While the town was small in stature, that didn’t mean they had no large buildings. There was one, two stories tall with actual windows. While it didn’t match to most definitions of large, it essentially towered over the small huts around it. Liv follows the elder man up its rackety steps, the small porch made of a rotting wood that shouldn’t be able to support her weight. It stood fast though, the door swinging open with a turn of a knob.

  The inside was only a bit better than the inside, actual furnishing set within its walls. A small collection of books sit on the wall, held in place by a singular shelf. A small table is set in the middle, garbage piled on every part of its surface. Liv takes a breath, the sight filling her with a sense of nostalgia. It really was just like home.

  “This is… Cozy.” Charlotte compliments, her tone an attempt at modesty. In the end, it came out almost snooty.

  “You don’t need to lie to spare our feelings.” The elder man says, his eyes running over the expanse of the table. “We know we live in squalor. Some of us remember what life was like before the Phenomenon.” He sighs, his hand running over his face. He looked miserable, his mind wandering away from the present. “When everything wasn’t so terrible.”

  “I reckon it’s pretty good.” Liv comforts, plucking a piece of garbage from the table. It looks like some sort of machine, though it’s been mangled beyond recognition. Not like she would’ve known what a machine was supposed to look like.

  The earnest way in which Liv spoke gave the man pause, his gaze returning to her once more. Slowly, a chuckle escapes his lips, a shine sparkling just behind his eye. “You young people don't know how bad you got it. Though, if you think so, i guess we don't."

  Charlotte gives Liv a strange stare, Liv returning it with a confused one of her own. Charlotte shakes her head, turning her gaze back to the task at hand, her nerves alight with caution.

  “He should be in his office area. The shipment arrived not too long ago, so I assume he’d be tinkering with it by now.” The old man points up the shoddy stairs near the back. Anthony stares at them for a moment before sitting down, his caduceus clenched in his hand.

  “Not risking walking up those.” He says. “Don’t trust them. You guys go ahead, I’ll keep watch.”

  Charlotte stares at him, tempted to stick with her healer. She then looks to Liv, her first friend already ascending the stairs. The thought of her dictating how a conversation went by herself sent a shiver down the taller woman's spine. Quickly, she follows the three, her hand resting on Pierre’s hilt. Best safer than sorry.

  The upstairs area was more a hall than anything, three rooms placed in each greater direction: to the left, to the right, and dead center. The left and right were slightly ajar, allowing Liv to peak through. The leftmost one was a small bedroom with a twin sized mattress and nothing more. A small lantern hangs from its top, though the flame that was supposed to be burning in its heart was extinguished. The rightmost room was just… A bucket? Liv sniffed, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Bathroom for sure.

  The man rests his hand on the knob, though he stops as a spark of realization crosses his face. He turns to Charlotte, an awkward yet imploring tone entering his voice.

  “Could you please cut Sheila free? I don’t think he’ll be in the listening mood if she’s all tied up.”

  Charlotte stares at him for a moment before nodding her assent, Pierre glinting in the light for a split moment. The wind whips for a moment, the rope sliding down, cleaved cleanly in half. Liv looks on, an impressed nod her only reaction. She hadn’t realized her friend had that much control, though she should’ve expected it in all honesty. Could she always do that? An interesting angle to consider, though an angle to consider later.

  The forwardmost door swings open, revealing the office space within. Its a cluttered mess, filled with ruined electronics and other articles of garbage. The only furnishing appears to be a desk smack dab in the middle of the room, a wooden chair neatly tucked behind it. In said chair is, what Liv assumes, is the boss of this place. He looks to be about her age, perhaps a bit older given the stubble sprouting from his chin. Coffee colored hair pours from his scalp, flowing in either direction before stopping at his earlobes. He wears the nicest clothes out of anyone, though a few scorch marks give him a similarly disheveled look. He works with intensive focus, pulling from a similar box…

  The one they had stolen from Liv.

  “Ainsley, sir.” The elder pipes up, his knuckles rapping against the drywall. “You have visitors.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The man known as Ainsley slowly raises his head, his eyes immediately falling on Liv. He sighs, his hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, a silver ring shining on his pointer.

  “Can you please explain why I have Hellfire initiates standing in my office space while I have parts stolen from Hellfire right next to me?”

  The elder gulps, his calloused hands nervously fidgeting together. With a shaking voice, he speaks, truly trying his best to explain the situation. “W-well sir, you know how Sheila was lost? Well, she brought them here. B-But for good reason!” He interjects on himself, his hands raising in defense. Good thing, too. Ainsley looked as if he might jump over the desk. “They have someone, someone who can heal. They might be able to fix Malo!”

  “Impossible.” Ainsley waves dismissively. “There is no ‘healing’ what she’s become; besides, I told you I would fix it.”

  “It’s been two years now! We can hardly afford to care for her, let alone the risk of stealing every other week!” The elder man chastises, though cautiously. “We don’t know if these people could fix her, but what’s the risk in trying? We need to do something, anything…”

  “It won’t work.” Ainsley reiterates, a finality filling his voice.

  “How can ya be so sure?” Liv questions, a sense of caution creeping up on her. For some strange reason, she could feel he was different from anyone else in this town– and not because he was just the leader. Something about him felt… Off. She couldn’t put a name to it, but her heart was screaming that he was awry in some manner.

  “It is none of your concern.” Ainsley grunts, his tinkering hands dropping the machine he’s working on. “What I say goes, and I say she’s beyond saving. We don’t need you four in here to try and save a clearly lost cause…” He says, mentally counting them, his voice slowly fading into nothing. His eyebrows furrow, suspicion creeping into his tone. “Where are the rest of you.”

  “Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout?” Liv questions, her thumb jutting toward Charlotte. “Me ‘n Charlotte are here, Anthony’s waitin’ downstairs, ‘n Donovan…” She says, realization slowly dawning on her. She whips her head around, looking about the room for any sign of her friend.

  Nothing.

  Where the hell had he gone?

  The first thought Donovan had while scouring the town was “Damn, this place is an absolute dump.” His next thought was “Just like home.”

  All these supposed thieves' dens were the same, just a collection of desperate people who didn’t have the skill to enter one of the criminal enterprises, though not useful enough to integrate into Hellfire proper. Smaller outcroppings of civilizations existed out there, though they weren’t in the business of accepting people. Donovan had jumped around places like these all the time: the musty stink of stale air in the air, the shuffling of feet, the lack of people over fifty due to their perceived lack of use, and the threadbare homes. It brought back some memories for sure; though, they weren’t what he’d call “fond”.

  Luckily for him, most of these places were the exact same. The layout was eerily similar to others he had seen. Hopefully, that would mean they stored the valuables in the same place as well. Slinking through the heavy shadows, Donovan slips through the cracks in the buildings, coming to the edge of the man-made cavern. His hand runs across the wall, feeling for any sort of give. After a few paces, he finds it, a smile creeping across his face. Even if the location changed, people hadn’t.

  With a mild exertion of pressure, he pushes, the wall slowly giving way to an offshoot cavern. The machine parts would probably be around here. Get in, get out, all that; though, Anthony’s warning about Synth Signatures gave him pause. He hoped his friends would be ok, though he had no doubt in his mind that they’d survive in the long wrong. He had yet to fight any person who matched Charlotte in pure combative skill, and Liv was… Well, Liv had made him consider the true barrier between demon and human. Her focus in combat had given him pause on more than one occasion, her near inhuman tolerance for pain terrifying to behold. If he hadn’t spoken to her outside combat, he would’ve believed her a battle crazed demon; though, her true nature made him think of a large dog his parents had owned. She was loyal, strong, and just a bit dumb. That didn't make her any less his friend, almost to the contrary.

  He spelunks deeper into the offshoot, his eyes flitting about the place cautiously. It was entirely unlit, though that was nothing his Tonfa couldn’t fix. The entrance hardly allowed him any room to stand. He had to duck just to get in the door, his head still scraping against the ceiling. The smell of rotting meat tickles his nose, a groan escaping his lips. They must’ve stored some sort of food haul in here without proper refrigeration. He had seen it happen before. Not with this much, though if the aroma was indication.

  Continuing forward, he eventually crests the final stretch, entering a large cavern. It was… Empty, all aside from a single person. They sit chained to the wall by a single arm, the chain hanging limp by their side. Mysterious liquids surround them, a reddish brown festooned across every surface. Donovan has to cover his nose, an involuntary gag escaping his mouth. Were they…? If so, he was taking care of them all– consequences be damned. He had seen too many people like them out in the wild, their desperation leading them to the point of no return.

  He jogs over, slapping their face gently. They were female, though it was hard to tell with the shaved head and emaciated figure. He looks to the chain, growling as he slams his foot into the connection point between it and the wall. It shatters behind his superhuman strength, stone and rubble falling like snow.

  The girl slowly raises their head, their eyes still closed. Donovan looks back, his usual smile spreading across his face.

  “Rise and shine, sunshine!” He says, clapping her on the shoulder. “I’m getting you outta here.”

  They say nothing in response, their hand snaking up to grab his arm. They open their eyes… At least, where their eyes are supposed to be.

  Their sockets are empty.

  BOOM

  A loud rumbling shakes the cavern, Liv’s feet quaking beneath her, her head whipping to the source. Her eyes widen, her nerves set alight with the possibility of combat. What the hell had enough power to make that sound. Charlotte shared her sentiment, though her gaze was locked on Ainsley. Ainsley simply hangs his head, a sigh peeling from his lips.

  “What did you do?” Charlotte questions, her grip tightening around her blade.

  “Her decisions were all hers. She made me clean up after her mess. Now she has to eat.” He mutters, his hand grasping something under his desk. “And I refuse to lose another one of mine.”

  That was all the warning they got before he went on the offensive, his resolve dead set on seeing them dead.