[SNEAK PEEK]Mission Failed
This is a sneaking mission.
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Mission Failed
Subscriber Reward for Moxas (November 2023)
By Limewah
Inspired by Rubberbun's setting
18+
SNEAK PEEK
"I'm in."
The figure was clad head to toe in a steel-grey bodysuit, blending in with the facility's environs. With his tail tucked in, his ears tucked down and the sleek goggles around his eyes, the black furred wolf was completely anonymised.
"Good start, Agent Dire." The voice in his earpiece was the only company he had in the quiet, sterile facility. "No difficulties?"
"None. No cameras, no guards... aside from the doorman I haven't seen a single security measure."
"Strange. Stay alert. Don't get too comfy just yet."
"Roger that, Conscience. Dire out."
Agent Dire detected a hint of flirtation in his handler's voice. Things had been progressing slowly and steadily in their secret workplace tryst, and they'd done a good job of hiding it. Doing things in secret was their occupation, after all.
Agent Dire put the thoughts of what he'd do to that cute little sable later. For now, he continued to creep through the pitch-black halls, checking his corners and still not spotting a single sign of life. The sensors on his goggles didn't detect any wiring connected to any security cameras, and it was still totally empty.
Without the credible intel they'd received, it would have been safe to assume that this old building that produced laptops the size of your torso 20 years ago would have still been abandoned. And maybe it was. But Dire had to investigate the lead. The Shadow Bureau never left a lead alone. And if it brought them any closer to discerning what had happened to the numerous superheroes that had vanished in the preceding months, it would be worthwhile.
"Still nothing," Dire whispered.
"Are you close to the shop floor?" Conscience said.
"Nearly there," he responded, seeing a set of double doors up ahead- if what he could see through the windows with his night-vision was anything to go by, it probably was the shop floor entrance.
"Can you hear that?"
"No..."
"Guess my hearing is still better than yours. I'm detecting some noise and movement through your ear-monitors up ahead. Something's happening in there."
"Roger. I'll check it out. Dire out."
"Be careful. Conscience out."
As he continued along towards the entrance, Dire began to hear something. It was a thick, repetitive, syrupy sound, like a swamp being disturbed by an oar. The double doors, like the rest of the facilities, were unlocked. A scent was wafting through the cracks in the doors, and it hit Dire full force when they opened and he stepped out into the walkway that overlooked the factory floor. An intense stinging scent of chemicals, like melting plastic, fumigated the inside of his head and made him dizzy. It took a lot of effort not to cough. Especially with the sight below him on the shop floor.
Vat after vat of black fluid dotted the stripped-bare floor of the factory. There were at lest three dozen of them. The fluid had a strangely still sheen to it, like perfectly polished ice. But now and then they writhed and moved. He switched his goggles to a heat-vision mode.
"Fuck," he whispered. "What in the world..."
In each vat, there were several figures. He could see their heat-signatures, just barely, through the thick masses of slime. They writhed to varying degrees. Some were thrashing and clutching at their faces. Others were getting weaker. Others had gone completely still, though they were still very much alive.
He carefully peered over the side of the walkway, looking for a vantage point to slip down. Ideally someplace where there weren't any patrolling guards.
...He couldn't see any though. Surely here, of all places, would have someone protecting it...
Dire forgot to check the ceiling.
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