A Message (Ch.7)

The sprawling hall that made up the matched women's ward was bathed in a sterile glow from the white lighting dangling overhead. A faint metallic tang was in the air, a result of the advanced filtration system of Sanctum City, an effort to keep the air breathable and free of ozone and void gases.

The white walls of the ward shimmered faintly, there were a few display panels embedded at a constant interval, ensuring relevant information could be displayed to all the occupants at any moment.

Along the edges, armed personnel patrolled like restless shadows, their presence was a constant reminder of the unspoken rules of the facility, and that the voluntary aspect of the program had met its end right at the doors leading into the blood draw hall. 

The matched women's ward was what one would picture a high value prison ward to be. There were rows and rows of metallic bunk beds lining the room with equal spacing, each was equipped with a retractable table and screens that were unactivated. The thin, gray mattresses and stiff white sheets splayed over the bunks promised no comfort...not like one could expect any of that in a prison ward.

Surveillance drones hovered silently near the ceiling, with lenses glinting red as they tracked the movements of the women below. The women sat tensely at their assigned spots, identical, bolted-down tables before them, while trays of rations were distributed by automated carts that whirred along the floor.

The sparse and whispered conversation was owed to the fear of the ever-present surveillance, the women kept their voices low, but the atmosphere was wrought with tension. It was obvious to even the least smart ones in the bunch that every movement was monitored, every glance scrutinized.

In the midst of this atmosphere, Vanya was seated stiffly at the edge of her bunk, her combat suit a glaring anomaly among the sea of plain white jumpsuits. The fabric of the suit was visibly worn and paired with her scuffed boots, her appearance spoke of battles, survival and the rigors of her job, a stark contrast to the sterile perfection all around her. 

The sounds of the drones and watchful eyes of the other women faded to the background and her meal lay abandoned on the table. Vanya's focus was centered on the armed guards pacing near the exits. Her mind churned with escape scenarios but each plan only turned out to be more reckless than the former.

Finally, the tense silence was broken with a hissing sound as the door to the ward slid open, the sound sharp and mechanical. A woman stepped in, flanked by two heavily armed guards, Vanya recognised one of the guards to be among the agents that had captured her, the others were not so familiar. 

The woman's attire was that of an officer, a high-collared uniform, with a badge on her chest that glowed faintly with her ID tag, the sharp clicking of her heels against the polished floor was an unspoken intimidation, and she approached Vanya directly, holding a bundle of neatly folded white fabric.

"Miss Hale," the woman said, her voice was clipped and professional. "It's time for you to change into regulation attire. Non-compliance will not be tolerated."

Vanya spared a glance to the uniform in the woman's hands and then her gaze moved back to the woman, a slow smirk stretched across her lips, one that did not quite reach her eyes. "You're wasting your breath. I'm not putting on your leash."

The woman's expression did not falter, she nodded to the guards who immediately stepped forward. The room fell into deathly silence, as the other women stopped eating, their eyes flicked nervously between Vanya and the guards.

"I don't think you understand..." The woman began to say but Vanya interrupted her.

"No, I think you're the one having difficulty understanding." Vanya adjusted, standing abruptly, her lithe form and sharp eyes told a lethal tale. "Touch me, and I'll make sure you regret it." Vanya's voice was low and dangerous.

The agent Vanya was familiar with reached for her hand but Vanya was faster. Her fist shot out, catching him in the jaw, he stumbled back and Vanya immediately followed with a powerful kick, delighting in the satisfying crunch of bones as the metal sole of her boot harshly impacted his ribs.

The second guard jabbed a baton and Vanya blocked with an arm, swiping low, she knocked the guard off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground and before she could lunge again, a guard at the door aimed a pulse gun straight at her.

"Don't be stupid girl." He warned, inching closer as Vanya eyed his weapon. "Arms up, behind your head!" He ordered.

Vanya gritted her teeth, but complied. The guard with the baton scrambled to his feet and slammed the metal into Vanya's ribs, eyes glowering with indignation.

Pain seared through her side as the electric charge from the baton surged, forcing Vanya down to her knees. But her gaze glared defiantly up at the guard who was poised to hit Vanya again but the woman in the uniform stopped him.

"We do not use violence on participants." She said in an almost bored tone, as though she had not just watched Vanya get hit without doing anything. "Miss Hale, I warned you. Compliance ensures comfort, resistance ensures correction."

"You did..." Vanya agreed. "But it seems no one warned you about me." She smirked, though her eyes were sharp with fury and calculation.

With a nod of consent from the woman, the guards descended on Vanya, stripping her of her combat suit with brutal efficiency. The pulse gun was still aimed at her, ensuring she could not retaliate.

Vanya gritted her teeth, suppressing the urge to scream and curse as she was stripped down before all eyes. Her undergarments offered little protection from the cold, clinical air. The white jumpsuit was forced over her head, its synthetic fibres clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

The other women watched in horrified silence., their faces a mix of shock and unease. Some turned their heads away, their expressions taut with discomfort. Others stared, their pale faces shifting from curiosity to growing fear. This act wasn't just a correction...it was a message.