#forgor writes

The Bill will work out, Vertin thought as they led her through the rehabilitation center: the sterile walls and hallways felt oppressive and suffocating this time, even more so than usual. She could see no familiar faces in the halls, only the blank white masks of Foundation personnel mixed with the cylindrical domed headgear of Laplace: she likely made sure to assign anyone familiar with her to other sections of the building, out of sight and out of mind.

As they approached the room, Vertin could see through the looking glass: Mesmer Jr.

She was shifting uncomfortably, pulling at the cuffs of her sleeves and folding her arms. Even though she held a blank expression towards Vertin, eyes are windows to the soul. This was a similar situation to the both of them, well acquainted with the "procedures" Vertin had to undertake to be the Timekeeper.

Yet ... Something felt different about this time as she crossed the threshold of the door, with the guards looming presence becoming even more oppressive and ominous. Vertin wondered, why escort her with such armored personnel? Surely Constantine knew Vertin had no control in this situation, just like all those years before, and the years following. Maybe if she looked at the batons at their waist, and the restraints peeking out of their pockets, she could have used the smallest instant to run out the room.

There were a couple of personnel watching this unfold, watching the 16 year old child be escorted by two guard to the room, she looked sane, full of health and innocence ... No, they remembered, it was the Timekeeper, she was the Timekeeper as dictated by the Foundation. The Timekeeper, and she needed reminding of the position she held. And like every time before, they averted their eyes to what happened next.

-

"Ms Nightingale, please take this to the Containment Department, Laplace personnel will shortly arrive to begin testing it's properties"

Juniper found herself in the possession of the Timekeeper's suitcase, the diamond purple and black details with gold embellishments; it had been the talk of the department ever since the Timekeeper came into her position. A miraculous case always attached to the hip of the young professional, loads of rumours were spread about this case, the potential of it having the Storm Immunity similar to the Timekeeper herself. That very object was now in her very hands.

And it felt very wrong.

"Yes Madam, we'll take it swiftly to the Containment Department for safe keeping. But, I must enquire ... Is the Timekeeper currently lending us her suitcase? Surely she needs it to perform her duties?"

Something felt off about all of this, Juniper gave a sideways glance to Watts with her singular working eye: they looked back. Unease between the both of them suppressed any previous curiosity towards the case in hand.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with matters that don't relate to you, Ms Nightingale. Your job is to ensure the suitcase doesn't fall into the wrong hands. Not to question the integrity of the Foundation."

Wrong hands? This case doesn't belong to her, or the Foundation. This is the Timekeeper's own possession. What was happening?

"The Timekeeper is currently out of commission after the 1929 Storm, your Department will ensure the safety of the case while Laplace will ... observe its peculiarities ... Am I understood?"

"Yes Madam"

Constantine promptly leaves, and some of the pressure her presence brings is expelled. Juniper always hated when people used her surname, with all the dead memories attached to it. That woman really does know how to get under people's skin. But the dread remains in the air. Juniper motions for Watts to take the case, the conversation made the shaking in her left hand act up again. Watts gently takes the case from her as they began to walk back to their department.

"This whole thing is iffy, Juni."

"What are we to do then, Watts?"

"I know, I know, just ... Something doesn't feel right."

"We'll just ... Take the case there and make sure Laplace doesn't mess with it to much. Its the most we can do"

Juniper sighed, the most we can do for a child is the bare minimum denied to the Timekeeper. Sometimes it is easy to forget the savior of the Foundation was a child, the Foundation probably liked to keep it that way. There was nothing to do but wait.

-

Vertin could feel the dread skyrocket the moment the door fully closed, the guards position themselves from behind her to her sides, bracing themselves for something. She promptly put on the medicinal gown placed in front of her, as the thousand of times she had done for - like a lamb led into a slaughterhouse. Outside of the room, Constantine appears from the outside looking in, with Madam Z following swiftly behind, also accompanied by ... guards? What was going on?

"Hello, Vertin. We are just here to ensure your admittance goes safely."

The air felt dead, Mesmer looked on the verge of completely dissociating from the situation or collapsing all together. She knows something is about to happen. She always knew what procedures Vertin had to do, having taken a part in some of them herself. The more ... serious ones always left her in this state, especially the ... experiments... Something was very, VERY wrong.

"I'm sorry" The smallest voice reached out in a futile attempt at comfort, a small drop was always followed by a crash of waves.

"Guards, ensure our patient's compliance to the procedure, breaking her legs will suffice."

"What?!?!" Two guards behind Madam Z immediately restrain her, and once again Madam Z becomes the witness to Vertin's pain.

Vertin was quick, but not quick enough. The guards with the small space in the room made it no time before she was seized by the hands on either side. She could hear them grabbing the baton from their sides before chaos broke out.

-

"TIMEKEEPER IS RESISTING. REPORT TO ROOM 825 IMMEDIATELY."

Was this a sick joke? Her pager buzzes again.

"PREPARE TO USE HIGH VOLTAGE. REPORT IMMEDITATELY."

Watts, accompanying her table during her respite from a previous incident an hour earlier, looks on in horror. Neither of them speak for a minute.

"THIS IS AN ORDER. REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO ROOM 825."

"No ... this is why they asked our Department to take her case. They're trapping her here. Oh, god ..."

It dawns on Watts the true nature of Constantine's order, isolation and pressure. When they took the case, they had no idea there were occupants remaining inside, so once arriving at the ACD they placed the case in a spare room. Juni mentioned Foundation personnel have been in and out of the room since, and one by one the members of the suitcase began to leave, escorted out. Watts speculates one singular person was in there, holding down the fort for as long as possible.

"They're asking for a high voltage ... For the Timekeeper? What is this?"

"THIS IS NOT A REQUEST. REPORT IMMEDIATELY."

Her pager won't shut up. It felt like a death knell sealing her fate.

Watts remains silent, staring at the reflective table. Splintercat holds the pager in hand, wand in the other. They both knew the answer. There was little they could do otherwise.

"... The sooner you go, the sooner her suffering ends"

Watts knew it was a sick and twisted thing to say, it sounded like they were referring to a dog rather than a child. But what else could they do?

"Take this."

"Hm?"

Watts reaches into a pocket of their jacket and pulls out a small bottle. Lavender oil. Splintercat reaches and grabs the small vial from the mechanical hand.

"I'm assuming Mesmer's gonna be the one looking after her. Apparently this helps humans sleep, Juni told me she burns this next to her when she finds it difficult... It's not much, but it's something right?"

Splintercat inspects the vial, the pager blares in the back. Watts attempts to crack a weak smile, but they know this was a petty, futile and truly useless gesture they could afford her.

"I understand. I will do what I can ... Thanks, Watts."

She promptly leaves before Watts could respond. All the way she felt more like an executioner on the way to the guillotine ready to prepare the next victim.

-

There was no point in screaming, or thrashing, or resisting the Foundation's will. That was the rule Vertin learned that fateful day in the rain, outward and physical attempts to undermine the Foundation's rules and regulations was swiftly dealt with, largely through force; both mental and physical.

Vertin has been subjected to both countless times: thrown into the Guardhouse with worms; had tear gas thrown directly into her lap; The Breakaway; the numerous beatings, reprimands and amount of needles she's been subjected to have hammer this point home. But this has and will not stop her, the Bill go through, all the pieces have been set in place.

In the midst of the struggling, Vertin briefly sees the occupants outside: Constantine stands with her signature winning smile, a satisfaction of seeing the final piece falling to her hands.

The checkmate once again is hers.

A blur of movement beside her - Madam Z, Vertin thinks. She's glad that this time Madam Z seemingly had no part in this detainment. Nothing will ever quell the smallest resentment she has for her, all those years ago being the muse to their failed escape. Seeing her panicked and restrained brings an odd comfort.

Vertin feels everything and nothing at once, feels the bruising impact of the batons, the violent grip on their shoulders, the bullet wounds she sustained not long ago, while healed by now phantom pains come to rear their ugly head around.

Maybe this is divine punishment once again.

She couldn't save Schnieder, Mr. Karson, or Marian from erasure in the Storm. The feeling of Schnieder's short existence is fading, her warmth replaced with the void of her absence... Maybe she is mad as they claim, she thinks.

The struggle seemed to last forever, until Mesmer seemingly turns towards the open door at a new visitor. Maybe this is her chance, Vertin dares to hope. But this notion is immediately quelled and stamped out, much like the hopes her friends had at that doorway. Vertin could feel the fluctuations of powerful arcanum, lighting arcanum and her hope dies as the door closes once again.

The reflective nature of Laplace's architecture reveals the feline-like figure, masked and poised to attack.

Two yellow eyes spell out the predetermined outcome of this day.

-

"REPORT IMMIEDATELY. TIMEKEEPER IS RESISITING. ASSISTANCE IS MANDATORY."

Her heels attacked the smooth tiled floor of Laplace, the pager blaring over and over, nothing would stop its screaming until the problem was dealt with. And in this case it was the esteemed Timekeeper.

Her line of work usually meant having to subdue violent, erratic, and unstable patients. Preventing them from either harming other or themselves. Her arcanum while useful and powerful, was a constant gamble of life and death to her heart with each measured strike and voltage applied to patients. Her work wasn't pretty in any way. Far from it ... But nothing could have prepared her to being ordered to apply a high voltage shock to the Timekeeper, a literal child. Splintercat was thankful for her mask at times like this, bystanders to her approach looked on in fear then promptly looked away, whoever was at the tail end of her wand wasn't in for a nice surprise. We all wear masks in this facility, this organization: whether artificial constructions to create the impression of a face, like Watts and Madam Lucy; her's as a means to cover her scars; or the ones worn plainly, like Constantine's placid and false yet peaceful smile and the Timekeeper's stoic expression. Right now, it allowed her to be someone else, an attempt to detach herself from the situation. To emotionally prepare for the task at hand.

Upon approaching the specific room she was greeted with a horrifying and pecuilar sight: her superiors Madam Constantine and Madam Z, the latter of which seemingly being restrainted by the guards next to her, rather than protecting her. It took no time to realize why Madam Z was in a distressed state from the sounds of struggle within the room. The sight was horrific and distressing indeed: the Timekeeper was held by her arms by the guards, expressions unknown under the masks as they proceeded to break her legs, batons already showing the bruising they had endured. They normal person by this point would have stopped trying and simply give into the treatment, but Vertin wasn't: she was still fighting for every last second to be awake, to be conscious, to not succumb into the dream. But Splintercat even through the viewing glass could see the flickers of fear. Regardless of how esteemed the Timekeeper is, Vertin was still a child. Maybe Watts was right, this was a job only she could do, even if it was going to be painful the moment she released the spell. It would be one hit over the dozens already inflicted on Vertin.

Hesitantly, she turns to the powerful woman besides her. The one who rules the chess board.

"Madam Constantine. I will not question your methods, but.. Could we not have sedated her before this procedure?"

"Sounds like you are questioning my methods, 'Splintercat'."

The nickname rolls harshly off her tongue, spit like sweet venom. Splintercat glances over to Vertin for a brief moment.

"Surely you are not hesitating to serve the Foundation that raised you? I thought you wished to be helpful and gain our admiration?"

A hand is placed on Splintercat's shoulder, and she shudders subtly, the yellow orbs that shine from beneath her mask becoming blurry as her eyes fill with tears. She's thankful for the mask only showing those glowing orbs rather than her full eyes in times like this.

"..No, ma'am. I understand."

Ignoring the piercing gaze of Constantine behind her, Splintercat walked into the room and prepared her incantation. She hasn't been in Laplace for long - Just about the same amount of time Vertin has had her assistant.. She hopes that in the future, she can have more power over situations like this.

The moment she walked in, glanced at Mesmer staring straight back at her, a level of spite was very permeable in the air. Splintercat's facade slowly broke down. The hand that holds her wand trembles ever so slightly, but goes unnoticed by everyone else.

Outside, Constantine seems pleased that she's successfully manipulated another pawn.

-

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be. Please, Timekeeper. Don't make me do this."

Splintercat whispers, quiet enough for nobody else but Vertin to hear. If Vertin didn't know any better, she'd think that the woman's voice wavered for a second - Showing regret and sadness for the situation.

The incantation could hit at any moment, the longer the spell isn't released the longer the suffering continues. Vertin struggled to face the newcomer to the room, but the initial dread began to fill with regret and sorrow; it was hard to see Splintercat's reaction through the reflective surfaces, but just enough reflected a pained expression obscured by the mask as their eyes met through the distorted image. For a moment the struggling stopped, the guards who still held an iron grip on her stopped their beatings, everyone knew the proficiency of Splintercat's arcanum. No one wanted to risk it straying anywhere off course of her targets, even though she's never missed before.

Maybe she wouldn't have to fire this incantation, Splintercat thought. A voltage this high is dangerous not just to Vertin, but also herself.

Vertin bolted and for a moment she was free of the guard restraining her of this untold hour, or few minutes.

Only to feel the sharp pain of electricity coursing through her veins, they became a blur of sights and sounds.

She could feel the joint effort of Mesmer and Splintercat catching her mid fall, at least now she couldn't feel the pain in her legs in this state. The softness of the bed was welcoming to say the least, Vertin could not remember the last time she went to sleep in a proper bed, much less sleeping at all for the past few days... If Vertin was more aware, the tension between Mesmer and Splintercat was at an all time high, the latter immediately withdrawing her hands once Vertin was settled on the bed.

This was checkmate, a win for Constantine. Just this round.