Lash nodded in satisfaction as he heard the screams of pain and the thud of bodies colliding coming from outside. Their efforts to create a panic had worked even better than they had hoped, thanks to the inherent paranoia and distrust between the various Dark Edge races. Then he was pushing his satisfaction aside to quickly pass through the building to the staircase leading down into the actual market itself. With the guards all rushing to get outside and take control of the situation there despite what their Shifter bosses were yelling at them, he had space to make the descent.
But it wouldn't last long. As soon as the Shifters restored control and discovered it was significantly less serious than Viper Team yelling from various parts of the crowd made it sound, those guards would be sent back into the building double time.
Lash flew down the stairs, taking them three or four at a time. Unlike the stairs leading into the enclave itself, these didn't have any cutbacks to descend in a series of flights. The stairs into the market was a broad, single run, fairly steep, that took him right into the heart of the market. When he reached the floor, he found himself stepping into a large space, almost like a professional basketball court, with a central platform for displaying individual items, smaller platforms around the edge for side displays and stadium-style seating.
Running between the side display platforms were a number of entrances, presumably into the specialized markets like the slave market. Running through the large, central space, Lash made for the nearest door to a specialized space.
Pushing the sliding door aside, he cautiously tested the air with his nose. While not as keen as a werewolf's, a vampire still possessed a sense of smell several times more sensitive than a human's. As a race that hunted humans as food, this was essential.
Hoping he'd catch a whiff of a living creature past that door, making it the possible location for the slave market, Lash was disappointed when he picked up a hint of cleaning oil and Nitrocellulose, the propellant in most modern munitions. Those smells were common with firearms. Which made this space the illegal firearms market.
Lash slid the door closed and sprinted at full vampire speed to the next one, hastened by the sounds of movement coming from the central space. Syndicate members were starting to re-enter the building, a bit sooner than he had hoped. And that meant he needed to move faster.
Again the big vampire pulled the door aside and took a cautious sniff. It filled his nose with the pungent scents of exotic animals and their waste.
Another headlong sprint to the third door along the arena's outer wall and he was pulling it aside with a jerk. And felt a trickle of relief when the smell of stale perspiration, blood, unwashed bodies, and fear tickled his nostrils.
With those smells, it could only be one place: the slave market. With a glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody was on the way down the stairs, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Without the outside air diluting it, the atmosphere in the slave market became pungent to the point of being nauseating. Yet Lash couldn't afford to not breathe deeply in case he missed catching the instantly recognizable scent of a vampire queen. So he drew it all in as he moved down a short corridor into the main display room.
Like the arena behind him, the display room was a fairly large space with a central platform with diffuse lighting and available spotlights to highlight individuals. And, again like the arena, there were a number of doors leading presumably to the storage areas where the slaves themselves were being kept.
Yet, after checking just about all of them, the puzzled and frustrated vampire couldn't find any trace of the missing liliths. Had they already been sold and moved?
It was as he walked through the human slave area, captives in their cages reaching out towards him in silent pleas for his help, that he caught it out of the corner of his eye. A side corridor, its entrance situated so it was practically invisible.
Ignoring the hapless humans, he turned and looked at where his peripheral told him the entrance should be. And found himself staring at a blank wall.
Whoever designed this hidden corridor, they didn't want it to be casually discovered. Which told Lash they were hiding something valuable there. Something like kidnapped vampire queens.
And yet, still no trace of their scent in his nostrils. He should've gotten at least the faintest glimmer by now, if they were pheromone bombing an alert, like Meredith had at Heathrow.
Squaring his shoulders, Lash pushed aside his confusion with a healthy dose of resolve. There was no other place to check and he could hear voices entering the slave market behind him. Time was up.
Stepping towards what appeared to be a solid wall, Lash found himself smirking as he passed through a holographic imitation. The corridor beyond was short and fairly narrow, like a hallway in a house, letting him traverse it quickly and into the large, dark space at its end. Where he immediately came to a halt.
What was this place? It smelt almost sterile, like all scent had been purged from the air. And what were those shapes hanging from the ceiling, a variety of tubes connected to them?
It was only when he stepped close to one that recognition sent a cold avalanche through him.
They were women, dressed in skintight, head-to-toe dark green, almost black rubber suits that looked like they were pulled straight out of a sadomasochistic fetishist's dream, with their arms bound behind them, legs tied and their faces hidden behind airtight gas masks with the eyes covered. They dangled via harnesses that fit like a safety harness at the crotch and under the arms and were silent and unmoving. Lash could only tell they were alive by the slight motion of their upper bodies to show they were still breathing.
If these were the missing queens ...
Without warning massive hands and arms were wrapping him up in a steely hold as no less than three massive cromag males restrained him. Still shocked from his discovery, Lash, for the moment, didn't resist, his breath coming raggedly as he stared at the captive liliths.
"I see you're admiring my pheromone shield suits, Ingamon," a smooth, yet with an edge voice said in vampiric. Then he was being bodily twisted around to face the speaker.
Any lingering shock from finding the missing liliths cocooned in air-tight rubber suits to prevent their pheromones from coming into play disappeared in a rush of fury.
"Romanescu!" he snarled, surging forward against the massive hands holding him and nearly pulling free. "You traitorous Nosferatu filth! What have you done?!?"
A lean, hawk-nosed vampire stepped out of the shadow of a pair of grim cromags, wearing red, round lens sunglasses, an elegant retro silk suit in dark gray, crimson, and indigo, and a long matching duster coat, and gloves. With his hair hidden beneath a matching top hat, the vampire looked exactly what most humans thought vampires stereotypically did. Ironically, if he was to speak English, the Romania-based Romanescu would sound like a stereotypical vampire as well.
Smirking as he stepped past an enraged Lash, he stopped in front of the nearest lilith in bondage. He then reached out and casually grabbed her breast and lecherously squeezed it before reaching around and slapping her on the buttocks, his actions enough to make Lash surge forward again, dragging his cromag captors nearly three feet forward before they dug in and pulled him to a stop.
"Oh, you don't approve, my old comrade?" Romanescu said over his shoulder. "It's not like they are feeling it. They have enough zombie lotus in them, you could cut off an arm and they wouldn't feel it."
"If you've harmed even a single hair ..." Lash began to growl. Only to get his head rocked by a tight, hard haymaker launched by one of Romanescu's cromag guards.
"Don't be a fool, Lash," Romanescu said offhandedly as his guards continued firing in fists the size of anvils into the big vampire's face and body. "My clients like their pets to be as flawless as possible. Makes them better showpieces for their friends when they invite them over to brag." He looked over at Lash, the guards finally pulling back to let him hang between the three holding him, blood dripping from a number of cuts to his face, a broken nose, and a split open mouth.
"But then again, you Ventru always had a thing for protecting the liliths and the breeders, didn't you. Honoring the protocols and all that rubbish!" He turned back to the lilith in front of him and trailed a gloved finger down the side of her face, along the edge of the gas mask. "We were fools for treating them better because they could bludgeon ordinary vampires into submission with their powers of Compulsion. We should have made them kneel to the People of the Night, not the other way around. I say put every one of them in a shield suit and reclaim power over our people!"
Somehow, despite the battering, Lash managed to spit in his direction, getting another punch for the effort.
"Rest assured, old comrade," the lean Nosferatu vampire continued on as if Lash didn't spit at all. "These cutting edge shield suits are the best way to go. Filtered, high-value air to breathe, built-in air conditioning to keep their bodies at optimal temperatures, zombie lotus to keep them unconscious and feeling no pain. They're trickle-fed high protein, high nutrient slurry via feeding tube, and just enough fresh blood to keep their regeneration capabilities maximized so they don't suffer skin degradation or muscle atrophy."
He finally looked over at a battered Lash.
"So you see, nothing to trouble yourself over, Lash. Your 'queens' are being well cared for. Which brings me to your original question. What have I done? Why, I've discovered a foolproof way to make more money than you and I could've ever imagined when we were Qos Viran colleagues together, bringing down Great Houses in the name of the Council of the Night. Selling liliths to the highest bidder!"
Romanescu paused there to step back towards Lash. When he got close, he leaned in towards the bruised and battered face.
"It's too bad you're a dirty Ventru and unable to see past your old fashioned honor to realize the benefits of keeping the liliths in check. Or I would've invited you to share in the spoils, like I have so many of our former comrades. As it is, you're a fly in the ointment. But, no matter what my partners want, I'm not going to kill you. You saved my life too many times in the old days to just put a bullet in your brain. So, why don't you hang around a bit and watch your precious queens get sold on the auction block instead, yes?"
Lash grunted as one of the cromags hammered a meathook through his back, its curved point barely missing his aorta as it pushed through his body to punch out of his chest. Then his air was being driven from him as, with a chain connected to the meathook, the cromags dropped him and let the chain drag him across the floor before getting winched into the air between the rows of liliths in bondage.
There, with his body's weight dragging down on the hook in his upper body, the cromags came forward to put chains around his wrists and feet. They then looked over at the smirking Romanescu and nodded.
"And with that, I bid you farewell, Ingamon Lash. I doubt we will see each other again." And without further ado, the lean Nosferatu vampire in his expensive silk suit turned and walked back into the shadows and out of sight.
The cromags watched the vampire disappear. Then they turned back to Lash and, taking turns, each fired several shots into his body until, flesh torn around the hook to the point space could be seen on top of it, he hung limply, bones shattered and flesh turned to pulp by the pistoning anvils the cromags called fists.
Only then were the massive mutants satisfied they had dealt enough damage to the big vampire. In a single group, they turned and also walked into the darkness to disappear.