"AGH, damn it, I think I stepped in someone's shit!" Shawn groaned, scraping his boot against the edge of the stone pathway. The smear only spread, carrying the unmistakable sewer stench.
The surrounding tunnels were massive—Altor's growing population had forced expansions upon expansions, leaving behind sealed-off corridors and forgotten veins that spider-webbed beneath the city. Despite their size, the oppressive darkness made them feel claustrophobic. The few green lamps that still worked cast a sickly glow, barely giving Shawn and Dan enough light to see more than a few feet ahead.
"Come on," Dan rumbled, his voice echoing off the damp stone. He placed a steadying hand on the low ceiling, using the rough surface as his guide. "Let's get to the back entrance and seal it."
Shawn muttered curses as he trudged forward, the satchel at his side clinking softly—Flare Dust, volatile and unforgiving, shifting inside. One wrong jolt and they'd be paste on the walls.
They moved deeper into the winding sewer until Shawn finally spotted it: a dug-out hole carved crudely into the side passage. He grinned and jogged ahead, bracing a hand against the wall as he peered through the opening.
"Fucking idiots don't even have guards here," he snorted. His gaze swept the area, sharp and calculating. "Perfect. Now… where's the best place to plant this stuff?"
Dan slid his hands over the rough walls until he finally found a weak spot. "Here, this spot will collapse the roof, but not damage the structures above," he said, as he looked back at Shawn.
Shawn nodded, and placed the satchel where Dan had indicated, pulling out the fuse, then took out flint and steel, and after a few strikes, it lit, the fuse hissed, but sounded wrong, wrong… speed.
Too fast, way too fast.
"Shit—RUN!" Shawn yelled, bolting down the sewers, his short legs pumping furiously as Dan thundered after him, each step shaking the ground even before the explosion did.
BOOM!
The blast punched through the sewers, a rolling shockwave slamming into them, then bouncing off the walls and hitting again, and again. The entire corridor shook as the sound roared through the tunnels, deafening and relentless.
Shawn and Dan clamped their hands over their ears, bracing as the echoes howled past them like a storm trapped underground.
After the dust had settled, Shawn looked back, and the entire secret entrance to Warehouse Seven had collapsed. "You alright, big guy?" he asked as he dusted himself off.
Dan's voice rumbled, "Yup, I think I took most of the wave."
Shawn nodded, knowing that their plan was in motion.
"Thanks for being the meat shield," Shawn quipped, punching Dan's massive forearm.
Dan chuckled.
~~~~~
Jake felt the ground shaking, then an echoing boom was heard. The lively street he had merged with halted, as everyone looked at each other in confusion at the distant explosion.
Jake looked up, barely able to see Vantim, a black dot, which could only be seen as his silhouette covered a few stars in the night sky, and he nodded as he slipped into the shadows.
Jake would be the one securing the slaves, while Audrey watched from above. Thalia and her band were the ones who would make sure no one escaped.
~~~~~
Forrest stared at the panther beast-kin, "What do you mean?" he snarled, his weasel face crunching up.
Pan lashed her tail, "He's cut you, you have been told this already, so why call me?" Her voice was irritated and cold.
He snarled, "He made a Pact with me!" He slammed his fist down on the table.
"Yes, but the Pact is annulled," Pan said, crossing her arms.
Forrest's eyes widen; he could still feel the pact between him and Aries. 'D-did Aries have a way to get around a Pact?' he thought.
He looked at Pan, fury in his eyes, yet also fear, "So, I am no longer of use to him."
Pan smirked, "Now you have it."
Forrest sighed, knowing that it was useless; he slumped into his chair. His mind is thinking, scheming a way out.
His brother had betrayed him, and he was in hiding. He cursed at his situation, knowing this was it.
Pan slipped out, leaving the slaver to his judgment.
Forrest sat as he tried to settle his thoughts. He walked out of his office to take a breath of air, but also to look over his operation, now crumbling, fewer cages, fewer people, fewer guards.
He snarled as he walked down the stairs from the looming office, looking over the newly arrived cages, iron cages that each held five or more beast-kins, human, and dwarves.
But he grinned at one cage that had cloth draped over it; he smiled, thinking how this single object could likely save him.
BOOM
Forrest and his men stumbled as an explosion racked the warehouse. Forrest's green eyes widened, looking around in panic.
"What the hell was that!" He shouted, demanding answers.
His men looked around in confusion, "Earthquake?" one suggested.
"No way—felt like a blast! My father worked the mines," another shot back.
Forrest cursed, panic seeping into the edges of his voice. "Secure everything! Where's Captain Hale?"
"Didn't show, boss!"
"Damn it—get her out first!" he snapped, pointing at the covered cage.
His men rushed. Others scrambled to move the chained slaves. Forrest oversaw it all… yet something felt off he smelled blood, not dried blood that covered some slaves, no, it was fresh.
He followed the smell, wondering if a guard was being too rough with his merchandise. He took a lamp and turned it on; its blue flame flickered to life as he walked down the stairs, where more slaves were hidden.
The slaves were silent, too silent.
He moved slowly, his eyes searching, yet he could only see silhouettes of the cages and hear chains clicking at their small, fearful movements.
As he moved deeper into the darkness, he stumbled on something. He regained his balance, and he looked down at what he stumbled on.
A severed hand.
He followed the blood, as he saw the body where the hand came from, his breath catching in his throat. The man's throat was sliced open, blood pooling.
Then a chilling laughter rang out from the darkness, and he moved the lamp, trying to follow the laughter, trying to find its source.
He spun wildly, sweeping the lamp in desperate motions. "W-Who—who's there!? W-What are you!?" His voice cracked, yet the creature just laughed, closer this time.
Then he saw them.
Golden, shining eyes peering at him, a predator's gaze stalking prey, as the creature rose from the shadows.
Forrest's legs failed him as the lamp clattered on the stone floor.
He froze in fright, but as the creature's form became clearer, he started to scramble back on all fours, trying to gain distance from the creature, his breath hitching, choking on terror, as the laughter's source finally appeared, as two gleams of silver flickered against the blue lamplight.
He screamed out, but his throat went dry, a raspy croak came out as heat suddenly flooded the room—scorching, suffocating. The air shimmered, and a voice boomed even into the basement of the warehouse, shaking dust from the ceiling.
"Forrest Young, you're under arrest for slave trafficking and evasion of arrest, along with many other heinous acts, you worthless scat!"