This chapter contains scenes of violence, gore and runs parallel to the previous chapter. If you do not enjoy any of these these items, this chapter can be skipped without losing pace to the main story.
It was worth noting that the latest member of the play was still hovering in the background as the Duel went on and had an experience of their own. They slipped through the crowds with ease and listened to endless lines of conversation, discarding the banal and picking up dozens of helpful little facts. It was amazing what people would say when they thought nobody was listening. Corruption, bad jokes, outright murder.
Flattening against a wall, the dark shape tried to search out the voices again. They were familiar, had been heard on the road. One whistling slightly through broken teeth, the other two angry at the noise. Sean, Wayne, Craig – Team Wrecker had somehow managed to make it to the finish line and didn't seem ready to live and let live.
"Those bastards are up next." A note of normal tones was audible through outright rage.
"They'll have to go through the tunnels to get to the field. There has to be a way into those." Was that Craig? It was impossible to tell over the hubbub of the crowd. It was luck that even every other word could be heard.
"Atlas will have been drinking that coffee the entire time." It was the slightest things that threw a plan into disarray. "And dollars to doughnuts that the kid wants some time with his sister before the big match." Team Wrecker had clearly put some thought towards the attack. They could pick and chose their targets and take them down in swift attacks. Even Jack could have been overwhelmed if all three rushed him at once.
"I want that ginger prick." Knowing enough, the silent eavesdropper peeled away from their hiding place and began hurrying as fast it could.
It was possible to get from one side of the stadium to the other without being seen at all but the pounding crowds were enough to cover one person in the open and a small electromagnetic field would distort the cameras in emptier corridors. Normally, guards would be dispatched to check the equipment but the flickering blob of static moved at such speed through the complex that it was probably dismissed as a system glitch. With the event of a lifetime providing hundreds of possibilities for failure at every corner, the staff had their hands full with everything else and they managed to arrive on the outskirts of the private section for finalist within a few minutes. Then the problems really started.
Security was a lot tighter here. Cameras would be actively monitored at all times and there would be somebody along to check any problems within seconds. Sticking to the darkest parts of the corridors, it edged towards an emergency door. A wry thought turned towards the classic ideas of using a picture to fool the camera or setting off the alarm to divert guards. Instead, strong fingers fastened around a nut and began turning by the tiniest fractions. It wouldn't work if the camera dropped instantly, that would alert security somebody had tampered with it. If it was done perfectly – and it was – the camera would gradually begin to slide down and lose view of the door.
For any advanced security system, fire doors were always a weak point. Strictly speaking, they were meant to only open when the alarms went off but nobody wanted to face a legal action when a system failed and people burned to death. Instead, they placed extra sensors on the doors themselves. If a fire door was detected as open, it would activate a smaller alarm on the system. This could be overcome with two small pieces of tape, a length of wired in red plastic – so it wouldn't be immediately noticed – and the ability to squeeze through tight spaces. Simply attach either end of the cable to the tiny circuit to extend it a bit, push the door open, slide through and shut it again. Even if an actual fire happened, the door would open wide enough to pull the wire free and still set the alarms off.
With no cameras in the emergency stairwell, it was possible to reach the private top floor within a minute. The plan was to go to the roof and try to lower in through the ventilation systems but keen hearing picked up the sound of excited voices as Leo and Luna headed for the elevator with Crow. That meant that Jack was probably already in the toilet and no time was left. Turning back down the stairs, the figure skipped entire flights as it hurtled to the bottom floor. There was no fire door at the end of the bottom flight, just a regular one that lead into the tunnels. Edging it open, the figure peeked into the dim corridors as the elevator completed the final stretch of the descent.
There was a guard on either side of the doors but none patrolling the rest of the tunnels. It was easier just to cut off entry points instead. "This way." Holding out a muscled palm, one gentle giant indicated the tunnel. It was impossible to approach the elevator and not be seen by the cameras so the dark shape was forced to settle for jumping and waving in a futile attempt to attract attention. There was a hopeful second when Luna turned to wish her brother luck and her line of sight fell perfectly upon the gesturing figure but she failed to see it. With the three members already heading towards the field under guard, it left Jack exposed and no time to concoct another plan. Instead, the figure sprinted through the unmonitored tunnels back towards where Team Wrecker had been. If it could not warn Team 5D's directly, then they would have to distract Team Wrecker with another manipulated target instead.
With most bodies having avoided going near the three lumbering bodies of rage, it was a surprise when somebody walked into a member of Team Wrecker instead of the other way around. "Excuse me." Straightening a jacket, the figure walked away as the three men stood dumbfounded by their luck.
"Isn't that the driver?" Watching the slim build gently ply a bin from the wall, it exposed a large grate in the wall that pulled free to reveal a dark hole behind.
"Sure is." Watching the glasses get tucked into an inside pocket, the three idiots feel for the perfect bait as it dropped into the shadows. Though he had fallen out with the Signers, Obake hadn't come this far just to leave before a final winner could be announced. There were also certain other advantages to being at the final venue of the biggest tournament ever.
Dropping their attention-grabbing swagger, the three men hurried over to the hole and manipulated the bin to cover it again with just enough space for them to squeeze through the hole with. On the other side was a sheer drop of about eight feet into dimly lit tunnels with their prey having already slipped away. A faint sound of footsteps could be heard coming from one way so they quickly followed before Obake could get out of their tenuous grip.
As the celebrations began across the world, Obake walked through the chilled corridors deep beneath the facility. With the announcement of the finals still echoing around the stadium, he had taken advantage of the throbbing crowds and screaming fans to bypass numerous security systems. Admittedly, he might have tripped one or two in his haste but the competition would most likely be distracting any security officers normally watching. Servers bore data both incriminating and incredible that now lay securely within his pocket. Carefully jotting down a sentence in his notebook, a sharp corner provided the right opportunity to try and kick away his ankle. Well-versed in the action, Obake stepped over the foot without even giving it any attention. A sharp shove in the small of his back was more of an alerting presence.
"Hey, arsehole." Gathered together in an imposing trio, they each carried some form of weapon. A plank of stout wood scavenged from a palate, knuckles tightly wrapped in spare wraps of cloth. A serrated hunting knife.
"Team Wrecker." Gently writing a final note, he slid the pen inside the spine and closed the thick cover. "What do you want?" Watching Wayne and Craig circle into his peripheral vision, Obake kept both eyes carefully fixed on the apparent leader of Sean and his nonchalantly held knife.
"Somebody blabbed to the police about a few packages of 'medication' we were carrying." It was clear that even with their overwhelming advantage, that peculiar quality clinging to the Englishman was enough to make them wary of speaking openly about their illicit cargo. Being found tied to the floor had been enough to persuade the police that they were being framed and be released on bail. After all, a vigilante would have called the police instead of waiting for a passing traveller to notice them and a rival gang would have taken the drugs and killed them for the trouble. "And you were travelling with those damn Japs that just took our place in the finals." Closing the notebook with a sharp snap, Obake took sadistic pleasure from the flinch coming from each figure.
"Gentlemen, it has been a turbulent few days. I would ask that you not be so offensive." Splitting his face into a dangerous smile, he ran the spine through his fingers until the bottom edge was dangling between his thumb and palm.
"Like we give a shit." Wrapping a hand around Obake's collar the knife moved dangerously close to his eye and hovered close enough to tickle his eyelashes. Unnervingly, he continued to blink in a perfectly normal fashion. "Listen to me, you sonnofa bitch," It has been said that manners make a man. In this case, rudeness was the cause of unmaking three.
Lifting a knee, Obake drove it tightly into Sean's 'intimate area'. As the grip was released, he pushed forward and drove his notebook into the throat of his attacker. Both hands flashed to the throat as Sean's legs crossed to staunch the flow of blood to the damaged tissue between both legs.
As the knife fell, Obake caught it by the handle and tightened his grip around the handle. A solid blow landed between two ribs and probably cracked a few bones. He never cared to check. As the fist withdrew, he stabbed through the palm, twisting the blade as it moved between the bones before ripping it out again. A scream sounded in the tunnel as he tucked the arching lumber under his arm and rolled along the swinging block of wood to land the knife directly into the heart of Wayne.
Watching the twitching body fall to the floor with savage satisfaction, he swiped aside the retaliatory blow coming from Craig before simply slicing through his belly and letting the piles inside pour out. Turning finally back to the first victim where he was struggling to regain footing, stunned by the turn of fortune.
"Whoever you happen to worship," Lashing out before the last member of Team Wrecker could react, first one knee was broken before the next blow gripped an arm and dragged it from the socket. Obake was careful with his timing, using the velocity of Sean's falling body to make the attack even more severe. "I suggest you thank them that I'm in a hurry."
At several points over the continent, Akiza had wondered which was the true face of the man: the polite yet cold mask that she had seen in Japan or the warm and friendly version that had become fast friends with Luna. In a way, both were right. But there was a reason people thought of the SRC Obake as a mask. Dropping that facade, the deadly creature left in the tunnels was devoid of hatred, love or even compassion. All that mattered was the end goal.
Knocking the flailing arm aside, Obake drove the blade through the screaming tongue and deep into Sean's brain. Twisting the blade until limbs stopped flailing, he left the blade buried where it was as the unbroken hand was wrapped carefully about the handle. Even if the bodies were simply left as they were, most police would be forced to assume that a disagreement had come as a result of their drug smuggling activities. Wayne and Craig had attacked Sean and – even though he mortally wounded Craig first – Craig ultimately turned the knife into Sean's brain before ultimately succumbing to his wounds. Of course, that was only if the bodies were discovered.
Observing the carnage in the halls, Obake measured his choices carefully. Dragging one body at a time down the hallway, he threw them into the least likely hiding place – a paper recycling bin. With such an important event currently ongoing, the confidential paperwork would have to be securely destroyed in an incinerator. The day's collection would typically happen in the evening, allowing plenty more files to be piled atop from the chute above. Right on cue, several boxes plummeted down the pipe and collided with the fresh corpses, partially covering their still forms. Slipping the mask back over his unfeeling, practical nature once again, Obake calmly observed the remaining blood left in the hallway. A supply closet he had passed on the way to the servers held what he was looking for. If he had the time, a bucket, mop and several bottles of bleach would have allowed him to be more thorough. Instead, he opted for a heavy metal trolley and a hefty can of red paint. Prying the lid partially open with a screwdriver, he headed back down the bloodied corridor with a measured pace.
Passing the recycling unit, he was pleased to see more of the bodies had already been covered up. Approaching the area most filled with blood, he knocked the sloshing can of paint to the floor and let the liquid flow across and through the pools already present. When it was discovered, the wheel marks and footprints would make it seem that a careless accident had simply not been cleaned up. With all the celebrations going on through the country, it was improbable that anybody would be coming to such a remote corner of the facility before the bodies were disposed of. Walking down unconnected corridors until the trails from his wheels ran day, Obake simply walked into the nearest room, abandoned the trolley and forced a small pebble into the old mechanical lock. By the time anybody uncovered the equipment, nobody would be able to make the connection between it and the possible disappearance of Team Wrecker.