The subway tracks had been deserted along with the station. Though some light in the ceiling still worked, there was no more power on the rails, and some of the bolder new residents of the place had even placed their moldy old mattresses or sleeping bags squarely across the tracks. One of the sleeping bags had a body still in it, a bullet between his eyes where he'd been shot as he slept.
"Wow. Nothing woke that guy up, huh?" Peter remarked, looking back at the chaos behind them.
"Well, he's not waking up for anything now for sure", Florentine sighed as she clambered down onto the track lane.
"So, what now? Do we wait for the next train to come pick us up, or what?" Joe looked down the tracks with a frown.
"Griffith's place is that way", Florentine pointed down the tracks. "We walk."
"It is not that way", Peter protested.
"There's a bend in the tracks a couple dozen meters from here that'll take us right underneath Ground Zero", Florentine assured him, checking the map on her PDA.
"Or right on top of it", Joe said grimly.
Florentine's Illuminati databank resources proved invaluable, but Peter didn't much like the idea of following their directions. Joe seemed to share his sentiment. "Fine", he relented nonetheless.
Florentine went ahead, and Joe followed. Peter stayed behind a few steps, constantly looking over his shoulder. It wasn't long before the unlikely trio was forced to use their flashlights, and Peter figured if they did that, he may as well light up a cigarette as well.
"Do you have to?" Florentine asked.
"What, want me to open a window?" Peter retorted. He almost laughed, satisfied with the Illuminati's sour expression. He strapped his rifle onto his back to he could intermittently hold the smoke in one hand, and his handgun with flashlight in the other. Joe and Florentine both had separate flashlights, so Joe held his shotgun by the barrel in his off hand and Florentine had holstered her weapon. If things were set in motion like this, Peter realized, he would have the upper hand over both of them.
There were no more bodies on the tracks, and after some time of walking there was a change in the atmosphere. There was no rubble, no stray garbage, not even any cracks in the wall. Everything looked disturbingly pristine.
"Something tells me we're on the right track", Joe remarked. "This place has a janitor service."
"There's only one track", Florentine said with a suppressed grin. "But you're right. Look." Further down the track, light installations had been placed along the walkways, bathing the tunnel into a harsh white glare. Florentine and Joe put away their flashlights, and Peter turned his off.
The lights had cabled leading further along the tracks, the they followed them. "Slowly now", Peter warned. "My friend the guardian is still there."
Sure enough, as they approached ground zero, they saw a large, looming mass of shadow in the light. Peter and Joe lifted their rifle and shotgun at it, and Florentine lit a flare of fire in each hand. That got the thing's attention.
It turned, and its beady eyes spotted Florentine's light. With a savage roar, it started barreling down on her. The roar was answered by the rattling of Peter's rifle and the thunderclaps of Joe's shotgun. Florentine flourished her arms and the Filth that washed along the guardian's body was set aflame.
The beast didn't slow for a moment. If anything, the attacks seemed to propel it forward faster, rushing at Florentine like a bull. It thundered right over her, trampling her underfoot. Florentine dropped and rolled as best she could, gasping as filth-infected claws dug into her skin and pressed her back against the metal of the subway tracks.
Once it was past, she rolled onto her back and locked stares with the guardian. It had skid to a stop and turned back to face her, brandishing its arms and the streams of filth that erupted from its body.
"Oy, over here garbage man!" Peter shouted from somewhere behind it.
"Garbage man, really?" That was Joe's voice.
"You try thinking of something better in a situation like this."
"Not now!" Florentine grunted as she scrambled into her feet. Okay, new plan, she told herself. The fire seemed to have no effect, but the sparks of energy seemed to work against its smaller cousins before. Instead of fire, Florentine's hands lit up with a blueish fizz of energy.
Before she could strike the guardian with her attack, its arm whipped around and smacked her into the far wall of the subway. Florentine sagged to the ground and stayed immobile.
Joe slowly backed away as the thing next towered over him, rumbling a low, throaty growl. He fired shot after shot and seemed to be punching holes into the mass of filth, but every hole he made slowly filled up again. Before he was thrown clear across the tracks, his last shot briefly exposed a piece of faintly pink jewelry, or perhaps a chip of colored glass.
"Over there!" Peter shouted, pointing at the spot where he'd seen the piece. "That must be what keeps it together." He emptied an entire clip into the guardian's torso, and again the piece of jewelry was exposed.
Several spouts of filth suddenly shot out and snaked around Peter, pinning his arms and legs together, dropping him to the ground and drenching him in oily goo. One tendril slowly snaked up around neck, over his chin and to his nostrils. Peter could only stare as the filth gradually advanced into his nose.
Suddenly, there was a flash of pale light, and a spark of energy impaled the thing's crystal shard. It screamed a curdling howl, stood still for a moment, and then burst apart, caking Peter and the tracks around him in a thick layer of filth. Florentine appeared behind it, another spark of energy lighting up her palm. The pool of filth didn't move for several moments that seemed like an eternity.
Finally, Florentine allowed her spell to dissipate, and Peter picked himself up.
"I thought I was a goner", Peter panted, picking up his rifle.
Joe grunted as he heard something in his back crack. "Too bad."
"Not to worry. We can still make that happen." A man in his late fifties or sixties stepped out of a doorway that was decorated with the same graffiti that had been on the kiosk, with Templar, Illuminati, Dragon, and Phoenician symbols. Armed men poured out of the doorway behind him, some in uniforms of one of the four organizations, some in bits and pieces of several different ones. They all leveled their weapons at Peter, Joe and Florentine.
"Welcome to our little abode", the older man said.
Peter sighed. "Well, shit."