by J. Stone
When they finally entered, a group of scientists dressed in white lab coats and black goggles were working with vials of liquids, medical equipment, and injecting syringes into weak and sickly looking test subjects in adjoining rooms. He approached one of the scientists, who when she saw him, did the same.
The scientist’s hair was tied back behind her head, and she wore a pair of dark-tinted spectacles rather than goggles over her eyes. She had a wide, almost sadistic smile across her face, as she walked toward them. Her white lab coat was spattered with what Crowley could only assume was blood, and she wore thick, black, rubber gloves over her hands.
“Dr. Russell,” Crowley stated flatly.
“Councilman,” she replied. “It’s good to see you.”
“I believe I’ve found our specimen for your serum,” he said. “Dr. Russell, meet Sergeant Silas Skinner. Sergeant, meet Dr. Candace Russell.”
“Excellent,” she exclaimed. “I’ll start getting things ready. Mr. Skinner, please take a seat.” She pointed to a shiny, metal chair and pulled out a series of vials from below a shelf.
As Silas sat in the chair, Crowley asked the scientist, “And what of our other injection?”
“We believe it is ready to be tested,” Dr. Russell replied. “We expect it will separate the carrier from all of her infected, but we need a way to test it.”
“Would it work on one of the infected?” Crowley inquired. “Would it separate any that they had contaminated?”
“I suspect so,” she answered. “But we’ll have to test the serum first before I say for certain.”
“Understood, doctor,” Crowley said. “Sergeant, I leave you in Dr. Russell’s hands. I must attend to something for now, but I will come back soon to check on your progress.”
The corpsman nodded, and the councilor left through a back door that had even more security, requiring a key and another combination. Twisting a large, blue, metallic valve, Crowley jerked open the door, swinging it toward him. Past the door was a staircase leading down, followed by a long hallway ending in a single locked cell with an open glass door. Sealed inside the cage was the experiment known as SC-1 muttering to himself.
Though it had been many years, since Crowley and his team experimented on the boy, giving him control over time itself, he was still a boy. The experimentation that gave him his abilities also stunted his growth so much that it had nearly stopped his aging completely. He sat idly folding a small piece of paper into some specific shape. As Crowley arrived outside the prison, the boy stood and held in his hand the paper, which he had made into a circular loop that connected back to itself with interlocking sections.
Crowley positioned himself directly in front of the open cell’s large window, and stated, “SC-1.”
“I do not respond to that name!” the young boy shouted happily pointing a finger to the sky, smiling widely, and tossing the paper aside.
“Very well… Simon,” Crowley said reluctantly and with a certain disdain.
“Much better, former council leader Crowley,” Simon said. “Much better!”
“Former?” Crowley questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“So you’re still the leader?” Simon attempted to ascertain.
“Indeed I am,” he replied. “And I intend to stay there.”
“I might have some bad news for you,” Simon said. “Well, bad for you anyway. Good news for the guy that replaces you though, but hey, I’ve said too much already, eh? What can I do for you, buddy?”
“You once made a prediction about the empress’ death,” Crowley said.
“Empress?” Simon asked. “Which one might that be? There are quite a few in the scheme of things, you know?”
“Empress Mary Elizabeth Arkmast, the fourth,” he replied. “Who else would I have meant?”
A smile crossed Simon’s face, and he answered, “Too much information might screw this timeline up, so I’ll just concede and say, ‘Of course, Mary Elizabeth.’ Now, what do you--?”
Simon simply stopped talking, prompting Crowley to ask, “What?”
“Wait, wait. I love this part!” Simon said holding up a finger to the councilor.
“What part?” Crowley asked.
“Of the concerto, of course,” he pointed out.
“There’s no music playing, Simon,” Crowley explained with a growing frustration.
“Oh, right,” Simon said putting his hand down. “I forgot you can’t experience multiple and spatially separated timelines at the exact same moment. What was it I was saying?”
“The empress,” Crowley reminded him, rubbing his brow.
“Oh right,” Simon replied. “She kick it yet?”
“How dare you speak with such disrespect for your empress?” the councilor demanded.
“She’s not mine,” he said. “Anyway, if now’s the time when she was attacked by the fire child, she’s done for. Just a matter of time. Time for you to pick a new horse. Alternatively, cobble your own horse together. Or something. Probably not the best metaphor. Is that a metaphor? Whatever. You should concern yourself with this whole carrier plague thing and her wretched dead. Love the name by the way. You guys must have a whole bureau for naming the plagues you make, huh?”
“You speak of Fiona?” Crowley asked, ignoring Simon’s blathering.
Putting a finger to his nose and pointing at the councilor with his other hand, Simon answered, “That’s the one. She is officially your top priority! Though, you probably already knew that.”
“Do you know how I stop her?” Crowley inquired.
“You?” Simon asked with a guffaw. “You don’t. You leave that up to the one you wired her brain to intersect with.”
“You mean the heretic?” Crowley asked.
“Two for two!” he shouted. “You are on fire today! Oooh. Too soon?”
“She does seem to have a certain connection to Fiona…” Crowley responded, thinking things over. “However, if you haven’t noticed, Ms. Clover escaped.”
“Oh, I noticed,” Simon said. “And I’ll tell you another thing: I cheered, as she slipped through your clasping grip.” As he spoke, he mimed a set of jaws closing back and forth with both his hands and made a growling sound.
Grimacing, Crowley asked, “Then how are we to find her again?”
“How does a heart attack kill?” Simon asked.
Sighing and clearly tired of the young boy’s games, Crowley played along, “How?”
“It attacks the heart, obviously,” he replied. “I mean, come on, it’s right there in the name.”
“And what exactly does that mean? More importantly, how does it help me?” Crowley asked.
“A certain individual in your party recently captured the recipient of your heretic’s heart,” Simon explained. “Find her and find... her. Probably a better way of saying that. Hmm. Find the heart, find the heretic. How about that?”
Mulling his suggestion over for a moment, Crowley soon asked, “Perhaps that’s true, but why, after all this time, would you help us now?”
“Now indeed!” Simon exclaimed. “You’ll have to forgive me, because ‘now’ is a bit of a strange concept for me, but regardless… Perhaps I’ve decided to help you. Perhaps I’ve decided to lead you to your demise. Perhaps I’m a big ol’ schemer! Perhaps you’ll have to make that decision on your own. Perhaps this is simply how things are supposed to happen. Fate and all that! Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps!”
Crowley shifted his mouth from side to side pondering the clairvoyant’s words. Ultimately, he left the young boy behind in his cage returning to where Dr. Russell was administering Silas the serum. He found an unoccupied attendant and instructed him, “Have the Cultwick Corps set up a series of bioscanner blockades around Director Sloan’s home. Tell them to be on the lookout for the heretic, Erynn Clover.”
Chapter 18. Ryn and the Junkyard
Walking through the darkened alleyway, Erynn replayed in her head what Rowland had asked of her, as she slunk away, “How do you expect t
o find her?”
She had not told him exactly how she intended to accomplish the goal based on the expectation he would react poorly. Her plan involved further delving into the mind of Fiona and using that shared mental connection that had been growing and developing ever since she reacquired the emerald necklace in the Dreadnought Prime.
Fiona’s thralls had grown exponentially, since the battle at Pendulum Falls, and looking through them, Erynn felt as though she could see all of Cultwick - not just the city, but the empire itself. Erynn realized she had eyes everywhere, and she would use those eyes to locate Pearl. Erynn shut her eyelids, focusing her mind on Fiona and her pets. As though she were rebuilding a collage through time and space, images presented themselves to her for her viewing.
A path illuminated of Pearl’s journey on the back of that motorbike all the way from Pendulum Falls to Cultwick with very few gaps between. Once inside the city, the path continued to the industrial sector of the city. It finally ended with the woman taking Pearl into a junkyard at the heart of a grouping of abandoned factories and condemned buildings. From there, Fiona’s minions lost sight of them both, leaving the trail cold and meaning she would have to make her way to the junkyard to search for more information.
Opening her eyes, Erynn’s heart was pounding, she was dripping with sweat, and her fingernails were dug deep into the palm of her hand. She had not realized the toll that connecting her mind with Fiona’s was taking on her, but it was beginning to have obvious repercussions. She was unsure if she could handle another connection with the effects of the genotoxin also running through her system.
“Is the debugger in safe operating conditions?” Tern asked.
Groaning she replied, “Mmm. I’m fine, Tern. I know where to go. Follow me.”
Luckily, she knew she wouldn’t need to connect to Fiona again for the time being; she had enough to go on to begin tracking down Pearl. Still wearing Rowland’s respirator and spectacles, Erynn set to following the path the woman on the motorbike had taken. Walking through the slums in the disguise, she and Tern were paid no special attention by those passing them by.
Before long, she found herself entering the factory and industrial district of Cultwick. The landscape was dotted with large, rusting metal buildings with smokestacks jutting out from their tops. Surrounding several of them were thick, chain-linked fences, hiding barrels of unknown substances stacked inside the perimeter.
Like a hound tracking a scent, Erynn followed the path that was laid out in her head, until she reached the large, sprawling junkyard seated between a series of abandoned buildings. Knowing she could very likely run into trouble inside, she stopped Tern and sifted through the punch cards stored in his back compartment. She eventually located a combat-oriented set of commands and entered the card in the automaton’s slot.
After a few moments, Tern booted back up and informed her, “All systems functioning optimally, debugger.”
She removed the spectacles, so she could more easily see what she was doing, and she folded them over themselves and slid them into her pocket. Pulling her pistol from the holster at her hip, she replied, “Good to hear.” She popped out the chamber, checked that the gun was loaded, and continued, “Be ready for anything.”
The pair entered at a section of the fence that had long since fallen into disrepair, and they went past series of discarded piles of junk. Large mounds of outdated automaton parts and various chromesmithing wares were stacked alongside abandoned and disheveled vehicles long past their prime. A greasy brown earth path led deeper into the middle of the junkyard, where she hoped to find a clue to Pearl’s whereabouts.
The mercenary’s trail had ended, so Erynn would have to locate the woman on her own from there. After wandering through the heaps of scrap, she noticed a worn path in the dirt at her feet. Kneeling down to inspect it, she decided it must have belonged to a two-wheeled vehicle like the one the woman had driven.
She and Tern proceeded further into the junkyard, until they reached a small shack of a structure. Through an open door, they could see a woman facing opposite them and kneeling down, working on something. Erynn turned back to Tern, placing a finger to the respirator instructing him to stay silent, and then began to approach the woman from behind.
At her ankle, however, she tripped over a wire stretched across the pathway. Tern lurched forward pushing her past the tripwire, and at their side, a crossbow was triggered, firing a bolt across the line where she had previously been. The woman turned to them, gun in hand, and fired a series of shots, but Tern rolled himself over, pulling Erynn close to him and shielding her from the fire.
The woman emptied her pistol and then began to reload her gun. During this time, Tern stood and, placing himself in the path between Erynn and the gunfire, quickly approached the woman. She, however, had loaded a special bullet in the chamber and fired it at Tern. A wave of sparks covered the automaton’s frame, and he took a knee as the energy discharged itself over him. The woman’s gun, meanwhile, had been damaged by the nature of the blast.
Erynn took this opportunity to stand and aim her gun at the woman. “Don’t move!” she demanded. She approached Tern, just as he managed to override the electricity and stand. Still pointing her gun at the woman, Erynn asked Tern, “How are you feeling?”
“The latest security patch that the debugger installed allowed me to recover from the excessive discharge released from the blast,” he replied. “Systems are functioning at an 85% success rate.”
“Get her gun and search her for other weapons,” she ordered Tern.
“Affirmative, debugger,” the automaton replied. He approached the woman and relieved her of the broken gun. He then performed a quick scan of her body, finding two blades and an additional pistol. He stowed the belongings in the empty compartments along his legs and returned to Erynn, giving her the broken gun.
She looked it over and said, “Chromesmithing can be powerful, but it is certainly volatile.”
The other woman stared at Erynn like she was trying to determine who she was and eventually smiled.
“Why the smile?” Erynn asked the woman.
“Guess it’s just good to see a piece of heroism in a place like this,” she answered happily.
Taken aback by the answer, Erynn asked “Who are you?”
“Well, my name, if that’s what you’re after, is April Lord,” she replied. “My occupation is that of a mercenary for hire…” After a momentary pause, she continued, “Your posters don’t really do you justice, Erynn.”
“Uh, thanks,” Erynn said, narrowing her eyes. “You seem pretty at ease for someone with a gun on her.”
“I suppose,” April said. “I guess I’m just hopeful you won’t shoot. So, you’re looking for the other woman from Pendulum Falls, right?”
“Pearl,” Erynn confirmed. “Yes. Why’d you take her?”
“It was a job,” April said. “Nothing more complicated than that. Someone wanted me to bring her, so I brought her.”
“Who hired you?” she asked.
“Not entirely sure,” the mercenary replied. “Didn’t get the name of the man in charge. Only ever met a middle man.”
Nodding, Erynn continued, “And who was--”
Tern shifted forward, blade arm extended out in front of Erynn, as the figure of an individual appeared almost out of nowhere. The figure held a blade aimed downward at Erynn, clashing with Tern’s blade. She backed up instinctively, as she saw the individual.
Over his head, he wore a dark crimson trilby hat with a black trim. A matching red overcoat clasped closed with golden buckles and an oversized collar concealed his face from view. His gloves, boots, and pants were made of thick and very dark black leather, and his sword appeared to be of a quality design.
The man moved so quickly that he seemingly vanished from sight just as quickly, as he had appeared. Looking around for him, Erynn spotted the man standing atop a heap of junk in the distance.
“Who is that?” Erynn aske
d aloud, not expecting an answer.
“I’m impressed,” April said casually. “You’ve really gone and pissed the council off. That right there is Solak Karci, head of an order of Ankalaran assassins. Rarely see those guys used on a civilian like yourself.”
“So, you’re saying I should be honored?” she asked.
“Terrified is more the reaction you should be striving for,” April replied. “He’s very good, and he’ll try to kill me just for being witness to it.”
“Lucky you,” Erynn said.
“Look,” the mercenary began. “You don’t have much time, and frankly you don’t have much of a chance. If you want to survive him and find your girl, we need to work together.”
“Why should I trust you?” she asked.
“Because you don’t have any other choice,” April explained.
She looked from Solak, still staring down at them from the heap, to April, seeing the fear in her eyes, and then back to the assassin.
“He’s moved again,” April said. “He’ll strike anytime now.”
“Fine,” Erynn decided. “How do we beat him?”
“The assassin’s imbibe a special herb that grows in the Ankalaran region,” April explained. “It makes them faster, too fast for either of us to shoot him.”
“He’s gotta have weakness though,” Erynn suggested.
“Sort of,” she replied.
“What does that mean?” Erynn asked.
“A high voltage of electricity will slow him down,” she answered. “But you still have to get close enough to him to hit him. I’ve got a weapon that’ll do the trick though.”
“Where is it?” Erynn inquired.
“My bike,” she replied. “Follow me.”
