Allies in the Dark

Posted on Wed Oct 8th, 2025 @ 9:46 by Claire Cavendish & Cameron Johnston

Chapter: Besieged
Location: G.O.U. wing, Porterfield Prison, Inverness
1666 words - 3.3 OF Standard Post Measure

The darkness had always been her ally. A collar around her neck had made it feel suffocating. Like it encroached on her space. Whenever she tried to do anything related to her gifts the nagging headache seemed to worsen. So Claire was just pacing back and forth through the cell. Hand in front of her face, reflecting the moonlight through the barred window. The skin on her neck was starting to protest the cold steel wrapped slightly too tightly. All the protests from her barrister had done was a daily application of some sort of salve. She couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't just adding to the problem.

The purple skinned head mistress sat down on the cot, she glanced at the book she hadn't the heart to pick back up. Had she been foolish to give up her freedom so easily? It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, even with the visions from Phoebe. She couldn't betray herself. Her principles.

By now, there was a certain predictability to the routines on the other side of captivity. Given the nature of their clientele, the guard presence was stoic and uncompromising, yet relatively sparse when it came to an abiding physical presence. Over-reliance on security cameras and suppression technology made the isolation easier, and the hourly inspections were more indifferent than they were invasive. The disdain of a bored glance to make sure each occupant was accounted for, and an abundance of cavalier dismissiveness born of the certainty that they held the upper-hand.

They technically did.

It, therefore, caused a murmur of intrigue whenever the heavy doors leading into the section opened outside the time allocated for next rounds. It was a heavy, deliberate sound, like the groan of metal protesting under the weight of its own oppression. The grinding creak of seasoned hinges followed the unmistakable clank of the locking mechanism releasing; an abrupt, mechanical thud that resonated through the disturbed cells. The sound of footsteps echoed, a single pair, which explained the pervasive lack of conversation. Further down, the rumbled growl of a fellow inmate was followed by the clatter of a book throw in disgust to bounce harmlessly from reinforced bars. Unprovoked, the footsteps began their parade, a measured, even pace that didn't falter, though there was the occasional scuff of an ill-fitting shoe.

The procession continued for approximately ten more seconds before the sudden klaxon of multiple alarms plunged the high-security section into the neon hellscape of a distant pulsing red light. The sound was muted, reduced by the unlikelihood of it originating elsewhere in the complex, without an immediate cause being obvious given the section's relative distance from the source of the problem. Somewhere else in the prison, a mobilisation force closed in.

There was no way for Claire to find out what exactly was going on, the red light bothered her but she wasn't sure exactly why that was. She stepped closer to the door, trying to look through the small barred window but seeing nothing other than eyes across the hall doing the same. The grunts of displeased neighbours got more and more loud as the alarm kept on filling the rooms.

Overhead, the only immediate impact was the significant dimming of what was already some pretty piss-poor lighting. A shadow loomed, the stretch of an elongated spectre that eventually became the shrouded form of a single guard. It wasn't easy to tell given the lack of visibility but there was something a little off about his gait, a little hurried about his appearance, as if his uniform was clinging on for dear life. The hat on his head sat awkwardly, half-obscuring his face. He paused, back turned to Claire's cell, and seemed to bide his time surveying the empty cell opposite.

The tink of something striking metal drew the gaze down to his hands, clasped behind him in the default stance of nonchalant disregard. It took a moment to register what it was, grasped between his fingers and failing to cooperate with efforts to slip it through the gap in the bars. Eventually it relented, and a last flick saw it clatter onto the floor not far from Claire's feet; a familiar controller, very much required to rid her of her current choice in jewelery.

"What?" Claire picked up the device, looked at it, realised what it was. "I'm here of my own volition. I'm being treated well. I don't require rescue and don't intend to escape." She stepped up to the bars and wanted to push the device back through. That's when her eyes met something familiar staring back at her. Like a shard of ice had pierced her heart. She staggered back. "No. This is. You can't." The emotions that she had wrapped up and locked inside immediately flooded back out. "Whomever you are, drop the façade! How dare you wear that face!"

Whilst there was clearly the anticipation of some kind of reaction in the guard's eyes, the slight hesitation of a thoughtful squint was immediately followed by a dumbfounded frown.

"I didn't pack a spare."

The very slightly swiveling of his head towards the roaming security camera facilitated a nonchalant turn to present his back to it, which didn't do much to improve the visibility of his features but that could also have been the fault of a familiar lock of hair dangling across his eyes.

"I regret to inform you," Cam murmured, doing his best to keep his voice low and his urgency to a minimum, "that rumours of my death are slightly..." He grimaced again, abandoning his first instinct for a more accurate, "...outdated. Along with your noble sentiments. We need to get going. According to the pipsqueak, Avalon's in trouble."

"We knew that Avalon would be in trouble, that's why I left capable people in charge. My place is here." Claire felt the muscles in her right leg tighten. It was all she could do not to demonstratively stomp her foot, standing her ground. "The real Cameron would know that." She folded her arms in front of her chest, still holding on to the device. It would be nice to be relieved of the headache inducing contraption but for now she didn't click the button. "Just like he would know that my sentiments are pretty robust."

He was too old for this. It wasn't a sentiment Cameron felt often but it seemed to be showing up a lot of late. With another shuffle to obscure the camera's view, he kept his voice low and allowed the unrest of the other inmates to mask his final attempt.

"Look, I don't know what's going on. I don't know why I woke up in a field with a kid who's aged a few years spouting some doomsday prophesy about 'optimal variables' but I'm pretty sure she's the reason I'm not dead and she's adamant that you need to be in on this or it ends very badly."

Leaning closer, Cameron made direct eye contact with one of the few people in the world who would recognise the harrowed distress for what it was; desperation. Cameron was restless by nature but nothing left him more prone to the jitters than the sensation of impotence and the frustration of a lack of retaliation to alleviate his commitment to protecting others. He'd died, without a second thought, to spare Phoebe. Trusting Ji-an sounded bonkers but he was beyond being able to question the kid's accuracy, and since he'd made up his mind to believe her, that fervent need to take action burned like wildfire in his eyes.

"Like, a-bunch-more-of-us-dead badly. I dunno if this is permanent, Claire." A gesture downwards indicated his renewed lease on life. "But I am taking this damn zombie freakshow back home before there's no home left to haunt, so if you could kindly set fire to the aristocrat who's temporarily taken up residence in your backside, I have it on good authority we have friends and a whole bunch of kids that don't make it through the night without you."

Claire looked at the device in her hand again. The incessant buzzing behind her eyeballs made it difficult to think and parse all of this insane information. The doubts she had about this man's identity did, however, dissipate quickly. The moment he spoke her name there was something that clicked in her. They locked eyes, and the momentary focus was enough.

She clicked the release and the cell around her flooded her senses with light. Even though the only source of it was the red flickering alarm in the hallway. With a clang the device around her neck fell to the ground. She had the presence of mind to pick it up, pocketing the remote.

As her eyes got used to the new conditions she looked over Cameron's shoulder and with a fizz and pop reappeared outside of her cell. She grabbed his hand. "Hold on. It helps to suck in a breath." She focused on the corner of the yard that she had memorised just for this occasion. Not that she had planned to break out, but it was good to have contingencies. "One moment. This'll work." Her hand clasped tightly around his fingers, not just because she needed him close for this to work.

A wry half-grin was familiar, even if it seemed a little odd beneath an ill-fitting hat that compelted a rumpled tailored-for-someone-larger uniform. If nothing else, it would be a blessing to finally wear his own clothes again, assuming they hadn't tossed his belongings into the loch.

"Pretty sure I just got dragged sideways through time and space," he pointed out, though the working theory sounded like a terrible movie plot when spoken out loud. "With a decent chance that I was dead for a good portion of it, so, you know..."

He squeezed her hand.

"Do your worst."