching up over her hips and 'v'ing down to the silver rimmed gem of red betwixt hips. The top bears strips that start over the heave of her chest and wrap behind that mass or red hair, combining up to the shoulder covers as well as the high collared choker of matching stone and embellishment, strapping down her arms to her wrists.
"Why are you here, even?"

"That is a long story," replies the white-haired man. But they have time, it seems. So he settles back on the stone floor, his back against the rock wall, but closer to Starfire's cell. Talking will keep him awake, at least.
"Ten years ago, I found this place. This… Savage Land, when doing research on subtle magnetic anomalies I had detected in the Antarctic. I flew to the area and crossed the multi-phase field that conceals this land from detection. The source of the anomaly was an ancient Atlantean structure in the middle of a swamp. Technology still functional after nearly 20,000 years of abandonment. Quite amazing. It took me a while to realize the ancient Atlanteans had not really built the tower, and the other towers scattered across the land. They built upon very ancient alien technology that has preserved this region for at least a hundred million years."
He takes a pause, remembering the details. And what he did later. "The natives of the swamp attacked me.The Swamp Men, hairy brutes that looked like primitive humans. I killed several and scared away the others. Then brought in some equipment, setup a lab and did some exploring. I met other tribes, nations, like the Sun People. Some were more alike modern humans, but others were actually Homo Neanderthal. Supposedly extinct for tens of thousands years." Is this even interesting for Starfire? "I am a geneticist, it was very important for me. I found out the Neanderthal do not have the x-gen." He glances to the woman. "In 2006 I performed some experiments in the Swamp Men natives. They had come to worship me as a god, and they were eager test subjects when I explained them I wanted to awaken in them powers like mine. I scanned hundreds of them for mutant genes, and found a few latents. Then spent months uplifting them. Half a dozen of them were successes. None very powerful, but some were alphas. For a time I considered building a mutant settlement in the Savage Land, too. But the phase field interferes with technology. Interferes even with my magnetic powers. Garokk would never have bested me outside. So I left… and a few weeks ago, I received a message, calling me here. It was a trap."

Starfire cringes somewhat at him speaking of testing the people, pushing back from the bars slowly, slowly taking back up her pace in one direction, fingertips drawing and drumming over each bar as it is extended out to her side. Her emerald eyes have left him, looking down at the floor in thought, retrospect, yet trying to forget one and replace it with another. His story is some help, but not completely.
Her pace reaches a wall where she has to pivot and go back the way she came, switching hands out, fingertips drumming over the bars in that returning animalistic pace.
"So you come, you conquer, you best, you test. You get run out and then called back to what? Why were you hurting the people. I still remember it. Are they not innocents?" Stopping now just across from him she glances sidelong his way and waits.

"I came to investigate. Research," explains Magneto. "Hurting?" He has hurt many people, so what is Starfire… ah. "Do you mean the guards and priests? They are Garokk's servants and attacked me. I merely got rid of them the most efficient way." And mercilessly, too. But Magneto has a reputation for being quite ruthless with his enemies. Particularly when they are normal humans.

"My captors used me for 'research'." That rage, that hate burned in her voice, and the hand that lingered fingertips on the bar now falls to her side, fingers curling to dimple fingertips into skin. "I was a servant of sorts, under his thrall. Does that make me just as easily disregarded? Discarded?" If Starfire had any of that energy left in her it would be burning now, a hot radiated glow.

"I grew up in a death camp," comments Magneto bleakly. "The research in Auschwitz involved finding the quickest way to perform genocide." He frowns, the drugs must be making him talkative. But if he talks, his mind is more focused. There was something important he wanted to tell the woman. Ah, yes.
He reaches with a hand for his boot and pulls out a long, thin steel dagger. The metal looked part of his boot until he detached it. "They should think you drugged. I do hope you know how to fight without your solar powers." He tosses the dagger between the bars of his cell, and it bounces and skids to the edge of Starfire's.

"If you grew up in a death camp then you should know mercy…" Starfire says, lowering into a crouch as she watches him, her rising tone having leveled at his words, his admittance and openness. Both arms prop on bent knees, her hands hanging between the bars, purple straps contrasting against that orange skin.
The knife gets watched in its slide before her, leaving it there for a moment as she stares down upon it and finally reaches for it as she speaks. "And you should know brutality." Rising then that mass of red hair that hangs to the floor is wound in her hand, taking the ends up in the twine until the strands are pulled taut against her scalp, her arm fully extended in the length outward as the blade flashes and hair falls.
Now it hands to just above the curve of posterior, that fistful of wound strands now carried to the brassier where she throws them in and /screams/. Falling to the ground in a crumpled pile before the smokeing fire place, clutching that dagger beneath her prone form.

"If you grew up in a death camp then you should know mercy…" Starfire sas, lowering into a crouch as she watches him, her rising tone having levelled at his words, his admittance and openness. Both arms prop on bent knees, her hands hanging between the bars, purple straps contrasting against that orange skin.
The knife gets watched in its slide before her, leaving it there for a moment as she stares down upon it and finally reaches for it as she speaks. "And you should know brutality. Just as I do." Tucking the blade away behind her it is neatly hidden beneath her hair at the small of her back.

"I suppose I ran out of mercy decades ago," admits Magneto. He still has his anger and will, though, and those keeps him awake despite the drugged air of the room. He just give his only weapon to a woman he barely knows. That might have been a severe mistake. But he suspects Garokk now needs Starfire more than himself. To spoil the 'god' plans she would be in a better position. Just tactics.

"You are a poor liar." Starfire states lowly as she finally slides back down to a seated position, her back pressed along the cold stone of a wall, her side leaning against the bars where her temple is also brought to rest.
"It's all based on circumstance. Your history is too… similar." In saying as much though she closes her eyes. Perhaps she is wrong, but the knife says otherwise.

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