《Blood in the Wilderness》 Chapter 1-The Alarm The shrill screech of the alarm clock squawked through the otherwise still morning air. Springing up rapidly, Kathy violently silenced the machine and began preparing for her day. Kathy was a trail guide, and today she would be starting another trek through the wild mountains and valleys she called home. Though she actually lived in the city, preferring to commute the forty miles to the national park where she worked. This gave her ample time to collect her thoughts before having to face her day. Today her clients were all employees of a local drink manufacturing company and their families. That didn¡¯t necessarily mean much to Kathy, but she was eager to spend another week where she truly called home, the wild outdoors. It was still early when Kathy arrived at the park¡¯s main office. She was one of several guides who would be leading their clients out that day. There was another, older, and more experienced guide who would also be taking another group. Kathy was surprised, though, when her boss pulled her to the side. ¡°Kathy, you¡¯re guiding that group of corporate big wigs, right?¡± He asked. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°The CEO of the company has been considering making a generous donation to the park. After all, his company arranges this trip every year. It certainly would be very helpful if you do an absolutely spectacular job this week. If you do, I might try to see about getting you a bit of a bonus on your next paycheck, if you know what I mean?¡± Kathy drew herself up to her full height, ¡°I¡¯ll do my best!¡± She said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. ¡°I know you will. I¡¯m counting on you, and remember, the future of the park depends on you, so have fun.¡± ¡°Can do!¡± Kathy¡¯s boss turned away, and she immediately frowned. She could already feel the pressure to succeed beginning to mount. More funding for the park was always a good thing, as recent budget cuts had really hurt the maintenance of the park. But the thought that she might have a major role to play was daunting, because it also dawned on her that if things go really poorly then she could easily be the one blamed if something were to go wrong. Kathy tried to turn her mind away from those sorts of thoughts. She didn¡¯t like thinking negatively, though she couldn¡¯t shake the idea that one slip-up could wreck everything, and probably cost her, her job. Kathy was roused from these unhappy musings when she was approached by Jason, the other guide. ¡°Why the long face? You usually look so happy to go on another adventure.¡± ¡°I was just lost in thought. Say, you¡¯re setting out today, too, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he replied. ¡°My clients are a group of college kids who want to see the great outdoors. I bet you they¡¯re really just bored and sick of dorm life, but you can¡¯t blame ¡®em for that, can you?¡± ¡°I guess not.¡± ¡°Our trails actually share a trail-head, so I¡¯ll see you there at the start. Hopefully, you¡¯ll have cheered up by then.¡± ¡°Hopefully,¡± Kathy responded, and she sincerely meant it. Jason shuffled off to tie down any loose ends before departure, and left Kathy alone with her thoughts again. She didn¡¯t feel as bad now, though, and busied herself with final preparations. Not that there was much preparation to be done at this stage. Still, she managed to do enough small things to keep herself distracted until it was time to go. She arrived punctually at the trail-head to see Jason already waiting for both her and his clients. They made small talk until their clients finally started to arrive. They trickled in by groups of twos and threes, segregating themselves ultimately into two primary groups. One group contained a mix of people of varying ages, while the other clearly consisted of only college-aged individuals. Kathy assumed that the former was her group and sized them up. The group consisted mostly of younger to middle-aged adults, though there seemed to be one teenager who seemed to be with her mother. They were all dressed in outfits that were typical of those who believed they were wearing the correct attire for an extended period of time outdoors. That is with one exception. One man had deemed it perfectly fitting to be donned in khaki pants and a polo shirt, both of which were covered by a long white lab coat. That was odd. Oh well, it wasn¡¯t Kathy¡¯s job to judge her client¡¯s choice of attire, though she definitely did. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Kathy approached the group, a smile on her face. ¡°My name is Kathy, I¡¯m going to be your guide for this trip. It¡¯s my job to help you have a fun and educational experience as you explore the wonders of nature. Once we¡¯re sure that everyone¡¯s here, we¡¯ll head out.¡± Kathy then proceeded to match each person with her list of client names for this trip. Seeing that everything was in order, she led her group onto the trail like a line of ducklings following their mother. Jason and his group departed at the same time, causing one massive group to flow down the trail. It wasn¡¯t long, though, before the trail diverged into two. Jason would be leading his group into the valley between two rugged mountain ranges and then wind in-and-out of the mountains. Kathy and her group would be taking the high road, sticking to the mountains the entire time. Kathy waved goodbye to Jason as the groups split, taking care to not lose any members of her own group along the way. The group made its way slowly up the mountain trail, there was no hurry. As they went, Kathy expounded to the group the wonders of nature and the characteristics of the various flora that they passed. It was all quite fascinating to her, however, she failed to see the eyes of her clients glaze over as she droned on and on. That is except for one person, the man in the white lab coat. He listened intently to what she had to say and even contributed the occasional inquiry. This only fueled Kathy¡¯s intentions to educate her clients and subject them to still more frivolous details, much to the majority of her clients'' chagrin. Eventually they were granted sweet, sweet relief, and the group trudged along in relative silence. However, Kathy soon found this agonizing and, unable to bear the silence any longer, she attempted to strike up a conversation with various members of the group. First she posed a series of questions to a stocky middle-aged man, who rebuffed her with nothing but short, gruff replies to any inquiries she directed his way. Seeing that she wasn¡¯t getting anywhere, she instead approached a kind-looking woman who looked to be in her thirties. She seemed quite friendly. Her name was Susan, and she was there as a way to better bond with her fifteen-year-old daughter. They did not have the best of relationships, and the forced attendance to this outing didn¡¯t seem to be helping. Her daughter seemed to be a quiet girl, who looked as though she would prefer to be at home reading a book rather than be here surrounded by strangers. Still, her mother had insisted she go or face reprisal, so she came. Besides, it was on the company¡¯s dime. Kathy learned a little bit about everyone present from Susan, who seemed to be on good terms with everyone there. That is, except for one person. ¡°What about the guy in the lab coat?¡± Kathy inquired. ¡°I notice you haven¡¯t said anything about him.¡± Susan frowned. ¡°Everyone here works sales including Mark, the guy who blew you off earlier. That guy, though, I¡¯m pretty sure that he¡¯s R&D. They¡¯re a pretty tight knit bunch and don¡¯t tend to have wide social circles, so I honestly have no idea who he is. All I can say is that I know he works for the company. Maybe you should try asking him about himself.¡± Kathy honestly wasn¡¯t sure what to think about him. He had left a good impression with his engagement, but something didn¡¯t seem quite right about him. Besides the fact that he was wearing a white lab coat on a hiking trail, he always seemed a little too attentive. The way he looked at his surroundings and hung on to everything that was said, it almost seemed like he was memorizing everything that went on, saving it for later. That honestly creeped Kathy out. Besides, maybe he bites. ¡°You know,¡± Kathy proclaimed boldly. ¡°I think I¡¯m good.¡± ¡°Alright, that¡¯s your choice.¡± Susan replied, laughing softly. ¡°Though it might be good to know some things about him. After all, you are supposed to be our guide for an entire week.¡± Kathy couldn¡¯t say anything to that. It was her job, and she did need to provide a ¡°spectacular experience¡± for her clients. The least she could do is show some interest, even if she did find the man to be somewhat off-putting. Kathy resolved to talk to the man, and so hesitantly made her way over to him. He had segregated himself slightly from the rest of the group and was examining the trail intently. ¡°This trail is in poor condition. It makes it more difficult to navigate.¡± Somewhat taken aback by this odd statement Kathy nodded, ¡°But don¡¯t you think it adds to the rugged feel of everything?¡± ¡°It slows us down and will make it more difficult to escape if something were to happen.¡± ¡°Well, hopefully nothing will happen to make that necessary, or maybe we can get some funding to maintain the trails. Why do you do that anyways, study everything, I mean?¡± ¡°My name is Dr. Forisch, and I am a scientist. It is my job to study things.¡± ¡°Is it also your job to not use contractions in everyday conversation? ... Sorry, that was rude. I thought most scientists were content with studying areas of interest, not studying every minute detail they come across.¡± Dr. Forisch smiled slightly at this. ¡°No offense taken, I understand my eccentricities. I am, though, what you might call a perpetual learner. I find many things fascinating and many things useful. You never know what you might need for the future.¡± With that Dr. Forisch walked further down the trail, leaving Kathy by herself. She was somewhat baffled by the conversation that she had just had. She pondered it and the man she had just talked to for a while before shoving those thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn¡¯t want to think right now, she just wanted to enjoy her job and do it well. As evening approached Kathy brought the group to the camping site for the night. They had long since passed the treeline and were able to gaze over the vast valley formed by the range. The sight was breathtaking. Kathy and the rest of the campers all sat and contentedly watched the blazing orange sun as it disappeared below the horizon. Kathy sat back and sighed. That was one day done, she just had to last for six more days. Chapter 2-The Illness The morning dawned bright and clear, with the chipper chirping of the early birds. Everyone was a little stiff from the day before, so the pace was slow and easy. No one complained about this though, as it was a perfect opportunity to just soak everything in. The horizon was a pale pink streak poised just above a jagged row of mountain rock and deciduous trees. It was these trees that concealed a steep verdant valley far below, like leaves littering the forest floor. The day before they had spent all of their time ascending the mountain slope, but now they would be winding from mountain to mountain through various passes, before dipping briefly into the valley trails below. They were still far from that point though, and had a lot of ground to cover. Still, they had time. It was work for Kathy, though. She always liked to be on good terms with her clients and didn¡¯t think that was going very well. Today, she resolved, would be different. They would like her, she would make them. Donning a determined expression, Kathy looked for someone to befriend. She spoke first to a young man who looked to be about her age. He looked reasonably athletic, and always seemed to want to lead the pack. While talking to him, Kathy learned that his name was Alex, and he was a very recent hire at the company. He liked outdoorsy things, though he didn¡¯t indulge himself in them often. They continued to talk for several hours about superfluous things, and camping gear. As a whole, Kathy thought things went pretty well. As the day wore on temperatures began to rise. It wasn¡¯t yet summer, but the balmy cool of the morning gave way to a sweltering heat. Still, the group trudged along, complaining intermittently as they received constant reminders from Kathy to drink plenty of water. She didn¡¯t need anyone falling out on her watch. The park¡¯s budget didn¡¯t need that either. As evening fell, they arrived at the next camping site. It looked very similar to the one the day before, wooden platforms for the tents and the trail nearby. The main difference was that the path happened to skirt right by the cliff¡¯s edge. As they were preparing their tents Kathy noticed that Alex wasn¡¯t looking very well. His face was red and sweat streamed down like he was still under the hot sun. ¡°Are you OK?¡± Kathy asked him, concerned. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± He said weakly. ¡°I¡¯m just not feeling the best right now. Maybe it¡¯s the heat getting to me. I¡¯m just going to go lie down.¡± With that, he vanished into his tent. Kathy frowned. That didn¡¯t make sense. The sun had already gone down, and the temperature had been declining for awhile. Besides, it was Kathy¡¯s job to know the signs of heat exhaustion, and those weren¡¯t it. Quickly, she decided to check in on the others. She was surprised to find that several others looked the same. When asked about this they all gave the same response. It must be the heat. That didn¡¯t sit right with Kathy, but she suggested that they get some rest. She decided to sleep on it too, hoping that it was just a weird bug that would work its way out of their system by the morning. Halfway through the night Kathy was awoken to a very loud retching sound. Quickly leaving her tent, she found Alex bent over some nearby ¡°Are you okay?¡± She asked him, keeping her distance. Vomit made her queasy. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯ll...be alright.¡± Alex insisted in labored breaths before retching again. ¡°Are you sure?¡± She responded, somewhat more persistently ¡°Because you clearly don''t look okay.¡± ¡°I...will be fine.¡± Feeling helpless and uneasy and wanting to remove herself from the situation, Kathy decided to go for a walk. Just a little ways down the trail she was astonished to see Dr. Forisch by himself, seated on a rock. ¡°What are you doing here so late, all by yourself?¡± Kathy asked him. The doctor jumped a little, as though he had been awoken from a stupor. ¡°I needed some time to be alone and collect my thoughts.¡± He replied, a sheepish smile on his face. ¡°Why are you here?¡± Kathy sighed, ¡°Honestly, the same reason you are.¡± The doctor started to get up, ¡°Well then, don¡¯t let me disturb you.¡± Kathy held up a hand to stop him. ¡°Wait a moment, you said that you¡¯re always learning, do you have any idea what¡¯s going on with the other hikers?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I guess you didn¡¯t notice, but several of the campers have fallen sick. They seem to be running a fever and vomiting. Do you know what might be causing that?¡± ¡°Hmm...¡± He thought. ¡°It could be heat exhaustion.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I made sure that everyone was drinking enough water. Besides, they didn¡¯t start falling sick until long after things had started cooling off.¡± ¡°Maybe it was something in the water.¡± ¡°You think they might¡¯ve been poisoned?¡± ¡°Tell me, why are you not sick?¡± ¡°What do you mean, why should I be sick?¡± ¡°Well, you drank the water just like the rest of them.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with anything¡­ unless...¡± Kathy stood there for a moment shocked. ¡°You poisoned the water!¡± ¡°Poison¡¯s not really the right word for it. I did find the time to¡­ tamper with everyone¡¯s water while they slept, but that¡¯s beside the point. All of my previous studies have shown that there should be a preliminary reaction, yet you and several others here have shown no symptoms. I would like to know why.¡± ¡°So, you¡¯re using us as a science experiment?... That¡¯s insane!¡± Dr. Forisch looked Kathy dead in the eyes, smiling faintly as he did so. ¡°Did I ever claim to be sane?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to make sure you end up behind bars for this, you can¡¯t just poison people! What if someone dies?¡± ¡°Yes, what if someone does die?¡± The doctor said thoughtfully. ¡°Is that a threat?¡± Dr. Forisch smiled broadly. ¡°Perhaps...¡± Kathy turned to run back toward the camp. She needed to get away from this madman and fast. She had barely taken two steps, though, before she felt a searing pain in her back. She fell under an onslaught of furious stabbing. Writhing in agony, she locked eyes with the cold merciless eyes of her assailant whose every strike was surgical, calculated, and ultimately, lethal. Chapter 3-The Search Alex didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been throwing up. He had long since felt as though his stomach had been completely emptied of all its contents. He felt relief at this point, but only nominal relief. Still, he no longer seemed to need to vomit his guts up, so he straightened up and started heading back towards his tent. Just before reaching it he passed by Kathy¡¯s tent and noticed that the front flap was open. That was odd. Alex didn¡¯t know how late it was, but surely it was too late to be taking a stroll alone. He began to search for her in the small area around the camp but was unable to find her. Alex began to search further down the trail. She may have just been trying to clear her head and decided to go for a walk. When he still couldn¡¯t find her the effects of his illness began to vanish rapidly away, instead replaced by a worried intensity. Better able to focus on his surroundings, undistracted by his previous condition, Alex noticed some slight rustling and a small light just off the edge of the trail. Cautiously he went to investigate. What he saw would have been enough to make him hurl, if he hadn¡¯t long since emptied his stomach of food, bile, and things he didn¡¯t know were even in there. The man in the white lab coat was there, bent over something that looked conspicuously like a body, a body he was mutilating. He worked with surgical precision, removing the various organs and examining them thoroughly before setting them gently aside. He would then set about to methodically remove and examine the next one. ¡°It¡¯s all perfectly ordinary.¡± The man muttered to himself. ¡°There appear to be no anatomical abnormalities at all. I wonder why she didn¡¯t react to the dose I gave her.¡± Alex was dumbstruck at what he was seeing. He had to say something, though. ¡°What are you doing, what¡¯s going on?¡± He said quietly. The man straightened up quickly, moving towards Alex and blocking his view of the grisly scene. ¡°Ah, Alex. How are you feeling?¡± He said, his arms wide open in a friendly gesture. His hands were covered in blood. ¡°I feel¡­ fine. What were you just doing? Why are your hands covered in blood?¡± ¡°You know, you don¡¯t look so good. Perhaps you should go lie down. It¡¯s really not a good sign when you begin hallucinating.¡± ¡°What do you mean hallucinating? I can clearly see the blood. I already told you. I feel fine.¡± Alex did not, in fact, feel fine. The adrenaline had already begun to wear off. He was starting to feel weak and nauseous again. Sweat began to pour down his face, and his knees started to buckle. Seeing this, Dr. Forisch gave Alex a doubtful look. ¡°You don¡¯t look fine to me. Here, put your arm around my shoulder. I¡¯ll help you back to your tent.¡± With the doctor¡¯s help, Alex staggered back to camp. Laying down in his tent, he tried to ponder what had just happened. He was exhausted though, and he found himself fading rapidly towards unconsciousness. It wasn¡¯t long until he had completely succumbed. Alex awoke the next morning drenched in sweat, with a throbbing headache pounding at his temples. He tried to remember what had happened the previous night, but he drew a blank. All he could remember was being sick and something about that man in the lab coat. He didn¡¯t know why he would remember that guy, but he did, it was quite unsettling. As he pondered, his headache only grew worse, so Alex decided it was best to go get to some fresh air. As he exited his tent, he was greeted by the cascading light of the sun, searing his mind with pain and wiping all coherent thought for the moment. When his eyes had adjusted he noticed a few people standing at the cliff¡¯s edge just off the path. One of them was waving. Only they weren¡¯t waving at him; they were waving at someone down below them. Alex shambled over to them, to see what was going on. ¡°Who are you waving at?¡± He asked. Susan, who had been the one waving responded, ¡°The other group is down there, look.¡± Sure enough, far below them was a clearing in the trees. Alex could make out several people resting in the clearing one of whom, a slender female, waved back in reply. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°I wonder if we can get down there.¡± Susan said thoughtfully. ¡°That would be cool, but I don¡¯t think Kathy would appreciate that. I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re supposed to stay close to the trail.¡± Alex said. Susan frowned. ¡°You haven¡¯t heard yet? I thought everyone knew.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Kathy¡¯s gone missing. Rumor has it someone from their camp took her.¡± Mark replied gruffly. ¡°You mean like kidnapped her?¡± Alex said with disbelief. ¡°Or worse, and then hid the body.¡± Mark replied. ¡°Shut up Mark!¡± Susan interjected sharply. ¡°That¡¯s all nonsensical hearsay and you can¡¯t prove a bit of it.¡± She then turned to Alex, ¡°Listen, we tried to call for help, but for some reason none of our calls would go through. Which seems really sinister to me, so I think it would be a really good idea if we got their help right about now.¡± ¡°Assuming we can trust them.¡± Mark scoffed. Alex cut in before Susan could respond, ¡°How about you guys go look for a way down. There¡¯s something I need to check on.¡± Susan nodded, and Alex moved off down the path. While they were speaking Alex had a feeling he had remembered something from the night before, but he had to be sure. As he went down the path, he veered off into the bushes when he reached what he was positive was the right place. After wading a short ways into the undergrowth, he stopped. There was nothing to be seen. Alex found no sign of a disturbance or even blood. It was just a picturesque snapshot of undefiled mountainside. None of this felt right to Alex. He was positive that something had happened last night, and that it had happened here. Still, there was nothing. Maybe it was all just a dream or perhaps a hallucination, he couldn¡¯t tell for sure. It was at this point that Alex felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he whirled around bringing his fists up in case he needed to defend himself. ¡°Whoa there cowboy, no need to get violent. I¡¯m not here to hurt you.¡± ¡°Oh, Jack, you scared me.¡±Alex sighed, lowering his fists. A prominent member of the sales team, Jack was an easy going guy with an even easier-going accent. His only imposing characteristic was his enormous height that contrasted sharply with his somewhat skeletal frame. But Alex, knowing the man behind the figure, was able to relax. ¡°What¡¯re you doin¡¯ starin¡¯ into the bushes like that? Never took you for a botanist.¡± Jack inquired. ¡°I was just checking something, but it turns out I was wrong.¡± ¡°Checkin¡¯ for what?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Jack raised his palms up in surrender. ¡°Alright, if you insist. I assume you heard about Kathy.¡± ¡°I did.¡± ¡°I was goin¡¯ to go search for her and was wonderin¡¯ if you wanted to tag along.¡± ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea. We could get lost and need rescuing ourselves.¡± Alex said worriedly, ¡°Susan and Mark have been looking for a way down to the other group. If we can reach them, then we can see about enlisting their help and developing a proper plan of action.¡± Jack smiled, ¡°Sounds like you already have this figured out. I like it.¡± They both turned back to return to camp. There they met Susan and Mark seated dejectedly on a large rock. ¡°I take it you couldn¡¯t reach them.¡± Alex said sadly. ¡°We got close,¡± Susan replied. ¡°Close enough that we could actually shout to them, but I don¡¯t know how much they understood. We hit a drop-off and none of us brought climbing gear. I think they know that something is wrong, though, because they haven¡¯t moved from that clearing all day.¡± ¡°You checked Kathy¡¯s tent to see if maybe she brought some climbin¡¯ gear?¡± Jack chipped in helpfully. ¡°We did. There wasn¡¯t any. You¡¯d think that a professional guide would bring that sort of thing, just in case.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Jack thought. ¡°That is weird. So, what should we do?¡± ¡°I guess we fan out and do our best to search for Kathy, without getting lost ourselves.¡± Alex replied. They all nodded in agreement and prepared to begin their search. The search was long and went about as well as expected, with no one uncovering anything but rocks. Exhausted, they all drug themselves back to camp under the light of the setting sun. Jack lit a campfire, hoping that it would help lighten everyone¡¯s mood a little, but no one was particularly enthused. They just sat there dejected and glum. They were neither properly trained nor well equipped enough to find a missing person in the middle of the wilderness all by themselves. It wasn¡¯t long before the setting sun forced everyone to retire for the night. As Alex settled down once again in his tent, he thought about how they should proceed. They couldn¡¯t stay here searching for Kathy forever, even if it was best to look early, they would run out of food if they stayed too long. He figured it was probably best for them to double back and report the situation to the park rangers. That seemed like a magnificent idea. Satisfied with that plan, Alex allowed himself to begin to drift off to sleep. He would discuss things with the others in the morning. He smiled wanly, hopefully something would finally go right this trip. He then allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Chapter 4-The Attack Alex woke abruptly gasping desperately for air that refused to come. Confused and suffocating, he clawed at the vice-like grip around his throat. The grasp was firm, but he eventually managed to slide his own fingers underneath his attacker¡¯s and pry them free. Now able to capture precious breaths, and gulping lungfuls of sweet, sweet air Alex braced himself against further assault. The small silhouette of a person darted out through the tent flap in front of Alex, who hastily scrambled in pursuit of his attacker. The gloom cast by the overcast night made it difficult for Alex to see where his attacker had gone. As he frantically scanned his surroundings, he heard the faint click of a lock-blade. The blade came in quickly, swishing as Alex narrowly dodged it. Reeling back, to avoid the silhouette swinging viciously at him in the darkness. He was forced back again, and again as he dodged slash after slash of the gleaming blade. Stumbling as he tried to regain his footing and retaliate, Alex finally managed to plant his foot firmly against a large rock. As his attacker stepped in for another strike, Alex stood his ground. He pushed so as to give himself room to swing, but felt no contact with his assailant. Instead a bright xanthous wall of light erupted from his outstretched palms. The attacker was sent sprawling as they were hit by the wall, simultaneously illuminated by its gleaming rays. Alex was surprised to see that his assailant was none other than a woman. She was petite and athletic looking with long, dark hair and correspondingly dark eyes. Those eyes were wide with wonder at the glowing wall that separated her from her would-be victim, and she reached out as if to touch it. Her revelry was interrupted by movement from the nearby tents. It seemed the rest of the camp had been awoken by the commotion. Moving quickly, she fled into the darkness. The wall of light, as though seeing that the danger had now passed, vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The renewed darkness of the night was quickly pierced by the focused beams of flashlights. ¡°What¡¯s going on out here?¡± Came the gruff, disgruntled voice of Mark. He was joined by several concurring voices. Alex decided to adopt a reassuring tone. ¡°Everything¡¯s alright now. I was attacked in the middle of the night by someone with a knife, but they ran away.¡± Mark snorted in disbelief. ¡°Yeah right. How do we know that you weren¡¯t trying to attack us in¡­ wait, what happened to your shirt?¡± Alex looked down. He may have dodged the knife blade in the dark, but his shirt wasn¡¯t so fortunate. He held out his hands reassuringly and reiterated, ¡°I was attacked in the middle of the night by someone with a knife.¡± ¡°Did you manage to see who it was? They could be the person responsible for Kathy¡¯s disappearance.¡± Susan pitched in somewhat hopefully. ¡°Maybe.¡± Alex said. ¡°Whoever they are, I doubt they¡¯ll be back tonight. I think we should all go back to bed. We should keep our guard up, though. Someone clearly has a grudge against us, and I don¡¯t know why.¡± There was much nodding in concurrence to this and everyone returned to their tents. No one went back to sleep that night. Chapter 5-Chaos This time as the sun once again crested the jagged horizon, it¡¯s pale light was not as welcome a sight as it had been before. Everyone would rather last night¡¯s incident was a fever dream, or some horrid nightmare. No one seemed eager to leave their tent, either, as though they expected to be greeted by the sight of a crazed murderer, or some horror movie slasher. Alex didn¡¯t feel any more safe inside his tent than outside of it after the previous night. Thus, he was the exception and readily left the confines of his canvas dwelling, reluctantly determined to face what the day had in store. Instead he just found Dr. Forisch waiting, sitting by a rekindled campfire, poking it with a stick. Upon seeing Alex he smiled broadly. ¡°Ah, Alex. You¡¯re awake. I have good news.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Alex said drowsily, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve found a path down to the other party. We can rendezvous with them in three quarters of an hour, if we¡¯re quick.¡± Alex perked up slightly. ¡°Really? That¡¯s great! With all that¡¯s been going on lately, we needed a lucky break. I¡¯ll wake the others.¡± Alex prodded the cowering campers awake, and they rapidly dismantled the camp. With Dr. Forisch in the lead, they strode energetically down the path. A half-mile down the path the doctor veered suddenly toward the cliff¡¯s edge. Tucked away there was a very narrow goat trail that wound its way down the cliff face and into the valley below. The trek was tricky and even treacherous at portions, but they made it to the valley floor without incident. There, they doubled back in search of the other party, praying for no surprises. Jason¡¯s party was found in the clearing where they had been the day before. Alex and the others found a few of them idling themselves in their camp, looking somewhat bored. They had evidently not been getting the wonderful adventure for which they had been hoping. Their expressions changed, though, when the haggard group of fellow adventurers wandered into their camp. ¡°Hello?¡± One of them said, somewhat hesitantly. ¡°Aren¡¯t you that other group that we started with?¡± ¡°We are,¡± Mark growled in reply. He evidently was in no mood for pleasantries. ¡°Where is your guide? We need to speak with him immediately.¡± ¡°He¡¯s over that way.¡± The person pointed off in a direction. ¡°He¡¯s trying to find a way up the cliff to reach you.¡± ¡°Well I guess he no longer needs to worry about that.¡± Mark marched in the direction the person had indicated. They found Jason examining the cliff wall, searching for a way up. Upon hearing the sound of people approaching, he glanced their way and displayed a stupendous double take upon seeing them that would be comical in other circumstances. ¡°It¡¯s you! We¡¯ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. We heard that older man and that woman shouting yesterday but couldn¡¯t understand what they were saying. It did seem urgent, though, is there a problem?¡± ¡°To say there¡¯s a problem is a bit of an understatement. Kathy¡¯s been missing fer over a day, an¡¯ one of ours was attacked in his tent last night.¡± Jack said, stepping forward as spokesman. ¡°We don¡¯ know why these things happened, but it¡¯s generally agreed that we need yer help to rectify the situation.¡± Jason froze for a moment before quickly adopting a confident expression, like slapping a sticker on a white board. ¡°Well, we¡¯re going to have to act quickly then. Can anyone tell me where Kathy was last seen?¡± There was some uncertain murmuring that followed this simple question. Jason sighed. ¡°Can anyone tell me why anyone would want to hurt anyone in your group?¡± ¡°No. None of it makes sense. Not unless there¡¯s a madman out there who enjoys hurting people!¡± Susan exclaimed. She looked as though she was about to cry, and she probably was. ¡°Listen. I¡¯ll take a group and go to your camp. We¡¯ll sweep the area, but there¡¯s not much more we can do than that. We may have to double back and get the rangers to send out a search party.¡± Jason gathered all willing participants to search once again for Kathy. Just like the first attempt, no trace of her was found. The day ended with once again nothing to show for their toils, so everyone gathered in the valley clearing, downtrodden and demoralized. Several of the college students had started a campfire when the search party returned and were having a cookout. None of the searchers were in the mood for such festivities, but opted to huddle near the crackling pit of warmth in the vain hope that they might feel better. Alex was just one such forlorn soul seeking comfort in its glow. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! As he sat by the fire, he examined the faces of his new company. Most of them were reasonably attractive faces, in staunch defiance to the law of averages, though somewhat creased by the stresses of schooling. One face stood out among the rest. As his eyes came to rest on her, Alex felt his heart begin to race and his blood run cold. She looked to be a petite woman with an athletic build, long dark hair, and correspondingly dark eyes. As slowly and casually as possible, Alex moved and sat by Jason. Without taking his eyes off of the woman, which naturally caused him to completely fail at looking casual in any way he asked, ¡°So, Jason, what do you know about her?¡± Seeing where Alex was looking, Jason responded, ¡°Her? She¡¯s Ashley. I don¡¯t know much about her except she¡¯s kind of an outsider. She was invited to come along by her best friend, and then her friend backed out for some reason. Why?¡± Alex turned to him and smiled somewhat, ¡°She just looks familiar. Thanks.¡± He then got up and started to walk away towards the edge of the camp. On his way he met Jack and Dr. Forisch talking nonchalantly to one another. Jack had his hands full of firewood. They both looked his way as he neared. ¡°Hey, can I talk to you two really quickly?¡± Alex asked, a serious expression on his face. Jack and the doctor shared puzzled looks but followed Alex out of the camp. ¡°What¡¯s up Bud? Ya look spooked.¡± Jack said when they had gotten out of earshot of the camp. ¡°It¡¯s her. The girl from last night, she¡¯s here!¡± ¡°Here? Like in the camp, here?¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°Yer positive?¡± ¡°Listen man, I know what I saw. I know it was her.¡± Jack drew in a sharp breath. ¡°Aalright. We got a camp of seemingly nice college kids here for a break, an¡¯ one of em is secretly a murderous psychopath huntin¡¯ us like it¡¯s deer season, and we''re a ten point stuck in a bush. Any bright ideas on what ta do?¡± ¡°I was kind of hoping that you two could help me out with that.¡± It was at this point that Dr. Forisch, who had remained silent, began to speak. ¡°I may be able to help you in that area, but I will need help from both of you. We clearly can¡¯t allow her to run loose uninhibited, so we need to apprehend her. If we succeed we can interrogate her and she may be able to tell us what happened to Kathy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure there ain''t no one else in the know ¡®bout what she¡¯s done. They¡¯ll try ta defend ¡®er ¡®fore we can catch ¡®er.¡± Jack inserted. ¡°That¡¯s why we strike quickly, decisively, and loudly. If we can sow enough confusion, we should be able to act before they can gather their faculties. Then we just need Alex here to point us to the right person. We¡¯ll apprehend her and remove her from the camp to where we are now for a focused interrogation. Where we can get her to confess the information we need. I can ensure we obtain the information we need. Trust me.¡± The other two nodded. Alex didn¡¯t like working with Dr. Forisch on this, but his plan seemed sound. It seemed simple. What could possibly go wrong? Staying to the edge of the clearing, the three of them circled the camp. Alex positioned himself within easy running distance of the accused. He was not going to let her get away. The sun was setting but it was not yet dark. He could make out the dim figure of Jack across the clearing. Alex raised a hand to indicate that he was ready. Jack raised his hand in return, and then rapidly lowered it like someone starting a race. In a way, he was. The three of them bolted into the clearing, yelling at the top of their lungs as though they were going to battle. They descended rapidly upon the bewildered party who scattered like ants. Alex charged toward his goal, but found his way blocked by confused bodies fleeing for the woods. Maneuvering around them, he attempted to reach her still. He was almost upon her when Jason stepped up to her. Unlike the others, his expression was calm and determined. Grabbing Ashley¡¯s arm, he ushered her hastily into the woods. Alex followed in pursuit, refusing to lose sight of them in the woods. Vaulting over obstructions and plowing through foliage, Alex chased them to the shore of a small lake. There he found Jason, standing stalwart as Alex approached. Alex could see Ashley swimming frantically beyond him. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I needed to do, but you¡¯re not going to lay a finger on her.¡± Jason said firmly, looking over Alex¡¯s shoulder. Alex turned to see Dr. Forisch and Jack casually strolling towards him. Turning back, Alex answered Jason, ¡°Look. We don¡¯t want to hurt her. We just have some questions. You know Kathy, surely you would like some answers too.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not going to touch her.¡± Jason reiterated obstinately. ¡°Do ya really think you can stop alla us?¡± Jack asked and charged toward the water. Jason moved to intercept, but Alex found himself moving in to tackle Jason. ¡°Can¡¯t we just talk about this?!¡± He shouted in frustration. Rather than a response, he was met with a handful of sand in the eyes. Reeling in pain, Alex was shoved off of Jason and took a fist to his jaw for good measure. Alex attempted to plant his feet and defend himself, but his feet slipped in the sand. This was followed by a flurry of blows slamming into his unguarded face. Desperate, Alex flailed for something, anything, that might help him in this fight. His hand landed on some driftwood. Grabbing it, he swung it blindly, feeling the impact as it cracked into something hard. Jason reeled and toppled at the blow, but Alex wasn¡¯t finished. Alex didn¡¯t know why, but he continued to strike his opponent again and again. Blood spattered the ground as Jason was soon made unrecognizable from the successive blows and splinters that marred his previously handsome face. It was then that Alex halted, dropped his weapon, and beheld his victim. He felt numb. He knew what he had done, but felt nothing. Slowly his hands started to shake and tears began to well up behind his eyes. Alex stood. Slowly and unsteadily, he made his way back into the forest, alone, his reason for being there forgotten. Chapter 6-Ashley Ashley didn¡¯t know what was going on. She had come on this trip to relax from the stress of college, and now she was swimming across a lake to lose her pursuers. This was not what she had signed up for. Then again, who plans to be swimming, fully clothed, across a lake for dear life, it''s not a common hobby. It¡¯s a good thing she liked swimming at least. The lake wasn¡¯t massive, more of a large pond really, and Ashley could see the opposite shore from where she started. Hopefully she could make it and escape into the forest that swallowed the landscape. Had Jason bought her enough time? She wondered if he was alright. These musings distracted her from the burn that had built up in her muscles, but soon she found that the water had become too shallow to swim in anymore. Wearily she hauled herself through the shallows. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped onto the beach. She¡¯d made it. It was then that she felt something grab onto her ankle, wrenching her off her feet. As she splashed into the surf, Ashley saw Jack standing over her, slitted gills standing out starkly on his neck. Which, in a word, was a little disconcerting. ¡°That was fun. I always did like fishin¡¯, just normally with a beer and my shotgun.¡± He said a little hysterically. ¡°But play time¡¯s over. It¡¯s time ta take you ta the doc.¡± ¡°I think you need a doctor.¡± Ashley retorted in defiance. Jack paused before responding, ¡°Yer probably right.¡± Then he began to drag Ashley into the depths, like a B movie horror monster from the 50s. Ashley found herself futilely clawing at the sand, attempting to prevent herself from being carried off by this madman. Her efforts were in vain, however, until her hand came upon a loose stone in the sand. Frantically she hurled it at her captor. Jack had not turned around as he drug Ashley away, instead moving backward into the lake. This was a mistake as the stone connected squarely with his exposed left eye. Jack howled in pain, and quickly covered his eye, trying to staunch the flow of fresh blood. Taking advantage of this, Ashley kicked her ankle out of his grip, and fled out of the water and into the looming thicket. She continued to run frantically through the foliage, hoping to leave as much distance between her and Jack as possible. When she was too exhausted to go any further, she collapsed into the undergrowth. She waited for some time to see if any of her pursuers had found her trail. When she was confident that she truly had escaped, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell into a deep slumber. Ashley woke with a start to the sound of someone moving through the thicket. It was dark and the moon barely shone through the branches of the trees. There was the light of a flashlight and the sound of labored breathing. A voice muttered, ¡°Dumb doctor, tried to kill me. Jus¡¯ wait till I get my hands on ¡®im. The girl too, I¡¯ll kill em both.¡± Ashley peeked through the shrubbery, where she was hidden. She saw Jack combing through foliage with a machete. He was clearly looking for something, or someone. She lay still, hoping that he wouldn¡¯t notice her and would move on. ¡°Got you!¡± He suddenly yelled, and Ashley heard a high pitched scream. Frantically she looked and saw his back to her. Moving rapidly, she sprang up behind him jamming her fingers into his left eye socket. Howling with pain, he again clasped his hands over his wounded face, dropping his machete in the process. Ashley hastily retrieved the fallen weapon. Without hesitation, she slammed the edge into Jack¡¯s neck. The blade was dull, however, and stuck into the bone with a dissatisfying thud. Jack crumbled. He was not yet dead, though not far from it, enveloped in a world of utter agony. Seeing that Jack was no longer a threat, Ashley turned to see who had screamed. She was surprised to see that it was a girl. She looked to be roughly fifteen years of age with long dark hair and pale skin. Upon seeing Ashley, she bolted out of her cover and deeper into the woods. ¡°Wait!¡± Ashley shouted, running after her. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna hurt you!¡± Her words fell on deaf ears, as the girl ran deeper and deeper into the undergrowth. Ashley sprinted after her, trailing her silhouette and refusing to lose her in the dark. Unfortunately, one''s refusal to succumb to the harshness of reality does not affect one''s athletic ability, and by the time she emerged into a clearing the strange girl had disappeared. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°NO!¡± Ashley shouted into the night. Frustrated, she collapsed in the center of the clearing. It seemed like nothing was going right today. Well actually, things started off right, but now it seemed like everything had unraveled around her. She was being hunted by maniacs through the woods, and it seemed that everyone had abandoned her. While Ashley was thinking these incredibly cheery thoughts, a shadow fell over her. ¡°What are you doing down there?¡± She heard a voice ask. Sitting up, Ashley saw that it was the girl. ¡°I was just resting while pondering some of the questions of life.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Typical things like: Why am I being hunted by complete strangers who seem to want to kill me? You know, things like that.¡± The girl smiled. ¡°I see. Have you found the answer yet?¡± Ashley gave a wry smile in return. ¡°Not yet. My name¡¯s Ashley, by the way, what¡¯s yours?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Sarah.¡± ¡°So, what¡¯s someone so young doing out here all by yourself?¡± ¡°I came here with my mom for the company outing. You might have seen us when the two groups merged.¡± ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t even notice you. What are you doing all by yourself now? Did you and your mom get separated?¡± Sarah laughed. ¡°I have a talent for being forgotten and ignored. I don¡¯t mind, though. It lets me see what¡¯s going on without being disturbed. By the way I¡¯d like to thank you.¡± ¡°Thank me for what?¡± ¡°What you did to that guy. When everyone scattered my mom ended up in his way. Without a second thought he just¡­ pushed her into the campfire.¡± ¡°Oh...¡± Ashley said. That was all that she could say. There was a long period of silence. Ashley just stared at the ground. She didn¡¯t want to think about what she had just heard, but it was all that she could think about. The silence was broken by the sound of a breaking branch behind Ashley. Sarah straightened up, alarmed. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get out of here. Now!¡± She said, grabbing Ashley¡¯s arm. She pulled Ashley into the woods, and they hunkered down behind a large tree. Sarah signaled for Ashley to stay quiet, and the two of them waited in tense anticipation. They heard the slow footsteps of someone casually strolling through the tall grass of the clearing. This gave way to the cracking of broken twigs and rustling of leaves as that person entered the woods. Peering slightly round the edge of the tree, Ashley could just make out the beam of a flashlight piercing the dark. This was followed by a figure draped in a long coat. Suddenly the figure stopped. ¡°How about you come out. I know you¡¯re here.¡± He said quietly. His voice could barely be heard above the wind, but it seemed to cut like a razor blade. Ashley sank back behind the tree, trembling. Turning to look at Sarah, she could see her standing tall. Her face was set in bold determination, and Ashley thought that she was about to step out to face the man. Ashley watched her turn to step out from behind the tree and moved to try and stop her, but she was too late. Yet at the same time, she didn¡¯t move. Ashley stared, confused. What had just happened? Suddenly there was a noise as someone broke into a sprint in the trees, followed by the rapid pursuit of the man in the coat. Ashley was now even more confused. ¡°What just happened?¡± She whispered. Sarah turned to look at her, smiling. ¡°I lured him away. Come one, let¡¯s get out of here.¡± She started quickly out from behind the tree, and Ashley hurried to catch up. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question. What just happened? Who was that?¡± ¡°That was me. I told you; I lured him away.¡± ¡°So what, you can clone yourself?¡± ¡°Kind of. Think of it more as a projection. Listen, all I know is I got sick and then could suddenly do this. I think it has something to do with that man you just saw.¡± ¡°And who is he?¡± ¡°His name is Dr. Forisch. From what I¡¯ve observed, everything is a science project to him, including us. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll stop until he gets what he wants.¡± ¡°And what do you think he wants?¡± ¡°Our organs in a jar on his desk with a thick binder of research notes.¡± Ashley laughed, but stopped when she saw the serious expression on Sarah¡¯s face. She continued, ¡°I¡¯ve been watching things ever since I got here. After all, nobody notices the shy fifteen-year-old girl. That man is a monster, and his disguise is slipping. Trust me.¡± With that, Sarah turned and pressed deeper into the woods with Ashley following close behind. Chapter 7-Blood Ashley had no idea where she was going. She just followed Sarah through the dark, assuming she knew where to go. It seemed that they were lost in the twisting labyrinth of oak and ash trees as the sun¡¯s light began to creep in through the leaves. ¡°Where are we going?¡± Ashley inquired in hushed tones. Sarah¡¯s response was to point to an opening in the trees. Motioning for Ashley to stay quiet, Sarah moved toward the gap. Ashley followed stealthily and winced as her eyes were suddenly marauded by unfiltered sunlight. When her eyes had adjusted, Ashley could make out a clearing filled with abandoned tents and a still smoldering campfire. Ashley was mildly surprised. They¡¯d spent so much time running through the woods and had now gone full circle. At least they now had their bearings, though. While she was thinking these thoughts, her attention was caught by some movement at the left edge of the clearing. It appeared to be the figure of a man, facing the woods on that side of the clearing. Ashley crept closer through the woods and began to make out voices. One of them was a voice she recognized. ¡°You¡¯re rather spry for a man your age,¡± Came the voice of Jason drifting through the woods. Ashley was elated. She hadn¡¯t seen him since the lake, but she had hoped that he was alright. He appeared to be talking to someone leaning against a tree. No, tied to the tree. ¡°What do you want with me?¡± Came the labored voice of Mark. He sounded as though he was in extreme pain. ¡°Oh I just want some information,¡± Jason said smoothly. He sounded like he was attending a casual luncheon. ¡°What kind of information can I give you? I don¡¯t know where anyone else is. If it¡¯s about the company, I work in sales. I don¡¯t know the dark things that go on there.¡± This caused Jason to laugh a raucous, somewhat hysterical, laugh. ¡°I can find the others with relative ease, and I honestly couldn¡¯t care less about the deep dark secrets of the company. You could say that this is more of a personal pursuit.¡± ¡°Personal how? I didn¡¯t do anything to you, and I don¡¯t have any information I can give you!¡± Mark yelled angrily. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Jason, undeterred, replied coolly, ¡°Sure you do, you don¡¯t have any information to tell me. It¡¯s all in your blood. A subtle but significant difference.¡± The blade flashed faster than Ashley could see. Mark slumped in his bonds and Ashley looked away, horrified. Forcing herself to look back, Ashley almost jumped in astonishment. Hunched over Mark¡¯s body was not Jason, but was instead the man in the white lab coat. As Ashley attempted to process what had just happened, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Sarah, worriedly beckoning for them to go. Ashley couldn¡¯t understand why until she looked back into the clearing. Her eyes met with the piercing gaze of the doctor. It was as though he knew exactly where they were. His face drew into a genial, even friendly grin, as if inviting them over for tea. Naturally, both Ashley and Sarah bolted. There was nothing subtle about their retreat, but they were too terrified to care. They wanted to get as far away from that man as possible. During their retreat, they broke out of the woods and onto a narrow trail. Ashley recognized it as the trail that her group had originally been following. They continued to follow it, only slowing their pace when they were sure that they had gotten away. ¡°What did we just see?¡± Ashley gasped. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Sarah responded, out of breath and sounding as though she was still in shock. ¡°A person who can clone themselves, someone with gills, and now someone who can, what, change their shape? What¡¯s going on?!¡± ¡°You saw someone with gills?¡± For some reason, this made Sarah start to giggle. She tried her best to stifle them, but soon the giggles turned into uncontrolled laughter. Ashley tried to give her a disapproving glare, this was a serious situation. However, she soon found herself laughing right along with her. They continued this way for some time, but eventually they were able to bring themselves under control. ¡°This looks like the way that my group came.¡± Ashley said, finally. ¡°If we stay on this path we should be able to get to the rangers¡¯ office and get help.¡± Sarah nodded. This sounded like as solid a plan as any. The two then lapsed into an uneasy silence as each tried to process what they had experienced. Ashley still couldn¡¯t understand how these things could be happening. None of it made sense. Then again, nothing had made sense to her lately. She sighed a deep sigh, which was mirrored by Sarah. Grimacing, the two of them trudged further towards their destination. Chapter 8-The Vanishing Woman Ashley and Sarah reached the trailhead at midday the next day. They were exhausted, having had no sleep the previous night. The bedraggled pair made their way unsteadily through the last remaining portion of the seemingly endless forest. Both of them yearned for a respite, but they forced themselves to continue. Soon Ashley could see the rangers¡¯ office through a gap in the trees. Sprinting off the trail, she made a beeline towards it. Breaking through the treeline, she grinned broadly. Laying before her was the solid wooden cabin that was their beacon of hope. Ashley and Sarah moved quickly towards their salvation. Ashley¡¯s face creased with yet another frown as she approached the office. The place seemed abandoned. There were no vehicles in sight in the small gravel parking lot in front of the building, and the windows were all either shuttered or dark. Still, the two of them made their way around the building to make sure the place was as devoid of people as it appeared. As they did so, they passed by a smaller cabin in the back that served as a tool shed. ¡°Two little girls go for a walk in the woods, just look at the chaos in their wake.¡± A high-pitched voice said in a somewhat sing-song fashion. Ashley whirled around, searching frantically for the voice that had just spoken, but she couldn¡¯t see anyone. ¡°Up heeeere.¡± It said, maintaining it¡¯s melodic fashion. Ashley looked to the roof of the shed. Still she saw no one. Then suddenly a young woman materialized from seemingly nowhere. ¡°Can two mice run a rat race, or will they merely stay lost in the maze?¡± She said, as though nothing unusual had just happened. ¡°Wha-What do you mean?¡± Ashley replied, confused. ¡°We¡¯re not lost. We know exactly where we are?¡± ¡°Then where are you?¡± She said, smiling a broad cat-like smile. ¡°We¡¯re here, at the rangers¡¯ office.¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯re here, yet still you turn corner after corner and find no exit.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve found a way out.¡± Ashley asserted indignantly. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here.¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The woman looked around.¡°Yes, such a lovely exit, like a locked door. Tell me, when does a hunt end, when the prey is killed or the hunter?¡± ¡°I guess if either happens, why?¡± The woman¡¯s smile somehow grew even more broad. ¡°Then the blood will spill to the last drop, whether his or yours.¡± ¡°You mean the doctor, don¡¯t you? How do you know about him?¡± ¡°The student practices to obtain perfection, so the scientist seeks fervently the truth of the world.¡± Ashley furrowed her brow at this answer; she wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. She decided to keep the conversation moving. ¡°OK, so what do we do?¡± The woman¡¯s smile now grew so broad it looked as though her face might split. ¡°Elephants have tusks, wolves have their pack, and tigers have stripes to disappear in the trees.¡± As she spoke that last word, she faded slowly into the landscape until nothing of her remained. Sarah turned towards Ashley, a look of befuddlement on her face. ¡°That was weird,¡± She said. ¡°So, what are we going to do; it doesn¡¯t seem like anyone¡¯s here?¡± ¡°It seems like we have two options. We stand and fight, or we keep running.¡± Ashley responded solemnly. ¡°Why do you say that?¡± ¡°Blood will spill to the last drop, whether his or yours. That¡¯s what she said. He¡¯s a smart hunter so he¡¯ll know that we went to get help. He¡¯ll come for us here.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re going to fight him?¡± ¡°I am.¡± Sarah nodded. ¡°Well, I hope the best for you then. I¡¯m not a fighter, but I¡¯ll be on watch out here if you need me.¡± Ashley nodded in return and turned to look at the rangers¡¯ cabin. Slowly, she walked towards it, approaching the front door. Given the seemingly abandoned state of things, Ashley assumed the door was locked. She decided to try the knob anyways and was pleasantly surprised when it turned freely in her hand. Walking through the doorway, she found herself in the dim single room that was the rangers¡¯ office. The only light being sunlight through a couple of unshuttered windows and one dimly lit lamp. Unfinished paperwork was stacked neatly on the desks, and several comfortable looking chairs were arranged neatly around the room. Oddly enough, the center of the room was still clear. Ashley could hear the faint hum of a computer, still on, in the background. Ashley turned to the door from which she had just entered and locked it. Grabbing one of the chairs, she moved it in front of the door; facing the back door nestled across the room. She then sat, waiting in tense anticipation of what was to come. Chapter 9-Confrontation Darkness had fallen before Ashley heard the faint creak of the back door as it opened. Launching herself upwards, she squinted at the silhouetted figure that entered the room. It moved slowly, almost shambling into the room. As the figure drew closer, Ashley recognized them. It was one of the young men who had started this hunt. Ashley raised her fists, ready to defend herself but stood frozen as she watched Alex approach. There was no aggression in his hunched shoulders and haggard face. He was like a soldier driven from the battlefield in defeat. Alex made his way to her, his broken eyes locking with her own. Wordlessly, he raised his hand and lightly grasped her shoulder. They both stood there, caught in this peculiar moment. Neither one breaking eye contact with the other. Then suddenly, Alex lowered his hand. Moving to the front door and unlocking it, he left. Stolen story; please report. Only a moment after hearing the click of the front door, Ashley once again heard the creak of the rear door as it opened. There was no mistaking the figure that casually walked in. The narrow build of the man in the lab coat was clearly visible before the light illuminated his face. He smiled broadly as he approached her, drawing a thin blade from his coat. Ashley didn¡¯t move as he approached, still frozen by the broken man she had just seen. The man advanced until he was standing just in front of his prey, before pausing, soaking the moment in. It was then that Ashley reacted, pushing at her adversary. A wall of yellow light erupted from her palms, pushing the doctor back. He looked surprised at first, but his face soon erupted into a massive grin. This was soon followed by hysterical laughter. Turning, Ashley fled with the insane howling of the doctor following hauntingly behind her. Chapter 10-Escape... The police car wound its way down the twisted narrow roads. The man inside sat donned in a crisp blue uniform and aviators, looking as cool as he possibly could, he put a lot of effort into it after all. He gazed out at his surroundings as his radio chattered incessantly in the background. Suddenly, something caught his eye. A young woman, dirty and tattered from the thicket, ran into the road waving frantically for his attention. Slamming the brakes, the man barely brought the car to halt before hitting her. He left unhurriedly, attempting to maintain a calm demeanor. ¡°Whoa there, are you alright?¡± He asked as she moved frantically towards him. ¡°Are you here to help? The phones. They wouldn¡¯t work before, but we managed to get a call through. There¡¯s someone out there, he¡¯s trying to kill us.¡± She said, talking very fast. The man gestured for her to calm down. ¡°Slow down. First of all, what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Ashley.¡± ¡°Alright Ashley, who¡¯s trying to kill you?¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I don¡¯t know. First there were three people, now there¡¯s only one. He keeps following us.¡± ¡°Us? So there are more of you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Tell you what. How about you get in the car and I can take you somewhere safe. Then, you can tell me where the others are, so that I can help them too.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No. We were all scattered. I¡¯ve got to go back.¡± ¡°But you said there¡¯s someone out to kill you. I¡¯m just trying to help you.¡± She shook her head again. ¡°No, I¡¯ve got to go back and help anyone who¡¯s left.¡± ¡°Listen, I¡¯ll help them. Just let me help you first.¡± He said, frustrated. ¡°No.¡± She reiterated, once again shaking her head, this time also taking a step back. The man stepped forward in response, reaching out to grab hold of the woman¡¯s shoulder. As he reached for her, she flickered like an old movie reel and then vanished. The man removed his sunglasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. As he returned his glasses, he moved back toward the police car, grinning to himself. He pulled a blade from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. His grin soon broke into hysterical laughter that echoed its way through the woods. Then suddenly there was silence, until an engine turned over and the car pulled away, heading back the way it came. Blood in the Streets Chapter 1 The young woman sat sullenly hugging herself, completely oblivious to her surroundings. Even if she hadn¡¯t been, she wouldn¡¯t have been impressed by what she saw. The walls of the room were the depressingly dull gray of unfinished cement, illuminated only by the glow of a small, albeit bright, lamp shining on the small table in front of her. Behind that table sat a vacant chair and, behind that, a solid-looking steel door donned with a small glass window pane. The young woman noticed none of these things, however, instead preferring to stare blankly down at the table in front of her. She was so consumed with this task, in fact, that she completely failed to notice as two men entered through the door. One of them, a somewhat tall well-built man, moved casually towards the chair in front of her, draping his suit jacket on it before seating himself. The other man was shorter but even sturdier. He moved agitatedly towards the shade of one of the corners, preferring to glare menacingly out from under his hat. ¡°Hello.¡± The tall man said genially. ¡°I¡¯m detective Calligan and this is my partner detective McCullough. We¡¯d just like to ask you a few questions if you don¡¯t mind.¡± The woman didn¡¯t respond, numbly boring a hole through the table. ¡°I understand that this was a traumatic experience, and I¡¯d like to emphasize that you¡¯re not currently being considered as a suspect. We do, however, need some information regarding your discovery of the victim Miss¡­¡± Detective Calligan paused expectantly. ¡°Taylor. Valerie Taylor.¡± Came the soft, almost inaudible reply. ¡°And how is it that you happened upon the victim Miss Taylor?¡± ¡°His name is Henry. Henry McGovern.¡± ¡°So you knew him?¡± ¡°Sort of. He worked at my father¡¯s bank. I would see him sometimes when I went to visit.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Calligan said thoughtfully. ¡°Which bank was this?¡± ¡°First Regional.¡± "What does your father do there?" "He''s the president." ¡°And did you ever speak with Mr. McGovern during any of your visits?¡± ¡°Sometimes¡­ well I guess more than sometimes.¡± ¡°Was there something between you two?¡± ¡°Well, he and I are close in age and he was very friendly.¡± ¡°I see, so he was a very likeable young man.¡± ¡°Yes and father says that he¡¯s very bright, one of the best workers he has.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yes. According to Father, he was well on his way to becoming vice president.¡± ¡°Vice president of a bank, at his age, that is impressive. Though I do need to know the events that led to you finding him in an alleyway.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Valerie¡¯s face darkened at this, as though she just remembered why she was there. ¡°Yes, yes of course. It was actually somewhat because of Henry. The last time I went to see my father, we talked a little, just like before. Only this time he asked me if I¡¯d like to go out to dinner with him that evening.¡± ¡°And I take it, you agreed.¡± ¡°Well, he was such a nice man, and my father always boasted about how smart he was. I could see no reason to refuse. We were supposed to meet at the Gilded Swan to eat, and it was on the way there that I found him. I was walking from the trolley when I heard a sound from a nearby alley.¡± ¡°What kind of sound?¡± ¡°It sounded like a scuffle, then a crash. I think a trash can was knocked over. Then, all I could hear was a low moan, like someone in intense pain.¡± ¡°So after hearing all that you went to investigate?¡± ¡°I did.¡± ¡°Brave woman.¡± ¡°Brave¡­ or stupid? If I¡¯d never gone to look I¡¯d never have seen Henry in that way. The blood was everywhere, detective. His eyes, nose, mouth, and ears even. Every inch of his suit was soaked. His eyes looked like they had turned into pure blood, but at the same time they stared at me. They looked sad. Almost as if he was saying he was sorry¡­¡± Valerie trailed off, tears slowly rolling down her face. Detective Calligan stood and, walking over to her, placed a hand gently on her shoulder. ¡°Thank you Valerie for your help. Please wait here, I¡¯ll arrange a cab to pick you up and take you home.¡± ¡°You will find out who did this, won¡¯t you?¡± Valerie whispered through her tears. ¡°We will... We will.¡± Calligan promised and solemnly left the room, his shadowy companion trailing after. ¡°So what do you think?¡± McCullough asked as soon as they had left the room, lighting up a cigarette. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Calligan asked in return. ¡°A young man doing well in his career and about to take out a nice well,-to-do girl, suddenly turns up dead in an alley in one of the most gruesome scenes this town¡¯s seen in a long time. And that''s saying something. But in a town like this if you¡¯re doing well that means you have friends. If you suddenly aren¡¯t, then you have enemies... very special enemies.¡± ¡°I know what you¡¯re insinuating, Mac. You think it¡¯s the Donahues. Somehow it seems like you always do.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because they¡¯re the cause of virtually everything unsightly that crawls through the underbelly of this fair city.¡± ¡°You know, with all the tortures, thefts, muggings, and murders; I¡¯d forgotten just how fair this city is.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s all because of the Donahues. Everyone knows they got their money from their ties to Boston.¡± ¡°Well you may be right; let¡¯s just see where the clues take us. For now we still have to wait on the coroner¡¯s report. Why don¡¯t you go start the car so we can go check out that bank? Though I¡¯ve got something I need to do first.¡± ¡°What, are you going to go talk to your girl at the front desk?¡± McCullough asked, somewhat jeeringly. ¡°My girl? You mean I spent all this time bragging about you for nothing?¡± Calligan responded, undeterred, before turning and setting off down the hallway. It didn¡¯t take long for Calligan to reach the police station¡¯s receptionist desk, where Calligan was greeted by the broad smile of the petite blonde sitting behind it. ¡°Hello Crystal.¡± Calligan said smoothly, ¡°Are we still on for dinner tonight?¡± Crystal sighed, ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, the boss wants me to pull a double to catch up on paperwork. You¡¯d think that I¡¯m the only person who knows how to push pencils around here.¡± ¡°Well who knows, you might get lucky. I might have to work late tonight too.¡± Crystal smiled at that. ¡°Hopefully,¡± she said with an equally hopeful gleam in her eyes. ¡°Though I do need something from you now.¡± Calligan interjected, shattering her short reverie. ¡°There¡¯s a woman in interrogation room one who needs a ride home. Is there any way you can make sure she gets it?¡± ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll call for a cab right now.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± After saying his goodbyes, Calligan made his way to the entrance of the station, where he knew that McCullough would be impatiently waiting. As expected, McCullough¡¯s Model A was there waiting. It had once been nice, purchased brand new in 1928, but the years and McCullough¡¯s driving had been hard on it. Calligan opened the passenger side door and casually sat himself inside. ¡°Alright Mac, that¡¯s all settled. Let¡¯s go head to that bank.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think we should do that just yet.¡± McCullough responded, a hint of tension in his voice. ¡°Why is that?¡± Calligan asked, turning to look at him. McCullough was sitting bolt upright in his seat, staring fixedly ahead. A distinct look of fear was carved onto his face, as distinctive as the cold black metal of the gunbarrel pressed against the back of his head. Blood in the Streets Chapter 2 Witnessing the fear on his partner¡¯s face, Calligan forced himself to show the opposite. Allowing himself to relax, he sank back into his seat in a comfortable pose. ¡°So,¡± he said genially. ¡°Is it typical for a man to introduce himself by sneaking into someone else¡¯s car and pointing a gun at him?¡± ¡°Only if it¡¯s to send a message.¡± The shadowy man with the gun replied, his low baritone voice almost soothing. It would¡¯ve been relaxing were it not marred by the coarseness added to it from years on the streets. ¡°Well I hope it¡¯s in English. I may know what a gun typically means, but otherwise, I don¡¯t speak sign language.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a message for you both, from Sean Donahue himself. Leave off the case you¡¯re on. It¡¯s in the Donahues¡¯ hands now.¡± Calligan frowned. ¡°Is that all? You know, that could¡¯ve been said without the gun.¡± The man chuckled softly to himself. ¡°Maybe, but it wouldn¡¯t have had the same effect. At least this way you two understand the importance of the situation. So do yourselves a favor and don¡¯t go digging any further. That is, unless you want me to fill you with lead the next time we meet.¡± With that, the man lowered his gun and unceremoniously left the vehicle, slamming the door in a way that would have been rude if it didn¡¯t seem to actually fix a couple of dents in the car. McCullough reached for his own door handle as if to follow him, but Calligan held out a hand to stop him. ¡°Don¡¯t bother.¡± He said. ¡°Unless you wanna risk a gunfight out in the street. Let him go. Something tells me we haven¡¯t seen the last of him.¡± McCullough laughed a little at this. ¡°If we¡¯re going to ignore him like I think we are, then yeah, you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°Ignoring him would imply we''re not going to use any of the information he just gave us. He¡¯s been so helpful to our investigation, what better way is there to show our gratitude than to finish it? Now we know for a fact that the Donahues are somehow tied to this investigation.¡± ¡°Well, I told you so.¡± McCullough replied, grinning. He was happy to rub it in, and Calligan knew it would be a long time before he heard the end of it. ¡°Just get us to the bank already.¡± He interjected, eager to change the subject. Still grinning, McCullough complied and, putting the car in gear, he began to drive in the direction of First Regional Bank. ¡°They call that thing a regional bank? It looks more like a palace!¡± McCullough exclaimed, pulling directly in front of the structure. It was a towering thing made entirely of smooth white marble, with row after row of stately-looking steps that led to an even more audacious columned portico. The capital of each column was carved, depicting the heroic deeds of men of legend, further weaving a tapestry of regality across the front of the building. ¡°This certainly doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of place you go to without an appointment.¡± Calligan replied. ¡°But that¡¯s just what we¡¯re going to do.¡± McCullough laughed, an expression that somewhat resembled glee creeping onto his face. ¡°You know, I always wanted to crash a fancy joint like this.¡± ¡°Well then, after you. We shouldn¡¯t keep the president waiting.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be fine if we take our time. After all, who wants to spend time with a couple of detectives who weren¡¯t even polite enough to schedule an appointment?¡± Calligan chuckled at this. ¡°Who wants to spend time with a couple of nosy detectives who did schedule an appointment?¡± ¡°Good point.¡± McCullough replied, and they both made their way nonchalantly into the building. Upon entering the establishment, they were both greeted with a sight so shocking, it made them question everything they knew about thieving bankers. ¡°Are we in the right building?¡± McCullough inquired, gazing about him. They had entered the main atrium which, except for its vast size, contained none of the grandeur they had been initially greeted with. There were no tapestries on the walls, graven busts of former presidents, or gold trim on the accounting desks. Instead there was only a short accounting desk made of plain wood, a simple staircase presumably leading to some offices, and walls that were the color of eggshells. ¡°I¡¯ve got to be honest, this is a bit of a let down.¡± Calligan replied, almost dumbfounded at what he was seeing. ¡°It¡¯s all so¡­ bland.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°It might be, but I can assure you that this establishment is well-equipped to cater to the needs of all of the most reputable names in this city and beyond.¡± A well dressed man interjected. He wasn¡¯t a tall man, about a head shorter than Calligan. He was older, with a lined face and silver hair, but he had an air of authority about him. ¡°Well, we¡¯re only reputable names to some in this town.¡± Calligan responded, a light smirk on his face. ¡°The name¡¯s Detective Calligan, and this is my partner Detective McCullough.¡± ¡°And what brings two detectives here?¡± ¡°We need to speak to the president of this bank concerning an ongoing investigation if you don¡¯t mind?¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± The man replied, a somewhat grim expression on his face. ¡°Well then, please follow me.¡± He moved swiftly, stepping out at a brisk pace towards the plain staircase. The two detectives were forced to rush in order to keep pace with him, following the man up the staircase and through an unmarked wooden door on the second floor. Stepping through it, they were greeted by an equally unadorned room, comparable to the one they just left. It was a small office containing a narrow wooden desk as its centerpiece. In front of it sat two roughly hewn wooden chairs neither bearing so much as a cushion for comfort. There were no windows, the only source of light came from a single dim bulb in the ceiling that illuminated the ugly tan paper that covered the walls. ¡°Nice place.¡± McCullough muttered under his breath, as the man closed the door behind them. There was a faint click as he turned the key in the lock. ¡°This is my office.¡± The man said, ignoring the sleight. ¡°We should have complete privacy here. Please, feel free to have a seat and make yourselves comfortable.¡± Calligan glanced at the chair in front of them and then back at the man. ¡°Thank you for the offer, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll be necessary. We shouldn¡¯t be here too long; we only have a few questions to ask you about our current investigation. I assume that you¡¯re Mr. Taylor, the president of this bank.¡± ¡°I am.¡± Mr. Taylor responded, moving past them and seating himself behind the desk. He sat bolt upright, his hands nervously tapping his desk. ¡°What can you tell us about Henry McGovern, we¡¯re told that he was under your employ?¡± ¡°Was under my employ? Has something happened to him? Has something happened to my daughter?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°I was busy with work last night, and my daughter¡¯s an adult; she comes and goes as she pleases. But please, is she alright?¡± ¡°She¡¯s fine. Mr. McGovern isn¡¯t, though. He was found dead in an alleyway last night, and it¡¯s suspected he was murdered. We need to know everything you can tell us about Mr. McGovern, can you do that for us?¡± Mr. Taylor sat there motionless for a few seconds, the color drained from his face. ¡°Can you do that for us!¡± McCullough snapped suddenly, and Mr. Taylor jumped. ¡°Yes...yes I can. I¡¯ll tell you everything I know.¡± He stammered. ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡± Calligan continued, a slight smile on his lips. ¡°Tell me, were you close to Mr. McGovern?¡± ¡°Well, he was my employee, and a good one at that. He knew how to bring clients in, clients with money. Politicians, businessmen, philanthropists it didn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t know how he knew them all or how he convinced them this was the best place to do business, but he was good at it. We were struggling before he came. All of those big banks with their old money ties, but he brought in money both old and new. He¡¯s the reason we¡¯ve been able to afford the renovations we¡¯ve made.¡± ¡°Seems to me like you put it all in the wrong things.¡± McCullough chimed in. Mr. Taylor¡¯s face contorted in irritation at this. ¡°Plans are being made for the interior as well. We just have¡­ certain priorities.¡± ¡°It¡¯s certainly not to make your clients comfortable, that¡¯s for sure.¡± McCullough retorted, nodding towards one of the chairs in front of him. ¡°Anyways¡­¡± Calligan inserted, ¡°You really have no idea how he managed this?¡± ¡°None.¡± Mr. Taylor insisted. ¡°Would you perhaps know where Mr. McGovern was from?¡± ¡°He never said. But judging from his accent I¡¯d say he was from Boston, why?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to be from town to have powerful connections, and Mr. McGovern clearly had connections, though that may just have been the problem.¡± ¡°You think it was a hit?¡± ¡°I¡¯m certainly not ruling out the possibility, and judging from the way you¡¯ve been acting since we got into this room, neither are you.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Why did you lock the door?¡± ¡°Well, you two are detectives, so I assumed this would be a private conversation.¡± ¡°I can assure you that a private conversation that involves locked doors rarely ends well when detectives are involved, for one party or another.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s just an honest mistake then.¡± Mr. Taylor insisted. Calligan laughed at this. ¡°I could actually believe that, if you weren¡¯t such a nervous wreck, right now. You haven¡¯t stopped tapping your fingers on that desk since this conversation started. Are you sure you don¡¯t know Mr. McGovern¡¯s connections?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure.¡± Mr. Taylor hissed back, standing up ¡°Now I think that both of you should leave, but I¡¯ll tell you both this; be careful, you¡¯re meddling in dangerous territory here.¡± He unlocked the door and flung it open for the two of them. ¡°Something tells me you should do the same,¡± McCullough snorted, on his way out. ¡°You should probably have saved some of that money you spent on renovations, for a bodyguard. It would¡¯ve been more useful that way.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 3 ¡°What number was his room again?¡± Calligan inquired, glancing at the fixtures on the doors. ¡°816.¡± McCullough responded, gazing down the hall. He kept one hand close to his belt, and his gun. ¡°I know they called this place a tenement when we asked for directions, but I think they were being generous. I feel like the rats are gonna try to rob us.¡± ¡°I know what you mean. For an up-and-coming banker, the kid sure lived in a rough place. I just hope we can get some good clues as to why someone would wanna rub him out.¡± ¡°Yeah, and quick. Something tells me people around here won¡¯t care for two nosey detectives snooping around. This doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of place where the law is very appreciated.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ll just not let anyone know we¡¯re the law and that won¡¯t be an issue.¡± ¡°Good point.¡± McCullough replied as he passed another door, its sign hanging loosely off of it. The hall was drab and dimly lit, with a light tan paint in the areas that had any paint at all. The carpet was a dingy discolored brown, worn thin over time. Each door looked as though it hung loosely on its hinges, some nearly falling off entirely. The two detectives traversed the hallway as casually as they could, intent on not drawing attention to themselves. Even the faint thud of their footsteps on the carpet seemed intolerably loud, and the tension seemed to build palpably within them with each step. Yet still, they pressed toward their destination with stoic professionalism. ¡°You got the key off the receptionist, right?¡± McCullough inquired as he donned a pair of gloves. ¡°I did,¡± Calligan responded, doing the same. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll need it.¡± With that, Calligan grasped the doorknob, wrenching to the side. The door swung open with relatively little protest, revealing a tiny, one-room apartment space beyond. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°My, my, my.¡± Calligan muttered softly as he peered through the doorway. Papers littered the floor, and the sheets had been torn off the mattress of a small bed in one corner. The mattress itself was split open, its innards strewn across the floor. Near another corner a simple wooden desk laid toppled over, its contents scattered. McCullough laughed, lighting up a cigarette. ¡°This is going to be fun.¡± They searched the room for three hours, examining every piece of paper and fallen object, until finally they decided that enough was enough. ¡°I guess we¡¯re a day late and a dollar short.¡± Calligan said, crumpling a piece of paper in his hand. ¡°All we know from these is that he was an aspiring detective novelist.¡± ¡°And he¡¯s not even very good. I could tell you the killer after the third page.¡± McCullough chortled. ¡°That¡¯s because that third page was the last page.¡± ¡°Well, it was still a terrible reveal. Anyways, there was clearly something here that isn¡¯t anymore. I wonder if he liked to take his work home with him?¡± ¡°It¡¯s possible and that may have been a risk someone didn¡¯t want. Remember, it was the money man who brought down Capone.¡± ¡°Well this guy isn¡¯t bringing anyone down. Someone made sure of that.¡± Calligan nodded his agreement. ¡°It¡¯s late. Let¡¯s phone a guard in so they can swab for fingerprints tomorrow. We can check in with Doc Rivers in the morning, see if he has his report on that body ready.¡± They both headed back to McCullough¡¯s car, where Calligan found a nearby payphone and contacted the station about the guard. As he turned back towards the car, he sighed, glancing around the deserted street. It was nice, in its own way, at this hour. There was nothing to disturb it in the quiet gloom of the night. As he reached the car he quietly got in. ¡°They¡¯re sending someone over right now. I¡¯ve gotta say, this was quite a first day. We¡¯re going to have a ton of paperwork to fill out when we get back to the office.¡± ¡°And it¡¯s only just started.¡± McCullough replied, putting the car in gear. ¡°It¡¯s only just started.¡± With that, they drove off into the night. Blood in the Streets Chapter 4 The door was solid steel, situated at the end of a long and dimly lit hallway. A faded sign reading ¡°Do Not Disturb¡± hung loosely on its exterior. It was an ominous sight, or at least Calligan thought so. At the same time, Calligan had always thought that the morgue was the most fittingly located room in the entire station, buried in its deepest bowels as it was. It was the only room located below the ground level and was accordingly the only one where the air hung naturally cold and still. No one liked to visit this room, though if it was because of the dead or its one living inhabitant, Calligan wasn¡¯t certain. Doc Rivers was a man who had chosen his occupation wisely. He simply had no patience for the antics of the living and was perfectly happy to limit his exposure with them as much as humanly possible. An arrangement that no one else complained about in return. Calligan turned from the door for a moment, glancing at McCullough. He had a look of rigid irritation on his face. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry up and get this over with.¡± He muttered, stretching out his hand and rapping it sharply on the steel. ¡°Come in!¡± Came a sharp reply. ¡°I know it¡¯s you two detectives, come for that report. I¡¯ve got it here, so hurry up, I haven¡¯t got all day!¡± McCullough pulled the heavy door, grunting as he did so. It swung slowly open, squealing loudly from its rusted hinges as it did so. Both detectives were suddenly greeted by the harsh light from within the room, contrasting strongly with the dim of the hallway. The room itself was a small room, consisting of only a few solid steel tables and numerous refrigerated units along one wall. Despite the high volume of bodies that consistently poured in, it never seemed to be full. This was perhaps due to the obsessive speed and meticulous nature of Doc Rivers, who wasn¡¯t afraid to mention it either. ¡°What took you two so long! I worked all of yesterday and all through the night to get this report!¡± He berated them. ¡°Shut up! We¡¯re here aren¡¯t we?¡± McCullough replied. ¡°How dare you speak to me like that!¡± ¡°Like what? We¡¯re here to solve a case, not get yelled at by a white-haired pekingese.¡± Calligan laughed, McCullough wasn¡¯t far off. Doc Rivers wasn¡¯t a tall man by any stretch of the imagination and his hair was long and white. If one wasn¡¯t careful, it wouldn¡¯t be very hard at all to mistake the shrill yapping of the doc with the yip of a dog. ¡°Why I oughta¡­¡± Doc Rivers growled, the blood rushing furiously to his face. ¡°Now now Doc.¡± Calligan chimed in quickly, motioning for him to calm down. ¡°There¡¯s no need to fly off the handle. What do you have for us?¡± Doc Rivers sighed deeply. ¡°Here.¡± He said, thrusting a folder into Calligan¡¯s arms. Calligan began thumbing quickly through it, before snapping it quickly shut. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Come on Doc,¡± He said exasperatedly, ¡°You know I¡¯m just a lowly detective, how am I supposed to know what any of this means.¡± ¡°Well, then perhaps you should go get a doctorate, so I won¡¯t have to explain everything to you all the time.¡± ¡°Or perhaps, you can stun us with your superior intellect, like you do every time.¡± ¡°Lazy no good¡­¡± ¡°Now, now Doc, is that any way to treat an admirer?¡± Doc Rivers sighed, walking curtly over to one of the tables. On the table laid a corpse, partially covered in a simple white cloth. Both detectives moved to join the doc, recognizing the cadaver as that of Henry McGovern. ¡°There are several odd things of note concerning Mr. McGovern here.¡± Doc Rivers started. ¡°Firstly, it would seem that every one of his major organs has suffered from traumatic hemorrhaging. Secondly, he has sustained bleeding from every major orifice. Most notably, in that matter, are the eyes and the ears, though for different reasons.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Calligan responded. ¡°I received the body relatively quickly and much of the blood was still fresh. He couldn''t have been dead long when he was discovered. The blood from his ears, however, had long since dried. Further inspection of the inner ear revealed none of the damage that should¡¯ve been present to cause any bleeding whatsoever. I was also able to notice a seeming build up of tissue within the inner ear.¡± ¡°So what are you talking about here, some kind of tumor?¡± ¡°No. I don¡¯t think so. Tumors are uncontrolled growths. This didn¡¯t seem uncontrolled, quite the opposite in fact.¡± ¡°So what, are you saying this guy just had naturally incredible hearing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s difficult to say whether or not it was natural, but this man definitely had hearing beyond the capability of a normal man. Enough, I¡¯d say, to drive a normal person mad.¡± ¡°But there¡¯s no indication that Mr. McGovern was insane.¡± ¡°Which lends to the theory that this wasn¡¯t natural, but that it was thrust on him at some point shortly before his demise.¡± ¡°But that¡¯s impossible.¡± McCullough snorted. ¡°It is,¡± Doc Rivers responded. ¡°But if you¡¯ll let me continue, I have a theory. Now also of interest are Mr. McGovern¡¯s eyes. It would appear that, instead of strengthening, his eyes have actually weakened. This is evident by the fact that they no longer exist. They¡¯ve completely liquefied. It¡¯s almost as though there was an exchange, the strengthening of one organ for the destruction of another.¡± ¡°And are you going to get to the point?¡± McCullough growled once again. ¡°I¡¯ll get to it, when I get to it.¡± Doc Rivers growled back. ¡°Like I said, I¡¯ve been slaving away at this for a day and a night.¡± He paused for a moment, slowly sucking in air. ¡°Anyways, one of my most interesting findings was on his right arm here. See look, there¡¯s a tiny hole, that¡¯s only perceptible to the sharpest of eyes. This man was injected by something. What, I¡¯m not sure? I¡¯ve run the analysis of his blood, and there are definite anomalies. Even in spite of that there are no known drugs in his system. As much as I hate to say it, I believe that I¡¯ve found a problem that I can¡¯t solve.¡± McCullough laughed at this. ¡°So you are human? I always wondered.¡± The blood flew back into Doc Rivers¡¯s face. ¡°That¡¯s enough! I¡¯ve shown you everything I can, and I don¡¯t have to deal with such impertinence. Both of you, get out!¡± He hurriedly ushered them both out, slamming the heavy door behind them with astonishing strength. ¡°You just had to get that last jab in, didn¡¯t you?¡± Calligan asked. McCullough merely chuckled for a moment, lighting up a cigarette. He stood there puffing on it for a few moments before finally saying something. ¡°I could use a drink.¡± He said, matter-of-factly. Now it was Calligan¡¯s turn to laugh. ¡°I¡¯m sure you could. Problem is, it¡¯s illegal.¡± ¡°Maybe so, but I have my ways. Come on, I¡¯ll show you.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 5 ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea?¡± Calligan inquired. They were standing outside a plain looking building. A sign over one window advertised a new novel that had just been published, and a soft light shone through its windows. ¡°Relax. We¡¯re just going to walk in, have a few drinks, and maybe talk to some of the colorful people inside. Besides, all anyone will know is that we went to pick up the latest best seller.¡± McCullough replied, reassuringly. ¡°And if you¡¯re worried about the people inside, don¡¯t be. This place gets more traffic from cops than you might think, and I don¡¯t mean to shut it down.¡± ¡°Alright, fine.¡± Calligan sighed, and they both entered the shop. They were immediately greeted with neatly organized rows of bookcases. McCullough passed through them casually, whistling to himself as Calligan followed hesitantly. At the back of the store, McCullough passed his hands along the spines of several novels, before pausing and pulling one outwards. The bookcase swung open, revealing a large burly looking man standing behind it. He wore a loosely fitting suit, but it did little to disguise the obvious mass of muscle that lay underneath. ¡°McCullough, back again I see. Who¡¯s this guy?¡± He asked, growling somewhat. ¡°Relax Johnny, this is my pal Calligan. He was feeling a little thirsty and wanted to know a good place to get a drink. So of course I took him to the best place in town.¡± McCullough replied, unphased. ¡°Well, if he¡¯s with you I guess he can come in, but I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡± ¡°Johnny, I¡¯m hurt. Why would I ever cause trouble?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why don''t you ask the last guy you got in a fight with here? We had to haul him out.¡± ¡°You had to haul him out? He sure was belligerent wasn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°He had six broken bones, Mac.¡± McCullough laughed. ¡°Well, he was belligerent to me anyways.¡± Johnny sighed. ¡°Just come on in already, and keep the violence to a minimum. I don¡¯t want to have to break up any fights tonight. Understood?¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± McCullough replied, throwing up a mock salute as he stepped through the open doorway. Calligan was quick to follow. They entered a small room of unadorned cement, with a small table and a single chair. Beyond it lay a dim narrow passageway with a flight of steps leading down. Traversing the passageway, the detectives found themselves in an even more dimly lit but cavernous atrium. Paintings, indistinct in the light, lined the walls of the room, and inornate tables and chairs were scattered around a small stage in one corner. There, a miniscule band tapped out the faint rhythms of what could possibly be mistaken for jazz. McCullough paid attention to none of these things, though, instead making his way toward the bar in the center of the room. It was also plain, shrouded by customers more shady than the room itself. Behind it stood the bartender, casually cleaning glasses with a cloth and keeping a keen eye on his customers. McCullough made his way to an open stool in front of the bar with Calligan shadowing him warily, an uncomfortable expression on his face. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± The bartender asked, approaching them. ¡°A shot of scotch.¡± McCullough replied. ¡°What about him?¡± The bartender inquired, looking at Calligan. ¡°I¡¯m suddenly not very thirsty.¡± He replied. The bartender gave him a suspicious look before shrugging and strolling away to procure some scotch. ¡°Will you relax already?¡± McCullough asked, turning to Calligan. You¡¯re making people suspicious.¡± ¡°The feeling is mutual. Everyone in here looks like a thug or a hoodlum.¡± Calligan replied. ¡°Why did I agree to come along again?¡± McCullough turned to face the stool beside him. On it sat a man. His clothes were drab but typical, hanging loosely over his narrow frame. The man¡¯s face was equally narrow, somewhat resembling a rodent, and his eyes seemed to dart suspiciously in every direction but never in their direction. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°There¡¯s someone I want you to meet. Calligan, this is Rat, a proud member of the cesspit of scum and villainy that inhabit this place.¡± ¡°I heard that!¡± He cried, his head whipping to face them. ¡°I¡¯m sure you heard everything we¡¯ve been saying. You were doing a really bad job looking like you were ignoring us.¡± ¡°What do you want, Copper?¡± ¡°See how civilized he is, Calligan? Won¡¯t even give a proper hello. Anyways, despite the way he acts, Rat¡¯s one of my most useful informants. He always gives me what I need, even if it takes a little... persuasion.¡± ¡°Listen Mac, I already told you that I¡¯m done. I¡¯m not going to give you any more information. They almost killed me after last time.¡± Rat replied frantically . McCullough smiled genially. ¡°But Rat, this isn¡¯t like last time. I just need a little information from you. You know what goes on in the streets, I¡¯m sure you can tell me just what I need to know.¡± ¡°Will you stop calling me that? I¡¯m not a rat and you know it. Saying stuff like that could get you killed around here.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t get me killed. Besides, I¡¯m not asking for you to rat anyone out. Like I said, I only want information.¡± ¡°Go take a flying leap.¡± With that, Rat turned away, reaching down for his glass in front of him. McCullough sighed, lighting up a cigarette. He took a couple puffs from it before asking, ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s the way you want it to be?¡± ¡°Better whatever you do to me than to be dead.¡± Rat replied. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that.¡± McCullough muttered as he pressed the still lit cigarette onto Rat¡¯s hand even as it still clung tightly to his drink. A faint hiss of pain escaped his lips, but otherwise he sat in obstinate defiance. Seeing Rat¡¯s firm resistance, McCullough smiled. Placing one hand gently on the back of Rat¡¯s head, he slammed it down. The motion was so fast that Calligan could barely register what had happened before he heard a crack and the breaking of glass. As McCullough lifted Rat¡¯s head back up, his face was covered with blood with broken shards of his drink lodged firmly in it. ¡°So, are you going to tell me what I want to know?¡± McCullough asked menacingly. Before Rat could say anything, the bartender walked over. ¡°Hey, none of that here.¡± He insisted, puffing out his chest slightly. McCullough looked at him silently for a moment, before reaching into his pocket and sliding some bills onto the bar. The bartender nodded in acknowledgement and casually returned to cleaning glasses. ¡°Anyways,¡± McCullough continued. ¡°Are you going to talk?¡± ¡°You already got my answer.¡± Rat answered defiantly. Rat¡¯s face was forced downward once again, with his blood splattering across the bar. His face was now nearly unrecognizable from what it was just a couple of minutes previously. His nose was obviously broken and shards of glass had dug deep into his face. ¡°You¡¯re looking pretty rough there, Rat.¡± McCullough sneered. ¡°Look at all those wounds. Here, we wouldn¡¯t want them getting infected, would we?¡± McCullough grabbed his own drink, pouring the contents down over his face. Rat shrieked in pain, falling off his stool and writhing in agony. ¡°Come on now Rat, you¡¯re making a scene.¡± McCullough said, reaching down and hauling Rat up by his tie. ¡°Though you could make this easier by telling me what I want to know.¡± ¡°I already told you¡­¡± McCullough¡¯s fist slammed into Rat¡¯s teeth again and again, his fist a veritable blur. He kept going until Calligan put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± He said firmly. McCullough nodded, dropping his fist, and Calligan stooped down in front of Rat. ¡°We just want some information. We didn¡¯t want you to get hurt, and you don¡¯t have to get hurt any more if you just tell us what we want to know.¡± Calligan cajoled. Rat sighed, then spit out a tooth. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± He asked reluctantly. ¡°A man was murdered recently, killed by some sort of new drug. Would you know anything about that?¡± McCullough said. ¡°Maybe.¡± Rat replied. ¡°What do you mean maybe?¡± ¡°Well, there are some new guys in town. Who they are, nobody knows for sure, but they¡¯re moving in on the Donahues¡¯ turf; and quick. They¡¯ve got their hands in everything: gambling, prostitution, drugs, you name it.¡± ¡°So you think they¡¯re responsible?¡± ¡°There are so many new kinds of drugs on the streets because of them, who else could it be?¡± ¡°Any ideas on how we can get in touch with these people?¡± Calligan asked. ¡°Like I said, nobody knows who these guys are. They came from out of town and seem to work from the shadows. They do have some local gangs doing their dirty work, but even they¡¯re locked tight.¡± McCullough stood up, smoothing out his suit jacket. ¡°Well it looks like we¡¯ve got our work cut out for us.¡± He said. ¡°And remember Rat, sometimes it¡¯s just easier to talk, you lose fewer teeth that way.¡± With that, the two detectives stalked out. Blood in the Streets Chapter 6 A crowd was building along the street by the time the detectives arrived. The body they had come to investigate sat slouched on a bench, his hat pulled low over his face. At a glance no one would ever have noticed that he was dead, and no one did until someone saw the drops of blood dripping steadily off his face. Calligan and McCullough pushed their way through the crowd, and into the crime scene kept diligently clear by several policemen holding back the crowd. McCullough stopped to speak to one of the officers, while Calligan, donning a pair of gloves, approached the corpse. He was clearly male, dressed in a well tailored suit. He didn¡¯t appear to be very tall, and his frame was narrow. Calligan gently shifted the man¡¯s hat to reveal the face of a middle aged face underneath, the skin grooved from stress. ¡°So, what do you think?¡± McCullough asked, walking over from the officer. ¡°I¡¯d say Mr. Taylor didn¡¯t take his own advice. Or if he did, it didn¡¯t do him any good.¡± Calligan responded. ¡°There¡¯s blood from the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth at least from the looks of it. Of course, Doc Rivers is going to have to take a look at it to confirm the cause of death, but it would seem that he¡¯s gone the way of Mr. McGovern.¡± ¡°I guess he was good at doing things wrong. The only witness is the man who found him. I got a glimpse of him before coming over here. He seems oddly calm for someone who just found a body.¡± ¡°Yeah well, I think I¡¯ll go talk to him. You stay here and see if you can find anything interesting, we don¡¯t want a repeat of yesterday.¡± ¡°Listen Calligan, I have a policy against that kind of interrogation in public. It¡¯s just not polite.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Calligan laughed, turning until he spotted who he assumed was the man, standing calmly beside a police officer. He began to approach them, when suddenly a narrow man in a dark suit stepped quickly out of the crowd and in his way. He wasn¡¯t a tall man, about a head shorter than Calligan, but he stood confidently in Calligan¡¯s path. ¡°You were told to leave off this case.¡± He said, his voice a low baritone. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to come with me.¡± ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± Calligan responded. ¡°If I remember the sound of that voice right, the last time we met you were pointing a gun at my friend. How do I know that this time you won¡¯t use it on me?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you have much choice in the matter." The man replied, glancing at the officers nearby. "Notice how none of your pals in blue are doing anything? I could pull my gun and shoot you right now and that wouldn¡¯t change. As it is, I don¡¯t like to make a scene; but I suggest you come along if you know what¡¯s good for you.¡± The man gestured toward the crowd and began walking. Calligan hesitated for a moment, before following close behind. The man led Calligan out of the crowd to a nearby sidestreet, where an ominous black car sat waiting. ¡°Get in.¡± The man ordered, and Calligan obeyed; placing himself reluctantly in the back seat. The interior of the vehicle was as dark as its exterior, with not even a hint of chrome to be seen. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°I see someone likes black.¡± Calligan remarked as the man seated himself in the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°It¡¯s a favorite of Mr. Donahue¡¯s.¡± The man chimed in return. ¡°He says it reminds him of his business, and the work related to it. The dark reminds him of his sins.¡± ¡°Poetic.¡± Calligan retorted flatly. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he give it up?¡± The man laughed. ¡°Why should he? He has both money and power. Why would anyone want to throw that away?¡± ¡°Maybe out of the decency of his heart?¡± ¡°You crack me up.¡± The man responded and went silent, driving steadily along the road. He remained that way as he drove up to a storage building. It appeared abandoned, its windows cracked and broken and the paint peeling away. But still, the man got out of the car, gesturing for Calligan to do the same. ¡°I take it this is where you plan to kill me.¡± Calligan stated dryly. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t kill a detective in public, and you disobeyed the Donahues¡¯. They don¡¯t give second chances.¡±The man replied, drawing a revolver. Calligan moved quickly, drawing a gun of his own from his coat before the man had finished drawing his. ¡°If you¡¯re going to kidnap someone with the intent to kill them, you really should remember to disarm them first.¡± Calligan said as he pointed the firearm at his opponent. ¡°A smart detective always carries a gun.¡± The man forced a smile, returning his gun to its holster. ¡°I suppose even the best make mistakes.¡± He replied grimly. ¡°So, what now, you take me in?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got some questions for you first.¡± ¡°Fire away¡­ though not literally of course.¡± Calligan smiled for a moment, before once more turning serious. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± He asked flatly. ¡°John Dempsey.¡± The man replied in return. ¡°Is that your real name?¡± Dempsey sneered. ¡°It¡¯s as real of a name as I¡¯m going to give you.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± Calligan returned. ¡°What¡¯s the Donahues¡¯ interest in this case?¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know.¡± ¡°Yeah, I would.¡± ¡°And why should I talk?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m the one with the gun.¡± Dempsey smiled, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. ¡°There¡¯s a group from Boston that¡¯s been moving in on the Donahues¡¯ turf called the Syndicate. It¡¯s made up of the most notorious crime families in Boston. McGovern was our inside man into their operations here in the city, but as you know he¡¯s no longer filling that role.¡± ¡°So why the effort to keep us out?¡± ¡°In order to cull a cancer, you first have to locate it. We needed the information McGovern had been collecting for us to know just who to kill. But now he¡¯s dead and the names, lost.¡± ¡°Well, It seems to me that we don¡¯t have to be enemies here. You and I both want to find the murderer of Mr. McGovern.¡± Calligan said, matter-of-factly. ¡°Yeah, but this is war. You wanna put him behind bars. We have other plans. And when we find out all the traitors and scoundrels who are working for the Syndicate in this city, there¡¯ll be blood in the streets. That you can be sure of.¡± With that, Dempsey charged at Calligan, reaching for the gun. Calmly, Calligan squeezed the trigger, watching Dempsey drop. Blood was already pooled around the body as Calligan stooped, checking the body for life. When he found no sign, he stood. ¡°It¡¯s a pity.¡± He said somberly. ¡°But there already is.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 7 ¡°So there I was, with twenty of them on me, just beating me mercilessly. But they should¡¯ve known not to mess with an Irishman.¡± McCullough bragged, puffing out his chest. ¡°First, I threw one of them into five of the other ones. Then, I grabbed two of them and slammed their heads together. Then, I went and beat the daylights out of the rest of them. That¡¯s what they get for not killing me quickly.¡± The detectives were walking up the front steps leading into the police precinct as McCullough recounted his heroic deeds from the day before. Calligan couldn¡¯t help but grin in disbelief as he absorbed the tale, chuckling softly to himself. ¡°And somehow, after that thrashing, they all still managed to get away.¡± Calligan replied sarcastically, as they reached the solid wooden doors of the entrance. He casually pulled one open, allowing McCullough to step through before following him. The precinct was an old building, carved in the Victorian fashion out of gray marble. Through the entrance lay a spacious atrium, where Crystal sat behind a large solid-looking desk, doing the things receptionists do. Branching out from the atrium was a veritable maze of winding corridors leading to various offices, interrogation rooms, and holding cells. ¡°They all made a break for it, and I couldn¡¯t decide which thug to go after. Though I¡¯m sure the Donahues will think twice before picking another fight with me.¡± McCullough sneered as they walked up to Crystal, typing furiously away at a typewriter. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn¡¯t seem to notice them as they approached. Smiling Calligan leaned forward, stealthily planting a small kiss on her cheek, only to receive a quick swat in exchange. ¡°What was that for?¡± He replied, rubbing his own cheek ruefully. ¡°Fun.¡± She returned, a smile crossing her face as she looked up at him. ¡°I need a little of that right now. They¡¯ve been working me overtime a lot lately.¡± ¡°It seems things are getting a lot more dangerous on the streets right now.¡± ¡°That¡¯s probably why. Criminals never stop, do they?¡± ¡°No, they don¡¯t. But I think it might be a good idea if I start taking you home. I don¡¯t want to risk you getting hurt.¡± ¡°You already do most nights,¡± Crystal laughed. ¡°When you¡¯re not busy.¡± Calligan nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think most nights is going to cut it anymore. It¡¯s looking like things might get ugly out there. And it¡¯s either I take you home, or you start carrying a gun on you.¡± Crystal laughed again. ¡°I already do,¡± She reached into her purse, flashing the short barrel of a revolver, before quickly stowing it away. Calligan raised an eyebrow in surprise, but she continued, ¡°Anyways, how do you know? Is it something to do with the case you¡¯re working on?¡± Calligan nodded. ¡°You could say that.¡± He had a solemn look on his face, but quickly erased it, adopting a casual expression. ¡°Say, how about we go somewhere nice tonight, and get a little bit of that fun you¡¯ve been needing? ¡°That sounds lovely,¡± Crystal sighed, a look of longing in her eyes, but then she rolled them. ¡°Assuming the boss doesn¡¯t want me to work late again. I¡¯ll let you know if he does.¡± Calligan nodded and looked up momentarily. He paused for a fraction of a second as he watched two police officers enter the atrium from an adjoining corridor. One of them seemed very familiar. ¡°Hey Crystal, I¡¯ve got to go.¡± He said, bending down quickly to give her another kiss. ¡°Let me know about tonight.¡± Crystal nodded, and Calligan casually moved from the desk. He calmly strode towards the two officers, with McCullough following behind, a subtle look of befuddlement on his face. ¡°Officer Jones.¡± Calligan said upon reaching the two. ¡°How have you been? I haven¡¯t seen you since...yesterday.¡± He placed a hand on officer Jones¡¯s shoulder as he said this, squeezing it tightly. ¡°I need to have a talk with you for a moment. Are you willing to humor me for a moment?¡± Calligan asked, tightening his grip. The officer winced as Calligan¡¯s fingers dug into the nerves in his shoulder and nodded vigorously in reply. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Good.¡± Calligan responded curtly and began ushering Jones towards another corridor. He hesitated for a moment when he realized that McCullough wasn¡¯t following, and turned to see him standing next to the other officer. ¡°Are you coming?¡± Calligan inquired. McCullough shook his head. ¡°Roughing up thugs is one thing, but a fellow officer? That crosses the line.¡± ¡°Who said anything about roughing anyone up? Officer Jones and I just need to have a little chat, and as long as he¡¯s cooperative, that¡¯s all it¡¯s going to be.¡± ¡°But that¡¯s not how it usually is when I¡¯m around. I think it¡¯s best I sit this one out.¡± McCullough crossed his arms obstinately, forcing Calligan to begrudgingly nod his consent. He knew there was no way he could persuade McCullough to come now that he¡¯d made up his mind not to. Turning back towards the corridor, Calligan escorted Officer Jones to an empty interrogation room. It looked much like the room that Ms. Taylor had been questioned in before, with only a single table, a chair on each side, and walls of concrete. Calligan gestured for Jones to take a seat and closed the door, smiling as he turned the key in the lock. Calligan then joined Officer Jones at the table, still maintaining an air of steady calm. Surprisingly, this calm seemed to be matched by Officer Jones, who wore an expression of utter calm in spite of his circumstances. Seeing this, Calligan allowed himself another smile and reached into his suit jacket, removing an object from it. It was small, spoon-shaped, and appeared to be made entirely of leather. But looks can be deceiving, as the inside was filled with lead, giving it a powerful weight. The object was pretty well known for ¡®convincing¡¯ certain people to be a bit more forthcoming, while also minimizing physical signs of harm. ¡°So, Officer Jones. . . about yesterday.¡± Calligan started, his voice was smooth and relaxing, yet he still held his ¡®persuasion implement¡¯ firmly in his hand. ¡°A man was gruesomely murdered yesterday, and you were one of the officers who was responsible for securing the area. How is it that a dangerous hitman managed to make it to the scene without your noticing?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Jones inquired, a look of confusion painted on his face. ¡°Exactly what I said, Jones.¡± Calligan replied, his voice rising. ¡°A hitman just walked past all of you officers yesterday, and you didn¡¯t do anything. So I want to know, how did it happen?¡± ¡°I guess we just weren¡¯t paying close enough attention.¡± Jones returned. He had now returned to his relaxed demeanor. ¡°Funny, that¡¯s not how I heard it.¡± Calligan laughed. ¡°You know what I was told? I was told you¡¯re on the take.¡± There was a faint flash of a smile from Jones at this, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Jones replied. ¡°Really?¡± Calligan responded, cradling his weapon. ¡°Then perhaps I can jog your memory.¡± Calligan lunged at Jones, aiming his club at Jones¡¯s face, but Jones quickly raised a hand to stop him. ¡°Alright, alright, there¡¯s no need for that! I work for the Donahues!¡± He yelled before Calligan could strike him. Calligan lowered his weapon, allowing himself to relax. ¡°Good. It¡¯s nice to see you¡¯re being cooperative. How many other police officers are there like you?¡± Calligan asked, smiling broadly. ¡°In the upper or lower ranks?¡± Jones returned. ¡°Both.¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to say for sure, but I¡¯d have to say at least half the force if I were to give an estimate. And that¡¯s between both the upper and lower ranks.¡± ¡°I see. Can you give me names?¡± ¡°Do I look suicidal? Of course I can¡¯t give you names. All I can say is that if you want to take down the Donahues, you¡¯ve got your work cut out for you.¡± With that, Jones got up, gesturing for Calligan to unlock the door. ¡°You do know that I have a confession. I could have you arrested and put away for a long time.¡± Calligan responded, remaining obstinately in his seat. ¡°Do you really want to start a war in the department when one¡¯s already brewing in the streets?¡± Jones returned. Calligan shrugged and stood up, unlocking the door. ¡°By the way, one last thing.¡± Calligan interjected, before opening it. ¡°What do you know about the Syndicate?¡± Jones¡¯s expression suddenly went grim and he reached quickly for the doorknob. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± He replied and pushed his way out of the room, rapidly making his way down the hall and out of sight. Blood in the Streets Chapter 8 ¡°How did it go?¡± McCullough inquired casually, as they once again made their way down the corridor to ¡®the land of death¡¯. ¡°Better than expected.¡± Calligan replied. ¡°I didn¡¯t even have to rough him up, which is odd.¡± ¡°Maybe, but it tells me it was good I stayed behind. People are a lot less forthcoming to me, and that makes me. . . violent.¡± Calligan chuckled at this for a moment. They were almost at Doc Rivers¡¯s steel door, but Calligan stopped for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°If the Donahues wanted us taken out so badly, why is it that the body still wound up at the station?¡± He asked solemnly. ¡°They told us to get off the case, but they never said they didn¡¯t want the case to go on. Something tells me they just don¡¯t want two nosey detectives who might try to stop them, doing the investigation.¡± McCullough replied. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, though I doubt it really matters. We have the body, and we¡¯re still on the case.¡± ¡°Because they haven¡¯t put us in a pine box yet, though not for lack of trying.¡± Calligan chuckled again at this, before letting out a short sigh of exasperation. Walking up to the steel door, he banged on it powerfully. It hadn¡¯t even stopped reverberating when they heard the sharp voice of Doc Rivers shout at them to enter. ¡°You two again.¡± He muttered, gesturing at them to approach the body as he grabbed a folder filled with paperwork. ¡°Do it double-time.¡± He complained to them as they complied. ¡°That¡¯s what they told me. Get it done as fast as I can and don¡¯t tell those detectives. Who are they to tell me how to do my job? I¡¯ll get it done as fast as I choose, and tell whomever I please!¡± ¡°Who told you this?¡± Calligan asked, befuddled. ¡°The people who brought in the body. It wasn¡¯t the usual people. I didn¡¯t recognize them at all. They talked fast, like they were in a hurry, but that didn¡¯t stop me from giving them an ear full. No one tells me what to do in my office.¡± Doc Rivers face was bright red, even brighter than normal. Calligan held out his hands reassuringly. ¡°Calm down Doc. What did these people look like?¡± ¡°Well, they just looked like beat cops. You know, just like the million others you find ¡®round this place. I can¡¯t remember any specifics, they all look the same to me.¡± ¡°So, it wasn¡¯t the undertaker who delivered the body.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°No¡­¡± Doc Rivers replied, his voice trailing off as the abnormality of the situation dawned on him. ¡°It wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Calligan responded thoughtfully, before swiftly becoming genial. ¡°Well, you did the right thing by coming to us instead. What do you have for us today?¡± Doc Rivers shook his head at the rapid change in tone and then gestured sweepingly over the corpse in front of them. ¡°As you can see, this is a corpse.¡± He announced solemnly. ¡°And this corpse is much like the last one. There was bleeding from virtually every major orifice, with the exception of one.¡± ¡°Let me guess which one that was, the ears.¡± McCullough replied smugly. ¡°And that¡¯s why you should let the professional finish speaking.¡± Doc Rivers responded just as smugly. ¡°Much like the eyes had liquified for Mr. Mcgovern, the ears of this man have virtually dissolved. It would also appear that all oral hemorrhaging had healed by the time I received the body, and a quick examination seems to indicate that the man had exceptional vocal cords.¡± McCullough turned to Calligan, nudging him lightly. ¡°Maybe Mr. Taylor had more going for him than even he knew. Too bad things turned out the way they did. He might¡¯ve had a future in the opera.¡± ¡°Actually I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s very similar to the build up in the ears of Mr. McGovern. I fear that Mr. Taylor¡¯s full potential would¡¯ve been deafening to anyone unfortunate enough to hear it.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s two people with similar features, who both knew each other and are now both dead.¡± Calligan chimed in thoughtfully. ¡°What are you thinking?¡± McCullough returned. Calligan stayed silent for a moment, caught up in thought, before responding. ¡°I¡¯m thinking that this doesn¡¯t make any sense. Doc, does he also have an injection mark?¡± Doc Rivers nodded and pointed to his right arm. ¡°It¡¯s a little higher up than the last one, but it¡¯s still in the same arm.¡± Calligan nodded and let out a sigh of frustration. ¡°There¡¯s something here that we¡¯re missing. Outside of their financial ties, why these two? Surely it¡¯s not a coincidence.¡± ¡°Come on Calligan,¡± McCullough replied. ¡°It might actually be. You heard Rat, the Syndicate¡¯s in the drug market, and both Taylor and McGovern were working for the Donahue¡¯s. It¡¯s easy and efficient. With so many new drugs on the street, who would ever know. Think, it¡¯s the most simple explanation.¡± ¡°The most simple explanation isn¡¯t always the right one.¡± ¡°Do you have a better one?¡± Calligan shook his head. ¡°Besides,¡± McCullough continued. ¡°Either way we can¡¯t rule out the Syndicate, and that means we still have to figure out who they are. Which means we¡¯ve got a few eggs to crack if we wanna make this omelette.¡± Calligan nodded soberly. The Syndicate was the only lead they had, and he knew it. He also knew they had a lot more work to do, even if it wasn¡¯t going to be pretty. Calligan began to move towards the door with McCullough in tow, but as he grasped the handle he turned back toward Doc Rivers. The Doc was watching them leave, his usual look of disappointment etched on his face. ¡°Hey Doc.¡± Calligan chimed, suddenly. ¡°Thanks. And if anybody comes asking about what you found from this body, go ahead and tell them everything you know. Somehow, I don¡¯t think a dead opera singer will be of much use to anyone with murder on their mind.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 9 McCullough stood casually on the corner of the barren street, wrapped in a thick trench coat with his hat pulled low over his face. He puffed slowly on a long cigarette that dangled loosely from his lips. He didn¡¯t know how long he had waited, but he wasn¡¯t worried. He knew he wouldn¡¯t be stood up. The warmth of the summer night had begun to give way to a cool morning drizzle by the time the car arrived. It was long, and black as the night. A door swung slowly open, and a man stepped out. He was short and gaunt, with the fabric of his clothes hanging loosely off his body. He didn¡¯t say anything, instead merely gesturing for McCullough to enter. McCullough complied without hesitation, quickly sliding into the vehicle and placing himself beside another man. This man was a mass of swollen bulk, with his suit stretched tightly over his powerful frame. His face was hard and aged, bearing a stern expression of authority. ¡°Sean.¡± McCullough said, giving him a nod of recognition. ¡°How¡¯ve you been?¡± Sean Donahue smiled broadly, though there didn¡¯t seem to be any friendliness behind it. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I love my job.¡± He replied. His voice was deep and coarse, a reflection of his years of experience on the streets. ¡°Because I¡¯ve had a lot of work lately. Not least of which has been trying to handle two nosey detectives, who don¡¯t want to play ball. You¡¯ve been hard on my employees.¡± ¡°That was only partially my doing; it¡¯s the only way you can get Rat to talk.¡± McCullough replied. ¡°As for Officer Jones, that was all Calligan¡¯s doing.¡± ¡°Rat¡¯s not going to be doing any talking anymore. We¡¯re plugging that leak for good. As for Jonesy, he¡¯s...a problem.¡± ¡°Listen Sean I told you, that was all Calligan¡¯s doing. Ever since I told you I¡¯d think about your offer, I¡¯ve been very careful. In fact, that¡¯s what I wanted to talk to you about.¡± Donahue¡¯s grin widened and a gleam entered his eye, but rather than being friendly, it instead seemed almost sadistic. ¡°You¡¯ve come to accept my offer?¡± He inquired, almost genially. ¡°I want more money.¡± McCullough responded firmly, and Donahue burst into laughter. ¡°I like you Mac.¡± He said, clapping McCullough on the shoulder. ¡°I offer to pay you enough money to buy off any politician in the country, and you ask for more. How much more?¡± ¡°Fifty percent.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of money. How are you going to make that worth my while?¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°It¡¯s a lot easier, and cleaner, to have a detective feeding you info rather than offing them both and replacing them. Besides, Calligan and I are the best team in the entire department. If you want to be sure you can get to the bottom of this, why take a chance on second-rate detectives.¡± Donahue nodded. ¡°Typically if anyone asked for this kind of money from me, I¡¯d string them up. But I like you, so I¡¯ll make an exception. Though, one mistake and that exception ends. You¡¯ll report to my men daily and tell them everything you know. If I find out you¡¯ve been holding back on me, the goodwill that kept you from being targeted like your partner is over.¡± McCullough smiled back. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that. I know how to honor a deal.¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say that I¡¯m not the most trusting soul. When everyone in your business is a crook or a criminal, trust isn¡¯t a virtue.¡± ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair. I¡¯m sure you always have someone who¡¯s willing to betray you. That¡¯s why you plug leaks like Rat and Jones.¡± ¡°And both will be handled in their due time. Though one sooner than the other.¡± Donahue grumbled. ¡°What do you mean?¡± McCullough inquired. ¡°The news of Jonesy¡¯s betrayal was late getting to me. It would seem that having half the police department on your payroll only goes so far when friends are at stake. People really do have funny moral codes. By the time my men got over to have a chat with Jonesy, he was already gone. They¡¯re combing the city for him right now, and when they find him, it won¡¯t be pretty.¡± Donahue responded through gritted teeth. ¡°I thought you had eyes and ears all over this city.¡± McCullough replied. ¡°I do. The Syndicate¡¯s behind this, I¡¯m sure of it. There¡¯s no other way he could disappear in my city like this. Still, there are only so many holes to hide him in this town. My men will find him sooner than he expects and make him talk.¡± ¡°If that happens you might not need me.¡± McCullough laughed and Donahue joined him. ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever heard not to talk yourself out of a job, Mac.¡± He replied. ¡°Though I¡¯m sure I can find a use for you if that happens. I¡¯ll probably have you keep an eye on that troublemaker of a partner you have.¡± ¡°The troublemaker who just did you a favor. It seems to me like the Syndicate¡¯s been giving you the runaround for a while. Otherwise there would be even more bodies on the streets.¡± ¡°I suppose I do need to thank him. I think I¡¯ll do it by trying not to kill him yet. As for the bodies, how would you tell? There are already so many of them. Anyways, I believe that¡¯s the end of our business tonight.¡± Donahue snapped his figures and the car jolted to a stop. McCullough reached for the door, but paused and turned to face Donahue. ¡°My payment?¡± He asked quizzically. Donahue chuckled. ¡°Do some work, and you¡¯ll get it.¡± McCullough sighed and got out of the vehicle. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it up. As he slowly puffed on it, he watched as the black car drove away, vanishing into the night. Blood in the Streets Chapter 10 ¡°This is a terrible idea.¡± Calligan whispered to McCullough as they hunkered in the shadows. Surrounding them were the silhouettes of massive rail cars and mechanical clutter, that were commonplace in most railyards. Though, that wasn¡¯t the only thing that was common for such venues, especially at night. Two vehicles, as black as the night, sat idling in the yard. Around it stood half a dozen men, each one puffing idly on his choice of tobacco. The shortest of them reclined easily on the front of one of the cars, clutching a briefcase in one hand. Another man approached them apprehensively, clutching a briefcase of his own. ¡°This was your idea. You¡¯re the one who decided we should try to be fancy and infiltrate the Syndicate¡¯s drug operation, so that we can hunt down the drugs used in the murders.¡± McCullough replied, staring out from their vantage point. ¡°But you have to admit it¡¯s risky, and I just hope they don¡¯t try a double cross.¡± ¡°We have so many officers waiting to pounce, he wouldn¡¯t dare try to double cross us.¡± Calligan retorted. ¡°Every dealer has a supplier, and the supplier¡¯s in this town have connections. Especially if they have a Boston accent, and I know our dealer does. Besides, it took us a week to get this together; there¡¯s no backing out now.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not worried about him double crossing us. We were lucky enough to find that guy already in the station. All he has to do is fake like we¡¯re making a deal, and then we¡¯ll call in the cavalry to clean things up. And it¡¯s that last part that worries me.¡± Calligan nodded. ¡°Well, if something does go wrong and we have to start shooting, we only need one of the suppliers alive. That¡¯s all it takes to start climbing the chain and find out who¡¯s behind the Syndicate. As for anyone else, they may need to get their priorities straight before we have to straighten them out ourselves.¡± Having finished their exchange, the two detectives turned their attention back to the task at hand. The dealer, having made his way to the other men, appeared to be making conversation with them, but the detectives were too far away to hear what was being said. Calligan began to inch forward, but stopped himself as all of the figures suddenly tensed. He saw several reach inside their coats, grabbing what Calligan knew to be their guns. Bewildered, Calligan scanned the yard, searching for a source of alarm, even checking himself to be sure that he hadn¡¯t accidentally betrayed their position. It was then that he became alerted to a low rumbling sound slowly approaching and the light of four headlights breaking onto the yard. ¡°Those aren¡¯t ours are they?¡± Calligan asked McCullough as he withdrew his gun. ¡°If they are, then they¡¯re blowing this whole operation.¡± It was then that a gunshot rang out, and they watched as the dealer slumped to the ground. Then, more shots began to fire as the men began to exchange with the newcomers. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Remember, we only need one.¡± McCullough said calmly, and they charged into the fray. To their disappointment, the battle was over before they arrived. Uniformed police officers swarmed the scene, checking any identification and hurriedly carrying the bodies away. ¡°Who¡¯s in charge here?¡± Calligan asked a pair of officers as they grabbed a body and began to pick it up. ¡°Sergeant Fredericks, right over there.¡± One of them said, pointing to a tall man with stripes on his uniform. McCullough shook his head. ¡°I think you misunderstood his question.¡± He responded, flatly. ¡°He asked you who¡¯s in charge here.¡± The officer looked at him, confused. McCullough sighed, before suddenly letting loose on the unfortunate officer. ¡°I¡¯m detective McCullough and this is detective Calligan, and this was our operation you just wrecked. Look at all these bodies, are any of them moving? Because at least one of them was supposed to be when everything was said and done with. Now put that body down and wait for the coroner like you know a little bit about protocol. Unless you want to keep making yourself seem like a traitor who¡¯s in the pocket of the Donahues!¡± McCullough¡¯s shouting caught the attention of the Sergeant, who made his way over to the detectives. ¡°What seems to be the problem here?¡± He inquired in a stuffy voice. His face was long, with the jowls of an often worn frown and a wispy moustache. ¡°What¡¯s the problem here?¡± McCullough sneered. ¡°You ruined all of our work, and you have the guts to ask us what the problem is.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He returned. ¡°No one gave you the signal. Why did you move in?¡± The police officer gave a look of surprise at this. ¡°The signal was a police whistle, correct? I know I heard one, didn¡¯t everyone else?¡± He glanced around inquisitively, and all the nearby officers nodded their agreement. ¡°See?¡± He said snidely, ¡°And that¡¯s why we went in.¡± McCullough scowled, unconvinced. ¡°Really, you heard a whistle? It must¡¯ve just been the wind between your ears, because I didn¡¯t blow one.¡± ¡°Then I guess it was all a mistake.¡± McCullough was on the Sergeant in an instant. Howling with rage he slammed his fists into him again and again, and it took Calligan and four officers to pull him off. By that point the damage was done, his mouth was already bleeding and his face was beginning to swell. ¡°What was that Mac?¡± Calligan inquired, stunned by the sudden ruthlessness of McCullough¡¯s behavior. ¡°I guess it was a mistake.¡± He muttered. ¡°Or maybe a lesson not to pull this kind of stunt again. Come on Calligan, let¡¯s go. You can come too, Sarge, if you want to learn how to do things right.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 11 Doc Rivers stooped over the most recent body he was examining. He didn¡¯t know what time it was, only that his own body told him it was late. ¡°I just can¡¯t do it like I used to.¡± He muttered irritably to himself, as he began to clean things up. Gone were the days of efficiently cutting open and examining body after body without rest. He¡¯d grown too old and too tired for that. Now, his body ached and groaned under his own weight, compounding the ever present loss of his youthful vigor. When he was finished, Doc Rivers made his way slowly down the corridor from his office, and out of his precious isolation. Once, when he was younger, he had requested they move a bed to the morgue so he could make his abode there permanent. Sadly, his request had been adamantly denied on the grounds that it was both ¡®ridiculous and unsanitary¡¯. Apparently the police chief even thought it was a joke and later commended the Doc for his sense of humor. At least someone was laughing. Doc Rivers walked the maze that was the rest of the precinct with practiced ease. He knew the shortest route out of the precinct and away from its society, and would usually hurry along it as quickly as possible. But something about the exhaustion that set within him, slowed him. He didn¡¯t know why it was happening, but he could feel the frustration churning inside him. This unexplainable frustration continued to build as he entered the precinct¡¯s foyer. Crystal smiled as he approached the center desk. She smiled at him, just like she always did. She always seemed to be working when he made his way home lately and always greeted him in the same friendly way. He was about to give his usual gruff response to her, when he suddenly decided against it. Instead he turned to her, giving her a weak smile. ¡°Working late again are you?¡± He asked. His voice, which was usually rough and coarse, came out much softer and more pleasant than it usually did. ¡°Yes.¡± Crystal sighed. ¡°It seems like I¡¯m staying later and later, and the work still keeps piling up.¡± ¡°It¡¯s no good for a pretty young girl like you to work so hard. You should be at home, getting your beauty sleep.¡± ¡°That would be nice,¡± She laughed. ¡°But it¡¯s not easy for a woman to live on her own, and I¡¯ve got to pay my bills somehow.¡± Doc Rivers frowned. ¡°Is there no man to help lighten the load for you? Surely a pretty girl like you can find one who¡¯d be more than willing to have a lovely, hardworking wife like yourself.¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know that I¡¯m at that point yet. Though, hopefully I will sometime soon. Not that I don¡¯t have a man, so there¡¯s no need for you to look so worried. It¡¯s just that, we¡¯re trying to take things slow.¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long. There¡¯s much more to life than working all of it away. You should live, while you¡¯re still young.¡± Crystal smiled a broad smile at this. ¡°Is that sage advice from someone with personal experience? I¡¯ve heard about your work ethic, doctor, and it seems to me you don¡¯t have much room to talk.¡± ¡°And do you really want to end up grumpy and old like me?¡± He replied. ¡°I chose my road, but it¡¯s not for most people. Especially not the kind of person who¡¯s social enough to be the pretty face of a police precinct.¡± Crystal went silent at that, and Doc Rivers allowed himself a smug smile. He began to move on from the desk but paused for a moment. ¡°By the way, if that young man of yours needs some encouragement, let me talk to him. I¡¯m sure I could¡­ educate him about how a man should properly treat a woman.¡± He stated glancing back at Crystal, before continuing his trek out the door. The night was darker than usual for the city, illuminated only by the loosely dispersed and suddenly very dim street lamps. The summer air hung heavy and humid and clung to the Doc as he made his way down the precinct steps. He watched as a car drove slowly along the street where his own vehicle was parked and waiting for him. He took his time, his exhaustion only compounding in the oppressive atmosphere. Upon reaching his car, he slowly opened the door and slumped inside. Curling over his steering wheel, he rested for a moment. It seemed as if he would nod off to sleep right there, until he was startled by the bright lights of another vehicle suddenly coming from behind him. He watched as it approached, cruising along the roadway. As it neared it seemed to slow, which the Doc found to be odd. Still, he didn¡¯t allow himself to be shaken, instead slowly turning the key and starting his vehicle. He was just about to push his foot on the gas pedal and put his car in gear, when he noticed the vehicle creep up next to him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he saw a thin barrel emerge out of one of the car¡¯s open windows. A bright blast of light and an explosion of sound knocked Doc Rivers sideways before he could even register what had hit him. All he could process was the sudden, massive pain that now swamped him, and the sounds of the gun firing as it destroyed everything around him. Then finally, the torrent ceased. Doc Rivers lay crumpled against what was left of his driver¡¯s side door, the structure of which now more resembled a block of swiss cheese than the entry of a complex machine. Every breath the Doc took was a struggle, and he couldn¡¯t help but think that this just might be the end. He tried to move, to cry out, to do anything; but he couldn¡¯t. What little strength he had left was fading, and all hope with it. Then, distantly, he heard voices. At first they were soft, but as they got closer he recognized the frantic tones of shouts, accompanied by panicked footsteps. They came nearer and nearer until suddenly he felt a rush of air as his door was yanked open. Just as he was about to hit the ground, Doc Rivers felt hands reach out and grab him. He was safe and face-to-face with an officer. He couldn¡¯t tell who the officer was, everything was hazy. Though he could see that the officer¡¯s lips were moving, he couldn¡¯t hear what was being said. He tried to say something, to force his lips to move, but he was too weak. He was tired, too tired to move. The old doctor just needed rest. He could see the officer, still hazy and shouting frantically over him, as he closed his heavy eyelids and everything faded into darkness. Blood in the Streets Chapter 12 Calligan sat sullenly on the front steps of the precinct staring glassily into the distance. People rushed quickly around him in their early morning to rush to get to work, only hesitating, out of brief curiosity, at the cordoned-off wreck in the street. Most people had heard of the events of the night before, but to them it was just another crime scene. It didn¡¯t matter that the victim was one of their own, and they weren¡¯t there when it happened. Not like Calligan, who had heard the gunshots and came rushing to help. He was too late, just like everyone else; and that ate him up inside. So Calligan sat there, frozen in place and lost in his own grim thoughts, until he heard another person take a seat next him. He didn¡¯t look at them; he wasn¡¯t in the mood for socializing. Instead, he opted to continue gazing pensively off into nothing. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, you know.¡± The person whispered softly, gently touching his arm. They had a soothing voice that was both feminine and instantly recognizable. ¡°I know, Crystal.¡± Calligan responded somberly. ¡°I did what I could, and that¡¯s the most that can be asked of anyone.¡± ¡°Then why do you look like you¡¯re blaming yourself?¡± She responded, a concerned expression was etched across her face. ¡°I¡¯m not. Or at least, I¡¯m not trying to. I¡¯m just thinking.¡± Calligan replied. ¡°The Doc was rough around the edges, for sure, but. . . I liked him. And I know, there aren¡¯t many people who would admit that. He worked hard to make sure everyone disliked him. I think it was all part of his plan, so he could be left in peace. But with all of his hostility and anger, I respected him. No one worked harder than he did, and no one was better with a scalpel. To say that his work was invaluable would be an understatement. Say what you want about his character, the man was probably the most ethical person in this entire precinct.¡± Crystal cocked her head at that, a puzzled expression etched across her face. ¡°Why do you say that?¡± She inquired. ¡°Not everyone here is as they seem.¡± Calligan sighed. ¡°There are a lot of people with a lot of interests, and many of them conflict with each other. The Doc ran into that head on, but the Doc doesn¡¯t yield to anyone. Or rather, he didn¡¯t. You can see where that¡¯s gotten him now.¡± ¡°People were trying to get him to do something wrong?¡± Crystal asked, concerned. ¡°That¡¯s why they did this?¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± Calligan replied. ¡°Maybe not. It might not have been them at all. The Doc might have been stubborn, but he wasn¡¯t stupid. He knew who he was dealing with, so I have a hard time believing he just walked into this, this could have been a random hit.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°I talked to him before it all happened, you know.¡± Crystal Murmured in response. ¡°He seemed so tired, but also friendly. He was really nice.¡± ¡°Did he seem like someone who knew he was about to die?¡± ¡°No.¡± Calligan sat silently for a moment before suddenly raising himself from his perch on the steps. Reaching out he gently grasped Crystal¡¯s hand, raising her steadily to her feet. He then solemnly led her to the door of the precinct and escorted her inside. ¡°Is that it?¡± Crystal asked as they entered. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Calligan replied. ¡°Do you know who did it?¡± She returned. ¡°It seemed like you were trying to figure out who killed the doctor, then you just stopped.¡± ¡°I have some ideas, but I¡¯m still trying to piece everything together. A lot¡¯s happened that plays into this. It¡¯s going to take time for me to fully figure things out.¡± Crystal smiled. ¡°Well, if you ever need anyone to talk to, you know how to reach me. Though I know there are some things you can¡¯t say. Still, even a man needs to grieve, and talking can help with that.¡± Calligan grinned. Leaning in, he planted a kiss on her cheek. ¡°And thank you for talking to me now. You¡¯ve been a big help.¡± He threw his arm over her, and they both made their way to the front desk. The world didn¡¯t stop for their grief, and it was time for them to return to it. Just before they reached it, however, Calligan stopped. ¡°Say,¡± Calligan stated thoughtfully. ¡°Has anyone seen Mac since last night?¡± Crystal shook her head. ¡°You mean you haven¡¯t seen him?¡± She asked. ¡°No.¡± Calligan responded. ¡°I¡¯ve been too focused on what happened to keep track of anyone.¡± ¡°Should we be worried?¡± Crystal inquired, seeing the serious look on Calligan¡¯s face. ¡°Maybe.¡± He returned. ¡°Mac loved to get on the Doc¡¯s nerves, but that¡¯s what he does to anyone he likes. Even if there aren¡¯t a lot of people who are taking his death very hard, he¡¯s one of the few who is.¡± ¡°Harder than you?¡± ¡°Much harder than me.¡± ¡°So what should we do?¡± Crystal asked. ¡°Pray he doesn¡¯t do something too stupid. Other than that, there¡¯s not much we can do. He¡¯s the type of person who has to get the rage out of his system, and there¡¯s nothing we can do to stop him. Let¡¯s hope that means that he¡¯s just going to get into some fights until he calms down and not do what I¡¯m afraid of. ¡°What are you afraid he¡¯ll do?¡± ¡°Mac¡¯s a man of extremes in normal cases. I¡¯ve never seen it, but I¡¯m afraid that if he¡¯s angry enough, he¡¯ll be driven to kill.¡± ¡°But who would he kill? He doesn¡¯t know who¡¯s responsible.¡± ¡°He knows about as much as I know, and that might be enough for him. After all, if I found who I thought was responsible, I might do it too.¡± Crystal shook her head vigorously, gripping Calligan¡¯s arm. ¡°No you wouldn¡¯t. You¡¯re too goodhearted for that.¡± ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, maybe you¡¯re not.¡± He replied. ¡°Either way, Mac¡¯s not me. If he finds who did it, he¡¯ll pull the trigger. And it¡¯s like I said, there¡¯s nothing we can do to stop him.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 13 McCullough staggered down the dark, narrow street, his surroundings only occasionally illuminated by the flickering light of a street lamp. He was flanked on both sides by rows of derelict warehouses, and the noisy sloshing of ocean water could be heard nearby. In one hand he carried a half empty bottle that sloshed as he teetered along. In the other, he carried a revolver. In the distance he could barely make out some figures loitering on a street corner just by the water¡¯s edge. They were just blurry splotches in the lamplight to Mac, but he knew they were who he was looking for. Mac made his way unsteadily to them, and several of them turned to face him as he approached. One of them raised a gun and pointed it menacingly at Mac, but a large hand from the man next to him stayed it. ¡°I was wondering how long we¡¯d have to wait until you showed.¡± The man said. He had the deep baritone of Donahue, and he seemed to be in a very pleasant mood. ¡°Did you now?¡± McCullough replied. His speech was slow and slurred. ¡°Hey Mac, I know I told you I¡¯ve got good news, but you didn¡¯t need to celebrate yet. What are you doing with that bottle out in the open like that anyways, are you trying to get in trouble?¡± McCullough didn¡¯t respond at first. Instead, he raised his revolver, slowly thumbing back the hammer. His hand shook as he took aim, and his blurry eyes bore the fierceness of scarcely controlled rage. Donahue, gazing down the barrel that was now aimed at him, frowned slightly. Any other sign of fear was well masked by a natural calm in his face and demeanor. ¡°You really do have a funny way of taking good news.¡± He muttered calmly. ¡°Have I done something wrong?¡± ¡°Why¡¯d you do it?¡± McCullough growled. ¡°Why¡¯d you kill him?¡± Donahue allowed himself a slight smile. ¡°I kill a lot of people. You¡¯re going to have to be a little more specific.¡± He replied. ¡°The Doc!¡± McCullough shouted. ¡°You know. The one you had gunned down in the streets. Why!?¡± ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking abou-¡± ¡°Yes you do!¡± McCullough interjected. ¡°And I want to know why you did it.¡± ¡°Listen Mac, it¡¯s clear you¡¯re upset. How about you put that thing down and we can talk this thing out, but if I¡¯ve done something wrong, I can¡¯t make it up unless I know what I¡¯ve done.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me!¡± McCullough sneered. ¡°You know full well what you did last night. I just want to know why you did it.¡± ¡°I think he¡¯s talking about that hit in front of the police station last night, boss.¡± One of the men beside Donahue suddenly chimed in. ¡°Yeah. That one.¡± McCullough slurred. ¡°I didn¡¯t know random killings were your thing, Don.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not.¡± Donahue retorted, frowning. ¡°I didn¡¯t order that hit.¡± ¡°Yeah, and you expect me to believe that? Who else could it have been?¡± ¡°Mac, you already know the answer to that. I¡¯m not stupid enough to order a hit on someone in front of a police precinct unless it would really benefit me. Doc Rivers never stood in my way. In fact, he told my men everything I wanted to know about Taylor¡¯s death. Besides, if I wanted someone like Doc Rivers killed, I would¡¯ve had it done at his home where no one else could see. Whoever did this wanted to make a spectacle, and to send a message.¡± A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. McCullough raised his bottle to his lips and took a deep swig. His gun was still pointed at Donahue as he drank. ¡°Alright, if it wasn¡¯t you who ordered the hit, then who did?¡± He asked at last as he wiped his mouth clumsily with his sleeve. ¡°I think you already know who I¡¯m going to say Mac. The Syndicate are the only ones who had any reason to send a message like that. Every day we¡¯re finding that they¡¯ve won more and more people over. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me at all if they knew that the Doc had provided us with information we¡¯d wanted. It¡¯s simple, take out someone who might be of use, and send the message that they¡¯re coming for us.¡± Donahue replied. Despite the gun that was still being aimed his way, and the grim conclusion he just drew, Donahue was grinning broadly. ¡°Why do you look so happy about that?¡± McCullough inquired. ¡°Because they don¡¯t know what I know.¡± Donahue replied ecstatically. ¡°Here, listen. They¡¯re right on time.¡± McCullough cupped a hand to his ear and was greeted with the low rumble of an engine getting gradually closer. Soon, the place was alight with the glow of headlights that were followed by a long, black vehicle. ¡°You guys really like black, don¡¯t you?¡± McCullough muttered to Donahue. ¡°You know what they say,¡± Donahue chuckled. ¡°You can have whatever color you want¡­¡± He trailed off as men began to pile out of the car. Two of them carried a gray mass of rags covered in dark splotches that twisted and squirmed in their grasps. ¡°What is that?¡± McCullough inquired, staring at the twisting thing. ¡°That,¡± Donahue replied. ¡°Is our good friend, Officer Jones.¡± ¡°I thought you said he¡¯d disappeared.¡± ¡°I also told you that I¡¯d find him, and squeeze every drop of information out of him I can. A process which I undertook personally, much to my own pleasure. Show him, boys.¡± The two men carrying Jones unceremoniously dropped him to the ground and hastily began to unwrap him. Underneath the rags was a shapeless mass of blood and gore, that writhed in incessant agony. Accompanying his squirming was a continuous groan that could be heard in spite of a tightly tied gag that was placed over what Mac assumed was his mouth. ¡°Alright, you boys know what to do with this traitor.¡± Donahue said to the men. ¡°And don¡¯t forget to slit his belly. I don¡¯t want to have to clean up any messes like last time, so don¡¯t let him float back up. That is, unless you want the same thing done to you.¡± McCullough watched wordlessly, a smile running across his face, as one of the men drew a stiletto and ran it across Jones¡¯s abdomen. Jones screamed in muffled agony, but his cries were ignored. The men worked with practiced efficiency wrapping Jones with thick chains, each of which was secured to a heavy cinder block. ¡°Here comes the good part.¡± Donahue whispered, nudging McCullough. The men suddenly grabbed the still screaming Jones and hauled him to the edge of the water. Together they flung him out into the water, where he landed with a crash; disappearing unceremoniously in a spray of water droplets. ¡°And that¡¯s another traitorous scumbag gone!¡± Donahue cheered, clapping McCullough on the back. ¡°Alright everyone, get some rest. You earned it.¡± McCullough turned to go, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. ¡°Not you Mac, I need to talk to you about something.¡± Donahue said, his tone serious. ¡°What about?¡± McCullough inquired. ¡°Jones may have been a traitor, but it seems he knew how to ask questions. Typical cop. Anyways, it seems he knew more about the Syndicate than most. He¡¯s given us enough info for us to crack this thing open. It¡¯s not going to take us long, and there¡¯ll be war.¡± ¡°How does that involve me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s time for you to earn your keep, Mac. You don¡¯t honestly think that Jones is the only cop on their payroll, do you? But it¡¯s not just cops. We need to wipe them all out. I¡¯m going to give you a list of names; it¡¯s your job to make sure they¡¯re all dead when the time comes. Don¡¯t hesitate to pull the trigger, no matter who it is. Do you understand?¡± Slowly, McCullough nodded. ¡°Good.¡± Donahue continued, ¡°Don¡¯t let me down, Mac. I¡¯m counting on you.¡± Blood in the Streets Chapter 14 Calligan was exhausted. Working around the clock for days had worn him down to the barest vestiges of what could still pass as a living human being. He stumbled slowly to the doorway of his apartment, and fumbled with the key, desperate for whatever small amount of rest he could scavenge from the remainder of the night. Calligan was not a man of extravagant tastes. His apartment was small and relatively unadorned, bearing only what he deemed necessary to live a comfortable enough life. A small coffee table sat in the living room, flanked by a single small loveseat. Beside it, a telephone was mounted on the wall, the most expensive item in the apartment. Connected to the living room was Calligan¡¯s bedroom, which he quickly made a beeline for, not bothering with any of the lights. Its lone furnishings were a simple twin sized bed and a single small bookshelf, loaded with books. Calligan would often read them when he had the time, though he scarcely had that anymore. Tonight was no different. Removing his holster, Calligan gently placed his gun on top of the bookshelf. He then collapsed upon his bed still fully dressed. In an instant, he plunged into a deep sleep. Calligan awoke abruptly to the noisy ringing of the telephone in the other room. Bleary-eyed and confused, he stumbled his way to it, tripping over the coffee table as he went. His lights were still off, and there was no sign of sunshine through the curtains covering his windows. Calligan couldn¡¯t help but wonder who would be calling him at a time like this. Hesitantly, Calligan picked up the receiver and placed it against his ear. He was greeted with the frantic voice of the operator, informing him he had an urgent call. He didn¡¯t even have time to request the transfer, before the operator connected the lines. Calligan was immediately met with a mass of confused sounds. There was shouting and screaming, and the sound of loud bangs in the background. ¡°Hello?¡± He asked, unsure of what to say or what to think. His question was met with a familiar voice, one that gave him a mixture of both comfort and alarm. ¡°Cal!¡± Crystal shouted, her voice almost being drowned out by the noise around her. ¡°You have to come to the precinct, we¡¯re under attack. They caught us by surprise, and so many are dead.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s attacking? What¡¯s going on?¡± Calligan shouted back into the receiver. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to explain. Just hurry!¡± With that, the line went dead. Calligan rushed to his room, grabbing his gun and crashing out of the door to his apartment. As he scrambled towards his vehicle parked outside, he could hear the faint echoes of gunshots in the distance. It was impossible to tell exactly how far away they were, only that they were growing more numerous and more frantic with each passing moment. Starting his car and putting it in gear, Calligan raced for the precinct. At first, things seemed peaceful as he made his way rapidly towards the station, but in no time at all he was immersed in a full on warzone. Dodging through firefights, past exploding molotovs, and around makeshift roadblocks and barriers, Calligan watched his beloved city scream in its madness. Men bled out and cars burned in the streets, yet somehow, none of this concerned Calligan as he shot by at breakneck speeds. The only thing that he could think about was that Crystal needed him, and he wasn¡¯t going to let her down. He was only three blocks away from the precinct, his car scarcely recognizable with all its damage, when a bullet ripped through what was left of his windshield and into his shoulder. Reeling from the blow, Calligan lost control of the wheel, crashing into a nearby light post. Dizzy from the shock of what just happened, Calligan set his resolve, and stumbled his way out of the ruined vehicle. He was covered in small cuts and scrapes and was bleeding profusely from his right shoulder, but he felt no pain as his adrenaline pumped through him. He pointed himself in the direction of the police station and began to make his way to it on foot. From Crystal¡¯s phone call, Calligan expected the station to be under siege and surrounded by enemies. Instead, by the time he came to it, it was burning. No one stood siege outside, pointing their guns towards the doors. Instead they stood wide open, presenting an abandoned atrium filled with debris, and smeared with blood. Smoke billowed from the roof and the whole building shook with cries of anguish and terror. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Drawing his gun, Calligan rushed through the ruined doors. The receptionists¡¯ desk was destroyed, a mere shattered remnant of what it had been. Bodies were scattered all around, some with weapons drawn but many gunned down undefended. None of them looked like Crystal. That gave Calligan some hope, but he still had no idea where she might be. He began frantically searching every room he could find, but every one he came to was either empty, or filled with the dead and dying. With each one, he was slowly losing hope, worried she might be gone or lost among the dead. Suddenly, the air was rent with a shrill scream. It was strong and full, drowning out all the other cries of anguish filling the station. Frantically scouring for the source of the cry, Calligan found only one possible location, the Commissioner¡¯s office. He didn¡¯t hesitate, charging through the door with enough force to relieve the door of its hinges, his pistol level and ready for any threat that lay beyond. It took him a fraction of a second to process the room. It was cluttered, with chairs strewn around it and a big heavy desk turned over on its side. Several officers lay about the room, their uniforms soaked with blood. In the room¡¯s middle stood McCullough, his arm outstretched and holding a gun of his own. It was pointed towards a corner of the room, where Calligan could see Crystal cowering piteously in a corner, her hands thrown over her face. Calligan didn¡¯t think. He sprung towards McCullough, knocking him down just as he squeezed the trigger. The gun fired, but McCullough was already falling and the bullet hit nothing. Calligan, now on top of McCullough, brandished his own weapon, pointing it at McCullough¡¯s face. Undeterred, McCullough swung his own gun as best he could, successfully smashing the barrel into the side of Calligan¡¯s head, stunning him. Taking advantage of this, McCullough pushed Calligan off of him and leveled his gun at him. Before he could fire, Calligan sprung up and grabbed at McCullough¡¯s pistol with his free hand, forcing it upwards. It went off once again, and Calligan could feel the bullet zip past him. Struggling for control of the gun, McCullough aimed a left cross at Calligan''s face. Calligan was faster, however, planting the barrel of his gun on McCullough¡¯s forearm and pulling the trigger. McCullough howled in pain as the bullet pierced his arm, and his gun dropped to the ground. In a rage, he lunged at Calligan, jamming his thumb into the bullet wound in his shoulder. Pain seared through Calligan¡¯s arm, causing him to drop his own gun as well. He attempted to retaliate with a left hook, but was met with a volley of fists from McCullough. Stumbling back, Calligan managed to dodge most of them, but a clean cross connected with his jaw; sending him reeling. Taking advantage of his opponent¡¯s instability, McCullough stepped in, grabbing Calligan by the collar. Before he could make a move, Calligan threw himself forward, slamming his forehead into McCullough¡¯s nose. Stunned, McCullough stepped back, and Calligan grabbed him, letting loose a flurry of vicious knees and elbows. When the onslaught was through, McCullough, now swollen and bloodied, crumpled to the ground. Calligan stood there for a moment, staring at the man he¡¯d called both his partner and friend. Then solemnly, he went and collected his pistol from the floor. With no expression on his face, he crouched beside McCullough, leveling the gun at him. ¡°I thought better of you than to threaten harmless women, Mac.¡± He said, disappointment dripping from every word. McCullough, laboring for breath, let out a short burst of laughter in reply. ¡°Harmless, is she?¡± He wheezed. ¡°You don¡¯t know who she is, do you, Cal?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°She¡¯s been with the Syndicate all along. Telling them our every move.¡± Calligan shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you. Why would she?¡± He turned to look at Crystal, but, to his astonishment, she was no longer huddled in the corner. Instead, she stood over the two of them, a gun in her hand and pointed at them. Tears streamed down her face as she pulled the trigger. Falling weakly to his knees, Calligan clutched at his chest his shirt swiftly soaking with blood. He could feel his energy rapidly fading, and started to collapse. Just as he was falling, he felt two gentle hands embrace him, cradling his head. It was Crystal. Tears streamed down her face. ¡°I''m sorry, Cal.¡± She sobbed. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Calligan said nothing. His strength was failing him, and everything was growing hazy. With all the willpower he could muster, he raised his right hand; still clutching the gun, he squeezed the trigger. Calligan watched the blurry form of Crystal crumple unceremoniously into a lifeless heap, and everything went black. Blood in the Streets Chapter 15 Callligan awoke to a shower of ice cold water being dumped over his head. Everything was still blurry and looked dark. Straining, he could just barely make out figures standing around him, but each of them was indistinct. Calligan tried to raise a hand to wipe the water and coagulated blood that glued his eyes shut, but he found that he couldn¡¯t. He was bound and strapped to a chair, unable to move. ¡°Wipe his eyes.¡± One of the figures said suddenly. His voice was deep and coarse, and there was no sign of friendliness in it. ¡°I want him to see what¡¯s about to happen.¡± Calligan winced as a coarse cloth was scrubbed against his eyes, but his vision was cleared; and he could now see around him. Judging by the vast empty space and the tall brick walls, Calligan guessed that he was in an abandoned warehouse. He couldn¡¯t see the door, but he could hear the faint lapping of water in the distance. The men surrounding him were a motley crew of about ten people. Some of them were tall, some were short, and each of them were covered in blood soaked bandages. In spite of that, they all looked relaxed, some of them even smiled as though they were eager for what was about to happen. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Calligan whispered through swollen lips. The man with the deep voice laughed before bending to look him square in the eyes. ¡°Detective Calligan, my name¡¯s Sean Donahue. I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve had the pleasure to meet in person, but I¡¯ve heard so much about you.¡± Donahue reached out a hand as though to shake, but then he pretended to only just now remember Calligan¡¯s position. He laughed again, a deep and almost manic laugh. ¡°Did you know that Mac was working for me?¡± He asked. ¡°I was paying him a lot of money, and I was worried it was too much money. Though I must admit, it paid off in the end. That wretched Syndicate thought they could make this town their own, but we can see where that¡¯s gotten them. We won. And that includes you, too. It was Mac¡¯s job to ensure that all of those traitors at the station were dead, but it seems he just couldn¡¯t pull through.¡± Donahue shook his head, his voice despondent. ¡°But at least you were there to clean up his mess, and make sure that last piece of scum was dealt with.¡± Calligan didn¡¯t react as Donahue said this, gazing piercingly into Calligan¡¯s eyes, a smug grin on his face. Then, a slow grin crossed Calligan¡¯s face and he spat into Donahue¡¯s eyes. The crime lord reeled away, wiping his face in disgust. Then he slammed his fist into Calligan, knocking him to the floor, chair and all. ¡°Pick him up.¡± Donahue ordered his men, and they rapidly set Calligan upright. ¡°As much as I should be thanking you and making this quick,¡± He continued, ¡°My associates and I have decided that we want to celebrate our victory over the Syndicate. And what better fun can we have than getting rid of a no good worthless detective, and taking our time doing it. One of you, hold him still. This is going to get messy.¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. With that, he reached into his coat and retrieved a pair of brass knuckles. Slipping them onto each hand, he began to lay into Calligan. Again and again he hit him, rocking him with shockwaves of pain and the cracking of bones with every blow. Donahue¡¯s thugs cheered as he was beaten, reveling in the brutality of every blow. They cheered with each cut that was made, and each tooth was lost. Several called to be the next in line, begging to add their own signature to his torment. This only gave Donahue more momentum, fueling his frenzy. It seemed as though he might kill Calligan, until a sudden voice brought him grinding to a halt. ¡°Hello?¡± It cried, echoing throughout the warehouse. It was loud, painfully so, and strained, carrying with it an immense amount of fear, and pain. Donahue and his men whipped around looking for the source, but no one could find it. ¡°Is anyone in there?¡± The voice asked, trembling and frantic. ¡°Can anyone help me? Can anyone make it stop?¡± Nobody moved, and no one made a sound. They all just stood there staring at each other, as though asking each other what to do. The only noise came from Calligan¡¯s soft moans of agony, and the pleading of the mysterious voice. ¡°Please, I know someone¡¯s in there. Make it stop. Make the pain stop, please!¡± It cried piteously. ¡°Check the main entrance.¡± Donahue said to his men. His voice was low, as though he didn¡¯t want to be overheard. ¡°If he¡¯s there, go and give him what he wants.¡± He pointed at two of his men. One was big and burly, and the other was narrow and tall. They both nodded and began stalking toward the door, with one pulling a revolver from an inner pocket of his suit. The entrance to the warehouse was to Calligan¡¯s back, but he could hear the noise of the large doors opening. He heard a moment of dead air, before a gun went off and a scream rent the air. ¡°WHY!¡± The voice cried, filling the building. It was followed by a piercing, sorrowful wail that was filled with agony. The men in the warehouse clutched their ears as it hit them, wincing in pain and discomfort. Underneath it, there was more wailing; the wailing of two men in just as much agony. Calligan was oblivious to most of this; he could feel his consciousness slipping away once again. As the figures in front of him grew dim, he could see them flitting about frantically, even as their desperate yelling blurred intangibly together. Several muffled gunshots somehow heard through the fog of blood and pain. Calligan saw a new figure move into his line of sight to meet the culprits. It was a man, or at least that¡¯s how he looked to Calligan in his fading vision. Moving slowly, as though every move pained it, yet the bullets that thudded into it like rain seemed to have no effect on his advance. Calligan watched it advance on another figure. It made a motion, but Calligan couldn¡¯t clearly make it out, as he slipped further and further out of consciousness. All he could clearly make out were the screams of agony that joined the chorus of pain, and the monster in the shape of a man moved on to another. The last thing Calligan saw was the man approaching a figure with a build similar to Donahue¡¯s, who cowered before the man. He heard a weak plea for mercy, before watching, dimly, as he was torn apart. Then Calligan succumbed to the dark. Blood in the Streets Chapter 16 Calligan drifted in and out of consciousness, confronted with a continuous blur of confused images and emotions. He saw Doc, Mac, even the low-life banker, blending and melding in a kaleidoscope of incomprehensible sequences. Calligan had no grasp of how long it went or even exactly what was going on. Everything was muddled, with the only consistency being the continuous ache that swamped him inside. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the images settled, congealing into the form of a beautiful woman with long golden hair. She knelt over Calligan with tears streaming down her face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Cal. None of this was supposed to happen.¡± She whispered, pain dripping from every word. Calligan nodded slowly, but said nothing. The pain inside him was too overwhelming, and he could feel it crescendo as he gazed at Crystal¡¯s beautiful face. He wanted to embrace her, to hold her and tell her he understood. But he couldn¡¯t. She had betrayed him, shot him in the back, and killed his best friend. Instead, he just let her cry, pleading pitifully for forgiveness that would not come. This went on for what felt like hours, her sobs echoing off into the distance. After a while, it seemed that Crystal realized her pleas would never be answered. ¡°I should¡¯ve known you never cared for me.¡± She growled in rage. A gun was in her hand, the hammer already pulled back, and it was pointed directly at Calligan¡¯s heart. Crystal smiled, a thin, wicked smile, as she slowly squeezed the trigger. Calligan braced himself, ready for the worst, but it never came. Instead, a pair of firm hands had grabbed her, wrenching her away. One hand gripped her arm, squeezing out the circulation while the other firmly grasped her throat. Calligan watched with satisfaction as she choked and gasped for breath, her free hand reaching desperately for him to save her. He didn¡¯t move, instead just watching her struggle. She thrashed and fought desperately, kicking and clawing at her assailant. But try as she might, she couldn¡¯t free herself. Her protests became more and more feeble with every passing moment, until it seemed like she would finally give out. Her body slumped as her consciousness slowly left her. It was almost over. Just before her eyes could fully close, the hands squeezed tighter and wrenched, eliciting the loud popping of sinew and the crunch of breaking bone as Crystal was torn apart. Calligan awoke to waves of pain crashing over his entire body. Every breath was a labor and he had to strain to keep from crying out. It felt like everything in his body was broken. Still, he tried to sit up, but found he was restrained by several straps arching across his legs, wrists, and chest. Irritated, Calligan pulled at the straps, probing them. The straps were made of old worn leather, there was bound to be a weakness. If he could find it, he could get himself free. Calligan worked silently for several minutes, until a faint scratching sound made him pause. He silently berated himself for not checking his surroundings before acting and quickly began scanning the area. It was difficult. His neck hurt so badly he could barely move it, and the straps limited his mobility, but Calligan was able to get a decent picture of the room. Everything was dim, the only source of light being a small, flickering oil lamp in the center of the room. Still, Calligan could make out the drab paint that peeled off the walls, and the haphazard instruments and tables that cluttered the space. Everything was so tightly packed that it seemed impossible to him that anyone would be able to actually move around the room. Still, someone must have been able to, as every inch of the room screamed that someone had been there. Every surface that was covered with half-filled vials and broken beakers, or strewn with papers, etched with a handwritten scrawl. To Calligan, strapped the way he was and unable to get a closer look, they were illegible scribblings, but he had little doubt they were the work of the man who had captured him. A man, who he could just barely catch in the corner of his sight, huddled against the dim light of the lantern. Calligan couldn¡¯t see what the man looked like or what he was doing. He could only catch the faint scratching of a pen on paper. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re awake.¡± The figure suddenly said, his voice high and thin but unmistakably male. He moved from his position in the center and approached where Calligan lay, coming into full view. He was a thin, short man, clad in a bloodstained lab coat. His hair was long and wiry, carpeting his narrow forehead. ¡°For a while I thought I¡¯d lost you.¡± He said, smiling softly. ¡°It took every trick I knew to keep you alive, and some I learned in the process. Those guys really did a number on you. It¡¯s a good thing my subject came, or you would¡¯ve been dead.¡± ¡°Subject?¡± Calligan asked, tilting his head. ¡°Yes.¡± The man replied happily. ¡°Without him, you¡¯d be dead for sure. Too bad about him, though. Massive internal hemorrhaging. He never stood a chance. For some reason that seems to happen to all of them. I guess the human body just can¡¯t seem to take the strain, but I¡¯m so close now. I can feel it.¡± Calligan sat still, processing what he¡¯d just heard. None of it seemed sane, nor did the person who said it. He seemed twitchy and distracted, having muttered half of what he just said almost to himself. ¡°Close to what?¡± Calligan croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he winced as the words escaped his mangled lips. ¡°And he can speak!¡± The man exclaimed, delightedly. He drew even closer to Calligan, examining him intently. ¡°I think you¡¯ll make a fine recipient for the latest dose. No, you¡¯ll make a magnificent one. You¡¯ve shown a lot of resilience, and that might be just what I need. I haven¡¯t been very picky up to this point, and that may have been the problem. But now, I think I¡¯ve found just the one I need.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. He whirled around excitedly, busying himself with various instruments on one of the tables. He hummed a tune as he worked, seemingly oblivious to Calligan staring confusedly behind him. ¡°Need for what? What are you doing? Who are you?¡± Calligan inquired, a distinct note of worry in his voice. There was something very disturbing about this man. ¡°Me?¡± He responded, his back still turned. ¡°I¡¯m just an ordinary person, trying to make the world a better place.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Calligan responded. ¡°Do you usually tie people up to do that?¡± He asked. As he spoke, he slowly flexed his hands, probing his restraints for a weakness once again. ¡°No,¡± The man responded. ¡°But I don¡¯t normally have my subjects in my lab like this. I usually have to seek them out. Your condition when I found you was quite beneficial to me, an opportunity I couldn¡¯t pass up.¡± ¡°So you put all that effort into saving my life, to what, use me as a lab rat?¡± The man looked up from his tinkering for a moment, slowly scanning the room before responding. ¡°Well, seeing as I used up my rats quite some time ago, I suppose that is my intention. Though it does sound a little sinister now that I think about it.¡± ¡°Yeah, it does.¡± Calligan responded, sweat beading down his face. He began quietly wrenching at his bonds, trying to somehow work his hands free. ¡°There¡¯s no reason for you to worry, this shouldn¡¯t turn out like the last few.¡± The man continued, so absorbed in his work that he was oblivious to Calligan¡¯s struggles. ¡°I¡¯m close. I know I am. I may have failed Marie, but my efforts won¡¯t be in vain. No one will have to suffer like her again.¡± ¡°Marie?¡± Calligan asked curiously, pausing his efforts for a moment. ¡°My daughter.¡± The man replied somberly, though he didn¡¯t look up from his work. ¡°My wife died in childbirth and she was all I had left. She¡¯s the reason for all of this.¡± ¡°All of what exactly?¡± ¡°My experiments. Marie was such a beautiful girl, a sweet and gentle girl, but so frail. She was so young when she got sick. I tried so hard to help, but she only grew weaker and weaker. Then, she was gone.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡± Calligan replied, sincerely. ¡°But I can''t see how that has anything to do with me being tied to a table and used as your guinea pig.¡± ¡°If I¡¯d just been able to make her stronger, I could have saved her.¡± The man returned. He shook his head slowly at what he was doing for a moment, before looking up again, a gleam in his eye. ¡°I¡¯m so close. You saw the power of the last subject as he tore those men apart limb from limb, but his body just couldn¡¯t handle the strain. He died just like the others.¡± Calligan nodded, now barely listening. The straps on the table were old, and he¡¯d almost worked one of his hands free; he could feel it. ¡°What do you mean, others?¡± Calligan inquired, intent on keeping the man distracted. ¡°I find them on the streets at night. Thugs, thieves, low-lifes, and others. It doesn¡¯t really matter. As long as they¡¯re alone, it only takes a rag and a little chloroform, but it means that the subjects are often suboptimal. There¡¯s progress, a change in the body¡¯s chemistry, or something greater, but it always ends the same way¡­¡± ¡°By bleeding from every orifice?¡± Calligan interjected. ¡°Yes,¡± The man replied, seemingly unphased by Calligan¡¯s knowledge. ¡°Sometimes very quickly.¡± ¡°And what do you do with them after you kill them?¡± Calligan inquired, anger edging into his voice. ¡°At first I just threw them out. I couldn¡¯t have them cluttering my workspace after all. But I soon found that to be inappropriate. It¡¯s less suspicious if you stage them, then it looks more like an accident.¡± ¡°And what happens if you kill someone with connections? Connections that might lead to someone getting killed or a lot of people getting killed.¡± Calligan asked, practically shouting the words. His blood was boiling now, and his face was a bright rouge. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. If I can help a single child, like I couldn¡¯t help Marie, then it will be worth it.¡± The man responded resolutely. ¡°And you¡¯re going to have the honor of helping me with that.¡± The man stood up suddenly from his work and approached Calligan. In one hand he firmly clasped a syringe, that he tapped lightly as he came near. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t hurt too much, at least not compared to what you¡¯ve already gone through.¡± He said as he reached for Calligan¡¯s arm. Before the man could touch him, Calligan¡¯s other hand sprang up, grasping the man by the throat. He screamed in agony as he held him, pain searing from the bullet wound in his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re a monster.¡± Calligan spat through the pain, slowly compressing his fingers around the man¡¯s windpipe. Instead of gasping for breath, the man only stood there smiling as his face began to slowly redden from lack of oxygen. Then suddenly, he plunged the syringe downward into Calligan¡¯s arm. Howling with pain and rage, Calligan shoved, launching the man backwards, crashing onto a nearby table with a satisfying crunch. He was slow to rise, brushing off broken bits of glass as he went, which gave Calligan ample time to work at the remaining straps that bound him. Still, he moved rapidly, loosening the leather straps and hauling himself off the table. He was in a significant amount of pain and every move hurt. Still, he lurched toward the man, who was now firmly on his feet. Calligan swung a fist with all his strength, knowing a prolonged fight wouldn¡¯t be in his favor, but his opponent was too nimble and dodged quickly out of the way. The man stepped in, clutching another syringe he¡¯d retrieved from the table, intent on finishing what he¡¯d started. He moved to jab it into Calligan, but Calligan unsteadily grasped his arm; holding it away from him. The man dug his nails into Calligan¡¯s arm, and Calligan winced but refused to let go. Instead, he pushed once more, forcing the man back onto the table he¡¯d just risen from. The man let out a hiss of irritation, glancing around for something to help him as Calligan bore down on him. Desperately, he grabbed the lone lamp nearby and hurled it at Calligan. The man¡¯s aim was wild and it completely missed Calligan, instead exploding on the aged wood of the floor. The room swiftly started filling with smoke, and Calligan breathed in a deep sigh of frustration as he continued to approach the man, who was still sprawled on the glass covered table. This turned out to be a mistake, as he inhaled the noxious fumes of burning wood and was forced to his knees; racked by a torrent of retching coughs. Seeing his opportunity, the man charged Calligan, his hand outstretched toward the plunger of the syringe still embedded in Calligan¡¯s arm. But Calligan ducked low and the man crashed into him, before being carried over the top, straight into the rapidly growing flames. His screams filled the room as he burned, begging for mercy from Calligan. Calligan didn¡¯t turn, refusing to even look at the man in his anguish. Instead, he casually pulled the syringe out of his arm, examining it for a moment. Then, he calmly tossed it over his shoulder and into the flame, before slowly hobbling out of the room. Blood in the Streets Chapter 17 The vehicle pulled slowly in front of the smoldering rubble before grinding to a steady stop. The front doors swung open easily and two men casually stepped out, surveying the scene. Aside from the heated glow that came from the wreckage, there was little light to speak of, but they could still see the rundown buildings surrounding them; both dingy and drab. Many of them were missing windows or doors and were obviously derelict. ¡°The whole city¡¯s a war zone and this is where we¡¯re sent? Some pyro probably just lit this place and ran. Look around, no sane person would come here. Come on Forisch, let¡¯s get out of here. This is a waste of time.¡± One of the men said, gesturing to his partner before pointing at the car. The other man said nothing, opting instead to move closer to the burning heap. He scanned his surroundings briefly, stooping down to pick something up. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± The first man inquired. He drew near Forisch, but as he approached, Forisch suddenly moved, folding the object quickly and stowing it away. ¡°What was that?¡± The man asked again, suspiciously. ¡°What was on that paper?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± Forisch responded in a thick Eastern European accent. ¡°Yeah right, it¡¯s nothing. Come on, let me see it.¡± The man stepped toward Forisch holding out a hand, but Forisch made no move to deliver, instead he held out a long index finger, pointing at something near the edge of the flames. ¡°Listen, don''t think you can try to distract me by making me think there¡¯s something important to look at. There¡¯s nothing in this place but a bunch of rubble.¡± He replied, staring narrow-eyed at Forisch. Forisch didn¡¯t flinch, standing staunchly and pointing off into the darkness at the edge of the fire. Seeing Forisch¡¯s resolution, his partner turned in the direction he was pointing. At first he couldn¡¯t see anything and, having swiftly convinced himself he''d just been duped, he began to turn back toward Forisch, an angry expression on his face. It was then that he caught something in the corner of his eye, making him pause. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. It was a figure of some sort, silhouetted against the light of the fire. It moved with slow, almost imperceptible pulses, but was otherwise completely still. They both approached the figure, moving cautiously. Upon reaching it they saw that it was a man. He sat hunched against the burning wall of the building, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. He was well built, but the curve of his shoulders and the downward bow of his head gave him the appearance of being small and weak. Blood slowly dripped from his mutilated face, landing haphazardly on his already saturated clothing. ¡°Are you OK?¡± The first man asked, ¡°What happened?¡± The injured man said nothing, only emitting a slow and agonized groan from his swollen lips. ¡°I guess that means he¡¯s responsive, in a way. Forisch, go get the stretcher.¡± The first man ordered, and Forisch rushed off to the vehicle. He returned to find his partner already bandaging the man. By now he¡¯d begun to mutter feverishly under his breath, a long string of incoherent phrases and babblings. ¡°Listen, we¡¯re here to help, can you tell us your name?¡± The first man tried again, as they began to gently load the man onto the stretcher. ¡°Calligan.¡± He replied, with surprising clarity before returning once more to his ramblings. ¡°Well, Calligan, you¡¯re in good hands now. We¡¯re going to get you patched up as good as new before you know it.¡± Calligan didn¡¯t respond, continuing his mutterings as he was carried to the ambulance, causing the man to give a worried glance to Forisch. He returned his partner¡¯s gaze with a knowing one of his own, calmly replying with a single word, ¡°Shell shock.¡± They both shook their heads sadly, slowly loading Calligan into the back of the vehicle. As they closed the doors, the first man glanced solemnly at Forisch. ¡°A lot of people suffered out on these streets.¡± He said, somberly. ¡°But he looks like he¡¯s suffered the worst.¡± Forisch nodded slowly and then started heading for the driver¡¯s side door. ¡°By the way,¡± His partner interjected, as he opened it. ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me what was on that paper.¡± ¡°Gibberish.¡± Forisch replied casually. ¡°Fascinating gibberish.¡± Blood in the City Chapter 1 A girl strode swiftly through the narrow streets of the city, darting through the shadows made by the faint illumination of the streetlamps. She was young, roughly sixteen or so, and moved warily through the night. She knew this area well and the trouble that was so prevalent in it. She was reasonably athletic, but she was also normal, and that meant that there was only so much she could do should she find herself in any sort of trouble. There were freaks who stalked the streets, twisted from birth and cast out from society. Most did their best to hide their deformities, donning long overcoats or wrapping themselves in bandages, but others let them show; wearing them as a mark of pride. Those were usually the truly dangerous ones, the ones who relished in the idea of inflicting their own pains on others. Not that they were the only ones who enjoyed inflicting pain in this rotting city. It seemed to ooze pain from every orifice. From the strung out homeless dying in the alleyways to the violent gangs constantly vying for control, everyone suffered. The girl hugged herself in the dark. The air was cold, marked by an unpleasant drizzle that made the ground slick and slimy. The shadows around her seemed to move as she passed by, menacing her with threats unseen and the constant murmurs of a city unsleeping. It was hard to tell if there was actually anyone there, if they were all in her mind, or lingering in the dingy tenements above. She didn¡¯t really care. She knew that there were threats about. They were always there, dangers that hung around every corner of the city; from the highest office of the tallest skyscraper, to the darkened alleys she was crawling through. Turning a corner, she stopped for a moment, seeing a small group huddled around a running vehicle. It looked nice, too nice for this area, and one of the people stood stooped, talking into the driver¡¯s side. The girl didn¡¯t know what was going on, but she knew it likely wasn¡¯t good. Anyone who could afford to own a car that nice, would usually never be caught dead in an area like this. If they ever needed something from here, which was usually drugs, they would pay someone to get it for them. The girl guessed that this person had probably run out at short notice, and wanted a quick fix. She shook her head, a car like that could fetch a lot more than any drug deal. As she watched, the man at the door shouted something. This was followed by a loud smashing of glass and screams coming from inside the vehicle. It was time to leave. Emily slipped once more into the shadows and into a nearby alleyway. It was tight and claustrophobic, with little room for escape should anything go wrong, but it was the only viable route to take with the main road being occupied as it was. Trash and debris cluttered the place, making it difficult to navigate with precious little light to illuminate any obstacles. On top of that, everything was slick from the drizzle. All it would take would be a single trip and a cry of pain, and every thug and unsightly character for blocks would be on top of her. Knowing this, the girl moved carefully, picking her way slowly through the alleyway. Her diligence paid off, as she slunk toward the end of the alley and the light of the street on the other side. There was no indication that anyone was even remotely aware of her presence. Still, she couldn¡¯t help but increase her speed as she approached the end of the alley, eager to make up for lost time. However, this proved to be a mistake. Her foot snagged something, just as she was breaking out into the luminescence of the street. She went careening out into the light and straight into the solid figure of a man in a trench coat, before collapsing at his feet. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The man, for his part, seemed barely phased by the collision, slowly turning to face his apparent assailant. ¡°Well, what do we have here?¡± The man asked, quizzically. He was tall and narrow, with his coat hanging loosely off his frame. He wore a broad brimmed hat low over his face, and had a scarf wrapped tightly around the lower portion of his face. Above that, one could clearly make out the melted scar tissue of once burnt skin. ¡°You seem to be in a bit of a hurry.¡± The man stated. ¡°Here, let me help you up.¡± The man held out a hand, but the girl didn¡¯t take it. Instead, she slowly backed away crawling uncomfortably on all fours. The man pressed after her, his hand still outstretched and an uncomfortable smile creased around his eyes, but the girl only moved faster; turning and springing onto her feet. She intended to make a break for it, but instead crashed immediately into another man waiting calmly right behind her. He was shorter and covered from head-to-toe in a patchwork of torn old cloth that made him resemble an old ragdoll. He laughed when she ran into him, and pushed her casually away toward the taller man, who grabbed her with glee. ¡°What brings a little girl like you wandering around the streets alone at night?'''' The taller man asked as she squirmed in his grip. ¡°Don¡¯t you know that¡¯s how people get hurt? What¡¯s in the bag?¡± The man pointed to a small backpack the girl was wearing on her back, and his accomplice reached out to grab it. Before he could, she twisted her body sharply; sliding out of the taller man¡¯s grip. Before either one of them could react, she reached into her pocket drawing a short shiv that she brandished at her assailants. The shorter man laughed. ¡°Are we supposed to be afraid of that?¡± He asked as he picked nervously at his mask. ¡°You look it.¡± The girl replied, and she lunged at him; her shiv outstretched. The man dodged quickly out of the way, retaliating with a swift backhand that knocked the girl to the ground. The shorter man stood over her. Bending over, he hauled her up by her backpack, before holding her firmly in place. She once again struggled to free herself, as the taller man came near her, holding out an outstretched hand. In an instant it was a ball of flame, and the man was pressing it towards her face. The girl squirmed as hard as she could, trying to keep herself away from the flame, but she couldn¡¯t keep it from singing her flesh. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful isn¡¯t it?¡± The taller man proclaimed. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to take a closer look?¡± He moved to press it right onto the girl¡¯s face, when suddenly he went flying to the side in a blur. There was a loud cracking sound as he thudded against the wall of a nearby building, as his partner stood with his mouth agape at what had just happened. Seeing her chance, the girl moved quickly. Slipping free once again, she drove her shiv deep into the unprotected neck of her assailant, before unceremoniously removing it again just as quickly. Copious amounts of blood began spraying from the wound, as the man clutched his neck with both hands in a vain attempt to staunch the flow. The girl watched as the man fell to his knees, what little parts of skin that showed turning pale. Behind her, a man walked to her side. He was very tall and very well built, with every move he made screaming power. Looking at the man bleeding out in front of them, he shook his head. ¡°Emily, Emily, did you have to kill him?¡± He asked the girl. She smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t have any room to lecture me this time, Zach. That other guy¡¯s definitely dead.¡± Zach smiled back at her, before turning his attention back to the man in front of them. ¡°Yes, he is,¡± He replied with a grin. ¡°But if you¡¯re going to kill someone, at least have the decency to give them a quick death. Only scum like these people draw it out.¡± He walked up to the man, now writhing in agony on the ground. Slowly, he knelt down, pulling his fist back as he did so. It came down like a sledgehammer, crunching wetly as it landed. Gore splattered across the pavement and onto Zach, but he just stood up and walked back toward Emily; seemingly unphased. When he reached her, he placed a gorey hand on her shoulder. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go.¡± He said calmly, motioning for her to follow him as he set off briskly down the street. ¡°Oh, and, you¡¯re in a lot of trouble, missy.¡± Blood in the City Chapter 2 Emily sat curled up on the window seat of the tiny apartment, her arms crossed tightly around her backpack. The radio played quietly in that background as she stared solemnly at her knees, trying to avoid Zach¡¯s gaze as he lectured her. ¡°How many times have I told you not to go out on your own? Between the dealers and the freaks, you¡¯re just asking to get yourself killed.¡± ¡°What do you expect me to do, then? Stay in house arrest?¡± Emily retorted, glancing out the window at the glowing lights of the city. ¡°There¡¯s life out there.¡± ¡°There¡¯s also death.¡± Zach replied sharply. ¡°Something you almost became very well acquainted with tonight. You know I don¡¯t want you to stay in here forever, but there are rules: only go out in daylight, and¡­¡± ¡°Never go near the freaks. I know.¡± ¡°And you still didn¡¯t listen.¡± Zach responded grimly. ¡°What were you out there for anyway? I checked all of your usual spots before I found you.¡± Emily pursed her lips for a moment, squeezing herself even tighter. It was obvious she had no desire to speak. ¡°Well¡­?¡± Zach inquired impatiently. ¡°Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to weld your door shut, so you can never see the light of day again?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t see it anyway with all the smog in the city.¡± Emily responded before she could help herself. ¡°That¡¯s not the point. Why were you out there?¡± Zach returned seriously. Emily sighed. ¡°I was going¡­to meet someone.¡± Zach¡¯s eyebrows raised. ¡°Really? That must be some guy for you to be willing to risk your life like that.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a guy.¡± Emily replied quickly before clapping her hands to her mouth. She took a moment to kick herself on the inside as Zach¡¯s eyebrows rose even higher. ¡°It?¡± He asked, then let out a deep sigh, slowly shaking his head. ¡°Of all the freaks in this wretched place, why would you ever deal with that thing?!¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s the only thing that can help me not be me!¡± Emily shouted back. ¡°Or did you forget that it was normal once too?¡± ¡°Yeah, and look how that turned out. Those monsters who almost killed you are nothing compared to that thing. They were born the way they are, probably, but that thing chose what it is. Everyone who makes a deal with that thing becomes just as twisted as it is; its own personal science experiments. You don¡¯t want to end up like that, do you?¡± Emily said nothing. She¡¯d heard this spiel before, and she knew what she wanted. She also knew, deep down, that Zach was right, not that she wanted to show it. It was a matter of principle. Zach raised his fist as though he was about to slam it down on something, but he stopped himself before he could follow through. Instead, he just clenched it tightly, revealing a massive spider web of veins bulging along his forearm. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. He didn¡¯t speak for the longest time. He just stood there fighting his rage. When at last he unclenched his fist he allowed himself to speak. ¡°Did you really think it would work?¡± He sighed, puffing out his cheeks. There was no anger in his voice, though, just frustration. ¡°I just thought that, maybe, it could help me. It helped itself.¡± Emily responded, somberly. She looked down at her knees as she spoke. ¡°Exactly Emily, it helped itself. People don¡¯t help others out of the goodness of their hearts, and they prey on the weak. I didn¡¯t bring you up to be weak. I didn¡¯t bring you up to be stupid either, which is why I can¡¯t figure out why you won¡¯t stop this nonsense. You don¡¯t need more power, you just need to be better and smarter than those around you.¡± ¡°Yes!¡­and that¡¯s why I need something, anything. You saw those freaks tonight, if you hadn¡¯t come I¡¯d be dead right now. If I had something I wouldn¡¯t have needed you, I could¡¯ve handled them on my own.¡± ¡°So you want to rely on a freak just like them to help you?¡± ¡°It managed to help itself when it needed to be stronger.¡± ¡°Yeah and how did that turn out for it? Power always comes at a cost, Emily. What were you going to give it anyways, no one works for free, you and I both know that?¡± He motioned toward the backpack that sat clutched in her arms. She squeezed it tighter, pulling it away from Zach and toward the window. ¡°Come on.¡± He said, moving quickly over to her and snatching the bag easily from her grasp. Slowly he opened it, rifling steadily through the contents. It took a moment of searching before his frown creased deeper as he threw out a wad of cash rubber banded together. ¡°Where¡¯d you get this?¡± He inquired sternly, his eyes piercing deeply into hers. She looked sheepishly away, once again staring out into the city. ¡°Well¡­?¡± ¡°I just took a little here and there whenever you needed me to get something.¡± ¡°Just a little here and there?¡± Zach asked incredulously, his fist once again balling up with rage. ¡°Do you realize how much this is? You couldn¡¯t make this much from dealing. I¡¯ve been breaking my back for months, and I¡¯ve just barely been able to keep this roof over our heads.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not my fault you don¡¯t keep good track of your finances.¡± Zach¡¯s muscles bulged with rage, his eyes looked as though they might pop out. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t promised to take you in before your dad died, I would throw you out right now! You almost put us out on the streets because of your stupid plan. I thought I raised you better than this, better than to risk everything for a stupid, hair-brained scheme! Do you have any idea how rare someone like you is, someone who¡¯s normal?! You should be proud of what you are, but, no, you just can¡¯t be happy with what you¡¯ve been given!¡± Zach sighed, calming himself down once again. Emily just stared down at the floor, too ashamed to respond. The quiet just hung there for what felt like an eternity, filling the room with a suffocating tension. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Emily whispered at last, shattering the tension. ¡°Just, go to bed.¡± Zach responded. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more about this tomorrow.¡± Emily stood up from her perch, shuffling slowly to her room and softly closing the door. Zach sighed again as it shut. He looked around the tiny apartment. Aside from Emily¡¯s room there was only one other room that acted as a combined kitchenette and living room. Even with a small dining table and an even smaller sofa the room was crowded. It was modest by most standards, but Zach had broken his back for all of it. Ever since his brother had died leaving Emily in his care, he¡¯d made it his goal to do whatever he could to give her the best he could; even if this was it. Zach went to the sofa, which acted as his bed, and stretched himself out across it. It was entirely too short, with his legs hanging precariously off the end and his upper body being forced to hunch in a half sitting position. It was hardly comfortable, but he did what he had to do for Emily. Quietly resting on a tiny side table, the radio continued its seemingly endless chatter. ¡°Massive crowds have gathered in front of the municipal building. Many are holding signs and chanting anti-government slogans. The city is holding its breath, hoping things won¡¯t escalate into violence¡­¡± Zach sighed as he switched it off. Ignoring the radio, his thoughts turned to Emily. He shook his head slowly as his mind focused on her. One of these days she would learn. He just hoped she wouldn¡¯t get killed before that happened. Blood in the City Chapter 3 Zach awoke to the faint sound of creaking in the hallway outside the apartment. At first he didn¡¯t register what it was, but he soon allowed himself a chance to relax. The tenements were old, and creaking wasn¡¯t uncommon. Which was difficult for Zach, who often found himself awake and alert to the possibility of trouble. Usually there wasn¡¯t, and he figured that this case was probably no different. Still, he found he couldn¡¯t completely erase the nagging thought in the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, there was trouble outside. He rose cautiously and approached the front door, careful not to hit any obstacles on the way. He didn¡¯t want to make any noise and possibly alert anyone who might be out there. When he reached the door to the tenement hallway, he slowly placed his ear against the door. He thought he could just slightly hear something going on outside, but he wasn¡¯t certain. What he thought he heard could easily just be a rat scurrying along the hallway and not be anything serious at all. That didn¡¯t stop the feeling that Zach had in his gut that something was wrong, so he grasped the door handle firmly and wrenched the door open. It wasn¡¯t a subtle approach, but Zach didn¡¯t really see the point in gently opening the door if someone was actually waiting outside. That would only give anyone there more time to react. Instead, Zach stepped confidently across the threshold and out into the hallway, colliding straight into a man standing right in front of the door. He was about a head shorter than Zach, so he was decently tall, with a worn leather jacket and a pair of cheap sunglasses over his face, which was covered in tattoos. ¡°Who are you?¡± Zach asked, looking quickly to the left and right as he talked. It looked as though he was flanked by two more people, each similarly dressed and tattooed as the first man. The man didn¡¯t respond, instead reaching for a pocket of his jacket. Before he could complete that action, he found his hand suddenly caught in Zach¡¯s powerful grip. There was a crunching sound as Zach ever so slightly squeezed, making the man cry out in pain. ¡°I asked you a question.¡± Zach stated coldly, but the man didn¡¯t respond with anything more than an agonized squeal. His friends, on the other hand, both reached for the pockets of their own jackets, both of them drawing pistols and leveling them at Zach. Before either of them could pull the trigger, Zach jerked his arm, flinging the unfortunate man into the one on his right. They both splatted against the wall like a melon blasted from a cannon. Not that Zach paid much attention to the rather colorful display, as he was too busy wrenching the gun of the last man and forcing it upwards. It went off before Zach squeezed again, crushing the device like a tin can in his hand. The bullet thudded into Zach¡¯s shoulder, causing him to reel back as the one who shot it bolted down the hallway. He was fast, but Zach¡¯s strength made him faster. He easily caught up with him, grasping the flighty hitman by the back of his shirt and forcing him to the ground. ¡°Who are you, and what are you doing here?!¡± Zach shouted, pressing down on top of him. He let out a strangled cry in response as he flailed about on the ground. He couldn¡¯t breathe with Zach¡¯s not inconsiderable weight pressing down on top of him. It took a moment for Zach to realize this, and he got off the man; hauling him up as he did so. He shoved the man against the wall, careful not to break anything, and glared into the man¡¯s eyes that were wide with horror. He was young and scrawny, barely an adult. His face was pockmarked with a variety of scars, and he was dressed in loose, ill-fitting clothes. He struggled for a moment against Zach¡¯s grip, but it didn¡¯t take long before he realized the futility of such a task; leaving him to quail piteously in front of the irate giant. ¡°Are you going to cooperate with me, or am I going to have to break every bone in your body one-by-one?¡± Zach¡¯s voice was low and menacing, as one hand clutched the man¡¯s collar and the other grasped his shoulder in a vice-like grip. ¡°W-what do you want to know?¡± The man stuttered piteously. ¡°Exactly what I asked you before I was so rudely assaulted by you and your friends. Who are you and what do you want?¡± Zach replied menacingly. ¡°W-were nobody. Just some street thugs, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Most street thugs don¡¯t have the gall to just break into people¡¯s homes unannounced. That¡¯s how people get themselves killed. And nobody cares if a thug like you gets killed. After all, they get killed all the time.¡± He gestured at the bodies around him as he said that as though emphasizing his point. ¡°So, why¡¯d you even try? Are you just an idiot, or did someone put you up to it?¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The man pressed his narrow lips together and shook his head vigorously. Fear still filled his eyes, but now they were widened as though there was something he feared even more keeping him from responding. Zach just grinned, and the man¡¯s eyes grew even wider when his fist sank into the wall beside his head. It crunched as it landed, a spider web of cracks spreading from the point of impact. ¡°Answer me, or it¡¯s your head.¡± Zach replied calmly. ¡°We¡¯re here for the girl.¡± The man jabbered out rapidly. ¡°The one without powers; the one that¡¯s normal.¡± Zach looked stunned. ¡°Emily?¡± He asked, worry and confusion creeping into his voice. ¡°Why would you want her?¡± The man shook his head again, but shrieked in pain while a snapping and tearing sound told him of the bloody stump where his left pinky had been. He hadn¡¯t even seen Zach do it, it was so fast. One moment his hand had been on his shoulder, and then his finger was gone. ¡°Answer the question.¡± Zach demanded, with a menacing glower. ¡°Y-you can tear off my limbs all you want, it won¡¯t matter.¡± The man stuttered. ¡°I-I can¡¯t tell you. They¡¯ll kill me.¡± ¡°And you think I won¡¯t?¡± Zach retorted, firmly grasping the man¡¯s shoulder once again. ¡°Answer me or your arm¡¯s next. I¡¯ll let you bleed out here in the hall as a warning for the next guys.¡± The man pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to respond. Seeing this, Zach squeezed down on the man¡¯s shoulder and wrenched. He screamed in agony as bone shattered and sinew popped. There was a wet spray of blood as the arm was torn from its socket, the man falling to his knees as Zach dropped him. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have tested me.¡± Zach said evenly, turning casually back toward the door to his apartment. He opened it slowly, stepping through as though it was just a normal evening and not as though he¡¯d just been attacked right outside his home. He was surprised when he entered the living room of his apartment, and a light suddenly flicked on. There, seated nonchalantly on the couch, was Emily, her arms crossed and a look of stern disapproval on her face. She glanced angrily at her watch. ¡°Do you have any idea what time it is?¡± She asked, a hint of anger in her voice. ¡°Some civilized people are trying to sleep.¡± Zach cracked a smile. ¡°But you¡¯re not one of those civilized people I guess.¡± He chuckled. ¡°What woke you up?¡± Emily sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. It was either the gunshot in the hallway, the crash that happened right outside my room, or you yelling at the top of your lungs in the hall.¡± Zach smiled sheepishly. ¡°Sorry about that. I guess I¡¯ll have to be a little quieter next time.¡± ¡°Yeah, you better.¡± Emily paused for a moment, suddenly adopting a serious expression. ¡°So, what exactly happened?¡± It was Zach¡¯s turn to sigh this time. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you later. Go grab your things. We need to get out of here.¡± Emily¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°We¡¯re leaving?¡± Assaults and attempted break-ins weren¡¯t uncommon in the slums. There was always someone trying to steal or kill someone, whether for money, drugs, or a dozen other reasons. They¡¯d been a victim of it more than once, and never before had they bothered to leave afterwards. There was no point. Everywhere in the city was just a different flavor of the same, and escaping the city was virtually impossible without money. It was huge, several days across by foot, and cars were a rare commodity only the wealthiest could afford. A mere slum rat wouldn¡¯t dare try to appropriate one. The city guards were always keen to exact harsh punishments on the lowest members of society. Only the right amount of money in the right hands could enable someone who wasn¡¯t politically privileged to leave easily. Seeing as they had neither money nor political privilege, they were stuck. Still, the city¡¯s size wasn¡¯t just a detriment. Someone could easily vanish in the streets if they knew what they were doing. And Zach always knew what he was doing. ¡°It¡¯s that bad, huh?¡± She asked him, and he grimly nodded. Without saying another word, she went to her room and began stuffing her things into her backpack. She couldn¡¯t fit much, so she only put what she deemed to be her most valuable possessions. She hastily grabbed a few pairs of clothes and a small wad of cash she¡¯d saved up. She paused for a moment, hesitating over a small picture that laid on a table beside her bed. It was a picture of a tall thin man with dark hair, his hand wrapped around the narrow waist of a beautiful woman standing next to him. She felt a pang in her heart as she stared at the picture of her long lost parents. She missed them so much and couldn¡¯t resist feeling that maybe things would be better if she still had them. Still, the past couldn¡¯t be changed, and she stuffed the picture into her backpack with the rest of her things. She searched her room quickly for anything else she might need, but she was cut short by a shouting sound out in the hallway. Bolting out of her room and through the living room, she made it just in time to see a man dashing down the hallway clutching a bloody stump in his hand. ¡°No!¡± Zach shouted angrily, smashing his hand into a nearby wall. ¡°I should¡¯ve known there was a reason he didn¡¯t care.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Emily asked, not knowing what he meant. ¡°I ripped his arm off. He should be dead. But of course, he¡¯s a lizard. Just my luck, of course they would send a regenerator.¡± ¡°Go, finish grabbing your stuff. We need to get out of here.¡± Zach ordered, an exceptionally grim look plastered on his face. ¡°I hate to say it, but I don¡¯t think this is over. Not even close.¡± Blood in the City Chapter 4 ¡°Where are we going?¡± Emily whispered as they skulked through the shadowy streets. The nights always seemed long in the city, as the densely packed highrises and tenements blocked the sun''s view when it would normally show elsewhere. The whole place was a claustrophobic nightmare. Everyone lived so close to one another, but few could trust each other. It was no wonder there were so many tightly knit gangs that always roamed the streets, jockeying for territory. Not that it mattered in the end. Gang membership usually ended with as quick an end as a casual mugging. No one cared. ¡°Far away from the apartment.¡± Zach replied sternly. ¡°So you don¡¯t know?¡± Zach shook his head. ¡°No, I¡¯ve got a few ideas. You might not believe it but there are still a few good people left in this city. Though, I¡¯m just not sure if they¡¯ll be able to help.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Emily responded, and then held her breath as a gang of silhouetted figures strolled past. They didn¡¯t seem to notice Zach or Emily, lurking in the shadows of an alleyway, so they passed by with little more than the usual aggravated muttering. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it when we find somewhere temporary to stay.¡± Zach murmured. ¡°Not that I know what that¡¯s going to be yet.¡± He said that last part under his breath, hoping that Emily didn¡¯t hear. If she did, she didn¡¯t let on. Her face didn¡¯t change from the creased frown that she¡¯d worn since she found out they would have to leave. This wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had to move on the fly. Before, though, it had usually been because a new gang had moved into the area and was trying to extort them. Zach had a policy against supporting gangs, and had always warned Emily against associating with them as much as possible. ¡°Unless you want to end up an addict or dead, stay away from them Emily. Especially since you don¡¯t have powers.¡± He had told her, when he saw her looking out the window at a gang gathered in the street down below their apartment one time. It was filled with freaks, and rough-looking men covered in tattoos. They weren¡¯t the sort of people that most decent people would consider joining. Still, there was a certain allure there for Emily, a chance at kinship. She could barely remember her parents, and the only person she grew up with as family was Zach. The very idea of growing that family and being able to trust in someone else, was thrilling to Emily; even if she was far too young at the time for any gang to be willing to take her. Those ideals were short lived, however, as that very gang attempted to shake down every dweller in the tenement. The whole ordeal left several members of the gang dead, and Zach and Emily fleeing out of the gang¡¯s turf. At the time Emily had wondered why Zach didn¡¯t just kill them all, so they could stay. It had been a nice apartment, and they¡¯d lived there for a lot longer than they had any of the others before. She asked him about it not long after they¡¯d settled into a new, temporary home under a bridge that night. He¡¯d just smiled and ruffled her hair. ¡°I¡¯m strong.¡± He¡¯d retorted. ¡°But I¡¯m not stupid.¡± She hadn¡¯t known what he¡¯d meant by that at the time. She¡¯d seen him break bones and smash through walls with his bare hands, and shrug off hits that would bring most people to their knees. Now, she thought she understood. Zach wasn¡¯t impervious, and he knew his limits. If he didn¡¯t, someone else would learn them and exploit them. There was an old saying that they used to use back in the old world; discretion is the better part of valor. Emily guessed that Zach, in his own upfront way, was always discreet. The two of them ducked and darted still further through the streets, careful not to alert anyone or trip over the occasional addict strung out in the various alleyways. At last, they came to an innocuous looking manhole cover in the middle of one of the streets. Emily raised her eyebrows. ¡°We¡¯re not going down there are we?¡± She asked. ¡°Things never go well for us down there.¡± She was right, Zach knew it, but he couldn¡¯t think of any other options. There were many ways to disappear, but the sewers were one of the best. Many of the old sewers were no longer in use, and instead had been cleaned out by many of the city¡¯s outcasts. It was dangerous down there, but in the winding corridors and twisting passages there was no better way to vanish. ¡°It¡¯s not going to be permanent.¡± Zach said with a grimace. ¡°It¡¯s just going to be until we figure out what¡¯s going on and can come up with something better. Wright will give us a hand as long as I¡¯m willing to work for him.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Emily sighed as Zach lifted the manhole cover. She dropped nimbly through it, landing in a crouch on the hard cement of the sewers below. Zach was quick to follow, hitting the ground with a surprising amount of grace for someone of his size. It had been six years since they last resorted to hiding in the tunnels of one of the undercities, neither Zach nor Emily could forget the dim glow of the subterranean lanterns that illuminated the drab gray of the cement walls. Saying that the tunnels had been cleaned out, was a loose way of putting the state of these tunnels. Everything was covered in a thick layer of muck and filth, and a foul stench hung perpetually in the air. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Not pausing to enjoy his surroundings, Zach turned hurrying down a passage of the tunnel. There were numerous like it, zigzagging throughout the underbelly of the city, and they all looked very much the same. Somehow Zach seemed as though he knew exactly where he was going, though, as he turned corner after corner with an obvious air of purpose. Emily tried to keep track of what left and right turns they took in case she ever needed to make her way back the way they came, but she soon found herself completely losing track of their course. She was lost in the winding maze. ¡°Are you sure you know where you¡¯re going?¡± She soon asked Zach, after mentally throwing her hands up from trying to keep track of it all. ¡°Everything looks exactly the same.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been longer since you¡¯ve been here than me. I still keep contacts down here, just in case.¡± Zach chuckled with a shake of his head. ¡°I¡¯ve done enough work for people down here, I could guide us with my eyes closed.¡± They continued on in silence for a time, leaving Emily to stare at the dark murk of the walls. Slowly, it dawned on her they were a little less murky than the walls where they started. As they continued, she noticed the walls continue to change, becoming a lighter and lighter shade of gray. ¡°Hey, do you smell that?¡± Emily remarked suddenly. ¡°The stench isn¡¯t as bad as it was just a few minutes ago.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯re not as close to me.¡± Zach laughed, grinning widely. ¡°But really, it¡¯s not as bad. Which tells us we¡¯re on the right path.¡± True to his word, it didn¡¯t take long before the thick murk of the surrounding walls and ceiling began to give way, eventually being replaced by an almost surgical cleanness. Everything gleamed white to the point that it was almost blinding. This newfound change in scenery was accompanied by a change in sound. Before, all that could be heard was the low echoing of each footstep they took, rebounding throughout the labyrinth. Now, there was a low murmuring that grew incrementally louder with each step they took. It crescendoed as they went, growing to almost a raucous pitch, though it stayed muted and the pair very quickly discovered why. After coming to a t-shaped junction in the tunnels, Zach motioned for them both to take a right. At the end of the tunnelway they both saw a small, metal door. As they approached Emily noticed that it was old, covered in rust and peeling paint. There was a metal strip on the front that someone on the other side could presumably pull away, likely so they could get a view of any potential interlopers hanging around outside. Scrawled across it in dripped red spray paint read the simple words, ¡°go away.¡± ¡°Well, this seems like a charming place.¡± Emily remarked, as she stared momentarily at the paint. ¡°And you¡¯re sure this is where we need to go?¡± Zach shook his head as he forced a frown across his face. ¡°No, I took us to the first obvious sign of civilization since we¡¯ve been down because I didn¡¯t think it would take us where we were trying to go.¡± He then wrapped his knuckles firmly on the rusted door, the banging of his fist making a tinny noise that echoed throughout the empty tunnels. It had an eerie effect. As the sound drifted away down the halls, the two of them stood awaiting a response. Emily wrung her hands nervously, unsure of what to do or what to expect. Zach, on the other hand, leaned casually against the wall, a wide grin glued to his face. ¡°Who are you?¡± Came a sudden, gruff sounding voice. It sounded almost like a normal middle-aged man¡¯s voice, but there was a slight pitch to it that neither Zach nor Emily could quite place. Zach stepped forward, leveling his eyes with the slit in the door and peering through. He couldn¡¯t make out anything but a blurry shape on the other side. ¡°Two refugees, looking for shelter. Can you accommodate us?¡± ¡°The city¡¯s closed. Get lost.¡± The man grunted, beginning to close his peephole. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that Jeremy.¡± Zach interjected before he could finish. ¡°Just tell Wright that Zach¡¯s here looking for work.¡± ¡°Wright¡¯s dead.¡± The gruff voice responded, slamming the small panel shut and leaving the pair standing alone in the hallway once again. ¡°Well, what now?¡± Emily interjected suddenly with a sigh, her hands on her hips as she stared at Zach. ¡°You got your picks on you?¡± He replied, a look halfway between disappointment and mostly concealed rage on his face. Emily nodded, and took off her backpack. She rummaged through it for a moment before withdrawing a small black leather pouch. From it she removed two instruments resembling the kind of tools a dentist would use, and then casually approached the door. It was locked with a large, sturdy lock. Like the tunnels around them had become, it was clean and well-kempt. That was good. If it had been rusty or damaged, it would be almost impossible to pick. Emily went to work on the lock with gusto, gently placing the picks into the lock and maneuvering them expertly as she worked. Zach had been keen to teach Emily skills like self-defense and lockpicking as soon as he¡¯d gained guardianship over her. ¡°You don¡¯t need powers to survive in this world.¡± He¡¯d told her as he first placed a set of picks in her hand. ¡°But you do need skills and a good head on your shoulders. I can give you one, but you¡¯re going to need to work on the other.¡± He¡¯d laughed as he said that last part, though Emily hadn¡¯t found it nearly as funny. Emily smiled as she worked on the lock. Zach could unlock it himself, she appreciated that he let her do it. It made her feel useful, something she almost never felt. It was so easy to get swept away in feeling inferior, having no special abilities. It was nice to be able to do something that actually had an impact. Zach might be able to smash through a building, but Emily could have tact and finesse, even if it was taught to her by someone who usually didn¡¯t. Emily¡¯s smile widened to a grin as the lock opened with a satisfying click. Zach gave her an approving pat on the shoulder, as she stood up and grasped the door handle firmly. He motioned for her to do the honors. Still grinning, she swung the door open, letting out a sharp gasp of surprise as she stepped through. Blood in the City Chapter 5 If there¡¯s one thing Emily hadn¡¯t forgotten from six years ago, it was how big this particular undercity was. While getting there involved navigating the claustrophobic twists and turns of the tunnel, the city itself had no such problem. It had been established in a massive atrium created by the convergence of the largest tunnels of the old sewer system. She remembered how high the ceiling was, barely visible to the naked eye and acting almost as a false sky to the denizens of the city. She also remembered the sprawling simple grandeur of the city that stretched under the ceiling, each building having been made of the same drab brick; though Emily had no idea where they¡¯d gotten it all. She had gotten an enduring sense of wonder the first time that she stepped into that city and beheld an odd sort of proud majesty in the drab place. The city that she stepped into now instilled no such feelings. The buildings that had once prospered and been so numerous, were now smoldering piles of rubble. The road leading from the entrance where they stood was pockmarked with craters and scorch marks, and what few figures she immediately laid eyes on sat crouched, hunched over by an invisible weight that pressed down on them. ¡°What happened?!¡± Zach exclaimed as he surveyed the sight, straining to find anything that seemed remotely familiar. As he searched his eyes fell on the form of a portly man approaching them. In spite of their surroundings, he was donned in a magnificent looking suit and hat that gave him the appearance of an old-time mafioso. Clutched in one hand was a cane that he favored heavily as he came towards them. ¡°I thought I told the two of you to get lost.¡± He berated them as he came within arms reach of them. Emily recognized it as the voice of the porter who had so rudely shut them out, though she found it difficult to reconcile his gruff voice with his extremely rotund appearance. ¡°Jeremy. What happened?¡± Zach reiterated. He wore a serious expression as he asked, one that Emily had only ever seen a few times before when things were really bad. Jeremy hardly seemed to notice it. He, for his part, just let out a long sigh and leaned heavily on his cane. ¡°Wright made a mistake.¡± He breathed, his voice barely audible. ¡°He picked a fight with the overcity.¡± ¡°He did what?!¡± Zach spat incredulously. Jeremy held up his hands quickly, stopping Zach who looked like he was about to go off on a tirade about the stupidity of fighting the city above them. ¡°It¡¯s not like you think.¡± He shot out as fast as he could. ¡°Wright wasn¡¯t stupid, he didn¡¯t fight the governor or anything like that, though that may have been his ultimate goal, the city¡¯s weak right now. Still, I can¡¯t say. It¡¯s not like I can ask him now. It¡¯s also not the point.¡± ¡°Cut to the chase, Jeremy. You¡¯re rambling.¡± Zach cut in quickly, a pointed look on his face. ¡°Sorry.¡± Jeremy responded, licking his lips nervously. ¡°It¡¯s just that we¡¯re in a really bad spot right now. Wright wasn¡¯t happy with us being stuck down here, confined to the underground. All of the leaders of the undercities hate it, but Wright was the most ambitious. He started making deals with dangerous people. They gave him money and weapons. Then, they stabbed him in the back and destroyed everything we had. We never saw it coming, and they were so powerful.¡± ¡°Who was he dealing with? What did he trade for?¡± Zach inquired. His voice wasn¡¯t harsh, but there was an edge to it that they gave a deadly impression. Emily didn¡¯t know if Jeremy knew what Zach could do, though she wouldn¡¯t be surprised. It seemed those two had at least somewhat of a history. This was all the more confirmed when Jeremy swiftly threw up his hands, rapidly belting out an answer to Zach¡¯s simply asked questions. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know.¡± He stammered so pathetically that Emily wondered what had happened to his previous gruff attitude. Perhaps it had just been bluster. It would explain why it had fled without Zach even having to make a single actual threat. Emily found that idea entertaining, and she couldn¡¯t help but smile a little bit at the thought; an action that was evidently noticed by Jeremy. The poor man began to splutter even more fervently than before. ¡°N-no one knows exactly what Wright was doing except Wright. He had a tendency to keep his plans secret from everyone.¡± Zach sighed exasperatedly and placed a firm hand on Jeremy¡¯s shoulder, who jumped at the touch. ¡°Come on Jeremy, you and I both know that¡¯s not true.¡± Zach assured him. ¡°Where is he?¡± ¡°W-where is who?¡± Jeremy stuttered, not meeting Zach¡¯s eye. ¡°I don¡¯t know who you¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°Of course you do. I¡¯m just looking for the guy who¡¯s running the show now that Wright¡¯s gone. That¡¯s who.¡± Zach gave Jeremy¡¯s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he spoke, and Emily would¡¯ve thought that Jeremy¡¯s eyes would¡¯ve popped out of their sockets. There was no indication that Zach had actually caused him any pain, but it seemed the fear of it was enough. ¡°Princip¡¯s in the old courthouse.¡± Jeremy jabbered out, his face covered in a sheen of sweat and his entire body tensed. ¡°It¡¯s one of the few buildings that survived completely intact. You may have to do some work to actually see him, though. He¡¯s not Wright, he doesn¡¯t just take visitors.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure even Princip needs a pair of good strong hands to help out. You¡¯re a good guy Jeremy, but you¡¯re a terrible door guard. If I¡¯d wanted to I could¡¯ve easily just busted down that door and killed you, and it doesn¡¯t look like there¡¯s anything anyone around could¡¯ve done about it. It seems to me like you guys could desperately use my help, whether you, or Princip, like it or not.¡± He smiled as he said that, patting Jeremy gently on the shoulder before turning away and directing himself down a ruined street. Casually, he motioned for Emily to follow before glancing back at Jeremy, who just stood there dumbfounded as they sauntered away. They strolled through the ruined streets of the undercity, Zach guiding the way. Every-so-often Emily would chance a wary glance at their surroundings. The whole place seemed alarmingly barren, and what few figures she could make out seemed more like specters than actual people. They lurked on the corners of the streets and the edges of alleyways, dark silhouettes of gray and black cloth melding with the dark cement of their surroundings. It gave the whole place a menacing edge, even more so than when they¡¯d previously been there, and Emily found it very unnerving. Zach, on the other hand, hardly seemed to notice any of that as he strode nonchalantly toward the courthouse. His own coat, a thick gray jacket, making him seem more like a local as he drifted down the street. He didn¡¯t say anything as he walked, and Emily couldn¡¯t make out his facial expression as he strode ahead of her. She doubted it was as grim as her own. He always seemed to be so unflappable no matter the situation, a trait which she personally envied. She could face down opponents far more dangerous than she was, but he could do the same without even so much as a twinge of fear on his face. One of these days she would learn how he did it, though she doubted now was the time. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Here we are.¡± Zach said at last, rupturing the heavy silence that had fallen between them. ¡°This is where the important things happen here, and where if something¡¯s going to go wrong, it¡¯s all going to happen.¡± They were standing in front of a building that looked as though it used to be tall, but was now barely anything more than a derelict ruin. The whole building was made of the same drab cement as everything else, with crumbling stone columns lining the front of the building, and several entryways having apparently collapsed. To Emily, it looked like every other destroyed building they¡¯d already passed, just slightly larger and more grand. She doubted, if she had to find this place again she¡¯d be able to. It just seemed like another strand of the ruined tapestry that was the undercity, nothing worth taking note of outside the whole. Zach didn¡¯t take time to examine the splendor of the building, moving ahead to the sole remaining entrance that gaped open between two collapsed pillars and forcing Emily to rush to catch up. The inside of the building was surprisingly barren, lacking the mounds of rubble one might expect for a structure as dilapidated as this one. There were also no adornments to speak of, not paintings on the walls or chairs to sit in and wait. It was completely empty, and that was highlighted no better than by the utter lack of people. Zach and Emily weren¡¯t sure where they¡¯d find the mysterious Princip, though they had a pretty good idea where he¡¯d be. Still, that didn¡¯t stop them from exploring a little before focusing on their ultimate destination. To their astonishment, every hall and every chamber they entered was completely barren. Everywhere they went there wasn¡¯t a soul to be found. ¡°What happened to this place?¡± Emily finally whispered as they entered their fifth room. ¡°The same thing that happened to everywhere else in this place.¡± Zach chipped back. He gave the room a once over, examining the edges of the walls and the door frame. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± Emily inquired as he worked. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Let¡¯s find out.¡± He responded as he stepped sharply out of the room. Emily stepped out hurriedly after him and followed him back to the entrance of the courthouse. There, embedded in the wall, sat a lone placard with an arrow and the word ¡°courtroom¡± engraved on it. Following it, they found themselves in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors, a rare commodity in the undercity. Each one was intricately carved with delicate figures of incredible detail, with a frame that was equally ornate. Zach, not stopping to examine the splendor of the sight before them, grasped the handle of each door, casting them open with no small amount of force. They banged with a thunderous echo as they both slammed against the wall, quite unceremoniously heralding Zach and Emily¡¯s entry into the room beyond. Unlike the rest of the courthouse this room wasn¡¯t empty, at least not in terms of objects. The whole place looked much like a normal courtroom would look, with wide benches and a large raised lectern for the judge. There was even a small box for the jury. It was all normal, which to Zach and Emily made it all seem very out-of-place. Nothing so far in this city had seemed to even remotely resemble its normal counterpart. Everything was destroyed and abandoned, but for some reason this room had remained untouched. It gave everything an eerie air, especially as the echoes of their entrance faded and a deafening hush fell on the room. Neither Zach or Emily spoke as they gazed around them, seemingly bound by the solemn mood that had descended on the room. Instead, they began to slowly drift around examining every surface carefully. It was Emily who found herself wandering toward the tall lectern at the front of the room. She didn¡¯t know why. Perhaps she was just curious, she couldn¡¯t understand why this place seemed so utterly untouched and yet still there was no one to be found anywhere. Before she could reach it, though, she heard a sudden sound that sundered the thick silence and made her jump in surprise. Before she knew what she was doing, she drew her knife; readying a battle stance. ¡°There will be no need for that.¡± Declared a man who had made the noise, raising a hand to calm her. He was tall and slender, dressed in a well-tailored suit. Emily had no idea where he¡¯d gotten it. Suits were hard to find for all but the most wealthy. It made her instantly distrust him. No one who dressed well could do anything good for her. ¡°I think I¡¯ll decide that.¡± She spat at the man. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°You are the intruder here, not me. So I¡¯ll be asking the questions.¡± The man returned. He wore a flatly stoic expression as he spoke to her, managing to sound neither imperious nor frightened. ¡°Who are you and what are you doing here?¡± ¡°We¡¯re looking for Princip.¡± Zach said, as he approached them. Gently he held out a hand to Emily, signaling for her to relax. They didn¡¯t need any violence, at least not yet. ¡°Princip is busy.¡± The man in the suit replied. ¡°So unless I decide you have a good reason to see him, you may as well just leave.¡± Zach smiled. ¡°I see.¡± He said thoughtfully. ¡°How¡¯s this for a good enough reason.¡± Like a bolt of lightning his hand lashed out, grabbing the man by his starched collar. Swiftly Zach hoisted the man up, holding him aloft. Zach expected the man to struggle in his grip, kicking and thrashing and maybe begging for him to let him go. Instead, the man maintained his calm, stalwart attitude. ¡°What is this supposed to accomplish?¡± He chimed, almost boredly. ¡°Are you trying to intimidate me?¡± Faintly Zach and Emily could hear a crackling noise, like the sound of a power station charging up. They quickly realized that it was coming from the palms of the man¡¯s hands, that had started to glow softly, but was rapidly intensifying. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt to try.¡± Zach quipped, undeterred. ¡°I do have the leverage now after all. If I wanted to, I could throw you through a wall and then go find Princip.¡± ¡°And if I wanted to, I could stop your heart. I¡¯m not intimidated by strongmen, nor am I intimidated by little girls with knives. I would, however, prefer not to resort to violence if I can help it, so would you kindly please put me back down and tell me why you¡¯d like an audience with Princip. If I find your reasoning suitable, then I may grant it.¡± Sighing, Zach slowly eased the man back to the ground. ¡°I was hoping to do this the easy way, with just some gentle persuasion.¡± He muttered as the man¡¯s shoes clicked softly on the hard cement floor. He paused for a moment as the man reoriented himself, smoothing the newly made wrinkles on his suit. ¡°I¡¯m looking for work.¡± He said at last, when the man had finally finished composing himself. ¡°And do most people go straight to the leader of a city in order to simply find work? You must be very proud of your skillset.¡± The man retorted immediately. There was a slight gleam in his eyes that could¡¯ve been mistaken for annoyance as he said it, though his voice was still as flat as ever. ¡°How do you know we¡¯re going straight to Princip? For all you know, we¡¯ve been scrounging for work for days and haven¡¯t been able to find any.¡± Zach snorted back, unable to conceal the impatience in his tone, which Emily found odd. He was usually much better at maintaining an air of placid understanding regardless of the situation, even if things weren¡¯t going quite his way. ¡°The entire city¡¯s been turned to rubble, and you¡¯re telling me that a man with your physical strength hasn¡¯t been able to find work. I find that difficult to believe.¡± The man responded, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face. ¡°So, I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d please stop wasting my time and tell me why you¡¯re actually here. Coordinating the repair of a city like this is no small feat and requires my fullest attention.¡± Zach sighed and then paused for a moment, as though taking a moment to decide how much he wanted to reveal to this stranger. At last he shook his head and spoke in a strong matter-of-fact tone. ¡°My niece and I have found ourselves in a¡­difficult situation topside. We¡¯re looking for shelter, and since I did previous work for Wright before his demise I figured I¡¯d be able to lend my services to this Princip guy as well.¡± ¡°I see.¡± The man mused, soaking the words in. ¡°What sort of work did you do for Wright?¡± Zach glanced quickly over at Emily, who didn¡¯t meet his gaze. He had never told her what he¡¯d had to do to secure their shelter the last time they were on the run, but she had ideas; none of them were good. ¡°I¡¯d rather not discuss details, at least not before I know what your verdict is. Let¡¯s just say, they were the sort of services that a man of my talents is well suited to.¡± Zach spat hastily, as though he was trying to get through the subject as quickly as possible. If the man had noticed, he didn¡¯t give any indication of that fact. Instead, he merely nodded. ¡°I suppose I can give you an audience with Princip. Though not now. He¡¯s very busy at the moment. Come back in a few hours. Then, he can decide whether or not to take you into his employ.¡± Zach gently nodded his understanding and, motioning for Emily to follow him, headed toward the entrance of the courtroom. ¡°Thank you very much, Mr¡­?¡± ¡°Smith.¡± ¡°Thank you very much, Mr. Smith.¡± Zach chimed as he and Emily stalked out of the room. Blood in the City Chapter 6 ¡°So, no details about your work, huh?¡± Emily quipped as they both left the courthouse, reentering the gray world of destroyed rubble that was the dreary outside of the undercity. ¡°You know full well why I didn¡¯t want to talk about it. I¡¯m not proud of the work I did for Wright, but I had to do something.¡± Zach sniped back, wanting to shut down the conversation quickly. The problem was that Emily didn¡¯t know why he didn¡¯t want to talk about it. She had a pretty good idea, sure, but despite all the years that had passed, Zach had never let slip so much as a hint as to what Wright had forced him to do while in his employ. The only telling detail she ever gleaned was from Zach¡¯s desperate insistence on never mentioning the affair. Whatever it was, it hadn¡¯t been good. None of those facts made Emily feel any better about Zach going to work for Princip, especially since they had no idea who he was compared to Wright. Not even Zach had ever heard of him, and he always kept his ear close to the ground. It was possible that he was fine, but Zach and Emily hadn¡¯t made it this long by trusting others. No one got to power through kindness, not here and not anymore. ¡°One of these days, I¡¯m going to get you to tell me.¡± Emily responded, but Zach just shook his head and strode off and away from the building. She followed hurriedly after him, not really knowing where he was going but understanding that he wouldn¡¯t talk; at least not right now. They found themselves drifting some ways away from the courthouse, taking turn after turn until Zach finally stopped himself in front of a heap of rubble that Emily assumed had once been a house. Conspicuously, he checked over his shoulders scanning for any of the spectral vagrants scattered throughout the shattered remnants of the city. Seeing that there weren¡¯t any, he nodded to the rubble. ¡°Welcome home.¡± He nodded, with a grin. Emily frowned, looking at it. It looked much like every other pile of rubble in the city, with the exception of a small alcove that only upon close inspection was evident through the rock. It seemed the building had collapsed in just the right way, to create a makeshift dwelling for someone with just enough determination to be able to squeeze into. For Zach it would be a tight fit, but Emily was just small enough to fit with relatively little difficulty. Forcing her way into the tiny space, where Emily assumed they would be staying at least for now, she couldn¡¯t help but look the place up and down. ¡°Looks fantastic.¡± Emily smirked, trying hard to conceal the feelings of dissatisfaction that bubbled up inside her. ¡°It could use decorations, though. Are we going to be able to put a ¡®visitors not welcome¡¯ mat at the front? You know, just to give it that homey touch.¡± ¡°I think that would go perfectly with the cheery decor.¡± Zach snickered as he crawled into the space as well. It was a tight squeeze. ¡°Though, I do think it could definitely use a better paint job. What do you think of gunmetal gray instead of slate?¡± ¡°Yeah, that would be great.¡± Emily agreed, nodding fervently around her before letting out a long drawn out sigh. Letting her head drop she suddenly flung her head up as tears began welling up in her eyes. ¡°Why here, Zach? I¡¯m sure there are plenty of actually intact places we could stay. We have money, it might not be much, but it¡¯s gotta be better than here. This place doesn¡¯t even have a bathroom.¡± Curling up against her, Zach gently wrapped his arms around her. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t great.¡± He whispered to her as he held her. ¡°But it won¡¯t be long. Just until we¡¯ve got a plan.¡± ¡°How do you expect that? We don¡¯t know who those men were or what they wanted. We could be stuck here for the rest of our lives.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s my job to make sure that doesn¡¯t happen.¡± Zach responded, in the most comforting tone he could muster. ¡°Which means that I need you to sit tight here and have a little bit of faith in me for once. At least until we¡¯re out of this mess. OK?¡± ¡°OK.¡± Emily sighed. ¡°Good. Try and stay put, we¡¯ll have to work out how we¡¯re going to maneuver this place without being any more conspicuous than we already have been, but until then I have to go back and talk to Princip. I¡¯ll be back as soon as I can.¡± With that, Zach crawled back out of the space, leaving Emily completely alone in the cramped and dreary space. Curling up tightly into a ball, she began to cry, thick heavy tears rolling down her face and splattering on the ground around her. She continued to sob uncontrollably for what felt like an hour when she finally drifted off to sleep and into not-so-peaceful dreams. Zach witnessed none of those things, as he made his way back to the courthouse. He took his time on his short journey, giving himself ample time to think and ponder the area around him. The place was a wreck, and it seemed the spirit of everyone there hadn¡¯t just broken but completely shattered. Deep down he wanted to help them, but he knew that he couldn''t. His obligations were to Emily, and that meant that he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Wright, the man who¡¯d previously run this undercity, had been a cunning and conniving man. With each interaction Zach had previously had with him, he came across as though he had only looked after the denizens of the undercity as a matter of necessity to further his power and goals. As heartless of a concept as that was, Zach still understood that Wright thought for his people. He didn¡¯t know this Princip character, but deep in his gut he could feel that he wasn¡¯t the same. Where were the crews to clear the devastation, or the people to clothe those in need. Everything looked abandoned while everyone was left to their own devices, which to Zach seemed to consist of nothing but wallowing in despair and misery. Such thoughts didn¡¯t make Zach any more eager about his approaching audience with the shadowy Princip, but he held his head up high as he strode into the courthouse. He was immediately met by the man in the suit, who stood at the entrance, his eyes glued to a pocket watch he gripped firmly in one hand. ¡°If it isn¡¯t Mr. Strongman. I¡¯ve been expecting you.¡± He impatiently snipped as soon as Zach laid eyes on him. ¡°We¡¯re running a tight schedule at the moment, so if you¡¯d please follow me, I¡¯ll guide you directly to Princip¡¯s office.¡± Without giving any time for Zach to respond, the man turned sharply on his heels; leading the way back toward the central courtroom. From there the two men passed straight through, finding themselves in front of the door that presumably had once led to the judge¡¯s chambers. It was a plain thing, with no markings or engravings. It looked solid enough, not that it really mattered much to Zach. Few things that looked sturdy actually were to him. Without so much as a word, the suited man pushed the door open; motioning for Zach to pass through. Just as Zach obeyed, the door slammed firmly shut. The judge¡¯s chambers consisted of nothing more than a cramped office. The majority of which was filled by a large, solid desk ornately carved of expensive marble. Clearly whoever had previously inhabited the place had a taste for luxury. It made Zach cringe inside when he compared that to the poverty of those who dwelt outside in the city. Most of them probably couldn¡¯t even imagine such decadence. Sitting behind the desk sat a narrow man with dark hair swept to one side and an intensely sour expression twisted onto his face. He wore a silk suit and pored over documents that were strewn out in front of him. He only glanced up for a moment from them to see who¡¯d entered his sanctuary. Zach immediately disliked the man. ¡°Mr. Princip, I assume?¡± Zach said with a note of barely concealed disdain as he approached the desk. ¡°Yes.¡± The man drawled in return, refusing to look back up from the paperwork in front of him. He had a smooth voice, like soft silk, though it had just a touch of imperiousness to it. ¡°I assume that you¡¯re the strongman I was informed of earlier today, the one looking for work.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± ¡°And, pray tell would you like in return your services, Mr¡­?¡± He paused looking at Zach inquisitively. ¡°Zach. Just Zach.¡± Zach returned, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. ¡°I don¡¯t need anything fancy, I just need a little money and some protection.¡± ¡°Money is easy.¡± Princip responded. ¡°We have numerous operations topside that ensure we¡¯ll never be short of funds. That, and Wright was quite frugal during his tenure as dear leader of this city. Protection, on the other hand, is a trickier matter. No doubt, you¡¯ve seen the state of this city. Few people survived the attack, and what few resources we have are limited.¡± ¡°So why don¡¯t you reallocate some of your other resources to help rebuild.¡± Zach suggested with a slight edge to his voice. ¡°Mr. Zach, you¡¯re a guest here, so don¡¯t presume to be able to tell me what to do.¡± Princip snapped back. ¡°You have no idea what sort of a tenuous position we¡¯re in here. Wright, in all of his glorious wisdom, not only destroyed everything he worked so hard to build, but he also angered some very powerful people. Powerful people who will do anything to get their way. People that neither you nor me want to mess with.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re nothing but a puppet.¡± Zach spat with open vitriol. ¡°All you¡¯re doing is whatever these people want.¡± ¡°And so will you, if you want anything from me. Otherwise, you can feel free to take your leave. Unless you¡¯d rather I forced you and that girl you¡¯re with, out of here. I have little patience for men with a moral code beyond mere pragmatism, and I can tell that you¡¯re one of those people.¡± Princip paused for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Still, I could have some use for you, and so might my¡­partners. So, if you¡¯re willing to obey, then I¡¯ll fulfill your requests. Otherwise, leave before I¡¯m forced to make you.¡± With his ultimatum finished, Princip slowly picked up a pen that lay on his desk and began writing on one of the forms in front of him. He hadn¡¯t lifted his gaze from them once during the entire exchange. Zach, for his part, was boiling with rage, but he had to admit that Princip was right. They couldn¡¯t afford to be cast off to the wolves. Leaning up against the desk and lowering his head submissively, Zach spoke, ¡°Fine. What do I need to do?¡± Princip, looking up and meeting Zach¡¯s downcast gaze, paused for a moment before responding. ¡°Nothing.¡± He responded at last, a dramatic air to his tone. ¡°At least, not right now. I know that you¡¯ve found yourself a place. Go there for the time being. I¡¯ll assign a few of my remaining men to discreetly watch over the place. They¡¯ll protect you and the girl as long as you do as you¡¯re told. In exchange I trust that you¡¯ll make your services worthwhile. After all, every asset is valuable these days.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Zach replied, straightening. ¡°I won¡¯t disappoint.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t.¡± Princip replied. ¡°If what you say is true and you lent your services to Wright, then I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll more than make up for the loss of personnel. I may not have liked Wright when he was alive, but I have to give the man credit. He knew people.¡± ¡°I certainly hope so.¡± Zach muttered, as he turned and walked out the door. Blood in the City Chapter 7 Emily didn¡¯t know how long it had been since they¡¯d arrived. It was impossible to know. There was no sun or moon, just the dark gray of the ceiling glowering incessantly over everything. Still, if she had to hazard a guess, she would¡¯ve estimated they¡¯d been there about two weeks. In that time, Zach had continuously come and gone, ultimately spending more time away than with Emily, who had to strain to contain the overwhelming sense of boredom that continually swamped her. Just as instructed, she¡¯d kept her head low and tried to avoid leaving their hideout unless necessary. Once or twice she¡¯d considered abandoning the place, but she always managed to persuade herself against it. They were in a precarious enough position without creating more escapades on top of everything else. So, Emily was forced to content herself with staring out the entrance of their den, yearning for what was out there. Every now and then, she thought she saw some people moving out there, forcing her to shrink back hastily into the shadows. She knew there were men that were set to guard the hideout, though she had no idea what they looked like; forcing her to treat everything that moved as a potential threat. It was with just such a mindset, that she watched from the shadows as a pair of sturdy looking men made their way nonchalantly down the street. Emily might not have been too concerned if they walked with the same listless gait of the hopeless vagrants of the undercity. These people had no such issues, striding confidently but easily down the street. Internally, Emily fumed as she realized they were plotting an indirect course straight to her hiding place. She supposed it was possible that they could just be passing by, but inwardly she strongly doubted it. Despite their relaxed postures, they moved with purpose and understanding. They knew exactly what they were doing. Hastily, Emily readied herself to bolt, giving herself just a little bit of time in case the men would be intercepted by her protectors before they came near. If not, then she would have to pull off a tight getaway. For a moment, Emily was furious that there was only one way in and out of the den. If she was going to have to run, it was going to be close. Just before the men reached the tiny tunnel that was the entrance, where Emily was crouched and ready to bolt, Emily made out the hurried figures of two men rushing to intercept the others as they approached. Some words were exchanged between the two pairs in tones too low for Emily to make out. What mumbled tones she could make out didn¡¯t seem hostile, though they didn¡¯t seem cordial either. Emily could feel an itch inside her, screaming at her not to trust these people and just run. Yes, it would compromise their base, but it was just temporary and they could find another one. Still, it would complicate things. There was no saying how long or far she¡¯d have to go to lose them, and then she¡¯d have to try to find Zach again. She was confident he¡¯d scour every nook and cranny of the city looking for her, from the lowest sewer to the office of the governor, but she didn¡¯t want to risk making him do that if she didn¡¯t have to. It didn¡¯t take long before the decision was taken away from her, as all four men suddenly turned, staring straight at the tunnel where she was hiding. Without a second thought, Emily shot from the den and out into the gloom of the street. Without so much as a glance at the stunned expressions of the men she passed, she blurred out into an alley between two piles of rubble. She only vaguely knew where she was going, everything looked the same. Still, she¡¯d tried hard to commit the path back to the world above to memory. It was risky. If they¡¯d thought to guard the entrance, she didn¡¯t know another way out. She was sure there was one, but without any idea where that was, she would be as good as trapped. Still, she had to do something. Her lungs burning, Emily took a series of sharp turns. Behind her she could hear the panting grunts of the men behind her. It seemed they weren¡¯t in as good of shape as they looked. Still, they were gaining on her, even if it was slow. It wasn¡¯t long before Emily lost track of the turns she was making, in the winding, narrow, streets. All she could focus on was her need to keep running and the sounds of the men behind her. They were getting closer and closer, it seemed like she could feel their breath on the back of her neck. Realizing she was hopelessly lost and running out of time, Emily dug her foot in and whirled. She hoped to catch the men off guard, but they just barreled into her, sending her careening off her feet. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. She twisted as she fell, hoping to soften the blow, but she landed hard on her leg. There was no snapping sound, not that the fact provided much comfort. Emily was down, and was quickly being circled by four very hostile figures. She tried to quickly rise to her feet, but her leg buckled underneath her. It was no good, she was trapped. In a last-ditch effort to extricate herself from her situation, Emily screamed at the top of her lungs. It wasn¡¯t anything specific, just a long drawn shriek that echoed sorrowfully throughout the chamber that was the undercity. No help came, though, as Emily was grabbed roughly and everything turned dark as a bag was thrown over head. Her hands were quickly tied behind her back as she struggled to get free of their clutches, but to no avail. Her attackers had won, and victoriously they hauled her roughly away from the street, kicking and screaming at them as they went. Eventually, she stopped struggling. Her body was worn out, and the fatigue of sustained panic washed over her. She let her body go limp as it was carried, for how long, she didn¡¯t know. She already didn¡¯t have a good sense of time in this miserable place, and now she was completely lost in a shroud of darkness. Everything felt like forever down there, never seeing the sun. It was no wonder that everyone was so downtrodden. In the undercity there was no time, everything lasted an eternity, the good and especially the bad. Vaguely, she wondered what Zach was doing. He was probably on some secret mission for the man who¡¯d just betrayed him. She knew he¡¯d figure out what had happened. He¡¯d dig to the bottom of the Earth to find her and rescue her. If she¡¯d been strong enough to fight, or fast enough to get away, it wouldn¡¯t be an issue. She¡¯d already be working on a way to reunite with him. Instead, she was trapped, held prisoner by these strangers who were taking her somewhere she didn¡¯t know. All she knew was she needed help, and she desperately hoped some would come. At some point during the journey, Emily felt a cool wash of moist air suddenly envelope her, and she quickly realized that they were above ground. She could hear the muffled sounds of her captors grow lighter with the shift, but also more hurried. Judging by the feel of the air, Emily figured it was night, and that meant that all of the worst of the street scum were likely stalking the streets. It seemed that Emily¡¯s captors had no desire to tangle with any of the roving street gangs at the moment, though there could be any number of reasons why. She vaguely hoped that not wanting to get her hurt was one of them. She bobbed uncomfortably in the firm grip of one of the men, who complained loudly about her weight. She¡¯d been handed off between members of the group several times. None of them were evidently fit enough to handle carrying a person for an extended period of time, even if that person was a sixteen-year-old twig of a girl. They scurried in silence for a time, until Emily suddenly heard a loud shout a short ways from their location. This was followed by several more, and the man carrying Emily suddenly took off into a sprint, causing Emily to bounce quite unceremoniously as they went. She could feel a rush of adrenaline course through her as they went. She had no idea what was going on, only able to piece small bits together based on the sounds around her. It seemed that some sort of fight had broken out between the men and a gang that had spotted them, one that the man carrying her was desperately trying to get away from. It seemed to be working too. That is, until Emily felt a sudden force as something collided into them with a painful cracking sound. She went careening off the man¡¯s shoulder as he hit the ground with an audible thud. This was followed by another series of crunching sounds accompanied by a short scream, before everything went silent. Emily, for her part, did her best to stay calm. She clawed at the bindings around her wrists, trying to tear them loose. They were tight and hadn¡¯t budged a bit when she suddenly felt a hand grasp firmly onto her. She squirmed in its grip and tried to get away, but she was still tied up and her leg was still injured, so she couldn¡¯t do much more than move like a caterpillar as she squirmed. Unsurprisingly, it didn¡¯t work. The hand¡¯s grip held firm, and she was wrenched onto her back. Helplessly, she laid there as another hand grasped the bag just in front of her face, and pulled it. There wasn¡¯t much light outside, only the pale yellow of a dying streetlamp, still the sudden flow of light into Emily¡¯s eyes temporarily blinded her. She instinctively tried to move her hands in front of her face to block out the flood, but her hands were still tied behind her back. Instead, she winced helplessly as her eyes attempted to readjust to her surroundings. It was quite painful. ¡°What do we have here?¡± She heard a voice say. It was thin and harsh, with a nasally bite to it. She looked around as best she could, sprawled as she was on her back. She couldn¡¯t see much except for the dark shadows of the rundown buildings of the city¡¯s slums. As her eyes adjusted, she found herself staring face-to-face with a single man. He wore a tattered coat with a hood that blocked most of his face, but Emily could make out the pale glint of scar tissue underneath. ¡°You¡¯re a pretty one.¡± The man hissed as he gazed at Emily. His eyes gleamed in the light of the streetlamps with a steely, vicious glint. ¡°Just the kind we¡¯ve been looking for.¡± The man reached a hand toward Emily, who¡¯s eyes went wide as she struggled furiously against her bonds. She tried to crawl away as best as she could. It was no use. She thought she heard a shout, a strong masculine voice rending the air, just as the scarred tissue of the hand brushed ever so faintly against the skin of her cheek. Before she knew what happened, everything blurred and then faded to black. Blood in the City Chapter 8 Zach wasn¡¯t sure how it had happened, but he found himself enjoying the night he was having. The mission he¡¯d been handed from Princip was simple: play muscle until the weasel Princip had trusted to make a deal with one of the local gangs inevitably messed things up. After that, all there was left to do was clean up. Several weeks of slaving away for the unscrupulous that was Princip, had done nothing to improve Zach¡¯s opinion of the man. He put his faith in thugs and bureaucrats. If a person needed a favor, he¡¯d gladly hand them out; for a price of course. If he ignored the fact that he was one of those people, it was easy for Zach to stick his nose up at the ambitious and incompetent help the philosophy attracted. Anyone willing to make themselves a slave for personal advancement wasn¡¯t just tolerated, but actively encouraged to join. From what Zach could tell, much of Princip¡¯s valuable man power seemed to come by recruiting ambitious whelps from the low-level gangs up top. A policy which apparently didn¡¯t win any endearment from those gangs, who didn¡¯t appreciate losing members of their ¡°family¡± for some work for a petty tyrant trying to keep his kingdom together. That was why he was there, with the slimy man in a worn out suit slouched next to him. The man, who¡¯s name was Gerald apparently, had once been a public worker. From what Zach could glean from him, he was on the fast track to move up in whatever stuffy bureau he worked. That is until a few enemies and a drug addiction forced him to quit, and he lost everything. After spending a few years scrounging in the sleaziest joints he could for whatever high he could get, he finally made his way to Princip. He jumped at the chance of translating his ¡°skill set¡± in exchange for a chance to get his life back together, or at least a more frequent dose. Zach had pegged the scrawny, greasy haired man as worthless the moment he¡¯d set eyes on him. Still, he didn¡¯t set the missions or the personnel. He was just there to do a job in exchange for protecting Emily. As long as he did what he was supposed to, the rest could fall apart for all he cared. Zach for his part, wasn¡¯t wearing a suit. He was donned in an oversized hoodie, despite the heat. He wore the hood up, covering his face in shadow. He hoped that the garment¡¯s size would make him seem bigger while simultaneously hiding the true nature of his strength. He preferred people underestimate him if things were going to go to blows. He also thought the hood provided somewhat of an air of mystery, even if he knew that idea was somewhat childish. It didn¡¯t matter if people knew his face, all sorts of people had seen what he looked like and what he could do. Still, he liked having the illusion of anonymity; it was comforting. They were in a park, one of the few places where one could enjoy the delightful scene of shriveled foliage and drug addiction all in one glance. Both men positioned themselves at the edge of a flickering lamp casting a dim light on a half broken bench. Gerald had chosen this as the meeting place. It was deep in hostile territory and easy to surround. Zach had little doubt that they were already being enclosed as they waited patiently for the other party to arrive. They weren¡¯t kept waiting long. Three men in tattered trench coats strolled casually into the light not five minutes later, their hats cocked low over their faces. One of them smoked a cigarette, as the other two flanked him, cracking their knuckles and trying to look menacing. It seemed to work on Gerald who shivered visibly as he looked at them. Zach, for his part, just stepped nonchalantly into the light, letting out a small laugh. ¡°Humphrey Bogart called; he wants his style back.¡± Zach snarked as he approached them, a mocking glint in his eye. The men, for their part, just stared at him dumbly. It was clear they had no idea who Humphrey Bogart was or why it was so funny. ¡°You making fun of us?¡± One of the men, it was hard to tell which, hissed from under his hat. ¡°Now why would I ever do that?¡± Zach retorted before he could stop himself. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just too easy with those halloween costumes you¡¯re wearing. Have you ever thought of trying something a little more modern? I¡¯ve heard the mummy look is in vogue right now, or maybe you can try the cyberpunk look. It¡¯s sleek, fashionable, and nobody can tell if it¡¯s a body modification or just your natural face that makes you so ugly you want to desperately hide it.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. One of the men on the side made to lunge at Zach, but was held back by the man with the cigarette. He puffed calmly on it as he gripped his compatriot, undeterred by Zach¡¯s jeers. After a long drag, he pulled it from his lips, tipping his hat up as he did so. To Zach¡¯s surprise, it revealed a handsome face underneath. There was no sign of the etched scars or pockmarks that were typical of those who insisted on covering their faces on the streets. Instead, the skin was smooth and pale, with full, unadulterated features. ¡°We don¡¯t wear these because we''re like those other freaks.¡± The man responded, his voice steady and calm. ¡°They¡¯re victims of circumstance, born to be hated and cast out of society. They become dangerous because they have to be. We, on the other hand, chose violence as our profession, our way of life. Which is why we¡¯re here.¡± ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± Came the quavering voice of Gerald, so suddenly it made Zach jump a little. He stepped hesitantly out of the shadows and into the flickering ring of light. ¡°W-we¡¯re here to make a deal. That¡¯s why we arranged this meeting.¡± The man with the cigarette laughed grimly before taking another puff. He blew the smoke haphazardly into the air above before speaking again, his tone never wavering from its steady confidence. ¡°That¡¯s why you arranged the meeting with those bottom feeders, but we decided to take the reins. You see, while they act all tough and parade their freak show around, we¡¯re the ones who¡¯re really in charge.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Zach chimed in, curiously. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± The man responded with a smile. ¡°Just know that if we tell them to do a handstand, they¡¯ll hold it until they¡¯re blue in the face if we don¡¯t tell them to stop.¡± ¡°So what would make such great and mighty men, such as yourselves, to see fit to negotiate with lowly scum like us?¡± Zach returned, earning himself an indignant glare from his partner. ¡°Like I said, they¡¯re idiots. They wouldn¡¯t know a good deal if it spat in their faces. Though, if I¡¯m being honest. I don¡¯t really care about your people drawing from their ¡®family¡¯. I¡¯m here to represent my employer and his interests, not the interests of some half-baked criminal wannabes.¡± ¡°S-so, what do you want from us?¡± Gerald quavered. ¡°Nothing.¡± The man answered, his smile broadening. ¡°Just let Princip know we¡¯re intercepting his delivery as we speak, and that my employer will gladly consider it payment for what he owes him for his help.¡± Zach¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He inquired, a sharp edge to his voice. The man guffawed loudly, as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. Carelessly, he threw it in their direction, letting it drift gently to the ground. Zach rushed forward to grab it, as the men turned away, stepping casually back into the darkness. Grabbing the sheet roughly off the ground where it had fallen, Zach hastily scanned it. It only took him a fraction of a second to grasp its contents. His hands shook as he stared at it. He¡¯d been betrayed. Crying with rage, he charged after the men, his powerful legs launching him forward like a freight train. In a microsecond he had left the dome of the light of the streetlamp, plunging himself into the darkness of the night. His eyes strained, as he plowed ahead, searching the darkness for the men he desperately wanted to tear limb from limb. He found no one. It was as though they¡¯d just vanished in the darkness, leaving him sprinting alone in the night. His powerful body left grooves where he stepped, and his momentum carried him onward even as his hope left him. When at last his power faded, and his rage gave way to despair, he puttered to a halt. He wasn¡¯t in the park anymore, having been carried across its edge into the dim lights of the city proper. Resting his hands on his knees, he crumpled to the ground. Whipping his head back he let out a scream. In it he threw everything that was bottled up inside him, all his rage, his frustration, and fear, contained in one long, tormented cry of agony. It seemed as though it would go on forever, shaking windows and waking the dead, until suddenly it cut off. He didn¡¯t have any more. Instead, Zach got to his feet and walked into the night. Blood in the City Chapter 9 Everything was blurry, shrouded in darkness, as Emily awoke. Somewhere nearby she heard the crackling of a radio. It was low and distorted, but she could still faintly make out a voice chattering urgently through the speakers in spite of the bad reception. ¡°This is the sixth day since violence first broke out at the capitol. Authorities have so far kept the violence contained, but it hasn¡¯t been quelled. The Chief of Police has voiced concerns that the violence may spread and has advised all residents in the area to stay in their homes¡­¡± The voice cut off in a wave of static, followed by the click of the radio being shut off. ¡°Stupid piece of junk.¡± She heard a voice say, recognizing it as the voice of the man who¡¯d put her to sleep. It was muffled, coming from a different room. She heard another one, a higher-pitched more nasally one, laugh dryly in reply. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for getting a bootlegged one. They never work right.¡± The nasally voice chittered. ¡°And pay for the license? The last thing I want are feds poking around my business, demanding my money. I earned it,¡± The first man remarked savagely. ¡° A couple of big wigs stuck their noses where they didn¡¯t belong, and I was paid a lot of money to cut them off if you know what I mean.¡± He laughed with an odd mixture of pleasure and irritation in his voice. Emily crept toward the sound of the voices, emanating from behind a closed door, the cracks of which provided the only source of light to the room she was in. She was still bound, forced to crawl like a worm across splintered floorboards. What little she could make of the room from the scant light was unimpressive. Faint traces of chipped paint, and cracked drywall were evident in an otherwise apparently barren room. As she reached the door, her only hope of salvation, she leaned her head against it. Pushing uneasily against it, she worked her way into a standing position. Her legs were tied together, making it difficult, but after some effort she made her way to her feet. Her hands were tied firmly straight down to her sides, but she figured that if she worked her position just right, she might be able to grab hold of the doorknob and twist it open. She worked silently, stealthily for a while at the difficult task. It was a struggle, but she eventually managed to get a firm grasp on the door handle. She was just about to twist it open, when she suddenly heard something that made her jump. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you.¡± A voice whispered. It was low and soft. For a moment, Emily thought that she had just imagined it, but then it continued. ¡°Not unless you¡¯ve got some pretty neat tricks stashed away.¡± Emily scanned hastily around her, not letting go of the handle. She couldn¡¯t see anything in the shadowy recesses of the room. Still, she was certain the voice hadn¡¯t come from nowhere. ¡°And how do you know that I don¡¯t?¡± Emily growled in annoyance. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± The voice responded. ¡°But if you don¡¯t have anything good you¡¯re only going to fail and cause us more trouble than it¡¯s worth. They¡¯ve kept it unlocked if that tells you anything. They want you to try to get loose, which means it¡¯ll be a mess when they catch you, and I¡¯d really rather not have that kind inconvenience.¡± The response was firm, with no hint of fear, only a matter-of-fact ease. It was as though the speaker was totally aware of the situation, and had already embraced it with serene confidence. ¡°Though if you do have some fancy trick to help you escape stowed away don¡¯t let me stop you, just don¡¯t cause any more trouble for me with whatever you do.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Emily sighed, letting go of the door handle and hopping further back into the room. ¡°My name¡¯s Emily, what¡¯s yours, oh great unseen one.¡± ¡°No one calls me by my real name.¡± The voice responded, sadly. There was a shuffling sound in a corner, as a scrawny boy crawled into the light. ¡° Everyone always just calls me Glitch. Well, when I say everyone, I mean me.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Emily gave the boy a quick once-over as he spoke. He was bound hand-and-foot, just like Emily, but still, she could tell he was impossibly skinny. Any real details were difficult to make out in the darkness, but she thought she could make out a plain face and dark hair. ¡°Glitch, huh?¡± Emily considered the name, rolling it around in her mouth. ¡°That¡¯s a dumb name. Why go with that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s because I don¡¯t fit in with anyone else, I¡¯m an anomaly.¡± He responded matter-of-factly. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m a glitch. Something that shouldn¡¯t be here.¡± ¡°OK.¡± Emily replied hesitantly. ¡°Well, I¡¯m Emily. No special reason why, it¡¯s just what my parents named me. I guess we¡¯re prisoners together.¡± ¡°I guess so.¡± Glitch affirmed. There was an awkward pause after he spoke, as though neither of them were entirely sure what to make of that idea. ¡°So¡­¡± Emily said at last, shattering the tense silence. ¡°What do you think they want with us?¡± ¡°Who knows.¡± Glitch responded with a shrug. ¡°I would say they were holding us for ransom, but I don¡¯t have anyone who¡¯d pay to have me back.¡± ¡°So, what then, slavery?¡± ¡°Maybe, but I really hope not.¡± Glitch let out a sigh, easing himself into a slightly more comfortable position on the floor. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll find out one way or another.¡± ¡°I guess so.¡± Emily returned, obviously far less comfortable with the idea. She tried to ease herself as best she could to the floor without just flopping down, but failed. She let out a disgruntled huff as her body thudded against the hardwood floor. She twisted herself to face the door, propping herself into a sitting position. ¡°Unless my Uncle gets to us first.¡± She chimed, when she was done maneuvering. ¡°Assuming he can find us here. He¡¯s good, but he¡¯s not omnipotent.¡± ¡°Your uncle?¡± Glitched inquired, tilting his head quizzically. ¡°The strongest man I know¡­in more ways than one.¡± Emily responded. Glitch looked like he wanted to ask more, but thought better of it and didn¡¯t press the issue. Instead, he sat there in the darkness with Emily as they waited patiently for what she knew would inevitably come. It didn¡¯t take long, at least not to the distorted clocks of the captives trapped in the dark, before the inevitable swinging open of the door to their prison. The knob clicked as it turned, and the room was flooded with an influx of blinding light. Emily would¡¯ve loved to be able to cover her eyes, as they were stung by the flood that hit them. It took her a few seconds to realize that the person in the doorway was speaking. It wasn¡¯t a voice she recognized, deep and resonant. It was attached to a silhouette, standing over the prisoners, cutting an imposing figure in the doorway. Broad at the shoulders and obviously muscular, even without any way for Emily to see details, this man was clearly not one of the gaunt freaks who had captured them in the first place. ¡°...You both will be treated with the most delicate care as long as you offer your full cooperation.¡± The man was saying in a professional tone. ¡°We have no intention to cause you harm.¡± ¡°Then what do you want from us?!¡± Emily spat before she could stop herself. ¡°It¡¯s not as if we haven¡¯t been harmed already. I mean really, we¡¯re tied up in a dark room. The emotional damage¡­we haven¡¯t even been able to go to the bathroom.¡± The man, still shrouded in shadow against the light of the room outside, just cocked his head. ¡°That is an inconvenience, I understand. Though, given each of your backgrounds, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s far from the most uncomfortable situation that you¡¯ve been through. You have my assurance that we¡¯ll do our best to ease any further discomfort. That being said, you will be asleep for the journey from here to where the procedure will be performed.¡± ¡°Procedure?¡± Emily chirped, alarmed. ¡°What kind of procedure are you talking about? Are you going to turn us into freaks?¡± The man belted out a deep guffaw at her response. ¡°You are an interesting girl. It¡¯s a shame you were born normal. Still, it may actually be a blessing, both for you and those to come after you.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Emily urged, a slightly frantic edge to her voice. ¡°If you¡¯re going to cut me up, I wanna know why.¡± The man, for his part, didn¡¯t respond. His head was turned, facing some unseen individual. ¡°Put them to sleep.¡± He ordered and stepped away from the doorway. Emily caught a glimpse of a handsome face with a tight buzz cut as the man stepped away, only to be momentarily replaced by the same freak who had captured her before. She tried to scramble backward away from him as he approached, but he grabbed her ankle as she squirmed. She was out before she even knew what happened. Blood in the City Chapter 10 The world came back to Emily in a drunken slur of white and black. She thrashed in confusion, feeling herself suddenly become weightless before crashing heavily to the ground. She laid there for a moment, twisted in a crumpled heap, and felt tears suddenly well up in her eyes. Hopeless and helpless, she cried. Long, wet sobs echoed around her crushed form as she shook from the force of her tears. ¡°I must say, that really is pathetic.¡± Sneered a sudden voice, thin and feminine. ¡°I expected our hope for the future would be a little tougher than this, especially having lasted this long completely normal. I guess it just goes to show, not always the toughest survive.¡± Emily¡¯s head shot up, twisting around to see the source of the voice. She was surrounded by a room of sterile white, empty except for the disheveled bed she¡¯d fallen out of and a single steel bench resting across from it. Occupying said bench was a tall, narrow woman, dressed in a plain gray suit and her hair tied into a professional updo. She was excessively skinny, and her skin was the pale that only came from a life sheltered from hard work and strife. ¡°Who are you, how do you know what I am?!¡± Emily spat at the woman, her eyes narrow with suspicion. ¡°My name isn¡¯t important. My role, however, is. In this place I¡¯m your future. If I decide you¡¯re worthy of my little experiment, then you¡¯ll be used to help secure the future of the human race. If I decide you¡¯re not worth my time, then I¡¯ll tell that nice gentleman who brought you here and he¡¯ll gladly dispose of you for me. Do you understand me?¡± Emily nodded slowly before suddenly spitting back, her voice filled with vitriol. ¡°And what if I decide I would rather not play along with whatever sick, stupid game you¡¯re playing? What if I¡¯d rather just rip your throat out and get out of here?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s more of what I expected.¡± The woman laughed, clapping her hands together delightedly. ¡°That¡¯s the kind of violent vigor I¡¯d expect of a survivor. That¡¯s good, you¡¯ll need it. Food will be delivered here shortly, then we¡¯ll begin performing preliminary tests. I expect your full cooperation. Have a nice day, Emily.¡± With that the woman stood up, striding casually to a narrow metal door nestled in a corner of the room. She knocked twice on it, and it opened unceremoniously. Without saying a word or even bothering to cast a glance back into the room, she stepped through; leaving Emily alone once again. It wasn¡¯t for long, though, as she was soon greeted with the metallic scrape of the door opening once again. Instead of being greeted by the hateful woman, she was met with a powerful figure; one with broad shoulders and a tight buzz cut. ¡°Miss, I¡¯m going to need you to come with me immediately.¡± Came the resonant bass of the man who¡¯d brought her here, she still didn¡¯t know his name. Emily didn¡¯t move, still a tangled mess on the floor. Instead, she just glared at the man, who met her gaze with a stoic one of his own. They stood there awkwardly for what felt like a long time before he finally spoke. ¡°All it¡¯ll take is one word, you know.¡± He told her flatly. ¡°Then, this will all be over, and your precious uncle will never have a chance to rescue you.¡± Emily¡¯s mouth dropped open. ¡°H-how?¡± She stammered. ¡°We¡¯re professionals here, Miss Emily. Did you think we wouldn¡¯t do our homework?¡± The man said coolly. ¡°We know full well of your dear uncle and have someone monitoring him at all times. We feel confident that he won¡¯t cause us any real trouble. That being said, if you decide to continue inconveniencing us, we could easily make the point moot.¡± The man gave a weak smile at that, as though the idea mildly entertained him. ¡°I¡¯d really prefer it didn¡¯t come to that, though. He¡¯s a dedicated uncle, and hasn¡¯t stopped searching for you since he found out you were taken. So maybe you should be a good girl and follow me, so that when this is all over you can see him again.¡± With that he turned away, stepping sharply out the door. Emily lunged after him, shaking with rage as she went. The man, her handler she supposed, plunged through corridors of sterile white, not even giving so much as a backwards glance to see if she was following. She was of course, she wasn¡¯t stupid. Stupid was how a person got killed, something she couldn¡¯t allow to happen. Instead, she would bide her time until the time was right. Then, she would escape, and kill as many of these people as she could on her way out. Emily had no idea where she was. She¡¯d thought that the narrow corridors to the undercity were clean, but they were a cesspit compared to this place. The walls, the floor, the ceiling were all the same dizzying shade of white. There was a constant chemical smell clinging to the air, and every door she passed was of a heavy stainless steel with some kind of pad next to it, the kind of which she¡¯d only seen protecting heavy vaults on TV. The entire place had a foreign feel to it, though Emily wasn¡¯t sure if she or it was more out of place. She was a dirty, uncouth street rat. This place was a place of care and professionalism, which only seemed to add to the sinister feeling that had embedded itself in her gut. Her handler stopped at a door that looked, frustratingly, like every other one in the place. Its only distinctive feature being the three numbers, four-one-one, painted crisply in white across it. Emily¡¯s handler held out his hand in front of the pad to the right of the door, and it slid softly open. Turning to face her, he dipped into a low bow, gesturing for her to enter the room. The whole display seemed excessive to Emily, but she nodded her understanding and ventured toward the door; a grimace plastered on her face. Her expression melted away when she stepped across the threshold into the room beyond. It was dim, illuminated only by a series of glowing instruments. Panels and glowing screens lined the edge of the room. Complex machines filled several of the corners, humming and whirring, as they fulfilled some complex tasks that Emily had no idea about. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. All of these things filled Emily with an odd sense of wonder. She¡¯d dealt with technology before. Even the poorest of slum dwellers could see the worth in scrounging together the money for a cellphone. These weren¡¯t cellphones. These were technological marvels, wonders like things that were only seen on old TV shows, the kind they used to imagine when things were bright and there was hope; before powers drove everyone mad. Still, as captivating as the sight was, there was one thing in particular that captivated Emily the most. Each of those panels and powerful machines were only the background of the setting, resting behind the tapestry¡¯s centerpiece. In the middle of the room, attached to a chaotic mass of tubes and cords, sat a bubbling, glowing glass tank. It wasn¡¯t very large, only about a yard in height, and about the same in width. Within it, curled unnaturally in a pale, glowing green fluid, was a creature unlike anything she¡¯d ever seen before. It was scaly and dark, with long, thin appendages tipped with razorlike claws. It had a narrow tail, curled around its body, and a long toothy maw. Emily stared at the creature. Everytime she blinked it seemed just a little different, like its form was shifting, changing incrementally as it writhed slowly in the tank. She took a step toward it, fascinated by what she saw. It wasn¡¯t natural she knew, she would¡¯ve heard if something like this existed in the wild. This thing was artificial, unnatural, just like the freaks outside. Emily ripped her eyes away from the tank, shuddering as she was reminded of the violent outcasts she wanted nothing to do with. If this thing was like them, it would be better off dead. ¡°Do you not like it?¡± Came a sudden voice that made Emily jump. It was male, but it was high and nasally; nothing like the rich bass of her handler. ¡°It¡¯s disturbing.¡± She replied, her grimace once again plastered onto her face. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I think he¡¯s fascinating.¡± The voice returned, accompanied by a figure stepping up beside her. He was a long, thin man in a stereotypical lab coat. He had Andrew printed on a name tag on the front. The light of the tank illuminated his gaunt features with a pale, greenish glow. He reached out a hand to the tank, laying it gently on the glass in front of the creature¡¯s face. ¡°He¡¯s unique, you know.¡± Andrew continued, enraptured by the creature. ¡°And he holds so many mysteries, locked away in that brain of his.¡± ¡°You talk like it¡¯s not just an animal.¡± Emily snorted, turning away from the sight. She didn¡¯t even try to hide her disgust. ¡°It¡¯s not. Not just an animal. This animal is special.¡± He declared proudly, stretching his arms out before the creature. ¡°It¡¯s truly magnificent.¡± ¡°Why am I here?¡± Emily demanded, ignoring his elation. ¡°You¡¯re here because I asked you to be here. In person. For what we¡¯re doing here.¡± He said happily ¡°I could¡¯ve simply had your blood drawn and the tests run in this lab from here. You would never know who I am or why this was happening. You would simply be experimented on, observed, and then tossed out into the wind if everything was successful.¡± ¡°And why not do that? It would certainly be easier than dragging me here, to gawk at a freak.¡± Emily returned sharply. Her arms were crossed now, with her eyes keeping a steady gaze on a nearby monitor. It hummed with electricity as numbers and various graphics flashed dizzyingly across its surface. ¡°Freak!¡± Came a sudden shrill, inhuman screech that made Emily jump. She whirled in alarm searching for its source, but she couldn¡¯t find anything that could possibly have made the sound. It was just her, the scientist, and the freak in the room. A freak that was now topped with colorful feathers on its head that had replaced the scales there. ¡°That thing can speak?¡± Emily inquired, aghast. Another cry of, ¡°Freeak!¡± was all she received in response. Andrew just continued to stare at the tank, still enraptured by the creature within, before breaking himself from his stupor. Nervously, he looked at Emily, as though unsure of what exactly to say. ¡°Do you know how many normal people like you are left?¡± He asked. There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, and he wrung his hands together. ¡°In the world? Several thousand at least. Why?¡± Emily answered, somewhat confused. Andrew shook his head. ¡°No. Not anymore. Ever since powerful people became dominant, people like you, natural people have been killed or driven underground. You know it, people prey on the weak. Who¡¯s weaker than the defenseless, the ones who can¡¯t crush steel beams or shoot lasers from the palms of their hands?¡± Emily nodded slowly. She knew it was true. She¡¯d spent her entire life living in the shadows and hiding what she couldn¡¯t do. If it weren¡¯t for Zach watching out for her, she¡¯d already be dead. Only the most cunning of her kind survived, and that put them at a severe disadvantage. ¡°So, people with powers like you are the new normal, who cares? Isn¡¯t that the way of things, the weak die and the strong survive.¡± Emily replied with mock anger. She couldn¡¯t really be angry about it. That was the way of her life, she was used to it by now. Still, she felt obligated to at least put on a show of indignation. ¡°Do the strong always survive?¡± Andrew questioned, his face creased in a deep frown. ¡°You called that creature a freak. Have you ever thought to wonder why you¡¯ve met so many freaks?¡± Emily paused. She had met a lot of freaks in her life. Every day it seemed like more and more of them stalked the streets, cast out from the rest of society. Why was that? ¡°Are you saying the powers make people freaks?¡± She asked, unsure if she was following him. ¡°Deformities have always existed.¡± ¡°Deformities on a mass scale have never been normal.¡± Andrew returned, grimly. ¡°Never.¡± ¡°B-but how?¡± Emily stammered. ¡°That creature there in that tank isn¡¯t normal. It¡¯s the last experiment of a very special scientist. It was uncovered during a government raid of his laboratory before this city had ever even been thought of. He infused it with cells from his own body, cells that could rearrange themselves into whatever he wished. He was one of the first to have powers, and his cells live, undegenerated, in this creature. When the cells age, he can simply will them to become younger. It¡¯s no problem for him, just a mere thought.¡± ¡°But why does that matter, and how does that have anything to do with me?!¡± Emily was losing her patience now. She didn¡¯t care about the freaks and she didn¡¯t care about that creature. She just wanted to go home and live her life in peace, away from all of this. ¡°Emily, every generation of people with powers is more degenerated than the last one. Every step we take is a step backward, and we can¡¯t go on like this. We¡¯ve done the research. People like you are pure, undefiled by the genetic changes that give us our powers. We don¡¯t know how, but does it really matter?¡± Andrew clasped firmly onto Emily¡¯s hand. His voice was fast and getting faster as he spoke. ¡°You asked me why I had you come here instead of just forcing this on you. You¡¯re the future, Emily, and you need to do this willingly, not with a chip on your shoulder. If you¡¯re willing, we can produce a new generation of humans, one that¡¯s not plowing toward its own miserable extinction. Do you want to be strong, like your uncle? This is your chance. Emily, will you help us?¡± Blood in the City Chapter 11 The smoke-filled air hung heavy around the room. This was the sixth such dive that Zach had been to. He hadn¡¯t slept in days and hadn¡¯t showered in even longer. A thick layer of stubble grew across his face, but there was no sign of fatigue in his determined eyes. He would search the ends of the earth to find Emily and return her safely to his side, and no strung out barfly or fancy crook in a suit was going to keep him from finding her. He¡¯d situated himself in a corner of the bar, waiting patiently with an untouched drink in front of him. He didn¡¯t drink. It clouded the mind, and he didn¡¯t like that. Still, it didn¡¯t do any good to draw too much attention to oneself in a joint like this. Well, not yet anyway. Zach sat back, watching the door with an almost bored expression plastered on his face. It wasn¡¯t long before a squat man stepped through and into the bar. He wore a filthy, oversized wife beater and tattered jeans, with an enormous beard covering his face. Even in a place like this, he made for an odd sight as he waddled up to the bar and ordered a drink. He hadn¡¯t so much as taken a drink before Zach was by his side, his own drink clutched firmly in his hand. He feigned a drink before his voice came out, low and menacing. ¡°Enjoying yourself, Vinny?¡± The squat man stiffened a little, sitting a little straighter. Otherwise, he drank from his beer undisturbed. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He responded, not even bothering to glance at Zach. ¡°I haven¡¯t even had a chance to start. Though I¡¯d like to get started. So if you have something you want, then spit it out.¡± ¡°I hear you know things. I need some information.¡± Zach returned. His voice was threatening, dangerous, but his body language was calm and composed. No one looking on the outside could see the anger and desperation that boiled inside him as he spoke to the bearded man. ¡°What kind of information, and what¡¯s in it for me?¡± ¡°I need to know the location of someone. As for what¡¯s in it for you? You get to walk out of here and not be carried.¡± Vinny laughed, a long roar that filled the space, causing many of the surrounding patrons to look there. Zach cringed at the sudden attention. People in these sorts of joints were always keen to join a fight if one broke out, and Zach didn¡¯t want to waste his time with a brawl. If things had to get violent he wanted things to be quick and clean, just how he liked it. Nonchalantly, Zach leaned in close enough to the bearded fellow to smell his breath. He casually threw his arm over Vinny''s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. It wasn¡¯t particularly hard, at least not on Zach¡¯s standards, but it was just enough that he could feel cartilage pop somewhat under his grip and feel the man stiffen under his grip. ¡°You aren¡¯t the first rotten tree I¡¯ve shaken down, not even today, so let me tell you something. I can break every bone in your body before you can even let out a squeal, and it¡¯ll take less effort for me than drinking that swill you just downed. So, I suggest you give me what I want, unless you¡¯d like to run the risk of going home in a body bag.¡± He squeezed tighter as he spoke the last sentence, emphasizing his point. Vinny continued to look as stoic as ever, but there was no sign of the rosy hue he¡¯d gained from his drink. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°W-what do you wanna know?¡± Vinny stammered, and Zach allowed himself a wide friendly smile. He allowed himself another squeeze of Vinny¡¯s shoulder before answering. ¡°It seems like there have been a lot of suits around here lately. Do you know what that¡¯s all about?¡± He asked, smoothly. ¡°The suits? Nobody ever knows what they¡¯re up to.¡± Vinny responded, somewhat frantically. ¡°Why do you care about the suits? You tryna get yourself killed?¡± ¡°So what if I am?¡± Zach responded, not betraying a hint of sarcasm. ¡°You¡¯re crazy.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what the last guy told me before I broke his legs. Now, I know you know something. Every time the suits get riled up with the street scum, someone like you always gets a whiff of what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°So what if I do know a little bit? There¡¯s nothing you¡¯re gonna be able to do about it. No one messes with the suits and wins. Nobody.¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s about time somebody changed that trend, so spill it or do I have to find another guy who¡¯s more willing to cooperate?¡± Zach gave his fist another clench for good measure, making Vinny wince. ¡°Ow ow ow. Listen, I¡¯d love to help you. I hate the guys up the ladder, but I ain¡¯t suicidal. What do you think¡¯ll happen the moment they realize who told you. How many people have you already talked to? There¡¯s a reason no one wants to talk. You¡¯ve threatened to kill me; they will kill me. So get lost.¡± Zach¡¯s genial smile suddenly vanished. He squeezed his fist shut and a loud cracking noise rent the air, accompanied with Vinny¡¯s screams. Heads turned in their direction with expressions eager for a fight. Some people even started to get up from their chairs, but Zach didn¡¯t notice them. ¡°Tell me what I want to know. What are they doing, what do they want?!¡± He shouted at Vinny, his spittle spraying against the portly man¡¯s face. Vinny just shook his head, in too much pain to speak. Zach nodded his understanding and reached out, grabbing the wrist of Vinny¡¯s uninjured arm. With a quick motion, he tugged it. Each joint of his arm let out an audible pop as Vinny dropped off his barstool and onto his knees. Zach towered over the tiny man, still gripping his wrist and pulling increasingly hard; intent on ripping the arm off if he had to. ¡°They¡¯re looking for people, normal people.¡± Vinny gurgled at last as the pain crescendoed. ¡°I don¡¯t know where they¡¯re taking them or why they want them. I just know they¡¯re offering a good reward.¡± Zach smiled, nodding, happy that Vinny had suddenly come to his senses. Slowly, carefully, he eased the amount of pressure on Vinny¡¯s arm, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. ¡°The suits have been tight-lipped about most of what they¡¯re doing. They¡¯re careful about what they let us know. We only get what info they want us to have, most of the time. This one¡¯s especially locked down. I don¡¯t know why. If you want more, you¡¯re gonna have to pry it from them.¡± ¡°Thanks for your cooperation, Vinny.¡± Zach replied, his joyful demeanor suddenly returning as he clapped Vinny gently on the back. ¡°You should probably go get looked at.¡± Vinny just let out a laugh in return. ¡°You¡¯re probably gonna need a lot more than that soon.¡± He shot back with a grin as Zach heard the sound of cracking knuckles behind him. ¡°Some people around here don¡¯t like it when people pick fights with a regular like me.¡± Zach didn¡¯t even bother trying to block as the punch made contact. It was harder than he expected, making him reel sideways into the bar. Still, he recovered quickly, wearing a broad grin. ¡°Round six it is then.¡± He muttered as he pivoted, swinging at his nearest assailant. Blood in the City Chapter 12 A knock on the heavy steel door once again heralded the arrival of Emily¡¯s handler with his lackeys. She still had no sense of time, it was as if these people were trying to dull her sense of time, or were deathly allergic to clocks. This was her only contact with the world outside, her cell. They seemed to come everyday to extract the precious life fluid pumping through her veins. It was usually just the muscular man, flanked by a seemingly innocuous pair of orderlies, though once or twice, she¡¯d glimpsed the narrow frame of Andrew standing aloof outside her doorway. She figured he was probably checking up on the state of his ¡®precious test subject¡¯. Not that she thought he actually cared; she was just an animal to him. After she tried to gouge his eyes out following his ¡®generous¡¯ offer to save the world, he started to keep his distance. The world could rot as far as she was concerned; she didn¡¯t care. It had never done her any good. She thought for sure she had signed her own death sentence when she did it, with the threats she¡¯d been given when she arrived. It seemed it was all a bluff, though. She was more valuable than the lead scientist''s eyes. Not that she¡¯d succeeded in carving them out, anyway. Her fingernails had only carved long grooves across his face, forcing him to wear sunglasses to hide the wounds. Since then she¡¯d been in continuous confinement in her cell, with every visit overseen by her handler. It seemed they figured that if anyone could keep her in line it would be him, and they were partially right. He had a certain way of carrying himself that gave the impression he was both willing and capable of using violence to get the job done. Emily, for her part, wasn¡¯t stupid, so she toed the line whenever he was around. This time, she was surprised to see the figure of a thin woman step through the doorway, alone. Emily looked at her over the pages of a book she was reading, the only form of entertainment she was given in the cell. It was a light thing, a fairytale about a bunch of hikers and a killer scientist who became the first people with powers. The whole thing was ridiculous, and she¡¯d already read it a dozen times, but she had nothing better to do. ¡°So, what brings her ladyship to my humble abode? Emily sneered, setting the book gently down on her bed. ¡°Are you in need of groveling or prostrating? Because I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve already exhausted my ability to do that on your servants. I just don¡¯t have the energy to do any more at the moment. Perhaps try again in an hour. My batteries might be recharged by then.¡± The woman chuckled lightly at that comment, accompanying it with a smile that almost reached her eyes. ¡°Oh, I have no need for you to kiss my feet. I have no desire to dirty myself by making contact with your kind of street filth. I will, however, need you to come with me immediately. There¡¯s something you need to witness.¡± She explained, turning impatiently toward the door. ¡°And what if I don¡¯t wanna go with you.¡± Emily shot back, before the woman could step out. That was apparently the wrong answer, as she suddenly felt a force pulling her onto her feet. It dragged her forcefully toward the door, which she grabbed firmly with both hands. It didn¡¯t matter. Whatever telekinetic abilities the woman had were far stronger than Emily¡¯s grip. She felt herself pulled forcefully into the air until her hands were pulled free, and she slammed painfully against the floor. She cried out in agony as she landed against the hard tile, but it didn¡¯t matter. She continued to be dragged along the floor, sliding forcefully through the hallways until they reached their destination. Their destination happened to be a room, marked much like the lab that she was taken to on the first day. This one was marked four-six-seven. Upon entering the room, Emily looked around suspiciously. It seemed to be some kind of viewing room, with about six or seven rows of comfortable-looking seats planted in front of a screen. No, that wasn¡¯t right. It wasn¡¯t a screen but a two-way mirror. On the other side, she could see a lab much like room four-one-one, but the instruments weren¡¯t right and it was much brighter. There was also no tank dominating the center of the room. Instead, the space centered on a single empty surgical table, covered in a variety of straps and restraints. Emily stared at the strange object, suspicious of what it might be for or why she¡¯d need to see it. She found herself moving closer to the glass as she surveyed the room but found herself forcibly pulled back into one of the chairs behind her. ¡°Relax Emily.¡± The narrow woman chimed easily. ¡°I¡¯ve discussed things with Andrew, and we¡¯ve decided you¡¯d benefit from knowing what¡¯s coming. It¡¯ll help ease the transition.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. That didn¡¯t help Emily relax. She had no idea what was going on, but before she could ask, the door to the lab opened and several figures stepped inside. She recognized the tall, narrow frame of Andrew, donned in his shades, instantly. Beside him was a boy about her age, who made Andrew seem as though he was a sumo wrestler in comparison. Glitch, flanked by orderlies, was led to the table where he was tied firmly down. He didn¡¯t struggle, taking everything with a serene expression plastered on his face. He didn¡¯t even flinch as Andrew approached him, a long needle in hand. Emily, on the other hand, felt her hand clinch when she saw it. What were they going to do to him? She couldn¡¯t help but think that whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t be good. ¡°Relax Emily, it¡¯s just anesthetic.¡± The thin woman said, placing a hand on Emily¡¯s arm. ¡°And the straps are so he doesn¡¯t struggle. He willingly chose to do this, but that doesn¡¯t mean he won¡¯t react when the time comes. We can¡¯t afford for something to go wrong, so we decided it was best not to risk things.¡± Emily nodded, though she didn¡¯t believe her. Something still didn¡¯t seem right. Why all the staging, what was the point? Why did they want her on board so badly? The thought needled at her, refusing to let go. Things just weren¡¯t adding up. She watched as the needle plunged into Glitch¡¯s arm. He stiffened as it entered, then went limp. For a moment, Emily thought he was dead, killed right in front of them, but she chided herself for immediately jumping to such a nonsensical idea. There would be no point in rounding them up just to senselessly kill them in such a way. After a few more moments, Andrew approached Glitch again. This time he had another, much shorter, needle in hand. He inserted this one in much the same way he inserted the other, though this time without a reaction. Glitch remained fast asleep. ¡°It¡¯s that easy.¡± The thin woman explained, her hand still placed gently on Emily¡¯s arm. ¡°When he wakes up, he¡¯ll be more powerful than he¡¯s ever been, and, unlike us, he won¡¯t degenerate. That¡¯s the future Emily. A safe future, for humanity.¡± Emily stared at her appalled. ¡°A safe future?¡± She asked, her voice surprisingly calm in spite of the stunned expression on her face. ¡°Have you seen what powers have done to us? Humanity was tearing itself apart, and all powers have done is make that easier. There is no safe future on earth for humanity.¡± ¡°But you don¡¯t understand¡­¡± ¡°No! You don¡¯t understand. How long have you been working on this? We¡¯ve been here a week, max. How is it that you¡¯re ready to shoot us up with an experimental concoction after just a week? We¡¯re the bottom of the barrel aren¡¯t we, because you¡¯ve killed all the others. People like me are so rare because of monsters like you. I don¡¯t want any part of this stupid experiment. I¡¯d rather die!¡± Suddenly, Emily slammed against the thick glass of the mirror. Her limbs splayed out like she was hanging on a crucifix. Further and further they stretched, and she felt her joints pop painfully in their sockets. ¡°You have no idea how badly I¡¯d love to make that happen.¡± The woman growled. Her eyes were filled with menace, with hate. ¡°I¡¯d like nothing better than to tear a brat like you limb from limb and leave you as a warning to anyone else who crosses me. But there are powerful people who would very much prefer it if this operation succeeds, ones who have poured in far too much money for us to do otherwise. The sheer number of plans and traps we¡¯ve made, like that wretched creature the Mother, to ensure that people like you make your way here. You will accept what we give you, willingly or not. We¡¯ve tried to be kind, to be open. But you won¡¯t obey.¡± She paused, panting as though out of breath from her rage-fueled diatribe. When she continued her voice was lower, less hysterical, though somehow much more menacing. ¡°You will from now on, or else. Understood?¡± Emily wanted to spit at the woman, to wretch vitriol and rip her apart. Instead, she felt the force against her body grab hold of her head, forcing it to nod. As it did, she heard a loud cracking noise. At first Emily was afraid it was her bones giving way to the force that bound her, but then she heard it again. And again. As it kept coming, she realized it was coming from the glass behind her. She suddenly realized that the glass was cold, colder than was natural, and rapidly getting colder. Then, the lights began to flicker. It was slow at first, almost unnoticeable, until it increased, gaining steam like a train engine. Before long it was at a seizure inducing pace flickering almost too fast to register, before, suddenly, they went out. Emily dropped to the ground as both her and her assailant stared about in the dark. They both found their eyes drawn to a single point beyond the spiderwebbed cracks that traced their way across the surface of the mirror. Like a candle in the window, a dim light glowed in the center of the room. It was faint, pulsating lightly in an irregular rhythm. With each blink it seemed to grow in intensity until the room was nothing but a massive throbbing beacon of golden energy. Emily stared, her hand raised to shield herself from the intensity of the sight. She was mesmerized, caught up in a moment of reverie. A moment that was shattered in a heartbeat when she heard the strong voice of the stern woman standing above her. ¡°Get up.¡± She said firmly. ¡°Get up and get out. Now!¡± She pointed to the door, and it flung open revealing the darkened hallway beyond. Emily wanted to bite back, to resist, but something in her gut told her to obey the woman. Hastily, she rose to her feet, clumsily making her way toward the exit. She¡¯d almost made it when the air was split with a massive shattering sound. She turned her head to see what was happening. She thought she¡¯d see a tidal wave of glass cascading into the room. Instead, all she saw was the narrow woman, standing with her hands outstretched and drenched in sweat. That picture only lasted a moment, as the light pulsed again in its rhythm, and the glass suddenly exploded outward. The woman disappeared in the torrent of shards, and Emily felt a wall of force smash into her like a jackhammer. Right in front of the door, in front of freedom, she felt her legs disappear out from under her, and her head swiftly became acquainted with the feel of hard concrete smashing against it as she blacked out. Blood in the City Chapter 13 The crunch of broken glass, the hiss and crackle of electricity, and an otherwise suffocating silence welcomed Emily back to reality. Her head thundered as her eyes flitted open, taking in a blurry and confused scene around her. Slowly, she put her hand to her skull, feeling it covered with blood, which wouldn¡¯t have been so bad if it had stayed on the inside. She groaned softly as she groped around in the darkness for something to help her to her feet. She found nothing but debris and broken shards of glass that dug painfully into the palms of her hands, making her wince. It wasn¡¯t pleasant, but it distracted her from the thunder in her head, enough that she was able to wobble her way to her feet. The room was wrecked. The chairs that had filled the room, had been blown to pieces and scattered with the shards of glass from the broken mirror. In the middle of the room, covered in detritus, was the crumpled form of the telepath who had saved her life. She was dead, there was no doubt about it. She¡¯d taken the full force of the blast from Glitch. Even with her powers, it seemed too much for her. Emily hoped she felt it. It was the least she deserved. Turning to the door and not bothering to look back at the destroyed room behind her, Emily shuffled her way unsteadily out of the room. She couldn¡¯t think straight, the pain pulsing in time with her heartbeat beating back anything coherent. She wasn¡¯t sure where she should go. Rather than worrying about coming up with a plan, Emily chose a direction at random and went. The halls were dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the backup lights. What had Glitch done? Emily didn¡¯t know. She didn¡¯t want to think, it hurt too much. Instead, she plowed on, not even sure if there was an end to the path she¡¯d chosen. What would she do if she found the exit? Would she even be able to open it? Emily thought about that idea. She tested a door nearby, grasping the handle and giving as firm a push as she could in her off balance state. It swung open easily, and Emily couldn¡¯t help but shrug. She supposed she shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. It didn¡¯t make any sense to lock everyone down whenever the system went down. She imagined dozens of people trying to scrounge to survive because there wasn¡¯t enough power to operate all the systems, how quickly it would devolve. It almost brought a smile to her face. She kept going, vaguely hoping that she could find the exit and be free at last. She watched the numbers on the doors tick by as she passed them. There were a lot of them, slowly going down with each one she passed. She was so focused on her task that she barely noticed when her foot suddenly collided with a solid object, striking it with a loud metallic clang. The sound reverberated down the empty hallway with an ominous tone, snapping Emily out of her reverie and causing her to tense up nervously. She shrunk down her profile as much as possible, desperately searching the darkness for a place to take cover. There wasn¡¯t any, nothing except the battered metal object she¡¯d struck. Looking closely at it she realized it was a door to one of the many rooms in the facility, crushed and crumpled as though it were a mere tin can that someone had casually discarded and then stepped on. Emily had no idea what had torn the door off its hinges, and she didn¡¯t care to find out. Anything that could muster that kind of force wasn¡¯t anything she needed to tangle with. She moved to skirt around the object in her way when something caught her eye. Painted in now chipped white paint on the front of the door was its number, four-one-one. Rushing hurriedly over the door, Emily flung herself into the room beyond. Everything hit her at once, the darkness of the room, illuminated only by crackling sparks from destroyed electronics, the crunch of broken glass and something sticky underneath her feet, and the shattered tank in the middle of the room. The freak had escaped. With it was a long dark trail of what Emily assumed was blood leading out the way she¡¯d just come. She didn¡¯t know if it was the creature¡¯s blood; she didn¡¯t care. She wanted to leave, to get out of there and never look back. She turned back toward the doorway, ready to continue her escape, only to find herself staring directly into the perpetually calm face of her handler. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. She jumped as they locked eyes, and briefly Emily wondered what to do. Before she could do anything, though, the man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Slowly, he raised a hand to his lips and motioned for her to stay calm. That was difficult as, beyond the man¡¯s face and his gentle grasp on her shoulder, she could see his muscles were bunched and tense. Without saying anything, he motioned for Emily to follow and made his way toward the door, only looking back to see if she complied. She did. The two of them slipped wordless back into the hallway, where the handler began to head back the way that Emily had come. The going was slow, cautious, and the handler frequently stopped to peer hesitantly around blind corners and through shuttered doors. This didn¡¯t make Emily feel any better. The man always had an unflappable air about him, but now he was constantly looking over shoulder as though he was worried something might come out at them at any moment. She wanted to bring it up to him, to ask him what was going on, but she didn¡¯t dare break the precious silence. Silence kept people alive. Instead she just followed through the gloom, hoping her guide wasn¡¯t leading her into the jaws of the enemy. Occasionally, as they went, Emily felt as though the texture of the tile floor was off somehow. Like it wasn¡¯t smooth polish that she¡¯d grown accustomed to, but was now marred somewhat by tiny claws that had scraped against the surface. She also thought, occasionally, that she heard a sound coming from several of the rooms like the low moaning of someone in agony. Then, it became obvious. Long thin grooves gouged into the walls, began to appear. A dark substance was smeared along the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. It was sticky to the touch, clinging to their shoes as they walked. All of this was followed by a low noise, a deep throated growl that echoed throughout the compound, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Both of them froze when they heard it, every muscle in their bodies tensing, ready for combat. Nothing came. Instead they were merely assaulted with the constant noise, droning from every pore of every corridor. They had no choice, they had to press on. With each step they expected an attack that wouldn¡¯t come. Instead, the cacophony only grew louder, crescendoing into a roar that shifted and swirled around them; never becoming truly solid. They went on like that for what felt like ages, the sound pressing downward on them and increasing the already immense pressure bearing them down. Then, suddenly, the handler stopped. Slowly, his hand trembling, he pointed toward a blurry splotch at the end of the corridor they were following. Emily slowly processed it as a lone door, the exit. Just as the gears clicked in her mind, her handler spoke. ¡°Run.¡± He commanded sharply, crisply, authoritatively. Emily nodded and bolted toward the hazy object. She shot down the hallway, grinning broadly as she realized freedom was finally in her grasp. She almost let out a laugh until a dark mass seemingly materialized out of the haze. It was small and indistinct in the gloom, and she didn¡¯t have a chance to wonder what it was, or where it came from. It slammed into her, jolting her off her feet. She slammed into a nearby wall, entangled in a sudden mass of scratching claws and moving appendages. The growl that had pressed down on them for so long boiled over, filling her mind and body; suffocating her. Emily flailed, trying desperately to extricate herself from the freak that so viciously ripped at her flesh, trying to kill her. It was futile, there was no hope. Emily was sure of it. She was going to die, she was too weak to defend herself. It was over. A powerful fist grabbed hold of the creature, glowing with a burning red light. The creature squealed in pain, writhing and slashing at whoever held it. The smell of burning skin and boiling blood filled the air, as Emily heard the authoritative voice of her handler shout to her again. ¡°RUN!¡± Emily didn''t need to be told twice. Scrabbling to her feet, she hobbled her way toward the door as fast as she could. Screams and grunts of pain filled her ears as she ran, slamming herself into the door and flinging it open. She didn¡¯t look back as she barged through it, plunging herself into the light of a streetlamp illuminating a pristine row of buildings and an otherwise abandoned street. Still staggering from her wounds and swimming through rivers of pain, Emily pressed into the night and away from the nightmare behind her. Off in the distance, she could just make out a light, flickering on the horizon, and Emily couldn¡¯t help the feeling that welled up inside her as she saw it; hope. Blood in the City Chapter 14 ¡°Today marks the third day since the downtown blockades were erected. Authorities have pushed back the rioting crowds and instituted an 8 p.m. curfew. All civilians living around the downtown area are advised to stay in their homes and only travel for essential purposes. The government expects to finish quelling the protests in just a few more days, but until then it¡¯s requested that all citizens abstain from gathering in large groups until further notice.¡± Zach crouched down, switching off the portable radio sitting beside him, drowning out the screams of agony he had diligently cultivated in the room. His sleeves were rolled up and his face was covered in blood. It wasn¡¯t his own, it belonged to the man laying face down in front of him. The man¡¯s suit was torn, his face barely recognizable, and several of his limbs jutting out at odd angles. He¡¯d been a tough nut to crack. It had taken some special effort to get him to talk. Zach had to practice it on several others before he had the process refined enough to work. They didn¡¯t make it, not that Zach really cared. Accidents happened; it was life. He¡¯d been hunting as many suits as he could after his talk with Vinny. It hadn¡¯t been hard. Somehow a rumor had gotten out that a man was traveling with a normal human and wanted to talk. It had been a simple matter from there to apprehend them and begin the process of extracting as much information as possible. Names of people, places, and organizations were dropped in between screams of agony as Zach worked. He didn¡¯t recognize most of them and figured they were probably some low level thugs or officials, not that there was usually much of a difference or that he cared much. There was only one thing he wanted, which was conspicuously absent from the lips of each suit he interrogated. There was no mention of Emily; it was as if she¡¯d vanished without a trace. Zach was about to declare the whole thing a loss and finish his work with his last victim, when one last name slid from the suit¡¯s busted, swollen lips. It was barely audible, a breathed gasp of a faint rumor that Zach couldn¡¯t help but believe instantly. The suits and secrecy, the kidnapping and bribery, it all made sense that someone with deep pockets and something to hide would be behind it. The rot of the city went all the way to the top after all. It was only fitting that Zach would have to make his way to the office of the governor to get to the bottom of this lake of poison. A quick pop and a snapped neck later, and Zach could already feel the ideas flooding his mind in a confused vortex. There was so much to do, and he didn¡¯t exactly know how he was going to do it. All he knew was that he was going to get Emily back, and he was going to do his best to take a blowtorch to everything else on his way out. He stood up, rolling down his sleeves and smoothing out his clothes, oblivious to the blood he smeared all over them. His new mission was going to be tricky, and he knew he didn¡¯t have much time. He¡¯d already wasted so much of that precious resource extracting information, a process he knew wasn¡¯t over; not yet anyways. Still, now was the time to act. Zach just hoped that what he had was enough, that he was strong and smart enough to pull this off. He was willing to die trying, but for Emily¡¯s sake he hoped he didn¡¯t have to. It took Zach longer than he wanted to reach the city¡¯s center, where the governor¡¯s mansion lay in all its decadence. He¡¯d been forced to hitch a ride on the city¡¯s mass transit, a difficult and risky task as it was reserved exclusively for the well-to-do and those on official city business. It took all of the caution and stealth he could muster to slip aboard one of the several bullet trains that navigated the city. Even in spite of that, he found he was forced to make several interchanges a normal person wouldn¡¯t to ensure he wasn¡¯t caught. The last thing he needed was to make a scene if he could avoid it. What would usually have been a trip of a few hours became one that lasted all day, ending with the blaze of the setting sun in between the skyscrapers, rising like mountains in the inner city. Not that Zach had time to watch sunsets, as he barreled through the now rapidly darkening streets toward his ever approaching goal. Things had gone surprisingly smoothly thus far. He¡¯d encountered several guards and officials, all of whom were on high alert, but none seemed to pay him attention. Zach thought that was odd as he charged through the empty streets of downtown. It wasn¡¯t until he heard shouting and loud banging noises that he slowed down, a thought occurring to him. He slammed a fist into a nearby wall as he berated himself for being so blind. The riots had been going on for weeks, and all the streets were blocked off. Any hope for a stealthy entrance into the governor¡¯s mansion vanished as he was suddenly forced to adjust his whole plan. His pulse throbbing with rage at himself and his new situation, he had an idea. It wasn¡¯t a good idea, he knew it, but it was a plan. As casually as he could, with his pulse hammering in his chest, Zach walked toward the sounds of commotion. As darkness continued to fall, they grew louder, being joined by flashing lights and piercing screams. It felt like forever, moving as calmly as he was toward the impending chaos that he knew he¡¯d find. Still, he was caught off guard when he arrived to find the city police engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a throng of protesters, the shattered remnant of a steel blockade scattered about the street. They packed the street elbow-to-elbow and had somehow managed to break through the barrier the police had set up to keep them from the governor¡¯s mansion. Now they were forcing the police back by sheer force of numbers and whatever abilities they had, rending the air with the sounds of violence as the two groups struggled against each other. Bodies lined a good portion of the street being trampled on by the press, as people from both sides cried out in pain. Zach was impressed, all things considered, even if he was also a little annoyed. The city made it a priority to have the most powerful and dangerous men it could find in its employ, and still they were being overrun. It was slow, the mass of resisting guards being fairly sizable, but it was only a matter of time until they were driven back by sheer numbers alone. Zach couldn¡¯t resist a smirk. There was no way the city officials could¡¯ve ever seen that coming. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Still, he found it difficult to push through the battling masses as bullets and undefined energy blasts whizzed around him and he was forced to elbow past protestor and officer alike. One man took an energy beam to the chest, falling right at Zach¡¯s feet and nearly tripping him, just as another beam was sent his way. He narrowly dodged it, as it crackled into a protester beside him. Not that he paid much attention to it, he didn¡¯t have time. He didn¡¯t care about some civil war erupting around him; he cared about Emily, and with every inch the protesters got closer to the governor¡¯s mansion, the harder it would be for him to obtain the information he needed. He just didn¡¯t have time. In a fit of rage and frustration, Zach decided to throw caution to the winds. Shoving aside the throng that pressed against him, he charged forward. It was stupid, suicidal even. As he crashed through the broken chaos of combat straight toward the collected frontline of the remaining guards. He expected them to raise their guns, to shoot him down on the spot, but all he saw were their stunned faces as he shot like a bullet towards them. The collision was predictable, Zach¡¯s enhanced strength powering him through the petrified guards in his way. They crumpled as he made impact, grinding their bodies into the asphalt as he trampled over them, completely unimpeded by their existence. Before the guards could recover from their shock, the mobbing crowd of protestors filled into the gap created by Zach¡¯s sudden rampage. This left Zach completely unmolested, as he crashed through the crowd and out into the open, right in front of the mansion. It was a pristine building, tall and proud, made of chiseled marble and other stones Zach couldn¡¯t identify. It would¡¯ve been breathtaking, with massive columns and twisting spires that dwarfed even other works of its kind, but Zach didn¡¯t have time to focus on such trivialities. His feet cracked the perfect stone of the building¡¯s marble porch as he launched himself toward the massive, solid front doors at the front of the structure. They shattered under his powerful strength, splintering inwards and bursting out into the mansion¡¯s foyer in scattered pieces. Zach stood in the doorway, his fist split and bleeding from the sheer power of the impact but otherwise braced for a fight. None came. The foyer of the mansion, decked with a luxurious carpet that was now destroyed by shattered wood fragments and ornate portraits lining the walls, was utterly devoid of people. There were no guards waiting in the wings to attack him or officials to harangue him. There was no one. Zach wasn¡¯t certain what to do. He hadn¡¯t expected to make it this far, especially not like this. For a moment he just stood there, contemplating what to do looking around the room for some sign of a trap or his target. All he saw were dozens of doors lining the foyer and a massive staircase leading to the next floor that dominated the center. He clenched his fist in frustration. It would take forever to search this place, assuming the governor was even here and hadn¡¯t just been evacuated somewhere safe. There was no way he could do it before the protestors burst in and brought the whole place down. He needed more time; he always needed more time. In a fit of rage, Zach slammed his fist into the massive door frame beside him, feeling it buckle under his might. At the same time, he let out a bellow of inhuman rage that ripped through the house, loud enough to wake the dead. It wasn¡¯t long, just enough for Zach to feel the pressure of his emotions deflate inside him, before he slumped to his knees; defeated. ¡°Well, that is quite a house call.¡± Came a calm, baritone voice over Zach¡¯s head. Looking up, he saw that it came from an unmistakable old man standing atop the stairway in the middle of the room. He was tall, standing rigidly straight despite his age, and clad in an exquisite suit. In one hand he clasped a magnificent cane and his face, covered in a luxurious beard, held a hint of entertainment in the eyes. It was as though he found his situation to be funny. Still, he had an air of confidence about him, as though he was someone who was used to wielding authority. ¡°I have to admit,¡± The governor laughed, his voice light and mirthful. It was surprisingly clear for someone of his age. ¡°I was expecting guests, but I wasn¡¯t expecting one quite like you. Is there a reason you¡¯re bothering me right now? I am kind of in the middle of something.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Emily?¡± Zach demanded, not bothering to mince words. The old man stared at him blankly. ¡°Who?¡± He asked, confused. ¡°WHERE¡¯S EMILY!?¡± Zach roared, lunging up the stairs at the elderly man and grabbing him by the collar. The governor, for his part, remained placid as he was lifted off the ground by Zach¡¯s might. He made no comment to Zach¡¯s accusations, responding with only a mildly befuddled expression. This only enraged Zach even more, blood pounding up to his head and further clouding his already obscured senses. Before he could get a grip on himself, he swung his fist; intent on taking off the man¡¯s head. It landed with such force that it wrench the governor out of his grip, sending him flying through a wall and into a nearby room. Silently kicking himself for his loss of control, Zach picked his way into the now destroyed room. It was a mess of splinters, dust, and furniture, and, in the center of ruin, the crumpled heap of the old governor; unmoving. Zach wasn¡¯t sure what to do. He¡¯d just ruined his only opportunity to find Emily, all because he couldn¡¯t control himself. How many times had he hammered it into her that mind was better than might, and yet, whenever things got tricky, he always resorted to his fists? He couldn¡¯t take it; he fell to his knees, sobbing in anger and defeat. Everything blurred as great tears dropped from his eyes, rolling down his angular cheeks and splashing onto the dust-covered rubbled beneath him. His reverie went on for several minutes, before it was suddenly interrupted by a smooth baritone laugh that suddenly broke through the cloudy air. The crumpled body of the governor, still folded over itself in the center of the rubble, shook with mirth before suddenly unfurling itself. The governor¡¯s luxurious coat was tattered and ruined and there was a massive purple mark on his face where Zach had hit him, but otherwise he bore no sign of damage. In fact, most of the damage he had appeared to be only superficial at most, even though Zach knew by the strength he¡¯d used that the man should¡¯ve been dead. ¡°That was quite a punch.¡± He said, feeling his face tenderly. ¡°Whoever this Emily is, you must really want to find her.¡± ¡°I do.¡± Zach responded flatly. He had to visibly strain to keep his emotions from showing, and he refused to repeat his previous mistake. He couldn¡¯t let his feelings take control, no matter what. ¡°Let¡¯s just say, a trustworthy source told me that you were connected to rounding up normal people for some reason. ¡°Well now,¡± The governor responded, cracking his neck and a smile at the same time. ¡°A normal person attached to such a powerful person as yourself, that is interesting. That¡¯s always been a subject of interest to me, you know that? Why do our powers work the way they do?¡± ¡°I really don¡¯t care.¡± Zach returned sharply. ¡°I just want to know what you¡¯ve done with Emily.¡± ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll tell you.¡± The governor surrendered, raising a finger in the air. ¡°On one condition. Being nigh invincible breeds arrogance, humble me and I¡¯ll tell you everything you need to know.¡± ¡°Oh, you will.¡± Zach replied, cracking his knuckles and grinning. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure of that. You¡¯re tough, but everyone has limits.¡± The governor just glanced at Zach¡¯s bleeding hand and smiled softly. ¡°Yes,¡± He returned. ¡°Yes, they do.¡± Blood in the City Chapter 15 Emily didn¡¯t pay much attention as she hobbled through the night, as fast as her pained and aching body could take her. Her eyes were fixated on the light on the horizon, flickering and flashing erratically as she got closer and closer. She was so focused, so intent on her desperate escape, that she didn¡¯t even register the bangs, pops, and screams that crescendoed as she came ever nearer. Soon it was a cacophony, reverberating through the ground and buildings and filling the air, but still Emily didn¡¯t notice. She saw the pack of people ahead of her, locked in their struggle, and saw her salvation. Among the crowd she would be alone, a nameless face in a sea of others just like her. No one would be able to find her; she¡¯d be safe at last. Her bubble of hope popped as soon as she reached the outskirts of the mob, and a sudden shriek rang out right behind her. It was high and inhuman, halfway between a screech and a howl. Emily didn¡¯t need to look back to know what had made the sound, she already knew. Still, she couldn¡¯t resist a look over her shoulder as she stumbled forward, more desperate than ever to get away. Gone was the beast of claws and fangs that had nearly taken her life such a short time ago. Now, sprinting at a breakneck pace toward the densely packed mob, was a beast of a radically different kind. Its body was covered in coarse, dark brown fur that was blackened in places as though it had been burned. It moved on all fours, with powerful legs ending in massive hand-like appendages. Each hand was tipped with wickedly curved claws that dug into the cement as the creature sprinted down the street. All sounds of combat died as the monster charged, a gleeful expression stretched across its wide, toothy maw as it surveyed the veritable feast that was spread before it. The mob just stared at the thing, slack-jawed and befuddled at the sight of the freak. No one had ever seen anything like it, and no one knew what to do. The only motion outside of the creature¡¯s sprint was Emily, pushing through the paralyzed crowd, more desperate than ever to just get away. The ice broke in a single shattering instance. Emily didn¡¯t see it, still pushing her way down the street as was. Still, there was no mistaking the pivotal moment, and the chaos that exploded from it. Bones cracked audibly as the freak collided with its first target, ripping simultaneously into the poor person¡¯s flesh and tearing it to shreds. For a split second there was no other sound outside of the vicious evisceration. Then, someone screamed. People moved, firing guns and throwing objects and firing energy blasts hoping to land a quick-killing blow. It was hopeless. The creature was too fast, dodging what projectiles it could and ignoring those it couldn¡¯t. The screams and gurgles of the wounded and dying filled the air in a twisted cacophony of combat that made the previous struggle seem like nothing more than a morning picnic. Emily found herself swimming upstream as the crowd rushed against her. It was a unified front of protestors and officials alike, all bent on stopping the monster¡¯s wild rampage. She had to admire their bravery even as she fought through the pack. She didn¡¯t know where she was heading, not for certain. She only knew she had to break free. She pressed for a long time, too long. She was already exhausted and had lost a lot of blood. Her vision was starting to get hazy and her body was slowing down, when she noticed the crowd was starting to thin. She was almost there. Behind her the screams were growing louder and more numerous, but she didn¡¯t care she was almost there. She could see the open space and the looming mansion ahead of her, and she finally had hope Then it hit her, a massive force in the back that flung her face forward and sent her skidding painfully across the ground. Flooded with adrenaline and covered in fresh blood, Emily twisted, intent on facing her would-be killer head on. It wasn¡¯t what she expected. Up to this point, the freak had always been relatively small, in the tank, lurking in corridors, and sprinting toward the crowd. Now the lithe creature, with razorlike claws, was nowhere to be found. Replacing it was a massive beast, taller than even Zach and built with an equally impressive amount of muscle. It stood on two, powerful legs that were covered with a plate carapace. It was pockmarked with scorch marks and bleeding wounds that Emily could only assume it had acquired during its rampage. Staring straight at her face, was a horrifying visage of eyes and a massive, beak-like maw filled with teeth. It seemed to pay no heed to the mutilated bodies around it as it stared her straight in the face, as though daring her to fight. Slowly, Emily closed her eyes, letting her head drop gently against the ground. She¡¯d tried, but now it seemed it was time. She couldn¡¯t run away any more. It was over. If only she¡¯d been faster or had a little more time. She smiled when she thought of how she¡¯d almost made it to the mansion. It probably wouldn¡¯t have saved her, but something about it seemed almost poetic. She¡¯d been struck down before reaching the hope of freedom in her mind. It was a pity, she was so close. Her thoughts were interrupted by the slow almost lazy approach of the beast¡¯s maw toward her prostrate body. It was as if it was taking its time, savoring its kill. Its jaws opened, blasting out the rank breath of freshly devoured flesh and revealing the creature''s bloodstained teeth in all of their hideous glory. Then, they were closing. For Emily, it felt as though the world was collapsing in on her, falling away to a dark, rotten void. In an instant it would crush and consume her, and it would all be over. Except, the moment never came. Before the jaws could snap shut, the air was rent with the sound of crumbling stone and splintering wood. The maw jerked forcibly away from Emily, as something collided with the creature. Emily blinked rapidly as the dim light of the darkened courtyard rushed back into her eyes. Hauling herself up into a sitting position, she looked frantically around trying to figure out what had happened. It didn¡¯t take long for her eyes to land on the culprit, and when they did Emily couldn¡¯t stop the exhilaration and hope that flooded her body. ¡°ZACH!¡± She shouted, a broad grin stretched across her tired and blood streaked face. He was standing on the head of the crumpled freak, tall and powerful, his muscles in full flex as he swung mercilessly at a bearded, elderly man who grinned through broken and bleeding teeth. Zach¡¯s body was covered in cuts and bruises, with both hands drenched in blood, and he looked exhausted. There was a deadly serious expression etched on his face as his head snapped toward Emily at the sound of her voice. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Emily¡­¡± He said, his voice almost a whisper. It was as though he couldn¡¯t quite believe it. In an instant, his muscles relaxed. Still clutching his foe by the collar, he slowly made his way off the fallen beast. ¡°Look at me doing all this work to find you, and you¡¯re just sitting there taking a break. You couldn¡¯t put in a little more effort on your end?¡± He jabbed with a grin as he approached her. His face was stoic, but Emily thought she could make out tears at the edges of his eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve obviously got it handled.¡± Emily returned with a grin. She uneasily made her way up to a standing position. It hurt but she barely felt it as she looked into the eyes of her uncle, filled with joy and hope. She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him in a massive hug. There was no time, though, as suddenly there was a massive rumbling sound. Behind Zach the freak had changed once again. Its body ballooned in size, covering itself completely in thick plates of armor that were covered in jagged spikes. Several clawed appendages sprouted at odd angles from various parts of the creature''s body, and its maw became elongated and alligator-like. ¡°Zach¡­¡± Emily warned as the creature lunged from behind him. There was no time for rational thought, as the creature came down ready to snap shut on the man who¡¯d taken it by surprise. Without hesitating Zach took the old man, still gripped in his clutches and hurled him straight into the gaping mouth of the beast. He crashed through the jagged teeth like a cannonball but only bought a moment¡¯s time as the powerful jaws snapped shut on the hapless man. Even his natural born resistances weren¡¯t enough to stop the snapping and popping sounds that emanated from the beast¡¯s mouth as it turned him into mulch. Still, it bought Zach enough time to launch himself at the creature, slamming his fists in a wicked combination of blows between the beast¡¯s armored plates. He aimed for the joints, the knees, elbows, anything that was exposed. It had a clear and devastating effect, but it was short lived. The freak seemed immune to pain as it lashed out with its various clawed limbs. Zach was forced to lunge away, narrowly avoiding a swipe that would¡¯ve disemboweled him on the spot. He landed gracefully out of the creature''s range, but it pressed the attack; forcing Zach to stay on the defensive. It adapted as it struck, growing its limbs longer or shorter, actively adjusting its muscle mass for maximum effect. It was impressive to watch, but Zach wasn¡¯t pleased as he quickly realized he was in over his head. He wasn¡¯t defenseless. His initial barrage had proven that, and there was no perfect defense, but it didn¡¯t matter if he could never manage to go on the offensive. It didn¡¯t help that he was tired. The governor was tough, and attempting to beat him into submission had taken a lot out of him. He didn¡¯t know how much of this he could take. He could already feel himself slowing down; it was only a matter of time until he made a mistake. Emily saw that as she watched her uncle leap over a leg sweep made by a new fleshy appendage before having to dodge a similar swipe at his head. She needed to do something, but she didn¡¯t have any idea what. Frantically, she searched around, desperate to find something she could use to turn the tide of the battle. Her eyes quickly landed on something metallic glinting in the moonlight by a mangled pile of corpses. She couldn¡¯t tell what it was, but she knew what she hoped it was. She shambled over to it, completely ignored by the two combatants locked in their life and death struggle. It was nothing, a mere glint of light off a shattered wristwatch. Quietly, Emily fumed as she began to scour the bodies looking for a tool, a weapon that she could use to help. She didn¡¯t even notice as Zach took a raking barb across the forearm, tearing the flesh along it and leaving him scrambling frantically away. Before he could recover he was struck by a powerful blow that sent him colliding with the ground, where the beast tried to desperately stamp out the last vestiges of Zach¡¯s resistance. He rolled away from the strikes and onto his feet again, blocking a glancing blow from a long arm that would¡¯ve taken his head off. He then retaliated with a strike of his own, smashing his fist into the arm before it could retreat and reducing the bones inside it to powder. The freak roared in pain, retracting the arm and growing several more in its place, but these were deformed and flopped uselessly; as though the prior damage had stayed with them in the transformation. That was good; it wasn¡¯t unbeatable. Still, what morale boost Zach obtained from that information was quickly snuffed out as the beast, now a bloated mass of writhing limbs, lunged at him once more. It was surprising how quickly it could move, with its size and bulk, but it was almost on top of Zach before he knew what to do. In an impressive feat of gymnastics he was able to avoid it, but only just and not without being scraped by several rapidly growing spines on the way. Inwardly, Zach was thankful that the creature seemed oblivious to the idea of creating a poisonous addition to its repertoire or else he surely wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. Instead, the thing seemed to favor more brute force methods of decimating its prey, and if that hadn¡¯t been Zach¡¯s own area of expertise he most certainly would¡¯ve been dead. Still, it was faster and more powerful in virtually every respect, and he was slowing down; his vision growing hazy as he lost more and more blood. Another blow came flying at his head, that he ducked only to realize that he¡¯d played right into the creature¡¯s metaphorical hands. A powerful mass of flesh sprung from the creature, ramming into Zach like a piledriver. He¡¯d only had moments to raise one of his bleeding arms into a defensive position before it landed, and it hit with an audible cracking noise as it smashed the offending limb and sent him skidding onto his back. The freak was on him before he could move, pouncing with claws extended for the kill. Before it could land, the air was rent with a sudden bang, followed by another, then another. The creature skidded to the side in shock at what had just happened and the sudden, newfound trickles of blood that leaked from between the plates of its already marred flesh. It wasn¡¯t hurt, not really, but it whipped its head rapidly around in search of the newfound threat that had hurt it. It didn¡¯t take long to find. Standing not far off the two combatants was Emily, a smoking gun in her hands. The creature roared in irritation at his puny prey and pulled back on his haunches, preparing for a massive leap. Before it could, though, Zach suddenly sprang up from where he¡¯d been downed. Moving with a speed that only adrenaline could provide with his state, he leapt onto the creature¡¯s back. Digging his fingers in between the creature¡¯s plates with his good arm, he wrenched. It flew off in a spray of blood, causing the beast to writhe in agony; nearly sending Zach flying. Desperate to stay on, Zach reached inside the now gaping hole where the armored plate had been, grasping hold of the tender flesh beneath. It was a poor handhold and came tearing out with ease. Desperate to steady himself, he instinctively squeezed with his thighs; cracking the carapace beneath them. As fast as he could, with as much concentration as he could muster, he began to dig into the wound he¡¯d created. The creature was doing its best to shift it and close it as much as possible, but it took time and energy, neither of which it had in spades at the moment. Instead, Zach used his powerful grip to pull pound after pound of flesh, tendon, and bones from the creature. It wasn¡¯t long until he was up to his shoulder in the beast. Then, his head was submerged, and still, he dug deeper. Emily watched it all happen, helpless once again. Her breath caught as she watched Zach disappear inside the creature even as it attempted to spawn long, barbed tentacles to plunge into the gash after him. It didn¡¯t matter. It was too weak to summon many of them, and the ones that it created were feeble. Bit by bit, the freak¡¯s movements slowed to a crawl until, at last, it stopped moving entirely. Finally, it was over. Blood in the City Chapter 16 Zach sat back, resting his tired body against the mangled corpse of the freak. He was covered in blood, much of it his own. His chest rose and fell gently, as his head drooped downward and his eyes closed. He barely noticed when Emily slid up against him, wrapping her uncle in a gentle hug. ¡°So, that¡¯s it, huh?¡± She said casually as she held him. ¡°I hope so.¡± He replied weakly. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything left.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Emily chuckled, looking around the wrecked square. Bodies were strewn all over the place, mixed in with massive amounts of debris. Vaguely she could make out the sounds of the wounded and dying. It seemed no one had made it out unscathed. Emily thought about that for a moment. ¡°I guess the mayor¡¯s dead, isn¡¯t he?¡± She said suddenly, a realization dawning on her. ¡°Yep.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen to the city?¡± Zach let out a sound that sounded almost like a laugh while at the same time making a halfhearted attempt at a shrug. ¡°Who cares?¡± He muttered. ¡°They¡¯ll figure something out.¡± ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right.¡± Emily returned, giving a shrug of her own. ¡°Of course I am.¡± Zach responded with a slight smile. Emily grinned, but didn¡¯t say anything. She thought about giving him a light tap for his arrogance, but she decided against it. Instead, she just leaned her head on his shoulder. He¡¯d sacrificed so much for her, he deserved a little hubris. As they rested, the sun began to slowly peek out from behind the city¡¯s skyscrapers. Bit by bit, the darkness that had enveloped them for so long, fled from its presence. They¡¯d both seen it hundreds of times before, but this time was different. This felt like a new dawn as Zach forced his eyelids open, and they both watched that great light of hope appear. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± Emily breathed, wide-eyed. Zach just nodded. It really was. They sat that way for hours, just watching the dawn as it appeared. There was a lot they needed to do, but that could wait. For now, they were together, and they were going to make it count.