Trowa was a shadow in the darkness, subtle and silent, moving swiftly along the wall, gun trained ahead and steady. The thin carpet helped muffle his footsteps, dress shoes hard-soled and difficult to walk quietly in, but he managed to keep betraying sound to a minimum. Shoulders still and movements smooth to cut down on the soft whisper of clothing, he ghosted down the hallway with cat-like grace.
The effect was rather ruined by his teammates.
"Sneak, sneak sneak," Yuusuke said with each tip-toeing step he took as he rounded the corner.
Duo followed shortly after, casual swagger making his combat boots thump on the floor. "I spy with my little eye...something black. Begins with...S."
Yuusuke tilted his head, pausing. "Shadows?"
"Right again!"
Duo threw a wink in Trowa's direction. The gun was gone, back in its holster. Armed with only a penlight, Duo had taken rearguard, leaving the scouting and stealth to Trowa. Duo was, apparently, much more content to hang back with Urameshi and trade snarky commentary or play inane road-trip games. Trowa, who couldn't have kept up with the rapid-fire conversation had he even wanted to, was more than happy to let him.
The wallpaper on this level was pealing, showing heavy water damage. Chips of cracked paint scraped lightly along Trowa's shoulders as he eased a look around another corner. This place seemed to have an infinite number of them, leading into increasingly dark hallways.
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beeeeer!"
It was, perhaps, the fifth rendition of that song. Between the two of them, Duo and Yuusuke apparently only knew three songs in total, all of them repetitive, annoying, and about drinking. And neither of them could carry a tune, though they both delighted in out-shouting the other as off-key as possible.
The musty smell permeating the walls grew stronger as Trowa paced forward, mixing with a meaty rotten musk. Trowa wasn't the only shadow moving in the dark anymore.
He went still, blending his outline with a tall table and lamp. Then eased one hand off his gun and snapped twice. The singing behind him got louder. Trowa held his breath.
"...take one down and pass it around--fifty-three bottles of beer on the wall!"
"Weren't we in the sixties?"
"Hey, you know...when you've had that much to drink, you don't really care about semantics."
"About who-what?"
They moved in packs of five, white skin gleaming in the offshoot of luminescence from Duo's penlight. Swift and hunting and vaguely human-looking, though their legs were too short and their arms were too long, their heads misshapen, like clay figures not quite complete.
Three inch claws sunk into the walls as one climbed up and onto the ceiling in two fast leap-jumps.
One landed on the table next to Trowa, hard enough to rattle the lamp. Trowa kept still, gun already braced at shoulder level, and considered the eyeless visage as it leaned a little closer.
He wasn't sure how they tracked prey, but he knew they had trouble finding him if he held still.
This one wasn't any different. It made a sound--high-pitched giggle choking into a lower chuckle, deep in its throat. Then it leapt, and Trowa used the arc of its own movement to disguise his as he dropped smoothly and spun. When it landed three feet away from him, he shot it in the back of the head.
Heading for the light and noise of Duo and Urameshi, the other four spun, and the sound they made--like animals screaming in agony--sent a shudder through Trowa, but it didn't stop him from shooting another one.
Duo darted in, braid a ripple of movement behind him, and knifed one before spinning and slashing another across the throat. Urameshi finished the last one off with a punch that shattered the creature's head.
"Ew," Urameshi said in the following silence, studying the muck on his hand. Their blood was thick and purple. "Skull bits."
Duo cleaned his blade and then the knife disappeared again as he grinned, the feral-dark in his eyes fading into cheerfulness. "Two for me. Two for Trowa. You're falling behind, Urameshi."
"Bite me."
"I'm not that kinky."
"Fine, then kiss me."
"Not when you're covered in monster guts."
"Picky picky."
Trowa did a compulsive mental check of his remaining ammunition. With Duo's added in, it still only left him with two clips and the half currently loaded. Not a lot, considering the number of enemies they'd encountered so far.
Duo stretched, hid a wince, and made a face at the body at his feet. It was melting, slowly. "You fight these guys all the time?"
Urameshi shrugged. "Sure. I mean, not these guys but other things like them. I've never seen these guys. Hey, do you think their blood is acidic? Lot of demons have acidic blood. I don't know why."
Duo jerked his foot away from a spreading pool. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I didn't think of it sooner."
"I doubt it's acidic," Trowa said. "We'd have noticed by now."
Though he'd meant to reassure, he realized he needn't have bothered. Neither of the other two were listening. Urameshi just grinned and stepped down hard enough to make the purple sludge splash a little in Duo's direction. "What, are ya chicken?"
"Ew! Trowa, make him stop!" The over-emphasized whine and the way Duo staggered melodramatically in his direction made Trowa realize this was teasing.
It took him a moment to switch gears. Then he said, "Don't make me turn this mission around."
It came out a bit awkwardly, but Duo still beamed at him like he was personally responsible for Trowa's attempt at humor, though Trowa doubted it was really that funny.
"Nah, we can't go back now," Duo said, aiming the light further down the hall. "We've come too far."
"And it's not like we can go back," Urameshi added, facing the way they'd come, which was now blocked by a wall--paint rough with age, as if it had been there forever.
Trowa didn't let himself worry or think about getting back. His goal was forward--he hoped, though he couldn't be sure anymore. But Duo kept going like he knew exactly where he was, and Trowa had learned to trust those instincts.
Which is why he felt less reassured when, a moment later, there was a shout of alarm, a cracking-crashing sound, and Duo dropped out of sight as the floor beneath him gave way. Urameshi was moving before the splash and gasping-curses of Duo landing somewhere below even settled. He knelt at the edge of the hole without regard for structural integrity, and peered down into the gloom. Trowa followed, a bit slower, testing the ground as he walked.
"Oi!" Urameshi called. "You all right, down there?"
"Well..." Duo called back. "I'm wet."
Urameshi grinned. "Sexy."
"Not really. I'm trying not to look too hard at this water. I'm hoping it's water."
Urameshi refused to be any less cheerful. "Tasty!"
Trowa holstered his gun, knelt and leaned over carefully, hands curled around the ragged edges of wood. "Can you see a way up?"
"Lost the light." There were sounds of splashing, searching, rippling wet noises that made Trowa think the water was at least up to Duo's knees. "I don't know, I think I've found a whole other level. Maybe this is the basement."
"If it's the basement," Trowa reasoned, "then the fuse controls should be down there."
Urameshi hopped to his feet. "Move over, I'm coming down!"
And without any more warning, he jumped into the hole. Trowa counted the beats until Yuusuke landed, and judged a twenty-foot drop. Easy enough, since the water cushioned the fall. Neither of them should be very hurt.
"Come on down, green-eyes!" Urameshi's voice floated up. "The water's fine!"
"Don't listen to him, Trowa," Duo countered immediately. "Mutant alligators are spawning in my hair as we speak."
Though he knew Duo didn't lie, he hoped this was one of his fellow pilot's truth-stretching moments. Either way, he didn't have much choice. He took off his holster and held it above his head, then jumped.
The landing was slick, and it was pitch-black. Trowa caught himself and paused to find his balance, grinding his toes down to ease through the grit and find purchase on the solid bottom. Keeping his gun and ammunition from getting wet was his first priority. Everything else--the chill-cold of the water, the metal creaking and sporadic thunk that sounded like a gigantic machine, the smell of old-death, the sound of someone humming an off-key tune--was secondary.
When he was stable, he pulled the shoulder-holster back on and drew the gun cautiously, letting his eyes adjust. The singing had words, now.
"The wind, they say, it is a song that bids the soul to enter..."
That was a new one. Not something he'd heard in Duo's repertoire before.
"Let us sail the seas my friend, let us sail together..."
The floor, he realized, was lit very faintly--blue fluorescents at odd intervals, circular and solid glass like pool lights. Most of them burnt out, but enough to see by as long as he wasn't looking for details. That was Urameshi's shape ahead, he realized. The young man studying something nailed high on a wall. And as Trowa moved toward him, Urameshi turned his head and spoke to a Duo-shape. Which meant--
It wasn't Duo's voice singing beside him.
Trowa spun, gun coming up and aiming.
The figure beside him hummed another verse, smiling pleasantly, though the look was ruined by the hole through his head where the bullet had hit. But even with that damage, and even with the bloated skin that distorted aristocratic features, and decomposition that had made most of the pale blond hair fall out, Trowa still recognized him.
Barton, Heavyarms' original pilot.
"The singer lasts the season long, but the song, it lasts forever."
# 5 - "ano sa" ("hey, you know...")
