Part 3
"Ta na na na, ta-na na na na na. Ta na na na, ta-na na na na na… Pa pa pa! Chink, boom-boom, chink, pa chink, boom-boom chink. Wahhhhh, wah-wah-wah-wah wahhhhh, wah-wah-wah-wahhhh ta na naaaaa!"
"Pete! Shut-up!" Myka barks while rubbing her temple.
Pete freezes mid air-guitaring and looks at her with a startled expression. Myka knows that this is Pete's way of releasing some of his pent up excitement ahead of their big operation; but if she hears the din of "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" from the Kill Bill soundtrack being ebulliently screeched out of his throat one more time, well, there will be murder.
"Whaaat?" Pete whines, "This is our montage-track, we are having a planning montage, see?" he points at the many maps and papers strewn over Leena's breakfast table. Artie, Leena, and Mrs. Frederic are standing around the table poring over the documents with grave expressions and hunched-over postures. Claudia is setting up the projector.
"Pete, we are not having a montage, come on!" she whacks his shoulder. "Pay attention!"
"Ouch," Pete rubs his shoulder. "Okay, okay, sheesh."
"What's going on there, children?" Artie rumbles at them.
"Myka thinks that since she has a pair of pistols, she can call all the shots," Pete whines.
Artie, Leena and Mrs. Frederic pause what they're doing to pointedly stare at him.
"Well okay," Pete scratches his ear. "I can see how wording it that way might not help my case-"
"Done!" Claudia announces; she flicks a switch on the projector, and the booting churn of a machine resonates through the room – completely disproportionate to the small and relatively unsophisticated appearance of the device.
"What the-" Pete starts after the machine's noise subsides to a manageable buzz and bluish-green beams shoot out of its lens.
"Ta-da!" Claudia sweeps her hands towards the image that is now being projected over the table. "A 3D rendition of the Knossos facility," she finishes with a flourish.
"Whoa!" Pete exclaims, moving his hand through the light show a few times. "This is even better than that Pinscreen map-thingy that the X-men had in the first movie."
"Great," Artie huffs. "Was it really necessary to dismantle another Artifact in order to get this little frivolity, Claudia?"
"Chill Art-man," Claudia calms him. "No Artifact was harmed in the making of this projector. Just good-old fashioned Musion 3D Holographic technology with a little bit of my own tweaks."
"Oh," Artie deflates.
"Impressive technology," Mrs. Frederic declares.
"You like?" Claudia asks with a pleased grin as she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet.
"I don't know if I would describe it as 'like'," Mrs. Frederic says. "But one must pause and take note of the times we live–when prevalent, accessible, supposedly normal technology can mimic the effect and shear wonder of an Artifact."
Artie tentatively waves his hand through the holographic image as well. "How did you manage to get this? The blue prints I mean."
"My super hacking powers."
Mrs. Frederic coughs.
"And Mrs. Frederic's password," Claudia adds hurriedly.
Artie waves his hands through the projection a few more times, as Mrs. Frederic starts giving them the rundown.
"The Knossos facility is built like a maximum-security bank and a maximum-security prison all rolled up into one. This includes motion sensors, hermetically sealed doors, depressurized rooms, video cameras, and a moat filled with Serrasalmus Nattereri."
"Sera-nutty-what now?" asks Pete.
"Red-bellied piranhas."
"Oh."
"We will approach the place by way of vehicle, from here." Mrs. Frederic continues as an arrow appears on the holographic map. "-and leave Leena in the truck with medical supplies as well as the last of the Iceflower fireworks–just in case.
"Now as you know, 'RF' type automatons staff most of the facility since living guards run the risk of exposing themselves to the Minotaur. Having said that, make no mistake, these automatons are built to be highly sophisticated and durable – enough to detect and subdue threats from without, and more importantly, from within.
"Luckily for us, the majority of security measures as well as the 'RF' type automatons are linked to the building's computerized outer defense grid, and as such can be accessed via these-" Mrs. Frederic points at some blinking dots on the map. "-type of control consoles. Naturally, our first move will be to place a hacker at such a location. It will be my job to get Ms. Donovan to a console and protect her while she works from there."
"How are you going to-"
"Don't ask Agent Latimer," Mrs. Frederic cuts Pete. "Needless to say, I will get her there and it will be up to her to disable as much of the outer defense grid as she can."
"No pressure," Claudia pips.
"Do not worry Ms. Donovan, I am fully confidant in your abilities," Mrs. Frederic says. Claudia winces.
"While Claudia sabotages the defenses, it will be up to the rest of the team to get to this location." Mrs. Frederic points once more at another blinking dot on the map.
"This is the entrance to the inner layer of the facility. 10-tonne pressurized doors that can only be opened via retinal scan will block your path; luckily, Artie is one of the few people who have a high enough clearance rate to access them. These doors close automatically much like elevator doors; Therefore, Artie, you will have to remain at this point to keep them–and our Farnsworths' and comms ability to communicate with each other–open.
All defenses herein after are off the outer computerized grid. This area is patrolled by 'S' type automatons, they are much larger than their 'RF' type brethren."
"About that," Pete says. "What does 'RF' stand for?"
"Rocket fuel," Mrs. Frederic answers.
"And 'S'?"
"Steam."
"Ah, Gotcha, the tiny modern robots can be hacked and the big hulking steam-punk robots cannot."
"Yeah, about that Pete," Claudia says. "The 'RF' Robots? Not so tiny," she adds as she pulls up their schematics.
"Yowza Claud! Those are friggin' B2 super battle droids!" Pete exclaims.
"Don't worry guys," Claudia says. "I've got your back on these 'RF' dudes, but once you reach the inner level you're on your own."
"That is why you must pay attention to the next part," Mrs. Frederic warns as the schematics for the 'S' type automatons appear. "If you encounter these automatons, you must aim for the center of their torso where the breastbone of a human would be–that is where the punch card with their instructions resides. Scrambling their orders is the quickest way to disable them since otherwise they are nigh invulnerable."
"Great," Pete sighs, "so B2 super battle droids and the goddamn Golden Army."
"Where next?" Myka asks.
"Down the rabbit hole and to the center," Mrs. Frederic says.
"This is where Asterion is kept." Artie points at the middle of the map. "You must keep the coast clear until our little surprise arrives."
O O O
"Goodnight Director." "Goodnight Sir."
The two security guards wish as they leave the building for the night.
"Goodnight gentlemen," Abbot waves them off absentmindedly. Once they're out, he presses a button on the front lobby's main computer console.
"Computer, report all life signs in the Knossos compound."
"Warning: No life sign other than current inquirer's detected. Knossos facility protocols require at least one sentient living guard with a minimum security clearance of Theta-8 at the front desk at all times," answers the metallic sexless voice.
"Computer, log me as tonight's guard. Identity code: Alpha-Beta-Beta-Omega-Theta-One-Gama-Omega-Delta-Zero."
"So logged."
Abbot pulls out a USB drive from a chain around his neck and plugs it into the console.
"Special lockdown sequence initiated," says the computer. "Please enter password."
"Everlife."
"Password accepted. Good evening director," the computer now speaks with a pleasantly bland male voice. "Shall I prepare the lab?"
"Yes," Abbot says as he briskly walks into the depths of his facility.
O O O
Charles pulls the heavy sheet from over the contraption and blinks his eyes rapidly as a thick layer of dust is released into the dank air.
"So this is the second Time Machine."
"Ah!" Charles spins around with a start. He then bends over at the waist with his hand over his heart. "Goodness Mrs. Nanaimo, you do know how to sneak about, don't you?"
"Apologies Mrs. Wells, for my coming unannounced, I was curious about your sister's second invention."
"Hmm, yes, it does look rather ominous, doesn't it?" Charles says as he straightens up.
"I think that's mostly because we are in a poorly lit basement," Mrs. Nanaimo answers calmly.
"Yes, that might be it," Charles muses. "Well anyhow, I don't suppose you know how to get this thing started?"
O O O
The problem with plans is twice-fold: the obvious being that all too often they are hatched based on incomplete information.
Alas, it is the second factor that is usually the more damaging, that is, that they are frightfully vulnerable to a number of extremely common–though easily overlooked–factors, namely: luck, chance, and simple human error.
"I can't find my Ducky!"
"Not now Pete!" Myka shouts.
"Oh my god! Where could I have lost it?"
"Seriously Pete! Not. Now." Myka accentuates each word with a shot from her pistols.
"Whew Myks, nice shooting, I think that was four 'bots in five Seconds," Pete hollers from his spot behind a pillar. "That leaves only one more," he murmurs to himself.
All around them havoc–and pieces from the walls and ceiling–reigns.
"Operator?" Pete says into his earpiece as he ducks a round of bullets coming in from his left; he coughs from the dust they create as they shatter concrete and plaster.
"20 yards ahead," comes Claudia's voice. "There'll be a T-juncture, take a right."
"Myka!" Pete shouts and waves his hand at her.
Myka looks up and just barely manages to role and duck under a piece of, what looks like, an entire wall that has been hurled at her by the last 'S' type robot in the room. She gets a fine cut on her forehead as gravel explodes from the thrown chunk when it hits the floor.
"Dammit," she swears under her nose as she rubs at the blood now trickling into her eye. She runs forward and takes cover behind a low metal console.
The 'S' type automaton charges towards her hideout looking to plow straight through it. Myka closes her eyes and takes a fortifying breath while she counts the heavy footsteps in her head, the timing between each stride is very close–indicating that the robot is running–yet still far enough apart to hint at its behemoth size.
Shit, five more steps and I'm pita-bread.
"Over here, ugly!" Pete shouts as he peeks out of his cover and flails his arms wildly.
The robot slows down to a stop nearly on top of Myka. If it could, it would blink at Pete.
"Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"
The robot raises its big machine gun at Pete.
Myka takes the opportunity to leap over her console and dive between the robot's legs, shooting up at its robotic torso is she rolls.
"Bullseye!" she yells as the automaton sputters and shakes, sparks flying out its chest.
"Everything all right?" Artie's voice comes over both their comms.
"Yeah, we're good," Myka says into her mouthpiece as she reloads her pistols. Pete wipes the sweat from his face.
"Good, because I just saw Abbot walking by so you need to hurry."
"What? Artie, are you sure?" comes Mrs. Frederic's voice.
"Yes," he answers while Pete and Myka hurry onward. "I hid, he didn't see me, but he's now in the inner sanctum, and he looks pissed."
"Well of course," comes Claudia's voice. "I made all his 'RF' robots dance the Macarena. Oh, take a left here Pete. No! Your other left, Pete."
"Sorry," Pete mumbles into his piece. "You okay, Myks?" He whispers to her sideways.
"We have to hurry," she says in way of answer. They start running.
"Dammit," says Mrs. Frederic over the comms. "He wasn't supposed to be here tonight, what on earth is he doing?"
"I knew that not seeing those two guards up front was too good to be true," Pete mutters.
"Forget about that now," Mrs. Frederic says. "Concentrate on getting to Asterion. Remember, we're on a tight time schedule here."
"Roger, roger, Mrs. F."
"Where to now, Claudia?" Myka asks as they reach another intersection.
"Left and down a ladder. That'll put you in front of the final door. Watch your six because I have no way to see or help you with any of the defenses there. Pete, you'll have to get to the main computer and describe it to me so I can tell you how to hack Asterion's releases. Myka, you'll have to make sure Pete stays alive because I'm guessing there'll be like, eleventy-billion robots there."
"Great and I'm without my lucky ducky," Pete informs Claudia.
"What! What happened to your ducky?"
"I don't know! It disappeared!"
O O O
Abbot is beside himself.
He had been working in his private lab when the warning claxons started blaring, catching him in the midst of a very complex procedure and causing him to slip and mess up weeks' worth of delicate work. His temper further flared when he asked the computer what was going on, and–astonishingly–the computer answered that it 'did not have sufficient data as this time'.
"Sufficient data…" Spittle flies out between snarling lips as Abbot mutters to himself.
He walks briskly down the corridors, his strides are long and stiff, his hands held tightly together behind his back. His lean figure is cutting into the shoddy illumination, throwing jumping, broken shadows over the wrecked automatons that are strewn in parts all over the floor. Clearly, he is dealing with an intruder–the automaton husks are facing to the exits and not the center.
"Irene," he seethes.
It must be her; he read her files. She is one of those annoying individuals who would 'never let one of her agents down', no matter how…deserving the agent was.
And what an agent indeed, Abbot leers.
It was a risk accepting Ms. Wells into the 'Dreamer' program, what with her aforementioned association with Mrs. Frederic, and Mrs. Frederic's regrettable tendency towards 'loyalty'–Abbot Scoffs as he walks–but the potential benefits were too seductive to refuse. He knew Ms. Wells would be an exceptional binder, after all, he had read her files as well.
And boy, did she deliver.
A whole year of uninterrupted work. The woman's mind was phenomenal, both in its complexity and in its mental fortitude.
It was almost a pity to destroy such a brain; she could have been used to great results in so many other ways, ways that would better humanity, better the world.
Almost, but not quite, thinks Abbot.
For he knows, deep in his heart, that his use of Helena Wells is so much more forward thinking than anything his arrested colleagues could possibly imagine. He is so close, the solution is just around the corner; he can practically taste it.
Abbot clenches his fists tighter, a slight smirk forming on his lips as he continues his decent.
These last three months were exactly what he needed to make the next big leap in his research, he was back on track and it felt good, very good. Nobody would hinder his progress, not Irene, nor her underlings; not even Asterion himself. He would sacrifice another thousand brilliant minds if need be; after all, his goal–his mission–was practically holy: humanities next great ascension.
It is my right!
"Computer, have you managed to regain control of the facility."
"Negative, Director Abbot."
"Very well, initiate override procedure 'Grand Discharge," Abbot says with a sneer, his step never faltering.
"Warning sir, the procedure will release the undisclosed test subjects into the general facility. Are you sure you want to proceed?"
"I am, computer. I have everything under control."
O O O
"Shit! I just got booted out of the network!"
"What does that mean, Claudia?" Irene asks worriedly.
They are in a simple storage room, hiding between the cleaning supplies and surplus computer parts. Early on, Claudia decided that this would be their base of operations since it was out of the way, had an access console used normally for inventory, and plenty of spare parts. True to form, within minutes of apparating into the room, Claudia had altered the simple console into a beast worthy of any high-end military war-room.
Claudia points at one of the many monitors that she has hooked up to the main console. "You see these dots and this room? These weren't there a minute ago, the dots or the room. Something has changed, and when I want to investigate a hit a new firewall."
"What are they?" Mrs. Frederic points at the dots, now scattering across the perimeter.
"I don't know. Their icon labels them as 'Z type automatons' but I distinctly detect…organic material as part of their composition."
Claudia and Mrs. Frederic stare at each other for a second.
"Shit!"
"Call Myka and Pete and inform them of this development," Mrs. Frederic calls over her shoulder as she walks to the room's exit.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Claudia yells after her.
"To get Artie."
"What about the hydraulic doors! We won't be able to communicate with Pete and Myka if Artie's not there!"
"Well, you'll just have to hack at those doors harder."
"Wha'! I just got thrown out of the regular interface, now you want to me to hack the unhackable door-"
But Mrs. Frederic has already disappeared.
O O O
"Claudia! Claudia can you read me? I'm in front of the computer thingy you said and there's a lot of...buttons," Pete yells into his comm, tapping repeatedly at the earpiece. "Claudia!"
His Tesla had run out of juice a long time ago, not that it mattered; it had no real effect on the steam robots.
"Pete I'm running out of ammo! Do something!" Myka hollers at him as she keeps running and shooting at the robots still standing in the room.
Pete pulls at his hair, trying to bite down the sense of hysteria that has been persistently creeping up his throat ever since the comms stopped working. Shit!
"I...I...ah-Myka! I can't reach Claudia! I think the sanctuary doors are closed!"
"What!"
"I know! I'm sorry!" Pete apologizes.
"Do something!" Myka keeps shooting.
"Like what?" he gestures at the convoluted console in front of him with both arms. "I don't even know what the words say! I think it's written in French or something."
"Pete!"
"I mean I'd have an easier time if it was even written in Klingon!" Pete rubs his forehead with both hands, "But French?"
"Pete!"
"What?!" he turns around.
"Duck!"
Pete has enough time to look up and see Myka hurtling towards him in a mighty leap. Behind her, an 'S' type robot is still convulsing and sputtering out as its comrade hurls its dying husk at them.
"Oh Shit!"
Pete and Myka hit the floor, barely missing the ex-robot as it flies above their heads and hits the giant metal tube behind the console Pete had been fiddling with. The tube gives a thundering metallic groan.
Probably much like the Titanic gave just before it sunk, thinks Pete. How appropriate.
The remaining 'S' type robots cautiously advance up the steps to the console.
"I'm out of bullets," Myka whispers to Pete.
A loud metallic ping is heard as the tube behind the two prone and huffing agents opens up to reveal the bound and slumbering form of the Minotaur.
"That's enough!"
Myka's head turns towards the sound of the new voice; Pete's attention is still firmly entrapped by the horrifying visage of Asterion. The remaining robots seem to have stopped.
"Pete. Pete!"
"Ooof!" Pete rubs at his newly abused rib.
"Stay down," she hisses at him.
"Wha-"
"Just stay down!"
Slowly, Myka rises to her feat.
"You must be Abbot," she claims.
"Very astute, Miss Bering." Abbot claps his hands slowly.
"That's Agent Bering to you, Mister." Myka says defiantly as she licks her lips and wipes the blood from her face on the back of her sleeve.
"Then that would be Director Abbot to you, Missy." Abbot growls at her, his facade of civility evaporated.
"Is that so?" Myka stalls.
Crouching behind the master console and away from Abbot's eyes, Mrs. Frederic suddenly appears. She puts her finger to her lips in the universal sign for 'quiet'. Myka nods minutely, as Pete starts inching towards his boss.
"Tell me then, Director, what exactly it is that you are directing?" she addresses her oblivious foe.
"Why, the next step in human greatness, of course," Abbot preens. "The unattainable prize, the holy grail, the one advantage that separates me: Christopher Abbot, from God."
"What? A non-corporeal body and a hippy son?" Myka walks down from the console's podium, closer to Abbot and away from Pete and the still concealed Mrs. Frederic.
"No! You foolish woman! Immortality! The ability to live forever–remain young and virile forever!"
Behind them, Pete makes a lunge towards Mrs. Frederic and they both blink out of the room with nary a sound or a whisper.
"Dammit!" Abbot screams his face turning red as all remaining automatons uniformly raise their machine guns at Myka. "You tricked me! You'll pay for that!"
O O O
Pete and Mrs. Frederic reappear in Claudia's makeshift war-room; Artie is already there and is in the process of gearing up on Artifacts like some ridiculous version of Rambo. He tosses Pete a pink and white plastic wand with a smiling little unicorn head at its end.
"Where's Myka? What's happening?" Pete asks as he waves the wand a bit. The wall in front of Pete is immediately slashed with a large and angry burn mark, curtsey of the flash of blinding light that had just burst out of his unicorn-wand.
Artie snatches the Artifact back. "Be careful with that!" he hisses. "This is a serious wand!"
"Gimme'," Pete says as he dances around Artie, trying to take back the wand. "Gimme', gimme', gimme'."
"Behave!" Artie grumbles.
Pete calms down slightly and with his best puppy face pleads, "please?"
"Fine," Artie relents as he passes back the garish plastic stick. "But try to act like an adult."
"So now what?" asks Pete.
"I can't see into the confinement room, I'm blind to what's going on with Myka," Claudia informs them.
Pete turns to Mrs. Frederic. "You need to get her out of there."
"I can't do that Peter," Mrs. Frederic says as she gently pats his shoulder. "This mission is too important to abort. We can only hope that things are going according to plan and give Agent Bering as much background support as possible."
"Right, right," Pete turns to Claudia. He then, in the squeakiest of voices, singsongs, "beware evil doers, or you will be smited by-" he strikes a pose and twirls his unicorn-wand, "Sailor Moon!"
Claudia cackles. Artie sighs.
Mrs. Frederic comes over to Claudia's chair and leans over her shoulder to look at the screens. "So now we are left with the task of defending the inner sanctum form a considerable amount of 'Z' type automatons," she says.
Claudia looks at the monitors worriedly as Artie continues to stock-up on Artifacts and Pete lets out steam by prancing around with his new gadget.
"Zombie-robots," she whispers.
O O O
Back at the containment room, Abbot lifts his arm to point a skeletal finger at Myka.
"No one can stop me!" he grinds out between clenched teeth. "Asterion is the key! He is the tree of life and I am the scythe that will harvest its fruit!"
"Scythes are used for low growing crops, dumbass, not trees; with that analogy you'd be more of a fruit clipper than a scythe."
"How dare you!"
"How dare I?" Myka draws one of her pistols at lightning speed and points it at Abbot. Abbot lifts both his hands in surprise.
"This is one of Dallas Stoudenmire pistols, it's fully loaded and it cannot miss," Myka bluffs.
"You're bluffing," Abbot says, not sounding too sure of himself.
"Am I?" Myka asks, lifting her chin and fidgeting slightly.
"Ye...Yes you are."
"Well than try me. Call on your robots and let's see who can shot faster," Myka dares.
"Maybe I will."
"Then do it."
"I will."
"Go on then."
"I sha-"
A clinking sound echoes through the room. Slowly, both Myka and Abbot turn their heads to look at the main podium and the breached tube behind it. Asterion's shackles are open.
"It can't be!" Abbot whispers in horror.
Myka lowers her pistol. The Minotaur sits up, rubs his previously bound wrists, and looks at them both.
A whole minute passes with nary a breath to be heard.
Then, Abbot promptly turns around and flees–his screams echoing down the corridors. The 'S' type automatons seem to power down in his absence.
"Well, that was anti-climatic," the Minotaur rumbles, his voice sounding as low as the deepest cave, as gravely as a mountain breaking, as unsettling as the most disturbing of nightmares, also it sounds distinctly British.
"Charles?" Myka asks with a slight bracing to her posture.
"Present and accounted for, you must be Miss Bering," the beast answers politely.
"Wow, excellent timing," Myka relaxes.
"Yes, well, I was cheating–advanced time machine and all, you know how it is," Charles, now in Minotaur form, smiles horrifically.
Myka winces at the attempt.
"Hey Myka," Myka hears Claudia's static-y voice from her radio receiver, "I just wanted you to know that I managed to break the final firewall a few minutes ago, so I can see you again; also the Minotaur might be free from his shackles."
"Thanks Claude," Myka deadpans with her hand on her earpiece.
"You're welcome."
Myka rolls her eyes and turns to the Minotaur. "This way," she gestures with her hand.
"Right-o." He hops off the metallic slab with a little leap that shakes the room. "By the way, you wouldn't happen to have a time-piece on you, would you?"
O O O
Mrs. Fredric wipes the sweat from her brow and ducks behind their makeshift barricade as shrapnel's and cadaver parts splatter on the wall behind, beside her Artie if huffing and puffing.
"I must admit, Agent Lattimer is most impressive," she informs the winded man.
They both peek behind their shelter to see Pete standing on a pile of office furniture as he hurls shiny rainbow rays of light at the robot-zombies with his unicorn wand. He is shouting instructions to Claudia through his headpiece as the two of them work in tandem to funnel and control the oncoming wave of the bionicly-undead.
"Indeed," Artie agrees over Pete's yell of 'Zurg-rush!'
A lull in the action allows Pete to sprint towards them and take cover.
"Good job Agent Lattimer," Mrs. Fredric says.
"Thanks Mrs. F," Pete answers. "I think I've gained a level."
"This is not a game, Pete!" Artie shouts at him. "Take care of yourself!"
Pete looks appropriately chastised, and Artie regrets his outburst immediately. He reminds himself that different people have different ways to handle stress and trauma. "Eh, yeah, never mind, sorry," he pats Pete's hand awkwardly.
"Well, Pete might have not gained a level, but I sure did," Claudia informs them through the radio. "My tower defense has just gotten upgraded. Ladies, my I point your attention to stage left," she says as a host of 'RF' type automatons rush forward and join the fray, they immediately attack the 'Z' type robots whose ebb had just picked up once again.
Artie, Pete, and Mrs. Fredric duck out of their shelter to continue raining down light and destruction on the seemingly never-ending flow of Zombie-bots.
"Well, at least I should get XP for staying in character," Pete mutters as he blasts another foe into tiny little bits.
"Heck, Pete. If was survive this, not only will you have gained a level!" Artie yells over the commotion as they strategically swap places and continue to fire. "I'll personally put a gold star on your badge!" he claps his hand on Pete's back.
Ha! Pete smiles, Myks will be so jealous.
O O O
Getting to the "Power Room"–Myka chafes at the name, but that's what it is called in the blue prints–turns out to be much easier than getting into the containment room.
The corridors are eerily quiet as if most of the, well, building's attention is focused elsewhere. When she tells this to Charles, he agrees.
"I have always felt that Warehouse 12 had a subtle personality to it," he informs her as he takes a peek at the watch currently strapped around his forefinger like a ring, it is Myka's and is too small for his presently enormous wrist. "Mayhap this building is similarly endowed with a conscientiousness?"
"Hmm, I don't think so," she muses. "I think it's more like this place has a computer running the show, and if that's true then I think I know what's distracting it."
"One of your compatriots?" he asks as they turn a corner and start their descent down a seemingly endless flight of stairs.
"Yes. Namely, Claudia," she answers.
Myka's headpiece comes to life. "Somebody called my name?"
"Claud!" Myka stops mid step. Charles turns to look at her.
"What's going on, is everyone okay?" she asks the young woman. She's sure she can hear the wailing of a claxons in the backgrounds.
"Yup, we're keeping down the fort for you. Now that I've torn down most of the security system, I can see you very clearly; you're the little red dot that's standing next to the big flashing skull icon. I'm guessing that would be Charles?"
Myka looks over at the politely shuffling Minotaur; he's looking at the walls, the floor, the watch, trying not to intrude on her conversation.
"Yup."
"Give him an earpiece; I stuck an extra one in your fanny-pack," she informs Myka.
"Good thinking."
"I know. There's also a Data pad in there," Claudia informs her, "onto which I am currently downloading an updated map–you know, now that I've managed to hack absolutely everything."
Myka takes a look.
"What are these green dots at the 3rd juncture from the left?" she asks as she lifts the little hand held device to show Charles who is standing at a safe distance as to not contaminate her.
"More steam robots," Claudia replies over the radio.
"And the blinking red dots in the other corridor?"
"Spring powered floor spikes."
"The glowy bits on the walls?"
"Flame-thrower booby traps."
"Hmm."
"Just let Charles walk first and trigger them all, it's not like he can die," Claudia muses.
"I'd rather not get hurt," says Charles awkwardly into his new radio transceiver, he has not yet gotten the hang of it and keeps trying to look at the mouthpiece instead of letting it hang near his jowls. "I've come to understand that any part of this body left unchecked could trigger quite a catastrophe."
"Quite," Myka agrees.
"Welp, slow and steady it is." Claudia agrees. "Just don't take too long, or Pete might get hungry, and then he'll get whiny, and nobody likes a whiny Pete."
"Take care Claudia," Myka wishes the girl as she signs off for the moment. She hopes Claudia's flippant disposition is not too much of an act, she could piece out some of the chaos from the background noise of her earpiece. She starts walking again, her steps infused with greater purpose.
"Quite a character there," Charles says cautiously, once again looking discreetly at the clock on his finger. They are continuing their decent while carefully avoiding the traps marked on Myka's little blinking map.
"Yes. Claudia is, well, she's great. The little sister I never had, and of course there's Pete, Artie too, and Leena, even Mrs. Frederic, they're amazing."
"I'm so happy Helena found such a wonderful family, you all seem to love each other very much, I'm sure she loves you all as well."
"Yeah, really loves us…" she trails off awkwardly. Charles looks at her again and seems to be about to ask her something that she's sure she doesn't want to answer.
"So you said warehouse 12 had a personality? What was it like?" she quickly changes the subject. Charles is too smart not to understand that there is something unfinished there, his curiosity is peaked, Myka can tell, but she is banking on the fact that he's too polite to prey, and true to form he lets her off the hook.
"I wasn't an agent," he answers as they continue to their destination, "but I have managed to find myself in its bowls a few times. There always seemed to be a somewhat dry atmosphere to the place, proper-like, dignified, efficient, yet polite."
"So, basically kind of British," she deadpans.
Charles throws her a sheepish look, which Myka thinks is oddly becoming considering his features are currently mostly cow-looking.
He is about to say something else, but the Data pad beeps, informing them that they have arrived to their final destination. Myka spots a glowing red button next to the large metal doors she is currently standing in front of, and presses it. She takes a deep breath as they quietly swoosh open.
Before her is a scene straight out of the nightmares of Hans Rudolf Giger. Myka cannot move as her brain tries to take it all in, the endlessly sprawling machine, the tubes, the blinking lights, the occasional electric current skittering along the cables, the shear enormity of it all.
She is torn out of her stupor by a toe curly scream. There, in the middle of it all is Helena, her Helena, half-naked and spread angled, writhing in pain with her eyes shut tightly and her mouth open and curling over her teeth in a perpetual expression of anguish.
Myka runs. She is vaguely aware of the massive form of Charles sprinting right beside her, but before she can reach her target she is thrown to the floor and nearly burnt to death by a random electrical current that had decided to spark to her left. She groans.
When she finally rises to her feet, she realizes that Charles has been shouting at her for the past several minutes.
"Miss Bering! We must do this properly!" He sounds more and more savage as his agitation grows. "If we don't time this precisely–this will all be for naught!"
"Okay, okay, I'm with you." She tells him, but she can't help her eyes slightly watering as she takes a quick look at Helena.
"Mrs. Nanaymo is scheduled to release me form the mark 2 Temporal Consciousness Transfer Engine in exactly," he looks at his watch. "Seven minutes. By then this body must be strapped into the swapping mechanism," he points at a second interface console. "To be switched over as the main power supply. I must be released from this era of time before the exchange occurs, otherwise the process will have already started and my mind would not know what is reality and what is not–even if I am safely returned to my original body."
"Like inception," Myka murmurs.
"What?"
"You are taking quite the risk for her," Myka softly says.
"So are you," He points out. "If we don't hurry the Minotaur will truly be unleashed. This building or some other failsafe might yet contain him, but you yourself will surely perish. She is my sister, my blood, my only living relative, and my best and oldest friend," Charles informs her. "What is your excuse?"
"I love her," Myka says simply, her already watery eyes finely spill over; she angrily wipes away the tears.
They start inching towards the transfer console and the computer beside it, this time in a much more wary manner.
"She has hurt you." It is not a question.
Myka shrugs.
"Oh Helena, you fool," Charles laments with a sigh. "I am so sorry," he tells Myka kindly.
"Not your fault."
"You know what?" Charles asks her as he carefully lowers his massive frame into the chair. "When she wakes up, I give you permission to hit her upside the head."
Myka barks out a surprised laugh, quickly putting a hand over her mouth.
"No, really, I Charles Whitney Wells, hereby give you Myka-"
"Ophelia," Myka reveals as she cautiously straps him to the evil-dentist-chair like contraption, the task made infinitely more difficult by the fact that she mustn't actually touch him.
"-Myka Ophelia Bering, permission to smack my sister whenever she acts like a ninny."
"I'll be sure to do that," she smiles at him as they finally maneuver the last strap.
"Pull hard, don't let him get away."
Myka does so, putting both her feet against the chair and pulling until she actually hears the Minotaur groan.
"Thanks Charles."
"You are welcome. Now take a step back, once I leave you must act quickly," he swallows hard. "Here goes nothing."
Myka retreats and waits a few more seconds until suddenly Charles stiffens violently, the chair he's in barley holding him.
"Charles?" Myka asks tentatively.
What then turns to look at her is beyond this world.
A second passes before the beast ignites in pure rage, his screams and snarls nearly shattering Myka's eardrums. She tries to run to the second console to start the transfer process, but her knees give out from the sheer power of her dread. This is beyond anything she's ever felt–it is primal, it is death–this is beyond the fear of the prey, this is the fear of the victim.
Myka crawls on her hands and knees, her eyes staring resolutely at her target, or at least trying to do so from between the blurry screen of her tears. She can sense the Minotaur behind her, his presence seaming to grow like a shadow. She can hear the metal of his chair screeching and groaning. Has he broken free yet? Will this be the second she feels his hands upon her? Or perhaps it will be this one? Her world narrows down to steps and heartbeats, feet and seconds, every pulse is its own eternity of fear, every measure of distance seemingly longer and more impossible than the last.
Stay on the target Myka! she screams inside her head, the console, just get to the console, your mission is there, Helena is there. Helena.
With that Myka reaches her destination, she pulls herself up the console through the power of her arms and what little is left of her will. That's it, look at her, don't look at him, just keep looking forward, no matter what you hear, no matter what you think is happening behind your back.
She starts inputting the transfer sequence Claudia had drilled into all their brains the night before. Mechanically she goes through windows and drop down menus, she enters parameters and presses buttons, fingers stiff and cold sweat covering her entire body, her mind has checked out a while ago and she is functioning on pure auto-pilot. Eventually, she arrives at the final popup question, shining at her in plain black text 'Would you like to start the process?'
She clicks 'Okay'.
The Minotaur's tune changes abruptly, like a barking dog that's been suddenly kicked; he yelps and starts to howl a series of high-pitched pain-filed cries.
Myka covers her ears; this is almost more terrible than the rage.
She checks on the console that everything is all right, and quickly moves to free Helena from her bounds, the brunette remains unconscious but Myka can't worry about that right now. She hefts Helena into her arms and flees; she cannot stand one more second of the horrible sounds coming from the Labyrinth's Prisoner, Monster, and now jail-keeper.
O O O
Pete, Artie, and Mrs. Frederic are standing outside the open hydraulic doors of the inner sanctum.
"I told you all these artifacts would come in handy!" Artie exclaims after he evaporates one of the last 'Z' type automatons that were still running around.
Pete, having just melted another of the monsters, huffs and straightens up. "You da' man, Artie. And let me just say that I no longer like Zombies, or Robots, and especially not Zombie-robots."
"Quite right, Mr. Lattimer" Mrs. Frederic adds as, in front of her, the truly last Zombie-robot melts into a disgusting pile of metal and fleshy goo. Mrs. Frederic lowers the spatula she is holding. "Now I believe it is time to go rescue your comrade."
"Too late, she's already on her way here with H.G." Claudia shouts as she runs into the room.
"Claudia!" Artie yells happily. "Wait, why are you running?"
"Because," she huffs and bends over at the waste after coming to a screeching halt beside him. "I set the system to lock down the entire perimeter in 5 minutes."
"What?!"
"It's okay Artie," she says as she puts a hand on his shoulder and straitens up, she then points to the inner sanctum's crumbling entrance.
Myka Bering is standing on a mound of rubble that has piled up in front of the damaged doorways. One foot raised on a slightly higher step, clothes dirty and ripped in certain places, she is bleeding again from the cut over her eye, her hair is wild and her pistols are strapped to her thighs in their crisscrossed holsters. In her arms, she is cradling Helena in the classical passed-out damsel in distress pose; all around her are the broken bodies of her enemies.
"So cool," Pete mumbles.
"Is she okay?" asks Mrs. Frederic.
"I don't know," Myka says as Artie rushes to help her while she stumbles awkwardly off the heap.
"No time to check," Claudia reminds them. "We're out of here."
O O O
Pete is leading the escape, with Artie, Mrs. Fredric and Myka–who has refused to relinquish Helena–in the middle, Claudia is bringing up the rear. They are rushing out of the building just as the entire complex goes into total shut down, complete with metal blast doors springing from the ground and thousands of metric tons of half-formed cement being poured over the entire area, oozing down like some bizarre cement volcano from secret emergency openings in the surrounding grounds.
They are halfway across the narrow bridge that spans over the moat when Pete's spidey-senses start tingling.
"Guys, guys, wait." He raises his arms to keep everybody at bay. They all stop and try to figure out what's wrong; all of them knowing by now that Pete's hunches are not to be trifled with.
"Oh no," says Artie as, from behind one of the bridge's trusses Abbot appears with one hand pointing a handgun at Pete, and the other hand firmly around Leena'sthroat.
"What?" Abbot asks. "You thought you could just win?" he hisses through clenched teeth.
Pete immediately lifts his hands in a sign of surrender "Hey man, hey, just take it ea-"
"Easy?" Abbot screams. "Yes! Yes I am going to take it," he says, as he slowly starts moving forward with Leena gasping and chocking against his chest. "And by 'it' I mean your pathetic little life!" He continues, still inching forward, eyes shooting daggers and pure hatred at Pete. "And yes, it will be easy."
"Look, let's just talk about this," Pete says as he starts backing away.
"No agent Latimer," Abbot says, still moving forward, still crowding the group with his madness and his gun. "No talking, especially not from the likes of you. My work is too important to be foiled by such insignificant creatures! I am Christopher Abbot! You are all nothing!" he screeches while waving his gun carelessly at Pete and tightening his hand around the silently crying Leena. "I have the power! Me! Not you. You pests, you roaches! You are dirt all beneath my feet!"
"Yeah, man, you have the power, you're totally He-man," Pete says in a calming tone as he continues to inch his way backward with the rest of the team.
"I do! And nothing, nothing can stop m-"
Abbot is suddenly caught off guard as his leg slips on something small and brightly colored on the floor.
Then, several things happen all at once,
The thing on the floor lets out a high-pitched squeal that further shakes Abbot's equilibrium; Leena manages to land a well-placed elbow to Abbot's gut and immediately ducks forward; and finally, Pete rushes over Leena and shoves Abbot backwards; this all results in Abbot stumbling back, dropping his gun, and losing his balance over the side of the bridge. As Abbot starts falling into the moat, his flailing limbs fling the little obstacle that had brought about his–quite literal–downfall in a perfect arch, up, up in the air and straight into the astonished hands of one Agent Pete Latimer.
Abbot continues to yell threats and thrash in the waters as a school of Piranha fish descend upon him.
Claudia rushes up to Pete and stares at the little yellow object in Pete's hand. Pete gives it another squeeze and the little plastic duck dutifully lets out its distinctive squeal.
"Huh," Says Claudia. "Well, shit."
In the background, Abbot's dying screams slowly ebb away.