The steps leading into the underground area are surprisingly not slick from the rain as Addy and Felix make their way down. Whatever material the foundation of the city is made from seems almost hydroponic in how the rain rolls off of it, though it still has plenty of grip to walk on. Also a factor is the lack of fungi and mold, apart from Dahlia of course, to spread across any surfaces and make them slimy-slick.
Not that anything could likely grow on this strange material, anyway.
As the two reach the bottom of the stairs, faint lights flicker to life overhead, humming faintly as they cast an odd, artificial glow. Addy has become used to lights like this to a degree, but these are too bright and too loud: The buzz is distracting and the light seems weirdly sharp to her eyes. Granted, it looks like only a small number of the lights have come on, presumably due to the lack of energy.
In the center of the large, rectangular room is a strange, sleek carriage set into a groove in the ground. In front of it is a tunnel that stretches out far past the illumination provided by the emergency lights.
“A train. Kind of,” Felix mumbles as he looks over the stationary box, which is composed of thick, transparent windows and some kind of shiny, durable material that feels cool to the touch.
“Oh! Those self-moving carriages that Eryndal is working on?” Addy asks, glancing over as he speaks.
“I doubt this one runs on steam, like the ones in Eryndal do,” Felix says, glancing through the car’s windows. He knocks a bit on the exterior, looking for a door, but there aren’t any indications of one. It must be like the buildings above, with doors that disappear seamlessly when closed.
“This one looks just big enough to move groups of people back and forth,” Addy muses. “Well, that’s what we need, so that works!”
“The city is out of power, though,” Felix says, frowning. “How are we supposed to make it functional?”
Addy taps on the car with her gloved finger. In her field of vision, thanks to the visor, a page full of information appears related to the train car. Her brow furrows as she reads, speaking out loud both to inform Felix and to make some of the thoughts exist outside of her head, which is already cramped for space with everything going on.
“Metro offline, locked down due to insufficient power levels. Please select an energy source to resume function,” Addy reads out. “‘Available energy sources: Primary Grid, Auxiliary Grid, or Emergency Grid (use only in case of emergency).’”
Above, the battle continues, evidenced by the explosions, thuds, and screams–the screech of the Failures, the bestial roar of Demy, and the occasional cry of one of the expedition crew. Addy flinches every time, but especially so when she hears one of her friends cry out.
“I do believe that this counts as an emergency,” Felix assures her.
Addy presses a virtual button and another screen appears. “Crackers!” She exclaims in frustration. “Emergency Grid currently in use, insufficient energy reserves for operation.”
She presses the ‘Primary Grid’ button next, getting a similar message. Finally, she tries the ‘Auxiliary Grid,’ and is rewarded by something other than an out-right error message:
“‘Auxiliary Grid available. Please verify identification to perform action.’ Oh no, that won’t work…” Addy trails off, before noticing a button in the corner marked ‘Password Override.’
“Oh! This might work!” She excitedly pushes the button and a screen pops up, showing an empty entry bar and a series of buttons with odd symbols upon them. They shimmer and become common lettering; Addy realizes that these are input keys.
And that it’s asking for a word. A specific one. Yet, it provides no context, no clue, not even the number of letters. Just a blank space and a lot of letters.
“Oh no,” Addy mutters.
“What is it?” Felix asks, bracing for the bad news.
“It wants identification to route the power, which we don’t have. Instead, there is an option to provide a password, but there are no hints or anything,” she explains.
From the top of the stairs comes the guttural clicking of the Failures near the entrance. Both glance in that direction worriedly.
“They’ll find us sooner or later, even with the others fighting. Try a word,” Felix says, eyes locked onto the stairs.
Addy considers this and figures the most obvious one is best to try first: She taps at the keys, typing in the word ‘Monteith’ before hitting the submit button.
An error message pops up and her stomach drops.
“‘Password incorrect. Three attempts remain before temporary system lockout (24 hours),’” she reads out shakily.
The clacking of claws and the sounds of heavy breathing come from the stairs as a Failure–or maybe more than one–begins the descent toward the two.
“Professor Rhys, I believe out of anyone, you have the knowledge to figure this out,” Felix says, trying to sound reassuring but outed by the falter in his voice. “However, if you fail to guess the word, we will most surely die.”
“Neat,” Addy mutters, feeling far too exhausted to think suddenly and very unprepared for this little game of guesses and chance.
“I’ll hold them off as long as I can,” Felix says, casting a worried glance back at her. “You focus on figuring out what in the name of the Nine that word might be.”
Addy stares at him, eyes widening a little. The Nine. Kemartirh. I can start with that, she thinks to herself. Forcing a smile, she says to Felix, “I’ll make you proud, Professor.”
Felix stares at her, looking haggard and drenched, in this strange place. She is here because of him and, odds are looking good that she will die here, also because of him. Yet, she does her best to smile and stay positive.
It’s hard to tell if that’s true bravery or sheer stupidity. Likely, it’s both.
I’m often proud of you, Aderyn Rhys, he thinks, but says nothing. Instead, he merely nods to her and grips his blade as he begins making his way toward the steps, intent on giving her as much of a chance as possible to pull a miracle out of her ass.
~~~~~~~~~~
The numerous wounds on Demy slowly ooze blood, staining the black fur with a tinge of red. Kaz holds her hand against his large flank and a soft glow spreads out from her touch, knitting together a few of the wounds. However, the light flickers and fades before it can heal all of the gashes and Kaz pulls her hand back slowly, letting out a frustrated sigh.
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“That’s all I’ve got,” she says regretfully. Out of the corner of her eye, two more Failures leap–Demy’s claw swipes one out of the air, though his arm suffers a few more punctures for the effort. Kaz can’t bring her shield up quickly enough and the other creature slams into her, adding yet another dent and a few more holes to her formerly-pristine armor. Blood spills from a few such holes as she struggles to stay on her feet against the flailing thing.
It would succeed in knocking her off her feet, in fact, if not for Dahlia, who darts forward and grabs the creature’s leg with both hands. The Failure screeches and kicks her away, but not before the outer layers of flesh on its leg peel away, the now-exposed bone and musculature softening enough to snap in multiple parts as it tries to put weight back on the limb.
Kaz stumbles forward and stands above the creature, using the edge of her shield to bludgeon its face over and over, until the skull caves in and the screeching turns to a wet gurgle before going silent. She picks up her sword off the ground nearby, though it is chipped and dulled from overuse, largely useless. It slides back into the sheathe, where it will likely stay unless her shield breaks–until her shield breaks, more likely.
Dahlia groans softly as she is helped up by Wren, whose other hand is taken up by putting pressure on a nasty abdominal wound. Dark blood seeps from it, likely pouring out from a punctured organ, considering the dizzying pain (although, the dizziness could just as well be from blood loss). They hold their hand out, letting the wound flow freely for a moment while they send a meager bolt of moonfire at a charging Failure.
It hits the creature in the face, knocking it off balance just enough for Cashew to come from low to its side, slashing and stabbing with a dagger–his blade long since knocked away and lost in the pouring rain and fog–as frantically and aggressively as he can. It swipes at him and he retreats quickly, his broken left arm hanging limply at his side. The Failure falls to the ground, not dead but injured enough to be out of the fight.
Cashew returns to formation with the others, all of whom are backed up against one of the buildings to have their backs secure and to prevent being surrounded fully. There certainly are enough Failures left to do so, were it not for the group being pressed against the structure. The horde is endless, dozens still making their way from deeper in the city, crawling over countless of their dead kin that have been smeared, blasted, smashed, sliced, and scorched into sweet oblivion.
UNA-02 hovers above the five, watching silently as the last CAM is torn apart by the monsters, officially becoming the final construct of Addy’s to remain. It would like to fire a few shots at the creatures as vengeance for its fallen comrade, but its battery is diminished to the point that all it can do is survey and hover. Even then, the clock is ticking.
“We are so boned, fuck!” Cashew seethes, held aloft at this point primarily out of anger, which he continues to stoke. Kaz wants to chide him, but she feels much the same way.
“Where is Addy?” Wren asks, once again trying to staunch the flow of their wound while also holding Dahlia upright.
“She and Felix ran off earlier. I haven’t seen them since,” Kaz admits softly.
“Think they bailed on us?” Cashew asks, bitterly.
“Friend Addy wouldn’t do that,” Dahlia speaks up, only half-conscious. But enough to stand up for her friend.
“Dahlia’s right. I told her to look for a way to escape, so they’re either working on that, or… they must be working on that,” she decides, refusing to even speak of the alternative.
Demy whines, barely able to stay on all fours by this point.
“So, what’s the plan, boss?” Cashew asks, wincing at the pain of his shattered arm as he looks over at Kaz.
“We fight until we drop,” she says, taking a deep breath to steady herself, if only a little. “And we pray for a miracle.”
Among the five, the level of their faith is inconsistent at best. But at this moment, there is little to do but be devout and hope for something to happen.
Anything.
~~~~~~~~~~
Addy sits beside the underground train car, the visor flipped up so that her face can fit in her hands. The sounds of fighting above have become less intense and, through her feed from one of the remaining UNAs, she has watched as her friends have become gravely injured and worn out. They are currently on the verge of being overwhelmed, but Addy can do nothing to help them, presently, apart from what she is already doing.
Felix has not stopped fighting off Failures, who continue to trickle down one at a time, drawn in by the very sounds of the fighting between him and their brethren. While several of the creatures are already slain, bodies laying in heaps on the stairs, still more continue to gradually descend. Much like the others up top, the wear and tear upon him is showing.
There is only so much time left.
Worse, there are only so many guesses left.
One, to be precise.
Her first guess, “Monteith,” had been wrong. It had set off the warning that there were only three chances remaining, to guess the password needed to reroute auxiliary power to the metro system. After pondering on it for some time, she decided to try “Engel.”
This was incorrect.
Becoming more stressed, she decided to think about what Felix had said, about needing a miracle. Kem’s full name, from what the visor had revealed, is Kemartirh: The name of one of the Nine Deities of Vale. Whether he truly is the deity, or just named for it, or if the mythos of a deity arose because of this person–all that is beyond her, right now. That’s something to discuss with Kaz, assuming everyone makes it out of this.
That said, the names of the Nine. Out of them all, none are inherently tied to the concept of “power.” Phye is tied to knowledge, which could be considered a form of power, or energy. Balgon is associated with craft and function, which might not be a bad option for a password that is gatekeeping the distribution of energy needed to function. Alternatively, Oranvil is normally tied to fashion and art, but he is also associated with patterns and connections. Like, say, the flow of energy connecting all these different functions.
It’s all tenuous, of course. Ultimately, Addy decided that the password needed to open up a transportation system would make the most sense being for the deity associated with travel: Anboshel.
This, also, was incorrect.
Since then, with only a single attempt left, with absolutely no idea what it could be, with the fate of her life as well as all of her friends in the balance, Addy has shut down. Curled up in a ball, mind swirling with guilt and regret and half-formed ideas, hoping for something to happen. Praying for something to happen.
A part of her hopes for Engel to pop up again, to give some kind of cryptic hint or, criminy, just to give Addy the answer!
But the mysterious benefactor has been silent. For whatever reason.
Okay, okay, I have to calm down. None of their names make sense. Monteith didn’t work, but I thought it would, since that’s what their name is–wait! Addy thinks, a realization hitting her like a ton of bricks, tangible enough to make her topple onto her side from her strange little fetal perch.
Monteith isn’t their name, it’s just our name for them. I know their actual name! Kemartirh said it back when we were in the manor! She thinks, sitting upright with wide, wild eyes.
The issue is that he said it in their language, as there is no translation that would fit it in common. Or in any language, probably.
Addy flips her visor down and, after a few moments of trial and error, manages to figure out how to turn the keys back to the layout for the Monteith language itself, not for letters and symbols used in the common tongue.
She licks her lips anxiously, going through everything she knows about the written form of the language. Now, with at least having heard the spoken version, she tries to decipher how to interpret the spoken sounds as the written symbols.
And, beyond that, trying to remember just how the sound was, that Kemartirh made.
Slowly, she thinks she starts to understand. Some of it makes sense, some of it is purely guess-work, albeit educated guess-work. She double checks herself, then triple checks. She’d do more, but there isn’t time.
Addy’s fingers tap the keys in order of how the sound was spoken, making sure that she doesn’t accidentally hit the wrong one. With the last symbol pressed and the password complete–the actual name of the Monteith race, in the actual Monteith language–she hovers her finger over the intangible “submit” button, floating in the air in front of her and visible only through the visor. Interactable only by the gloves. Things that she has spent years upon years of her life to figure out, to get functional.
With as much faith in herself as possible, as much hope of her ability to save her friends as she can muster, Addy presses the button.