"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," I repeat for the fifth time, while Andrew's eyes tell me that he doesn't approve one bit. But he'll thank me later.

"It smells weird," I hear his sulking voice, even though a mask is covering his nose and mouth. Once designed for the black fog, the masks used to have cartridges left and right of the mouth filtering the air, now replaced by a glass container. They were drafted back when the Arch was still trying to find a way to survive when the fog suddenly hit, but the issue was that the filters clogged up, same as the exhalation and inhalation valve, rendering the masks useless.

They have since been repurposed for the cleaners and the body collectors who can afford them. The glass container is filled with teal purification beads to purify bad smells. They have a very faint smell of burnt sugar; not bad but not appetizing either. But they fulfill their purpose perfectly fine and, in my opinion, are pretty to look at. They glow when inhaling and lose their glow when exhaling, and the mask itself doesn't look bad either.

Obscured faces have something mysterious, I can't deny it. Andrew suddenly got a whole lot more pleasant to be around, nice to look at, and quieter. What more could I ask for?

"Where's yours?" It seems like he doesn't want to suffer alone, but I know he will suffer even more if he doesn't wear it.

"I don't need it," He grunts at my remark but keeps his mouth shut. He probably doesn't like to hear himself talk as much now that his voice is kind of muffled. He's probably contemplating getting rid of it, and I won't stop him if that's what he's trying to do by fiddling around with the harness.

I guide us to the very back of this massive dome, from here, the wall of the room can actually be seen behind the cages. I let my eyes wander to assess the situation. Betty is nowhere to be seen and I don't want to know where the Duke keeps her at the moment. The cages are huge, but so are the wild beasts.

I hear a growl from the cage to our left, but I ignore good old Marceline. She's awake and will probably keep a predatory eye on us at all times. The cage to our right is silent, so silent that it seems to be empty. Wild beasts aren't rare in the wastelands. Archists assume they were once more or less harmless animals, but we have no way of knowing if the black fog mutated them or if they have always been around.

They do resemble the records of some animals we have, so if they existed before the sun went out they were rarely researched, or the pictures from our records of the past are over-romanticized, rendering them more graceful and beautiful than they were. Marceline, for example, looks like a boar. But compared to the pieces of information we have regarding boars she's just 5 times the size.

I made eye contact with her once and had to look up at her. Her tusks look like tree logs and a single bristle of her could be used as a weapon – at least I'm pretty sure it could. She'll also eat everything, but that kind of aligns with what we know about boar.

Betty on the other hand has to be some kind of wild cat, but she's walking on her hind legs in a very hunched-over posture. Her neck is higher than her head, and her front legs are ridiculously long to assist her in running and walking. Her way of walking aligns more with what we know of some monkeys. Yet she has typical cat features, including long claws she can't retract. Poor fucker who has to get into this cage every month to trim her death-mittens – it's probably why we're here today.

And then there's Ruby, a massively oversized serpent. We still have snakes around but Ruby is so large she probably can't fit through a human-sized door. And the door leading into this enclosure is kind of Marceline-sized – which makes sense, somehow they all had to get in here.

The buzzing of flies attracts my attention; I can't see them nor can I see what they are circling but I just know it's a body part. A one-week-old body part, or worse: Several.

"You intend to sleep here on this spot or…?" I hear his still sulking yet mocking voice. He's impatient, but that's on him. I need the time to get an overview of the situation, to plan the next step and how we will go about this. So I ignore his question and instead put down my trusty toolbox. I feel the tension on my arm muscles, they twitch the moment the weight stops pulling down, and after a second or two it starts tingling – the feeling of pins and needles puncturing my very muscles. I hate that feeling.

"Stop ignoring me," He's like a small child, gone is the awe from a few moments ago and I figure I probably should familiarize him with my way of working. Every cleaner is different, handles situations differently, prepares differently. He has seen many personalities and how they go about a clean-up, I can't expect him to just silently follow and learn.

I kneel before the suitcase, enter the code, and open it up, "Get your gloves," I'm having a hard time babysitting all the while making sure that said baby learns something valuable, but I try. My thoughts slip away while I put on the black gloves.

It's one of the rare occasions I know that there's no sniper guarding my back. The dome has no other entry or exit than the one I locked behind us. It's not like I doubt that Thayer's men could get inside but I also don't rely on it, not one single bit. If one of the beasts gets agitated, we have to be prepared for the worst.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

However, I have a lingering feeling that someone is with us in this dome, and I don't know if it's my intuition or the content of the Shadow's letter after my last job. There is no telling whether he was referring to Andrew or the job at hand when he informed me that my next task would be exhausting.

I did wonder what he meant for a whole two days, then I just accepted it for what it was. But there's still the question of why he would have known of either situation. The Shadows have a very intricate network, embedded throughout all social stances and who knows how many contacts outside of their group feed them even more intel. The 'how', therefore, is obvious but the question 'why' remains.

Because of the Bear? I know he knows, and it's the only thing that could make me interesting to a group of thieves and informants. I know he has a thing for getting on my nerves, there may be a personal interest somewhere but I doubt he would use their network of information for personal gain and insight.

I sigh and glance over at the rookie who seems to be irritated by the mask on his face. It seems to hinder him in his task of putting on gloves. It's probably a psychological thing, it's not like it influences his movement, and yet he struggles.

"Can I just get rid of this thing?" He asks as he returns my look and I shrug.

"Up to you, I can't force you," The moment my words left my mouth he starts to pull on the harness of the mask, fiddling around before taking it off. I watch him, silently, just waiting for the realization to hit him. And it does rather quickly.

The moment his nose and mouth are free, he starts to take a deep breath and suddenly the color drains from his face. His eyebrows jump up in surprise, then he knits them together as if suffering from a sudden impact. What follows is a gagging noise as he presses his hands on his mouth and nose in an attempt to cover them.

"What…" It's all he can muster before he turns away from me and spews. I'm used to the smell of decay and rotting flesh, but he very much isn't if the sound of him gagging is anything to go by. The sour stench of the week-old remains turns his stomach upside down, forcing him to empty what little is inside.

I leave him to it. Someone else might have tried to convince him to keep the mask on, but that someone isn't me. He needs to know why we say what we say and do what we do. "We'll have to clean that up as well."

"Mother fucker…" his words are pressed, he's trying to keep his cool, to keep the remaining contents of his stomach down, but another gag escapes his lips and he can't control it any longer. I wait, what else can I do?

And once there's no more left to throw up I sigh, "Get back to the entry, clean yourself up, and maybe get the mask back on."

He scowls at me but he can't find the energy to speak. He needs another moment to collect himself before he retreats back to the entry, with gloves and mask in hand. There's enough water for him to clean up – we'll have to get rid of everything anyway, including everything that has just left his body.

"You enjoyed that," The voice sends shivers down my spine. Not that I didn't expect him to show up, but I didn't think he would show himself with Andrew close.

"Nah, I'm not like you…" I pause and as always he makes use of the situation and drapes his arm around my shoulder, using me like an armrest.

"Okay, maybe a little." I can't lie to myself, for how much Andrew brags all day long I don't feel guilty at all. I don't wish bad upon most people, but it is kind of satisfying to see Andrew struggle. It puts his tales into perspective and unfolds the truth little by little.

My honesty earns me a low chuckle and I glance up to look at this annoyance of a man. But somehow, today, it puts me at ease knowing he's around. Andrew is a whole other kind of annoying so the Shadow kind of knows to lighten my mood with his presence. Not that I would ever tell him.

"Look at you, being all sadistic today," he laughs, low and deep. Has his voice always been like this? I try to think back, and I remember how soothing the bass of his voice has been at the Lane mansion. But today is different; I haven't meddled with the weave yet, didn't get in contact with the broader spectrum of emotions – my mind, therefore, remains ignorant. The vibration of his sonorous voice escapes my senses, I can't catch it, only remember it.

"I wouldn't call it sadistic. Realistic, maybe. But not sadistic," I sigh, here we are again. He's back to being touchy and invading my space, verbally and physically. Yet… I don't mind as much as I used to. I try not to think about it but he has planted thoughts I can't shake off. And despite my will to continue as always, I can't keep blocking everything he throws my way.

I should, I really should. For my own safety. But I can't. He is slowly softening the walls I put up and I dread to think what may happen if he gets through. Would I be able to stop him? Would I be able to stop myself?

If it wasn't for the danger he embodies, I know I had fallen for him years ago. With Thayer at my side that would be the most dangerous thing to happen of all things that could happen. Either he's an extension of the Bear's eyes and ears handing more power to that madman with every brick that crumbles from my defenses, or he is an enemy of the Bear, putting me even more in danger the further I soften up.

"Call it what you will, Sunshine. I can see right through you," With not a care on his mind and amusement in his voice I feel the muscles of his arm tense up, squeezing my shoulder in an almost fraternal way. I lift my shoulders, trying to make it harder on him, maybe even get him to let go – fruitlessly.

"Whatever."

"Why so cold today?"

"Shouldn't you have gotten used to it by now?"

"And here I thought I was special."

"Keep dreaming."

"About you? Gladly!"

"Could you… Not?!" I can't help but hiss my words, as I manage to slip away from his arm, fleeing the physical contact like a frightened animal. Is he for real? It makes me uncomfortable being that close to him, more than usual.

Throwing a glance at him I see him raise his hands in a defensive way, with a smug grin across his face.

"Alright, I got the memo. But at least try to not get your apprentice killed, okay? I just feel he's about to do something stupid," And with that, he retreats back into… the cage? Are you fucking kidding me? Has he been in there, camping out? If so then why? I can't with this man. I really can't. But he has a point. Time to go check on Andrew.