(Author's Notes: Ugh this is the longest its taken for me to update, and to all those that submitted reviews, THANK YOU! I've been trying to portray the villain and the hero perspectives well, because I wanted that stark contrast. I don't have writer's block, but school and other things are keeping me preoccupied. I hope you can understand. Anyway, I thought I'd let everyone reading this know that I'm not particularly good at romance and couples, which is why I didn't post one of those 'BBRae StarRob CyJinx' notifications in my summary. I like to focus more on battles and imagery, so to speak. If you notice in the chapters coming up that there is too much or not enough fluff, or if things get a little cheesy, PLEASE let me know. Thanks! Enjoy the chapter and I will try to update as soon as I can.)
Chapter 5: What Lay Beneath
Night fell swiftly in Steel City; the sun had set and cast brilliant arrays of passively warm colors (fiery reds, subtle oranges and brass yellows) across the cool surfaces of the reflective ocean, ever dark and nearly frozen in the heart of winter. A deep-set magenta peppered the clouded skies near the sunset through the smoky gray holes. Seagulls traversed the heavens on their last flight before tucking in the trees, docks, and fishing warehouses. On the fugitive's cliff face, the tiny fire that had been lit in the small crag embedded in the limestone was put out, and were it not for the almost full moon they may have just been blind and helpless.
Branwen awoke with a start as a cold, strong hand gripped her shoulder and shook her. She rubbed her eyes, pushing aside her rather tangled hair and bangs, careful not to tug on the restraint mask; it would take a careful hand and some special tools to extract the other clasp from her head without causing her great pain. She was instantly pulled out of her grogginess, without the fire the frigid air blew in and sunk into the marrow of her bones. She shivered, rubbing her hands on the sides of her arms for friction, and asked:
"Master, I see it is now nightfall; should we get going?"
"Yes, we shall proceed, and if you truly know your way through the sewer system as you say, then you can lead me to the aqueduct chamber through the pipe right below us." Blood said in a low voice; his breath nearly fogging his face completely, giving him the appearance of an ethereal being, especially with the sly glow of his red humanoid eye. Gwen crawled over to the edge and peered down the pale and speckled precipice, a chilly updraft sifting through her midnight hued tresses and writhing a little, like snakes. About 15 feet below them, sure enough a dark cylindrical shape protruded just slightly from the wall of rock. She can't believe she hadn't noticed it before, and then realized it must have been high tide when she had her first look. After Brother Blood saw that she knew the location of the pipe, he examined his damaged hands one last time then said: "Lower us down."
Gwen clenched her fists gently and closed her eyes in concentration. The mask was only half on; but it still hurt dreadfully to use her telekinesis. The air flickered with dark blue light and Blood felt himself levitating a few inches off the ground, almost as if sitting on an invisible plate of glass that could float and move with ease. At a steady pace they floated out of the tiny cave; then she lowered them to the opening in the pipe. She moved them into the entrance, landed on the floor and dropped the shield with a steady blink and a release of mental energy that was neither seen nor heard. The ceiling of rusted metal was just large enough for her to stand in but Blood would have to stoop a little.
"Its pitch black ahead. What are we to use for light?" Gwen asked, turning to Brother Blood. She noticed that he was carrying a large piece of driftwood; and now he dug into his pocket and retrieved two small stones he must have found somewhere along their escape route or in the cave. The driftwood, she guessed, he probably had climbed down to the water at night and grabbed it; along with a few other things he had used to feed the old fire. He walked over to her, reached out, and ripped off a good amount of the wrappings from her right arm. Using some of the frayed straps, he tied the cluster of cloth onto one end of the driftwood log and sat down. Working quickly, he struck the two rocks together smartly with a loud clack, and a few sparks flew forth onto the cloth with a burning hiss and puff of smoke. It would take another minute or two to successfully ignite the rather slipshod torch.
"Keep watch and make sure there're no boats out there." Blood grunted the order as he worked. Branwen stood in the pipe right behind the line that separated moonlight from the monotone shadows. She searched out into the cold, empty night and looked for dark blobs on the sea, but none were present, and the only sound was the clack of the stones and the crash and roar of waves pummeling the rocks outside. At last Blood got the torch to burn steadily; and they made their way down the pipe for two minutes or so before reaching a rounded tunnel made of stone. The top was lined with pipes of different proportions, and the bottom consisted of an old channel that originally channeled water but was now disused after the city outlawed emptying toxic wastes into the ocean. At their feet, they stepped in puddles of cold seawater, and crunched the remains of dead crabs, the shells of barnacles and clams, and even a few bones of drowned rats. The smell was more bothersome than the creeping darkness; an odor of salty, fishy low tide and decay. Seaweed littered the floor and the walls were covered in a thin layer of greenish slime.
"Master, if we head down this way, it should lead us to the main Eastern aqueduct chamber where the sewer still flows. If we head east from there we can reach the chamber in only a few hours. The main sewage system is lit from above." Branwen suggested. Brother Blood only nodded in approval.
Wonderful, crawling through the pipes like rats, he scoffed without a word. He had set new malevolent goals for himself and would suffer these rank conditions despite it all. After brooding in solitary confinement for a year, even this place of rot and vermin seemed better than the same dreary walls. Gwen did not seem to mind as she sprang nimbly over the slippery stonework, just on the edges of where the light of his torch spread, and he did not pay attention to the upbeat swing in her step, for she was relishing her newfound freedom. Ironically enough, for now her very will was in his cold, unfeeling grasp.
They jogged at a normal pace and traveled further into the depths of Steel City; unnoticed in the dark, dank places of the earth.
Blood's side was stinging sharply with pain where the barbed wires had torn into his skin; they had been running for nearly two hours and the wounds were slowly being torn open from the constant movement. They had followed the abandoned aqueduct but eventually it been blocked by a round door meant to seal off water in times of flooding. Branwen lifted up the top of the side panel box next to the door and entered a code on the number pad, then flipped the switch, which sparked with life, and the door rolled aside into the wall. After they had crossed over, she rolled the door back in by re-entering the code.
"That door was deactivated a long time ago; but thanks to Thief's computer skills and Blake's wires, we were able to rig the system and take it as our own." She had told him.
Now they were in the main channel, and water flowed freely in the center, sometimes it was clean and sometimes it was foul and almost unbearable. They walked on the narrow sides of the underground stream, where every now and then on the walls there would be a broken ladder. Above, dim and dusty lights lit the area with a dismal glow.
They were running east; most likely underneath the slums, Brother Blood estimated. The further east they went, the more vile and perilous the sewer became. At times they would have to jump across intersections between channels and to the right there would be an opening with a very big chamber and round room, where the water rushed into a roaring whirlpool to be sucked through the pipes or deeper under the city. Falling into the water near one of those chambers would mean an instant drowning; and he observed the grimy, large and mean looking rats that occasionally darted by, they were careful to run along the pipes on the walls rather than brave jumping across the sidewalk intersections and risk falling into the quick current. After a few more miles, just when Blood felt as if his side was about to rip apart, they crossed into an area where no water ran. Walking just a half a mile from there, they reached another thick round door that Gwen rolled aside, and revealed what was behind it.
They stepped into the largest chamber he had seen yet, the walls were lined with circular rings of pipes, some running horizontally and others snaking down vertically. The room was domed and rounded, and he noticed a ladder that lead straight to the apex of the chamber where it looked like a trap door had been built. What caught his attentions, though, were the three other entrance doors that were to his left, right, and straight ahead. Gwen noticed this as he turned his head and spoke in a docile tone:
"Those tunnels lead to the other three parts of the city, Master. Divided into the Northern Quarter, the Western Quarter, and the Southern Quarter."
"I figured as much." He replied without much care. Then, he looked at her, and his eyes flashed red for only an instant. She blinked faintly, and walked over to the ladder as if nothing had happened. He wanted to make sure that she was completely in the shadow of his control when he met her friends. When she reached the ladder and noticed that her 'partner' had not done the same, she spun around with a whirl of her black hair and asked:
"Do you not wish to come up?"
"No, I'll wait down here while you explain your tale to them so they don't react and make a scene when they see you…in your rather battered state." Said Brother Blood calmly. Gwen nodded, it made sense, after all, that it would look bad if she came stumbling in, bloodied and weathered, and being followed by a stranger who was only half human. She climbed up, up, and then at last rolled aside the trap door, a sliver of light penetrating the darker room below, causing Blood to avert his eyes from the stinging, and disappeared.
When she climbed through the trap door, just a few paces away a group of figures were circled around a table littered with maps and a newspaper, couches surrounding the table, but all were standing and arguing heatedly in loud voices. She couldn't help but smile, gently but sardonically behind the confinements of the horrid mask. She listened to them for a brief moment:
"That won't work, she wouldn't hide there!"
"Who says she wouldn't? She could be ANYWHERE, damn it!"
"I told you two to knock it off already, this yelling solves nothing!"
"You just want to look and give up so you can lead, you don't give a shit whether she's alive or rotting in some ditch!"
"What? That's a lie!"
"Haha, look at Blake's vein popping out! Whoa, don't throw that at me man, I was kidding around! OW SHIT! That hurt, you mother-"
Branwen cleared her throat and took a step forward. At once the party surrounding the table snapped their heads in her direction, and a few gasped. There were 5 of them, just as she had hypnotically told Brother Blood. They made quite the group: A muscular man with dark hair and a brown goatee, dressed in black and silver, who's body adorned many technical gadgets, and he held a pair of sunglasses in his one gloved hand, he was breathing heavily, being one of those who was just shouting. There was a female her age with fair skin, long brown hair tied into a braid with a rose colored ribbon, and emerald eyes, with a blue skirt, white blouse and boots, a male her age with a youthful face but sad, mature eyes and messy brown hair, dressed in baggy jeans, sneakers and a black sweatshirt, another boy that was much younger, extremely skinny and who also wore clothes much too big for him, consisting of a faded orange sweater, gray sweatpants with patches on the knees and whose hair was spiked up, lime-green and purple, bug-eyed goggles resting on his head, and lastly, the most exotic, was a female whose skin was very tan and her body lithe, but where her hand should have been there were white cat claws, along with a cat snout, tail and cat ears, all with violet stripes. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans with boots, a black and purple striped tube-top for a shirt, and in several places there were white handkerchiefs tied to her arms or legs where wounds were mended. Her hair was long, wavy and purple. The first one to speak was the boy with messy brown hair and deep, sorrowful hazel eyes known as Arvel.
"Gwen…is that you?" He ran over to her and looked into her crystalline gaze. He the breathed: "It is you."
The others needed no more confirmation before they exploded into a tumult of questions, running up and entrapping her in a circle.
"What happened?"
"How did you get here?"
"Why's your one arm ripped up?"
"Did you really escape from the Northern prison?"
"Yeah, and did you really get help from another fugitive? What's-his-name…"
"The Fuzz followin' you?"
"Are they in the tunnel?"
"Where's the other guy, did he run away and squeal to 'em?"
Branwen shook her head 'No!" violently and waved her hands, taking a step back. The green-haired boy sprang towards her and looked her up and down, then snickered (the only one smiling, if devilishly) and pointed:
"B', what are you doin' wearing those mummy wraps? Halloween isn't for like what, another 8 months…and the whole Dawn of the Dead look is old news."
The man in black and silver scowled and smacked the boy away. His expression turned to surprise as a foreign feeling prickled in his brain, and he realized Branwen was telepathically speaking to him, a sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Blake, get this damn mask off of me and I'll tell you everything. It pains me to use my powers; so don't make me do this anymore."
The others looked from Branwen to Blake, and then the girl with the long brown braid asked:
"What did she say, Blake?"
Blake blinked and ran his fingers through his hair then said: "She wants me to take off the mask so she can speak to us, she says the mask hurts her if she tries to use her powers."
Instantly they backed off, even the boy who normally didn't catch the drift of most situations. Blake offered Gwen his arm, and he led her to one of the rooms beyond the couches. The section they were in was the lounge, where a flat-screen TV was set on a stand and the couches splayed around the now disheveled table. They were indeed in an old factory, for just outside the rooms there was a conveyor belt that now served as a bar (with a few empty Smirnoff bottles on top), lined with three or four wooden stools, the box at the end where the belt was fed into was actually a refrigerator. Beyond that there were garage-door type walls, sectioning off a storage closet and bathrooms. Further down was another hall, and to the left was Blake's room.
Branwen sat in a chair that retracted backwards, like one might see at the dentists or even in a Frankenstein movie, and she waited in the lamplight as Blake searched in his tool cabinets and chests for the right instruments. Had she had seen Cyborg's room, the two would have been remarkably similar, except this gear was homemade and with a mysterious unfamiliar look to it, as if it had all been forged with some unknown ore. Blake finally gave a bleak 'Ah ha, there it is…' before coming over and examining her mask one last time.
"Alright Gwen, there's a small metal tab that acts as a magnet to connect to your brainwaves, so there's no physical bond. My guess is that you scraped your head against something and the other bond was torn, ripping open your skin from the pull." He held up a small object that looked like a pen, but it was tipped with a monkey wrench-like clamp with a tiny electrical wire pulsing between the two 'teeth'. He turned her head so that the still-connected side was exposed; and very gently, very accurately, slid the probe underneath the metal tab like one would use an envelope opener to break a seal. "Feel anything?" he asked when he was done.
Branwen gingerly tried tugging at the side of the mask, which lifted away from her temple without pain.
"The link's been cut. Could you undo the strap in the back?" She asked him, for her mouth was still restrained. She hadn't had much time to pay attention, but after nearly two days without any food or water, she felt extremely weak. Why hadn't she noticed this before?
Blake lifted the flap and pulled the metal clasp out of one of the holes in the back of the mask, just like a belt, and slid the strap out of the loop altogether. After he undid a few more clasps, she pulled the mask off of her face and inhaled deeply through her mouth, yawning.
"Thanks, Blake. What would I do without you?" She said graciously, smiling very lightly. There were red marks across her cheeks; and down her forehead, nose and chin where the mask straps had rubbed against her face.
"Ouch, you'll want to have Stella look at that." Blake sympathized as he peered closely at the chafe marks. "And I'd go clean the blood off the side of your head if I were you; it looks like a vampire went after you but he had bad aim."
Blood. She had almost forgotten about him, waiting downstairs, probably losing his patience, although…he seemed to have a great amount despite the situation.
"Blake, come with me to the lounge, there's a lot I have to explain to everyone."
Branwen, after gulping down some scorching hot soup Stella had quickly heated up for her, sat with a blanket around her still-bandaged shoulders and called for silence as her friends all plopped down on the squishy couches. It felt so good to sit on something comfy again, to feel warmth and be in good company. She sat cross-legged with the blanket around her, an old childish habit, now sipping a mug of hot tea.
Starting from the incident with the fire and the falling woman, she filled them in with all the details about being brought to the prison, and when she came to the part where she begged for Brother Blood's help and the deal they'd made (her escape, his upgrades), Arvel interjected before Blake could even question about what his technology was like.
"Where is he now?"
"Down in the chamber, waiting for me to explain things so you won't panic when he comes in." Branwen answered smoothly. She took a sip from her mug nonchalantly; then brushed a lock of sleek onyx hair out of her face. Everyone was content with the deal, save Arvel and Blake, who both knew that the man wasn't put in prison just for the hell of it. Something was amiss in her story; but she made it sound as if he were some archangel who had been waiting in the cell to be her salvation.
"So what did you do after that?" Zara, the cross-blood, asked in her silky, almost purring voice. She flicked her white tail and watched with lazy, brilliant green cat eyes.
Branwen completed her tale of the escape, making sure to describe what she remembered of the explosions and gunfire turrets well for Thief, who was practically drooling, and ended at the part where Blood told her he would wait in the aqueduct chamber.
"That being said, let me tell him I'm finished." Gwen concluded, and everyone's eyes followed her as she went to the manhole and entered a code that slid it aside, just like the sewer doors. She climbed down and disappeared, the manhole sliding back over. For a few seconds, they were all silent, somewhat dumbfounded by all the news. It was Thief who broke the silence.
"So the dude's a cyborg, huh? I bet he's all wires and metal armor, like Droid the ruthless Bounty Hunter in Clash of the Planets! Yeah, he's gotta' be kick ass to have been put into Helena Prison…" He mused hopefully, hands clutched together and near his chin as if in prayer, his eyes seeming to grow ten times their size and sparkling as a dopey grin slapped across his face. Blake shot him a look and Zara chuckled heartily, closing her eyes briefly and twitching an ear. Arvel was tapping a finger on the side of the couch; then fiddled with the loose strings on the end of one of his sweatshirt sleeves. Stella played with her braid girlishly, legs crossed and swinging one boot slightly. They were all nervous as to what this man would be like; and Blake was already going over his materials for metalworking. Gwen told him he would need to include his Xinothium in the re-forging of his prosthetics, but he had used it recently to create a few high-powered explosives, and he might not have enough…
Suddenly the manhole opened again, and Branwen climbed up through. She stood with both hands clasped in front of her with calm anticipation as a man whose right side of his face was nearly consumed by metal counterparts, and whose arms were made up of a glossy surface with spikes protruding from each one, arose from the hole in the floor. As the rest of him emerged from the darkness, Branwen slid the manhole back over and strutted over to her band of misfits absent-mindedly. Once again, it was up to Thief to spark something as he hopped off the couch and darted over to the half-android; who looked down at him, expressionless. Thief poked one of his cybernetic arms, looking at the metal claws with glimmering eyes, and cooed:
"Ooooh man, that's some awesome tech…"
Brother Blood smiled deceivingly. Arvel stood up from his chair, jaw set in a suspicious expression, and Blake was too transfixed by the man's gear to care about what the man's face read. Then, as if struck by lightning, Blake leapt up from the sofa and stormed over to Thief, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and proceeded to drag him away despite the boy's whining curses of protest.
"Sorry, he can't control himself sometimes…" Blake grumbled, and, once they were a safe distance away, lifted Thief to his feet, whispering in the boy's ear: "Damn it, Nemo, if you screw us over I'm going to have Zara use you for a scratch post…"
"Only if she's in a bikini…" Thief retorted mischievously, and Blake snorted with disgust and tossed him onto the couch.
The two women on the couches stood up to greet their guest with the rest of the group. Almost as if by some surreal instinct, Stella's eyes skipped over the man's cybernetic tech and she looked straight at the bloody scratches in his side, her brow creasing with concern.
"Friends, this is the man who not only helped me escape, but probably saved my life as well. His name is Brother Blood; and I believe it is our turn to repay him for his help." Branwen said without any trace of regret or worry. She stepped aside as Brother Blood walked closer, his damaged arms and hands behind his back casually.
"A pleasure to meet all of you." He spoke obligingly in his most convincing voice. "Were it not for this lady's remarkable powers, however, escape would have been inevitably futile." He brought his arms out in front of him and examined them, in a shambled state. In some places the armor had worn away and the backs of wires could be seen, exposed. "Although all this running has left me exhausted and worn on my prosthetics badly."
"You're hurt." Stella pointed delicately then lowered her finger as to not exaggerate the issue. Everyone did look, however, and Brother Blood shrugged.
"Yes, that happened when I leapt over the fence, I must've torn it on some barbed wires." He clutched his side brashly as if in pain, although it was much less than he made it out to be. Everyone seemed concerned, except the boy in the black hoodie with untidy brown hair, Blood noted, he glared at him warily with distrust and contempt, keeping his distance. His stance clearly had 'Who do you think you are?' written all over it.
Stella walked over to him, as if in a trance, and extended her hand. She rested it on his injured side very gently and a white light emitted from her palm, sinking into the wounds until the lined gashes were pulsing with the light. After a few seconds, the light shrank, and so did the wounds, which closed completely. Blood stared in wonder. If one of them could heal cuts…what could the others do with their abilities?
"Thanks." He replied after she stepped away. Stella smiled, a smile that was very innocent and kindly. He found himself thinking over how a girl like her could have wound up in a junkyard band of freaks. Best not to bother, after all, he would shape their raw material into something that glittered sharply with intimidation, and their pasts would not matter.
"Its no trouble, really." Stella said in her soft voice. Arvel scoffed silently and Thief rolled his eyes immaturely. Zara eyed Blood coolly; her cat senses starting to tell her something wasn't right.
Brother Blood turned to Blake. Yes, he had to be the metal smith, he had silver armlets on his wrists to his elbows that looked electronic, belts of different tools making an 'X' across his chest…
"You must be the one who works with metals. Blake, isn't it?" He asked. Blake nodded and stood up straighter, his sunglasses concealing his eyes. He looked to be in his mid twenties.
"Yeah, I'm the guy who can fix you. Exactly what did you have in mind?"
"It will take some time to explain, and I am quite famished and tired. Is there a place where I can revive myself?" Brother Blood asked; suddenly paying attention to the grinding pit that was his ravaging empty stomach.
"Oh! Sorry, how rude of us. Here, I'll get you something to eat, and you can rest before you do anything else." Stella fussed, and took his arm and led him to the kitchen/bar. She had him seated and was asking him if there was anything he preferred.
"Okay, Stella's starting to scare me." Thief muttered; eyebrow cocked sharply. "Is she a 19 year old waitress or a 46 year old soccer mom?"
"Shut it, Thief." Blake grumbled, his temper nearly ready to cause an eruption that would scorch anyone within range. Thief noticed this, and backed away peevishly. Arvel stood next to Branwen, glad to get a chance to speak with her. He, dwelling in the slums his whole life, was used to seeing people in poor conditions, but the wrappings looked uncomfortably tight, and he noticed the rub marks on her face. What had they done to her? Was it the police or was it that man, what did he call himself, Brother Blood?
"What's up with you, Gwen? You seem…different. Changed." He asked her quietly, but with no less concern. Branwen turned to him with a look of confusion.
"Nothing's the matter, Arvel, I've just had it rough the past few days." She whispered. He reached out to gently touch the place where her mask had torn off, where the dried blood was caked to her face and ran down behind her ear. She, used to pain after living on the streets, didn't flinch, but only grabbed his hand and lowered it away. "I'm okay, really." She gave him an assuring smile, which at first he took in happily enough, for a while he thought he would never see her face again, but he noticed that it was weak, not the strong smile of the leader he thought he knew. His eyes reflected worry.
Some time passed, and after Stella made sure Brother Blood had eaten his fill and slept a little, he and Blake sat by the bar and discussed the business of fixing his technology. Blake observed every inch of Brother Blood's cybernetic counterparts, first the arms, the shoulders, and then his head. Blake nodded with understanding; then said:
"Your digital components have been crafted with great skill and precision, but I see a few flaws in their construction, mainly in the joint areas and places that control movement. Your shoulder pieces are too bulky, and the spikes on top are pointless, they should be removed. The ones on your arms are fine. By altering your tech design, I could give you easier and stronger movement, greater agility, and clearly defined strength. The fact that you climbed not one but two cement walls with this alone is astounding…"
"What about Xinothium? Branwen informed me that you had a supply of it." Brother Blood asked, slightly interrupting.
"Well, it's a very unstable ore…I'm not sure that it would be wise to…and I'm running low in stock…" Blake said defensively, knowing that the question was bound to come, but he didn't want to fabricate something so powerful in a stranger. He could be a mad man, after all…but Blake never had the chance to finish his thought.
"Oh, I'm sure that we can figure out something, Blake, after all, nothing is impossible." Blood dictated, his eyes glowing a deep red. Blake's gaze was caught in his hypnotic stare, and he could not look away, he was ensnared just as Branwen was. Suddenly the androids words sounded very convincing, in fact, it was the only solution to Blake. Anything else he considered was implausible now.
"Xinothium would greatly increase the powers and functions related to your artificial limbs and your brain. But I am running low on supplies, I do not have a sufficient source." Blake responded in a daze. Robotic pieces powered by the potent ore Xinothium, inventing something superior and worthwhile using his gifts had always been a dream of his, a fantasy he thought would never come true. Now here was opportunity knocking on his door and he had gone and locked the door and was bracing himself against it, against fate.
As if he had read his mind, Blake was surprised but delighted to hear Brother Blood say in a cool, understandable tone:
"Destiny is knocking, Blake. Can you not hear it? There are other places besides your safe where Xinothium is kept."
Blake nodded and swallowed, then said very seriously:
"What must I do?"
"Improvise."
That night, Blake left the shelter of the factory into the labyrinth of the sewer maze; and the others never saw him depart.