Here is chapter 9 of the sci-fi story Company. It has been a while hasn't it? Hope you like!!
The pair regarded the now battered room idly, Wick turning to the young barkeeper, sat unscathed behind his mostly intact bar, shoving the unconscious body of a tough, dark-skinned woman in a boiler suit from the counter before pouring himself a drink, along with two spare glasses.
“Sorry for the mess,” Wick said flatly to the young man swallowing the bite of apple in his mouth, wearing his usual tired expression with a toothy frown.
“…This is actually better than normal after a fight so thanks,” he remarked, filling the glasses with what smelled like port.
“Do I need to pay you for this or?” Wick asked in a disinterested tone of voice as he took another bite out of his apple.
“Just take the cash of the five that started the whole thing and that’ll be it,” he stated flatly, pressing the other two full glasses forward as Cass walked over to the bar now holding a large was of cash she had pilfered already, Wick regarding her with an unsurprised expression. She handed over the money, setting up a chair for herself as she took the glass of port in her clutch, Wick coming over to join her and the bartender.
“Thanks,” Cass thanked, taking a swig of port to wash out the taste of blood and dust, coughingly slightly as it squeezed its way down her bruised chest. “I don’t think I got your name by the way?”
“Cheongmyeong,” he answered in a flat, but slightly irate voice.
“What like the protagonist of ‘The Return of the Blossoming Blade?” Wick asked curiously.
“Yeah, my dad had an unfortunate love of the manhwa, so he decided to name his son after it, the prick,” he grumbled.
“Suits you though,” Cass commented as she took another swig of port. He didn’t grant her a response.
“Just call me Syl or Sylvester, its less annoying,” he grumbled, polishing off the last of his drink. Cass watched him go as she drink further into her glass, wincing minutely as it tapped her bruised nose.
“Hey Syl, have you got any plasters we could use?” she asked, wiping her snout with a finger to see it was still bleeding. He glanced at her surprised for a moment then reached down behind the bar.
“Yeah, but they’re all either pink or some kind of balloon unicorn ones, to try and discourage people from getting wounded in fights,” he explained, laying out a set of three boxes of sticking plasters, along with a silver dish with cotton buds and medical spirits.
“Ah that’s fine, its more to prevent infection than to look cool,” she continued, taking one of the plasters, a light blue one with balloon-unicorns on the front and trying to put it on a gash on Wick’s nose, slightly above the old scar that cut across it, the man pulling away from it with a far from pleased look on his face.
“The fuck are you doing?!” he snapped as she tried to put it on a mocking smile unthinkingly revealing itself on her face.
“We don’t want you to get an infection Wick! Who knows what’s on this planet, especially out in those wetlands,” she finished in a sing-song voice, mischief clear on her face.
“If you want to fuck with me just say it,”
“I wanna fuck with you, cause they clash with your image a lot, it’s funny,” she reiterated with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. He grimaced at her honesty while Sylvester watched perplexed, Cass taking the moment to slap the plaster onto his nose. “There we go! That looks much better!” she snickered to herself as Wick glowered at her, “alright, alright, I’ll stop,” she finished, tending to her own wounds.
Wick turned to Sylvester with an exasperated look, “do you have any normal bandages as well, I want to do my knuckles,” he stated flatly, flexing the back of his hand at the young man.
“Yeah, but you dress yourself. I don’t want to be liable for it,” he stated, grabbing a roll of bandage from behind a bottle of absinth. Wick nodded and set to it, cleaning and bandaging his knuckles, and applying two more, hot-pink, plasters to cuts on his face. The pair finished tending to their own wounds, Syl watching them with blank curiosity. “About a place to hide, what are you looking f-” he began to ask, half-hiding his curiosity in a cloak of disinterest, when the doors were flung open again this time by a pair of UN soldiers, one holding the white SMG they had seen with others, the other a blocky white shotgun, a bandolier of shells attached to his equipment webbing.
“Hands where I can see them!” the first one ordered, a medium height woman armed with the SMG with the Montenegrin flag on her shoulder. She aimed the SMG at the three of them, Wick and Cass slowly and unenthusiastically stepped off from the bar.
“Come forward,” the second soldier, lankier than his partner and distinctly worse kempt, acne and shrapnel scars pockmarked his cheek along with half-shaved five o’clock shadow. He spoke with a light Cornish accent, the UK flag on his shoulder confirming it. “We got reports of a fight down here again,” he began in an authoritative voice, glancing about at the various punched-out bodies on the floor, “well, its obvious there was one but it seems its smoked itself out. Since you’re the last ones standing we’ll ask you,” he continued in a rather flippant voice, unloading his shotgun before resting it over his shoulder.
“I can assert that they didn’t start it,” Syl called out from behind the bar, the woman glancing at him while she still wielded her weapon.
“Are you the owner?” she asked in a harsh, crisp voice.
“Yeah,” he answered then leant on the bar, gesturing between Wick and Cass, “these two were just sat at the bar when Simon came in and punched Wick in the face for no reason,” he explained flatly, the man gesturing for his partner to take down his statement.
“So it was self defence?”
“Yeah,” Wick and Cass answered together.
“What about the rest?” he asked, glancing around the room.
“No clue, they just joined in,” Cass answered, shrugging, Syl nodding when the Montenegrin turned to him. The second soldier looked at the sceptically as he scanned the room, then noticing a man wearing a light grey suit. He cocked his jaw at the sight, seeming to think something over in his head before metaphorically tossing the idea aside, turning back to the trio.
“Well, the matter seems to have resolved itself. You can stay if you need any medical attention, but bar from that, your free to go - Just don’t cause any trouble,” he brusquely ordered, standing aside as his partner lowered her weapon, slinging it over her back.
The pair didn’t respond to him, walking past him to leave, until Wick turned back to look at Syl, “Thanks for the bandages Sylvester, keep yourself safe,” he called in a flat but sincere tone. They left before he could give a proper response, leaving the young man to smile lightly to himself before setting to tidying up while the two soldiers prepared to take the various brawlers to one of the first aid stations, laying them across the floor, making sure there was no broken glass or the like.
Wick and Cass strolled down the street, evening slowly creeping upon them. “One of those grey suited merc’s was there,” Cass suddenly ejaculated as they were walking, keeping her voice low as they rounded a narrow corner, a few dozen people lingering if the finally dulled heat though relief was absent from their faces.
“Yeah,” Wick bluntly agreed, neither stopping as they walked. “The soldiers seemed to notice him, but didn’t say anything. Considering what we know about CLR… They are likely given a free pass as much as that goes, but I can’t be sure about much else,” Wick muttered.
“Do you think they’re in their pocket?” Cass asked nonchalantly, glancing over her shoulder.
“Nah, they’d have just taken us at the gate if they were working with them, save the disruption of a barfight,” Wick answered, feeling rain tap his shoulder as he walked, the dark sky being slowly broken by heavy rain that soon flooded the senses. There was a split between those who dove away from the rain under whatever shelter availed them, or those who danced or languished in the black curtain of rain-expressions of rare joy or passable content occupying their faces.
“Where to go then?” Cass asked, rain water rapping itself on her scales and gliding down, further soaking the collar of her shirt. Wick didn’t answer, mulling something over in his head as they stood under a slight overhang that shielded their backs and not much else. After a moment he leaned forward and set off, Cass regarding him curiously for a moment while she picked at her teeth, still missing a fang after the last fight. She watched him walk then grinned to herself and followed him.
“Where are we going?” she asked in a calm, but anticipating voice.
“Somewhere were we probably shouldn’t go,” Wick answered in a tired but almost pleasant tone.
“My favourite,” Cass grinned back, leaning forward as she smiled evilly to herself, Wick sighing in amusement, a smile momentarily occupying his face. They walked, shadowed by the rain, to the westernmost edge of the city. They saw fewer soldier patrolling through the rain, though they now saw what seemed more like policemen, hired from the refugees and wearing rain poncho’s over their uniforms, done in a similar blue to the soldiers, though wearing kepi style hats with neck flaps rather than helmets. They walked around with dreary but purposeful faces, ardent in their job, as it was likely all they had left.
Eventually, they reached the edge of the sprawling settlement. There were few shacks around, a few still half built on fresh foundations, but it was mostly bare, new yet already worn, dirty and damaged. Hung of the edge of the street, surrounded by chain-link fencing, was a UN building comprising of a small service building adjoined to a mooring for a trio of river patrol boats and what seemed to be a single amphibious infantry-fighting-vehicle. The building itself was only just larger than a shipping container, small glass windows placed evenly along the long face that butted onto the street, the entrance door at the far end, closest to the terminal of the streets’ path. It was painted a deep blue, made of rough plastic that caught scum on its lower skirting, the galvanised steel frame of it poking through at the joints. The fencing sat on the street, blocking off access to the open space near to the building, or the stairs leading down to the moorings, the fence shieling the sides for a short distance until they stopped, part way into the water.
Wick glanced around the site, staying away from the windows, walking near to the corner of the fence, standing on the edge of the pathway before stepping off the side, falling down until he grabbed the edge with his hand. Cass silently leered over the edge with a look of wild amusement on her face before she hopped down to join him. They both shimmied along, clambering across the chain-link fence until they came to its end, just parallel with the start of the decking that made up the slap-dash docks. Wick jumped across the empty bay that sat between the fence and a gangway, the floating path, bobbing with the landing, miraculously silent on the still water. He stepped forward down the gangway, crouched low as he walked past the riverboat next to him, all steel with a gun turret in the bow, two at the rear port and starboard sides, shielded with steel plates and a central cabin, semi-embedded in the hull, not poking out much higher than the crest of the bow.
There were two windows at the rear of the building, now looming silently over them, the dim light of an adjacent room glowing through the thin glass of the leftmost window, near a rear door that lead onto a narrow staircase. The stair ended on a thin cantilever platform that came off from the square concrete stilts that the higher foundation stood on. The pair crept up the stair, light-footed, low, as they came to the door. Wick turned let Cass go forward to begin picking the lock, turning to keep watch around them, making sure the guard didn’t move, the dull buzz of a radio audible through the thin walls.
The tumblers of the lock snapped softly behind him as Cass finished, softly opening the door before going inside with Wick. It was a large room, taking up two thirds of the building, three of the four walls occupied with desks and large filing cabinets along with corkboards covered with broadcast channels, maps, logistics and inventory reports and marker scrawled insults and orders. The final wall, to the right of them as they entered, was split between two doors, one allowing dim orange-yellow light bleed into the large room, half-heartedly illuminating a fraction of the space. There was some stirring from the lit room when they entered, Wick and Cass pulling back from the door slightly as they waited through the sound, but nothing came of it and the door remained shut. As they silently re-entered Cass whispered to Wick.
“Are we taking one of the river boats then?” a slightly giddy tone in her hushed voice as she crept toward on of the walls, seeing a small red cabinet with a Plexi-glass face filled with what it declared were ‘Spare’ keys.
“No,” Wick answered as began to go through one of the desks on the opposite side of the room, knowing a somewhat disappointed look crossed Cass’s face as he said it. “It would draw too much attention, they’d likely send a hunting party after us. Plus, considering that we are the only new people in a while, they’ll suspect it was us and impound my ship… I’d rather not have to deal with that,” Wick explained.
“Fair enough,” Cass sighed as looked away from the keys, “but what are we actually here for then?”
“Maps. We want to find wherever that CLR ship took off from out there, so it’s a good idea to get a map,” Wick answered rifling through draws as loose penicils, staples and miscellaneous files rattled about inside at the movement.
“That’ll help us get around, but how will it help us find the thing, the co-ordinates weren’t exactly pin point,” she finished with a slight hint of regret.
“Simple,” Wick answered, pulling out a few files and maps from a filing cabinet and inspecting them as Cass found a large one showing various Un sites and patrol routes, “we look for where they stay away,” he finished, laying out the maps on a wide desk as the thin end of the room.
The one he had got out was a semi-topographical map, showing the main waterways of the region and their depths along with the varied clusters of solid ground, jungles and others. It was expansive, correlated with Cass’s patrol map it showed a large amount of where UN troops would travel, along with far of sites and outposts. The pair searched over the maps, pulling out a few more as they inspected them, laying them over-top the others until Cass spotted what looked like a blank space for UN inspection. It was deep in the thick, tangled knots of the jungle, miles away from any navigable river, rather oddly considering the previous trends of the water-flow around it, almost as if they were deliberately filled in. It was in a wide area set in the damp crest of a mountain massif a few dozen miles away from it.
“That’s got to be it,” Cass asserted, pressing her claw into the map, the linnened-paper creasing from the pressure. Wick inspected the point silently, not making any motion of agreement before turning her.
“Look for the close maps of this region again, along with local ground patrols, don’t want to get caught out there,” he stated flatly, wordlessly agreeing with Cass’s bet, to the woman’s pride. She set to grab the maps, grabbing a UN map-bag as she did to hold them in.
“You sure we should take these? You were worried about getting caught,” she asked, more for conversation than worry.
“They won’t miss a few maps,” he replied dismissively handing her a few maps as well as a bottle of orange soft drink he had found in a small mini-fridge. They heard a stir from the guard room behind them and snapped around to look before ducking out of the building, creeping low against the right side of the building’s rear as they heard the soldier fling open the door to the main room. He tromped through, smacking the light switch as he walked, Cass and Wick now at the side wall of the building. Wick hopped up and grabbed the side of the building, pulling himself up onto the roof before helping Cass as they then jumped off the roof silently onto the pavement of the main street while the guard called out for what likely were some of his comrades who he suspected had raided the place.
They strode out of view of the building, back down the near empty street, Cass twisting open the bottle in her hands while Wick left his until they found covered alley to duck into. “That was fun,” Cass remarked between drafts of her drink. Wick didn’t respond, simply cocking his head to the side as he drank down half of the bottle in his hand.
“If we leave from the northmost end of this place,” he began, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his pistol, pressing a magazine of .32 ACP into it, “we’ll be able to get onto the jungle without needing a boat, we can just wade through the shallows that the promontory is built on,” he finished, racking the odd slide of the Dreyse before putting his arm ahead of her, his pistol clutched in his hand and firing twice at a large creature, illuminated in two vicious snapshots of muzzle flash, the two bullets felling the bloated, water-rat like creature which slumped dead with a quiet, burbling wheeze.
“Sound good?” Wick asked, not quite fazed by the action.
“…Yeah,” Cass replied, taking a moment to be surprised before it soon lost her attention. Wick unloaded his pistol, making sure to clear the chamber and replace the bullet back into its magazine while Cass glanced back at the unsettling creature. “What even is this?” she asked, nudging its body with the toe of her boot, the wet otter like fur a dull red-brown in colour, akin to the lower roots of an aquatic tree.
“No clue, must be a native predator,” Wick supposed, finishing off the rest of the orange drink as he did.
“Why a predator?” Cass asked, though not disagreeing.
“Who would let themselves be prey with teeth like that?” Wick commented bluntly, referring to the set of eight knife-needle canines decorated the creatures mouth, dirty from algae and rotting flesh.
They set off for the northern extremity of the settlement, the trip requiring another hour and a half through the now night-time camp, the pair weaving through narrow streets rarely lit by irregular and feeble lights as people roamed about in the back night, braving the raining pitch as the sound of hard rain against wood, concrete and the water below drowned out all axillary noise. The northern side soon became sparse like the western, but to a smaller scale, the semi-solid ground being far more built up even at the edge, a number of UN soldiers lingering at watch-points accompanied by pairs of police officers, watching over the semi-emaciated faces of the camp’s residents. The pair continued, aware of the slowly drifting searchlights that whirred overhead, watching the jungle’s edge, gliding menacingly like a white spectre over the opaque waters. The pair lingered by a corner of a wooden shack near the sudden terminal of the wooden promenade, keeping their faces hidden, pretending to be hiding from the burgeoning monsoon as a pair of waterlogged policemen patrolled the street, one walking with a noticeable limp as a wet leg brace glistened from the rain on his left.
When they were out of sight, and the searchlight now moving slowly away from their intended path, the pair moved. The hopped down from the raised street down onto the swamp-land below, their boots sinking into the soft peat below, muddy water pooling around the foot prints. They advanced forward, crouched low while they hurried forward, lukewarm rain falling in a heavy curtain over everything in sight, slowly swelling the waters that surrounded the settlement. The ground shifted under each fleet-footed step the pair made, the facsimile of solid ground made by the layers of twisted plant growth and enraptured soil soft below them. They half-way the swamp-land fell away into shallow water, about knee height, swelled by the rain and moving far apace of its usual. They waded through the water, already soaked through by the rain, keeping low against its surface. There was a path to the shallows, marked on either side by the suddenly calmed waters were it was clear the shelf of soil that the pair walked on suddenly fell away. As they traced the path, now far slower than before to not risk stepping off the path into deeper water or the path collapsing without warning.
But, as they continued, crouched low in the river while they held their pistol high above them, the searchlight suddenly swung round. The pair saw it race towards them, the white-hot eye flashing over the uneven surface of the water and broken jungle’s edge as it came close to them. Cass dropped low, dragging Wick down into the water with her until it covered everything below the nape’s of their necks, Cass gripping her pistol between her teeth while Wick held his just above the water, his face stiff and inexpressive.
The searchlight ran closer and closer, the heavy thrush of the rain and wind almost twisting into the sound of the dead sphere of light as it came for them, drowning out their own noise as the river rushed around the near-submerged heads of the pirate and the free-booter. Then, it swung left, rushing instead to the jungle’s edge followed swiftly by a small patrol boat that had crept unseen behind the light, stopping with it.
Slowly sound returned to accompany the wind and rain rather than the soulless predator of the searchlight as Cass began to hear her own heartbeat. She let out a low breath, glancing to Wick beside her, seeing him inspecting the illuminated scene before signalling for Cass to follow him forward. They stayed low in the water, the disturbed, black-green tumult thrashing against them, threatening hoarsely to drag them under as the pair felt the riverbed underfoot shift with the currents. Eventually they made it to the other side, both glancing over the illuminated jungle someway away from them, lit up a sickly white glow as if the foliage itself was bleached a pale yellow of death. They sped forward into the woodland, not wanting to be out in the open while UN troops were lingering so close by.
They marched through the night as the monsoon thrashed overhead, dashing through the thick canopy overhead and flooding the already water-logged ground of the swamp. When it pressed past midnight the pair stopped, feeling they were far enough away from the troops of the camp, and decided to wait until morning to continue through the thick jungle a task hard enough even without the thick, drowned darkness of night. They clamoured up into a pair of trees that resembled mangroves with their thick meshed roots that stood like stilts over the marshy ground below, halfway on land and shallow water. Cass simply laid down on the branch and fell asleep, leaving Wick to take the first watch, sat in a high branch looming over the ground below like a colossal owl.
The rain and wind ended with daylight, the sun suddenly looming large over the wide space and turning the chill morning air humid, the jungle seeming to come alive with alien yet familiar sounds as fauna hiding from the storm re-emerged out int daylight. Yet, at the same time, there seemed to far, far too little sound for such a habitat. Cass stared out at the space curiously as Wick got up behind her, both having slept in their soaked clothes, the now damp fabric having creased horribly as they dried on them.
“Not dead yet then?” Wick asked flatly, stretching his arms as he asked, looking to Cass with his usual toothy-expression.
“No not yet.” Cass hopped down after she responded, Wick doing the same. As the sunlight began to illuminate the jungle through the thick leafy canopy overhead they were able to take better stock of their surroundings. The ground was thick with water-foliage, from small lily-like plants to winding weeds and algae like growths in addition to great, broad-leafed bushes. They thrived in the low soft ground that frequently dipped down into small slow-moving creeks and pools that connected into wide swamps. High trees pulled up from the drowned plant floor, the ones closer to the water were more like the one the pair slept in, wrapped in smooth black-brown bark. Yet, despite the thriving jungle, it seemed bare, lifeless almost.
This did not do anything to make the pair less wary.
“Check the map,” Wick ordered, taking out his pistol to check it was still functioning as he glanced around for any watching predators. Cass pulled out the maps, along with a compass she had snatched up as well, wary that the magnetic field could be unusual.
“We left the settlement from this side here,” she stated, tapping the map with a claw as Wick looked over her shoulder at the map, “we ran roughly in this direction, but I don’t know how much distance we realistically covered so we are around this area,” she finished gesturing to a wide area of deep green forest that covered the map. She looked at it with a silent frown, Wick looking at it with seeming disinterest as his eyes scanned the creased linen sheet.
“There’s a river to the west, we can follow it northwards and work our way from there,” he suddenly announced, referring to a wide river that ran as a long, wide scar through the terrain, marked as a patrol route, a few sites labelled as UN facilities on the far bank of the river.
“Keep low in the treeline?” Cass asked, an exited smile flashing on her face like she was a child playing a game of tag.
“Yep, I don’t know how frequent the patrols are likely to be, but it’s the best bet of finding our way… At least compared to stumbling around this place until something decides to have us for lunch,” Wick replied, a sardonic tone crackling in his voice as he stretched his arms, flexing his fingers before checking his watch for the time.
They set off, not lingering in the same place for too long. They had to wade a long way through the soft ground, made of silt-heavy soil and dead plant matter, the ground revealing the small alien insects that thrives in the nutrients rich ground, the only animals that showed themselves. It was hot and humid, even before the sun reached its despotic throne of midday, the pair making sure to ration their water as the marched. After about an hour they came to the river, staying a good way into the thick tree cover that crept right up to the waters edge, knotted vines as thick as a man’s wrist tangled round the circuit like roots of the trees. A few irregular shapes lounged in the water, swimming down its course or hiding in glittering masses of reeds, their thin eyes or silent snouts poking above the water. Neither felt inclined to investigate further, particularly due to the rotten, septic corpse that bobbed in one of the small eddies that formed at the broken edge of the river bank. It was an ugly, unnatural creature, with the gangrene and rot hard to distinguish from genuine flesh. It was covered in ratty black fur, half fallen away or eaten by rot or the insects that swarmed the carrion wreck, and featured a hideous long face edified with sharp razor blade like teeth, long and thin laying horizontally in the jaw.
The pair stuck within the brush, set on a small ridge set back from the river’s edge, likely the end off its floodplain the river still swelled up to it from last night’s storm, drifting slowly past its edge, stained green-brown chocked with foliage and broken limbs of trees. After about an hour they heard the sound of breaking water and ducked further into the brush, silently watching the river as the sound approached. After a slow, sweltering moment a pair of river boats, part of the UN’s brown-water navy ran down the river, kicking up great cascades of water as their bows lifted out of the water from water-jet engines. Cass and Wick glanced to each other before both pulled back from the rivers edge, though still close enough that it was still visible, then continued walking. When they reached the turn in the river that marked where they would change course, they noticed a patrol boat moored up by the shallow river line.
Cass shifted forward to look at it, leaving Wick behind before he could tell her to wait. Luckily the boat was empty, not a single soldier left in it, though not looking abandoned. It seemed almost in situ, a game of cards left in play in the centre of the deck on an upturned crate of ammunition next to a crate of drinks. As Wick approached, keeping his pistol in his grip as he came over, carefully scanning the tree-line staring out into the opening in the thick woods that the craft’s bow seemed to point into.
“Anything useful?” He called to her, looking down at the ground.
“Not really, they took all the rifles, so the spare ammunition doesn’t have much use,” she answered, walking over to the sunken cabin to see a gaping hole where something had been yanked from the floor, “and it looks like they’ve taken something to disable the boat.”
“They’ve gone to patrol the jungle,” Wick stated flatly Cass coming out to see him crouched close to the ground, gesturing to it with the barrel of his pistol, “they’ve left tracks in the mud going in, so we’ve got to be wary as we goo further in. Its unlikely that they’ll be going the same way, but its better to be on guard,” Wick stated, watching the tree-line fruitlessly then putting out a hand as Cass grabbed a drink from the crate in the boat. The fruity drink threaded the line between medicine and a soft drink, Wick turning it over and seeing it had rehydration agents in it. He downed the rest quickly before chucking the can into the boat, Cass doing the same, though a grim look on her face from the taste.
It took another day of travel until they began to get close. As they came closer they noticed how some of the larger rivers that came close suddenly, unnaturally ended, the river-beds further on filled-in leaving unnatural lanes of young foliage and dying trees, isolated from much needed water. It was an unnerving dichotomy that began to overtake the area as they made their way slowly closer. New, strange plants began to appear more and more as they approached closer, displacing old and dying natives plant. They were unnatural, being of great proportions or nature, almost impossibly for their own structure as the sound of insects finally began to appear in the air.
The pair soon found that this was in no way a comfort.
Overhead buzzed an oversized, menacing creature resembling some nightmarish wasp, yet the size of a eagle, its carapace a deep black muddled with green, resembling the underside of the tree canopy. The pair shifted away from the thicker brush after that, seeing a few smaller animals as they continued, mostly insectoid. But, even here the space seemed depopulated.
Finally, the pair stumbled into a thin break in the tangled growth of the forest, the light overhead illuminating a waterlogged square of grass, no more suspicious from any angle except when stood within it. The ground was lumpy, but not in a natural way. It suddenly popped up a few inches from the forest floor… like something had been left under the blanket of waterlogged flora. Cass walked up to it first, feeling the shift in height as she stepped onto the firmer section, kicking her heel into the soil to feel for anything underneath, already looking like much of the original growth had died or washed away. As Wick kept watch, she suddenly felt as her foot hit something hard, giving the sensation of cold, wet metal.
“I think I found it!” Cass shouted, kneeling down and tugging at the sodden ground, the root-ridden soil coming up in great clumps, the eight-inch-deep soil soon baring forth black-grey steel resembling a bunker door as Wick came over to help. After about ten minutes, the whole of the door was exposed, revealing an eight-by-four-foot bulkhead door, raised slightly from a concrete plane set deeper into the soil. “Hah, this looks interesting, now we just need to find a way to get into it!” Cass declared with an excited relish.
Wick himself leaned close to the door, inspecting the edge of the door as he kneeled over it, then reaching over it to the raised lip of the door’s face and pulling out a lever set against the lip far from him, then doing the same for its twin close to him. With a clunk and a hiss, the door suddenly shifted, hinging up at its narrow edge like a flip phone as hydraulics pushed it up along a new but tarnished rail.
Cass looked at Wick surprised - her mouth hung slightly agape. “It was a standard type of lock used in some of the older nuclear-shelters – thought I should try it at least,” Wick explained flippantly, his voice revealing some of his own surprise that it worked. It seemed a bit lax in terms of security for how hard they had tried to hide the site so far…
“I have a bad feeling about this…” Wick murmured, looking down into the dank stair well that was slowly being illuminated as the door open wider and light dribbled into the mildew-stained space.
“Has there been anything to feel good about?” Cass quipped light-heartedly, the thin-ice of confidence willingly showing she shared his uncertainty. Wick grimaced, his lips twisting over his bared teeth before he stepped over the lip of the door, his boot landing on one of the concrete steps and beginning his descent, Cass following after him. They descended the stairwell into darkness, the alien sunlight soon floundering in the depths or the tunnel as the pair pulled out torches. The tunnel went down deep, stale air sitting low in the off-white concrete chamber, then coming to a small room, dirty with litter, discarded papers and speckled dried blood that glistened like cheap rubies under the torchlight.
At the end of the room facing the stairs, there was a steel door, a complicated electric combination lock on its face, just above an industrial lock… rendered useless as the door stood slightly ajar, a thin sliver of pale blue light falling through the gap when the two pointed their torches away. Wick crept towards the door, holding his torch above his head with his left hand while he readjusted his grip on his pistol, hung loosely in his right arm. He checked to make sure Cass was ready, the Neidr in question aiming her pistol determinedly at the door, before quickly but quietly pushing the door open. Wick kept behind the door frame as he waited for any noise or sign that anyone was waiting, or had heard them – but he was met with silence.
Wick looked through past the doorframe, seeing a wide corridor with white linoleum floors, an empty checkpoint booth set into the wall to the left, laid in darkness only mitigated by a clinical, almost nuclear blue emergency lighting that filled the whole space. The plexi-glass front of the checkpoint had a number of holes shot into it… Wick stepped into the hall, switching off his torch and putting it away, looking further around the hall, tapping his trigger finger on the side of his pistol as he crept forward. Cass entered after, in a similar stance as she went to the wall by the checkpoint, examining it in the weak light. As Wick came closer to the end of the hall, and the T-junction it split into, looking down one end and seeing an empty hallway, Cass called back to him, “Hey, I think I found a floor-map!” she called, trying to be quiet as she spoke. Wick turned back, quickly making sure the hall was clear before coming back to Cass, the woman in question inspecting an A3 size floor plan of the site, the outline done in black on the white poster, with a small dot to show where the pair were stood. The site seemed much larger than the two had expected, a great mess of right-angle tunnels that went off in an elaborate interweaving pattern, with a few extreme promontories that formed isolated complexes, many sections done in different colours with small labels placed next to rooms or entire sub-complexes, the largest being in green, the other two being far smaller by comparison.
But… there was no legend on the map – not one of these guiding features was explained. Either the map had been defaced, or a separate document was needed. “At least we know how big this place is, at least…” Wick mumbled concernedly. The pair moved on from the map, returning to the junction Wick had looked down. They turned down the left corridor, remembering how the map showed a collection of rooms further down the corridor, down a right turn. The space was wholly illuminated solely by the sickly nuclear blue emergency lights, many having failed as rainwater dribbled down the concrete walls, covered in rashes of hair-line cracks where the weight of the world above was crushing the secret space. As if stamping on a discarded cigarette. Their foot-falls continued, splashing in puddles of stagnant water as they turned the corner. As they walked down the hall to the rooms they had seen, they saw, though hard to make out in the blue light, a light blue stripe suddenly appeared on the concrete walls which continued on as they went further into the subdivision of the complex. Another map could be seen just at the corner of the corridor where the blue stripe had begun, Wick turning on his torch to inspect it. It showed a similar map of the complex as the first, though this time shrunk down in the corner of the poster, the main focus being a blown-up diagram of the subdivision of the complex the pair had come to. It showed what looked like at least twenty offices organized around a space, almost like the cloister of a church – the role of the centre being still unclear, along with the whole area as the map lacked a legend, the same as the map at the entrance.
Wick grimaced at the map as Cass peered around the corner, looking left to see the unassuming steel-faced doors that lined the corridor. She kept her pistol drawn as she approached them, pressing them open with her free hand as she pointed her pistol into the room, feeling the stagnant air lurch from the abandoned room into her face. She stepped into the room confidently, but light-footed, raising the muzzle of her pistol up, pointing it to the roof as she advanced. The room was cold, sat in the dark, the emergency lighting failing to reach into the windowless room, though the dull hum of an air-vent overhead sang in a low baritone through the room. The room was occupied by a few pieces of furniture, namely a desk covered by rotting and stained paper and a cannibalised computer – the screen’s top corner shattered and the rear panel pulled away to show a ravaged array of internals, snapped where something had been pried out. Along with that, a drawing table, covered with the torn corners of what looked like blueprints forming an abandoned collage on its surface and a few other small office effects, and small bed cot set against the wall perpendicular to the door.
The place had a general air that whoever had worked here had been bundled out in a hurry, taking only the essential.
Cass shoved her pistol into her holster and crouched down to inspect one of the documents scattered on the floor, shining her torch onto the off-white paper, attempting to make sense of the text. They were unimportant documents, discarded on the ground, covered with complex equations, electronic diagrams – the latter being much more Cass’s field, up to a point – order requests and general communiques. All that could be gleaned from it was that at least some involvement with something electronic, and that there was a central computer for the site, one that had a flaw that the absentee occupant of the office routinely complained about.
She collected a few of the circuit diagrams, and the note about the computer server, and then stood up, seeing Wick lingering near the doorway, keeping vigil in the hall then shifting as Cass came out and leading her into the next room that he wanted to check. He led Cass down the hallway, to a door that faced down the right turn of the circuit of corridor that surrounded the central room. As Wick tried the door it simply rattled in the frame, knocking against the lock. As Cass moved to pick the lock Wick bashed his shoulder into the door, causing it to fall from the frame, its hinges dragging down two blocks of rotten concrete with them.
Wick stared forward into the space nonchalantly, switching on his torch as he strode in, stepping on the door laid in a shallow puddle of water, trickling in from the roof down a stained pillar thick with algae and pond scum. The office was far worse than the one Cass had inspected, herself stepping into the room after Wick, half of the floor flooded with stagnant water as the roof seemed to collapse at one end, above the bed.
“See if you can find anything useful,” Wick stated as he stepped off the door and walked to the desk near the centre, half sunk in water, algae growing up its legs.
“Right,” Cass stated, looking for any similar papers to the ones she had found in the first office. She spotted a notebook in a low shelf, the bottom of its cover sat just under the water-line, and picked it up, shaking it slightly as water dribbled from its bottom edge. As she peeled apart the pages, staring hard at the bleeding-black letters that seemed to amount to a cross between a ship’s-log and the diary of a teenage girl, Wick called her over. As Cass came over, she saw Wick shining his torch onto a small ID card, the type attached to a lanyard, showing a bust-height photo of an ebony skinned man in a lab coat, next to a set of coloured lines – blue, green, and red - labelled ‘Robotics’, ‘Biotics’ and ‘Medical’ respectively. Cass reached for the card and inspected it closer when Wick handed it to her.
“I think we found the other half of our map,” he remarked sardonically as he stood back up, a smile flashing half-heartedly on his face. “From this, it looks like we are in robotics…” Wick mused, stepping over to the door and peering back out into the hallway, his eyes lingering on a door into the pseudo cloister of the sub-complex. “Why don’t we see if we can find anything about your Lauxes then Cass?” he asked with a slight relish in his voice as he strode over to an entrance of the centre room. He pressed open the door with his right forearm, still gripping his pistol, as he shined a torch into the space.
The centre room was an open space, though not too much larger than the offices themselves, with the appearance of a workshop under the blue emergency lighting. It was filled with workbenches covered with loose tools - calculators, measuring instruments, blow torches etc. – loose notes strewn about them, or stuck onto conspicuously empty whiteboards nearby half-rubbed out notes and diagrams.
What caught the pair’s eyes, however, was a half-assembled robotic creature, discarded on one of the workbenches, half of its scorched panelling pulled away to show a complex set of servos and hydraulics muffling a minute assortment of dead electronics. It resembled a Laux heavily, their eyes – if you could call them that – were of a similar shape and colour, though the face of this one was far more pointed, much more akin to a something like a Doberman than the Lauxes flat faces, an assessment reinforced by the jagged lower jaw the creature was fitted with.
“What even is this?” Cass asked, moving to inspect it, shining her torch onto the exposed internals of the wreck, half of its side blasted off with the frayed edges stained black by soot. Both she and Wick investigated it, looking at the metallic skin – notably made of thin, hollow rectangular tubes that seemed stained with some long-removed content, and also highly malleable, bending hard under a soft press from Cass. Whatever the power source was, and how the lasers in the eyes worked was not clear.
“I suppose this is some relative of the lauxes… though I much prefer them to something like this,” Wick commented as he lifted the head of the failed robot, pressing a finger close onto the blade-like teeth sporting the monster’s mouth. “But why this is a secret that they would be willing to kill over is still a bit beyond me…” he grumbled, a bored expression coming with his exasperated tone.
“Maybe it’s not just because of the Lauxes… maybe it’s because they came from this place?” Cass posited, turning to wick as she leaned over the creature, looking over a few scattered documents, including one talking about lead-bismuth coolant for a fusion reactor. Wick didn’t respond as he scanned the room with his flashlight, cocking his frown on his face as he mulled it over.
“Its as good an idea as any…” he mused back, then glancing at the lanyard for a moment. “… let’s have a look at Bio then. If anything, it looks like robotics was an afterthought compared to how much bigger the other one is,” Wick declared, tucking the lanyard into his trouser pocket, Cass noticing the CLR logo on its back as he did. “You find anything useful in the offices btw?” Wick asked over his shoulder with a tired expression, his face sanguine in the sickly blue light.
“Not really, a journal and a few scrap forms and things. Nothing clear-cut,” Cass answered in a nonchalant tone, folding her arms behind her hooded head. Wick nodded back as the pair left the room, heading to the corridor they had entered the sub-complex from. They felt uneasy in the claustrophobic space, smelling of mildew and rot. The path to bio, which the checked as they passed the map, continued down the first corridor they had begun down.
As they approached that side of the complex, another smell began to overtake that of damp and abandonment. The scent of blood, of animals and raw or rotting meat. A map sat on the wall just before the walls sprouted a deep green paint, like moss on a dying tree. Or gangrene on an open wound. The map was similar to the one from robotics, though this time focusing on the Biotics complex. It showed a winding complex of corridors, far more disorganized than the robotics department, looking like a tangled blackberry bush, rooms attached like fruit to the winding brambled of hallways. Wick looked at Cass with a blank expression, seeming to scan the neidr for a moment as the woman’s face, checking to see if she noticed the change in smell, which, of course, she had.
Wick lurched forward and used the momentum in his first step into the biotics complex, Cass following after, having to walk slightly fast due to her shorter strides, keeping her tail off the floor. As they crept further into biotics, they soon saw a number of large, raking-tears in the concrete, like those of a wild animal.
The pair re-adjusted their grips on their weapons.
As they rounded a corner, the stench of death hit them full in the face. One side of the corridor was lined by what looked like animal cages, with thick plexi-glass fronts, perforated by air holes at shin height. Four fifths of the cages were broken open, the five-inch plexi-glass laying in thick shards across the ground, spattered with dried blood, gnarled and scratched deeply. In those that were still sealed - and really that amounted to just one to the pair’s right - the rotting forms of monsters lay abandoned in death, only just illuminated as they hid in the corner of their cells in resignation, or had their bleeding and broken forms illuminated, displaying their last futile attempts at escape.
On the opposite side of the hallway was a small steel-faced door stood next to a wide shock-proof window. The door had buckled in the frame, becoming sealed in the process, while the window showed massive cracks from where some massive force had tried, yet only just failed to break the three-inch thick plexi-glass. The pair moved to the door, Cass standing by it with her pistol raised as Wick inspected the door. When they were sure it would not budge, they continued down the hallway, to the next office. This one was open, but contained very little of use, documents being torn up and torn into by some wild creature that had then burrowed out of the space through the concrete wall, water and soil still slipping into the room as the concrete seemed to crumble as the pair leered at it.
“I think we should spend as little time here as possible,” Wick stated, not really leaving the decision up for discussion. Not that Cass disagreed.
“On the map there was a larger room further in to this side, that might be the best place to check. It might be something like a main office or server-room,” Cass suggested, knocking aside a chunk of plexi-glass with her foot as she stepped forward.
“Then let’s go there then, you’ve got the route in mind I assume?” Wick agreed, gesturing for Cass to lead on.
“Of course!” she asserted proudly, striding forward as she kept her pistol, vigilant even as she seemed to be acting negligent. It took about twenty minutes to reach the large office. Between where they had entered and it, the complex showed signs of decay and disrepair and more tellingly defacement. Things torn from the walls, unintelligible bar from the empty space they left behind which told of their now lost presence. The empty cages were everywhere, with discarded equipment the only possible hint to the nature of whatever kind of creature had escaped them.
The room itself opposite a blank wall, no cages being located around it, the most notable feature being a small plaque nearly pulled from the wall which read ‘Division head’. The second most interesting being a set of three empty shells casings left on the floor near old splattered blood, an unnatural orange in colour, like an insect. Wick checked Cass’s expression as he approached the door, making sure she was ready, the woman nodding back, checking either end of the hallway as Wick pushed open the door.
The inside was at least twice the size of the other offices, and nearly spotless. The wall opposite wall of the window – covered by a thick black-out curtain – was occupied by a small shelf stuffed with books, flanked by stripped filing cabinets. Not a single personal affect tainted the room, but, unlike the other offices it seemed like none ever had. The room had been scavenged for files far more than the other offices, this space picked clean bar from a small notepad tattooed with hurried diagrams that Wick leafed through. As Cass looked over the complicated books Wick moved over to the desk, about to search through it, though seeing the scavenged computer on his desk and absent drawer. But, his foot caught on something, and stopped himself from falling by slamming a hand against the back wall, glaring at what he now saw to be a thin-spider thread thin trip-wire.
Only now visible as it was contrasted against Wick’s leg. Wick’s eyes darted around for some IED or trap, but none was present. As Wick was looking for a trap, a voice recording suddenly broke the silence in the room, “Professor Francano Garcia Hernandez, Head of the Biotics division for the CLR led combined research project…” the voice intoned, Cass and Wick turning to look at each other in surprise, “Evolution doesn’t have a plan, It makes frequent and catastrophic mistakes,” the recording of Francano spat, his voice bitter, speaking from some deep seated hatred as a projector suddenly began to shine from the wall behind the desk, displaying its image on the wall opposite.
“The examples are numerous, from the arduous respiratory system of amphibians, to the natural flaws in homosapiens bi-pedal skeletal structure, to the point that existing and using the skeleton as it has evolved causes monumental damage to it,” the recording continued, as if delivering a presentation or lecture, while the slide-show on the opposite wall displayed film-grain photographs – seemingly self-taken – interspersed with animal diagrams followed along with the speech. “Evolution is not planned, it has no end solution. It is a rabid, genetic committee that throws out ersatz solutions to immediate problems without any thought into the genetic repercussions that these will cause in the long term… It should of course be said, that these solutions, if taken considering only their ability to solve a problem, are genius. Solutions that can only be solved by the sheer creativity and adaptability of animal and botanic genetics. But, genius without direction and control is useless. It leads to temporary success and long-term disaster. That, is where our role begins,” the voice declared in a self-assured tone, the slideshow snapping onto a new image.
The image that illuminated the opposite wall in a pinkish-grey was something unnatural. Something twisted. The mangled form of a creature that did not, should not exist, that seemed unbound from its own biology. Its throat had multiple teeth like a moray eel, a separated jaw like a snake, hair that seemed to tread the line between feather, fur and scale all at once, its figure of some unnatural quadruped.
“We undertake evolution ourselves. We create the perfect creatures, both for our own ends, but also for the needs of nature and environment,” the voice continued, the slide switching to another creature, one that resembled the one Wick shot in the UN camp, though this time with it’s shape more defined, with half of it splayed open as it was dissected. “What greater goal could there be than to create these perfect organisms? To work the tools of biology and genetics like the great masters of Rome and Greece worked marble? To make perfect sculptures of nature like Bernini? That is the ultimate goal of my work here. And I have put it into practice along with my subordinates. Here in this garden of Eden I have created creatures of such perfection that not even God could create them!” the voice raved as horrible creature after creature flashed against the wall, of every shape and size and every horror that could accompany them.
“That is the purpose of this facility! That is the purpose of-” whatever the raving professor was going to say next is cut off by a thunderous shake and the final failure of the sickly blue light that had hung in the room. The entire complex seemed to shake as the pristine office was suddenly disturbed.
Even as the shaking was going on Wick turned his torch to the wall he had bumped, finding what seemed a secret compartment and popped it open, seeing a recording device and set of recordings on a few USB drives next to an audio system and what seemed like a port that led up to the projector. He grabbed them all and shut the compartment, turning to look at Cass who was creeping her head around the doorframe, checking up and down the now pitch-black labyrinth.
“What do you think that was?” Cass asked, taking a moment to check that a round was in the chamber of her pistol, her eyes spotting the faint glint of brass through the half-racked slide.
“Nothing good,” Wick replied tiredly, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the darkness. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to linger around in this place for any more time. Let’s get out,” Wick stated in a monotone voice, glancing up and down the black corridor her stepped out the office, his footsteps silent.
“Oh, that’s not happening,” a voice declared coquettishly behind Wick’s head. Wick spun round, a wild grimace on his face as he saw a trio of people in black suits. He clutched his pistol as he squeezed the trigger to fire at the trio, only for his arm to be grabbed from behind and pulled down, pinned to his back before he could fire. His arm was pressed into his back, and with it his pistol, as the one who had grabbed him pulled back the opposite shoulder. Cass was similarly restrained, being held in an armlock by a thick-armed woman with short-cropped hair. “Well, aren’t you two some convenient nuisances?” the voice again spoke, coming from the central figure of the trio. The pair recognized the voice as the leader of the group that had attacked them on the CLR ship, the effeminate tone distinct in his voice. In addition, the pair noticed how the tone of his voice was also seen in his physiognomy, the man having a rather feminine appearance, with foppish blonde hair and freckles on one side of his face, but still one that could still identify as masculine.
The other two were still secluded in darkness and could not be made out.
“How likely is it that we can just leave here?” Wick asked in a disinterested tone, as if he was a mafioso talking to a cop. The leader’s face split into a manic smile in response, lurching forward toward the pair as he chuckled softly.
“Ah, while it’s true that we didn’t come here for you two loose-ends today, unfortunately, you both are personas non grata as far as our organization is concerned.” The smaller man smiled up at Wick, absent of a single lick of good feeling in his expression, his blue pin-prick eyes looking at the taller man with unrestrained dislike. “So, I would say you leaving is highly unlikely…” their smile faltered and fell from their face as they concluded their taunt, standing back up straight before turning to the two guards behind him. He seemed to about to issue some orders when a sound echoed down the hallway, making him pause, his mouth hanging open as he searched the darkness with his eyes, keeping still. “What was that?” he asked, looking at one of the guards who shrugged back in response, readjusting their grip on their rifle as they looked around, beginning to bring it up to their shoulder.
Before they could make any other reaction, a monster rounded the corner and slammed its mouth over the tensed form of one of the guards, leaving only the waist and legs as a half-hearted fountain of blood, staining its pillow-white jelly-like flesh its leach-like mouth filled with a seeming infinity of cookie-cutter fangs. As it’s shuddering roar echoed down the hall it was pre-empted by the roars of rifle-fire, .308 bullets splitting across the space to slam into and uselessly deflect off the creature’s flesh. As the guards were quickly distracted by the nightmare that had become disinterested in simply stalking them, Wick too his chance. He suddenly leaned forward, letting his legs buckle slightly as he pulled the stunned guard down with him. Them, Wick turned his hand away from his back, pistol still in hand, and pulled the trigger, the .32 calibre bullet boring through the bottom of his chin and out of the back of his head, Wick taking advantage of his new liberty to fire into the arm of the one holding Cass. The latter took advantage of the muscled man’s injury to elbow him in the stomach and throw him off herself before both Cass and Wick turned tail and ran away from the collection CLR’s monsters.
“Don’t let them escape!” the leader ordered, pulling out a weapon that he levied at the monster, a few hidden guards joining him in fending off the monster. The pair sprinted away, running for all they were worth down the twisting passages of the complex, hearing the yells of the monster as well as the orders for them to stop coming from their pursuers, seemingly surrounding them second-by-second. They ran on further and further, just barely eluding the guards.
Then, they came to a collapsed T-junction, the cantilever path filled in with rubble like a blocked rabbit warren. The noises of the guards echoed down from both ends of the hallway as Wick and Cass pressed against each other’s back’s, cornered. Then, before they could be captured, someone swiftly covered their mouths and pulled them through a disguised door, having swung down from the ceiling.
Before either Cass or Wick could make a noise of surprise or questioning, the third figure shushed them with a hiss, Cass able to notice the familiar haircut of the woman. The trio stayed quiet as they stood up in the dark space, Wick levying his pistol at the door as they listed to the muffled sounds of footfalls and rattling equipment coming close to the door and lingering for a few slow minutes, that dragged on like congealed blood.
Then, the sound of retreating footsteps of around five people.
Shortly after that the third figure piped up, “they’re gone, we can relax for now,” she said, stepping away from the pair further into the back of the cramped space.
“Well that’s good, now, what the fuck are here Alice?!” Cass snapped, her voice shifting from a mirthful tone quite quickly as she looked at Alice. She was dress in the same type of suit she had been wearing on the spaceship, the black cloth matching her dark skin and deep red hair, an uninterested expression on her face.
“Helping you, isn’t that obvious?” Alice returned curtly, glancing to Cass over her shoulder.
“And why did you help us?” Cass cut back, looking at Alice with a deeply untrusting gaze.
“Right, yes,” she began, seemingly searching for words before she suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Cass with both shoulders, “I need you to get me the fuck away from these people!” she cried in a pleading voice, a frenzied look on her face, her shaking, crooked smile underneath sat twitching eyes.
Cass could only balk in surprise at the unexpected response, unable to say anything before Alice stormed into a panicked rant, “After we failed to capture you at the ship, they suddenly told I wasn’t allowed to leave, and that I apparently had a massive debt for the cost of the surgery that kept me alive – that wasn’t what I was told! The deal was that I just had to help them find you then I could go! These people are fucking crazy! They’ve killed so many people! I can’t do it anymore! If I don’t run for it now, I’ll end up as their slave forever!” Alice wailed, twisting and bending at odd angles as she ranted Cass flinching back as she saw her fair-weather friend thunder out her fears.
“Why should I help you?! You left me for dead and stole my ship!” Cass yelled back at her furiously.
“And you killed me! I think you got your revenge!” Alice snapped back, making Cass pause for a moment before she responded.
“To be precise Wick was the one who killed you, but I get your point,” Cass replied dismissively, Wick giving her an annoyed glance before he lost interest, keeping an eye on the door.
“Do not argue semantics with me Cass!” Alice snapped, her frantic smile twitching on her face as she glared at him.
“Fine, fine. So, what are you offering to us?” Cass asked, looking down her nose at the woman opposite her, deeply suspicious.
“I help you get out of this fucking nightmare hell-hole, you take me off this fucking planet,” Alice answered flatly.
“…That’s a good offer,” Cass muttered, putting a finger to her chin as she seemed to think for a moment, “Done! Lead the way!” Cass declared, a wide smile on her face as she grabbed and shook Alice’s hand. Wick looked at them from the corner of the room with an annoyed grimace, not bothering to bring up the obvious complaint of Cass inviting someone else onto His ship, taking a moment to check how many shots he had left in his magazine. Alice moved over towards the door, pressing the side of her head to the door, then correcting herself and pressing one of the feline ears newly on her head against it and listening to it. After a second, she pulled back slightly from the door as she lightly touched the handle of the door and twitched it open slipping through it. She held the door slightly ajar as she crouched in the hallway, checking either end, before she gestured for the pair to follow her out.
She led them forward, keeping to the shadows and back-paths of the complex as the shouts of the CLR troops echoed about as they continued their search. Wick eyed her as they walked, curious how she knew about these back-paths, and more so of where they led to, though his wariness was hidden from his face.
But eventually, the trio was led close to the entrance again, both Wick and Cass keeping a few steps behind. “Wait here, I’ll check for anyone then open the door,” she ordered, whispering to them before she crept over towards the entrance room. She glanced around the room, finding it empty, then began punching in a code to open the door.
“What are you doing over here brat?” a voice snapped behind her, making the woman flinch and spin around, hiding the code behind her back.
“Ah, uh, I was just getting something from the tra-” she began before the suited man levied a revolver at her head, silencing her.
“No, you were trying to take advantage of the confusion to try and run.” The man, a short-stocky figure with thinning blonde hair.
“No, no! I wasn’t I-” Alice insisted, her voice pleading as the man cocked the hammer of his revolver.
“Don’t bother. You’re never going to get away from us, not with how much you owe,” the man stated bitterly as he moved his off hand toward what seemed to be a miniature walkie-talkie pinned to his right breast.
Before he could speak into it however, a hand gripped his mouth shut as an arm slipped under his right armpit and forced him arm upwards as the arm slashed forward with a knife through the man’s throat, blood gushing from the severed artery, the man twitching before falling slack.
Alice looked up at Wick, the man wiping the blood off the blade of his knife – a Douk-Douk knife to be specific – before folding it up and tucking it back into his pocket as he turned to Alice. “Well? Open the door, we should get going,” he said unenthused, the pooling blood staining the sole of his shoe.
“… right, sure,” she said, blinking before she turned and finished inputting the code, the door pressing open once again. Wick strode forward out through the door without a word, Cass coming through the door to the entrance room after him and looking at Alice with a smile, grinning at her as she saw the dark-skinned woman look up at Wick stunned.
“He’s quite good, isn’t he?” she chuckled out with a coy smile before hopping up the stairs after him. Alice shook her head and climbed the stairs, not allowing herself to feel relieved just yet.
