Mark clutched his stomach as he followed Quet. “I think I finally know what hubris is.”
“It’s a common feeling for Primoi.” Quet’s eyes lit up the subway tunnel that she and Mark had found themselves in. “Hey, looks like we’re coming up on a station. Wanna see where it comes out?”
“…I think we’re coming up on the time when we should start heading back,” said Mark. “I said we have an hour, after all.”
“And we’ve checked out two spots aboveground so far,” said Quet. “And both were barely outside the city center. We gotta find something out here, or we’ve wasted an hour.”
Mark started fishing around in his backpack for his gas mask. “I’m starting to think an hour wasn’t enough time for this.”
“Oh, definitely not.” Quet turned her head from side to side, filling either end of the tunnel with green light. “To be honest, I’m not even sure what you were trying to accomplish by doing this. It’s not like we’re some military platoon preparing for an assault.”
“Yeah, yeah,” mumbled Mark, “I get it.”
“Seriously,” continued Quet, “we’re four people, and we keep trying stuff like this! What kind of plucky adventuring party scouts for stuff? We just kind of end up doing things.”
“I get it,” insisted Mark.
“I–I don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that I think Horan might’ve been on to something earlier. Maybe you should start, I dunno, switching thi–”
“Okay, time to start heading up.” Mark slipped his gas mask onto his face, fastened it in place, pulled up his hood, and pointed to the upcoming subway station.
“I… Okay.” Quet continued towards the station. “At least this one’s probably closer to the… What did that map say the river’s called? The Victoria?”
“Mllmett,” mumbled Mark.
“Willamette, right, thanks. I wasn’t even close.”
Passing over the rusted-in-place turnstiles, Mark and Quet strode over cracked tiling and through the picked-clean skeletons of small tents. As far as could be gathered, the subway tunnels were the remnant of an attempt at developing a metro system in the city shortly before the Nabbing. Portland, at least, put effort into its public transit.
Graffiti covered signs proclaiming ‘OPENING THIS NOVEMBER’ and ticket dispensers that had never seen use. Large sheets of aluminum foil had been draped over the entrance leading to the streets above, in a feeble attempt at radiation shielding.
Quet pushed past the foil and ascended up into the aboveground city. As had been predicted, the staircase led up to a view of the thirteen-hundred-foot-wide Willamette River. Nearby road signs indicated that the raised steel bridge a few hundred feet to Quet’s right was the intended rendezvous point.
Quet pointed out the bridge to Mark. “Think that’s the spot we’re aiming for?”
Mark shrugged. He raised a gloved hand and traced the length of the bridge from end to the other before pointing to the far side.
“Yeah,” mumbled Quet, narrowing her eyes. “It looks about safe to cross, but… No, no, I’m definitely seeing lights on the far side of the river.”
Mark said something curt behind his mask. He turned and pointed out another bridge, this one on the left.
Horan shook his head behind Mark. “Bad t–”
Mark wheeled around and slugged Horan in the face.
Horan staggered backward, clutching his nose, “Ow, ow! Okay, I get it, I shouldn’t sneak up on you! Can you at least not hit me when I forget not to?!”
Mark cradled his hand and shook his head.
Waia cleared her throat behind Horan. “Thought we’d head down to meet you. You’re not exactly hard to spot, with that giant green light of yours.”
Quet shrugged. “Mark didn’t pack a flashlight. I use what I have.”
Horan sniffed the barest trickle of gold back up his nostril. “Yeah, okay, you’re gonna have to fix this one.”
Mark nodded and put a hand on Horan’s shoulder. The light in Horan’s eye grew ever so slightly in intensity and he seemed to relax.
Quet took a position next to Waia. “Mark’s gotten pretty good at this Primus-healing thing, by the way. Didn’t know there was a trick to learn, but I guess he’s figured it out. In other, less desirable news, it doesn’t look like there are any sewer or metro tunnels that lead across that river there, so our side’s a bust. You?”
Horan let Mark’s hand slide off his shoulder and shook his head at Quet. “Turns out, the Servants are faster than we give them credit for. As far as bird-me can see– and bird-me can see far– the Servants have eyes on all eight bridges across the… That’s the Victoria River, right?”
“Willamette,” corrected Quet. “Dunno why everyone keeps thinking it’s called the Victoria, I’m not even sure that’s a real thing. But either way, like… now what?”
Mark sat down on the snow-covered sidewalk and cradled his head in his hands.
Waia glanced at the lights on the other side of the river. “You guys don’t think we can, like… fight my way across the river, then find a new spot to hide in before they can huck a nuke at u–?”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Mark groaned through his mask.
Waia scowled down at Mark. “Seriously? We’re doing this now?”
Mark gripped the sleeves of his hoodie and stuck his head between his knees.
Waia rolled her eyes and pulled Mark up to his feet. “Look, I’m willing to stick with you guys for now, but if you keep acting like a baby, then I’m just gonna–”
“Hey, Waia?” asked Quet.
Waia sighed and let go of Mark. “What?”
“Remember how you said earlier that we’re really easy to spot from a distance because of the whole eye situation in the darkness?”
Mark, Waia and Horan all joined Quet in looking at the lights across the frozen river. Spotlights had been switched on and were now sweeping through the air, making circles of light dance on the clouds above.
“…I think this might prove to be a merit of us favoring the underground,” said Horan.
“Agreed,” replied Quet.
The four turned and hurried away from the riverside, but before they could reach the stairs leading down to the metro, they heard something large pass over them.
Something half the size of a city block sailed through the air and headed over the river towards the other side. As it approached, the spotlights of the Servants all converged on it, revealing a vast, chitinous monster swimming in midair.
“Drrv no wmm,” came Mark’s muffled response.
“Déjà vu,” mumbled Quet.
A distant crack echoed through the air, which those with the experience easily identified as the sound of a tank cannon being fired. A split second later, the front half of the monster exploded in a burst of prismatic, rainbow light that turned artificial night to artificial day.
All four people on the ground recoiled from the explosion of light. Quet collapsed entirely, arms and knees retracting into her chest as she turned away from the sky and struggled to think coherently.
The flash of light dissipated a second later and the Potirangi continued on its path, unfazed. Trailing ribbons of the same flashing light streamed from a point on the nape of its neck. Another similar flash of light went off a few miles downstream. Then another, slightly closer.
Horan helped a shuddering Quet to her feet. “Okay, once again, that’s our cue to not be here.”
Sporadic cannon shots followed the four as they went back down into the subway station. With each new flash of light, the cracks between the sheets of aluminum foil cast momentary strips of light into the depths of the station.
Quet let go of Horan and grabbed onto a turnstile, her fingers drumming on the stainless steel top. “Th–t–th–th–th–t…” She took a deep breath and focused on the drumming for a moment. “Th…That… I d–don’t think we, uh, sh–should keep going up there. It’s tempting fate.”
Mark gingerly lay down on the floor and started hitting his head against the tiles, still taking care not to crack his mask. After a few seconds, he lay still and screamed into the floor for a moment.
“Take your time,” said Horan. “I’m just gonna start swearing off cities from this point on, ruined or no. I have yet to have an experience in one, this year or last, that hasn’t felt like a cosmic punch in the gut. I need to tell the other two about Istanbul and Antioch sometime.”
“Well, this new…” Waia considered how to continue the sentence for a moment. “…Whatever’s been going on behind the scenes that’s led to an apparent repeat of that whole thing with the Green Lady or whoever back in February, it’s a new thing that we can use. Mark’s apparently still adamant that we do this all prissy-pretty pacifist for whatever reason, but you can’t be as opposed to doing something with the fresh supply of invaders from the afterlife that we apparently have now.”
Mark sighed and stood up. He started walking towards where the station opened up into the tunnel, tapped his mask, and gestured for the others to follow.
Waia rolled her eyes and trailed behind Mark.
Once they were a fair distance away from the station, Mark pulled his mask off and held it in one hand while he continued walking back the way he and Quet had come. “First of all, I’m with Horan. We’re cursed to always have the worst experiences with cities. Second of all, Waia, I know I’m one to talk, but what exactly do you mean by ‘use’ the new monsters? Because that’s awfully vague for the beginning of a plan.”
Waia shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t usually come up with schemes to move from point A to point B. You’re the one who keeps acting like you’re in charge. If I’m such a thick-headed brute, how about you tell me how we’re gonna get through this?”
Mark sighed. “I didn’t… I say we just try and ride things out. It l–”
Waia groaned.
“…It looks like the monsters don’t need any reason from us to antagonize the Servants,” continued Mark, “and it’ll only end badly if we try to slip through the blockade during a warzone. I personally trust that the side with explosive porcupine-people and flying, tank-proof cuttlefish can handle an army of malnourished conscripts who lucked into finding some heavy weaponry.”
Mark’s summary of the situation made Quet blink a few times before responding. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I second that. Not dealing with it if we don’t have to.”
Floating next to the other three, Horan raised a hand. “If I can add to the discussion, I’d say that we could probably hide out back with the locals and be fi–”
The three others all voiced their dissent in an overlapping chorus of complaining.
Horan raised his hands in defense. “Okay, I get it, tough crowd. But look, just because there’s suddenly a bunch of Joeys around doesn’t mean the Servants are going to forget about the walking apocalypse and her band of merry men in the sewers. I trust that they’ll keep us under wraps. We were nice to have around, and the Servants are the sketchiest people in the world if you know the slightest thing about what they claim to be experts on.”
“The Servants also have an awful lot of bribery material,” said Mark, his eyes fixed on the rail in front of him.
“I…” Horan closed his eye. “…Yes. The locals stand to gain a lot by selling us out. But that’s just the thing, guys. Because of that, the Servants are going to assume that the locals will act on their side, and boom, there’s a blind spot for us to stay in and wait for those monsters topside to make an opening for us.”
“I would like to point out,” replied Mark, “that your reasoning for asking the locals for sanctuary is that they’re so obviously going to turn us in that it’s not even a concern for the Servants. That is your big idea.”
“You’re thinking like a human, dude. It’s awfully human of you to assume the worst of each other. I prefer to take a more Primus-oriented perspective: That anything is possible through the power of diplomacy. I learned that from Otto von Bismarck. Personally, I might add.”
“They’re going to kick us out the moment they realize we’re more trouble than we’re worth.”
Horan shrugged. “Maybe. It’s worth a shot either way.”
Mark sighed. “Whatever. Fine.”
Horan chuckled. “And by successfully convincing you to do something stupid and idealistic, I prove my point yet more.”
“You’ve proven nothing,” said Mark.
Horan looked past Mark and winked/blinked at Quet and Waia.
“Well,” mumbled Quet, “bare minimum, that room is the one place in this underground where I don’t need to worry about my socks getting wet and freezing and gross.”
“I can’t believe I’m following you losers,” said Waia.