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One Character (13)
🕑 Added 2025-05-05 17:00:06 +0000 UTCChapter 13 - Specter
Deep beneath Aethelgard City, the entrance to the decommissioned Sector Gamma subway line whined with forced inactivity. Emergency lights cast long shadows down the sterile tunnels. Armored GRDF security units patrolled the platform with standard-issue pulse rifles held at the ready.
“Still can’t believe they shut down the whole line over some Unus outbreak miles away,” one guard grumbled to his partner, adjusting his helmet strap. “Seems like overkill.”
His partner laughed humorlessly. “Orders from the top, man. Scared something nasty might crawl up through the old tunnels. Better safe than sorry, I guess.” He leaned against a support pillar. “Still, beats being topside right now. Heard Sector Gamma is a real meat grinder.”
“Yeah, maybe,” the first guard conceded, “but sitting down here waiting for nothing is boring as kark. Wish I was up there with the Harmonics, where the action is.”
“Count your blessings, rookie,” the veteran guard replied dryly. “The battlefield ain’t glorious. Seen things… People die ugly. This ‘boring’ is keeping us alive.”
Neither guard realized their mundane conversation, nor their very presence, was under careful observation. Hidden in the shadows of a nearby maintenance alcove, a small group watched intently. Their leader, a man known only as Chaz, consulted a handheld scanning device that displayed tactical data.
“Fifteen guards patrolling the main platform. Thermal indicates possibly more deeper inside, near the train access points.” Chaz shared this information quietly with his companions.
Beside him, a hulking figure shifted impatiently. His face was a roadmap of old scars, and his eyes held a chilling emptiness. This was Bernam. “Just fifteen? Boss, give the word. I’ll silence them. Permanently.”
Chaz shook his head. “No killing, Bernam. Not yet. Too much noise, attracts unwanted attention. We need subtlety for this phase. Knock them out, make it look like a gas leak malfunction, maybe.”
Bernam grunted.. “Don’t know how to play soft, boss.”
“You won’t have to,” Chaz replied smoothly. He smirked. “Our new recruit handles the quiet work.” He tapped his integrated comm unit. “Specter, you in position? Target count confirmed. Proceed with non-lethal takedowns, platform personnel first. Quietly.”
A familiar, slightly weary voice crackled back through the comms. “Acknowledged, Chaz. Engaging targets now.”
Chaz lowered the scanner and returned his attention to the platform. For a few tense moments, nothing happened. Then, abruptly, the guard nearest the far tunnel entrance stumbled, clutched his head, and collapsed silently to the ground. A few seconds later, his partner, turning at the sound, met the same fate. One by one, in rapid, unnerving succession, the patrolling guards crumpled without a sound like puppets with their strings cut. Within two minutes, the platform was still and littered with unconscious bodies.
“That’s the last one,” Chaz confirmed, checking his scanner again. “Platform clear. Let’s move.”
He led his team – Bernam, a skinny youth named Kazuma fiddling nervously with a datapad, and a slender, predatory woman named Olive Woo – cautiously onto the platform. They quickly dragged the unconscious guards into darkened corners, out of immediate sight lines. Then they descended the escalators towards the inner access tunnels.
As predicted, more guards were stationed deeper in, near the sealed train doors. “Six more,” Chaz reported into his comm, relaying their positions.
Bernam frowned. “How’s Specter gonna hit targets down here from outside?”
Chaz just smirked again. A moment later, the first inner guard slumped against a wall. Then another dropped behind a control console. The remaining four went down almost simultaneously.
“Clear,” came the voice over the comms.
“Impressive,” Olive Woo purred as she run a hand lightly over Chaz’s arm.
“Alright, area secured,” Chaz announced. “Specter, regroup at our position.”
They waited near the silent train. A short while later, a figure emerged from the shadows further down the tunnel, moving with a familiar, almost casual stride. He wore rugged clothes, a mask with the mouth area cut opened, covered the lower half of his face, and he had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Took your time, Specter,” Chaz greeted him, though his tone held no real annoyance.
The man grasped the cigarette then pulled down his mask. It was Wes. He took a long drag from the cigarette before answering. “Wasn’t exactly a short jog from the nearest ventilation shaft, Chaz.”
“You’d have more stamina if you quit those cancer sticks,” Chaz retorted mildly.
Wes shrugged indifference.
Bernam bristled visibly at Wes’s casual disrespect towards their boss. Olive merely watched Wes with calculating eyes.
Suddenly, a faint groan came from one of the nearby piles of unconscious guards. One guard, tougher or luckier than the rest, was stirring. He fumbled weakly for the radio clipped to his vest.
Before anyone could react, there was a faint p-thwip sound, almost identical to the one Wes’s rifle made, but seemingly originating from nowhere. The recovering guard’s head exploded in a gruesome spray of red mist and bone fragments. The radio fell silent from his lifeless hand.
Chaz swore under his breath. He glared at Bernam, clearly annoyed. “Dammit, Bernam! I said no killing! We needed subtlety!”
Bernam chuckled darkly. He wiped something viscous from his thick knuckles. He gestured dismissively towards Wes. “Blame your sniper, boss. Should’ve made sure they stayed down. Sloppy work leaving potential witnesses.” He clearly enjoyed shifting the responsibility.
Wes flinched internally at the brutal, unnecessary violence, though his outward expression remained carefully neutral. He met Bernam's challenging gaze briefly before looking away. He knew better than to argue with the volatile brute.
“Whatever,” Chaz cut off the argument impatiently. “No time to waste debating it. Everyone onto the train. Kazuma, get the power running and bypass the lockdown protocols.”
“On it, boss.”
As they walked towards the waiting subway train, Wes glanced back at the headless corpse slumped against the wall. A flicker of regret, quickly suppressed. He dropped his cigarette butt to the ground and squashed it under his heel. Had to be done. Need the credits.
He followed the others onto the train. He needed this job. After the scrapyard disaster, he was truly desperate. He’d contacted Chaz, an old acquaintance from his brief, ill-advised foray into the underworld years ago when his family first cut him off.
Chaz was a rogue Harmonic, a fixer who organized shady jobs for desperate people. It turned out Chaz needed an extra hand – specifically, a sniper with unique infiltration capabilities – for a heist planned for that very day. Details were scarce; all Wes knew was they were hitting a secure vault somewhere down this decommissioned line. Desperate times.
He observed his temporary crewmates. Chaz, the pragmatic leader. Bernam, the ruthless muscle. Kazuma, the nervous tech wiz already plugged into the train’s control panel. And Olive Woo, whose easy familiarity with Chaz suggested a relationship beyond professional courtesy. A dirtbag crew, bound by greed and necessity. Wes fit right in.
