Oscar Reynolds
Shots echoed down the hall as Oscar stumbled forward down the pristine yet dimly lit corridor of the Far Reacher ruin. Ruin was a bold word. Really, it should’ve just been called a Far Reacher “base” or “facility.” Nothing about this place was “ruined.” Oscar had no idea why such thoughts were running through his head as he fled for his life. His mind really did wander into weird areas during times of distress.
The remaining four survivors had one thing going for them, though, or well, two things, actually. First, whatever that “autonomous shell unit” was, it was slow. Very slow. The thing was big and tall, but its pace was more of a lumbering giant. It did not run; it did not jump; it merely walked. Ben tried to explain while they fled that it was most likely due to the automaton's internal workings having degraded over the millennia. Still, Oscar ignored much of that useless blah, blah, blah. All he and the remaining survivors needed to know was if they could get away.
So far, yes. They could at least outpace the monster, but could they shake it? No. The blasted thing was persistent; to make matters worse, the thing had a gun. Like the Rusivite fighting machines, it was some sort of heat ray-like thing. It worked like their magrite torches; it shone a bright light; the only difference was that this light melted and scorched anything it touched. What stopped that thing from just killing everyone the moment they spilled into the hallway was range. Their lucky asses were only spared because Oscar could guess the automaton’s weapon had a range of roughly thirty gotts, at least its effective range. When the monster first shone the light on them when they were a somewhat safe distance away, Oscar’s skin immediately began to flare and burn as if he had received a serious sunburn, but he wasn’t dead.
The second thing the motley crew had at their disposal was Ben. Their mysterious benefactor, whoever they were, mostly knew what was happening. With how kinetic things had gotten, the crew had little time to contemplate who this Ben person was. All they knew, and all they cared about, was that whoever they were. They knew their shit and where to go. It wasn’t perfect, though; Ben could only communicate via vibrating the little device Oscar had known as a caster and could only communicate by writing.
Oscar wished—no, he prayed—that Ben could somehow alter the device and speak plainly. The person or thing speaking to them already hijacked the device. There is no way the caster could communicate the way it is now. So why couldn’t they just do it again but change it to speech? Again, Oscar’s mind wandered as he and the others conducted a fighting retreat down this labyrinthine facility's wide-spanning yet clean corridors.
Point is. While Ben couldn’t verbally speak, the information he did have was invaluable. Because of him, the group could stay ahead of the monster as they twisted and turned down the corridors until eventually stumbling into a massive circular room with a large tower in the center extending downwards into an inky, black abyss.
Oscar recognized immediately what sort of room this was. A panopticon. Or at least that’s what it resembled. The room was gargantuan. The facility's walls were lined with thin strips of blueish-white light; he hadn’t had time to examine them, but he assumed it was magrite. The light gave the interior a faint blueish hue that allowed him to just barely see the other edge, which stretched at least fifty garos out. Equally spaced along the curving walls were doors leading to gods knew where, and to his right, about a dozen garos away, was a bridge that reached out to the central tower.
Behind them, they could faintly hear the echoing footsteps and the shouts from the automaton. Doing the math in his head, based on the speed at which they ran here and the pace that thing was going. They had maybe two minutes before it arrived.
Everyone was out of breath and was hunched over their knees. “Dammit!” Sergeant Archer swore as he kicked the floor.
Corporal Johnson gulped the stale air and shuddered. “They were both in front of me…” He whispered. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry,” he said, trembling.
Lieutenant Sheffield briefly shared a painful look with the other two humans but then clenched her eyes shut. She shook her head and said, “I know shit sucks right now, but we need to keep our heads cool.”
Johnson briefly gave his superior officer a fierce look, though Sheffield looked at him calmly. “We knew the risks coming down here,” she said, “though none of us could’ve predicted that thing would do what it did. The best we can do is to keep moving and fighting.”
“Lieutenant,” Sergeant Archer said, taking a deep breath. “We’ve only been in here for less than an hour, and we’re already down a third of our team. We only have a rifle and a pistol. We can’t fight that thing.”
“We won’t fight it,” Sheffield said as she motioned for everyone to move. The footsteps were getting louder as the thing drew near. “Oscar,” she said to the remaining elf. “Which way does Ben want us to go?” She asked.
Oscar took out the caster and glanced at it. Ever since shit hit the fan, the being speaking through the caster had toned down their snarkiness reading what Ben had already written, and he relayed it to the group with a pained grimace coming from his back. “They say to proceed along this path and continue through the door with the flickering light.” Looking up, he spotted the door about half down the bend and pointed to it. “That one.”
“How the hell do they know about?” Johnson asked with a nervous twinge. “Can they see us in here?”
Sheffield shrugged as she began to pick up the pace and motioned for everyone to do the same. “I wouldn’t doubt it now come on.”
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The pain in Oscar’s upper back and arms was excruciating now that the initial adrenaline high had died down. To make matters worse, a muscle in his left leg around his knee joint was aching heavily with every step. He hadn’t even known there were muscles there, and whatever it was, he had pulled it at some point.
Oscar thought we should have asked that priest to tag along with us. He had some scrolls that could fix us. No. He stopped himself. The people back at the makeshift bunker would do better if they had that priest. Not to mention Anne was there too, and gods forbid if something happened to them. A priest treating those, even a few, would be best.
If they brought that man along, he probably would’ve been killed along with Coleman and Jax. The fact that any of them survived was a miracle. How did they even survive? Oscar bit his lip and shook his head. There wasn’t time to ask questions like that. He had to focus. The universe was giving him a break right now, though he’ll need to talk sternly to the universe about what a “break” should be. For now, he’ll have to suck it up. He’s been through some crazy shit throughout his long life, and while this may be one of the top shit moments, it isn’t the top.
That would be the time his strider, Audrey, and he was caught in a rockslide in the eastern mountains of Yankston during the start of the Great Migration. Poor Audrey didn’t make it, and he was trapped deep within the Wylde. The fae were not welcoming towards him and other pioneers. Thankfully, he was able to negotiate peace when he… there he went again, his mind wandering.
Focus!
“Continue going forward till you reach the door with the solid red light,” Ben wrote as a blinking red icon appeared on the caster’s map display. “Be warned that opening the door will result in an emergency alarm. Any autonomous units in the area will be alerted to your actions, so you’ll need to move quickly.”
“Fuck.” Sergeant Archer cursed at Oscar, who was reading off Ben’s messages. “So you’re telling us to give away our positions?” He asked, though, to Ben, not Oscar.
“Yes,” Ben replied without any snarkiness. “But only temporarily. I am trying my best to obscure the senses of those units near you, but without access to the primary control center. My own senses are limited.”
The party was making their way down a wide corridor big enough for a train, which Oscar thought may have been its purpose. He noticed that embedded into the ground was a small groove, almost like little tracks. Like everything else in this place, it was vast, stretching far beyond his line of sight and seemingly infinite. As he limped along, Oscar glanced at Archer, who was biting his lower lip, and the human glanced towards his superior officer.
“Mr. Reynolds,” she said tiredly but kept her face stern and focused. “Can you ask Ben if there’s a way we can take over this primary control center?”
Oscar didn’t need to relay the question to Ben; the mysterious benefactor was already responding. “Ha!” It was written unhelpfully. “No way, dummies.” Oscar wanted to snap at the asshole hiding behind the magical device but held his tongue as Ben continued, “The Primary Control Center is deep, and I mean DEEP, within this facility. To get there, we would need to backtrack to the panopticon and descend at least forty levels–”
“Forty?!” Sheffield and Johnson gawked as Archer simply shook his head.
Oscar held up a hand to stop them as he continued reading Ben’s response, “The control center is also sealed by a hyperresonance barrier, which you primitives would know as a force field, as well as over a dozen autonomous shells—blah blah.” Ben didn’t actually say “blah blah.” Oscar didn’t want to bother reading the wall of text Ben dropped on him.
“It’s impossible,” Oscar said bluntly, skimming the rest before Ben wiped it to complain that he wouldn’t let the obnoxious individual finish. “Ma’am,” Oscar cleared his throat and grimaced as the pain was becoming unbearable. “I know I’m not a soldier, but if you don’t mind, I’d suggest we keep with the original plan. Ben has been helpful so far; I’m sure once we get that door open, he’ll do his best to keep those murderous death machines away.” He then glanced at the caster in his hand. “Right?” He said it with heavy emphasis.
Ben didn’t respond right away, and Oscar gulped nervously. “Right, sure. Let's go with that,” Ben said, and Oscar’s teeth clenched.
“Ma’am,” Archer coughed and pointed. “Red door upahead.”
Getting distracted before he could respond, Oscar glanced up and saw what Archer was pointing to. Far ahead, about fifty gotts, was a massive red door, or to put it into perspective. It was a massive vault door that seemed to slide open along wheeled tracks. On it was an alien script that Oscar couldn’t read. He’s seen Far Reacher texts in the past but has never made heads or tails of them. There have been guesses for sure, such as context clues like “Exit” or “Restroom,” or at least those who hoped those were restroom signs.
The ancient text has never been deciphered. Magical means of translating or even the good old-fashioned linguistic studies in the past have all failed. Many believe that the Far Reacher language was enchanted to never be legible, though no one has confirmed such a rumor. Perhaps everyone on Enora was just primitives who were too stupid to understand the Far Reacher alphabet?
Once again, Oscar’s mind was wandering. What were they doing? Oh, right.
“Ben,” Oscar said hoarsely as they all came to a stop a handful of steps away from the gargantuan door. “You seem aware of everything here, to a degree… Can you read what’s on the door?”
Ben, once again, didn’t respond right away. Perhaps he was looking at the door? Oscar thought, and finally, they said, “Why yes, I can. It’s a blast door, Mr. Reynolds. It reads, “For blast protection, keep doors always sealed. Unauthorized usage will sound an alarm.” Duh. Anything else I need to interpret for you silly-beans?”
“Silly beans?” Oscar cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the others. He was so caught off guard that he forgot his frustration about the “duh.” Shaking his head, he sighed. Now wasn’t the time to wonder where the hell Ben got his slang from.
“How in the hell are we going to open this?” Oscar asked. “The thing is massive, and I don’t see a door handle.”
Instead of saying nothing, Ben wrote an ellipse. Three little dots slowly manifested before they wrote, “Seriously? A door handle?”
“Well yeah,” Oscar said, glancing back at the massive blast door. The thing was taller than his house; it was so big. “That opens most doors or a crank of some kind.”
“A crank?” Ben responded, and Oscar couldn’t help but feel the mysterious benefactor was being condescending.
“Mr. Reynolds,” Sheffield said in a tone that hinted she was trying her hardest to be patient. “Does the dickhead have a way for us to open this thing?”
“DICKHEAD?!” The caster vibrated intensely in the elf’s hand, so much so that it actually stung. Cursing, Oscar switched the caster over to his other hand as Ben began to rant. “I’ll have you know I am not a dickhead! It’s because of me you all stand a chance at surviving this and saving the–”
“Not all of us have survived, asshole,” Oscar snarled, now pissed. “You’re the one who got us into this mess, until you successfully help us in ending this. You don’t have the right to boast. Now tell us. How do we open this thing?”
Ben was silent for a few moments. For half a second, Oscar feared the sensitive being was ignoring him. Finally, Ben responded, “There’s a console hidden behind a panel on the right-hand wall. It’s hard to see, but I can tell you which one to remove. You can use one of the entrenching tools that Sergeant Archer brought to pry it off.”
Oscar blinked. “So, like a projector?”
“A projector?” Ben responded, though more out of curiosity.
“Yeah,” Oscar said with a smirk, thinking he was onto something. He motioned for the others to start walking towards the panel Ben suggested. “A sound projector. A crystal orb that carries magically transmitted messages. Mostly used for music, y’know?”
“Oh…” Ben wrote. “How unfortunate.”
Oscar blinked, confused. “What’s so unfortunate about that? Projectors are really cool. The fact that we were able to manipulate message spells into being able to carry–”
“No,” Ben responded curtly. “What I meant is that it’s unfortunate that you’re this stupid.”
“H-Huh?!” Oscar was stunned.
Ben continued, “Aren’t you supposed to be a “smart” artificer.”
Oscar’s eyes rolled so hard he thought he would sprain them. “Why are you dick? Like seriously?”
Ben responded with another ellipsis. “I can’t help it,” they said. “It’s in my nature.”
“Bullshit.” Oscar huffed and stopped as they neared a blank wall panel on the edge of the massive corridor.
“What’re we looking for, Mr. Reynolds?” Sheffield asked as she shone the light of the magrite torch on the pristine wall.
“Panel to your left; you’ll see some faint scuff marks,” Ben said.
Taking a deep breath and focusing, Oscar looked towards the suggested panel, and sure enough, there were subtle scratch marks along the barely visible crevice. How the hell did Ben see those? He wondered and tapped on the wall.
“Here. Ben said there should be some kind of console thing we can use to open the door,” he said, stepping back as Sheffield nodded to Archer, who unsheathed his entrenching tool.
Rolling his shoulder, Archer stepped forward, unscrewed the shovel portion of his tool, and replaced it with the pickaxe head. Using the flat end, he jammed the portion into the crevice and grunted as he shoved it in. Ben vibrated intensely in Oscar’s hand, and glancing at it, he saw the mysterious being practically panicking as they wrote, “Easy, easy! You’re going to damage the goods!”
Though Oscar couldn’t relay that in time, Archer grunted as he viciously bent the metal panel and pried it from the wall. Once he could get his hand under the metal and grip the thing, Johnson stepped forth to assist. Within less than a minute, the two humans ripped the sheet of the wall, exposing a contraption beneath.
Under the panel was a device more complicated than anything Oscar had seen before. It was sleek in appearance and riddled with lights, small gears, tubes, and color-coded wires that routed to and from panels. In the center of the device was a glass display similar to that of the caster, and below that were buttons that looked like typewriter keys. Except, these buttons weren’t buttons per se, but tiny crystals, glowing crystals of various colors. It was pretty beautiful, except Oscar had no idea what those keys did when pressed.
“Ben, what the hell is this?” Oscar asked, figuring he would be asking this question a lot.
“Well, give me a moment, and I’ll tell you,” Ben said with a symbol that looked like a frowny face. “What you see before you is known as a computing console. Or simply a "computer,” as referred to by the Far Reachers when translated to your language. The actual term is quite elaborate, and the full translation doesn’t–”
“What does it do?” Oscar leaned over and hissed into the caster, wincing as the pain in his upper back flared up. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the soldiers looking at him expectantly, wondering if the artificer knew how to work the magical machine.
“It opens and closes the door you imbecile. I told you this!” Ben responded with a frowny face again.
Oscar was about to whip the caster down the corridor but instead chose to roll his eyes again, another gesture he felt he would be repeating. “How do we use it to open the damn door?” He hissed once again.
“Oh! Haha.” Ben responded unhelpfully. “Just push that big blue button. I’m making it flash just for you. I know how you primitives enjoy flashy lights.”
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Oscar shook his head, sighed, and glanced at the "console,” sure enough. There was an ample flashing blue light. Oscar hesitated. “This isn’t some trick, is it?” He asked now, second-guessing himself.
“Of course not!” Ben said now with a smiley face icon, which made it more suspicious. “As mentioned already, this will trigger an alarm. Bad guys will know where you are because I can’t suppress them all, but the ones that do will be far from your position. Plenty of time to run away and save the city!”
“I hope you’re right.” Oscar sighed. “Lieutenant,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Get ready. I’m opening the door.” With a nod from Sheffield, Oscar pressed the big blue button.
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The alarm was deafening. The moment Oscar had pressed the button, the entire facility was basked in a dark blue light, and the air was saturated with an ear-splitting wail. A loud mechanical thud that shook the earth followed, and before their very eyes, the massive blast door began to tremble and slowly slid into the right-hand wall. That is, at a snail's pace. The ground shook as the leviathan-sized door slowly drew into the wall, and the soldiers and Oscar hurriedly moved away from the thing, fearing pieces of debris would fall on their heads.
As they stepped away from the sliding door, Oscar noticed Archer glance at his shoulder and shouted, “Lieutenant!” Archer shouted over the noise created by the door. “We got company!”
Following the man’s finger, Oscar looked down the wide and dimly lit corridor they had come from. Having better eyes than the human, Oscar quickly noticed what the man had seen. The unnerving automaton chasing them approached the group at a seemingly casual walking pace. It was still well over a few dozen garos away, far beyond its effective range, but it was getting closer. The door behind them was slid far enough open that possibly Lieutenant Sheffield could fit through, but Oscar and the other guy still had to wait.
Sheffield bit her lower lip. “Archer, send bolts down range. Try and slow that thing down by aiming at its legs or something!” She spoke loud enough to be heard over the alarm.
The sergeant wasted no time. He dropped to one knee with a curt nod and raised his rifle. Oscar flinched when the gun cracked; its muzzle flashed briefly with a red light as a bolt of arcane energy zipped down the corridor in the blink of an eye. The shot slammed into the armored killing machine’s leg, the force causing it to bend slightly as the towering automaton stumbled. Twisting its ankles to secure a footing, the mechanical monster straightened itself before jerking back once again when the sergeant shot again and struck it in the upper left shoulder.
Over the blaring alarm and door, the group could hear the being shout something. Oscar gripped the caster tightly, “Ben, what’s it saying?!” Hoping the mysterious benefactor could translate. Part of Oscar wanted it to be that perhaps the killer robot was simply misunderstood and possibly–
“Oh that, asshole?” Ben wrote. “It’s saying, “Biologicals, surrender your weapons or be eliminated. All trespassers will be contained and prosecuted to the highest degree of the law.” Before you ask, the punishment for trespassing in one of these facilities is capital punishment, i.e., execution. Really, the Far Reachers never messed around in these sorts of situations. So I’d suggest you start running.”
Archer’s attempts at shooting the damn thing weren’t futile. Every bolt he sent down range gave the team microseconds to wait for the door to open. One such shot, his last one, yielded a delicious result when he aimed at a particular point along the machine's leg. A gap in its armor near the knee widened partially with each step forward. Concentrating momentarily, he held his breath, aimed, and fired. Scoring a direct shot through the gap in armor and puncturing something vital within.
An explosion of multi-colored sparks shot out in every direction, and the automaton’s rambling shouts ceased briefly as its leg locked up and stumbled forward. “Hell yeah!” Archer exalted as he pumped a fist when the death machine face planted the corridor floor. “That’s for Coleman and Jax, you tin can!” The group cheered for a second but stopped when the machine slowly pushed itself back to its feet.
Oscar couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for the damn thing. It looked pathetic with how slowly it moved and got to its knees. Honestly, the vibe the thing gave off was something he could relate to. At least he would’ve if he didn’t know the damned thing wanted to kill him.
“Alright, let's make like a shepherd and get the flock out of here!” Archer shouted, and Sheffield nodded in agreement.
“The door is wide enough for us to slip through!” Sheffield said, "Johnson, you first, Oscar, you’re behind him!”
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As the group squeezed through the door to the other side, Ben vibrated aggressively in Oscar’s hand to get his attention. Glancing at the caster, Oscar read, “Panel directly to your left. Rip it off now. We can shut the door–” Oscar stopped reading as he pointed to Johnson.
“Entrenching tool now!” The soldier didn’t bother asking questions. Unslinging the tool from his belt, Oscar pointed to the panel, and the man immediately went to work on the wall. Slamming the tool, Johnson roared as a surge of adrenaline allowed him to peel the sturdy metal from the wall, revealing another one of those computing devices. A giant pink crystal key was already flashing, and the man jammed his finger on it.
The siren that had been constantly screaming shifted its tone to something profound and ear-ringing as the door's grinding gears screeched to a halt and began to move in reverse. Ben vibrated again in Oscar’s hand and looked at the caster.
“The door is now closing. You should be in the clear once it's shut. I suggest you continue moving. You’re almost there.” Oscar sighed with relief and turned to the remaining crew.
“Ben said we’re almost to where we need to be. Also, that murderous trash can should be off our trail.” Oscar gestured lazily towards the door and winced as the raw flesh on his back flared. He needed to get that checked out; maybe Luna, if she’s okay, could help him if he leaves. That is if she’s still in Johanneson. If the Ashflows were smart, they probably hopped on their wagon and exited the city. He’d do that if he and Anne weren’t at the airport.
Anne… Gods, he hoped she was okay. Maybe this was a mistake? Coming down here was a death sentence—Oscar shook his head, freeing himself from his dark thoughts. While he isn’t a soldier, he at least had the self-discipline to know such spirals were dangerous to go down. He needed to focus, keep his head in the game, and get the job done.
“We’ll continue for a few dozen garos,” Sheffield said, taking a deep breath. Though they hadn’t run far, the adrenaline surge that went through them when Mr. Trashcan appeared had taken everything out. “Once we’re a safe distance, I want to ask Ben if we have enough time to take five.” She meant a five-minute break.
Immediately, Ben vibrated, and Oscar looked at the message. “No can do,” Ben said. “You all are very close. Another fifteen minutes at a steady pace should get you to your objective. Any stalling will risk mission failure.” Oscar informed the others.
“Fuck!” Sheffield cursed. “That’s what I feared.” She sighed. “Dammit, if only I wasn’t some desk jockey. I ain’t cut out for this field shit.”
“It ain’t too bad, ma’am.” Johnson said with a faint smile. “At least we’re doing something. The expeditionary force above is probably shitting their pants right now. Sure, we might be underequipped, but it beats sitting on our asses wondering when the enemy is going to hit us again.”
Sheffield nodded. “You’re right, Corporal.” She then glanced at Oscar. “I’m sorry shit’s gotten as bad as it has, Mr. Reynolds–” Oscar held up a hand to stop her.
“Don’t apologize to me,” he said. I’m the one who got you all down here. We knew what we were doing.” He smiled. “The best thing we can do now is finish the fight.”
The lieutenant smirked. “Are you sure you’re not a soldier?” She asked. “Or were you a soldier?” She added, knowing the elf was far older than any of them combined.
Oscar snorted. “I’m sure, ma’am. I’ve never been a soldier, but I have been in my fair few of shitty situations,” he said.
Ben vibrated. “Hey, dumbasses!” He angrily wrote. “I said you don’t have time to sit around; move!”
“Alright, alright,” Oscar sighed. “Ben is getting antsy; we should move.”
“Antsy?!” The caster squawked.
“Agreed.” Sheffield nodded and motioned for everyone to move.
It didn’t take long to arrive at where Ben needed them to be. What Oscar didn’t expect to see, however, was that the location appeared to be a massive cavernous abyss. As mentioned, the corridor the group walked along was some sort of tram system with a single smooth rail running down the middle. Part of Oscar wondered if Ben would lead them to one of these Far Reacher trains and have them ride it. He was hoping for it; he would get to see Far Reacher tech up close and personnel, and it would’ve just been incredible.
But no. There was no tram or any other form of fast transport. Instead, they continued walking ahead, following the map that Ben provided. About ten minutes later, Oscar nearly walked into the back of Sheffield when she and Archer halted in their tracks abruptly. Stopping himself, Oscar blinked and stepped back. “What’s up?” he asked, confused.
Sheffield and Archer said nothing; glancing over their shoulder, Oscar’s eyes widened. “Holy shit…” He muttered as he peered into the darkness that was the void. Not just any void; this wasn’t the illusive field he had seen when entering the facility. There indeed was nothing there. He noticed the edges were perfectly cut when looking at the edge and walls below and to his sides. Their edges are smooth as if cut with a finely sharpened razor.
“Ben…” Oscar said, holding the caster to his mouth as if speaking into a message stone. “What happened here?”
“It’s as I told you,” Ben responded immediately. “The front section of the facility is gone.”
“Ben, this isn’t… What happened?” He asked flabbergasted.
“I’m being truthful when I say this,” Ben said as Oscar read to himself, “I do not know. The best I can come up with is that the Far Reachers during the War of Ascesnion used teleportation to remove a large chunk of this facility to stop the enemy from acquiring what was stored here.”
Oscar shook his head. “Wa-wait a second, go back. What war? And teleportation?”
The others turned to look at him, confused. “Sadly, I do not have time to explain,” Ben said, and this time, he added a frowny face to his response. “To your left along the edge is another maintenance tunnel you can crawl through. My estimates tell me it’ll take you around the sphere and connect to the main reactor you primitives repurposed.”
Oscar blinked again, surprised. “Sphere? What sphere?” He glanced back into the void.
“The cavern, dumbass. I swear for an engineer, you are not that smart,” Ben wrote, and Oscar resisted the urge to snap back. Instead, he glanced at the massive abyss and gulped.
A teleporter that created a sphere-sized hole larger than anything he’d ever seen. That did not sit comfortably with him in the slightest. Clearing his throat, Oscar told everyone what Ben had said and pointed toward the maintenance tunnel. How could the Heinmarran government not be aware of such a structure, a hollowed sphere? As an engineer, Oscar feared that such a space would be hazardous to the city above. God forbid if the ground caved in, much of the town above would be swallowed by its depths.
That made the elf uneasy. In the future, if Heinmarr survives the war, Oscar made a mental note to never settle down in Johanneson. Or if he did, he’d live on the outskirts.
It took another five minutes for them to crawl through the small tunnels within the walls before reaching the final point. The entire time, Ben had been silently screaming at them from Oscar’s pocket to get a move on it, and when the sounds of distant gunfire could be heard, the group no longer needed Ben’s words to kick things into gear. Archer forcibly pushed the access shaft open, and the group clambered out of the hole into a dark L-shaped corridor—a dark one this time, as no magrite lights were mounted in the walls.
Standing in the hall, they could hear the muffled sounds of distant rifles, magical spells being unleashed, and shouts. Whatever was going on, they needed to move fast. “Lieutenant!” Archer shouted to get Sheffield’s attention. “Over there, another illusive thing!” Following the soldier’s gaze and finger, Oscar turned to look down, left the passage, and saw another dark abyss, except this time, a bright white trim was along its base.
“Is that the way out?” Sheffield asked, and before the soldiers could answer, Oscar spoke on behalf of Ben.
“Yes,” Ben said, “beyond that leads to the section you primitives claimed. The enemy has already breached the facility and is nearing the heart of the reactor. You have only five minutes. You must move now!”
“You heard the mysterious fella we gotta fly like dragons people!” Sheffield began to jog ahead as the rest followed behind her.
Oscar knew he’d never get used to passing through an illusive field. As the air was seemingly taken from his lungs, Oscar, for a brief moment, felt he was falling just before his feet connected with solid ground, and he stumbled forward. The once muffled noises were no longer obscured as rifles' rapid retorts and crackling spells exploded further ahead.
An alarm sounded, and a disembodied voice was reported in Maurich's language: “Reactor Berry is under lockdown; all employees are to evacuate immediately. I repeat, reactor Berry is under lockdown–”
“How the hell did the Rusivites get down here?” Johnson muttered.
“No time for questions,” Sheffield said as she glanced around to catch her bearings after recovering from passing through the field.
The corridor they were in was similar to the one they came through; however, it was unlike the other side. Everything was decayed and dilapidated. Loose debris and rusted metal littered the floor, and up ahead was one of those gigantic blast doors, yet dented and left ajar, allowing a semblance of light from the other side to bleed in. For a brief second, her mind short-circuited as the thought of time travel briefly flitted across her mind, though she shook her head.
She had to stay focused. Looking at Oscar, she asked, “What’s Ben suggesting?”
Oscar glanced at the caster and said, “ We go ahead. Literally just straight ahead.” Oscar chopped the air towards where they needed to go and immediately regretted it as the burns on his back flared again.
“Any enemies?” Johnson asked nervously as a considerable boom up ahead caused everyone to flinch.
“No.” Ben replied. “I cannot reply much; I am very busy. All you must know is that the path ahead leads to the prime reactor control unit. Once there, message me.”
"Wait, he’s leaving us?” Johnson said his voice was dripping with anxiety as Oscar finished relaying the message.
“He’s not leaving; he’s just busy,” Oscar reminded the corporal. He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded compared to the young soldier. “He’s probably doing stuff with the bad guys like he did with those machines.” He shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter what he’s doing,” Sheffield said. “What matters is what we’re doing. Archer, you take the lead; we’ll follow behind. If we encounter any friends or civies, let them know we’re here to help.”
“Ma’am,” Archer gulped. “I hate to say it, but I can hardly speak a word of Maurich and those voices.” He nodded in the direction of the shouts and screams. “Are all Heinmarran.”
“I can speak a little,” Sheffield gulped. “Though I’m not the best.”
“I can,” Oscar said, “I know enough to get by.” The soldiers glanced at him, and Sheffield grinned.
“Then you’re moving upahead with Archer. If any civilians step in our way, you tell them we’re here to help.”
Oscar huffed and muttered, “Like that’s going to work.” A few foreign soldiers and a foreign civilian with a single rifle and pistol isn’t going to do much to calm the nerves of anyone down here. Then, a serious question came to mind. “Lieutenant,” he said, stopping the woman as they began moving. “What if the Heinmarrans try and stop us? They have no idea what the hell we’re doing.”
Before Sheffield could respond, Ben vibrated in his pocket. Taking out the caster, he read the message, “Do not worry. I have notified the site commander and the chief engineer.”
“Wait what, you can do that?” Oscar blinked.
“We have our ways,” Ben said curtly. “The commander is notifying his platoons now that Yanky special forces are on their way.”
Archer snorted. “Special forces, eh? I always wondered what it’d be like to be a Phoenix.” he chuckled.
“Nothing about us seems special,” Johnson huffed and sighed, “but if it stops us from getting shot by friendlies I’m all for it.”
The plant was in disarray. After clearing through the abandoned section, the group could enter the arcanium plant through a hidden passageway Ben said had been sealed when the Far Reachers abandoned the place tens of thousands of years ago. How the mysterious benefactor was able to perform all of these remarkable feats was still way beyond the artificer’s knowledge. They had entered without anyone seeing them, but upon turning down the first passageway in the direction Ben guided them, they immediately doubled back.
“Holy shit!” Johnson moaned with horror as he tried to keep his breakfast inside.
Archer gripped his rifle tightly and swallowed hard as Sheffield held her breath.
Oscar did not keep his breakfast down. Vomiting on the floor, he moaned, bit his lower lip, and breathed deeply. “Those fucking monsters,” Johnson snarled.
Around the corner was a passage leading to the main hall, which routed to the reactor. In it were half a dozen corpses of Heinmarran soldiers and plant employees caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their bodies were mangled and twisted in unnatural and fatal ways, like a bunch of ragdolls tossed on the floor. There was no obvious gore aside from what leaked out of their eyes, mouths, and ears. Instead, every bone in their body looked twisted and broken. Which made it clear these men and women were murdered via magical means.
“The bastards brought a fucking magister,” Archer said with a hiss.
Johnson gulped. “A magister, like one guy? That’s not so bad. Right?”
Archer rolled his eyes. “Corporal, you’d be lucky if you even see the magister before you’re dead. Just a single.” He snapped his finger. “Moment like that and you’re gone.”
The corporal’s face paled even more. “How the hell do we fight that?”
“By kicking off the reactor,” Oscar said as he finally caught his breath. “The aetherophasic pulse, like Ben suggested, it will dispel all ether. No ether, no magic.”
"Just like that?" Johnson asked, and Oscar nodded.
"Just like that," he said.
Sheffield pushed herself off the wall and nodded. “We just have to get to the reactor first,” Sheffield said. "However," she nodded to the corridor full of corpses. "Seeing these poor guys here means the bastard is ahead of us.”
“How the hell are we going to cut them off?” Johnson asked. “We’ve seen the map Oscar has; the main path down that hallway is the only route that leads to the reactor.”
Ben vibrated once again, and Oscar looked at the message. “Help is on its way,” he said, “but will not arrive in time. Go down the main path now. I have a plan.”
Oscar read the message. “I thought they were busy?” Johnson muttered.
“I am busy,” Ben said as Oscar read the message. “My plan is ready, but I need you to act now. Like right now, now, now. I can’t explain.”
“You heard the mystery guy,” Sheffield said. “We move!” She twirled her finger in the air and pointed down the hall.
Taking a deep breath of air, Oscar followed behind Archer and Sheffield, who went first. Behind him was Johnson, and the group hastily stepped around the corpses, though Oscar caught a brief glimpse of Johnson snatching a rifle off of a deceased soldier. Immediately, he regretted not doing the same as they rounded the corner and stepped out into a massive passage similar to the tram line. Except for the alien script that had lined the walls, it had been painted over with Maurich signs, and the magrite lights had been replaced and brightened, and far ahead was a large, rounded door with a blinding light blasting through it.
Oscar and the others had to shield their eyes as they hastily approached the reactor chamber and drew nearer. That’s when Oscar noticed three figures up ahead silhouetted by the blinding reactor light. A very tall, slim figure in a trench coat. An elven woman and… a floating book?
The two humanoid figures had their backs to the soldiers as they walked towards the reactor, and Oscar bit his lower lip as Sheffield turned to him. “Mr. Reynolds, take cover.” She hissed.
Ben vibrated in his pocket, and as Oscar hesitated to dip away for cover, he glanced at the message. On it were two words. “Distract. Now.”
Not having the time to contemplate exactly who those two words were meant for. Oscar went with his gut feeling. “Hey shitheads!” He screamed to the horror of the group around him.
The three silhouetted figures up ahead stopped moving. The center one, the tall, skinny guy, seemed to turn towards them slowly. Suddenly, Archer’s rifle barked as he did not hesitate to fire a shot at the man.
The arcane bolt didn’t connect. Instead, it stopped, frozen in the air just a single gott away from impacting his face. “Pathetic,” the tall figure said in perfect Yanky. “You really are special forces–”
Suddenly, a fourth silhouette appeared from off to the right behind the tall figure and floating book. In a smooth gesture, the figure drew a handgun out of their coat, aimed, and fired. The gun sounded nothing like Oscar had ever heard. Instead of the high-pitched crack of a magrite weapon, this was a swift and loud “BANG.”
Thankfully, due to the blinding light, Oscar did not see the tall man’s head explode as a massive hole formed in the top of their head. The tall, lanky figure dropped like a sack of vegetables as they slumped forward and face-planted the floor. The floating book beside him also lost whatever controlled it as it, too, dropped unceremoniously.
The elven woman slumped to the floor. Landing on her knees before falling back on her rear.
“Holy shit!” The three soldiers exclaimed in unison as Oscar watched with wide eyes.
Before he could say anything, the woman on the floor began to stir, and her head flicked left and right before finally landing on the dead man on the floor. Her eyes widened with horror and realization, and she began to scream bloody murder. The figure who had shot the man stowed the weapon into his jacket and unclapsed something from his belt. A book of sorts, he then grabbed a pen attached to its binding and began to write. Once he seemed to finish scribbling, he put the pen away and walked towards the woman.
Ben vibrated in Oscar’s hand, and he looked at the caster. “Thank you," it read. "You made it just in time. Help should be arriving now.”
“We were just a distraction?!” Oscar exclaimed, stunned by whatever the fuck was going on.
Footsteps came thundering down the hall behind them, and Oscar turned. “Aunt Saria!” A familiar young voice shouted, and Oscar blinked as his mind was again blown.
Madam Ashflow and Luna were rushing towards them. “L-Luna…?” Oscar muttered slowly as the young, dark-haired girl and her mother slid to a halt before him.
“Oscar?” The girl said as she, too, was blinking with confusion.