After the unexpected run-in with the elderly ooman female, Crank reactivates his cloak. He studies the internal gauges of his mask’s display. Eventually, he will need to shut off the cloak, in order to allow the power cells to recharge. He had better find a good place to set up and consider his next steps. And soon.
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An hour into his trek, Crank comes upon a door half covered with a yellow and black sign which reads: “Danger, Electrical Hazard, Authorized Personnel Only, All other persons prohibited beyond this point”.
Ejecting his wrist blades, Crank decides that ‘Authorized Personnel’ definitely includes him. Crank inserts the sharp point of his wrist blade between the slit of the door and expertly disengages the locking mechanism. This is as good a place as any to rest his head. At least, it promises to be a lot more secluded and clean than the environment in which he presently finds himself.
Entering the electrical room, Crank quickly surveys his surroundings. Finding only four walls covered with endless electrical panels, Crank draws the door of the room shut and settles down to prepare for sleep. His dreams are filled with numerous ways in which he can use the ooman electricity for his own needs.
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Crank is awakened a few hours later by the loud howling of an animal outside the electrical room door. Springing up like a panther, Crank ejects his wrist blades and kneels in a battle stance. The sound of the animal’s scratching becomes frantic as it sniffs under the door. Crank hones in on the direction of the animal noises and readies his shoulder cannon.
However, a raspy voice quiets the animal, and shoos it away from the door. The stern command allows Crank to relax. But only a little.
“Down, Rex—” the raspy voice hollers impatiently. “What’d you corner there? A rat? Come here. Stop that! Come away from there! Here now…Come on. If we don’t get to the camp, we won’t get anything to eat. Come on, Rex. Come on.”
The animal, called Rex, whines but stops pawing and scratching at the door. Light footfalls, and the scrambling of hairy paws, become less audible as the ooman and their animal move away. Crank settles down once more to sleep. But he does so in a crouching position. He sleeps facing the door, his arms crossed and lowered by his massive thighs; wrist blades ready for action.
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Crank awakens with a start, expecting to hear evidence that the ooman male and his animal companion have returned. He is greeted by silence. Standing up from his crouched position, Crank surveys the room around him. He now has all the power he needs. Crank sets to work rigging various apparatuses for siphoning power to recharge his weapons and control devices.
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He works for over two hours. After which, he chitters with satisfaction and tests each device separately for functionality. He will need advance warning when the rogue hunters finally pinpoint where he has gone.
The sound of a metal can rolling on the floor outside of the electrical room door, causes Crank to freeze and turn towards the door. His beaded braids swing with the turning of his head and he releases a single huff of air.
The sound does not come again. Crank remains standing, his posture aggressive, and prepared for a fight. One hand grips his combistick. After another five minutes, there is still no repetition of the sound. It was probably a small animal scavenging for food.
Crank goes back to testing his devices. However, he keeps his eyes and ears open for any further interruptions.
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Crank exits the electrical room in full cloak. He stalks carefully through the sewer’s tunnels. At one point, he hears voices some distance away. An ooman male and female. First, there is the sound of their shouting voices. Then, the sound of a tooth-grinding slap. The ooman female begins to sob. Crank reminds himself that he can ill afford discovery at this stage of his journey. It takes all of his resolve not to destroy the ooman male and take his cowardly skull for a trophy. Such violence against a female of one’s species is not permitted in yautja culture. The ooman is lucky this day.
Turning a corner, Crank nearly steps on a slumbering German shepherd. The dog raises its head and sniffs the air. A whine, and then a low growl, starts deep in the dog’s throat. The ooman male, whose voice Crank heard arguing with the female, lies near a small fire a few meters away. He calls out to the frustrated canine.
“Shut up, Rex! I’m tired of all that racket. There’s nothing there,” the fat ooman says. “Just go to sleep!”
Rex refuses to be silenced. He climbs to his feet and growls in Crank’s direction. Confusion keeps the large dog from leaping forward into battle. While it can smell that something is amiss; its other senses are going awry. Nothing, as yet, appears to have rounded the corner. The fat ooman throws a can at the dog in an attempt to get it to heed his instructions.
“Rex! I’ve done told you to shut the hell up! Don’t make me come over there,” the man roars. Beside the ooman male a very thin female sits curled on a dirty blanket. Her knees are drawn up to her chin and she looks from the man to the aggravated dog with a frightened glance. Crank spies the trickle of warm blood at the corner of the ooman female’s mouth and turns his head to her companion. Perhaps, the ooman isn’t so lucky after all.
Crank keeps an eye on the large dog as he retrieves a disc from his weapons belt. The dog has gone from growling to whining. It is unsure of its next move, weighing the internal directive of loyalty to its ooman against the need to protect said ooman. Finally it follows the ooman’s instructions and settles on its haunches. It is then that Crank throws the disc, severing the cursed ooman’s head from his shoulders. The ooman female climbs to her feet and screams. The dog also climbs to its feet and barks loudly. The sound echoes in the cramped space of the tunnels. Before the dog can launch itself in his general direction, Crank activates an aerosol which knocks the dog out with one whiff. Rex hits the floor with a thud. He will wake up with one heck of a doggy headache. The ooman female hugs herself and mutters nervously, staring at the dead corpse at her feet. Then, she faints.
Crank wastes no time retrieving his trophy. Before he leaves the tunnel, there is a polished ooman skull hanging around his waist.