by Sean Davies
“Huh, would you look at that,” Stern said appreciatively. “We might get out of this before it gets too dangerous after all, especially with Dragon-boy showing off. How much do you want?”
“Eighty percent of whatever we grab,” Till grunted.
“Try fifty-fifty and we’ve got a deal,” Ricardo scoffed. “With the Dragon and the Alt stealing the show, I could probably just leave now…”
“Good luck escaping these do-gooders by yourself, then,” the burly Werewolf retorted.
“I reckon a few will want to turn tail with me once they see what a fully operational Archmage facility can really do.” Ricardo eyed up the females hopefully. “It would be a shame if you got left behind on the way out.”
“If you want to take that risk, be my guest,” Till shrugged, “but I think there’s more chance of these determined twerps draggin’ their corpses to the finish line than giving up. Anyway, ‘ave fun with that,” he added, turning to walk away.
“Wait, wait—how about sixty-five?” the adventurer haggled.
“Seventy or nothin’,” Till replied bluntly.
“Fine,” Ricardo conceded with a quick handshake. “But we don’t even know if this place has got anything worth taking.”
“You’ll find somethin’,” the Werewolf shrugged. “And if not, you’ll be swimmin’ home.”
Charlotte and Leanne, the two gun-blazing mercenaries, approached Genevieve and Constance on the edges of the group.
“Mind if we join you?” Leanne asked politely as she lit up a cigarette, passing one to Charlotte before offering the box out to Connie and Genie.
“It’s cool with me,” Genie replied, taking a cigarette with a nod of thanks.
“Not at all,” Constance added kindly, before hesitantly accepting a cigarette to calm her nerves. “Thanks. We’re just waiting for Stitches and Quoro to stop admiring the structure.”
“We’re trying to escape the squabble-squad,” Charlotte replied as she passed around a small disposable lighter.
“What’s the drama? Did someone steal the Sergeant’s moustache comb?” Genevieve joked.
“Nah, but it’s about that petty,” Leanne replied. “They’re on about who leads who.”
“Normally Ricardo points us in the right direction, and Az keeps us in line,” Charlotte elaborated. “Having some Justiciars in the mix is confusin’ things.”
“And the Tropican troopers think you’re their boss, Connie,” Leanne added.
Constance pulled a face. “I don’t want to be in charge of anyone. I just want to get down this building and stop the apocalypse…”
Stitches walked over with a massive smile on his fabric face. “The barrier is down! Quoronastra knew how to rewire the energy channels to flow into the other segments.”
“I told you that you didn’t need that glory-hound Stern,” the Dragon said nonchalantly.
“Ricardo’s a cheeky sod, but he does know his stuff,” Charlotte said in defence of the roguish adventurer.
“He was making us rich before our run of bad luck,” Leanne added.
“Speaking of Stern, isn’t he meant to be guiding us in?” Stitches asked, watching the adventurer chatting to Till Vanderborg.
Constance looked around at the talking groups of people, and shrugged. “I guess no one really knows who’s doing what, and when… I didn’t think it would be such an issue.”
“There’s a lot of pride and a lot of egos in one place,” Genevieve mused. “I haven’t commanded anything significant since the War for Reality, but I could give it a go?” she asked Constance.
“I’d rather follow you than any of these other buffoons,” Quoronastra inserted rudely. “Really, though, the brave and handsome Alexander should have been here to lead us into the fray.”
“If you don’t mind doing it?” Connie asked Genie. “I don’t think we have long.”
“I’ll just pretend they’re Shadow Circle gang members and hope for the best,” Genie said, before clearing her throat. “Has everyone got their gear?!” she yelled to the team.
Everyone stopped what they were doing, and confirmed they were all equipped and ready to go.
“Good,” Genevieve called, waving everyone closer. “Ricardo, give us newbies a quick refresher on what’s directly ahead.”
“The floor drops down into a circular open-topped room just past the pillars,” Ricardo Stern explained. “There’re stairs running around the edge that lead down to the floor. Last time, we came under fire from a defence system that’s built into the walls, but I know how to disable most of them,” he said in a confident voice. “Then there’s another set of stairs that takes us into the main structure—that’s where we need the sexy Connie-Lee to work her magic, so we don’t end up being screwed over like last time.”
“Okay, let’s head on in,” Genevieve replied. “Everyone be ready for a fight as soon as we make it down.”
“Sure thing, Genie,” Stitches replied excitedly.
“So, I guess the blue-haired babe is running the show,” Till chuckled roughly. “That must sting, huh, Az and Matty-boy?”
“I don’t care, as long as we get a move on,” Az replied grumpily. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”
“I’m sorry, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Genevieve—but the Lord Imperator put me in charge,” Sergeant Winters began stubbornly. “This is a little bit more complex than bossing around a few gang members.”
“Veronica and Winston Reynolds said that Connie and I could take charge on behalf of the Conclave, if we felt the need to,” Genevieve bluffed.
“Queen Azalea also mentioned this,” Olishia Rose lied.
“Yeah, so lead the way, Genie-Jay,” Joran Ward said with a wink.
Matthias Winters frowned. “Even if that was true, it would only put you on level footing with my authority.”
“I can’t believe this is even an issue, considering what’s happening to Mydia!” Constance burst out angrily, losing her nervousness and finding her temper. “Either accept that Genevieve is leading and follow on, or stay here and argue while the world slowly ends around you all. Let’s be frank—this whole mission revolves around me, it’s my say,” she added arrogantly, before incinerating what was left of her cigarette in a blast of yellow fire and walking off through the pillars.
“You heard the lady; get a move on, or get comfy!” Genie ordered, before chasing after the Tropican Book Wielder.
Quoronastra, Stitches, Joran, Olishia, Charlotte, and Leanne were the first to move, followed by Ricardo, Az, and his two sons, and then the others, leaving the Justiciars and Till Vanderborg behind.
“Don’t worry, mate—I still think you’re in charge,” the crafty Werewolf joked to Matthias as he barged past, taking his place at Ricardo’s side.
Sergeant Winters was speechless. “I don’t believe this…”
“To be fair, sir, I don’t think the Lord Imperator minds who takes charge at this point as long as we succeed in the end,” Hector Webb said diplomatically, eying Olishia as she waved him over from afar.
“There won’t be many people left to complain about the mission’s command structure if we fail, sir,” Licinia added gravely.
Sergeant Matthias grumbled an acknowledgement, knowing that his troops were right. “Keep an eye on the mercs, and use any means necessary to keep them on track. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already planning something devious, I imagine this place is a treasure trove of priceless relics.”
Licinia and Hector saluted and followed their Sergeant into the ancient structure to join the others, who were all standing at the lip where the floor ended and dropped down into the lower room, listening to Ricardo talking. Several sets of stone steps were spaced around the perimeter, all of which ran down the curved walls to the circular floor dozens of metres below, and the cheeky adventurer was barring the group’s progress beside the nearest set.
“…and those regularly placed crystal panels set into the walls will activa
te and hammer us with laser-fire,” Ricardo explained. “Like I said before, I managed to get a few deactivated last time, so we won’t have to worry about all of them—”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to improve upon the great Ricardo Stern’s work somehow,” Quoronastra said dryly.
“I wouldn’t count on it, but you’re welcome to try, dragon-breath,” Ricardo replied with a snide smirk.
“Gentlemen—please pack it in,” Genevieve commanded critically.
As the adventurer continued, Hector Webb shuffled his way towards Olishia Rose, who was staring down at the cylindrical space below.
“Quite a spectacle, isn’t it?” Hector said quietly, studying the curved wall’s colourful dormant defence panels.
“Yes, but it would be much more appealing if it was not designed to kill us, Webby,” Olishia smiled, before whispering, “I will take you somewhere romantic once we are done here.”
Hector winked at the pink-haired trooper as Till Vanderborg joined them, ruining the moment with his presence alone.
“Did someone mention romance?” the troublesome Werewolf said in an amused tone. “It’s nice to see someone getting along on this trip… woah!” he yelled as he stumbled, knocking Hector off the ledge.
Olishia reached out to grab for Hector’s hand, but her reactions were too slow. Luckily, Genevieve dashed over to the ledge and clasped her hand around the falling trooper’s gauntlet in the blink of an eye, pulling him to safety with the help of the others. Till sat uselessly on the floor throughout, nursing his ankle and complaining about how he’d twisted it.
“Want some help with your foot, big-boy?” Valkeria, the green-haired healer, asked jokingly.
“Nah, babe, I think it’s all good now,” Till replied, quickly returning to his feet before the Shaman could take a closer look.
“Thank the Goddesses for Vampire Nightclaws!” Hector exclaimed, hugging Genevieve.
“You’re welcome. Just stay away from the edge in future; that was hit and miss, even for my speed,” Genie wheezed, patting the trooper on the back of his power armour.
Olishia gave Till an evil glare, suspecting foul play.
“What’s your problem?” Till sneered.
“I have no problem. Just make sure you do not have any more accidents around us,” Olishia warned him threateningly. “You could have quite easily followed Hector off the edge.”
“I don’t like what you’re accusing me of…” the Werewolf growled.
“Come on, guys, stop it already,” Genevieve sighed. “Let’s just be grateful that no one got hurt and get a move on.”
“What if it wasn’t an accident?” Constance asked in a whisper as her girlfriend joined her at the head of the group.
“Surely no one’s that stupid. What good would it do him?” Genevieve replied, unable to fathom a beneficial motive. “Maybe just watch your step around him.”
Connie nodded and began walking down the stairs beside Genevieve. Meanwhile, Ricardo casually fell behind to join Till.
“That was a stupid move, Vanderborg,” the adventurer hissed out the corner of his mouth.
“Just trying to thin out the herd a tad,” Till replied nonchalantly. “You should tackle the Dragon and puppet-freak. Get ‘em to make a mistake with the wiring or somethin’.”
“Firstly, there isn’t any wiring, and secondly, I just want out of this mess, preferably with enough riches and footage to get back on track—not to murder everyone.” Ricardo explained through gritted teeth.
“They’re gonna die either way, so what’s the difference?” Till shrugged.
“If they’re right about the planet, then we’re fucked whether we leave or not.” Ricardo truly hoped the group’s belief in the supposed Creator’s plan wasn’t as devastating as they were expecting. “At least with those two, they’ll have a chance at least—y’know, just in case.”
“As if Emperor Reynolds is leavin’ any of this shit up to chance,” Till rolled his yellow eyes. “We’re just his fucking canaries testing the mineshaft for gas, before he sweeps in and takes all the gold.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Ricardo mused, scratching his chin. “Everyone says he’s been getting way stronger lately. He’s probably powerful enough to waltz through here with his eyes closed.”
“His pals don’t seem to like talking ‘bout him much, either,” the devious Werewolf insinuated. “They’re probably in on it too.”
“That still doesn’t mean we have to snuff anyone out,” the adventurer reasoned, returning to his original point. “Let’s just wait for the right moment and scarper.”
The Werewolf sighed disappointedly. “Fine. I’ll do the dirty work myself.”
A pair of angry grunts from behind stopped Ricardo from replying to the cold-hearted Werewolf.
“What are you two whispering about?” Sergeant Winters asked abruptly.
“Just about how rich we’re gonna be on the way out of this dump,” Till said, using a half-truth rather than an all-out lie.
The Sergeant tutted disapprovingly. “Focus on that after we’re done.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to be at the front, Stern, before somebody walks somewhere they’re not supposed to?” Az advised bluntly.
“Yeah, good point, Az,” Ricardo said with a confident grin, before carefully shuffling his way down to the head of the expedition team.
“We wouldn’t want anyone blowing ‘emselves up like last time, would we now?” Till smiled, flashing his putrid teeth.
Matthias Winters clicked his jaw and waited for the scruffy Werewolf to start walking first, before following closely on his heels.
“It’s lucky you’re a damn good fighter with that tongue of yours, Till.” Az commented, marching forward in his regal Archmage armour. “I imagine you’d be long dead if you weren’t.”
“What you chatting about, Az? People love me… don’t they, Matty-boy?”
“Yes, you’re quite the charmer,” Sergeant Winters sighed sarcastically.
The expedition team descended the curved staircase, until Ricardo called them to a stop just before they reached the floor. When they glanced up, they could truly appreciate how tall the open-topped room was, and just how tragic Hector’s fall would have been if it hadn’t been for Genevieve’s amazing agility.
“What’s with that light?” Constance asked.
Ricardo looked around in confusion. “What light?”
Connie glowered, not in the mood for his antics. “The sphere of gold light in the middle of the room…”
Ricardo looked around at the group; they all looked as baffled as he was.
“Constance, there’s nothing there,” Stitches said with one fabric eyebrow raised high.
“He’s right, hun,” Genevieve added worriedly. “Maybe it’s your connection to this place causing you to see things?”
“It’s right there!” Constance said impatiently, pointing to the centre of the room while taking a step down.
Ricardo Stern lunged forward and grabbed the Book Wielder’s arm before she could go any further. “Defences, remember?”
“Right, right…” Connie replied distractedly. She was sure she could make out a symbol in the light that only she could see.
The adventurer shooed some of the party away from a section of wall, and pressed both hands against a nondescript stone slab. It moved backwards and slid out of the way, revealing a large three-dimensional web made of small crystalline strands, each one glowing in a primary or secondary colour.
“That isn’t right,” Quoronastra gasped.
“What is it?” Stitches asked eagerly.
Ricardo chuckled. “He’s never seen Arch-tech arranged this chaotically, have you, Dragon-breath?”
The black and purple Dragon scratched the side of his scaled head in frustration. “No. They are normally laid out more geometrically, and in two-dimensions,” he admitted shamefully.
“Like the motherboard on a computer?” Genevieve asked.
“At
their foundation, they’re not that dissimilar, I suppose—even if your computers are primitive and absent of magic,” Quoronastra said snobbishly, in an attempt to regain face after being shown up.
Genie licked her fangs. “Don’t be calling my gaming rig primitive, scale-brains,” she muttered angrily.
The group talked quietly and readied themselves for a fight, as Ricardo pulled out a long red wand from his brown overcoat and brought Stitches and Quoronastra up to speed as he pointed at the colourful webs.
“Each colour corresponds to one set of panels,” the adventurer explained.
“Colour-coded, yes, I figured as much already,” Quoronastra interjected rudely.
Ricardo rolled his brown eyes and ignored him. “The trouble is, you’d usually just sever the connectors and job done. Obviously there’s a load more, and they’re interlinked with fakes.” He pointed out a thin green strand that looked no different to the others, except for a tiny slither of black filament running through its centre. “Trip one of those and you’ll be in for a nasty shock. Also, you only get a few minutes before it stops responding to any poking around and the panels fire up.”
“The ancient Book Wielders really didn’t want anyone getting in,” Stitches remarked.
“Considering it was the Omni who wanted entry, I can hardly blame them,” Quoronastra said, turning his head left and right as he studied the cryptic arrangement of conduits.
“Best I managed last time was two colours,” Ricardo told them. “Maybe with your help we could take out all six, as long as we don’t block each other’s progress—they’re like brittle glass, easy to snap.”
“Why couldn’t you get anyone else to help last time?” Stitches asked. “It looks tricky to pull off, but it doesn’t sound that difficult.”
“To be honest, I didn’t trust their eye for detail,” the adventurer admitted. “Even the brightest of them can be heavy-handed at the best of times. It’s kind of cool having a couple of apprentices in tow, actually.”
“Apprentices…” Quoronastra scoffed, highly offended.
“It’s the Conclave’s symbol!” Constance exclaimed to Genie.
“What? In that light you can see?” Genevieve squinted, trying to make it out for herself.