Note: I do not own VALVe or any of its affiliates. Consider this a disclaimer to the characters/themes/what have you presented in this story.
Nor do I own any parts of Samuel L. Jackson (hehe) and whatever company holds the rights to Deep Blue Sea or Reservoir Dogs. I'm just getting lazy now, but I'm confident you guys won't chew me out for it.
Nine
"Conspiracy theory, s'all this is," Francis muttered, picking at his nails. Louis took a sip of his soda and looked over at him. "Just a fuckin' conspiracy."
"Yeah, next it'll be the black man," Louis said with a huff. "It's always the black man in the movies."
"Bullshit," Francis said, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. "What movie?"
"Every movie with Samuel L. Jackson in it," Louis replied, gesturing with his pop can for emphasis. "Deep Blue Sea. Ever see that one? Gets gobbled up, not even half way through the goddamn movie."
"Oh yeah, I remember that one," Francis said. "That was a pretty shitty movie."
"Reservoir Dogs."
"Sam Jackson didn't die in that one."
"No, but Marvin did," Louis said exasperatingly. "Went splat all over the goddamn back seat. And why? Because—"
"—They hit a bump," Francis finished, nodding. "Yeah. That was kinda funny though, you gotta admit."
"...Yeah, it was, actually."
"So you're sayin' these mojo fuckers are comin' for you next, huh?"
"They're not playing hide and seek, Francis."
Francis went back to picking at his nails, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Where do you think they took 'em?"
"I don't know," Louis groaned, deflated. "It's not like this place is huge. I don't know why we can't find 'em."
"I know Bill told us to fuck off when it came to these scientific types—the CEDA, or whatever. But I don't trust 'em or like 'em, and I'm sure as hell they all have their dicks poised right over our a—"
"Misters Jenkins and Greyberg?"
Louis and Francis turned in their seats to see one of the scientific types standing behind them. His face looked drawn and tired behind his Plexiglas mask, and he held his hands in front of him as he fidgeted slightly. The two companions looked between each other, wondering on the others' surname, then turned their attentions back to the man.
"...Yeah," they both muttered simultaneously.
"I'd like to have a word with you both, if you don't mind," he said weakly, his eyes darting to the field where the military worked on the fortifications to the wall, then to the doors by the stairway.
Louis slowly turned to Francis, cocking an eyebrow. "See?"
"Hey, he came for me, too," Francis muttered.
"Excuse me, gentlemen?"
"Nothin'. Might as well talk with you, since we don't actually have much of a choice, do we?" Francis asked bitterly. "Gonna stun-gun me if I don't come quietly or somethin'?"
The man looked perplexed, and his jaw worked as he tried to formulate a response. "Gentlemen, I don't know what you've been talking about, but I just want a few words with the both of you, please." He looked back over the field, then said: "I might not try to harm you, but someone else will."
"What?"
"Please, just come quickly."
Louis and Francis slowly got up out of their seats and followed the man as he rushed for the doors, looking towards the posts like he had a nervous twitch. The two men had to rush to keep up with him, and when they reached the doors, he turned back to them and said: "Down stairs—I have an office."
So they descended the stairs right to the basement, and the suited man seemed to come down from his tense, panicky state. They followed him a few doors down to a small, plain room with a desk and two chairs. He moved them for Louis and Francis to sit at, then stood behind the flimsy, wood panel study.
"I understand you two are affiliated with Miss Connor and Mr Overbeck?"
"You mean Bill is Mr Overbeck?" Francis said with a snort.
"I'll take that as a yes," the man replied. "Listen, I don't know how much time I have. They might already be looking for you. Your friend Miss... Zoey is in a precarious situation, and Bill has been subjugated and is being held in solitary confinement. I'm here to tell you how to retrieve them and escape."
The two men sat dumbfounded in front of him, speechless and unmoving. "The hell you talkin' about?" Louis said quietly, looking at him with utter shock.
"I..." the man paused, licking his lips. "The director of the R&D division, James Ford, is taking his liberties, or lack thereof, into his own hands. He's going to try and impregnate Zoey for some research data. I'm afraid that no-one else is going to stand up and stop him in his tracks—he has the highest rank and the most seniority in this place—so I needed to warn you of what's going to happen so that you can protect yourselves and your friends."
"You're shittin' me," Francis growled. "I knew you bastards were a bunch of cock sucking—"
"Mr. Greyberg, please," the man said, "I'm just as appalled by this as you are. I've no doubt that most of the people in this building are vile, ruthless human beings, but I need you to listen to me in order to get you safely out of here."
"You're gonna kick us back out there?" Louis said, sitting ramrod straight in his chair. "We spent the better part of a month trying to get here, and you're saying we gotta leave?"
"Mr. Jenkins," the man said wearily, "I assure you, you have a better chance of survival out there with them than you do in here with us."
"Fuckin' hell..." Francis said, rubbing his eyes. "I can't believe this shit."
"Now," the man said, leaning closer on the table. "Some men are going to come for you as well and keep you in confinement because of your affiliation with these two individuals. They will predict rebellious nature from you because of Bill's actions—"
"Wait, what did Bill do?" Louis interrupted.
The man licked his lips again, then looked down. "Bill heard James tell me of his experimental layout with Zoey, and Bill attacked him. He broke his face mask, and..." the man sighed, shaking his head. "James may be infected. We don't know how long it'll be before he changes."
"Fu—ck."
"The head of the defence department isn't likely to be happy with Bill, or you, out of association. Therefore, you need to get out as soon as possible, and you need to do it quietly."
"So whad'you suggest?"
"I suggest you go to the Kids Zone and collect your friend Bill," he said, placing a key down, "and then you head for the announcer's box on the top floor and collect your friend Zoey." He placed two more keys down.
"These are the keys to their rooms; the department heads and the assistant directors each have them, along with some supervisors on staff. This third key is to the weapon's closet—it's on the main floor near the infirmary hall. Do you know where that is?"
"Where Zoey was being held," Louis muttered. The man nodded back.
"Take these keys, and don't do anything stupid until nightfall," he warned. "Since it's Saturday night, the night security crew like to play cards on the field. They don't always keep a close eye on the people in the stands."
The two men eyed the keys on the desk. Then Francis said: "So how the hell do we blow this shit hole stadium?"
The man smiled slightly from behind his mask. "Through the front door, I suppose." He sounded amused, as if he could imagine those security level assholes being held at gun point as the four of them made their escape.
"How are we supposed to believe all that?" Louis tested. "How do we know you're not setting us up to get locked up, too?"
"Because, Mr. Jenkins," the man replied, "I've never known Hell until I worked for the Devil himself.
"Help your friend Zoey, and get to Bill before he's executed on impulse. Lay low until tonight. Don't go for the dining halls. Make yourself scarce as much as possible, because I don't know what their orders are, and I don't know what they'll do to you. And... I'm sorry it's come to this. I'm sorry that there's no true safe haven left in the United States."
Francis reached out slowly and swiped the keys off the table. "Likewise, pal."
The man stood straight, turning from the two of them. His hands hung limply from his sides, and his head hung low. "I'm not sure what fate holds for any of us."
He stayed quiet after that, and eventually Francis stood from his chair, Louis following. "We've received word that the military have taken matters into their own hands in Florida," the man said, gesturing in a vague southbound direction. "I'm more convinced they have your safety higher on their list of priorities than CEDA does. I'm also certain they have a much safer place down there for you."
Francis stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "This sounds cheesy, but are you gonna make a run for it?"
He shook his head quickly, still looking at the wall. "No, I... someone needs to watch over the others here, make sure no-one will take up James's place and try to mutilate more innocents."
"Well... thanks, uh—"
"Lyson Peters."
"Right," he replied. Then he turned to the door, and the two of them left into the hallway.
"What the fuck?" Louis whispered so quietly, he nearly only mouthed it.
"I dunno, man," Francis said. "I wasn't expecting that shit."
"Well, what do we do?"
"We could make some changes to Bill's plan," Francis said, stuffing the keys into his pockets. "There's just the two of us, and even if they aren't expecting us, we could still make it work."
"So, what, I'm supposed to seduce the guard?"
"Like I said, changes man. Jeez, for a techie, you don't seem too fuckin' bright."
"Hey, up yours, Francine."
"That's a nice one," Francis said lamely. "We could just follow that guy's suggestions and form a new plan under that. Combine 'em, maybe."
"Hey, what were you two doing down there?" a soldier called, walking forward as he flagged them down. They stood frozen at the top of the stairs. "No-one's allowed down there."
"Nobody mentioned that," Louis said. "Why didn't you tell us of where we could and couldn't go?"
"Aren't you Mr. Jenkins?" the soldier said, motioning to Louis. "And you're Greyberg?"
Oh, fuck me. "What's it to you?" Francis said, his voice coated in venom.
"You two will come with me, please."
"What for?" Louis said.
"Back down the way you came—"
"I said, what for?" Louis repeated. "That form I signed stated my legal rights were still intact, and I wanna know—"
"For conspiracy against the safety of CEDA's refugees," the soldier said, ushering them down the stairs again.
"That's bull—"
"Quiet, or I'll shut you up myself."
Francis clenched his fists at his sides, but Louis was the one who attacked first. The man spun on his heel and landed his fist right on the guy's windpipe. The soldier fell back on the stairs, clutching his throat and trying to breathe in unsuccessfully. Louis towered over him and drew back his arm to punch him again, but Francis shot out and grabbed his arm.
"The fuck you doin', man?" Francis said frantically. "Calm the fuck down!"
There was a snap of a rifle and a scream from behind them. Louis and Francis stopped where they were, frozen like a couple of statues in an out of place setting.
"Hands over your fucking heads!" The soldier was a woman.
Louis and Francis raised their hands, slowly linking them behind their bare heads. The woman approached them, grabbed Louis by the back of his collar, then yanked him down the stairs to the bottom, pushing him to his knees. She patted him down, then shoved him over onto the floor with her boot. "Don't move!"
She went back up the stairs to drag Francis down the stairs in similar fashion, though she didn't drop him to his knees—he was bigger than Louis was, and far tougher looking. Francis held his breath as she patted his pockets, hoping she wouldn't find the keys...
She stuffed her hand down his pocket, and he cursed wildly to himself as she withdrew the keys and examined them. Her anger was almost palatable.
"Shit," Louis cursed out loud.
"Down the hall," she ordered gruffly, making Louis get back to his feet. They walked down the hallway together with their hands still hooked behind their heads, not even daring to give one another a sidelong glance.
"Skin head, last door," she barked. Then she grabbed Louis by the collar and shoved him into the closet on the left. Francis gritted his teeth furiously as he went into the dark room at the end. A half-renovated staff washroom.
"Now you really have charges to worry about," the woman said angrily, and slammed the door on Francis, locking it behind him and leaving him in the dark.