Chapter 68: Good Crawls

-Chubster POV-

Ben ran.

He ran without thought, taking no attempt to pace himself.

There was only mindless panic.

His ragged breaths burned in his lungs as he heaved himself forwards.

Cackles lit up the tunnel behind him, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

‘Run! Run! Run!’

It was the sole thought he had been reduced to.

No thoughts for his teammates. No tactical considerations. Not even the longing for his daughter.

Just sheer, unrelenting, animal panic.

The light of the caves entrance was just up ahead! He just had to make it!

“BEEEEEEENNNNN! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!!!!” The cackles increased in volume as the voice of his ex-wife screamed behind him.

“DAD?! DAD! WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME?!” This time it was his daughter, her distorted voices pleading behind him amidst the awful laughter.

He kept running.

One foot in front of the other, again and again. His muscles burned. His feet ached. His spirit sobbed.

He kept going, bursting from the cave and landing in a snowy pile that had gathered outside of the entrance.

He scrambled forwards, throwing himself on his back as he turned to look towards the entrance.

Glowing beady eyes followed him, now eerily silent. He still couldn’t make the figure out, the being draped in darkness with only the bright yellow eyes serving to distinguish them.

They betrayed the figure’s inhumanity. Not in structure, for they appeared normal – mundane. It was in the way they behaved. The figure never blinked, and never turned their attention away from him. Hungry, predatory and absolutely not human.

There was a squelch, and the sound of dripping liquid as the figure held out a stocky arm, and began waving it at him.

The laughter returned, cruel and mocking – malevolence dripping from the abyssal shadows.

“Poor Atlas,” the thing mocked, still waving the dripping, severed, arm of one of his friends.

The being spoke with many voices, and in it he could hear the sound of friends, colleagues, family and acquaintances. Everyone he had ever known, now being cruelly used to twist the knife further.

Ben shivered, eyes still locked on to the figure, body ready to bolt if the being came any closer.

The waving stopped, the stare didn’t. Still watching, still calculating. Cruelty dancing in the pale yellow orbs.

And it was cruel, he knew this, he had a dozen cuts spread across his form that could vouch for him. The thing had pursued him through the tunnel, separating him from the others. It had toyed with him, lashing out with biting talons of shadow. Each in a non-lethal area.

But what chilled him the most was that it had only started doing so after he had used his powers to save Orwell from a falling rock that threatened to crush their skull.

Ben wasn’t stupid, he knew what this thing had been doing.

It had begun by causing a collapse in the tunnel, separating many of them from each other. The collapse had split the team into two, leaving him and Atlas together while the others had been separated deeper within. After that it had taken great pleasure in chasing them, randomly inflicting them with wound after wound as they attempted to find the exit.

Environmental danger for Pyroclasm, the Shaker.

Physical harm and pain for both him and Atlas, the Brutes.

Trigger Events. It was deliberately reminding them of their trigger events.

The eyes watching him dilated slightly, taking obvious pleasure in his realisation, and -with one final wave of the severed arm- the figure vanished. The only sound to be heard from the cave from the next minute being the sound of tearing flesh, wet gulps and finally silence.

He remained there for another minute, silent and watching the cave – eyes watering from how long he was keeping them open.

Nothing.

It was gone.

“Ha.”

Without meaning to, he let out a soft laugh.

“Hahaha.”

He couldn’t help it, the sheer catharsis of having lived – moments away from death – was too much.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

He shuddered in the snow, the laughter wracking his form, coming out in short desperate barks. His throat burned from the icy air he had to force into his lungs to keep on laughing.

He was alive!

After all of that!

He was alive!

The laughter quickly turned into sobbing, the tears stinging his cheek.

Why him?

Why him?!

Shuffle.

Shade.

Wayfarer.

Atlas.

All dead.

And what of the others?

What would happen to them?

They were still down there.

Orwell.

Scope.

Remote.

They were still down there!

I scrambled up, only to find my feet frozen as I stared into the entrance of the cave, knowing well that something was watching, waiting.

Ben’s spine crawled, and he forced himself to take a step back.

Going in there alone was suicide, he was forced to admit.

So how could he-

The radio. Crackling static, occasionally broken up by indistinct voices, was echoing from the device at his side.

He grabbed it, and raised it up to his mouth.

“Hello?! Is anyone there?!” His desperate cries were swallowed by the harsh winter wind that battered against his form. He didn’t care, now that he was no longer moving his power had kicked in – protecting him from the elements.

The radio whined, the volume pitching oddly, yet nothing discernible came through.

“Hello! Hello!!!” He still tried, screaming against the radio – heart beating in his chest as the tears running down his face turned to ice.

“Please. There has to be someone. Anyone.” Chubster begged.

“I-“ the static increased “hear,” yet he could hear it – a voice!

“Remote! Is that you?!” He almost sagged in relief, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the sound of one of his teammates.

“Yes, it’s me. Blasted thing! Why is it only working for this?!” The distortions ceased, the Tinker on the other end no doubt putting together a solution to clear up the interference.

Chubster straightened, his training coming back to him now that he had confirmed the life of one of his squad mates.

“Remote, I’ve made it out of the cave. What is your situation, over?”

He heard a sigh from the radio, The Tinker never being one for regulation at the best of times.

“I’m fine, but I’ve been separated from Orwell and Scope. Haven’t seen any further sightings, but that might be because I’ve been forced into going further down the cave.”

Chubster’s heart lurched in his chest. So Orwell and Scope were MIA, and in their condition…

“Just… focus on getting out alive Remote, that’s the most you can do right now.”

“Don’t I know it,” Remote dryly said.

“Remote, there’s something you should know.” His voice was grave as he spoke next, explaining to the Tinker his theory as to what the creatures had been up to. He laid it all out methodically, the man on the other end of the radio quiet as the dead.

“Remote? Are you still there?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I am. Just considering things. It makes sense, your theory I mean, but I’m not sure how they’ll try to apply that to me.”

Chubster’s lips pursed. That was a good point.

Tinkers typically triggered over issues that ran on for a long period of time, seemingly impossible to fix. So unless those things were planning to keep him down there then there wasn’t…

Ben’s eyes widened, the feeling of ice being pored down his back coming over him as fear took ahold.

Fuck! That might actually be what they do!

The tunnels running under the snow had seemed labyrinthine, even with what little he saw of them. Trying to escape would certainly count as an impossible hardship, the monsters below would simply have to keep him there.

“Ben? Are you still there?” The radio crackled, Remote’s question uncertain in tone.

His head snapped up.

“Yes! I’m still here, it’s just…”

He stopped. Would telling Remote his theory actually help him? Every parahuman tended to get twitchy regarding their trigger event, Ben himself was no exception. Telling his friend might just make him panic.

Worst case scenario, he was wrong but gave the things listening in ideas.

He shuddered at the thought.

“Sorry, I think the cold may be getting to me after all,” he said, coming up with the lie in a split second – and quickly regretting it a moment later.

The silence on the other end was unmistakeably disbelieving, Remote not even having to voice his thoughts to make them known. Ben grimaced slightly, not his best lie considering every member of the squad knew each other’s powers like the back of their hands.

“Suuuure,” the man drawled sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah, look I’m not at my best here,” Ben sighed, taking a moment to close his eyes.

The adrenaline that had been coursing through his system was beginning to fade now. He could feel the tiredness seeping in to his muscles, sapping his strength and causing him to wilt slightly. His wounds were also becoming more painful now, strips of wet pain across his body that made him want to hiss.

“I think the adrenaline is beginning to crash,” he said, weaving the truth into his lie.

“Ah,” he said, and this time sounded far more convinced.

Ben opened his eyes again, first checking the cave to make sure nothing had crawled out while he wasn’t paying attention. Luckily whatever had been chasing him seemed inclined to stay within the catacombs.

Then he looked up. Still bright, or bright-ish, anyway.

Right, didn’t the poles have extremely long day and night cycles? Ben remembered learning about that in one of those programs his daughter used to watch. Geographic something?

He shook his head, not important.

“Are you still going down?”

“Yeah,” the man said, not sounding pleased about it. “Haven’t found any alternate routes back up yet, so I don’t have any other options. Worst comes to worst you’ll have to head back to Jinzhou to tell them where I am, perhaps they could dig me out?”

He laughed through the radio, but there was a bitter edge to it. As if he didn’t believe the people of that place would go to the trouble. Ben found it hard to disagree.

It wasn’t that the people he had met had hated him, or even been impolite. There was simply…a detached coldness present in every interaction he had had with them. Especially their leader, Taizong.

The thought of the man made him grit his teeth. He still hadn’t forgotten what the man had attempted to do with Shuffle, even if it didn’t work.

“Let’s keep that as a last resort,” he laughed back, his chuckle filled with unease.

“Amen.”

Ben’s chuckles ceased as the silence returned, he could hear faint footsteps coming from the radio – so he knew Remote was still there. Yet, Ben knew the silence must be haunting to his friend, considering his situation, so wracked his brain to think of a topic.

Eventually he found one. “Is there anything I can do from up here? Maybe boost your signal?”

Remote laughed again, at that question.

“If I couldn’t get a signal up there myself, I doubt you could. The only reason we’re able to communicate right now is because of how close we are right now,” he paused, “well, relatively at least.”

He felt a hollow ache in his chest at the answer. “So there’s nothing?”

Remote paused, considering.

“Just keep talking, this place is unnervingly silent.”

He chuckled, commiserating at that.

“Just you and your footsteps, eh?”

He heard a short gasp coming from the radio, and the sound of the footsteps abruptly stopping.

The silence grew, it felt thick and cloying, and Ben once again felt a chill run through him – his heart beginning to beat faster once again.

“Remote?”

“Ben,” came the voice of his friend, his voice shaky, “Do you remember the requisitions we were allowed to make for this mission?”

Ben frowned. “Yeah, I remember, so what?”

“So, knowing this was a stealth mission, I made a few adjustments to my costume. Small things, but ones I thought would be necessary. I especially decided to add a few changes to my boots,” Remote’s voice was beginning to edge into slight hysteria now, his breaths coming quicker as he attempted to smother a rising panic.

Ben was now growing increasingly concerned, and more sure that he was missing something. His boots? Those clunky things? What modifications had he made?

“Where are you going with this?”

“Ben. My footsteps shouldn’t be audible to you!”

Ben felt a pit drop in his stomach.

Of course, Remote had added sound dampening to his boots, but if that was the case…

“Those footsteps weren’t mine!” His friend finished his thoughts for him.

“Run!” The order was barked into the radio, and he could hear Remote obeying – the sounds of exertion intensifying as his friend broke into a run. Ben couldn’t hear the footsteps now, which only provoked a sense of dread in him at how blatant it now was in hindsight.

And that was Ben’s world for the next ten minutes. Lying in the snow, staring at the radio and hoping, begging to God himself, that his friend didn’t die. Remotes breathing grew more haggard, more desperate as he pushed himself further.

Remote had never been the most athletic member of the team, frequently playing support in the field with his many gadgets, a practice that was currently not doing him many favours.

Then he heard it. A gasp, and for a single terrifying heartbeat he geared the worst.

Then his friend spoke once more.

“Wha…What is this place?” There was an edge of wonder to his friends voice, a disbelief so profound Ben could taste it.

“Remote, I could really use a play by play here,” he said, feeling distinctly useless.

There was a pause before Remote spoke again, as if he was taking it all in.

“It…there’s a gate, and a city – I can see it In the distance,” his friend said, his voice beginning to pick up static. Not enough to render him indecipherable, but noticeable.

Perhaps it was the distance? Remote had run a long way.

“There are other tunnels behind me,” he heard a gulp as his friend continued, “But I can see what was chasing me now, they’re watching me from the dark. They’re in the other tunnels too,” Remote said, defeat evident in his words.

Ben’s fist cratered the snowy ground next to him, and he yelled into the radio. “Well don’t give up! What about forwards, you said there was a city? Maybe there are supplies there?” His mind raced, attempting to figure a way out of this predicament.

If Remote could find somewhere safe, somewhere with enough shelter and sustenance a rescue mission could still be launched, whether by Jinzhou or the PRT it didn’t matter!

“Yes, there’s a city, but…”

Remote paused, clearly still off kilter by what he was seeing.

“there are things moving in it, I can’t quite make out what they are but they don’t look friendly. Then there’s the bars…”

This time the pause had nothing to do with wonder or confusion, for Ben could hear the slight retching noise coming from his Radio. Whatever these gates were, they were enough to cause intense disgust in someone who had seen the worst of the worst throughout his career.

“Sorry…I don’t think I should get any closer to them. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so…” Remote failed to find an adequate word to describe them, and chose to move past the subject. “I could send a drone down, scope out the area,” he offered.

Ben didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”

The drone, Ben remembered, had been hastily crafted using cannibalised equipment, Remote had attempted to use it to boost their signal before they had found this cave. It hadn’t worked, but now it seemed it might come in handy after all.

So that’s what Remote did, sending the drone across the sheer cliff face he was currently one, past the gates and into the city. Remote didn’t speak much for this, except to, warily, note that he was getting readings that didn’t make any sense.

“It’s like this city is full of people, Chubster. I’m getting all sorts of reading that tell me that there are people there, yet they’re not physically present,” Remote had told him. A large scale stranger effect of some kind, Ben had surmised and Remote agreed with – albeit with a sliver of unease.

Eventually Remote spoke up once again. “I think I’m going to have to investigate what’s at the centre of this place.”

“You mean the church? The one that’s causing all your readings to go haywire?” Ben frowned, not liking the idea.

“Yeah,” his friend sighed. “If there is a persistent effect going on, the it seems likely we’ll find the source there. The drone has a bomb equipped, so if it’s a parahuman I should be able to take them out to lower the effect.”

Ben reluctantly agreed. The ‘if’ and ‘should’ of that plan did not fill him with confidence but what else was there? Remote had already confirmed that there were no other exits than the ones behind him, so they were truly reaching desperate territories here.

So, the drone flew on. Crossing into the church with little delay. All the while Remote narrated what he was seeing.

“There’s…a lot of organic matter here. Maybe we’re dealing with a Case 39?”

Ben grimaced at that. Case 39s were perhaps one of the most unfortunate Cases to run into. Sometime when a Parahuman triggers things didn’t go right. Not all the time, not even rarely – but it did happen. Case 39s were what happened when Breakers got the short end of that particular stick, transforming their body irrevocably – far worse than any Case 53.

“Well, it’s either that or a Biotinker, so keep your eyes peeled,” he said grimly.

“Lots of spores in the air, luckily it won’t impede my drone. This is a pretty strange church though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I wanna say Satantic? The stained glass windows are…creepy. Lots of saints and holy figures weeping and screaming,” Remote said, sounding unnerved. “There’s also-“

He stopped.

Ben lurched upwards, staring at his radio.

“Remote?”

No answer.

“Remote?!”

Nothing, just the sound of trembled breathing.

Finally, he spoke.

“It’s beautiful.”

The signal stopped.

AN: Another section to the horror part! Hooray! So, yeah, nobody is having a good time right now and Alexander’s city is being explored right after Alexander finished it. Seriously, this black ops team has the worst timing ever. This is the second time they’ve missed the MC by an hour or less.

Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!