Chapter Seven: And All the Devils Are Here

H & C Steel, Santa Clarita, California, 1 September 1947

"How dare you."

It takes everything in Peggy to keep herself from raising her voice. From screaming. From crying. From hysterics. She is not her mother and she will not crumble. Not here and not right now. Even if she wants to.

"You were dead."

Michael doesn't respond. He just puts a hand up to a smarting cheek. The mask is still fixed. Heaven forbid he show his true face. Father would never allow that.

"We mourned you. I mourned you. I mourned you alone!"

He is so different now. His hair is darker - almost black - and skin is paler. He's taller and more muscular. He looks like a statue come to life. What she thought a lunar god should look like. But Peggy would know her brother anywhere. Micheal's eyes were hers. Her nose was his. They had the same jaw and high cheekbones. The same hair. They are mirror images of each other. As children they were a matching set. They were of one mind, one spirit. As close as siblings could be. There was a time when some thought they were twins.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" she demands. Peggy loved her brother dearly. He was everything to her. Michael supported her, defended her, the only person who could make her laugh on a bad day. She was the person who gave him succor when he needed it most. They looked out for one another when they thought no one else would.

Micheal sighs and looks away shamefaced. "Where do you want me to begin?

"You can start with why you shot Jack Thompson," Sousa says, keeping his pistol trained on Michael.

"Who's this, Peg?' Michael asks, regaining his composure.

"None of your business right now," She snaps. "Why did you shoot Jack?"

"Chief Thompson had stolen files. I needed to get them back," Michael answers. Peggy recognizes the almost bored tone that edged on annoyance. It was a common source of arguments between an adolescent Michael and their father. Or when he wanted to be smart with her.

"For who? HYDRA? The Soviets?" she demands.

Another voice, just as familiar, cuts in, "Oh, don't be so absurd, Margot. We might be throat cutters, but we're not that uncouth."

Peggy and Daniel turn to face the blond haired man standing in the door opposite the stairs they had come from, lighting a cigarette as casually as if they were at a dinner party.

"Roger Aubrey. How did Michael ever get you in here?"

"Bribery, Margot. You know how it goes: I needed a new autumn wardrobe and Michael needed a little help retrieving stolen goods."

"You know this guy?" Daniel asks Peggy.

Peggy picks her words carefully, "Michael and Roger are…school friends."

"And Lydia sends her regards. Regretted you couldn't attend her wedding, Sis bagged herself a Coldstream Guard officer," Roger adds.

"Lucky Lydia," Peg can't help but smirk. Daniel gives her a look and she adds, "His sister. She and I went to college together."

"Are all of you related?" Daniel asks.

"No!" Peggy snaps, pointing her pistol back at Michael. She feels her heart race, her cheeks flush. There's bile in her mouth and anger in her heart. "No. No brother of mine would pretend to be dead for six years!"

Michael looks briefly towards the entrance, while answering, "Peg, you don't understand, I couldn't tell you…"

"Couldn't tell me what, Michael? That you were alive and well." He tries to respond, but she steams on ahead. He needs to listen. "All this time and not a single word. Tell me why you couldn't tell us that you were safe. Or how you've somehow grown four inches. Or what the Hell you're doing here, Michael. Explain it to me like I'm a child!"

He's distracted, looking towards the entrance again. "Well I would love to explain what's happened, Peggy. Problem is, we are rather surrounded."

"Wait. Who turned on the lights?" Daniel asks.

"I thought you and Margot turned them on," Roger says.

He shakes his head, "That wasn't us."

There's a crackle of static from overhead as the PA speaker comes to life, soon followed by a smug voiced woman with a mid-Atlantic accent. "Well, well. If it isn't the talented Colonel Carter. And his little sister, too! I do love a family reunion."

It's Cassandra Romulus.

"'Colonel'? Didn't know they gave those out in the afterlife." Peggy snarks.

"Not now," Michael retorts.

"In any case, you're probably aware that you are surrounded and outnumbered five to one. So I suggest you hand over the Crown and we can make things easier."

"What is she talking about?" Daniel asks.

"We'll explain later," Roger answers, pulling out a pistol and shooting the speaker into silence. "It's among the reasons we're here, old chum."

Daniel starts responding, "I'm not your…"

From below there's a cacophony of men readying their guns. From the mezzanine, Peggy can see at least two dozen people below - likely HYDRA remnants - with some serious firepower.

"Oh sod it all."

West Los Angeles, California

"Gonna try to shake 'em off!" Emily shouts back to Dottie.

She makes a quick left turn onto a residential street, causing other vehicles to swerve out of the way, then right down an alley. They move tightly between cars, garages, and garbage cans. The Black Hudson keeps close to them, almost unaware of the obstacles.

Dottie has the good sense to hold on tightly around Emily's waist as they take another sharp right turn. She still leans down to at least take hold of the shotgun.

"Not Yet!" Emily yells back.

"Got to be ready!" she replies.

Emily takes a left at such an angle that let's Dottie see a green truck following close behind the black car.

"More behind us!"

There's a curse and Emily accelerates. She takes one corner onto another side street, then turns again onto a larger boulevard. Car horns blare and at least two cars slam into each other as they force their way into traffic.

There's only so far they can ride. The car will catch up to them. They're far more vulnerable.

Fuck it.

Dottie pulls out the shotgun and turns behind her. Emily dodges another car just as the black Hudson comes out of their blind spot. Dottie fires a shot, hitting the grill before flipping the lever action, reloading the shotgun, and firing again, hitting the windshield.

"I'm going for the freeway!" Emily yells back to her.

She wedges the shotgun tightly between their bodies and Dottie wraps her arm back around Emily's slender waist. Every now and then, she catches the scent of irises about Emily's neck. She has to remind herself to pay attention to the danger they're in as they merge onto the freeway.

They dodge cars and try to gain some distance from the Hudson. The damn thing keeps close to them. Once in a while, Dottie catches a glimpse of the green truck, surprised by its dogged chase. Something tells her that they're not connected to the black car. It is only when she sees the Hudson that she feels something cold slither down her spine.

They're from the Deep.

The quartet all point their weapons down at the soldiers, but it's not enough - they'd be overwhelmed in seconds. And it's not long before they hear nearby bootsteps and see that the voice on the speakers wasn't exaggerating - there's no escape from the men closing in on them. Peggy holds her hands up, gun pointed away from them and finger off the trigger, surrendering. Michael does the same, in the exact same motion, and it's chilling for Daniel to see the resemblance become clearer and clearer.

"No sudden moves, Miss Carter," one of the men says. Peggy looks closer and realizes she recognizes him.

"Chief Flynn?" she sighs. "So this is an FBI operation after all?"

Chief Flynn smiles as he fully emerges from the shadows. "Not officially. Though their goals align with those of me and my men at this moment, so it's not a total misappropriation of resources." He holds up his free hand. "The Crown, if you please."

"Haven't the foggiest what you're talking about," Peggy admits.

"Cute. Either your brother has it or he gave it to you for safe keeping, so whoever's got it stashed better pull it out before my men get antsy."

"I'm afraid you're forgetting a third option, Mr. Flynn," Michael says.

"And what's that?"

"That we're all as in the dark about the Crown's whereabouts as you are."

Chief Flynn scoffs. "Maybe you could be motivated by a trade?" he says, then snaps his fingers. One of his men bolts over and hands him a dossier. There are enough guns trained on the quartet that Flynn has no qualms holstering his own weapon and flipping through the files. "M. Carter. Quite the reputation you built for yourself. Of course, most of it is redacted, but we were able to put the pieces together."

Michael's throat turns dry. He doesn't know what's exactly in those files, but if Peg is going to hear it from anyone it needs to be him. "Fine. We don't have the crown, but we know where it is."

"Where?"

"Give me the file and I'll tell you."

Flynn nods, then looks down at the papers. "'Michael Carter's situation provides an excellent opportunity for the purposes of Operation Meridian. His alleged demise and his willingness to continue the charade indicate the necessary dedication to the country and all operations which may need completing, regardless of their expected brutality.'"

Peggy's brow furrows. "Operation Meridian? I know that name, that was -"

"I know," Michael snaps. "I'll explain it all later, but first I need those files. Flynn, we have the Crown. It's in a safehouse in Florida."

"We already checked there." He flips a few pages forward. "Despite the risks of being present in the city, M. Carter's mission to London was a complete success. Though concerns have been raised that he may use the opportunity of being there incognito to contact his relatives, our other agents have confirmed that he successfully removed a HYDRA cell from the area without notifying his family whatsoever'. How obedient."

"Yes, Michael, how very obedient," Peggy adds.

"Oh, you're one to talk," Michael cuts back. "How long have you been chasing your tail trying to follow orders?"

"You have no idea what I've been through, though that's no surprise considering how eager you seemed to leave me and Matthew behind!"

"Would you two shut up!" Romulus' voice from the speaker suddenly shouts. "Christ, you are both identical thorns in my side. Which is a pity, really, because if things turned out differently we all could've been on the same team. After all, we're all good soldiers here."

"They're better than you'd ever know," Roger spits.

"Depends on your perspective," Flynn says. "For one thing, I'm not the one surroun-"

The taunt falls flat beneath the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal. It seems to come from every direction of the steelworks. Peggy doesn't know what it is, and she assumes Michael doesn't either, but they both see that it distracts their opponents just enough to get an opportunity. Their guns are back in hand in a flash, and they take down several men before running into a nearby office, Sousa and Roger not far behind. Flynn yells something, but Peggy can't hear it over bullets ricocheting (Off of what? The metal here can't be that hard…) and the sound of men screaming.

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Sousa snaps as he peers out and lays down covering fire for the few soldiers trying to follow them.

"Is now the best time?" Michael shouts back.

"Cassandra Romulus seems to know exactly who you are, expects you to have some manner of important item, has a dossier of all your sins remembered, and, oh right, you killed my former boss -" Peggy roars back between gunshots - "then yes, it might be rather illuminating!"

The argument is cut off when they hear wood tearing behind them and all four turn in time to see a man ripping his way into the room through the wall. His face is gaunt, jaw slack, and eyes pitch black - the kind of darkness Peggy has't seen since she saw Whitney become consumed by the Zero Matter. The man's eyes fall on them and a low groan escapes his mouth before he starts forming words.

"The…crown…the…Crooooown!"

With disturbing speed he throws himself towards them, but Michael is slightly faster. He grabs a chunk of discarded machinery - a cog or something, round like a discus, and he hurls it at the twisted man. It's a moment where Peggy is suddenly thrust back to Europe and the frontlines, the movement so reminiscent of Steve that - no. She can't afford to be opening every door in her memory right now. Survival first, answers second, and maybe in a few weeks she'll be able to afford the luxury of bitter nostalgia.

"Margot…" Roger says slowly as he peers out towards the rest of the steelworks. Peggy follows his gaze and her stomach flips as he continues. "I think Flynn's men aren't the only people interested in this place."

As they look upon the building, they see the remains of Flynn's men. Some are still fighting a losing battle, but many have been…rent asunder is the best word. The grisly scene is a few steps removed from that at the asylum from a few days ago. Peggy's eyes fall on one unlucky fellow who's run out of ammo. He tries to bash a staggering figure with his gun, but he barely gets some hits in before his head is grabbed by the being. He lets out an unholy cry as darkness seems to ooze into his form, and after a moment he falls as slack as the others.

An eerie calm falls over the dark beings. There are more of them than there were Flynn's goons, and by the looks of it about half of them used to be such fellows. It all goes to hell when they, in unison, turn to look at them once again, and a chorus of haggard voices erupts. "The crown…the crown…the crown the crown thecrownthecrownthecrownthecrown-"

And they surge forward.

Emily glances down at the rearview mirror just in time to see an oily black tendril extend from the Hudson. She swerves right, cutting off a blue car. The tendril slams down on another car and tosses it towards her and Dottie. Emily hits the breaks as the crushed car sails over them, then accelerates, barely dodging the debris and other vehicles.

The black Hudson gains on them, however, and Emily finds herself beside the open passenger window. One of the black-eyed Feds looks right at her, ready to strike.

His head's blown back by a blast from Dottie's shotgun. She fires again for good measure and the Hudson soon falls behind.

They're not out of the woods yet, though she hasn't seen that green lorry in a moment.

She spots a service road to their left going into the hills. Ignoring the horns and angry gestures, Emily makes her turn, cutting across the freeway to the dirt road.

Emily looks at the mirror again and sees they're being followed by the battered green lorry.

"Should be just them!" Emily shouts back to Dottie.

She feels Dottie's arms tighten around her waist. "Don't think so! Not yet!"

A knot settles in the pit of Emily's stomach. A nervous knot that swiftly turns into anger. Why don't these bastards just die?

She takes a switch-back turn hard, then another, as they climb up the canyon, hoping desperately that the lorry would spin out or get too close to the edge. Emily's starting to sense it too, the strange presence of something cold and dark. A certain ocean-deep pressure. The feeling in the back of her mind of some sort of alien intelligence.

Emily takes one more switch-back before entering a clearing that backs newly framed houses. For a split second, she sees the black car once more in her mirror.

There's nowhere else to go and they're not alone with the lorry.

She brings the bike to a sliding stop, digging her heel into the earth. The lorry comes to a screeching halt, kicking up dust in front of them. There's a glint from the trees and a rising dust cloud. Instinct takes over.

Emily takes the shotgun from Dottie, bolts from the bike, and leaps over the lorry's bonnet. She closes the distance to two hundred yards before she starts shooting. The shotgun's range is just enough to hit a tire and blow out the windscreen. The car starts careening out of control.

She stands firm, tossing the shotgun aside once it's out of bullets.

There are shouts behind her. Bullets whiz past her ears. Her senses are sharp. The colours become more clear. She smells the dust, and blood, and petrol in the air. The world is more real, more vivid. The hairs on her neck stand on end as her body and mind realize that whatever is driving that car is not of this earth. She braces herself for the impact.

The car hits Emily's shoulder and palms and crumples against them, bursting into scrap metal and shattered glass. She digs her heels into the ground as the momentum pushes her back - but only so far before she proves immovable. Emily smashes a fist into the car's bonnet, then climbs on top.

A black tendril shoots out, grabbing hold of her left arm. Tries pulling her down. Whatever they had been previously, the men were all consumed by the living liquid. They appeared to congeal and try to form a gestalt being. One man's face opened up into a gaping maw of sharp, needle-like teeth.

Another tendril made a grab for her leg. She draws her pistol from its holster and fires down into the creatures. They scream in agony, seemingly more harmed by the noise than the bullets themselves. She keeps firing until the creatures no longer move. She keeps firing until her clip is empty. The tendrils release her arm and leg. Her hand holding the pistol goes limp with exhaustion. She breathes hard. The air stinks of blood and gunpowder.

It takes Emily a minute to register the amount of petrol in the air and a ticking sound from the engine she knows is not good. She leaps off the bonnet and dashes back, sliding over the bonnet of the green lorry, and takes cover next to Dottie.

The black car explodes. She feels the shock in her bones. A fireball rises and quickly dissipates in the air, all while the car becomes engulfed in flames.

An ear-piercing, bone rattling screech. The creature reaches out of the car and up to the sky, trying to escape the inferno before crumbling away into ink black smoke.

Now Emily starts feeling her injuries; the bad bruises and the cuts on her left side that are knitting themselves together, but still aching. Though the process will be faster once it's night, the looks from Dottie and their new companions convey a certain level of concern.

"I think I'll be alright," she says, then notices the damage to the lorry. "And sorry about the bonnet. I'm sure you beat the dent out if you got a mallet. But more importantly, who the hell are you two?"

Peggy and co open fire, but the bullets only slow the creatures as they hit their torsos. The recoil pushes them back only a moment, but they keep moving. Even the ones knocked to the ground keep writhing towards them. "I think we need headshots!" Michael calls out.

"What do you think I've been trying?" Sousa fires back.

Roger pushes forward. "I think it's desperate times, Michael."

"Roger -" Michael starts, not wanting his partner to add yet one more thing onto what Peg is already dealing with, but he can't finish it before Roger's skin hardens in a flash.

After everything she's seen, this is what makes Peggy freeze. Only for a moment, but even then - this is a man she knew as a girl, a man who she'd seen shoulder to shoulder with her brother through thick and thin, the man who Michael would run to when their father pushed him to his limits. Roger Aubrey, who she'd presumed as dead as Michael, not only stands before her but stands like something out of a fairy tale. If Michael is marble, Roger is diamond, and when one of the creatures runs up to him he claws it away with fingers sharp as razors. He brings his fist down on its head, but notably turns away from the action. That may've been the only thing to keep Peggy thinking that this really was Roger - he's never been fond of violence, even as a boy.

But her aim drifted with her focus, and when she finally remembers to fire she ends up sending her shot directly at Roger's side. It would've been disastrous had the bullet not suddenly ricocheted and plunged into the knee of an oncoming creature. She looks up at him apologetically. His crystalline eyebrow quirk up in amusement.

A hollow snarl comes from her side and she quickly fires three shots into the face of a creature that is far too close for comfort. More are coming, still surrounding them, but somehow the group is whittling them down. Roger is able to bottleneck them, helping Peggy and Daniel pick them off as best they could. It is rough, but it seems to be working.

Then Roger is ambushed. Some of the creatures must have snuck around behind them because they jumped from a higher level and slammed into Roger, driving him to the ground. He seems unharmed, but it unsteadies him enough to give the others an opening, swarming him and holding him down.

"Roger!" There is true fear in Michael's voice as he ran to him. He's run out of ammunition, so he tries bludgeoning the creatures with his firearm, but even with his enhanced strength it is slow going. And Peggy doubts Michael is as bulletproof as Roger is, so she doesn't want to risk shooting through him - not that that would help, she is out of bullets as well. She looks around, trying to find something - aha!

"Daniel, cover me." She bolts from their small cover to a pile of discarded tools in the distance. One of the dark beings makes a leap for her, but she slams it away with the butt of her gun. Daniel, who is doing his best to keep up with everything, carefully wards the creatures away from her, hoping that whatever idea that has come to her would help them.

At the tool pile she grabs a handle, and pulls out a large sledgehammer. It is very heavy, no finesse, but right now everything looks like a nail. She swings it into the chest of the closest creature and, while it doesn't kill the former man, it is enough to knock him away from her. She marches to where Michael is trying to free Roger. "Move!" she demands, and when he does she brings the hammer down on the multiple creatures clawing at him. Her desperate swings don't have targets, she just needed to make sure they couldn't do any further harm. She doesn't think about the noises the impacts made, or the dark sludge oozing from them in place of blood. She keeps going as she hits something so solid that the entire hammer reverberates and makes her hands ache. She is ready to swing again until Michael grabs her arms.

"It's over Peg! We're good. They're down."

Peggy lets out a harsh gasp as she slowly lowers the weapon. Looking down, she sees Roger stained with dark fluid and shaking despite still being covered in diamond. There is a small crack in his cheek, and Peggy realizes she must have hit him at some point. Glancing around, she sees no more attackers and allows herself to let go, the handle slowly falling to the ground.

Daniel comes to them and edges Michael out of the way. "Peg, are you okay?"

"Yes, I - yes. I'm fine." She straightens her jacket and makes her upper lip properly firm. "Whatever these…things are, they knew we were coming. Laid a trap for Cassandra too."

"Cassandra Romulus?" Michael askes. "Are you sure?"

"Process of elimination," Peggy replies. "And I've heard her voice before."

"Crown…"

They jump when they hear the voice. Nobody is coming at them, but it is nearby, and Peggy is the first to realize it was coming from the creature that she initially pummeled away with the hammer. "How is it still alive? I caved in its chest cavity."

"You'd be surprised by what these things can bounce back from," Michael replies.

"Speaking from experience?" Peggy askes.

Michael flinches. He deserves that. "No, not like that. But they're similar to something I've dealt with during my operations."

"Great!" Daniel says as he trains his gun on Michael. "You can explain it all to us on the way back to headquarters."

"How do you have a headquarters?" Roger wheezes as he struggles to stand. "I thought you'd been let go."

"We make do," Daniel snips.

"Cro - Cra - Car…Carter…"

Hearing one of those things say her name is not something Peggy is keen on, and she isn't about to let it keep saying it. She holds her hand out. "Daniel, I'm out of bullets."

Sousa looks between her and her brother, then sighs and hands his weapon over. "I'm close to the end too."

"I'll make it count. I'm just putting him out of his misery." She takes the gun and walks over to the body, preparing to put it down in a single shot, but then she got close enough to look and she stops. "Good god. Manfredi?"

The other three hear her and immediately move to join her. There, on the ground, is Joseph Manfredi…what remains of him, at least. His face is drawn, skin pale like a corpse, clothes ragged, and shadowy ichor is dripping all around him. Worst is his chest - Peggy is right, she had hit him square on and now a concave divot is pooling with the same black liquid. Yet despite this, his eyes are clear - and filled with horror.

"Carter…Carter…oh god, Peggy, it hurts…"

"Who did this to you?" Peggy says as she kneels close to him. "Cassandra Romulus?"

"Ssshe…she tried…" he chokes, and more slime oozes from his mouth. "Offered b-but…but Whitney…"

"I saw the asylum," Peggy replies, trying to sound gentle but also not wanting to touch him. "What happened there?"

Manfredi struggles with the words. "I wanted to help…Whitney, but she's…sh - dan-danger…"

"She's in danger?"

"She…Whitney…" Even his eyes start leaking the ichor now. "She's gone…it's here…she's gone it's here she's gone it's here she's gone it's here -"

"He's gone too, by the sounds of it," Daniel murmurs.

"Manfredi!" Peggy snaps. "What is 'it'?"

"N - N - Nnnncroown! Crown, the c - the - k - k - KILL ME!" As he shouts his entire body convulses. The ichor around him seeps back in and they can hear his insides grinding under his skin. Peggy stands and backs away as Manfredi's entire form thrusts itself up from the ground, eyes now pure black. Now the ichor pools out from every wound in his body and is wrapped around him like a cocoon, but Peggy can still feel his muffled cries for death beneath. She obliges, emptying almost the entire gun into his face.

It is too late. Whatever this oily fluid is, it renders the bullets meaningless. "Oh piss," Michael mutters before pulling Peggy away. "He's from the Deep now."

"You need to start defining these things, bucko," Daniel replies.

"Nasty tentacle monster," Roger explains. "We've only taken them down with fire and a lot of blunt force."

Manfredi's form - it can barely be called that any more - hunches over onto all fours, half a dozen short appendages flailing from its back. Where the head once was a pair of grimy cyan stains emerged, and then a mouth of too many needle-like teeth. It lets out a guttural screech before charging at them.

Roger hardens his skin again, but that didn't help much when the thing stretches a tentacle out and knocks him away, then pounces on Michael and careens over the ledge with him wrapped in a bear hug. It snarls and growls as it tries to tear the man apart, but Michael is made of sterner stuff and is able to keep its maw away from him. For now.

Roger is running away. "What the hell are you doing?" Daniel demands.

"I'm going to blow this place up. Try to keep Michael from being eaten!"

"Easier said than done," Peggy replies as Roger disappears into the bowels of the steelworks. She scans the area once again, trying to find something big enough to take the Deep creature out. "Daniel, there!" she points to a crane suspended near the top of the building, with some steel girders still hanging in its grasp. "Do you think you can get up there?"

Sousa balks. "It's certainly…possible."

"Either you're headed up there or you're fighting this thing face to face."

"Right. Good luck with your brother," Daniel breaths before making his way towards the ladder to the crane's cabin.

Peggy, meanwhile, grabs the hammer again. And before she joined Michael she sees the metal disc he'd grabbed and picked that up too. They are both incredibly heavy, but if blunt force is what this calls for, she could give blunt force. Storming down the stairs, she gets there just in time to see Michael struggling against the thing's tentacles. He wrapped his arms around one and was pulling, hard enough that it seemed like it would be torn off, but the other is snaking around his leg. Peggy rushes over and slams the disc down on it, severing it. Michael takes the opportunity to yank harder and tore off the other appendage, where it sloughs to the ground and starts to dissolve.

"Thanks," he breathes.

"Don't thank me yet." She holds the disc out to him again. "You might need this."

"Right." He takes it just in time for more tentacles to launch at the two of them, leaving them to batter them away as best they can while they wait for their men to drop the big guns.

Sousa, for his part, isn't doing as bad as he thought. But this ladder is…he isn't about to try and gauge the height while he is dangling for his life halfway up it. His left leg has no grip, he could only barely feel the pressure in his knee, and he has already looked down several times. But if he can just focus on getting to the top, he might be able to keep Peggy and her alleged brother from getting killed - or worse.

"What's taking Roger so long?!" Peggy calls as she fends off more tentacles.

"Be patient! He knows what he's doing!" Michael yells back.

"Oh, this isn't the first factory he's destroyed via explosion?"

"Is there any answer that won't make you more disappointed in me?"

"Ugh!" Peggy reaches back for another swing, but she is a little too slow and the tentacle she was aiming for shifts, then darts up and snatches the sledgehammer right out from her hands. It prepares to bring it down on her, and she has a moment to curse under her breath before Michael runs in front of her and blocks the blow with his makeshift shield. The impact of metal on metal rings out, and the creature makes a new noise - something close to agony. The tentacle holding the hammer melts away as the creature snarls in pain, and Peggy looks at her brother with an idea.

"Sound."

"What?"

"I don't think it can handle loud noises. Pick that up."

Michael nods and holds up the disc again, and Peggy begins slamming the hammer down onto that instead of the creature. But it is doing something - the constant ringing is making Peggy's ears hurt, and the Deep monster seems to feel that pain twice as much. Every time it comes closer it has to stop and brace itself. But it is coming closer and Peggy is an ordinary woman - after the events of the night, her arms are at their breaking point and she can only hammer so fast.

Sousa has finally gotten to the controls of the crane. He experimentally tries a few nobs and is pleasantly surprised that the thing still has gas in the tank. He begins moving the payload to a spot where it can hit the monster dead-on - if only the thing would stop moving. "Can you get it to stand still!" he screams from above.

"Here!" Michael says as he grabs the hammer, then begins bashing it against the disc as he marches towards the monster. It squeals out in pain as he keeps getting closer, his impacts only increasing in speed as he did so. Then he flings the disc into the thing's face. It lands with a squelching sound, broadside up, and Michael begins slamming the hammer directly into the new weak spot. The constant ringing is enough to bring the monster to its knees, then melt them, and the whole thing begins splitting apart and writhing multitudinous tendrils in every direction.

"Close enough," Sousa declares before hitting a button to drop the payload. He doesn't check to see if Michael is clear, he is already slowly making his way back down and hoping he hits something. Fortunately, Michael looks up in time to see the girders coming and rolls out of the way. The Deep monster is not so lucky, and is practically bisected by the impact.

"Nice shot!" Michael calls up.

Peggy isn't satisfied. She checks her gun - one bullet left. She walks up to the impact site and waits. She had a feeling this won't be quite enough to take the thing out.

Sure enough, a moan and squeal wafts from beneath the rubble as a figure claws its way out. Manfredi, drenched in oily liquid and mouth filled with fangs, wheezes as he pulls himself out. His eyes are still clouded over, and the ichor is covering him again, but Peggy wastes no time and pulls the trigger. At point blank range, the bullet tears through the back of Manfredi's head and sends him crumpling back down - permanently. The liquid still writhes and shrieks with a mind of its own, but without a host it could only try to pull itself to safety.

"Maybe we didn't need that detonation after all?" Daniel asks as he gets to solid ground.

"Who wants to be the one telling Roger he doesn't get to blow up a building?" Michael says with a chuckle.

Peggy still looks at him coldly. "I'm sure this is all very funny to you, but we're back at square one. He was the only lead we still had, and I just had to kill him to stop him from being some kind of…movie monster. So unless you start talking -"

Her rant is interrupted by the sound of dozens of writhing corpses. Every fallen foe begins hemorrhaging darkness, which begins flowing across the floor towards the puddle beneath the rubble.

"I thought we killed them!" Daniel shouts.

"Apparently not!" Michael calls back. "Roger?!"

"Great timing!" Roger yells to them as he bolts up from the basement level. "We've about thirty seconds to get out of here if we don't want to be incinerated with the rest of them."

No arguments there. The quartet hurry to the doors and run as fast as they can before the building shakes and bursts into flames, a shockwave knocking them to the ground. When Peggy manages to catch her breath and turn around, all she could see behind her was fire.

"Fire department will be here any minute now," Michael groans, popping his shoulder into place. Peggy hadn't even realized he'd dislocated it earlier, he made no show of it. "We need to leave."

"Do you have your own car?" Peggy asks as she stands.

"Yes."

"Good. You can ride with me, and Daniel will go with Roger to make sure he follows us."

Michael rolls his eyes. "Peggy, we don't need a governess -"

"Why should I believe that?" she says. Calmly, collected, but with nothing but venom in her voice. "You're not leaving my sight until I know exactly what's happened to you and what's happening here."

"I don't have all the answers, Peg."

"But we have enough of them, Michael," Roger says softly as he stands beside them. "Come now, darling. I don't think we're getting out of this without telling the truth."

Michael searches Roger's expression, then sighs. "Fine then. But I can't promise you'll like what I have to say."

"I can't promise you know what I like anymore. Come along now."