The Mother's Tale

Chapter Twenty Five

Once the initial shock settled down a little, she was able to allow the rather suitable outrage - she was sure that it was underplayed if anything else, but frankly she was just far too tired to be properly outraged at that moment, a fact that was a little annoying really - settle over her. It was a heavy sensation and that did very little to make the dragging exhaustion feel any more manageable, and so for that she found herself even less fond of the man now than she was before. How dare he, a variable stranger, presume the right to place judgement on her when they had never even had the misfortune of meeting? 

Rather gratingly, and at this point Mia was rather sure that the man was doing it just to annoy her, a laugh echoed out of the speakers. The echo was legitimate, as there seemed to be just enough of a delay, intentional or the fact of faulty, damaged equipment, that meant the devices did not transfer the auditory stimuli that it was picking up at quite the same rate as the one next to it. It really did create an overall eerie affect to it that did absolutely nothing to make the enhanced warehouse seem any more inviting than a coffin with her name engraved upon it might have been. 

"I won't pretend like I like you," said Heisenberg through the speakers, once more confirming that the dislike was mutual, "But you and I have much to discuss, so I can put that aside," he paused, the more he spoke the more he slipped into an easy, and recognisably falsified charm, "I'd like to speak to you about Rose, and Miranda." 

If she was going to be honest with herself, the idea of discussing her child with this man was far from an appealing notion but, as it stood, it was not as if she really had any other option. Not if she wanted everything she had done to get to that point to have meant something.

"Come on in, and don't worry. It's not a trap." The edge of mockery in the final statement made it all too obvious that he was enjoying her discomfort. 

It was not that she was going to take him at face value - or rather, at voice value, but that made it seem a little less trustworthy than it already was - but simply just that she did not have an alternative. She could either be backed into the wall with nowhere to go, or continue to push forward into the unknown, and at least one of the options meant going forward. She didn't know what the forward held for her, but anything was better than the alternative stagnation. 

The brief path to the warehouse seemed a little more straightforward than the overgrown grasses would have suggested. The seemingly random scattering of all manner of things that made her glad that to be up to date on her tetanus shots formed a slightly hazardous path through the grasses. She could suppose that was only fair, really, as it would just be impractical to try and navigate a maze any time the occupant - or occupants, but she really did not want there to be more than one - needed to go anywhere in a timely manner. 

The shrill sound of an alarm rang out through the oddly crackly air. She had read somewhere once that if the air held the sort of quality it did now, then there was a high chance of getting struck by lightening, but fortunately instead of lightening the most sizeable change came in the form of the warehouse doors opening, as if in a grandiose invitation. At least it meant she didn't have to fumble around to find a way in while she was quite certain she was being watched. The last thing she would want was to embarrass herself in the process, that would just be outright mortifying. 

Inside the warehouse seemed almost disappointingly normal, little more than a storage shed and series of very locked looking doors. She might have been a little more disappointed if she did not briefly wonder if she was going to be walking into some elaborate Home-Alone-meets-Saw deathtrap the moment she set foot inside. A possibility that she did not entirely rule out as she glanced about the space.
With nothing of any particular substance to her and her own goals to be found, she relented to the stairs. Because of course, anyone familiar with the horror genre knew that nothing bad ever came from taking to the stairs. Passing by what seemed frankly like far too many coats for a single coat-rack to have to deal with, she slipped through the door and began her decent down the poorly lit staircase. Mia could not help but wonder, in one of those trains of thought that came to try and distract for the far less pleasant sort, just how much of her time since arriving in Village she had actually spent underground. Far too long, she was sure. She had spent far too much time underground over the years and even now, as she made the active decision to descend once again, it would be a lie if she claimed it did not make her at least a little uncomfortable.