Biz took a deep breath as she slipped the final protective plate into place. The adjustments of the box that had almost killed Li had gone easily enough, but every step had been an anxiety-inducing dangerous process.

Still eyeing the box warily, she shrugged back on her studded leather jacket and carefully adjusted the collar so the enamel "she/her" pin was visible. She'd taken off everything with a hint of metal in it before messing with the glowing vortex of energy and judging by the sparks that had gone flying during the process it had been a good, possibly lifesaving, choice.

She walked around the box, muttering and swearing under her breath as she reviewed her work, it was as safe as she could make it. Not actually safe, it was hard to consider a vortex of unknown energy hooked directly to a couple of kettle leads as safe. She grimaced and ran her hands across her unshaven scalp, there was probably a 40% chance that the damn thing exploded once they started using it. She pushed aside her concerns and tried to channel her inner Red, it was not going to get any better and she just needed to accept that.

With the energy contained Biz considered the next part of her plan; the opening of part of her lab to the dark of the void. She’d spent the last few days examining the mess that was Red’s wall, and though Red’s measurements had been chaotic as ever, they had been able to provide an excellent example of the dangers and risks of the void. It was not without reason that they were currently sleeping in the other room.

Biz grimaced as she pulled the tools from her pockets of her lab coat, as always, the selection was a bodge of the bespoke and bizarre, but she quickly found what she was looking for, the cheerful pink of a long-bladed knife. Biz was fairly sure it was a custom job for some long lost, delightfully pink obsessed engineer. It was a good tool, impossibly sharp and able to extend half a meter long. She spun it in her hand and looked over the taped outline upon the wall carefully.

Content that the tape was in the right place, she braced her arm and carefully pressed the blade point into the corrugated steel and foam insulation of the storeroom wall and pressed the button on the side. With a click the blade extended, sliding through the insulation and steel with barely a shred of resistance.

Biz withdrew the blade and looked at the gap, a fine bubble of inky black breaking into fine silver threads as it spilled through, giving her all the confirmation she needed. From there she worked quickly, moving the blade smoothly along the guiding lines as she carved the shape of a door into the wall of the storeroom.

She stepped back to the room’s original doorway and examined the slab of metal floating unevenly on the layer of boiling silver threads. Careful not to disturb the precarious segment, she stepped away, sheathed the knife, and placed it back into her pocket. Biz paused to stretch out her muscles and took the sledgehammer from where it leaned against the door frame.

“I guess we do this damn thing” She muttered to herself and swung the hammer with all her might at the suspended section of wall. The first blow caused it to tilt back from the point of impact, the second blow bent the steel in the centre, and the third sent it slipping back, falling back into the void beyond the street. It floated for a second as the darkness poured through, engulfing the broken wall in darkness which boiled into silver threads as it contacted the air. The temperature in the room dropped as the energy was ripped from the air by the unstable roil of reactions as the air dimmed.

Painfully aware of the consequences of staying near the roiling energy, Biz quickly stepped back through the door before the energy spread further. She spared a glance back into the room before the door closed to see a flow of roiling silver and black as the destructive flow of silver threads and inky black void rushed into the room. Biz shuddered and slammed the door shut on the inky void, the heavily modified frame crackling electricity as the safeguards slammed into place.

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The lights in the lab dimmed and flickered as power thrummed into the doorway, and Biz felt the uncomfortable pressure build as her piercings began to pull towards the thrumming electromagnets, the only metal left in the room drawn undeniably towards the repurposed medical components. She swallowed nervously and hit a second button, triggering a hefty thud as the thick, metal shielding slammed into place.

She watched for a few moments longer to be sure that Reds safeguards were working, and content that the void was successfully contained behind the door moved back to the kitchen to await Charlie’s arrival. Whilst she waited, she carefully assembled the most needlessly complex coffee she had ever made, each ingredient precisely measured, each added at just the right time. A ritual of needless complexity that kept the spiral of dark thoughts barely at bay.

-What happens if we fail?

-What if I was wrong?

-What if Red is wrong?

-What happens if Al is gone for good?

Her thoughts hone in on Al, her wonderfully, stupidly naive friend.

Al the enby who somehow trusted the establishment with all its heart.

Al, the dead one.

She heard sudden shattering of pottery from across the room and was dimly aware of the absence of a mug between her hands. Biz knew she should clean it up, but couldn’t, she didn't have the headspace now – maybe never would. Her mind was full of rage at the injustice of it all. Of the cruel stupidity of their existence on the street where something as simple as a letter could cascade into chaos.

Biz stopped herself, gritted her teeth and pressed her hands into tight fists. Eight crescents of pain erupted as her nails stabbed into the flesh of her palms and she screamed aloud. Just for the sound of it, for the feeling of control and a wave of grief and exhaustion rippled through her body.

She looked regretfully at the damn coffee-stained dent on the opposite wall and grabbed another mug from the side. No ritual this time, just a triple dose of instant a dash of boiling water and no milk.

Biz took a deep breath and began to drink, almost dropping the mug as the front door slammed open and a bombastic Scottish brogue split the air.

“HEY BIZ! IT’S Ya Boi, Charlie Knight of the Street and Absentee Streamer! – Here to save the god damn-day once again!”

Biz sighed and sipped the almost full coffee, Charlie had arrived. It was time to risk even more.

He looked absurd, a patchwork network of wires and copper mesh peeking out from beneath a quilt of turquoise bulls and a flag adorned motorcycle helmet. Biz gazed absently at the assembly, torn between amusement and horror at Charlie’s heroic posturing. She let them have their moment and sipped her drink carefully as he dragged the clunky diesel generator through the door behind him.

He grinned at her and indicated the thick tail of cables behind him, and they began to work, quickly acting through the steps they had planned out days before, the diesel generator was discarded. The thick collection of cables now split and connected, the power link leading back to the heavy steel of the contained vortex, the endless throbbing of that pulsing crackling energy barely contained. A second thinner stream of cables linking to the computers and monitors that would track Charlie’s descent into the void.

Final checks complete she looked back at him, swallowed the last dregs of her coffee, and shook her head.

“Right, lets fucking do this then.”

He grinned at her and bounced through the humming magnetic door, fists raised as Biz wonders if they plan to punch aside the void and the terrible machine within. As soon as that, he is gone, vanished into the darkness, leaving no trace save the trailing tail of cables that extended behind him. She waits, watching him from the cobbled selection of monitors that make up the control room. In a strange frustrating way Charlie is a tool a drone they are sending into danger.

She's lying to herself, pretending she is letting him play out the trope of white saviour whilst she stays back monitoring him.

His blood pressure is elevated, it's understandable. It would be shocking if it wasn't.

Biz clicked into another tab and let loose a string of expletives.

The screen is lit with bright blue text, the word DANGER flickering across it followed by a string of hexadecimal codes. She followed the reset steps quickly, typing commands and resetting sections as she tried to correct for the error.

More blue lights, and a second longer code.

Unable to solve the issue Biz dived from the chain and sprinted for the room where Red lay sleeping.

If there was ever a time for a second opinion now, was it.