And You And I

Interlude: The seeds we sow

Author's note:

Hey, Folks and welcome. I'm going to keep this brief, as I suspect this will be the most skipped author's note of the story thus far.

First off, thank you all for all the support you have given me, the response to the last update was amazing.

The title of this interlude: The seeds we sow, is the name of a Lindsey Buckingham track, an artist who I have been listening to a lot recently.

Before we get started I do have to warn everyone that this chapter contains scenes of torture that some of you might find distressing. So, if you don't think you can handle reading about that sort of thing, then please do not read this chapter.

Enjoy.

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Music flowed from a pair of sleek; narrow floor-standing loudspeakers, filling the office with delicate notes from an acoustic guitar and crisp vocals; the sound quality unquestionably excellent. Captain Brooks sat on one of the twin sofas situated on either side of her low coffee table, the placement of which had been such that it put her in the exact centre of the loudspeakers; at the optimum distance. Clad in her uniform of black shirt, trousers and boots, all of which were in pristine condition, she allowed her body to relax slightly, to be drawn into the soft embrace of the sofa, the music washing over her like a soothing balm. This was supposed to be her day off and she intended to enjoy it. Only days off in the penitentiary were not the same as those in a normal occupation. Indeed, even most individuals in the other branches of Global Justice managed to get one genuine day off every week, two at the very most.

The Captain laughed internally at that notion, If some trade union or employee rights body were to audit us, we'd be shut down immediately. However, in relation to her particular situation, only the Director probably got less time off. Being the individual in charge of ensuring the country's, no, the world's, top supervillains remained behind bars was a continuous; never-ending task. The inmates did not all suddenly decide that, because it was the weekend, they'd all take time off from causing trouble and plotting to escape. No, guard patrols and security measures had to remain stringent 24/7, the facility run on a schedule timed to the minute. Which resulted in her days off being more like light workdays.

Yes, she could and sometimes did, delegate her duties for the day to lieutenant Boyle, but experience had taught her that the facility ran best if she remained on hand or at least reachable at all times. Her trip into the field two weeks ago with Corporal Martinez an exceptionally rare occurrence, unless called to Global Justice HQ. When she went to bed at night, she always ensured she had a fresh uniform pressed and ready for her to put on, should the alarm in her quarters sound to indicate her subordinates required her leadership. Every morning, if she had not been called out in the middle of the night and been unable to return to bed, she would wake up, pull on her training gear and exercise for one hour. She would then return, shower, dress in her uniform and make the trip from the guard quarters to her office. She'd then present for morning roll call in one of the four cell blocks, typically block D when Shego was incarcerated, preferring to personally ensure the security of that particular inmate. She would then return to her office for breakfast and review the business of the day, then deal with matters accordingly. Once per week, if everything seemed quiet, she would take the afternoon off, but remain in her office and on rare days like today, she would take the entire day. However, she typically still chose to remain in her office, just in case something happened that required her attention.

The track changed, the busy finale of the albums third song giving way to the chilling strum of a banjo's steel strings. Brooks exhaled slowly, as the instrument continued to lead the song. It was late morning and she felt about as relaxed as she had done in months. I need more days like this, she mused. The job came with a hefty amount of stress, especially when maximum-security inmates escaped. However, so long as she could take one afternoon a week and the occasional full day to relax, listen to some music or read a book, she was able to remain on top of it. Unless, of course, something major happened, in which case she needed to resort to other methods of stress relief.