Molly (1/10)

Chapter 3

They found a manhole, Malus unhitching it and Bestun climbing inside.

Before going down, Malus took out a bar, raised it, then clicked it, both ends of the bar shooting out so that the manhole was now blocked. Another click and the bar began to hum.

When Malus reached the water Bestun's gun was already trained down the sewer. A hollow light stretched from some unmanned place deep within.

One foot forward, then another.

"Did you--"

A hundred lights, bullets ricocheting off the walls. They tried to duck but it was too late. Malus grasped at his stomach to keep his guts from spilling out. Then--

Casey snapped the receiver shut. One monsieur was cause for alarm. Two usually meant death.

"Think that's it?" Bailey said, taking a pull from a cigarette and swiping away the smoke.

"I don't know."

Casey reloaded the clip, then flipped the lights back on. Colorful graffiti covered the sewers. Casey inhaled, forgetting about the stench, forcing her to cringe.

"You're gonna throw up if you do that," Bailey reminded her, his men fanning out and dropping to the water below, slowly edging towards the bodies.

"Sandra said it helps you acclimate."

Bailey rolled his eyes. "We're going back up. C'mon."

They'd managed to unhitch the tanks by pulling until the screws came out. It took longer than it should have, Bailey huffing and cursing under his breath until finally the tanks were theirs. Bailey tapped the glass and nodded, motioning towards the nearest ladder.

They emerged to a gray dawn. There was a body off to the side but this was not so uncommon these days. Casey lingered, the flap of the dead man's jacket turning slightly with the wind, crackling thunder echoing beyond. She checked her receiver, switched the screen on, tapped it. A red zero flashed.

"Nothing," she told Bailey.

Bailey began coughing, nearly retching. "Fuck," he managed to say, then covered his mouth with a free hand.

"You okay?" one of Bailey's men asked.

Bailey waved them away, sinking to his knees and then rising up again, grease now covering his pants.

Casey holstered her receiver. "You're exhausted. Do you think Gordon is going to keep pushing like this? The rats are out. Think that's as good of a sign as any."

Bailey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling. "Gordon can go fuck himself for all I care."

"But we're on his side. At least, that's what you said--"

Bailey silenced her with a look. "You really think I give half a fuck about any deals we've made? Look around you, Casey. We aren't in decent society anymore."

Casey closed her eyes and sighed, pawing her receiver.

There was a man watching them from afar. He looked like a bum, but Casey still didn't like the way he was staring at them.

"We need more people," she said.

Bailey scoffed. "No shit. You got any ideas, I'm glad to hear 'em. Sandra and Pearson might talk big, but they aren't out here, not with you and me. They can't see what's happening."

"They think they can wait it out. Maybe they're right."

"Bullshit. You think the monsiuers are gonna, what--wait around? They're already taking blood. You know why."