Rue: Web of Deceit - Part 17

Life, Crime

With suspicious eyes cast down upon them, Rue is given a test of loyalty by The Spider that brings them face-to-face with Amelia Abel.

The 5th comes around much quicker than expected, and Rue is more on edge with every passing minute. Doug looks somewhat concerned when they nearly jump out of their skin at the sound of a teaspoon clattering against the sink, but they brush it off with a half-hearted smile.   That evening, they arrive at the given address fifteen minutes before ten, the hood of their black jumper pulled up, hands tucked into the leather jacket. They can see their breath in the frosty air, their eyes darting around in search of anything dangerous.   Their entire body tenses up as a car pulls up beside them. Dark blue, with tinted windows, the passenger-side car door opens and in the driver's seat Rue can see a man of about thirty with rugged features and a scowl on his face. He glances across the console and their eyes meet, his a slate grey and devoid of all humour.   "Spider sends his regards, Rue," he says in a voice like sandpaper, immediately explaining the strong smell of cigarettes that filled the car, "Get in."   Every instinct in their body is screaming at them to turn the other way, to pack up their things and run as far away as they can. Their palms are sweaty as they reach for the door handle, heart racing as they slide into the passenger seat, ''Where are we heading?'' They ask, putting on a brave face.   "Near the hospital." He says, offering no further details as he begins to drive them out of the slums. The two sit in silence as the buildings around them change from the ramshackle old factories and depots of the Industrial district, quickly finding themselves surrounded by the modern office blocks and tall buildings of the Innovation District.   "Put this on," he says, throwing a thick black balaclava onto Rue's lap and putting one on himself. Doing so with one hand while his other remained on the wheel, "You're not gonna want to be recognised this time."   Shit. They hesitate for a moment, their blood running cold as they try to figure out exactly what they've been tasked to do. Pursing their lips, they slip the balaclava on, the thick fabric making it slightly harder to breathe, ''It might be easier for me to do my job if I know what it is.'' They grumble, shooting a glare at their driver.   The man, raises a brow at their assertion, clearly unimpressed by the attitude, "Well, I'm not here to make your life easy, Rue. I'm here to do my job."   As he finishes his sentence, he pulls up on the curb and turns off the car. The two of them sitting in silence for a moment before he nods in the direction of the hospital and whispers, "There."   Rue's heart sinks as they see what, or more appropriately, who he's referring to. A woman with white hair and only one hand, riding out of the hospital in a highly sophisticated wheelchair. Rue has never met the woman before, but they know from Alec's pictures that this is Amelia Abel, the wounded police officer and the Detective's best friend.   ''Seriously?'' They say coldly, pushing down their panic and instead using the adrenaline to fuel their act. ''Since breaking her kneecaps is sort of out of the question, what exactly are we here to do to her?''   They're suddenly grateful for the balaclava obscuring most of their face as they grit their teeth, a deep pit of dread making their stomach churn. They remind themself of the conversation they had with Rachel and Jasmine in their flat. Amelia Abel might appear fragile, but according to their intel, she's anything but. If they want to keep up pretences for Creel and stay in his good books, they cannot back down now.   "Get creative," he says, reaching into the back seat of the car and dropping a heavy wrench onto Rue's lap. It feels dense, and cold as the criminal who'd given it to them. The man they'd drove down with grabs another from behind them and looks at Rue expectantly, "Ready?"   Rue slowly wraps their fingers around the cold steel, their mouth dry as the reality of the situation sinks in, ''Just to be clear,'' They start, the sound of their heartbeat drumming in their ears. ''We're not... Killing her, right? I doubt that detective would back off if his former partner ends up dead.''   "Nah," he says, seemingly unfazed by the question, "Boss says just enough to make them back off." He begins to unfasten his seat belt and open the car door, "Now come on. We haven't got all night."   ''Right...'' They undo their seatbelt and get out of the car, their movements feeling sluggish as their instincts are urging them to turn around and run. They swallow past the lump in their throat as they follow the driver, their head spinning as they move closer to the woman in the wheelchair. They have to do something, anything, but they realise that they can't. Not without blowing this whole thing up. If they give in now, they'll not only likely end up on Spider's hit list, they'd also never be able to get justice for Kate...   Adrenaline pumping through their veins, they approach Amelia Abel, sending the most bizarre silent prayer her way: Please tell me you can kick our asses.   "Hey, gibbed bitch!" The man shouts as the two of them get close. Rue sees him step past them and closer to Amelia, preparing to take a swing at her as she turns in her wheelchair to face the pair, "Tell your buddy the detective to keep his nose out of other people's business."   The next moment is a bit of a blur as the man swings the wrench at Amelia's face, only to be stopped by her arm, now coated in metallic armour that seems to have once been the armrest of her chair.   "Oh shit," the man mutters as the ex-cop's hand wraps around the wrench, pulling it forward and out of the man's grip before bringing it back across his jaw. Blood and teeth go flying as the man is knocked back and Amelia's chair proceeds to transform itself, wrapping around her and providing her with all the limbs she may have been missing. It immediately seemed that Rachel and Jasmine were right because, within a moment, she looked ready for war.   Rue's eyes go wide as they witness the transformation, their mouth slightly agape as they utter out a single 'woah'. Part of them can't help but wonder who designed the wheelchair, their mind strangely drifting back to the creepy stalker they met only days ago. He would have a field day with this tech, they think.   Begrudgingly, they realise that they'll have to make the next move if they want to keep up the charade. Feeling less conflicted about attempting an attack now that Amelia is donning the armour, they swiftly move towards her side, aiming a swing at the woman's torso.   As the cyborg is winding up to deliver a final blow to the man on the ground, Rue strikes and, despite their trepidation, the blow does indeed connect, seemingly knocking the wind out of her. Rue's own stomach drops as Amelia's attention is turned towards them, her arm locking around Rue's and with inhuman strength, before they're thrown against the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley.   Rue's senses are scrambled as their head makes contact with the concrete and blood begins to drip down their face. They manage to turn around, hoping to gain their bearings before it's too late, but Amelia is quickly bearing down on them again, kicking their legs out from under them before landing a metallic punch to Rue's left cheek, knocking them to the ground.   If Rue was able to think clearly at this point, they'd probably be reconsidering their plan to engage anyone Rachel had admired for her toughness, but it's a little too late to think about it as they look up and see the man they'd rode down with quickly running from the scene, dripping blood from his shattered jaw, followed closely by Amelia.   Their ears are ringing as they place a hand on the wall, pushing themself to get back up. Well, their prayer had been answered, they thought bitterly, the pain in their side flaring up again. Letting out a groan, they stumble onto their feet, a metallic taste filling their mouth. With the driver getting chased down by Amelia, Rue limps out of the alley as quickly as they can, heading in the opposite direction, justifying leaving the man behind with the realisation that he ran away first. They remove the balaclava a few streets down once they're certain they're alone, spitting out a bit of blood before putting their hood up. It takes them nearly twice as long as it normally would to get back to the slums, sticking close to the shadows as they force themself to keep moving. Relief floods over them when they make their way to the apartment complex, their adrenaline rapidly seeping away, the aches in their body making themselves even more known. Making their way up to their floor, they slowly hobble to the door, fumbling momentarily with their keys before they get into the safety and warmth of their flat. Suddenly too tired to take another step, Rue slides down the front door, their battered body curling in on itself.   "Rue? That you?" A familiar voice calls out from his bedroom as Doug pokes his head out into the common room. He looks towards the door and sees the crumpled teenager, their face covered in dried and drying blood, "Oh Jesus christ!"   He rushes over and lifts Rue off the ground as the sound of "What is it, babe?" can be heard from the bedroom in a high-pitched voice. Despite their usual qualms about being touched, this act prompts little more than a groan of protest and pain from Rue. He barely seems to struggle as he carries them bridal-style to the couch.   "It's just Rue. Go back to sleep. I'll be back in a moment." He retreats to the kitchen and returns a moment later with a bowl of water, cloth and a first aid kit. "You can't keep doing shit like this, Kid," he says as he wets the cloth and begins to clean the blood off of Rue's face, "You're gonna get yourself killed," Rue grumbles as he continues his work and asks, "What was it this time?"   They flinch as the cold cloth touches their forehead, the movements surprisingly gentle. ''...'s just work,'' Rue grimaces, closing their eyes. They try to sit up on the sofa a little, but the movement sends a jolt of pain through their body, making them gasp. ''Turns out Detective Upton's weak spot is not so weak after all...'' They try to breathe through the pain as Doug continues to clean them up, their head spinning despite lying down.   "Oh, come on," he teases as they flinch, "You've taken a bullet. You can handle a little damp cloth."   He wrings it out into the bowl and begins preparing a bandage for their head, "Jeez. You're not kidding," he mutters as he continues his work, slowly wrapping their wound and laying them back down on the couch, "Alright, you just lie there and try not to move too much. I'll... be back in a little bit."   Rue doesn't hear Doug heading to his room to get changed, they don't hear what he says to Tara, or even the door closing as he heads back out into the night. Their entire world is faint, and soon enough they fall into a fitful slumber.   is a little hazy at first, the aches throughout their body slowly reminding them of the night’s events. Realising that they haven’t reported back to Spider fills them with a sense of dread, and so they try to push themself upright. They let out a groan as their muscles object to the motion, their back feeling bruised, head throbbing and an annoyingly familiar pain flaring up in their side.   “F-fuck…” They hiss through gritted teeth.   "Hey, hey, hey," comes a soft and familiar voice from the direction of the kitchen, "You are in no condition to go anywhere."   Rue begrudgingly turns and sees Tara leaning against the doorframe in pink pajamas and holding a cup of tea. She'd become something of a common sight around the flat since she'd been seeing Doug, but Rue didn't tend to see her a lot of the time, owing to their differing schedules.   "Doug said you should just sit there and rest," her smile beams as she continues, "And I said I'd help play nurse! Now, what can I get ya? Tea? Books? TV remote?"   Rue takes a beat to process what she’s saying, glancing around the living room. “Where is Doug?” They ask confused. Rue winces as they push themself a little more upright, carefully leaning their sore back against the cushion.   "He's at the club," she says, moving over and sitting on another nearby chair, "Covering Maggie's shift today. He'll be back a little later. How are you feeling?"   “Sore,” Rue answers with a huff, patting down their pockets in search of their phone. “I should report back…” They look down at their hands nervously. “He’s going to be pissed…”   "Oh yeah, don't worry about it," she says, placing her cup down on the table and handing Rue their phone from the side, "Doug went to speak with Aloysius. Told him what happened, and managed to convince him to give you some time off."   Checking the phone, Rue could see one message from 'Boss' that reads, "You've got a month. Rest up. I'll be in touch."   They blink at the message dumbfounded, wondering what exactly Doug had said to Creel. The message didn’t exactly read like Spider was happy about the way matters had unfolded, but that was to be expected. Nevertheless, the prospect of a month to recuperate was a welcome surprise, especially with the headache making itself known once more.   Lazily dropping their phone into their lap, Rue looks over at the blonde, “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for some painkillers?” They ask sheepishly.   "Yes, of course," Tara replies, standing and walking back into the kitchen, "What do you want? We've got ibuprofen, paracetamol, or... if you're feeling a little more adventurous..." Rue glances over at the kitchen and sees Tara holding a small bag full of greenish-brown plant matter.   “Ibuprofen will do the trick, thanks.” They say with a bemused smile. As they wait for Tara to grab them a glass of water, they send a quick text to Doug; “I owe you another one of those pastries. Thank you.”   "Ah fine," she says, a little disappointed, "Though you probably could do with relaxing a little. I've never met someone so young, but so serious!"   She returns in a moment with the tablets and water, and Rue takes them as their phone buzzes again with a reply from Doug, "Don't mention it. Just, no more injuries for a while. Deal?"   “Deal.” Rue hits send on the message, taking another sip of water before placing the glass on the coffee table, “Well, I suppose I have a month to relax now,” They say, considering their options. Though they usually enjoy reading a little when they’re off, the mere thought of doing so right now makes their head throb.   “What do you do to relax?” They ask, “Besides the uhh… painkillers.”   "You ever watch Judge Judy?" Tara says, settling into the couch and flicking on the TV.   To be continued...