I recognized her.  Sophia Hess.

Bingo! 😀

I believe I did at one point half-jokingly suggested the idea of one or more of the Harpies being a cape, though I don’t remember exactly when, or if I specified which one (if I did, it was probably Emma).

I pushed my way into the next curtained enclosure.  Stopped.

Oh.

There were shouts behind me, which might have been someone noting my absence.  I was at the point of not caring anymore.

…

What did you just come across.

I tried to take a step forward, to move to the bedside or around it, but my newly healed legs gave out under me.  I crumpled into a kneeling position.

Did… did they take in Tattletale after all?

Or is it Danny?

Staring up at the occupant of the bed, a few things came to me.  For one thing, I got to experience first hand what Brian had told me, about how he’d gone cold, still and quiet inside on that day he’d gotten his powers.

Oh shit.

For another, I realized why they’d had me chained up.  Kind of stupid not to, in retrospect.  A glance at the curtain showed a blue tag, the same style as the red one that had been on my curtain, plastic, unlabeled.

The presence of civilians that the villains could harm?

The bed’s occupant lay on her back, tubes running into her nose and mouth, an IV in her arm.

Guys, I have a sneaky suspicion that this is not Danny. There’s just something about this sentence…

So does that mean Taylor was right to doubt the meaning of “losses”?

An ugly cut marred her right breast and shoulder, which were bare.  Smaller cuts covered the rest of her body.

Running footsteps and the sound of a curtain being heaved open in a neighboring section didn’t stir me from my daze.

Sounds like they’re looking around for Taylor.

The bed’s occupant wore Shadow Stalker’s costume, sans mask.

Oh. Alright…

…

Is it Emma? Or one of the other Harpies? Because damn if that wouldn’t be quite the twist.

Wait, no, definitely not Emma. We’ve seen her and Shadow Stalker in the same place. Twice.

Sophia, perhaps. I suppose the personalities match, to the extent we know them. Also, maybe it wasn’t just the running team Taylor got Sophia in trouble with?

There was a window past the next enclosure.  I wasn’t sure if I could climb out, or if there would be somewhere to go once I had, but it gave me hope.

It’s good to have hope back. I mean, this is a minor thing, but hope is still something we haven’t seen a lot of in this Arc.

No, a better plan of action would be to keep out of sight.

Stealth mode: Activate!

I sent my bugs forward, tracing the lines of the curtains and wall.  Once I was sure that the curtains in the next few patient enclosures were closed, I moved the curtain to my right and headed that way.

Nice.

Some cape I didn’t know was unconscious, blood smeared around his nose and mouth, almost caking the upper half of his mask to his face.

Ouch.

Where’s Greenfire when we need him?

Another enclosure, an empty cot, with red stains on the sheets from whatever patient had been there earlier.

Schrödinger’s stains: Whoever was here earlier is up and about, dead, and/or invisible.

…

Invisible zombies, huh…

In a matter of seconds, I had the keys in hand.  Good.

Sweet.

The cockroach that had brought me the thread helped me figure out the keys that would work, traveling over them to eliminate the ones that were too large, acting as an added digit to help sort through them and putting the right keys between my fingers.  It guided the end of the keys into the lock.  The first key didn’t fit, too large.

Worm; or: 72 Interesting Uses for Cockroaches

The second unlocked the cuff.

I guess the help of the cockroach allows Taylor to avoid the rule of three.

I hurried to unlock the cuff on my left hand, flexed my hand and arm, rubbed at my wrists.

I pulled the covers off, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and gingerly tested them against the ground.  They supported my weight.

😀

The relief was palpable.  Almost something I could feel, making me want to hug my arms around my body in quiet joy.

Careful, you’ll prickle yourself on your cactus arm.

But my priority was getting out of here.  Not so easy, with the amount of capes and PRT personnel around.  No windows around me, but if I stepped outside the curtain and into the main area, I risked running into someone like Legend or Armsmaster.

It’d be kind of funny if all three were right in front of the curtain entrance as she came out.

Hm. New crack theory: What if they wanted to make this happen, for the remaining Undersiders to prove their skills as masters of the escape, and that’s why it “works better if all of you are kept in the dark as long as possible”? Seems quite unlikely, but it’s a fun idea.

I was assuming from what Panacea had said that they had been treated for the injuries that had taken them out of the fight and were up and about.

Yeah, sounds about right.

Hopefully people were too busy to notice the falling keys or the small number of bugs.  I suspected it was crowded and busy out there, from what I had glimpsed when I was brought in.  If people did notice, well, I was still getting arrested anyways, right?

Nothing to lose, I suppose, unless whatever the Protectorate higherups have in mind counts.

Getting the keys up onto the bed would be harder.  I had the roaches put the keys beneath the bed, set them on the blanket, to start unraveling it.  Ten sets of mandibles -eleven now, as another cockroach came from the air vent- each working at individual threads.

…are they making a rope to tie to the keychain?

I was torn between rushing this and doing it right.  I had to convince myself that I wouldn’t be dragged off to jail in the next five or ten minutes.  Probably. 

It probably took that long to get a long enough piece of thread.  One group of bugs set to looping the thread around the keychain, tying it into a firm knot, while the others brought it up the side of the bed, up my body, my arm, and to my hand.

I mean, if wires can make knots without even having a brain, why not roaches?

Once I had the thread in my fingers, I started winding it up around my fingers with a circular motion of my hands, reeling in the keys.

Skitter the fisherwoman.