Cross felt comfort in the darkness.
The tower was familiar territory, its barren halls were a far cry from the twisting hive or the crumbled mountainside. The sleek, curved hallway would’ve been the perfect image of simplicity if the Tower hadn’t suffered so much damage.
Even with his vision relying solely on the exposed core of Cole’s Caster, Cross could see the hall had seen better days. Deep cuts marred the walls, and chunks of torn Blackstone littered the floor.
Nothing that got in the way. If anything, the only challenge Cross had to deal with since the cargo hold were his companions.
“I’m telling you that’s my Caster!” The Newblood stated “I dropped it during the fall and would prefer it in my hands.”
“Yeah?” Cole feigned understanding before scowling and shaking his head “Well it'd be better with a Pawn who can actually aim!”
“I was bleeding!” the Newblood spat “If you hadn’t let that psychotic crusader get to me then-!”
“Excuses!” Cole waved him off, each movement of the caster shifting the purple light emanating from the open side.
It had been that way since they’d managed to patch the Newblood’s wounds. Back and forth between Cole and him over who held the Caster or who messed up what. Cross couldn’t even cut in, since he was still putting his jaw back together after that run in with Blast Arm. Using small drops of his own ichor to shape tiny bits of Blackstone into teeth before jamming them in his shoddily constructed jaw. It was a tedious process that had him grumbling near constantly.
Cross had hoped Armel would get them to shut up, but he’d been surprisingly quiet the entire walk. His eye was locked on the screen of the panel he’d taken from the cargo hold, dragging his finger along it as he led the way through the darkness.
For some reason, Armel kept to the front despite the light from Cole’s Caster being the only thing allowing them to see in the damaged hall. He just kept pulling ahead, even when Cole and the Newblood paused to spit nonsense at each other. Whenever Cole noticed him getting far ahead, he’d rush to catch up and force Cross and the Newblood to do the same.
The cycle repeated for some time, until Cole paused and noticed something below. Cross followed his gaze to dry splotches of Ichor on the Blackstone floor, shining in the light. They found the bodies it belonged to scattered across the end of the hall.
Cross couldn’t even tell how many dead Noirites he was looking at, the trail of gray limbs and mutilated torsos ended at a pile of dead laying before a sealed door.
“Utterly massacred.” The Newblood commented “I don’t see even a speck of Vitae anywhere.”
“Ain’t no surprise there,” Armel finally spoke up, glancing back with a slight grin “that crazy lass was a storm o’ blades, eh Cross?”
Cross grunted whilst gesturing towards his still incomplete jaw. He wasn’t about to risk thoughtspeak just because they were inside. The last thing they needed was the Blanken tracking them from the outside.
Thankfully, the Newblood spoke up.
“The Blanken Knight did all of this?” he gestured around them “Just her?”
“Has to be!” Armel gestured around them “These cuts are the same kind she left on Cross!”
He ran his free hand along one of those grooves before shoving corpses away from the door. Before the rest of them had even caught up, he was cursing under his breath as he knelt beside the door. His smile faded as he began tapping at his chin.
“Problem?” the Newblood asked as Cole took his spot next to Armel.
“Got us another busted panel.” Armel griped before shifting to the side “Not like from the hold though.”
Cross’s confusion over that statement ended when he saw the state the door’s panel was in. Unlike the panel in the cargo hold, the shards before them weren’t scattered about. It looked as though someone had punched a giant hole into the panel, the force of which bent and wedged the shattered parts deeper into it.
Just from the way Armel tapped at them, Cross could tell the panel would take forever to pull apart and reform. Even if the Blanken didn’t find a way in before then, that was precious time they couldn’t afford to waste.
“Wait a second, how did she get out?” the Newblood glanced around “Didn’t notice anyone hiding amongst the dead so-”
“Must’a gotten through before it closed.” Armel noted, only for the Newblood to narrow his gaze at him “Its true, quick as lightnin’ that one.”
The Newblood sighed before eyeing up the door.
“Can you get it open?”
“I can try.” Armel placed the whole panel up against the damaged one before tapping at it “If this don’t work, gonna have to get a lil drastic.”
“How drastic?” the Newblood asked, only for his expression to fall as Cole pressed his back against the sealed door.
Cole flexed his arm, the Grey Haze had spread down it towards his hand to the point where most of the limb’s coloring was distorted. Cross could see him flexing hard just to squeeze his hand into a fist.
“Let’s just say you lot are gonna have ta offer some ichor.” He said, his eye fixing on his hand the entire time.
“Sehrlously?” Cross slurred, grimacing at his own broken speech before tearing at the nearby wall for more Blackstone.
“Oh come on, my blood’s a lil wonky if ya haven’t noticed.” Cole shrugged as he looked to Cross “You and Misser spare a lil and we can soften this door enough to break through.”
“Misser?!?” the Newblood practically hissed at the title, prompting a chuckle from Cole.
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That chuckle quickly turned into a gasp as the door he was leaning against suddenly shifted. He stumbled forward before turning back as the doors began pulling apart, with Armel pumping a fist in the air as he looked up from the panel.
“King’s praise, Comrades!” he declared as soft purple light flooded in from beyond “He rewards our struggle!”
Beyond the doors was an identical hall with a giant hole torn in its side. Stepping through that, they emerged into a massive cylindrical chamber that ran down through every floor of the tower. Each floor of the central chamber had a massive ring in the center which opened to the floor below. Around the hole were a number of broken Noirites they had to walk through as they approached the ring.
As they walked, Cross noted the cut marks leading from the hole up the walls of the chamber to the ring of the floor above, which had been broken open along with several of the pillars lining the walls. It was all lit up by glowing spots lining the walls in intervals, bathing the black interior in a purplish hue.
“Cut up these ones too…” Cole muttered, pausing to examine several bodies.
Cross followed behind Armel, snapping his newly assembled jaw before grinding his malformed teeth together to shape them properly. Armel stopped at the edge of the ring, immediately turning his attention to a massive cage suspended several floors above by a large black claw.
Cross grinned at first upon seeing it, only for his expression to fall.
“The King’s Claw doesn’t look too damaged.” he noted as Cole and the Newblood joined them “Can we call it down?”
Armel gave a low grunt before kneeling at the edge of the ring. He pressed a hand against part of the ring, with yet another Panel lighting up with his touch. Unlike the last few, it hadn’t suffered any noticeable damage. Armel gave it a few brief taps before a low groan sounded out from the depths of the tower.
All of them looked up towards the King’s Claw, but it didn’t budge at all.
“Damn it all.” Armel muttered as he leaned forward to look over the edge of the ring.
Cross followed his gaze, only for his eye to go wide at the sight of the green sludge from the hive. The entire central chamber below was completely flooded with the stuff, broken pillars and chunks of blackstone sticking up from the mortal sludge.
“Chamber must'a blown durin’ Towerfall.” Cole noted before pointing “Looks like the Refinery’s still beatin’ strong though.”
Obscured by some of the rubble and the green sludge was a large purple glow that Cross had initially mistaken for another wall light. But upon focusing closer, he saw that not only was it much larger, but it was also growing. It grew then shrank rhythmically, brightening and dimming over and over.
The Refinery, the beating heart of the Tower itself. Despite the damage to the tower and the flooding that came after, it was still circulating Ichor throughout the structure.
“Even so, Ichor flow’s all busted.” Armel tapped at the panel before standing “We ain’t callin’ the claw from down here.”
“Then let’s hope the stairs are clear.” The Newblood examined the walls of the chamber for a moment before pointing.
He pointed towards a large doorway that led to a staircase that curved alongside the central chamber. It’d be a long climb to get to the armory, but they didn’t have any options until they could find a panel that could move the King’s Claw.
Armel followed the Newblood over, but Cross noticed that Cole wasn’t moving from the edge of the ring. He was casting his gaze around the central chamber, tapping a finger against the side of his Caster as he lowered its barrel to the floor.
Cross looked around for a moment before stepping closer and nudging him.
“Everything alright, Comrade?” he asked, with both Cross and the Newblood stopping and looking back at them.
Cole shrugged, letting his greying arm fall slack before nodding around them.
“Just didn’t think this was how the old girl would go down.” He said “Always thought she’d get blasted apart in battle. Rotting in mortal lands just ain’t right for her.”
“What? The Tower?” the Newblood tilted his head before nodding towards him “You refer to it the same as a soldier?”
“What’s wrong with that, comrade?” Armel clapped the Newblood on the shoulder before walking over to Cole “Might look and act different, but she’s got the same blood flowin' through her!”
The Newblood’s gaze shifted to Cross, both wearing the same confused expression. Cross had seen numerous towers being manufactured at the factory over numerous cycles, and not once had he ever considered it the same as a soldier. He just shook his head at the Newblood before holding a finger to his own lips. Giving a roll of the eye, the Newblood let the issue drop as Armel patted Cole on the shoulder.
“C’mon, we’ll cheer her when we’re done here.” He said, but Cole didn’t respond “Cole?”
He was staring upwards with a wide eye, slowly lifting his grey hand to point.
“Comrade in Tanker gear.” He said, immediately prompting Cross and the Newblood to rush to the ring as well to look up.
Just as Cole had said, two floors above was a large figure staring down at them. They were encased in a Tanker Suit, an assortment of heavy armor that made the wearer tower over the average pawn. Plugged into the hunched back of the suit were several tanks full of ichor, but it didn’t hamper the pawn as they stood tall and stared down through the purple porthole of their helmet.
“The Armory’s up there.” The Newblood cupped his hands around his mouth and called out “Comrade, are there more suits!?!”
They didn’t call back, prompting the Newblood to lower his hands briefly before raising them to repeat his question.
“It’s Chance.” Armel spoke before him, with the rest looking to him as his face stretched into a smile “She made it!”
Cross’ confusion over the name was short-lived, as he recalled her thought speak conversation with the Blanken snipers overlooking the Tower.
“I thought she was stuck out there with the others?” Cross pointed out, only for Armel to go quiet.
All three watched him for a moment, with Cole even giving him a shake.
“It was to trick the Blanken.” Armel said without taking his eye off her “Somethin’ ‘bout lettin’ her and the crew salvage gear in peace.”
“But how-?” Cole cut himself off, eye narrowing as he leaned closer to Armel “Is that...? Are you two communing?”
“C’mon!” Armel darted towards the stairs, gesturing back for them to follow “She’ll meet us in the armory, help us gear and plan!”
Yet again, Cross found himself sharing confused looks with the Newblood. Despite how annoying his growing feud with Cole was becoming, Cross couldn’t understate how much he appreciated not being the only pawn put off by the oddities of Formal’s crew.
Their speech patterns, risking the grey haze by wearing Blanken remains, and now whatever communing was. They deviated far too much from what Cross was used to. Even with his understanding of how specialized crews worked, it only brought the reliability of Formal himself into question.
Not that he’d ever risk saying something so brash during a mission. Instead, he tried resolving the newest addition to his list of confusing concepts.
“What’s communing?” he asked as he and the Newblood followed Cole to the staircase Armel had just started ascending.
“Dumb stuff,” he replied with a grunt of annoyance, only to grin back at them “Ain’t nothing Newbloods like you and Misser got’s to worry ‘bout!”
“Againt with that!?!” just like that, the Newblood’s confusion was washed away by resurging irritation.
“Fits don’t it!?!” Cole smirked before darting into the stairwell and shrugging “Make some nice shots and it’ll be all ironic-like, eh?”
He jogged up after Armel leaving a fading trail of chuckles in his wake. Cross noticed the Newblood slow down, clenching his fists at the audacity of the title. Without hesitation, Cross slowed down before stepping back and giving him a pat on the shoulder.
Giving little more than a knowing nod of solidarity, he nudged the Newblood towards the stairs before taking off after their comrades.