Section F: Fairy Tales & Physicists

Chapter 16

Light.

Out of breath, guns at the ready, every sense on high alert, Fields and Peregrine burst into the gloomy interior of the hangar, expecting monsters, expecting villains, expecting evil queens, big bad wolves or annoying vampires, maybe even angsty werewolves or worse.

What they found was light. A sinuous, freestanding column of green light, dominating the centre of the room, twisting and undulating, writhing and turning as if dancing to the discordant notes of some chaotic symphony only it could hear. Seemingly self-contained and without any visible source, its luminous form cast riotous shadows around the hangar's stark interior.

"Whoa...it's beautiful," breathed Peregrine.

On any other day, Fields would have been stunned by this bizarre phenomenon—baffled, gobsmacked, and more than a little freaked out. Today, not so much. "Whatever. We need to find Featherstone. Split up or stick together?"

"Fields, if there's one thing I've learned in Section F, it's to stick together. Let's go."

Constantly on the lookout for any surprise-goblins or stealth-gremlins, they made their wary way around the light, trying not to jump at every shadow. The hangar remained stubbornly bereft of mythical creatures.

"Stop there, please." Heralded by a preliminary crackle, the voice emerged from speakers mounted on the walls, shocking and loud in the silence, yet strangely tentative.

In the absence of any cover, the agents froze, back-to-back and guns raised.

"Thank you very much. I'd be very grateful if you could you please also drop your weapons."

"Featherstone?" called Peregrine. "Listen, why don't you come out from wherever you are, so we can sort all this out? Nobody else has to get hurt."

"Hurt?" There was a catch in the voice as it went on. "Oh, it's gone far beyond hurt, agent. And far, far beyond your ability to sort it out."

Slowly, the agents turned, searching for the source of the voice. Peregrine tried again. "You don't know that. I'm sure—"

"Enough!" The tentativeness was gone. "Enough. I'm sorry, agents. Sorry for it all. But it is too late for me. And also, I'm afraid, too late for you."

From the gloom at the far end of the hangar, a new source of light appeared, emanating from an enclosed loft, a semi-circular structure that stretched across the width of the building, suspended from the high ceiling. Standing within, clearly visible through the windows that ringed the enclosure, a single lab-coated figure could be seen.

"Please brace yourselves, agents. Prepare yourselves for some of the most heinous creatures the multiverse has to offer. For organisms beyond your imagination. For the stuff of your nightmares. Or maybe it's better if you don't—it will probably be quicker that way."

"Well, that doesn't sound good," muttered Fields.

"Tell me about it," replied Peregrine. "Particularly given most of my nightmares involve low-fat dairy products and/or being trapped in a vegan restaurant." She shuddered.

"Prepare yourselves, agents—to die!" Featherstone brought his hand down sharply, presumably on to some sort of button or lever. It took the agents a moment to realise the sepulchral groan that followed was coming from the opening door of a large, windowless enclosure, positioned on the hangar floor directly beneath the loft. With slow remorselessness, the door ground its way open, to reveal an interior cloaked in darkness.

Nerves taut, senses tingling, Fields and Peregrine took aim at the black void and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"Do any of your nightmares feature tired arms?" whispered Fields.