by wildbow
“I assumed you’d ask about the job if you had questions,” Hayle said. “Are you wanting to go in blind, or did you want details?”
“Details now are good,” Gordon said. “Please. Sir.”
The sir sounded like an afterthought. Was Gordon a little irritated that Hayle had pushed about Lillian coming?
Gordon was being protective? Cute.
Then again, I had no place to comment. I was very aware of everything Mary was doing.
“The project is a living weapon, C-tier. It’s vat grown, cartilaginous, with a simple construction. Redundant, durable organs, a thick exterior of placoid scales, and a brain diffused across its body mass.”
C-tier. Larger than a man, smaller than a coach car.
“Placoid… it’s covered in teeth?” Lillian asked.
“In a fashion.”
“What’s the angle?” Gordon asked.
“Sensory organs. Our creature is covered in fine, flexible ‘hairs’, with fine sawtooth construction. It can sense and process changes in air current, temperature, lighting, and vibrations in the atmosphere. It remains hyper-aware of its surroundings, and this is, we think, why it has proven so hard to track down and catch.”
“Smart?” I asked.
“Instinctive intelligence.”
“Fast?” Helen asked. “Dangerous?”
“Less than you might think. It moves deliberately. It identifies lone prey and smashes itself against that prey. The hairs cut on contact, and the experiment uses its own mass to pulverize. It smears itself against destroyed prey to coat itself in blood and absorbs the nutrients through the gaps in the scaling.”
“That sounds really inefficient,” Lillian said.
Hayle smiled at her, pleased at how well his student was doing, but his words weren’t smiling words, “Unfortunately so.”
“Unfortunately?” Helen cut in. She was doing that walk again, hands behind her back, almost playful, thunking her shoes against the stairs with each step. It was annoying, possibly trying to provoke a reaction, but our collective attention was elsewhere.
“If it is that inefficient, then it has to do it more often,” Lillian said.
“Even more often if it’s shy and bolts the moment someone comes to investigate the noise and screaming,” Gordon said.
“Seven have died this morning,” Hayle said. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear about an eighth or a ninth when I return to my office. Six died on the Academy grounds, one died on the top of the outside wall.”
“Leading to concerns that it might have slipped through the net,” Gordon said.
“And the decision to bring more eyes in,” Hayle said. “Which leads us here. Our culprits included one of the students on this project. He had a note with the time for release. We have the other students on the project, but we don’t believe they were involved. They’re available for you to talk to, of course.”
We’d stepped away from the staircase. The hallways were brightly lit, which didn’t quite fit the ‘dungeon’ theme, but every wall was thicker than my arms were long, cut from slabs of stone, and the doors were heavy and reinforced.
I eyed the ceiling, looking at the notches, furrows, and larger pieces of stone that were held up by relatively small clasps and braces of metal. I wasn’t the only one looking.
“Remember. The students are your focus here,” Hayle said. “You’re not equipped to deal with the escaped experiment. It instinctively slips away from anything and anyone that approaches, favoring darker, quieter areas, unless that thing or someone is both small and alone, in which case it feeds. There is no ‘fight’ to be had, here. Focus on the students. Motivations, ulterior motives, accomplices.”
“Yes sir,” Gordon said, nodding. I joined in, despite wanting to add something along the lines of ‘I think he wants us to focus on the students’.
Had to be good.
We were quite a ways down the length of a hallway. A quartet of students saw Hayle and picked up their pace a little.
If a black-coat Professor was in the Bowels and walking fast, it was probably a good idea to pick up one’s pace and get out. Just in case.
Hayle stopped abruptly by a door. He plucked a file from a slot that was built into the door’s exterior, and handed it to Jamie, who opened it and started reading.
“You’ll find him in here. Walter Gund. Better than average student, his father is a politician in Wiltwyck, but he’s lost any and all favor he once enjoyed. Anything is permissible, so long as you don’t maim or kill the boy.”
Nods.
“Questions?”
We exchanged glances between us, then shook our collective heads.
“You know where to find me. Be good,” Hayle reminded us. Me, for that last part. He handed Gordon a key.
He left as quickly as he’d arrived. Leaving us to our own devices.
We watched as he made his retreat, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Just when we were clear, a group of students emerged from another room, opening the door and closing it behind them, looking stunned to see us gathered outside another office, then went on their way without kicking up a fuss.
Once they’d left, we were clear.
“Should one of us take point?” Gordon asked. “Or we take turns?”
“Kind of boring to be standing out in the hallway doing nothing,” Jamie said.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Yes. That.”
“All of us take point?”
“All at once,” I said. “Introduce him to the Lambs. And Lillian.”
Lillian gave me an annoyed look. Better than the waves of sheer terror that had been radiating off her a moment ago.
Mary wasn’t much better, but she had a better poker face. Almost flawless, as faces went.
“Don’t worry, honey. It’s not so bad down here,” Helen said.
“It’s pretty bad,” Mary said. “Any place where you casually mention setting the air on fire as a just-in-case measure is pretty bad.”
“Thank you,” Lillian said. “You put it in words better than I could have.”
Mary smiled at her.
“I grew up here,” Helen said. She was smiling, looking excited. “I wasn’t born here, I was harmless when they made me. But Doctor Ibott spent a lot of time observing and working down here, and he wanted me at arm’s reach. I think you can even find toys I hid from Ibott here and there.”
Mary maintained a very neutral expression at Helen’s casual mention that she’d grown up among the ‘if it escapes, drown and burn everything’ projects. I could have probably cracked her composure by mentioning what young Helen had deemed a ‘toy’, but stayed quiet.
“I’ll be happier when we’re gone,” Lillian said. “No offense.”
Mary nodded in solidarity.
“No offense taken,” Helen said.
Mary and Lillian were friends. For all my efforts, I hadn’t been able to see Mary as often as the girl who actually lived on Academy grounds.
It annoyed me.
“All at once, then,” Gordon said. “Approach?”
“He’s a good student,” Jamie said. “Citations for smoking in the dorm room—”
Jamie stopped as I reached out and tore the bottom of one page.
“Um. Lost my place. Let’s see… Almost got kicked out, but the Academy dropped the issue. Being out and about with friends, drinking, in town for girls… no issue. He’s only twenty-two, and he’s on a project like this. That suggests something.”
I rolled up the paper. I knew the answer, but didn’t give it.
Gordon looked at me, he was thinking the same thing.
I just prayed Lillian didn’t jump in with the answer.
“Daddy helped him out,” Mary said.
“Exactly,” Gordon said. He flashed a smile.
Mary smiled back.
I chimed in, “He’s led a sheltered life. Let’s make it clear just how unsheltered his existence is now. Helen? You lead. Gordon, talk, I’ll signal you when I want a turn. Jam
ie? Jump in, facts from the folder.”
“And me?” Mary asked.
“He has a powerful dad. Are you telling me you didn’t pick anything up at Mothmont, when it comes to parental expectations and the wrath of Dad? Hit him where it hurts.”
She nodded slowly.
“Ready?” Gordon asked.
Not hearing a ‘no’, he unlocked and opened the door.
The metal hinges of the heavy door creaked painfully as the door swung open.
Our man wore a handlebar mustache, and he was big, ginger-haired and broad shouldered, with no sign of a gut, despite his large arms. He’d been stripped of his coat, and now sat at the corner of the cot, one of only four pieces of furniture in the room—cot, toilet, table, and chair.
No books, nothing to do with himself.
Walter stood as he saw us. I saw bewilderment, consternation.
Where the Bad Seeds had known who we were right away, this young man didn’t, I was certain. He saw a group of children, Helen smiling, Gordon glaring, Jamie and Mary with blank expressions. He looked to me, the smallest, as if I was somehow less threatening, and I gave him the coldest look I could manage.
Our group slowed, Gordon pausing to shut the door and lock it. Helen maintained course. She headed straight for him.
“Uh,” he said. “I think—”
Helen, smiling sweetly, grabbed him by the balls.
He staggered, but the movement didn’t break her grip. He swung, and she bent low, taking advantage of his height. She passed between his legs, almost swinging, pulling his dangling bits backward toward his asshole, and led him to bend far enough forward that he fell onto his hands and one knee.
“If you fight her, she’ll do permanent damage,” Gordon said. “Ease up, Helen? I think he’s willing to cooperate.”
She eased up, but she didn’t let go.
He heaved for breath.
“What are we calling this thing, anyway?” Gordon asked.
“Whiskers,” I said, a moment before Helen called out, “Fluffy!”
Jamie’s, “Twitches,” was so far behind it was closer to a fourth place finish than a third.
Mary glanced at me, confused.
“Bit of a competition,” I whispered. “I tend to win these.”
“Ah,” she whispered back.
“Let’s talk,” Gordon spoke to our hostage. “Motives. Start.”
“You can’t—”
“Your dad knows,” Mary said. “We’ve talked to him. We explained. He’s done with you.”
Hm. Right for the jugular. It fit the Mary I knew, but I had to give her a lesson in this. To properly break a person, one had to start at the outside edges, and work inward. Once you hit them with the worst possible scenario, there was little place left to go from there.
Still, it was interesting to get to know Mary on this level.
“No,” Walter said. “I don’t believe that.”
“You’re the eldest son,” Jamie said. “But when people die like people have been dying, and one’s son is responsible, sometimes a man has to face the fact that he’s raised a failure.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re crawling on the ground with your balls in a little girl’s hands,” Gordon said. “What do you think you are? The next Jacob Black?”
I watched the man’s face change. I puzzled over it. The confusion. The reaction.
Ah.
I raised my hand, and saw Gordon’s head turn incrementally.
He passed the baton to me, in a manner of speaking.
“We know your dad is involved,” I said. “We sent someone after him, and we have him in custody. He’s throwing you out with the anchor, Walter. Talking is the only way to stay afloat.”
I saw his eyes widen.
“Start fast,” Gordon said.
His reaction had told me that something didn’t add up, and it was related to something we’d said already.
His dad was involved, a powerful politician, in another prominent city, no less.
Which raised ever so many questions.
Previous Next
Cat out of the Bag 2.3
“I—I—Um,” Walter started. He winced as Helen changed position, repositioning and squashing Walter’s future children in the process. “Agh.”
“Start talking, Walter,” Gordon said. “We have all day. You most definitely don’t.”
“I’m think—thinking,” Walter said. “It’s kind of hard when—Ow! Augh. I might… throw up.”
“I wouldn’t,” I commented, still giving our man a cold, dead look. “Every second counts. You need to give us something your father won’t.”
“What—who are you?”
“That’s not helping you, Walter,” Gordon said. “You need to focus on the answers, not on coming up with questions.”
“I… what do you want to know?”
“That’s another question!” Helen chimed in, chirpy and cheerful, sounding just like a little girl on Christmas morning.
“Urrgh!” Walter grunted. He kicked, twisting, very possibly deciding the momentary agony was worth pulling himself free of Helen’s grip.
He was underestimating how strong Helen’s grip could be.
The pain was bad enough that he did follow through on his promise of throwing up. I winced a little in sympathy.
Mary leaned closer to me. She murmured in my ear, “Why didn’t you send her after us like that?”
“Her musculature and joints are different,” I murmured back. “In configuration and type. Mostly, she’s bad at exerting a lot of strength very quickly. She’s almost weaker than me when it comes to throwing proper punches, and that’s with her being bigger than me.”
“She’s almost weaker,” Jamie remarked, leaning in to join the conversation.
“I said almost!” I protested, annoyed. “Geez.”
“Give her a few years and some practice, maybe she’ll be dangerous in a scrap,” Jamie said, ignoring me.
“If she can get her hands on someone, we’re good,” I said, not taking my eyes off Helen. “You could use a prybar and you wouldn’t make her let go, and the sudden strength she can employ lets her take advantage of any openings.”
We watched our man flounder. He was only just finishing puking.
“I—I thought there was going to be a trial,” Walter finally said.
“Who do you think we are?” Gordon asked. “We’re your trial, Walter.”
Walter managed to focus, raising his head to peer at Gordon through disheveled red hair.
“We’re the Judge…” I said. Really, really, hoping someone else would pick up the tail end of the statement.
“Jury,” Jamie said.
I love you, Jamie.
“And executioners,” Mary said.
You’re awesome, Mary.
“If need be,” Gordon tacked on.
Eh. You’re alright, Gordon.
It made sense, to give the man a little hope, maybe, but I would have rather ratcheted up the tension another notch or two. As it stood, the man looked like he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea, and Gordon’s softening of the blow wasn’t helping to hammer it through and make Walter’s situation crystal clear in his very confused mind.
“Executioner?” Walter asked.
“You intentionally freed your little project, Wally,” I said. “Gorger is out doing what Gorger does. You know what Gorger does, right?”
“He cleans up messes,” Lil said, when Walter didn’t respond quick enough.
“He cleans up messes,” I said, staring Walter down. “Well, Gorger’s doing just that. But while he’s away, we’re here. Filling in his shoes. Are you going to help, Wally, or are you going to be a mess that Gorger’s temporary replacements need to clean up?”
I saw the light dawning in Wally’s eyes. The realization.
Yeah. You’re in a much, much worse situation than you thought. All the pieces are fitting together. You were wondering who these children are, and no
w I’ve connected the dots for you. The only way it all makes sense is if we’re with the Academy, same as Gorger is. When we talk about being possible executioners, you now know we’re telling the truth.
Now how are you going to react, knowing more than just your balls and dignity are on the line?
It was visible across his body. The adrenaline rush, the fight-or-flight response.
He was a big guy, and as launched himself into a mindset that was all ‘survival’, the pain of being crushed between the legs apparently disappeared. He flipped himself over, so he was on his back rather than all fours, and kicked at Helen.
I winced at that. Not because Helen couldn’t take a bit of abuse, but because Ibott would get fussy and maybe hit me again. That last bruise had taken a week to fade.
Helen was like a rag doll, sagging, leaning heavily to one side, letting herself be flexible enough that the relaxed motion absorbed the impact more than her head did.
Walter lurched forward, slamming Helen against the wall, forearm against her throat.
Mary started, as if she was going to run forward. I put my hand out, stopping her.
Walter was tall, and he was muscular, probably someone who did sports to get away from the hassles and stresses of spending much of the week in the Bowels. With his ruddy complexion, it was probably something like horseback riding or a field sport. His belly suggested that it wasn’t all muscle, either. Women tended to like a guy with a barrel chest, broad shoulders, and Walter was very much that.
All in all, our man was fourteen stone, maybe. Maybe as much as seventeen. Helen was less than half his weight, and he was leaning hard, the vast majority of his weight pinning her down, pressing down on her windpipe. It made for an awkward, hunched position, as Helen still hadn’t let go of him.
Frantic, a little nervous, Walter looked back over one shoulder. Worried about being attacked from behind.
Gordon hadn’t moved from the side of the table. Lil, Mary, Jamie and I were all by the door.
Nobody was moving a muscle to react. Even Mary had relaxed at my suggestion.
“This is looking more like a mess that really needs to be cleaned up,” Gordon commented, calm. “Don’t hurt him too badly, Helen. Even if he doesn’t decide to talk, the Academy could use him for raw materials.”