◈ B A S I L I S K ◈
The lobby gleamed like a shrine to wealth. Polished marble, glass spires, sterile light. To Shego, it reeked of theft.
Of lies.
The young lady leaned heavy on her cane at the secretary's desk, the faint hiss of her mask breaking through the murmur of the room. Every other breath rattled in her chest, and every few moments her trembling fingers adjusted the nozzles feeding her lungs.
"Your files are wrong," she rasped. "MOTHER & FATHER weren't acquisitions~ They were family. My family's work. MY work." Her filtered voice crackled, full of a venom that only just covered the cracks of pleading beneath. "I wanna speak with whoever is in charge here. Now~"
The secretary, unruffled, folded her hands neatly over a datapad. "Miss Striga, our records are quite clear. Per Directive 5.13, any proprietary technology developed under a subsidiary is absorbed in the event of liquidation. Strixa Technologies no longer exists. Its holdings, your... 'A.I. constructs', are now assets of Arkanis Military Systems. Permanently."
Shego's mask hissed louder as her breathing caught, her spine tightening with the words. "Assets?" Her voice rose into a filtered shriek. "They are not assets you imbecile! You reduce my mother, my father, to-" She doubled over in a harsh cough, clutching her chest as she wheezed against the mask. A few heads turned, whispers spreading through the lobby from the commotion.
The clerk's expression didn't waver. "Please, Miss Striga, calm yourself. If you wish to pursue a review, I suggest you file an application through our legal department. The appropriate waiting period is ninety to one-hundred twenty business days."
Shego slammed her hand on the desk, rattling cups and datapads. "I don't have ninety days! I don't have ninety hours! My lungs are rotting, my blood is poison, and you...what? You sit there telling me to file paperwork?"
A flicker of annoyance crossed the secretary's face, quickly buried under professional calm. "We are not at liberty to return patents or prototypes, Miss Striga. You must understand, the intellectual property in question is no longer yours."
The mask hissed again as Shego clawed at its valves, trying to steady her failing breath. Her body trembled with a mixture of weakness and rage. "It's mine," she whispered hoarsely. Then louder: "Fething plastic people. Not even a real person are you? And they call me cold~" She quipped, snapping her fingers in front of the secretaries eyes as if testing the focus of a lesser lifeform. "RETURN MY FAMILY TO ME! O-or i'll-"
"Security!" the clerk said, with the finality of a door closing.
The guards seized her, dragging her sleeve despite her flailing grip on the serpent-headed cane. She stumbled, collapsing in a sprawl, coughing and wheezing so violently it echoed off the glass walls. The crowd recoiled, half-pity, half-discomfort, watching her adjust knobs in a frenzy just to keep breathing.
"No! Please, you can't! Graaah!" Her voice broke through the filter, raw and desperate, as they hauled her toward the doors of the company building. Outside, the rain came down cold and heavy. They dumped her onto the slick stairs like refuse, tossing her cane so it clattered just out of reach.
"Next time, make an appointment," one guard muttered, before they vanished back into the glow of the lobby.
Shego lay in the downpour, mask hissing, chest rattling as her green lenses fixed on the cane. Her fingers twitched against the stone, as if trying to drag herself forward. But deeper than the weakness in her lungs was the void in her chest.
They hadn't just stolen research. Research could be replaced with time, but that they had done...the savages had stolen her family.
And as Shego looked to the downpour of rain she couldn't help but wonder just how it had all come to this. And just how much further it had to go to get them back...how far she'd have to take it.
