Mechamorph in DC

Sophia Parker had always been a morning person, but today was different. She'd woken up late, scrambling to finish an assignment that was due in just a few hours. Her mind had been preoccupied with the usual teenage drama—fights with her dad about curfews, friends complaining about their lack of excitement, and the endless demands of her private school. At 15, she was used to it all—the wealth, the pressure, the never-ending expectations. But that didn't mean she liked it. If anything, it made her feel like a caged bird. 

She had managed to grab a quick breakfast of cereal before heading out the door, her mind elsewhere, as always. The bright National City skyline greeted her through the window of her father's sleek, tinted limo. Sophia never felt like she fit in with the other privileged kids at her school. She wasn't into the high-society events her father often dragged her to, and she hated the way people saw her as nothing more than the "spoiled rich girl."

As the day wore on, Sophia went through the motions of school—attending her classes, talking to friends—but her mind wandered back to the fact that she was, just living in the shadow of her father's name. She had no say in most of her life, and the resentment was building up. The freedom she so desperately craved felt a thousand miles away.

By the time school let out, Sophia had just finished texting her best friend about their plans for the weekend. She was eager to get out of the glass-and-steel prison that was her father's mansion. But that afternoon, things took a turn she never could have predicted.

She didn't know what hit her when the van doors swung open, and the men grabbed her. One second, she was walking toward her car, her mind still on the weekend plans, and the next, she was shoved into the back of a dark vehicle. Her heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she tried to scream, but a rough hand covered her mouth. She was too shocked to even fight back.

The journey felt like an eternity, but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. Sophia's head was spinning as she was pulled from the van, her feet stumbling beneath her. Her wrists were bound, her stomach twisted in fear, but the only thing she could focus on was the anger swelling inside of her. She wasn't going to be some pawn in some sick game. She wasn't going to sit quietly while they demanded ransom for her.

They shoved her into an old warehouse, its cold, damp air prickling her skin. Sophia's eyes darted around, taking in the grim surroundings. Rusty metal, piles of forgotten machinery, and flickering lights painted a disturbing picture of where she was. The cold concrete floor beneath her feet felt odd and uneven to walk on. 

The men moved quickly, setting up lights and a camera, positioning her in a chair as though this were some sick, scripted show. Sophia sat there, her hands bound tightly, her frustration rising. She could see the men talking among themselves, but their words didn't matter. None of this made sense. She didn't know how long they'd been planning this, or why they'd decided to target her, but she knew one thing for sure—her father would pay the ransom, no matter what it took.

The camera was placed in front of her, and she could feel the cold, mechanical eye staring back at her. She sat slouched in the chair, looking every bit the defiant captive she was. Her eyes narrowed, and she shot a glare at the men who thought they had control. She wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of fear. Sophia had been through too much in her life to let something like this break her.

She crossed her arms, glaring straight at the camera. "You guys really think I'm just going to sit here and play along with your little game?" Sophia muttered under her breath, though she knew they couldn't hear her. She was tired—tired of the fake smiles, tired of being a pawn in her father's world, and now, very tired of being kidnapped.

The warehouse felt eerily quiet, save for the occasional scrape of boots on concrete or the clinking of metal. Sophia's mind raced, her thoughts focused on her escape. She had to be smarter than these guys. They were big, but they weren't invincible. She wasn't sure how she would get out, but she knew one thing—she wasn't going to be anyone's damsel in distress.

Some minutes passed as the men finished setting up, their voices muffled in the distance, ready to start. Sophia's eyes shifted toward the shadows, the faintest flicker of movement catching her attention. Something—or someone—else was here beside her and the 14 armed men. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't shake the feeling. 

The men moved with practiced efficiency. One of them walked toward the camera while another flicked a switch to start the recording gaining Sophia's attention. The harsh red light from the camera's lens blinked on, and the man in charge turned toward Sophia with a smirk. His voice was cold and calculated as he addressed the lens, his eyes cold and calculating. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Sophia Parker," he said, his tone dripping with false formality. "The daughter of National City's wealthiest tycoon, and the next piece of merchandise in our upcoming deal."

He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting briefly to Sophia before continuing with chilling precision. "This is a message for Mr. Parker. We have your daughter, and if he wants her returned unharmed, he will pay the agreed sum." He let the words sink in, ensuring Sophia caught the weight of the demand. "Ten million dollars, in unmarked bills. No exceptions."

He smirked, then added, "Also, for every two hours there is no money, well, let's just say the situation will become much more… complicated. You can be sure that Mr. Parker will feel the consequences if he doesn't act quickly." The man's cold gaze lingered on Sophia for a moment before he turned back to the camera. "You have twelve hours. Tick tock."

The man finished speaking and gestured toward one of his associates, who stepped forward to hold up a piece of paper with the ransom demand written on it. It was clear. No room for negotiation. They were serious. He held the paper in front of the camera, then dropped it to the floor carelessly, as though the fate of her life meant nothing to him.

Sophia's stomach twisted with unease as the man's words hit her like a physical blow. The smirk on his face made her blood run cold. For every two hours… Her thoughts raced, her mind struggling to process the implications. She knew what he was threatening—he was setting a clock, making it clear that her father had limited time to pay the ransom or the situation would escalate.

Her fists clenched tighter against the ropes, her anger building. They think they can control me. They think they can control him. The idea that her father's decisions—his lack of action—could have such devastating consequences made her feel even more powerless. Her mind instinctively recoiled from the thought of what "complicated" might mean. What will they do? What will happen to me if he doesn't move fast enough?

Her jaw tightened as her gaze remained fixed on the man, her eyes narrowing in defiance. I'm not going to let them break me, she thought, her resolve hardening. My dad will pay. He has to. He'll do whatever it takes to get me back. But there was still that gnawing doubt—what if he couldn't? What if it wasn't enough? The clock was ticking, and with each passing second, the weight of the situation pressed down on her like a suffocating force.

Sophia swallowed hard, her mind racing. The men turned away, giving her no further attention as they went about their business. The camera continued to record, and a part of her wanted to break the lens. But she knew that if she did, she'd only make things much worse for herself.

After a while, she calmed and felt something. She couldn't place it, but it felt like something—someone—was watching them. Her gaze flickered around the dim warehouse, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The men were distracted, unaware of the change in atmosphere. But Sophia's instincts told her something wasn't right.

She subtly shifted in her seat, trying to get a better sense of where it might be coming from. But the warehouse remained as silent and still as ever.