20: Dragon

Olivia looked down on the steakhouse below, breathing in deep through her nose. That place smells good. That place smells really really good. Despite being surrounded by a cinder block fence with broken glass spread along the top, the restaurant otherwise appeared sleek and modern. The floor to ceiling windows taking up a full wall offered a phenomenal view of the mountains to the west while the sun was up. Two men lounged near the delivery entrance, far from the view of the parking lot. One professional looking man in sunglasses and a suit stood off to the side of the main entrance.

“Is everyone ready?” asked Olivia. She kept her eyes on the back entrance, nervous that something would happen if she broke sight for even a minute. 

“We cool,” responded Ben, on the ground with Amanda and Chris.

“Alright, Olivia. Start us off,” said Chris. She shot him a concerned look at the sound of his calmer than usual voice. His earlier call with his girlfriend sounded heated, at least before Olivia reminded herself to stop being weird and eavesdropping on other people.

“OK.” Deep breath. 

She dove off the side of her building with wings spread and climbed into the air, too high for anyone on the ground to see. Are there four guys down there? No, just three. Her view, far clearer than the satellite image Amanda had shown her of the area, brought her to where Amanda expected the blind spot on the roof cameras to be. She dropped straight down, pulling up at the last moment and pumping her wings to land as light as possible on the roof.

“Did that work?” Olivia asked into her comm after a silent moment.

“No alarm we can see. Set up the jammer, we’ll see you on the ground,” said Amanda. 

Olivia pulled a blunt spike from a cavernous pocket on her pants and extended the three legs on the tapered end. Her clawed fingertips slipped against the metal exterior a few times before she managed to pull the telescoping antenna from the top. She flicked the switch on the spike just like Amanda had shown her. OK. Now that means that there are no signals going through here, including ours. I think. I kind of stopped paying attention when she said ‘destructive interference’ and ‘hard line’. She took flight once more, gliding to the back delivery entrance with its two guards. 

Chris, in liquid form, slid harmlessly over the glass on the wall to the side, signaling her next part. She tucked in her wings and dove once more. At the last moment, Olivia snapped her wings out, cutting her fall. She let her feet carry forward, landing behind the man. She spotted the radio on one hip, gun at the other. Before he could turn around at the sound of her hitting the ground, she wrapped one arm around his neck, her free hand ripping the pistol and holster from his belt. 

The man thrashed momentarily, then drove an elbow into her rib while grabbing at her arm. She blinked. Wait, how did Ben say how to do this? Is it the air or the blood you cut off? He tugged more urgently at her arm, gasping out something incomprehensible. Blood. I think the windpipe can be crushed? That sounds bad. After nearly slipping and letting him go twice, she applied pressure to the side of the man’s neck until he stopped thrashing. Still breathing? Yes. Good. That’s way better than claws. To the side, liquid Chris set down his own unconscious target and reverted to human, shivering for a moment.

“Good work,” he said. “Let’s get this door open while Skulker and Delta climb.” 

It took them only a moment to find the button to open the garage door as the other two joined them. They jogged down the concrete driveway to a mostly empty parking lot. Now underground and out of where they could scout, they only had guesswork to go on to find any information of value. Thankfully, of the two exits they could see, one was labeled elevator maintenance. After a few tries, Olivia rammed down the other set of double doors across the lot with her shoulder. She found herself in an empty waiting room with cushioned benches lining the walls. One large window led to a room lined with coat hangers, its lights dim. 

“They’ll figure out somethin’s fucky real quick,” said Ben. He pulled out his pistol and led the way before Olivia could say anything. You’d better not get shot for this.

They made their way through the carpeted hall ahead, past framed posters of various hosted fighters and advertisements. I hear some machines humming. Not many people though. Muffled urgent talking reached her from the left side of the T intersection just ahead. I spoke too soon.

“What is it?” asked Chris, spinning around as Olivia trailed to a stop. 

“Up ahead, on the left. They’re heading towards us.” I think.

“What? Who’s not responding? … Got it, boss. Wait, you just said…” she heard a man say through the door. They’re trying to figure out what’s going on.

“They sound worried,” she added.

Ben knelt down at the edge of the wall and poked his head around the corner. “No one yet,” he said, voice hushed. “We attackin’ or goin’ the other way?”

“Other way,” replied Chris, without hesitation. We’re here for stuff, not a fight.

They rushed down the slowly curving hallway to a series of doors. The one straight ahead labeled VIP smelled of steak, though Olivia could only see tables stacked with overturned chairs through the window. That left them with a door to a staircase leading down, with landings leading out into the Arena beyond. 

Olivia looked out on the way down, doing a double take. The subterranean arena, even only partially lit, spread out as far as she could see. Seats circled the sunken square in the center. The air in the cavern brought with it a strong hint of blood. More voices, more urgent, reached her from far across the Arena.

After several dead ends and useless rooms, they finally ran into something guarded. Olivia heard murmurs and breathing ahead and pulled the group to a stop. After a moment’s pause, she realized the guards weren’t moving.

“They know we’re here,” she whispered to the others. “They’re standing by something.”

“Let’s fuck ‘em up,” said Ben.

“Bulletproof people first,” said Chris, nodding to Olivia. They still hurt!

Ben shrugged. “Must be nice. Let’s do this.” Chris and Olivia rounded the corner.

The expansive room had several large aquariums, taking up the whole wall to either side and stocked with colorful fish. On the other side stood the two guards. Too far to run without getting shot a lot. And I don’t think Ben can teleport quite that far. One guard had his head down, hand to his ear. The other looked around nervously, Olivia could see sweat bead up on his forehead. His head snapped to them the moment they came into view, his rifle coming up.

“Fuck, intruders,” he yelled. His fellow guard jumped.

Chris fired a few shots, hitting one. The return fire from the other guard forced him into liquid form, the bullets plunging into his amorphous light blue form. Two more caught Olivia in the side. Before she could rush him, Ben teleported to the other end of the room and fired, bringing the other guard down. Ow. Ringing is back. Very loud ringing. Ow.

“Must be nice, not dyin’ when shot,” he said, teleporting over and nudging Olivia in her non-shot side. She forced herself not to look at the bodies as they passed. At least I didn’t do that.

They found themselves in what looked to be a richly decorated office. A computer monitor stood on the desk, alongside a whisky bottle and an empty glass. Filing cabinets lined the walls behind the high backed chair.

“This looks promising,” said Amanda, pulling a cable from her armor and plugging it into the computer. She examined a sticky note at the bottom of the monitor. “Ah, old computer illiterate people, never change.”

“I’ll go through the papers and watch her back,” said Chris, letting his rifle rest against his chest on its sling. “You two get us time. See if you can keep our route out of here clear.”

We’re splitting up? Before Olivia could respond, Ben replied, “You got it.” I guess if Ben thinks it’s OK… 

The guards had finally mustered in force as Olivia and Ben retraced their steps. Several had taken cover behind what appeared to be a concession stand built into the wall, its metal shutter pulled halfway up. Bullets filled the air the moment Olivia rounded the corner, several smacking her in the chest and doubling her over until Ben bodily hauled her around the corner. 

Olivia said, “I can’t get through all that.” 

“I’ll keep shootin’ at them here, you go around,” he barked, blindly returning fire with his pistol.

Good. I was really hoping he wouldn’t have me just go forward, towards the shooting guys again. I’m tired of getting shot.

She backed up as a few more bullets hit Ben’s door frame. She turned around and ran, looking for a door to her left that would lead her around. Every room was a dead end. Third room, no. Fourth room, no. Wasting time. Olivia came to a stop. No. How… More gunshots. I’m wasting time. She considered retracing her steps. I need a way through. The longer I take, the longer Ben’s getting shot at. Wait, through.

She turned to face where she estimated the guard shooting at the others. She lowered her shoulder and rammed through the wall, heedless of whatever lay on the other side.

A mop handle smacked her in the face as she wound up in a storage closet. This isn’t where I need to be.

She repeated the process in the same direction, this time pushing through some pipes as well as drywall and wooden framing. A bathroom. Tile clattered to the floor as she thought, come on. What next? Come on!

She hissed and slashed at the wall out of frustration, removing a decent sized chunk of it. With a roar she rammed through a wall with underlying pipes.

That got Olivia through. Her vision oriented to the guards turning towards her entrance with horror. They stared at each other for a split second as she shrugged a bit of wood from her shoulder. She rushed forward, hitting the first guard with the back of her hand instead of her claws like Ben had shown her. He staggered back a few steps and dropped, the rest of his fellows either shooting or running.

In the confusion, Ben teleported in behind them, bringing down the runners as Olivia waded through dwindling gunfire. Ow, ow, ow. Once the gunfire died down completely, she picked up the sounds of the last one running full speed away on the opposite side of the hallway.

“Fuck this shit,” she heard over his panting.

Ben teleported in front of her, joining her in pursuit. They found themselves in a room full of cages, most empty. The rest, however, had large dogs, now barking their heads off at the noise. Cage doors rattled as some smacked into them, some trying to escape, some just turning and spinning. 

“Come on. You want to play with ferals?” muttered the guard in front of the panel of an enormous steel cage thing. 

Ben stopped at the door, grabbing the frame with one hand to stop himself, aiming with the other. He squeezed off a couple shots, and the guard screamed something. Olivia finally caught up a few moments later. The cage door began to open, as well as another on the opposite side of the room, opening to the Arena. Some thumps shook the floor. Now what?

She looked to the opening cage. The enormous green thing halfway out of it was hard to miss.

“Umm…” What… what is that?

Ben chuckled. “Olivia,” he said, pointing. “That’s a pretty standard feral.”

The only remaining vestiges of humanity left in it that Olivia could make out appeared to be the face and limbs. Two mandibles tore through the stretched cheeks of the disturbingly human face of the mantis thing on the front of the head fused to the rest of the body. If forced to guess, Olivia would have to say the face belonged to a male, though the pincers and the very wide gap between the bulging compound eyes made it hard to tell.

Slabs of mottled green and brown chitin armor covered the main body, as long as two people put together. A ridge broke the otherwise smooth plate over the spine. Two arms extended from between the chest and back chitin plates of the upper half. Jagged spines jutted out from beneath the skin of the forearm of the otherwise normal, human sized arm on the right.

The left arm gave Olivia a pause for thought. With the base segment easily as thick as her leg, and covered in the same chitin armor as the main body, the extra third segment of the arm in place of a hand folded back towards the forearm. More unevenly distributed spikes covered the interior inside the second and third segments. 

Four legs on the lower half of the body supported the feral, each a different conglomeration of human and insect leg. Three ended in a gigantic, somewhat human foot, the last just sort of stopped with a strange stick thing at the end.

Eugh. He smells awful, too. Like… I don’t even know what. Something’s rotting, though, I know that much.

It made a few clicks as its mandibles twitched, advancing a few slow steps and letting out a dry hiss of air through its ruined mouth, ignoring the dying guard to its side at the controls for the cage. He’s taller than me. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone taller than me.

“You know, funny thing,” said Ben, backing up a pace or so. “Bugs like praying mantises can’t get that big, cuz they don’t got lungs or somethin’. Looks like that one’s got human lungs. Also, it’s gonna eat us if it gets half the chance. Just sayin’.” He aimed and fired. Praying mantis. And it’ll eat you and me. OK.

The feral gave an approximation of a snarl and rushed forward, three bullets lodged in its chest plate. Olivia stepped forward, feet digging into the floor and bracing herself. You stay away from him. The insect arm flashed as he bore down on her, faster than she could see, and suddenly Olivia was yanked off her feet.

Ow. Wing. Its momentum carried two of them forward, bursting them through the door frame and into the Arena proper. The arm had caught her by the wing, catching the bone. The feral thrashed her a bit, she had no leverage to fight back with, then threw her on the ground, released her wing, and stomped on her shoulder to pin her down.

She grabbed at the offending leg, claws driving into the flesh of the calf under the randomly distributed flecks of chitin embedded in the skin. She pulled and rolled on the floor as best she could, ducking her head down as the arm flashed again towards her head. She felt the thud as it hit the ground, pulling some of her hair with it. OW.

She tore a chunk of leg off, the feral reared back because that shit hurts, and then she was free. It collided with the hallway wall, leaving a rather large dent.

Ben fired more shots as Olivia struggled to her feet, back to the feral. Bad idea. And everything smells all coppery now. Other than the occasional wheeze of air and click, the feral remained silent.

Olivia spun around just in time for the feral to ram into her with its chest, knocking her back a few paces as her weight rocked back on her solitary heel claws. I hate my feet.

The feral tried the same tactic again, going with its forward momentum. This time, Olivia was ready. She dug in and grabbed its torso. Shoving forwards and upwards, she lifted it off its front two legs. She advanced two paces, then twisted it and slammed it down to its right as hard as she could. The arena floor groaned and shattered.

A hole began to open up. The feral scrambled at the expanding edge. The stick foot caught, the other slipped and the feral tumbled down.

She jumped down after it, landing feet first on its back as it stood up again. She bent her legs slightly on impact, and threw her hand down close to its head. It thrashed, slamming her into a wall, trying to dislodge her, partially succeeding. Another slam finished the job.

What is that wall made of?

“Fuck off!” said Ben from the floor above.

Ben teleported down and onto its back. With a laugh he hacked down with a long knife into the central chink in the armor, the one allowing it to maintain an upright posture with all the hard chitin plates covering it.

The feral reacted, bucking and trying to twist in his direction. He brought the knife down again, and again making contact with something squishy below the armor, then threw himself backwards before its human arm could grab him. He rolled with the impact to the ground, past Olivia and out of her field of view.

Before the feral could turn its attention fully to him, Olivia pulled herself from the wall and grabbed something metal. She swung it, hitting the flank of the feral with a sizable length of pipe. It began to turn towards her.

You’re not too focused.

She let go, the pipe bent too far out of shape to be used again and dug partially into the feral anyways, and ducked to the side and away from the grabbing pincer arm thing.

“Move outta the way!” yelled Ben. Huh?

Something hit her neck, and her feet lifted off the floor again. The feral’s arm wrapped around her throat, spikes digging into her windpipe. The other arm grabbed for her eyes.

She intercepted the human arm with her closest hand, the other to the mantis arm crushing her throat. She held a tight grip on the struggling human arm, pulling hard on the mantis one. Air!

She made progress, slow progress but progress nonetheless, on the strangling arm. It lifted her so they were face to face, mandibles nearly brushing her face. There was something rotting in that mouth. Stop it. Kill him.

A gunshot. This time the feral reacted, flinching away from Ben. Another gunshot. More coppery smell.

Olivia wrenched herself free, still holding on to the human arm. She growled and slashed at the elbow with her free hand, pulling simultaneously. The forearm came free, and the feral let out a rasp as its brand new stump leaked brown, copper smelling blood.

Another gunshot, and thick chitin shattered where the bullet hit it in the flank. A trickle of the same brownish blood oozed out. The feral backed up. Come here. She tossed the severed arm to the side.

She roared as she threw herself forward at the reeling feral, striking down on its chest, resulting in four satisfying bloody gouges in the chest plate. She hit again with the same result as the feral backed up some more.

Its remaining arm shot out and arrested her motion as she came in for a third swing. No. She reached up, wrestling past the mantis arm and driving her thumb claw into one of its eyes. It released her arm as its limbs spasmed.

She dove to the side, wrapping a hand around its front leg. She drove a hand into the side of the knee. It shattered. The feral stumbled with another rasp. She pushed through the debris to latch on to the side and bring her hand down hard on the chitin plate. Her claws dug in, and she yanked. Something inside tore, and the feral thrashed, trying to make his tormentor stop.

She tugged her embedded claws out, the segment hanging a lot looser than it had before. The feral let out another rasp, and the mantis arm struck out in a chopping motion. Now with the feral weakened, the arm moved slow enough for her to block it, to keep it from lifting her off her feet once again. She batted it aside, and grabbed for the gouge she’d made earlier, deepening the wound.

She rushed forward, grabbing as she’d done earlier, this time not stopping until she’d lifted the feral up and crunched its spine against the ground.

She considered it for a moment. Dead? Something appeared at her side. She jumped, nearly swinging her clawed hand into it out of reflex. Now what? Oh, it’s Ben.

“Well that panned out quite nicely. Is it dead?” he asked, pistol at the ready.

She looked back down at the feral. Two legs twitched, and the arm began feebly pushing upwards. Still alive? Ben took aim, exhaled, and fired into its head. Movement stopped.

“There we go. You all right?”

I’m breathing. Wing, throat, and shoulder kind of hurt. Nothing too bad. She nodded.

“Cool! Let’s get up there an’ check on the others, make sure they haven’t shot their own feet off or somethin’.” He put away his gun and teleported back up to the edge of the arena. Olivia followed.

That was… intense. And why would Ben say something like that? That’s not funny.