Dibbuk felt like she hadn't slept in days. It had only been a few hours since she'd woken up, but with the Tar-Khal metabolism it might as well have been nineteen. Team 5 was currently hurtling down the yellow line on their way to do a patrol on level 3. Selby was acting as the scout in Harvels absence. This wasn't too out of the ordinary on it's own but there was one other detail they hadn't known about.

Captain Lier was sitting next to Dibbuk, fully kitted out and humming absent mindedly. His suit must have been of a much older make than any of their own. Iron bands and rivets reminding her of an ancient diving suit she'd seen in a book once. He wore the same doughboy style helmet that Harvel used instead of the standard issue like the rest of the teams. Unfortunately Dibbuk herself could never find one that fit in the first place.

Harvel had found his wedged between the wall of a pipe and a fatburg on level two a year ago. the words "-orn T- Plunge" had been painted on the side. If the dents on the visor of Liers were any indication he'd had his for quite a bit longer. The dark green enamel looked like it had worn away years ago.

"Sir, why the old helmet? What're the dents from?" Selby asked, nodding towards the bowl shaped headgear.

"Mmm? Oh, a couple of the little shits got me on the ground and tried to gnaw my head off, got caught on the visor. S' exactly what they're designed for. They also keep the drippings off your face, and in a pinch you can make soup in it. Three birds one stone Klagbender." Lier responded, rapping his knuckles along the steel.

"Used to make beans in mine." Don added from across the cart. He had a far off nostalgic look in his eyes.

"Don't remind me." Lier jabbed back.

"Why don't we still use them?" Wicksomme asked, taking off and inspecting his own helmet.

"Budget cuts kid! Only thing ours'll stop is a warriors shitter after it's done with ya." Don responded, taking a long swig from what looked like a newly purchased flask.

"Not in front of me Donny. Remember?" Leir grumbled, shooting Don a stern look.

"Oi! You can't tell what's in here. Could be milk for all you know." Don barked, pouting a bit as he slid the flask back into his pocket.

"Keep it down Don, we're coming up on the dock." Mary growled, the sound of hard tapping coming from the touch pad in front of her. She seemed even more agitated than normal Dibbuk noted.

They slowed to a stop, the breaks giving a slight whine as they scraped against the calipers. They opened the hatch and exited onto a tiny dock jutting out from an inflow pipe on the far wall. Dibbuk had been to this part of level three about nine months ago. Mary had been pretty pissed off that time as well.

The sewers got older and more dilapidated the further towards the center of the city you went. At this point you were dealing with sytems nearly a hundred and fifty years old. Fifty miles further and you'd be practicing archaeology instead of engineering.

Lier pulled out a datapad from a satchel on his shoulder as he approached the entrance to the pipe. The rest of the team hung back a bit, Wicksomme admiring the sheer drop underneath them. Red lights extended downwards along a set of stairs that led off into the darkness below.

"How high up are we?" Wicksomme wondered aloud, peeking over the edge.

"Well, I'd wager the lights are about twenty feet apart. I stopped counting them when I got to thirty, so at least six hundred? Maybe more?" Selby answered, kicking a previously spent shell off the side of the platform. Dibbuk never heard it hit the water. "Probably more." Selby finished.

"No worries Wicky. If you fall off you'll die quick enough. Heheh." Don said, giving Wicksomme a slap on the shoulder as he walked by. The way the young man stiffened up this must not have been much of a comfort.

Dibbuk softly sidled up to Mary. She was leaning up against a railing, watching Lier as she chewed on her thumbnail. She'd seen Mary angry before, nothing new there, but it had always seemed like a radiating anger. Not the laser focused hatred she was seeing now.

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"Mary? Are you alright? Somethings wrong isn't it?" Dibbuk asked, keeping her voice down.

"Everything. Everything is wrong. I don't like this place. Leir won't tell us anything. It's all wrong Dibbuk." Mary answered through gritted teeth. Though Dibbuk couldn't be sure, it smelled like she was sober.

'Fucking Lier. Fucking Don. Fucking old ass pipes. Horseshit, utter horseshit.'

'There it is again. That damn voice.' Dibbuk thought, glancing around. It seemed to reverberate around in the corners of her mind. She didn't know why it was happening. It was obviously not the eyes with a voice, but it definitely sounded like it.

It had happened at the grocers earlier that day as well. She'd been walking away from from the fruit bar aisle with four cases of Buunchal bars and out of nowhere she'd heard it again. She'd looked up to see a teenager in a blue apron staring at her from halfway across the store.

'Shit, she always comes in on Wednesdays. Maybe I can stock them again before Mr. Tillum gets mad at me.'

There was no mistaking it now. She was hearing peoples thoughts. This wouldn't have been half bad if she had any desire to listen to them. Could she control it or was it random like drawing lots?

'Why'd it have to be me? Was it the eyes with the voice? Ugh, I already don't like this. What if whatever tried to kill Harvel is inside my head now? It might try me next.' Dibbuk thought, gazing out into the darkness extending infinitely away from the dock.

"Valez! Quit daydreaming, we're moving." Lier shouted, pulling her out of her head. He was pointing to the staircase, the rest of the team already following his lead. Dibbuk got in line behind Mary, who was still cursing under her breath.

They passed pipe after pipe, light after light as they descended the ancient iron stairs. Selby's assessment had been about three hundred feet off. By the time Lier stopped them Dibbuk could hear Wicksommes labored breathing over the constant roar of falling midden collecting beneath them. They must have been close to the bottom, the rising spray filling Dibbuks nostrils.

"Klagbender! You're with me on point. We've gotten reports of a burg down the L32a inflow. According to team 3 their last patrol didn't turn anything up, but that was a month ago. We're on a three month rotation down here but a sensor about three miles in picked something up yesterday." Lier announced as they made their way into the mouth of the pipe.

"You're telling us a fatburg got big enough to set off one of the oldest sensors in our network in a month?" Mary scoffed, shooting Don an incredulous look. Don was just staring down the pipe as if he hadn't heard a word.

"No Merel. I'm telling you something got big enough in a month to set off the sensor. As you know these old pipes don't have our fancy spectrometers like the newer additions. I can't tell you what we're going to find. But, we are going to find it." Lier answered, sliding the datapad back into it's satchel.

Before another word could be said, Lier about faced and began sauntering down the pipe. Don immediately followed suit. The team exchanged reserved glances, uncertainty taking hold for a moment. "You heard the Captain! Get a move on!" Don shouted, not bothering to turn around. Without another thought or hesitation Dibbuk and the rest of the team fell into step.

Selby jogged to catch up to Lier, Don trailing a bit behind them. They walked for nearly an hour in complete silence, the sloshing of their boots rhythmically reverberating off the curved walls. Dibbuk watched as Lier and Selbys red tinted flash lights continuously scanned the pipeline ahead.

The two men had barely disappeared around a bend in the pipe when Mary swiftly grabbed the back of Dons suit nearly pulling him off his feet. "Keep quiet. You know more than you're letting on. Fucking spill it." She growled, shoving him up against the pipe wall.

"Guh, what? What are you on about? I dunno nothin' Mena, swear." Don sputtered, coughing and rubbing his throat.

"Don't you fucking 'Mena' me Don. If Lier is going to get us all killed I'd like to know. I have people waiting for me at home. Little people. You damn well know that. Beans. Spill 'em. Now." Mary half whispered, teeth gritted. She had produced a knife, the point held against the pocket containing Dons flask.

"Now, now, hold on now. No need to do anything drastic." Don said, panic spreading across his face. She wasn't going to kill him, but losing his precious thiskey was almost as severe a consequence as far as he was concerned.

"Well?" Mary asked, pressing the knife ever so slightly harder.

"Alright, alright! look, Lier knows there's something down here. He didn't tell me what it was, I don't think he even knows. All I know is that this ain't the first time we seen it. But, hey, let me go yeah? We're falling behind. You know he'll notice." Don pleaded, slowly pushing her hand with the knife away from his side.

"You'd best not be lying to me. I don't think you want to know what'll happen if you are." Mary said, standing up and sliding the knife back into the sheath on her thigh.

"Hey, c'mon. Let's get moving." Dibbuk interjected, nodding towards the bend in the tunnel. Mary gave a final lunge towards Don, who, to his credit, didn't move a muscle. As Mary walked away Don stood up and shook himself off.

"Can you believe that kid?" Don asked Wicksomme, attempting to brush off the encounter.

"Honestly? Kinda." Wicksomme replied as he shuffled off towards where Dibbuk and Mary were making their way towards the bend. Don, having wiped himself the rest of the way off, looked down at his flask pocket. He slid his hand into it and felt around.

"Damn. Too close." He muttered, poking his finger out through the fresh hole Marys knife had left.