Near her goal where the pipework curved into the lavatory below, Tasìa smelled something odd but familiar. She could not recall where she had smelled this sweet but mildewy scent before.
It was near to complete darkness further down the pipework from the lavatory above; by her calculation, she had climbed down two dozen feet.
Her watch featured a full brightness mode. When she switched it on it shone an orange haze surrounding her.
Now she recognized the scent.
Of course, this level of the building would be thick in the spores.
A familiar face floated in the haze. The spores rippled as the Incubus bobbed in a smooth, hypnotic sway.
Hello, friend.
It said.
"Hello, beautiful one," Tasìa said aloud.
The Incubus put its finger to its lips.
Soon, the angry ones above will be able to hear you. Do not continue in this direction, dear Tasìa. You are not ready for these Manifested Ones. They are so far beyond your ken that your mind will be haunted to your dying day if you choose to be exposed, and be cursed with an unsatiable compulsion to end it.
The SIU medical personnel. She wondered if they got hazard pay.
Tasìa. One more matter before I leave. Something is awakening inside you. Be wary of it even as you use it to transfigure into something greater.
It placed it's hand on her tummy, covering her wound. The touch was warm. Her tummy beneath felt enlivened but restless.
Soon, I will show you how to overcome the condition that has been imposed upon you.
Imposed?
She wanted to ask what was meant by that remark but the Incubus disappeared.
Tasìa glanced at her watch. She had grown to expect the effect now. The time dilation of the dream state. No more than twenty seconds had passed since she enabled the full brightness mode on her watch.
Where the pipework curved into the wall in front of her, Tasia found beneath her feet wood upon which she could stand on.
She frowned as she studied the wall. It was different than the construction in the lavatory above.
Tasìa felt the surface with both of her hands. It was not the same porcelain tile work she so easily plied just minutes before. It appeared the surface bulged up thickly. It was warm to the touch as if it had most recently be manipulated.
She would have to take the Incubus's advice, and find another way.
Tasìa glanced up. They would be here soon and she could not be in a more vulnerable position than she was in now.
She scampered back up the pipes. How far up do they go?
Tasìa knew from the schematics that they did not join into any rooms above so she automatically nixed the idea of returning to the surface level.
In fact, the schematic showed there was a thick layer of sheetrock that would prevent her from doing that.
The best she could do now was to plant her feet on the nozzle just above the hole that she had made, and then make opportunity of the operative's mistakes as they occurred.
She kept her gun trained downward.
If any of the special operatives happened to glance up, she would have the advantage.
As Tasìa set herself in place, one of the operatives yelled, "El Clavo, over here, boss. I got something."
Tasìa heard the shuffling noise of busy hands. Something right after that clanked against the wooden board just beneath her and it dropped down into the pipeworks.
The familiar blast of a gas grenade sat off just below her. Fortunately, it was merely the tear-gas of the thumbnail grenades, not the nerve agents they used in their sticky ones.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"So you found her escape route, Manuel," a man said as he entered the lavatory. His tone changed to an excited, almost fearful one, with his next few words. "Oh shit! Put that up before you kill us all, man."
"I wanted to put some light on her. So she can't surprise us."
"Fuck man, don't be stupid. That flare in the close quarters of woodwork is bad enough on its own. But, in close quarters with the high-grade gas we use in those grenades, it will light it up, and then spread like wildfire. You would incinerate half the building."
"All right. I'm putting it back up."
The second man, they called El Clavo, drew closer to the hole. She could tell it was him by the hard, slow stomp of his boot that conveyed authority.
They stood there for several seconds without speaking. Finally, El Clavo spoke up.
"She must have found some kind of cover down there. Else, we would hear her choking and convulsing with that concentration of exposure. A very resourceful little bitch we have on our hands."
The first man spoke skeptically.
"She's gone, man. Out of here. Found some hole down there to exploit with that tiny little body. Squeezed into another quarters and vamoose!"
El Clavo called the other four men to gather in the lavatory for a planning meet-up.
Tasìa stood still, straining to hear their actions.
The gas merely irritated Tasìa's eyes and sinuses in the current position she crouched. It took a little discipline on her part not to sneeze.
"What do we do now, boss?"
The first man asked.
"You stay put. Guard that hole. Moose-Lick, there should be a maintenance room nearby with fire extinguishers possessing full-foam dispensers. If we have to burn her out, we need to be prepared. You three make sure that all the inmates down here are zip-tied. We'll all meet back here in five."
As the other operatives headed out, the one assigned to guard duty in the lavatory leaned up against the wall.
El Clavo was right. The man was an idiot. The assumption he made in his words that she was gone now reflected in his actions.
Then, Tasìa noticed what was slung over the man's shoulder. Her heart fluttered; she peed herself ever-so-slightly. It was the first love of her life, after Aunt Tatiana.
A SIG MPX submachine gun. The sexiest little motherfucker ever made. She recalled when she was ten and her father taught her how to shoot the submachine gun (SMG) at the range.
Reveling in loving memory, she almost let out a happy gasp right then and there, but recalled where she was just before she let it out.
I. Have. To. Have. That!
It went against what her greater sense of caution tried to warn her, but the Angel of Theft would not be so easily denied.
Silently, Tasìa inched closer. There were several items on the operative's belt that appeared compelling as well.
A 1911 .45 holstered at the indention of his back. The big gun pulled his belt past the crack of his ass.
Five more gas grenades and two flares lined the side of his belt she could exploit with theft without tipping him off.
She removed each of the items one by one. Finished with that, Tasìa was left with a conundrum.
How am I going to get the submachine gun?
Tasìa took out the stiletto knife out of its sheath on her calve. As she held the SMG steady as not to rile the man with any sudden movement, Tasìa cut the band the weapon hung on.
His weight was distributed on the shoulder that he leaned on.
With the bulk of his Kevlar vest between him and his gun strap, it was unlikely that he would feel a thing, in theory.
She removed the gun from his possession with utmost confidence.
Her deft hands were exquisite in these actions. Even so, she was still asking a little too much of those fine instruments in accomplishing this sleight of hand.
He glanced back just as she squeezed the submachine gun between the water-nozzle supports for safekeeping.
A very confused look overwhelmed the passivity of his face when he realized something was not quite right.
With a sudden jerk, he now understood that his gun was missing.
Tasìa grabbed another flare from his belt now that he no longer leaned against the wall and the rest of his effects were exposed. She lit the flare before he could call out. With a brusque thrust of her hand down his pants, she shoved it down the crack of his ass.
She followed this action with a grenade in her other hand which she thrust in his front pocket, squeezing it up against his dick and balls to activate it.
As he gasped at her invasive and rough treatment, Tasìa mule kicked him in the back of his Kevlar vest to get him as far away as possible.
She retreated; Tasìa crouched low in the crawl space when he lit up in a spectacular fashion.
The man's screams called the others into the room.
Tasìa grabbed a hold of the SIG MPX. She rested the stock against the crest of her elbow like it was a baby she dearly loved.
El Clavo screamed at the burning man as he re-entered the lavatory.
"You stupid, useless motherfucker! I kept telling you not to play with that shit. Now you really fucked up!"
There was a commotion of the other four as they tried to put the fire out. One of the operatives carried an extinguisher.
Before he could aim the nozzle. Tasìa set it off with a three-round burst. The explosion of foam in his face blinded the man.
She reset the trigger for full auto before spraying the bullets into the other men. When the magazine emptied, Tasìa reached over and she lay the gun on the floor.
She took out her .32 caliber as she jumped down onto the tiles of the lavatory.
The man she so indelicately set ablaze smoldered as he whimpered still.
Out of mercy, he was the first one that she tapped with two bullets to the head in the age-old standard procedure to ensure what was expected to be dead was actually dead.
As she stopped to take a breath a tingling electricity flowed up and down her neck. The feeling grew comforting, but she was a bit appalled with herself.
This is starting to become too easy. What happened to the old Tasìa who was like a ghost in her burglaries?
She smelled the chemical scent of her treatment enter faintly into her nostrils. Another voice in her head came to her defense.
Just remember, they were going to burn you alive.
Still, the Incubus was right, something was changing inside her. Something woke up when she prayed to the Lord after Kae-Kae was murdered.
A great and terrible Leviathan had entered her soul.