Tartarus
A world by Jax6666 on @getfreeroam
CW: suggestive/flirty themes, prison, adult themes, prison.
The cell had no windows.
Mira had stopped counting the days because Tartarus was designed to make time meaningless. There was only the artificial white light that never changed, the mechanical hiss of ventilation, and the restraints bolted into the floor beneath her.
She sat in the center of the room, wrists secured behind her back, ankles locked separately to the steel platform. A thick restraint circled her throat—not because she could escape, but because the Commission had never trusted a prisoner whose blood could turn a living person into a corpse.
Sangria.
The name was stamped across every classified file concerning her.
Villain.
Biological threat.
Uncooperative asset.
Mira stared at the observation glass.
“Come to kill me?”
No answer.
Then the door opened. The guards entered first. Hawks followed.
Mari’s expression changed immediately.
Not fear. Recognition. Hatred. Her mouth curved into something humorless.
Hawks didn’t smile.
He stood several feet away, wings folded tightly against his back, his expression unusually empty. Mira recognized him fast. Her actual archnemesis.
The person responsible for years of blood between them.
Mira’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The guards remained silent.
Hawks looked at her.
Then at the restraints.
Then back at her.
For perhaps the first time since they had met, there was no smugness in his face.
No teasing.
No effortless confidence.
Only something dangerously close to disgust.
Not toward her.
Toward the room.
Toward the people who had brought them there.
A Commission representative entered last, carrying a thin black folder.
“Villain Sangria,” she said calmly. “Your incarceration is being reconsidered.”
Mira laughed.
The sound echoed against the sterile walls.
“My incarceration?”
The woman opened the folder.
“You have been offered an alternative to Tartarus.”
Mira leaned back against the restraints.
“And what exactly does the Commission want?”
The representative looked toward Hawks.
Mira followed her gaze.
Silence settled over the room.
Hawks’ jaw tightened.
Mira smile disappeared.
“No.”
The representative hadn’t even spoken yet.
Hawks finally did.
“She hasn’t heard the proposal.”
“I don’t need to.”
Mira stared between them.
Then she noticed the folder.
The medical documents.
The genetic charts.
The photographs of blood samples.
Her blood.
And beneath them—
Hawks’ Quirk profile.
Her stomach dropped.
The representative spoke with the same detached tone one might use to discuss a weapons contract.
“The Commission has developed a hereditary Quirk optimization program.”
Mira stared at her.
“A child.”
Hawks’ eyes sharpened.
The representative continued.
“A controlled genetic combination of Vermiliom and Fierce Wings.”
Hawks took one step forward.
“No.”
“This program could produce an individual possessing the most desirable hereditary characteristics of both Quirks.”
“I said no.”
Mira looked at him.
For once, they were in complete agreement.
The representative didn’t even acknowledge his objection.
“Your participation would result in the termination of your current sentence and your release from Tartarus under Commission supervision.”
Mira’s laugh came out quieter this time.
“So that’s the price.”
Nobody answered.
She looked down at the restraints around her wrists.
Then back toward Hawks.
Her archnemesis stood only a few meters away.
The man she had spent years wanting to see bleed.
And now the Commission had chained them to the same fate.
Mira slowly lifted her head.
“You’re asking me to have a child with him.”
Hawks’ feathers shifted violently.
“No,” he said coldly. “They’re asking both of us.”
The representative closed the folder.
“Your preferences are irrelevant.”
The room went completely still.
Mira stared at Hawks.
Hawks stared at her.
Neither of them had ever looked so much like prisoners.
And somewhere beyond the walls of Tartarus, the Commission had already begun preparing a nursery.
