Before anyone moved to open the door to the airlock, guns were reloaded, and the Medic moved to tend to his graze. Seeming more upset at the tear in his coat than the fact he was wiping away his own blood.
"Moira… Patrick… Ain't that just like Ryan, waits until we're almost out, and then he pulls the string." Atlas muttered, voice tight like a man walking the line between winning and losing the fight to keep his composure. "We'll find the bastard. We'll find him, and tear his heart out."
"Well, I must admit, I wouldn't mind tearing the sonuvabitch a new one, after that." The Engineer said quietly.
The Radio crackled, but instead of the expected voice of Atlas, the air darkened at the sound of Andrew Ryan's taunting voice.
"I came to this place to build the impossible. You came to rob what you could never build, Huns gaping at the gates of Rome. Even the air you breath is sponged from my account. Well, breath deep… So later you might remember the taste."
"I don't like the sound of that." The Demoman said, casting a wary look at the airlock doors. The threat, vague as it was, was loud and clear.
"You get to the Bathysphere in the Rolling Hills. That'll take you straight to the Devil himself." Atlas instructed lowly. "And then all debts will be paid in full."
"What about you? Are you going to meet us there?" Jack asked, but the radio remained silent.
"That should do nicely." The Medic said, stowing away the medical kit he'd been working with, giving a nod to the Heavy, who moved to turn the wheel and open the airlock door.
It opened to another section of wet, rocky tunnel. A few crates of smuggled Crucifixes and Bibles had to be moved from where they sat blocked up the tunnel. Some poor souls attempt at a protective wall, perhaps.
The broken pipe half blocking a doorway, through which a short flight of stairs could be seen, was not going to let itself be moved. And with a bit of effort the largest members of the group managed to slip through.
The doors at the top had been locked shut by a chain and padlock, but the Engineer made quick work of it, and with a firm tug, the chain came loss, and he tossed it aside, the metallic clunk echoing off the slick walls around them.
The doors opened to the more welcomed smell of greenery and grass. Overgrown bushes and vines vied for space on the partially wrecked mausoleum that sat in the center of the small room. A few graves that clearly had not seen tended to in some time dotting the space around the room.
Following the cobblestone path around the mausoleum, they were met with what would have been a beautiful sight, if not for the circumstances, and the corpse along the bank of the small stream that flowed lazily through the room.
The Sniper broke away from the bulk of the group to step onto the small wooden bridge that spanned over the water. Facing the side upstream of the corpse he knelt down, dipping a testing finger in the water, bringing it to his lips. "Its fresh. If anyone's gonna get a drink, here's the chance t'do it."
With shrugs or nods, men lined the bridge and crouched or knelt in front of the water. It had been a long time since anyone had had anything to eat or drink, aside from the booze the Demoman had found. Not since before the plane crash and consequent descent into Rapture. And the opportunity to drink cupped handfuls of water, or wash sweat and blood from faces wasn't wasted.
The sound of a man shouting, however, broke the small moment of peace. A cry, oddly enough, for help.
"Came from that way." The Soldier said, pointing along the path that turned right from the opening they'd come from.
Cautious, men rose to their feet, weapons held as they stepped off the bridge and followed the cobbles. Up to a door set into a stone wall, marked for "Rapture Metro" and "Arcadia Glens"
The door opened to a hall overgrown with leaves and plants, and further in, a figure darted out of view as the mans voice called out again.
To the right down a hall, on the very far wall, a shadow of a man shifted on the stones.
With the Snipers eyes watching behind them, they moved towards the shadow, and towards the man crying out.
In a blink, the shifting shadow vanished, as if the very man who cast it had disappeared.
At the end of the of hall, the small space of room was empty, save for some crates in the corner, and a work bench along the wall. An eerie mask fashioned from straw sitting in the middle of it.
The Pyro was the one who stepped up to the bench, a curious hand reaching out to grab it, when the shadow reappeared on the wall behind their own, and men jerked back with surprise as a man in a man similar to the one sitting on the bench appeared. The man laughed, weapon clutched in one scabby hand.
The Soldier didn't wait.
But the blast of his shotgun met empty air as the man seemed to vanish with a puff of air and a scattering of flower petals. Though a few dark, shiny drops of red on the grass suggested the man had not escaped entirely unscathed.
"Shit." The Sniper cursed, drawing the knife from his belt, while the Pyro behind him snatched up the straw mask, fitting it over his own with a happy muttering that was unintelligible behind his gas mask. "Don't fuckin' tell me we gotta watch our backs for drugged up spooks too."
"It would seem so." The Engineer replied just as unhappily, drawing his own pistol. Their own Spy, if he felt any offense at the Snipers comment, kept quite. But there was something uneasy in the tight lines of his frown.
"Lets get a bloody move on, then. C'mon, those stairs we passed by had a sign for the Metro."
At the first landing for the stairs, a shadow flickered on the far wall at the top of the next small set. Undeniably waving them on before the owner of the shadow ran off.
Weapons were clutched as they stepped into the fairly dark room. Boots and shoes scuffing against the wooden floors. The simplicity of the mildewed and splintered wood a small bit of familiarity to all of them.
Streaks of blood leading towards the wall seemed to catch the Spys attention, and he gingerly stepped over, giving the spot where the blood had pooled along the way a scrutinizing glance, before with a light kick of his foot, he reveled a crawl space that had been hidden behind a small square of wood. "Scout, if you would."
With a shrug the young man slipped through the opening, returning a moment later with arms laden with a medical kit, a syringe filled with EVE, and several cartons of cigarettes. "Ain't anything in there but a dead guy." He said, passing the kit and syringe to the Medic, and tossing out the cartons at random before they moved on through the next door marked for the Metro.
Slowing their steps at the sight of the woman on the other end of the walkway the door opened too, crouched down and fiddling with something to dark to make out from the short distance.
Before anyone could move to dispatch her, the Spy held up a hand, and a finger. Nodding down below, at the trio of posters plastered on the wall of a man in a heroic pose, asking: Who Is Atlas?
He was a man who'd held some sway among the ruins of Rapture, that much had been obvious. But he'd neglected to mention he was any sort of public figure, much less one people would put up posters for.
A few men shared a look, before the Spy cast a look towards Jacks pocket, and the radio bulging from it before shook his head and crept forward towards the unsuspecting woman, drawing a knife from some hidden pocket of his suit.
The knife was buried in her back before she'd noticed something was amiss.
They were almost across the walkway when everyone but the Scout, Spy, and Sniper stopped dead in their tracks, staring at something down below invisible to the trio of unspliced Mercenaries could not see. Whatever it was seemed to unnerve the Heavy and the Demoman, though the Engineer and Medic watched with a degree of fascination.
"Least it was a happy one, this time. Not like that lady screamin' last time." Jack said as he peeled himself away from the railing. The Engineer giving a nod as he too looked away from the bench below they'd all been staring at.
"Really are ghosts down here." Said the Demoman, shaking his head.
"What the hell you guys see?" The Scout questioned as the group began to move once again.
"There was a lady and a man, looked like they were gearing up for a date in the flowers." The Engineer replied. The door opened to a very wet room. But for once, it wasn't icy sea water they'd have to freeze their feet stepping in, or have gooseflesh spring up if it dripped on them. Water did leak from the walls, but the main source of water that had soaked the room, were rows of sprinklers hissing overhead. On a pillar moved a shadow. It's owner a man giggling from somewhere within. The air smelt damp, but it was made all the worse by the lingering scent of defecation lingering in the air.
The young man let out a sharp noise of surprise as he made to take a step into the room, only to jerk back as bullets ripped into the wall to the left just inside the room. "Spy!"
With small look of irritation the Frenchman vanished. The element of surprise over the laughing man inside the room had been lost. The sound of the bullets attracting the crazy, scabby man. But he did not dare to cross into the line of sight of the sentry. Regarding them viciously as he tossed the wrench he held from hand to hand. The man who appeared behind him from further within the room, wasn't limited by his weapon like his fellow.
The Scout proved faster than the man, his draw with his pistol faster than the man with the machine gun he clutched.
The sound of something electrical popping off to the side was their cue to move in, and the Soldier charged forward, brandishing his shovel.
When the man fell, the signs for the Metro led around a corner, and down a set of stairs.
The stench was strong.
The scent of manure hung heavy in the moist as they descended the stairs and into a chamber. The ceiling above supported by a pillar. Off the side, was a slightly lower section of room, bags of open fertilizer strewn about, and the dark substance piled almost knee high in places along the walls, a thick layer leaving no clean space on the floor. It was no wonder the floor above had smelt odd, and if they weren't at the bottom of the ocean, it would have been a haven for flies and maggots no doubt.
No one wanted to be the last one to leave the room, as steps hurried towards the next sign, and into the hallway attached to the room.
The floor turned from grass to cobbles once again, and they found themselves aside the door to the Glens, light up by neon signage, and the wall of fallen trees and vines that had blocked it.
The doors slid open silently, but the inside was not so quiet, as a woman, already wounded, came running into view with a scream of "They're coming!" Before she was lit up into flames, and crumbled to the ground. Further down the hall there was a flash of something, but the threat that had killed the woman had evidently gone. Or, at least, vanished as much as the man before had.
Down the concourse, men hurried to shuffle back from the corner when they neared. Watching the Little Sister skip about beside her Big Daddy, both their backs turned.
If they timed things right, they might be able to ambush the thing.
"Perhaps it will not have to come to a fight." The Medic said, holding up his hand before he pulled off his glove, letting show the webbing of scarring and grotesque pustules that marred his skin. None more so ugly than that largest of them, in the middle of his palm. The skin wet and green, looking as if it had been split there. "Oho, that's new." the excitement tinged in his voice had the heavy shaking his head. His own hand had seemed permanently tinged blue with frostbite. "Now, how to work this…." He murmured thoughtfully, giving a texting flex of his palm, and they watched with disgust and fascination as a lump seemed to form under his skin, traveling its way up from his wrist to his palm. An ugly, slimy looking ball slowly pushing it's way out of the wound in his hand.
He peered around the corner at the oblivious pair, then stepped out as much as he dared, and with a shrug, pitched the lump at the creature, where it splattered against the metal suit. The monster gave a shudder, but it's attention never left the Little Sister who hummed a nursery rhyme happily at its side.
"Maybe it don't work if they've already got a kid?" Jack suggested as the doctor slipped his glove back over his mutated hand.
"Possibly. Though I fear it may be difficult to find one without a child."
"So we must fight it, then." The Heavy said, gripping his shot gun.
It was tricky, fighting such a foe in such a tight space. From the first shot that drew its attention and ire, rivets thunked into walls and floors, and it was only a quick catch by the Demoman and his recently acquired telekinesis that saved some of them from losing limbs, or lives from the faintly glowing mine it tossed in their midst. Throwing it back at the creature and giving a satisfactory shout as the explosive detonated in its face. Finally bringing the Daddy down.
The little girl was halfway back into the vent in the wall with Jacks help when the radio crackled, Tenenbaums soft voice filtering through. "Even in the gathering darkness, you light candles. You have saved the little ones, when you could have shown your cruelties. I'm sending something your way to demonstrate our thanks."
Following the concourse, the mood was brighter at the sight of the sign for Rolling Hills. And It was Atlas' voice that came through the radio now. "Rolling Hills is over yonder… and the Bathysphere station is as well." He said. "And then straight on to Ryan."
Straight on to Ryan.
Straight to the heart of the snake that wrapped around Rapture.
And hopefully, straight to a way out.
"It's ironic, that Andrew Ryan should build gardens and forests under the sea, considering what he did with the one he had on the surface." The Spy mused as they stepped through the doors, and into air more smelling of trees and forests than damp wood and tea.
"Why, what'd he do with that one?" Inquired Jack.
"He burnt it to the ground." The Spy replied simply.
"I remember that story." Said the Engineer. "Government wanted to nationalize it. He reckoned he'd rather it be nothing but ash and dirt than have them have anything to do with it. He bought the land to be his, and he was intent on keeping it private, even if that meant making it worthless."
The sight of large, fully grown and flowering trees was a welcome sight, even if above the flowering leaves was sea, not sky.
On a small boulder beside a bench at the bottom of the soft hill they walked down, before a small set of stairs, a recorder sat besides a forlorn teddy bear.
Jack gave the button a curious press.
"The minute we came here, Masha started screaming. 'Mama! Mama! What is that!?" A woman with a heavy eastern Europeon, accent began. "I thought she was having some kind of seizure and then I realized… trees… trees! Never saw one before. Thought they were monsters. Oh, Sammy, maybe we should have never come to this place…." With a frown, Jack bent, straightening the bear into a sitting position. "Never saw a tree before… hell, that can't be good for a kid."
Down the stairs, was an expanse of even more trees. Their fragrant flowers open wide and branches overgrown. Effigies made of straw and wood stood scattered among the trees like so many scarecrows.
The somewhat tranquil air of the spacious room is shattered as from along the walls a noxious, sickly yellow-green gas filtered into the room. The effect almost instantaneous, flowers and leaves curling and wilting, and the grass withering under their feet as the air grew thick and oppressive under the gas.
"This isn't right." Atlas said through the radio. "…I'm gonna need you boys to listen to me. I'm no sort of botanist, but I think Ryan has just killed Arcadia. The mans put something foul into the air. Bottom of the Ocean, boyo's."
"Ah hell, he's cuttin' off the oxygen!" The Engineer exclaimed through the collar of his shirt held over his mouth and face to try to block out the foul odor of the gas.
"No trees, no oxygen." Atlas agreed, "Give me a spell to think."
It would be a long, suffering death, not only for them, but even for the crazed inhabitants of Rapture, and likely even the Little Sisters. Mutated as they were, they still breathed.
"So, he's repeating what he did with his forest, in a manner of speaking." The Spy said gravely.
"Ryan's woman in Arcadia is an old betty named Langford." Atlas said after a moment of silence. "An okay sort, but not above doing a dirty job for a dollar. If she's still kicking around, I'm sure she's gonna want to save her trees. After all, she planted the damn things."
"So, we find this Langford, we stop ourselves from suffocating. I hope to god she's not lost her marbles like that Steinman bastard." Jack said. It seemed impossible to save the trees, by the state of them as the gas finally began to clear, though it left the room with a foggy haze. But then, what down here wasn't something impossible?
"The research laboratories seem the most likely place for a botanist, non?" The Spy nodded a ways awake through an arched opening, and the bright sign marking laboratories, taking the lead. At the top of the small set of stairs the sweep of a red light stopped them in their tracks. The Engineer dared to peer around the corner when the light of the camera had swept the opposite way. Nodding as he pulled back around the corner. "I think I can rewire it." He said, his fingers crackling with sparks as he timed his move.
The hair on his arms standing up as the charge left his hand, sending the camera crackling as it shorted out, and he ran under it, reaching up to rip a panel off the underside of it, hurrying to readjust the tubes inside it. He let out a small, triumphant sound as it raised back up, the light resuming its sweeping, now harmless.
The lock on the door spun, and the heavy metal ascended back into the wall, opening out into a small section of glass tunnel.
The radio crackled and whined for a moment as they neared the opposite door. "My trees!" An unfamiliar woman's voice cried. "It wasn't you, was it?" She accused, pausing for a moment before her voice returned a little calmer. "No… Ryan!…. I think I've got a way to save the trees, It's a genetic vector that- oh, look who I'm talking to…."
"Ma'am, we'd like to keep on breathin' fresh air." The Engineer said as Jack held up the radio. "If there's a way to save your trees and keep doing that, we'll do it."
"Could you find a sample of Rosa Gallica for me?" She implored after a beat. "Look in the grotto…. I've got to keep working while there's time."
"I think it's safe to see that Langford woman is still around." Jack said, slipping the radio back into his pocket.
"She didn't sound nuts, but how the hell's she gonna save trees with a flower?" The Scout said.
"Can't say I rightly know. None of my degrees are in botany." The Engineer replied. "But folks down here… Well, sound's like she's got the idea of what she's doing."
"Grotto's back the way we came." The Sniper said, leading the way back towards the first door. Backtracking wasn't ideal, but a little extra legwork was preferable to succumbing to suffocation.