Chapter 31: Tunnel Rats
"Herman! Come on!" Heidi yelled, grabbing him by the hand and leading him through the burning doorway. Beckendorf raced by his side, sweating furiously.
Outside, the squads were rapidly advancing. Flames as tall as six-story hotels pressed in on them from all sides, creating heat so intense that even the foundation stones of buildings shattered. The walls of the factories closest to the refinery began to warp and blacken, as liquified chunks of ceiling came pouring down the sides.
The squads weren't the only ones trying to escape. Quite a few civilians had spilled out of their bolt-holes, unwilling to get baked like cakes in an oven. Herman stumbled into a woman carrying her squalling child, who began to cry more ferociously. Helping her up, he darted after the squads, his friends in tow.
Even the Grimm raced away from this all-consuming inferno. Yapping and squealing, a burning Beowolf collapsed onto a car before dissipating, while a pack of boarbatusks raced along the sidewalk, snorting and squealing. When Herman turned around to carve a few up, he swore he noticed multiple insidious-looking Grimm masks amidst the smoke and confusion. Beckendorf then grabbed Herman before he could get a better look, and the two raced after Heidi, who had taken a sharp right down Portland Street. Two soldiers stood near a subway entrance, frantically signaling them to follow. Behind them, a massive pack of Grimm amidst screaming civilians were rushing away from the flame.
They descended the escalator quickly and rushed forward into the dark entryway of the subway system, whereupon the steel shutters descended with a clang, sealing off the entry.
"Sixteen inches of steel-smart. The fire won't be eating through that anytime soon." One of the Atlesian soldiers said, smirking.
"Mate, it's a bloody Dust inferno. Cement melted, and the foundation stones of buildings blew up from the heat. You think a little bit of metal's going to stop it?" Beckendorf rebutted, wiping the soldier's smirk clean off.
"You five! Move up!" Rodriguez ordered. They proceeded to the Metro station, where half the lights were out and a bunch of ragged refugees were clustered about a table. Most prominent amongst them was a small wizened man with a wispy white beard and curled horns poking through the holes in his blue station master's hat. Lauton stood with him, engaged in conversation.
"Urk! Urk! Something lurks within these tunnels. It plagues our dreams, and takes one of us daily as tribute." Herman could hear him say. His voice was high and reedy, and made him want to punch the station master.
Multiple others joined the conversation, each offering their opinion as to what 'it' was-none very helpful.
"A cloud of shadows! Your worst nightmares come true!" Said one.
"It chills, sir, chills to the bone and the breath then freezes out of you." Interjected another.
"Bats! Many bats down here!" Another genius offered.
Herman could clearly see Lauton get increasingly pissed off beneath that helmet of his. They weren't spared hearing that 'it' takes people as tribute, especially children, that 'it' feeds on those who come in or stand watch at the end of the tunnel, and a certain Joel believed it to be a government program. The Specialist Robert Aurum twirled his gun, bored with the proceedings while Rodriguez went back and forth the station with his men, talking in lowered tones. Heidi yawned. Oliva began to fiddle with his weapon.
"Has anyone seen what it is?" Lauton asked, rapidly putting an end to the questions as the refugees looked at one another and shrugged. But the goat was not to be dissuaded.
"Urk! Urk! No, whosoever goes in never comes out. Urk!" The goat bleated.
"Has anyone kicked your arse, little goat?" Beckendorf said beneath his breath, loud enough so Herman could hear it. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who wanted to pummel the station master.
"Urk! Bleee!" The goat bleated, whether in agreement or disagreement, Herman could not tell.
"Just mark the route to the parliamentary square, and we'll make it. I'll even send some men back to you." Lauton ordered, pulling out a data pad and laying it on the table. The goat bleated nervously, and began to draw a map. After a few moments, he handed Lauton his scroll back, who proceeded to set it into his armor and face the group.
"Our route will take us through the main station up ahead and the subline 4km east of it. Then, we emerge topside Victory Avenue, and it's a straight walk down to the parliament. Got it? Let's move out."
The Atlesians tapped their helmets and walked straight into the darkness of the tunnels, followed by the Vale Guardsmen who had flashlights strapped beneath their gun barrels. Herman wandered in after him, keeping Beckendorf closes as his sharp animal senses adjusted to the musty darkness and foul smells. Mushrooms also dotted about beneath the wreckage, glowing slightly within the darkness. Herman could guess at exactly what provided the nutrients for their growth, and twitched his nose at their strong, heady, intoxicating smell.
"That isn't sewage, is it?" One of the soldiers said, aiming his torch at a bundle of tattered clothes.
"Very perceptive." Herman muttered, twitching his nose at the sweet sickly smell of decaying flesh. He glanced at Heidi, who had an extremely displeased expression as she looked at a shattered wall, with part of a train sticking out.
"How much of their tales was true, Captain Lauton? They seemed to firmly believe what they were saying." Rodriguez asked, his voice resounding through the darkness.
"Belief does not necessarily make something true." Lauton rebutted, scanning the area with IR. "Nothing here but a few bodies amidst wreckage, long decayed. We might fight some type of Grimm here, but that's it. Grimm fight directly, they don't play at mind games."
"Agreed-but I feel their blather had one nugget of truth." Rodriguez mused.
"What would that be?"
"There are definitely bats here." Rodriguez raised his flashlight, illuminating a few of said creatures which chittered malevolently and flew off over their heads, scraping against Oliva's helmet in the process.
Herman passed by a broken vent, and involuntarily shuddered at the memory of the crashed Atlesian ship. At least it had better lighting than this dump.
They kept moving, and Herman felt his eyes were barely adjusting to the darkness, which seemed to become even more constricting with every step. Nor was he the only one affecting-he heard wheezing coming from the front and Heidi's breathing to become laboured.
"Heidi? Are you okay?" Herman wanted to ask but the words stuck in his throat like wet cement. He coughed, and tried again but only managed to grunt. All the while, something darted in the corner of his eyes.
"Tulskaya Station, next stop." He heard someone call out, but wasn't able to make out who it was. Herman blinked again, and could barely see five feet ahead. The only indication that he wasn't alone was Beckendorf's tight grip on his backpack and Heidi's breathing till it grew louder and louder, fit to burst his ears.
Someone cried out in front, and voices of consternation were raised. Herman could make out a few snippets of conversation.
"The spiders! Uck, I hate their beady little eyes!" Someone yelled.
"Something's opening and closing...oh, Oum, not the scissors..." Yet another's voice trailed off into the dark.
"Sssh! They'll hear us!" A man shouted in the dark with a nervous giggle.
"Evangeline!" Came a man's delirious shout.
Herman felt a deliciously dangerous electric jolt run up his spine, and felt his eyes burn.
"Mama...sister..." He heard Heidi whimper, and instantly jerked his head around.
But he couldn't see her. Nor could he see Beckendorf. As a matter of fact, he could not see the circular outline of the station walls or the metal tracks glinting in the dark. It was just him, encapsulated in a shroud of darkness. Heidi's breathing had stopped.
Herman felt the wet lump of cement in his throat quickly solidify, and he quickly looked around, trying to get his bearings. His heart was hammering so hard it could burst out of his chest. All the while, he heard strange stirring whispers all while the current in his spine amped up and the flames in his eyes grow hotter. Something brushed against his spine.
He whipped around, and found himself at home. But something was wrong. The fire was out, the windows shattered, and an icy chill spread across the wooden floor. Something was sitting in a large wicker chair, but the dark shadows were unyielding.
"Who are you?" Herman asked, with trepidation in his heart. For a long time, he got no response, until the thing glared at him with its red eye, and answered in a voice that rattled in Herman's brain and shook his bones.
"Fear...we are fear. You are, too." It said.
"What?" Herman asked, scarcely believing his ears.
"You have lived in fear, on the battlefield and off it. You fear for your life, for your compatriots. The fear of others stimulates you. It has shaped you. It has become you, and you it."
Herman grunted, and unsheathed Nihil. He didn't care what sort of Grimm this was, he'd kill it all the same. The thing cackled, sending sparks and shivers up his spine.
"Your efforts shall be in vain. You cannot kill part of yourself." The thing immediately melted away, and was replaced by the PMC. But this time, Herman was not afraid of him. He only felt anger. The PMC chuckled, revealing the ghastly row of sharp rocks he called teeth. He rose from his seat, causing Herman to tense up and assume a defensive position with his sword. Ignoring the Faunas, the PMC nonchalantly walked over and parted the curtains, revealing Vale in its current state. Scores of Nevermores and Gryphons circled the city; within the epicentre of this dark cloud was a larger, more sinister shape.
"City's perfect for you. Plenty of negativity to feed off. You're little better than the Grimm." The PMC chuckled. It was a harsh, unpleasant sound.
"Again with this? I'll make my amends, and take whatever punishment is in store for me." Herman lowered Nihil and spat at the PMC. He had heard all this before, but he had moved on. The PMC was only a distant memory by now, but Herman still felt trepidation and unease.
"The only punishment for your lot is death. Are you satisfied with that, condemning your friends to damnation? Especially your lovely lady friend, who you coerced into joining your side?" The PMC began to cough, spraying yellow and red spittle everywhere.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Herman shouted. He hadn't forced Heidi...or had he? He did show her the truth...and she made her decision on that. The PMC, sensing his doubts, smiled again.
"You broke her will, showing her the horror. You also showed her the consequences of her own actions. You shake your head in disbelief now, but when you wake up, just ask her; was it fear of what you might do next that made her switch sides, or the truth?"
Herman stood there, stunned. He hadn't really asked Heidi what she felt when he used his Semblance, but then again he had used it on others and they didn't break down. Well, save for that strange girl aboard the Atlesian ship, who lowered her defence as Herman probed her sensation of loss and grief, but-
"Fear is your weapon. You're a parasite, probing into men's minds to find their darkest, deepest fears and leaching off it for your own empowerment." The PMC stated bluntly. Herman felt his veins pound dangerously. He revved up Nihil and charged at the PMC, who dissipated in a cloud of black dust. It swarmed him, penetrating his eyes, his nose, his ears, and when he opened his mouth to scream the dust came rushing in and down his trachea, bursting his lungs to shreds of red, ciliated tissue and cartilage-
Herman opened his eyes, the stench of mushrooms thick in his nostrils. The dizzy wolf looked around, and found himself within the very same tunnels, unable to move. Heidi sat directly in front of him, swaddled up in a sticky tar-like substance. The tip of Gratia Venti's handle protuded from the sheath, towards Herman. There was a weight on Herman's chest and something thin and hard was poking his chin. Looking down, He saw Beckendorf's head on his chest. The action had caused the antler to slide up his chin and nearly poke out his eye. Herman made a mental note to tell his friend to file those antlers down.
Slightly ahead of Heidi, he could see three of Rodriguez's squad, and to his left he saw Lauton and Oliva. They were bound in the same substance as Heidi, and Herman thrashed about trying to escape his bonds.
A wet cracking noise came from his right, followed by slurping. With great difficulty Herman rotated his neck, and saw something hunched over the body of an Atlesian soldier. A large portion of his helmet was missing, as was the top part of his skull, revealing the red within.
The creature was long and thin, with eight spindly legs and a long, pulsating tongue riddled with red-green ulcers. It did not have any eyes either, and Herman watched with horror as the long tongue snaked into the soldier's brain.
He sure as hell wasn't going to let this beast snack on his brains. Herman looked about, searching for something to cut the bonds with. Nihil was bound firmly to his back, and the next sharpest thing was Gratia Venti, which was a few tantalizing centimetres away. Heidi mumbled and sobbed in her sleep, and leaned back a little, bringing the blade a few millimetres closer. Softly cursing, Herman leaned as far as his bonds would allow. Now his nose was lightly touching the blade's cold hilt.
Trying not to let the slurping noises distract him, Herman bared his teeth and sprung forward slightly, trying to grab the hilt. Once, twice, thrice he failed. On his fifth time, with his jaw straining, he finally got a mouthful of cold steel and leaned backwards, pulling the blade out with a hiss.
It swung like a pendulum, barely missing Beckendorf's nose and almost slashed his antler had the reindeer not tilted his head. Instead, the blade's tip sank smoothly into the black goo, and stayed there. Herman now began to bob his head up and down, jiggling the blade from its held position. Soon enough, the sticky black substance began to part, and a breeze of foul metro air entered the said partition. Encouraged by his progress, Herman began to saw more vigorously, freeing his legs and right arm. With a muffled grunt, he freed himself from the stickiness and stood up, Beckendorf's head sliding off his chest as he did so.
"Whaddya mean, we're non-canon..." The fool of a Reindeer murmured in his sleep. Herman held his breath, hoping the beast had not been alerted.
The slurping stopped-but Herman wasn't waiting for it to leap at him. He dived out from the remaining bonds, and extended his sword arm towards the beast. It halted in its tracks, surveying the opponent before suddenly leaping up into the dark depths of the tunnel which even his eyes could not penetrate.
Instead, he shut his eyes and focussed on filtering out the foul stench, training his ears to register any movement. Above him, bricks scraped.
Herman leapt out of the way as the monster came plummeting down, hoping to decapitate him with its razor-sharp claws. He cut diagonally, slicing off one appendage, and the beast howled in rage before scuttling backwards and firing off a glob of sticky black stuff from its bulging abdomen. Herman felt it hit his sword-hand with the strength of a freight train, knocking Gratia Venti out of his hand and staggering him so his right hand ended up pinned to the wall.
The creature approached, its hideous tongue hanging out in glee when all of a sudden, Captain Rodriguez rushed from the shadows, wielding his sabre. It was long and thin and the colour of the blade was milk-white, shining in the darkness. The Captain had thrown out his green cloak, revealing a thin brown scabbard with gold lacquer hanging from his hip.
The Captain powerfully thrust downwards, impaling the creature through its abdomen. It squealed in pain, and smashed him in the face with three legs, the sharp talons slicing off a bit of his cloak. Even then the Captain remained undeterred; he pulled out the sabre and proceeded to harass it, narrowly dodging its furious swipes.
Herman grunted and freed his hand just as Rodriguez got unlucky and got smashed right in the face, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The Grimm leapt upon the Captain, ready to disembowel him but quickly looked left.
It took three long strides for Herman to reach the beast; within that time he had Nihil out and ready. With one clean sweep he sent its head flying off and into the darkness. The rest of the body twitched, and keeled over, dissipating.
Rodriguez got up, dusting off his front before withdrawing his sabre and cleaning it with his cloak.
"Lucky hit. I'm getting way too old..." He muttered, but Herman did not reply. The rest had begun to wake up from their nightmares, groaning and muttering. Beckendorf in particular was ecstatic to see Herman.
"I had the most terrible dream, man. In it our existence was mere text, our fates dictated by a person typing away. Brrr." He shuddered as he was cut loose.
Heidi remained silent, her eyes cold. Herman felt his heart rise to his throat as she coolly accepted his hand, before leaning forward and sobbing into his shoulder.
"I want my mama." She wept, and Herman stood there, still as a statue. He could defuse explosives, wire explosives, fire different types of weapons and emplacements with perfect accuracy, and kill with ease. But he couldn't find anything to say to this woman, or do anything to comfort her. Finally, he decided to hug her and pull her closer, before finally breaking off.
"Thanks, Herman." She sniffled, and some of the warmth returned to her brilliant apple-green eyes. He smiled rather awkwardly, and they set off to their exit destination with the rest.
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"And we ne'er saw them again. Urk." The stationmaster stoked the blazing fire, and periodically rotated the spit. He shook his head as he looked about the abandoned station, before settling his gaze on the last three survivors.
Deciding.
"Is the meat ready?" One asked eagerly, the other two looking at him with glazed eyes. Hunger tightened their bellies, making the grips on their knives ever firmer. This new man was short and chubby-the stationmaster longing gazed at him, wondering if his flesh would be sweet like caramel or salty...like salted caramel. Mmm. Salted caramel. Drool dripped from his wet beard.
"Yes, the beef is ready." The station-master answered in a monotone. The chubby one reached forward eagerly as the station-master cut off a slice and extended it to him on the end of a rusty spike. The greedy pig reached forward with his mouth, not wanting to spoil his hands, extending his throat.
It was decided, then. A quick swipe, and the chubby one fell forward, blood spurting from the cartoid artery. Some drops fell in the fire and sizzled.
"There'll be good eating, lads." Rasped one other, who produced a little skull from the depths of his rags and began to make faces at it. Needless to say, the station-master was miffed. He had told him to throw it away.
"Put out the fire and stow away the body-" His sentence wasn't finished when the hastily erected barricade at the end of the tunnel blew open, and four soldiers casually strolled in. One was a veritable titan, sporting a massive grenade launcher. Frozen in panic, the three cannibals could only stare as the Atlesians walked closer. The little skull dropped from Rasp's hands.
"Huh. I thoug' there were more of you last time I passed through. Where are the women an' children?" Oliva asked, but his question was soon answered when he saw the skull and the dead fat man. In one corner, he could see a bundle of rags on which a little red thigh lay.
"Oh. Light 'em up, lads-seems like we found some Grimm."