Chapter Text
Tarturus isn't that bad when you’re in maximum security.
Why would one say that though? It’s a prison for people who’ve done the unthinkable. What was an 18 year old doing in the prison system? One Jack, as she was known, sat on the edge of her bed. A book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, in between her hands. Maybe it wasn’t the place she wanted to be in, but she’d take it over being dead. No one could really hurt you if you were removed from society, right?
Besides, she had books, a TV, her IRIS (Integrated Real-time Intelligence System), food, and a (vaguely uncomfortable) bed. What more could she want? From what she’s heard from the guards, some of the prisoners don’t even get news about the outside world. A real person would be nice to talk to, sure, but the guards were enough (for now). Besides, if she really needed someone intellectual to talk to, IRIS had her back. Not that she talks to her out loud, that would look weird. No, her own creation was nestled inside of her body and connected to her nerves with nothing but a scar on her temple to prove its existence within her.
As she tried to focus on the poor Arthur Dent’s woes for the third time that week, three strong knocks came from her cell door. She sighed, looking up from her book in time to see a small window near the top of the door open.
On the other side of the door a guard appeared and shouted, “Prisoner S-68.”
“We’ve been over this my guy, call me Jack.”
“You know how this works,” they said, shaking their head, “I can’t call you that. Come over here so that I can put these on you. You have a visitor.”
Her eyes widened as she made her way to the door, leaving her book on the bed, “A visitor you say? You sure it’s for me? I don’t get those.”
The guard nodded and motioned for her to turn around. She rolled her eyes and did so, putting her hands behind her back to where she knew a small opening would appear.
“You don’t wanna tell me who it is? The anticipation is killing me.”
She felt the clasp of large cuffs encase her hands and she snorted, “I still don’t see the insistence of quirk canceling cuffs seeing as I don’t have a quirk.”
“Them’s the rules. And I don’t know who’s here for you, they just said to take you to them.”
She sighed as the door flew open and the guard motioned for her to come out. She walked up to the guard and offered her arm to them, well, what she could anyway.
“Funny. Ever the gentlewoman.”
“Well, I try.”
The guard grabbed her upper arm and began to lead her to their destination, “Remind me again why you’re in here? You’re legitimately one of the only prisoners the guards fight each other for, you know that? Everyone here would rather be your handler than anyone else.”
“You guys fight for me? That’s so sweet!”
“You still haven’t answered my question though.”
She shrugged, “You go off to be a vigilante once and society goes wild.”
“So ‘Jack’ isn’t your name then.”
“Of course not, what self respecting vigilante uses their actual name? What, you got a bet going around about what my real name is?”
The guard chuckled as they rounded a corner, “Of course, what did you expect?”
“And what’s your guess?” she asked.
“Hisako.”
“What are the other contenders?”
“Shit from Hina or Akira, to your name actually being Jack because it's a foreign name.”
She pondered this for a moment, “Nah, I’m not foreign. I’d give the guy with the name ‘Akira’ a couple of yen though, I used that name as an alias a while back.”
The guard snorted and opened a door, giving her a small push inside. The guard followed and took off the cuffs around her hands and motioned to the chair in front of a glass pane.
She walked over to the chair and sat on it, turning to look at the guard, “So, who am I waiting for?”
“I don’t know, but they’ll be here soon. You know, screening and all.”
She hummed and turned when she heard the door open on the other side.
“Well well well,” she said, her smile growing, “If it isn’t my favorite underground hero.”
Eraserhead sat down on the other side of the pane, smirking, “I would say that you’re my favorite vigilante, but Crawler has you beat.”
“Harsh. You know I can, like, not be here, right?”
“I see your time here hasn’t diminished your sass.”
“What can I say? It’s a part of me. But real talk, why are you here? It’s been like what, five months since shit went down?”
“Well, I came to bargain.”