Scorpio

TWENTY FOUR - A New Home

The orange thing was moving again. 

What do you want from me?, Estella tried to ask it, but her mouth refused to oblige. Cotton. Rough, relentless. Smooth, comforting. Smothering her words against her skin, pushing her jaws open, one great, tremendous yawn...

Something sparked in her memory.

Crimson. Something about a crimson sun.

10:42. Not good enough. Happy. We're not done yet.

She stared out again, to the place where the orange thing was. Already it was fogging up, the wisps of a dream fuzzing away into oblivion. She tilted her head, trying to scrutinize it with the last of her semi-lucid observation skills.

Well, that clearly is not a crimson sun.

It faded away, leaving her slipping on rain-slick tiles, reaching towards nothing at all as the mind-numbing whirr of darkness droned on.

***

Estella woke up alone, swaddled in a sleeping bag on the wooden floor of a room she didn't recognize. Her head ached slightly – the last thing she remembered was hearing Alycs' comm in her ear, then going unconscious. She had a vague memory of a dark forest and May's voice coming through a cell phone, but she didn't remember how they got out of the caboose, or into...wherever she was now. Did those people with all the weapons find them?

She scrambled into an upright position, looking around. Light filtered in through circular windows lined evenly around the circumference of the ceiling, casting honey-coloured patches across the textured flooring. Dappled shadows flitted gently in fluttery patterns, dancing over a large dresser, small desk, and neatly-made twin bed tucked away beside the outline of a door.

"Good morning, Estella." A woman's voice threaded through the warm ambiance of the room, tentative, probably trying not to scare her, yet nevertheless Estella whirled around as quickly as her groggy body would allow her with her palms aimed at the culprit.

The brunette lady raised her hands as if trying to reassure Estella she came in peace. The sides of her white cardigan rose with her sleeves, revealing a simple grey blouse, paired with leggings – not a sign of those rugged wooden crates, packed with explosives, and branded with red skulls in watery spray paint. She had a bit of an accent – unlike the American one Peter and Alycs used, at least. Maybe they were in a different country...

"I'm Wanda." The brunette spoke again, her palms beside her shoulders. Estella nodded slowly, still a little apprehensive. The lady had no weapons on her and looked to be fairly peaceful. Maybe she was the captain they were looking for?

"Are – are you the Captain of America?" Estella asked, turning her head to the side.

Wanda laughed quietly and shook her head no. "He's upstairs, with your friends. They're having breakfast."

Estella perked up. "Alycs and Peter?"

Wanda nodded. "Would you like to join them?"

Estella had a jumble of questions on the tip of her tongue, but before she could begin with one, her stomach growled loudly. She ducked her head and nodded as Wanda laughed, her eyes twinkling.

"Come along, then."

Seeing that she was dressed in her clothes from the previous night, Estella wriggled out from the warmth of her sleeping bag to join the stranger. She seemed nice enough – and even if she turned out to be a bad person, Estella was ready to melt on the spot if the moment came. She really hoped she could control it if she needed her powers and would keep her consciousness this time. She didn't want a repeat of...whatever that had happened on the train. What had happened, anyway?