Layer 002:
The Kobayashi Maru
This time, Zell was getting to see South Side's back alleys up close and personal.
One thing that he had neither realized nor remembered was that both Tanker and Siobhan were fast. He was no slouch when it came to running, either--but he was built much more along the lines of endurance than speed, and found himself struggling to keep up as they took full advantage of their longer legs.
Navigating the city wasn't easy at the best of times, and Zell found that he was getting thoroughly lost as Tanker lead them on the scenic route back toward the Docks. The team leader seemed to know where he was going, though, so he had to assume it would work out all right in the end.
Of course, that assumption was thoroughly shaken as Tanker skidded to a halt on the gravel road just behind the warehouse where Zell had spent the night, cursing prolifically.
"Don't tell me," Siobhan groaned. "You got us here because that's the only system of safe roads you knew, and now you have no idea how to get us down to the Docks without having us riddled with machine gun fire."
"Hey, if you had a better idea, I would have listened," Tanker said. "I guess we could have gone through the trolley rails to the Docks. Nice and quiet, there. Yeah, we could have gone that way, if we took a shortcut right through central square!"
Zell was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, adrenaline flowing. "So? Where now?"
"Hold still, rookie," Tanker snapped. "You're making me sick just watching you."
Zell froze, hands balling into fists. "What... did you call me?"
"Not now!" Siobhan stepped between then, turning to Tanker. "Where are we going?"
Tanker brushed it off. "We either go down the straight and narrow between the warehouses--which leaves us terribly open to ambush--or we run through the delta intersection where all the cargo trucks are. You just know how busy it's likely to be at the moment."
"Straight and narrow gets my vote," Siobhan said. "We haven't been attacked yet. We'll see how long our luck holds out."
Tanker cast a look at Zell. "Get over it," he snapped. "Straight and narrow, right around back. Move it!"
Zell forcibly relaxed his hands, and ran back along the side of the warehouse. Siobhan overtook him, darting down the passage and scouring it quickly for any enemies. "All clear from my view," she called back. "Let's get this run done with."
"Yah, I'm not the one waiting," Tanker retorted, taking the lead once again. Siobhan glanced at Zell, and resumed running.
The access road was dark, as usual--shielded from the light by the two mammoth warehouses whose walls formed its boundaries. The hum of giant cooling fans filled the passage, creating currents of wind as they sucked air in to circulate within the buildings. Dumpsters were placed periodically along the road, next to the grey service doors that blended almost perfectly with the nondescript walls. On his way over to the Docks earlier, Zell had been too preoccupied to notice much about the straight and narrow--but now that he was noticing things, he wasn't liking what he saw. Tanker had been right--the place was the perfect grounds for an ambush, with no way in or out except the ends of the road, plenty of hiding spots, and sound largely blocked out by the fans. If the Desperados did find them here....
Zell chanced a glance back behind his shoulder, and was rewarded by the sight of a perfectly empty road. He felt... a bit relieved.
Tanker was out in front, sprinting as if he had a dragon on his tail. Siobhan was keeping up about a pace behind him, and the pair of them were a couple of meters ahead of Zell. Tanker kept tugging at his jacket, apparently trying to keep it from slipping down his shoulder. Zell had never noticed it before, but the jacket seemed a bit too large--even for Tanker's solid frame. It was flapping quite dramatically as he ran.
They were almost through the straight and narrow when Siobhan slid to a halt, spun around--and leaped almost a half-meter as a bullet hit the ground where she had been standing. "Cover!" she snapped, landing and lunging behind a dumpster. Tanker followed her, and Zell ducked behind the previous bin, pressing himself up against the wall.
"Oh, great," Tanker griped. "Well, what's this all about?"
"Guy with a pistol," Siobhan responded. "End of the road. Just one, but that could be all it takes if we can't get to him."
"Well. Anyone have magic with a long casting range?"
"At last count, Zell had a few Meltdowns. Right, Zell?"
Zell checked his mental inventory. "Yeah," he said, peeking around the dumpster edge. "Uh... where is he?"
Siobhan poked her head out, glancing down the road. "Huh," she said. "I think he's gone."
"Can't you, like, scan--or something?" Tanker sounded annoyed. "Or are we just going to hide behind trash cans until you think it's safe?"
There was a muttered grumble, and a short pause. "I'm not picking anything up, except--oh shit."
"Wha--oh, shit."
"What?" Zell finished what Tanker hadn't gotten a chance to.
"Hey, how's everyone for a game of mad rush?" Taker asked. "Siob? Zell? On my count, we move. I just know those shadows over by the road exit aren't Bon Voyage banners."
"Three on the left, five on the right," Siobhan confirmed. Zell glanced around, unable to see much from his vantage.
"So we just charge out and beat 'em up, right?"
Tanker would probably have given him a condescending look if there wasn't a dumpster between them. "Yeah, that would be the general idea."
"Well, what are we waiting for?"
Tanker gave a low chuckle. "The rookie raises a good point," he said. "Let's go."
(Tch. Rookie!) Zell would have said something, but Tanker had already sprung the gun. Within two seconds he had closed the distance between himself and the shadows, and there was the noise of a heavy punch being thrown. Zell and Siobhan launched themselves from hiding as soon as they saw Tanker, covering the few remaining meters and joining the fray.
One of the things that always seemed counterintuitive about fighting organized groups with guns was that the more there were, the less likely you were to get shot. The Desperados were armed with machine guns, and their opponents were surrounded and not staying still--there was almost more of a chance that a bullet would go stray and hit one of the other soldiers than one of the SeeDs.
Of course, being soldiers as opposed to thugs with guns, they did each have a considerable amount of training in hand-to-hand, as well.
Zell was in his element. Prospect of grave physical harm aside, he enjoyed fighting even more than he enjoyed machinery. He wasn't exactly belligerent--no, that was the word you used for people who started fights. Zell prided himself on being able to end them.
Martial arts were cool. They were something to do with the nervous energy he always seemed to have too much of--they took precision, skill, and a good deal of strength behind them all. And knowing how to deliver a good, solid punch was way, way better than knowing how to pull a trigger--no matter where, when or what, Zell Dincht was always going to be able to pack a punch. For a martial artist, there was no such thing as 'unarmed.'
...which was why, he remembered--catching a glimpse of Siobhan and Tanker brawling in the midst of the diminishing Desperado ranks--SeeD had sent three of them on a mission where, as likely as not, there would be no way for them to handle weapons and infiltration at the same time.
Tanker's injured shoulder didn't seem to be bothering him much, Zell decided--turning from finishing off one of the enemies and seeing Tanker dispatch the last one with a roundhouse punch that probably snapped his opponent's neck. Tanker spun around, the light of an adrenaline high still shining in his eyes. "Haven't had a good fight in ages," he crowed. "You two hurt?"
Siobhan stretched. "They got a few punches in," she said impassively. "I've had worse in training."
"Let's go, then!" Tanker pointed down to the docks, singling out the sleek clipper on the near edge. "She's the Kobayashi Maru. Real beaut, ain't she? Let's not keep her waiting!"
-
The Kobayashi Maru was, without a doubt, the most pretentiously classy ship in the South Side docks. With a highly-polished black hull and sleek design, she rode high in the water and projected a sense of pride from bow to stern. A figurehead--an eagle--jutted from the prow, eyes a glinting silver.
They met with no resistance on the way down, although Siobhan guessed that the last batch had radioed for reinforcements before the fight. Tanker had gone ahead to bribe the captain into rushing the scheduled departure, leaving Siobhan and Zell to be escorted to their reserved cabin.
It took Zell until he saw the woman who came to escort him to realize that the Kobayashi Maru was a Marshal ship--or, at least, it employed them. That might explain why it looked so nice--being the only peacekeeping authorities in South Side, they were bound to rake in a considerable amount of capital.
Just to make sure, he took the chance to ask "So this is a Marshal ship, huh?" as soon as the Marshal left them alone in the cabin.
Siobhan glanced around, snorting. "Looks like they stole the cabin design from the Balamb trains, added some chairs, and refitted it for sea travel," she said. "Yeah. The Marshals have three ships--the Kobayashi Maru, the Yangtzee Kiang, and the Tripoli. They're hired out as just about everything--cruise ships, naval escorts, smuggling vessels... you name it, the Marshals probably do it. They're mercenaries, you know--they'll do about anything for the right price."
Zell moved to the couch, dropping down onto it. "Tanker said that the Harpoon blew up, didn't he?"
Siobhan nodded. "Sounded like he did."
"How?" Zell cracked his knuckles. "Nothing we did--right?"
"Well, gee, I hope not." Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Does it matter? Garden will take care of the Esthar contract, the Desperados hate us regardless, and there's no way to prove it one way or another."
Zell stared at her incredulously. "You don't even care?"
"Not really, no."
Zell shook his head. "You don't care about much, do you?"
"Not really, no."
"You remind me of Squall," Zell said, punctuating the remark with a few jabs of his index finger. "You ever worked with him?"
Siobhan glanced over. "I wouldn't talk about him too much," she said. "Tanker, you know."
Zell crossed his arms. "Huh? Oh, geez. What's his problem, anyway?"
"Aside from being a sleaze and an asshole?" Siobhan cast a wary glance toward the door. "Listing every personality flaw Tanker has would take up the rest of the trip."
"I don't think he likes me too much," Zell pointed out.
"You don't think?" Siobhan returned his earlier incredulous look, multiplied by about a factor of ten. "Zell, if he wasn't in SeeD he would kill you."
Zell scratched the back of his head. "I don't remember him too well, so I had to meet him on this mission," he said. "What'd I do?"
The door slid open, and Tanker stepped in. "We're off," he said, with a cockeyed grin. "Hey, memory boy! You look confused. There a problem?"
Siobhan decided to sit in one of the corner chairs and make herself as innocuous as possible. She had noticed the peculiar glint in his eyes that said his adrenaline high was wearing off--and with Tanker, that would mean he would be thinking up ways to build it back up.
Zell glanced up, dropping his hand into his lap. "No problem," he said.
Tanker stretched, pulling off his coat and tossing it into the corner. Clapping a hand to his shoulder, he rotated his arm and winced. "That's the good pain," he said, grinning at Siobhan. "If you don't bleed a bit on these missions, you're playing it too easy. Toss me a potion and a bandage, babes."
Siobhan recovered the items from her pack, and tossed them to Tanker. Tanker flashed a grin by way of thanks, binding up his injury. After a few moments he glanced over at Zell, grunting. "What're you looking at, rookie?" he demanded. "Never seen blood before?"
Zell stood up, glaring at his team leader. "I'm not a rookie," he said.
Tanker secured the bandage, stepping over to Zell and using his height to loom over him. "How many years have you been in SeeD?" he asked, tapping a finger in the center of Zell's chest.
"This is my first," Zell admitted. "But--"
"Then you're a rookie."
"--I've been on plenty of missions," Zell finished.
"I'm a fourth-year SeeD," Tanker said. "Siob there is a third-year. We've both seen things that you probably wouldn't have any idea how to deal with."
"Tanker," Siobhan warned. Tanker ignored her.
"I--" Zell started, but was immediately cut off.
"I don't know what made them send you along with us, but you've been mostly trouble since you got assigned. I've been meaning to ask you what the hell you were thinking back at the warehouse last night. You could have gotten us all killed."
"What?" Zell was caught off-guard--much as Tanker had expected him to be.
"Oh, of course. You don't remember." Tanker glowered at him. "I suppose you don't remember this morning, either?"
Siobhan appeared at Tanker's elbow, putting a hand on his uninjured shoulder--which, incidentally, required her to interpose her arm between him and Zell. "Sit down, Tanker. Take this up back at Garden."
Tanker pushed her away, not even deigning to glance at her. "It ever occur to you that the fact you got that injury that's messing up your head so much might be another indication of poor performance? You've been a liability since the mission began, rookie. Don't think it won't be reflected in my report."
Zell was quivering now, fisting his hands and hardly restraining himself. "I told you," he said, unable due to his memory to produce any evidence to prove he hadn't been grossly incompetent. "I'm not a rookie."
Tanker looked him up and down, and stepped back. "You look like you want to hit something," he sneered. "Gonna attack your team leader?"
Zell's jaw worked for a moment, and he forced himself to relax. "No. ...sir."
"Well, why not?" Tanker spread his arms. "You look like you want to."
Siobhan stepped up again, stepping between them so that he didn't have any choice but to look at her. "Sit down, Tanker."
Tanker put his arms down. "Why?" he asked. "Zell and I have some issues we need to work out between us."
"You're picking a fight," Siobhan said. "You know, I can turn in a mission report, too. How're you going to look in it?"
At the moment, Tanker looked unimpressed. "I'm in charge here," he said, "and I'm giving orders. You sit down, Siob." He flicked his hand, indicating a chair. Siobhan shook her her head, and sat down.
Tanker turned his attention back to Zell. "Hit me," he challenged.
Much as he wanted to take up the invitation, Zell didn't. "No," he said, and began silently counting to ten.
He had gotten about to two before Tanker's fist was introduced in a particularly violent manner to his chin.
"That was an order, See--" Tanker began. The D sound hadn't made it out of his lips before one was split open by an answering punch from Zell. Tanker caught a second punch, throwing one of his own back and connecting with the side of Zell's head. Zell managed to get a hold on Tanker's forearm, spinning him and throwing him against the wall in one quick movement.
Tanker regained his footing quickly, ramming his palm into Zell's stomach and sending him to the ground. Zell got a foot up into Tanker's face, laying him out on the couch. Tanker made a move to rise, but the white mist of a Sleep spell enveloped him before he could.
Zell stood up, casting a glance first at his felled opponent and then back at Siobhan. She glanced at him, looking exasperated. "You boys," she said, shaking her head. "Sit."
Zell quickly picked a chair and sat, face burning from the sudden action and the realization that he had screwed up, big time. Sure, he had been defending himself--but most of the times he had gotten into serious trouble, he had been defending himself, too.
Siobhan stood up, moving over to Tanker. She made a small hmph noise upon seeing him. "Well, he wanted to bleed a bit," she said. "You all right?"
Zell nodded. "Yeah."
"Looks like you managed to make a few cosmetic alterations to his face," she noted. "At least now he looks more like the bloodthirsty savage he is."
Zell had a feeling that what he was about to ask was going to be a really stupid question, but he asked it anyway. "Why doesn't he like me?"
"Aside from the fact that you're about as jumpy as a frog?" Siobhan returned to her chair, and sat down. "That's easy. I would have thought you could puzzle it out on your own."
Zell glanced at Tanker, and back at Siobhan. Nothing was coming to mind.
Siobhan raised her eyebrows. "Ultimecia," she prompted.
"Um. So?"
"So he's bitter." She glanced at Tanker, stretching out her legs in front of her. "He's a fourth-year SeeD, has more missions under his belt than probably anyone in your circle of friends, and your group shows up and take the most glory-heavy mission that's ever likely to come along. It's not personal, you know. He's just too much of a glory hound for his own good."
Zell grimaced. "Reminds me of Seifer," he said.
To his surprise, Siobhan actually laughed. "Seifer? The thought's never crossed my mind."
"Well--"
"Seifer was a puppy," Siobhan said, causing Zell's eyes to expand rapidly to their maximum size. "Tanker is a rabid mutt."
"So, you didn't like Seifer?" Zell asked, still trying to reconcile the concepts of "Seifer" and "puppy" in his mind.
"Didn't have anything against him, really. Didn't have too much contact with him. He was always bullying the younger kids. The non-SeeDs." Siobhan glanced at Tanker. "Seifer wasn't your everyday example of sterling goodness," she pronounced, meriting her entrance for the Understatement of the Year awards several times over, "but he wasn't a sociopath."
"And Tanker is?"
Siobhan nodded. "What else do you call someone who joined SeeD so that he could kill for fun?"
-
By the time Tanker woke up, Siobhan had found a logic puzzle stashed in one of the chests and Zell had buried himself in a Combat King and seemed oblivious to the world around him. Tanker sat up, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "What happened?" he asked.
"I Sleeped you," Siobhan said matter-of-factly. "It seemed like the responsible thing to do, considering you were breeching just about every rule of etiquette that SeeD establishes."
Tanker glared at her. Siobhan raised an eyebrow, not needing to look up from her puzzle to tell what he was doing.
"If you want," she offered, "I could lie and say that Zell beat the crap out of you."
"From now on," Tanker growled, "stay out of my issues."
"Or you'll what?" Siobhan looked up, meeting his glare flatly. "Hit me?"
Tanker seemed flustered for a moment, and then glanced over at Zell. Pulling a hand across his mouth, he winced slightly.
"You might want to get yourself cleaned up," Siobhan suggested. "It won't help your sorry case if you show up at Garden looking like a berserker."
Tanker ran a tongue across his bloody lip, glaring at her all the while. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe I should."
Tanker stood up, stalking out the door in ill grace. Zell glanced up. "You talk to him like that?"
Siobhan shrugged. "We go way back," she said. "And he knows that I can deck him in ten seconds flat if I want to. He just picks on you 'cause you're still a little wet behind the ears."
Zell was about to retort, but Siobhan raised a hand to forestall him.
"I don't mean to offend, but it is pretty clear you haven't been on too many missions. Don't take it wrong."
Zell hunched up, staring at the magazine again. Siobhan was certainly a hard one to read--he was never quite sure whose side she was on, or even if she was on a side. And he wasn't quite sure how she saw him--or if he ran the risk of annoying her with anything he might say.
He glanced up, intending to see if he could read anything from her normally impassive face--and saw something that was definitely not impassive. Siobhan had turned to the door, and had an intense expression of worried listening to her. Zell was about to stand up, but Siobhan held up a hand to stop him--then lurched form her chair herself. "Something's--"
The sharp noise of a bullet interrupted her, followed almost instantly by an expression of pain that could only come from Tanker. Within seconds Siobhan and Zell had crouched, one on either side of the door, listening at the ready to attack.
There was silence in the cabin for several tense heartbeats. Siobhan put her ear to the wall. "No one's out there," she said.
"What happened?"
Siobhan shook her head. "Damned if I know. Sounded like Tanker got shot."
"Yeah, I know that, but--" Zell looked at the door, wishing he knew what was going on outside. "Shouldn't we go out there?"
Siobhan's eyes unfocused. "Fenrir isn't Alerting me to anyone out there," she said, "but I don't trust it. The Marshals don't allow firearms on their ship. So, either one of them shot Tanker, or someone overpowered them--in which case, we're probably dealing with Desperados. Either way, we're liable to be outnumbered."
"So?" Zell looked at the door again. "Do we just wait in here?"
"Well, that's one option," Siobhan said. "That means we wait for them to make the first move, and I don't know if I like that. They could be taking the ship somewhere we don't want it to go, and we would never know." She pursed her lips for a moment. "On the other hand, whoever's out there might not even be aware of us. This could have nothing to do with us, and by going out we'd just be putting ourselves in needless danger. But somehow, I doubt that."
"So we're going to rescue Tanker?"
"Well, we're sure as hell going to try." Siobhan shifted uncomfortably. "It won't look too good for us if we go home without a team leader. That, and we can try to gain an advantage. The Desperados--or whoever they are--probably don't have our best interests at heart. We can take the fight to them, if we don't want to wait for them to bring it to us."
Zell stood up, bouncing slightly. "Well, what are we waiting for?" he demanded. "Let's kick ass and take names!"
"Calm down," Siobhan snapped. "Or first priority is--well, our first is to rescue Tanker. But it's going to be pretty important to evade detection. All right--our first priority is reconnaissance. We find out all that we can about what's going on and what they've done with Tanker, and when we've know all we need to know we smack them down like bugs. Sound about right?"
Zell grinned, throwing a few punches for emphasis. "Let's go!"
-
The hall was empty, save for a few drops and a small smear of blood. Siobhan checked both ways down the hall, and then bent to examine the stain. "Well," she said, "he wasn't dragged wherever he was going. That's about all I can tell."
"So... left or right?"
"The Kobayashi Maru is an Estharan clipper. It has three decks--the main deck, passenger deck and machine deck. If I had to guess, I would say that Tanker still has to be on this deck--they wouldn't chance keeping prisoners near the vital systems, especially if we were suspect for sabotaging the Harpoon, and I can't see why they'd take him up for fresh air."
"So we just have to search this deck."
"Well, we'll have to search the others if we don't find him."
"Should we split up?"
"I wouldn't. No telling what we might run into."
"So... left, or right?"
Siobhan glanced each direction. "Right, I guess."
"Right" was a very unremarkable hallway, just as "left" probably was. Doors marked the walls at regular intervals, most of them unlocked. The first three they checked were cabins--much like theirs, and totally devoid of inhabitants. The next was a bathroom, followed by another set of cabins. The final room was a janitor's closet with a washing/drying machine at the back--and then there were the stairs down into the engine room, quite solidly locked.
"Backtrack," Siobhan stated needlessly. "Let's try left."
"Left" was--unsurprisingly--unremarkable, except that its pattern of cabins and bathrooms continued around in a horseshoe pattern which was broken at the center by an open stairway up to the main deck. Nothing was out of order until they got to the second-to-last cabin in the series--which was, unlike any other--locked.
Siobhan tested the handle, then glanced at Zell. Motioning him to hide on the far edge of the door, she pressed herself against the wall and delivered a heel kick to its bottom part. A second was spent in expectant silence.
Shrugging minutely, Siobhan stepped away from the wall and kicked the door as hard as she could just to one side of the knob. The door cracked and swung open, and Siobhan dropped into a ready position to confront whatever was inside the room....
...however, nothing inside the room seemed terribly intent on attacking anyone at the moment.
"Holy shit."
Zell stepped into the doorway, taking in the sight of twelve Marshals--dead or unconscious, probably some of each. they were bound hand and foot, thrown into the cabin without any regard for comfort or order. It was a jumbled mass of red-uniformed people, visible skin mottled with bruises.
"Well, at least we know it wasn't the Marshals," Siobhan observed.
Zell stepped gingerly into the cabin, looking around. "I thought they knew how to fight?"
Siobhan nodded. "Marshals usually do. Which means they were bested."
"Desperados." Zell did a quick body count, and came up with numbers he didn't like.
"Maybe not." Siobhan nudged one of the inert bodies with her toe, rolling it completely over. Zell paled slightly--it was the same woman who had shown them to their cabin. "All of these are blunt-weapon injuries. Every Desperado we've seen has had a gun--but there are no bullet wounds on these people."
Zell's hand moved to the back of his head to scratch, and he froze. "Wait," he said. "...the Desperados do use blunt weapons, too!"
Siobhan gave him the strangest look.
"The new weapon. It was a prototype, right? The one that messed up my memory." Zell rubbed the bruise, which was nearly healed. "It was some kind of rod. Club. Thing."
Siobhan crossed her arms, looking very, very grave. "Zell," she said heavily. "Tell me everything you remember about that fight."
Zell tried to think, memory slicing trough layers of fog to arrive at... nothing. "I... I can't remember."
Siobhan's piercing gaze bored into him for a few more moments, and she turned away. "Let's take a look on the main deck. We're not heading into the Engine room unless we can't help it."
Zell glanced back over the downed Marshals. "What do we do with them?"
"Let the ones who wake up take care of the ones who won't," Siobhan suggested. We have more immediate issues. Follow me."
Siobhan didn't sound as if she was especially unaccustomed to command. Zell followed her lead automatically.
The last room was a small, utilitarian galley with absolutely nothing out of place. Siobhan didn't say a word before she motioned him to move on.
Siobhan was on the lookout as she moved, checking down each of the horseshoe's legs before pausing at the base of the stairs. "All clear," she said after a moment of silence. "Nothing in the immediate range."
Siobhan darted up the stairs, crouching in the sunlight at the top and looking around. Zell was beside her almost immediately, scanning the deck and squinting in the glare.
"...all clear again," Siobhan said, standing. "That structure up front is the navigator's cabin. It's the only enclosed space up here. If Tanker's not in there...."
"Then we break into the engine room?"
Siobhan motioned Zell ahead. "You care to do the honors?"
Zell glanced around the exposed deck, heading up to the cabin door and delivering a kick without any ado. The door flew open, and Zell rushed in.
Given the shape of the cabin, there was only one real position for an enemy to be. Anticipating this, Zell rushed in without hesitation--knowing that, if there was anyone there, he could engage and incapacitate them before they could get a weapon up and ready.
Refreshingly, his plan worked. The single Desperado in the cabin was stretched out on the floor by two punches, and Zell had relieved him of his machine gun by the time Siobhan stepped through the door. She glanced at the soldier's supine form, letting out a small sigh. "I suppose the concept of interrogation doesn't mean much to you, does it?" she asked.
A flaw suddenly became apparent in Zell's plan.
"Well, no Tanker," Siobhan said. "Engine room it is, then. Give me the gun."
Zell handed over the weapon, following Siobhan as she lead him back to the engine room entrance. Tapping on it softly, she shook her head.
"Tough door. This one is solid metal--not the type of thing we're going to get through too easily."
"So what do we do?" Zell looked the door up and down. It only opened inward, and a narrow metal protrusion protected the hinges from outside tampering. The only visible indication of the lock was a small key slit--not the sort of thing you could easily break without jamming it. "We could use some kind of magic, I guess."
Siobhan glared at the offending door. "I don't want to, but I don't see that we have much of a choice," she said. "Be ready for anything once we go through there. The odds won't be in our favor."
Zell nodded, shuffling through his magic in preparation to cast. (...Meltdown.)
In about three seconds, the door was gone--but neither Zell nor Siobhan was ready for what they encountered.
Which was... darkness.
An awful lot of darkness.
So much, in fact, that they didn't even notice the pain.
