Minutes feel like hours in this underwater prison. I trace my finger along the wall for the thousandth time, mapping the cold metal seams like they're constellations in a sky I can't see anymore. The chain on my ankle clinks softly as I shift position on the narrow bed, the sound almost musical in the oppressive silence.
"I know it's only been a few hours since she left," I mutter to the empty room, my voice bouncing off the metal walls, "but if I don't get something to read soon, I'm going to start decorating these walls with my own shit."
My hand unconsciously drifts to the bandage covering what used to be my right eye. The socket throbs dully beneath the gauze, a constant reminder of Norma's brand of affection. The drugs she gave me this morning are starting to wear off, the pain growing sharper around the edges, more insistent.
I've counted every rivet in this room. Named them, even. Given them little personalities and backstories. The one above the shower is Gerald, he's having an affair with Francine, the rivet by the toilet. Classic forbidden love story.
God, I'm losing my mind.
The massive circular door at the far end of the chamber suddenly groans, its heavy mechanisms grinding to life. My heart slams against my ribs as I scramble to sit up straighter, my body responding with Pavlovian terror. She said she wouldn't be back until the weekend. It's too soon. This could be anyone.
I brace myself for auburn hair and those predatory green eyes, for the sickening maternal smile that precedes pain or violation. But as the door swings open, the figure that steps through isn't Norma.
The Taskmistress stands silhouetted in the doorway, her imposing frame filling the entrance. The skull-like mask covering her face gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights, her white hooded cape cascading from broad shoulders. Every inch of her exudes calculated menace as she surveys the room.
"What the fuck?" I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
I must be hallucinating. The drugs Norma gave me this morning, they must be causing this. Or maybe I've finally snapped completely, my mind manufacturing rescue fantasies to cope with the horror of my situation.
The Taskmistress steps fully into the room. Her movements are fluid, predatory, as she approaches the bed where I sit frozen in disbelief.
"Professor?" The word tumbles out before I can stop it.
The Taskmistress chuckles, the sound oddly warm coming from behind that skull mask. She pulls a knife from her belt, the blade gleaming under the harsh lights as she approaches.
"What, no more 'sensei'?" she asks, kneeling beside me and slicing through my chains with surprising ease. The metal falls away with a satisfying clank, and I can't help but stare at my newly freed ankle.
Her gloved hand suddenly grabs my chin, tilting my face toward hers. Even through the mask's eye holes, I can see her eyes widen as she examines my bandaged socket.
"Jesus, kid. Norma hurt you real bad, huh?" Her voice is softer than I've ever heard it.
My throat tightens, emotion threatening to choke me. "Please tell me you're saving me," I whisper, hating how small I sound, how desperate.
"I am." She releases my chin and stands, towering over me. "Norma tasked me with babysitting your ass. She knows I was your teacher, but she didn't know I was training you to be a superhero, so..." She shrugs those massive shoulders. "She only just gave me your location today."
Hope surges through me like electricity. "Is Ellie…" I begin, but she cuts me off with a sharp wave of her hand.
"They're topside right now," she says, glancing toward the ceiling. "Both your girlfriend and that other creepy red one."
I blink, confusion momentarily overriding my relief. "Spider-Woman?"
"Yeah..." She nods, watching as I push myself to my feet. The room sways slightly, and I grab the wall for support. "Can you walk?" she asks, hand hovering near my elbow but not quite touching.
"Yeah," I manage, straightening my spine with effort. "It's just my eye that's fucked up."
Task gives me a curt nod and gestures toward the door. "Let's get moving. Your girlfriends won't wait forever."
A dizzying mix of elation and terror washes over me as we step into the corridor. The hallways stretch before us like a metal maze, all identical pipes and rivets. My bare feet pad silently against the cold floor while Task's boots echo with confident purpose.
"Today has been a pretty crazy day," she remarks as we navigate through the twisting passages.
"Yeah?" I manage, still struggling to believe this rescue is actually happening.
"Toni Stark had a photo leak of her and Jessie Epstein," she says casually, checking each intersection before proceeding.
I stop dead in my tracks, my mind reeling. "Wait, Jeffery Epstein exists in this world?"
"Jessie Epstein," Task corrects me, emphasizing the first name.
"Right," I nod, making sense of the gender-flipped parallel. Of course it would be Jessie here.
Task places a firm hand on my back, urging me forward when I linger too long. The simple human contact, gentle, not possessive like Norma's, almost makes me tear up.
As we continue through another identical corridor, I blink hard, trying to process this information. "Iron Woman? She was friends with her?"
Task shrugs, her cape swishing with the movement. "Stark hasn't commented on it yet." There's unmistakable amusement in her voice as she adds, "I can't believe I missed that when I was destroying evidence."
"What?" I turn to look at her, nearly tripping over my own feet.
Even through the eye holes of her mask, I can see pride gleaming in her eyes. "Well, you know how no one knows if Epstein killed herself or not?"
"If it's like I imagine, no one really thinks she did it herself," I reply cautiously.
Task hooks a thumb toward herself, never breaking stride. "Sure, but you're looking at the assassin who killed her. I faked the hanging and everything."
My jaw drops as we round another corner. "Holy shit, are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Task says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice.
We finally reach another large circular door at the end of a long corridor. Task approaches it with confident strides and grips the wheel lock, muscles flexing beneath her suit as she turns it. The heavy metal groans in protest before yielding with a satisfying clunk.
"After you," she says, pulling the door open to reveal a small submarine docked in a chamber.
I hesitate at the threshold, my remaining eye darting nervously around the escape vessel. "Norma didn't strap me with a tracking device or bomb or something, did she?"
Task's head tilts slightly as she considers this. "Nah, I doubt it." Her eyes flick to me briefly with a flicker of uncertainty. "Nah..." she repeats, less convincingly this time.
My stomach knots with fresh anxiety as I step into the submarine. The interior is cramped but functional, all gleaming controls and utilitarian design. Task follows behind me, securing the hatch with methodical precision before moving to the control panel.
"I can't believe this is how I escape," I murmur, running my fingers along the cold metal wall of our underwater chariot.
Task glances over her shoulder as she flips switches and presses buttons with practiced efficiency. "What do you mean?"
"I just assumed getting me out of there would've been... hell. You know, explosions, gunfire, dramatic last stands." I sink into the co-pilot's seat, suddenly exhausted. "All those comics I read as a kid, escapes were never this... straightforward."
Task snorts as she engages the submarine's engines. "Reality's often disappointing compared to fiction, kid."
The vessel hums to life beneath us, vibrating gently as we detach from the docking clamps. My heart pounds against my ribs as we begin our ascent, each foot of water we rise through feeling like a mile.
The ride upward takes all of three minutes, but it might as well be three years. I count each second, terrified that alarms will suddenly blare, that Norma will appear on some screen, that this rescue will dissolve into another nightmare.
When we finally break the surface, Task nods toward a ladder leading to the top hatch. "Your stop," she says simply.
"Ellie's out there?" I whisper, my voice cracking as emotion overwhelms me. Tears well up in my remaining eye, blurring my vision. "Ellie's really out there?"
"Yes, Steele." Task's voice softens just a fraction. "She is."
I grasp the ladder with trembling hands, each rung feeling like a sacred step. Each pull feels like I'm ascending from hell into heaven, leaving Norma's underwater prison behind forever.
The hatch above me flies open with a deafening clang, moonlight streaming in like a spotlight. Before I can even reach for the next rung, massive black tendrils shoot down through the opening, wrapping around my torso. My heart leaps into my throat as I'm yanked upward with such force that my stomach drops.
I barely have time to register the night air on my face before I'm crushed against Ellie's massive form. The symbiote envelops me in a cocoon of living darkness, tendrils wrapping around every inch of my body like she's afraid I might disappear if she doesn't hold tight enough. The pressure is almost painful, squeezing the breath from my lungs, but it's the most beautiful pain I've ever felt.
"Shane," she gasps, the symbiote peeling back from her face to reveal those fierce blue eyes I've dreamed about every night. They're swimming with tears, overflowing down her cheeks in glistening trails. "Shane, baby..."
My own vision blurs as tears spill from my remaining eye. I reach up with trembling fingers to touch her face, half-convinced she'll dissolve beneath my touch, another cruel hallucination.
"Is this real?" I whisper, my voice breaking. "Please tell me this isn't another dream. I can't... I can't wake up back there again."
She cradles my face between her hands, her thumbs gently brushing away my tears. The tenderness in her touch is so different from Norma's false gentleness that it makes me sob harder.
"This is real, Shane," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm real. You're safe now."
I collapse against her, my entire body shaking with the force of my relief. The symbiote shifts to accommodate me, forming a protective shell around us both as Ellie sinks to her knees on the deck of what I now realize is some kind of ship. We cling to each other like drowning people, both of us crying so hard we can barely breathe.
"I thought I'd never find you," she whispers against my hair.