Ends
Word count: 768
Her informant had set her up. That much was glaringly obvious. It wasn't too surprising either, and part of Parity felt a bit embarrassed for having been duped. Informants in Paragon City were usually referred through a network of other informants. That was how it worked, an unwritten rule of the heroic culture. They didn't just come up out of the blue, and give out clues.
That wasn't how it worked.
He seemed sincere, though. He seemed as authentic as they came. The guy even knew some of her other contacts; he mentioned them by name and everything. In retrospect, it was easy enough to see the blonde was a plant. At the moment, it was glaringly obvious, what with him dressed in full Skulls' attire and all.
Parity glared at him as he walked across the warehouse. If he saw her glaring at him from across the floor, he didn't pay any attention to her. None of the Skulls were really paying attention to her; they were playing cards and generally just hanging out. Once in a while one would drift her way, but for the most part she was left alone.
Not that it did her much good, really. Skulls weren't the brightest bulbs in the world -- and that fact still caused her some confusion, since this kind of setup hardly seemed their style -- but they knew how to restrain a prisoner. Parity looked up at her bound wrists and sighed.
Each wrist had been wrapped several times by a rather strong cord before being knotted. From there, the excess rope was tied around and to the thick, iron hook that held her several inches off the floor. The ends of the rope were woven through the chain at the top of the hook, just out of the reach of her fingers. So, even if her feet weren't chained to a weight on the floor, it would have been impossible to slide her wrists off the hook.
If not for the weight, which was actually a large, metallic shipping crate wrapped in chains and then tied to her ankles, she might have been able to pull herself up and pick at the knots with her teeth. That idea, however, was doubly shot not only because of the crate but also the layers of tape wrapped around the lower half of her face. The best Parity could manage was to rattle the chains around the crate, for all the good it did.
Parity stared up at her bonds, trying to find a way around them. There was no way to cut through them; she could barely flex her wrists, much less reach out and pick up a knife. There were no knots to pick at; ever strand of rope was pulled too taut to find any slack. The Skulls had seemingly out planned her at every turn.
That certainly didn't sound right.
The Skulls didn't kidnap people, and they certainly didn't kidnap heroes. Kidnapping was more the style of The Family or Trolls. Beating heroes to a pulp, that was the Skulls' style. Ambushing someone in an alley, ganging up on their victim, and forcing an emergency teleport, that fit their usual modus operandi. This, holding her captive virtually unmolested, was not just a Skull operation.
Parity began trying to imagine who would try something like this. If she wasn't the target, then it could have been The Family or The Council. They might hire the Skulls for the snatch-and-grab of a hero. She couldn't think of a decent reason why, but it didn't seem too far-fetched.
On the other hand, if she was the target, then the question became who would want her kidnapped? Before she could follow that line of thought too far, a distinct clicking sound echoed through the warehouse. The noise was enough to catch all of the Skulls' attention, and they stood up to greet someone. Parity was a bit surprised at how, almost, respectful they acted.
It took a moment, but soon Parity saw whom they were greeting. Around the corner of a high wall, a tall figure stepped into view. She was wearing a dark, violet business suit, with equally dark shoes and light, violet stockings. She was grinning at Parity as she stepped closer. As she moved from the shadows, Parity could not only see her grin, but her neatly trimmed, forest green hair.
The figured stepped right up to Parity, and stopped. She looked right up at the hinging heroine. "Well, well, well," she spoke, "how's it hanging," she paused, leaned closer, and finished, "sister?"