Hello there, my fellow readers,
again and again I apologise for taking ages to update. But you are in luck, I have a huge anatomy exam on Friday, so I'm procrastinating (which means, that if I fail, I'm blaming you guys). Well, I hope you enjoy my work and hopefully I will put out the next part within two weeks, since I have another test coming up, so there will be a lot of procrastination going on there.
Anyways, thank you and have fun.
Mercy
„The food will be up in about thirty minutes." said an unpleasant voice in the phone.
„Okay, thanks." Anderson responded and hung up.
She stripped her uniform and carelessly threw the protective gear over an armrest, before stalking to the bathroom. Briefly surveying her battered form, she noticed that most of the tacks stapling her wounds together either fell off or loosened to the point of being practically useless. She retrieved a pair of tweezers from a mirror cabinet and used them to pluck out the remaining tacks, hissing now and then as the new sensitive layer of skin protested against such abuse. Annoyed, she rubbed the irritated patches, cursing the sloppy surgical work, but upon closer inspection, she found that the dermis had managed to seal off almost completely and most of her injuries remained only as a new batch of thin pink lines.
A woman screamed somewhere and in a moment the whole floor resonated with very descriptive details od someone's, probably her husband's, infidelity accompanied by an avalanche of profanities and several inventive jabs at his apparently lackluster sexual performance.
„Yay, loud neighbours... again." Anderson sighed as the male added his loudly voiced opinion to the matter. With another sigh, she rested her head against the cold tiles and just let the sound of flowing water drown at least some part of the noise.
A sharp knock stirred her from her musings. With a curse she wrapped a towel around herself and skipped to the door, leaving a wet trail behind. A grin split her face as her brain already projected the wonderful taste of pizza to her palate.
„Well, you're here faster tha-" she froze with her mouth agape as her eyes fell on the signature red X of the Judge helmet and the just-as-signature scowl underneath. „And that's because you're not my pizza." she remarked with a deadpan expression and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly painfully aware how much, or little, the towel actually covered.
Dredd cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and cleared his throat. „Get dressed, we have work to do." he clipped, the indifference in his voice sounding somewhat forced.
With a nervous awkward smile she obliged and grabbed her gear before scurrying back to the bathroom. „You could have called, you know?" she shouted, slipping into the uniform. „I wouldn't have bothered to shower." she mumbled to herself.
The answer was a low grumble and the sound of heavy boots pacing around her apartment. She hurried back to the one room her flat had, to greet Dredd in a slightly more dignified manner.
„So, what happened? Or did you just miss my company?" she asked with a mischievous smile, drying her hair with a towel.
„Ramirez is dead." Dredd growled and stalked out of the apartment. „He disappeared from the hospital at around seven. No video evidence or witnesses. He was found fifteen minutes ago in front of the main entrance to the Hall. Burned alive. No evidence or witnesses of that either." he explained, while the elevator took the two Judges into the underground garage. His tone was terse and reserved, but Anderson could feel rage radiating off of his mind.
„Fuck." she breathed in disbelief, mirroring Dredd's fury with her own. „So, where are we going?" she followed-up with a question as they drove into the dense traffic.
„The drones picked up a suspicious vehicle headed to Mercy. We're checking it out." he answered.
The Angel's Mercy hospital has been an urban legend for three decades. It used to be the largest and best equipped med-centre of MegEast, but became too expensive to maintain and was downsized several times before eventually getting closed-off altogether. It was rumored that the complex has been bought by some rich entrepeneur to be turned into a private med-centre, but no proof of it ever came to reality. Immediately after closure, the City's carrions swooped down on it and ransacked its valuables, the drugs and electronics left behind hitting the black market less than two hours after closure. Within a month the once honorable Mercy was stripped of everything worth taking, down to the copper wiring in the walls. The only thing not taken or destroyed for some reason was the five meters tall marble angel statue that stood in front of the main entrance.
But Mercy didn't fade into obscurity, doomed to stand as a bleached skeleton, housing the maggots and filth, she instead emerged as an ironically merciless meat grinder. From the very beginning Mercy seemed to attract the worst king of the lowest layers of society, even for City's standards. Suicide cults, cannibalistic cults, cults performing suicide by cannibalism, mass murderers, corpse-defilers, they all came to seek refuge to the former house of healing. And found none.
Only three weeks after the closure the first incident happened. The members of one of the satanic cults were found slaughtered, their mangled bodies strewn around the angel, the leader impaled on the statue's raised sword with his intestines adorning the angel's wings like some macabre garlands. The case was mostly ignored by the authorities, the official belief being that it was just a regular case of a mass suicide. It was harder to dismiss the second one, or the third, or the ones after. An investigation by the Hall of Justice yielded no results, whether due to an actual lack of evidence or disinterest, and was therefore stopped after few weeks.
The killings continued and over the course of six months, the number of Mercy's initial inhabitants has been decimated to a mere handful, most of which have gone insane, claiming the angel stoops down from his pedestal at night to exact vengeance. After several gore-drenched years almost no one dared to set foot into the haunted hospital save for the absolutely desperate.
And so Mercy stood virtually empty for almost a decade until a prison-break in a nearby penitentiary. Two dozen of convicted felons took refuge in the concrete behemoth. Once again their bodies started to appear atop the angel's blade until after three weeks the statue was found shattered and underneath it lay a crushed corpse of one of the felons, a sledgehammer still clutched in his dead hands. No incidents emerged ever since, but still no one had the courage to enter the hospital anymore, letting it fall into disrepair.
Dredd and Anderson parked their bikes in front of the hospital main entrance. The suspect vehicle stood nearby, an old beaten-up yellow van with company markings painted on the sides that spelled Efflutox Industries, Anderson made a mental note to remember that. Old crumbling bones produced soft grating sounds under their boots as the two Judges stepped into the dark and murky entrance area. It was empty, old torn cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the alarmed squeaking of mice filling the interior.
Anderson looked around and scoffed. „Charming. I like this place already."
„Seems harmless enough." Dredd shrugged and took in the inner layout of the place. „Someone here?"
„On it." she nodded grimly, but it turned into a confused frown as her mind hit a supple yet unyielding membrane enveloping her brain. „What the..." she spat and pressed against the barrier. It didn't yield.
„Something wrong?" Dredd asked, drawing his weapon.
„Yes." she snarled and clenched her teeth, ripping off her glove. „Hold." she ordered and pressed her palm against Dredd's neck. She felt his muscles tense up under her touch, but he help still. „Fuck." she breathed as the the barrier budged but still didn't break through. Her face tense with concentration, she stood on her tiptoes and brought her other hand to Dredd's shoulder for balance, diminishing distance between them.
Dredd stood rigid, his elevated heartbeat drumming into Anderson's fingertips. She closed her eyes and let the physical contact serve as a conduit to slowly worm her way past the mind-block. She stopped just as her mind brushed against Dredd's walls of anger and control and slipped back into her head with a victorious smile.
A strong hand gripped her wrist and the warm patch of Dredd's skin slipped from under her fingers. She heard a deep breath, but only when the warm air brushed over her cheek did she realise, how close to the other Judge did her little experiment bring her. A small treacherous voice sounded in her head, asking what would happen if she leaned in and kissed him. -Fuck off, brain.- she growled inwardly and stepped back with a quiet unintelligible stutter, immensely grateful for the darkness hiding her furious blushing.
Awkwardly, she ran her hand through her hair and cleared her throat. „Well," she started. „The good news is, it's probably not my head that's the problem. Another good news, there's definitely something here. Bad news... either someone developed a machine that can block my head, which would be bad, or Bob is here, which would also be bad, or there's another mutant just as strong or stronger than Bob, which would be downright awful."
„Noted." Dredd nodded curtly. „Take the west wing, I take the east and we meet on the other side by the emergency admission."
„And who gets the tower?" Anderson asked, referring to the giant, seventy floor high structure of the ICU.
Dredd appeared to be thinking for a moment. „We take on that one together after the wings." he fell silent, then cursed. „My com's dead. Yours?"
She checked and came to the same conclusion. „ Yep." she sighed. „Probably a tech-jammer. What now?"
„We follow through as planned. How long will it take you to cover the wing?"
She tilted her head and stared off blankly into space as she counted. The wings has only thirty storeys, but they stretched far, the corridors being at least a kilometer and half long. „Six, or seven hours if all goes well." she mused and checked her math again. „Yeah, six should be doable."
„Seven it is." Dredd clipped.
„It's a date then." she smiled and turned to the her wing.
It was mostly vast and empty. She hasn't encountered anything except few corpses, picked clean by groups of rats that crawled in the shadows. But going without her powers felt like going blind, the shadows suddenly stretching further and the soft noises sounding like miniscule whispered threats. The further up she went, the darker and murkier the hallways got. Where on the lower floors one could find decades-old bones and other tokens of human presence, higher up the only thing filling the concrete labyrinth was the endless night and menacing quiet, as if Mercy herself watched the intruder with silent disdain. Anderson's steps disturbed the thick layer of dust coating the floor and the particles swirled around her head like a swarm of angry bees. Floor after floor she trudged on, the thin cone of light from her flashlight piercing the dark.
And suddenly a sliver of light blinded her as she stepped into the thirtieth floor. With a tired groan she looked through the broken blinds at the rising sun that painted the dreary City in soft pastel shades of pink and gold. The shapes of the Blocks rose majestically from a velvety golden haze where clouds of pollution shimmered like beautiful toxic butterflies and the smell of smog that as usual choked the City seemed a little less prominent.
„Well, even this shit hole can look beautiful." she muttered to herself and turned from the window to cover the rest of the floor.
And so after six and half hours in the concrete bowels of Mercy Anderson found herself taking the stairs down to the back entrance. The way down took her only a fragment of time it took to get up since she didn't have to traverse and secure the actual storeys and in practically no time she reached the entrance to the ICU. Dredd was already waiting for her, leisurely leaning against the spray-painted wall. He appeared relaxed, but could, no doubt, switch to combat mode at a moment's notice.
He raised his head as he saw her arrival and greeted her with a small nod. „Any problems?"
„Nope. It was completely unproblematic... or boring, as I would call it." she recounted and grinned. „Come on, let's go, I'm so ready to get shot at."
Dredd chuckled grimly and set out. The floors of the ICU were maybe half as long as those of the wings, but that positive news was completely negated by the fact that there were twice as many. Just like before, the first couple dozen floors were deserted, only occasionally sporting a shriveled corpse. Slowly, the hours-long march started to take its toll on the two Judges. Anderson felt the persistent burning sensation in her muscles and even Dredd displayed some signs of exhaustion, taking sharp irregular breaths every now and then. So after five hours and fifty floors Dredd ordered a fifteen-minutes break.
Gladly, Anderson sunk to the floor and stretched her legs on the stairs. For few moments she just relished the feeling as the pain in her calves ebbed away. Then she let out a content sigh and fished out a name brand protein bar, for the tasty boost, if the advertising was to be believed. She bit in and immediately pulled a face. The actual taste and texture of the bar were actually more or less bearable, mimicking perfectly the taste and texture of wet cardboard, the main problem was the horrible soury-bitter aftertaste.
„Well, someone needs to get shot for false advertising." she spat and choked down her bite with a strangled grumble.
„What are you having?" Dredd asked as he heard her noise of distress.
She squinted at the brightly coloured packaging. „Protein bar. Orange, apparently." she scoffed. „They definitely could have been more creative with the flavour-name, I would probably go with something along the lines of Suffering-of-children or," she paused and took a second bite, raising her eyebrows as the awful aftertaste assaulted her taste buds again. „Or Hearing-someone-play- a-badly-tuned-fiddle-for-the-first-time." she mused, but absent-mindedly took another bite. She chewed the gluey moist substance with interest, then let out a surprised hum. „Its's horrible, really horrible... and I'm starting to like it. Is it weird?"
A deep soft chuckle escaped Dredd as he suppressed a laugh. „Masochist." he commented a pulled himself to up. „Get up. Break's over."
Slowly, as they went up, the floors began to get more lively. Fat rats, some naked and covered in glistening lesions, others perfectly normal, tumbled in the shadows and spiders dangled off the ceiling, preying on the flies that buzzed around their heads. Black fuzzy cottony bundles, some as big as a human's head, clung to the walls and jutted from the floor. Anderson made the horrible mistake of poking one of them. It fell apart and clusters of spiders came tumbling out of it, some falling to the floor, others scattering along the walls. She leaped backwards and choked down the embarrassingly girlish scream that tried to worm itself out of her mouth, so that it came out only as a quiet hiss.
Even without the access to her powers, she could feel Dredd rolling his eyes. „Rookie, please, don't tell me, you're afraid of spiders." he groaned.
She bit her lip and shot him a defiant glare. „No, that would be pathetic. But that doesn't mean I'm a fan either." she mumbled, but kept eyeing the dark fuzzes cautiously. „They feed off of the flies and they in turn have to feed off of something else." she remarked.
„Yeah." came from the other Judge. „Keep your gun at the ready."
She nodded and switched herself to combat-mode as they went up the staircase to the seventy-fifth floor. „Because of course it's the last place we will check." she growled.
And then stopped as if lightning-struck, because a heavy automatic steel door stood in front of them, effectively sealing off the floor. Anderson looked at the door with a mixture of despair and the urge to laugh, probably equally desperate. „You wouldn't happen to have a blowtorch on you, would you?" she turned to Dredd, who looked about as stunned as she.
„Not on me." he spoke slowly. „I really didn't plan for this one."
„Yeah." she agreed, still processing the fact that after thirteen hours of tedium and with the finish practically in sight, they would be stopped by s simple door made of fifteen centimeter thick fortified steel. „What now?" she asked.
In disbelief Dredd shook his head. „I have no fucking idea." he breathed. „Suggestions?"
She stood rigid for a moment, then resolutely walked to the door and banged on it, strong enough to feel the vibrations resonating in the metal. „Hey, open up, assholes!" she shouted.
And the door slid open with soft hiss of hydraulics.
Dumbfounded, the two Judges peered into the brightly lit corridor that stretched before them. It seemed empty, save for few overthrown wheelchairs, and pristinely clean, bright halogens illuminating the white-bleached walls. A sharp stench od disinfectant flowed from the hallway and somewhere in the back a high-pitched wailing could be heard.
„Well," Anderson started. „either this is a trap, or I just developed the ability to control machines with my mind."
„ YOU DIDN'T." boomed a voice, resonating menacingly between the blank walls. Even amplified and distorted through the speaker it still it still retained some of its soft melodicity. „SO, COME ON IN AND ENJOY YOURSELVES, IT'S NOT LIKE YOU CAN GO BACK, NOW CAN YOU?" echoed and with that an explosion shook the building and some floors below them they heard a floor collapse.
„ALSO," the voice spoke again. „YOU SHOULD KNOW I COULD HAVE DONE THIS AT ANY TIME IN ANY PART OF THE BUILDING, SO YOU SHOULD REALLY APPRECIATE MY GENEROSITY IN LETTING YOU LIVE THIS LONG."
Dredd and Anderson exchanged a look. „I guess there's no way but forward then." she shrugged and the two Judges stepped into the corridor, the door silently sliding shut behind them.
„I'M REALLY HAPPY YOU DECIDED TO JOIN US VOLUNTARILY. OF COURSE, I'M AFRAID YOUR VISIT WON'T BE VERY LONG." Bob chuckled darkly.
Small noise started to echo in the corridor, the shuffling of feet, clinking of metal, occasional pained moan. At least fifteen twisted figures of many shapes and sizes crept out of the nearby doors. All of them were mutants, exhibiting the usual traits of missing or excess limbs, but more than that, their forms have been altered and mutilated. Violet lesions covered their broken emaciated torsos, which still carried the signs of recent surgical procedures and some of them had sharp serrated plates welded to their atrophied limbs. They all sported the cold vacant expression that only extensive brain surgeries, bordering on lobotomy, could provide.
The creatures, Anderson couldn't bring herself to call them people, wailed and gurgled incoherently as they swarmed the Judges, the air permeated with the stench of festering flesh and bodily fluids. They were dispatched with brutal efficiency, their crudely upgraded bodies being no match for the trained and well equipped pair.
„NICE DISPLAY, BUT THIS WAS JUST A SMALL TASTE OF WHAT I HAVE IN STORE." commented the soft voice, showing very little interest in the death of its subjects.
„You're sick." hissed Anderson, her voice trembling as she spoke.
„WELL, YES, YES I AM, I THINK, I MADE THAT CLEAR ENOUGH WHEN WE LAST SAW EACH OTHER." Bob actualy giggled. „BUT LET'S NOT DIGRESS, YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE."
A single enormous silhouette appeared in the back of the corridor. Another mutant stepped forward, squinting as the bright halogens blinded him. His spine was bent, bringing his head on Anderson's level and knuckles of his arms scraping the tiled floor, but he was broad-shouldered, muscles enlarged beyond natural, or even conventionally artificial, measures covering his hulking frame, glistening with red where they ripped the skin open. Thick steel plates were welded to his shoulders, chest and head, lending him the appearance of a battering ram and a broad shock collar was fastened around his neck. Where the metal plates ended, a vast array of studs, spikes and serrated blades were inwrought into his arms, some embedded with surgical precision, others stabbed in with rage, left to fester and ooze in the bruised flesh. The undersides of his arms were partially bandaged, here and there revealing messy, self-inflicted wounds. Worst of all were the mutant's eyes, beholding the world with the look of someone, who was tortured to the brink of merciful insanity, but wasn't able to lose himself there just yet.
„GO GET THEM, BOY." ordered the voice from the speaker joyfully.
The mutant stood still from a moment, then reared and tilted his armoured head backwards, exposing his neck and abdomen. He stood rigid and a pleading guttural wail escaped him, the sound of an animal longing to die. The two Judges complied and a barrage of shots hit the still enemy. The bullets connected with wet smacks and pale anemic blood and ichor spilled onto the floor. But the mutant still stood, the wounds meaning little harm to his reinforced physique.
„I SAID, GO GET THEM!" roared the speaker and the acrid smell of ozone filled the air as electricity cracked in the shock-choker.
The mutant fell on all fours with a whimper. Heaving heavily, he raised his head and focused the Judges. Then he charged, picking up speed at a frightening pace.
Anderson shifted her weight to her left foot, leaping out of the way, Dredd mimicking her movement in the other direction. Simultaneously, the two Judges began shooting, trapping the mutant in the crossfire. He stopped abruptly, for a moment unsure of which of his targets to choose, then swung at Anderson's head, his fist burying itself deep in the ferrocrete wall. She jumped backwards, sending another slew of shots into the mutant, most of which got reflected by his armour.
The mutant yanked the hand out of the wall and charged her again. She leaped away, but he managed to land a glancing blow to her side, which was enough to send her flying across the tiled floor. She landed with a thud and rolled on her back, her world spinning from the impact.
Heavy footsteps sent vibrations through the floor as the mutant jumped on her. She rolled, just in time to avoid getting her head smashed in and aimed at his head. The mutant turned with surprising agility, but before he could strike another blow, Anderson shot him at point-blank range. More by luck than by great aiming, the bullet hit him in the eye and buried itself deep in his brain.
He uttered a pained howl and staggered backwards, instinctively protecting his head with his arms.
„Rookie, get out of there!" Dredd roared.
She pulled herself to her feet and ran, bringing as much distance between her and the wounded mutant.
„Hi-Ex." Dredd clipped and sent out four shots.