The slide was actually a lot smoother than I had anticipated. Of course, once I touched down to whatever this place was, my enjoyment ended swiftly. It was dark, and the air in here felt really damp and humid.
I tap on my earpiece, "Clyde?"
It statics a bit, but he responds, "I'm here. Green on your end?"
"Green. Come on down, you'll need your night goggles though."
"Got it, coming down."
Speaking of which, I fastened my own pair to my head and activated the night-vision mode. The place was looking a lot like a sewer, except without the bad smell and gross water pouring everywhere. It was the concrete tunnel-like walls that gave it this feeling. The chill going up my spine tells me that there's a pair of eyes watching me, but I don't see a security camera anywhere. Must be in person.
Just then, Clyde reaches the bottom of the slide and crashes into the back of my knees, making me tumble on top of him.
"Really?" he asks, pushing himself up easily with me sitting on him.
"Sorry about that, pup. Got a little distracted." I jump off and he scuttles to his feet in a hurry, dusting away at his toddler clothes and adjusting his holster. He latches his goggles on, and peers carefully around the environment.
"Someone's watching us," he whispers.
"You feel that too, huh." I feel his tiny fingers wrap around my leg as he pulls himself behind me, hiding from the unknown threat. Poor Clyde, it was a bad idea to let him do a mission while he's trapped in a child's state of mind. "You scared, pup?"
He shakes his head, "No way! I'm just...taking a tactical vantage point behind an indestructible barrier."
"Well said. Shall we?" I say, waving my hand down the single-path narrow corridor. I take my first step, feeling the tug of Clyde's weight behind me. He kept darting his head all over the place, hoping to catch someone watching him back. The tunnel seemed so endless, but it might've been the slow pace we were taking. Eventually, some light interfered with our goggles, and I was a little relieved to be introduced to some new scenery.
The monotonous concrete walls vanished in the presence of an industrial-themed room. It was still compact in the sense of space, but there was much more than just floors, walls, and ceilings. A couple of giant computers sat next to each other against the wall, and on each side of the computers were what appeared to be medical stasis tubes. The only reason I could identify those was because of how much Clyde had been hurt over the past missions we've had. Dr. Nivans would always place him in one, usually after he got caught in an explosion or something.
"Oooh, what's this?" I asked, looking at the computers.
"It looks like someone's laboratory. I could only imagine what they put in these stasis tubes."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it. That sniper said something about combining humans and anthros. I bet the result is one big pile of suffering. An abomination like that must be begging for some medical attention."
"That's quite the imagination you've got there. What do your parents let you watch on t.v.?"
"Would you quit with that! I'm not a child!"
I pressed a button on one of the computers and watched the screen flicker to life. I don't get it, there's no password lock, no fingerprint or retinal scan, no voice recognition, nothing. Why would they leave a private computer unlocked like this? They must've been really confident with their hiding spot. I scrolled around the items, and then I saw it. A folder that was titled: For Ispio
"Clyde, check this out," I said, clicking open the folder.
Clyde tiptoes to see the monitor, "What is it?"
"A message for Ispio agents. They knew we were on to them. What kind of people are we dealing with here?"
There was only a single text document, and I clicked it open without hesitation.
Ispio,
We know who you are, and we know what you do. There is no doubt amongst us that you'll soon discover our project, but please do not interfere. In order for a New World to grow, the Old One must fade. I implore you to think about our future children. A new race, one without fault and flaws. One that can only love, and never know the meaning of war.
We will not underestimate your cleverness and vast knowledge, and we hope that you fully understand the concept and effects of our goals. Let this New World grow and prosper, and let us reach a Utopian status of living. Below is a list of the volunteers that have made the prototypes possible. Honor them, for they have taken the first steps.
Lisa Storm
Alexandria Rodriguez
Delilah Morgan
Marie Bonilla
Alice Myers
Erica Guerra
Rosaline Parker
Lula Foxy
Sherry Winter
Carmen McCloud
Fuck, tell me I didn't read what I think I read.
"Lula Foxy?" I read again. "Archer knew, he wasn't bluffing. He let her get taken by these...monsters!" I keep scrolling through the document, but that was all there was to read. It never says what happened to them, just that they volunteered. "Fuck!"
Clyde pulls on my shirt, "Calm down, Troy. We're in enemy territory right now. We can't afford to lose our heads down here. We could jeopardize the hostages."
I breath in deeply, "You're right. Let's snap some pictures of this place and move forward. God knows I don't want to be down here longer than necessary."
"Yeah, that makes two of us." We photographed the stasis tubes, the computers, the contents of the computers (including the letter to Ispio), and sent the evidence straight to H.Q's main terminal. It's definitely a start, but not enough to convict. Besides, the mention of Ispio is a big no-no, so that document will mainly be stored in the archives. I look around the room once more, making sure that we've captured everything of interest. Once it got my nod of approval, we set our eyes on the darkened door that stood at the opposite end of the room.
Clyde drew his gun and took his position behind my leg again, "Ready when you are."
I drew my gun too, moving swiftly towards the door. However, it took me staring at it from point-blank range to realize that there was no handle. It didn't just whoosh open like an automatic door either.
"What's the deal here?" I ask.
"What're you waiting for?"
"There's no way of opening this door."
"Step aside, I'll open it the Barker way!" He steps around me and I walk backward, watching him prep himself to deliver a hard kick. I can see him counting as his lips move, and right when he mouths the number "Three", he throws his foot against the door. It made a metallic sound and dented a bit, but it did not budge.
"Ah," he huffs, "metal doors don't break so easily."
I laugh, "See what happens when you don't eat your veggies." Suddenly, the door quickly slid open, and the barrel of a shotgun popped out from the new opening. "Clyde, duck!"
BOOM!
The shot rang out heavily in the compact area. Clyde's highly trained reflexes saved his head from being blown to bits. As for me, who was standing right behind him, got the full force of buckshot digging into my stomach. The close range magnified the firepower, and I went flying across the room. I skidded on the floor and hit my head on the corner of the computers, but was okay nonetheless.
"Whoa," Clyde says as he hurries over towards me, "that was a lucky break!"
I sit up and rub my belly, "Define lucky. Now my shirt is covered in holes." I dig a finger into one of the holes, feeling my fur that was still perfectly intact. Funny to think that I should've died seven times today.
"Eh, we'll find a seamstress later. Right now, we've got some baddies to catch." He helps me up, and we cautiously walk to the shotgun that was still in its place. It was a trap, the gun was being held by some mechanical apparatus instead of a wielder.
"Very Saw-esque," I comment.
"What?"
"You know, like the movie, Saw." His face remains blank, "You're kidding me, right? They made like eight of them." He shrugs, "Did you ever watch anything during your lifetime?"
"I don't waste my brain cells on petty media," he replies.
"Says the guy who knew about the Sonic cartoon."
"Cartoons are... different." We disregarded the conversation and walked past the shotgun, entering another room and immediately looking for any other surprises. Of course, just because we couldn't see anything doesn't mean we're dropping our guard for a second.
This new room was brightly lit, even brighter than the last room. Unfortunately, it wasn't as clean. The white tiled floors were splattered in red liquid, presumably blood. It mostly pooled around a single machine that sat in the middle of the room. I got another chill just from looking at the odd contraption, and Clyde tightened his grip on my leg while he stared at it. It had two seats, each with its own restraints, and had some sort of high voltage rod running between them. What were they doing, melting them together?
"What do you think that does?" I asked.
"If I had to guess, I'd say that's the Grade A Prototype Maker. The blood seems to be an accurate description of how the procedure goes down."
I bit my lip as I thought about Lula getting cut up and put back together with extra bits from another poor girl. It took me a moment to snap out of my gory trance and remember the mission. Another picture was snapped of the machine, and when I realized that there were plenty of tables with tools on them, I snapped those too. I could feel my stomach churning, this was just as bad as the Willow Society. Sometimes I really hate my job.
"Hey," says Clyde.
I turn my head slightly to look at him, "Hmm?"
He stares at me with glistening eyes, "It's going to be okay. We'll find her, and she'll be just fine." Was Clyde actually trying to comfort me? "I can tell you're really worried about her, even though you just met her a few months ago. And she also tried to kill us in Vegas, and she also tried to kill your dad. She also made me believe you were a murderer. Not to mention the fact that-"
"Thanks, pup, you can stop now. I appreciate the thought." Swing and a miss, Clyde. Still, it made me smile. It had gone unnoticed until now, but I just realized that this room only had one door. There was no way to progress from here.
"Troy!" Clyde suddenly yelled out. I spun around to see him pointing to the right of me, and as I followed his finger, the familiar distortion of a stealth suit becoming visible captured my gaze. It was a woman, an anthro raccoon.
"Troy?" she asked, "As in Troy Hearth?"
I pointed my gun at her, "What's with all the bad guys having stealth suits? Is that some sort of standard commission for joining the dark side?"
She looks at Clyde, "A child as an agent of Ispio? Such impressive talents."
Clyde raises his gun at her too, "Where are the girls?"
She wasn't scared of our firepower, she wasn't afraid to die. This is one of the signs you'd see an absolute loon display, making this particular nut-job a very dangerous one. The risks she's willing to take for her ideas are substantial to that of a common criminal. She took a step towards us, and Clyde fired a warning shot, hitting the wall behind her. It stalled her for a bit, but she remained calm.
"Relax," she said, "I was hoping to talk."
"About the girls?" I asked.
Her face stays neutral, "About the New World. Certainly, someone of your intellect would understand the work we're trying to do here. Ispio, I ask of you: Stand down and let us continue our research."
She can't be serious! Does she really think she can convince me to side with her on the kidnapping and experimenting of innocent women? Her stoic expression finally contorted itself into a small smirk, leaving an eerie feeling in me.
Clyde looked at me, keeping his gun at the ready, "Troy, you're not buying into any of this shit, are you?"
I shook my head, "N-No. Of course not! Where's Lula?"
The raccoon's eyes lit up, "Lula? You are specifically asking for a single individual? Is this Lula special to you in some way?"
Crap, shouldn't have said that!
"The girls!" Clyde intervened.
She studies him, "I'm not sure who you are, but there's a familiar image from you."
He shouts back, "One more time: Where are the girls?"
"Fine," she says, "maybe showing you the results will enlighten you." She swung her wrist to her eye level and began interacting with a device with her other hand. A loud noise boomed within the compact room, and the mysterious machine that sat in the center slowly descended into the floor. We stepped back from it quickly and listened to the gears down below squeak in unmaintained functionality. Suddenly the noise ceased and was replaced with a different sound. One that resembled something of a slimy substance sliding across the ground. The gears started back up with a higher pitch, and I could only guess that the lift was coming back up.