---

---

After we took care of the old maniac, we headed to Francis Square. It was there that I saw the place a hundred yards away from the edge of the street. The information we were given appeared to be accurate - how couldn't it have been? That bum was scared out of his mind. The trip up there was easy enough. No one lingered out of their homes this late, and it was still far too soon for any early risers. When we got to the edge of this purported residence, my partner Avery Larcel stopped and looked toward me.

"Do you want to lead?" She was still mad at me, but she didn't want to show it.

"Sure." I stepped forward and continued toward the house. It was certainly the kind of place that deserved myths about it - black curtains fluttered in the wind, and the bleak walls begged for me to look away. These generically ghostly features only served to solidify my hypothesis that this place was darkened. We cautiously made our way up the steps, onto the house's shambling porch.
   
It was obviously a residence of natural origin, but the aberration had definitely exaggerated it. The whole place looked like an R.L. Stine cover. Way too obvious, but I guess this is what society eats up. God, Francis Square - if they could see the shit that gets dragged out to Lockturne Point, they wouldn't see fear as entertainment anymore.

As I strode down the creaking deck, I glanced to Larcel. The anger towards me was still there, but now fear was there too. I couldn't say I blamed her, though. The dark isn't for everyone. But that sight earned her a shade of pity from me. "Avery, it's okay. It's nothing."

She gave me a look of forced puzzlement. "Yeah? I know."

I had to stop myself from betraying my stoicism. "All right, cool. It should be this up ahead." I pointed to an old decorative mirror leaning against the deck's railing. We approached it, and sure enough, we had found our culprit.

Larcel looked into the mirror and tilted her head. "I'm not reflected. How is this possible?"

"The dark has many ways of altering our world. Part of it is illusion, and part of it is fabric. I think this is the former, there's nothing here to indicate anything but a T1 case."

"T1, first class transport. So a looking glass. A window?"

I smiled at how quick she was getting this. Of course most of the people who have earned my trust had come from Phlaurel's, but she seemed like an exceptional one, right from the start - despite her sordid history. "That's right. My guess is that our aberration is a weak one trying to terrify people. Collect more deaths."

Larcel couldn't help but smile. I knew it, she loved this job. "That would make sense!" she said, looking toward the mirror. "So, just the basic neutralization? I don't think this needs anything else."

"Yes, that should do it."

There was a pause I didn't expect.

"Proceed with the neutralization, Avery."

She looked at me and gave a chuckle. "Yeah, no thanks."

I cracked a smile too. "You're not superstitious, are you?"

"No!" she quickly said, but I knew. That made me laugh, the thought of an agent from WAP being scared of social compulsions invented to keep you frugal. "Spill any of my salt or crack any of my mirrors and you'll get bad luck!" It's not hard to see why people started to live by that kind of nonsense.

"Hey, don't laugh at me, man," she said. "I don't need that extra weight on my mind. You're competent enough, find a rock." She smiled at me.

"Unbelievable," I said as I went towards the yard. What was truly unbelievable, though, was how quick Larcel had come around. Mad at me for doing my job, then happy because she started doing the interesting part of hers.

It wasn't hard to find a rock, and so I soon came back to the deck with one. Of course, the aberration was in the mirror now - a perfect duplicate of me.

"I don't toy with you like some of us." I raised my arm, and the aberration predictably shook its head, tried to stop me through body language, but it was no use. The T1 vessel was destroyed by a natural, amazing rock and all was right. I got that fleeting feeling of accomplishment, as usual, but Larcel looked shaken.

"Something wrong, Agent?" I tried not to empathize the last word, but I probably did anyway.
   
"Of course not," she lied. "I was just - I wasn't expecting it to try to…"
   
"Bargain?" I finished for her. I then continued, "That look of fear in its eyes was a mimicry. Fear is a human quality - an aberration like that cannot comprehend the feeling. It was trying to elicit sympathy from us, which is why we can't give it any. The dark isn't foolish, Avery. Like any parasite, it learns how to best feed off its host."
   
"Why is it can we only break the vessel, though?" Larcel asked. Here we go, I thought to myself. The next question she asked was a normal one, but still one that I didn't like to answer. "Why can't we end that thing for good?"
   
I sighed before I answered. "Your curriculum at Phlaurel's taught you the standards for neutralization, exorcism, and containment. There's a reason that elimination isn't a subject - it doesn't exist. When these anomalies bind themselves to our world, they have to follow the laws of our reality. The bindings they use are things we know, things we can neutralize. But the aberrations themselves are nothing but dark." I looked away from Larcel, unsure of how to proudly explain the concept. "There's nothing we can currently do to challenge the dark directly, just as they can't challenge us in that manner." She looked disappointed, so I added, "Believe me, I'd love to end this sick cycle. But it's all we can do, keep the cycle going so we don't end up on the wrong side of it. Do you understand?"
   
She hesitated, then simply said, "Yeah. I do."
   
I was more perceptive than she would've liked. "You're still conflicted. You want this to be easy and pure. That's only natural - complexity is a path to corruption. But I've learned the hard way that when you step into this fight, you lose some of your nature. I didn't want to dose our informant back at that station any more than I want to do anything I do in the duty of light. But you can't hold onto your purity like the rest of our world and still expect to be a capable warden against these terrors."
   
"That's what judgment calls are for," Larcel said, the fire I saw at the station back in her eyes. "We don't have to make ethical choices all the time, but when we can, we should. Why the hell not?"
   
There she went again. I was beginning to worry about Larcel. She had the competence for this field, surely. But a tumor of doubt grew in my mind that she may not have the philosophy.
   
"You say 'ethical' - ethics are what keep society peaceful, they're what keep the trains running on time. What we deal with is right and wrong: morality. And morality doesn't care for suffering or altruism, it cares for the natural and unnatural. If there was even an iota of a chance of him convincing people what he saw, or even worse, them becoming corrupted by it, then I made the right choice."
   
She shook her head. "What about the people he did ramble to? Isn't there an 'iota' that they could take him seriously?"
   
"As you said, it's a judgment call. What our informant saw was real - he knew it to be certain. They thought it the ramblings of a man with too much liquor in his stomach. And at best, he would shake it off as just that: a night of too much drinking. But that dark would still linger in his mind. Even in the sense of petty ethics, how would relieving him of that burden not be a service to him?"
   
Larcel was silent, so I continued. "You know, before we had amnestics, the policy was to eliminate our informants."
   
She scoffed. Still mad, illogically so. "Why is that no surprise to me?"
   
"It's what's needed to-"
   
"No," she said, glaring at me. "Just stop. You know, I only joined WAP because I thought at least I could still make a positive change in the world with you. I didn't betray my brothers and sisters to get on your propaganda-infested mental level. I did it so their good wasn't for nothing. Don't mistake my willing leave from the coalition as abandoning what it stood for."

"This is dangerous talk, Agent. Remember that deviation from our mission is cause for expulsion."

She was furious now. "Then fucking report me, Jack. This isn't 1984, even WAP doesn't have a stamp on my thoughts. If you think I'm going to do anything but what I took an oath to do, then you don't know me. I won't let my common decency get in the way of global protection, but I'm damn sure not going to hide it either."

I rolled my eyes. Technically, she was right. But it still wasn't a proper mindset for a soldier of the light. "Fine, Agent Larcel. Keep holding onto that if it makes you feel better. It's only another rung for aberrations to cling to."

"At least the rung is there for the rest of us to grab, too," she said. "Now I'm sure Dezel wouldn't want you to loiter at an unnatural site. Let's go." She took off toward the car.

"And who's the stickler now?" I said in a playful manner, following her. She was silent, and I dropped the conversation. I may have been the best agent of this century, but I was no conversationalist.
   
Larcel took a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket before entering the passenger seat of the car.
   
"You smoke those things?" I asked incredulously, sliding into the driver's side.
   
She scoffed as she lit it, as if that was a ridiculous question. "Of course I do."
   
I shook my head as I turned the key in the ignition. "I will not abide that disgusting toxin in this car. Look - you're already getting your odor everywhere."
   
"Not your car," she said flippantly. "Deal with it."
   
I was getting slightly irritated now, I'll admit. I didn't refuse to move the vehicle or anything - we began to cruise down the dead country road without a problem - but I wouldn't let her have this. "I will remind you, I'm the senior agent here. All calls are at my discretion."
   
Larcel took a long drag before responding. "Yeah, this isn't exactly a 'call'. There's no threat to world protection or the natural stasis here - just to your oh-so-delicate sensibilities."
   
I couldn't help but roll my eyes. She lacked the respect toward me that I deserved. "Whatever, Agent. Smoke it up. If you want to be unprofessional, it will be reflected on your performance brief."
   
She looked at me, this time the incredulity in her eyes. "You would fucking mark me down for having a cigarette? Jesus Christ, man, this is beyond by the book and into literal spite."
   
I shook my head. "It has nothing to do with you. You're on a case right now. What's next, am I going to see you hit up our informant for a sip of his flask? Maybe stop by the high school and see if some degenerate kid will sell you a doobie?"
   
"You are unbelievable," she said, tossing her lit cigarette out the window. "Cigarettes don't get you high or wasted, they calm your nerves."
   
"Any recreational substance affects your judgment, Avery. And-"
   
"It's Agent Larcel."
   
I had to pretend that didn't hurt a little. "Yes. Agent Larcel. And when you're serving our order, you need to be in peak physical and mental condition, in every way. A taste of mental freedom at the expense of your senses is far from worth it."
   
She scoffed and just stared ahead without responding.
   
"Hate me for it if you want, Agent. I'm your partner, not your friend. You have off-time, smoke all the cigarettes you want to then."
   
"Oh, I intend to."

---

It was a few days before I saw Larcel again. I had been given a more serious case by Dezel - she wanted me to take Sabin or another veteran agent, but I could do this alone if I had to, and I wanted Larcel to see this anyway. Her face showed a bit more hesitation this time, and as soon as she entered the car, she began to babble to me.
   
"Agent Schuyler, I am…so truly embarrassed about my hesitation to carry out the standard amnestic procedures last Saturday. I can't say I rescind my stance on my cigarette usage, but I gave a lot of thought to what you said about Garcia, and you're right. He's better off now than before. Just know that any conflict I have with you isn't personal, I just want to do my job and do it right."
   
I smiled. "That's very big of you to say, Agent Larcel, thank you."
   
"Please, just call me Avery. There's no need for such formalities between us, I was just…annoyed the other day."
   
"I understand. Now, shall I brief you on what we're dealing with?"
   
"Yeah, go ahead." She said the words as a sigh.
   
"This is a C2 case."
   
Larcel nodded. "Who's the subject?"
   
"That's what makes this case in particular a delicate one. The target is the governor of Washington."
   
Larcel seemed uneasy. "That's delicate for sure. How do we go about this? Dosing a governor…that would be nearly impossible. Too many questions would be raised by his staff."
   
I just looked at her. I wanted her to come to the conclusion herself.
   
"So…" She obviously didn't want to say her next words. "This is a neutralization."
   
"Correct. But as I said, it's a delicate one. Governor Cable is very perceptive, and he has limited information about WAP, unfortunately. His father was an agent."
   
"Who's our informant?" Larcel asked.
   
"No one, actually. We were notified of Cable's corruption through the WAP observatory. He must not have known we have eyes and ears in all government buildings."
   
"And the source of his corruption?"
   
I internally smiled. She was asking all the right questions. "What we know is that he performs a seance every night in his office. He uses a telephone on his desk to contact his controlling aberration."
   
"What do they talk about? It has to be something anomalous, or else we wouldn't have known."
   
"Cable and the aberration are conspiring with terrorist agents in Olympia to build a faulty amphitheater in the city. And the way our friends in the observatory detect aberrative communication is more about tone than content."
   
"Tone?" She asked. "Like a different pitch?"
   
"No. There's a very particular way that aberrations speak, because the speech is artificial. An aberration can't talk in sentences, only words. It has nothing of its own, and so it's learned our language through eons of observance. This is why it's easy to find their communication efforts when they occur."
   
Larcel nodded and didn't say anything. At that point, it was clear to me that she was in over her head. Her time with Ellen had prepared her well for the necessities of espionage, but not for the unnatural. That's typical of idealists who think being nice is better than being alive: they don't care about the long-term. But it didn't matter. I could tell that this mission would mainly be a natural one - state police and government buildings. I briefed her on the rest of our responsibilities and then we drove to the transport site. It was an airplane. Of fucking course.

---

---

The flight to Olympia was bad for me. I hate flying, it's the absolute fucking worst. And honestly, it defies nature.

Airplanes and all air travel should be forbidden, in my opinion. I wouldn't even be surprised if there's an element of dark there. But there's no way Dezel would shut down her precious airplanes, she's obsessed with this ridiculous form of travel.
   
I felt the all too familiar sensations of being thrust forward at abnormal levels of speed and then suddenly jerked up, as if the earth itself was shoving me away from it. Larcel noticed my demeanor and fucking laughed.
   
When the initial turbulence had cleared and the plane was at a steady level, I glared to the person in the seat next to me.
   
"What the fuck are you laughing for?"
   
Larcel gave me a weird look. "Dude, calm down." She laughed again. "It's just funny to see you so scared of a natural thing."
   
She could be so annoying sometimes. "Airplanes aren't natural," I informed her. "These speeds and this altitude aren't meant for our species."
   
"Okay, drama queen."
   
At this point, it was hard to contain my extreme annoyance with Larcel, but of course I held it in anyway. We didn't speak to each other for the rest of the flight, so I was glad I bought a newspaper before we took off.
   
The descent was pretty fucking bad, too. That feeling of falling - that pressure, that grip - it's meant to feel bad. Again, I don't know why Dezel insists on using these dangerous machines.
   
Larcel and I left the plane, and as soon as we started walking down the steps, we were greeted by our liaison in the FBI.
   
"Jack, it's so good to see you again." He made no effort to sublime his sarcasm. "Who's this? You have a tagalong?"
   
Our liaison, FBI Director James Marque, was a repugnant man. The little respect I had for him was granted only by his position.
   
"This is Agent Larcel, and she's who you'll be reporting to."
   
Marque gave an ironic smile. "Great! Let's get this over with."
   
We got into the Director's car. I drove, since he was reporting to Larcel.
   
"Okay, ma'am. This is your namecard and your keycard." Marque handed an envelope to Larcel. "We'll be meeting with Deputy Director Cantillo in the capitol building. He'll introduce you to Cable and validate your identities." He paused before handing me an envelope as well. "Your cards, Schuyler."
   
"And we'll be granted full access to the capitol?" Larcel asked.
   
"That's right. The FBI maintains a friendly working relationship with state reps. That's something your organization could learn a thing about."
   
"That's enough, James," I said. "I don't have to remind you that our people keep the extraterrestrial threat at bay. Without our involvement, you wouldn't just be out of a job - you'd be out of a planet."
   
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's the line you give me every fucking time. Just remember that I serve you at the command of the President, not because I'm scared of these extraterrestrials that definitely exist."
   
"Humor me for a second, James." I said, ice in my words. "If there was no extra-planetary threat, what is it that we do? Why can I boss you around?"¹
   
He smiled and briefly paused, as if this was a tangent he'd been waiting to go on for a while. "The way I see it, you're the enforcer of the executive branch. Probably formed around the 30's, a side effect of a five term president who couldn't get things done the proper way. You're off the books because you do all kinds of illegal shit in the name of your country. Like taking out a Republican governor who's been shaking up a blue state." His voice was full of confidence, as if he had nailed us down.

"I thought that shady bullshit was your job."

"We don't operate outside the law like you fuckers do. There's a way to do things, and you think you can just skirt around it. It's an abuse of your authority."
   
I gave a chuckle. "The best evidence against your theory, my friend, is that you're still alive, sitting comfortably in the backseat of this car. If what you think is true, why would I ever let you live?"
   
Larcel even spoke up. "Seriously! Exposing this big WAP secret while you're sitting in a car with two armed WAP agents? That's suicidal."
   
Marque's face didn't change. "You're right. But to be frank, I don't give a fuck. And anyway, you wouldn't execute me here, in a government vehicle - it would be a mess. But I have no doubt that one day I'll wake up and pour myself a cup of coffee that I shouldn't have. And when that day comes, I'll take it."
   
"We don't do those kinds of things, sir." Larcel said.
   
"Like hell you don't."
   
"Sir-"
   
"Anyway, all that matters is my oath to the Republic. I'm not committing treason over here, Schuyler - I carry out your every order to the fullest extent of my abilities. But don't think that means I'm going to hide my contempt at what you stand for."
   
Sounds familiar, I thought to myself. But I understood then that this man was a great asset to our country, however impolite and insecure he may be.
   
"Director Marque - you can believe me or not, but every action that the World Agency of Protection takes is for a greater good. There are things that exist that you simply cannot understand."
   
He chuckled. "Yeah, say the company line. Now, pardon my interruption and I'll finish my report."

And he did just that. We got the rest of our FBI credentials and he drove us to the capitol. It was an awkward twenty minutes, with none us of us even exchanging small talk. Thank god for my phone. The Samsung Galaxy I had in my jacket pocket was truly a marvel of technology, and I loved it so much, I'd been actively trying to restrict my use of it at the time. But that car ride deserved a Wikipedia session.

The city of Olympia itself wasn't much. As far as majestic Pacific Northwest towns go, you'd be better off in Seattle or Forks. Olympia was a Sunday kind of city, a place where everything was slow and winding down. No imposing redwoods or sprawling beaches called this village home, and if you looked at a picture of the Olympia skyline, you might mistake it for a town in the Midwest.
   
The capitol building was just as solemn and faceless. It almost looked like an addition to the building next to it, which was twice as large and about twenty times as awe-inspiring. That building was the monolithic Temple of Justice, and I so wished that Cable had presided from there instead of this roach motel. Marque escorted us into the capitol building, but he handed us off to his young deputy director, Omar Cantillo, as soon as he could.
   
"Until next time, Director," I said pleasantly. The man didn't even leave with parting words of his own, just skulked off and left us with this bright-faced treasure.
   
Agent Harris, Agent Kinsey, it's a pleasure to meet you both," Cantillo said, smiling more than the situation called for. "Director Marque has told me so much about you both. It's an honor to have you in our service."
   
"Likewise, Deputy Director," Larcel said. "But if you don't mind, time really is of the essence here. We'd like to brief the governor as soon as possible."
   
"Yes, of course. Please follow me, agents." Cantillo took us down the wide hallway, where any activity involved an old man in a suit talking to another old man in a suit. Lifeless pictures of archaic leaders drooped on the walls, and I probably saw enough American flags to supply a Macy's 4th of July sale.
   
We eventually reached a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Two young men in suits and sunglasses stood on either side, and they opened the doors for us as we approached them. We came to the other side, and I was faced with an immense courtroom-style office, with giant ionic pillars on either side of a fine mahogany desk. But there was a little sitting area in front of that, and that's where Governor Cable sat, a middle-aged man, but already fat and white-haired. He glanced to me immediately, with a solemn look of apology in his eyes.
   
"Ah, Omar, these must be the agents you were telling me about." Cable went through his process of standing up, and with the gargantuan stature of the man, it was quite a production. "Jedediah Cable, at your service. He extended his hand, which was admittedly becoming a rare nicety these days. Larcel and I both shook it and introduced ourselves.
   
"Agent Kinsey, great to meet you, sir," Larcel said, shaking his hand first. She could be quite the brownnose when she had to be, it seemed.
   
"Agent Harris," I simply said. "Now, we have a lot to talk about, Governor."
   
"I'll leave you to it," Cantillo said, and he modestly left the room after exchanging goodbyes with Cable.
   
"Yes, we do," Cable said to me. "Now, Omar said something about one of our boys gone missing?"
   
"That's the thing, sir," Larcel said. "Our new information concludes that he's dead. He was State Trooper Kyle Casey, twenty-nine years old. He was killed by a 7.62 caliber bullet in his home from 700 meters away."
   
"Wha…?" Cable's mouth hung open.
   
"We have reason to believe that the perpetrator works in your office, Cable," I spoke up. "We're going to need the records of every state employee in the capitol from the past five years."
   
"This-this is ridiculous," Cable spouted. "My staff are good men, I trust every last one of them boys."
   
"I'm afraid that doesn't matter to the FBI," I told him. "As I said, we need to review those records."
   
Cable looked around the room, like he was thinking of something to say. After the hesitation, he said "Ohhh. Well, that should be fine, I suppose. Problem is the records aren't here, they're in the Governor's Mansion."
   
I gave him an inquisitive look. "Government files in your own home, sir? If I can be frank, isn't that a bit of an overstep of your privilege?"
   
Cable's jovial mask didn't waver. "Agent Harris, if I can be frank with you, this place isn't much to look at, and it isn't too useful either. The mansion has a lot more space, and it's far better equipped to store the very clean records we keep. Why don't you join me there at 4:00? I'll give you the keys and you can have all the time you need to resolve this atrocity."
   
"If you don't mind, Governor," I said, "this is urgent. We need to head to your mansion immediately if that's where the records are."
   
"By all means. We'll take the limousine.
   
The vehicle he referred to was an unnecessary trophy of a car. It was adorned with all the most painstakingly fine details, and I surmised that this overindulgence had cost the state a mighty high dollar. We entered the ride after Cable did - the man hoisted himself up into his transport in a practiced, difficult way. After we settled in, we smoothly drove out of the square, past the elegant Hall of Justice, and onto the streets of Olympia. The ride to Cable's mansion was when I decided to ease off and let Larcel do some of the work.
   
"So what makes you two think that it was a statie who did this despicable shit?" Cable asked. "It makes me sick to think that someone is pulling the wool over my eyes."
   
I didn't say anything, and Larcel recognized that.
   
"That's classified," Larcel said. Wow.
   
"We'll present any relevant information to you as it occurs," I told him, hoping to quell his inevitable hurt dignity.
   
"All right," Cable said slowly. "But I want to know who it turns out to be. You boys - excuse me, you agents, will let me know, right? Your man out in Washington's good company, he's always treated me right and I like to think I've done the same."
   
"Of course, sir," Larcel said. "We're here to help you, not to get in your way."
   
"Glad to hear it, darling."
   
"That being said, you must understand there's very limited information we can give you at this time."
   
"Of course, love," he said with a smile. And then, as if he didn't hear her, he turned to me and asked,"Now, Mr. Harris - is there anything else you can tell me about this murder? I knew that kid's pap, and I'd just…I'd like to know."
   
"Didn't you hear the agent?" I said sharply.
   
He gave me a confused look, didn't say a word, so I spoke again. "Agent Kinsey and I have the same level of authority. You will not dismiss her, or I will dismiss you. Am I clear?"
   
His face turned into a spiteful one now. "Fella, I don't know where you come from thinking you can step up to me and speak like that, but I can tell you-"
   
"You can't tell him shit," Larcel spoke up. "We represent the federal government, and unless you want to become a criminal, you bend to us. Not the other way around. Now please ease off on this southern charm, it's giving me a headache."
   
She finally stopped playing nice with him. I wasn't surprised, it's hard to keep up that subservient posture to a man like Cable.
   
Cable straightened himself up and cleared his throat. "Very well. I'll show you to the records room and then I'll be off."
   
Larcel just nodded, an appropriate response. The rest of the car ride was burdened with a heavy silence, but luckily, it didn't last long. In another two minutes, we pulled up to the front circle of the Governor's Mansion.
   
The mansion was the exact opposite of the capitol. Here, there were lush gardens and intricate fountains. The windows were expertly designed, the chimney breathed out puffy smoke, and the entire place welcomed you into it. We parked next to a giant stone fountain with a lavish arrangement of roses around it. And then we walked out from the limousine and into Cable's excessive home.
   
The front room was just as magnificent as the outside - there was a candelabra and a set of stairs that spiraled upward. But Cable walked us to the right, down a well-adorned hallway.
   
"The records room is in the basement, Here, we can take the elevator."
   
Elevators. That's another one of those weird, nearly unnatural  things. It's the same falling feeling as an airplane's descent, just a hundred times more mild. Still, I was willing to ride this one, because it gave me the perfect opportunity to dose the Governor with an XA injection. It should be an easy enough neutralization - the XA compound manifests as a heart attack a few days after it's introduced.
   
We reached the elevators, and I pressed the call button. A few seconds later, Cable spoke.
   
"Ah shit, I forgot my phone. You two go on down, I'll meet you down there." He began to walk back toward his car.
   
Worked for me. The less time I had to spend with the man, the better my day became. And there were plenty of opportunities to neutralize him anyway. The elevator eventually came to our level, and Larcel and I stepped into it. I pressed B3, where the records room was, and the elevator doors closed shut. The machine began to take us down.
   
"Don't tell me this sca-" Larcel's insult toward me was cut short, as suddenly all the lights in the elevator turned off and we stopped moving. Larcel and I immediately put on our night-vision sunglasses, and she was the first to speak.
   
"Jack! He knows."
   
"Yeah," I said angrily. "Someone in the fucking FBI probably tipped him off. But this was pretty damn stupid on his part. Now we know he has a mole there."
   
"It isn't stupid if he kills us!" Larcel reminded me.
   
"That's not going to happen," I said, looking around. The elevator we were in was definitely an old one, but it didn't have a hatch on top. Of course it couldn't have been that easy. And to further complicate things, a wave of heavy gas suddenly began to emanate from the vents.
   
"Avery, try to grasp anything you can."
   
"Wait, what?" But before she had even finished her sentence, I was slicing through the elevator floor with my WAP-manufactured heated cutting tool. It had the temperature of a blowtorch, while still just being a hot piece of metal and not a flame. Even in my old age, I'm consistently amazed at the wonders our technicians think up.

I heard Larcel cough. "Fuck…" she gasped. "Jack, there's no way out."
   
I completed the burning red square, and witnessed a large chunk of the elevator suddenly sailing into the darkness below. "Go! The floor!" I started coughing, too.
   
Larcel looked down the elevator shaft. "Oh, god."
   
"Grab the guide rail and lead yourself down. Hurry!" I had my head to the floor now, trying to stay away from the gas before it filled up the elevator car completely.
   
Larcel began to ease herself into the gap, and I heard her say "I got it," before I got all light headed. I told myself to keep it together, and soon I saw Larcel was gone.
   
I looked down the hole before finding the long vertical rail that the car was attached to. Grabbing it, I carefully pulled the rest of my body into the darkness.
   
"Larcel!" You down there?"
   
"Yeah, Jack! Right here."
   
I heard her voice, she couldn't be any more than 4 feet beneath me.
   
"Okay, keep going down. Try to find a landing. There should be a red button on the bottom."
   
"All right." I stayed there a moment to give some space between me and her, but when the gas from the elevator car began to trickle into the shaft, I went down a few feet.
   
A half minute passed, and right when I was about to call down to Larcel, I heard a loud machine noise from above me.
   
"They're cutting the line," I said quietly to myself.
   
I heard a faint cry from beneath me. "I can't find a button, Jack!"
   
"Look harder!"
   
"There's nothing here!"
   
I began to frantically move down the pole, and when I came to the first landing, I could see the outline of Larcel below me. I looked at the bottom of the landing, and sure enough - no emergency release. What the fuck? It was some kind of customized system?
   
"I told you." She said this dryly.
   
I didn't respond, just looked to the elevator doors and took a breath before trying to pry them open.
   
"He's cutting the line, Avery," I told her.
   
"What?!"
   
The doors wouldn't budge. Fuck.
   
"Schuyler! I am not dying in this creep's vacation house! Tell me you have a plan?"
   
The machine sound above quietened and turned into more of a grinding. I mentally groaned. It was now or never.
   
"Let go," I calmly told my partner.
   
"What the fuck-"
   
"Trust me or die. Just let go."
   
And with that, I plummeted down the shaft.