Stephen came up next to Quebec, reaching out to touch her arm, and she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were exhausted and haunted, full of ghosts, but a tiny smile still came to her lips. "You're gonna be okay," he said quietly.
"Perhaps. You are armed? Will be dangerous," she said softly.
"Yeah, of course." He had all his best guns with him, including Vera, slung over his shoulder, and his favourite hunting knife just in case. "I kinda wanted to bring a grenade or two, but Becker said no."
She smiled back. "Captain likes to assert his authority before the job begins. He shows his crest and waves his tail to show that he is dominant."
Standing a metre or so away but still within earshot, the captain protested, "I do not wave my tail." Becker sounded indignant. "Never in my life have I waved my tail."
"You did at Sandhurst," she replied, and felt embarrassment flood the captain in whorls of pink and orange. "Did not know the captain had a tattoo there," she added for good measure. The chagrin darkened into deeper shades of rose and sienna.
"What happened at Sandhurst?" asked Stephen, restraining a smile.
"Nothing," Becker replied brusquely, though his ears were turning pink. He cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring the snickers.
He felt a tap on his arm and looked back at Quebec. She opened up her jacket, reached in one of the inside pockets, took out three small hand grenades, and passed them to Stephen; fighting a smile, he took them from her. "You will be alright, Q. Promise."
A few feet away, Cutter stared at the locked anomaly, its soft ivory-gold light casting fractured, splintered reflections on the walls and floors around it. The racetrack had been closed down for the time being, with Jenny having thrown some long-winded very-official-sounding government paperwork their way, so they had unlimited access to it, and it would stay that way until the anomaly closed. It hadn't shown any signs of deteriorating; it was starting to look like it'd be a permanent fixture. It was had trying to imagine that the answer to everything they needed could lay just on the other side. It looked so…calm. Peaceful, even.
Behind him, the hybrids were getting kitted up for the journey and the soldiers were skulking over the fact they weren't going. The felids forewent the heavy body armour, knowing it'd only constrict their movement, and carried only one or two small pistols and perhaps a knife. All twenty-two felid hybrids had chosen to come with, with the exception of Merinus, who was still hospitalized, getting her lower jaw put back together and a new set of teeth put in after Connor shattered her own. He didn't know if they were doing this for themselves or the Dozen or just to take down Helen, but he was damn grateful that they were coming. He didn't know how many canid hybrids that Helen had made, but he knew that either way, they were going to be a problem. A very, very big problem.
He felt a soft touch on his arm and looked around to see Jenny standing beside him, a soft expression on her face. Her hand slid down to grasp his own, fingers interlaced. "We're really doing this, aren't we?" she asked quietly, looking at the anomaly.
"Yeah." He glanced down at her. "Scared?"
"Not really," she replied, then leaned her head against his shoulder; he rested his chin atop her hair. "I love you, Nick Cutter. No matter how this turns out."
"I love you, too." Cutter pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, then turned to look at the others behind him. Everyone was kitted up. Becker stood beside Danny and Sarah; the captain was holding his favourite shotgun in hand. Abby had one arm around Connor, who held to her side as if she as the only thing tying him to the surface of the earth…or perhaps the only thing keeping him sane. The rest of the Dozen were there, faces vacant, eyes unseeing, simply standing there. Stephen stood with the Dozen, speaking quietly to them. They were ready as they were ever going to be. Turning, he looked at the technician that waited by the anomaly locking device. "Once we leave, you lock the anomaly. After that, you wait two hours before you open it again. Fifteen minutes, and then you lock it for another two hours. Got it?" he ordered, and the tech nodded obediently, more than slightly frightened of the Scotsman. "Right, then. Open it."
The anomaly sprang open, and they stepped through into the future.
The abrupt glare of sunlight briefly dazzled them all, blinking rapidly in the bright light. Everything around them looked like it was about a hair away from falling into a pile of rubble on the floor. Grass had sprouted out from cracks in the pavement, growing through the sidewalks and the bottoms of rust-gnawed, decrepit cars. He couldn't see a single window still intact, and all the buildings showed signs of many long years of being exposed to the elements. He recognised that it was still London, but it was definitely future London.
"Where's the Complex?" asked Stephen quietly, standing at his side.
Looking around at the city, searching for a street sign, any kind of landmark, Cutter recognised where they stood. He didn't know what the Complex itself looked like, but he knew from reading some of the files stolen from the Triassic where it was; they were only a few blocks away from it. "This way. C'mon." Turning over his shoulder, he addressed the hybrids. "Keep an eye out." He didn't know if there were Predators or canids, but they had to be on guard.
The others following after him, he started down the cracked, grass-spotted sidewalks, skirting around the ancient rusted cars. The shop windows were nearly all shattered out, the doors smashed off their hinges; the cars were abandoned in the middle of the street, as if the owners had just decided to park there and leave them. He wondered how many years it'd been since a human being last walked these streets. As they went, a sudden, short cry split the air, and he whirled.
Connor had staggered, falling to his knees, clutching at his head with both hands. His face was a mask of pain, gasping raggedly. "I hear them. All of them. I can hear them all, and they're saying nothing! They're just…they say nothing, only scream silence," he gasped out, eyes tight closed; behind him, the rest of the Dozen were in similar states, whimpering, hands over their ears.
Abby leant down to eye-level, holding his face between her hands. "Connor, please. You have to get up. We're going to make the screaming stop, baby, we'll make it stop, but you've got to get up. C'mon. Please, get up," she whispered urgently, clutching his arms.
"Get him up," urged Danny quietly, looking around at the surrounding buildings, keeping an eye out for Predators. "We can't stay out in the open like this."
"The Complex isn't far, Connor. We'll make the voices stop," Cutter urged.
The young man staggered to his feet, clinging to Abby desperately, and they started moving again, making their way through the ruins of the city.
As they went 'round the next corner, Cutter felt his breath catch slightly in his throat. In front of them was a huge building that took up half a city block; its concrete walls had stood the test of time, only slightly weathered. The windows, made of half-inch thick bulletproof glass reinforced with embedded chicken wire, had only cracked in a few places, none of them properly shattered. The battered, worn sign in front of the building said in large, bold letters Complex of Nucleic Exchange Research Development. "There it is," he said hoarsely.
The familiar, dreaded clicking noise split through the air, and his head snapped back. A Future Predator was crouched on the rooftop above them, clicking and burbling as its sightless face peered down at them, slaver oozing from its mouth. "Run!" Cutter shouted, gripping Jenny's wrist and taking off towards the Complex. The Predator shrieked and lunged towards them; one of the hybrids, he didn't see which, drew a knife and flung it towards the creature, embedding in one sightless eye socket up to the hilt. The creature staggered and shrieked, overshooting and slamming hard into a rusted car, trying to claw the knife out of its eye.
As more Predators began coming out of the buildings, they sprinted towards the Complex, for the safety of its heavy walls and reinforced windows. Cutter shoved open the heavy door, the rusted hinges squealing in protest. "Inside, now!" he shouted. Jenny sprinted in, closely followed by the rest of the Dozen. Sarah and Abby were close behind. The hybrids were in next, still firing at the Predators, then Becker and Stephen. Two other hybrids came forward, helping Cutter shove the heavy doors closed once more; they felt the impact as a Predator slammed against to the doors, heard it scrabbling at the steel. Schulyer shoved the bolt home, locking the door closed, and they hastily backed away from it. The doors rattled for a moment longer before the terrible clicking and burbling sound of the Predators faded away. "Everyone alright?" Cutter asked quietly and got a murmured round of agreement. "Good. Well…at least we're inside."
"Connor," Abby gasped out softly, her voice laden with alarm, and he turned around. The young man had slumped to the ground, trembling and twitching, eyes rolling behind his closed lids. He whimpered, curling up on his side in the foetal position, head cradled in his hands. The rest of the Dozen had sunk to their knees as well, making similar noises of agony. "Connor, love," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him as he slumped into her. Fearful, she looked up at Cutter.
"Fuck," he swore under his breath. "They're falling apart."
Zane stepped forward, leant down, and picked up Foxtrot in both arms, hefting her as if she was little more than a girl-sized pillow. "We've got them, boss. Get us to the labs," he reassured, and other hybrids came forward, gathering up the Dozen.
"Over here," Cutter ordered, darting down the hall. He went to one of the interface screens, using his sleeve to wipe the thick layer of dust off its surface. Praying silently, he sent up a mental prayer as the screen flickered to life. Most of the future technology here was beyond him, but he'd gleaned enough from his year in the Triassic compound to know what he was looking for. "The labs we need for the Dozen are in the sublevels. We'll have to go down the elevator shafts. Pray to God they still work," he said.
Striding down the hall, Cutter approached the elevator and jammed the button. He could hardly believe his luck, but the doors hissed open.
"How the hell is all this stuff still working?" Stephen wondered as they stepped into the elevator. It was larger than normal, and all of them could stand in it comfortably with room for more. The doors hissed shut and they felt the familiar lurch in their stomachs as the elevator moved downwards, plummeting to the sublevels.
"It probably runs on solar power instead of petrol, or something else like it," Cutter replied. "The compound in the Triassic was the same way. Future technology. Nothing like it."
When the doors whispered open again, the sight that greeted them was unlike the one upstairs. The upstairs level had been dim and somewhat grimy, layered with a thick film of dust, with bits of plant debris and broken bits of something or another. But down here, everything was still blindingly clean, polished and white, the lights still on and bright. Except for the fact that it was entirely deserted, there was no sign that this part of the Complex had ever been uninhabited; the scientists that once worked there might as well have just stepped out for lunch.
"That's not creepy at all," muttered Becker under his breath.
"Down here. The labs are down here," Cutter continued, leading them down the eerily clean hallways, every step and word they spoke echoing in the utter stillness of the air. He figured that the Complex must've been built to run on its own, even without the people there. The air still felt clean, not stale at all, and the lights came on normally. What frightened him most, though, was the utter lack of scent in the air. No familiar people smell, no scent of latex or chemical or floor cleaner. After so long, the scents had probably all faded away, leaving behind a rather disturbing sensory void. From the uncomfortable looks on the other hybrids' faces, they smelt it as well.
Cutter turned around, then said, "Oi, in here. Right here, this lab," he said, pointing to the door of a lab. Walking up to it, he swore as he spotted the keypad access. They couldn't get inside without a passcode and an access card. "You've got to be bloody kidding me." With a snarling roar, he smashed his fist down on the keypad; it shattered beneath his hand, cutting his knuckles raw and sending a mild shock of electricity up his arm, but then, to his surprise, the doors of the lab slid open with a hiss of pressurised air. "Oh. How 'bout that?" he murmured in surprise.
"Nice work, boss," Schulyer chortled half-heartedly.
As they walked into the lab, Cutter said, "Set them on the tables, there." He gestured to the row of tables on the far side of the lab. A part of him idly noticed that there were twelve tables exactly. They gently laid the prone forms of the Dozen on the tables; the black-clad people only twitched and whimpered, not opening their eyes. It almost looked like they were caught in the midst of a fitful nightmare as they slept. "Right…you lot, spread out, start looking through the other labs, see if you can't find anything about the impulse regulators, yeah? We'll handle this," he said, and the hybrids hastened out of the lab, spreading out down the hallways.
As Cutter turned back to the control panels, the interactive screens flickering to life, Jenny came up beside his side. "Do you know how to handle this?" she asked softly.
"That…is an excellent question," he answered just as softly, scrolling through the different files, trying to find something. "Manticore," he said, pulling up the one file that he knew had to do with the Dozen. Project Manticore had been the title of the programme that'd produced the Dozen in the first place. As he opened the file and started flicking through the programmes—he couldn't understand most of it, as the terms were so technical and complex that some of it, the only words he recognised were a, and, an, the, and of. But the one thing he did recognise was another small file with the heading Overlord Protocol. "Gotcha," he murmured softly, pulling up the file.
Suddenly, Connor let out a shriek of pain, writhing on the table, hands fisted in his hair. Around, the others were also moaning and squirming in agony.
God help me, Cutter prayed silently, then typed a code into the interface and activated the uplink.
The Dozen instantly went silent, falling still on the tables, unmoving. If not for the faintest movement of their chests as they breathed, they might've been dead.
Abby touched Connor's dark hair, brushing it back out of his face, then looked up at Cutter. "What'd you do?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned. It tore at something in her heart to see Connor in such pain, and she had been able to feel a ghost-echo of that agony inside her own mind through their connection, distantly feel the sensation of mentally falling apart.
"I shut down Overlord Protocol. I hope," he added almost under his breath. "I'm not sure if it works or not, but at least now they're not going to…" He made a gesture to his head. Letting out a heavy breath of relief, he took a step forward and placed a hand on Abby's shoulder. "Stay here with him. Talk to him. See if you can't bring him back around," he said gently; if anyone could bring Connor Temple out of this strange pseudo-coma it would be Abby Maitland.
The blond nodded, climbing up onto the table and lifting Connor's head and shoulders into her lap, lightly stroking his hair.
Cutter straightened back up, turning to look at his team. "Stephen, you'll stay here with Abby?" he asked, and the tracker nodded. "Good. Becker, you go with Quinn, help the hybrids start looking around these labs. There could be something worthwhile here. Sarah, you come with me. Jenny—"
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
A small grin pulled at his lips. "Yes, ma'am."
As they started to split off, Stephen reached out to grasp his arm. "Nick…what about Helen?" he asked.
The same question had been nudging at his attention for a while now. Cutter didn't know if she thought they wouldn't be brave enough to venture into the future to reach the Complex, or if she was plotting something much worse on the sidelines, but the thought was still burning in him. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "But everyone keep an eye out. Don't stray far from each other. Might want to keep the safety off," he added with a glance towards the rifle in Stephen's hands.
As they split up and headed down the halls, Cutter suddenly turned and hugged Jenny tightly to his chest, almost lifting her off the floor. She didn't say anything, just hugged him back; it wasn't until Sarah cleared her throat awkwardly that he let her back down to the floor. "Sorry," he murmured.
Sarah smirked. "Stay focused, would you?"
The silent screams had grown so loud, so very loud they were utterly deafening, eliminating all other noises; not even the singing of his sweet Abby-bird could break through it. The silence was there, so huge and enormous, enveloping everything. It screamed and cried and wailed, the noise echoing off of the walls of his mind and causing more cracks to form and more pieces to fall. Scarlet-black-ash-cerulean colours swamped through his mind, jagged pieces rose in his throat and cut him so badly that when he opened his mouth, all that came out was screaming, an echo of the silent noise that reverberated in his own skull.
I hear them, I hear them all. I hear them, and they say nothing. They only lay down. They just lay down. I hear them and they say nothing! Nothing! Make it stop, make it stop, I don't want to hear them anymore! Please, someone, everyone, anyone, just make them stop, please, please, please, I can't take any more! He wanted to scream it, but the broken pieces only fell out of his mouth as screaming and screaming and screaming.
Overlord was devouring him whole, his pieces being ripped apart, the fabric of what made him himself being unravelled and shredded to ribbons. He was dying whilst alive, trapped, trapped inside the hell of his own crumbling mind. He wanted to speak, to beg them to kill him, to simply let him die, but all that came out was the blood and broken bits.
But then it was gone. A flood of icy cool washed through his mind, a wave of white that washed out the colours and swallowed up Overlord, spitting out all his scattered little bits and pieces to rebuild, the cracks and fissures sealing, the fabric weaving itself back together, and the silent screaming going quiet. Connor-Echo lay there, unmoving, just breathing, letting his heart beat, waiting for the shattering presence of Overlord to return. Except that it didn't. There was nothing. No more screaming. Just soft whisperings of his own thoughts and the humming of the silver cord and the sweet song of Abby-bird in his mind and the faint presence of Stephen-tortoise just a few feet away from him. Overlord was gone. It was finished.
But he was still broken. All his pieces were scattered everywhere. But they were not as far-flung this time. They remembered how to be put together. The shining core drew them in, fitting them back as they were supposed to be. Connor drew them all in, reassembling himself, putting himself back together. The Manticore had been reset. Overlord Protocol was no longer. He was free. He had at last severed the last threads of the spider's silk that tied him up inside. Clinging to his Abby-bird, he rebuilt himself once more as he knew the others were.
They would be whole.
They would sever the spider's web once and for all.
They would be free.