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This Woman's Work Part 6

 
Lance Striker's picture
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Hyle had certainly come through for him, convincing Jess that her help wouldn't see her thrust out of town

as she feared. As an added bonus, it seemed that little discussion eased the tension between the pair of

them, which could not be said of Shadow's arse-cheeks at this moment in time.

 

He stepped out of his car, took a cautious look to his horizons, then glanced back and forth between the

piece of paper Jess had given him and his map. This was the right location – the middle of nowhere – but

he couldn't see anything other than grassy hills and rocks. He felt both exposed and isolated, wondering if

that was her intention, or if he was about to be attacked by that thing or person she'd mentioned during her

episode in the garage. The set of keys she'd handed him along with the note put his paranoia to a momentary

rest, concluding there must be something nearby to use these on.

 

Shadow set about looking for signs of passing from any previous visits, but found little in the way of trails, scuffs

or even tread-marks from her own car. Deduction, then, would have to suffice. He circled hills, combed natural

trenches and shifted rocks until he stumbled across an overgrown opening in the ground not far from where

he'd parked – so cleverly hidden it took someone of his expertise a decent effort to expose.

 

The light did little to penetrate the darkness inside, though enough that he could see the gradient of the stairs

down was steep. He cast one last accusatory gaze at his surroundings then descended slowly, pistol drawn, and

tac-light on. The narrow incline, inky blackness, and the eerie silence as the surface faded behind him had a

multitude of thoughts swimming through Shadow's mind, but none were so prominent as the dread and terror

of having to put his knees through the process of clambering back up those stairs if he didn't die at the

bottom. He'd soon have his answer to that, at least, as a reinforced metal door came into view at the bottom of the steps.

 

He traced the frame of the door with his light, looking for any wires or metal clips that would ruin his day. Everything

looked clear, at least on that side, no guarantees there wasn't a bomb with a delayed fuse on the other side – it's what

he'd do. With bated breath, he inserted the more mundane of the keys he'd been given into the lock, turned it

and cracked the heavy door open ever so slightly, checking once more for anything untoward. Satisfied, he

pressed on, strolling down a long corridor littered with explosives. He couldn't see any tripwires, but the ceiling

of the corridor was evenly spread with what he assumed were infrared sensors, either broken or inactive if his

corporeality was anything to go by. A huge vault door greeted him at the far end, and Shadow greeted it back

with a look of irate disbelief. He had no idea what lay in wait on the other side, but Jess wanted it sealed away

where no-one would ever get to it.

 

Perhaps it was where she kept her good mood, he pondered as he inserted the rather hi-tech keycard into its

slot, sending the vault door into a whirling frenzy of mechanical orchestra as it gently swung open. He stepped

into the short-lived darkness, squinting as the lights came on inside a huge square room. Ahead of him, 3 steel

tables ran through the centre of the room, cutting through 4 support pillars – each mounted with 2 automated

turrets each; shotguns on the nearest and SMG's on the ones at the rear. On either side of the room were racks

upon racks of weapons, crates and ammunition all organised in some degree and arranged with what Shadow

would regard as reverence. The back walls were lined with various armours and protective gear, framed either

side by generators and battery banks.

 

He made his way around the room, thankful the turrets weren't taking an interest in him. It seemed there was

atleast one of every gun he'd ever seen, and some custom work he hadn't. He combed over everything he

came across, but nothing caught his attention quite like the section with the .50's on display. His fingertip

graced the barrel of an anti-materiel rifle, wiping away the slight layer of dust until he could almost see himself

grinning in his reflection. He drifted into blissful thought, imagining all the people he could fold in half with

but a single shot... Aunt Lucy, Miss Brown was good one, in the leg first. Luka for making Veronica sleep in

a corner, Mr. Lattergas at the hardware store...

 

Shadow sighed as he pulled away and buried his murderous thoughts where Hyle would never find them. He

sheepishly walked by the SMG turrets to the other side of the room, looking for what he'd come here for in

the first place – explosives.

 

He could neither see nor smell the sheer amount of ANFO he wanted – disappointing, but not surprising – he'd

have to make do with something a little more surgical than the crater he wanted to leave Lucille, and by

extension, her benefactors. He started piling up several bricks of plastic explosive in his backpack, thinking

over his plan of attack on her restaurant or lack thereof; it wouldn't be like his op on The Farm, he could get

inside as a customer and improvise from there. Reavy's silence was a little worrying, but not unwelcome from

that point of view – she's too well-known. He closed his pack, slung it on his shoulder and headed back towards

the vault door, turning back one last time as he closed it behind him and shook his head.

 

Note to self – be nicer to Jess.

 

 

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((See, now you'd never find anywhere like this near Leeds now would you?

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Lance Striker's picture

(( Mostly just Asda's and chavs as I recall.

Lonely are the brave...

JeassiahBlack's picture

Just because the internal Defenses were not actively tracking Lance as he made his way into the bunker did not mean for a moment his presence was not noticed. Four cameras tracked his every move from the moment he reached the bottom of the first set of stairs all the way into and then out of the "Vault" as he called it.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, some a tiny and very ancient pager went active, was checked, then deactivated, with a single simple phrase spoke before, "About time."



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