Mildew and rat shit.

Tasìa pulled her face back from the hatch door. After her coughing fit subsided, the rogue took the time to strap a stiletto to the side of her calf.

Tasìa knew from the little that she could see, it was not going to be a pleasant scenario down there.

Tasìa wondered where the light switch was located. She heard the hum of machinery echoing in the rooms below.

If those machines were maintained, surely the crew did not rely on mere electric torches as they descended the ladder.

For the life of me -

Some beast scurried loudly below as if it was being chased.

She heard the growl of a cat.

Tasìa flicked her torch back on. A cat pounced on a mouse. Unfazed by the spotlight on it, the feline hissed at Tasìa. As it held a mouse down between its paws, it bit into the neck of its prey.

The squeal of the rodent as it died was startlingly loud.

Tasìa reasoned the spooks must have kept a cat down there for this very purpose.

"Enjoy your meal, Chiquito Pantera," She said and smiled in derision at the aggressive cat.

The cat glared at her, as if it understood her mockery. It growled, threateningly.

"Well, you think you are a panther, but you're just a little tabby cat, like me."

In the next instance, just as she began to flick the light off, a shadow engulfed the cat.

The feline's growl now muffled down into a tight squeal.

"The fuck was that," Tasìa expired out loud.

"Spiders. Big fucking spiders. Did the fuckers just eat my cat?"

Tasìa jerked her head around. It was the same spook who informed the general of the Spore Isolation lockdown.

He now wore a pair of leather boots, black jeans, a brown flannel shirt, and a cowboy hat of matted white straw. She gave the latter a quick study with a side glance.

"I'm afraid so, gaucho."

To this rejoinder, the man gave a broad, loose grin. He appeared to be six foot tall with curly dark brown hair on a high forehead.

"Ms. del Alma-Gris, I have an unfair advantage on you. General Kutuzov has spoken quite a bit about you. As yet, you know nothing of me.

"I am León Ballano. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

He offered her his hand, and she quickly shook it. Ballano peeked down into the hatch.

He cursed.

"Fuck. Excuse my language, Ms. del Alma-Gris. Team Heloïste -," she noticed as he said the woman's name, his head turned unconsciously towards the room with the poker table with a tensed pulse in the vein of his neck, "- in the infinite wisdom of their leader's demand, they took a hammer to break down a door we completely sealed up with plaster.

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"We did this to cut off a section that led into an Unnatural Zone."

He looked up at the ceiling, and he winced, thoughtfully. León then asked her.

"You can't get back over there by accessing the roof at this time?"

Tasìa shook her head.

"Soldiers are all over the grounds, now. I have to find a service tunnel if at all possible."

León confirmed with an uneasy nod.

"It's possible. However, it is not going to be fun. Service tunnels running under Spore Isolation connect by way of a hub found on a dead-end hall off the main corridor beneath us that leads to the hydroduct tunnel.

"I'll help you clear the way to get there. Hold on a moment."

Barely a minute passed before León returned. He now wore a bandolier with several thumb-sized grenades attached to it. On his shoulder was slung a carbine identical to her own.

"I have a little experience with these things if you wish for me to go down the hatch first," he offered.

Tasìa gave him an over-enthusiastic smile for his gallantry. She also thought of Demona Heloïste with part of her skull that became missing at a moment when he was less than chivalrous.

Tasìa was certain that he pulled the trigger from his reaction when he mentioned Lady Spook's name.

"By all means," Tasìa said. "I will cover you, and hold the torch when you climb down."

León chuckled; his hands pressed against a control panel.

"The torch will not be necessary."

All of her tech-savvy flew out the window in an instant, in her personal estimation. She did not recognize the slide panel for what it was until León's hand pressed against it and he opened it.

Tasìa cheeks flushed an embarrassed scarlet as she chuckled; she grabbed the back of her neck.

Part of her reaction was just for show. The man was risking life and limb to help her.

She decided her pride could take a backseat to serve her greater interest for a change.

Tasìa peered back down the hatch. The light that flickered between the moving shadows emitted a weird gloom.

"There are many more than just one down there," she said. "They are moving around in response to our sounds. As if they are being tactful."

"Oh, that they are."

León forced an awkward tough-guy smile along his face. He must have wanted to appear reassuring to her, Tasìa gathered.

He palmed one of the grenades for her inspection. A mere small pressurized canister.

"Chlorine, and some sticky element that only makes it worse when people try to wipe it off. It was designed to control riots. We find it effective against the pests." His eyes turned to the hatch. "You have to be careful where you throw it, though. There is a nuclear reactor down there."

"What? Say that again."

"More precisely, it is a decommissioned satellite. It would be a waste to junk it, entirely. The fissionable pile still has a good hundred years left in it."

He slung the grenade down into the hatch aimed against the eastern wall as he kept speaking to her. It popped, and then with a sound like a kettle whistle, it belched smoke.

"We call the satellite the Muskovite. You'll see."

Tasìa backed up. The chlorine gas was slowly seeping through the hatch.

León let loose another grenade. This time against the South wall.

He joined up with her at the door frame leading into the greater basement hall.

"We'll need to let that gas set for five minutes. The spiders should then be easy to pick off."

Waiting led to small talk. León asked her where she was from. When Tasìa answered, he gasped, "ah! That's down road to Rossara. Great college town. I misspent some of my youth in Rossara."

She nodded back in a sheepish grin. His response also let her know that León was not aware of a substantial part of General Kutuzov's past. At least, where Kutuzov spent years hiding from Interpol between his missions.

She also discovered his ancestors arrived in Paraguay well over a hundred years before from Barcelona, Spain. They resettled after the Spanish Civil War.

"Soldiers. We Ballano's have always been soldiers. We have a specific talent to that effect embedded in our DNA."

"What would that talent be?"

Mischief upturned his grin before he answered.

"Picking the losing side."