06-09-2018, 02:13 PM
Later that night, Eleanor scarfed down that warm meal like a ravenous wolf ripping apart her prey. The gray-uniformed officer of apartment 305 presented her with a simple yet elegant meal: a few chicken legs, some roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes, and a glass of warm red wine to top it all off. The meal sat heavily in the young girl’s stomach, and when she finished, she sank into her seat.
“Someone was hungry,” the woman observed, sliding into the seat across from Eleanor. The homeless sister chuckled a bit.
“I’m new here,” she shrugged. “Not exactly sure how to go about getting fed.”
The officer nodded. “It’s much easier than you’d probably expect, especially for a prime like you.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. There was that word again—‘prime.’ She still didn’t understand it, but something about it felt wholly familiar. She supposed that was a good thing, since she… was one?
Was she understanding that correctly?
“I don’t think I caught your name,” the woman said, leaning onto the table. For a few moments, Eleanor tracked the officer’s eyes as they traced her entire form. Within her sparkling blue-green irises, curiosities about the young homeless girl she’d taken in off the street abounded; for her part, the girl was having trouble deciding how much she could reveal. Yes, this woman had given her food, and a warm place to sit for the moment, but was that enough to trust her?
She’d trusted Subject Delta almost unequivocally, but he’d been programmed to love her. Somehow, she doubted the same was true of the residents of the Omniverse.
Names were power, and so far, power was scarce for the big sister in this brand new universe. Could she give something so dear up so easily?
“I don’t think I caught yours, either,” she responded curtly. The two women’s eyes met, and they held each other’s gaze for what felt like eons. Eleanor picked up a napkin and wiped some mashed potato off her lip, not breaking eye contact.
The officer smirked. “Lieutenant Artemis Atreya, an officer in the Charlie Company. I’m an Imperial Navy brat.” Eleanor’s puzzled expression contorted further the more Lieutenant Atreya threw out words she’d never heard. First ‘prime’—now ‘Imperial Navy’? ‘Charlie Company’? The officer must’ve noticed her confusion, because she let out a hearty giggle. “My, my, my,” she chuckled, “You really must be very new here, eh, girl?”
“Something like that,” Eleanor muttered.
“Well, good thing you’ve found a friend,” Atreya smirked. “You’re in Coruscant now, pretty one. It’s a verse under the control of the Empire.”
The Empire. Creative name.
“The Empire’s under the control of a man named Emperor Palpatine,” she continued. “Nice guy, takes care of his people. You’d do well not to piss him off, needless to say, but he—and the whole Empire—are very generous to those who prove themselves, especially primes. Like you.”
“You keep saying that,” Eleanor interjected, “but I’m not sure what it means.”
Atreya smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Primes,” she started, “are the bread and butter here in the Omniverse. The most powerful beings we’ve got here—naturally, anyway. I’ve met some strong secondaries but they had to work their asses off. Like myself, for instance.”
Eleanor scowled—if she was supposed to be so powerful, why had she felt so helpless the entire five days she’d spent here? And what were ‘secondaries’? The lieutenant seemed to sense the girl’s doubts and confusions, and switched tactics.
“Hold out your hand and close your eyes,” she instructed. The big sister looked tentatively at her benefactor, but then reluctantly followed the instructions. “Good,” she nodded, reaching out and touching Eleanor’s palm, “now think about that green dress. Think about it long and hard, until you’re focusing on nothing else but that. And will it into being.”
Will it into being? Ridiculous. The girl was reminded of the quote scrawled on banners around Rapture: ‘No Gods or Kings. Only Man.’
And at that moment, she felt the soft, silken fabric of the dress she’d been admiring earlier fall softly into her hand. Her eyes flickered open and, like magic, there it was: conjured out of thin air.
By her?
“…impossible,” she murmured.
“Nothing is impossible for primes like you,” Atreya whispered intently. “Didn’t you listen to a word Omni said when he brought you into this world?”
Eleanor blinked. She could barely remember anything the little smiling man said to her. Those memories seemed nothing more than a blur.
“Now,” the officer pressed, “Your name.”
“Eleanor,” the girl offered, this time without hesitation, “Eleanor Lamb.”
Atreya grinned. “Pretty.”
From the kitchen, a radio sputtered to life. “Attention Charlie, Dog, and Fox Companies—requesting backup in the northwestern sector of Tier 2. We’ve got a threatcon delta at the fundraiser, repeat, we’ve got a threatcon delta at the fundraiser.”
Atreya glanced over at the radio. “Duty calls, I suppose,” she sighed. The lieutenant got up from her seat and grabbed some weapons hanging off the walls.
Without so much as a word, she jogged out the door. Eleanor stood and sprinted after her, following her down the stairs and out into the alleyway where the sister normally made her home. Roger sat scraggly and drunk against the opposite wall, and together, the two homeless alley denizens watched as Lieutenant Atreya disappeared around the corner to go respond to whatever threat required her attention.
Roger pushed himself off the ground and shambled over to where Eleanor stood. “So… did the good ol’ lieutenant loosen you up a bit, hot stuff, or—”
The creep couldn’t even finish his sentence before Eleanor’s syringe had plunged into his abdomen. She glanced down at the puncture wound. To her surprise, no blood leaked out. She jerked her weapon out of his body.
From the new-made hole, a bunch of sparks flew, and wires protruded everywhere. Roger’s voice faded away, dropping several octaves before cutting out completely, and then he collapsed on the floor with a mechanical thud. The girl knelt down, tracing the hole with her finger and finding that, indeed, her longtime neighbor and tormentor wasn’t quite as human as she’d first thought.
“Someone was hungry,” the woman observed, sliding into the seat across from Eleanor. The homeless sister chuckled a bit.
“I’m new here,” she shrugged. “Not exactly sure how to go about getting fed.”
The officer nodded. “It’s much easier than you’d probably expect, especially for a prime like you.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. There was that word again—‘prime.’ She still didn’t understand it, but something about it felt wholly familiar. She supposed that was a good thing, since she… was one?
Was she understanding that correctly?
“I don’t think I caught your name,” the woman said, leaning onto the table. For a few moments, Eleanor tracked the officer’s eyes as they traced her entire form. Within her sparkling blue-green irises, curiosities about the young homeless girl she’d taken in off the street abounded; for her part, the girl was having trouble deciding how much she could reveal. Yes, this woman had given her food, and a warm place to sit for the moment, but was that enough to trust her?
She’d trusted Subject Delta almost unequivocally, but he’d been programmed to love her. Somehow, she doubted the same was true of the residents of the Omniverse.
Names were power, and so far, power was scarce for the big sister in this brand new universe. Could she give something so dear up so easily?
“I don’t think I caught yours, either,” she responded curtly. The two women’s eyes met, and they held each other’s gaze for what felt like eons. Eleanor picked up a napkin and wiped some mashed potato off her lip, not breaking eye contact.
The officer smirked. “Lieutenant Artemis Atreya, an officer in the Charlie Company. I’m an Imperial Navy brat.” Eleanor’s puzzled expression contorted further the more Lieutenant Atreya threw out words she’d never heard. First ‘prime’—now ‘Imperial Navy’? ‘Charlie Company’? The officer must’ve noticed her confusion, because she let out a hearty giggle. “My, my, my,” she chuckled, “You really must be very new here, eh, girl?”
“Something like that,” Eleanor muttered.
“Well, good thing you’ve found a friend,” Atreya smirked. “You’re in Coruscant now, pretty one. It’s a verse under the control of the Empire.”
The Empire. Creative name.
“The Empire’s under the control of a man named Emperor Palpatine,” she continued. “Nice guy, takes care of his people. You’d do well not to piss him off, needless to say, but he—and the whole Empire—are very generous to those who prove themselves, especially primes. Like you.”
“You keep saying that,” Eleanor interjected, “but I’m not sure what it means.”
Atreya smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Primes,” she started, “are the bread and butter here in the Omniverse. The most powerful beings we’ve got here—naturally, anyway. I’ve met some strong secondaries but they had to work their asses off. Like myself, for instance.”
Eleanor scowled—if she was supposed to be so powerful, why had she felt so helpless the entire five days she’d spent here? And what were ‘secondaries’? The lieutenant seemed to sense the girl’s doubts and confusions, and switched tactics.
“Hold out your hand and close your eyes,” she instructed. The big sister looked tentatively at her benefactor, but then reluctantly followed the instructions. “Good,” she nodded, reaching out and touching Eleanor’s palm, “now think about that green dress. Think about it long and hard, until you’re focusing on nothing else but that. And will it into being.”
Will it into being? Ridiculous. The girl was reminded of the quote scrawled on banners around Rapture: ‘No Gods or Kings. Only Man.’
And at that moment, she felt the soft, silken fabric of the dress she’d been admiring earlier fall softly into her hand. Her eyes flickered open and, like magic, there it was: conjured out of thin air.
By her?
“…impossible,” she murmured.
“Nothing is impossible for primes like you,” Atreya whispered intently. “Didn’t you listen to a word Omni said when he brought you into this world?”
Eleanor blinked. She could barely remember anything the little smiling man said to her. Those memories seemed nothing more than a blur.
“Now,” the officer pressed, “Your name.”
“Eleanor,” the girl offered, this time without hesitation, “Eleanor Lamb.”
Atreya grinned. “Pretty.”
From the kitchen, a radio sputtered to life. “Attention Charlie, Dog, and Fox Companies—requesting backup in the northwestern sector of Tier 2. We’ve got a threatcon delta at the fundraiser, repeat, we’ve got a threatcon delta at the fundraiser.”
Atreya glanced over at the radio. “Duty calls, I suppose,” she sighed. The lieutenant got up from her seat and grabbed some weapons hanging off the walls.
Without so much as a word, she jogged out the door. Eleanor stood and sprinted after her, following her down the stairs and out into the alleyway where the sister normally made her home. Roger sat scraggly and drunk against the opposite wall, and together, the two homeless alley denizens watched as Lieutenant Atreya disappeared around the corner to go respond to whatever threat required her attention.
Roger pushed himself off the ground and shambled over to where Eleanor stood. “So… did the good ol’ lieutenant loosen you up a bit, hot stuff, or—”
The creep couldn’t even finish his sentence before Eleanor’s syringe had plunged into his abdomen. She glanced down at the puncture wound. To her surprise, no blood leaked out. She jerked her weapon out of his body.
From the new-made hole, a bunch of sparks flew, and wires protruded everywhere. Roger’s voice faded away, dropping several octaves before cutting out completely, and then he collapsed on the floor with a mechanical thud. The girl knelt down, tracing the hole with her finger and finding that, indeed, her longtime neighbor and tormentor wasn’t quite as human as she’d first thought.