#anyway clara's route continues to be fucked as hell
Text
Thinkin about how in Patho 2 the Haruspex is a lot less... violent, in general. Like yeah you're killing people and you're making cures from people's organs, but really you're spending more time harvesting twyre than anything. And there's a good chance you're sourcing your organs from the clinic, where you are allowed to dissect bodies For Science(tm).
Whereas classic Haruspex... like you CAN pick herbs yourself, for sure. But... idk about y'all but I can't fuckin see herbs for shit in classic, I'm maybe picking up 1-2 a day. You know how I get herbs as classic Haruspex? I give the worms the literal dozens of human organs I have stuffed in my pockets and they give me the twyre in exchange.
#pathologic#i'm playing the changeling route rn and thinkin about how#first time i played haruspex i wouldn't have even known i COULD harvest twyre if i hadn't known going in lol#anyway clara's route continues to be fucked as hell#mine
152 notes
·
View notes
Text
Faded Land: Chapter 14 (Pt2)
Blazing through the long forgotten underground tunnels of Niagara, the subway train zooms along the rusted tracks; Clara feeling the wind in her hair from the platform in the back.
Before heading inside, she takes a look back towards the departing tunnels; her thoughts pondering upon this mysterious Dandy would assist in her illegal crossing into the Canadian country.
Even if her steed had not abandoned her, climbing over a wall of that armed fortitude would prove to be quite a strenuous task; one that's even more so as of now.
The only feasible option that wound make any kind of sense would be the sewer systems; all the traps they’ve set up through the labyrinth like tunnels and these very subway tracks suggests that they have a mostly solid idea of the layout.
They probably have a route on standby for whenever they need to make little trips up north.
Just gotta get a few jobs done for these weirdo’s and her way into the land of maple leaves will be secure as their syrup.
Sweet, delectable syrup dripping upon the fluffy pancakes of the scientist daring journey.
And only then will breakfast and her quest for Arthur truly begin.
Those thoughts secure in her head, she heads into the subway train.
The first sight she comes upon once inside is the psychotic punk girl who slugged her in the jaw from earlier, staring the scientist down with a devious grin stretching across her face.
“We-e-ell, look at the little whore who stumbled into our neck of the woods.”
After that sarcastic greeting, Clara backs away from Shoa’s piercing gaze, her back pressing against the glass of the back door.
“What the- W-what are you doing here!?”
“I’m here acting as head of these operations, sweetheart. You want permission to wipe your ass, your gonna haveta get it from me.”
“You’re my boss?”
“And the boss the other motherfuckers sitting on this train. And speaking of seats, get your ass on one of them before I shove my boot into yours.”
Upon that order does the scientist scuttle around the punk, making haste to whatever seat was nearby.
Resting her lab coated ass upon the torn leather of the subway seats, she takes another glance of the ski mask that the Dandy had bestowed upon her; taking a gander of its canine like design.
Scanning to the side of the cabin, she bared witness to her neighbors and teammates donning similar apparel.
Puffy birds, fancy fish, screaming monkey and cats from all over the globe, this cart was looking a lot like a wool knitted zoo, except with no one in charge knowing the definitions of hygienic upkeep.
With a deep breath passing through, she garbs the dog mask over her head, adjusting her glasses from within the wool.
From underneath the mask, the sound of snickering reaches her ears. A glance to the side showing Shoa letting out a light chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” the scientist wonders aloud.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking how good of a fit that mask is. Now everyone’s gonna see ya the way I do.”
“And where might your mask be? Everyone in here’s got a helmet cap on but you.”
“Bitch, I don’t need one of those masks to cover my mug cause I ain’t some candy ass chicken like all y’all.”
Turning away from the scientist, the punk heads towards the front of the cart as she finishes her statement.
“I want my face to be something that those Canadians fear.
The sudden terror overwhelming their fragile psyches as they see me rush in with my blood soaked machete. Can’t get enough of that. Their fear is my cocaine.”
Once Shoa stood at the end of the cart, the punk turns towards her crew, who await for her word as they sit upon the sides of the train.
“Alright. Heads up, you worthless excuses for soldiers! This ain’t a mission for fucking pansies. We going on a bombing run here, people!
Once we get in there, it won’t long before those Canadian bastards show up and scramble the place.
If they don’t gun yer ass down first, their gonna haul ya to somewhere to torture you.”
“Torture!?” one of them blurts.
“Ooh yeah! They ain’t gonna hesitate to try any method their sick little minds can think of on you.
And none of that weak shit like waterboarding or pulling teeth, nah.
We talking about the kind of horribly depraving stuff, like being force to listen to a screaming monkey trying to play the violin for hours on end while strapped to the end of a wheel, or having to sit through 48 straight hours of elephants give births with your eyes taped open.”
“Ew!” Clara exclaim.
“Oh that ain’t even the worst of it; they got plenty more in store for ya.
Like making you undergo countless inhuman experiments; injecting you with bizarre and almost alien chemicals.
Or starving you for days on end and forcing you to have an eagles eye view of their cafeteria, making you watch as dozens of soldiers stuff themselves with delicious dishes the likes of which you sons of bitch can only dream of.”
“Jeez”
“Yep, and guess who the bad bitch here is who’s been through all of it?
So if those maple leaved bastards wind up catching ya...Well, may god help you.”
The passengers lining the seats look to one another, their masks covering their expressions.
Thankful that they are, as none of them could bare witness to the scientists stare of trepidation.
Didn’t think that these Canadians would be avid fans of strange and unusual punishment.
But given what she’s seen of them so far, it’d be a scientific breakthrough to predict anything they do.
“Anyway, if you don’t wind up getting shot or snagged, your gonna be racing your way through the power plant in teams of uh...”
In her hesitance, she counts the number of passengers on board, continuing her briefing with:
“3. Two to shoot the guns and one to carry the bomb. You be taking our homemade explosives to the power plants multiple cores.
If things go as planed, then the multiple booms will chain together and whole place will go up in smoke.
Boom, poof, just like forth of July.”
“Ain’t that holiday a myth?”
“Now If some of you guys get to a core and start to arm one of them, contact everyone else via radio.
At that point, the rest of you will have 30 minutes to plant the rest and get the hell outta there.
Don’t matter what happens, just make sure our bombs get armed. Saving yer sorry asses will be on your own time. I ain’t no kindergarten teacher.
I ain’t gonna sugarcoat this shit, some of you might not make it to see tomorrow. Hoping some of you do more than others.”
Upon saying that, the punks eyes drift towards the scientist, a grin stretching across her face.
Clara scoots away from Shoa’s glare as far as she can, her canine like mask covering the quiet groan that escapes her.
Parting her gaze from Clara, Shoa continues with her briefing by adding:
“Once this baby makes its stop, were gonna be heading up out in the open.
Climbing out of these shitty tunnels, there’s gonna be a van parked nearby that’ll drive us to the plant, packed with all the fireworks we need to get this light show going.
When we get close enough, were gonna sneak our way towards the back and work our way from there.
I say it’d be about 10 minutes or so before we reach our stop, so take that time to do whatever you want.
Say your prayers, have your last thoughts, cry like little bitches, jerk off, I don’t give a shit.
Just be ready to run like your racing through the Minnesota battlefront once this baby comes to a halt.
Upon that does the team await for their stop, Clara wondering why exactly Shoa beamed her that merciless glare from earlier.
Seriously, just what the hell is this lady’s deal? Haven’t even been with these guys for less than a day and already this bitch is just nonstop with the hostility.
Wonder what exactly went through her head that made her want to serve the scientist a hearty foot long sock to the face surprise packed with insults and threats.
Guess it ain’t exactly a surprise that someone whose been through all the weird tortures she’s just described wouldn’t be of right mind, but what makes her want to bear her fangs at the scientist.
First impressions? Looks? Madness? Or maybe she just the overly possessive type.
The first time she saw Clara was with her mysterious honey boo, so maybe that’s what’s got her hostility flaring on all sides.
Either way, might wanna try and get on this mad cow’s good side, else she might wind up with a whole platter of ass kicking shoved down her throat.
And just like that do those ten minutes go by, the train coming to a grinding stop upon the rusted tracks.
One by one do the crew rush out of the cart, their punk leader giving them a slap on the ass as they roll out.
“C’mon, ladies and gents. I wanna see some passion out there. Lets move it.”
Clara being that last to exit, the punk delivers a particularly hard slap to her lab coated ass, the smack making her let out a swift yelp.
With their leader swiftly taking the front, they’re lead over the subway toll dividing the lobby from the tracks; the scientist nearly trips upon the rustic steel back.
Regaining her balance, she rushes back towards the crew starting to ascend a set of concrete stairs.
Near the end of the steps, a plank barricade threatens to halt their ascent, the sunlight leaking out from the gaps of the wood.
Approaching the blockade, the punk kisses her knuckle before she tucks in her fist and readies to swing.
With but a single strike, Shoa quite literally punches her way through the wooden barrier; planks of wood flying through the air as they exit from the concrete tunnels.
Rushing through the crack and abandoned streets, Clara takes in the fresh open air once more.
So glad to be out of those musty tunnels. Rather take the industrial air of the city over the scent of rust and feces any day.
The waning twilight also proves to be a fresh change of scenery, the sunset beaming out from the brunt down homes and decaying buildings.
She’s not able to enjoy the great outdoors for long however as her and the rest of the crew are lead down an alleyway.
Down the brick corridor do all of them come to a black van, free from a brand name or license plate.
Kind of makes sense to have an unmarked vehicle, what with the traffic patrols around here and such.
Even so, looks a little familiar. Wonder why?
Before she has time to dwell on such familiarity, she’s pulled into the back with the rest of her teammates.
The scientist squeezes her figure between her crew mates and the firearms.
From her seat, she finds the rest of the crew fairing no better in space, stuck between themselves, the guns, and these strange purple squares as big as briefcases.
Once the doors behind them were shut, the van drives out from the alley and into the busy streets of Niagara.
As the van swerves and weaves throughout traffic, the crew stuck in the back are tossed about alongside the supplies; one of the square devices smacking themselves upon the scientist faces in the chaos.
Shoa holds onto the handle resting atop the window as she grips the passenger seat; the driver beside her rapidly spinning the wheel in his efforts to avoid an accident.
Soon, the ride begins to smooth out, a sigh escaping from the punk in the passenger seat.
“Dammit Pete! Easy with the wheel! Don’t want the cargo to go off before we even get there.”
“Sorry boss.”
After mouthing off the driver, Shoa turns her gaze towards her team in the back; the crew buried among themselves and the firearms.
“As for the rest of you. Get yer asses up off the floor, cause we’ll be at the power plant sooner than you think.”
Pulling themselves out from the pile of guns and purple, the words of their impatient captain reach their ears.
“Now, raise your hand if know how to handle a gun.”
Upon that request do over half of the people in the back hold their hands up high, Clara nearly joining them to volunteer.
Her arm halfway up however, the scientist begins to realize that she has very little in terms of experience and begins to lower her palm back down.
Sure, she’s wielded the occasional pistol and rifle every now and again; but not enough have any expertise on the art of firearms.
This physicist ain’t no marksmen She won’t be making anybody shit their pants anytime soon.
The punk swiftly takes count of the number of hands up, finishing her count with:
“Right then, the pansies that didn't raise their hands are on bomb duty.”
Declaring that, she reaches out for one of the purple squares littering the pile of guns with but a single hand.
“While the two guns with ya will be covering your cowardly asses, you’ll be hauling these homemade bad boys through the halls of the plant, making sure they don’t get shot or go off early.
If ya manage that, it’ll be on you to arm these puppies once you stick em to the cores.
And like I said before, once one of you rig them to blow, get in touch with everyone and warm em.
At that point, you’ll get 30 minutes to book it outta there before the place turns into a maelstrom of flaming metal and sparking lights.”
“W-what do these cores look like?” someone wonders aloud.
“Oh, you’ll know when you see,em. Trust me.”
The guns and bombs being passed out like party favors, a question can’t help but slip through Clara’s lips
“And might I ask what you might be doing in all this?”
“Who, me?
While the rest of you scramble to the core, trying to not get yer asses shot down, I’m gonna be holding the Canadian forces back to try and give you people time to work your magic.”
“All by yourself?”
“Yep, like to see those armored assholes try and land a shot on me.
Now, as much of a bad bitch I am, I ain’t perfect. Couple of those sneaky bastards might slip past me.
So be on your guard. Never know when one of them might pop out of a hallway and shove their rifles down yer throat.”
Out from the front window of the van, the site of an odd building comes into view.
“Is that...”
“Yep, feast your eyes, bitches. A genuine Canadian power plant.”
Right upon the first sight, this particular facility makes itself distinct from the neighboring buildings; sporting a new, more sleek design in comparison to the rustic and patched ones surrounding it.
Kind of seeing a pattern here.
Driving past the parking lot of the plant, the van cruise its way into a dark alleyway not too far away.
Once deep enough down the alley; the van is quickly driven between the gap; Clara and the rest of the crew pouring out of the back as soon as they come to a stop.
Hoping out from the passengers seat, Shoa swiftly jumps to the front; demanding the entire team to:
“Alright boys, its almost showtime. Get your shit together and follow me.”
Upon her orders does the whole team tails their punk captain down the alley, Clara struggling to keep up as she heaves one of the bombs in her arms.
Figure these things would be pretty light given how Shoa handled one of them like an empty pizza box earlier.
But nope! Turns out these hefty explosives weigh on par with a cement block. Probably could bludgeon someones head in with one swing of it.
Their stealthy endeavors soon come to a stop, Clara bumping into the masked gunner in front of her upon the sudden halt.
The gun turns back towards the scientist, Clara slightly backing away with a nervous chuckle escaping from her mask.
Peeking out behind the gunmen, she finds the crew having stopped in front of an opening shining forth a bright orange light.
Must lead out into the streets. Makes sense to stop then.
No doubt that seeing a bunch of weirdo’s dressed in animal masks carrying around guns and bizarre purple boxes down an alley would raise some panicking concerns and rifle barrels there way.
“Shit. Didn’t think it be this busy.”
Turning away from the blinding light, the punk leaders looks to her crew
“Alright, assholes. Here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna bolt through this opening in groups of three.
When I give the word, y’all gonna run like the last runner on home, ya hear?”
Upon those orders do the crew ready to rush past the twilight opening, Clara hoisting her heavy load for a better grip.
Might be kind of a pain to rush on through with such a hefty burden, especially such a light weight build as hers.
But maybe if she manages to take advantage of the bombs weight, she can fling herself towards the other side.
A long shot, but one that might just work.
Peeking out the corner, Shao raises her hand in front of her crew, the men and women behind her anticipating for her order.
Her hand pointing to the other side, a group of three zooms past, their shadows plastering upon the sun kissed wall.
Once those three make it back into the shadow, the punk commands another three to zip by.
3 by 3 do the crew rush through the light, Clara edging closer and closer to her punk leader.
Finally all that was left was her and Shoa, their figures mere inches from the waning sunset.
“Alright, bitch. Your up.”
Hearing this, the scientist begins to swing the bomb in place, the punk beside her worried at what she might be up to.
“Uh, the hell are you doing?”
Before that question could be asked, Shoa sees the scientist throws herself with the bomb towards the other side.
Both of them are flung into the air the bright sunset beating down upon their side.
Right when she nears the edge of the shadows, Clara lands upon the concrete with a hard thump.
“God dammit!”
Darting forward, the punk grabs hold of the scientist as she zooms past and quite literally drags her into the darkness.
Once Clara is cloaked in the darkness, she rises from the concrete; the first site she bares witness two being Shoa’s glare.
“Just what the hell is wrong with you!? Did swimming in all that sewer water rot your brains!?
Your lucky these things are impact resistant, else our ashes would be scattered through this whole alley by now!”
“I-I thought I could fly past by throwing myself with its weight.”
Inches from Clara’s canine snout, the punk gives only a single bit of advice:
“How about next time you get one of your bright idea’s, trying to not do it with something that can blow up in our faces.”
The team continuing onward, the scientist peeks out of the open alleyway; beyond the sunset, she finds the passersby have not noticed her or her plunder.
Okay Clara, could have managed all that a little bit better. But at least no one out in the streets held witness to your blunder. And that’s really the only thing that matters, right?
Moving past the dividing light, the crew sneaks towards the back of the plant, Clara taking a much tighter grip of her bomb.
When finally near the back, all of them run into a slight snag in their plans: a lone staff member, taking a smoke break beside the door.
Seeing the man lounging upon the sleek wall of the plant, Shoa quietly curses.
“Dammit! Why now of all times does this jackass think it’d be a good time to smoke his joint?
Fucking weasel might lock the door and rat us out if we try and jump in now.”
In the punks anger, Clara scoots to her side and gives her own opinion on the matter with:
“Relax. I’m sure it won’t be too much longer before he heads back inside. Let’s just wait him out.”
“Screw that shit. Who know long that’ll take before were busted. Besides...”
From her backside, the punk unsheathes her machetes; the scent of rusty blood escaping from the scabbard.
“Can’t stand the thought of waiting.”
Its after that statement that Shoa jumps out from the cover of darkness, lunging towards the lounging employee.
Finding the punk swiftly on the approach, the worker rushes for the door, his smoke dropping out of his mouth in his hurry.
Right when the mans palm was resting on the handle, his jugular is sliced open; cherry red blood spilling upon the concrete as he falls.
That potential witness having been dispatched, she calls for her crew with a hand signal to approach.
Her team gathering, the punk gives to them one final warning before they move.
“Alright, hope everyone here’s ready for a marathon, cause once we break through those doors, y’all ain’t stopping til you get to those cores. Got it?”
With that out of the way, the crew take their positions facing the back door.
As the team prepare to barge in the plant, Clara can not help but stare down upon the corpse of the executed employee.
Poor bastard never could’ve guessed that this would be his last day upon this mortal coil. Probably could have avoided his gruesome fate all together if he wasn’t so dependent on his nicotine. Wrong place at wrong time, I suppose.
Kind of brings up old memories of that time in Louisville; seeing countless corpses of resistance teammates, guards, and civilians.
Wonder how Barely is doing?
From inside the power plant, dozens of other employees venture through the halls decorated with bright displays and blinking machinery; some of them taking note of the plants statues and regulating power.
The catwalks lining the halls carry other workers as they roam the facility, watching the glass windows to their side.
One particularly upset worker furiously bangs on the back door; barking beyond the steel with:
“Jerry, when the hell are you gonna come back in!? I’m done covering your shift so you can get your daily smoke.
I swear, I’m gonna take that joint of yours and shove it up your-”
Before her empty threat could finish, the back door swings wide open; its hard steel striking the employee down.
From earshot of the slam do all the nearby workers gaze in its direction, witnessing a band of animal masked guns forcing their way in.
Finding their barrels aimed in their direction, all the employee’s start to scatter away from the intruding bunch, their panicked screams echoing through the halls alongside their running footsteps.
Sad to say that some them fail to flee from the guns, as they’re quickly shot at from behind.
The machine decorated halls having been cleaned out of living employee’s, Shoa and her crew move in; the punk quickly briefing her orders before departing.
“Alright, ladies. Only got one shot to do this. Move out!”
Upon that order does the crew split into groups of three, one with a box accompanied by two guns.
Clara starting to sprint through the corridors, she takes a look back towards the corpse left behind; worry beginning to root itself into her consciousness.
As the scientist is escorted through the halls with the bomb in her arms, she can’t help but bare witness to the two guns aiding in her escort open fire on whatever stood in their path.
One worker attempts to approach with a screwdriver in hand, ready to end their assault right then and there.
But her attack proves utterly fruitless against the teams firepower and the foolishly brave employee is decorated with bullet wounds.
Another attempts to call for help as they run across the catwalk, warning everyone about the trios approach as he passes through.
“No you don’t.” one of the guns utters; aiming his barrel towards the passing employee.
His warning don’t reach far as one of the guns aims above and silences his panicking once and for all.
Jeez, these guys are merciless. The word overkill might be best applied here. Guy wasn’t even trying to fight back.
At least the resistance back in Louisville gave the unarmed a chance to flee before unloading their clips.
Ahead, the trio witness some of the workers retreating into the rooms upon the sides of the hallway; the doors shutting behind them with a loud bang.
Rather then halt in their sprint through the halls to peek inside and gun them all down, the armed escorts simply ignore the hiding employee’s and continue on ahead.
Wonder why they didn’t just gun them all down too? Was it mercy? Waste too much time? Not worth the led?
Questions that swirl in the scientist mind as they continue to sprint down the halls.
Venturing further down the corridors, the echo of a manly shout causes Clara and the guns to halt in their tracks.
“Halt!”
With that demand do the lights in the hall dim, the guns aiming around for the origin of the call.
Looking above, Clara draws the attention of the guns in front of her with:
“Up there.”
Their gaze rising towards the catwalk, all three of them spot a light shining down upon a costumed figure holding a massive wrench hoisted above his shoulder; a long tail coming out from his behind.
“Your terrorizing assault on this plant will advance no further. For you now face the industrial might of…
The Might Monkey wrench!”
Upon the cry of his name does the man hold his wrench high; a brilliant gleam emanating from behind his massive build.
The blinding light forces all who face him to shield their eyes from the glow.
“I know what questions dwell within your head, the thoughts that your minds wonder towards.
“Who is he? Why is he dressed like that? Why in the world does he need a wrench that massive?”
I bet your just dying to find out, aren’t you?”
Her gaze still shielded from the illuminating glow, all the canine masked scientist could utter was:
“Ahh...Not reall-”
“Very well, before I enact the justice you people deserve, I shall reveal the heart breaking tale of my origin.”
“As a young man growing up in a small radioactive town in the state of Minnesota, I have always had a passion for the tools of construction.
As I worked to repair one of the radioactive siphons of our humble village, my toolbox had took the plunge within the highly nuclear waste.
My heart had been struck with an intense fear, my favorite tools I had treasured ever since by papa gave to me before passing away when I was a wee baby boy of age 6, gone; melted by the cruel chemical compound of the radioactive waste.
But as my hopes and dreams were melting before my eyes, a miraculous site played before me.
My wrench, having grown in size upon the radiation, jumped out from the deadly green sludge and towards its master.
Overjoyed by my tools survival, I stretched my arms and awaited to embrace its handle once more.
Holding its steel, I felt an overwhelming sensation flow through my body.
At first I thought it was the love for my precious tool return, but no.
Instead, it showed itself to be a powerful transformation surging through my entire being.
My muscles grew tenfold, strong enough to lift a hauling truck with ease.
Out from my back sprouted a tail, one that reached as far as my head.
Using my newfound strength to aid the people of my town, I quickly gained the attention of our Canadian neighbors.
Approaching me, they offered to take me to one of their facilities where they were researching super human abilities.
At first I declined, mentioning how I could help my people with the gift I had been bestowed with.
But then, they revealed to me a deal that I could not refuse.
Salvation, for the entirety of my village. A one way ticket out from the hellish remains of the ruins.
Agreeing to their demands, my friends and family had been flown to better parts of the north, free from the hardships of hunger and thirst; all while I had been whisked away to train under the maple leaved army.
For years, I had spent being experimented and trained under their command, honing by body and perfecting my skills with my trusty giant wrench.
To that day, I have sworn my loyalty and allegiance to the Canadian forces and have vowed to protect and serve their citizens from the likes of dastardly villains such as your-”
Right when the might monkey wrench was nearing the finish of his grand tale, dozens of led bullets pierce their way through his chest.
The countless shots cause him to descend from the catwalk, the costumed figures tossing his wrench as he drops.
The masked monkey wrench falls upon the tile floor, a splatter of blood spurting out of his body upon impact.
In his stupor, he attempts to reach out for Clara and the guns, uttering his final words.
“I-I won’t let-”
Just as his overly winded origin story has led to his ironic demise, so too does his trusty wrench; the blunt end of the tool crushing his head in fell swoop.
Watching as his reaching arm drops upon the floor, Clara and the guns look to each other.
Even with their faces masked, it was pretty obvious to one another what was going through their minds right now.
Just what the hell was all that about!?
Poppin out of nowhere and babbling on and on about his giant wrench or something.
That whole spiel and a half just for the guy to be nothing but costumed weirdo obviously compensating for something.
Sounds like something a condescending jackass would make up to pad out a story’s length.
Anyway, the trio continue down the corridor; sidestepping away from the masked monkey wrenches beheaded corpse before picking the pace back up.
Best to just talk about the weird shit later; there’s still a job to be done.
Upon turning the corner, the guns almost immediately back away; a sudden ray nearly blowing their heads off.
In their abrupt retreat, they cause Clara to tumble on the hard tile floor.
Hissing on her sudden knockback, the scientist rubs her back as she rises back up, barking to her escorts:
“Ah! What was that about!”
“We got ourselves a problem.”
“Huh?”
Fancying a peek out into the hall, she finds a lone Canadian soldier, pointing its rifle down the machine decorated corridor.
The guard takes aim towards the corner; a barrage of beams burst out from the rifles barrels.
Clara and the guns retreat back to cover right before their head could be fried by the rays.
“Great. Of all the teams that this asshole had to ambush, ours had to be the winning number, didn’t it?” the other gun complains.
From the corner, one of the scientists escorts unloads his clip down the choke point; taking cover whenever a laser is fired his way.
“How’s ya doing down there?”
“No good. Bullets just bounce right off his monster.”
Curious if the masked man’s words rang true, Clara fancies a look down the corridor.
Just as the man claims; no matter how much led his unloaded on its shiny metal; the shots simply bounce of the soldiers thick titanium armor plating.
Finding the seemingly unstoppable soldier slowly encroaching towards the corner, the scientist looks towards the Canadians surroundings in hopes of stopping its assault.
Need to find a leverage against that armored monster, fast. Gotta be something around here that can be taken advantage off.
To that end, she peek to the catwalk overhead, noticing a piece of the metal walkway showing to be loose from the others.
Below be one of the massive panels used to check power statues; a small gap showing itself between it and the wall.
Taking note of all this, a strategy swiftly begins to form in the scientist head.
Wishing to test her hypothesis; she sets the bomb down and grabs hold of one of her guns firearms.
“Mind if I borrow this, thanks.” the scientist swiftly says before swiping the weapon from his grasp.
“H-hey! Wait a sec!”
Peeking behind the corner alongside the other gun, she unloads a whole clips upon the loose catwalk, her aim being less then on point.
But with several wayward shots does she manage to break the metal off its screws.
Before she could see the results of her endeavors play out, Clara is jerked back into cover before her head could be sniped off.
Once behind the wall, the masked gun takes his firearms back from the scientist grasp.
“Gimme that! What the hell’s wrong with you!? You trying to waste our ammo!?”
“I did not waste a thing, okay. Look up to the catwalk.”
As the scientist had suggested, both guns peek out towards the catwalk ahead, seeing the metal walkway slide off its hinges.
From above, the piece of the metal slams down upon the machine below, knocking it off balance and sending it tumbling down towards the guard below.
Seeing the machine to the side threatening to slam down, the soldier attempts to rush out of its descent.
The guard however, fails to evade in time and the panel comes crashing down upon him in a crash of sparking metal.
“Holy shit!” one of the guns exclaims.
The guard attempts to lift the heavy panel off its person; reaching out for the trio around the corner.
However, the overwhelming shock from the busted machine soon thwarts his efforts, the heavy steel coming down upon the soldier once more.
As Clara returns her grasp towards the purple boxed bomb, the guns approach the wreckage; nearing one of the soldiers arms sticking out from the broken machine.
Poking the outward arm with the end of the barrel, one of the gun’s wonder aloud:
“You think it’s dead?”
“Has to be. Never seen anybody live through a crash that bad.”
Walking past them with the bomb in her arms, the scientist asks for her escorts to:
“C’mon. Who knows how much time we’ve burnt.”
Keeping their eyes upon the wreck before they turn the corner, the two guns follow Clara down the corridor; a flow of electricity emitting out from the Canadian guards arm.
As they run through a room full of what seemed to be turbines, the radio on one of the guns side goes off.
From the radio’s speakers, one of the teams warns the others with:
“Come in, all teams in the plant. We have armed the bomb to the core and is counting down as we speak.
All of you have less then 30 minutes to plant the rest and get out while you can. So move yer asses!”
Once the radio goes silent, all three of them pick up the pace; blazing through the turbine room as fast as their legs could carry.
Against the clock, the trio race through the halls of the plant as dozens of plant employee’s rush past.
A worker to their front flings a mallet towards the trio in an effort to halt their hasty progress.
The hammer careening towards the scientist, Clara jumps out of the flying tools way; tightly gripping the bomb in her dodge.
Not making the same mistake twice here. This bad boys ain’t gonna be having an explosive reunion with the ground anytime soon.
In retaliation, the guns fire a couple rounds in the pitchers direction, the mans yellow vest now sporting spots of red.
Finally, all of them rush into a massive room baring a glass orb in its middle.
The glass rests atop a tall transparent pillar; thousands of pink electrical volts swimming through the entire translucent structure.
The casing before them sparks a familiar dread within the scientist, recognizing the towering structure in similar vein to the green core back in New Boro’s.
The haunting image of those mutated refugees trapped behind those glass cages will forever burned into her very mind.
The whistle of one of the guns reaching her ears, snaps Clara out of her reminiscent trance.
“Damn. This thing is gigantic.”
“Yeah. How you wanna bet this oversized glass sculpture’s the core?”
“It’d be a pretty safe bet to make.”
Turning towards the scientist, one of the guns asks her if:
“You’ve seen something like this before?”
“Something like it, yeah.”
“Well, go on then. Stick the bomb to it. Don’t know how long we got before this place goes up in smoke.”
Just as the gunmen had order, Clara begins to approach the glowing pink tower.
Nearing the base of the bright pink core, Clara readies to put the bomb in place.
Attempting to stick the explosive onto the glass, she finds the purple box to simply slide to the floor.
Looking at its reflective yellow back, the scientist wonders how to make the bomb actually stick.
One of the guns manages to get her attention, telling her to:
“Ya gotta remove the plastic foil first.”
“Hurry, dammit! Before we’re all blown straight to-”
Right upon the guns urgency, a worker pounces out from the corridor with a screw driver in hand.
Before his partner could open fire upon the approaching employee, the worker jumps him, jamming the sharp end of his tool into the guns eye socket.
Witnessing the guns blood stain his mask as he screams out in the chaos, Clara quickly turn back towards the pipe and peels the plastic foil right off the back.
The gunshots reaching her ears, Clara sticks the bomb on the transparent tube.
Gazing to the front of the homemade explosive, one enigma rattles the scientists mind.
How in ever loving hell do you work this thing?
That punk ass bitch never gave a lick of an explanation on how to actually arm these bad boys.
Only thing to come out of her mouth was: “Duh, just get to the core and stick these boxes on.”
Ah well, can’t be that hard. Only three and buttons and an LED screen on here. One of them’s gotta arm it.
Cautiously, Clara’s finger makes its way to the blue button first. Not really much of an expert on bomb design, but blue seems like a good color to start with.
Pressing the indigo button causes an alarm to blare from the box; the chaotic screaming and gunshots combining with it quickly overwhelming the scientists hearing.
Desperate to silents the box’s wails, Clara mashes the same button repeatedly until the loud blaring ceases.
Alright, not as graceful as a start as you wished it would be. But hey, that’s what trail and error is all about, right?
Hopefully, the green button next to the blue one will be the right one to start with.
And to her delight, the green button causes the LED screen to light up, alongside letting out an announcement in spliced together voice clips.
“This bomb is- rigged to blow- boom goes the dynamite- Press the next button- to send this baby rollin- Punch this cow, man...”
Okay…one step down at least. Lets hope the next step don’t result in their bodies being served extra crispy with a side of ketchup.
Maybe the red button next?...Nah, best not. Red isn’t particularly a promising color.
How about the blue button again?
Pressing that button causes a set of numbers to display on screen, the LED displaying 30 minutes.
Yes! Only one button left and this bomb will be set to blow.
A wayward bullet grazing past the front of her face serves as a very effective reminder to hurry.
Facing the explosive, she quickly cuts the bullshit and presses the only button left to push.
The crimson button pressed, the numbers immediately start to countdown.
Right. Got this puppy set to make fireworks outta this core. Just need to scram before the show takes an early start.
Turning towards the exits, she bares witness to the aftermath of the fight that took place from behind; the corpses of the gunmen and the worker bleeding out on the floor.
“Are you alright?” the scientist wonders as she approaches the remaining gun.
“Yeah...You set the bomb?”
“Yeah...”
“Good. Let’s go.”
With that said, Clara and the gun begin to head away from the Core, butnot without the masked gunmen taking a glimpse back towards the body of his partner.
“See ya, Ted. Hope they have tons of macaroni and cheese wherever your heading.”
His final words to his comrade spent, the gun starts to follow after the scientist.
In their race through the wrecked corridors of the plant, they catch sight of the many corpses set along the halls.
As morbid a scene it is, it at least helps the duo retrace their steps towards the exit.
Seems like this escape might actually go as smooth as Angelo’s silk.
Damn bear spider for up and leaving me out in the middle of the city like that. Don’t need her hairy thorax to get across that stupid wall anyway.
But alas, their attempted departure soon runs into an unexpected snag.
In their trace back towards the exit they barged into, they soon run come across the downed machine that Clara had knocked over earlier; the Canadian soldier still under the broken panel.
Right after they hop over the sparking wreckage, the heavy machinery suddenly rockets off the floor.
Both the scientist and the gun look back, witnessing the armored guard rising from its supposed stupor as electricity flows through its titanium plating.
After punching the broken panel right off its back, the soldier takes aim down the corridor towards the two.
Coming to the intersection ahead, a single demand is all that he as time to let out.
“Split up!”
Just as ordered, Clara and the masked gunman go their separate ways in attempts to lose the reawakened Canadian; evading the soldiers searing rays.
Looking back, the scientist finds the armored guard to be in pursuit of the gun.
Though relieved to be out of immediate danger, she knew that this encounter had left her completely defenseless.
The rest of the trip out of this soon to be molten crater might turn into a rough one, that much is certain.
Wagering that she has about 17 minutes left on the clock, Clara races through the hall with but one question on her mind.
Which way is the exit in this place? All these hallways look the damn same, it’s hard to tell where the hell you are.
It don’t help that the exit signs have been shot off the ceiling in the chaos.
Jeez, racing against the clock is bad enough, now she’s gotta out run the timer in what’s basically a confusing maze.
Ya know what, no. Now’s not the time for negative thinking. Gotta stay positive in this.
She’ll find her way outta this maze in time, no matter what her nemesis, chaos theory dares to throw at her.
Right upon that thought, she turns the corner to find a whole squadron of Canadian soldiers running down the hall in her direction.
On that site, she turns at the step and bolts down the other way; a barrage of lasers passing her side as she flees.
Clara begins to question why she even bothers at this point.
Seeing her turn the corner, the battalion of soldier pursue the masked scientist with their rifles at the ready.
Upon the turn are they dumbfounded to find their target nowhere in site, seemingly having vanished entirely from the halls.
No matter where they look, the armored army fails to find a single sign of her.
In reality however, the scientist had hide herself above the catwalk; crouching near the corner to conceal as much of her body as possible.
The constant metal steps of the troops in her ears, she coils her body into the corner as deep as she can, hoping that they would not catch a glimpse of her lab coat.
In their search, one of them looks towards a ladder ascending up to the catwalk, noticing droplets of sweat dripping out from the gaps of the metal.
The soldier tempts to investigate the drips above, when a loud bang coming from behind makes the guard halt in its tracks.
Looking towards their backs, the battalion find an incoming punk brandishing a machete swiftly approaching; her crazed eyes locking upon the troops as they see her near.
Quickly taking aim, the squad fires down the hall in hopes of halting her charge; Shoa leaping high over their laser shots.
In her descend down, she lands upon one of the soldiers helms, her overwhelming crash knocking the soldiers metal ass to the tile and crushing its head in a single bloody stomp.
Upon landing does she toss her machete towards another soldier to her front, the blade piercing through the guards thick armor plating.
Dashing forwards with an upsetting laugh, she grabs hold of her machetes handle and kicks the corpse towards the opposing army.
The battalion knocked over like a set of pin, struggle to quickly rise as their foe approaches.
One of them manages to get up before the others, taking their aim towards the punk.
However, the soldiers efforts prove to be too late as Shoa gets right up in the guards face and grasps at his arms.
Pulling upon the guards limbs, she rips them right off as effortlessly as pulling wet cardboard.
Right when she tore the arms off, the punk smacks their owner with them in a sprinkle of titanium shards and crimson.
As the soldier before her fell to the wayside, Shoa witnessed several of its comrades aim their sites upon her.
Upon firing their rifles, a barrage of rays streak their way towards her direction; a smile stretching across the punks face.
With nothing but her trusty blade, she deflects the lasers towards the ceiling above; the roof cracking upon the blasts.
Almost immediately, the roof collapses; the rubble landing upon the opposing army before her.
Buried under the chunks of roof and light fixtures, nothing stopped Shoa from advancing her rampage against the Canadian forces; the punk continuing to run down the halls with a war cry.
Having witness this slaughter firsthand, Clara’s body can’t help but shake in pure terror.
Just one of those soldiers were enough to stop her and her escorts dead in their tracks, a foe that she had to calculate around in order to bypass.
But her punk leader didn’t even have to think at all to mow a dozen of them down with nothing but her own strength and a machete.
Thinking back to what she said back on the train ride about her time in their torturous clutches, she wonders what kind of experimentation they made her undergone to become such an unstoppable force; one that possesses a grudge against the scientist no less.
The very thought makes her want to run as far away from such a monster as possible.
Except...it’s likely that tailing the merciless punk might led to the exit in time; Clara knowing that she doesn’t have much other options under her belt by this point.
Rising from the metal platform with a weary sigh, the scientist begins to follow the punks footsteps in hope of making her swift escape.
Above the catwalk does she pursue the punk at a safe distance, careful not to alert Shoa in her dash through the hall.
Doesn’t take a nuclear physicist to understand why you shouldn’t let a woman like that realize your chasing them.
Gonna need to exercise extreme caution if she doesn’t wanna wind up with a machete stuck in her stomach.
Before the punk turns the corner, she takes a look towards her back upon the sound of metal steps reaching her ears.
Behind her, she finds nothing but the corpses of workers and soldiers along the sides, their blood spilling upon the cracks of the tile.
Seeing nobody on her tail, she continues ahead down the corridor.
From behind the corner, quietly heavy breaths escape from the scientist lungs.
Nervous sweat soaking through her canine like ski mask, Clara peeks behind the corner to find Shoa having left.
After that terrifying close call, she reluctantly continues her pursuit of the punk in hopes of finding an escape.
Estimating to have around 13 minutes left, she picks up the pace.
In her race along the side of the corridor, she soon comes to the end of the catwalk; not hesitating a single moment to jump off the metal path.
Landing upon the tile floor, she looks ahead to find yet another split path in the hall; a groan leaving past her lips.
The scientist takes a look in both opposing directions, wondering which one her punk leader might have taken.
Thinking that she might have better luck hearing Shoa’s rampage, she listens down both halls for any sign of her incessant rampage.
To that end, her ears catch the noise of muffled screaming and constant banging metal from the left.
Has to be the way that maniac went. Who else can possibly make that kinda chaotic symphony of madness and agony?
Following the shrieks and screams, the scientist rushes down the left corridor in hopes of finding an escape.
The constant sound of panic and terror growing louder, she start to slow herself down to a stealthy pace nearing the corner.
Don’t want to just pop out in the middle of a fight while that mad cow is raging against a battalion of unlucky soldiers.
Could easily wind up taking a fist to the face with that kind of recklessness.
Stopping at the corner, she peeks out towards the hall, prepared to duck back in case a wayward beam decide to get intimate with her head.
To surprise however, she finds the corridor devoid of any life; nothing but knocked over equipment and more corpses.
Coming out from the corner, she wonders what else could be making such a panicking racket.
If it ain’t a blood bath taking place, what else could it be?
Its through the hall that she comes across a window that let her peer in to find a very pitiable site.
The break room, filled with cowering and screaming employee’s worked up in a panic.
Some were whimpering in the corner, praying for somebody to save them from their gruesome end.
Others could be found trying to break through the glass with whatever they could lift.
One of them could be seen trying to pry the grid off the air vent with nothing but their bare hands.
Another was tempting to bang upon the door left at the side of the window, a heavy filing cabinet left barricading them within.
Even from the other side of the glass, she could hear their please and prayers, their screams and sobs, their cries and cursing.
Upon the discovery of these horrible scene are her suspicion finally confirmed.
These workers are just regular citizens. Ordinary, American citizens trying to make a simple living working at this Canadian power plant.
A lot of them didn’t even fight back, but were mowed down all the same.
The realization drawing sympathy from the scientist and with less than 10 minutes left on the clock, she begins to push the heavy cabinet in an attempt to rescue the trapped employee’s.
Though no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn’t nudge the box even an inch.
Good god, this thing is only made of aluminum; how the hell does it weigh so much?
Just how many classified documents do these guys stuffed in here?
Opening one of the drawers let out an inhuman scream of madness and mayhem out into the air.
It would only get a second to shout before Clara swiftly shuts the drawer.
Alright, seem lightening its load ain’t much of an option. Gonna need to find someway to destroy it.
Quickly scanning her surroundings, the scientist manages to find the corpse of a soldier with a laser rifle left in its grasps.
Just what the doctor ordered.
Lapping up the advance firearms out from the cadavers hands, she aims towards the filing cabinet.
Pulling the guns trigger however lets only sparks fly out from the end of the barrel.
Well that’s just perfect. Finally get some hands on one of these beasts and it winds up broken.
Still, probably could pry some use outta this piece of junk. Maybe could wedge it under the cabinet and knock it down to the floor.
The question being what to wedge it between?
Another look around showed not much else besides broken machines and chunks of rubble.
Can’t really lift any of that with her lack of muscle growth.
But still, the scientist proceed to grasp a chunk of machinery with but her arms, dragging its steel across the tile floor towards the cabinet.
Once next to the aluminum box, she lifts the cabinet just enough to wedge the broken gun under it.
Pushing the rifle down between it and the broken panel, she slowly begins to pry the cabinet off the floor and out of the doors way.
Wishing to bust the workers out as swiftly as possible, Clara throws her entire weight down upon the gun, lifting the cabinet a ways off the floor.
Before the box could completely topple over however, the sudden weight shift snaps the firearms in half.
Surprised by the rifles unexpected snap, she soon finds the cabinet tempting to fall back into place.
Acting fast, Clara tackles the descending filing cabinet, throwing her entire body upon the aluminum box.
Once the cabinet has been knocked over, the door to the break room swings open; one employee bursting out from the inside with heavy breaths passing through his mouth.
“Guys!...I got it open! We’re free!” he screams out.
Another worker soon rushes out, claiming to the others that:
“I know where the exit is, come on!”
Eager for their escape, the dozens of other employee’s spill out into the halls like a pack of loose mice and follow the lady’s lead.
Unbeknownst to them, their true savior rises from behind the door, watching as the mob rushes through the blood soaked halls.
If what that woman said held any truth, then it might be in the scientist best interest to tail her as well.
Though she knows better than to just follow right at their backs.
If any of them have caught on to whats happening by this point, then the mere site of Clara would send all of them scattering.
Beyond the cabinet does the scientist begin to pursue the escaping crowd, peeking out from behind the corner once she reaches the turn.
Seeing all the employees turn the right corner, she continues to give close chase.
As Clara keeps to the workers back, she begins to take note of the halls they travel through.
The bloody bodies littering the tiled floor look oddly familiar, not just cause she’s seen countless others before.
The position of the corpses and their wounds, the bullet holes decorating the walls, the sparking panels and machinery; something about the scenes just inflicted her with a fierce beat down of deja vu to her brains.
Before she could finish her thought, the sudden echo of gunfire pierce through the scientist ears.
She pays no mind to the sudden sound of bullets however as she peeks out from behind the corner; finding the very door her and the others burst into.
Rushing towards the exit, relief soon begins to settle in her mind, knowing that she still has about 5 minutes left to make her escape out from this hellish nightmare.
Upon making it out of the plant, that relief is soon erased; horror soon creeping in to take its place upon the terrifying picture set before her.
The dead bodies of the workers that Clara had rescued, piled together in a blood soaked mess right at the door.
Beyond the mound of flesh stood Shoa and half of her crew, their firearms smoking out from the barrel.
“Nice job there, boys. Couldn’t risk any of them tailing us. Better fate for them as any. The damn traitors.”
Right after handing out praise to her team does she notice the scientist standing behind the bloody mess.
“We-ell, what do we have here? Honestly surprised your lab coated ass made it out without a scratch. Kudo’s.”
Though hearing her praise clearly, she fails to give even a single hint of a response, her site still locked onto the crew.
“Alright people. Let’s shove and fuck off on out here. Only got a couple minute before this place blows its payload like a worn out widower. Let’s move!”
Her order given, the punk and her crew abscond from the back of the plant down the alley they arrived.
Breaking out from her trance, the scientist follows soon after.
Dashing through the alley, they dare not bother sneaking through the opening gap leading to the streets, the nightly vial of darkness giving them all the perfect cover from the public eye.
In their swift rush, all of them pile into the back of the van, Shoa hoping into the passengers seat as she screams:
“Pete, punch this bitch outta here!”
Upon her command does the driver slam on the gas; the unmarked van dashing out into the streets; a pair of Canadian chasers soon on their tale.
As the van speeds and swerves through the roads with the Canadian forces in pursuit, Clara and the rest of the crew hang onto whatever the can to keep from being tossed around in the back.
Once the ride had smoothed out, their punk leader takes a look back towards the team, admitting out loud.
“Hey, science bi- uh, chick. Ted told me about what you did back in the plant. How you manage to take out an armored soldier with just a couple bullets. Gotta admit that not a lot of people can take down those maple leaved motherfuckers single handedly.”
Hearing the rest of Shoa’s honest sounding praise, Clara takes off her canine like mask.
“I might have been a bit too rough on ya when we first met. Seeing you alongside my Dandy baby just riled me up is all. I...Sorry about all things I said.”
Almost everyone in the van gasps upon hearing her words; gazing upon both her and the scientist.
“Did she say what I think she did?”
“An apology?”
“I’ve never heard those words come out of her unless it was a threat.”
“Truly a once in a lifetime moment.”
“Even more of a rare sight then finding a leprechaun riding a dragon unicorn fairy.”
These constant mutterings soon deflate the punks smile, demanding that they:
“All of y’all shut yer damn holes! Else each of you is gonna wind up being sorry.”
Finally, the bombs in the plant behind them comes to an explosive climax, the fiery boom consuming it and all
that surrounded it in a wave of flames and ash.
The van soon makes a sharp turn around the corner to evade the blazing wave, everyone inside jerked by the tight right.
“Ah! Come on, Pete! Quit jerking the wheel. Gonna make us all fly out the way your driven.”
“Sorry, boss. The van hasn’t been turning right ever since it crashed its side into the wall this morning.”
Although Shoa’s honest apology does reach, it is the furthest thing on the scientists minds, having realized the situation that she’s found herself in.
Clara had not joined the ranks of a rag tag brigade of humble resistance fighters.
Nay, the scientist had aligned herself to a merciless and bloodthirsty terrorist cell.
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
virtualhabit
Virtual Habit
jocedave21
"That's What I Like"
pampamgomes
Make your change
exactlyzealouswinner
Без названия