From one prison to another. No matter how many doors she forced open, no matter how many times she fled, there was no escape. Perhaps this world was designed by Escher, and each time she though she was free she was only running in circles. First there was life…and is not life the greatest prison of all? There is only one escape…there are no loopholes, no tunnels that can be dug. And in this life, there was the Soviet Union. A prison within a prison. Ah, what a cruel motherland! And within that, yet another prison, the one the Master was taken to…try as she might, Margarita could not get him free on her own, and thus was her soul imprisoned. It was the cost of this trapped soul (a butterfly in a jar, or amber perhaps) that the Master was freed…and then the prison of life let them both free, only to reveal that death itself was not an escape. The Master went on to higher planes, but Margarita was trapped in the mortal realm. The jailer? Woland, who had taken a fancy to her, and would never, ever let her go. If he had been merely a mortal, or even an immortal, his mind could have been swayed, but Woland was the devil himself, and Hell would freeze over before he would lose interest in Margarita. It was her own fault really…she should have read the fine print when she agreed to host the Devil's Ball. So the Rabbit Hole was only the latest in this series of prisons, the latest Matroyushka doll in which was curled Margarita.
'…Final proof of the existence beyond…extradimensional? Perhaps fractional…weaponized phasing technology, get behind enemy lines without worry about damages…electrical field disruption we think that…' The words blended together, Margarita had heard them so many times before. They discussed her like butchers might discuss an animal destined for slaughter. Margarita raised one arm, looked at the iron and silver shackles that chained her here, prevented her like slipping away like so much mist…
Meanwhile…
A man leaned on the front desk, talking to the guard there. He was tall, almost unnaturally so, and dressed in a suit several decades out of style. A pair of pince-nez rested on his nose, glittering slightly as the light caught them. The guard was rummaging around under the desk for a visitors' pass, grumbling under his breath. He found the card, and handed it to the scientist, who clipped it to his lapel. The man smiled, showing too many teeth. "Excellent! Let's go look at the prisoner then, I've been waiting months for clearance and I'm not waiting a minute longer." The guard opened a heavy metal door with a card, and gestured for the scientist to follow him. He wasn't sure what the researchers name was…he was some foreigner with one of those names with lots of Zs and Ts and Vs or whatnot. Down a hallway, the prisoner holding cells were here. The scientist grinned more, and winked at those held there. He stopped and waved at Dr. Frank when the guard wasn't looking.
But that was not what he was here for. HIs 'official' field was ectoplasmic research, and there was only one ghost here. They arrived at her cell, and the scientist peered through the viewing window. "Stop, you can't go any further." The scientist had his hand on the locked door, the metal of the doorknob warping under his grip. "Oh really? Are you sure?" He took a hundred dollar bill from his pocket. And then another. And another. He waved the money at the guard, whose eyes were wide. The scientist must have had several thousand dollars in his hand. The guard snatched the money and walked briskly down the hall, 'accidentally' leaving his keycard behind. The scientist picked it up, and opened the door.
"Margarita, there you are! You're a hard one to find." Margarita looked up. "Koroviev? It took you long enough." The demon adjusted his pince-nez, examined the iron power dampener. "There was some business I absolutely had to attend in Russia. You know how it is around election time." The power dampener began to melt under the demon's slender fingers. "And it's hard to track séances…how did you get pulled into one of THOSE? Just unlucky Margarita, that's what it is." The demon straightened up, glanced at one of the cameras in the room. "Be a dear and call up Azazzelo, will you? We're going to have company soon and it will only be a matter of time before that guard I bribed realized that the money is actually old coupons. Even as the demon spoke the door burst open, armed guards taking aim at the demon and the ghost. The room lit with fire, and Azazzello, Hella, and Behemoth stood by Koroviev. "Time for mayhem…exactly what we do best!" Exclaimed Azazzello, leaping towards one of the guards. He vanished, but the guard remained with a dazed expression, the gun hanging from limp fingers…before he opened fire on the other guards. The guards lost focus, and as soon as they did the other demons were on them in a flash. When the smoke had cleared only four guards remained, each possessed by a demon. Margarita hovered above them. "Free the others. The more that are out the better chance we have. Go!" The demon-guards moved into the hallway, running at super-human speeds. They tore doors off their hinges, punched through solid metal. The bodies they inhabited would not last long, but at this point it didn't matter. It was 3:00. Time to run riot.
Log in to comment