Primal Gambit

Chapter 59: RSVP

Wisps of gray clouds patterned in stripes across the night sky. The ash had yet to begin its barrage on the ground beneath. The faint yellow warehouse was desolate, empty, void of the troubles stemming from both the Inner City and The Yard. Metal scaffolding peeled from the rooftop off unhinged, loose bolts. A vacant parking lot that surrounded the area was dotted with the shells of empty vehicle chassis' and carrion birds that picked flesh from corpses nearly buried in the debris. White dust from human remains blew about the lot, covering the old painted lines and brushing against tilted streetlights. 

The dust and debris whirled about as the thumping rotors pummeled through the air, clapping the sky as extraordinarily bright floodlights shone against the ground. The whipping wind was so violent that the car doors left ajar by those hurrying to find shelter from the ash creaked back and forth on rusted hinges, swinging like the wings on a bird. First to the scene were the Marcotte Reapers, piercing the sky as their tails pitched low and their noses rose far into the air. Both airships converged on the same location from different directions, landing in the parking lot just beyond reach of the warehouse.

Boisterous laughter could be heard from within the drop-deck of the Cookie Cutter. It was a smaller, faster aircraft than the lumbering Mud Wasp, which slowly coursed the skies in search of herprey. She could carry half the men and provisions than the larger Reapers, but solo-hunts and trips to The Yard were her specialty – slipping in and out of unmarked airspace and dark zones unnoticed until after she had departed. The smaller helicopters were Marcotte's rapid response to renegade captives.

The grated steel doors slid open with metal screams as men exited the ships. Darwin had already become overwhelmed, keeping difficult track on the mercenaries that surrounded him and moved in toward the building. The military jargon that spilled into his ear from the radio link was nearly indecipherable as Scarab led his hunters to the great doors of the warehouse. The puppeteer looked up to the sky beyond the flickering streetlights, then to the massive building before him. All the men around him hustled toward the derelict, their obsidian armor making them near invisible – save for those hellish green dots that replaced their eyes.

"Bozar, push front, keep them eyes peeled. Darwin, great choice of locale." Scarab whispered comically into Darwin's ear, though the anxious man had no idea where the mercenary truly was. For all he knew the cutthroat could have been within inches of his face or miles away.

The pilots remained in the airships, ready to flip the engines on and take off in a moment's notice. Darwin turned and looked through the lenses of his mask, the red lights blinking off the glass noses of the helicopters and illuminating the men inside. When he turned back around he had no idea where the mercenaries were. All of them had disappeared in the blanket of darkness.

"Movement inside, two men. One tied." An alien voice belonging to Bozar growled near Darwin.

Vikhr and Shuke. He thought to himself helplessly. His contract was at the hands of the ruthless squad, now.

"Showtime. Everyone get into position. Darwin, time to pay the piper. You're up." Scarab whispered tactically. Before his radio cut out Darwin could hear the man's gear begin to move as he took position in some area near the warehouse.

A small metal door creaked in the wind against a portion of the building where the yellow paint had corroded to the sheet's natural gray. The handle nearly broke off once Darwin took hold, opening it gently and sliding in. The mission was his now, as he felt the isolation between himself and the group of tactical hunters.

The interior of the warehouse was dotted with light from various bulbs that swung above the rafters. In the middle of the room the puppeteer could see Vikhr's silhouette looming in the darkness just behind Shuke, who was tied to an old desk chair. As Darwin approached, a bellowing voice rang out like the territorial warning of an old-world bear: