She tapped her heel against the concrete floor in as obnoxious a manner as she could, waiting for the goon to make up his mind. She'd felt her own mind beginning to haze over, as the lack of rest turned to delirium. Keeping the drool in her mouth had become equally as difficult as keeping her head from rocking forward.
"C'mon… I've gotta pee…" she grumbled at him.
"Didn't you already go…?" he grunted back. "Hey, Max— she already had a bathroom break, right?"
The other guard muttered something Jinx couldn't quite make out, from the other side of the door.
"Your friend…" she protested, "the one that left earlier— he gave me a drink of water, so… I've gotta go again…"
The man stomped over toward her. "I'm checkin' that room for tunnels, once you're done," he said, beginning to loosen her bindings in rough fashion.
"What am I gonna dig with— my damn fingernails…?" she replied miserably.
He aimed the barrel of his sidearm at her, while handing her a set of cuffs for her to put on.
"…Any word on what your featherful boss is gonna do with fuzzball?" she drawled. "She kickin' him out of the clubhouse, or what…?"
The man simply motioned with his weapon. "You talk too damn much — move," he growled at her.
"What kinda rounds' that thing take— buckshots?" she went on, beginning toward the door. Amidst her unserious chatting, she expended her remaining energy keeping her attention sharp — all she needed was the right window…
"Blackpowders—" the man responded dismissively, "who the hell puts buckshots in a pistol…?"
She shrugged. "People who don't like ugly gray smoke…?"
He poked the gun against her back so that she'd hurry along. Before rounding the corner, she managed to spot the door guard deciding to head out the other way, matchbox in hand, seemingly taking advantage of not having to watch her in that moment.
They'd have done themselves a real favor by making her remove her boots…
She suddenly halted, and allowed herself to collapse to the ground, much to the guard's frustration.
"I'm sorry—" she panted.
A steel-capped kick in the ribs knocked the remaining wind out of her.
"Get the hell up— c'mon," he growled, violently hoisting her with both his hands, just as she'd hoped he would.
The stupid knife had been poking her ankle the entire time…
She finally retrieved it from its hiding spot, plunging it deeply into the man's eye just as he'd managed to wrest her to her feet.
His screaming only lasted for a moment — his throat was an even easier target.
Jinx hunched over once it was done, gathering her senses. The brief exertion left her body feeling as though it were on fire. She hoped the adrenaline would soon quell it.
She attempted to wipe some of the blood from the deed off of her hands, while she scanned around and decided on a direction. The cuffs on her wrists were heavier than when she'd put them on — she was glad not to have to dig through many layers of clothing before coming upon the small key which released her from them.
She pocketed dead man's weapon before she set off, expecting the second guard to show at any moment. She'd begun to wish she'd been lying about needing to pee…
'Crap,' she cursed— the path she'd taken didn't present much of an escape route at all. She dreaded having to double back and cross the main compound.
She racked her brain…
If she'd been in any shape to fight, she wouldn't have needed to turn to such desperate ideas — she turned around once more and quickly shot out the lock on the sanitation store, ducking inside and scanning the floor in the dark.
From her brief past explorations beneath the city, she'd come upon runoff overflow basins that sometimes intersected with the underground ventilation ducts — which meant that there was a chance she wouldn't have to wade through sewage in order to make her escape…
Her struggling eyes managed to happen upon the room's primary drain, covered by a heavy steel grate. It felt rusted over and filthy. She grimaced, heaving the thing with all her might.
Noises from outside cause her to pause briefly — gunfire, and… men screaming…
'The hell…?' she wondered, alarmed.
She'd put the idea of a last-minute rescue out of her mind many hours ago, but perhaps her pessimism was unwarranted — could Silco have figured out where she'd been taken?
She wandered out, lured by the prospect of him being there, so that she could show him that she was alright… that she'd gotten herself out, and would have escaped on her own anyhow…
Smears of blood littered the ground.
Her hopeful trance was quickly shattered when she came upon the sight of the guard who'd previously given her a glass of water, and unknowingly enabled her freedom by allowing her to snatch his knife when his back had been turned.
She had to hold her nose — his face was only barely recognizable, as his body lay contorted and mangled, almost slashed to pieces.
More disconcerting things could soon be heard beyond the shadows she crept in — more death, presumably of the equally bloody kind.
She gripped the stolen pistol so tightly that she nearly pulled the trigger without meaning to.
The chill brought on by this unknown thing sent her quickly back the way she'd come, and gave her the strength to finally haul the metal grate away from the opening that she might pass through.
Even her thoughts had grown silent, as she slipped around in the dark. The murk and the wet washed over her ankles, filling her boots, but there lay only one path: straight ahead.
It wasn't long before the echo of the runoff flow grew deafening, and that she came upon the junction she'd hoped to find. She slid her feet out of the stream so that it wouldn't take her with it, down into the lower channel.
She tilted her head upward. It was pitch-dark, but she could sense an elevation in the lid, where she suspected a vent crossed through — she swore to herself that she could hear the open shaft. If she were wrong, she wasn't certain how deep the drop went…
She spent a couple minutes working up the courage.
'Fuck it—' she cursed, shuffling out to the furthest available edge upon which she could find balance.
As she stretched her hand upward, warmer, dryer air graced her fingertips, all but confirming her theory. Though, she wasn't at all sure how high up the next ledge lay.
She imagined a death by drowning… Silco had long regaled her with the story of his near-death in the clutches of the sea — she somehow figured that hers might feel a lot less poetic…
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, readying herself to jump.
There was something to it, the feeling that she'd handed her life over to some kind of fate, the moment that her feet left the solid surface — the moment between, uncertain of whether her fingers would find purchase upon anything at all…
Her heart pounded as she desperately pulled herself up, grateful for the dry, even grateful of the pungent smog that hit her face as she clambered to her feet.
The adrenaline had indeed kicked in at the right time — she broke into an almost sprint, quickening as she glimmered a morsel of neon glow from the outside, presuming that it would bring her to—
Something clotheslined her as she rounded the corner, sending her down sputtering. She wasn't sure whether her eyes were open or closed as bright, flashing artifacts danced against her vision, dizzying her to the point of nausea.
Part of her didn't want to bother attempting to move again, and the brass beneath her felt so nice and full of heat that she considered simply laying her head there, so that she could finally rest…
Whatever lay before her loudly clanked into motion, startling what remained of her senses.
"GIRL— THOUGHT, PERHAPS A CAT…" a growling metallic voice boomed.
It thudded still once more, making way for the quieter tap of footsteps, approaching from only behind it.
"Miss Jinx…?" said Viktor.
~~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~
She pulled her hood tight once more, growing more anxious of being spotted as the hours pressed on. The fact that Silco was yet to reveal himself had her frustrated, and she couldn't stop thinking about everything that Ekko had told her.
Vi shuddered to contemplate what reason Silco had for wanting to keep Powder so close for all these years…
Cheese lay a gentle hand on her arm as her shoulders stiffened.
"Maybe we track somebody else, if he ain't showing," he suggested. "Who's his second...?"
"…That one— with the metal arm," Vi muttered quietly, pointing Sevika out from the crowd. "Well, Ekko said so, at least."
"Mm…" he replied. "She ain't been going anywhere either."
"Maybe we go in and ask her," Vi said, "you know— the convincing way…"
He was silent for a moment. "Not sure we could hold our own against that many, Vi…"
She wanted to disagree with him.
"Maybe we get some rest for the night," he said, "we've been at this since we got out — I don't know about you, but my empty stomach's been letting me know just about every step of the way…"
She sighed. He was right — she felt as though she were about to collapse...
'How must Powder feel, then…?' It tore her up inside. Her sister, caught in some type of turf war, if that were indeed what it was…
Vi had spent nights hoping that by some miracle, somebody other than Silco might have risen up and taken leadership over The Lanes the way that Vander had — she was hardly surprised to learn that everything seemed to have fallen apart under Silco's watch, with everybody at each other's throats.
And Topside certainly appeared to have taken advantage…
But, the biggest stab in the gut was knowing that Powder had to grow up in a world even shittier than the one she did, that she couldn't spare her that…
Vi swallowed painfully.
It was all her fault — she shouldn't have lost her temper at her… that night… so long ago…
"Vi," Cheese repeated.
She looked at him.
"Sure… let's find someplace close," she said.
He'd begun to move. "I've got it— I know a spot."
Vi had doubts that she'd sleep. She just needed a way to get to Silco…
~~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~
Garou let the kid down slowly off of his back.
At a certain point, it had stopped feeling as though he were sleuthing to find the place — he could hear a lot of commotion…
None of it sounded pretty.
'They fightin' each other now…?' he puzzled.
The kid was reaching for his hand.
"If you're afraid, you shouldn't be here…" he said to her, causing her expression to change.
She pulled her helmet down, almost over her eyes.
"No— that ain't gonna cut it either, kid," he grunted. "Just— find a place to hide, or somethin'…"
He glanced over again. Despite the lack of any guards or anything else of the sort, it seemed as though they were looking at the entrance to the compound the spectacled geezer had described.
Though, it wasn't sounding so lively anymore…
He turned to Isha, peeking up at him from under her helmet.
"What— you don't wanna hide now?" he sighed, reluctantly squatting down to her level.
"There ain't anything scary in there, alright?" He said it curtly. "I'm the real monster here."
Her response was to look cross at him.
"What— d'you think you're gonna help me in there, or something? Go on— I'll bring Blue out and then we'll get out of here…" He gave her a little shove in the direction of a small store that looked to be abandoned.
Garou waited until she'd finally scurried inside before beginning through the posted opening in the exterior wall. He unravelled the bandages on his wrists and hands as he walked, exposing clean, healed skin. Though, he didn't doubt he'd need new ones before long…
The place was something of a ghost town — that is, until he began to come upon the bodies. The further in he got, the more the ground was littered with them. It would have been a familiar scene, if not for the excess amounts of blood, and insides strewn about where they shouldn't have been.
His head twitched in the direction of something gargling. He strolled over to find the fallen remains of one of those erratic-moving armored suits with the purple tinted helmet-windows — he remembered fighting a small horde of them some time ago, before the old man had dragged him in, and he'd found Blue there…
Garou tilted his head at the exposed sight of the drugged-up creature inside of the thing, choking on their own blood from a gashed-open belly.
He began to grow slightly more wary.
"…send the rest of… got a damn death wish?!…" The voices were faint, but he spotted a shuttered window behind a balcony with some indoor lights bleeding through.
He quickly hopped up toward it, leaning an ear against the glass out of curiosity.
"—parties that you've put on our damn trail!" a woman berated in a hushed tone.
"It's some goddamn mindless beast! How's that got anythin' to do with her?!" a male voice squawked back indignantly.
"Oh, I don't know, Smeech, maybe that crackpot scientist Silco has working for him—"
Garou shattered the barrier with his two front knuckles, startling the half-dozen people that occupied the room as shards of glass rattled to the floor.
He looked straight at the fur-covered one, his eyes narrowed.
"You." He hoped he'd managed to place the voices correctly. "The girl you took— where is she…?"
The fur-ball took a moment to wipe the mystified look from his face, before raising himself up on weird, stilt-like metal limbs.
"Who the fuck is this guy now—?! Get him out of here!" he ordered his goons.
Garou grumpily took a stance — he didn't have time for this…
Instead of bothering to engage the weak-looking grunts, he sprung forward, cutting straight through the crowd at 'Smeech', grasping at one of his spindly limbs.
A purple cloud of gas exploded between them instead, catching Garou off guard — a breath of the stuff yielded a weird effect…
He took a club to the back of the head by one of the stupid grunts during the distraction.
A real weird effect…
Smeech struggled against him, one of his steel limbs in Garou's grip. A needle-like blade suddenly shot out of the fur-ball's other arm — Garou dropped down low to the ground to avoid it, whipping the squalling creature through the air as though he were paper, and knocking the rest of his crew on their asses.
The woman in the black coat bolted for the door, and Garou didn't figure to stop her. He had to keel over and cough for a moment — he wasn't sure the purple stuff had agreed with him fully.
"Get up, you idiots—!" the fur-ball screeched, untangling himself from them.
He had an extensive array of bladed weapons crammed into those robo-limbs of his, but Garou was faster — he sprung forward and caught him with a fly-kick which was sure to dislodge a few ribs, assuming that he had that sort of thing inside him…
They both tumbled out of the building in the direction Garou had entered. He landed on his toes.
"Egh… fuck…" Smeech retched, coughing up his innards.
Garou stood before him, observing with irritation a couple of errant slashes across his own forearm from the scuffle, and watching them begin to ooze blood.
He looked down again. "Well—? Where is she, asshole…?"
"You… idiot—" Smeech panted, anxious, "we're sitting ducks out here, now…"
Garou took a glance around the place. The grunts from upstairs seemed to all have hightailed it. It was just as silent as it had been before, if not more so…
He stepped forward and hauled the fur-ball up by the scruff of his shirt. "You gonna tell me, or do I gotta start takin' your toys from ya…?"
Smeech made a feeble attempt at a swipe with one of his knives, and so Garou twisted it off, eliciting a squeal.
"Alright, enough, enough—!" he begged, "listen— your girlfriend, she's safe! I'll take you to her— you've got my word, alright?!"
Garou tossed him to the ground again.
"Go on, then," he ordered.
Smeech gathered himself, but didn't move, his eyes set straight ahead. After a moment, Garou saw what he did.
It was dark, but a pair of eyes watched them, unmistakable in their hostility.
They shone the same color as Garou's — under another circumstance, he could have convinced himself that he'd merely spotted his own reflection…
The illusion was dispelled as the thing began to stalk forward into sight, snapping at the air with its brawny snout.
A wolf…?
It was large — several times larger than him, but also didn't look purely animal… it was strapped up with a series of feedlines, chambers and pumps, glowing green and bubbling with potency — presumably to soup the beast up with additional strength.
The thing already looked pretty strong…
'Eh, looks can be deceiving…' Garou thought, flexing his wiry fingers.
He took a decisive step toward it, but its twitching nose was following Smeech, instead. Garou needed the fur-ball alive…
"The fuck…?!" Smeech fretted, dragging himself back behind Garou.
The beast snorted, before letting out a threatening, low growl. He watched its muscles tense as it readied to pounce.
"Hey—!" Garou called out, assuming his stance, "back—!"
He'd never been any good with dogs…
Instead of a straight-line charge, the beast hopped from side to side before closing in, at lightning speed — Garou wasn't so sure he'd have avoided the tips of its claws had they been thrust at him instead of Smeech.
Garou plunged his knee into the beast's side, knocking it off its path, but hardly deterring it — with a single bound, it leapt straight through him, sending him careening across the dirt, hitting like a damned barge.
His eyes bugged, as he skidded to a stop — he couldn't ever remember being hit so hard…
After a half-second to regather himself, Garou lined up a push kick aimed at its hind leg. Smeech was half in its jaws when it vocalized its pain in response to the impact.
It wasn't the only thing that occurred in response — the fluid-filled mechanical chambers upon its back whirred to life and pumped the green stuff into the beast's veins like a shot of stimulant. It could only discard Smeech on the ground as its body convulsed, raising up on its hind legs and letting out a guttural howl.
'It works on a pain trigger…?' Garou surmised, shifting his weight to his toes as the beast's attention finally turned to him. The two locked eyes, and Garou didn't think he could dare blink. The beast gnashed its teeth, twitching violently with its abundance of artificial adrenaline.
The first swipe was impossibly fast. Its claws slashed a tear through the fabric of Garou's top — if it had breached skin, he didn't have time to feel it, as the second and third swipes followed in ferocious succession. It was too much to simply dodge…
'Fuck…'
He didn't want to have to use it, but he'd surely lose without it — the stuffy technique his old master had preached… Garou wished he didn't know it so well…
He began to take the contact instead of dodging it, damning the pain, and redirecting its momentum — a water flow; a stream running into a basin with which Garou could manipulate his opponent's output.
The beast grew visibly frustrated as its flurry began to tire, its efforts failing to flatten the dancing martial artist, and so it instead lunged jaws first, snapping at Garou's neck.
Flowing water turned into a rock-smashing fist, as his knuckles slammed the animal's teeth against the roof of its mouth, stifling its roar.
He quickly hopped back before the beast could surprise him, casting a brief glance over at fur-ball. He remained alive for the moment, it seemed, hobbling away with half a leg. Alive enough…
Garou panted. He could do it… he could beat the thing — he'd seen through its primal moves. And, he'd broken the seal on using the old master's technique, he supposed.
The hulking wolf's blood coursed green once more, as it writhed against its forced alchemical injection. He almost felt pity for it…
Instead of growling at him again however, the thing stiffened, sniffed, and licked its lips, experiencing some sort of sensory fulfillment from the act. Garou raised an eyebrow, before turning his hand over and discovering the deep, blood gushing puncture underneath his knuckle.
The beast licked its teeth again, before its eyes turned glassy, and darkened. They turned red.
Garou's foot shot backward the moment he saw the wolf move, but it had grown faster than ever before. Its tongue occasionally shot from between its fangs as it pursued him — it lusted for his blood…
It was moving differently, too. Garou scrambled to read its new moves, so that he could counter—
The pain was a bolt of lightning, this time — it must have been deep. It had slashed through his abdomen…
Garou was losing patience. He curled his fingers into a sharpened fist, thrusting it into the wolf's eye—
His eyes widened as he lost the opportunity to pull it back, the beast's jaws clamping down on his hand.
He contorted, firing a kick across its snout. The hand was released, but half the flesh taken with it…
Garou almost fall to his knees from the pain, but the monster didn't let him — hacking away at his chest and neck with its claws.
Shit…
He held his arm up, and felt it slashed to ribbons.
The breath left his lungs.
His right-side eye went dark first.
All shit…
Garou's last conscious thought was of his mother.