Two thousand people were once in this place.
"How? What happened to them?"
"Beats me, the bastards unleashed what they don't understand; it's not like the first time either; isn't that how the empire fell in the first place?" Eric shrugged.
"... the Night of Castille?"
Eric stared for a couple of seconds before eventually saying. "I answered enough of your questions already, kid. It's your turn now; you can join me or be on your way..." He trailed off, nodding at the supposed exit, his voice growing cold once more. "Or are you going to stand in my way?"
I shook my head. "I don't want to stand in your way; it just... isn't convincing."
I can understand why he doesn't feel threatened by the Shredders since he could avoid their path thanks to his Blessing, which makes his need for teammates not a requisite for his safety. But that doesn't mean he is out of danger either, especially in this maze-like place.
Furthermore, Blessings have tolls. His is no exception. He can't keep his senses active indefinitely.
In other words, his actions are riskier for him than the situation may lead one to believe.
"You don't strike me as someone that will take... justice for others."
"You are stretching your luck, kid," he hissed. "Don't think I don't know what you are doing, waiting for that bitch."
Of course, he would sense her.
"Did you forget what my Blessing is, officer?" I smiled while hoping he wouldn't notice the tremor in my hands. "It has something to do with guns, and there is a sniper rifle right in my hold. Trust me, I don't miss, and I certainly don't need Bell's help for that."
Haah, what an onion!
Bluffing is not a skill exclusive to politicians; businessmen are good at it too.
I can't activate my blessing.
But he doesn't need to know that.
"Are you threatening me?"
"I want to get out of here as much as you want me out of your way, officer. I simply don't want to be a minced corpse when that happens, something you don't seem to mind."
He snorted and then shook his head. "I'm not doing this for others, kid."
"You were one of the victims they experimented on?" I said with a hint of surprise mixed in my voice as my gaze lowered to Alec. The team leader's state seems to worsen by the second, with him barely holding onto his consciousness.
He may die out of blood loss rather than a bullet, at this rate.
Though I didn't want to admit it, a part of me wanted that to happen, preferably before Bell arrived. It could be another way out.
"A victim? Yes. My family was a victim, but that happened way before the gods' meddling," he sighed before looking at the dying man at his feet, undisguised hatred in his eyes. "Do you remember, bastard? Corsia City, eight years and five months ago, do you remember?" Kneeling, he pushed Alec's dropping head with his gun. "I'm talking to you bastard, do you remember, Albert Benjamen Reelt, or did your memory turn to ashes just like you did to him, you—"
"Put your gun down. Now!" I was startled by a sudden yell next to me.
Bell!
The woman, contrary to what her shout may indicate, isn't all that healthy. Her face shone from sweat, her breath labored, with one hand on the wall to support herself and the other equipped with her handgun, shakily pointing it at Eric.
The person at the end of the two barrels, however, didn't seem surprised or fazed. Instead, he was way calmer than ever. Standing up, he smiled. I have a bad feeling about this.
"Eight years I dreamed of this day, eight years of never-ending nightmares... and you expect me to just step down now that I can finally get what I so long desired?"
"Drop your weapon, First Lieutenant Kelliv. Now."
An oppressive silence falls on the room; neither side moves. The air felt tense and heavy, and time seemed to stretch as both parties waited for something. As I alternated my gaze between Bell and Eric, I felt my palms sweating.
This is getting out of hand... it wasn't in the hands in the first place, but she is too worked out.
The tense atmosphere was broken by Eric's laughter.
"Dig two graves if you want revenge — someone once told me that. I didn't get it at that time. Not the meaning behind the saying, that... that I understood it perfectly. What I didn't get is why he believed those words could be effective in any shape or form for someone who made revenge his purpose. I mean, think about it: if you give up on your revenge for fear of death, then what is taken from you is clearly insignificant since it's less important than your dear life. Something like that certainly doesn't warrant revenge, right?" He paused for a moment, his smile widening.
"In the course of my journey, I also met hapless people who weren't afraid of death, swearing revenge even if it cost them their lives. What a strong resolve that is; really, they are so unviable, they... they are still alive after all... what do you think, Vic, Mira? Am I a person that will abandon his revenge out of fear of death, or am I someone that won't mind dying for the bloody cause?"
Tsk. I don't like where this is going.
"They burned my father, my mother, my wife, and took my little Alin from me... do you think they are worthless? You can disregard them however you like. Asking me to give up is the same as admitting their lives and deaths are insignificant. It's inacceptable, yet... yet I can't swear on my life either because..." His smile fell, and with a resolutely cold voice, he added as his arm moved. "I'm already dead."
[Click]
I shifted my sniper rifle swiftly.
Bang.
The deafening sound of the gunshot echoes through the room and reverberates through the bones as it ricochets off the walls and floors. Blood poured soon after from the drilled hole in his forehead. His lips parted, expelling his last breath; his eyes were open and dull as life seeped out of his body. All signs point to one truth: Alec is dead.
An oppressive silence settled in.
"... why" Bell's eyes were wide open in shock; their focus, however, wasn't on the Captain's dead body but on the muzzle pointed at her.
"Drop your weapon, Bell." I said, my voice as flat as my expression while moving back to keep both armed individuals within my visual field.
The numbers in the bottom center of my vision spiked—more than it's admissible. The Bar Mode's decrementing rate is 33% faster.
[24.8 seconds Stale State operation]
[Unable to determine the degree the emotions influence the Bar Mode >>> Need further calculations]
[Automatic procedure initiated]
[Start memory recovery]
[Memory recovered successfully]
[Unable to determine 47% "Lifebuoy Plan" repercussions >>> Need further calculations]
[Unable to determine 87% memory manipulation's repercussions >>> Need further calculations]
["Lifebuoy" state: success]
[16.1 seconds Stale State operation]
Data and unsealed information poured in as I got the full picture.
"Lifebuoy Plan" is the procedure I devised to counter the recent irrational decisions I previously registered. The plan was developed the moment I ingested TS3.
The drug had successfully granted further cerebral energy, enough to set an automatic protocol and to allow minor memory manipulation — which locked information concerning the "Lifebuoy Plan."
The plan itself, however, had more issues than estimated. The inaccessibility of the hyper-focused Mode, while "Lifebuoy Plan" was running in the background, is the most concerning and disastrous problem.
["Lifebuoy Plan" labeled highly defective]
Now, to the next course.
"I won't repeat. Drop your weapon."
Bell looked at me in disbelief before eventually dropping her handgun without much hesitation. She smiled bitterly. "I see, so this is your blessing, huh, Dumdum?"
I didn't answer. It's unnecessary. Instead, I directed my field of view to Eric, who is equally stunned, undoubtedly by my actions. "Give me all TS3 on your person." I said with the usual flat voice.
[15.7 seconds remain]
I need to extend the duration until I'm out of the danger zone. The TS3 stored in my coat's left pocket will expand the course significantly, however...
[Unable to determine the extent TS3 enhances the Bar Mode >>> Need further calculations]
The possibility of requiring more than one TS3 is high. Furthermore, any hostile action taken against Bell would heighten the emotional numbers and, in consequence, increase the decrementing rate of Bare Mode further. It was raised to 38.2% after she dropped her weapon.
Eric lifted his eyebrows and then burst out laughing. "I see, you made the right choice, kid. You won't regret it." He reached up to his backpack and shuffled inside it. He appeared relaxed, but I can detect from his tense muscles, the positioning of his body, and the swift glances in our direction; his guard is up.
"Here you go; that is all I have on me," he said, taking out a transparent tube and tossing it to me. I didn't need to move my eyes to follow the tube before catching it; anything within my field of view was absorbed.
Unscrewing the lid with the coordinated dexterity of my left-hand fingers, I ingested the substance.
[Bar Mode - 100%]
[Boost effect - 6.3 minutes]
The Bar Mode is defined, and the boost is the additional time before the Bar Mode began declining. If I were to fuse them together...
[Boosted Bar Mode - 1002.1%]
[BBM converted into SS - 419.9 seconds | 6.9 minutes]
The converted BBM to time in the Stale State was under the defect of the detrimental rate, meaning it could be higher had the emotional number been stable.
"We need to start moving." I said, directing to Eric.
"Yeah, of course," he nodded as he took the backpack off of the dead person. "But before that," he strode forward. "We need to remove all witnesses," he said coldly as he raised his weapon at the disarmed woman.
[Decrementing rate - 68.5%]
[BBM converted into SS - 288 seconds | 4.8 minutes]
Svelt's muzzle was already on Eric's head level way before his handgun made it halfway.
"What are you doing?" He asked, with signs of controlled anger displayed by the minute twitches of his facial muscles and the tone he employed.
Since the "Lifebuoy Plan" automatically launches, that signifies I was about to take a decision marked as emotionally influenced and high-risk.
"Lifebuoy Plan" malfunctioning bisections aside, killing Eric, a Blessed with a sensory ability and a potentially helpful asset, is illogical and could lead to irreversible endangerment. Though his cooperation is equivocal and unconfirmed, I would have to keep my guard at an all-time high.
However, his ability is indispensable to minimizing the possibility of Shredder's encounter.
Bell, on the other hand, is a sensible variable. Her influence on the Emotional Tally is not low, and in the current situation, it would be counted as adverse. Killing her is not an option, however. The possibility of the hyper-focused mode shutting down due to sudden emotional shock is a near certainty.
... and the potential for an eventual demise without the mode is extremely high.
Bringing her along is not feasible either. There are two major reasons influencing such a decision. The first one is, as stated previously, her hold on the Emotional Tally. In the probable case that an unanticipated fatal events were to overtake her, it will consequently have a negative impact on the Bar Mode. The second reason is her weakened condition.
[Individual Minabell Roney labeled as deleterious liability]
"You should not kill her." I stated.
"Tsk. And why is that? Did you change your mind?"
"Her condition won't allow her to go far, and she is useful."
*
**
***
**
*
Bell didn't utter a word, allowing them to discuss her fate freely. Her insides were an unsettling storm—a smarting concoction of assorted and frantic emotions. She didn't know what to think, nor did she understand what she was feeling.
Not like she ever achieved the last one, not before, and definitely not after the presumed gods deemed her worthy.
'This is not me.'
Bell thought bitterly. Had she been in her good socks, she would have trashed both traitors, regardless of how many bullets they sent her way. She would gamble: kill or get killed.
Her mind wandered as she struggled to stay conscious.
A lot of people besmirched her, running their mouths on how much she was a coward for changing her specialty to sniper, a position that operates from the rear. Though the specialty itself is highly respected and faces demanding missions, it didn't prevent jealous fools from being fools, however.
'Was it the coffee?'
Her thoughts forcefully switched back, by her will, to her less desirable condition. Why did she have to listen to that twit when he demanded she takes the drug? The suicidal bastard had been charmingly convincing. And now the fool that is herself has to listen to their plan for her neck.
She felt her body weaken by the second, but that wasn't what was preventing her from going on a suicide spree. She herself wasn't too sure about it. It is certainly one of the many torrential feelings slicing her insides, but which one?
'It's because of that dumb bastard, for sure.'
Her inability to pull her gaze from the Northen young man is enough proof. But she knows that she can't blame him either. She can't smell anything from him, which is extremely odd; hell, even Shredders smell. Not the foul, putrid odor, but the hungry, voracious smell.
It astounded her. She supposed that his blessing allowed him to hide his emotion, but his dull reaction quickly crossed out that guess to make way for another more unsound one: his blessing cut out his feelings.
She didn't know how that was even possible. Aren't emotions the fuel of blessings? That doesn't make any sense; it's as if you were watering a twig to start a fire. The professor would go crazy for such a discovery.
"We don't fucking need that."
She was pulled out of her haze by the fuss made by the backstabber.
"It's extremely helpful. She will stall the Shredders as we make our escape."
She noted Dumdum's glowing blue eyes dimming a bit. He is running out of time. Ignoring the pang of pain in her abdomen caused by his words, Bell smirked while stealing glances at the gun at her feet.
"What's up, princess? Afraid of a dying woman?"
She may not have been dying, but her body screamed as such.
"You fucking..."
"Eric, if I understand correctly, she isn't on your revenge list, right?"
"Humph. If this comes back to beat our asses in the future, I'll fucking break your noise... again."
Oh, look at them acting all chummy toward each other—to think they were just like a cat and a dog not long ago.
The rotten mouth snorted and looked at her for a couple of seconds before eventually heading to the right-side exit while not showing his back.
"If you use this," Dumdum handed her the handgun she dropped earlier. "The possibility of staying alive will increase."
She didn't know why, but that pissed her off, so she said the first thing that came to her feverish mind. "That hat is not yours; hand it to someone that doesn't have the avocation of a backstabber."
"I will," he said without hesitation, then turned around as soon as she took the gun from him; his head, however, hung looking to the side.
Her legs gave out as soon as they disappeared from her view, hitting the ground hard. "Tsk."
She clicked her tongue. Crawling inside the room, she looked around but couldn't find any red buttons. The hatches aren't the manual type. They work by detection... but the detection doesn't work. Clogged while open.
'So that's why... fuck you, Dumdum!'
She swore again but soon shook her head.
Reaching the corner far from the entrances, Bell sat, her back against the cold wall, her gaze on the two dead bodies. I will soon join you... No, fuck you, drugs! I just need a breather, and I will find my way out here.
Nodding to herself, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. The metallic smell of blood reached her nostrils, but with her experience, she easily ignored it.
Strangely, as the silence took hold of the room with the feverish effect of the drug, her discombobulated thoughts soon calmed down, and her hold on her consciousness started to wane. Soon she drifted into a haze, her mind slowly fading into the dark.
GRRAAAGH
Unknown time passed before she got forcefully pulled out of her feverish sleep. Blinking, she tried to stand, but her injured leg refused to heed any orders, remaining unmoving regardless of how much Bell swore at it. 'Not good.'
She could feel the ground shaking and hear the shuffle of the monster's small legs, the tapper of their claw on the tile floor, and their grunt. They will soon be here, and they are more than one.
Giving up on any attempt to stand, she focused on the sound. If she could determine from where they would be entering, she could head in the opposite direction, even if she had to crawl.
... but the Night Goddess has forsaken her.
The ground's trembling intensified exponentially while the noise approached rapidly.
'... a horde?'
That thought sends a shiver down her spine. There's no way a couple of Shredders could shake the ground like this. Only a dozen or more monsters grouped together could produce this impact.
'Come.'
Bang.
She fired with her gun as soon as the first Shredder showed its ugly head. The monster stumbled, but it also located its prey and lunged as soon as it did.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The tough monstrosity doesn't take — or could easily ignore — any damage done elsewhere other than its head. Unfortunately for it, the prey in front of it isn't much of a prey.
Despite her condition, Bell landed three shots in the head. But it seems three 9mm bullets in the head are ample enough for the monstrosity to fall and never stand up.
That was just the start, however.
The second Shredder had the same fate as the first, but then three showed up with no delay between them.
"Fuck."
The violence of the trembling of the ground reached such an astounding intensity that even the Shredders found it difficult to move, stumbling from side to side and hitting each other at times. It felt as if someone was shaking the room. Bang.
'12'
Bell focused on counting the bullet she fired as despair settled within. The handgun has a fifteen-round magazine. Tsk, only three left.
Gathering all her remaining strength, she swiftly shifted her body to the side, dodging three claws, before she fired her last three rounds.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
She threw the unloaded gun, unsheathed her tactical knife, and grinned ferociously.
'He did fight a Shredder with this knife, didn't he? If that bastard can do it, why can't I?'
She looked at the two Shredders, the smile not leaving her face. "Come, don't be afraid; I promise it will only hurt a lot."
Perhaps understanding her words, the nearest Shredder screeched, giving up its attempt at fighting the earthquake. It lunged ferociously at Bell; it was fast and agile. It reached her before she had time to blink, and then... nothing.
Silence fell.
The earthquake stopped as if someone turned the switch off. The place that was a battlefield one second ago — full of gore, blood, the screeching of monsters, and the yell of a desperate fighter — is now silent and devoid of anything; all that was within the room mysteriously vanished into thin air.
No boxes, no bodies, no monsters, and no woman fighter. The room, just like all the other rooms in the facility, is now empty and silent. As if what happened a moment ago was but a dream.
**
End Of Part 0: Birth Of The Deceitful Fox.