by N. K. Quinn
"Hologram," Doc grunted over his shoulder at them. He manoeuvred the vehicle at breakneck speed down a narrow gangway, with a sheer drop on either side. and then yanked the wheel to a side. The tyres squealed in pain and the smell of rubber and cooked clutch filled the cabin.
“Welcome to Haven,” he said, pulling away the mask that covered his face.
Once Doc cut the Transport’s engine, darkness descended on them like a curtain falling, and it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. He eased himself out of the vehicle and Izzy heard Doc groan as he stretched and then slid his cloak back over his shoulders. He reached back in and opened a compartment near the driver’s side. Izzy saw him grab a few Aug canisters, and they disappeared underneath his cloak.
“That’s how he drove so fast,” Damian whispered to her. “The Aug he took back at his place must have supercharged his reflexes.”
Izzy made a face and rolled her eyes at Damian and followed him out of the Transport. There was a sound of whirring and one by one the overhead lights blinked to life. The parking structure around them was grey and grimy. The smell of decay permeated the atmosphere and soaked into the walls. Damian and Izzy exchanged glances, but Doc seemed unperturbed by it. He took them up a series of stairwells where the long shadows seemed to come alive. They carried on until they came out to a large open foyer. Long cracks ran the length of the tiled floor and scattered belongings littered the area. On one wall screens hung limply from their support brackets, looking down on a service counter of sorts.
“People used to come to places like this to watch movies together,” Doc said. “Before the Corporation days.”
“This is Haven?” Izzy said. “I thought it’d be bigger.”
She wrinkled her nose as a wave of the sickening smell hit her.
“This is just a place between places,” Doc said. “Haven moves location during the year so that Sentech can’t triangulate its location.”
He walked past the desk and to a set of double doors. Damian followed him, but Izzy stood rooted to the spot. She felt the hair on her neck prickle up. She took Damian by the wrist and pulled him back to her.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. "This doesn't feel right."
Doc knelt by the side of the door. He ran his bandaged hand across the handle and it came away stained red. His gun was in his hand and the door yanked open before Izzy could speak. The light in the cavernous auditorium was dim but there was no disguising the scene in front of their eyes. People filled the sea of red chairs, They lay slumped with their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The reek of death was so strong that it felt like it was ingrained into the room. Doc rushed to the closest person and shook them. The young man in the seat flopped forward, his restraints the only thing stopping him from falling out of the seat. Doc pulled the man’s head back and his eyes stared blankly back at him. There was a ragged hole in the centre of his forehead and what seemed to be grey matter splattered over the back of the chair. Izzy gasped as she saw the same pattern repeated all down the row.
“All these people…” Damian whispered. He doubled over and retched. Doc made a noise in his throat and turned his head towards him. In the dark Izzy could see the barely contained fury smoldering in his eyes.
“Silence,” he commanded with a wave of his hand.
The sound of crying carried to them, coming from somewhere deeper in the room and Doc rushed down, taking two steps at a time. He stopped abruptly, the screech of his shoes echoing through the room. Damian followed, steeling himself against the nausea that threatened to knock him flat on his back.
“Izzy?” Damian called softly, unable to draw his eyes away from what he was seeing.
Izzy was still staring at the dead man in the chair, transfixed by the horrific tableau in front of her. Damian had to call a few more times to break its hold on her. Izzy came to his side and had to stifle a cry when she saw a group of children huddled near a stack of gore streaked bodies. They numbered nearly twenty, and they looked malnourished and neglected. It was hard to tell whether the crusted blood on their skin and clothes belonged to them, but they appeared mostly uninjured.
They looked at Izzy, wide eyed and flinched as she reached for them. Then something in their faces changed as Doc stepped forward. One of the children jumped up and threw herself to him, her quiet sobs overflowing into wails of grief. Others joined her, flocking to Doc. He knelt by them, enveloping them in his cloak and arms. He held them tight and hushed them with gentle care.
“This is what your Corporation does behind closed doors,” he said to Izzy.
“They wouldn’t… they wouldn’t do this…”
“We need to get them out of here,” Doc said as he disentangled himself from the children and stood. "Sentech might still be nearby."
They each grabbed part of his cloak and followed him. As they passed the dead, he shielded them from the children's’ view, trying not to add to the horrors they had already experienced that night. Doc froze as he exited the auditorium. An arm appeared from under his cloak, stopping Damian and Izzy in their tracks.
“We aren’t alone,” he said.
There was a clunk as a switch was thrown and then three powerful spotlights lit them up. The light struck them like a physical blow, making spots dance in Izzy’s vision.
“Don’t move,” a voice boomed out. “Release the children and get down on your hands and knees. By order of the Sentech Enforcers.”
Doc pushed the children back and his hands swept underneath the cloak.
"You monsters killed them all! They were good people," Doc screamed at the Enforcers. As he did one of the Aug canisters fell and rolled away, coming to a stop at Damian’s feet. Izzy grabbed the children and pulled them back into the auditorium, but they struggled, not wanting to leave Doc.
“You monsters!” Doc screamed again as he brought his guns to bear.
Everything around Izzy seemed to slow down in that instant. She saw Damian look down at the canister at his feet and then back to her. Her eyes went wide, reading his intent. She shook her head and reached for him, but it was too late; he was already ripping off the tab and throwing his head back. He squirted the contents into his eye and fell to his knees shuddering. Everything around Izzy moved like a choreographed dance routine. There was an explosion of claret as a bullet ripped through Doc’s leg and gore painted the wall. The children screamed and clung to her. Damian was up on one knee now, his body shaking uncontrollably. His head snapped up and Izzy saw blood dripping from the corners of his mouth and a frenzied look in his red eyes. On the floor, Doc was returning fire and Izzy could see the squad of Enforcers scrambling for cover.
“Put him down,” a voice shouted from the Enforcer ranks, and Izzy recognised it through the chaos. Then Damian was moving, pushing Doc out of the way with an unnatural speed and strength. He was caught in the shoulder and leg by the flurry of lead, but rolled into a half crouch facing them, panting and grunting like an animal. The Enforcers reloaded and shifted their bodies to keep Damian in their sights. Izzy was moving before her brain could process what was happening. She stood as tall as her five foot nothing frame would allow, arms spread and jaw set.
“Don’t shoot!”
The lead Enforcer gestured to the others, and they lowered their weapons.
“Izzy?” he said.
He reached up and pulled free his mask. Izzy saw the familiar strong jaw covered with salt and pepper beard. Then her gaze drifted up to the patch that covered his missing eye.
“Back off, Dad,” she said.
6
A Feral Rage
“What are your orders, Sir?” one of the Enforcers asked. His eyes flicked to where Doc was writhing on the floor and Izzy watched his trigger finger twitch. The other Enforcers all filed into rank, their rifles poised, waiting for the kill order. Izzy could see the eagerness in some of their eyes and it made her feel sick to her stomach.
Her father slung his rifle and rubbed his temple with his fingers. H
e turned to his squad and barked orders in code to them. They too slung their rifles, but Izzy noticed that none of them engaged their safeties.
“What are you doing here, Izzy?” her father growled. Izzy could see the muscles in his jaw throbbing even through his thick greying beard. It was a sign she’s seen all too often after he'd been injured. Her mind was transported her back to a time after her mother had left, where she would tiptoe downstairs at night after her father had turned to alcohol to douse the flames of his rage. She would cover him with a blanket and make sure that his head was angled just right in case he vomited. He’d been raw like a nerve ending, with even the slightest trigger setting him off.
Izzy shook away the memory and forced her focus back on her father.
“I'm leaving. We’re leaving with the children. Right now,” Izzy said, putting steel in her voice. At her side Damian staggered up. The bullet wounds seemed to have stopped bleeding, but he struggled to stay vertical. He let out a quiet growl in the direction of the Enforcers and shook his head, snorting and frothing at the mouth.
“Is that him?” Izzy’s father asked looking over her shoulder at Damian. “The damned Scorp boy who I saw hanging around outside the house?”
His hand was once more on his rifle and his lips pulled back into a grimace.
“Look at him, Izzy! He’s using. He’s a twitcher,” Izzy’s father said. “You’re better than this.”
Izzy shifted her stance to stay in between Damian and her father, to both their irritation. She shoved Damian back, nearly hard enough to knock him over. The Enforcers bristled at their Commander’s side.
“Commander Ferguson, Sir, our orders…” the Enforcer said to Izzy’s father, piping up again.
“It looks like the tip off was sound,” he replied. “Looks like we’re the first Enforcer team to find Haven.”
At this the Enforcers let a murmur of joy escape their lips. Izzy could see how the cogs in their Corporate brains were working, already spending the extra Credits that they thought they’d get as a reward.
“Lookie! That’s Rags right?” one of the Enforcers said letting loose a throaty laugh and pointing at Doc. “Mr. Lancaster’s gonna give us a shed load of Credits for him.”
Doc bristled at the name. One of his guns was still held out, the other had been returned to its holster, freeing a hand to staunch his leg wound.
“You try to take me in and you’ll be paying for those Credits with buckets of blood,” Doc snarled.
“Restrain him and prepare him for transfer to Sentech Plaza,” Izzy’s father said, “Mr Lancaster will be eager to see him.”
He looked over to the auditorium door and the small faces cowering behind it.
“Transfer the children as per protocol,” he said. Izzy noticed that her father dropped his gaze and wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“… and the others?” the other Enforcer asked.
Izzy’s father considered the question, and he looked from his daughter to Damian.
“What others, Watkins?” he said, the edge in his voice unmistakable.
The Enforcer called Watkins gave a nod and then he and the others moved to flank Doc.
“No deal,” Izzy said. “I said they’re all coming with me.”
“You are going home,” her father said. “And count yourself lucky that I don’t have your pet NC put down.”
“Wherever you’re taking those children is where you'll have to take me as well.”
The Enforcer Commander stared daggers at his daughter and she returned them in earnest. Finally he laid his rifle against a wall and took her aside. There were murmurs from his troops, but they followed their orders, two of them covering Damian whilst the rest got Doc onto his wobbly legs.
“Izzy, if you do this it’s over for you,” her father said. His low and pleading voice pulled on Izzy’s heart strings and she fought against the torrent of happy memories of the man he’d used to be. A glimpse of a pair of bright frightened eyes cowering near the door of the auditorium shattered the memory. Izzy thought about the rows and rows of dead NCs sat in the seats inside. What horrors had those innocent eyes been forced to see? How could the father she had once loved so dearly work for an organisation so monstrous?
“We saw the bodies in there!” Izzy shouted at her father and pointed to the door. “Those people just wanted to be left alone to live their lives out in peace. You and your Enforcers are just a bunch of cold-blooded murderers.”
A confused look flashed across her father’s face and he looked back to his squad.
“What’re you talking about?” he said. “We only just arrived. We were responding to a tipoff.”
There was low hum, and they all turned to see the glass doors behind them part. Ten men bustled in and moved to surround the Enforcers. They were all clad in the same red leather jackets with a black scorpion emblazoned on the sleeve and back. There was a flurry of movement from the Enforcers and they tried to keep Doc and the new threat in their sights. Another form appeared in the entrance to the foyer. The light outside silhouetted his slight frame as he approached and he let out a harsh laugh when he saw the outnumbered Enforcers. The man walked with a limp and had no jacket on to identify him as a Scorp. His shaved head was sheathed in sweat and his face set in what looked like a permanent scowl. Izzy recognised him. His face was one she had seen on posters scattered around the city for the last few months. He was a fighter in the underground fighting ring known as the Gauntlet. He wasn’t one of the better known fighters like Reinhardt or Lyle. Izzy furrowed her brow as she searched for the man’s name.
“I’m here on official Sentech business, Baz.” Izzy’s father said, his voice even. “Walk away now and no one needs to get hurt.”
Izzy’s eyes widened at the name. Recollection washed over her. Baz was one of the most sadistic fighters in Gauntlet history, known to smear the blood of his beaten opponents across his face as part of his victory celebration. An injury in the elimination rounds had meant that his campaign to win the Gauntlet this year had been cut short. Baz’s hands came out from behind his back, gripping two whips. He let their ends fall free and trail behind him as he approached.
“Of course no one needs to get hurt,” he asked in a drawling accent. “But where’s the fun in that?”
With a flick of his wrist the tail end of the whip ripped through the air and wrapped around the Enforcer Commander’s leg and jerking him off balance. Izzy's father fell awkwardly and Baz let out a laugh that echoed through the building. He gave a nod, and the Scorps moved as one. Some opened fire with weapons that looked older than Izzy. They boomed in the enclosed area like thunder. Damian pulled Izzy to the ground using his body to shield her. From underneath him she could still hear the screams of the dying Enforcers and taste their blood in the air. Bodies fell to the ground with a drumroll and Izzy scrambled to get out from under Damian and to her father’s side. She could see the Scorps rushing the Enforcers, swinging their homemade weapons made from a mishmash of rusted, twisted metal. They proved lethal at close range, finishing those that the bullets hadn’t. Doc got off easy by comparison, with the Scorps settling on trying to stamp a hole through him instead and relieving him of his guns. With a shove and a flurry of elbows Izzy got to her feet and saw her father rolling onto his back groaning. His face was a criss-crossed with cuts but apart from that he appeared unharmed. Baz caught him as he struggled onto his knees, coiling the ends of the whip around the Enforcer Commander’s neck. Without looking Baz tossed the handle up and over a beam and caught it as it fell back down. He gave it a pull and yanked Izzy’s father to his feet. Another tug and the tips of his toes almost left the ground. Scrambling and scratching at the whip he tried to free himself, but Baz just laughed and with preternatural strength pulled all the harder.
“It was me who sent the tipoff,” Baz leered. “I hoped that a squad would come so we could liberate your weapons for our cause.”
“Y… your b… boss has an understanding with Sentech.” Izzy’
s father choked.
“I have no boss,” Baz sneered. “Me and the boys aren’t Scorps no more. We take what we want, and right now we’re here for your guns.”
Izzy’s father tried to splutter out an answer, but the cords around his neck were too tight. Baz nodded to one of his ex-Scorp lackeys who ambled over to collect the guns from the fallen Enforcers.
“Some of my boys weren’t convinced that giving up one of Haven’s locations would be enough bait for Sentech, but I know different. I know how valuable an untraceable supply of human guinea pigs is to you Corporation types,” Baz said.
“You heartless scumbag,” Izzy said. “You set them up. You sold out the Haven. Did you kill all those people?”
“Not all of them. We kept the children alive, they have more resale value. Even if Sentech don’t want to buy them, there are plenty of other Corporations worldwide who’ll beat a path to my door for a chance to bid.”
“Please let him go, you’ve got their guns,” Izzy said looking at her father.
“I never said I’d let him go,” Baz said with a harsh laugh. He wound the whip around his arm and stepped closer to the Enforcer Commander until he was just inches away from the writhing man.
“There’s something magical about watching the light leave the eyes, it’s as if some of their power becomes my own.”
Izzy’s father was turning an unhealthy shade of purple and she tried to get to him, but powerful hands restrained her. She struggled against them but fell silent when one drove the muzzle of his gun into her ribs. That was too much for Damian to take in his rabid state. He flew into a feral rage and jumped on the ex-Scorp who held Izzy at gunpoint. He snatched a fistful of the man’s hair and drove him face first into the unforgiving floor. He made contact with a sickening wet thud that sent a spray of blood and teeth across the floor. Damian snarled and turned to the other but took a bat to the jaw that sent him reeling. They converged on him like locust on a crop, kicking and hammering away with glee. Izzy looked to Doc for help, but he was gone, a drying pool of blood and a frayed piece of bandage the only evidence he’d ever been there. Baz gave her a cold look.
