With no windows and as of yet no other human contact Engineer only had the feeling of the drugs finally wearing off to mark how much time was passing. Once he felt fully himself again he had Shiloh give him another rundown on what had happened to land her in this mess along with everything she knew about their situation now, as in-depth as possible.
And now she was laying down, her back pressed against his left leg; the simple act of speaking, of detailing everything again, had worn her out and left Engineer wondering how he could possibly get himself as well as her out of here. He'd thought his chances were bad now that he was missing a hand, but throw in a badly injured cellmate on top of that and you had a pretty good recipe for failure, no two ways about it.
She HAD given him a few things to consider, though.
First off, the guards here were people she didn't recognize - she'd been quick to add that she'd been gone for years by this point, but she knew that the Madam had a habit of...collecting people, treating them like property, and Shiloh doubted that the woman had changed in the years she'd been away. All of the security detail during the time Shiloh had been here had all been from overseas, most of them Russian and related to the Madam in some way, and to hear her describe the Madam's rather heavy-handed ways of keeping people in line and under her thumb one would think working here at the club was less a job and more indentured servitude with no end in sight.
The guards she'd encountered during her escape and the ones that had shoved her into this cell didn't have accents and hadn't spoken in any native tongues (something common that she remembered from her earliest days here). She also described them as fairly young-looking, so odds were good that at least a majority of them weren't highly experienced and might even be locally hired extra hands brought on because of Zane and...whatever he was doing. And the fact that she'd fooled them by cutting a hole in the ceiling and hiding under a bed had him thinking that maybe, just maybe, these hired goons were the biggest bunch of idiots one could hope for.
Secondly, they were now in the basement - Shiloh's escape attempt had had to contend with her being on the top floor and having to climb the guttering down to the street. That had eaten a lot of the time she'd had and if she had been closer to the ground (or able to dart out the front door, even) the odds were high that she would have actually made it out of here.
They'd had a brief discussion on relative risk to innocent people at that point, and she'd given him another point to mull over: a lot of Vegas had been solidly under Zoya's influence when Shiloh had left...so solidly under it, in fact, that that was the real reason Shiloh had traveled so far away from Vegas in the first place rather than try to find employment or build a life there. The patrons of the club were likely just idiot tourists there for a good time, but anyone in any sort of position of power or part of the infrastructure - police officers, medical responders, taxi drivers, the list went on - should be considered an 'enemy' or at the least, not someone to turn to for assistance.
And that information transitioned neatly into what Engineer considered the most important thing on his list of priorities - they were currently in the basement, relatively close to what Shiloh called "The Underground."
The Underground was a network of maintenance tunnels that mirrored the streets above them; decades ago, as the city had expanded, a project simply referred to as "Underground" had been established to remove the headache of having to dig up roads when it came time to replace or fix plumbing or address utility problems. Drainage pipes, sewer pipes, heavy power cables, anything within that vein had been moved beneath the city streets in a series of heavily supported tunnels. Workers could access problems without causing traffic issues above and the citizens and tourists of Vegas were spared from witnessing their precious, beautiful city being dug up and dirtied when work needed to be done.
Of course, having a tunnel network as large as the city made it very difficult to police, and it'd quickly become a sort of unspoken rule that certain influential business owners would "police" the sections nearest to their establishments - actual law enforcement looked the other way so long as bodies didn't start piling up. This lack of oversight quickly led to the tunnels being used primarily for trafficking and, as Shiloh had quietly explained, let personal aides of Vegas business owners quickly move about the town without being harassed or seen.
The entrances to the Underground were hidden around the city, and there was an entrance two blocks to the north of here within a culvert...or at the least, there had been one during Shiloh's time here, and since she hadn't actually made it to that culvert during her escape attempt she had no idea if it was still there.
Some of the oldest buildings in the city were directly connected to the Underground as well, so...providing they could somehow get out of this room, out to the streets and to that culvert, Shiloh was pretty confident they'd have no trouble losing pursuers in the tunnels and popping out somewhere near the city's outskirts.
It wasn't much, and it didn't help him with any ideas on how to get out of this cell, but it was at the very least an idea on where to go if they managed to get that far.
He was starting to doze off himself when the door to the room opened; immediately he was alert and sitting up straighter, reaching out to rest his hand on Shiloh's shoulder as he watched three men march in through the door.
"All right, ladies," the man at the front barked, the other two with him opening the cell door. "One at a time - piss break."
All three were armed - one man sported a rifle, the other two (including the one who'd spoken) all had heavy revolvers in hand, and Engineer could see they each had two more pistols apiece strapped to their hips and thigh.
The man who'd spoken must have noticed him eying the guns. "Don't even think it, baldy. You behave, you don't get hurt - you go for a gun, you get a few holes put in you."
Shiloh stirred and moved to sit up, Engineer sliding his arm behind her to assist; the speaker stayed at the door but the other two came in, one reaching down to roughly yank her up to her feet and give her a shove toward the cell door that almost sent her toppling to the floor again.
"Hey-!" Engineer snapped. "No need for that!"
The speaker snorted. "Clearly you don't know her as well as we do, then. Bitch ain't behaved since we brought her in the door."
"Gee, a captive that's not cooperating with her kidnappers, fancy that," Shiloh muttered. She began to slowly hobble toward the door, letting out short little huffs of breath through her nose each time she put weight on her left leg.
"Come on, don't make her walk on that-" Engineer began to shift forward, intending to rise up to a knee, when the man with the rifle shoved the barrel of it in his face. Engineer stared at the barrel, then up at the man, expression going neutral. "You might want to watch where you're pointing that thing, son."
"One at a time, don't move," the man growled.
"Don't worry about it, Dell," Shiloh grunted over a shoulder. She reached out to grab the bars and rested a moment, blowing out a sigh. "It's not unbearable, I can make it."
"Yeah yeah, brave little thing, let's go," the speaker snorted. He reached out and seized her by the arm, then all but dragged her along with him toward the door leading out of the room.
Rifle Man backed away and out of the cell, still glaring down at Engineer; he and his partner shut and locked the cell door but remained in the room, and Engineer carefully relaxed back into sitting against the wall.
Engineer got a good look at their faces and made a mental note to rearrange them the first chance he got.
Carmichal pulled her along toward the end of the hall that was nearest the stairs that led up to the floor above.
"Correct me if I'm wrong but the bathroom isn't over this way," Shiloh panted, hobbling along the best she could with his faster pace.
"Bathroom last, Mr. Zane wants to see you. Personally, I want to see if you piss yourself."
"Such a charmer."
"Yeah well, maybe you should have thought about how you might get treated later before you bashed my damn ribs in."
"You're still walking."
Carmichal let out a short bark of a laugh. "If you knew the cocktail of narcotics keeping me upright you'd change your tune and be glad I'm not treating you any worse than I am. Now, shut up and move, we ain't got all day here."
He punctuated his order with an elbow into her bandaged side, chuckling darkly when her legs nearly gave out from under her.
"Yeah...yeah, keep doing that," Shiloh grunted after a moment to recover. "Just keep piling it on."
Carmichal dragged her to a stop next to the last door before the stairs and raised his fist to knock. "Always have to have the last word, eh?"
"Not really, no. I just want there to be no reason - no reason, at all - for me to hesitate if I ever end up loose and staring you down with a gun in my hand."
He snorted as he pounded on the door a few times. "Don't hold your breath, lady."
After a few muffled clicks the door opened just wide enough to allow Carmichal to shove her through, then she was shuffling down the wall awkwardly to get out of the immediate reach of Zane.
Zane offered her a thin smile as he gently shut the door and locked it. "Good afternoon, my dear. I hope your behavior has been properly adjusted at this point."
"Nope, pretty sure I still hate you."
He sniffed and turned on his heel, moving to stride between work benches stacked with papers, tools, and books. Several of the benches had been pushed against the walls to allow room for a sort of makeshift examination table that was directly beneath a shop light. Shiloh wrinkled her nose as she looked at the table - it wasn't too long ago that she'd been strapped down to it while he 'doctored' her-
"Come, come, up you go," he said, patting a palm against the table.
When she didn't move immediately he sighed and gestured at her with the hand he wore the silver disc and fingercaps on; she grimaced as she was lifted from her feet and floated over toward him to be lightly dropped flat on her back on the table seconds later.
"Really, Miss MacKenna, you make life so much more difficult than it needs to be."
She simply lay still and stared up into the light above her head - whatever field he'd used to move her over here was still active, pressing down against her just enough to make her aware of its presence and discourage her from attempting to move.
"Let's have a look at the damage, shall we?"
Her arms were moved up over her head; she pressed her lips together and gave him a scathing glare as he pulled her shirt up enough to display the bandage along her side, grunting slightly as he peeled the surgical tape away and removed it.
"Mmm, it appears we've a bit of infection setting in."
Still she remained silent, flinching involuntarily as he pressed a wet, cold cloth to her side and began wiping it up and down the length of what she assumed was a large, long cut.
When that field of his lifted her up and tilted her onto her side to allow him access to her back, she found herself staring straight ahead at a wall, against which two robots stood.
Two...
Narrowing her eyes, Shiloh stared the new robot down. It looked an awful lot like the Medicbot from the dam, and as she stared at it it stared right back, its eyes flickering gently. Where had that one come from? Zane wasn't rebuilding these things was he?
She arched her back uselessly against the field's grip when a sudden pain shot through her side. "Hnngh-"
From behind her she heard a soft chuckle. "Ah, apologies..." He leaned in close, so close she could feel his breath against her neck - warm and moist, and his next words were hissed directly into her ear. "Tell me, how much agony are you willing to endure before you learn to cooperate?"
It felt like he'd seized a handful of the skin along the edge of her shoulder blade and was twisting it like he was trying to wring out a wet washcloth. Every muscle in her back and down her legs went rigid as she tried and failed to squirm away from him, vision blurring as her eyes teared up and her breath coming in short, pained gasps-
"Sir."
She let out a whimper as suddenly the twisting and pain stopped, blinking as tears rolled down her nose and the side of her face to drop to the table below. Zane seemed startled by the sudden interruption, a sound from behind her suggesting he'd dropped something metallic to the floor. "Yes, what is it?"
The Medicbot panned its head back and forth briefly, giving Shiloh the impression that it was scanning her, or something. "I am detecting a great deal of distress in your current patient. Would you care for assistance?"
"No, no, I do not require your help."
"I insist, sir. It would be no problem to-"
Zane shot the robot a look from over Shiloh's hip. "I said no. I do not require help, not for this."
The robot tilted its head. "Apologies, sir. When I detected her distress I concluded you needed my help as your efforts were not causing a decrease in relative distress levels."
Zane remained silent as he quickly re-bandaged her side, then dropped her flat to the table again, resting his hands on her stomach. "Are you questioning my skill and judgement?" he asked softly, staring over at the robot.
"No, sir. It merely seemed that my assistance would be required. It is my primary objective to alleviate suffering in man and machine alike."
Slowly he walked around the table, wiping his hands on his thighs, jaw set as he approached the robot. "You are never to speak to me again about my treatment of this woman or any patient. Do you understand that? You are not to reference it, question it, or attempt to help or hinder me in any way."
The robot was silent a moment. "...yes, sir."
"I heard hesitation, and that is not acceptable."
"Apologies, sir. It is just you have ordered me to go against my primary programming."
"Then I will reprogram you," Zane growled. "Until such a time that I do so you are not to go near or even speak about this woman, to anyone, nor are you to assist her. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Good..." Zane continued staring at the Medicbot a few minutes longer before he turned back to Shiloh, coming back to continue tending to first the gash on her arm and then turning his attention to her knee.
"You know..." she said into the silence, hating how shakey her voice was at first. She swallowed and tried again. "You know, for someone wanting my help...torture isn't the route I'd go."
"Oh I've long since abandoned any notion that pure logic and appealing to your empathy would produce the results I desired," Zane snorted. He began to roll her pantleg up higher to get at the surgical tape holding the bandage to her knee. "No, I am of the opinion now that you'll either cooperate to improve your situation, or at the very least you'll prove to be a useful bargaining chip sometime in the future."
"Even when I was calmly sitting in my room you didn't follow through on anything you tried to bribe me with."
"Oh? Do tell, what did I try bribing you with? Enlighten me."
"Alexei." She grimaced and ground her teeth together as again he tore tape free.
Zane actually appeared first surprised, then thoughtful at that. "Oh, hmm...I suppose I did. I must have forgotten about that in all the excitement." He hummed and busied himself with wiping down her ruined knee and wrapping it with fresh gauze. "He is not here, you see."
"What?"
"Your Alexei. He is not here - I am told he was sent overseas to handle a business dispute for the Madam. There's no telling when he'll return but I'm told it will not likely be any time soon." The smile he flashed her was both smug and faintly sinister, all but screaming 'there is no help coming for you' at her.
With a frown she returned her attention to the ceiling. If Alexei wasn't here then she didn't have a guaranteed friend within the club, but that atleast meant she didn't need to worry about him getting caught in the crossfire when the rest of Dell's team inevitably caught up with them.
Spy, clad in his 'idiot tourist' disguise, was locking copies of his notes and hand-drawn layout of the club's inside into the trunk of his car when, quite by accident, he noticed a familiar figure slinking along in the shadows down the sidewalk of the hotel. It seemed Mr. Carmichal was out for an evening stroll...
Shutting the trunk as silently as he could manage, Spy casually strode back toward the side entrance of the hotel, watching Carmichal from the corner of an eye; the man was trying entirely too hard to look as though he was innocently walking along the sidewalk and paused to look back as Spy pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Of course, he immediately cloaked and stepped back outside and began to silently stroll along in Carmichal's wake.
Spy had been hoping to find some way to confront Carmichal, either by finding him alone in his room or traveling without an entourage, and until this point Spy hadn't had much luck - the man was always within earshot of another person within the club, and this was actually the first time Spy had even seen the man go further than fifteen feet from the club's outer walls.
When he'd cloaked and gone scouting through the club Spy had found that the doors that gave access to the third floor and also the basement had keypads on them, and he knew without a doubt that Carmichal would have those codes. All he needed to do was isolate Carmichal, have a little...chat, and then quietly replace the man.
He took note of two weapons visible on the man - one was a heavy revolver in a holster at his hip, the other a lighter pistol strapped to his thigh - as he tailed him through several alleyways and across a few busy intersections. Spy had no idea where he was heading, but at the very least Carmichal didn't seem aware that he was being followed.
Some time later, after one very roundabout route that Spy estimated had only taken them five blocks from the hotel, Carmichal slowed and ducked into a little alcove attached to a restaurant that was closed for the evening. A single visible server was sweeping the floor and carefully not looking directly at Carmichal, even as the man approached him.
Spy paused at the entrance to the alcove and waited, watching silently as Carmichal passed a folded wad of bills to the server and received a brown plastic bottle in return - prescription pills, from the looks of the bottle. Interesting.
Without a word Carmichal turned and left, Spy smoothly stepping out of his way; it seemed Carmichal would be taking a different but just as meandering route back to the club. Spy followed along in his wake, looking for an opportune moment-
Abruptly Carmichal paused and turned around, eyes sweeping the area around him. Spy immediately froze in place, eyes narrowing as he watched the man slowly began to slide the prescription bottle into his jacket; Carmichal's other hand stayed open and at his side, nowhere near the pistol or revolver. He was suspicious, somehow, but he couldn't possi-
The hand that had only seconds ago held a pill bottle was out and clutching something the size of a small hand-held vocal recorder, one end pointed directly at Spy; Spy had a split instant to see two small flickers of blue sparks before he felt a pinprick just to the right of his tie followed immediately by a muscle-locking jolt of electricity.
He was suddenly staring at the sky, muscles twitching, when Carmichal hit him again with another surge before the device he was using to shock him prone beeped loudly.
Carmichal's face stepped into view, standing over Spy and sneering down at him.
"Thought I smelled something rotten, ha. Time to shut up and pay attention: everyone gets one free pass, buddy. One. And you just used it. I know your kind, and I know you've been sneaking around. This is first, last, and only warning - back the hell off."
Spy grit his teeth as Carmichal tore wires free then stuck the spent taser back into his jacket before pulling out the pill bottle and twisting its cap off; he dug fingers into its contents then bent to drop two white, unmarked pills onto Spy's chest.
"By the way, this is naproxen - stronger than what you can get over the counter. I ain't got the time to see a doc so my name isn't on the bottle. Have a few on me, you're going to need 'em when you can walk again. Have a good one, Frenchie."
With that Carmichal took off at a jog, leaving Spy to lay crumpled in the alleyway, fuming and also now convinced of two new bits of information:
First, Carmichal got experience handling Spies from somewhere - it was highly likely Spybots would be a problem in the near future.
Secondly, Carmichal somehow knew Spy specifically.
After a bit of time Spy sat up and tossed the pills aside, rubbing his chest where the taser probes had struck him. So much for a simple plan...