by wildbow
“You better hope we make it out okay,” I said. “Tattletale?”
“Pretty sure it’s to your left. Start by going ten paces that way.”
I nodded.
We followed the directions.
The illusion broke, dissolving into harmless smoke, as we reached it and pressed hard enough against the wall in question.
With the barrier gone, I could feel the warm air from within, see a dark hallway without lights.
I looked at my teammates.
Maybe humanity deserves to lose, but these guys are why we’re going to win, I promised myself.
Venom 29.4
Lights flickered as we made our way inside.
It looked like a hospital, but not an abandoned one. Things were pristine, the walls and tiled floor a clean, untouched white. It wasn’t a place that had been left to deteriorate. The stark, clean nature of the place made for a contrast where the damage had been done. There were gouges in the walls, things torn free from walls and ceilings. Scorch marks, from both acid and fire, and damaged chairs, cabinets and lockers.
I noted the contents of the lockers and cabinets that had been torn open. Glass vials, empty, clear fluids, medical tools still in plastic wrappers with paper covers that could be torn away. But for the disorganization, it was all in excellent condition. It didn’t look like it had even been touched.
The longer I looked, the less it seemed like a hospital, and the less real it seemed. It was more like someone had taken sections of a hospital, removing everything like the nurse’s stations and the rooms for the patients, leaving only the hallways and doors that sat flush against the floor, airtight. I would have thought it was all staged, but a check with my bugs confirmed that there was a minimum of dust even in places people wouldn’t be able to see.
Why take that much time to clean areas that were never going to get used?
“Tattletale?” I asked. “How’s the connection?”
“The Dragonfly is relaying the connection from the towers, which are relaying from Gimel. Kind of impressive when you think about it.”
“I’m thinking this stuff tells a story. Can you fill us in? Information wins fights.”
I heard a noise from behind me. A grunt or a scoff. I turned to look, but couldn’t see who it had been. Lung? Shadow Stalker? Golem? Cuff? All were possible, on different levels. Lung might have been dismissive, Cuff bemoaning the fact that I was harping on that particular point yet again. I’d reiterated it a few dozen times when justifying the stakeouts and a few cases of infiltration.
“I can see the path they took,” Tattletale said. “You’re facing the direction the Irregulars headed. They got more agitated as they made their way through. Excitement, anger, a mess of negative emotions, bottled up for years, finally released.”
I nodded. I could imagine it now, almost see them in the hallway.
“Forty three of them. Case fifty-threes. Weld’s entire group.”
“We have data on them?” I asked. My eye fell on one of the doors. It looked so ordinary, but someone had hit it, and it had been dented. Metal, and apparently well reinforced, with a good section of the door fitting into the wall.
“Already have files open. There’s not a lot of details on most of them, but they aren’t exactly in the public eye. You only get sightings, and apparently PRT paperwork where Protectorate members get sent to check in on them every once in a while, make sure they’re okay. The others, well, you’re aware of Weld and Gully and Gentle Giant. I could recap for the people who wouldn’t know.”
“I know enough,” Lung said. “I would rather not have a voice prattling in my ear when I could be listening for trouble.”
“Oh, hey,” Imp said. Through the bugs I’d planted on him, I could feel Lung reacting to her sudden appearance. “I wouldn’t mind hearing this info. Cliff notes?”
“You’re doing this to irritate me,” Lung said.
He’s sharp, in some ways, I thought.
“Don’t get your gonads in a twist. I just want to know what we’re walking into.”
I heard a growl, and my first thought that Imp had pushed the wrong button. I turned, my hand moving to my knife.
But it was Rachel’s dog, Huntress, her nose pressed to a door.
I watched each of the others prepare for a fight. Or not prepare, as the case was. Lung remained very casual, almost calm, while Canary backed away, putting as much distance between herself and the door as she could. She was in better armor than most of us,with one of Saint’s Dragonslayer suits, but she still saw herself as vulnerable.
Hell, I saw her as vulnerable.
My bugs moved around the door’s perimeter, but I could sense only damage around the handle. As airtight as any door.
I drew my knife, then gave Rachel a nod to go.
She kicked the door handle, and the door swung open.
Blood, corpses. Three dead case fifty-threes. Two men and a woman. A cat-man with far too many teeth in his mouth, even covering the roof and the space beneath his long, narrow tongue, something that looked like keyboards on his forearms. A reptile, not so different from Newter, but with no mouth or nose. Only two overlarge eyes. The last was a girl, squares of flesh intersped with patches of cloth. Her mouth was only a tear in the cloth.
Their throats had been neatly slashed—the patchwork girl bled like anyone else might—and they’d been dragged into this room. It was clear from the way that the blood trail suddenly stopped that someone had cleaned up.
“Stragglers. The Irregulars were moving as a tight group, keeping close to one another, but Satyrical and his team blindsided the ones at the back. Killed them, dragged them off, then one of them cleaned up the evidence. Floret, probably.”
“And Satyr probably masqueraded as these three,” I said. “He’s in Weld’s group.”
“Probably.”
“Then we need to move fast,” I said. “Good job Rachel, Huntress.”
Rachel only grunted acknowledgement.
“You’re thanking the dog?” Shadow Stalker asked, incredulous.
“I’m thanking people that are being useful,” I said, my voice hard. “If you want to be one of them, maybe scout the rooms we’re passing by.”
She didn’t obey right away, but she did obey. She disappeared through a door.
The lights momentarily went out. For an instant, I thought Shadow Stalker had been electrocuted, walking straight into a wire. They flickered on again.
There were no windows, no sources of light beyond the lighting that was supposed to glow evenly from the high ceiling above. When the lights flickered out again, the darkness was absolute, all-consuming. As seconds creeped on and the light failed to return, I wondered if we’d be continuing this in the dark.
Lung used his power, creating a flame in his hand. It didn’t make for much light—only enough to illuminate our groups. Golem raised his hand to his helmet, then paused.
“Go ahead,” I told him.
The lights mounted on Golem helmet turned on, followed soon after by Cuff’s own lights. I could see the way they were turning their heads, trying to cover both ends of the hallway.
“I don’t sense anyone,” I said.
No. Wait. There was someone.
Something.
I’d sensed it at the meeting the Doctor had arranged. The spirit, the ghost. So subtle it was almost impossible to notice. The currents of the air, the faintest of traces in dust that marked where she’d traveled… all things I’d mentally dismissed. Air tended to move. Only the fact that this was a closed space, without any kind of air conditioning or temperature difference made the movements in the air curious.
Paying attention, I could see that there was a pattern, a consistent repetition in air currents so feeble they might not have moved a feather.
The lights flickered back on, went out, and then settled in a compromise, the dull translucent pane of the ceiling lit up with a patchwork of maybe two thirds dark to one third light.
“We’re here to help,�
� I called out.
My voice echoed down the hall.
“I thought you didn’t sense anyone,” Canary said.
“I don’t,” I said.
“Then who are you talking to?”
“I don’t think it’s a who,” Imp said. “Try ‘what are you talking to?’”
“Shh,” I bid them to be quiet.
I could sense more movements in the air, close… no. That was a result of Lung’s fire heating the air.
Further down the hall. If I use enough bugs, try to get a sense of dimensions…
A head, part of a torso. I could feel the contours of narrow shoulders, the waist. Female.
She disappeared, or she became less coherent, the movements in the air continuing, but ceasing to suggest a general human shape. Another appeared behind us, roughly as far away. No arms, no legs. Just a broken figure.
“Help me out, Tattletale?” I asked.
“Help with what?”
“The Custodian.”
“I’m not getting anything usable,” she said. “Video cameras suck like that.”
“Right,” I said. Louder, I called out, “We’re here to help the Doctor! You’ve got two other groups in here, one that’s definitely hostile, angry and destructive, and another I think is worth being suspicious of.”
A movement, a reaction to that last sentence.
I explained, “Maybe they seem friendly, but they’ve got a bad history of backstabbing, making subtle plays for power. I think the Doctor would back me up on this. If she’s cooperating with them at all, she’s doing it with knowledge they’ll capitalize on any weakness she shows… and she’s never been weaker than she is right now.”
The figure turned around, briefly fading out of existence.
She reappeared in a way that made me wonder just how long she’d been there, a foot away from me.
“We’re not your enemies,” I said, holding my ground. “I want to stop Scion, and the best, easiest way to do that is to get things back into working order here.”
For an instant, she was in four places at once. Then she settled on three.
It struck me that I’d never fared particularly well against stranger-class powers.
“If it helps,” I said, “I’m pissed. The Doctor called you the Custodian, which probably means you’re the one taking care of this place. If you’re not completely emotionless, it hurts, that they’re tearing it apart. If you care about the doctor, I’m betting you’re worried. Maybe you feel like I do. You want to retaliate, but something is getting in your way—”
And then she was gone.
“So. Uh. You’re kinda tense there, boss,” Imp said.
“She’s gone,” I said. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Question is, is there really a crazy janitor lady?” Imp asked. “Or is Skitter finally going mad?”
“If there are no more obstacles, we should go,” Lung said.
I nodded. I started walking at a good clip, reorganizing my swarm to check the areas around corners.
A series of eight or so doors to our right were open, now. Shadow Stalker lurked at the end of the hallway. She must have walked through the walls while the power was out, opening every door in passing.
“Just saying,” Imp kept talking, “Custodian? Knowing what we do about your origins… kinda a thing. The Doctor, if you think about it… what if we’re all—”
“Imp,” I interrupted her, all too aware of the presence of Lung and Shadow Stalker, “Not now, not here.”
“Righty-o.”
She’s nervous, I told myself, before I could get too irritated. But her way of dealing with that came at my expense. I didn’t need to be reminded of my weakest moments.
I really didn’t need any head games, intentional or otherwise.
With the doors open, it was possible to see the room interiors. Offices, perfectly ordered and empty of people. Desks, file holders to neatly sort paperwork, book cases with texts. All of it even, ordered. No pages sticking up or books missing from shelves.
“Still want that briefing, Imp?” Tattletale asked.
“Huh? Briefing?”
“On the Irregulars.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
I sent my bugs out, directing them to collect a few things. Two booklets, the most substantial material my bugs could hold and still carry.
“They shouldn’t have been able to pull this off,” Tattletale said.
I thought of Contessa, and of the Custodian.
“They did, though,” I said. “At the worst possible point in time.”
“Weld isn’t dumb,” Shadow Stalker said, as she stepped out of one room and crossed the hall. “Except maybe with people. Kind of put his big metal foot in his big metal mouth, I remember. But he’s not dumb when it comes to powers or strategy. He’s had a few years to figure this out.”
“Hey,” Imp said. “You’re not allowed to say nice things about people. You shot my brother with an arrow, messed with people I respect. I’ve been waiting for that cinematic moment when you and I find ourselves alone and I get my revenge. Don’t fucking dilute it by being nice.”
Shadow Stalker stared at Imp, standing her ground as we, Imp included, made our way up the hallway to where she was.
“You’re irritating,” Shadow Stalker said, her voice dripping with condescension, dismissive. That said, she disappeared through the nearest door.
“Better,” Imp muttered.
I used the arms on my flight pack grab the booklets my bugs had brought to me. The contents of each were bound into books.
I paged through the booklets. The cover of the first read: ‘ASDEC01 Employee responsibilities, contingency C-2-6’. The second was ‘ASDEC01 Employee responsibilities, contingency F-4-7’. Both, at a glance, very similar inside.
I looked at the inside cover. Contingency C-2-6. Transmigration.
Then page upon page of jargon. References to other files, to organizations and places I had no concept of, and things I knew of, but not in this context. Overseers, terminus, and again, the word transmigration.
It lacked flow, as the writing went. More of a technical manual, in the end. I could tell from the structure that things had been done by computer, so that information specific to the employee and the employee’s role could be injected at the appropriate spots.
I flipped through the book, continuing to scout with my bugs and use them to check our surroundings for possible danger. Only endless hallways.
“You reading over my shoulder, Tattletale?” I asked. I had the camera on my mask.
“I am.”
“Thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Accord was two-timing us,” Tattletale said. “Doubling up so he had enough of a power base to enact his plans, whatever happened.”
“Except for, you know, the whole dying thing,” Imp added.
“Are you getting the gist of this, Tattletale?” I asked.
“Picking up pieces of it. I’d ask you to scan the thing and let me have access to all of it, but that’s not exactly reasonable, is it?”
“Just give me the byline.”
“A plan for if the Endbringers win. A plan for if Scion wins. A plan if we come out ahead and beat both of them. Recurring themes in all of the plans.”
“No plan survives contact with the enemy,” Lung rumbled. “Foolish.”
“Accord makes pretty fucking good plans,” Tattletale said.
“I do not know this Accord, and I only trust what I experience myself, so this is only prattle to me.”
“How does this turn out?” I asked. “Cauldron ruling the world?”
“Honestly? I don’t think so. Cauldron’s primary interest seems to be humanity. Keeping us going, minimizing chances of war and conflict. All of this seems to be geared around that. Setting things up so we aren’t fucked, however things go down.”
“Right,” I said. “Where do the powers come in?”
“I think… well, I
don’t have enough to say anything for sure. But the underlying assumption seems to be that parahumans are going to take charge, one way or the other, so they wanted to set things up so that happened naturally. They’ve been vetting clients, finding the ones who’d work best. They don’t identify them by anything except number, but… I think Coil was a test case.”
I nodded.
“So were we.”
“We had an idea,” I said.
“Yeah. But there’s more… I don’t know how much more. Yet. Can you flip ahead? Maybe about three quarters of the way through, there should be a bit about the Overseers and the Terminus. Flip through… slower… show more of the pages… I’ll go back through the video feed to view each page on my own and figure the rest out myself.”
Further down the hallway, Shadow Stalker stepped out of a room. I looked, keeping my head at the same general angle, so the camera would continue to have a view of the book, still flipping.
Shadow Stalker was pointing.
My swarm caught up with her, flowing into the room.
I glanced into the room as we passed. Two more bodies. Two men, large, both bristling with horns. One with curling horns like a ram, the other with horns like a bull.
“Satyr,” Tattletale confirmed. “Again.”
“Hmm,” Shadow Stalker murmured. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded. “He’s efficient.”
Did she just sound like she was approving? I lowered the booklet, raising my head to give Shadow Stalker a serious look.
She only made a small, smug sound, like she was pleased, or pleased with herself, and then turned around, her cloak flaring out before she disappeared through the wall.
“This long-delayed revenge thing is getting easier all the time,” Imp commented.
“No revenge,” I said. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but you’re sounding a lot less like Imp and a whole lot like… well…”
“Regent,” she said.
I nodded. The desire for revenge, the way the wisecracking was veering off course, to uncomfortable or dangerous levels…
“Be nice if he was here,” was all she said.
I nodded again.
The hallway reached a t-junction at the end, with a path going off to the left, and a stairwell to the right that led down, deeper into the building. I could sense just how thick the floor was. Most buildings had only a few feet separating each story, but here, there was solid matter nearly as thick as the open spaces.