An Ancient Art Ch. 11

"There was a pattern in which the exchanges between Griss and Legion's man were made. Recently the trips have been becoming more frequent. If I'm right the next one will take place either yesterday or tonight. Let's hope it the latter."

"By meet you mean-"

"I need to know where he's based, who he's affiliated with in the City."

"And then?"

Lynk paused. "The authorities, the Observer himself, have no power over anything that happens in the slums. I need to prove that Legion's activities impact the City."

Stephen merely nodded, resigning himself to Lynk's decision. He looked to the control panel and his expression became grim.

Poor little rich boy, doesn't know what he's in for. Or perhaps he does. Lynk couldn't think of any reason why Stephen would need to leave his apartment complex, never mind the City. Then again, Lynk reminded himself, he knew little of Stephen beyond their time together.

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

*

Stephen was glad his legs didn't give out when he exited the taxi. The guard at the gated border swiped a reader over their ID screens, double checking Lynk's which he took well, grinning at the young guard whose cheeks turned rosy. He nodded to the guard in the raised control room in the right hand tower of the gate. A second later the monstrous, thirty foot, steel gate gave a screeching wail as it slid a metre to the side, allowing them admittance.

The slums' border showed a more civilised exterior, a façade to the City dwellers to stop the more charitable from trying to interfere. As they walked further the buildings became older until they were more akin in ruins than dwellings.

The beat of Stephen's heart was located somewhere in his throat and the further he and Lynk walked the higher it travelled until he thought he would gag on it. His well-schooled expression remained, but his trepidation grew, his only reassurance was Lynk's calm and confident stride. Though he wasn't sure if Lynk's stubborn determination and lack of fear was beneficial for what they had planned. Something was not right. Lynk was brash but not unreasonable. His mother's death had affected him, but Stephen was unsure how. However, Stephen didn't question the path they took and simply followed Lynk's confident footsteps.

Few people ambled through the streets at this late hour. Clearly not the most savoury of areas with some of the locals giving Stephen questioning glances or leering stares. Not one dark face amongst them, but none so far with hair as golden as Lynk's. Stephen knew he stood out, but kept his eyes averted to not cause any unintended offense.

"Okay?" Lynk asked out of the blue making Stephen start.

"Of course." He lied, but Lynk didn't seem to notice. Stephen felt more on edge than he thought he would. He was not afraid of re-entering the slums, in truth he had never once thought of what it would be like to return. Nothing was familiar to him. He had been out cold when he was brought to and from his prison. All he remembered was unending darkness, the sharp edge of constant hunger, his own filth soaking into his skin and the fear of dying in that cramped stinking crate.

"Stay close." Lynk said, wrapping his arm around Stephen's waist.

Stephen didn't argue. Though he was unsure of the threat, Lynk's touch was welcome and reassuring.

"Maybe they think you've bought me for the night." Lynk spoke of their passing audience.

Stephen gave a weak chuckle, "How much?"

Lynk's lips curled a little, but his hold tightened.

Stephen reciprocated. He whispered close into Lynk's ear as though offering sweet nothings from client to whore, "How far?"

Lynk turned his head, his nose and lips caressing Stephen's face, "We need to go deep into Old Town. It's a fare walk, but no one should bother us."

Stephen wet his lips and gave the smallest of nods as a drunken aged man stumbled passed, whistling and offering his encouragement in a mumbled series of colourful profanities in English.

The remaining unbroken street lights buzzed and blinked, the stuttering flow of electricity inadequately supplying the slums with light and heat. The stench of rot and decay were not as strong as Stephen remembered, but forever present. He forced back his gagging breaths.

"Watch out for the children." Lynk whispered.

Stephen looked at Lynk. Unsure of what he meant until a horde of youths came crashing through the trodden, broken path between buildings that was the street. Lynk moved his hand over his own and Stephen's breast pockets and flexed his fingers around their ID screens.

"Good choice." He said as the children ran passed them, more than a few of them bumping hard into him and Lynk. Once they were gone from view Lynk said, "They were aiming for these." He patted the screens and they continued walking.

"Is that what you used to do?" Stephen somehow felt better knowing that Lynk was perhaps not alone during his time in the slums.

"No. I worked alone. It was better that way. The most those kids will do is trade it for food or a bed for the night. I could hack them and take City credit. Then I could trade with the City dwellers that came into the slums."

Stephen wanted to ask more, but was cut off when Lynk took a sharp left. Darkness was falling fast, but Lynk took to the streets as though he had never left them.

For a sickening moment, Stephen understood why his father had approached Lynk. He shined in this colourless place, his blue eyes a beacon in the dark. He pulled Lynk closer.

They passed what Stephen guessed were bars and brothels, somehow more discrete than the City's Pleasure Quarters. Both young and old whores of each and mixed genders winked and gave a flash of flesh or whispered to passers-by somehow making themselves forbidden and exotic rather than the obvious displays of sex for sale in the Quarters. More than one whore called out to Stephen with his obvious City born features setting his price range higher. Lynk merely chuckled and dragged Stephen along.

The buildings began to dwindle and fragment to piles of ancient brick, concrete, plaster and timbre. Small patches of earth grew to almost whole fields of grass. Stephen marvelled at this uncultivated beauty, the natural greens and yellows almost overwhelming to Stephen. His readings of endless farmlands and paddocks teaming with unseen life had failed to describe the true beauty of wild grass. He breathed in the foreign smells, finding it somewhat akin to the synthetically grown fruit and vegetables eaten in the City.

"That's the place." Lynk released Stephen to check the co-ordinates on his IDS. In the distance stood what Stephen had thought was just a pile of rubble. He squinted and saw it was in fact the remains of a military compound.

Darkness had fallen heavily and Stephen, who knew the notion of ghosts and ghouls were proven nonsense, saw that in the evacuating light the long abandoned base possessed a haunted charm that didn't appeal.

Though it didn't need to be said, Lynk told him, "Keep quiet. Move fast for the nearest building and stay close to me."

Stephen nodded and did as instructed.

*

Lynk wasn't sure what he had expected, but this wasn't it. This was a little off the beaten track, outside of Old Town and not somewhere Lynk had ever ventured in his youth. To Stephen it must have seemed utterly bizarre.

They crouched as low as their running legs would allow. The grass dampened their hurried footsteps. Stephen kept in pace with him easily. They reached the crumbling outer wall of the compound with no obstacles other than a whole riddled wire fence surrounding the disintegrating concrete brick wall and the last light of day fading to complete darkness. No light came from the bordered windows, but the low current of electricity reaching the main base meant that Lynk was not completely blind and followed its trail. He scanned the area. Power was feeding into another, more fortified building. A sharp spike in the current focused Lynk's ability. There was tech that had no business being in the slums: high tech security measures and something else he couldn't distinguish, something he'd never come across.

"Follow me." He whispered.

Stephen stopped him with a firm hand on Lynk's shoulder. He gestured to the outline of two men, traveling just off the path they had taken to their hiding place. For a heart rendering moment, Lynk thought they had been seen and the men were heading toward them, but they continued to the main building. The man in the lead was taller and moved more confidently through the uncommon terrain. The second was short and squat, a little round around the middle and fumbled his footing every now and again. Lynk recognised him. Griss. Lynk had been right about the time of the exchange.

When they reached the main building the man in front, Legion's man, opened the door and the two were bathed in light. Lynk realised that Griss was blindfolded. He was led inside. The door shut and Lynk was once more momentarily blinded before his eyes adjusted.

Lynk signalled for Stephen to follow him as he crouched low and ran. He'd picked up no outside security cameras when he scanned the area. He couldn't understand why this place was less guarded than the other which was locked up like a fortress.

He and Stephen leant against the building's cold exterior. The smashed out windows were boarded up, but it appeared to be a poor job performed decades ago. A mist of light shone through a small gap. Lynk angled between standing and crouching to see inside, Stephen behind him. He saw Griss, unmasked and fidgeting with a medi-case in each hand. That must have been how he was smuggling the goods out of the City, under the guise of a medic offering aid. Legion's man came into view.

"Thank you Mr Griss." Legion's man spoke formal Euro-English that didn't match his accent. He took the cases from Griss.

"The money?"

"In your account by midnight as usual. Before you go the boss wants a word."

Griss stiffened. Stephen held his breath beside Lynk.

Griss' voice trembled, "What? Why? It's all there. All of it. Like usual. You can check."

Legion's man merely smiled. It wasn't kind. "I'm sure, but he wishes to discuss something I think you'll find of interest."

The man rapped his knuckles against a door somewhere behind him, just outside of Lynk's vision. After a heart beat the door opened. Legion's wiry form filled the frame. A cloud of smoke floated about his face from a joint he was stubbing out on the door frame.

Stephen swallowed audibly. His eyes wide, his jaw hanging limply. Lynk elbowed Stephen questioningly. He looked on sickly, ignoring Lynk.

That same leering smile Lynk remembered played across Legion's face. Griss withered in his presence. Legion was not a big man, but smiling confidently and surrounded by his men filing in behind him was clearly meant to intimidate. It worked. Everyone held their silence, waiting for Legion to speak, like guard dogs obediently waiting for the order to attack. It lasted until Griss couldn't contain himself.

"Sir, I-"

"Dear me, Mr Griss," Legion interrupted. His smile broke and the room held its breath. He clicked his fingers and a young boy came scrambling into the room through the crowd of adults, straight to Legion's side, handing him an ID screen. He cuddled up to Legion's hip and Legion petted the boy's dark curls affectionately. A more genuine, but no less disturbing smile shaped Legion's lips as he turned his attention to the screen.

Griss groped and patted down his clothes and pockets. "That's-"

"Yours? Yes. I had my little Billy here and his friends retrieve it earlier as you entered my domain. It makes for an interesting read." He gave a wicked little giggle before showing the boy something on the screen at which the boy's face darkened with horror turning ashen. "Little Billy doesn't seem to share your fetishes. Look Billy, look at what this man likes, what he gets off on. What do you think we should do to him?" Legion was suddenly frantic, his cool demeanour almost childlike now as he prompted poor Billy who grew more fearful of his master's manner. "Come on Billy think. He likes cut up flesh, shall we cut him too?"

Billy, his eyes closed to the disturbing image on the screen, nodded fearfully.

"Say it. Say it Billy and I will do it. I'll do it for you Billy."

He was holding the boy close, staring with crazed fixation.

"D-do it."

"Do what?" He demanded bearing his teeth.

"Cut him."

Legion froze with an insane grin, blinked and stood tall dropping his lips and brow into a serious stare, facing his motionless audience. Even his followers stood stunned by his outburst. None more so than Griss who looked ready to pass out or piss his pants or both.

Lynk regretted his decision to come here, worse his decision in dragging Stephen along. He felt sick as he prepared for a blood bath to ensue, but was unable to tear his eyes away.

In Legion's eyes, though clouded as any User's, a hint of sanity remained. "Now for your payment?" Legion said, staring down his nose at Griss.

Griss came back to himself at the word 'payment'. "What?"

"For your service. So far it has been exemplary and your payment has matched your efforts, but lately," Legion clicked his tongue and shook his head, "I'm so disappointed."

Griss managed to push passed his fear to get angry, "What do you mean? I've done everything you asked, got everything you wanted. Do you have any idea what I had to go through to-"

"You allowed our location to be compromised. That Lynk," Legion said shaking his head, "such a naughty boy."

Lynk's stomach lurched. His eye bulging. His heart pounded in his ears. Sweat broke out all over his skin. Fuck.

Griss paled, "How-?"

Legion waved his hands theatrically, "Never mind that." He leant down, put a hand on Billy's small shoulder and pulled him close, "Now watch close how I deal with unreliable employees."

Billy didn't respond, his face stricken and sickly as though he already knew what was coming, his big eyes wet and glistening in the dim light.

Legion pulled a gun from his breast pocket and without waiting for the online aiming and tracking assistant to upload pointed it lazily at Griss. The shot rang out. The room stood immobilised. No blood, the bullet lodged. Griss was dead before his body hit the floor, its heavy thud and the crack of his skull crashing to the ground set the world in motion again.

Legion hazardously threw the gun atop Griss' sprawled corpse. "Clean up boys. We're moving out tonight. Be careful with the cargo. We don't want a repeat of last time."

Lynk didn't stay long enough to see Legion's orders fulfilled. He took hold of whatever part of Stephen he could find in the dark. Stephen let out a loud strangled exhale as Lynk's fingers pressed into his abdomen. Lynk smothered Stephen's mouth with his palm and silently dragged him out from their hiding place. Stephen fought against Lynk before waking from whatever vacant stupor he'd been in.

He stumbled and pulled them from the compound. A high deafening shriek of electrical current rang in Lynk's ears. He managed to smother his cry of agony, clutching his head, desperately trying to focus on where the sudden surge of energy was coming from.

Stephen squeezed his arm in questioning and reassurance even though his own face was sickly and ashen. Lynk rubbed vainly to ease his pounding temples, shook his head and pointed to the other building. Stephen frowned but didn't argue.

Lynk lead the way and Stephen followed with easy grace in the darkness. They reached the building and Lynk put a hand on its brick and concrete skin. The jolt ran through him, feeding him the data in a rush.

"This place is more heavily guarded than the others. Why?"

Stephen offered breathlessly, his eyes veiled as though he was somewhere else entirely, "Storage."

Lynk flattened his palm and searched the entire security mainframe for a weakness, something he could tap into it without setting it off with his meddling. He found it. He walked within the code and began shutting down its systems.

"We're in."

Stephen followed him around to the side, breathing hard, his sickly complexion glowing in the darkness. The building had no windows, only two doors. One was controlled internally by a series of password and timer controlled locks. It was simple enough for Lynk to access and take control.

"What are we doing? We need to go." Stephen fell silent as the door opened with a scraping of mental, disappearing into the layered wall.

"What is this place?" Lynk asked.

*

Stephen knew, but couldn't speak. The key clues were the adjustable, strap laden, mental bed; a loose term for the silver dish that served up live victims to their tormentor. Also the walls and tables were heavily covered in a number of ancient medical tools and apparatus, some rusted and distorted from time. This was a prisoner of war camp; one of the first built in the religious wars. This building was an interrogation room.

It was amazing that it had not been ransacked in the darker times during and after the war. Perhaps its horrific purpose had kept even the most desperate scavenges away. It was dank and the smell of mould was thoroughly set in the walls and the peeling rubber floor.

Despite all this, it was not the smell or the lingering notion of what had taken place in this room that turned Stephen's stomach, it was the collection of five black crates that covered the unoccupied spaces on the floor.

Cold terror gripped Stephen's heart. He fell to his knees. He tried to speak, to voice his dread but only a broken moan escaped his thick throat.

"Stephen? What are you doing? Get up." Lynk took hold of his shoulder, trying to drag him back to his feet. Stephen shook him off.

"Animal crates. Off-world animal crates." Stephen realised as he looked at the so similar black boxes. In some distant memory Felicia was explaining the transportation of livestock off-world.

"What are you talking about? Get up." Lynk pulled roughly at Stephen's arm but Stephen shrugged him off again. Lynk didn't give in. In a rush of strength he had Stephen on his feet, holding his shoulders tightly.

"Stephen. Steph!" Lynk's frustration was laced with distress, but something in Stephen refused to yield, wouldn't allow him to respond.

He was no more than an animal to Leader. Leader, who Stephen had admired and worshipped with his young heart, had treated him thusly.

A noise, a murmur, a voice awoke Stephen from his haunting past and he looked upon the vomit inducing scene with new enlightened eyes.

"Open them." He found his legs, grabbed Lynk's shirt collar and urged him to approach the crates.

"What?"

"There are children in the crates. Can't you hear them?"

Lynk tried to question him again, but Stephen had already moved, on his knees once more with his ear pressed against the hideously familiar cold and infuriatingly smooth surface of the boxes. That same murmur, like weeping, sounded from within.

"Lynk please, get them out."

Stephen clawed now as he had then, searching in vain for some indent, any change or imperfection in the endless, flawless design. Frantic and breathless, he banged his fists at the edges, apologising aloud to its poor occupant, speaking repeated and soft reassurances.

"Stephen, stop it." When Stephen ignored Lynk's demand Lynk pulled him away. Stephen fell back on his arse. Lynk held up his palm, "Let me try."

Recognising fear for his sanity clearly printed on Lynk's face, Stephen schooled his expression but couldn't stop the vibrating of his heart, scared of what he may find inside those crates.

Lynk took a deep breath and pressed his palm against the closest crate. A once invisible seam appeared. Lynk pulled free the cube's face. Lynk's nose screwed up at the stench of festered human waste.