"That everything?"
"Everything we're going to need in the short term."
Only a handful of hours ago they'd rushed out to clash with Mann's robots again, and when they'd returned to their base they'd found relocation orders waiting on them. They'd taken a very quick break to scrape the blood and oil off themselves before loading their gear and supplies into the back of one of their trucks; Engineer watched as the rest of his team loaded into the other truck, Sniper standing with him and absently fingering a tear in the shoulder of his vest.
"Is there room with you?" Sniper asked into the silence, looking between the truck that held their supplies and gear and the one that the others were piling into.
Engineer shook his head. "Not unless you want to sit on top on ammunition cases. Only place that's not got stuff stacked on it is the driver's seat."
Sniper nodded. "It was a shot in the dark at least."
Chuckling, Engineer stuck his hand into his front pocket. "It's not a long ride, take a nap if being social bothers you that much."
"Socializing I can do, but not when we're hot and pissy."
"Well, like I said..." Engineer trailed off as he checked his other pocket; his keys weren't in either pocket, nor were they hanging off the little clip on his belt. He jogged over to peek in through the driver's side window - no keys in the ignition or sitting on the seat or dash. Damn.
"You boys go on ahead," he sighed after a moment. "Must have left my keys in the shop. I'll lock up and be right behind you."
"Enjoy the blissful solitude," were Sniper's sarcastic parting words as he strode toward the second truck parked in front of the one stuffed full of their supplies.
Engineer jogged the short distance to the base entrance and stepped inside, pausing a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light out of habit more than out of actual need; most of the overhead lights were turned off but Engineer knew the way well enough that it wouldn't have been much of a problem even if it'd been pitch black.
It was a quick walk back to his workshop; he'd left the door unlocked since he'd emptied its contents into the truck, and the room looked pathetically bare when he flipped the lights on.
From the doorway he could see his keys sitting on the corner of one of the empty workbenches across the room - specifically, they were sitting on the bench that Victor normally occupied.
Engineer paused at that, sighing a bit. When they'd come back from their latest battle and found their relocation orders, Engineer had entered the workshop to find Victor slumped over and buzzing again, the robot's eyes blinking on and off slowly with the robot completely unresponsive; after trying to reboot the robot several times and failing, Engineer had been forced to simply turn the bot off and pack it up, lacking the time to investigate what exactly the robot had done - he knew Victor had said something about running diagnostic scans...what the heck had the robot done? And how big a pain in the ass was it going to be to fix?
'Maybe I should just scrap him and get it over with,' Engineer thought as he snagged his keys and turned to leave again.
He did feel a bit guilty thinking that, but then again...it wasn't a person, as realistic as it tried to seem. Victor was nothing more than a computer - a highly advanced computer inside a robotic shell, to be true, but still...just a collection of code and components. He - it - wasn't alive, even if it seemed like it could think and learn on its own, and now there was even reason to suspect that there were copies of Gunther's memories in there: anything remotely human-like about the robot could possibly be explained as having come from Gunther during the robot's creation.
At any rate, repairing the robot really didn't have a purpose either, not when they already had a dedicated Medic (well, TWO Medics at the moment), and overall he was pretty convinced he'd learned all they could hope to learn from studying the dang thing.
Engineer put his hand to the main door and shoved it open, stepping back outside and staring ahead into the open back of the truck waiting on him. Maybe it would be best to just scrap the ro-
Wait a moment, why was the back of the truck open?
The door behind him softly clicked as it closed as Engineer took a few steps forward. He distinctly remembered closing the back doors, right before Sniper had approached him to ask if that was everything they needed.
God damn it, had one of the others stopped to dig something out? The only reason everything FIT into the one truck was the exact, meticulous way Engineer had stacked-
"Hgghk-"
In the split instant he had before a pressure on his throat cut off all air and sound the noise that left his mouth was both wet and sharp; his heels dragged in the dirt only seconds before he was lifted from his feet entirely and slammed backward into the base's closed door behind him and then held there, dangling by the neck.
An immediate sense of panic rose, an instinctive reaction he couldn't completely control, as he went to suck in a breath and couldn't; eyes wide behind his goggles, he wrapped his hands around the metal arm throttling him and stared as a chrome-trimmed robot faded into view, its eyes red and head tilted to the side as it observed the Texan.
A Spybot, a goddamn Spybot, sleek and silver and unmoving as the man hung there, kicking uselessly and struggling to pry the metal fingers from his neck.
'Damn it, damn it...'
His shotgun was in the back of the truck, his pistol was laying on the dashboard, his wrench was packed away in a toolbox - he was completely unarmed and helpless, goddamn it. What could he do...what COULD he do? The edges of his vision were starting to go dark and his lungs were screaming for air, and through the panic came two thoughts to the foremost of his mind.
The first one was...this robot resembled Victor in style and build. There was no mistaking it.
The second thought was, Engineer's team was already gone. They were gone and there wasn't anyone here to help him, and no one would even suspect until enough time had passed for someone to notice it was taking him an awfully long time to arrive and thought to backtrack to look for him.
That could take hours, and based on how quickly things were going dark Engineer assumed he had maybe fifteen more seconds.
'Not like this...not like...'
The Spybot watched impassively as first the man ceased kicking, his face reddening the longer he hung and strangled. Eventually his hands went limp and fell away as he passed out from the lack of oxygen and only then did the robot let him go, letting the man crumple to the ground at its feet.
Not that she had been expecting otherwise, but the cigarettes (and the means of lighting them that she'd been faintly hoping for) never appeared with the meals, leaving her to plan a way out with only the limited items she'd managed to gather and alter to suit her needs.
Using the spoons provided with her meals Shiloh had managed to remove the decorative grating over the exhaust fan in the bathroom, then had carefully worked the fan itself free; it was made of thin metal riveted together to a central circular piece, and she'd successfully prized one of the rivets free. The fan blade's edges weren't sharp enough to cut skin but it was shaped like a blunted triangle - she could stab and likely penetrate someone with it if she put enough force behind it, but more importantly it was stiff enough that she could stab and saw through the sheet rock in the ceiling around the exhaust fan's opening.
She'd cut a wide hole around the exhaust opening and had taken a look up inside the ceiling; there was a visible air duct and wiring running through here, but there wasn't enough space for the woman to fit - not that she'd been expecting to actually climb out that way, but it at least sated her curiosity to see for certain that it wasn't an option.
She really only needed to make it look like she'd escaped that way.
It was a carefully crafted bogus 'crime' scene of sorts - wide hole in the ceiling, the shower curtain rod bent in the middle to suggest she'd used it to hoist herself up, and part of the duct connected to the exhaust removed to complete the appearance of Shiloh having crawled away into the building itself.
And now she lay on the floor under the bed with the back of the toilet under her stomach, the bathroom door shut and locked, and two meal's worth of food sitting untouched on the foot of the bed above her head. So far no one had given any indication of concern or suspicion, but it'd only take one person looking...
Finally, when a fourth meal was brought in, she heard a muttering in male voices and could see three sets of boots marching passed the bed moments before she heard someone banging on the bathroom door. Sucking in a breath she waited and watched as two of the men stepped back while the third continued to bang on the door.
'Keep banging, get suspicious...go on boys, have a look inside...'
Shiloh let her fingers curl around the edge of the porcelain slab under her as she slowly let out her breath and sucked in another and held it again, listening as the men began to angrily yell at the shut door, demanding she open it. The shouting went on for a few minutes until two of the men stepped back, then charged the door together; there was a loud crash and the sound of wood beginning to splinter, then they charged a second time and the door burst open, Shiloh watching the boots stumble as their owners got their balance back.
And immediately there was a sharp shout and all three men thundered from the room.
"She's out! She's in the ceiling!"
Grinning, Shiloh gave it several moments before she rolled out from under the bed and gripped the back of the toilet, hefting it and limping toward the door they had left open. She pressed her back against the wall beside it and listened - there were pounding feet and shouted orders to check the surrounding rooms, and she waited under the sounds faded before she carefully poked her head around the door frame and had a look into the hall.
She recognized this hallway - this was the club's top floor, with her stashed away in one of the rooms reserved for "VIP" overnight guests and overnight security staff (she wondered who she'd displaced, being imprisoned here), and she was on the eastern side of the building.
The top floor's western side was wholly dedicated to the Madam's needs - her office, her bedroom, her private sitting rooms, all of those were on the far side of the building from here...that at least meant she wouldn't run into the Madam's personal guards, just the usual security types or so she hoped.
Taking a deep breath, Shiloh ducked out of the room and hurried to her left; the hallways on the top floor were shaped like a northern-facing capital E, and each end of the halls on the eastern and western sides had a door that led to a short staircase that led to the roof. Jumping off a roof wasn't ideal but it was a hell of a lot better than trying to make it out the front door.
The door to the rooftop staircase was in sight at the end of the hall and Shiloh hurried toward it as fast as she could manage with her limp as well as carrying five extra pounds of porcelain.
Right as she reached the door it opened and a man speaking into a microphone pinned to his lapel stepped inside; Shiloh briefly saw a flash of white as his eyes widened as she raised the toilet back and smashed it into his ribs.
There was a large, very fancy hotel built across the street from Madam Zoya's club, and Spy had managed to get a room on the floor second from the top that faced the club. His first day and night there had been spent simply observing the club, noting how security rotated, what sort of clientele entered and left, and how the club seemed to be crowded with patrons at all times of the day.
The building itself, while possessing gilded decorations on its outside, was basically one giant brick rectangle rising up from the street. There was a ground floor and two floors above it, with the middle floor having two tiny balconies that faced the street, and through the glass doors of those balconies Spy could see sitting rooms and watch people mill about, laughing and drinking. There didn't appear to be a fire escape or any means of reaching the second and third floors from the outside.
Sneaking in there would be difficult with so many pairs of eyes present...
The second day he'd disguised himself and circled around behind the club.
The back side of the building had no windows, no balconies, and two doors marked Staff Only and Delivery Only, and neither of them had door knobs or any visible means of opening them from the outside. A one-lane street separated the two lines of buildings here, each building possessing back doors that also lacked means to open them from the street - it was highly likely only delivery trucks traveled this road, and even after several hours of waiting back there Spy encountered no trucks visiting any of the buildings, nor did he see a single person.
The only other things of note were two Emergency exits on the sides of the club that opened into the narrow alleyways between the club and its neighboring buildings, but those exits would likely be wired to alarms, ruling them out for ideal entry points. As much as he detested the idea, his only real options were to go in the front door (either cloaked or disguised) or to linger and wait to see if he could slip in behind someone through one of the back doors.
Nightfall was approaching and Spy was tired and ached for a cigarette, but ultimately there was a part of him relishing this change from his usual routine; he had done this sort of work all the time before contracting with TFI, infiltrating and investigating and hunting down his targets. Despite the fact he knew his target personally, and was somewhat concerned for what he was closing in on and what he would find, this hunt was a breath of fresh air, a welcome change from destroying mindless robots en masse.
Admittedly he had lost two days of time in connecting the "family" that had taken Shiloh, having been forced to consult medical records and security recordings to confirm it was, in fact her - her hair was darker and she had been admitted under the name Anne Scholar, but it was unmistakably her face. He then had to identify the men he had seen in the security footage, taking a name signed to the release form and calling a certain unnamed associate who specialized in monikers and owed Spy a favor.
The man who had signed the form had been known by several names over the years and was currently going by Alexander Carmichal, a contract security consultant currently working the casino circles in Vegas.
And currently, he was contracted out to Madam Zoya, a prominent club owner.
Spy had not seen any hint that Shiloh was here but that didn't mean much - that building was large, she could be anywhere in there - so here he waited, observing and learning, building a foundation of information to formulate a plan with.
When 3am came around he returned to his hotel room and removed a small notepad from the briefcase he had brought up from the car - within it, hidden under a false bottom (or, false side, he supposed) was a spare pistol, a few knives, and one of those ridiculous satellite phones with its tiny dish that they carried when afield. In fact...if he was not mistaken, the phone stored inside there was the same one Spy had used when he and Miss MacKenna had first met in Sandville.
The thought brought a slight smile to his face. How strange fate was, sometimes.
He did pause for a moment, drumming his fingers on the briefcase's handle; in all this time he'd been chasing after Shiloh he hadn't once called to check in with the others, or check in with Miss Pauling or the Administrator. If they had wanted or needed him to return he knew he would have gotten a call by now, however there-
Despite himself he flinched and a hand twitched for the gun in his jacket when, almost on cue, the satellite phone rang.
It was muted and nowhere near as loud as it would have been if it hadn't been packed away, but in the silence of the room it might as well been a bomb going off; Spy blew out a sigh and gave himself a moment to recover before prying the false bottom open and picking up the handset.
"Yes?"
"Spy?" Miss Pauling's voice was scratchy and tinny, with static in the background.
"Who else would have this unit?" Spy replied, allowing himself a smirk.
"Spy, listen - you need to get back here right away."
"On the contrary, Miss Pauling, I believe I need to stay exactly where I am. I have located our missing package."
"That's not our priority right now. Engineer is missing."
Spy's grip on the phone tightened a bit. "...missing. How?"
"We don't know what or who took him, but whoever did took that robot he's been working on too. Nothing else was touched and there's no sign of him anywhere."
"When did he go missing?"
"He was last seen about six hours ago. Get back to the Badlands, I'll contact you again when-"
Her voice faded as Spy let the phone drop from his ear, turning sharply to face the window as shots rang out from the street below.
"-Miss Pauling, a moment if you please-"
He could faintly hear her asking what he was doing but he had already dropped the phone to the bed next to the briefcase and was hurrying toward the window.
The muted sounds of startled shouts and screams were now coming from the street below, and as he shoved the blinds aside and peered out he could see a crowd milling about just outside of the club.
"Damn it..."
He turned and sprinted for the door, rushing through the hall and down the stairs to the street, cloaking as he burst through the door to the outside and carefully winding his way through the people and the stopped traffic.
There was a general thread of conversation among the frightened patrons - namely, where had the shots come from and what had happened?
There was nothing out of the ordinary at the front of the club so Spy hurried to the back and came skidding to a stop at the corner of the building, throwing himself against the wall and slipping a hand inside his jacket as he took in the scene.
In the one-land street was a cluster of men in black uniform as well as a few in suits and ties; Spy picked out the form of Alexander Carmichal among the group, standing at the center of the cluster of what was no doubt club security, and all of them stood around a crumpled figure Spy could not make out clearly until he heard a door open and bang into the wall as someone else exited the club.
"Did you get her?"
"I got her," came Carmichal's reply.
The men around him and the figure on the ground parted as the man that had just stepped outside approached. Spy inched closer to the building's edge to get a clearer look, giving his cloak a quick glance to check time remaining, then gritting his teeth as he finally got a look at the figure on the ground.
Shiloh was laying on the ground on her side, panting hoarsely, and even from here Spy could see that her left leg was one bloody mess below the knee. He took a quick headcount - there were ten men here, eleven counting the man that had just come outside...too many for him to risk coming to her aid.
He gritted his teeth as he watched Carmichal lift his leg and plant a boot onto Shiloh's hip, drawing a pained grunt from the woman.
"Well well well...I have tried being pleasant, I have tried being logical, I have tried being firm. And you just...refuse...to behave..." The man that had just come outside was speaking, and Spy quickly pulled back out of their line of sight as his cloak failed.
Whoever that man was, he was wearing a pale blue suit with a high-necked shirt underneath, with short hair, and the others were clearly deferring to him.
"Drag her back inside, I am told the Madam has prepared a special guest room for persons such as herself."
"Can do, sir. Anything else?"
Spy clicked his cloak back on and leaned out again, as the man in the pale blue suit turned around to stride back toward the door he'd come from; Spy's eyes went wide as he took in the man's appearance.
'Impossible...'
Zane sniffed as he raised a fist to knock lightly on the door. "No, I will tend to her shortly, just get her back inside."
Carmichal and another man bent down to seize Shiloh by the arms and, as ordered, dragged her toward the door and out of Spy's sight.
Damn it...damn it all to hell.
Spy silently backed away and hurried back down the alleyway, wound his way through the crowd in the front, and returned to his hotel room.
He felt strangely numb and helpless - he knew logically that eleven armed men were too many to handle, even for him, but it rankled him to have his goal so near with him unable to do anything to help the woman.
And that man...that man was someone who should have been dead. He had watched Pyro set that man's remains on fire...that man could not possibly be alive still.
Slowly he reached down and picked the phone back up again. "Miss Pauling?" It was possible she could have hung up-
"-Spy, what the hell just happened?"
"Far be it from me to refuse orders but I do not think I'll be leaving here any time soon. In fact, it is my suggestion that the others join me here...I believe I know exactly where our Engineer is going to show up."
"What? How?"
"I will explain when everyone is here." He paused, then reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a sudden headache coming on. "Oh, and Miss Pauling? Humor me, and have the men investigate the dam on their way here."
"Spy, WHY?"
"I have just seen a ghost, Miss Pauling, and I believe it is a very vengeful one."
