Three days the retrieval team’s been trapped here. Almost four given it’s now just passing one thirty Friday morning and Saurian and her crew have been stuck down here since Monday afternoon. Or, well, just her crew actually. The woman herself has been slipping out through the sewer system to go arrange another exit, and occasionally steal things to help pay for all the teleporting. A remark so casually given that it made me immediately reevaluate just who the crazy one is out of the three of them.

  Unfortunately, I’m starting to think it might be me for agreeing to this.

  After I got over the shock of seeing a MEA Verti-bird squeezed into this underground space, I was given a quick tour of the maintenance station that the three have been stuck living in. There’s not much to see. The dented ‘bird that I’m trying not to worry about attempting to Pocket takes up most of the space. It’s XXX and XXX painted steel bulk having crashed down from where Mail Order apparently teleported it in a few feet off the ground. Crushing most of the machines that the cities inspectors would use to check on water quality, life signs and similar. I don’t want to think too much about how long it’ll be before any of this gets replaced and the unlucky people serviced by this area can get clean water again. Or stop needing to worry about something crawling out of the sewer without warning.

  I didn’t have much chance to think about other people’s problems however as Saurian soon pointed out the two exits from the concrete box the other two have been stuck in. The original one, locked behind a double-layered access hatch that looks like it could withstand a small nuclear blast, leads to a straight shot through a storm-water holding drain and then up into the very plaza I bought my current jacket in. The other, a recently made and darkly yawning pit that, according to the only woman crazy enough to go through it, drops almost a hundred metres down into the actual sewers.

  That one was made with a combination of Saurian and Stig working together to break through the concrete floor in a spot she somehow knew would be weaker. I stand over it now, far closer than I want to be and struggling not to shout at Saurian for only telling me what it was after I’d walked right up to the opening. The darkness at its edge seems to eat the low light of the room. Blending with the shadows to give it a strange flatness that makes it impossible to know it leads to a drop.

  The discomfort that Saurian’s attention brings, low but still present in her minimally transformed state, swept away in an instant after she mentioned just where the hole leads. My legs now locked in place and hands stuffed deep into my Pocket to hide their trembling as I fight the urge to fall to the ground and crawl away before I somehow fall in. Ears filled with a slowly lessening ringing as I stare powerlessly down into the dark and seemingly bottomless pit. The hairs on the back of my neck are sticking straight into the air as I’m filled with the absolute certainty that, somehow, I know I’m being watched.

  “I had planned that we would exit this way once you were here. Stig can almost grant a kind of flight and I have now mapped out a route to keep us above water.” The low burr of Saurian’s voice echoes strangely off into the tight hole at my feet. The smell of the sewer held at bay by a bladeless fan laid against the ground and which forms a seal over the entrance. The machinery working hard enough to actually be heating the area around it as it works to push the, likely deadly, vapors back into the pit. I can’t imagine how bad this place must have stunk until Saurian could get back with the first supply drop that contained it. The thought that I might get stuck in a similar situation someday making me take a mental note to get a helmet with an inbuilt gasmask once I’m able to upgrade to a real costume.

  “The last time I went through however, something was waiting in the water. We will not be going this way.” I don’t linger at the edge as Saurian turns away. Her movement acting as a signal for my own paralysed brain that finally lets me back up until I feel secure enough to turn as she did. The drop now safely out of stumbling range but my instincts still screaming at me to check over my shoulder that nothing is crawling out of the hole to get me. The relief that should have come from hearing that I won’t have to go down into the sewers, and experience whatever ‘almost grant a kind of flight means’, not doing much now that I know something really was watching me.

  “Now, we will need to break out through the holding drain. There is a MEA team in the plaza outside but, once we get into the city proper, we can easily lose any pursuit thanks to Stig’s Power and a few things we arranged to be left there. You are not scared of heights?”

  “I’d- I’d prefer not to deal with too many heights.”

  “A shame. We will do what we can.” I can’t help but swallow at the non-answer, feeling my face going somehow paler as I trail Saurian over to where the boy himself is waiting besides the real exit. A single piece of green painted steel set flush with a concrete wall. Lacking anything that looks like a handle and with only the viewport providing any hint that it’s more than another piece of the wall. That and the wiring for the machines and low lighting snaked directly through the stone all around it. The grey of the concrete barely visible under the thick layer of black cables that curl away along the sides to disappear into the floor or ceiling. Far too many for this room alone and every one of them broken.

  Those on the right side torn from the wall entirely where a doorframe has been drawn in chalk lines. Crosses, circles and more lines connecting the edges in a diagram I find disturbingly familiar to things I’ve seen at construction sites. The sparking ends of the broken wires not filling me with confidence over the crew’s demolition credentials. The wires roughly tied into knots or looped over themselves as they dangle from the wall. The sight making me think this room probably isn’t meant to be so dimly lit after all.

  The yellow strips of light are steady but weak above our heads as they fill most of the room with an ambient glow. The illumination only blocked above the area where Schiz had disappeared behind a hung sheet while I’d been distracted with the Verti-bird. The left side of the room not taken up by the ‘bird divided in half and showing signs of being lived in for the last few days. A pair of sleeping bags, food and similar all arranged with fastidious neatness into their own chalk marked sections. I’d been expecting to see a Portaloo as well, having a teleporter to help you must make a siege much easier, but an unintentional glance back at the sewer pit answers that question.

  I can’t imagine that Mail Order works for free, especially in his condition, so I can understand why they’d want to limit what they use him for. But still…

  ‘I couldn’t have done this for three days.’

  “We are lucky Mail Order was able to put us on this side of the door when things went bad. These bulkheads are designed to withstand the pressures of floodwaters and anything that might come up from the sewers.” Saurian waves me up to the door as she speaks. Indicating I should look through the viewport before she continues.

  The crystal screen, because no plastic or glass would be used for something so secure, is dark and opaque at first. The view of the other side not becoming clear until I’ve gotten my face right up to the little rectangular slit. Trying not to blush as I need to stand on tiptoes and half pull myself up the side to reach it.

  Beyond is a reminder that, greater than any mega-building, the land Throne sits upon is itself considered amongst the greatest feats of human engineering every realised. A short antechamber where the lights have gone out and the outer door left open leads directly to a raised walkway of thick steel. Past that, and likely below it too, is a vast and pillar-filled space lit by harsh fluorescent bulbs set directly into the ceiling high above. The pillars stretched to be almost rectangular in shape as they span what can’t be any less than twenty metres from floor to ceiling. Set far enough apart that I can see only a few within the narrow field of view offered by the port and staggered so that they almost entirely obscure the far wall.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The monitor station we’re in being located at the far end of the rectangular holding drain I’m looking at. The walls on either side just visible where it spans, from memories of learning about it in class, exactly fifty metres across. I pay little attention to the sides however as I spot the new addition sitting just off the far wall twice that distance, or exactly one football pitch, away and almost hidden by the pillars. The black booth of dull metal, for all it looks like nothing so much as a photo booth in shape, a glaring outlier from the white-grey concrete all around it.

  “What’s the booth thing?”

  “A mobile bunker the MEA often use in longer blockades. It is blocking the exit and the reason we are not just walking out will be inside. They were able to set it up before the water rose too high. If not for the storm and then the market they would have far more equipment. We must go tonight before it can be delivered.”

  I lick my lips with suddenly renewed nerves at Saurian’s words. Looking away from the shadowed box and the hero who’ll be waiting inside. Perhaps peering out right now from their own reinforced view port. Something to stop Schiz from being able to mind-whammy them with a glance. A glint of light off something below catches the booths front and briefly illuminates the MEA logo embossed across it. The viewport I’d been straining to make out incorporated into the images design to better hide it while still making clear who the bunker belongs to.

  ‘Throne, the city where spectacle meets efficiency.’

  The wry thought doesn’t help me feel much better as I glance away from the platform the booth is on and towards the yawning pit between us. A drop that is already having my heartrate rise with the thought of needing to cross it. I can’t imagine we’ll be using the walkways that run along the walls on either side after all.

  My jaw clenching with annoyance and worry as I spot the rapidly flowing river that rushes not fat below the walkway and forces me to only estimate the pillar’s height. The dark and trash filled current frothing white as it crashes up against the sides of the anti-rapid measures designed to try and slow it down just as much as hold up the roof. While I don’t remember much from the many years ago topic on Throne’s drainage system, lacking a unified history we tend to learn a lot about infrastructure instead of wars or kings, I do recall how quickly they can process the water they’re built to hold. For the amount the storm must have dropped, two days is not nearly enough.

  The water level likely having covered the door entirely, possibly most of the way to the ceiling, just a few hours after the storm truly got going and only recently dropping low enough that an escape out this way is even possible. A series of sluice gates and other tunnels likely creating this current as they’ll still be working constantly to send the raging and polluted water towards manufacturing plants, treatment facilities or wherever else it’s needed. Or, directly into the sewers. A method of controlling overflow and safely ‘cleaning out’ a place no one sane wants to go. I don’t quite manage to repress a shiver at the thought of where I might end up if I fall into the water. Assuming I don’t just get bashed in the head by something else caught in the stream and drown.

  ‘Possibly a better outcome than getting kidnapped by sewer people.’

  “The MEA managed to get through the first bulkhead before the water cut them off so we had to cut all the connections to make sure the override couldn’t be used on the inner door. We had not planned to need it as our exit but I have secured some charges that will make us a new one once Schiz is ready and you have secured our prize. Will there be any issues with doing so?”

  Saurian nods to where Stig is still waiting against the chalk drawing that I’m suddenly even more concerned about. My attention pulled away from trying to spot the hero Schiz had mentioned earlier on as I step back from the door. Doing my best not to recoil from the smell as the boy flicks his head to show he’s noticed us and sends a wave of oily burnt rubber stink towards me. My nose wrinkling at the smell which makes me want to go back over to the side of the room with an open sewer entrance. At least the stink of whatever he’s chewing doesn’t carry very far. Perhaps because most of it is contained inside his helmet?

  ‘Gross.’

  Remembering my conviction to make contacts, I smooth out my disgust and try to catch his eyes through the helmet as I nod a greeting of my own. Raising a hand to my mouth as I clear my throat to help buy time and repress my immediate gag at getting a full whiff of the stink. Forcing a smile into my voice as I subtly shift the fabric of my half mask so that more is clumped over my nose.

  “…I don’t think so. I may need some time to recover afterwards though.” Assuming I can even do it to begin with. The biggest thing I’ve ever previously pulled into my personal Pocket Dimension, or hammer space as some people call them, being the dumpster that I used to block the jeweller’s entrance with. I’d needed a curtain just to attempt it and the shock of cold had been bad enough to leave me shivering even several minutes afterwards.

  I’ve never even imagined attempting to Pocket something this big before.

  ‘It should work though. I just might need some help with covering it but… It should work.’

  Just why Rosch didn’t tell me what it was I’d be moving though I have no idea. It certainly would have helped even if it would’ve also made me more hesitant about taking the job. Especially knowing that a fight would now be inevitable as well. Something she must’ve known, or at least strongly suspected, for the last few days but chose to only give me hints about a few hours before I needed to be here. Clearly, I need to find a way to make it plain that I can’t just be jerked around.

  “We cannot afford much delay. At worst, one of us will need to carry you.”

  “Will that work given we have heroes to get past?” I want to say that it won’t work because I don’t want to be carried but that sounds terribly childish even to me.

  “Not heroes. Given the risk of the water and how they think us trapped, only one man hates me enough to stay on watch down here. Even the MEA team up above is more to keep tabs on him than worry about us. Standard practice would be to use the cameras they have pointed at the door and the fast response squad who can answer them.”

  “You know him?” Saurian makes a clicking sound somewhere so deep in her throat that it might be her chest as she smiles. Her transformation still in its lowest stage and so letting me know that my flash of animalistic terror at the sound is pretty much all me.

  “Ictus. A Concordat Meta who makes arms appear on any surface he sees. The limbs inherit the properties of what they’re made from. Do not let him touch you. I will go over more once Schiz is ready and the charges set. She may be changing so you should check on her while Stig assists me.”

  She doesn’t wait for me to agree before turning away to slide over to the chalk covered section of wall. Her transformation accelerating rapidly along one side as scales and bulk rise from under her flesh and begin wiping away any hint of humanity. My offer to help in Stigs place, regardless of what it might be, getting caught in my throat as I watch a bipedal dinosaur half taking shape in front of me. Saurian pointedly ignoring me as she moves to press as much of herself against the wall as possible while Stig stands ready with chalk in hand.

  While much of the transformation is hidden as she presses herself against the wall, what I can see makes it pretty clear that I don’t want her attention right now. Not feeling like trying to make friends with Mr Silent-and-Foul-Smelling again, I turn around to look back towards where the last member of Saurian’s crew is now quietly talking to herself. Not like she could be on the phone, I’ve already checked and found this place doesn’t get any signal.

  “Schiz. What’s her- ah” I clamp my teeth together before more than a single whimper can slip out from the weight of Saurian’s notice. Anger rising to push back the fear and stop me from falling over as my legs become jelly and breath catches in my throat. Undirected rage clenching my fists and having me turn around with a snarl where I see Saurian scrunching her eyes tightly closed. Half lizard form pressed deeper into the wall than before as she holds herself in total stillness while the transformation slowly regresses. My anger sputtering away as I realise how dumb it was to ask an undirected question when she was so clearly trying to ignore me.

  ‘In my defence, this whole crew seems to have some issues with communication. If Stig actually talked then Saurian wouldn’t need to.’

  “Schiz is powerful she just has some difficulties staying focused. She’ll be better once she’s had time to get ready.” Stig’s voice, surprising enough that he has one, has me almost flinching with its similarity to Ceylon’s. His perfect British accent not showing any hint of the Japanese he’d spoken in before and making me do a double take to make sure a fourth person hasn’t slipped in when I wasn’t looking.

  “Right. Thank you. You’ve all worked together before?” The question comes out awkwardly thanks to the fading effects of Saurian’s Power. My mouth still dry and head jumbled as I fall back on small talk to try and keep Stig talking.

  “Yes. Many times. We should move quickly once she’s ready.” A plan that fails immediately as he leans back up against the wall and tucks his head against his chest. The curt answer making my smile waver as I struggle not to grit my teeth or glare at the boy who, from the sound of his voice, must be at least a little younger than me.

  ‘Asshole, what’s his problem? At least the other two have a reason.’

  “We have been working together for around a year now. It has been going well but, Jacket? Do not draw my attention when transformed unless it is truly needed. Stig you are ready to start placing the charges?” The boy simply nods to the question. Seemingly immune to the reduced but still very much present weight of Saurian’s attention as he reaches down to a crate that I hadn’t noticed beside him. The smell of burnt rubber getting worse as another pop comes from under his helmet. The wafting air created by his movements giving enough strength to the stench that I can’t help but gag as quietly as I’m able.

  “I’ll have a look at the Verti-bird then.” Pushing down my rising frustrations, both at myself and at this whole situation, I turn around before any more of my feelings can slip onto my face.