Primal Gambit

Chapter 73: Shuke's Truth Revealed

The Siberian finally backed away from the table, his hands doused in blood that did not belong to him. Doerrman finally caught a glimpse of the man struggling to maintain consciousness on the gurney, wriggling in unparalleled pain. Vikhr smiled in recognition of the horrifically artful job he had done, sewing up the mouth of the serpent. He was not qualified to perform the procedure, but by remembering how painful it was when his own lips were tied together he realized that Conley most likely was not qualified either.

Neither of them thought to turn the haunting classical music off; it had all happened so fast. It felt like hours had passed in the confines of Conley's chambers and so Doerrman was sure the thunderous applaud coming from above ground was the footfall of field trips and family outings to the Marcotte Human Observatory, there to get their fix of human decomposition and decay. Scores of civvies would be presented with the most monumental introduction to the exhibits yet.

Both the patriot and foreigner turned-terrorists already had a plan, though they had not spoken to one another about it. Their minds were on the same wavelength – they could communicate to one another without speaking. They were going to have their revenge, however distasteful to some.

"Pick him up. It's time to bring reality to the twisted ideal of evolution." Doerrman smiled as evilly as he ever had, watching as the husky Siberian lifted the shuddering puppeteer from the table.

Gripping his shooter tightly in hand, the stateside warrior lead the way as the pair exited the room with their hostage. The black orb returned to his mind, though this one clouded all sense of emotion or judgement. A twisted sense of vengeance took him over.

"There's a long stairwell that goes up to the viewing platform, where wardens tranquilize captives to make sure it's safe for them to enter – a catwalk above the holes that lead down into the exhibits, a soapbox that all will see. That's where we're going." He growled.

Vikhr grinned, the devil's sharp fangs bearing themselves to light.

When they left the room, the dim orange emergency lights had been replaced with the full-functioning power of the compound. Light had been granted to The Dark City once again. As the pair moved down the corridors as they once had overseas, Doerrman lending cover to Vikhr as he moved sluggishly, yanking their hostage forward. From what the ex-soldier could only assume, it was the end of the graveyard shift.

It meant that the halls of the dank Marcotte underground would remain empty while the hired renegades and mercenaries turned guards rotated in their unseen locker rooms. Only the overachieving men would leave the lockers before they absolutely had to – strapping holsters and security badges into place at a slacker's pace. As the trio hustled, blood pouring from Darwin's lips and trailing across the echoing floor, down grates and into forgotten drainage systems, Doerrman stopped.

He turned back to see the Siberian hammer the belittled man in the guts, but it did not end his coarse mumbling. The rugged and roughshod technique used to stop captured men from speaking was finally getting to Darwin – whose bodily fluids conjoined at the tip of his nose and dripped to the floor. His head hung low, pointing towards the ground.

"Would you look at this? Vik, look whose office we've stumbled upon!" Doerrman pointed to the nearest door with the barrel of his pistol.

The plaque on the front had the rigid name 'Darwin' engraved into it. The pair of men could hear the brief sound of footsteps coming from within, and without a second thought or doubt Doerrman was already moving inside. Vikhr and the captive followed.

"You." Ridley Doerrman roared. He did not care who heard him. He was seeking righteousness any way he could – but when he saw Arthur Shuke staring back at him from the desk his jaw dropped, his morals crashing down into decimated oblivion.

He had to blame someone for Valerie's death, and the three men that surrounded him had all contributed to it somehow. The black ball of revenge consumed him and dizzied him simultaneously – he did not know which one of them to blame.

The heavy pistol was immediately aimed at the professor's chest, though at that moment Ridley noticed something very different about him. He did not look rugged or covered in dirt and he was not clothed in rags. Instead, he was clean cut in the average civvie silvers, stitches delicately placed above and below his mouth – his lips freed from their chains. It seemed he was just a puppy, lost and alone in the epicenter of a thunderstorm, when suddenly he was lapped up and brought inside and given a bath for the first time in centuries.

It was a look Doerrman would not get used to.

"What are you doing here, dressed like that?" The warrior asked.

When Darwin struggled Vikhr slammed him onto the desk, sending a lamp and chessboard into flight.

"Earning my end of the deal, I'm afraid." Arthur spoke quietly, his arms raised. He was surely readjusting from an extended period without speech. The words scratched against his hoarse throat on their escape.

"What end of the deal?" Doerrman moved the pistol closer, until the hot barrel of it was touching against Arthur Shuke's chest. The lesser man burst into tears:

"They snared my wife two months before they got me. We had given our daughter away to keep her safe," he sniffled and wiped his eyes, "but when they took me it wasn't because they wanted to use me as an attraction. They offered to let her go free if I agreed to do this for them, to get them the strongest warrior The Dark City has ever seen." He stopped, solemnly looking down into his lap.

"Pressganged." He added.

There was nothing else to say. Darwin had conned them all for his own devilish gain. None of them saw it coming, and Arthur Shuke had it the worst of all.

"I had to watch for months as she was defiled by men both in and out of the enclosures, not sure if I'd ever be able to get her back."

Darwin mumbled something, at which point Doerrman swayed the end of his pistol to the back of the mastermind's bloodied skull.

"I'd tell you to kill him now but it makes no difference. He has already taken from me everything he could." Shuke whispered.

"Me too." Doerrman agreed, warm tears beginning to well underneath his heavy, world-weary eyes.

Vikhr nodded.

"But we have a plan for that." The Siberian responded in a cruel gesture.

"Can you get her back?" Ridley Doerrman channeled the compassion he once felt for breaching Valerie from strenuous situations.

"I'm no fighter. How could I do that?" Arthur Shuke wondered.

Doerrman flipped the shooter in his hand and held the grip outward, toward the professor.

"Things you thought were impossible become possible if you have the willpower to see them through. Take it. We'll have everyone's attention anyway. You'll be able to slide in unnoticed and get her out. Channel your fear of man. Make things right." He whispered.

The professor took the cold metal into his hands. It was clear to Shuke, now, that Doerrman planned to die.

"You know, I half expected you to be mute once those wires came out." Doerrman added.

"Language never dies." Shuke retorted with a hampered smile.

They vacated the room and split off down separate hallways, moving onward to make things right.

A small victory for three broken men.