Stormbreacher - Book 1 of Titanomachy Series

Chapter 15: Social Concepts

I pulled my backpack up off the floor and took a better look of my surroundings. I stood in a dark, thin corridor that was built purely for this sewer grate, its cinder block walls lined with trash bags and various icky grime. At the other end of the corridor, some dinky neon light somewhere cast scarlet light down the hall. Long shadows danced along the floor, a group of God-knows-whom doing God-knows-what.

Damn, I should've checked if I was alone before Stinger and I suddenly started talking so loudly, I thought, creeping to the corner of the corridor. "Athena? Why aren't we moving?" Stinger asked, craning his head over my shoulder.

"Someone's over there. Look at the shadows." I whispered. I counted three people, silently shuffling about in front of neon lights, then carefully peeked around the corner. I caught sight of the three men, closely knit in a small circle and silently exchanging things. One of them, a burly, angry looking guy without a shirt was holding...a freaking submachine gun. A SUBMACHINE GUN.

This was a terrible idea. This was absolutely a terrible idea. The possibility of serious injury or even death had become a lot more real to me, seeing that gun. Holy crap.

One of the two other men said something in Chinese, and they both shook hands before taking off in opposite directions—the guy with the submachine gun and his friend turning back in my direction. I immediately ducked back behind the corridor and shuffled away from the hall, just as the two men briskly walked past.

I counted to five, then slowly checked both ways of the hall again. The guy who was alone was gone, and the other one with the bodyguard or something was still walking in the other direction but was far enough away that I could sneak out undetected. "Stinger? Get on my shoulder. I need your help." I whispered. 

"What if someone sees me?" he hissed, anxiously gazing back.

"I don't think it'll matter too much down here, weirder shit probably happens every day. You can hide in my hoodie if you're worried. Come on now." 

Stinger reluctantly squirmed like a little worm up my shoulder and then under my hood. I specifically chose to wear the biggest sweatshirt I had on hand for this, giving just enough room for Stinger to comfortably rest inside. "Sting, where do I go?" I whispered.

"Uhh...I was here for a couple of weeks before I figured out how to leave the underground through a vent system. But I've never been around here before." Stinger glanced around with a frown, his scales suddenly turning black as he began to concentrate. "I remember a couple of main bunkers, they were the biggest and oldest ones and they're the center of the underground. If we get there, I can try and figure out where I left Basilisk from."

"Okay. Which direction do you think it is?" I asked.

"I dunno! I've said I've never been in this specific place before. Just go in any direction." 

I thinned my lips. I had only a fifty-fifty shot of going the right way. I picked left, since the two guys from earlier had gone right and I didn't want to be spotted. Jogging at a moderate pace, I made my way through the hallway and found my way to a short staircase leading upwards towards a larger, empty room, lined with empty market stalls, only one of them illuminated by scarlet neon light. Only one man in a tank top stood at his stall, selling...meat? Out of all the things you'd sell down here, I wouldn't think meat would be one of them. But hey, black markets are whack.

He was cutting up one of his steaks or whatever with a massive, bloody cleaver when he saw me, and he plastered on the fakest smile I'd ever seen and waved at me. "Only the freshest." he said, and slapped a few of the steaks on his table. I made a face—there was a breeding nest of flies all over the meat. He wasn't even bothering to wave them off while they were burrowing into his goddamn meat.