Chapter 34
“Bastards.”
With a wet, squelching sound, a spurt of red liquid flew into the air and splashed against my face. I had squeezed too hard without realizing it, so I reluctantly let go and wiped the stains from my face, licking the coppery taste off my fingers.
I’d always preferred my meat medium rare, so completely rare wasn’t a big leap from there.
“Hunt my Allie, will you?” I growled under my breath, tearing off a fresh mouthful of flesh. “I’ll slaughter every last one of you.”
This time, it was the bones that cracked, as though they were brittle glass instead. Another splash of luke-warm fluid splattered against my face. I licked that away too, and found that it could use a little salt.
“Rat bastards, just wait.”
Sickening sounds of torn flesh and crushed bone echoed loudly in the empty room. I was too angry and frankly too hungry to care, so I just kept eating. If it had been my former, more human self, I would have probably found my current actions abominable and even unconscionable. Now, just a casual shrug of the shoulders was enough to pay token service to the last fading vestiges of humanity within me. If anything, they felt dated and overcomplicated.
Now, this newfound pleasure of tearing meat apart with my teeth and slurping coppery blood down my throat, this was something simple, something that just felt right. I was wholly immersed in these delightful sensations when I was rudely interrupted by a voice calling out from behind my back.
“Just what in all that is holy are you doing, man? Is- Is that raw mea-”
Gagging sounds cut him off mid-sentence.
Still too busy chewing to manage a proper answer, I swiveled around on the bar stool I was perched upon. Behind me, I found Dexter standing exactly where I knew he’d be. I’d heard his silent footsteps all the way from the bottom of the staircase, and had smelled him from even farther away. So his presence didn’t really surprise me. The expression on his face, however, that was new. The poor man was staring at me with his eyes bulging out of their sockets, his horrified face taking on a distinctly greenish tinge as he kept retching loudly.
“Hmpph-mm,” I grunted in the way of an answer, still chewing. What can I say? I’d been starving. Maybe coming back from the dead had turned me into a stress eater?
“Holy shit man, why the hell are you eating raw meat?”
Quickly snapping the safety off on the gun in his hands, Dexter slapped it back into its holster before once again bending over and covering his mouth. When the gagging sounds finally subsided, he swallowed with a wince, then looked up to glare at me as though this were all somehow my fault.
My eyes shifted down to the mouthful of ribs still dripping meat juice in my hands, then took in the fancy gold-plated packaging lying on the table. I could make out a few bright-lettered words like “Kobe, Japan” and “100% Wagyu” in very flowery script. I belatedly raised the bone slabs in my hands in Dexter’s direction, only then realizing most of the meat had already been gnawed clean off.
“Eh, wansh shome?” I mumbled, my mouth still full of raw meat. A little of it dribbled down my chin.
Dexter’s face went from green to purple and he barely managed to catch himself against the wall before he could collapse.
“Suiff youshefh.” I shrugged, savoring the richness of the meat, fat, and juices mingling with my saliva. A bit on the greasy side perhaps, and a little stale, with a hint of that strange freezer burn taste. Truthfully, I’d hesitated before giving it a quick spin in the microwave and found myself regretting my decision now. It would have tasted so much better completely raw. But It would do for now. I ground my teeth while fantasizing about getting my hands on those bastards harassing my Allie. Or what little remained of them, which didn’t look to be a whole lot, judging from the video footage from earlier.
“Ugh, I can’t believe you,” Dexter moaned when he finally got his breath back. “Here I come after dealing with all the bullshit you left me to mop up, only to find you-”
That’s when Dexter finally took a good look at me and immediately paused. Maybe it was the savage look in my eyes or my blood-soaked hands which only hours earlier had ripped a parking meter right out of the concrete like pulling out a stalk of weed. Heck, maybe he was just afraid I might try my hand at another reply with my mouth still full and stain his Armani slacks with 100% Kobe Wagyu beef mixed with undead saliva - not that the sewage caking it right now was any better.
Whatever it was, Dexter stopped and drew a deep breath, visibly collecting himself, before continuing in a much friendlier tone.
“Ah, whatever. I was gonna braise that in Korean Bulgogi sauce to celebrate Victoria’s promotion, but I guess that’s the last thing we have to worry about now,” Dexter said with a smirk. “But seriously, raw?”
I quickly swallowed just enough that I could speak. “I cooked it in the microwave, alright? It’s medium rare.”
“Medium rare? Any rarer and that poor bastard of a cow would be mooing right off your hands and hoofing it all the way back to Japan,” Dexter said, chuckling good-naturedly as he approached the kitchen counter. There he tapped rhythmically on a corner of the marble surface until a series of barely audible clicks ensued. Multiple hidden compartments noiselessly slid out from underneath, revealing several duffel bags of different colors. While I stood gaping at all this super spy shit, Dexter grabbed a notepad and a pen from the side and hastily jotted down a few words. All the while, he never stopped talking.
“Here I spend a small fortune buying an authentic Viking kitchen range and you don’t even bother popping the cover. It’s because of savages like you that capitalism lies on its deathbed, dude. Medium rare my ass.”
I bit into one of the ribs, which snapped between my molars like it was dry kindling. With a pointed look toward Dexter and the note, I slurped on the succulent marrow with as much noise as I could manage.
“Ugh, good god, are you sure you’re not a were-bear that’s just woken out of its hibernation?” Dexter complained with a groan, but he pointedly slid the note in my direction.
“You people who must insist on burning the meat are the-” I paused here for just a fraction of a second as I glanced down. Recovering quickly, I finished with a derisive snort. “The true savages. Ever hear of steak tartare?”
Then I mouthed the word “when?”
“Gah, have you ever had steak tartare? 60 seconds is all you need. And where are the onions, capers, peppers, and all the seasonings? And you definitely don’t snort it in like crack by using its own bones as a straw. Just ewww.”
His eyes, however, were dead serious as he stared at me while forming a questioning wrinkle in his brow. Are you ready, his eyes seemed to ask.
“Your loss. One should be ready to try anything. I know I am,” I said with a vicious grin, nodding subtly toward the opposite end of the room, where the hallway led toward the bedrooms.
He nodded his understanding. “I better go take a shower. I feel even dirtier now than when I stepped out of those damn sewers. To think these slacks are from this year’s Milan Spring collection.”
“Go right ahead. Oh, wait,” I said, sniffing while turning toward the fridge. “Is that lamb I smell in there?”
“Spare me the details,” Dexter said, waving over his shoulder.
Meanwhile, I crumpled the note Dexter had laid upon the table.
It read:
Possibly compromised + under surveillance. Bring 2 bags, red and black, EVAC tunnel 2room right.
Spitting out the bloody splinters of bone I’d been gnawing on, I stared at the blacked out windows on the east side of the room.
I guess I was right, after all.
That annoying scent that’s been bothering me for a while now, I finally knew what it was.
I smelled a rat.
[https://i.imgur.com/yaKu43y.png]
The bags inside the hidden compartments must have each weighed at least 30 or 40 pounds. I just picked them both up with one hand and casually swung them over my left shoulder, feeling like they were filled with styrofoam blocks. Then I took one last glance over my shoulder to the monitor where Alexia Fox’s video was still playing, wishing in vain that I was mistaken and that she didn’t feel like a stranger. That my Allie was still there, underneath all the fire and blood.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Wherever you are,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else, “I will find you.”
It was time to go and make good on my promise.
By the time I reached the second room on the right and pushed the door open, I found Dexter fiddling with a tablet. Victoria stepped up next to me and slid the door shut. I could smell the shampoo in her hair, still damp from the shower though the dressings I’d applied to her shoulder were still in place. She was wearing a crisp pair of black business slacks, a fitted grey blouse with rolled-up sleeves, and a button-up vest on top. One might have mistaken her for a sleek corporate office executive, were it not for her urban combat boots and a sleek pair of tactical gloves.
She nodded to me and took one of the bags from me with surprising ease, laying it on the bed and unzipping it to reveal its contents. A deadly arsenal of Uzis, MP5s, semi-automatic pistols, and even a couple of rifles along with a handful of grenades almost threatened to spill out. Victoria and Dexter took out bullet-proof vests, one of which was thrown my way. I was still trying to figure out how to lock the clasps on it when the pair had already finished strapping on a pair of military-grade gun harnesses. Then they began to fill every available holster and pocket with guns and ammunition, all of this without a word. The only sound were my frustrated grunts as I fiddled with my vest and the rhythmic clicks as Victoria and Dexter apparently prepared to start a small war.
Dexter picked a pair of semi-automatic pistols, slung an automatic shotgun behind his back, and checked the safety on the M-4 assault rifle in his hands. Victoria had also chosen a couple of pistols, along with an MP5-submachine gun with a silencer and laser sight attached.
After a final check of their weapons, Dexter turned in my direction and offered me a rifle. Before I could say a word, Victoria shoved the rifle away, frowning at her partner while muttering vexedly to herself. I heard the words “crazy” and “suicidal” generously sprinkled in. Meanwhile, she gestured impatiently to the other duffel bag. When I laid it down, she rummaged through its contents for a moment before digging out a pair of objects which she then tossed my way in an off-hand manner.
Snatching them out of the air, I couldn’t help the blissful grin that stretched across my lips as I hefted the two blades in my hands. One was an enormous combat knife with a thick, serrated edge that measured just over one foot. The other was a much sleeker karambit knife with a reverse grip ideal for close-quarters combat.
I twirled both knives expertly around my fingers with increasing speed until they became blurs of light dancing between my hands and glanced up to catch a begruding look of respect on Dexter’s face. I shifted my smug gaze toward Victoria, only to see her rolling her eyes in response, mouthing something to me. I may have read the words “big idiot” and “manchild” on her lips, but surely that must have been my imagination. She also threw a belt in my direction, which I caught out of the air with a stifled grunt. It was much heavier than I’d expected.
Looking down to examine the belt, I found six throwing knives strapped along its length. Upon taking one out and testing its edge with my thumb, I was pleased by how razor-sharp it was. Then I hefted it a few times in my hand and was even happier with its center-heavy balance. This would allow for both blade and handle throws, which experts like myself prefer due to the flexibility of throwing distances and styles available. I returned the knife to the belt and strapped it around my waist. When I glanced up to thank Victoria, she turned away with a barely audible snort.
Dexter chose this moment to cough lightly to catch both of our attentions. Then he pointed at his watch and nodded first to me, then to Victoria. When we both nodded back, he pressed a combination of keys on his tablet. In response, a low rumbling hiss came from my left and one of the walls suddenly caved in, revealing a tunnel lit only by a line of phosphorescent lights on the floor.
Victoria reached out and grasped my hand before taking the lead, stepping into the tunnel without hesitation and pulling me along behind her. I could hear Dexter mutter something under his breath about always being stuck on shit duty, but the rest of it was cut off by a series of clanging sounds as the door automatically shifted into place behind him and engulfed the tunnel in complete darkness except for the lights on the floor.
I could see almost as clearly in the gloom as in daylight due to my darkness affinity and low-light vision, but I was surprised that Victoria and even Dexter seemed almost as comfortable in the darkness, navigating several twists and turns in the tunnel which continuously sloped downward. After a minute or so of silent progress, a deafening roar suddenly went off in the distance. Though it came from the direction of the safehouse we had left far behind us, it still made the entire tunnel shake uncontrollably while a carpet of dust rained upon our heads.
“That was the first layer being breached,” Dexter called out from behind. “I was right, they must have been using thermal sensors to track our body heat inside the safehouse. See? I told you installing that layer of infra-red insulation along the EVAC tunnel was totally worth it.”
Without having to look, I knew Victoria would be scowling. Of course, at this time I was contending with a far more unsettling line of thought.
“Damn, that was just the first layer? What’d you do, blow up the whole building?”
“Nah, I just armed a couple of dozen anti-personnel mines all along the first floor’s perimeter. They’re rigged so they’ll all go off once a single sensor is triggered.”
“And you have the gall to call me a savage?”
“Hah, that’s nothing. Just wait for it.”
“For what?”
“Wait. Wait," Dexter said, holding up his hand and sounding like a kid that could barely wait to unwrap his gift on Christmas morning. "Almost there. And- Now!”
As soon as he said the words, I reflexively raised my hands to cover my ears. After a moment of fruitless waiting, I slowly lowered my hands and glanced back over my shoulder, feeling like my expectations had been let down somehow.
It was clearly nothing compared to Dexter's own crushing disappointment. Dexter was mumbling to himself while quickly tapping on the tablet in his hands. Several red flashes lit up his face as warning messages continuously popped up on the screen.
“Dammit, how could they have tracked and hacked my remote server already?” Dexter growled while frantically swiping windows one way and another, with furious bouts of tapping mixed in for good measure. “No, not my server hub. Don’t you bastards dare!”
I have to admit, I began to grow just a little concerned here. My footsteps grew just a bit more hurried, while my hands constantly fiddled with my newly equipped knives. Twirl, twirl, stab. Twirl, twirl, stab. I worked away the nerves by focusing on the zig-zag patterns the tips of my blades drew upon the air.
“Damn it, don’t piggyback a packet sniffer on my own gatekeeper script. Wait, how’d they sneak in that SQL subroutine already?”
By now, I was surprised the tablet hadn’t cracked from all the frantic poking it was being subjected to. Well, judging from the smell wafting from it, I wasn’t sure how much longer Dexter would be able to hold onto the rapidly overheating gadget. It was likely to burst into flames before long - if Dexter didn’t blow his own top first.
“YOU DEGENERATES! How dare you-”
“Agent Kelly, enough! Just do it already,” came Victoria’s tone, charged with acid.
“But-” Dexter began, but immediately shut up when Victoria came to a halt. Nothing more. She just paused for a moment and didn’t turn, didn’t even glance back over her shoulder. Still, it produced the desired effect and Dexter let out a resigned sigh, sounding as though he’d been forced to euthanize his parents and sell off all his children into slavery. “Fine, fine.”
“Wait,” I said, catching the gleeful, somewhat insane glimmer in his eyes. I began moving my hands towards my ears but it was too late.
Dexter gave his tablet a final tap and thunder crashed upon my ears. It was a deafening explosion that threatened to bring the entire tunnel down upon our heads. Thick plumes of dust nearly blinded me, and I barely reached out in time to catch Victoria from behind as she lost her balance and nearly stumbled to the floor.
When the ringing had subsided from my ears somewhat, I found that Victoria had already pushed me away and rounded up on Dexter, who lay sprawled upon the floor, covering his head under his arms.
“Is- Is it over yet?” Dexter croaked, taking a peek.
“Agent. Kelly.” Victoria grated out, pausing after every word, the ice in her tone bringing chills to my bones even though it was directed solely at Dexter. “Did. You. Tamper. With. The. Explosive. Charges?”
“Uh, just a tiny bit?”
A long moment of silence ensued within the tunnel, with both Dexter and myself holding our breaths while we waited for another explosion that seemed impending right before our eyes.
Mercifully, Victoria just squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, balling her fists at her sides and bowing her head before slowly exhaling. She repeated this process several times before she finally opened her eyes.
“Agent Kelly,” she called out softly.
“Y-Y-Yes, Vic- Err, Agent Song?”
“We will speak of this later, agreed?”
“Uh-”
“AGREED?”
“Y-Yes, of course, yes.”
“Good. Then let us continue.”
Just like that, she turned around and started walking again. I made sure to give her a wide berth this time, getting out of her way without so much as a word.
Even I’m not THAT stupid.
As Victoria once again led our escape, I could hear Dexter whining under his breath, clearly inaudible except for my own superhuman hearing.
“Stupid black market.. Damn surplus shape charges.. Just used a few more grams.. Fuck my life.. I’m fucked..”
These last two words were repeated quite often throughout our journey through the dimly lit tunnels.
Finally, after walking for over 10 minutes, we stopped before a grey metal door, under which a bright line of light could be seen.
“This is it,” Victoria said, nodding toward the door. “It leads to the basement of an abandoned factory. It should be completely deserted and safe to exit.”
She was just about to place her hand on the handle when I suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled back.
“Wait!” I whispered. “Something’s wrong.”
Victoria didn’t say a word. She just flicked the safety off her MP-5 submachine gun and cradled it against her shoulder before flinging a questioning look in my direction.
“Did you hear something?” she finally asked, just low enough that only I could pick up her voice. She was aware of my superhuman senses, though I doubted she understood just how powerful they were.
I shook my head. “No, I can’t hear anything.”
Then I raised my head and inhaled deeply.
“But I can smell it.”
Victoria frowned as she sniffed the air around us. “What is it?”
I hefted the blades in both hands before licking my lips. “I smell blood. Lots of blood.”
Then I placed my hand upon the door and glanced over my shoulder with my mouth set on a grim line. They saw the question in my eyes, which they answered with a nod.
I was about to push the door open, but then changed my mind at the last minute. Instead, I slid my left foot along the floor until I could dig in firmly, then lifted my other leg and slammed it forward in a ferocious kick that carried all the superhuman strength I could muster.
It seemed fitting.
After all, it was about time we got to kicking some ass.