“Coming to the ninth floor now,” Phineas said.

“Right, ready up,” Jimmy said.

Barney nodded, wiped a hand across his face, and did a couple of quick squats. As they broke through to the ninth floor, they felt the weight of the heavy silence fall on their shoulders. Jimmy exchanged a look with Barney.

“There should be men stationed here,” Barney murmured as he looked around the dark empty office. “Brookhouse would never abandon his station.”

“Whatever’s happened, we need to get through here and up to the twelfth floor,” Jimmy said. “No hanging around.”

“Right,” Barney nodded as the platform ground to a halt. “Phin, get down sharpish and collect our comrades.”

Phineas nodded and gave a brief salute before laying his hand on the lever to the platform.

“Good news is, she goes down quicker than she comes up!” With a poof of smoke he vanished back down the hole. Barney peered over the edge in mild astonishment.

“Blimey. Hope no one’s standing underneath that.”

“Well, if there is, good chance it’s Ridley,” Nairo said with a ghost of a wicked smile on her lips.

Barney chortled and mopped at his brow with a pristine, except for a splotch of blood, white kerchief.

“S’pose I’ll be washing for a week to get this muck out,” he tutted and folded his kerchief away.

Nairo looked around at their new surroundings. They were in, yet another, dark, dusty, and disused room. The musty stifling air added to the weight of the stillness. She felt like she was hundreds of miles underground, waiting for the building to shift and come crashing down on her. The silence was suffocating, the thumping of her heart was the loudest sound for what felt like miles. How long ago had she been swallowed by this scurrilous building? The desperate urge to see sunlight and feel the movement of air across her face made her momentarily dizzy. She was snapped from her cloying thoughts by the cavernous creak of a floorboard. All three of them froze, their heads snapping around. Jimmy looked at Barney and shook his head. With a careful step, Jimmy turned to face the door. Silence. He took another hesitant step forward. Barney shuffled left to get a better view of the door while Nairo looked around for something to arm herself with. Agonising step after step, Jimmy crossed the room, sweat dripping down his temple. Finally, with bated breath, he arrived at the door to the office. On his tiptoes, Jimmy peered through the frosted glass window, looking up and down the darkened hallway.

“See anything?” Barney whispered from across the room.

“It’s all dark,” Jimmy replied. “Hold on…”

Nairo turned her ear towards the door, straining. But it wasn’t coming from the door. It wasn’t a sound. She could feel the floorboards vibrating under her feet. The tremors increased, rattling dust from the walls of the disused office. Nairo gritted her teeth, steeled herself, and faced the door.

“Who’s that?” Jimmy hissed.

Nairo looked up just in time to see a singular dark shape flit across the frosted glass. Even through the frosting she could make out his brightly coloured morning coat. The tremors were getting worse. Now she could hear the thud of stampeding feet. The noise came all at once, a wave of baying and cursing, like hounds on the chase. A mass of dark figures swooped across the window.

“Man of the Party in distress!” Barney roared, leaping up from his poised crouch.

“Barney, wait…” Jimmy said, but it was too late.

Barney charged across the room and threw the door open.

“Come you ruffians! Have at it with a card carrying man of the honourable side! Scallywags! Thugs!” he screamed as he chased after the mob.

“Ahh shit,” Jimmy groaned and then he turned to Nairo. “Got your laces tied, Sarge?” He gave her a brief grin and dashed out of the room.

“Shit!” Nairo breathed.

She looked around and then down at her already swollen knuckles from her earlier adventures. With no more thought, Nairo peeled out of the office after Jimmy and Barney, sprinting as fast as her battered body would allow her. She came up only a step or two behind as Barney and Jimmy hurled themselves into the surprised backline of the mob. Two men fell, one after the other like someone had cut the strings from a marionette puppet. Barney slammed his forehead into the face of a second man while Jimmy punched another in the gut. Nairo didn’t fare so well. By the time she arrived the mob had turned and were ready. She skidded on the heels of her feet as the thick end of a knot of wood swung inches by her nose. She was able to recover her momentum faster than the man who swung it and she slammed the heel of her hand into his eye. But the man was stolid, thick, and used to being hit in the face. The lump she raised above his eye joined the family of cuts and contusions spread across his scowling face. He lashed out at Nairo with his free hand and she barely slipped beneath it. As she went to fire off another strike, a strong hand gripped her collar and yanked her. Another man grabbed at her arm. She kicked out and lashed left and right with her foot until that too was grabbed. The momentum of the mob, jammed into the crowded hallway, crashed over her like a runaway freight and men began to stumble and fight over one another. Nairo tottered and finally fell with two men crashing on top of her. Her mind raced back to the suffocating mass from earlier and she panicked, writhing and clawing to pull herself free. She saw the swirl of Barney’s morning coat as he kicked and stomped trying to free Nairo. Just as she grabbed his hand, Barney was barreled from his feet and half a dozen men surrounded him kicking and stomping at any part of him they could. He curled into a ball desperately trying to protect himself. Jimmy cried out and desperately fought his way to his friend’s side, but it was futile. Thick grey coated men blocked his path. Jimmy was forced back against the wall, arms shielding his torso and face, as men punched and kicked him from every angle.

“Oi wankers!”

The obscenity cut across the melee. A thunderous crash ripped across the cramped hallway as two men flew through the air over Nairo’s head. Suddenly, the grey coats began backpedalling as two more tumbled past her. Nairo scrambled to her feet, fist raised. She looked back over her shoulder and relief flooded through her. Cripper! The giant man stood nearly a foot above everyone else, his solid massiveness seemed to fill the entire hall. In one hand he had the broken remains of a table and in the other he had the skull of a former man turned battering ram. Cripper stormed through the mass of grey coats, his face placid, as he battered through them. He lashed out with the table leg and broke it across the head of a man. As he did, one unfortunate soul saw his chance for a cheap shot. He swung with all his might at the back of Cripper’s head. The big man barely flinched. He turned, snarled, and then slammed his head into the man’s face, folding him up like a cheap lawn chair. He stepped on the man’s face as he brought his fist down like a hammer on an anvil, crumpling another assailant. Men bounced off him as they tried to take the big man down, only to be trampled under his thudding feet. Cripper became a whirling dervish of destruction as he barreled through the ranks of grey coats, swatting them aside like flies. Teeth, facial bones, bricks, and plaster all crumbled under Cripper’s fist until he finally broke the grey coat’s spirits. First one ran, then another, and a few seconds later those who could, turned and fled, stepping over their fallen comrades in their panic. Phineas came bounding behind Cripper, fists wagging comically as he jabbed and weaved. His foppish little moustache quivered in pique as he cursed the grey coated bandits. Ridley, who was a surreptitious number of feet behind Cripper, continued to hurl obscenities at the fleeing men while intermittently putting the boot to the men that Cripper had laid out. Jimmy staggered over to Barney, the wound on his head reopened, blood dripping down the side of his head, he held out his hand and hauled his friend to his feet. One of Barney’s eyes was badly swollen and a knot had appeared on his forehead.

“I say… rough show that one,” Barney coughed and winced while clutching at his stomach.

“Yeah not smart,” Jimmy said as he wiped blood from his mouth. “Cheers for the save, Cripper.”

Cripper, who was busy picking shards of teeth out of his fists, looked up and nodded.

“Good thing we didn't stop for that cup of tea,” Ridley said to Phineas. “You alright Sarge?”

“Fine. Just regretting the decisions I’ve made in my life,” Nairo replied as she pushed her hair back from her face and checked all of her teeth were still in her mouth.

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“Who’s that?” Ridley asked, pointing at a quivering figure curled up on the floor.

“Brookhouse!” Barney cried.

He stumbled towards the man and dropped to his knees. The figure groaned on the floor and rolled over. The man’s bright morning coat was badly torn and bloodied. He had a thin almost gaunt face with a thick, bushy moustache, and matching shock of greying hair on his head. There were heavy creases all around his eyes and mouth that deepened as he groaned.

“Brookhouse old chum,” Barney said. “How are you, old chap?”

“Barnabus?” The old man’s eyes fluttered open. “Tip top tickety boo.” He laughed weakly and held his hand out to Barney. “Help me up, lad.”

With Phineas’ help, Barney hauled the battered old man to his feet.

“Brookhouse sir, what happened here?” Phineas asked, wringing his hands and worrying over the tatters of Brookhouse’s morning coat.

“Whole bloody world’s gone to pot,” Brookhouse growled. “No time to talk here, those thugs will find their guts soon enough. Stop bloody dithering boy and lend me your shoulder,” he barked at Phineas.

Brookhouse half limped and half shuffled back the way they had come and then past the lift room. The way further was dimly lit and the walls were covered in streaks of blood. Wreckage was everywhere. Some doors had been torn to splinters and every piece of furniture was broken and ragged. There were massive slashes across the walls and the carpet was deeply stained with blood.

“It’s been a war zone up here,” Brookhouse said as he noticed their horrified looks. “Quick, left in here. Big lad, can you pick up that barricade.” Brookhouse waved an arm at a fallen armoire, which had been fashioned with jutting stakes, that was blocking the hallway. Cripper casually hefted the furniture blockade out of the way while Brookhouse hurried them through. They were in another darkened hallway with a few brackets still lit like welcoming pools in a desert.

“Minister’s office is basecamp,” Brookhouse gasped as his age and injuries caught up with him.

Jimmy kicked the door open and the co-op tumbled through. Hastily, Jimmy and Cripper slid a filing cabinet across the door while Barney looked for a light.

“Sit there Crip and don’t move,” Jimmy told Cripper. “Barney, find a light.”

The big man nodded once and then parked himself atop the filing cabinets.

“Only oil lamps left chum,” Brookhouse told Barney as Phineas eased him onto a batter sofa. “Don’t chuck me like a sack of taters!” he snapped at Phineas.

“Careful now, that’s a man of the Party your manhandling,” Barney warned.

“Oh dear so sorry!” Phineas squeaked and bobbed his head nervously.

All of this was just far too much for his constitution. Absent-mindedly, he sat down on an upturned bucket and drew his knees to his chest falling silent. Barney got the lamp lit and held it over the wounded man while Nairo knelt by his side and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“You a nurse my dear?” Brookhouse asked her through gritted teeth.

“As close as you’ll get in this room,” Nairo replied while gently pressing on his torso. Brookhouse laughed before wincing as Nairo pressed on ribs. “Possibly broken.”

“More like probably,” Brookhouse said as Nairo continued her checks.

“Got any booze here?” Ridley asked from somewhere over Nairo’s shoulder.

“Not the time Ridley,” Nairo snapped.

“Really?” Ridley said incredulously. “How many mobs have we survived since this morning? Three?”

Nairo looked up at the battered face of Barney and the bloody forehead of Brookhouse.

“Is there any booze here?” she asked Brookhouse.

“That desk there… should still be something brown and strong in there.”

“That head wound’s going to need stitching,” Nairo said as she gently touched the puckered gash at the top of Brookhouse’s head.

“Oof, they caught you there Brookie,” Barney said, but even his affable cheer was beginning to sound tired and worn.

Jimmy, who had been straining his ears against the door since they had come in, walked back over to them, scrubbing the blood from his face with a rag he had found.

“Sounds quiet out there,” he said to them. “How’s the old fella?”

“Still able to hear boy,” Brookhouse growled.

“No serious wounds other than to his scalp. It’s going to need stitches,” Nairo replied. “Do you have any medical equipment?” she asked Brookhouse.

“Heh, what do we look like a bunch of nancies playing doctors and nurses,” Brookhouse laughed. Barney, in turn, gave an agreeing chortle as if the idea were absurd. “Probably a cut man’s kit laying about somewhere.”

“A what?”

“Cut man’s kit,” Jimmy repeated as he looked around. “Small black pouch, probably pretty battered and very unsanitary.”

“Like this one?” Ridley asked as he held up a black leather bag matching Jimmy’s description.

“That’s it.”

Ridley tossed the bag to Jimmy and came back to the small circle of light with several chipped glasses and a bottle. He poured a glass and handed it to Brookhouse.

“Ta very much,” Brookhouse said.

“I don’t know how to use a cut man’s kit,” Nairo said. “If I’m honest I’m not great at stitches either.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimmy said as he pulled a stool up behind Brookhouse’s head. “Get that lamp closer, Barn.”

Jimmy set about his work with a practised fluidity. First he set his lighter up, so it stayed lit, on a small side table. He then unpacked the contents of the pouch: a roll of cotton swabs, a hooked needle, thread, tissue, and a chip of ice stone. Jimmy twirled the needle over the flame and then dropped it in his drink. While he waited, he tossed the chip of ice stone to Barney.

“Get that on yer eye before it swells shut,” he instructed.

When he was satisfied with the needle, Jimmy threaded it with a practised twist and then dabbed the cotton in the alcohol.

“This bit stings,” Jimmy said.

“Always does,” Brookhouse growled, barely flinching as Jimmy dabbed at his wound.

“Good news, it’s a clean bust and not a lot of scar tissue, so this should be neat.” Gripping Brookhouse’s head with free hand, Jimmy went to work.

“What happened here, Brooky?” Barney asked, the question burst out of him as if he had been holding it for days.

“Smoke,” Brookhouse snapped at Phineas, who leapt from his bucket and produced a pack of smokes in a moment. He pulled one out, handed it to Brookhouse and then held up a lighter for the old man. Brookhouse took a deep, satisfying, pull of the smoke and then groaned a cloud of noxious smoke. “Went to hell about three days back, just after word began to swirl that Pleasently was calling for a Lock Out. We were already having a time of it, what with that rat Ostley snagging the Westington Heights seat. He brought as many humpers, aides, and goons as you could cram on a personnel form and they’ve been giving us hell.”

“Word had travelled,” Barney said morosely.

“Why d’you think I was stuck here?” Brookhouse asked. “Puttin’ me out to pasture: I either succeed and hold the floor or I fail and they turn me into glue and furniture.”

“But what happened three days ago?” Ridley asked impatiently.

“Those damned Rabbits split from us!” Brookhouse growled. “Broke treaty with the Party. That mad lunatic Mickey Parqs has gone completely rogue, he’s trying to snatch the floor and Etiquette be damned!”

“Scoundrel!” Barney cursed.

“Aye, but a smart scoundrel he is. With most city transport contracts being ratified on the ninth, Parqs knows if he holds the floor he can snatch the whole city’s infrastructure and then ransom it back to whoever comes out of the dust on top.”

“The party shan’t stand for it!” Phineas cried out.

“But we did,” Brookhouse lamented. “I’ve been requesting reinforcement for two days now, but the help never came. Just me and a dwindling force of humpers and grey hairs. Fight went out of us hours ago, we were broken and dispersed and I’ve been ducking and diving to get back here ever since. No idea what’s become of my men,” his voice was thick with the shame of his failure.

“You did all you could old chap,” Barney gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Stiff brandy, warm fire, and some hot stew will put you right.”

Brookhouse nodded glumly, his eyes wet, unflinching as Jimmy tied off his stitches.

“There you go fella, you’re fighting fit,” Jimmy said with a broad smile.

“Good as new,” Nairo said, attempting an uplifting smile of her own.

Brookhouse’s haunted eyes glistened for a moment and then he gathered himself: man of the Party must maintain good posture and stiff upper lip in front of the proletariat.

“‘Corse. Quite right. Only a scratch really… shouldn’t have made such a fuss,” he blustered.

“That’s the spirit!” Barney’s twinkling smile returned and even Phineas managed to twitch his pointed little moustache.

“Fine work young man,” Brookhouse said, tenderly tracing his fingers across the stitches. “Whose boy are you?”

“Right Honourable Marvin Parish, sir.”

“Well, I shall give him my commendations when I see him in the Starling next.”

“Much obliged,” Jimmy said, doffing an imaginary cap.

“So what does this mean for us?” Ridley asked Jimmy.

“Well, by the sounds of it… we’re in a pile of it. Brookhouse, sir, we need to get across this floor to the Civvie Portal.”

“Oooh,” Brookehouse let out a low groan, his eyes widening. “You may have a bit of trouble there, lad.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got Cripper,” Ridley said, throwing a confident thumb over his shoulder at the hulking doorstop. “Those grey coats don’t stand a chance.”

“It’s not the grey coats you need to worry about, boy. The place is a snake pit. We’ve laid booby traps across almost every corridor from here to the portal.”

“Booby traps?” Jimmy said, wide eyed.

“Oh aye. The whole floor’s riddled with ‘em.”

Ridley let out an exasperated cry.

“What the fuck is wrong with this place!”