Aetheral Space-Chapter 450:15.4: Underground

"So," Tybalt asked cheerfully, hands behind his head as he walked. "Are we behind those guys showing up?"

"We’re not," Erica replied calmly.

The two of them strolled down the halls of the Thinker’s Comet -- followed by Tybalt’s bestial Id and ominous Ego -- their stride not even slowing as researchers and personnel hurried out of their paths. There sure was a lot of anxiety in the air recently, but Tybalt supposed that only made sense. The Thinker’s Comet was operating in UAP space, after all, and collaborating with freaks from the Sed.

It was a delicate, delicate situation.

Tybalt’s Superego got how that must feel… but he didn’t quite get how Erica felt.

"You say that," Tybalt said, putting his hands behind his back and leaning forward playfully. "But it’s like the big kitty says, you know? It’s a hell of a coincidence. You’re not worried at all?"

Erica smiled slightly. "You know full well that fear doesn’t exist inside me, Tybalt. There’s no reason for me to be concerned about anything. If something happens to me, it’s only natural that it will benefit me."

"I see, I see," Tybalt stroked his chin sagely. "Very wise, very wise, Miss Erica. Still, what a surprise, eh? I thought ol’ Attack and Defense bit the bullet with Yakob, but I guess they’re still alive and kicking, huh?"

"The other girl is more interesting," Erica replied. "The foremost Masker of the Sed, just above Penelope. It’s good that she found her way here for me."

"Ah, how is Penelope doing?" Tybalt laughed, carefree as a bird. "It’s been ages since I saw her!"

"You know I can’t contact her, Tybalt," Erica said. "Right now, she doesn’t even exist in the same way you and I do. You’ll see her again when this all wraps up."

Well, that was a little sad. After the end of the Sed, it had just been the three of them -- Erica, Tybalt, and Penelope -- for so very long. They’d experienced the rot of this world together, and so Tybalt had hoped that they’d all come together once again to watch its redemption.

But oh well! Sometimes things just happened like that!

"So we’re heading there again, Erica?" Tybalt asked. "Have you turned religious or something? Haha, I’m only kidding, though!"

"Religion…?" Erica mused. "No. I’ve never tried being religious before. There’s no god that’s earned my attention."

They reached their destination, and the heavy doors rumbled open. The miracle beyond bathed their faces in crimson light. That bloody radiance was enough to halt even Tybalt’s motormouth.

But it was as Erica had said. Fear was not something that existed inside of her.

"No god yet," she said, dark eyes fixed on the developing fruits of their labours. "The Sed was an abomination, Tybalt. You know that, and I know that."

She closed her eyes.

"But it can’t have been for nothing," she concluded. "I won’t permit that."

The two of them stood there, children of that yet to truly be born, side by side. The man in the hat oozed into Tybalt’s body, and the ejected jester cavorted with the hound. Only once the braid contracted into a tight bun once again did Erica turn her head to face Tybalt.

"Tybalt," she said.

"Yes."

"The girl," Erica whispered. "She’ll be here when it’s ready. That’s what I want to happen. Do you understand me?"

"I understand." Tybalt reached for his holster and checked his Ego’s gun. "Don’t worry. It’ll happen."

"So," the Widow said, her wrinkled face illuminated by the campfire before her. "Young Amantha was right. You did make it off of Azum-Ha."

The old woman sat on the ground, clad in a black cloak and a strange dark jacket. As she shifted position on the floor, the colour of that jacket changed slightly, reflecting that of the rocks behind her.

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Ruth finally stopped to breathe, putting her hands on her knees. Whatever had been attacking them, their rescuer -- the red-cloaked Alcera Nox -- hadn’t believed they’d escaped it until they were firmly underground. She’d understood the enemy was powerful from what they’d done to the ship, but was their tracking really that adept, too?

Just as Bruno had explained, there were tunnels running all the way beneath the false town. Smoothly carved from stone, branching off seemingly without end, like this place was a nest for giant insects. Ruth guessed that the Sed’s personnel had used these for transport purposes… but now that the Sed had shut down, they didn’t serve much purpose except being spooky.

"How’d you know we were coming?" Ruth panted, recovering. "That rescue… was way too fast."

"That was me," said a black-haired young Cogitant by the Widow’s side, raising his hand. "Sam Set. I’ve got a, uh… sort-of precognition ability. Believe me -- if I didn’t see you coming, all of you would have died. One-hundred percent."

Alcera nodded emphatically at the young man. It seemed she wasn’t one for talking.

"You’re the Widow," said Bruno brusquely, crossing his arms. "From Azum-Ha, right?"

"How observant, del Sed," the old woman plucked a metal cup from beside the fire and took a sip. Judging from her expression, it tasted like shit.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I have a story," the old woman replied. "Stop me if you’ve heard it before. There’s been activity at the old Sed facility. We think it’s been commandeered by someone. Go check it out."

Morgan Nacht, who had been silent up to that point -- watching for pursuers -- turned back and furrowed his brow. "Pierrot sent you here?"

"Ah, I suppose there’s no point in secrets right now," the Widow said solemnly. "We’re called Vantablack Squad. Officially, we don’t exist, but we basically run errands for Pierrot and his cronies."

"We arrived a week ago," Sam Set sighed in a way that suggested he was very used to sighing. "Blasted right out of the sky. One of our team managed to land outside the danger zone, but the rest of us are stuck here."

"Danger zone?" Bruno asked, looking between the young Cogitant and the Widow. "What danger zone?"

Sam Set leaned in to respond. "As far as we can tell," he said seriously. "That thing up above -- whatever it is -- can only operate in a limited area. Just the testing site. It can’t go down into these tunnels, and it can’t leave the town. Or, at least, it won’t."

"You think it’s under instructions," Morgan mused, knuckles to his lips.

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"It’s the only way to explain it’s behaviour," Sam said. "I’ve been killed by it a dozen times now, and it definitely isn’t blind, but it won’t attack unless you make noise above a certain level. Once you do? It reaches your location and attacks in ten seconds. I don’t mean within ten seconds, I mean in ten seconds exactly. It’ll go slow if it has to, to make that work. It’s sandbagging."

"What do you mean it’s killed you?" Morgan said, aghast.

"Don’t worry about that," the Widow grunted. "The point is, we’re stuck here, yes? Whatever trap this is, it’s ensnared us both -- and destroyed our ships. If we try to leave the tunnels, that brat kills us."

"Well, if there’s so many of us, can’t we just split into groups?" Bruno ventured. "No matter how fast it is, there’s only one of it. It can’t chase us all at the same time, not if we go in different directions."

"You’re not getting it," Sam Set sighed again. "Listen. I just watched you guys get killed by that thing in, like, thirty seconds. It doesn’t matter how many people there are or how many directions you’re running in. It’ll kill you, no problem."

Ruth shot another glance at the young Cogitant. What the hell was his ability? From the way he was talking, he’d experienced his own death and theirs? How? Whatever it was, it seemed to give him a lot of confidence in what he was saying… but still, he was pissing her off.

He reminded her of that guy, after all.

Bruno seemed to have the same opinion, stepping forward and looming over Set. "Okay. So what’s your plan, then? Stay down here for the rest of our lives eating mushrooms?"

The Cogitant opened his mouth to shoot back, but a simple raise of the Widow’s hand quickly shut him up.

"Young Mr. Set is fond of giving up," she said. "But… to be quite honest, our plan until now was to await rescue once it became obvious we weren’t returning. The fact that Pierrot’s just sent you into the meat-grinder, too… well, rescue doesn’t seem very likely anymore."

Morgan crossed his arms. "The hell is that guy thinking? He never mentioned that he’d already sent people here -- and if he lost contact with you, that should already make it obvious there’s something going on here."

The Widow slowly stood, one hand on her back, the other holding a cane to steady herself. Given the condition the old woman was in, Ruth was surprised she’d survived the initial attack from that enemy… but Aether was a hell of a thing. If she’d really trained Skipper, Ruth had no doubt the Widow had more than a few cards up her sleeve.

"I doubt Pierrot fully knows what he’s thinking," she murmured bitterly. "But I agree with you lot. I’m not just going to sit here and wait to be killed."

"So you do have a plan?" Morgan asked.

"I have suspicions," she replied. "These tunnels come out all across the city -- but as far as we can tell, they don’t lead to the Sed facility proper. My suspicion is that the thing above is a guard, stationed to stop anyone from getting to the dome, yes?"

Serena finally made her presence known, putting a finger to her chin. "That makes sense," she said. "I definitely don’t think there’s anything else on this planet anyone would be interested in."

"Oh, Y," Set groaned, looking up at the Widow. "You’re not serious, lady?"

"I am," the Widow smirked. "I’m old-fashioned. When someone doesn’t want me going somewhere, all it does is make me curious. Miss Nox, get lover-boy on his feet."

"No way. I’m not -- hey! Hey, Alcera!" Sam cried out in protest as Alcera grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, lifting him into the air like an undignified rag-doll. "Quit it!"

"I don’t know about splitting up," the Widow said, thumping her cane on the ground. "But we’re not weaklings. If the bulk of us distract that creature above, then one of us can take advantage and get to the dome. That way, we can at least figure out what we’re dealing with, yes?"

"I’m telling you," Set whined, still hanging from Alcera’s grip. "If we take it on, we die."

"I’ve not lived this long to roll over and waste away in a place like this," the Widow scoffed. "Miss Nox, I’m sure you’d prefer for me to die in a much more gruesome manner too, yes?"

The Nox girl nodded emphatically, her crimson eyes hateful as she glared at her superior.

"Our girl outside is an adept sniper," the Widow said, turning back to the new arrivals. "Once young Mr. Wolfram returns, we can make our move."

Ruth’s eyes widened fractionally. "Wait, Wolfram? You mean Wolfram from Elysian Fields?"

The Widow offered a curt nod.

"He’s a kid!" Ruth shouted, aghast. "What the hell is he doing here? What the hell is he doing with you?!"

The Widow raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How strange, Miss Blaine. When your Skipper had this boy fight for him on Elysian Fields, I wonder if you protested quite so strongly -- or at all."

Something vicious twitched inside Ruth’s brain, and it was all she could do in that moment to keep her claws sheathed.

"Keep his name out of your mouth," she growled.

"To be frank," the Widow thumped her cane again. "I knew Skipper far longer than you did. If anyone has a right to his name, it’s me."

Ruth took a step forward, snarling -- but before she could do something she could regret, Morgan blocked her path with his sheathed sword.

"You said you’re waiting for this Wolfram to return," he said seriously. "Where is he now?"

"Now?" the Widow says. "He’s doing pest control. You see… we’re not alone down here."

The old woman smiled thinly.

"...and he is our strongest."

Wolfram stepped calmly into the massive cavern, hands in his pockets, his jacket and the cap on his head shifting to reflect the grey stone around him.

"Wow," he muttered to himself. "These things really are everywhere."

He looked at the horde before him. His comrades in Vantablack Squad called these things Aether Awakenings, but that name had never felt right to Wolfram. Even the word ’Aether’ still felt awkward on his tongue. No, these things were better called… godsblood-spawn, or something like that. Something closer to home.

They came in every shape and size, but the ones arrayed against him right now didn’t look too impressive. Ghouls and goblins, smaller monsters with the simple minds of animals, their glowing eyes and teeth locked onto him. They were kind of like Guardian Entities, in their own way… but they weren’t nearly as strong. These things… infesting this tunnel…

…were nothing but vermin.

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As the horde leapt at Wolfram from every direction, he vanished from sight for an instant -- only for an instant. When he reappeared in the same spot, his return was accompanied by a sudden and tremendous burst of air pressure, blasting each and every godsblood-spawn into the walls of the cavern. For some, that alone was enough to finish them off, reducing them to paste.

The rest wouldn’t be much more difficult.

White godblood surged as Wolfram kicked off the ground, launching himself towards a pot-bellied ogre that had survived the initial attack. Without hesitation, Wolfram thrust his fist forward and plunged it into the monster’s stomach -- and then, he enlarged that fist to ten times its original size, tearing the beast apart from the inside. Scraps of mismatched flesh dissipated into purple godsblood as Wolfram turned to his next opponent.

He kept his arm enlarged and swept it through the air, producing a gust of wind that sent the bat-things flying at him into disarray. Then, he kicked off the ground again, shrinking himself to the size of a bullet in the process -- and like a bullet, he pierced through each and every bat as he zoomed through the air.

As he returned to his original size, still skidding across the floor, he snatched the meat-scythe of an incoming reaper and cleanly sliced it in half. Oozing meat fell to the ground in the moment before it faded… but Wolfram still had business with the scythe. Injecting it with his godsblood to briefly preserve it in this world, he hurled it through the air to pierce through the body of a charging bull-pig.

That last victim faded away before it even hit the ground… and Wolfram was left alone in the cavern once again. With the way these godsblood-spawn disappeared, it was as if the battle had never even happened. Wolfram finally allowed himself to take a breath.

█̷̨̼͕͍̰̖͓̺͕͊̐̐̉█̸̛̱͙͔̈́͐█̷̻̦́̚͘’̴̱̣͔͇̞̞̝̮̌̈́̂͋̑█̶̡̥͕̼̩̘̤͂̋̓̌̍̐͌̑̈́͘ ̴̥̤͗̎͆̂͛̈̊█̷̡̧̳͕͆́̉͐̈́̓̀͘█̷̧͔̪͎̼̺͈̠̹͆̎͊͒͌̄̊̃̒̉█̶̨̮̭͓̮̲̀̊̈́ͅ█̶͍̫͌͋͠ͅ█̵̲̼̤̙̠̃͗̇̑̒̚?̷͓̱̬̿̀̀̅͒̏̄͋̉̄

Nope.

This one Wolfram didn’t even try to fight. The moment he heard those ’words’ -- like needles squirming in his brain -- he dove behind a pillar, concealing himself from what was entering the chamber. He didn’t even dare to look at it. He’d done so once, and the memory of it felt like acid melting through his skull.

He heard sickly footsteps.

He heard sickly breathing.

He heard sickly words.

"█̸̧̋̒̊̌͋͘͠͠ͅ ̸̢̡̺͍̬̙̯̾̍͜█̴̢͓̟̹̔̑̅̅̏͒̐̌̈́̀͜█̴̨̩̜͐̕͠█̸̡̢̬͎̹̀̂́͌͝█̸̪͉̤̺̏͠ ̷̢͈̤̭͎̯̘̌̊̓͊̾̂̈́͒̿̅█̷̢̱̥̭̠͈͙̗̃̔̄█̷̖̩̲̒͝͠█̸̲̭̩͍͖̹̋͑͊̿̊̑̐̂’̵͉̣̞̝̪͎̚█̶̨͎̲͍̉̚█̶͕̘́̌̀͊͊ ̸͕̻̲̎̾█̷̞̳̑̂̐͂̊̓͛͝ͅ█̸̢̺̜̬̫̮̪͓̋̾̋͐̀͘█̵̫͈͔̮̳̩̺͐͜█̴̻̱̻̺͛█̸̢̝͎̩̜̠͙̠̠́͊̂̈́̂̾͝.̷̰͙͉̗̝̮̭̹̣̔̏̏̀͊̅.̷̢͇͈̫͚̯͔͎͚̳͌͋̍̚.̴̛̞͖̬͕̯͊̆̈̊͆̀̚"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Wolfram planted his hands over his ears. He could feel it instinctively: that was the only way to defend against this thing, this monster… this Black Blur. He stayed like that, crouching down, praying that the nocturn orphan would pass him by…

…and eventually, by the grace of the gods, he felt that presence recede.