A beige maze. Klyde. A Close Encounter. A faux beach.
With the die-cast, the crew took its first steps into the facility.
Thomas took point, much to his chagrin. Lopez kept one hand on his shoulder while the other held an SMG with a hair trigger. The crew did the same, except for the bounty hunters. Dell chose to cling to Domitia's back, watching their six.
Thomas led them through the shattered entrance, finding it had once been a decontamination room, clearly the scene of some sort of battle. The tiles had been smashed and scattered, revealing the same smooth white stone that formed the cargo bay. Faucets were smashed or broken off in whatever melee took place here. Ion fusillades had melted tile and stone together, warping them into irregular hills upon walls and floors.
What's more interesting to Domitia, however, is what's missing. No water was dripping from the broken faucets, nor were any pools on the ground. Perhaps it already had drained away, but judging from how some of the drains had been melted or clogged by stone, she had doubts. The more interesting thing that is missing is bodies. Clearly, a fight had taken place here, and judging by the desolation left, some of them must've lost their own personal wars. No remains are seen; there isn't even blood, although something else catches her eye. Mixed in the blast marks and melted tiles, where claw marks are present. Judging by how they wrapped the ceramic and seemed to bleed into one another, they have an acidic property.
After leaving decontamination, the crew finds a bulkhead left partly open, light pouring out from the other side. Slowly, the crew approaches it, Lopez pushing the net-head so he can peer inside. He turns back and motions with his gun to follow in. The bounty hunters enter last, leaving the tile floors behind and stepping onto orange carpet, soft smooth music echoes through the beige halls.
"Says this is a residential block." Thomas voices.
The halls show chaos without evidence of what happened to the people caught in it. The beige wallpaper is torn, burnt, or distorted here and there, with bullet holes tearing up parts of the carpet in focused patches. The signs of a hurried evacuation can be seen as belongings pour out of discarded suitcases. In the mix of all that, Domitia can spy the same claw marks hiding among the other signs of ruin.
"How many people were here?" Clara thinks aloud.
"Doesn't matter now," Sisco interjects.
"You think... those things got them?" Aiden asks.
"Cut the chatter." Lopez taps Thomas on the shoulder, "Where too?"
"Eh, see that's the thing," Thomas looks up, "We got two options," He points directly forward, "That way is the quickest, it'll take us through security, might have to brute force our way through, but it'll be the quickest way to engineering."
"The other?" The veteran asks.
After a moment, Thomas motions the other way, "He squeezes through R&D. It's a roundabout way, but, if I had to guess, it'd be an easier time to get through rather than bust through the police station."
"Yeah, that's smart," Sisco comments, "Cut on through the bio lab of a corp. Have you ever seen a horror reel before, kid?"
"I seen a few," Aiden chimes in.
"Not you, greenhorn."
"If it's any comfort, the tech here isn't nesscarily up to date," Thomas remarks, "I could probably slice us through... But I gotta add, something else is on the network."
"Another net-head?" Dell asks.
"Maybe." Thomas answers, "I don't know what it was, but... I got the feeling of something gazing at me through the code. Feel me?"
"I've never delved, so I can't say I get it," Dell replies.
"Well, the point is I shouldn't delve too deep; I know my limit, and there ain't any killer programs on my deck." The net-head says, giving his wrist deck a loving pat.
"Settled then, lead us to security, Thomas," Lopez says.
They journey onwards, Thomas moving slowly and deliberately, checking his deck off and on as he would pop his head up and check for any strange shapes in the halls. It didn't help that the district had a uniformity to them that made navigating it difficult. The only way to delineate them was landmarks carved into the walls and burnt into the floors by whatever battle raged through them. Doors were left open into rooms that told tales of the people living there. Some were spartan and minimalistic, others were crowded and chaotic, and some had the trappings of a family home.
After zig-zagging through the beige and orange killing ground, they step upon the white cobblestones of a promenade, which forms a t-intersection. Along one side of the great hall, a screen takes up the whole wall. It's set to a dead input and bathes everything in a dull blue light. In the light of that blue screen lies a shopping center, complete with the aesthetics of a tropical resort. As the crew treks down the promenade, they find the shopping center has been the scene of yet another battle.
Stones have been shattered and scattered, stalls had been looted, there contents bleeding out onto the broken street. Decorative street lamps lie on their side, the glass sprawling out in chaotic mosaics which catch the light of that blue screen. Gun fire has torn apart the plastic like drapes, the ones hit with ion melting into pools.
The same smooth music plays through it all, now with faux waves and fake avian songs inner mixing with the melody. The crew marches through it, some chuckling at the flower pattern shirts and wooden cups, all with ridiculous prices. It's clear to Domitia that whoever approved this never understood how home sick this would make someone. It's so fake and so corny that all it does is make someone think of the real thing, and how far, far away they are from having it.
"Down this way," Thomas says, almost unsure for a moment, "Yeah, yeah, down--"
Then, the music stops, and the colors change.
The crew turns back around; a sunset rests upon the broken screen; the cracks in it cross at just the right spot to split the red sun on it in half. Along the horizon, it reads, 'Please leave.' Before the screen flickers from blue, it then moves to an angle of a hallway of the promenade, with the camera focusing on the crew. 'Please leave,' the screen spells out again in blocky text, it subsumed by, 'Experiment in process. Authorized personal only. Please leave.'
"Fucks going on?" Sisco finally asks.
"Plan, boss?" Clara asks.
"Move faster. Someone's watching." Lopez says, "Thomas, get us moving."
"Hang on," Marasia says, looking around a bit, "Wasn't there someone else with us?"
"Klyde," Lopez says, regret in his voice.
Domitia looks around, spying a cigarette lying on the broken cobbles, the last of the embers slowly dying out.
"I... I just saw him." Aiden looks around, panicking, "No, I definitely saw just a few seconds ago, I had my--"
"You lost him, green horn?!" Sisco stomps over, grabbing Aiden by the collar of his suit, "Should leave you here, maybe they need a snack!"
"Sisco put him the fuck down." Lopez orders, "We start fighting each other; we're going to lose."
"Fuck is he even here for?!" Sisco looks over at Lopez, then back at Aiden, "You don't even have hair on your lip, kid; you should've stayed home!"
The kid then strikes Sisco across the face; he touches his lip, and blood appears on the glove. "Oh, I'm going to--"
Domitia steps between them, Dell appearing on her shoulder, "Calm the fuck down."
"I am calm," Sisco retorts.
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"Doesn't look like it to me." Domitia looms over Sisco, "Fall in. Or we'll leave you behind."
Sisco looks over to Lopez, as if he where waiting for support, yet his boss simply shrugs, "Don't look at me, I ain't bailing you out of this."
"Fine." Sisco jabs a finger toward Aiden, "Don't fuck up again, kid."
The crew begins its trek from the faux beach, the words still flashing up on the screen, 'Please leave,' and the new phrase, 'Safety Not Guaranteed,' joining it as they make their way from the promenade and through another set of shattered sliding glass doors. Crunching over the glass, the crew comes back onto the orange carpet. However, the halls are far more clean and orderly. Here and there, signs can be seen, designating certain departments and meeting rooms, themed after some sort of product line Lazarus had a hand in.
"He didn't vanish..." Domitia looks over her shoulder, finding Aiden's eyes looking to meet hers, "I swear. I saw him, he went into one of the shops, I didn't know what to do, the screen and all that happened and..." He trails off, clearly in over his head.
"Kid doesn't matter now," Dell intervenes on Domitia's behalf, "Jobs like this have their risks, and Klyde knew them when he signed up for this."
"Yeah, but..." He pauses as he catches Sisco glaring at him, causing him to shrink away.
"Focus up," Domitia speaks, "We're not out of this yet, we will morn him later."
They pass into a cube farm, the workspaces left entirely untouched, the gentle glow of screens illuminating some of the desks, giving some insight into the people who worked here. Small nick nacks here and there from vacation spots across the galaxy. A collection of miniature mechs lined the border of one cube, set against boxy-looking figurines on the other side. Ribbons and a still floating balloon, 'Happy Birthday' written across one of them in glossy white letters. It's a sobering moment for Domitia that despite how faceless these corporations are, there are, or in this case where, people who live here. Normal people with relatively normal lives. Now, all gone, taken by something above their pay grade.
"Security is just ahead, down this hall," Thomas motions, pointing left with his index finger.
"Following." Lopez answers, "Bellator, need your big gun up front."
"Understood."
Domitia shifts forward, ion lance charging as she advances. While the entities seem subdued for the moment, the fact remains that they're going through the security wing of this facility. The likelihood of something, someone, or a mix of the two that might cause them trouble warrants the need for the bellator to take point.
They finally leave the orange carpet and beige walls for white tiles and eggshell walls, which bear the scars of a battle. Here, the signs were far more pronounced, with great gashes in the walls indicating where heavy ordinances laid waste to unseen targets. The path Thomas led the crew down seemed to lead them toward more destruction, yet no bodies could be seen. Occasionally, a discarded weapon would be found in what might've been a fighting position, or a bit of armor lie among the ruins.
Finally, they came upon it. Before the entrance to Security a series of barricades block the way, with weapon platforms for heavy plasma and ion weapons still standing, awaiting their gun crews to make war with them. Inner mixed with them are more concerning sights - security drones.
Three of them remain standing, a fourth having been bisected by an energy blast of some kind, its components lie in a melted heap like viscera. Domitia's HUD identifies them as 'Webster Security Automatons.' They are bulky giants with rounded panels painted a dull blue. Each of their arms ends in large metal hands, the fingertips of which have spikes that drip with ichor, the palms housing ion repeaters.
They advance past the empty stage which had held the last stand of the security forces. Thomas pushes past Domitia, approaching the door first. He feels around it, following a seam barely noticeable to the eye with a finger. Finding something, he reaches for the tool pouch on his hip, producing a metal ruler, which he slides into the seam. The crunch of metal and the accompanying pop from the wall echo through the empty facility. He reaches inside, pulling out wires like a diviner would pull viscera from livestock. Lopez looms over him, the veteran trying to divine what his intentions were.
"Feeling around mostly," Thomas feels Lopez's glare, "Working with what I got."
"Work faster." Lopez orders, he points the finger at Domitia, then jabbing it at the door, "If the net-head can't get it open, bring it down. It'll make noise, but we're on the clock."
"Understood," Domitia replies.
The sound of servos turning catches Domitia's attention, and one of the security drones moves. Its bubble-shaped head looks about, its visor glowing a deep red as it adjusts itself to be more upright, towering over even the bellator. The robot then turns its attention to Domitia, a blue dot appearing at the very center of the bot's visor.
"Identify." The word is both spoken and written upon its visor.
"Oh hey!" Dell rises up onto Domitia's shoulder, raising one hand to wave at the bot. "Listen. We're just with the company. Here, doing a little maintenance is all."
Thomas proceeds to hasten his work while the rest of the crew begins to tighten their formation. The bot turns its head to Dell.
"Compliance, not detected. Present Identification," The bot's arms raise as it fully powers up; it turns, taking one stomping step towards the bounty hunters, "Force is--"
It stops, freezing midway through raising one of it's metal hands. The visor returns to a dark black, before it lights up a bright white,. It's arms fall to it's side, and it takes a step back.
"Hello. Please leave the facility. The facility is currently undergoing an experiment."
The voice is elegant, too sophisticated for a simple drone. Domitia begins to put the pieces together in her head of what is actually speaking to her, and while she doesn't rule out a net-head, it's always been rumored that Lazarus dabbled in True Intels.
"Afraid we can't do that." Lopez steps forward towards the bot, "Whatever's going on here, it's killing folks. We're not going to let that continue."
The bot turns its head to look at Lopez, "Please understand, Lazarus is doing this for the greater good of all. We have been committed to this for four-hundred and fifteen three years--"
"Cut the shit," Lopez pulls out a modified plasma cutter, it lighting up with power, "Don't need to take this from you. I get it's your job, but no amount of money is worth running a facility that's killed everyone in it and is now killing my boys. Now, I know that's just a drone you're working through, but I'll find your ass if you don't leave. Now!"
The bot is silent for a moment, "I cannot leave this facility. The experiment must proceed. Please. Leave."
It's then that Domitia notices a haze coming from the end of the hall. For a moment, she believes it to be a marriage, but then she realizes what it is. The experiments linger on the edge of the fortifications, watching the scene unfold as they wait to see if the machine will intervene on their behalf and leave them an easy meal. The bot seems to notice this as well, its head turning a full one-eighty looking down the hall. It then turns back to Lopez.
"I cannot intervene in the protection of you, or any of your co-workers. It would violate the parameters of the experiment. Please. Leave. Thank you." The bot's screen then blinks from white to red once more.
"Force is authorized." The bot's hand reaches for Lopez, but Domitia's maul meets it first, shattering it.
"They're here!" Domitia points with her maul, "The Revenants!"
"The what?!" Marsia exclaims.
"I... I see them!" Aiden announces, stepping forward and firing his SMG wildly.
The rounds seemingly go nowhere, but a burst earns him blood that spatters over walls as something for a moment blinks in and then out of reality.
Lopez growls, "Hell with it! Saturate the fucking hall!" He pulls his SMG out and begins hosing the hallway, with the crew following the same.
Bursts of yellowish ichor stain the halls and walls, vanishing as soon as it manifests. The figures become more visible, there outlines coming to reality like sketched outlines of a humanoid. One of them falls over briefly revealing a mess of pale flesh and brass which is quickly subsumed into the pocket of nothingness they inhabit.
Despite losing one of its hands, the drone does not relent and turns its assault against Domitia. The bellator has the rare problem of going up against a heavier, taller foe. Still, she does not relent, opting to buy time for a fully charged ion shot. She weaves through its blows, sparks spraying off her as she barely avoids a direct hit. To retort against the glancing hit, she delivers a center mass strike with her ion lance. The bot falls over, sparking and then burning as it crashes to the ground.
Another one of the security drones activates, stomping into the formation of workers, a fist nearly taking Clara's head; she barely survives thanks to Lopez swiftly pulling her back. The bellator replies, charging toward the metal giant, only to be sidelined by the other. She reels back, barely staying on her feet, the one who intercepted her closing the distance, its guns dry but its fury unrelenting. It slams both fists into the ground, missing Domitia and shattering the tile. Domitia fires a charged ion shot, melting part of its orb-shaped head. Despite this, it raises back up and strikes at the bellator with spiked fingers and clenched fists.
Its iron partner stomps past it and flanks the bellator, Dell barely having a chance to evade its footfalls as it charges by. The two bots catch Domitia in a pincer, and she has very little room to maneuver. She manages to get a strike in with her maul, crippling one melted-headed one's knees, causing it to kneel. Domitia ends the other rightly with a focused shot through the chest, causing it to crumple over in a burning heap of metal.
The last one strikes out with one hand, which is batted away by Domitia's maul, shattering it, and in the process sending shrapnel scattering over something unseen which stalks towards Marsia. Distracted, Domitia goes to blast the revenant with her ion lance but the bot catches her arm.
"You will comply!" The bot then wrenches Domitia's arm up, the shot blasting into the ceiling, the pain in her shoulder causing her to cry in agony.
The bot begins to twist, trying to tear her lance and her arm clean off, but before it gets the chance, Dell intervenes. The grumlian charges up its arm, shoving the barrel of his SMG into the arm joint and dumping the mag. The arm loses function, falling limp, allowing Domitia to get free of the hold.
"Dell! Clear!" The bellator recalls her partner.
The grumlian bounds away, allowing the bellator to land a charged lance shot through the bots iron heart. The security drone tries to remain kneeling as it cooks up. Domitia turns around, frantically looking for Marsia, only to see no one.
"There's no power to fucking door!" Thomas cries out.
"Bellator!" Lopez shouts over the melee, "Get it open!"
Wordlessly, Domitia strides over to the door, finding the edge of the bulkhead and beginning to lift; her servos and joints groan as she lifts the door open and over. With one last push and a victorious growl, the bulkhead opens up. As the bellator holds the door, the rest of the crew floods into the darkness and away from the revenants. As the last one filters in, Domitia pushes the door up with the last of her strength and rolls in. The bulkhead comes crashing down, and something splatters underneath it, sending pale flesh and metal dripping with yellow ichor splashing into the security wing.
The crew is silent for a moment, as they collectively take a mental head count.