They were careful as they approached the ruins. Both of them were sticking to the shadows and being even more careful than before. With the three people he had taken out, there was a sudden increase in the danger of them being noticed.
Looking up at the building as it rose up in front of them, Trace wished he had brought the suction cup climbing equipment he had back in his warehouse. That was something he would need to move into the truck later. Just storing them back there did him no good if he needed them unexpectedly on a job.
Once they made it to the ruins, they found a well-worn path in the dirt leading to a set of stairs going up.
Monroe shook his head and cursed. “It’s looking less like there is going to be an entrance of some sort on the roof.”
Trace agreed with him, but that didn’t stop them from continuing to creep up the steps. Even if there wasn’t an entrance, it would still give them another view of the area, including the back.
Sure enough, there was no entrance into the building from the roof. It abutted the large grocery store, however, the windows on this side of the building didn’t start until you would have been several floors above the roof of their current building. It was something that he had seen from his earlier perch, but due to bad angles, he hadn’t been able to see the entire wall. The hope had been that there might be something beneath the windows in the concrete wall and brick.
Now they knew for sure there wasn’t.
More than a little annoyed with the entire situation, Trace grabbed the credits from the dead watcher’s crypto-vault and then hauled him to the back edge of the building. He pushed him off and then took a long look at the ruined remains of the area that had once been known as Stonegate. It had started off as an unincorporated community of Parker -whatever that meant- and then grown into a proper town at some point.
Now it was just another ruin, one that happened to bleed into the much larger area of Parker.
Looking out from the top of the ruined store, he saw destroyed neighborhood after destroyed neighborhood. The war had not been kind to that section of the town, and yet, turning to look the other way, there was barely any destruction. There was damage from time and the elements, but that was it. The landscape lacked the remodeling that came from bombs, bullets, fire, and other destructive items.
It was his first time seeing it in person, but he had always heard about how the utter randomness of the attacks was strange to see. The history books talked about how neighborhoods even two streets over could be completely spared damage. Meanwhile, that one neighborhood had been turned into an utter warzone.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to turn away and focus on the back of the grocery store. There was a parking lot behind it, though the pavement was in terrible condition. Not that the rest of the roads were anything special, but they saw enough use from edgers and other folk that the main source of damage to them came from the weather. The pavement back there had been completely reclaimed by nature.
Weeds grew through large cracks, and several gnarled trees had managed to push their way up as well.
It didn’t look as though anything or anyone had gone back there in ages. Which suited Trace just fine, because he saw several doors alongside the completely rusted-shut loading doors.
He pointed them out to Monroe, and a few seconds later, they were making their way down and around the back of the building.
Once there, they quickly discovered that each of the doors had been welded shut. There was a bright side to be gotten from the information, according to Monroe, after he looked at a few of them that had been done outside. They were old, at least old enough that the rust had started to penetrate into the metal.
That meant that the current inhabitants hadn’t thought to secure the back of the building. While not necessarily a knock against the current leader’s intelligence, it also at least kept it somewhat of a mystery. If this had been recent, and a result of his orders, then they would have known he was smart and competent.
The odds of that being the case were already frighteningly high. Neither wanted it to be confirmed if it could be helped. It was sometimes better to live in a state of delusion.
Backing away from the rear doors, they made their way back to the front. After finding a place near the entrance to hide, they hunkered down to talk and plan.
“I’m not seeing a way we can count how many members that they have without entering the building.” Trace began with a somber scowl. “Doing that would put us directly in harm's way, not to mention it sort of goes against what Stick-Point wanted us to do.”
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Monroe was leaning against a filthy wall and peeking through an old bullet hole at the entrance. “They aren’t doing anything. Why not?”
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“The first watch notified them we were in the area. Then we stopped right in the middle of the intersection where those three watchers you iced could have seen us. There were also the other two watchers we took out on our way back here. They would have notified the group about spotting our vehicles.” The big man jabbed a finger toward the building. “Despite all of that, how many people have we seen come out of there?”
Trace nodded in dawning realization. “Frack. They have two separate bases. This is only where they create everything. The storage and distribution hub is somewhere else. With everything being welded shut for so long and the condition of the back pavement, they use the loading facilities. There aren’t any other vehicles around here either.”
Monroe cursed, his head snapping around. “That’s what’s been bothering me. There aren’t any cars. The people inside would have no way of coming after us, even if they wanted to.”
“What now then? We have to track down another location, but what about this place?”
He shook his head and ran a dirty hand over the sweaty bald thing. “You got me on that one. We got the location of this place because we politely asked that first watcher for help. Do you really think that will work again if we enter the building and by some miracle manage to find someone by themself without raising an alarm?”
The very idea was ludicrous, but neither of them had a better idea at the moment.
It was either camp out, waiting for something to happen, or do this.
Unsurprisingly, they chose to enter the building. However, they weren’t going to use the front entrance. Instead, they were going in through the side entrance, one they were about to create.
They took the stairs up to the roof of the ruined building. Trace quickly grabbed the credits from the dead watcher and tossed him over the rear edge. They had gone around the opposite way when they returned in order to look for other opportunities in to the building. There hadn’t been any.
Trace pressed his face up against the wall and activated an S&R scan. The material of the wall would severely cut down its range, but by doing this, he should still be able to tell if anyone was on the other side.
There was no one in range of his scan on the other side of the wall, which was all he could say. Walking down to the back corner, he tried again. Still nothing. He was seeing maybe ten feet into the room? A severe drop-off from his normal scanning range, to be sure.
“I don’t see anyone on the other side of the wall, but my range is like ten feet when I’m trying to go through material like this. There could be an army of people just beyond that and we’d never know.” He informed and cautioned Monroe in turn.
The big man hefted his suppressed shotgun, brought it close to the wall, and pulled the trigger. A fist-sized chunk of the wall exploding was louder than the gun itself. The shell automatically ejected as the semi-auto shotgun pumped a new round into place for him. He squeezed the trigger again and again, emptying the tube magazine in a scant number of seconds.
Monroe reached into the depths of a pocket in his cargo pants and retrieved some fresh shells for the shotgun. “Not bad,” He admitted with a smile. “I didn’t have time to test it out last night after I finished working on it. The gun is quieter than I was expecting.”
“I’m more impressed by the power,” Trace muttered as he kicked the wall, bouncing backward as it wobbled and began to totter back and forth.
Monroe gave it a kick of his own and then moved out of the way. “Can I assume you want me to make the same modification to your shotgun when we return?”
Trace nodded with a grin. “If you would, please.”
“What is with you and suppressors, anyway?”
“I thought I mentioned that I wanted to be a wraith in the future?”
Monroe blinked and then covered his face as the small section he had blasted free finally toppled to the ground with a crash. “Not exactly subtle, or quiet that.” He scratched at his chin while ducking down and peeking into the dark room beyond. “Now that you mention it, I think I vaguely recall you saying something like that. I probably ignored it at the time on account of every edger saying something similar. We all want to hit those specializations at some point. I guess I figured your dream was the same.”
Trace ducked down and slipped through the hole, going first since he would have an easier time fitting. “You’re not entirely wrong, but there is far more to it than that as well. Stick-Point told me that for certain specializations, it is more a matter of how you have developed your skills, equipment, and fighting style than anything else.”
He shook his head. “Err, that wasn’t right. I mean, it’s all about a combination of several factors, not just one thing. Right now, I can somewhat control my guns and make sure they are all as quiet as possible. So, that’s what I’m trying to do. I mean, can you imagine trying to become a specialized ‘System Ghost’ without having the proper skills or equipment to breach systems beforehand? You’d get laughed out of existence.”
The gain on his eyes increased and the area beyond the room came into sharper focus. “Alright, come on in. There isn’t anyone on this floor, but you have got to see this.”
Monroe grunted as he forced himself through the slightly too-small hole. “Mobile fortress.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I originally wanted to specialize in when I was younger. I wanted to go the mobile fortress route.”
Trace whistled, his respect for the man increasing. “That is a big dream. Having your own mech… I admit I’d love to take one apart and see how they work, but I’ve heard how much they cost.” He shivered. “I think I’ll stick with trying to become a wraith. The equipment might still be expensive, but at least I can buy them as I need them.”
“Yeah, well, I gave up on that dream a… while… ago.” Monroe slowly finished his sentence as he took in the crates of synthetic drugs.
They were stacked three high in neat rows that filled the main room in front of them. There were several crates open in the room they had created their doorway into that were currently open. Each crate was filled with inhalers that all had a different colored label on them.
“What in the ever-loving skeeter-shizz is this?” Monroe whispered, picking up one of the inhalers. “This is enough drugs to put half of Denver in a coma.”