Dark History - Tzeitel meets Canestone

About one year before Tzeitel's escape from MegaCorp. (Six years ago)

***

Tzeitel still had a headache when she was roughly woken the next day by her team leader shocking her collar. She fell out of her cot, shaking. Suddenly he was on top of her, he pressed the button causing the collar to repress her powers. “You think you embarrassed me the other day? Thought it was funny bitch?” He asked, pressing her face down on the floor. “Not laughing now are you? I could do anything to you.”

Tzeitel was frozen in fear, one hand held her by the back of her neck while his other hand groped up her shirt.

“You’re lucky you disgust me.” He hissed in her ear and spat on her face. “But you know others have lower standards than I do. I can take away your powers at any time- I know you’ve been holding them off with your pheromones. Maybe next time you screw up I will reward some of the boys, huh?”

He got off her. Tzeitel curled into a ball.

“We have another mission. Get ready.” He said, hitting the button restoring her powers.

Tzeitel expected him to continue watching her, but he must have been in a hurry over the mission because he left. Even with her powers restored Tzeitel still felt drained. She sat up on the floor, remembering what he threatened, how he touched her- she barely got to the thunderdome in the corner of her cell in time before vomiting. She got dressed.

She wondered if the team leader had told the others on the team what he had threatened her with when she joined them. Several were smirking so she thought so. She hunched her shoulders, touching her powers to make them less interested in her. Her power felt thin, weak. She hoped they could subdue the target without her having to use her powers much, she had never felt drained like this.

Their target’s picture was put on the screen. Male, Caucasian, 5’10”, 180 lbs, black hair and blue eyes. Supposedly he was 39 but looked younger because he had some sort of skin manipulation power. And he had killed a lot of people for no reason.

Tzeitel wondered if that was true. Most of the metas she had been sent after were more peaceful than their file suggested, but would fight when they could not flee.

***

Gary Canestone was located within the Morgan Hills Forest.

“Bitch, he’s coming. Go sit on the trail looking like you have a broken ankle and pathetic.” The team leader directed. “Disarm him so we can tranq him.”

Tzeitel hated her job. The guy was minding his own business hiking in the wilderness, and here she was making herself look like she was vulnerable so he would lower his guard so he could be captured. But she sat on the trail, extending her right leg delicately as if it hurt.

Gary Canestone came up the trail. He looked down at Tzeitel, and he grinned. Tzeitel found herself not liking that grin. She reached for her powers, they felt so weak.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing way out here?” Canestone asked.

Tzeitel tried to start with a light touch but the stream of her powers was too weak. She yanked on her powers and wound up sending out a powerful burst of calming pheromones that left her head spinning.

“What the hell- you’re like me!” Canestone thickened his skin.

“Shoot him!” The team leader ordered.

Tranq guns were fired but the darts only bounced off Canestone’s thickened skin.

Tzeitel tried to draw on her power but there was nothing there. Nothing at all. She tried to stand up but was too dizzy.

“Is this supposed to be a trap? Are you trying to capture me?” Canestone asked incredulously. He slammed his skin-hardened fist against Tzeitel’s temple, knocking her out.

***

The ricocheting bullets distracted the attackers long enough for Canestone to draw his sidearm. He fired where the order to shoot came from, then dove behind a tree.

What an interesting day it was turning out to be. First he found what appeared to be an injured hiker, a pretty young thing, only to suddenly feel way too calm way too fast. She was like him, she had powers! He had to learn more about her. But first he had to do something about these others with her. Apparently she was bait in a trap, and the trap, so these others could shoot him. Tranquilizer darts, so they wanted him alive. Canestone did not know what they wanted of him, but much preferred to be the one doing to catching than the one being caught. After a few minutes of cat and mouse he took care of the capture team, killing half including the team leader and disabling the rest. He would have liked to spend time torturing them but assumed that they would have backup coming.

He went to the girl lying on the path. She was unconscious, but she was alive and would probably wake up fine. She wore a curious metal collar, like something a dog would wear. Canestone tried to take it off her, in case it had some tracking technology, but could not. Maybe some of the tools in his lair could take it off. She was very thin, did not weigh much, so he easily tossed her over his shoulder and walked directly into the woods towards his lair.

He had walked less than a quarter mile when the collar made a small sound and the girl went even more limp than before. Startled, Canestone dropped her on the ground, she was so limp he thought she was dead. But he checked her pulse and she was still alive. He did not know what that sound meant. So he slung her back up on his shoulder and continued on.

His lair was in the middle of a large thorn field. He thickened his skin and moved easily, though the thorns tore up his clothes, and the girl was scratched but remained unconscious.

His lair was small, little more than ten feet by ten feet, four walls of plywood with a camouflage tarp roof, and a cheap door. He relied on the thorns keeping out unwelcome guests.

He pulled the door open and went into his lair. There were a few crates of survival gear, the crate closest to the door supported a camp stove and cask of water. The far wall was covered in human ears and had the camp bed pressed against it. However cheap the walls of the lair were, the floor was made of sturdy boards. Four rings stuck out of the floorboards, the boards between the boards were stained with what was unmistakably blood. This is where Canestone dropped his prize.