Chapter Text
ROCKET CORPORATION — STATUS REPORT
DATE: APR 29 2023
SUBJECT: USURPER MISSION
NOTES: THE BLACK DRAGON HAS BEEN CAPTURED, AS WELL AS AN ACCOMPLICE. DUE TO HIGH VOLATILITY, THE BLACK DRAGON HAS BEEN PLACED INTO MAXIMUM LEVEL SECURITY, WHILE THE COPPER DRAGON IS IN A TEMPORARY HOLDING CELL UNTIL WE KNOW WHAT THEY'RE CAPABLE OF. THE NEXT STEP WILL BE TO RUN TESTS ON THE TWO PRISONERS FOR DIVINE BLOOD. WE NEED TO KNOW FOR CERTAIN IF EITHER OF THEM IS TRULY THE CHOSEN ONE.
She’s always believed she was a woman of science. She hadn’t believed in the prophecies of old since she was eight (and she believed in aliens and Santa Claus back then, so not a very high bar). But now, she could only say she was proven utterly wrong. Because she had seen the beast with her own two eyes, soaring over the city as her fellow mercenaries chased her down. And she knew for certain that this wasn’t any other dragon posing as the prophesied hero, because she saw the lightning crash down, the flames blast out, and the ice spray far and wide. No other dragon could conjure more than one element. That dragon had to be it.
The rest of the staff weren’t as convinced; however, and she could see why. This “Angel of Death”, as the unbelievers called her, acted nothing like the prophecy said she would. She terrorized the Outernet, burning down cities and destroying websites left and right. She could never tell anyone, but she admittedly thought it was kinda sick. It spoke to the teenage rebel still buried within her, the one who spoke blasphemy and committed petty crime without a care in the world. She’d like to pretend that part of her life was over, that she was a civilized woman now, but the truth was that she was just more quiet with her anarchy. When all she had to do was not shave her legs or not wear makeup to be controversial and statement-causing, she somewhat lost the want to try vandalizing temples on top of all that.
The rest of the world thought the nightmare would be over with The Chosen One’s capture, but apparently not for her. She wasn't sent to a prison, but instead to the very facility she worked at daily, in a state-of-the-art cage that looked unnecessarily expensive next to the set up they had for the other dragon working with her. They were designated as Subjects "001" and "002", since apparently the boss planned to do some testing with them and wanted to keep all the documentation "concise and professional".
The pool of volunteers who wanted to work with “Subject 001” ran dry quite quickly, and it wasn't hard to see why. It would be a simple job (feeding, cleaning cage, occasional testing) if it weren’t for the fact that the subject in question was on the same playing field as a god. When people stopped signing up for the position, the boss started signing workers up at random, and today, well, she just happened to win the lottery. She was both incredibly excited and incredibly terrified.
The room with the cage was incredibly empty, just a large transparent box in the center and a console to the side. She tried to walk as quietly as possible as she approached the console, eyes locked onto the sleeping shadow in the box’s corner. Gargantuan bat-like wings nearly encased the creature entirely, slightly shifting in a way that she could only later identify as shaking. It was no mystery as to why she was, the room was barely above freezing as is, it must’ve felt even colder for someone who wasn’t warm-blooded.
Realistically, she shouldn’t pity her, but she couldn’t help herself from doing so.
When she reached the console, she saw something she didn’t recognize. It was a small tablet, a modified version of the one Rocket Co. usually sold to consumers. Turning it on, an interface popped up that seemed to be controls for the box, including the objects inside and things she could spawn in. This thing must be how looking after her was turned into a one person job.
She turned on the box’s lights and opened its door, walking inside with an ounce of hesitation. She held the tablet tight to her chest after the door shut, not showing a single sign of fear except for the iron grip she had on the tablet. The Chosen One only seemed to notice her just now, barely unfurling her wings so that a single ruby eye could peek through. Although she kept her wings around her, she slowly stood up, revealing inch by inch just how much she surpassed her in height. Then, in a grand reveal, she opened her wings, spreading them to a wingspan nearly as long as the room’s walls, and lurching forward as much as her power-dulling chains would allow. She could’ve used the opportunity to analyze her up close, but she found herself unable to, as those eyes started to shine like headlights, glowing red with the charged energy of an impending laser. She knew of dragons that had powers relating to light, but never in that distinct, blood-red hue that reminded her of outdated machinery. She might’ve not been in any danger, but that didn’t stop the rush of adrenaline. The sight was as horrifying as it was metal as fuck.
Gradually, the light dimmed and dissipated until her eyes were no longer obscured by blinding rays. Her face seemed devoid of emotion except for a slight twinge of confusion. After an odd pause, she finally decided to speak up.
“…why are you still here.” Her voice was deep and ethereal, her sentence lacking the upward tilt towards the end that would usually denote a question. The fact that it sounded like honey to her ears was entirely irrelevant, and not a part of the many factual reasons she struggled to come up with an answer.
“...I’m here to give you your food?”
“Aren’t you just supposed to drop it and leave?”
She got a little upset that that’s apparently all her coworkers were doing. No wonder they didn’t have enough reports on her, everyone else was bailing on doing theirs. “I mean, not necessarily. I also need to clean the cage and make some reports. You might’ve been able to scare off the other guys, but that won’t work on me.”
She looked down to her tablet, spawning in a table, two chairs, and the “dragon feed” already loaded into the system. It was effectively just a tray of bland, grayish mush, which she doubted had any semblance of nutritional value. She was putting down some plastic utensils when The Chosen One sat down, the chair looking comically small underneath her.
“Why are you bothering with…all this?” She stared at the plastic fork curiously.
“It’s common courtesy. I wouldn’t want to eat that shit with my bare hands.” It took her a few seconds to realize that she couldn’t use her hands at all with the way they were chained behind her like that. She selected the cuffs on her tablet and unlocked them, letting them fall and clunk on the ground beneath her. Chosen looked down at her hands, at the imprints that circled her wrists, before looking up at her as if she had just done the stupidest thing in the world. And, to be fair, maybe she had. Without her restraints, she could easily tear her apart and kill her in any way imaginable. However, she didn’t. She instead opted to pick up her fork and stare at it as if she’s never used one before (maybe she actually hasn't).
She sat down as well, using the tablet to summon a clipboard and a report sheet. She fished a pen out of her shirt pocket before absentmindedly filling the sheet out. She looked up at Chosen, who picked at her food and took tentative, small bites, as if she was testing to see the food was poisoned. She seemed to be purposefully avoiding her gaze.
ROCKET CORPORATION — STATUS REPORT
DATE: NOV 4 2023
SUBJECT: THE CHOSEN O SUBJECT 001
NOTES: SUBJECT 001 REMAINS DOCILE, ALTHOUGH NOT VERY TRUSTING. SUBJECT 001 DISPLAYS SMALL BOUTS OF AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR, USING AS MUCH POWER AS HER CUFFS ALLOW TO LOOK THREATENING, BUT NEVER DIRECTLY ATTACKING.
“What’s your name, anyway?” The question snapped her out of her report-writing haze. Her mouth opened, almost automatically responding with the same loathsome name she’s had to write on every document she’s ever written for her entire life, the one she was starting to dread the sound of at this point, but couldn't get the grounds for legally changing it because of Stick City's bullshit hexcode color-name rules—But then she stopped herself. There wasn’t any reason she had to use that name now. A different option popped into her head, one that she used when she was young and maybe a little cringe, a sort of escapist character she made up before she retired its use by the time she entered high school. She leaned back in her chair a little, a smile making its way onto her face for once.
“Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I’m The Dark Lord.” She held her hand in the air in an attempt to start a handshake.
The handshake was not reciprocated.
Instead, The Chosen One laughed. The sound was unique, like if the principles of an over-the-top evil laugh were instead applied to a chuckle. It took her a few seconds to stop being mesmerized by the noise to actually get offended.
“What’s so funny?” Okay, maybe it was a little cheesy, but it was still badass. At least, it was badass when she was 14, but that 14 year old emo bastard was right about one thing, it was that.
Chosen leaned in closer, resting her chin on clasped hands. A slight slyness remained on her face. “You don’t have horns, or wings, or a tail. You don’t deserve a dragon name.”
Dark hated how nervous she made her feel. Her days of being a scared little kid were long since over, but Chosen brought that feeling back without even trying. “I’ll have you know that I’m part dragon.” Frankly, it was a very small part, contributing only to making her teeth sharper and nails more talon-like. However, from what she understood, dragon names were less about what you’re born as and more about what you grow up to become. And damn it, she’d say she’s more than earned the name, even if it was stupid.
Chosen rolled her eyes, returning to her meal. Dark returned to what she was doing as well.
USING AS MUCH POWER AS HER CUFFS ALLOW TO LOOK THREATENING, BUT NEVER DIRECTLY ATTACKING. SUBJECT 001 SEEMS TO HAVE ISSUES RESPECTING AUTHORITY.
Chosen paused, looking back at her. “What are you writing?” Her words were somewhat hard to decipher through a mouth that was still full of food.
Dark self-consciously pulled the clipboard closer to herself to block her from seeing it. “It’s nothing. Just…boring science stuff.” She never thought that she’d call her life’s purpose “boring”, but here we are.
Chosen swallowed her food and leaned a little closer. She was a little confused for a second until she realized Chosen was trying to take a peak at the paper. She angled it away from her gaze, only making herself look more suspicious in the process. When she leaned to the left, Dark leaned to the right, leading to an odd back-and-forth dance until Chosen got frustrated and opted to snatch the clipboard out of her hands. She only got to read a little before Dark stood up and tried to take it back, creating a tug-of-war match that ended with Dark holding onto a clipboard with 4 long lines carved into the back.
“Who’s “Subject 001”?” She immediately started with questions.
Dark, unable to find a good way out of this, nervously drummed her fingers on the back of the clipboard. “It…uh…well, it may or may not be you?”
“Why were you hiding it then? What does it say?” Chosen’s questions slowly grew more hostile. “Does it say I’m a horrible monster? A wild animal that ought to be tamed? Trust me, I’ve heard far worse than whatever you wrote down.”
Dark was getting a little frustrated with this whole debacle. “You know what? Fine! See for yourself.” She slapped the clipboard onto the table. Chosen quickly scooped it up, sitting down and reading over the scrawled document meticulously. She had stopped eating entirely in order to read it (Dark couldn’t blame her, she’d do the same). She sat herself down as well. She didn’t exactly have much of a reaction to the text, ironic considering the lengths she went to see it. The only semblance of a reaction she got was her muttering “...issues respecting authority.” under her breath before glaring at her accusingly.
“Okay, well, maybe that was unwarranted. I don’t deal well with authority either.”
Her curiosity returned, almost overshadowing her frustration. “Really?”
“Yeah, I got fired, like, 5 times before I got a job here. And it wasn’t even my fault the 5th time! The manager just didn’t like me. I swear, people get the slightest bit of power, and they start acting like the king of the world.”
Chosen hummed. “If you hate people in power so much, why did you become one?”
Dark stilled completely, as if that “pause tranquilizer” they used to incapacitate Chosen was just used on her. She quickly recouped herself, not wanting to be outsmarted by a captive under her own care.
“I don’t have any power in this company. I’m a mid-level technician, and technically a mercenary, but I have no superiority over anyone else here. Not even the clones, those all answer to Victim.”
“You have superiority over me. You’re my warden.”
Dark stumbled on her words before settling on, “I’m just a guard. I didn’t sentence you here. I’m only in this cage because my boss said he'll fire me if I don't watch over you just this once. Just…whatever. Finish your damn food.”
Chosen reluctantly obliged, eating the rest of her mush in silence. Since she was apparently too nosy to give Dark privacy while she was writing reports, she resigned herself to the fact that she'd have to wait to be out of the box to write them. At the very least, the walls of the cage (when turned on) acted as one way mirrors, so she could probably finish her report before heading out without any problems. So as soon as Chosen was done, she vanished away the table, chairs, empty tray, and the plastic spoon that went unused. She shackled her back up (her hands cuffed in front of her this time) and walked out of the box, leaving Chosen alone.
Well, not entirely alone.
Chosen could still hear the faint scratches of pen on paper, as well as the humming of the illuminated walls. Anyone else would probably be able to tune it out, but unfortunately for her she was “blessed” with impeccable hearing, more sensitive to noise than even other keen-eared dragons. She took to her favorite corner, the one that was slightly warmer than the other three, and hugged her knees to her chest. Something was poking into her back, tucked securely under her wing, but she didn’t dare remove it. Not until the cage walls dimmed and she saw The Dark Lord leave. It was only then that she carefully unfurled her wing, relieving the tiny piece of contraband she snuck away from those spawned in items.
A tiny, dinky plastic fork.
No one else had ever bothered to offer utensils. No one else had ever bothered to sit down and talk with her. No one else had ever bothered to even unchain her before tossing the food in and scrambling away, leaving her to eat off the floor like livestock. The experience was both jarring and refreshing, although she had a hard time trusting that it wasn’t all a test. In the end, she still wasn’t sure if it was one, but she knows that if it was, she seemingly passed.
She held the fork in her hands. It was completely worthless and devoid of value, but it still somehow felt significant to her. She hasn’t had much to call her own lately. Even before she was captured, she had no home or hoard, no space she could control. This piece of cheap plastic was the first thing she could call hers in weeks. She carefully licked off the remains of the mush, leaving the thing polished and shining. She put it on the floor and covered it with her whole body, curling defensively around her hoard with the same pride as if she were laying atop a pile of gold.