"Six minutes, Agent Lucy, you have six minutes remaining," Kelvin's voice was a mask of composure, but an undeniable tremor in his last words betrayed his control. I could hear his steady inhalations, as if each breath were a deliberate effort to contain the storm of nerves within him. His genuine concern for me had been evident since our partnership began. "Stay vigilant."
I swiftly located a worn antique cabinet on the right side of the fourth basement, a few meters away from where I had concealed the Black Scorpion Box. I grasped the knob and slipped inside, disappearing into its shadowy refuge. Footsteps brushed by the dresser. Three minutes left. Just three minutes to escape.
Ensuring the basement was void of any lingering presence, I pressed my eye to the keyhole, holding my breath in anticipation. The sound of voices reached me from across the space. It was a conversation tinged with gravity, a discourse that demanded attention. My curiosity kept me rooted, delaying my intended exit.
"Time's dwindling, Phelan. Remember, all we're doing now is for a greater purpose. This is about the survival of our kind," a deep baritone voice resonated with conviction. Chains clinked as they met the cold concrete floor. They were bound to someone – Phelan.
A controlled growl rumbled from the same corner – unmistakably Phelan's voice. Agonized, fervent. I couldn't help but ache for him.
"Four minutes, Agent Lucy. Four minutes until this mission detonates," Kelvin's voice remained even, though the urgency in his last words was impossible to ignore. "The van is positioned three blocks from the Vargas Mansion. Leave the basement before the window closes."
Kelvin's reminder weighed on my mind, urging me to act swiftly. But what of Phelan? I couldn't bear the thought of any harm coming to him.
My fist clenched, determination and anxiety mingling. Time was a rare commodity in this basement. I opened the closet, slipping off my pumps as I silently advanced toward the source of those intriguing voices. Stealthily, I tiptoed roughly three meters to the door frame, securing a covert vantage point to observe the scene.
My heart pounded in my ears as I bore witness to the unfolding tableau. An icy shiver traced my spine. There was Phelan, vulnerable in his undress, his wrists and ankles bound. The sound of chains echoed through the air, a stark contrast to his exposed vulnerability. In the shadows, five figures loomed – Mr. and Mrs. Vargas flanked by three enigmatic individuals bearing the aura of outcrosses.
"Two minutes, Agent Lucy. Egress now!" Rumina's voice crackled in my ear, a reminder of the dwindling seconds. The mission's success hung in the balance, yet I remained ensnared by the spectacle before me.
A sudden realization struck – I couldn't decide between aiding Phelan or heeding Kelvin's warning.
"Dad, I can't go through with this. I won't!" Phelan's voice reverberated, a potent mix of desperation and defiance. He struggled against his bonds. "Mother, please, make it stop! Please!" Another cry, an anguished plea for respite.
That raw cry from Phelan shattered my indecision. It was a call to action. I could let my other instincts take over, the side of me that could eliminate the threat. But as I stepped closer, an intense heat erupted within my abdomen. It felt as if acid were devouring me from the inside out, a torment that threatened to tear me apart. I stifled a retch, my footing faltering as I accidentally brushed against a pipe, sending it crashing to the ground with a resounding clang.
The figures around Phelan were startled, their attention drawn elsewhere.
I retreated, my breath hitching as I scrambled away. "Oh, god!" I choked, the searing agony I experienced evident in my voice. The malicious heat coiled within me, threatening to incapacitate me.
The figures in the room were rattled, their focus diverted.
I raced for the stairs, my footsteps echoing as pain surged through me. The agony was unrelenting, overwhelming, and incomprehensible. I battled to distance myself from the source, focusing solely on escape. Phelan's cries of suffering pursued me as I ascended to the mansion's ground floor. It was as though a thread bound us, his wails a haunting echo of my own pain.
"One minute, Agent Lucy. You have one minute to escape," Kelvin's voice wavered, a tinge of concern coloring his words. The countdown pressed on.
A guttural moan escaped my lips as the searing pain in my abdomen intensified. It felt as if an infernal blaze raged within me, consuming every fiber of my being. My attempts to step forward were futile; a sharp cry of anguish spilled from my mouth, a testament to the agony that had taken hold. I struggled to maintain my balance, feeling myself on the precipice of collapse. It seemed that escape was no longer an option.
"Please take over..." I commanded myself, a plea whispered to the winds as I felt consciousness slipping away. I mustered the strength for another step, but my body betrayed me, buckling beneath the overwhelming weakness. I teetered on the brink of falling, my energy drained.
And then, strong arms enveloped me, preventing my descent.
My savior, my ally – Zilla.
"Zilla," I whispered weakly into the air, my voice a fragile thread. I squinted at his face, his right eye the only feature visible. His enigmatic mask obscured half his visage, and a curtain of shimmering crimson hair veiled his left eye.
"Good job, Kiera," he commended, his words imbued with genuine pride, as he lifted me from the basement. "Now, let's get you home."
Though I couldn't see the entirety of Zilla's face, his eyes conveyed a sense of elation. Perhaps he was pleased that our first mission had been a success.
Once he had transported me beyond the Vargas territory, the unexplainable pain continued to rack my body. It was as if the scorching agony was devouring me whole. I felt weak and dizzy, my vision spinning, yet my gaze remained fixed on the round moon gradually aligning itself with the radiant glow of the sun.
A lunar eclipse in the heart of midnight – the night of my birth, Phelan's birthday.
What did all this signify?