Underground Escape

The wall split open, and Marlo was carried away, along with the prone Monticello, in a sea of blood. He was borne, out of the bulk of the Terro, and down the curved side, collapsing, face up, coughing and gasping in a rapidly growing pool of blood. From here, he got his first look at the Terro properly. The whole body was a similar shade of green to the innards, a little lighter, though that was likely the lack of light inside. It had four pairs of front legs, each equipped with thick shovelling claws. The body was tapered, huge and wide around the front, and shrinking the further back it went, like a teardrop. Its later half was buried in earth, so Marlo couldn’t get a good look at it, but its head was enormous, eyeless, and had four jaws, each lined with teeth. They were all open, and a giant blue tongue was rolled, out, flopped on the ground next to them. It spread out on hard grey concrete, not the rough earth he had expected. Then Marlo realised he was seeing the Terro much too clearly. There was no way he should have been able to see this well. When he looked up again, he saw bright, harsh white lights, set into the tunnel roof. The Terro, or rather the Terro’s corpse, was surrounded by loose earth, yes, but its position was strange, perpendicular to the tunnel rather than lying along its length.

With a little work, his gas-addled brain starting to clear, Marlo worked it out. The Terro had burrowed into a man-made tunnel and paid the price for it. In doing so, Marlo had been blown out. But where was Monticello? He was about to scramble up and splash through the blood to look for him when he heard voices. He lay very still and listened.

“God, boss, what do we do about this?”

“What can we do Sammy? Freak of nature accident. Act of God is what we call it where I came from.” The first voice was nasally, but this one was deep and rich, with a southern drawl. Both were strangely muffled though, despite sounding quite close.

“But it fell on sixteen men and two diggers!”

“Long gone boy. Long gone. Call up the Scalpels, inform ‘em. Far beyond us now.”

Marlo mentally breathed out. He didn’t know what these Scalpels were, but at least it sounded like they were leaving. Then he heard the nasal voice gasp.

“Boss, look, there’s people!”

“People? Boy did you see the size of that beast? There’s no way in hell that anyone could crawl out from under it.”

“They don’t look like they’re wearing our gear sir.”

Marlo managed to shut his eyes before he heard footsteps. They quickly transitioned from echoing on stone to splashing in blood, and he managed to not flinch as droplets were kicked up on him. The steps stopped close to him, and he felt the presence of someone over him.

“It’s two boss! This one looks young. Both got Cybernetics. They look like they fell out of the beast.”

“Must have been swallowed up by it. Poor buggers, nasty way to go.” He heard a grunt to his left, silence for a minute, then

“Wait. This one’s still breathing.” Marlo froze. For a second, his heart leapt at proof that Monticello was still alive. But then, it sank. What would these people do if they found out who they were? If they were digging a tunnel, they probably were making some infrastructure for DVIN. He forced his Armpak to stay still, and not reveal that he was listening

“Quick lad.” The drawling voice hissed “Before they wake up, grab their Cybernetics. This looks like high-quality shit boy; we can sell this for massive moolah!”

Marlo had to fight to remain still. His heart was beating hard, and he was sure whoever stood over him must have noticed him react to that. If he was touched, he would have to fight to save them. It would not be pleasant for anyone but if it was what he had to do.

“Quick kid!” The voice continued “We can get out quick if you grab it fast. Once you have that you can help me with these ones.”

He was stealing Monticello’s arms. Marlo couldn’t help but grit his teeth, then froze, sure he’d been spotted when the person above him inhaled. He prayed in his head this person, whoever they were, wouldn’t do this. It would be better for everyone if they just walked away. Then he heard the person kneel down, and clenched the fist they couldn’t see, preparing himself to have his arms lunge as the figure reached for him.

Suddenly a shot ran out, echoing over and over in the tunnel. He heard a body next to him collapse, spraying the blood on the ground over him, and the person over by Monticello scramble back. He opened his eyes to see a fat, portly man in a thick, green hazardous material suit, running back, fumbling for a pistol at his waist. All around them, more shots were starting to ring out.

“Damn Spriggol bastards!” He yelled “You sneak in as good Gerrn workers? We won’t just take this-”

Another shot rang out, and he fell to the ground. Marlo winced but saw Monticello to the left of the body. Throwing stealth to the window, he got to his hands and knees and crawled over. The man had a few cuts on his face and body from the fall, so Marlo wiped away Terro blood as best he could from them, in case it was toxic. He looked around and saw that in what looked basically like a construction site, people in similar hazard suits sheltering behind equipment, firing guns at each other. The sound of gunfire was made even louder by the tunnel, and for a second, Marlo stopped. He felt tears prick his eyes at the idea of running into that, all that noise and smoke, putting himself in such danger. Maybe if he just lay here, they’d all kill each other, and he could get out. But then he looked down and saw Monticello. If he stayed here, what if a stray bullet hit him? He’d never see his wife like that. He looked up again and saw that right in the middle of the gunfight, several hundred metres up further in the tunnel, there was a stairway, which led up out of the tunnel. He swallowed and put his flesh and blood arms under Monticello. Puffing out from the exertion, he pulled Monticello up into a princess carry in his arms. He looked at his Armpak, and prayed desperately they’d be able to stop bullets, before running, headlong, into the guns.

Or at least, that’s how he’d like to describe it. In reality, it was more of a strained jog, and he stuck to the walls, making it a few dozen metres before diving behind a pile of pipes. He fell into cover, doing his best to stop Monticello from hitting his head on the concrete as he did so. He had absolutely no idea how to check his condition. He was breathing and had a pulse, and didn’t seem to have anything worse than a few cuts, so hopefully, he would just wake up later than him due to the fumes. The best thing he could do for him was get him back out in the open air. He had no idea where he was but, judging by the fact that there was actual infrastructure here, the Terro might have tunnelled back to Asgard. The fact that it had made the journey several times faster than them while digging through solid rock, was terrifying. They had been incredibly lucky it had made the mistake of breaking into another tunnel. Once again, his luck was freakishly good.

But before he had time to mull over how his luck had saved him again, he froze when he heard a click. He had seen enough movies to know that it was the hammer of a gun being pulled back.

“Hands up.” Hissed a voice in his ear. A woman’s, bitter and shrill. He did so, putting Monticello down slowly.

“Push him away with your feet.” She continued “Don’t want you using him as a shield.”

“I wouldn’t-”

A gun barrel jabbed into the back of his head. “Do it!” He pushed him away with his feet, gently as he could until he was sprawled a metre or two away, almost leaving the cover. Marlo started to turn, but the barrel moved to his back and the voice snapped “On your knees!”

Marlo did so, and as he did said “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m not with Spriggol.”

“I know, dumbass! I’m with Spriggol!”

“I mean, Gerrn.” Marlo winced. He wasn’t lying but now they’d never believe him. “I just fell into this. I just want to get out. I don’t want to hurt anyone-”

“Yeah, well now you’ve got to.” A hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him. He turned and saw a short figure in the same bulky blue hazmat suit the others had been wearing. The visor was mostly black, but he could make out the faintest outline of eyes inside. They didn’t look unnecessarily cruel, but the gun in their hand more than made up for that. “You’re my ticket out of here. What you’re going to do is go out there and kill all those Gerrn bastards. With these arms,” she picked one up in her free hand and wiggled it around, Marlo deliberately keeping it limp to avoid looking threatening “you’ll find it a lot easier than us. This way, we minimise loss of life for us. Do that, and you can go.”

“But… I don’t want to-” The gun rose, and he found himself looking down its barrel, heart rising to his throat as if it was going to leap out and take a bullet for him.

“I don’t care kid. I don’t give a shit what you want, or why you have these arms, but now you’re here, you can be useful. If you don’t, I’ll kill you, and your pal back there.”

“Please.” Marlo shook his head. He had no choice. “Don’t do this. I’m working with a resistance cell, and I’ve heard all about this. They’re playing you, making you fight another branch of the same company. Spriggol and Gerrn? None of this matters, it’s all just-”

“Shut up!” The woman yelled, waving the gun frantically “No one wants to hear that shit. I just want to live and get my wages. That’s all I need, and that’s what you’re going to help me with.”

Marlo’s heart sank. “Then you leave me no choice.” He looked her over as subtly as he could and settled on a blow to the lower midsection. With a mixture of padding from the suit and natural human flesh, this was probably the best place. Might break a few ribs, but after how he was being treated, that was a cost he could live with.

“Better.” The woman turned, shaking her head “ “I’m working with a resistance cell”. As if anyone who was would just say that kind of thing that easily. Go out when I say, and I’ll cover you. I see you take one step back and your pal gets a bullet in the eyes. One, two-”

Marlo put a hand on her shoulder and hauled her back “-Three!” His fist lashed into the visor as she went down past him, and he immediately regretted it, as a mass of pain flashed in his fist. He couldn’t tell whether the cracking sound had been the glass, his knucklebones, or both. But it had made her slam into the ground a little faster, and a little harder, which meant she couldn’t recover fast enough to avoid the serpentine silver arm that struck from above, with a good deal more precision and power, and a great less recoil or regret, into her gut. Her limbs were thrown up in the air from the blow, and he saw spit and bile spray up from the cracks in her visor. Then she flopped back down and lay still. As his Armpak hauled her behind cover, Marlo swore and sucked his knuckles. He didn’t feel good about that, but it was better than killing her, and in his defence, she had been horrid.

“Well excuse me for not knowing how to act as a resistance member.” He sulked “I wasn’t exactly given a manual.”

“A good first page would be “don’t turn your back on your weakest link.” Another voice ran out. Almost sighing with exasperation, Marlo turned again but froze when he saw that this person was pointing a gun at Monticello. They might have been wearing another hazmat suit, and they were probably male based on the voice. Marlo didn’t notice. They could be in full clown costume for all he cared. All he saw was the gun, hovering over Monticello’s face.

“I saw what you did to Cassidy. Now, I’m gonna make you pay.” The gun travelled down to Monticello’s knee, and Marlo, going numb to all other noises, followed it, head swivelling like a hawk.

“Let him go.” He growled.

“Oh no. He’s losing a kneecap for your little stunt. Maybe two. Definitely two, if you don’t do what the good lady asked.”

“Let him go.” Marlo stood up, and his Armpak coiled around him menacingly. The man quavered for a second, gun looking very badly like it wanted to point at him.

“Don’t test me, boy, I will do it. Any more lip and I’ll kill him, I swear.”

“Let him go!” Marlo’s arms all punched forwards, hands outstretched, in the same ripping motion, they had used to shovel through the Terro. Behind the visor, the man’s eyes went wide. He raised his gun off Monticello and fired, but one hand shifted course slightly. The sound of the gun firing in such close proximity was awful, but Marlo barely noticed at the time, nor did he notice the sound of the bullet pinging off the hand that blocked it and rebounding into the pipes. Then, the very same hand struck the man. Despite all ten going for him, it only took one. It hit him in the head and sheared the entire top half of his head off, leaving just the bottom jaw and tongue. Making odd gurgles, blood fountaining out of the exposed throat, the body fell back, and the other nine arms grabbed Monticello, pulling him away, and to Marlo.

Marlo breathed heavily. He stared at the body, realising what he’d done. That was the easier realisation. The one that shocked him more, was that he didn’t feel bad. He felt stupid for leaving Monticello unguarded, he felt furious still at the man, even after he had died, and his whole body felt tense, tenser than it ever had. But he didn’t feel ashamed, or depressed, or sick, in any way. He felt almost… good. Well, not good. Thank God, not good. But… justified. He had just protected his friend. Monticello would have found it a hell of a lot harder to find his wife with one leg. He sat down for a second, staring at the hand that had blocked the bullet. There was a slight, almost imperceptible grove in the palm where the bullet had bounced off. it was probably very hot to the touch. Marlo touched it. It was.

The world rushed back with that jolt of pain. As the sound of gunfire all around him resumed, Marlo swore and blew on his finger. He looked at the body, the spread of white teeth amongst the red sea pooling from it. It was probably not a good thing that wasn’t eliciting a reaction from him. Was this how the others felt? Killing wasn’t such a big deal, if you were doing it to save a life? Or was he simply becoming desensitised already? He turned and looked at the woman who had held him at gunpoint. He thought about smashing her head too, but the thought made him suddenly feel so sick he stopped the arms before they could do anything more than twitch.

Okay. So he hadn’t just lost it, it was just when it came from defending others that it was muted. He looked from one unconscious form to the other mangled one. That was good, right? Or at least, less bad? He was protecting his friend. This way, maybe he could be of some use to the resistance cell. But, if this was what being useful was, did he want it? It was too hard to say. A pipe crashed down next to him, a result of too many bullets being poured into it, and the sound made him jump.

This was not the time for this. He had to get Monticello out of here and find them their way back. Then, he could work it out. Like he had feared, another sleepless night of staring at the office ceiling in the hammock. Sounded like heaven right now. Still, now that he knew his arms were bulletproof, this was suddenly easier. He grabbed Monticello and stood up. His legs weren’t shaking this time. He looked out carefully from behind the pipes, plotting his route. He had to rationalise it from now. Stop imagining the users behind the guns. They were simply just guns, shooting bullets at him and Monticello. That’s all they had to be. That way, it made sense to get rid of them, because more guns meant higher danger for the pair of them. He took a slow, deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like he always had, just like he always would. And he stepped out.

The arms formed a shelter around him, a round, multi-layered cocoon enwrapping the pair as they ran. Immediately bullets started pinging off him. Both sides must have thought this was some war machine made and deployed by the other. Marlo didn’t care. He had only two entrance points for bullets. The tiny slit he had left for sight, and the small space below where the cocoon ended around his ankles. As more and more fire was concentrated on him, the sounds of pinging and ricochets got worse, and he started to get knocked from side to side.

He kept running, but then, he saw it. A bullet slipped under the ankle gap when the cocoon lurched to the side, bounced off the lower left wall and started to ricochet around inside. The hands, which he had left on the inside, reached out and snapped, the fourth left one grabbed it before it did any real damage. Marlo found it had grazed his legs a few times and realised he couldn’t even feel it through the adrenaline. Still, if one got in, more could, and would deal more damage. He stopped and turned as slowly as he dared, taking stock of the situation while still remaining guarded. He counted several dozen guns and saw a digger a few metres away.

He ran to it, and one arm broke formation, snaking out of the huge nest to grip the neck of the scoop, and grip with all its force. The metal screeched and bent, and the large digging apparatus fell off, slamming to the ground. The hand gripped it, and with some strain, pulled it up to stand on its side. Marlo fled to it, putting his back against the rounded bottom, and basked briefly in the relative safety of having one side of cover. He was still being shot at by enemies on this side, so he turned, and found the six he had identified before. Six guns, not six people he reminded himself. He breathed out, and yelled, a single command even he couldn’t hear over the smoke and noise, and overwhelming sound of his own heart thumping in his head. The protective cocoon unfurled, leaving only four which wrapped around Monticello and his upper half, protecting vitals. The other six reached out. Four hit their targets, and the other two, unable to stretch far enough to reach, grabbed a concrete mixer and hurled it. This, just like his other blows, hit.

Marlo ignored the screams, telling himself guns couldn’t yell in pain. He didn’t know how many were injured or dead- broken or smashed beyond repair, he amended. But all that mattered was the gunfire stopped. His arms snaked back, and he prepared himself. All six grabbed the machine he had stolen the arm off, and as he screamed, dug their fingers into the metal. They lifted the digger overhead, and Marlo, sure his feet were cracking the concrete beneath him, looked over the scoop he had been crouching behind. There were the rest of the guns he had seen. They were firing more desperately now, missing shots in their desperation, having seen what had happened to their fellow models, and what he was doing now. They didn’t want to be broken, to be smashed.

Unfortunately for them, neither did Marlo, and as one of the only two people in this tunnel, he took priority. The arms reached back and hurled the digger at them. It didn’t reach all of them, but upon impact, the fuel tank burst, and it erupted into an explosion. Marlo had no idea if this fire was hot enough to melt those guns, or the percussive blast enough to shatter them, but that didn’t matter. The shock wave hit him, and the arms he had coiled in front of him in preparation, and he let it fling him back, his arms swapping position mid-air, and catching him by anchoring inside the doorway to the stairwell he had been trying to get to.

His arms immediately went to work, dragging him up the stairs, taking them six or seven at a time. The stairway was a kind he had seen many times, wrapping around a central hole over and over again, which when looked up or down would show the climber the top or bottom respectively. Marlo, throwing caution to the wind, looked at it and ordered his arms to do what a few days ago, a few hours ago, nay a few minutes ago would be unthinkable for him. Moving like a cross between some giant octopus or a spider, the arms flung him out into open space, and started grabbing the railing of the stairs, hauling him up entire floors in a frantic motion. Despite the terrifying, many-limbed appearance, Marlo felt totally in control. Were it not for Monticello in his arms, he might have laid back, completely at ease. He really had to thank Nessa for these when he got back. They were incredible. He would never have thought he could have done… any of this.

After a minute or two, he reached the top and kept going, barely slowing as the arms dug into the walls and ceiling of the new corridor, carrying him over shocked and screaming people. Perhaps there had been people behind him on the stairway too. He had no idea. He ignored them, and the arms carried him out, into the street. He came to a sudden stop, his arms depositing him back on his feet, panting from the exertion, but eyes bright and alive. The arms sucked back into his harness, becoming no more than oversized metal hands. He looked back in awe at the corridor, to see a crowd of people running in fear from him. Looking up, he saw a huge skyscraper, different floors and windows glowing every colour he could name, a technicolour flashing nightmare set against a black sky blackened further by the smog. He was back in Asgard or at least a city that looked very much like it. He looked ahead and froze. In front of him was an armoured vehicle. People were staring at him, just as shocked as him. Then, they scrambled for weapons and turned into guns in his mind. He sighed, but just as his arms were extending, the ground below the massive, heavily plated vehicle twitched and flickered. Then, it erupted, an enormous shadow pair of jaws clamping down on everything short of the cabin and chewing it to bits. People and metal went flying everywhere, and through the carnage, Marlo heard a voice:

“This city’s rife with shadows. My kind of town.”

He looked down, and his face split into a wide grin. Monticello was awake, and his hands were in a jagged position, heel to heel, fingers like the teeth of a giant crocodile. Marlo placed him on his feet.

“Monticello? How are you feeling?”

“Alright kid, thanks to you.”

“No queasiness, no head trauma, no amnesia?”

“Besides the usual? All good. A few scrapes, a few bumps. Far better than I deserve. You really saved our assess kid.”

“I didn’t do much about the Terro.” Marlo said, sheepishly.

“You absolutely did, but I wasn’t talking about that. I woke up to the sound of a gun being fired next to my head. Hard to sleep through that. I assumed the worst, but when I looked you had it all under control, so I left it to you and rested. I was ready to hop in but man, you did perfect. The digger, the stairs, the ingenuity… you were like a man possessed.”

“It’s thanks to Nessa’s craftsmanship mostly.” Marlo said, a little embarrassed, but also proud. Hearing this kind of thing from Monticello was new, and exciting.

“Oh, that ain’t bad. But it’s not about the quality of the tools, it’s how you use them. And you use ‘em real well kid. I apologise for ever deigning to imply you might need paperwork.”

For a second, Marlo hesitated. If he accepted this, he wouldn’t be able to lead a quiet life. Sure desk jobs were boring, but they were safe. This way, he’d always, always be in danger. He would have to kill more and see people he cared about get hurt if he didn’t do well enough. it would be dangerous, stressful and… he remembered the feeling of lifting that digger, feeling like the strongest man in the world. The feeling of flying up those stairs, not caring about anything or anyone, just delighting in the feel of the perfect escape. He couldn’t go back, could he? Not after that. These arms were staying on him until he died, and probably not even that could separate him from them. And besides, living like this, living to look after his friends and make things better for others, that was a good thing, right?

“Thanks.” He nodded “I’m sorry I took so long to get into the swing of things. But I’m ready now. Consider me an acting member of the resistance. Now, as my senior, what do we do next?”

The jaws bit clean through the vehicle behind him, and the explosion highlighted Monticello as he thought. “Catch me up to speed kid. I passed out and…”

“The Terro burrowed into a tunnel being dug by Gerrn… or Spriggol, one of them.”

“That explains why it was in Scourgefields at this time of year, its home was being messed up and it wanted comfort food. What could DVIN possibly be up to, digging a tunnel under Asgard?”

“Making a new rail network?”

“Kid the one we’ve already got thrives on being an overworked, hectic mess. If they wanted to fix it they’d have done that hundreds of years ago. Weird. Anyway, continue.”

“I pretended to be dead until the other company showed up, and the two started fighting.”

“Spriggol probably wanted to stage a gang attack so Gerrn would lose the rights. Got a bunch of people in undercover. Classic politics.”

“Then I got us out, and now we’re here.”

“So we are kid. Now, why don’t we see about finding a station and getting-”

From the abandoned cab of the vehicle, a radio buzzed. Monticello stopped, motioned with a finger for Marlo to be quiet, and beckoned him closer.

Ramirez? Come in Ramirez…. Bzzzz

Marlo looked at Monticello, who shrugged. He leant in and grunted “Am ‘ere boss.”

There was silence for an uncomfortable moment. The pair held their breath, waiting. Then

How’s work going downtown? Those Spriggol Bastards giving you trouble?

Monticello look around at the corpses and flaming wreckage. Marlo found that looking at these bodies made him uncomfortable, his breathing and pulse quickening. If his body could reach some kind of predictable stance on the matter that would be nice.

“Eh, s’all right boss.” Monticello replied.

Good, good. Listen once you’re finished up there, bring the lads back. Big job just came in.

Marlo relaxed. Monticello could make up a time they’d return, and then they could get out of here. By the time these people realised something was up, they’d be long gone.

“What is it?” Monticello asked. Marlo turned to him and made a “What?” motion. Monticello shrugged and listened out of curiosity.

It’s our big break mate. From DVIN. They need extra security for some top-secret artifact they want to move in the morning.

Monticello stopped. After a second, he said “Where… Where’s this at boss?”

Bifrossquare, the Sessrum building. Monticello pointed to the distance. Marlo followed his finger, and saw a long, thin building, flashing with strips of colour. It was pointed, spearing up into the sky. If he looked closely, he swore he could see something glowing at the top.

“Any…” Monticello swallowed, looking like he was trying to work out how to ask this without giving himself away “Any idea what they want us to guard? I could ask the lads if they’ve seen one before, and if there’s any special precautions we got to take. Y’know, since DVIN never says, and then blames us. Don’t wanna lose any of our payday.” He ended it with an awkward laugh that had Marlo cringing. Surely no one could believe this.

Attaboy Ramirez. Finally caring about precautions. Me words are getting into your thick head at last.

Monticello looked guiltily at the remains of a body that hung out of one of the doors of the cabin. That could very well be the real Ramirez “Yeah boss. Gotta be careful.”

Well, I doubt anyone will have heard of it but ask around. Something called a Seancer.

Monticello gasped, then immediately covered his mouth, afraid it was picked up on the radio. Marlo looked at him, but he waved him away.

“I’ll get right on that… boss. No problem. See you soon.”

He walked away and fell to his knees. “I don’t… I don’t believe it.”

“What?” Marlo asked. “What is it Monticello?”

“When I came to Limbo, I was furious. I kept pestering Hermes to tell me what happened. When I did learn, I wanted to go back. I wanted to work out who my wife had been, who she was. He couldn’t harm me until he did my memory test, I found out later, and I refused, covering my eyes, staying against walls, doing everything I could to fight his speed. Eventually, he relented and sarcastically said.” He swallowed “ “If you want to talk to her so bad, let me finish up here and go find a Seancer to contact her.” He stabbed my eyes in my shock, and I never heard about it from him again. After, I asked Wimund, and after he asked the other cells, he found out what it was. A Seancer can talk to the living world. DVIN have a tool that could let us talk to alive people, and finally, I've found one.”

“Oh my God.” Marlo was stunned. “But… didn’t you say your wife was dead?”

“This isn’t about her!” Monticello grabbed him “Kid… we could warn people. We could tell them what DVIN is really like. We could ensure that everyone coming in here understands the truth. Holy shit we could… we could really, actually make a difference.”

Marlo got it. His eyes went even wider. “DVIN has branches in the real world. Those could be destroyed. We could… we could really damage the company. We could make them pay for what they’ve done to me, to you… to everyone.”

Monticello nodded, and repeated to himself, feverously. “Bifrossquare, Sessrum building. Bifrossquare, Sessrum building. Kid, we need to get back, now.”

He clapped his hands and made them in the shape of wings. “We get a train.”

“We get a train.” Marlo agreed, climbing up after him onto an eagle.

“We get back.” Monticello said, taking off.

“We get back.”

“We get the others to help us and attack tonight, while security is low.”

“We get the Seancer.”

“And we make a difference!” The pair said in unison. United by their sudden determined drive, the pair rocketed off into the smoggy sky.