A/N:
Hey guys! Bobthemanman and I worked together to build this together for you.
I hope you enjoy it, a lot of work went into it. please leave some feedback!
Well I won't hold you any longer, read on and enjoy!
PROLOGUE
The sun, though existent, was not seen behind the thick cloud that slowly tumbled overhead. There was no rain, but the sky was a dark grey and the grass a moist green. The hills rolled around them, seemingly having just enough altitude to block your sight off from the rest of the world. The air smelled faintly of burnt rubber, which was carried around by a wind, which made the crisp February day even colder. Not that Madge was noticing this. Her sleek, smooth fingers were tapping out a small rhythm subconsciously on her leg. Dressed in a short, black skirt and a trench coat, her legs were turning blue and goosebumps traveled up her arms in waves. Though, to the common eye, the only sign she was cold to the two standing beside her was her small shivering. Madge was beautiful at such a young age. Almost fourteen years old, her almond hair was long and clean. Her face, though not the one to get much sun, had freckles scattered across it. Madge's legs were of average length, but the way her thighs curved inward at the knee made her seem much older than she indeed was. Perhaps, though, the most stunning thing about her was her intelligence. It is a sad act of fate the today's people think that one could not be both pretty and deep, but Madge was an exception. Though she had few records of her achievement (she had not spent much time in school recently), she was an excellent debater, and neurology as well as astrophysics fascinated her. Not that this mattered today, though. Madge had stopped tapping and had one arm embedded in the pockets of her white coat. The two men standing next to her didn't even glance. Within seconds, she had pulled out what appeared to be an iPhone with a white case. Madge liked white, she knew it symbolized purity.
'Texting?' asked the man next to her.
'My Geiger counter.' she explained, not looking at him.
The man left the short conversation there. Madge continued to press buttons on the small screen. The second man had said nothing, but his attention was focused intently on a small concrete building below him in the small valley. The geology of this area was unique. The moss which was passed as grass covered the ground, very much like a scene from northern England. It was surrounded, by small mountains, which could have been directly from Germany or France. One only had to dig down two meters to hit solid stone, which seemed to occasionally break through the moss in patches. Madge made a small sound.
'Could you tell me why we're here again? What the relevance is to that... place down there?
This time the second man spoke.
'Standing below us, Ms Inquisitive, is the abandoned Vanilla Substation. Opened in 1934, it supplied power to the whole of Gladsbury, which is just over there.'
He gestured over one of the many hills.
'It was part of the national power to people plan.' he added. 'The station enjoyed work without error for many years, and many of the town was employed there. Then, in 1972, reports of a small electrical fire were reported. That's all they knew. Being nuclear-based, the workers had to wait until inspectors from the nearest city to properly run checks to make sure there was no leakage.'
'But what's the significance?' Madge interrupted.
The man swallowed, as if the words were choked up in his throat.
'By the time the inspectors arrived, there was no one there. They didn't know where they went. As the ventured deeper into the plant, they found the bodies of some workers, scattered all over the floor. It looked like they had killed each other. All the radios had been thrown off of the second floor. That just didn't make sense. But the inspectors radioed in, regardless, and requested they had police assistance. The inspectors disappeared, their bodies turning up underneath the widow's of the dead worker's homes. The military tried to intervene, of course but no-one ever had the guts. Something happened in the plant. To this day, it remains unchecked, and no-one has been in since the inspectors. That's why we're here.'
'Won't the radiation be to great to look around?' Madge asked, her curiosity peaked.
'You tell me.' He said, then turned to the first man and started drawing what looked like a map on the dirt in front of him.
Madge looked down at the Geiger counter in her hands. It showed a reading of zero. Suddenly the blood drained from her face and her hands started shaking. Her pale complexion went almost white as she turned to the men.
'Its shows a reading if zero. None.' Madge said.
The man muttered to himself.
'Just as I suspected.'
'No, really,' she continued, 'There is zero radiation in the air. That's less than even anywhere. It's like someone just erased all radioactive particles. I mean, there's should be some. More, even, than usual, because of the vicinity of the Vanilla Substation.' her voice was rising in pitch with every breath. Madge started trembling as the full realization of why they were here dawning in her.
'We're going in... aren't we?' She asked.
Both men nodded in unison, still facing the dirt drawing.
Madge sunk to the ground. She shouldn't be doing this. What was she doing with these crazy people? She didn't have superpowers, or even exceptional athletic ability. She was an intellectual. Then, her mind went back to when she first met John and Ben.
2008 - A TIME OF PEACE
Nine-year-old Madge ran down the stairs to get the door. Someone was knocking very loud. Being a happy, care-free little girl with everything she wanted, she had yet to realize that the door-knocker could just as easily been a mugger as much as a friend. Her hand grasped the bronze handle, and she swung the door open. The bright light from outside immediately streamed into the dim hallway. Madge covered her eyes to try to let them adjust. She couldn't event see the person.
'Is your mother or father home? Came a voice of a young man.
Madge, still covering her eyes, replied:
'Dad's at work and mom's shopping. I can take a message, I'm their daughter, you know.'
She lifted an arm and observed the person. It was a young man, around sixteen years old, dressed in a heavy black cloak. She quickly glanced behind him to make sure it was still summer.
'Aren't you hot from the cloak?' she asked.
'Ah, no, I'm fine. Look, I'll come back later. I need to speak to them in person.'
'Okay. Whom should I say called?'
'Say, uh,' He paused, 'Say John stopped by.'
'Okay' Madge said again. 'I'll see you later John.'
'Bye.' John said.
And Madge shut the door again. She was in a hurry to watch a movie that was airing for the first time on Disney channel. Outside, however, John was not quite intent on moving. Instead, he walked down the path leading from the door, and turned to a boy of the same age.
'Ben. They weren't home. They. Weren't. Home.' He whispered loudly.
'It's ok, we'll reach them at some point.'
'What if you-know-what gets there first?'
'They won't, trust me.' Ben said, and he grabbed John by the arm.
'They won't.' Ben echoed again.
And the two of them walked down the street, avoiding looks of curious passers-by.
Later that night, Ben and John returned to the little house that Madge lived in. They walked up the driveway, an ornate little thing, with small hedges that sprouted out of each side.
'Hopefully they're in.' John said, his anxiety returning.
Ben and John ducked low under a windowsill. On the windowsill was flowers of all kinds, some almost touching the top of the window. By some miracle, however, you could still see throughout the window as if the flowers were not there. It was like they were transparent. You could see the flowers if you just wanted to see flowers. You could see inside if you just wanted to see inside.
Ben could hear laughter and chatter and the clank if cutlery. It sounded as if they were having dinner.
'Perfect.' John muttered.
John started to stand, but Ben pulled him back down again. John looked at him, but Ben just pointed. John turned slowly. A shadow of some twisted figure was climbing into the house.
John went pale. They were too late.
'We have to get in there.' He said.
And Ben, for the first time that day, agreed. Ben pulled a pistol out of his thick buffalo-hide trench coat and walked up to the door.
'Do we knock?' He asked.
John grunted, walked past him, and kicked the door off of it's hinges. The white wooden door crashed into the staircase, splitting into thousands of sharp splinters.
'I've never been one for knocking.' He explained.
The huge crash had alerted the attention of all the occupants now.
'John? John? Oh my god! It's you! What the hell are you doing?' Came the voice of Thomas, Madge's father.
'Thomas...Mary, we have to get you and your daughter out of here now! It's here!' He shouted over the din. Thomas and his wife Mark knew what he meant. Madge, silent as a mouse, just sat watching.
'C'mon darling.' Thomas said to Madge, who looked like she had spilled food all down her shirt, 'We have to go now. Go with the nice man.' He lifted her up out of her chair, and shoved her in John's direction, muscles pulsing with the adrenaline energizing his body.
Madge was confused and scared, but she ran over to John regardless. John, unaccustomed to dealing with kids, said:
'Don't worry, we won't let it kill you.'
That sent Madge over the edge.
'Let what kill me? John? What's going on?' She asked, voice escalating. She was going into panic.
John realized his mistake, and instead handed her over to Ben.
'Get her out of here. This is gonna get messy.'
'You going to be okay here in your own?'
John pointed inside.
'I've got two of the best with me.'
Ben nodded, slung Madge over his shoulder, and ran down the driveway.
'Momma? Poppa?' Madge cried, sending tears after tears into the back of Ben's jacket.
John turned back to the house.
'I'm sorry Thomas... I really am.' John said
'Yeah, yeah. Let's just get out of here. Like, now.' He grunted, carrying a small suitcase. Then, a piercing scream came from upstairs. It was unearthly. It was a scream that shattered your heart.
'Mary! ...Oh my god, Mary?' Thomas shouted.
John withdrew his pistol once more and ran to the staircase. It was old and rickety, and, despite being sixteen, John had the muscular build of a wrestler and piece of wood came off with every clunking step. Why did it happen to this family? They were so nice. And he couldn't just let Mary die. He had known her for too long. He cocked the pistol for what seemed like the hundredth time, and burst into the upstairs bedroom. Mary was there, but...
She was floating in air, her head snapped backwards and her hair suspend around her. He was too late. It had got her. Suddenly, another piercing scream rang out, and her body dropped. But there was something wrong. Instead of a 'thunk' there was a 'flop'. Then he noticed she was flat. Her insides were missing. Thomas burst into the room behind John, and scanned the room. Then his gaze fell upon the figure lying on the floor.
'Mary...? Oh, no. Oh, no no no.' The rest of the sentence was indistinguishable. He was sobbing to hard, and he collapsed next to her. John knelt beside him.
'I'm so sorry. I don't know what it feels like. But we have to go. Think of your daughter. She needs help now.'
Thomas ignored him. Of course he wanted to get back to his daughter, but his grief was too much at the moment. Then, a sound came from the other side of the bed, and slowly a huge corpse made out of intestines rose with intent to kill.
John didn't hesitate. He was never one to hesitate.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Shot the pistol at the monstrosity. All three bullets sunk into its insides, which, were already it's outsides. The creature didn't even register it, though. Panicked, though, the creature launched itself over the bed. It landed on top of the grieving Thomas and killed him instantly, ripping of his head off and disappearing, whole, inside of his body.
'Crap. Not good.' John would feel emotions later. He was slightly preoccupied now.
John retreated out the door and half-fell, half-threw himself down the stairs, arriving at the front door. With a twang of sadness, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. Along with the lighter came seven sticks of dynamite. Seven was his lucky number.
John lit the single fuse, making it hiss as with a snake, then retreated out of the door as fast as he could. He leapt onto the hard Tarmac road when a colossal BOOM! shattered the night air behind him, slicing through the sky like a cleaver.
A huge orange blast rocked the street, setting of car alarms, and giving dogs a second to bark before they were incinerated. The heat wave subsided as quickly as it had come. But John was already thinking. The blast was too big for just dynamite. What happened? He got to his feet, coughing, and looked at the house. There was none. Instead, a twenty-meter-tall plume of fire raged in front of him.
'Gas lines. Damn.' He muttered.
There was nothing but an earthen crater.
Nothing to tell a family lived there moments earlier.
Nothing.
Then voices brought Madge back to reality.
'Madge? I asked you if you knew what lithium was. It came up on our scanners.' Ban asked.
Madge rubbed her eyes and stood up, brushing dirt and moss off of her short black skirt.
'Lithium is an alkali metal. It had an atomic weight of 6.941 and has three electric protons. And-'
'Anything important?' John interrupted.
'Not as such.'
They went back to discussing something. Madge tried to listen in the conversation but moments of black clouded her hearing. She was too tired. Madge hadn't slept in three days, because they were walking here. John and Ben apparently had no need to sleep, but Madge was thirteen, not twenty, and she was tired. So she lay down on the moss, which turned out to be very comfortable. It was almost like a bed. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Not that it worked, though, her mind was racing. She tossed, she turned. She sat, she lay. But she couldn't get to sleep. Madge gave up in the end and started preening herself like a bird. Her fingers ran through long straight hair, smoothing out the occasional knot. She took her coat off and brushed it. It had pockets filled with all her things, and there was reinforced fibres sown into it. It wouldn't stop a bullet, but it might hurt someone's fist if they attacked her. She shouldn't have picked white. Sure, it was pure, but when she wore it out here it just got dirty. Not so pure. It had a belt round the middle, and looked rather like a stylish trench-coat. She emptied the sand out of her polished black shoes. They were laced, and looked like a typical school-shoe, but the had steel in the heel. Helpful when clambering over knife-sharp rocks. And she tutted at the filth on her white socks. That's right; her purity fad extended to socks. Nothing special about them, though, as far as she knew. Of course, then again, when Ben gave her the iPhone for her birthday she didn't expect it to be a Geiger counter. Her brownish-almond hair was kept back by a small dark red headband. Nothing special about that, either. And she had a simple collared white-pure shirt. It had a pocket for her pen, but that was it. She wasn't a spy with gadgets. She was a monster-hunter with expensive clothing. And now that you know more about Madge's clothing than you need to, she turned over to the males again. They were still talking. Probably about tactics. Madge didn't talk much. She talked a lot to John and Ben, but generally she was introverted. When she was in school (John and Ben occasionally were in town and they made her go), she was bullied because of the way she dressed and her intelligence. She probably wouldn't have been bullied as much is they knew she had a gun in her pocket. Humans had a raw nonacceptance of things that were not the majority in life. Or even just things that are different. That's were racism started, and homophobia. That brought Madge back to another thought. She should have loved someone now. She should have liked a boy, but they were all too shallow. Not that being an introvert helped. She had, truly, lost the art of conversation. These days, apart from Ben's occasional joke, Madge had no social conversations. It was all questions like: 'what's lithium?'. She should have been disappointed in herself, but maybe she just wasn't a social person. That wasn't true, though. She yearned for someone to love, but no-one had appealed to her yet. Oh well. She'll find someone someday.
'Madge?' Johns voice called.
'Yes?'
'We're going in.' He said with a smile.
Great.
'You mean...Now? Just like that?' Madge stammered.
'That's right kiddo. Now come here and sit. We've got to show you what we're doing.'
Madge snapped out of the thought she was in, and strolled over to the dirt drawing. It showed surprisingly good artistic talent, considering it was nothing but geometric shapes.
'So what's this?'
'We believe there is a fallen spawner in there. A nest.' Ben said, 'Don't worry, they're not indestructible. In fact, dynamite should be most effective.' He finished smiling at John.
Madge looked at the dirt map. There were two circles, each with a smaller circle in it. There were some squares dotted around the circles as well.
'Are those... Cooling towers?' She asked.
John spoke this time.
'You're so much like your father. Two circles and you predict cooling towers. Like your father, though, you're right of course. Those are cooling towers. Now, we're up here.' He said, pointing to a small mound of dirt. '-And that means we overlook the entire complex. So, plan is, Madge, which represents this nut...'
Madge glared at him.
'...no offense. Madge, that represents this nut, goes down to the particle acceleration building, which is here. As far as we can tell, it's free of fallen, but take a gun, just in case.'
'I prefer grenades. I'm rubbish at aiming. Actually, I'm rubbish at most things you ask me to do.'
'...That's why I ask you to do them. Madge goes down the particle accelerator building, and scouts inside. There you use this thermal camera...'
He pauses to take out a thermal camera out of his thick cloak.
'...to run a heat scan in the place. When you see heat over 640C it's either the reactor core, don't touch that, or the spawner. Next, I will...'
But Madge stopped listening. She was staring down at the building she would walk down to in a few moments. The vanilla substation had to be the most creepy place on earth. Vines attached themselves to the wires of the transformers. The main generator building had no roof or walls, just a frame with giant hulks of rusting metal decaying in the dirt. The twin decrepit cooling towers behind the reactor building had sounds coming from underneath them. Madge shuddered to think what was making the noise. She didn't want to go in there. She really didn't. But somehow, she knew that in there she would be more at peace with herself than out here. Her mind was over-producing, as with the middle and upper class today. She didn't need those thoughts. And because she didn't need them, they were plaguing her. Once she was in there, fighting creatures that weren't supposed to exist, her brain would go back to the basics. Give enough information to satisfy, but not so much that it over-compensated. Her brain was a tricky thing. What was stranger was that, even though she had the best understanding of neurology for a girl her age in the country, she found it difficult to shut her brain down, and just talk about garbage like who such-and-such had a crush on now. She understood her brain better than all, but she couldn't control it, in a way. Then silence trickled into her ears. John had stopped talking.
'Everybody got that?' he asked.
Madge looked down at what he was talking about. The map, which used to be couple of circles and squares, had arrows pointing in every direction, and about a million rocks covering it, each representing something. She didn't like the fact that her nut was in the square that represented the reactor building.
'I don't like the bit about me going into the spawner.' She explained.
'Good to see you were paying attention. You see-' Ben started.
'I wasn't.' Madge interrupted.
'...sorry?'
'I, uh, wasn't paying attention.'
'It figures. Neurology aside, Madge, you need to understand it's life or death.' John added.
'It doesn't matter anyway. You'll pick up as we go along.' Ben said.
Madge was sweating now. That was not what she liked to hear. When they occasionally had a house, John would hear Madge up in her room planning for hours. She was queen of organization. Especially when it came to places like the Vanilla Substation.
John stood up, sending the map pieces that were sitting in his lap flying into the dirt. He scratched his arm for a moment, then reached into his coat, pulling out the thermal camera.
'Are you any good at photography?' He asked
'Not really. I've never had the chance.' Madge said.
'Good, because this doesn't require any. You aim. You press button. You look. Even you could manage it. You have to admit, you can be a bit of a klutz.'
'Have I told you how rubbish I am at aiming? Because my psychological structure map I drew indicates that when I have little or no confidence, my encephalon goes into a full-sized delirium!'
John just stared,
'I mean, uh, I go into panic when I don't know what I'm doing beforehand.'
'Basically, you're a klutz. It'll be fine though. It's really easy, and we're right behind you.'
Though irritated, Madge knew he was right. Maybe she was a klutz. Last time they were staying in town, around three weeks ago, she went to school, as was normal. But on one of the last days Madge accidentally spilled her lunch (hot baked beans) on Stacy, a girl with violent disposition, and she didn't appreciate it. Stacy punched Madge until she couldn't walk straight. Ben and John, who are still young enough to be tempted by revenge, set fire to her locker the next day. They moved town after that.
Even today, Madge had a bruised shoulder, showing remarkable contrast in color to her pale skin. Another reason why she wasn't that social. Everyone she made contact with tried to contact her with their fist. Could she help it if she just wasn't sure what 'reckon' meant? Just because she spoke properly. She was almost proud that she wouldn't say a word unless it was in the Oxford English Dictionary. Though she was fluent in German, as well. For some reason, though, children her age didn't appreciate her talent.
Then, the sight if a gun brought her back from thought.
'Take this. Trust me.' John said, handing over a huge pistol. It's shiny black metal shimmered in what little sunlight there was.
Madge stood up, as to test whether she could lift it. As soon as it left John's hands a huge weight tore through her arms, and she sunk to the ground again.
'What's in that thing? Elephant bullets?' She asked, panting.
'It's a flare gun,' John replied, 'In case you need help.' 'we have dynamite.' He added, as if to reassure her. But this seemed more and more crazy by the second. Something big was going to go down there, otherwise John wouldn't let Madge exert herself carrying a gun the wasn't necessary.
John stood up again, and walked over to Ben, who had all his equipment on the ground. Madge was amazed by just looking at it. Trackers, explosives. Something that looked like a panzerfaust. The weaponry just reminded her that she felt very self-conscious around the two dominant males. Women can protest about equality all they want, but it won't stop nature. Laws don't change the fact that Madge wouldn't ever be as muscular as John or Ben. She couldn't even pick up the flare gun without snapping tendons. She looked down at it, thought about a re-attempt, and wisely decided against it. She sat with her legs crossed, perfectly happy fiddling with her iPhone/Geiger counter and listening to the heated discussion that was occurring between John and Ben about how much dynamite they needed.
'Six sticks at the most! We're not blowing Fort Knox!' Ben argued.
'But we are going into an abandoned substation filled with creatures that aren't supposed to exist! Do you want to put the number of sticks over Madge's life?'
Madge went red and pretended she didn't hear.
'I won't let Madge die. I'm just saying that we have other, more efficient ways to destroy them.'
John glanced at the amass of weaponry on the ground, shook his head, and sighed.
'Fine, fine. But is we get screwed, then I'm going to blow everything to hell, and you'll owe me dinner.' He said.
Ben chuckled.
'BLOW EVERYTHING TO HELL AND OWE ME DINNER!' He shouted in mock outrage.
John smiled, subconsciously drawing circles in the dirt with one thick finger.
Madge let out a little giggle. She tried to exclude herself from conversations like that, but they always ended the same: Ben owing John dinner if he messed up.
While listening, Madge was identifying the components in the soil to pass the time. There was brick, probably risen from below in an earth tremor. Using an app called The guide to Victorian housing, she identified that the brick was clay-based, and because of the ashes with vegetation embedded in the tiny sample, it was probably a bakery.
She was an uber-nerd, though, if you told her, she wouldn't know what it means.
'We're sitting on a ruined bakery, you know.' She called to the boys.
'No kidding.' Ben replied. 'Got that from the dirt, I bet. Is there any pre-historic bread you can see? I'm starved.'
Ben found it hard going half a day without food. He ate and ate. Though not officially the cook, Madge prepared a lot of simple meals (that was the limit of her expertise) and she often had to cook seconds and thirds before the two were satisfied. Madge had a stomach, apparently, the size of a grape, and she barely ate anything. She was now tapping with her perfect fingers again. The same rhythm as before. It came from a jukebox she had found in the cafe in a neighboring town. Basic, but it stuck to her mind every since. If she did not go into monster-hunting when she was older, or astrophysics, then most likely she would be a musician. She could hear music like no-one else could. She fell in love with rhythm and melodies. The music danced around her, and often all else was blocked out from her large mind as she played. Her favorite instrument was the grand piano. The sound that bellowed form it's black shell was like non other. She could play her favorite types of music on it as well- classical and early rock. Sadly, though, she had very little time to play the piano. She was a natural, being Madge, but her current occupation disallowed her.
'Madge, would you stop zoning out like that. Things are going to go to hell in a moment.' John said.
He seemed to have a strange obsession with blowing, banging, and smashing things to hell. John wasn't religious, as far as she knew. Then again, her mind was probably over-explaining things. Maybe there was like, slang, or something, that used the noun 'hell' as an adjective. Yes. That was probably it. She stood up and put her iPhone back in her pocket. Hopefully it wouldn't fall out. She walked over to where John and Ben were standing, and picked up the flare gun, with much difficulty, and a lot of John's help. Her limbs were already screaming at her, and she hadn't even gotten to the Vanilla substation yet. She slung the heavy weapon over her shoulder and shoved the thermal camera into her pocket.
'Okay?' Ben asked. 'All set?'
'Just one thing. Why am I going first again?' Madge asked, anxiety creeping slightly into her voice.
'Because your expendable and useless.' John explained with a smile.
'Oh, right. And don't forget clumsy.' She said.
'That too.'
But the humor was only making light of things. In reality, Madge would be going into the substation alone. Well, at least for the time-being. Not preferable.
She slowly started to scramble over the rocks that lined the valley leading down tot he station. It was a danger in itself. If she survived a likely fall, then whatever was down her would rip her to pieces before she had even stood up. Madge just had to concentrate. Left foot. Right foot. On rock. Left foot. Right foot. Soon, though, Madge's brain found this too repetitive and started over-producing again. What would she find? And why should she find it? It shouldn't exist, at least in a humans mind. That was the thing about people. They didn't believe in the boogie monster or the tooth elf or whatever it was. To them, their mind was law. People would take any other option that suited them better. The mind was not equipped to cope with things outside of the comfortable life. The proletariat's seemed to be able to handle the existence of the fallen better than the high or even middle class could. Interesting thought. Then, Madge's foot slipped. She barely had time to scream before she smashed into the rock below her. She felt her arm pop as body met solid rock. The disturbance sent smaller rocks cascading on to her. Madge shut her eyes and tried not to breath in the dust that came from the broken stone around her. The noise was incredible, like a thunderstorm occurring in her ears. Then, the last rock fell, landing right in front of her face. The dust settles, and Madge opened an eye, letting a single tear trickle down her face. She tried to get up, but everything ached. It felt like her shoulder was broken. Her hand stuck itself under he chest, and she pushed herself up against a rock. She didn't want it look at her shoulder, but she forced her head to turn. Madge let out a sigh of relief. There was some blood leaking into her shirt, but there was nothing broken. Well, at least poking through skin. She supported herself against the boulder and waved at Ben.
He said something very sacrilegious then shouted
'Are you okay? We thought you were gone for sure! And I would have owed John dinner! Look, uh, wait there and we'll come down and-'
'-what? No! I'm fine, really. I can do this' Madge replied, keeping the pain out of her voice.
John frowned, as he did when in thought, then faced Ben, and talked about some incomprehensible things. Then, after a minute, said
'Okay, if you think so. Remember, just fire a flare and we'll be there in seconds...' Ben called.
'...with dynamite...' John added
'with dynamite...' Ben echoed.
Madge nodded, and started climbing down the face of the steep hill. She placed her shoe carefully, this time, and made sure not to spill and blood from her vital fingers. She needed them. She climbed for what seemed like an eternity, when finally she hit the bottom, blood rushing to her head from the sudden lack of movement. Madge looked up, not blinded because of the lack of sunlight, and gave the A-okay sign to the cautious men standing twenty meters up. They waved, and she set out. Madge brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and unloaded her kit which she was carrying. Her pockets were turned out, with the useful equipment put into a separate pile. Flare gun. Good. Map. Good. Pocket guide to natural philosophy. Useful, but not now. Pistol. Good, except for the fact that she couldn't aim. And three grenades. Good.
Madge had some experience with grenades. About six months after her parents were destroyed (literally), she and her new dad's took her to the beach. Unfortunately, Madge didn't come in bathers, because it was no vacation. John was testing out a hand-made grenade, which contained a poison that spread and grew rapidly underwater when detonated. The testing ended with Madge being resuscitated because of intoxication of the deadly liquid. A year after that, Madge threw a grenade at what she thought was a fallen, but turned out to be the car of the local senator. She was a rubbish thrower, as with many things what required physical exertion, but at least grenades had a chance of killing something even when she missed. Just hope it wasn't your backup.
Madge pocketed the gear, and looked up for what seemed the first time since she got down here. A commando would immediately secure the area and check that they we safe before checking gear, but Madge was barely able to fire a gun, and though a brilliant tactician, had no idea what to do in a firefight. What she saw, however, was horrible. It was similar to the view she saw from the edge of the valley, but now she saw shadows moving around in the buildings. Bad news. She hurriedly pulled out the heavy chrome pistol, and paced slowly towards the particle accelerator building, eyes darting continuously. Ears trying to pinpoint the origin of sounds. Despite being in the business for several years, she was definitely scared. More than scared. Trembling. Her finger squeezed tighter around the cold metal trigger, ready to fire at a moments notice.
A stone clattered down to her left, tumbling out do somewhere unseen. Madge didn't wait, she was too-tightly strung.
Blam! Blam!
Rang the silver revolver as bullets exploded into the concrete wall beside her, sending dust high into the air. She heard something scuttle away in a panic. Away from her.
Madge gave a self-satisfied smile, the kind that you unintentionally show on your face after you've just eaten a big slice of cake, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear again.
Wrong thing to do, Madge.
The bullet smashing into the foundations alerted unseen creatures from all around her. Fallen.
'Oh, god. I shouldn't have done that, should I?' Madge said to no one in particular.
Her attitude quickly sunk from superior to inferior.
She took a step back, placing her foot on rock that sent her tumbling into stone. Her injured arm smashed against a rock, temporarily numbing it. Then, she saw it. A fallen. It looked like a worker of the plant, back in it's heyday. Blue coveralls, seventies hair (with massive sideburns), and a spanner in a hand. But it's eyes we're missing. There were just holes. As it seemed to look in her direction, Madge felt as though laser-beams came out of it's empty sockets and burned through her coat. No way. No way was she done just yet.
Newton came to be her savior. Isaac Newton, though dead, reminded her of his third law: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Friction would be involved, so Madge paused in thought, temporarily cut off from the world.
Cross section of Madge's brain in this moment:
Bullet Speed Avg. 1200kmh divided by friction on concrete (solid) interaction with shoe (rubber) roughly turning about 70 degrees = five-foot two.
Madge used her gun arm to push herself up, and fired at the Fallen's hand, sending it roughly five feet backwards, ending up with it smashing into the wall Madge shot moments earlier. It collapsed, immobile. Madge wasted no time, even though she had just shot the best shot if her life, and pulled out the heat-sensitive camera. Six hundred degrees. Six hundred degrees that could save her life. According to the camera, most of the plant seemed to be cold, as in, freezing. All the heat and power was being drawn to somewhere. But, as Madge's luck would have it, the thick leaded walls of the plant blocked any sign of heat. She would have to go in further.
She paced again carefully, looking for Fallen but also making sure not to damage her left arm any further. Her steel-heeled shoes crunched on top of concrete to spent uranium canisters. Not to worry. There was no radiation here. Though the day was far from bright, it supplied light that filtered through cracks in the buildings, illuminated whatever, or whoever, was inside. The Fallen had obviously had a lot of time to practice, though, and she couldn't see anything even breathing. As she emerged from one of the endless crumbling walls, she saw the particle accelerator building. Good. Madge ducked a little lower, holding the camera to her chest, and set off at a low sprint, trying not to attract attention. Though her slim figure hid in the shadows easily, her shoes crunched concrete and stone underneath, creating a racket that made Madge grit her teeth. It would be a miracle if she got there without disturbance. The powers that be were on her side, however, and in seconds she slunk up against the one of the remaining walls of what was the particle accelerator building. Madge being Madge, she understood why there was a need for a particle accelerator building. The process of nuclear power has no need for a particle accelerator at all, and will never need one. But, having access to high amounts of power and materials, the owners or whoever was in charge of the plant decided that Particle Acceleration Research should be happen the scientists succeeded, then particles, now broken down to there smallest possible state, or finite, then who knows what could have happened? Since those in charge would never experienced particles that small, then how could they have known how to contain them?
Madge usually didn't follow her gut, but she felt an edging in the back of her mind to the possibility that Fallen actually Originated in the particle accelerator building. If she could just access records to what particles they were using, then she could hypothesise on what a Fallen is! Stop, Madge, stop. Keep mind on task. If you're right, then you're standing outside the birthplace of the Fallen. Comforting. She pulled out the camera, and scanned the accelerator. Nothing. Like everything else, it was just freezing cold. She was about to turn it the other way, when a small red glow appeared in the centre of the screen. But it was only 346 degrees centigrade. Why? Ben and John said the only things they knew about were over six hundred. So what was this? It didn't make sense, even in a place like this. Then an idea popped into Madge's head. Maybe it was six hundred degrees. She was just looking at it from the wrong angle. She carefully strode aside, so she was no longer behind the wall, and pointed it directly at the source. She looked down, at the screen and-
Wham!
A huge force knocked Madge with such ferocity that two tendons in her neck snapped instantly. She smashed forward, landing with her face ploughing into the ground with jagged metal, tearing jagged cuts into her cheeks. She went into shock, not knowing what had happened. All that she could tell was that there was great pain in her neck. She was shoved around, so that she faced upwards, rusted bolts pressing into her back. She screamed, there was a monstrous Fallen sitting on her waist, mouth open in a silent scream. She writhed about, trying to loosen its hold, but it cracked her across the face, making her whimper. At reared back, angry. It punched her again in her cut cheek, sending her blood flying, coating the white concrete with ruby specks. She put her arms up over her face to try to soften the blows, but it just pushed them aside. It opened its mouth, and a forked tongue covered in bristles curved, ready to suck out Madge's innards. She could smell the decay in its breath when a metallic click picked her ears up.
Blam!
A bullet passed through the skull of the beast, bursting it like a ripe melon. Brain matter rained over the poor girl as it slumped forward right on top of her, face blown outwards to a pulp.
'Madge, my god, I'm so sorry.' John rushed forward, and threw the bloodied beast off her. She just lay there, trembling. Ben picked her up and cradled her, as with an infant. But Madge was no infant. She wasn't sure she was okay. Her hand touched her cheek, and it came back coated in a red liquid, blood dripping of her pale fingers.
'Blood...so- so much...blood.' She moaned. Everything started to black out, her body taken more than it could. She could just hear Ben shouting to John when she fainted.
CHAPTER 1- MADGE THE SCHOLAR
Her eyelids opened. Good. That meant she still had her eyes. Madge tried to move, but a sharp pain went up her left arm. She turned her head, but with great pain. Suddenly it all came back. The tendons, Madge thought, They must have been torn. Her arm was in a cast, it seemed. Someone had put hideous pajamas on her. Repulsively red with giraffes. Urgh. But her stomach disagreed, rumbling. Madge wasn't used to being hungry, as she didn't eat a lot. But instinct it instinct. She wanted food. She turned her eyes away from her arm and observed the room around her. It looked like their house for the time being. She had a nice room, with a reasonably-sized bed, and a desk with a MacBook Pro on it. It was quite nice, and she assumed they had bought a house in a new closed-entry suburb. Madge had never quite found out where John had got his money, but there seemed to be never-ending streams of it. He would be sure to be a hit with the girls, and his money wasn't the only attraction. John was handsome, as with Ben, both with manly chins with rugged bristles sprouting. They rarely had time to shave, but both seemed incapable of growing a beard. Or maybe they did shave regularly, but John like the look of the bristles. Madge didn't understand, regardless. She couldn't comprehend fashions from her own gender, let alone the opposite. All her fashion came from instincts. She thought skirt looked nicer than pants. Shiny polished shoes instead of high-heels. Others didn't agree, though. That usually ended up with Madge being on the wrong end of a fist.
She turned and swung her socked feet out of bed, landing on a green rug. A peculiar feeling went through her as she stood. It was if she was floating. Madge shook it off, and tried to find the door. That may sound stupid, but she had just come out of a mini-coma and had woken up in a foreign room. After I have had my breakfast, Madge thought, I will have to find my wardrobe so I can get out of these hideous things.
The pajamas apparently stopped five centimeters above the ankle, making them even more stupid than possible. She ignored her brain screaming of displeasure, and found the door. As she swung it open, revealing a carpeted staircase, a shine caught the attention of her peripheral vision. It was a mirror. Feeling self conscious, Madge hurried over to it. She was shocked by what she saw. Her hair was perfect, as always, and though someone removed her headband it still retained it's straight part. Her cheek, however, had a stitches going across it. Madge was in no way vain, but it was still slightly depressing seeing her beautiful body in such a state. At least she wasn't in much pain.
She turned back to the door and hurried down the stairs, feeling unbalanced from the extra weight of the cast in her arm. At the steps was a little entrance room, with a nice marble floor that she almost slipped on and a small chandelier hanging from a roof shaped like a hemicycle. Off on the left was a modern kitchen, and the living room was situated on the right. Standard rich housing. She walked into the tiled kitchen, hungry for croissants, when John startled her from the corner.
'Oh! You're up! Gave us quite the scare, we weren't sure how long you were gonna be out for. Love the pajamas, but the way.' He called from a table that could fit twelve.
Madge went a little red and put some croissants on a toaster that cost more than her tuition fee at the last school she attended.
'I just woke up. Where are we this time? And am I going to school?' She said.
'We're in Kingsborough, a nice little town forty south of Gladsbury. And yes, I've enrolled you in St. Peter's school for scholars.'
'What sort of stupid name is that?' She asked, slightly put off by the prospect of meeting new kids.
'I mean, you're a scholar regardless of whether it's included in the name or not.'
'Don't know, don't care. Are you okay? You took a huge beating up.'
'I'm okay physically and mentally. I'm just going to catch trouble when the kids see my scar.'
John walked up to her and put his head close to hers, having to bend to reach her height.
'You've beaten monsters that these kids would crap themselves at the sight of. Madge, you've been through to much to let them get to you.' He whispered.
'It can be psychologically demeani-'
'Forget that. You've got to learn to go by what you feel, not what you brain says.'
'That sounds dangerous.'
'But at least you're having fun.' He concluded, as the ping from the toaster alerted Madge that her croissants were in danger of being burnt.
John went and sat down back at the table, unfolding the local newspaper. He looked older than twenty. Sitting there, in the light, there seemed to be some natural awe around him. The sort of guy girls hang up on posters in there rooms. Madge spread spread jam and butter over the croissant and sat at the opposite end of the table, as if not to disturb him. She had always felt love for John, ever since about one week after her parents...well,
Regardless, she had always loved him, but not actually felt desire. She loved him because he was a fatherly and brotherly figure, and she felt no sexual arousal at the sight. Would she feel different in another situation? Maybe. But things had progressed to much to go back to that. She lifted a coffee to her lips and sipped, enjoying the warm feel. It sounded like it was raining outside, but it was impossible to tell with the blinds drawn.
CRACK!
The sound made Madge spill the coffee into her lap when she jumped.
'What was that?' She yelled.
'Ben waking up. Happens every damn morning!' he said, those last three words directed at, presumably, Ben, though he was upstairs and couldn't hear.
'What? I don't understand?'
'He rolls out of bed. Then, Ben being muscular Ben, creaks the floorboards like that.'
Madge stood up, and looked at the wet brown stain located in her pants. It was a horrible feeling, as well as embarrassing.
'Screw this.' Madge said, showing a rare usage of slang. 'I'm taking a shower.'
Madge hurried to the stairs, passing a bewildered Ben.
'What's with her?' He asked. 'Good to see she's alive, mind you.'
She ran up the stairs, shut the door and got undressed, before putting on a dressing gown and glancing in the mirror again. She didn't notice many external lacerations, though there was a small amount of purple bruising on her thigh. She got into a hot shower, and shut the door.
Five minutes later, Madge emerged in a (naturally) white dressing gown, almond hair now brunette because of the water. She had her clothes laid out on her bed, ready for a day of, presumably, nothing.
Knock knock.
Someone knocked at the door.
'Come in. I'm out.' She called, brushing her hair.
Ben opened the door, and sat on the bed.
'Careful of my clothes, they've been ironed.' She said
'I ironed them.'
'Touch?'
He grinned.
'You're really all right, aren't you kiddo?'
'Yes, I think so. I'm feeling okay, but my neck is still a little stiff.'
'It'll be okay. C'mere.'
Madge looked puzzled. Ben beckoned again, and pulled her into a tight hug, her hair smelling like wet Madge. Despite her being obviously independent, she still smelled like every other girl who just came out of a shower.
'You really scared me there. You lost a lot of blood. I shouldn't have let you go in.'
'I'm okay, I can handle myself. I shouldn't have let you, if you were so worried. You're a ruddy fool sometimes. I mean, you can't even get out of bed properly.' She smiled.
Ben released her.
'I'm glad. Now, you just relax today. You just woke up, and anything strenuous could reopen cuts.'
'Okay. I'm not the sporty type anyway.'
Ben grinned again.
'You will be tomorrow. You've got school, and the entire second block is P.E.'
She groaned.
Ben chuckled and walked out.
'Wait!'
Ben stuck his head back in.
'What?'
'Thanks. I mean, for everything in there.'
'That's my job. Now, get some rest.'