>> Interrupted

## Optical Scan Mode :: [Sequential]

## Detection Levels :: [Heat], [Sound], [Magnetic], [Radioscopic],

## Threat Analysis :: [Moderate]

Dust swirls in the air. The smell of age, thick and deep. Metal clicks and clacks as the ancient lift crumples open. All our guns jamming through the crack. Right at the greenish smudge of monster blood baked into the back wall.

The one riddled with bullet holes.

In a single, practised, rush, Demon takes the fore. Claws spread. Eyes wild, golden, and strange. He sweeps forward. Stabbing, suddenly, into the narrow little nooks flanking the door - then hammering down. Cracking claws into the other stains. Then, leaping to twin-slash directly upwards.

He drops with a snort, as if disappointed. Leonine tail lashing as he stalks around the lift. Pausing. Sniffing. Flickering at every little movement. Then he stalks his way out, to stand like a sentinel behind us.

Then, and only then, do we slide in around him. Rocket-rails charged to sparking as we eye the ceiling - and its welded-shut maintenance panel. The walls. The narrow, dark-filled, maw punched in one side…. Jagged. Like something ate its way into the lift.

Keep meaning to weld that….

I swallow as I fixate on it, and the shadow-void beyond….. Imagining shapes. Movements. Or maybe not even imagining….. Maybe…..

Demon paces the lobby. Eying it, ready and alert, for an instant longer than it takes us to fill the lift.

“Clear.”

“Zha. Clear.”

“No murder monsters-” My voice cuts off as sharp ears tune to a distant, rhythmic, thud. Thud. Thud. Fleshy. Messy. Like a corpse banging its head against a wall. Over, and over, and over.

We let Demon slip past, then jam our guns out at the lobby. Breath sharp. Fingers twitching at every little noise.

At the shiver of something….. felt but not seen.

Thump..... Thump.....

Louder, every second.

The brass buttons of the lift aren't connected, except to an alarm. So I reach over to flip open the control panel, wires spilling as I fumble my claws slip deep inside it…. where the small things scuttle…. to a hidden switch.

Click.

The door, twitches, then rumbles slowly shut as we pull ourselves in. Squashing me into the control corner, and Demon into another. With Tufty and Badger rattling about in the middle. Silence. And a thud. Another. My ears slowly turning to track it, as it shambles ever closer.

Stopping, directly, in front of the doors.....

Nobody breathes. Nobody. Every eye locked on the door, as....

Tink. Tink.

Like a metal fist, rapping very softly on the metal of the door.

Tink. Tink.

Almost a mimicry of our own tapping, earlier. As if it heard.

And then, it stops.

The sudden silence so cold and endless.... you could swear you imagined the noises.

I don't dare to move. To look at my team. To twitch an ear, or aim my gun.

Not that I can, in the tight space. But.....

A sudden clunk, and the the carriage begins to rise with a rattle and a groan. A shiver of floor against skin. A slither of sweat worming down my face, like a moist finger, as the half-imagined things outside go utterly silent.

I take a deep breath, and force out as much cheer as I can with it. “Safe, now." I lie. "Nearly there......” A few shivery nods from the shorties. Badger perking up, almost instantly, as Zipper makes weird faces to cheer them up. He knows we gotta take your wins, and our laughs, where we can. So I crick out my neck, lean into the corner, and put on a smile as we all relax …. very slightly….

“Operations.” Crackles a voice. “Password Four.”

And we go through the same fake act.

“Damnit. Can't ever bloody remember these bloody things….” I growl to myself - casually rapping on a brass rail, as if in thought. Tap, tap, tap, in careful sequence. And maybe.... maybe that's what we heard. A claw, or gun, or metal finger knocking against the lift....

Yeah.....

“Ah, like, c’mon mate. Passwords are always just ‘Password’. Right?” Zip smirks as Kami rolls her eyes. Shaking her head as she raps her boot-heel against the wall in an odd, thumping, pattern.

Tap, tap, tap. Pause.

“Pfff, whatever dummy.” She scoffs. “It’s ‘Shonda’. Remember?”

Dink. Ding. Dink.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“What? Like, f’serious mate? What’s that even mean?” He mocks her back, planting hand on hip - and elbow in kitty face.

“Yeeek-”

“Ah, crap…. sorry lil mate-”

“Tufty!” I grin, and the kid jumps. Suddenly aware he’s second in line for a teasing. “Password?”

“Um, gosh…. Uh….! Um! I......” Our huddled cat goes rigid, then panics. Glancing at Demon for support. “Um….! Um….. I guess…. it c-could be….. ‘Horns? M-maybe? Or Tail’? Or....” He mumbles off into silence, clutching his own.

Zip snorts, blue nail tapping he takes his turn. “Nah, lil mate! That was, like, last week! C’mon!” He grins, hooking Tufty’s shoulders with an arm. “Like, yeah! You gotta know this one, right?”

“Reminder: I am instructed to drop this lift into the claymore mines, should the password not be provided.”

“Nyyya!” The kitt squeaks as a panicked thrill goes up his back. And mine.

I grip the rail tighter. He grips his tail, too.

“Heh. Better hurry, lil mate.” Zip grins as I start tapping faster.

“It’s….. It’s…. Not about me, is it??” Tuft wilts.

“Might be. Might be.” I try to grin too, and the wilting intensifies. “But what's it gonna be?”

“Oohh! I know!!! It’s gotta be ‘AMAZING’!!!!” Badger whoops. “Cause’ Tufty’s AMAZING!”

Tufty cringes, covers his face, and whips away. “Nuuuuu…..”

“Yuh huh! You are!” Badger folds his arms, proudly - or tries to. One huge orange mitt waggling dangerously. “Tufty is THE BEST! He’s a great, awesome, super-duper-!”

“Wet blanket.” Kami butts in, with a smirk.

“Password accepted.” The voice hums, and our green-haired shrimp squeaks. Storming over to bang me on the arm and fume - ears back.

“Hey! What did I do!?”

“Spookie!! That was really mean!! Y-y-y-ou made calling…. calling me that the password!!” He humphs loudly, while I chuckle to myself.

“Hey, don’t blame me! I didn’t say it!” I tease - but he hisses and mewls and huffs. Badger sticking his tongue out in feline solidarity.

Heh.

We keep the ribbing light as the old lift ponders its way upward. It helps with the shadows. The dark…. And the fear of things that slither and squirm about in it….. But our deliberate noise can’t block everything - not from GMO senses, sharp as they are. Not from my ears that flicker, this way and that. Focused on the void beyond our little well of light. Beyond the clank and stutter of the lift…..

Hungering for whispers of dread.

And they are fed. They are fed well.

Fed on the ghosts of long-ago screams, still echoing. On the murmurs, and the howls. On the voices of things that don’t sound like people….. On the children crying…. when there ain’t no children at all….

They say you hear…. a lotta funny noises…. in old buildings…..

Something taps on the roof of the car, and I grip the rail tighter. Like tiny monsters falling down the shaft….

….or dirt.

Probably dirt.

I jump as the box shudders to a stop. Crushing any remaining humour beneath a brick thick wall of sudden, hesitant, silence.

Heartbeat. Heartbeat.

Little echoes of noise.

A biting tap-a-tap-tap…. Like someone stuck in a metal box, begging to get out…..

…or in.

Finally, the lift starts to rattle open. Slow. Jerking. Reluctant. Like it’s lonely as Hell, and afraid of letting go. But Demon grabs it. Holding it still as my SMG slips through the gap….. lips tasting the soft, dusty, dark as it brushes my face with murmurs of musty air. Faint flecks drifting across the narrow strip of dim light. A few yellowed candle-bulbs still glowing on their brassy holders.

I tilt my gun, slowly.

Ears pricked forward. Tail stilled.

Taking in as much as I can.

Deepest, reddest, carpets slither and snake - like treacherous serpents, soaked in whispers of dust. Lined, on both sides, by rich, bamboo-painted, wallpaper threaded with bullet-holes…..

And randomly broken-in doors.

I quiet-breathe through my mouth, scanning the gun back and forth. Lining it up with the faint little holes….

Somewhere ahead…. something creaks….

I lick my lips, and access my implant. Ramping my senses and sensors a little higher. Engaging the heat and bio-magnetic overlays.

Nothing…..

“Okay. Go slow.” I hiss, and Demon begins to guide the door open. Sliding it slowly. “One….” I hear Tufty swallow. “Two…..” We all lean forward. “Three….”

Demon and I blur out the door.

Into the breathless, skin-thick, dust…..

Me up high, tracking with my gun. Him low, bounding on all fours. A few soft, fast, steps carrying me past a massive mirror.

Deeply cracked…..

….and speckled with old, dry, blood….

Heatbeat. Heartbeat.

We stop at the first doorway. Backs to the wall. I tilt my gun’s camera around the edge, staring at the feed floating in the air before me.

White bones glimmer

All scattered across the floor.

The skull smashed in - horribly, explosively - right near the door. An arm next to it. Fingers broken…. as if they were clawing their way out…..

Demon turns.

Golden eyes sharp. Leonine tail lashing the air as he sniffs, very quietly. Holding his nose to stop the inevitable sneeze. The others slip out to line up behind. Badger clutching his mouth against the dust we kicked. Or his own nerves. Brown eyes jittering, and uncertain. Confused. Almost like he’s never been here before….

Dots of fluff swirl around us.

Kami steps out last. Grimfaced. Boots in one hand - guns in several others. We form up, silently, slipping on our magnetic breathers to fight the powder in the air.

Plastic boards squeak weirdly beneath us, and every gun jumps that way. Tufty hunching. Shivering. Tail coiled round his legs…..

The hallway so soft, and quiet, and so very still….

The bullet-holes like eyes, sprayed across the walls.

The paper peeling, slow as time itself.

My eyes shift across it all. Quick and precise. Hunting threats, and fools. And even landmarks - like the mirror - that show we got off at the right floor….

A door, ahead, barely shifts.

A trick of the light?

My tail winds a slow, shaken, slither of nervous motion as we ease our way past. Slow as we can. Hunting The Things That Go Bump In The Night…..

Some doors lay open. Or half-ajar on their runners, but others are just gone. Or bent, outward, at violent - twisted - angles. Their frames warped and torn by the force of old madness…..

When we’re hidden inside, it’s all good.

It put enemies on their toes.

But that trick works on us too. And, worse, are the glimpses we get of flats that look just like our base. Except for all the bones…..

Gotta remember: This hallway is ours….

These cameras are ours….

….even…. if it don’t feel like it is….

We pad onwards. Our minds painting creepy little things that hide in the empty dark of the flats. Dolls with wrong eyes…. and maggoty things…. And trees full of books…..

I can almost see the gaps creep wider.

Wider. Wider…..

And what if….?

I jerk as Tufty presses into my side. Badger with him. Clinging tight. Breathless and scared. And I know even they don’t dare make a sound in this terrible, endless, devouring silence.

I hold the line, for them.

Even if I just want to hit all fours and bolt for it.

Just slam round the corner and bang on our door. Screaming to get in…. But we round it with careful, ready, and quiet steps. Slipping up to the armoured door of Number Fourteen, on Floor Fourteen.

I press the buzzer.

I press it again.

Tapping a beat.

The cameras all focus in on us. And I jab my shaky thumb to the scanner. Then my eye. Kami and Zip swinging guns at shadows. All our sweat cold, as we wait for confirmation. A single dark word, in the crisp - dusty - silence of this forgotten hall, buried deep.

“Proceed.”

Click. Clack. Clunk.

The door begins to slide…..

….and then…..

> > >< < <