Strike Two - Fractal’s Breakdown Continues

Posted on Wed Dec 3rd, 2025 @ 4:30am by First Lieutenant Bethany Harrison

Mission: HYDRA: Another Head Rises
Location: Somewhere in the Northwest
Timeline: Current

Bethany sat in a rundown diner in a tiny village in south-eastern Washington. She’d slipped into town early that morning after a week of travel and investigation. Though she appeared to be quietly eating a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, her attention remained firmly on the two men seated in the booth in front of her.

Both were unkempt, feral around the edges. Even in a shabby diner like this, they stood out among the regulars. Their interactions with the woman working the front were abrasive; condescending comments, snide remarks, petty demands. The light-bearer clenched her teeth every time their voices rose. Not because the waitress seemed unable to handle them, she had snark enough to spare, but because the men’s cruelty grated at Bethany’s last nerve.

Their behavior earned them exactly what they wanted: minimal attention. They talked in low, ugly tones about their commune, about the lack of “pliable” women to drag home, about what they planned to do once they found some. Bethany kept her gaze fixed on the clouded window, feigning disinterest, even as fury simmered hot in her gut.

Then one of them noticed her.

“Hey, miss. You new to town?” he asked, leaning past his buddy with what he probably thought was a friendly smile.

Bethany took her time looking his way. She lifted her coffee to her lips, considering whether he was worth acknowledging at all. After a slow sip, she set the cup down.

“Nope. Just passing through.” Her tone was already bored. She went right back to staring out of the dirty window.

“Ain’t you a rude one,” the second man muttered as he looked her over. His scowl sharpened into a greasy grin. “Pretty ones ain’t got no manners anymore.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned back to them.

“Glad to disappoint you.” Bethany leaned back in her booth, crossing her arms. She nodded toward the waitress. “She may have to take your crap, but I don’t. So shut up, eat, and go home.”

“Ain’t you a little young to be so bitter, bitch?” the first man snapped. He slid out of the booth and stretched, anger flushing his face.

Bethany shifted her jacket just enough to reveal the shoulder rig and the .45 nestled inside it. “Don’t. Walk away before you get tangled up in something you can’t handle,” she responded flatly.

His bravado faltered. He scratched the back of his head, trying to recover. “That’s a pretty big toy for such a petite little thing.”

His gaze flicked around the restaurant before he slid into her booth across from her. His grin turned predatory. “I could teach you how to handle somethin’ that big in private.”

“That’s a pretty tiny brain for such a giant pile of shit,” Bethany shot back. The entire diner heard the shift in her tone, pleasant irritation replaced by outright hostility. A few patrons snorted; they quickly looked away when the men glared. “Strike two.”

“What happens if I reach that third strike?” he asked with a dark chuckle.

“I turn you into something wet and spongy,” she said, her emerald eyes meeting his gaze with ice. “And not in a way you’ll enjoy.”

The second man shoved himself upright so fast the table wobbled. “Watch your mouth, you scrawny little whore,” he snarled, face reddening like a boiled ham.

“I’m starting to see the brain shortage in this town,” Bethany said, her gaze drifting over him, then to the men at the other tables. “And a shortage of anything resembling a real man.”

That made several patrons flush in embarrassment. A few scrambled to toss bills on their tables and fled. The two harassers laughed as the others retreated.

“Looks like nobody’s saving the damsel today,” one taunted.

“Y’all really do share a single brain cell,” Bethany said with a weary sigh. “Last chance. Pay your bill. Walk away.”

“Or what?” he snapped, then lunged, reaching across the table. He regretted it instantly.

Bethany caught his wrist in a viselike grip and snapped his middle finger with brutal efficiency. His scream tore through the diner. He tried to yank away; she grabbed his index finger and broke that one too.

“Didn’t your mama teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” she asked, shoving his mangled hand away. The sinister chuckle she added made him pale. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The larger man roared, “Bitch! I’ll kill you!”

His lumbering charge ended abruptly as Bethany rose in a smooth, practiced motion. Her baton snapped to full extension as she cracked him across the skull and he staggered with a pained yelp. She stepped from the booth as electricity arced along the baton with a menacing crackle.

“Try again,” the light-bearer warned. “The next one’s going to hurt.”

The diner erupted in chaos as people hurried out. But neither man ran. Until they heard a shotgun rack behind them.

“Someone should’ve taught you jackasses some manners,” the cook barked from behind the counter. He leveled the weapon at the fat man’s head. “Get out.”

Both men went pale. They scrambled out, tripping over abandoned chairs.

“Don’t come back!” the cook roared.

As the door squeaked shut behind them, Bethany powered down the baton and turned toward the man. Relief loosened her shoulders when he lowered the shotgun and stowed it.

“Sorry about that, miss,” he said. “They’ve run folks off with their mouths before, but never like this.”

“I have an attitude problem that men like that can’t handle,” Bethany said with a half-hearted laugh. She holstered her baton and surveyed the empty room. “Didn’t mean to scare off your customers.”

“You might have an attitude problem, but you’ve got the skills to back it up,” he said, still impressed. “Breakfast is on me. Just leave Janice a nice tip.” With that, he returned to the kitchen.

A moment later, Janice emerged with a coffee cup and a slice of pie. She set them on Bethany’s table. “This one’s on me, sugar. I’ve wanted to see someone knock those idiots down a peg for ages.”

Beth blinked. “Uh… thanks. But you didn’t exactly hold back with them either.”

“Oh, honey,” Janice said with a laugh, “there’s a difference between me mouthing off and you giving a live demonstration about choosing battles wisely. Where’d you learn to move like that?”

“Lots of training,” Bethany replied, her voice dipping. Memories of Jon, of his guidance, his patience, his pride, stabbed sharply through her. She paled.

Janice softened. “Take your time, doll. I’ll get these tables cleaned. If you need anything, holler.”

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Fractal staggered into the narrow cavern system she’d claimed as her fallback point. She had a strange talent for finding places like this; deep crevasses and natural corridors carved by time, and they’d always felt almost comforting.

She wasn’t graceful when she arrived. The mutant fell against the wall, breath ragged, vision doubling. A sharp jolt of pain from her dislocated shoulder cut through the haze, forcing her into focus.

She braced herself, inhaled twice, then slammed the shoulder back into place. The pop made her stomach twist, but the reduced agony and restored movement were worth it. She followed the winding passage until she reached a large magma-formed chamber with its small spring, and collapsed beside it.

That was not an optimal situation, Julius said calmly, though concern threaded beneath his tone. Rook is gone. He cannot come save you anymore. You cannot keep doing this alone.

A nerve twitched hard at the mention of Rook.

“I know Rook is gone,” Fractal hissed through clenched teeth. The anger rose far too fast. “Show me what’s going on.”
I can’t fully disengage yet. Your blood pressure is unstable, Julius warned. Telemetry poured into her vision, an overlay of glowing diagnostics.

Three broken ribs. A deep laceration from the shattered two-by-four. Severe bruising. She replayed the moment, the mutant brute hitting her like a truck, and swallowed hard. Without her nano-armor and Talon’s training, that blow might have killed her. Even with them, the mob dogpiled her before she could get back up.

Attacking from the inside and working outward is not an ideal solo tactic, Julius said in his matter-of-fact tone. And you delayed using your powers for too long.

“Too many innocents,” she shot back, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain and the memories clawing at her. Screaming children. Dead mutants. Blood on her hands, literal and otherwise.

“It worked. Not perfectly, but it worked,” she argued, voice tight with rising panic. “It’s a viable tactic.”

With. A. Team, Julius insisted. You know Rook would tell you the same...

“Stop bringing him up!” Bethany screamed. The sudden outburst sent another stab of agony through her ribs. She gagged, then dry heaved. “It’s hard enough that you sound like him,” she whispered, and then she broke, sobs shaking her whole body.

Julius fell silent. Comforting her had never been within his programmatic strengths, but he understood she had to purge the emotional overload or she would be useless. Worse? Reckless.

When her sobs finally slowed, he tried something new. His voice shifted through accents, British, French, German, Australian, like someone tuning an old radio. Which accent hurts you least when I speak?

Bethany blinked, then let out a startled, breathless laugh. “Stop. My ribs. Stop,” she wheezed. “Don’t change it. I’ll die laughing.”

Bethany, you require medical attention, he said gently.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine.” She wasn’t. The world tilted again. “It’s just ribs. Once you let me clean that cut, I can handle the rest.”
You are the most frustrating, obstinate being I know, Julius snapped, still helping her, still furious. You know what it takes to break your bones. Dyami would come in an instant. Why won’t you call him? Are you trying to get us killed?

“You know better,” she growled. “His healing takes time. Time we don’t have. I’ll be down for hours. We need to hit the next compound before they move the transports. We’re already pushing it.”

Drawing a shuddering breath and bracing herself as the world swam again, Fractal said, “Let me cauterize it. Then we move.”

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FIN
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Bethany Harrison
“Fractal”
Mutant Underground