STEP ███/███:
Note P.O.I. information. Assess visually. Review operative “Philip Shane.”
“Flank team, center team, Harwood and Wight” the Sergeant said. “With me.”
One, two, three, four figures. None armed.
“Hands up!” the Sergeant yelled. “On the ground! On the ground, now!”
The scientists complied fairly fast, sinking to their knees. Unlike the previous room, this one wasn’t a lab. And the walls weren’t white, but a dull, steely gray, as though the paint had been peeled off to reveal their nature. Metal. Cheap-looking, dingy metal.
One and Two walked in behind the soldiers, removing their masks. One of the scientists cursed as he watched them get nearer.
“You won’t find anything here,” he said. “Not what you want. It’s all…”
Two whispered something as he got close enough. Mark didn’t hear it, but the scientist’s face fell.
“But why?” he asked. “Don’t any of you ever wonder why?”
He got an answer. Whatever it was, he went quiet, and not a word more came from him. The interrogation proceeded, hushed, private, and distant.
Mark swept the room briefly with his eyes. Alarms? South wall. No weapons that he could notice. The main features of the room were large electric curtains along the western wall, a few tables, and a notice board. But Mark’s eyes settled on the curtains for a moment. The window they obscured was massive. Floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall. The curtains looked worn — no, not worn. Just cheap. Poor. Heavy and slow, and connected to the flimsy metal walls that bound this entire facility together.
Be horrifically loud if anyone opens them, Mark noted. The whole place might start to shake, and — there was a button on the wall, presumably to do just that. If anyone pressed it by accident their position would be obvious to all in the facility. The entire mission might be forfeit. They’d have to retreat.
And they just put us in here with it. Not a worry in the world.
Still, Mark had kept track of their traversal through the facility. They were close enough to their entry point that they could likely return to base without much trouble. And they’d cleared those corridors already. An escape route was possible, and probably safe.
At the moment, there was still an easy way out.
“I saw the curtains too,” Dault said happily, noticing him.
The soldiers spread out across the room while the interrogation went on. Mark made a point of staying nearest to the button he assumed triggered the curtains — any one of those people might’ve triggered it by accident, after all. Including Philip, who had already started his not-so-subtle examination of the room’s documents.
“There he goes again,” Dault said. “He’s very disciplined.”
Disciplined? That was the closest Mark ever came to laughing in months. “Sure.”
“He loved her, then?” Dault asked. “The girl he’s looking for.”
“Leave me be.”
“Why did she vanish? Anomaly?” When no response came, Dault just continued. “But he would’ve gone to the Hand, maybe the Foundation, not the Insurgency.”
Mark was overcome with a desire to move and abandon Dault to this side of the room, but he couldn’t leave the blasted curtains unattended. So instead he stood, sulking, while Dault’s faint German accent serenaded him.
“He said she was loyal and brave,” Dault continued. “Maybe she left him.”
“No,” Mark said. Fuck.
“No?”
Goddamn — “Listen,” Mark said, his voice dropping lower. “I told you to leave me alone.”
“What harm am I?” Dault asks. “I just want to —”
“I don’t care. You’re going to leave me alone. And you’re going to leave Philip alone, so help me God.”
“I want to help. Is she your sister, maybe?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You cared too.”
Mark groaned.
“Some sort of family member,” Dault continued. “Tell me. A mother, an aunt, a —”
“A friend,” Mark said meekly. “She —”
Then his blood froze.
Dault followed his gaze.
Opposite the window were larger tables, surrounded with chairs — a meeting or conference room of some kind, it seemed. A few whiteboards lined the walls. The whiteboards were overflowing with writing, pinned notes, and a pinned picture.
Mark couldn’t move.
His eyes searched for Philip, but it was too late. He’d seen it.
Eyes darting to the Sergeant, who was thankfully deeply invested in the interrogation, Mark walked to Philip. “Phil, I —”
“It’s her,” Philip said, pulling the picture off the whiteboard. “They blacked out her eyes, but it’s her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Look at the earring,” Philip said. “I gave her that earring. She said it looked stupid.” He paused, looking at the picture. “There it is.”
“Listen,” Mark said. “Keep a level head. We can’t —”
“What’s Site-19, do you think?”
“What?”
“It says she was spotted near Site-19,” Philip said.
“I don’t know, Phil.”
“We better find out,” Philip said. “Because that’s where… that’s gotta be where they have her. No? They found her… found her, and now they’ve gotta be keeping her… That’s what.”
Still holding the picture, he stumbled a little. Mark came closer to him, but he pushed him away.
“You still think I’m crazy, Mark?” Philip asked. “Conspiracy theorist? They fucking have her. They’ve had her. God, those fuckers.”
“Calm down.”
“People used to tell her to calm down, too. She never did.”
“And for what?” Mark asked sharply.
Philip stared at him.
“Don’t obsess over these people like she did, Phil,” Mark said. “There’s no point. This is above our heads.”
“This is a war,” Philip said.
“And that makes you want to be here?”
“I’m here because it’s the right thing to do,” Philip said. “For Charlie. For her sister. For everyone.”
“And what’s that?”
Philip frowned. “Huh?”
“What’s the right thing? What are we doing?” Mark asked, coming closer. He was still a little bit taller than his brother, even if not by much. “Do you know? Do you have any idea?”
“I have faith,” Philip said.
“Fucking faith,” Mark said. He gestured to the Sergeant, to the other soldiers. “Phil, we don’t know anything about all of this. We shouldn’t be here.”
“I should.”
“Misters Shane,” came a voice. The Sergeant’s head had turned. With a last look at the kneeling scientists, he walked over to Mark and Philip. “This isn’t the time. It isn’t the place. Whatever it is, can it, men.”
Philip nodded slowly, still holding the picture.
“And put that down,” the Sergeant said.
Philip froze.
“Put that down,” he repeated. “That’s an order.”
Philip glanced at the picture. Then at the Sergeant. Then, without warning he rushed away.
“Phil,” Mark whispered.
Philip strode to the four kneeling scientists, the Sergeant close on his tail. He held up the picture. “This woman,” he said. “This woman. What do you know of her?”
The scientists looked up at him.
“Why do you care about her?” Philip asked, more loudly this time. The Sergeant caught up with him. “Where is she?”
“Stand down, soldier!” The Sergeant began to pull him away.
“Where is she?” Philip yelled.
One of the four scientists blinked. “The… sister?”
As soon as they heard that, One and Two, who’d been observing this without a word, soundlessly reached into their coat pockets. They pulled out small, black pistols.
“Don’t!”
Four shots. Blood across the floor. Four thuds.
The Sergeant threw Philip back, sending him against a curtained wall. “The next time you defy my orders,” he said, “is the last time you’ll receive them.”
“Sergeant,” Mark asked. “I’ll keep an eye on him, sir.”
The Sergeant nodded. “You do that. And do a better job, this time.”
Mark nodded. Then turned to Philip.
“The fuck,” Philip said, mumbling.
“Have faith,” Mark said. “Right?”
Philip sank to the floor, sitting against the wall. “Don’t start.”
Mark sat down beside him. “That was stupid, Phil.”
“Worth a shot.”
“Those four men died because you asked that.”
“I didn’t know,” Phil said. “Didn’t know they’d kill them like that. Alright? And they woulda been killed anyway, probably.”
“They won’t forget this.”
“The Foundation?”
“The Insurgency,” Mark said. “Do you think this thing runs on defied orders?”
Philip looked up at his brother, then back down. “It was one slip-up. It’s fine.”
Mark wasn’t so sure. “Why do you think they did that?”
Philip didn’t answer.
“They stopped you from getting answers, Phil.”
His brother pursed his lips, refusing to meet his eyes. “They had their reasons.”
“Their reasons were keeping this shit from you,” Mark said. “From us. From others. One more word and they’d’ve shot you too. Fuck, they still might.”
Philip paused for a very long time. He glanced at his brother, then looked away. Finally, he gritted his teeth and spoke.
“Shut the fuck up.”
He turned away.
There was silence for a moment. Mark looked down at his gun, then at Philip. The image of One and Two with their pistols out was etched into his mind.
One more word, and he would’ve…
He stood, pushing himself up, using the wall as a support. Philip didn’t even glance at him. He never did handle confrontation well.
Breathing sharply through his teeth, Mark returned to his post. He still did have to stand next to that button on the wall. If the curtains were open, all hell would break loose.
He would’ve died.
“I need to get you home,” Mark whispered — though no one heard it but him. “Fuck.”
The words felt weak in the air. His throat closed up and tightened, and suddenly his armor felt heavier — his obtrusive, metallic mask, opaque and alien, felt like it was trying to drag him to his knees. None of his skin was showing. When he looked at himself, all he saw was equipment, fastened tightly around him, strapped to his arms and legs, hanging over his mouth and blanketing his eyes.
“He’s in danger,” came a small, accented voice.
Mark breathed in deep. And back out. He faced away from the room, away from the Sergeant, away from Philip. He stared at the wall.
“He should never have come here,” Dault whispered. “Answers don’t matter in complete silence.”
Mark said nothing. He just breathed in again, deeper this time. And out.
“You’re a military man, aren’t you? I can tell. I can see it in your footsteps. I can see it in your panic. It hangs in the air around you.”
Mark closed his eyes. His heartbeat was slowing down. Finally.
Dault watched him quietly. He whistled softly.
“What do you want?” Mark asked. “Why do you care?”
Dault, short and scrawny as he was, turned to face the room. His masked eyes swept over it, imperious. He turned to Mark again, cocking his head. “What else is there to care about?”
Mark still faced the wall. He looked down at his feet, his jaw clenched.
“You need to leave this place.”
Mark scoffed under his breath. “Right.”
“Yes.”
“This is a mess. Hard to see a way out.”
“Not a clean one, no. Not for a soldier like you.”
“A soldier like me?
“You’re looking for the wrong things here, I think,” Dault mused. “More so than your brother. You’re very used to order. But I’ve been with the Insurgency a long time, Mr Shane. There isn’t even order in their name.”
Mark looked up. At the button on the wall.
His hand swept over it, thoughtful.
“The woman he’s looking for,” Mark said, not looking at Dault. “A long time ago, her sister vanished. Went missing. We all reacted differently. But the woman — her name’s Charlie — took off not too long after her sister disappeared, with a head full of steam and a lot of names. She went missing, too. It wasn’t long before Phil followed those names to the Insurgency. I followed Phil. I guess we’re all missing now.” Mark glanced at Dault. “There’re your answers.”
Dault nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
Mark pushed the button.
And suddenly the room began to shake.
STEP ███/███:
Brace for chaos.
Everyone looked around wildly. A mechanical whirring sound had begun to come from the ceiling, impossibly loud. The walls shook; the floor shook; the ceiling all but shifted with a metallic rat-tat-tat. Suddenly the room started to get flooded with light.
The curtains were opening.
Mark shielded his eyes. The Sergeant yelled something he couldn’t hear; Philip scrambled to his feet.
The light of sunset came in and rose and rose and rose, moving across the floor, covering the soldiers, the corpses, the blood. The whiteboards reflected the light and almost seemed like they had begun glowing gold.
The soldiers of the Chaos Insurgency might’ve braced themselves. But, instead, all their eyes were on the window, and not a thought was spared for the glowing whiteboards or sun-washed corpses.
“What the hell am I looking at?” whispered Philip, walking up behind Mark, eyes wide.
Dault had walked right up to the glass. His eyes were wide. “Unglaublich.”
Spreading beyond the window, so very far that they could barely see it end, was… nothing.
Nothing.
Where dirt should’ve been, there was nothing. Where grass should’ve been there was an abyss. Nothing had taken the shape of a crater so large, the other side of it looked foggy, shrouded in the blur of the horizon. So deep that, under sunset shadows, they couldn’t see the bottom.
On the sides of the crater lay a forest — and where the woods met the crater, trees just simply cut off. They looked sliced in half, entire trunks split partway through, reaching out into nothing.
This is what the Foundation was guarding here? With terrified personnel and metal walls?
“Shipping containers,” Dault whispered.
Mark glanced at him. “What?”
“Look.” Dault pointed.
Through the window, they could now see — if they craned their heads and squinted — another end of the building they were in. And they could finally tell what it looked like from the outside.
Frowning, Mark saw what seemed like large metal boxes, stacked next to each other hap-hazardly and sprawling beside the crater.
“Cargotecture,” Mark said. “We used it in the navy for aviation maintenance. It explains the metal.” He ran his hand over the wall. “They built this place in days. This isn’t a Foundation site. This is a temporary research station.”
“And they’re researching…” Philip asked, “…that? A big hole?”
“A really big hole,” Mark said.
“Why?” Philip asked.
“I —”
Something knocked into Mark. He flew into the window behind him, pain shooting through his shoulder.
He collapsed to the ground, his head craning in time to see the Sergeant’s hard, impassible face, scrunched up so bad that his eyes had sunk behind his eyebrows.
“You idiot,” the Sergeant said. “I said touch nothing.”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Sure you don’t.” The Sergeant spat on the ground.
“We should return to base,” Mark said, pushing himself to his feet. “With all that noise, our position is likely compromised.”
“Fuck,” the Sergeant said. “Fuck.” He pointed. “Don’t move.”
He marched away. One and Two had stopped their investigation to stare out the window in silence. One scribbled some notes down. Two leaned in and muttered something. The rest of the soldiers barely paid them any mind. They were either transfixed by the window, or trying to pretend like they hadn’t seen the Sergeant rough up Mark.
Philip nudged Mark. “What’d you do? Did you open those?”
“I’m bringing us home,” Mark said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
“This is the Insurgency,” Philip said. “Nothing ever goes wrong if we stick to the compilation.”
“Nothing goes wrong,” Mark repeated. “And our weapons glow with providence. Do I have to spell this out for you?”
“Maybe, asshole.”
The Sergeant had begun pacing across the room. With every passing moment, Mark tensed up a little. What was taking him so long? They had to move. Now.
“I’m not leaving,” Philip said.
Mark’s head snapped to face him. “What?”
“Whatever they’re doing here,” Philip said, “Temporary research station. More secrecy than ever. Insurgency R&D deployed on the field, and a fuck-off hole in the ground. Charlie was involved. Somehow. I need to know. I have to.”
Mark looked his brother up and down. “You moron.”
Philip met his gaze.
“You’re a vindictive, arrogant little shit,” Mark said. “Please, stop thinking you can vigilante your way through this.”
Outside, the sunset was coming to a close. The sky above them was shaded dark, and the horizon past the crater turned a stark gold.
“At least I chose a side,” Philip said. “At least I’m doing something. At least I’m not a fucking coward.”
“Quiet!” shouted the Sergeant. “All of you, quiet.” He paused.
He paused for a long time.
He glanced at One and Two.
Finally, he turned to his men. “Right. Stick to the mission. We proceed as planned.”
Mark blinked. His heart tightened. “What? Sir, we — dozens of MTF soldiers might be on top of us in —”
“We stick to the plan, soldier,” the Sergeant said. “That’s an order. We’re nearly finished here, anyway. We’ll keep sweeping the corridors, keep —”
“Madness,” Mark said, slightly louder than he’d meant to.
The Sergeant barely paid him any mind. He gestured to the room. “Move.”
