Fourth Wall

Twenty Four: Answers, Part One

"Well, this is it." Wyll spoke with an unusual solemnity, standing between Astarion and Chloe. He was the first to speak. It was almost dawn. They had just cleared out the last of the cultists on the upper floors.

Chloe swallowed hard, the sound seeming loud to her own ears in the relative silence of the Towers. The clanging of weapons and armor still sounded distantly, but the group stood in front of the doors to the laboratory Chloe had found when she'd done reconnaissance in her feline Wildshape.

Her fingers tingled as they gripped the hilt of her sword. That spreading feeling of dread had only grown in the time that had passed since freeing themselves. Chloe knew that whatever waited on the other side of the door in front of them would likely be her own end, or the beginning of it. She glanced over to Astarion to find him already looking down at her. 

Chloe smiled sadly at him, then turned her attention back to the door. "We're ready." She announced, her voice coming out with a steadiness that surprised her. She didn't look back.

"Speak for yourself," Astarion muttered under his breath, and Chloe gave another weary smile. Halsin's large, warm hand enveloped her shoulder, and she turned slightly to face him.

"Okay?" He asked gently, and she felt his thumb stroke comfortingly. She was surprised how well he'd gotten to know her already. How much he could sense her discomfort, anxiety, and fear. She only nodded tersely in response, turning back to the door. How could she tell them, how could she explain that she had the feeling it was all about to end? She took a steadying breath, sparing a glance over her companions.

"Everyone ready to fuck it up?" She called, and they all gave a somber nod, weapons at the ready.

Time to do it.

Chloe stepped forward and kicked the doors open with a bang, revealing a room littered with bloody gurneys and rusty medical equipment. The bodies on each had ceased their tormented wriggling, throats slashed and bleeding. The man she'd seen infecting them with tadpoles must have already moved to clear his tracks, but he wasn't fast enough. 

Chloe entered the room just as he was lowering himself out the tower window on a rope. The others moved to check the remaining test subjects for signs of life while Chloe marched right over to the window and poked her head out. Below, the weaselly man clutched at the rope with white knuckles, his balding head shiny with sweat. Chloe peered down until he looked up, eyes widening in panic.

She grinned.

"Howdy." She offered cheerily, reaching down and grabbing him by the scruff. The man, clad in a blood-stained white lab coat, yelped and scrambled, afraid she would release him and let him plummet to his death.

It was tempting.

But they needed a few answers first. She pulled him back inside and set him down, a few inches short of being able to stand on his feet. He landed on the stone floor with a dull thud and a groan, looking around at the room full of armed people. They all eyed him with the hunger of a pack of starved wild animals.

"D-Don't hurt me! I can cure you! You're infected, aren't you?" The man, all gangly and awkward, stuttered from pale lips shaking with fear. Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Well, I would've been inclined to believe you, but now I sure as hell don't." She pointed the tip of her sword at the trembling "doctor," the blade resting just beneath his chin. "Wyll, Shadowheart, tear it up. No stone unturned." She ordered, and the two companions she'd called upon immediately started ransacking the laboratory, pulling out drawers and leafing through journals. "You," She turned her attention back to the sniveling doctor on the stone floor.