Chapter Twenty-Seven
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Bang!
The bullet buzzed past Twilight's ear as he took cover behind the thick tree and reloaded his gun, an action felt out by touch, nearly completely blind in this sopping darkness.
The plan had gone steeply askew and rankled every bit of him. Their operation hinged heavily on stealth and infiltration and it was thwarted from the get-go. He thought he could still salvage it, but it was going to take a lot of improvisation.
And killing.
He didn't know where Yor was. Probably in the trees somewhere. They had been split up and had no idea if she was okay, how many she'd dispatched, because even if she was dead, there was no way she'd go down on her own.
She wasn't dead. It was hard to imagine that anyone would be able to kill her.
His gun clicked, ready to go, and he resented the bad timing when it had run out. He might've shot that agent down if his gun hadn't emptied. They would've moved by now if they were smart.
They weren't and shot again.
The bullet hit his tree, and though it spiked his heart up briefly, he kept his calm and returned fire.
He missed.
There were no shouts of pain or alarm, no body falling to the ground.
"Tch!" Twilight was growing frustrated with the darkness that depleted his senses of sight and the downpour that impaired his hearing somewhat. He'd been calculating the hostiles locations by the direction of the bullet, if he could discern it, and the sound of where it manifested from. But he'd only hit once, and it wasn't enough against those who had night vision goggles. It was the only thing that made sense with their accuracy and frequency.
The only reason he and Yor had evaded detection earlier was because of their exceptional stealth, but now that they'd been discovered, the agents knew to search for them.
Twilight was smart and changed positions. He'd been moving constantly, keeping the agents on their toes and the denseness of the forest had protected him from being shot at on all sides.
He drowned out the rain as much as possible, listening for every scuff, any shift, the tiniest breath that alluded to anyone's whereabouts, and moved from tree to tree, a blur of movement too quick for the agents to track.
He'd planned to go straight for the agent he'd shot down, but another found and targeted him. For a moment, Twilight had let them, his hope to target them back, failing. It was pointless to continue when a dead body lay around up ahead somewhere and he could steal their goggles.
"Aaahh!—" A scream cut through the rain like a dull knife from his attacker's direction, and was swiftly cut off. A body tumbled through branches, weak and dead limbs snapping under their sudden weight.
The muted noises fell to silence.
And there was Yor.
That was at least two down. He had no clue if Yor had disposed of any others, she could have killed them silently.
Twilight continued on.
He dodged a bullet shot his way and continued on with grim determination as if it was of little consequence to him. Once he had the gear, attempts on the agents now would seem like wasted effort.
Another one whizzed by and he dodged again, nearly ramming into a tree.
He grit his teeth in annoyance and coiled his hammering heart and anger into calculative control.
He didn't have time for this nonsense. He had to get to Anya. He fretted over her and his nerves were anxious in a way they weren't on missions, and pushed it down. He couldn't think about that now. He had to focus. He had to plan. He could dwell on it later when she was safe.
Twilight kept moving and the agent became too blocked by trees to pursue him further. He'd have to leave his post, and by the time he'd descended the tree, Twilight should have those goggles and it would be too late.
In the disorienting gloom that was the woods, Twilight guessed at his destination. He was good at keeping his wits, however, and he proceeded with caution when he presumed to get closer. The agent he shot might not be dead.
The other agent was coming down the tree and Twilight's back stood against one as he listened intently for his victim.
A breath. Another.
They were alive.
Crap.
At least he knew he went the right way,
They were heaving with pain and he wished he could see the extent of their injuries. Where did he shoot them? Were they bleeding out? Could they still handle a gun? Did their fall break any bones? They didn't sound unconscious.
How annoying.
He'd have to be quick. Finish them off before that other agent interrupted.
Twilight could barely hear himself breathe as he steadied it, and was unconcerned that his opponent might also. The rain was too loud.
His first instinct was to jump him from a high point and land a knockout hit before he was even noticed, but with such limited vision he could give himself away, miss them entirely, and leave himself open. It was unfortunate he couldn't do this the quiet way.
Loid was very aware of the approaching agent that slowly searched the woods for him, and he could imagine them swivelling their rifle around.
He took a minute to zone in on the injured agent's position, their breathing, movements, subtle rustling of twigs and brush.
He gripped his gun and his feet spun on the slick leaves as his arms swung up. The barrel fired a bullet and it found it's mark. He shot again just to be sure.
And Twilight ran.
He was determined to reach the body before—
Bang!
—that other agent arrived in response.
He dove forward as the projectile flew over his head and leaves plastered to his clothes. He rolled back up to his knees and skidded to a stop beside the body.
The headgear that supported the binocular-like goggles, were unbuckled and yanked off with quick fingers.
Bang!
"Tch!" The shot barely missed as Twilight leapt out of the way, just in time, grabbing the dead agents rifle as he did so.
He came up in a crouch and hastily threw on the gear, not bothering to fasten it in place.
And finally the world was laid out before him, lavished in hues of green. The forested landscape showed clear every rise, every nook and cranny to hide in, the branches that would easily cover him. Every drop of rain was emphasized in verdant clarity like a billion shooting stars that pelted the earth mercilessly. The roots that had tried to trip him up, could no longer. The boughs and wiry limbs that he ran into, were no more an issue.
And the agent. She aimed at Twilight several yards away as if she still had a chance.
Well, Twilight thought.
This changed everything.
Bang! Bang! The agent fired, her opponent perfectly in line, an assured kill. The bullets streamed through the droplets on a direct path to ending his life, when—
He vanished.
As if Twilight had never been there, his form seemed to wink out of existence, a trace of a shadow fading away like an afterimage. The agent had blinked and her projectiles hit not her target, but lodged in some unfortunate tree.
In the limbs of a pine, Twilight raised the sniper and aimed.
The agent frantically searched for him, baffled at his uncanny speed.
Twilight was not a cold person and not indifferent to those he killed. However inevitable, and though he didn't kill often, it was terrible. A person's death should always carry some weight, some solemness, for it was a heavy thing. To end someone's life. To snuff out their breath, their thoughts, their being. To erase them from the earth, the life they'd lived. To leave someone without a person they held dear.
But as Twilight's finger pressed against the trigger, there was none of that. As the bullet launched from the barrel, all he felt was fiery wrath wrapped in icy calm. He had no sympathy for this person. He had no sympathy for any of them.
If they wanted to live they should have stayed the heck away from his daughter.
The agent he and Yor had threatened for information, he'd only let live on habit. He was not an assassin like Yor. He did not kill all his opponents. Anyone he dispatched, was collateral damage and there was always some bit of regret over the fact that they'd had to die.
It didn't even bother him that it was gone now. He didn't care. The director should've learned his lesson the first time and left Anya alone.
He was going to make sure Kai died this time and anyone else who got in his way.
And as the bullet sunk deep into the agent's skull, his resolve hardened.
The rain began to let up some as the corpse collapsed and he turned away to scan the area. His vantage point should have been more useful, but he saw no others. Either the woods blocked his view, or Yor had killed the rest.
From the way of the clearing, a grumble emanated, groaning and creaking stubbornly and Twilight knew what it was. He made his way over to observe at a distance as the doors he'd suspected were there, to open.
And the agents that emerged.
He wasn't surprised. The dead agents wouldn't be answering their comms, it was a possible alert of attack.
This was getting messier and messier. No one was supposed to know of their presence. It was the whole reason they were going in without the SSS. To rescue Anya before they could know she was here and figure out she had telepathy. Because why else would the director retrieve her and not any of the other subjects?
And Damian. They had to get him too. He vanished with Anya, the SSS would put two and two together.
Twilight didn't want to think about what the young Desmond had learned, or how he was going to explain any of this to him.
The dozen or so agents swiped their guns through the tree line and Twilight obscured himself further.
He remembered to fasten the goggles support gear into place and checked his stolen weaponry. His right hand got comfortable on the grip, and he was itching to get inside.
This would be quick, he decided. Fifteen people were nothing. How many people had he taken on at once before? More than this.
As Twilight brought his gun up to peek around the tree, he took careful notice of the men and women who bled into the forest, leaving the clearing.
This would be easy.
And it was.
Bang!
One
Bang!
Two, and Twilight found a new position.
Bang!
A third and there was a streak of a shadow and two more went down.
Yor.
Bang! Six now. Seven, and Yor was all over the place. He saw only flickers, glimpses was a generous word for it, as an agent went down and another. She killed with her knives, her hands, a couple skulls were caved in and it was so fast it was like she killed them merely by passing by.
Bang! Thirteen. Yor. Bang! Fifteen.
Twilight lowered his gun because they were all dead.
It was time to get to work.
—
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
Yor tore through the agents as if they were nothing. Minor inconveniences that bled so easily, that broke with a touch of her hand, that crumpled under the force of her foot. They were killed so effortlessly, and it was unsatisfying. Each blow carried great anger and hate, and though she vented it on them, it never ended. There was always more, and then suddenly all the agents were dead.
What did she do with all this rage?
Yor didn't like this. She didn't like Anya being outside of her protection. She was so close, she wanted to kill every last person until that gap was gone. She wanted to storm in, slice open some throats, destroy any remnant of the director, his lab, anything that took Anya away from her.
But Loid.
He had a plan, and it didn't involve all that. Not until they had Anya that is.
And Yor chafed, not because she disagreed with Loid, but because it went against her impulses.
She knew her way was reckless. By storming the lab, the director would be alerted and would try to flee with Anya again. The agents would attack them and slow their progress. They couldn't risk it.
So they were to use stealth if at all possible.
Yor was good at stealth, she excelled at it, it was a simple thing.
But she would have preferred death and pain.
In the aftermath of killing and maiming, Yor found Loid dragging a couple bodies and helped bury them in a shallow grave. They had stolen their uniforms and Loid had memorized their faces before returning to the clearing.
It was not much better than the woods, visibility-wise. No stars shone through the dark clouds and moonlight was nearly non-existent.
The doors had since been closed and waiting for someone else to open it wasn't an option.
Yor felt around for the edges, her fingers digging down through the thin layer of soaked dirt and moss, and pulled.
The door was heavy, even for her, and lifted it to shoulder height. She gestured for Loid to enter and quietly set it back down as she followed.
The ramp was slippery and they carefully descended into the dark tunnel where a couple vehicles sat.
The keys were inside and they turned it on for the light, immediately changing into the uniforms. They had to be fast before more agents came to investigate.
Yor took off her goggles and in the relative dryness of the tunnel, Loid transformed her into Agent Hazel, so said the security ID.
He told her not to touch her face or her hair and Loid made himself a disguise identical to the original.
Yor hopped into the passenger seat of the large vehicle, uncomfortable in someone else's wet clothes and ignored it as best she could.
This was strange to her. Pretending to be someone else. Wearing their face, their attire, taking their name and playing their life. They'd only just started and already she was itching to be herself again.
They spoke briefly on the short drive, rehearsing falsified facts, running through the lie they would tell if anyone asked.
Which they would.
If they could make this work, then finding Anya and getting her out would be simple. Hopefully they'd be able to sneak out as well, instead of fighting, and no one would know they were there.
A hangar appeared in the distance and fixtures on the walls leading up to it, spattered orange light that somehow made the place more depressing.
The agents who stood guard on either side, raised their weapons warily and one of them came forward as the van halted.
"Come out of the vehicle! Hands where I can see 'em!" The woman commanded.
The car doors opened and out stepped Agent Jasper and Agent Hazel, faces, tired and somber. They held themselves tall and carried the same disciplined attitude portrayed by the guards.
The woman who held them at gun point recognized them and visibly relaxed as her weapon lowered.
"Jasper." She sighed. "Hazel. What the heck happened? We were getting ready to send people out. Why is no one answering their comms? Where's everyone else?"
Hazel and Jasper glanced at the other in mutual solemnity. A look that conveyed the horrific event that they had shared and survived.
"They didn't make it." Jasper said quietly, professionally. "We're the only ones left." His hands clenched briefly and the woman sighed, dragging a hand over her face.
"Geez. What happened?" She asked taking in their state, drenched through and stained with mud. Leaves still clung to their uniforms and Jasper absentmindedly pulled a couple off as she appraised them. "You dealt with them, right?"
Jasper nodded. "Yes. They're dead." He said and spoke quietly in hopes she couldn't tell it wasn't actually Jasper's voice.
But the woman was too lost in her thoughts to notice and nodded. "And your comms?"
"Ruined." He threw up his wrist to show the damaged band.
"Your's too?" The agent asked Hazel and she nodded. The guard sighed through her nose and glanced back to the other agent stationed with her. "Okay." She spoke into her walkie-talkie. "Intruders neutralized, stand down."
"Copy." Someone on the other end said.
"The captain will want a debrief. We'll send a team for the bodies." She told them and took up her place again as the hangar door opened.
"Right." Jasper responded and he and Hazel jumped back in the car.
They drove in and Twilight parked the car beside another like it as Yor grabbed the briefcase from the backseat.
"Ready?" He asked as they approached the door and Yor nodded.
They walked in, and if the same concrete, white walls were any indication, this place was definitely another lab. Yor had thought so ever since the agents, and she hated that nothing pointed to the opposite. She'd rather Anya be anywhere else.
The experience was different this time for Yor. Before, she hadn't cared how overt she'd been. She had flown threw the halls, killing, knocking people out, and destroying labs.
It was what she wanted to do now, but she had to admit there was a sense of satisfaction that she walked through their halls and the agents had no idea. All was fine, and anyone they passed didn't bother them, didn't attack, scream, or send up any alarms.
Completely ignoring the order to report to the captain, they wandered the halls following the signal. Yor had balanced the briefcase on her forearm and closed it when someone was heard nearby.
"We need new disguises." Twilight suddenly interjected.
"We do?" Yor asked.
"When Agents Jasper and Hazel don't report to the captain, they'll be searching for us." He said and it was true.
Twilight had considered speaking with the captain for appearances sake, but he didn't know enough about Jasper to play him convincingly, and he didn't know what he sounded like. Things could go very sideways by not knowing his speech patterns, personality, and bits of information the captain would expect him to know. Not to mention that Yor wouldn't know how to be Hazel either.
And so they planned accordingly.
Twilight and Yor nodded in greeting to the agent they passed by and he returned it. He was about six-foot-two, sandy hair, in his early-thirties, and a perfect candidate for identity theft.
When he wasn't looking, Yor beaned him over the head.
In some kind of morgue-lab they'd located before-hand, the body was hidden in a freezing box cabinet and Loid gave himself a new face.
Yor administered another death blow to the next female agent that came their way, and soon she had one too.
And so, with little fuss, they transformed, continuing on like nothing had happened. They didn't worry about the corpses being found because they planned to have escaped by then.
The dry uniform was a nice change and Yor liked how there was no dampness to press on her skin as she took the briefcase and checked the signal again.
Unfortunately they couldn't follow it in a straight line and turned a corner trying to find the right way. Then another and another.
"We're getting close." Yor told Twilight and he flexed his hands. He instinctively felt for his gun hidden in his jacket. He was used to a wrench being thrown in his plans, and it hadn't exactly been smooth getting in, but. . .this felt too easy. . .
"This is it." Yor hurriedly set the briefcase on the floor and listened for any sound through the door she referred to.
Like most doors here, it was metallic and heavy, and this one was locked from the outside.
Twilight looked left and right, checking for anyone nearby, and Yor pulled the bar that slid into the wall, out, unlocking it in a rush to get to Anya.
"Wait." He made her pause. "Slowly." He warned and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
The door opened outwards as Yor revealed a sliver of darkness.
At such a late hour, Anya was probably asleep.
It was quiet and it prompted Yor to call for her. "Anya?" She said softly and slightly widened the crack. She clutched the handle impatiently. Her pulse was normal, but loud and strong, waiting for a reply, waiting to dash in and sweep Anya out of here. To hold her close to her chest and never let go.
"Mama?" A voice wavered and it was all Yor needed to swing the door wide as she was shot through with adrenaline, and stride into the room.
Every thought flew from Twilight's head as he was jarred into consuming concern and relief. He rushed in after Yor, searching for the light switch as he entered. He couldn't locate it and—
Bang! The door slammed shut. The lock was shoved in position and their only source of light was reduced to a thin line at the door's bottom.
A stab of alarm slashed through Twilight's chest as he spun, lunging for the handle, though it was too late. They were stranded in the darkness and they had walked right into it.
He instantly attempted to evaluate the trap, invent some way out, but he couldn't see and he'd have to search out the room by touch to discover anything.
" #%^!" Twilight swore and hit the side of his fist on the door angrily, simultaneously judging if it could be busted open. It was heavy, but maybe with the both of them, it would work.
"Anya?!" Yor cried anxiously but there was no response.
Was she even here?! Twilight thought. They heard her voice, where was she?!
" &$#!" He swore again and faced the pitch blackness. How could he let this happen?! He felt it in his gut, why didn't he listen?!
He almost called for Yor, but even still, he hoped their stolen identities could be useful. "Agent Roland." He said instead. "Help me with the—"
Twilight looked down at the water rippling in from under the door, lifting a foot as it flowed around his shoes. He moved back but, by the sound of it, it was spreading quick.
They needed to get of there now.
"Yor! The door! C'mon!" He said and rushed to it again, dropping any remnants that remained of their facade.
Yor's steps splashed through the shallow waters, regretful she couldn't find Anya, and was swiftly beside him.
And then the lights flicked on.
The room was bare and the walls were painted the same blinding white as the rest of the building. It was a fair size, spanning several metres, and a glass window separated them from another room.
This was no holding cell, clearly meant for observation, and the tracker that Twilight had given Anya, rested in the middle of it.
He cursed at himself. He should have considered it'd been found. They'd created a ruckus above, of course the lab would deduce a tracker was involved when they were attacked so quickly after Anya's capture.
But what took his main attention was his daughter on the other side of the glass and for a moment she was all he saw. His gaze was immediately drawn drawn to the colour of her unusual hair and the familiarity of her round face. They'd reached her. She would be okay. That window wouldn't bar them long and the circumstances couldn't smother the alleviation he felt at seeing her.
Until he looked to the man standing next to her and Twilight's thoughts halted like a train colliding into a mountain, slightly stunned at the man's offensive presence.
Twilight had been trying to track down the director for weeks. Stared at his papers too many times to count, followed every weak lead because that was the only kind he had. He'd found no solid evidence of his existence, no records with his name, no documents to suggest he was real. Kai Forester was a ghost who lived in the shadows and they had been too dark for Twilight to see him.
But here he was.
Twilight knew it was him. He recognized his build from their short encounter and he couldn't look away from the features that were far from what he expected.
His hair wasn't orange and the light illuminated the actual colour. The facial similarities were impossible to miss and disturbed understanding seeded deep enmity and agitation in Twilight.
The hairs on his neck and arms raised in reactive hostility.
He had wondered how Anya ended up at the lab, how that came to be. Who her family was and if they looked for her, if they were dead. Or worse, caused her life at the lab. How long Anya had been there, how young. If she'd seen kids die, how often she had lacerations on her limbs, why she never talked about her past family.
And what kind of monster could put a child through all this.
The very presence of this man answered this question and Twilight was stunned at his own capacity for hatred. He boiled with anger as a big chunk of Anya's past made so much more sense, and his muscles twitched and flexed from keeping his outrage and impulses in locked composure. He prickled with indignation at the words that rose in his head, the words that he hated were true and his hands fisted.
Anya's biological father.
He was going to kill him.
It happened almost automatically.
The pistol was whipped out from Twilight's uniform jacket. He would shoot through the glass and riddle the director with bullets. He would watch him bleed out, cause him as much pain as possible until he died. Twilight didn't torture people, but the idea was very appealing. He would remove Kai from Anya's life, remove his existence and assure he would never take Anya away again. He would assure he never hurt anyone again.
The need to was overpowering.
Twilight was feeling particularly murderous and could imagine it in vivid detail. The blood. Kai's broken body. His infuriating face that Twilight wanted to rip off.
His gun was raising, ready to make it happen, to pull the trigger, to end all of this right now.
When, abruptly, it stopped.
Twilight couldn't move his finger. He couldn't move his hands. None of his muscles responded, his body was frozen in mid-kill.
The water had suddenly been charged and Twilight was paralyzed as electricity surged every nerve and tendon. He'd been made into a conduit and felt it vibrating up through his feet, spreading to the rest of him. The sensation was warm, pleasant almost, and the minimal pain couldn't soften the torment that burned and shook in his chest. For, his hand that held the gun, that could kill Kai, that was just a finger away from causing death, was useless, motionless. Frustratingly silent when a bullet should be echoing off the walls.
"Kk—." His tight throat expelled through gritted teeth, not from pain, but from his failed efforts to control his hand. His fingers. Anything to shoot the firearm.
The director stepped closer to the window as if to taunt him and held his hands behind his back. His head tipped slightly to the side and smiled a smile that was more of a smirk.
"How lovely to meet you." He said, overflowing with arrogant victory.
"Forgers."
—
Authors Note:
—
The description for the electrical shock is based off my dad's experience, but he wasn't in water, so if anyone has thoughts on how it could be more accurate, I'd love to hear it.