Chapter 33
Molly Johnson fiddled with the barrel of her rifle gun, a fresh new one she got to use after testing it out last night. She always preferred smaller guns; they were easier to carry and lighter to hold as many bullets as possible. However, this was for a particular case and it felt like a red carpet event for her. Putting her on a special mission that required this type of weapon indicated that this mission was serious.
Maybe in a few minutes, she could put a bullet through the heads of the Lightning Bolt Society. Those guys had been persistent for so long. Yet, it felt like just a game to do and Molly didn't have the faintest idea of a good reward in the end. As she mindlessly stroked the rifle's firing hole, she hummed softly in the wonder of what this weapon would exactly grant her.
Though, to Molly, the weapon was just an object, not the cause of an attack.
Who could know what those idiots hiding in the bunker held that seemed significant to everyone?
Molly's nose wiggled a little in reflection of her thoughts. Don't get too cocky, her mother once warned her. But then again, as a G.U.N agent, this kind of heavy mission would be another day in the office. No mistakes would be expected.
The faint radio crackle in her ear brought her back to reality. Where was she again? Oh, wait. Molly blinked for a few seconds and looked around.
A normal-looking cafe shop with very few customers and scratched paint on the walls. The few customers resting here were those from work. She looked to the front, seeing Antoine staring down at the empty glass before him.
The coyote's eyes were clouded with a distant, murky filter, his focus swimming in his thoughts. The frown he wore was nearly a straight line, the sides of his lips barely drooping down. This blank frown looked as dead as his eyes, finding the cup on the table meaningless as white noise.
Antoine could be broody sometimes, but it was rare to see him fixated on a single object. The last time it happened was when Antoine saw that 'fun dungeon'…
Inside her hat, Molly's ears pressed against the sides of her hat, dismayed. Even with an emotionless look, she felt pity and sorrow for Antoine.
Antoine was back on track after recovering, but he grew quieter than before. He was always outspoken and honest, like everyone. It wasn't like Antoine to become this reserved. Molly always thought that it was easy to kill people. Guess it didn't work well with Antoine. Despite knowing that Antoine was somewhat of a murderer in the past, Molly knew that he would immediately spot the errors in everything.
Molly would do anything to tell him that it was alright. The problem was that she wasn't good at saying the words clearly.
"Uh, babies in diapers?" cackled a voice from Molly's earpiece.
A few seconds of silence.
"Diapers in babies?"
Molly grunted in disgust. This was taking too long.
"Gun in diapers!"
Molly was sure about bringing Obsidian for this task at this rate. However, the information he provided about what Dave told him was enough and Obsidian was assigned to another task today.
She, Antoine and many other agents were pretending to be ordinary civilians at this small shopping area, where they last detected signs of their targets. Apparently, one member of the Lightning Bolt Society tipped a gossiper off, which led to a mass text sent to many people, leading to this suburban area.
There weren't any security cameras in these local shops, as far as they could tell, but no one was going to take the risk of blocking off the small shopping square. A team of hackers had already looked at the place and detected people walking around the hidden lair.
So, they had to be careful when entering the base rather than taking an aggressive approach.
Finally, the agent at the hidden entrance got the correct passcode. "Oh, I'm just fine!"
The angst in his voice must have won the voice detection system since they could hear the hissing from outside.
Nearly everyone in the cafe lifted their heads, alerted by the new strange noise.
Especially Antoine, who was standing up. "Now's our cue."
Antoine seemed well already. His eyes were brighter, alive. Molly only gave a quick nod and stood up. However, she didn't dare to say that it was uncanny for Antoine to immediately switch back to looking normal.
They left the cafe to find a crowd of people swarming the nearby Meh Burger shop. Or at least what looked like the Meh Burger shop. The fake building was lifted upwards on its back to reveal a tunnel that would lead underground.
For those new, it was like looking into a secret spy lair in your neighborhood! Most of the town's civilians were muttering amongst themselves. It was unlike anything they'd seen before! Worry spread around as all of them glanced at one another. Eyes widened, eyebrows raised inquisitively, they couldn't tell whether this was a good or bad thing.
The same couldn't be said for half of the crowd marching towards the entrance of the underground lair.
Despite not wearing their official uniforms, Molly and Antoine saw their fellow agents of war in their casual-formal uniforms. They found Matthew running towards them. The blonde man had his hat tightly secured on his head to cover his golden locks. The other squads around them followed along, all familiar with the shadow created by the hanging building.
Antoine's nose wiggled and he inhaled deeply. He could smell the dirt from here. The outsider would be disgusted, but the tough soldier would take on the dirt. The cave before them barely intimidated him or his squadmates. To them, it was like going into an abandoned roller coaster tunnel, except that they were the owners of the place.
It felt like they knew the inside and outside of the place.
That being said, they had their comments.
"Why can't we have a normal lair that stands out like a normal pimple?" Matthew whined, clearly disdainful of unidentified bases hiding underneath their noses. "At this rest, the town would be at risk of erosion."
Antoine shrugged, unfazed. "It's Central City. Anything is possible."
"Doesn't seem impossible for them to keep it hidden though," deadpanned Molly.
"Though, with everyone being able to build that many underground bases, what else do they want them for?" questioned Matthew.
"For lustful purposes," answered Molly flatly. "Like hoarding cookies. Maybe even milk."
A low, feminine voice pitched through their earpieces, alerting every G.U.N agent descending into the tunnel.
"Alright, everyone," she said slowly. "Defense systems through entrance tunnel are down. The majority of the Lightning Bolt Society is out already. However, we found twenty people still around in the place. Must be the guards. They're watching in small rooms that observe the larger rooms, so you must do everything you can to avoid drawing attention."
A few mumbles of acknowledgement as they continued walking. As they entered the dark tunnel, each agent slowly pulled out their weapon.
Molly was already holding her rifle. She didn't notice how tight her fingers were around the rifle's handle and the barrel.
Antoine pulled out two pistols underneath his jacket, rolling them in his fingers. He smiled. This felt clearly better than holding sharp daggers.
Matthew, who took his role as the team's father very seriously, took a kater knife from his belt pouch. He was more careful with it and cautious enough to point it forward.
Nobody needed to take out flashlights when they saw their first light source.
Neon sticks decorated the walls in the signature color of the Lightning Bolt Society. Shaped in lightning bolts, both in big or small shapes.
"Is this their secret lair or is it a woman's paradise?" wondered Molly, tilting her head.
"All security cameras foiled," alerted their hacker. "Though, I'm surprised some of them weren't working before we arrived. The door in front of you should open in three, two, one…"
The agents in the front halted as the next door opened, revealing the gigantic base room.
Unlike its usually busy state, there was no one AND nothing there.
The place was cleaned and stripped from its previous condition. No tape to form an improvised parking lot, no tables for available food to grab and no desk where Dave could work at and use as a stage.
It was like they were walking into a brand-new gymnasium rather than a secret lair.
After walking through the pretty lights, they would have expected to see decorations hanging around this place.
One of the agents in front cocked his gun and stepped into the room.
"Hello?" he shouted. "Are there any assholes in here?"
"Be quiet!" hissed a voice behind him. "They might hear you!"
"I don't think anyone can," said a third.
"I detect three men in a room above all of you," the hacker informed. They aren't close to the observing window or their computers, though we don't know how much they can see from that angle."
"Wait," alerted one agent, removing a clipped smoke bomb from her belt.
Matthew immediately placed his finger to block his nose. One look from Molly and he remembered what it smelled like.
It wasn't a pleasant smell when the smoke bomb landed on the ground. The crack made emitted a hiss and a stream of grayish-lavender smoke. The rest of the metallic shell fell apart, giving way to a giant cloud of smoke the size of a petrol station fireball. Eventually, the smoke ball rising exploded quietly, its whispery fumes spreading through the room.
It was like watching an ocean; the smoke's majesty, lavender waves flowing peacefully, its bumps round and soft as clouds.
Matthew wrinkled his nose. He wasn't used to this smell. Molly and Antoine wiggled their noses and they could understand why.
Despite the smoke creating a show of fair radiance, the scent traveling back to them was one of natural gas. Nobody would like to be in a room that smells like a real petrol station. At least it wasn't THAT strong.
This gas bomb should help cover their bodies from any watchers above. Additionally, the smoke should expose any traps left around in the area. Fortunately, the spreading, dominant smoke didn't expose any classic lasers poking around. It was evident in the clear lavender field, not a single dark object to be seen.
"Stick to your squad and spread out!" hissed an agent, a leader of another squad present. "Go! Go! Go!"
The agents scattered through the fog-covered room. Even if the room was blanketed by smoke, these G.U.N agents were trained to be like ants, quick-thinking and careful on their feet. There were only two available entrances. Still, the agents split into two groups, sparing enough time for the lavender fog to remain.
"This hacking process is longer than I thought…clever bandits," remarked the hacker's voice through their communications. "I can't use any tech here to track vulnerable files and contacts. However, I am picking up signals of electronic bombs in this base."
Molly froze. She was just halfway through the door frame when the word 'electronic bombs' rang in her head.
And it remained there, replaying like a record.
A lump formed in her throat. If the gas wouldn't suffocate her, then this would.
Antoine placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. Molly stared at him. He still looked serious, but his golden eyes were soft in close understanding. The purple cat looked down briefly, feeling ashamed. However, she felt safe, maybe a little.
"Unfortunately, they are sensitive to outside digital connections," continued the hacker, her sharp, husky voice cutting through any hopeful reassurance. "Those little kids are smart but not smart enough to hide them. So I'm sending you the coordinates of the bombs. You need to deactivate them manually."
"What kind of bombs are we dealing with?" asked Matthew.
"ES70917," confirmed the hacker. "That's the bomb model. I'm assuming 80% have experience with disarming those bombs before."
"Wait, who comes from the 20%?" said another agent, worried.
The familiar name of those bombs brought relief to Matthew, his lips stretching into a cocky grin. "Then we're good to go."
Molly was briefly back to the reality of their mission as she stepped further into the room. Let's see. Security was likely high, bombs placed around for their arrival, all while needing to search through this place thoroughly. She couldn't imagine herself in a flaming death and when she did…
The floor suddenly felt different. A shudder ran through her body, eliciting a small squeak. It wasn't a matter of feeling something or something possessing her. It was a feeling. She imagined herself walking on the hard rock above the hidden lava tunnels of a volcano. A twitchy urge to run away before she could feel the ground shaking, waiting to consume her.
Nevertheless, she shook her head, fighting off the anxiety. It was right on time when Antoine nearly considered placing a hand on her shoulder again. Seeing the rifle in her hands, Molly focused on it instead and pointed it forward.
The coyote nodded when he saw Molly pointing at a likely blind spot.
The two focused back on their current investigation. They were inside the bunk room, a long hallway with several bunk beds on the sides. The brown paint all around them created the feel of a wooden campsite. This room nearly had the same aesthetic as a cozy, natural resort for the humble and the wild.
But in place of the expectation of messy blankets and belongings lying around, the bunks were already tidied up. Red blankets were folded, pillows were clean and big without a single finger imprint and even the wood holding up the beds looked shiny. These beds would look more impressive if they were in a hotel.
Here, they seemed too perfect for a base run by a group of delinquents.
It was as if the Lightning Bolt Society had sold this place away.
The G.U.N agents gossiped to themselves in hush voices as they began walking through the hallway.
"Anyone want to sound off here?" joked Antoine. "Boy scouts? Want to call out your number?"
Molly wasn't in the mood to snark around, apprehensive. "I don't think this is camp anymore."
"My kids would move over to this place in a heartbeat," said Matthew, observing the beds. "Misleading…"
"Would they be dumb enough to think leaving everything perfectly like this would throw us off?"
"Depending on their angle," said Antoine as he pulled back his right sleeve. There, on his wrist, was a small device watch. At the moment, it was presenting him with the map of this lair, their bodies detected as red dots. "Those guys know how to get away easy, huh?"
A beep from his watch and his ears flapped upwards as if shocked.
"A bomb nearby," he alerted. "Be ready."
And it was right there. They found a large object stuffed underneath one of the beds. That bed stood out from the rest due to the massive bump in its red blanket.
"Remind me again," asked Matthew. "How sensitive is this ES70917?"
"She already told us," Molly explained warily. "But we can't exactly destroy it. The design flaw to it is that it doesn't exactly have a passcode to be typed in manually."
"We'll have to see about that," said Antoine.
While Molly did a good job hiding it, she knew that she was growing terrified of it. It wasn't the appropriate time to express that fear out loud and she expected to get close to a temperant bomb. However, she didn't expect the dread that would keep her awake, the thought of it setting off by her and her friends just even stepping forward.
The walk grew slow for her, even if the bunk was close. She could feel her fur standing up, unwanted adrenaline rushing through every part of her body. Molly would be screaming to herself to stay out of this. Her fingers pressed tightly against the handle of her rifle. Anything to rid this weapon, but the only way was to shut it down properly.
But once they were near, there was no turning back.
Molly decided to be the first to pull the blanket away…
…and all three of them nearly stepped back when they found a sleeping jackal underneath that blanket. Molly's first instinct was to point her rifle at the person. But he didn't appear to be awake. Without snoring as well, surprisingly.
Molly narrowed her eyes. This jackal looked familiar…
"Obsidian?" she said robotically. "You traitor."
"I don't think that's him," stated Matthew dryly.
Indeed, he looked like Obsidian. The jackal had the same black fur and the matching white mohawk. The only things missing were the headband and the small scratch above the nose. On closer inspection, he was wearing a dull green sweater and a large scar crossed over his right eye up until close to his chin.
Curious, Antoine removed the blanket to reveal his body. He didn't expect the jackal's arms to be tied to his sides by duct tape. No bomb in sight as well.
Antoine checked back on his watch. "The bomb should be here, but…"
He trailed off and he narrowed his eyes, unamused. He patted the jackal's stomach. The ES70917 bomb wasn't particularly small and its edges were too sharp to damage the flesh inside. When Antoine couldn't feel the bomb, he moved up to the upper chest. Maybe in the throat-?
He suddenly wrenched his hand back, gasping.
The jackal's chest felt cold.
He glanced at his comrades, his golden eyes shrinking in terror.
Molly got close to the jackal and pressed a finger against his neck to make sure.
She couldn't feel a pulse in the body.
Molly was more subdued as she stepped away in shock.
"And that's the bomb?" she questioned, barely audible.
Both she and Antoine exchanged looks of horror.
Molly could feel her heart skipping a beat, soon to lose a few more. It was too quick for them to find a dead body. Whoever had THIS idea didn't have the right mind screwed in. But it was fair to say that this was just sick. The body still looked fresh, the resting jackal's face youthful and calm. The purple cat could only stare with purple eyes shakingly focused on the body.
But there was nothing we could do, she thought. Resigned, she closed her eyes in brief mourning, sorrow for the fallen jackal. Her body was still riddled with newfound anxiety, but she could only acknowledge that they wouldn't have known this man died before.
"One of us take the body out from this bunker," she suggested. "Stupid, but it should then be safe so that it won't trigger nearby bombs."
Matthew barely responded, his lips pulled back in an angry growl. A shadow cast over his normally bright eyes. There was fury, but there was also desired vengeance.
"Matthew?"
Matthew sighed, adopting a friendlier look to his two teammates. "Sounds like a plan. Antoine?"
The coyote didn't hear them, staring at the corpse. Unlike Molly, he didn't dare to close his eyes.
For a second, the dead jackal reminded him of Ice. Antoine couldn't even sense anything from this cold body. It looked too perfect to be dead. Meanwhile, Ice had a few holes in himself, so that said something. But what if this new jackal was merely…pretending? Taking advantage of the shock to activate the bomb? What if this jackal would suddenly come back to life to scare the living daylights out of him?
As all the 'what if' questions surrounded him, Antoine began shaking without realizing. The body was all he could see. The rest didn't matter, blurring out. He couldn't even apprehend this feeling threatening to tie him down for this sick discovery…
Eventually, he broke out of this thinking when he felt Molly's hand on his shoulder.
"Hermano," she said. "You're good?"
Antoine held a poker face, not wanting to crumble again. None of them felt good about this.
The coyote finally shut his eyes, trying to think straight.
The last time he freaked out, it was his doing. His conscious decision led to wounding Ice to save Obsidian.
What was his mind trying to tell him?
Double tapping the body?
No.
All he could register was fear of the undead rising. It was a stupid thought, but he always had that feeling of ghosts weighing on his tail for too long.
He wanted to get rid of the body. It must be quarantined before the bomb inside could go off.
Antoine inhaled deeply and declared, "I'll take the body. You two keep searching."
There was no stuttering from him. No hesitance. Molly nodded in silent acknowledgement. "On it."
Despite being rattled, the agents persisted and hurried through the room. They could hear Antoine's hurried footsteps as he carried the dead jackal away. With one problem down, they would soon look through the place to find many more. Molly and Matthew decided to reach the end of the hallway, greeted by an entrance leading to a left or right hallway.
Still observant of the place, Molly turned her eyes to the corner of the ceiling.
She didn't expect to see the lens of this security camera to be cracked. It automatically clicked into her mind that the device had taken a nasty blow previously.
"Hey, can you get anything from the camera I'm staring at?" asked Molly.
The hacker hummed. "I…don't pick up anything. In fact, this camera and many others have been offline for…at least an hour before we arrived."
Matthew tilted his head. The hat on his head fell off, letting his blonde hair droop downwards. "They must have had a little fun before they evacuated."
"Or it was intentional," said the hacker.
Molly swallowed the forming lump in her throat, but it was dry. The thought of even needing water didn't come to mind. The electronic bombs, the lower number of people, the dead jackal and now this…something was telling her that this place wouldn't be friendly, but she couldn't put a finger on it.
Sure, the Lightning Bolt Society DID leave before they arrived, but the question remained of what they did before their departure.
The ground felt different again. This time, Molly was quick to understand that feeling. It was trying to pull her feet down, stop her from getting closer to the danger. Begging her to not even think about it.
Instead, she shook her head and concentrated on what she saw now. Anxiety wasn't going to help her in this case with everybody searching around.
"You'll take left and I'll take the right?" she suggested.
Matthew shrugged. "Sure then. We got others following behind us, so no problem."
That being said, Molly ended up far away from the other agents. Reaching the end of this new hallway was a blur to her. Either from finding certain places too mundane to search through or she couldn't stop moving around. The purple cat had no clue of the motive of why she was suddenly going faster than the rest of the agents.
"Because they're slow," an old part of her thought. "And I somehow find the time to do all my homework that isn't due in four weeks."
The bitterness of the hypocritical claim swam down her throat, urging her to nearly retch. No, it couldn't be that. Like everyone, Molly simply followed orders and there was no pressure to be quick. There were guards, but they could be taken down easily. As she mused over the repulsing thought, it came to Molly that she might avoid a topic she didn't want to confront.
Nevertheless, she continued and entered the last room in this small hallway: the storage room.
When she turned on the light, she felt an immense wave of relief, cooling down her tense body. Every muscle relaxed and drooped as she sighed, even her ears! When she felt her hat nearly falling off, Molly nonchalantly fixed it back into place and looked around.
There were no signs of hiding henchmen or tiny threats. And this room barely looked like it had reinforced walls or panels that could lead to another secret room. It was merely a regular basement room where you would throw away all of your belongings. There was a tall and wide shelf on each side of the room with boxes stacked on them.
From what Molly could tell, the objects inside these boxes didn't look significant. They included various books with crumpled edges, folded clothes with old coffee stains and lamps with holes in their materials. Tiny, feathery dust sprinkled the tops, signaling their neglected state.
Even a rusted mailbox was resting at the top of the shelf, its front lid facing the open vent close to the ceiling.
It was all just garbage she didn't need to worry about.
Except for that one bomb resting at the corner of the room.
Despite knowing the bomb's capability, Molly smirked a little. Her level-headed confidence was slowly returning. It was warm and comfortable.
Her handling of the bomb felt like nothing. She was nervous about its devastation, but she understood how to deactivate this model. As she mindlessly pressed the required pattern through its visible buttons, she couldn't help but remember when she and Obsidian first chased after the Weasel Bandits, ending up in a room like this.
At least this storage room had more color and a working light.
Molly chuckled to herself, remembering Obsidian's little trick to expose the Weasel Bandits.
"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands," she sang in a whiny tune.
No claps. Nothing from above.
Looking up, she felt a little disappointed. "Huh."
It was best not to tempt fate, but she kinda missed the Lightning Bolt Society before they changed their name. Even if she didn't know them or like them personally, they weren't that much of a heckle to deal with.
Since Dave pretty much got through Fiyero's party before, it would be a good and fun idea to think most of them were her age. Molly had a vision of her dating one of them. Wait, no, that sounded gross. But it could be worse.
A successful beep from the bomb device and Molly smiled in a mini victory. She could rest assured that she had solved another problem.
As she was about to go, the purple cat stood up and noticed a new object lying on the shelf in front of her.
It was a white envelope. Unlike its neighboring boxes, it wasn't coated in dust and there were no signs of dirt or stain. Spotless, ready to be opened. The most baffling thing was that it was written…
"To Obsidian?" she read out loud.
This was weird.
A letter, abandoned in this storage room, written for Obsidian.
Molly remembered reports and vocal concerns from Obsidian about the Lightning Bolt Society's interest in him. Specifically, Dave's. Thanks to the ruby resting on his chest, he was still a big target. Everybody seemed to ignore it once it became public. However, no one couldn't deny that people like Dave would still seek out Obsidian.
She frowned and shivered, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Not only seeing that letter meant news, but its minted condition told her that…it meant something else. But could she be sure it wasn't a trap?
There were no strings attached to it.
It didn't look like it could store a tiny bomb inside.
Molly wondered why she was even hesitating.
However, she could be just overthinking this.
Deciding to be her no-nonsense self, she picked the letter up with two fingers.
Molly nearly dropped it when she spotted a tiny cotton string attached to its bottom.
It wasn't just a random string glued to the envelope. The string stretched through the gaps in the shelf all the way to the floor. Molly's eyes widened when she saw a hole in the floor where the string came from. She jolted when she heard something rattling from above.
Whipping around, she was presented with a surreal image of rocks pouring out from the now-open mailbox…right into the open vent near the ceiling. She looked at the lid and saw a string glued to it. The string came from a small hole in the ceiling.
By the human eye, it would be hard to see both holes and the string that went through them.
Molly looked back at the envelope in her hand, the apparent trigger to this mechanic, and back at the mailbox.
Squinting her eyes, she observed the falling rocks coming out from the mailbox.
They were dark, crusty like charcoal-grilled and glowed red in their cores…
There were the kind of rocks you would use for the chimney.
However, the vents they were poured into weren't meant for chimney fire.
"Agent Matthew," alerted the hacker. "I detected at least three people inside the room, all of them standing in the center. They have electronic bombs on them too. Be careful."
A suicide bombing. Great. Matthew stared at the door before him. Innocent and mundane. A brown door with a round black knob that had no keyholes. Looked boring that Matthew wouldn't be so alarmed.
However, this place had lots of surprises today.
Dealing with what might be a mass suicide bombing of three people was no funny business.
While not as wary as Molly or uptight as Antoine, Matthew always maintained a skeptical and alert attitude in his mission. Every single thing shouldn't be taken at face value. At the same time, he kept his friendly smile and lively eyes glowing, even if they might grow disconcerting. Sure, he looked gullible, but most of the time, he knew what was the wise decision to make.
From what he could indicate, the three men inside could attack once he entered.
He kicked down the door and pulled out his knife.
"Freeze!" he yelled. "G.U.N!"
"Um, ma'am?" interrupted a voice through his earpiece. "Did you see this through the camera? I found two black-furred canines tied up on a chair with that bomb…"
Matthew raised an eyebrow, confused. But when he stared to the front, his smile dropped.
Being the professional agent, he still carried on forward to attend the three jackals tied to their chairs.
The dreaded bombs were attached to the chairs' legs and their idle beeps played an inappropriate chipper tune.
The sight of the trapped jackals was anything but chipper.
Their mouths received the same treatment as their tied ankles and wrists except that the duct tape covering their mouths were double-layered. The glossy fabric pretty much buried their entire muzzles and noses, leading to a decaying and growing bulge in the duct tape. They were struggling to breath.
If that wasn't disturbing enough, their fur appeared waxy and too shiny, drenched in oil from the lingering dirt of the room. The captive facing Matthew had his crusty, bloodshot eyes down, wearily. Whether it was pink eye or just dirty eye, he couldn't tell. Those three jackals didn't seem to have taken a shower in days.
When Matthew approached the first jackal, he let out a muffled scream, blocked by the duct tape. His suddenly heaving chest and scared red eyes were enough to send the message.
Matthew didn't hesitate to rip the duct tape off the jackals' bodies. However, once freed, they immediately cowered away at the corner of the room.
"Um, I'm also reporting three…jackals here," he said quietly. "I've freed them."
"You what?!" hissed the hacker.
"I can't help it. They look like they were starving here for a long time. Are the others OK too-?"
"Wait," said one of the jackals, her head twitching. "Where's Henry?"
"I-I don't think he's here with the rest of us…" The second jackal trailed off, his blank look telling another story Matthew wasn't aware of.
"Where's Henry? Is he here?" The female jackal turned to Matthew, desperate. "Did you find him?"
Matthew was speechless. His lips moved, but he didn't have the answer for the huddled jackals. They weren't exactly fearless mercenary, but scared jackals unsure to trust Matthew. He wasn't even trying to appear scary.
He could only shake his head, sympathetic.
The jackal in front gasped. "We have to get out of here now! Everyone! How many are with you?"
Matthew gave a bewildered stare. "Um, we have around 90 agents investigating this lair. Don't worry! We have the situation under control!"
"No." The jackal was trembling. His eyes shrank, nearly looking like silts. "We got to get out of here! They have bombs!"
"We are already aware of that," said Matthew, directing his eyes to the bombs still strapped to the chairs. "We are disarming them as we speak."
"Not that! Not that kind of bomb! They have dynamite buried underneath the lair!"
Cue the confirming cries of the other captives through Matthew's earpiece.
"There's dynamite hidden under us!"
"The bombs you see are fake!"
"They'll activate the ones below us!"
"Abort mission!" yelled one agent. "This place has to be abandoned immediately!"
"Why is there so many dynmiate in this floor vent?" wailed another agent, bewildered.
"Those ES70917 bombs are…they don't even have wiring inside! They're empty!" moaned a third agent.
Matthew's eyes matched the scared jackal's.
After shooting down the strange mail box on the shelf, Molly sighed in relief when she didn't hear any more coal rocks pouring into the vent hole. She could still hear the last few stones bumping against the metallic walls, but at least she stopped it. Sort of. However, this Rube Goldberg machine wasn't something she could lightly tolerate.
In the worst-case scenario, the ventilation would melt and everybody would have trouble breathing. Probably from the burning fumes.
But Molly didn't feel afraid. This shouldn't be a setback. This means that they would need to apply the masks. Maybe leave this area since it was close to the hot coal rocks.
The whole time, Molly didn't pay attention to the loud exchange through her earpiece, trying to cut off the machine she accidentally activated. But how was she going to tell them of what just happened?
And…what were they talking about?
"I report seeing more jackals on Floor 2," reported another agent. "Repeat. More jackals on Floor 2."
"Get them out of there now," said the hacker. "C'mon, people! We don't have all day to evacuate!"
"Evacuate?" asked Molly.
She got her answer when a loud sizzle was heard from the open vent hole.
Every hair on Molly's neck prickled and a cold electrical bolt shot through the back of her head. She stared at the vent hole, its black void suddenly receiving a red glow. Forget acting like this was just stupid. She only stared at the glow in horror.
A lot of things happened that she couldn't process.
She felt two meaty hands grabbing her in a tight embrace. She felt her feet picked off the ground. She also could feel the ground below bursting into a flash of light.
A loud noise ripped through her ears.
Her eyes burn from the bright light.
But most importantly, her body was too close to what appeared to be fire.
Molly thought she would pass out when the flames licked at her face, but she couldn't see any darkness.
Everything was too bright for her to close her eyes.
For some reason, I was smiling away the whole time. Before, I was more serious, trying to push down my fear of getting hurt. Trying to tell myself not to look weak in front of everyone. But now bonded with the ruby strongly, I felt more confident in testing my telekinesis powers. I didn't get a good chance to use it, so why not now?
The thing was, I decided to do it OUTSIDE the usual training rooms.
I just finished carrying a few packages needed for a squad, who was preparing to send them to a close support services. While the majority of them waited for their leaders to tick off everything in their checklist, I decided to converse with them for a while and hear what they were talking about.
To my surprise, there were reports of…increasing criminal activity. Grafitti on the wall, black market exchanges rising again and apparently one or two infamous criminals stalking the streets. I wonder what that was about. When I asked, they said it would take me two weeks to understand the context like a textbook.
It couldn't be that hard to learn about other rogue criminals. The Lightning Bolt Society was already done and I got familiar with those of Team Blood.
Then, one of the agents had the idea of riding one of the trucks. No, I mean, riding the truck I would carry with my ruby's powers.
To put it simply, making his dream of being in a flying truck come true.
My bright and wide grin could radiate the triumphant green glow wrapped around my hands and the truck…and the truck lifted a few feet high. Unlike last time, the truck wasn't shaking too badly. I had a pretty good hold on. In fact, it nearly felt good as well. The cheer from this enhanced my focus on keeping it in the air.
By the carefree agent's request, I let the truck rock around repeatedly. The agent sitting in the back end was having the time of his life judging by his loud whooping.
My hands only started to tremble after holding this truck for a good amount of twenty minutes. The same went for the increasing strain in my head. Not because of the ruby but because I didn't realize how much physical strength required to use so much power.
Add the weight of the truck resting on my shoulders and it started to feel like I was trying to carry an invisible bag holding a bowling ball.
Instead of growling, I kept my grin despite it hurting my face. If I could keep this up, if I could hold just a little longer on that truck, then I would succeed in this sport…
The ruby wasn't pleased but kept its voice to a gentler sound.
"Don't be ignorant to your body!" it pleaded, sounding small. "With tender love and care!"
"Just…hold on!" I grunted when I felt my foot nearly slipping. "Will get there! How about you?"
"I am still intact. But I'm detecting that your muscles are straining and applying too much pressure!"
Eventually, I relented. "OK, OK. Now, I'm tired."
As the green aura surrounding my hands disappeared, the truck gently landed back on the ground. I exclaimed and bent down, grabbing my knees. Hanging my mouth open, I panted with a goofy smile. I was surprised by how loud my breathing was. Being conscious of this, I breathed slowly. The heaviness in my chest began to subside, leaving a pleasant and relieved feeling.
The carefree agent jumped out of the truck and bounced around, exhilarated. His pumped fists in the air made him look cute despite his dark uniform.
"Beats every ride I've tried creating!" he said. "Jackal man, that's how you do the weighing scale!"
"For Pete's sake, mate," said an annoyed agent from the side. "Please stop dilly-dallying around. We'll be leaving soon."
"OK, OK, fine!" He turned back to me. "Thank you, jackal man!"
I gave him a quick wave before he skipped away.
The ruby gave a slight growl, sounding annoyed.
"This…this was the longest I could ever do," I said, wiping my forehead. "I wonder when I will be able to get back to heavy lifting."
Despite feeling the ruby's annoyance, it blanketed me with a new cool sensation. A cold wave brushed through my throat and fur. It wasn't freezing. It was just a nice instant switch of the temperature, something akin in an air-conditioned room during a summer day.
The sweat was gone from my body, my jacket no longer sticky. And I didn't expect that my lungs would suddenly be filled with air, replenished and calm.
The ruby was that quick to relieve me.
I felt grateful. Sitting on a nearby box, I smiled and patted the little gem.
Now that we were calm, the ruby answered my previous statement. "I don't think we can proceed to doing so. I don't have enough power to let your body hold that much energy when practicing telekinesis on large objects."
The earlier rush would have swayed me to protest, but remembering that my Phantom Ruby prototype could do only so much, I relented.
"Alright, good point," I said, nodding.
"…well, don't worry. I won't hurt you. I learnt my lesson last time."
I tilted my head, confused. "I didn't worry about that."
"I sense your subconsciousness recalling that day."
My ruby suddenly lashed out, but not out of anger or malice. The sensation was cold as if trying to cool down. I responded by yelling, striking my other hand upwards. The truck eventually crashed on the floor, but it didn't matter. The headache only got worse as I collapsed right onto the floor, twitching.
I frowned at the memory. It had been a while, and that was my only reason for not worrying about it. At first, I didn't feel like that time should be dwelled upon.
But when the ruby hummed sadly, there was a sudden rush of guilt.
It didn't take long when I realized what it was getting at.
"I-I'm not saying that I didn't care or I didn't see it as an excuse or I didn't acknowledge what…OK, how do you phrase this?"
I mused for a while. This wasn't exactly helping. However, it boiled down to addressing how the ruby might be feeling. I inhaled deeply before talking much more slowly this time.
"Alright, you're right that it's concerning that I'm not concerned. But I think I didn't dwell so much because I trust you now. It might not look much, but it's telling something, doesn't it?"
There was silence.
My shoulders slowly raised. Did I say something wrong?
Then, the ruby giggled bubbly, giving me graceful warmth. "Yeah. OK then. I'm grateful to have developed my communications with you and the world. It's nice having a voice that doesn't distress you."
"It's not exactly distressing," I said. "Maybe it took us a while to understand each other."
"...in the same way, it took you a while to learn my capabilities."
"That's true as well."
Once again, it might seem too fast to look over what happened before. However, after spending a lot of time in Central City exploring and understanding many people around me, I was already going forward with what I had in the present. And that time did allow me and the ruby to bond better along the way.
There wasn't a grudge I held against my ruby.
I would have noticed how lighter I felt if I had considered it further.
"H-H-Hell…hello?"
I immediately looked upwards. Left. Right. Everything was still going normally and nobody was affected.
"Hello?"
"Um, did you hear that?" I asked nobody.
"It's coming from that truck's radio as well," said the ruby.
It wasn't wrong. We could hear sound from the truck's radio still on. Deciding to come closer, I walked over to it and peeked over the window, observing its shiny radio.
This sound calling through that radio and my ruby; it could mean a signal trying to get through insecure channels.
"H-Hello?" spoke a crackling voice. "Hello?!"
"Um, who is there-?"
A voice suddenly cut me off. It was coming from the ruby, sending these signals in my head.
"Who is this?" said a deep voice.
"What is your report?" said another voice.
Even I heard Breezie's voice through these signals. "Who is making this call?"
"I'm detecting this live message is trying to call all radio channels of G.U.N," confirmed the ruby.
That was weird. Then who was this caller exactly trying to talk to?
"Yes! Yes! Finally. I have been waiting for days!"
A chorus of questions followed, but Breezie's voice stood out the most for the ruby.
"Days? What do you mean by that?"
The relief in the caller's voice vanished, replaced by a shaky voice that sounded like they were hyperventilating. "I do not have much time. The Lightning Bolt Society has already attacked Area 99, damaging most of our defenses and security systems. I'm using the remaining communications. I need help!"
The ruby hissed and I cringed as well. It wasn't due to the noisy overlap of voices of uproar and disbelief. It was the thought of the Lightning Bolt Society breaking into Area 99. You know, the safest place to contain dangerous weapons?
And yet, Willy and the Weasel Bandit couldn't do much inside G.U.N except let their little spy inspect every nook and cranny.
Remembering the serious look on Commander Towers' face when he explained the location, this was a place I didn't think anyone could break in easily.
"What?" shouted a voice, saying everyone's thoughts. "How did they get through?"
"I don't know. You should not-" The caller suddenly paused, an alarm ringing from their end. "OK! OK! T-They're breaking in! I can't hold this call for too long! Me and my pack need help!"
Nearly everyone said the same thing. "Where are you?!"
"I don't know! Some…big room with computers or-" There was a loud slash on the caller's end. "AARGH! I HAVE TO GO! I'LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN-EEP!"
That was the last we heard of the mysterious caller. From the radio transmission picked up by the ruby, all we could hear were the panicked calls from G.U.N if the strange caller was still there.
Before any of us could understand the message, we heard the door bursting open.
It was September.
"Agent Obsidian," he whispered, drained of energy. "I need you over now."
At first, I thought it was due to the message that my ruby managed to pick up.
However, as September took me to one of the sick bays, I realized that it was another worrying matter.
When we passed by the increasing crowd of people, I heard September cursing something under his breath.
All of a sudden, September pulled me to the side. A medical bed on wheels passed by us. Another came in from behind. Then another. I leaned forward and was greeted by the sight of multiple beds pushed away by the G.U.N. medical doctors. It wasn't just the doctors rushing through the hallway; many other agents and soldiers were aiding their injured colleagues.
One could see the oxygen mouthpieces the injured were wearing at a distance.
Though, the stampede of beds coming in from one end to another was so fast that I couldn't get a good look at the injuries they sustained.
September grunted and pulled my arm, impatient. While I did see him breaking his professional stance a few times, this was the first time I saw him being this frustrated.
"Man, his pull is rough," mumbled the ruby, sensing his tight grip.
"Dude, shut it," I whispered. "He's probably so stressed."
"What does he have to show us then?"
However, September's main concern was more towards those resting in those medical beds. As more rolled past us, his eyes were noticeably growing wider and wider in terror.
One particular bed suddenly made him jump before he shouted something at the nurse pushing it. She immediately obeyed and ran off. I only got a glimpse of the injury her patient sustained; his exposed chest was entirely black and burnt.
As we continued traveling through the swarm of medical beds, I noticed something odd with the injured patients. Some of them didn't look like personnel of G.U.N.
As September and I passed by another medical bed, I didn't expect the resting patient to be a black-furred jackal and a white mane.
Who was still conscious and kicking.
At least two doctors were holding her down as her body jolted up and down, shrill screams barely escaping through the gaps of her mouthpiece.
I caught the look in her eyes. Infected, crusty, bloodshot. The red veins crossing over the normally-white scalera were numerous like a spreading disease. Her golden slits weren't any better, darting left and right. They didn't look mad, however.
A cold strike of familiarity ran through my body.
She looked…familiar.
She didn't seem to be a G.U.N agent. Her tattered clothes looked more like outfits you could buy in the desert.
September suddenly wrenched me to the left, right on time, as a speeding bed charged into my path. As I stepped to the side, I caught the patient resting in that bed; another jackal.
He was panicking too and more focused on the mouthpiece. The yelling of the accompanying doctor overshadowed the muffled screams of the poor jackal trying to pry the foreign object off his muzzle.
The jackal seemed to stop when he saw me staring at him.
He didn't struggle against the demanding doctor nor focus on the mouthpiece.
His wet, tearful eyes were cloudy in recognition.
But I couldn't recognize this jackal.
When I turned back to the front, I was horrified to see more jackals in these medical beds, sharing the same black fur and white hair. It was like…they even came from my squad, but not exactly. All of them had the same burns. Some already had bandages wrapped around their heads. What happened to all of them that forced G.U.N to take them here?
September took a hard right to the sick bay room he was searching for. We had to stop to let another medical bed through and once we were brought in, I could see why.
Under the bright fluorescent lights, nearly every wound of the patients was exposed. All sporting similar burnt wounds on their bodies. All of the beds were taken, carrying fellow G.U.N agents and unfamiliar jackals. The bright lights made the bloody and overcrowded view clear.
At one point, I had to plant myself against the wall to let a wheely bed pass through.
The new addition of injured jackals took up the capacity of the sick bays on this floor. No wonder it was a rush out there.
Many doctors switched from treating the injured to trying to take those waiting to other sick bays, if there were any left to find nearby. One doctor accidentally slipped when trying to slide over to the door.
It was a frantic landscape of demands and panic. Not a moment of peace could be spared. I could even feel it from the shouting doctors and the crying patients.
My ruby hummed, feeling a need to do something about this.
Eventually, September dragged me to the other end of the long room, right at the last bed of the row.
I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out loud when I saw Molly sitting up on her bed.
Molly's normally perfectly-in-place clothes and braided hair were ruffled and singed, specifically the ends of her coat, which looked close to falling apart. While there were no visible scratches or rips in her clothes, the look on her face was a worse wound. Her eyes were hollow and staring at the chaos around us. She barely looked at me and September, if she ever did spot us.
She wasn't moving at all. Not a single muscle. In that frozen posture, I noticed her hat was missing. This exposed the only visible wound on her body; her left ear was badly burnt. The fur on the ear looked like it vanished and the naked tan skin appeared crusted. The charcoal-black stain mark reached her left eye.
"Molly?" I uttered quietly.
A fog covered her eyes, lost. There was regret as well.
"Molly, can you hear me?"
All Molly could do in her paralyzed state was to shed tender tears.
"Their infiltration of the located base of the Lightning Bolt Society backfired," informed September solemnly. "It was a trap. Molly and her squad are lucky to survive."
I turned to him, incredulous. "L-Lucky to survive? Who else died there?"
"Huh?" Molly suddenly muttered.
Molly turned her body, but she was close to falling over. I immediately held her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back upwards. She only fell back into her bed with the same traumatized look.
September briefly exposed his sharp teeth. "Well…counting everyone who was there, eighty-seven people are still breathing. Eighteen are in critical condition. Two already died here. Paramedics managed to stop the burning as they were carried here, but we couldn't confirm how much smoke they inhaled from the explosion. We can't even tell if the dynamite was toxic."
I gazed back at Molly. It was haunting to see her in this state. My ruby hummed sadly, even scared. Nothing could exactly prepare her and the rest of the agents to come down into that rigged lair. I briefly remembered Molly mentioning her lack of field experience, but that little club we had been watching was growing smart.
Molly only barely escaped. And she knew it as she stared at the light above, unbothered by how bright it was.
"Molly," I started.
The purple cat's eyes darted to me. Her eyes shifted a little, appearing sad. Silently, she pulled herself up in a sitting position, ensuring she was leaning against the wall.
Her hand shakily dug into her coat pocket. The tremble remained when she pulled out a stained envelope and gave it to me.
"What is this?" I asked.
Molly closed her eyes, trying to think. When she opened her mouth, her voice was hoarse and cracking.
"That letter was meant for you," she croaked.
I blinked. "Me?"
September cleared his throat, looking down. "We noticed that the Lightning Bolt Society had this letter specifically for you. Molly briefly scanned through it and she needed you to read through it."
"I-It was a trap," muttered Molly quietly. "Someone made this and used it as a trap." She shook her head, uncertain. "I-I-I don't-I don't know. Maybe they…thought you would be there too."
My frown deepened. Opening from the top, the letter inside the envelope was surprisingly unblemished and clean. No speck of dust on it. I quickly checked who wrote it.
"Mr. Ghost?" I said. "Why the hell did your letter fall into the hands of…?"
I was silent on the first read.
But on the second, I read the letter out loud.
By the time I was close to a third read, my mind stopped.
I was suddenly aware of the light glaring down at me, the crying from nearby patients and the sharp beeping sounds from medical equipment around.
But those things couldn't be compared to this sensation grasping me into a tight squeeze.
Before I could recognize it, I found myself paralyzed.
The question repeatedly ran through my mind: "Was this actually happening?"
I looked back on the written words, trying to spot a typo. Maybe I had missed something.
"You're reading it correctly," hummed the ruby sadly. "It's true."
I was shocked.
I could only say something of this letter, this mess, by repeating what Mr. Ghost had written.
But his letter was also sent through channels that either Zero, Eggman, or the Lightning Bolt Society hijacked before they left it at their deceitful lair as a sick joke, a part of their trap to kill those who thought they had a fighting chance against them.
Did Zero know about what Mr. Ghost tried warning me and a few others in Central City? Would he and those who oppose fall into our enemies' hands?
I glanced back at Molly and she looked close to crying.
Receiving news that our enemies recruited more by force and pressure shouldn't be taken lightly.
"The jackals here," said Molly weakly. "They used to work with Zero. He knew we'd detect them inside. He has THIS many people. What?"
While I knew a fair amount about Zero's work life, I wouldn't have met the partners he once had in the past. I assumed some of them blew up at Zero on bitter terms. It was like he was picking up people from his past for this scheme.
I looked back at the letter. "It's not just me that he has in mind. Is it…everyone we know?"
"...answer…unfulfilled?" choked out the ruby's voice in my head awkwardly.
But no matter how awkward it sounded, one thing was clear.
The Lightning Bolt Society and their partners already had clear targets.
AN: Making this chapter was difficult at the start, but as I thought about how I wanted to present it, I did heavy edits on the narration and the POV. It turned out nicely done, especially when Molly and the other agents investigate the abandoned lair. Some of the trouble came with using the correct terminology for certain parts of the facility.
I think by then, you would all have a clear idea of how the Lightning Bolt Society destroy their previous bases. They knew nobody would expect them using old-fashioned explosives to do the trick.
I feel like I'm being too mean to Molly. Please don't be too mad at her. I even noticed what actually went wrong before she lifted the letter.
If wondering about Antoine and Matthew, don't worry! They are fine. :)
This is gonna be a much shorter author's note for today. But so far, the chapter is looking good. In the next one, we'll be having an attack on Area 99! Team Blood will return for sure; it's their time to be heroes!
Thank you for reading this chapter! If you enjoy this story, be sure to follow or favorite to get updates. If there is any feedback or constructive criticism you want to share, I would very much appreciate.
Until then, keep on rocking!