Chapter Text
Mal
Before I opened my eyes, I could already tell three things.
One, I was in a moving vehicle.
Two, my hands were restrained. Behind my back, even, which is, like, the worst way to have your hands restrained, I'm pretty sure.
Three, I had been separated from Kate. Not good. Not good at all.
Oh, also, I had a headache, which was unpleasant. Actually, this whole experience was really unpleasant so far? I wasn't sure what was going on, exactly, but, I mean, just as a first impression? Not a fan.
I opened my eyes.
I was in the back of a windowless van, propped up against the corner. It was clean and featureless and not especially comfortable.
Oh. Also, a woman in an unfamiliar uniform was sitting across from me. Short hair, fair skin, maybe in her mid-30s? She appeared to be chewing gum, and her hands were not restrained. My captor, I presumed.
"Finally awake?" she said casually, giving me a nod.
I wasn't sure how to respond. "Uhhhhh…"
"That's a rhetorical question, kid. You don't gotta answer."
I frowned. "Um. Are you, like, trying to start a conversation with me while I'm hogtied in the back of your van?"
"Hogtied? Hogtied is when your hands are tied to your feet. You're just regular tied, like with handcuffs, so's you can't wave your hands around to do magic. C'mon, kid, keep it straight."
Okay, she was starting to make me angry. "Gee, I'm sorry I don't have experience kidnapping people and tying them up. I guess you're the expert here."
She blew a bubble with her gum, then popped it. I considered attempting to kick her and decided that, as tempting as it was, it would probably be unwise. "Don't bother trying to teleport out of here either, by the way. We got all kinds of shielding around this vehicle." She gestured toward the ceiling.
Joke's on her, I guess, since I don't know how to teleport. Also, I already used up most of my spell slots for today. All I had left were some cantrips, a feather fall, and an unseen servant, and the dress I was wearing didn't have pockets, which meant that I didn't even have the material component for the unseen servant. But I guess she didn't need to know that.
"What's going on?" I demanded. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"
"Agent Rebecca Taylor, OSC. Obtain, Secure, Counter. We work in the shadows to protect the world against supernatural threats. Like you."
"What? I don't work in the shadows to protect the world against supernatural threats."
She furrowed her brow. "What? No, that's not what I…okay, no, I'm seeing now how pausing for dramatic effect made it syntactically ambiguous. We protect the world from supernatural threats such as you."
"Oh." That made sense in context, and was much more ominous. "Um. I'm a minor, just so you know. So, I'm pretty sure you can't legally interrogate me without a parent or guardian present?"
She smirked. "This ain't an interrogation, kid, I'm just making conversation. You can clam up if you like. But we ain't cops. We're OSC. All that shit doesn't apply to us. As far as the legal system's concerned? The supernatural doesn't exist. And neither do we."
Well, that was concerning.
She snapped her gum and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't look so terrified. You'll be fine, if you cooperate. This is just supposed to be a routine catch-and-release."
"And what does that mean, exactly?" I asked skeptically.
"We catch you," she said with a scoff, "and then we release you. C'mon, kid. Thought that was obvious."
"That's obviously not what I meant. And, like, can I just say, Rebecca, I have a name, and it's not 'kid,' okay? It's—"
"Mallory Aurelia Avalon, age 17, only daughter of Thomas Avalon and Thistle Avalon (née Derwyn)?"
I closed my mouth.
"We found you at your home address. I know your name. I know a lot about you. I've read your file. Would you like me to tell you your savings account balance? Or maybe the last four digits of your Social Security number?"
"If you know so much about me, then why are you so convinced I'm a threat?"
"I'm not." She shrugged and popped her gum again. "We got a system for threat levels. Ten-point scale. By our classification, you're only a Class Two. Maybe a three, tops. For context, the last Class One I was called out for was a talking chicken with no special powers, and the last Class Three was a pyrokinetic with a nonviolent criminal record. So—what do you think? Class Two sound about right for you?"
"Is an ordinary person with no special powers a Class One? Because if so, I'm a Class One," I said, doing my best to affect an air of defiance.
"Don't bullshit me, kid. We got metawave detectors, we got security footage, we know about your magic, okay? You wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Speaking of 'here,' where are you taking me?"
"To a containment facility. We're almost there." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a vial of orange liquid. "Here, drink this."
"What? No! You kidnapped me! I'm not just going to drink whatever you hand me!"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby. It's not like it's poison. It's just going to flush your spell slots."
"Okay then, you drink it."
"No problem." She uncorked the vial and chugged the liquid. Then she produced a new, identical vial from her uniform and held it out. "See? Harmless. Now you. Drink it, and I'm allowed to untie your hands."
I glared at her. "I'll think about it."
"Suit yourself."