Author's preamble: Chapter would've finished earlier, but I've been down with a really bad throat…sorry folks. Anyway….
In case one hasn't noticed, the chapter Evil and Trauma were not arranged in a chronological order, in lieu to this chapter. Pardon me if it seems confusing, I, for one, am considerably new to this writing business and am experimenting different approaches to narration. Any thoughts and suggestions would be a great help.
In any case, thank you and please bear with me…it'll smooth out in the following chapters.
Hellucinogenius: Thank you for the review; I do understand how much of hassle Uni can be. Haha, bummed me down for an entire semester. I'm looking forward to your Assassin fiction, there are far too little being done in this niche…but at the same time, making it an absolutely fun one to do too. As for a real Vindicare Assassin, I've already have thoughts for their encounter, and although I would not go as far (yet) to say it's awesome, it definitely won't disappoint either.
Imperial Soldier: Fact noted, thank you, although I don't think I would change anything at the moment. Hope this error is tolerable, just for the sake of keeping things as it is.
Thank you to all my readers and reviewers, your support is a great motivation. Stick around, continue reading and enjoy!
XI – Crumble
120…
121…
122…
123…
The vault door creaked and opened slowly… signaling Koch to get back on his feet immediately and dashed towards the exit.
As he stepped out from his cage, he immediately identified an aid kit rested on a trolley on the exit, and searched for the supplies he needed, tearing off cottons and disinfectants, dabbed it together and frantically cleaned most of his exposed skin.
130 seconds.
He breathed again, closing his eyes temporarily and savored the heaviness of every particle drew into his lungs.
"Lieutenant Dessler," a squad of handlers donned in Hazmat suits approached the victor, armed a gamut of equipment. Koch, opened his eyes found himself staring directly to the one holding a flamethrower, where he begun to speak in a somber tone, "Please proceed to the apothecary for your mandatory vital scans." He pointed towards away from the cage, towards a massive, chaotically designed, three-stage central platform towering the derelict, back section of the torture halls. Large and in a state of chaos, Koch soon realized he was just a grain amidst the quivering pandemonium, suspended high up in the air on one the many retractable, rusty and creaking catwalks.
Grotesque engines and mechanical arms whirred below…with every mechanical arm, pipes and smaller cages designed and positioned to resemble an assembly line… unholy and filthily automated in its purpose to transfer Daemons to the combat cages with little need for human contact. The torture chamber's eeriness further intensified with daemonic screams and gurgles – increasingly visceral as it continually assaulting the darker depths of this twisted, mysterious chamber.
The somber handler pointed beyond the central platform, "Head along the catwalk, pass the platform and to the elevator. It would take you to the top of the temple where you would be given further instructions," saying that, the handler motioned others and wordlessly picked up their equipments, making their way directly to the cage and began their work to cleanse Koch's fighting chamber.
Koch turned and studied the handlers, they worked as quickly and efficiently as they could as if unseen masters were watching over them.
He noticed a similar pattern as he worked his way towards the platform, the temple's personnel rushed in a strangely disorganized manner, running one to another to string obscure objectives.
One would think 5 centuries was ample to achieve some form of efficiency.
He glanced over to his left, where another group of handlers gathered by Calsus' cage… behaving in an unusual manner, much more casual from the other personnel as they squealed and yelled in excitement. Immediately, Koch assumed they were higher ranked to be allowed such freedom.
It spelled opportunity.
Koch's attention switched towards the central platform, which he presumed it to be central command station for the torture chamber. It was a structure of three levels, where the entrance level served as a junction that connects to the elevator, also to the first level below, and to the third level above. The entire platform was entirely enclosed by dirty, unwashed panels - opaque, yet clear enough to notice the third level was vacant.
The hierarchical representation of that position and placement had Koch assumed it was an office of some authority, immediately making the connection that the personnel that were supposedly manning the third level was gathering in front of Calsus' cage instead.
Koch was ever more curious, getting to the third level became his immediate objective.
The endless horrifying screeching and sickly screams continued to unnerve the painfully silent and solemn crowd.
Koch completed his round; Calsus was being haunted by the daemons of his past; and Kira was standing ahead of the remaining survivors…or candidates, as she would like to call, where she waited vigilantly and fearless before the massive block of cages.
Like any Jantine Patricians, the massive amount of first class trainings inducted has equipped her well to stave off primal fears – mentally conditioned to resist psychological terror emanating from an unknown foe, even if she knew it was one that is sick and twisted beyond her imaginations.
Let's get this over with, she thought. She was not going to wait to picked, she was going to face the fire voluntarily.
"You seem prepared," a male's voice crept up to her, breaking her line-of-thought as she turned around to meet a rather collected individual, "…does it still hurt?" He referred candidly to the prod punishment earlier in the bunker.
She studied him briefly, and saw some spots along his neckline. Wordlessly, she turned away and ignored him.
"I'm Wesley Heller," the stout individual spoke up again to the those around Kira, trying to break the ice. "First Sergeant of the 56th squad, Kiljaren Company, 307th Cadian Regiment."
"Vissa Kirkley," Kira's bunk partner offered, visibly shaken, "Scout Sniper of the 10th Red Element, 115th Cadian Regiment."
"Juydith B. Grusst," the last female replied stoically, "Master Sergeant of Support Infantry Polos, Vostroyan Regiment."
Heller nodded after an awkward pause, as several seemed too preoccupied or sickly to be joining the conversation.
"Tsk…" another voice exclaimed with disdain, Heller looked around and spotted a brown skinned man, his arms crossing over his chest, "How naïve, already so keen in making friends with your enemies?" he smirked conceitedly.
Heller was unperturbed, almost familiar to such cynicism "…and you are?"
"Sorry, I don't give names to dead people," he smiled mockingly, "but do try to remember that I'm a highly decorated Tallarnese Sniper, 67 kills in six months… and counting,"
"By killing civilians?" Juydith jeered coolly at the Tallarnese, unimpressed, "79 kills in a campaign to eradicate Genestealer cult insurgents." She offered.
"Tsk... same difference with your fanciful Vostroyan's weaponries," he replied, "I bet you can't even hit a stationary target without their aid.
…less to survive a close-up encounter, like this one."
Juydith ignored the Tallarnese with a condescending smile, hardly returning him a single gaze.
"What's the matter Vostroyan?" he added, "Heard too many truths in one day?"
Juydith twitched, breaking her stoic stance slightly.
"Ignore him," Vissa spat shakily, "We've more important things to worry about."
"Tsk…" the Tallarnese exclaimed, and the entire crowd fell into a short pause of stiffening silence.
"I wonder…" Heller broke silence again, thinking loudly, "…what's happening in there," Gesturing the second cage where the muffled blast took place.
Koch, Kira spat with disgust, the bitter aftertaste still rang in her lips, reminding her of Koch's cheap Machiavellian tactics.
"Tsk…do you not use your bloody head before you open that mouth of yours?" the Tallarnese picked his voice towards Heller, "Look AROUND, we're going to fight heretics, and one of our poor bastards in there are probably had their nuts blown off, pretty much like how yours are gonna be soon!"
"Hey!" Juydith barked at the Tallarnese, "What's your bleedin' problem?"
He strode up close to Juydith, nostrils flared with eyes staring unwavering into hers, "You wanna know what the BLEEDIN' problem is?" he snorted as his eyes began to stir with hostility, "I'll tell you what the FUCKING problem is! 4 days ago… I was in a whorehouse sipping cheap wine, eating moldy bread and fucking some wrinkled pussy in the middle of a God forsaken sand dune, in the company of stupid kids that can't even hold their dicks right. 12 hours later, the good-ol-commander sent me a letter that practically said – 'CONGRA-FUCK-U-LATIONS, you have been officially promoted by the High Lords of Terra and is transferring of this shit hole for your INCREDIBLE efforts, Emperor be with you,' and the next thing I know, I was packing my bags thinking that I was going to finally fuck some real women, drink some real wine and eat some quality bread.
But you know what? 24 hours later, here I am in gorgeous temple in this isolated system, stuck in this humid weather and had motorized razors running through my scalp and all my belongings stripped and confiscated. To top it off, I peed and shitted all over myself while watching fuck-heads I don't know get electrocuted. This morning, I miraculously woke up and finally realize that I'm actually going to make it, that I'm finally going to have some bread to eat. But no… the good Commissar was kind enough to give us an advanced wake up call after sticking us into a room where the sun don't even shine. Now I've got the itch, the hunger, the disease and a nice spot here in the middle of a torture chamber listening to some stupid idiot who has the nerve to ask …GEE…WHATS GOING ON?
Tsk…and you know what? That's not even the real problem, minutes ago…I was standing here, looking at your fine asses when I started to realize, 'Hey, there are women here that I can actually fuck, but not without having thoughts of killing them first!'
But hey, that's cool…in this end, if I actually make it out being a Vindicare Assassin, they might actually throw me a big party, with real wine included? One out of three, it's definitely better than nothing, definitely better than the synthetic-bullshit wine coming from a blistering hot desert I call home!" The Tallarnese offered a large sarcastic smile, while Juydith met his eyes at a loss for words…slightly enraged by his ramble, knowing it contains truth.
Everyone else was obviously affected by his flurry of disparagement, falling silent with discomfort.
"And you!" the Tallarnese pointed towards Kira, "You and that pretty boy, you knew right from the start that the barracks was infected didn't you?" Everybody turned to study Kira.
"I think that's quite enough," Vissa stepped up, "Keep your acerbic comments to yourself."
"Oh ho…an allegiance to an arrogant, selfish, cock-sucking bitch who leaves her bunkmate to the rats, how touching," the Tallarnese words stung Vissa, but nevertheless she stood steadfast. The Tallarnese scowled, returning his fury to Kira.
"Answer me, bitch!" the Tallarnese rose his voice; "You knew from the start, didn't you?"
Kira ignored him completely.
His eyes began to ebb with anger, "Hey! I'm talking to you!" striding forward to give her a little push from the back.
Before he could touch her however, she reactively reached for his wrist and twisted it; her left hand reached across his neck and pushed him back, simultaneously reaching her foot out to trip his balance.
However, the Tallarnese was tougher that she thought – he should be, considering how he had made it this far. He grounded himself firmly and produced a conceited smirk, snapping his captured hand back before she could trip him with her leg. He countered attack, brutally aiming for her neck as he propelled his free arm.
The highly trained Patrician in turn, unleashed her martial trainings by skillfully nullifying his attack, pushing it away with her left arm and held it down, followed by shifting her shoulder forward, placing all the force and launched a jab straight to his throat, fully intending to kill him.
But the Tallarnese senses were equally acute, his free hand intercepted her jab and gripped it like an iron lock…in an instant, both tighten their grip in a deadlock…unwilling to let each other go.
The crowd barely responded and kept their silence. Knowing there would trouble when a heavy set of boots clacked noisily towards their direction.
Koch, in truth, was beginning to feel paranoid, there was too much he did not know about the Vindicare Temple. What are the common skill-sets required of a Vindicare Assassin? What are the success rates of every recruitment drive? How many Vindicare Assassins are there?
He had a lot of questions, and he needed answers to conjure more solid strategies. And he needed to search the answers on his own accord, he would not rely on anyone else.
Koch made his way across the catwalk into an intersection, where the catwalks connecting to the fighting chambers met, and took a right, walked a little further and turned left at the junction, standing directly under rusty archway leading into the massive platform. The entrance itself was not protected by doors and vaults, and it seemed to be the case for most of the areas there.
The brightly-lit, moderately gapped corridor buzzed with personnel, with armed guards standing, busy engaging in petty squabbles whilst occasionally giving discriminating glances to Koch at the corner of their eyes.
He dismissed the guards entirely and walked casually along the corridor, keeping an eye out on illegible marks and plaques on access doors and hatches - most of them had restriction levels but was deemed insignificant. He trod he little further until he noticed the plaque in front of an archway that scribed directions to both the upper and lower levels.
That was the route to his objective, and slowed his paced, calculating as several personnel walking towards him from both directions.
The first pair of personnel went by him, and the second pair disappeared from his line of sight as he reached right before the archway, taking a sharp right into the stairwell area and leaned against the nearby wall.
He waited for about 3 seconds, making sure that nobody had noticed him infiltrating the restriction zones.
Then he heard someone shouting and cursing from above.
He crouched low and took a few steps downstairs as quietly as possible when a handler emerged, visible through the gaps on the metal steps. Together with his loud footsteps, the handler seemed to be muttering to himself in anger and frustration in form of alien dialect.
The handler entered the second flight of stairs, and promptly making his way down and exited to the main corridor.
Koch took a deep breath and stepped up, climbing the stairs carefully and making sure no one else was around. He continued threading upwards, carefully as silent as possible.
"Hey, knock it off!" Heller whispered loudly, "The Commissar is coming!"
The Commissar stormed through the crowd with prod in hand, scowling as usual as she reached before Kira and the Tallarnese.
"Break it off," she ordered, sending a sharp shrill to everyone's spine.
Kira and the Tallarnese looked each other in the eyes before softening their grip and gradually letting each other go.
The Commissar, without a word, marched up to the Tallarnese and delivered a sudden, powerful punch to his teeth, knocking off a single tooth.
The Tallarnese did not expect it, stumbling backwards before the Commissar grabbed his suit by the collar, pulling him back and punched him again in the face repeatedly while he pathetically tried blocking her punishments.
The Tallarnese's vision faded to a blur, tasting the metallic tang of gushing blood on his tongue, barely reacting as he nearly fell out of consciousness.
After feeling his senses were slipping away, the Commissar pulled out her dreaded laspistol, and pressed it to his head…
Everyone took a step back.
"You seem to think all this as some kind joke, Lance Corporal Assir Mulazim." The Commissar's words howled with grim bitterness as her finger ever so ready to pass judgment. "Have you anymore complaints? I have no qualms in getting rid of garbage that defiles the temple with their stupidity."
Assir coughed blood, gasping as he tried speaking… "N…No…Major-Commissar Jh'nerolaz," he swallowed some blood, "N…no…complaints."
Her eyes met with Assir's, letting him off with a push before turning to everyone else, "Anymore grievances?" she asked, receiving nothing but stiff bodies and stoic glances.
"Good," she turned around towards Kira, holstering her pistol, "Sergeant Heller! Sergeant Symmachus!" she barked, "You're next, get yourselves to the designated cages."
The third level was empty as expected, and the windows provided a fairly good vantage point for the entire torture chamber. Outfitted with a multitude of consoles and screens, Koch moved directly to the flickering screens, with a set of controllers and buttons fitted to the side of the respective monitors. All the screens were displaying the raging, gladiatorial fights in the respective cages, all save for the second screen that produced nothing but static.
He knew the screen was linked to his fighting chamber, as the explosion would be a probably cause for the camera's destruction.
He looked through other screens and noticed a crowd of handlers were fondling a Daemon in chamber I (Calsus' chamber) and guessed the crowd was supposed to be manning the third level. The fifth cage was showing an immense buildup of energy, automatically firing laser beams from some point in the cage to shred and kill a large moving fiend. A human body lay not far away, and Koch guessed the daemon had to be annihilated due to complications of retrieving it later.
Koch looked towards the controllers, attributing it as the devices responsible for activating the lasers. Killing them all would be just as easy, but that was not his objective.
The remaining two combatants in other cages were still struggling to defeat their enemies.
Koch broke away from the screens and searched around, stumbling through a compilation of digitized reports and logs dated back to temple's existence. But there was nothing useful he could find - match lists, casualty lists, torture subjects' details, maintenance schedules and personnel's details… it would probably have meant something if he were to analyze it thoroughly, but with so little time to spare, the bulk of information was just numbers and figures.
Koch sighed; he hated fruitless endeavors.
He went over to the windows and looked towards the cages – the crew that was cleaning his cage was done, moving away towards the central command platform. Shifting his gaze his right, he noticed the self-muttering handler he encountered at the stairwell, where he began to yell at the crowd of handlers gathering at Calsus' cage. He looked to the screens again and saw the handlers in Calsus' chamber were slowly backing away, leaving their plaything reluctantly.
Suddenly, orange L.E.Ds flashed on the second and fifth screen, turning Koch's attention directly to the working screen. Through the low-resolution, monotonic display, the vault entrance of the fifth fighting cage opened automatically and one combatant stepped through it with unwavering confidence. The face was in a blur, but he could tell it was Kira. He reached his head over the console and witnessed the back-section of temple chugged into life. Catwalks connecting to the cages, 2 and 5, were lifted away, replaced with mechanical arms and devices that latches onto the fighting chambers' back vault doors.
The L.E.Ds soon flashed red, when smaller cages surfaced from the depths of the torture halls, aligning to be fitted into the mechanical arms, roughly attaching itself to the vault door.
The catwalks were replaced with slightly shorter ones, as they descended slowly from above, bridging the cages to the central platform. Personnel and handlers hurried, armed with long plasma javelins to the smaller cages, sticking their cruel devices into the cages' holes to nudge the Daemons out of their confinements and into the battle arenas.
Koch watched with interest, but was still unsatisfied that this infiltration have been all for naught.
He stopped and considered…
…he could at least kill one of the combatants with the cage's built-in weapons, saving him the competition later.
The disabled visuals in cage 2 would not give away the cause of the combatant's death immediately, with nobody present to witness of my doings; I might actually get away with it. Koch tried to weigh out the possibility of getting caught murdering another combatant by activating the security weapons. But everything seemed to be recorded and logged, and they could easily pull out the time frames - with a simple time-reference, the trail could easily lead back to me. Koch looked back to the consoles.
But again, with such dilapidated state of equipment, it would reasonable notion if one attributes it to the system's faultiness.
Koch considered again and shrugged, finally concluded that it was a bad idea.
Time to go, Koch realized he had lingered for far too long
As he turned around, however, he saw a slouching, hunch-backed handler standing by the entrance; a hand was tucked into his pants into the crotch. He was still, unmoving and have not quite yet registered Koch's presence, baring its bad teeth with drool running by the side, "You…" the handler took a second to finally realize Koch as a threat and began to back up, fear seeped into his eyeballs. His mouth twitched, wanting to call for assistance.
"Calm down," Koch spoke as his hand prepared to reach for his weapon tucked to the back, "I'm just a little lost."
"Thi…this…this place is off-limits," he hissed, attempting authority while slightly fearful, spitting every word out of his deformed lips, "A..all breaches, m..mu…must be reported," he stammered, removing the hand out of his pants.
"Relax friend," Koch said calmly in an almost innocent tone, not wanting resolve to intimidation, "I mean no harm, I was told to get to the upper levels and here I am."
The handler looked at him strangely and shook his head, "Pro…pro…protocols must be followed," he swallowed, reaching for the nearby communication link.
Koch trailed his movement closely, and his mood began to dour, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," his tone edged dangerously. He still did not want to pull out his gun…if anybody else spotted him pointing it on a personnel, it would be the end of him.
The handler snapped back his hands slightly; sweat ran down its dry, wrinkly skin. He was unsure what Koch meant, "I'm sorry," he replied meekly, "Protocols are protocols…" he reached for the com-link again...shaking...
(To be continued...)