No Name

Chapter 9 - IX

Authors Note: Sorry about the lack of updates recently, I've got some time on my hands so ill be getting out a lot more for a while, an update a week.... Hopefully :D
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Holly watched as Matt crept along the catwalk like a ghost, barely visible against the rusted old walls of the derelict refinery. The area was empty and cavernous save for the machines, and there was an eerily quiet and unsettling void of sound that affected the entire area. Matt motioned to her, and she set out after him across the catwalk, trying to mimic his low crouch. He had come to a stop by a giant tank that jutted towards the roof of the refinery, held up by steel struts and a number of pipes. Matt looked over and critiqued her clumsy attempt at stealth. "It does the job, but try to spread your weight across the surface area of your shoes more. It keeps you from having to re-adjust every few seconds." Holly nodded, and adjusted her couch to suit- he was right. No more balance issues. He pointed to a large warning label. FLAMABLE. "You don't say." Holly muttered, wiping away rust with her hand, uncovering the rest of the label. Matt inspected the small list of formulas, and came to a stop on one. "C3H8. That's what we're looking for. There should be a compression machine around here somewhere." Holly nodded and said "You take the left, I'll search the right." Matt wordlessly moved across the catwalk and dropped down to floor level with minimal assistance from the ladder, and dropped into a semi crouch, disappearing behind another hulking tank.

Holly moved in the opposite direction and made her way carefully to the floor. They had agreed to keep it quiet due to the threat of Demon intervention or Broken squads being alerted to their presence. Holly had expected the refinery had mostly been ransacked for petrol, but a good deal of the Propane would likely still be around. As she moved silently through the large rust streaked tanks, checking each one, Holly debated how much she trusted her Bounty hunter companion. No doubt he was useful, being an efficient survivalist and lethal combatant, but she didn't like the cold, calculating look that often gleamed in his eyes. Sure, he was charged with protecting Holly and Elizabeth, but he would easily make the call to abandon them if he deemed the risk too great. Holly wondered what Declen had offered Matt to take the job. It had better be good. She rubbed another tank's label down, and saw the same formula Matt had associated with propane. "There we go!" she said in triumph, making doubly sure it was the correct formula. C3H8. Now all she had to do was find Matt. "Nice job" he said from behind her. Holly started, adrenalin coursing through her as she turned to face Matt. "Don't do that!" she hissed, trying to convey anger and keep her voice down at the same time. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that." He said, grinning slightly. Holly shook her head, and turned to inspect the tank. "This is the one alright" Matt said, checking the label. He began circling around it, occasionally following a pipe that led into the tank back to its source. He waved Holly over. "This is our compression unit. It's likely to make a ton of sound; we should have one person on watch while the other fills up the tanks. "I'll watch your back, you fill up the tanks." Holly said. Matt opened his mouth as if to voice concern, but then nodded. "Just don't get me shot. Or, possessed. Or, driven insane." He said and turned, pulling a massive, and likely heavy tank out of his backpack. "Does that thing neutralise weight as well?" Holly asked in wonder. "Yeah. It can hold anything that fits through the top" Matt said. Holly nodded. She was almost jealous. Matt moved to a small tap like object and began cleaning it as best he could of rust. Holly drew her revolver.

Matt began fiddling with a small control panel to the right of the pipe. "It's power operated. Can you go down the pipe and find a manual release for me? It'll look like a generic pressure valve." Matt said and attached the canister to the nozzle of the pipe with a nerve wrenching creak. "Sure" Holly said, and began to move along the pipe, following it back to another, far larger control panel. After a few second of trying to derive the purpose of a few perfectly generic pressure valves, Holly found the correctly label one and threw her weight against it. With an echoing creak of rust on metal, the wheel turned, and some of the pressure gauges began feebly moving their needles. Satisfied, Holly made her way back to Matt. She could hear voices. Something was wrong. Holly dropped into a low crouch and turned the corner, poking her head out enough to see. Matt was surrounded by Broken.
Matt got to his feet, The leader of the patrol, a tall lanky teenager with oily black hair was smirking at him as he watched Matt rise, the kid's shotgun casually held to his chest. "What's your Name?" he asked smugly. Matt remained silent. "Name?" he asked again, poking Matt with the shotgun. Matt said something in another language, the words flowing from his mouth with not a single trace of his normally slightly British accent. "What's 'e speaking?" one of the Broken asked. Matt had to hold in laughter as the leader, clearly baffled by his French, tried to comprehend what he was saying. "Vous êtes un twat complete" Matt said in a polite tone. None of them knew a single word of French. All he had to do was kill time until Holly noticed something was wrong, which she had probably already done. He switched to German, and asked them as to the make and model of the shotgun that was being pointed at his chest. Then, just when he was beginning to enjoy himself, Holly crept up behind the oily haired leader and knocked him out with the butt of her pistol.
Matt launched to action, throwing himself backwards into a roll that would take him behind the two broken standing behind him. He came up in a smooth roll, pushing himself to his feet using his own momentum, and as the first one began to turn, Matt kicked him full in the chest and he hit the ground hard, his head smacking against the concrete floor. The other raised his combat knife and swung, a short fast swipe that would have slit Matt's throat had he not already dodged to the left and drew his pistol. "Je ne voudrais pas passer si je étais vous ." Matt said in near flawless French, and then repeated it in English. "I wouldn't move if I were you." "Wait, you can speak English?!" the Broken said. "Yeah." Matt replied, and watched as Holly casually smacked him over the head with her revolver from behind. He sunk to the ground, and slipped into unconsciousness. "You speak French?" Holly asked, bemused. Matt laughed, looking down at the unconscious leader. "Yeah. French German, a bit of Italian and a few others." He replied. Holly raised an eyebrow. "Why?" "It comes in handy some times. Jacob's family came from Germany, so I kind of picked some of it up from him, and I learnt the French in school on the side." Matt explained. He smiled again. "Now come on, I don't have time to stand around discussing my various achievements. Though, I can probably find time later." He said, and turned back to the pipe. Holly moved forward, holding back a grin, and watched as Matt filled up three of the tanks with propane. "That should be enough." He said, shoving the last tank into his backpack and hoisting it onto his back as if it were a pillow. "So... where did you find that backpack?" Holly asked innocently. "Trade secret" Matt said, leading the way out of the refinery.