The smooth paneling covering much of the walls has been ripped away, so that scavengers could steal wire from the conduits, or, in many cases, repurpose the torn sheeting to make barricades for the express purpose of slowing down vehicles such as this one, and fortifying defensive positions. Up ahead are the neglected remains of one such barricade, though a couple of skeletal bodies add a macabre touch. Graffiti offers dire (but hardly legible) warnings in some obscure derivative of English (though the skulls and crude illustrations get the point across, if the bodies didn't).
Unlike many of the obstacles, this barricade has been built almost high enough to reach the ceiling, in order to thwart anyone who'd simply sail over in a hoverbike, or (with some effort) an aircar. The only gaps are there on account of the overhead support beams that crisscross the ceiling, and the remnants of the old lighting fixtures and air ducts; with some effort and skill, a brave explorer could simply scale the barrier and scamper along the ceiling supports (but be an easy target for anyone with a shotgun on the other side).
Although the driver instinctively pulls over and checks for signs of an ambush, it is soon evident that it's a false alarm. The barricade has long ago been compromised, with a hole big enough to drive a minivan through. A few dented plastruct containers full of trash have been set up in a lame attempt to fill the gap, but they've been shuffled about enough that the bike can roll through without any trouble.
On the other side, a rusted heap of a minivan riddled with bullet holes (with a few bones visible through its shattered windows) is crashed into another debris pile; it has likely already been stripped of any useful parts long ago (and one of its seats is discarded against the wall). Other bones and bits of trash are strewn about ... but there's a glint of light off of something wet and red. Blood - fresh.
The driver powers off the bike so that even its whisper falls quiet. Snarling, hissing and scrabbling echoes in the tunnel. Just on the other side of a pile of debris, there's the sound of teeth crunching on bones. What seemed like a length of discarded cable moves, revealing itself to be the long, naked rat-like tail of some large creature. It moves some more, and proves to be especially rat-like, though covered with lesions and unnatural growths: It's a rat, or some variant thereof, mutated by processes unknown to be comparable to a wolf in size.
The mutant rat pays no heed to the motorcycle or its passengers. Instead, it tears away at the leathery bodysuit of its food - formerly the driver of a scooter that appears to have wiped out while crossing one of the subway channels in a hasty retreat.
The motorcycle's headlight is switched off. The headlight of the scooter is still on, casting a gruesome shadow play against the wall. Much further down the way, there is also faint ambient light past another broken barricade and heaps of trash and filth. Amidst the scrabbling of claws and hissing of mutant rodents, there is a faint sobbing coming from around a corner, where a short maintenance access tunnel is largely blocked off by stacked containers and some furnishings that have been ripped off from one of the abandoned stations.
The two motorcycle riders check out the scene, anxious not to draw any undue attention to themselves. Up ahead, there are more corpses - the fresh ones still being snacked on by the hideous mutants. It seems that at least a couple more are occupied with trying to tear away at the debris blocking the maintenance access - in order to get to one, possibly two people hiding on the other side.
The motorcyclists regroup and quietly compare notes. There's the one feasting on the scooter driver nearby; although it has been very distracted, it's likely to react if they simply try to drive on by it, and making the rest of the way on foot just isn't a practical option. There seem to be four further down, gathered around the maintenance accessway. And beyond that, past another wrecked vehicle that somehow made its way down here, there's at least one more mutant prowling for an easy meal.
The way is far from clear, thanks to the scattered trash and the large size of the rodents scurrying about. Walking the bike through would seem the prudent course to navigate the hazards, if it weren't for the likelihood of being eaten in the process. Therefore, some stealth might be in order.
Tracy chews on her lower lip, before whispering to Cadena, "Do you think we can roll the bike past that rat without being noticed?"
The motorcycle driver pauses in contemplation, then whispers back, "Unlikely. No clear floor without crossing over the subway tracks, and I'm not strong enough to lift the bike altogether - and there are so many pieces of trash. One crunch and we're sure to draw attention."
"Okay then," Tracy says, and loads one of the taser bolts into her liberated sidearm. "I'll stun the creeper - and hope these things aren't too noisy. That should let us get closer to that junction to see what's going on, right?"
The helmeted "security guard" nods in response, then suddenly puts out a hand on Tracy's shoulder. "Hold it there. That's area effect, and noisy. Great for crowd control - not so much for stealth. Save it for when you're in a target-rich environment."
He then gets back off the bike, and unslings his staff. "How good are you at hitting things with sticks? Or spears?" He checks through his pouches.
"That isn't something I've really trained for," Tracy notes. "Just hand-to-hand and some weapons. I still have my taser though, which works for contact or short-range."
"I can use this gun as a bludgeon too.. but I'm sure the rat would cry out," Tracy continues. "I think if I can sneak up on it, I can zap it quietly and then.. strangle it." She doesn't sound too happy with that course of action though.
Tracy's companion fishes out some small tools, and takes the staff, flipping it over and swapping out the cap piece, attaching a vibro-bayonet in place, but leaving it turned off. "Here. A nice, sharp, pointy stick. Better than getting up close and personal with a disease-carrying giant rat." He holds it out, offering it. "Or, if you feel more comfortable, you could stick with strangling it. I could also do the dirty work, but I'm not likely to be as quiet."
Thinking over her options for moment first, Tracy accepts the makeshift spear after holstering her bolter. "Okay, I'll stick to the left wall going in, so there's some debris between me and the rat, and try to take it from the side. Be ready to use the headlight as a distraction if it looks like the rat stops eating or gets suspicious."
The driver nods, carefully rolling the bike a bit further in to get it past the remnants of the failed barricade, and avoiding "crunchy bits" on the floor.
After easing out of the sidecar, Tracy charges her taser and secures anything loose that might make a sound. She also makes sure her gas mask is in place, since it'll also muffle the sounds of her breathing (and any talking over her microphone she may need to do). "Wish me luck," she whispers to her partner before sneaking towards the wall.
The driver salutes Tracy, and readies a stun stick, keeping watch on the over-sized rodent "sentry."
The girl fades into the darkness as she crosses to the tunnel wall, and silently makes her way to the edge of the pool of light from the scooter's headlamp. Spear held in her off hand, she aims her taser and takes a shot at the still-oblivious rat.
The rat is completely caught off guard, as the taser bolt plunges into one of the meatier parts of its thin frame. Its mouth jerks open, and it shakes silently in place, before falling in a pile to the ground, twitching, its neural impulses overridden by the sudden burst of current. The chewed-on remains of a hand fall from its yellowed teeth.
Not wasting time (or waiting for her resolve to waver), Tracy retracts the taser darts moves forward to use the spear, aiming for the base of the rat's skull in hopes of severing the spinal cord without spilling too much blood.
The coup de gras is delivered flawlessly. This rat won't be getting back up. There's no evidence that any of the other mutants have paid the slightest heed to what has transpired here.
"Well done," comes the whisper over Tracy's headset. "Moving forward to your position."
"It looks like there's another barrier ahead," Tracy whispers into the comm, after wiping off the bayonet blade as best she can on what's available.
A grunt echoes over the headset. "All right. This is as far as I'm moving the bike until we can scout out further ahead. Just rolling it is noisy enough with the echo in here. Getting it over the rails is bound to draw attention, and there's no way it can squeeze through these trash piles without making a ruckus."
After the charging whine on the taser goes silent, Tracy nods to Cadena (since there's light enough to see her do it now). "There's a break by the mini-van; I'll head to there and see what I can."
Perhaps fortunately, there's little left of the scooter driver that can be definitively identified as human, as quite a number has been done on the body. Perhaps several of these mutants tore at the body at first, and this scrawny one was just staying behind to clean up the scraps. The scooter may well have been lying here for hours; the engine shut down, but the headlamp still shines against the wall. Torn scraps of fabric hint at a backpack of scavenged supplies, but the contents have been scattered and anything edible broken into.
"Looks like one of Jason's neighbors," Tracy comments on the remains, really doesn't want to examine them further. "Moving ahead.."
Light boot-steps and the slightest of scuffs against the floor plates sound behind Tracy. A quick check confirms a familiar silhouette dimly illuminated by the splash of the scooter's headlamp, lurking in the shadow of the debris pile. The silhouette nods in confirmation, keeping a distance behind her so as not to spoil her style.
Stopping at the front of the ruined van, Tracy stares forward to let her eyes gather as much light as they can to see what lies ahead.
The wrecked mini-van, despite having its hood pulled open, engine torn out, and other parts ripped off for salvage, still has the bones of its drivers in the front seat, and a few more scattered in the back. If there's any respect for the dead here, it only amounts to "leave the bones fall where they may." Past the mini-van, a gap has been cleared through the trash, past a few more crates. The crates have their lids popped, as if curiosity-seekers have checked their contents only to confirm that they'd been filled up with trash for ballast.
Tracy's immediate surroundings are cast in shadow. Beyond the next debris pile, there is a faint flickering light, and garbled music. Some sort of entertainment device is playing, and by the odd cast of the light, the illumination is only provided by its control panel, still on. The skittering of claws on the floor panels, and crunch of debris can be heard, plus an occasional choked sob, and a whispered curse.
Drawing her taser, Tracy flips on the laser-sight. It's not terribly accurate, but at least the red dot can be used to sweep for obstacles in her path.. and she thinks that animals living in the dark have trouble seeing red, but isn't sure if that means the rats won't notice it. Still, if they do.. it's something else for them to attack rather than her. She moves forward cautiously to the next bit of cover to get a better look at what's ahead.
From her improved vantage point, Tracy can see another one of those wolf-sized rats, chewing on a body that is intact enough to be recognizable as humanoid, but only barely. There are a few scattered pieces of sports equipment and metal that might have once served as some makeshift armor, but it does little good now. Nearby, one of the maintenance floor panels has been ripped away to reveal a pit with exposed conduits - many of them broken open and torn apart, likely to steal wiring. A bicycle - the simple, people-powered kind - is toppled nearby.
Deciding to test her rat color-blindness theory, Tracy tries shining the laser-dot near the feasting rat to see if it reacts. If it does.. maybe she can lure it closer without having to expose herself!
Past the open floor hatch and to the right, Tracy can see an opening to a maintenance tunnel that runs perpendicular to the subway tube. There's another body being fought over by a couple more mutants, and a lashing tail hints at another one lurking just around the corner. Part of the skeletal frame of a small air-car can be seen wedged into the side-tunnel, providing a sort of defensive cage that so far seems to be holding the rats back. However, aircars are built to be LIGHT, and the frame rattles and shakes under the determined efforts of the one mutant that hasn't a meal to keep it occupied.
"I count at least four targets ahead, Cadena," Tracy whispers into her mic. "But they're not clustered enough for a single bolt. Trying to lure away the straggler."
It takes a bit to finally catch the rat's attention, so engrossed in its meal as it is, and so unwilling to abandon it when there are others nearby who might take its place. However, at last it can ignore the dot no longer. It snorts, drooling out of its malformed mouth, and shuffles after the dot.
Now that she's further away from the wall, the whispered curses make more sense to Tracy. There's a male voice behind the aircar frame, muttering, "Frotzin' rats!" over and over, and a female is sobbing.
The aircar frame stops rattling. The rat round the corner makes a snuffling noise, then waddles over to the abandoned body. It sniffs around curiously, verifies that the previous diner is otherwise occupied ... then tentatively nibbles at the dead bicyclist.
"Definitely some scavengers still alive up ahead," Tracy informs Cadena. Once she's got the rat to cover half the distance towards her, she shifts the dot to its head and fires her taser.
The mutant rat follows the dot, but can't see it anymore now that it's dancing on its forehead. The rat looks up, jaw slack, right as the taser fires. Zzt. Right into the mouth. The rat flops silently to the floor plate, staring into space.
Back at its previous meal, the other rat just gleefully nibbles away, oblivious and far from caring about the fate of its rival.
The male voice drops into silence as the aircar's frame stops shaking, and a little later, the woman quiets as well.
Definitely need to wash the barbs before shooting a person, Tracy thinks, and presses the retractor to reel the darts back in, hoping the music and other noise covers the whine of the motor and recharging capacitor.
The holo-box (its holo transmitters long since smashed by the rats) continues to play a nonsensical repetitious phrase about "Purple Pants, Purple Pants! Purple purple purple pants!" The worst of it is that the beat is actually kind of catchy - and the rest of the lyrics are so dialectic as to be unintelligible.
"I think the people ahead have noticed something," Tracy informs Cadena. "I hope I can aim the bolt okay.. the other three rats are clustered close now." Swapping the taser for the bolter (which is a bit heavy for one handed use, frankly, but she's not going to abandon the spear), the girl tries to move closer, figuring she can get a good shot from where the knocked out rat is.
As Tracy maneuvers into position, just in time she notices a dangling wire that has fallen loose from one of the ceiling supports, stringing down to the nearest trash pile. Hitting that slowly would most certainly send a cascade of trash crashing to the ground. Hitting it at high speed could mean getting "clothes-lined" or worse. Fortunately, Tracy does neither. The rats are oblivious, as if nothing ever hunts them down here.
Taking a deep breath, Tracy raises the heavy pistol and switches it to use the bolt launcher, with the taser bolt already loaded, and takes aim at roughly the center of the cluster of the three remaining rats. "Here goes.." she whispers to Cadena, and takes the shot.
The mutant rats look up as the bolt fires into their midst, smacking into the wall just a little off course. They have only an instant to react, and if there were an instant more, it looks as if all three might instinctively leap upon the device to attack it. However, that's a moot point, once the device explodes with a Tesla effect upon the area. "Purple Pants, Purp--" The holo-box explodes, mercifully.
"Mental note," Tracy mutters to herself. "Use both hands to fire this thing next time.."
Three mutant rats fall to the ground, unconscious, twitching.
"Frotz! That was some kinda weapon! We're saved!" yells the male voice. "Hey, help! We're in here!"
"Is that all of them?" comes over the headset. "If so, let's get on through."
"Hold on," Tracy calls, as she holsters the heavy gun and goes to work with the spear to make sure the rats don't get up again. "Start moving up, yeah," she replies over the comm. "I'll make sure the scavengers can get out on their own."
"All right. Going back for the bike. Be with you in a few," comes the reply over the headset. Tracy can hear the shuffle of boots rushing back down the tunnel.
The male voice seems to have fallen into silence.
After the grisly work of stabbing the rats and trying not to look too closely at the corpses, Tracy looks over the aircar-frame barricade. "Are you injured in there?" she calls to those holed up on the other side.
"Doesn't sound like cops," the male voice whispers to his companion. Then louder, "Yo! You a cop?"
With the holo-box dead, the area has fallen into pitch black darkness, save for the faint red glow of the laser pointer on Tracy's taser.
Down the tunnel, back the way she came, Tracy can hear a clatter of boxes and the thumping of something rolling over the rails.
"Yeah, I'm Officer Skunkman of the Sewer Patrol," Tracy notes sarcastically. "If I were a cop, would I be using stun rounds? I just need to know if you can get out of there on your own. I've got places to be."
The scavenger pauses for whispered conversation with his companion.
She cannot make out the conversation, but then the male voice speaks up again. "Mighty kind of you, officer, we'll be okay. We just got surprised an' trapped in here by dem rats."
A scraping noise comes from back down the tunnel, of a plastruct crate full of ballast being shoved along a floor plate. An empty bottle rolls, falls, and breaks. "Just me," comes over the headset. "I'm not trying to be noisy. Just comes naturally."
Shaking her head, Tracy says to the scavengers, "Okay, but I suggest you get out of here as soon as possible. It's only a matter of time before more rats show up."
"Don't have to tell me twice, lady," the scavenger says. There's the sound of scraping metal on concrete.
As if to punctuate this possibility, Tracy catches the sound of claws scuttling on floor panels, just around the corner and past the now-dead bodies, back in the main tunnel. Something has been sneaking up on her.
"Tracy, look out!" comes a warning cry over the headset. At that moment, a large shadow separates from the darkness, leaping upon her!
Spinning around, Tracy swings up the spear to try and catch the rat in mid-air!
The spear-tip doesn't do more than a glancing blow on the rat, but this is more than enough to suffice in throwing it off of its leaping trajectory. The mutant slams into the floor nearby, and twists about, hissing and spraying green spittle.
"Ahhh! Jacob, the rats are attacking!" yelps a female voice. The sounds of scraping metal reverses as the scavengers try to push debris back into position. Jacob moans. "Frotzin' rats!"
Abandoning the motorcycle a distance back, Tracy's partner comes dashing along, knocking debris and banging into remnants of the barricades heedlessly, as he hefts the sawed-off shotgun from the sidecar.
Holding the spear with both hands, Tracy lets out a yell at the rat before jabbing at it again!
The vibro-bayonet, even with the power turned off, proves to be amply sharp enough with the leverage of the makeshift spear behind it, to sever the rat's spinal cord neatly - and with the added bonus that Tracy is at a safe distance as the mutant sprays ichor from the wound. It flops to the floor-plates, twitching only a few times before expiring.
The bootsteps suddenly come to a halt. "Tracy," comes the voice over the headset. "You all right over there?"
The scavengers cower behind the makeshift barricade.
The are tapping noises, and then the sliding of a boot against a metal edge. "Careful," he adds. "There's an open pit here. Can't clearly make out how far down it goes."
Aside from panting and listening to her heart pound, Tracy seems unscathed. "I'm okay," she replies. "I wish we had a giant terrier now.."
At a more cautious pace, the other guard walks over, and pats Tracy on the shoulder. "C'mon," he says. "I smell trouble here. We need to clear out before the natives get restless."
"Yeah, let's get the bike through and get out of here," Tracy says, handing over the spear. "You might want to wash this though.."
After a pause, the male scavenger says, "You okay out there, Officer?"
Bootsteps shuffle away, and there's the sound of the shotgun sliding back into its sling, and the spear tip scraping against something. Then, the bike powers back on, and its headlights illuminate the grisly scene.
"I'm fine," Tracy says out loud. "Hopefully that's the last sewer rat. Good luck, but I've got to get going."
"Peace," Jacob says, followed by a shy "G'bye!" from the female scavenger.
Returning to the bike, Tracy helps get it rolling. "I kind of like this gun now," she tells Cadena. "And the spear was very handy, thanks."
"Good to hear," comes the reply over the headset. Once Tracy is secure in the sidecar and the weapons are stowed, they move along at a leisurely pace, carefully navigating the encroaching debris piles. "You did all right there, kid. Scary, almost." He sighs, and now that there's a bit more distance between them and the scene, he adds, "Heavy incense back there. Trying to cover up the scent of drugs - the old-fashioned kind, not the dermal patches that are in vogue with the Arcology kids. Of course, scavvies in the Dregs can't afford that luxury."
"Scary? Me?" Tracy asks. "Jason would never believe you if you told him that. Glad we didn't stick around to dig those two out then; no telling what they'd have done if they were on drugs."
Getting to the construction site would be quite a hike on foot; fortunately once they're clear of the Ecoclysm-torn remnants of the subway system, it's clearer going for the motorcycle, though they do need to use a different entrance for the old sewer network, since the bike won't fit the usual way.
"Well, out in the Dregs, no good deed goes unpunished," the driver says grimly. "But I don't mind that we helped them out with a little 'enlightened self-interest.'"
"Think we'll be going back via that route?" Tracy asks.
Where they're headed is the Pearl Tower, a new 'Arco-Tower' design that Arcadia Developments is pioneering. It was begun about five years ago and will purportedly produce enough food and energy through hanging wind-power plants, solar collectors, and an internal fusion reactor for difficult weather conditions to sustain its population, as well as featuring reduced emissions. The design reminds Cadena of the Ivory Tower that his Margie made, though it won't boast the same gravity-defying matrix of buildings and monuments.
"I don't know of any others," the driver replies. "Let's just hope our new 'friends' have the sense to move out for a while, until things calm down in the tunnels." He then grumbles, as the headlights illuminate a massive pile of debris formed by a partially collapsed ceiling structure. "All right. Slight detour. Dismount, please." He does so, preparing to haul the motorcycle over the rails to get to a clearer section to continue their journey.
"This new tower we're going to.. I assume it'll have an upgraded, new sewer line too?" Tracy asks. "I mean.. with cameras and such? We'll be noticed." She gets out to help move the bike over the rails.
With some effort - and noise - they manage to get it over to the other side. "I'm just following the directions C-- I received," he replies. "I'm guessing that if we get noticed by someone working with Arcadia Developments, the right people will know to look the other way. If not ... we'll just have to improvise."
"Okay, as long as we don't get shot at too much," Tracy says, her grin hidden behind her mask. "I need a break from that."
The normal sewer access from the subway station won't serve them for getting the bike down. Instead, they'll need to trek briefly above the ground to a sewer access station, though it's still in the outskirts of North Bend so hopefully it won't be monitored as closely as traffic in the main city would be. Or they could leave the bike... But it'll be a long walk.
"I'd rather not abandon the bike," Tracy notes. "May need it for a quick getaway still."
"Hey, any plan that involves abandoning this beauty, I'm not on board for," the driver replies. "That would be a crime." He checks the console, for the occasional ping from RFID tags giving clues as to their progress. "Here's our turn. We're getting close to surface access, so keep an eye out for squatters."
Just in case, Tracy draws the bolter and loads another taser bolt.
"You're a pretty good shot with that thing," the driver remarks. "I guess your mama signed you up for a personal defense course? Or are you self-taught?"
Just past the turn is another subway station, abandoned like the rest of the network. There are stairs leading to street level, and a cargo elevator that looks rusty, but might still work. The signs that would normally display estimated arrival times are filled with static.
"She had me trained, yeah," Tracy says. "Except for the shooting. I just kinda picked that up over time."
So far as Tracy can tell, it's a normal abandoned station. The snack vending machines were broken into a long time ago, leaving broken glass where the display items should have been, but the water fountains still work.
"There's still power, so the elevator might be working," Tracy notes. "Think it's worth risking though?" she asks Cadena.
"The monitors are still on?" the driver says, sounding surprised. "Someone might have hacked into the power grid, but ... hmm." He brings the bike to a stop, leaving the headlights on as he surveys the area.
It appears to Cadena and Tracy that there must be some scavengers that call the place home, judging from the footprints, but they don't hear any signs of human habitation at the moment. At this time of day, scavengers would be out foraging through the trash heaps and remnants of old North Bend for anything that could be sold or used.
"I'm guessing the elevator motors have been scavenged," Tracy says. "Think this thing can drive up stairs? Wheels can do stuff like that, right?"
There are some sleeping rolls, hidden under the cover of fallen posters, and a fireplace made of scavenged bricks in the women's bathroom where the internal air circulation vents can draw the smoke off harmlessly far away without betraying the scavengers' position.
"One way to find out," the other guard says, going to the controls. "If it's booby-trapped, I'm going to be so disappointed, but, hey, we just drove in here. I don't see a high concern for defending against whatever might wander in from the tunnels. If there are some scavvies waiting upstairs, let's hope they're stingy enough with their ammo that they let us talk first before opening fire."
"We should have the shotgun ready," Tracy notes. "Does it look like the elevator has power?"
The elevator display shows the elevator is on the ground floor. First floor would appear to be offices, and Subway level would appear to be where they are now.
The guard nods and goes back for the shotgun, popping open the breech and reloading with non-lethal rounds, then cracking it back into place and slinging it into its holster. "Right." He checks his helmet, and makes sure he doesn't have any rat-ichor on him. "There. Perfectly normal. Every right to be here. Just passing through. Nothing unusual here." He presses the call button.
Ding! The elevator motors whir to life.
Tracy raises up her bolter as well, just in case. She uses both hands this time to keep it steady.
As the elevator drops to their floor and sinks slowly into position, both Tracy and Cadena hear something heavy jostle against the inside of the doors. It seems likely that whomever lives in the subway station has rigged up noisy things, set to fall if someone tries to use the elevator!
The doors start to open, silhouetting several large and precariously positioned crates, bottles, and flimsy cardboard boxes.
"At least it's not a giant mutant terrier," Tracy notes.
Crates begin to topple downward... The white dog in guard's disguise rushes to try to catch them, but Tracy is faster-- too fast for her own good. She slams into the trash, causing an unholy ruckus of broken bottles and clanging metal.
"I thought it'd be more solid," Tracy claims as her excuse for plowing into the mess.
"I hear voices," Tracy notes. "I think they heard me."
Getting to her feet again, Tracy starts hauling junk out of the elevator to make room for the motorcycle. "I bet we can be out of here before the squatters return," she says as she works.
The guard wades through the debris and slams in the emergency-stop button to prevent the elevator from being called back up. "Find a place to hide! I'll try to roll the bike in here for now." He surveys the mess, to gauge whether or not he can follow through on that plan.
"Shouldn't we clear both doors?" Tracy asks, as she looks around. Aside from the bathrooms and stairwells, there aren't many hiding places. "Oh, the stairs. I should run up and see where the elevator opens.." she notes.
Without stopping to discuss tactics, the guard rushes back out and rolls the motorcycle as best he can over and through the debris.
Despite the comment about running, Tracy checks the stairs cautiously.
As Tracy charges up the stairs, ignoring the crunching sounds of debris scattered across the steps, she sees the first floor of the subway-- a typical layout, with a ticket office on the left, a pair of turnstiles directly ahead, and a room with lockers and a security checkpoint on the right, presumably for cargo that won't fit through the turnstiles.. Beyond that is a plaza which opens up to the North Bend outskirts, with a fountain in the center.
"The other door will need to be cleared once the elevator gets here," Tracy reports to Cadena. "No sign of anyone else up here yet."
Taking that as confirmation, the guard pops the emergency lock back out and hits the button for the next floor up. "On my way up to you."
While waiting for the elevator, Tracy goes to examine the northern security gate, since getting the bike through the turnstiles would require a bit of demolition work. Once at the gate, she gets out her tools and tries to pick the lock..
The cargo elevator lifts upward with almost maddening slowness for the security guard-helmeted motorcyclist.
With the lock picked, Tracy eases open the door so can get a peek at the room beyond, hoping it's clear to the door she sees on the other side of the turnstiles.
Lockers line the walls, and a security office fills the wall to the right, though the metal louvres have been lowered so that there's no seeing into it; the armored glass door is dark and scratches on the surface shows that it has withstood past scavengers' attempts to break into it.
Leaving the door ajar, Tracy heads back to the elevator to help clear away the other boxes of junk once its doors open.
The elevator doors open. Cadena sees a thick armor-glass wall separating him from the plaza outside, with a fountain in the center, and two turnstiles that would presumably allow ticket-bearing passengers to pass through. To the left is a security gate leading to the ticket office, and to the right, an opened gate to what looks like a locker room where people can store their belongings.
The guard is still in the middle of trying to take advantage of the elevator's slow ride to shuffle junk out of the way, when the doors open.
Tracy moves in once the doors open, to start pulling junk out of the way.
"Pest control!" the guard shouts. "Mutant predatory rodents in the vicinity! Unless you have any wounded who need medical attention, please let us pass through so we can finish our mission!"
"I don't think there's anyone up here," Tracy tells Cadena, and points to the security door. "We need to go through there."
From what Cadena can make of things, there were two scavengers upstairs arguing about who got to go downstairs first to see what was going on. If the assailants had a gun, the argument went, then it should be the one who had the improvised "zip gun". Or perhaps the one who had the shield made of some scrap metal. Now that he's made his pronouncement, however, they seem much less inclined to head downstairs.
There are still some excited-sounding voices from outside, at a significantly greater distance than the ones who were in the office level.
"No," the guard says, "I think we'll have to deal with the locals if we aren't careful." He rolls the bike out of the elevator, knocking some more boxes out of the way, as he follows Tracy's directions toward the security area. Louder, "Any signs of rat spoor? Criminy, I hope not!"
Oblivious to any noises, Tracy nearly trips when Cadena says 'criminy' but reaches the door to hold it open for the bike.
"I'll check the other door.. lock that one behind you once you get the bike inside," Tracy tells.. her companion? She's not sure if she should really call him Cadena at the moment. "I'm going to check the other door."
The distant yelps of excitable scavengers filters in from the plaza outside, where a broken fountain collects stagnant rainwater. Moss grows thickly on the broken statue at its center.
The guard nods, pausing only to secure the door once the bike is rolled through.
The old Eagle Security security system would daunt the average juvenile delinquent, but thanks to Jason's training, Tracy has no trouble. This security gate too pops open.
The other security gate hisses shut once there's nothing in the way.
"So far, so good," Tracy notes as she swings open the second door.
Several scavengers converge on the station, still well away from it but now audible. "Hey! Lookouts! We saw the alarm!" one yells, a deep-voiced man. "What's going on?"
"Rat attack!" the lookout yells back.
"Rats?! They'll get into the food! C'mon, brothers and sisters!" the scavenger yells as he hurries toward the station, wielding a heavy improvised mallet, a length of iron rebar with a chunk of cement on the end.
"On second thought," Tracy says, trying to leap into the sidecar as the bike is pushed passed.
Once settled into the seat, the girl notes to Cadena, "I think the expression is 'burn rubber' for what happens next, right?"
"Yeah," the guard says, "I reckon it is." He hops back on the bike and guns the engine. "PEST CONTROL, COMING THROUGH!" And with that, he zooms out of the security door and into the street.
The nearby scavenger yelps as Cadena's bike zooms past. Even with the noisemaker off, the tires still squeal as he lays in a tight curve and powers up the street. "Frackin' watch where you're driving!" he shouts.
The abandoned subway station recedes into the distance. Ahead and on the other side of the road is a ruined building next to several large shallow bodies of poisonous-smelling waste water, presumably some sort of water purification project that has fallen into disrepair. Much more inviting-looking is the on-ramp for the old highway leading toward the fortified suburbs of North Bend.
Tracy watches the sky more than anything else. "We're going back underground, right?" she asks Cadena. "I feel kind of exposed up here."
"I'd prefer the high road for a change," the driver says. "Driving underground is just too ... interesting for my tastes. But if you prefer the sewers ... well! We can take the tour since we're here."
The sign for the sewer outlet station reads, 'NORTH BEND WATER PURIFICATION FACILITY 5- AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' and beneath that, a bunch of legal-sounding language that sums up to, anyone who drives off the road into the station area is taking their life into their own hands.
"Nobody is strafing us with killbots underground though," Tracy notes. "Rats don't shoot back."
The driver shrugs. "Just don't step in anything funny. We don't want the 'killbots' to smell us coming once we're top-side again." He changes course, taking the low road to the sewers.
"Wait.. killbots have noses?" Tracy has to ask.
The station itself has been scavenged a few times for worthwhile parts, but the truck-loading ramp still works, allowing them to get to the sewer network level. Once inside, they find that the floors are mercifully free of debris. With the headlight on they can make much better time, than they did in the subway.
The driver just laughs. "Let's see if we still have ours once we're through!"
Catching the rustling of patrols ahead, Cadena bypasses several patrols-- whether they're Dantech or not, he doesn't know, since he elected not to stop and ask. The sewers grow visibly better maintained and lit as they head toward the center of North Bend.
Fortunately for them, the security system for the Pearl Tower isn't active. From the sewer annex, it's a simple climb up a ladder to reach the basement level...
Based on the blueprints Cadena was able to retrieve, they've located the sewer access hatch from the subsection directly beneath the waste disposal tube. A pipe to the central water reservoir separates them from the intended dropoff point... The statue of Raphael, he who heals. It seemed an appropriate choice at the time.
On the bright side, it doesn't sound like there're many people around at the moment. They can hear construction workers on the other side of the basement.
"So.. we just have to go straight up?" Tracy asks Cadena quietly.
"That's the general idea," he replies. "Unfortunately, the discussion was a bit ... oblique, out of concern that someone with hacking skills equal to Mr. Edwards's might have been listening in. Just remember: You belong here. This isn't a commando raid. We're just delivering a package."
"Okay, so.. we shouldn't have any trouble up there, right?" Tracy asks. "No reason for the Empire of Stars to have infiltrated the construction crew or anything like that?"
The guard puts the motorcycle over to the side, so no one is likely to trip over it in the dark without a bit of effort. He looks reluctant, but, after a vain effort to find something to camouflage it, shrugs and gives up, heading over to the ladder. "We can't rule anything out, I suppose. But that'd be downright forward-thinking for the Empire of Stars to infiltrate every single Arcadia Developments project, don't you think?"
"Who knows what their ultimate plans were," Tracy says, and goes to the ladder. "Do you any special lock code for the hatch, or should I get it open on my own?"
"Just try it," the guard says. "Should've been left unlocked for us."
Climbing up to the top of the ladder, Tracy just does that and tries to open the hatch.
The hatch opens silently, without the noisy squeals that Tracy has come to associate with rusty hinges. Hurray for new construction!
The girls pops up through the opening to floor above.
The guard climbs up next, pausing just under the opening to wait for Tracy's "all-clear" before emerging.
The air smells of new construction, the slightly acidic scent of freshly poured nanocrete. Across the basement, Tracy hears construction workers. Otherwise it seems quiet. The nearby wastewater filtering plant barely even bubbles; with so few inhabitants in these early days, there's next to nothing for it to do.
"All clear," Tracy says, using the support column near the hatch to block any view from the workers.
Nearby, the stern face of the archangel Michael looks silently out toward the support column. He rests both hands on a long sword, its tip planted into the pedestal on which he stands, and his wings are furled.
"So, which angel is our dropoff?" Tracy asks Cadena, hoping he'll say 'Michael' since that one is right there.
The guard clambers out, and then carefully puts the lid back into place, so as not to leave any unsafe openings for workers to stumble into. Safety is job #1! He holds out a hand to Tracy, motioning her to stand still for a moment, while he does a quick once-over to make sure her uniform looks to be in order, then he gives himself a quick check. That done, he nods toward the pipe-work that blocks the way immediately west. "Over to the other side. That's Raphael. I'm sure Margie would love to see him up close when she gets the chance."
"Okay.. I can climb over those pipes.." Tracy says, giving the superstructure the look-over of someone experienced in climbing such things.
"You could, but let's not," the guard says. "That's bound to draw unwelcome attention - and there's no chance I'll be able to follow without causing a scene. I'm too ... awkward."
"You could.." Tracy starts to say, then nods. "Okay, our features are hidden anyway. Our story is that we're doing a security sweep?"
To the counter-clockwise direction, a security camera sweeps the scene from the top of a set of supply shelves, one of many that holds various crates of construction tools, building materials, spare parts, and the like. Two elevators sit side by side, and a set of stairs allows access behind them, in the event that a disaster renders the elevators unsafe.
"We don't have a story," the guard says, starting to stride leisurely forward. "We just nod and keep on walking. Someone'd need a good reason to waste our time."
"Check the shelves as we pass, just in case there is a bomb or something," Tracy says. "It'll look less suspicious on camera."
The guard turns briefly, regarding the statue of Michael, and just quietly nods as he continues with his rounds.
The security camera swivels side to side, but thanks to Jason's training, Tracy can see that its arc of traversal only reaches the elevators and the stairs, and there's a wide gap behind the shelves. If Jason were designing this place, he'd have a hidden camera or two, so that itnruders might spot the easy camera and never realize they were blunding right into the concealed ones' field of vision.
"We can avoid the main camera sweep if we want," Tracy notes. "I don't see any hidden cameras to cover the blind spots."
"It seems the angels are indeed watching over us," the guard notes over the headset. "Or, at least, they will, once everything is powered up. Someone has a twisted sense of humor."
The security camera clicks as it reaches the end of its arc, then swivels the other way.
Tracy pauses to look back at the statue of Michael. "Cameras in the statues?" she asks.
The guard just nods, casually pausing along the way, to synchronize with the camera sweep.
Both Cadena and Tracy manage to time walking beneath the security camera so that it never actually catches them in its line of sight.
Ahead of them, on the right, Archangel Gabriel holds a trumpet in his hands but has not yet lifted it to his lips. Doomsday evidently wasn't that close when the statue was being built. Beyond the support column is the furnace, bracketed by air circulation pumps. During the winter, air will be pumped through heating circuits to warm it and keep the entire tower at a comfy temperature. Presumably in the summer, it would be routed through a different set of vents to take advantage of natural heat dissipation surfaces.
Now that they're near the workers, Tracy feels a little nervous. "Just walk past, maybe nod.. look like we're supposed to be here, right?" she asks Cadena.
"Sam! Hold your frackin' end up!" yells one of the workers at the other. "You're wobbling it all over the frotzed place!" They seem to be manhandling a piece of machinery into place.
"You're doing just fine, kid," the guard says. "A little nervousness is okay when it's your first day on the job as a security recruit. Just follow my lead."
"Ooookay," Tracy replies, wondering just what sort of game this version of Cadena comes from.
The guard walks around the support column, then stops as he sees that there's some heavy machinery being moved into place. He stands out in the open, making no attempt to hide.
The foreman, consulting his clipboard, doesn't notice Cadena until he's nearby. "Uh! Excuse me, sir," he says to the obviously security-garbed man, his attention on the helmet. "Can I help you with something?"
Tracy stops behind Cadena and waits.
"I need to pass through here to the other side," the guard says, pointing to indicate. "But I can wait until it's clear."
The foreman nods and redirects his attention to the workers. "All right, Max, hold it steady, Sam, line it up with the docking bay. Easy... Easy... Okay, just slide it right in."
The workers sweat as they push the heavy motor into place. Once it settles into place, they start attaching bolts. Tiny hand-held machine tools whine.
The guard just stands there, crossing his arms and casually leaning against the support pillar (after a quick and casual check to make sure there are no signs of fresh paint or other hazards) while he watches the work in progress, with the air of someone who's paid by the hour.
The foreman nods. "Okay, it's clear, sir," he says. He glances at the recruit and then whistles. "You're too pretty for security, miss."
Tracy blushes. "Well.. gotta start somewhere, right?" she replies.
"Hey, hey," the guard says, casually waving it off as he strolls on by. "Don't let it go to her head!"
This elicits a set of guffaws from the workers, who resume bolting things into place. For the moment, it looks clear.
Once past the men, Tracy takes a deep breath to relax.
The guard continues his route, turning briefly to admire the statue of Uriel, as he passes the next support column. "Hmm," he remarks. "You know, I suppose we could have just taken the stairs up a flight, and crossed over the next level."
The next stretch looks clear, with just an easily spotted camera monitoring the elevators and stairs on this side. They look identical to the ones on the other side, but perhaps there are rules about how far one can be from any access point.
"We can try on the way back," Tracy offers. "Unless it's really crowded up there.
"Sounds like a plan," the guard says, pausing casually again to "let Tracy catch up" and thus synchronize himself with the sweep of the other security camera.
"I need to get to my chip wallet," Tracy notes when they're in sight of the statue of Raphael. "Do you know where we need to place the v-chip with the data on it?"
Past the security camera, the coast seems clear. All they need to do is to insert the encrypted data chip, nestled in an electrostatic-safe container, into the niche in the Archangel Raphael statue.
Once past the camera, the guard digs into a utility pouch and pulls out an adjusting tool "borrowed" from the mercenary garage. "Should be pretty straightforward. I just need to check this out." He approaches the statue.
While Cadena does his investigation, Tracy adjusts her armor a bit so she can open the security jumpsuit enough to reach the pocket of the one she wears underneath and retrieve her chip wallet. Then she transfers the desired chip to an outside pocket and seals everything back up again.
The Archangel Raphael looks down at Cadena, silently and unmoving. There is kindness his his gaze and he stretches forth his hands as if offering (unspecific) help and aid. An old-fashioned brass plaque sits on the pedestal to identify him. A holographic design provides those with PDAs and wrist-comms any amount of information they might want on the subject of archangels.
The guard gives a nod to the statue, then kneels down and unscrews the bolts holding the plaque at the base of the statue. He leaves one in place so he can swivel the plaque open, then nods to Tracy and holds out a hand.
Tracy hurries forward and hands over the chip.
In goes the chip, and then the guard puts the plaque back in place, re-securing the bolts. "All done," he proclaims, standing up. "Now ... to send the signal."
"How do we do that?" Tracy asks.
"Pre-paid cell phone," the guard says. "Let's take the stairs up to the next level, so we can get a signal." He heads back for the stairs.
"We'll need to be careful," Tracy claims. "If it's a non-maintenance area they'll probably have dome-cameras."
As they head toward the stairs, the camera swivels back toward them, and before they can halt, it halts regarding them silently for a moment. The light flicks to yellow underneath it... And then back to green.
"I think we're being ignored," Tracy whispers, and heads into the stairwell.
The guard makes haste for the stairs, and quietly growls when he realizes that the camera sweep pattern doesn't work quite the same for him if he's going the other direction. "Just as well. Didn't hurt to be careful anyway."
Just inside, however, Tracy pauses and looks at her wrist, feeling the 'message pending' vibration. She slides off the cover and checks the message.
The guard digs out the pre-paid cell phone. It's a cheap, disposable model and hence its free casing is emblazoned with tacky G-Mart imprint advertising that cycles through - except for a few misprint spots where the lettering turns into an unintelligible color-static blob, or occasionally jerks and stutters. He punches in the number as he ascends the stairs.
The screen shows a message from an anonymous sender, but somehow it cleared her spam and malware filters. It reads: "WITHIN THE SEED A FLOWER WAITS TO BE BORN."
The grainy image of Ms. Arcadia forms. "Yes?" she says. Her brow furrows at the sight of a security guard's helmet.
"Special delivery for you, ma'am," the guard says. "Just dropped it off."
Tracy puzzles over the message. I think only Mom or Jason could send this, she thinks. But neither tends to be poetically cryptic. It could be a trap.. a phrase that triggers Cadena to do something, maybe? Now the girl chews her lower lip in worry.
The message on Tracy's wristcom dissolves, then reforms, pixels swarming as if made of glowing bees. "THE GODSLAYER BRINGS THE FIMBULWINTER."
Ms. Arcadia blinks. "Oh! Of course," she says, recognizing Cadena's voice. "Thank you so much! Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you."
"Jason Zero," Tracy mutters in surprise. Is an AD contacting her, in order to make the message change like that? Which means her bracer is probably infected with something now, she realizes. But the terminology.. Fimbulwinter is Norse, hinting at Hel being the source..
The pixels swarm again, and converge on a final image. A hand held out to the right, across a field of green hills.
The guard nods. "It's my pleasure, ma'am," he says. "You have yourself a nice day, now. Until next time."
Ms. Arcadia looks a bit perplexed at Cadena's language, but smiles as the call ends.
"I think I just got a message from HEL or HECATE," Tracy whispers to Cadena, as she tries to save the image to a file for later analysis.
The image deteriorates even as Tracy hammers virtual buttons, leaving no evidence that a message was there at all.
"Huh," the guard notes. "Here, and I'd turned off all my net communications so nobody could get a geo-lock on me. Well, nothing to do for it now." He pops the case open on the pre-paid cell phone, and yanks the battery out, tucking it all into a utility pouch for later disposal.
With a grimace of frustration, Tracy starts reciting the words over and over to herself so she'll remember them. "Within the seed a flower waits to be born. The Godslayer brings the Fimbulwinter. An image of a hand held out to the right, across a field of green hills.." she mutters.
"Palmdale," comes the voice back over the headset. "Palmdale, California, in the reclaimed zone. ... That's the Palmdale community logo."
"The seed.. the seed is the old Fracture zone then?" Tracy asks.
"What started this, anyway?" comes the guard's reply. "This isn't some of that poetry of yours, is it?"
"No, it just.. showed up on my bracer," Tracy says in exasperation. "I don't know who could have sent it."
"Oh," comes the reply from the guard. "Well ... maybe Ms. H had the cameras working after all, and that was her little way of acknowledging that we'd 'planted the seed'? But I don't even know what that ... Fimbul ... winter is."
"The end of the world," Tracy says. "The winter without end, that freezes everything."
"Including flowers," the guard replies.
"This isn't the best time to figure it out," Tracy notes. "We need to get out of here and back to the nest."