by Ain Soph
“If there really are Artifs here, run for this gap, and escape into the forest. It’s not a great option but it’s all that we have.” I bite my thumbnail as I think about how the nomads must have escaped. Did they all just run for the front or did Isoline already know about this gap? Why wouldn’t she tell me if she did? “Isoline, how did your people escape if there’s a fence around this entire perimeter?”
Isoline shrugs her shoulders, “We just ran.”
“You just ran?” Isoline nods her head and I sigh. That doesn’t give me much to go on. If that was really their only exit, this neighborhood must have been a bloodbath. It’s a wonder she seems so well adjusted. That’s an unbelievable trauma to live through. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her about the nomad’s escape routes though. It’s probably a memory she doesn’t want to talk about.
I jerk my head toward the manor Isoline pointed to earlier and we shuffle through the grass at an agonizingly slow pace. I want to stay cautious, but so far, everything remains clear and quiet. Every crunch of a leaf (not that there are many at this time of year) or snap of a twig sets me in a sharp panic, my eyes darting around rapidly, scanning the broken glass windows in the houses nearest to us. But I can’t hear or see signs of movement. Part of our mercenary training is learning how to focus our hearing to seek out the ticking of the Artif’s clocks, even though their sound is almost imperceptible in complete silence, and I’ve always prided myself on having keen hearing around Artif camps. Here though, I’m so on edge, I keep thinking that I hear the ticking of an Artif clock, though I know it’s just my nerves getting into my head. Missions don’t usually happen the way mercenaries want them to, and to have the neighborhood completely free from Artifs felt too good to be true.
We arrive at the back door of the manor Isoline pointed to without any conflict hindering the long walk around the outskirts of the neighborhood. I remind her to stay silent as I try the back door. It’s locked, but I figured as much. Unable to enter the house from the back, I walk around the first floor of the house looking for any broken windows we can climb through. I have a lock picking kit on me but picking locks isn’t quiet and if there was something on the other side of the door, the noise I’d make from picking the lock would be loud enough to alert it. Furthermore, picking the lock would take time, and all I want to do is finish the mission and get out of the neighborhood. If there’s already a window blown out, it would be much easier to enter the house that way. Breaking one myself would, again, mean making a noise loud enough to alert any sentient life in the area. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see a completely busted window in the front of the house. I try the door just to check, but (again, as I thought) it’s locked. Luckily for us, the glass in the frame is broken enough for Isoline and I to enter without risk of injury. Still, just to make sure we wouldn’t snag ourselves on a small shard I didn’t catch, I quickly unbuckle the straps of my brown, leather jacket and gently place it over the frame.
I wave Isoline closer to me and gesture toward the window in front of us. “I’ll go first. Stay behind me, but stick close. We haven’t seen anything yet, so I doubt there will be any Artifs in here, but I don’t want to take any chances. Bringing you along is a big enough wild card as it is- no offense.” I give her a cheeky grin and grab onto the frame, launching my body into the house as gracefully as I can. I still land with a thud though, so I hold a finger up to Isoline for a moment to make sure I don’t hear any sounds coming from the rest of the house. When nothing but silence greets my ears, I wave her in and take a look around the room I entered.
I could tell that the room was once opulent, a place of relaxation for the wealthy before the war. The fabrics covering the curtains and furniture are velvet and silk, but most, if not all of them are torn. An intricately carved chaise lounge with embroidery of golden thread sits in the corner of the room covered in dust, the fabric on the backrest shredded to pieces. This manor was once a beautiful place, a place where dream came alive, but after its owners abandoned it, vagrants, nomads, Artifs, anyone who needed a place to stay, stripped it of its beauty.
When I hear the soft thump of Isoline’s boots landing on the carpet (luckily its plush enough that our landing don’t make much noise), I listen again for any noises in the house before telling her, “I’m going to need you to stay back. If there are any Artifs here, I want to know that you’ll be able to run for the hills, and I literally mean that. Go out that back door and just keep running. Remember the gap in the wall and make it there. I’ll be able to take care of myself. If you think you’re going to try to be brave or heroic, you’ll more than likely just end up in the way and we’ll both be dead.”
Isoline softly groans and slumps her shoulders, “I heard everything you said the first time and I still hear it now. We haven’t seen any Artifs this entire time, and I know you’re still worried, but don’t you at least feel safe enough at this point to stop the safety briefs?” There isn’t an ounce of fear or worry on Isoline’s face, but it’s no wonder why. She feels completely safe here. She doesn’t understand that Artifs can seemingly appear out of thin air. A lot of good people have died that way.
“It still worries me that we haven’t seen any sign of Artif activity though. This is an Artif base camp that they risked their lives to get. Yes, perhaps they were an Artif group that hunted humans, but those are so rare…we don’t even know that those papers in the front of the neighborhood actually belonged to them. If they really were just desperate for survival, then I highly doubt they’d abandon the place they worked so hard to get.”
Isoline takes a deep breath and nods her head. I’m not sure if she completely agrees with me but she’s at least acknowledging what I’m saying and for now, that’s enough. “The house looks the exact same as when I left. It doesn’t seem like they lived in it at all. Nothing’s moved from where it was before they drove us out.” Isoline looks around with a nostalgic look on her face and I shake my head.
“I don’t know, Isoline. That’s not what’s important right now. As much as I’d like to let you take a trip down memory lane, you need to focus on staying behind me while it’s safe and running if things get dangerous, okay? If you can’t do that, you’ll have to wait outside while I sift through this mess.”
Isoline gives me a sharp look and I realize too late that I probably offended her. I wonder how much of my ignorance in social situations I can blame on not working with a partner. Maybe my personality isn’t actually as friendly as I thought. Perhaps my dark times have changed me too much. Regardless of my cruel way with words, I still cared about others and I felt bad for hurting Isoline. To me, the things in this manor look like a trash heap, but to Isoline, this was home- a home that was brutally taken away from her along with those she loved. Before I could apologize, Isoline make a move to stand her ground, “How will you know where to look? I know exactly where the jewelry box we’re looking for is. And before you even say it may not be in the same place, you know as well as I that Artifs have no use for useless human items like jewelry. Their camps are dedicated toward survival. They don’t have time for frivolous trinkets. I’m coming with you; you need me.” Isoline’s eyes are full of fire, and I try to hide my smile. For knowing me such a short amount of time, she’s learned my thought process pretty well. I had an argument ready to deter her from coming, but she hit every point I was going to make before I even got a chance to convince her.
Isoline is certainly dedicated to finding this locket, even if it means risking her life. I know I come across as unfriendly at times, but she didn’t let that intimidate her into backing down from me. I’m impressed with her. After this mission, I plan to continue working alone, but I was sure that when I allowed myself time to daydream, Isoline would be my partner of choice. Maybe in a parallel reality, she already is. Regardless, we have a mission to do, and whether I like it or not, Isoline isn’t going to leave my side. We’re in this mission together, and together, we’re going to finish it.
“Guilt is pe
rhaps the most painful companion of death.”
-Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
CHAPTER THREE
“Just make sure you keep your voice down. If it’s not important, then don’t say it.” Isoline scoffs under her breath and glares at me. She’s listening to every word I’m saying, but I know it’s killing her to have to follow the orders of someone her own age. Because of her inexperience though, Isoline seems more like a child to me. I begin creeping through the house and Isoline follows at a safe distance. “What’s so important about this locket anyway? I get that it’s a family heirloom, and I’m sure it’s probably sentimental to you, but it’s been three years that the locket has just been sitting in this house. Why go back for it now?”
Isoline raises an eyebrow at me and I give her a sheepish grin. I know I broke my own rule by saying something out loud that most likely could have waited, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. I lead Isoline into a crowded, damp kitchen. It’s cluttered with molded cooking utensils, and dust is collected over most of the room. I try to take slow, shallow breaths to keep from coughing. I still feel as though I can hear the ticking of a clockwork heart, and I want to be on the safe side. There hasn’t been any evidence of Artif activity, but my intuition is telling me that there’s a large chance one is in the house with us. The windows are covered in grime, keeping our surroundings dark and hazy. Black mold covers the baseboards and bottoms of the counters, and in the corner of the room, a cockroach runs across the chipped marble tile. I stop short and motion for Isoline to halt behind me. Straining my ears, I notice that I’m able to hear more than one quiet ticking now, meaning that there is likely more than one Artif in the manor with us. I level my hand and try to motion toward Isoline to keep her voice down on her response. I was hoping we wouldn’t run into any Artifs, but maybe, if they haven’t bothered us yet, they’re in a sleep state- a state when their clocks are suspended in time (they remain ticking, but the second hand just hits the same number with each tick). When the Artifs wake, the clock continues to move forward.
“The locket has a picture of my brother, Dryden. I haven’t seen him in over a year. After the Artifs took over our camp, Dryden and I lost our parents in the panic and couldn’t find them in the aftermath. Everyone had scattered as far away from the neighborhood as they possibly could, and all Dryden and I had was each other. Then, early last year, I lost Dryden too. We weren’t careful and ended up in the middle of a Dagger Corps mission. That militia is brutal; they don’t care about anyone or anything except the mission. Dryden made sure I was safe somewhere away from the conflict, but he was left behind, and I still have no idea if he’s alive or not. I couldn’t get the locket on my own, because I don’t have any of the skills needed to complete a mission like this- especially with Artifs involved. Thankfully, your reputation preceded you. You’re good at what you do, and you have a personal revenge mission you haven’t been having much success with. I just figured that I have information you want and you have services I need.” Isoline’s a smart girl. For whatever skills she lacks, she certainly has the brains to make up for it. It sounded like Isoline and Dryden had done a lot of running in their lives. They would have probably loved to have had a permanent home, a place where they could put down roots and not have to worry about leaving or finding a new location. I, on the other hand, ran away from the only place I’ve ever called home in pursuit of a life of homelessness, uncertainty, and danger. Now more than ever, Isoline reminds me of my sister, and as hard as I try, I can’t stop the memories. I know I need to focus, but it feels like I’m having a conversation with Lucie, and it’s taking me to a place of nostalgia in my mind.
I jerk back and thrust my arm in front of Isoline to hold her back. While she was talking, we had been shuffling through the house, trying to avoid the junk piled in tall columns in each room we passed through. In pre war times, this manor probably would have been expensive, a house only the wealthiest could ever dream of living in. The ceilings are tall and in the living room, there’s a crystal chandelier that has somehow withstood the violence and decay of the past twenty years. It had taken a while for us to finally make our way through the bottom floor and arrive at the staircase, but now that we’re here, a glow coming from the room diagonal to us is catching my eye. I drop my arm back down to my side and nod my head toward Isoline so she knows why we’ve stopped.
Looking through the doorway beside the staircase, I’m able to see four Artifs sitting around a small card table with a dingy light bulb swaying above them. The grime covering the bulb makes the room look like it’s bathed in a sickly, greenish brown color, casting an ill mottled glow on the Artifs’ faces and making the clowns look even more garish than usual.
Before Artifs were commercialized for household use, they were advertised for other public services- one of those being entertainment. A clown themed Artif was the perfect hire for your child’s birthday party, even if they only came with one look. As it turned out, an Artificial Intelligence unit that looked like a clown wasn’t a great product idea, and they came off more creepy than fun. The four Artifs in front of us are the very clowns that were discontinued soon after their release. It’s a wonder they’ve managed to survive this long. Luckily for Isoline and I though, since the clowns are an early model, they aren’t built as sturdy. If it comes down to a fight, I’m positive that I’ll be able to take the four of them fairly easily. They aren’t as threatening as other Artifs, but they do look agonizingly creepy. I want to pull Isoline and myself away, but it’s hard to take my eyes off of them. The Artifs still have their clown make up on, but skin was torn away from their faces and arms, showing the intricate workings of the brass gears under their skin. Their costumes are shredded and the thick red hair that the clown Artifs were known for is dangling in patches in front of their eyes.
It looks as though they’re playing some form of poker, but we’re too far away for me to make it out exactly. The room looks like a massive den and they’re in the far corner of it, thankfully, as far away from the doorway as they can possibly be. I have to hope they’re too engrossed in their game to notice us. I may be able to take them on in a fight, but that’s only assuming there are no other Artifs present in the house. Also, having Isoline with me makes me more cautious. I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks that could endanger her life.
I take a moment to simply stand near the staircase and watch them. Isoline and my outlines are hidden by the darkness of the rest of the house, and I feel comfortable that, as long as we stay still, we can simply observe their movements for a time. I’m unnerved that I still can’t hear any activity coming from the den. I hear the ticking of their hearts, but other than that, the house is silent. I should be able to hear laughter or conversation, the movements of their bodies, or even the motions of the cards, but I hear nothing. Their movements are so precise and gentle with such entrancing fluidity that every motion is completely devoid of sound. The cards smoothly enter their hands and with one graceful motion they lower their arms as gently as a falling feather to place any excess cards back onto the table. I can’t see where their eyes are focused, but I can tell that their mouth aren’t moving at all. Instead, their heads are bowed low as if in concentration, though every now and then one will lift its head to look at an Artif across from it, almost as if they’re using telepathy to talk. It’s intriguing and terrifying. Were they upgrading themselves? When did telepathic communication become a part of their programming?
I break my trance and continue toward the steps, feeling an even greater urgency to complete the mission. I thought I had the clown Artifs completely figured out, but I’m no longer sure I know exactly what I’m dealing with. “We’re going to stay low and make our way toward the steps. You need to follow every single footstep I take. I don’t know how creaky these stairs will be, but I’ve dealt with old houses before. If we don’t want to alert the Artifs to our presence, you’re going to have to be precise.” Isoline nods her head and we make our way toward the sta
irs. Making our way up them is tricky, as most of the steps have holes torn through the rotted wood. I look back toward Isoline to make sure she isn’t having any trouble with following my steps. This isn’t the first decrepit home I’ve had a mission in, and navigating the obstacles that come with these old homes is second nature by now- for me. Isoline seems like she’s doing a decent job at staying careful though, and I’m impressed with her agility. Maybe I don’t have to worry about her as much as I am.
The upstairs is an absolute wreck of clothing, broken bulbs, shattered ceramic, piles of ash, burned wood, and broken bed frames. It’s hard for me to even make out the dark doors dotting the long hallway. The only light entering the hall in front of us is from a large window at the far end of the hallway, sizable enough to encompass the entire wall. Unfortunately, it’s light is the same hazy mist as the kitchen downstairs. I hold my breath to keep from sneezing. It’s much dustier up here than downstairs, and I can’t alter the Artifs in the house that they have visitors.
“It’s the last door on the left,” Isoline whispers in my ear.
“You’re sure it’ll still be there? Did this place look this bad when you left?” I’m starting to think that Isoline is just a hopeful girl who was about to have her heart broken. I knew from the beginning that there was a huge chance the locket wouldn’t be here after all this time, but that’s Isoline’s problem. As much as I want her to find what she’s looking for, I want the information she knows more. I made sure before we left for the mission that I’d still get the information even if Isoline didn’t find her locket. I told her I considered it payment for my services.
“Even if it was looted by humans after the Artifs already took over- and this would be looting done right under the Artifs’ noses- the only things missing would be supplies that could actually help with survival. People couldn’t care less about petty gems at this point in time.” I inwardly sigh. It’s good that Isoline has faith in the mission, but I feel like she’s starting to get overconfident and it’s worrying me.
