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[iriswc1995]

Ash In Ordina

Chapter Two:  ‘Church’

The camera scanned the invitation, and the glass doors whisked open.  Ash tucked it back in her cloak and stepped inside the Worship Office.  Its vast main hall was nearly empty, supported by several marble pillars adorned with artificial torches, contrasting the square, clinical lighting fixtures illuminating the ceiling.  Her footsteps echoed through the hollow expanse.  She watched the shadows dance beneath the various grotesque furnishings, embellished with colorful trappings and expensive decorations.  She wrinkled her nose. The Redeemed were never doing badly for themselves.

At a desk at the end of the hall were two men wearing typical Rapturist attire who seemed to be waiting for her.  The smaller figure immediately smiled and stood up, moving around to the front of the desk with a posture of welcome.  He had a messy haircut dyed bright pink to match his large eyes.  The second man, a few feet behind him, had a darker complexion and grim countenance, towering over both of them, a large cleaver strapped to his back.  Ash met his cold gaze for a moment before the smaller one greeted her.

“Ah, you must be Ash!  Your appearance is very distinct, in a good way, miss!”

“Thanks.”

“And um, just to double-check, no last name?”

“No.  I’m curious why the Redeemed need to hire a freelancer.”

“Hehe, well…” The man scratched the back of his head before clasping his hands together.  “I doubt it’s going to be the usual sort of work you do… rather, we need you to find someone.  One of our high-ranking members has seemingly gone missing, you see.”

Ash tilted her head, but stayed silent, waiting for more details.  But then the man laughed to himself and spread his arms.

“Sorry sorry, where are my manners!  My name is Alistar Fey, Redeemed, director third-echelon, fifth mind.  And my partner here is…”

The tall man sighed, cracking his neck as he turned his head.  “Andre,” he answered coldly.

Alistar smiled and turned back to Ash.  “Politeness is what keeps the world spinning, I think.  Which is also why this is a strictly above-board, on-record job.”

“Right.  So who’s missing, and why do you need me to find them?”

Silently, Alistar took a small binder from the desk and handed it to her.  Ash’s breath caught momentarily as she opened it.  Real paper?  They’re rich enough for paper after everything they did?  Swallowing her annoyance, she skimmed through the details.  His name was Zachary Kells.  A life-long worshipper, decently wealthy thanks to his job at Skyvault as a researcher and engineer.  But it seemed he’d recently left his job to fully devote himself to the Church.  

“We’ve tried contacting him, of course,” Alistar said, scratching the back of his head.  “But no one has seen or heard from him in nearly a week.  He wasn’t involved in anything shady, to my knowledge, and was largely a homebody.  His residence is on this floor, and we sent someone to check there, but no answer again.  And since he lives in one of the Castles, well…”

Ash closed the binder.  “You need someone who’s good at getting inside places they aren’t supposed to.  And you don’t want the authorities involved, for reasons which I’m sure you won’t tell me.”

Alistar hesitated.  Ash nodded and continued.

“It’s fine.  I’ll find him... for the amount we agreed on.”

“Wonderful!  Then, that should be all for our business here.  Part of me hopes you’ll simply find him at home, but I rather doubt it, unfortunately…”

“Freelancer.”  Andre said, taking a step forward for the first time.  Ash flicked her eyes towards him and stood up straight, hands open at her sides.  He raised an eyebrow and simply folded his arms.

“Watch yourself.  Unsavory types buzz around these neighborhoods like hungry flies.  Zachary is an important man.  I trust you’ll do your best to keep him safe.”

Ash hesitated for a long moment, thoughts swimming beneath the man’s cold gaze.  Does he know something about me…? Finally, Ash simply nodded and turned to exit the office hall.

-----

Dark streets caked in rolling fog, dimly illuminated by fading streetlamps.  One could almost mistake this for outside, if not for the globes of faint light on the ceiling, nearly two-hundred feet above, staring like gray stars.  The housing here, the Castles, were essentially buildings unto themselves, like houses stacked on one another.  Security systems and relatively safe neighborhoods, on top of this, were what created the floors home to the wealthier-than-most but not nearly of the mega-rich status.

Ash walked to a street corner two blocks away from the Worship Office, where she found Cygnus waiting for her, playing a game on his phone.  He brushed his hair out of his eyes as she approached.

“So, is it about what we figured?”

She shrugged.  “No assassinations or whatever.  They're just missing one of their top guys.  I need your help getting into his place.”

Cygnus nodded, and started following behind her.  His face wore the same dark look that Ash figured she had made when she entered the Church.  Neither of them liked doing work like this, and Cygnus had even more reason than most to despise the Worship Unity and everything they did.  Their footsteps echoed along the cracked street.  No one else was milling around this late in the evening.  But then, someone made themselves known.

Harsh voices clamored from a nearby alleyway.  Scattered around the trash-filled crevice like chattering rats were several individuals of varying appearance, though the black, red-trimmed jackets wrapped around each of their waists indicated they were a group.  There were six in total, some tall, some muscular, some squatting on dumpsters, others leaning against the wall.  Almost all of them had some kind of augmentation or another - metal arms, thousand-eyes implants, studded or scaled flesh.  Their weapons were crude, but looked sharp - probably scavenged from the Bone Forest.  They turned to look at the pair as they began to pass, and Ash stopped suddenly as their gazes met.  She recognized their appearance, their vibe, and this scent.  These were Harvesters without a doubt.  Before there could be any pretense of just passing through, the group quickly filed out of the alleyway to block their path, their faces grim yet thrilled.  Ash sighed and turned to Cygnus.

“Go on ahead.  I'll handle this.”

“… you sure?”

She nodded.  Cygnus scanned the group with an analytical look before hesitantly stepping forward, whispering to Ash as he passed.

“Don't get in trouble.”

“I'll do my best.”

He walked past the Harvesters, not meeting any of their sharp looks, and while a couple of them spit in his direction, none of them made a move to attack.  The tallest one, most certainly the leader judging by her demeanor, stepped forward.  Her arms were muscular and heavily scarred, the sleeves of her jacket were ringed with iron spikes, and she wore a mask that covered the top half of her face, adorned with chaotic black and red designs.  Her wild, black-haired ponytail nearly reached her waist.  She leaned into Ash's face and laughed.

“How's it going, killer?  Where ya heading to?  Gonna chop off some more heads with that shitty sword of yours?”

Ash stared back, coldly.  Her stomach was tied in a knot, but she didn't let herself panic.  She knew this type.

“I don't see how that's your business, bitch.”

The group laughed again, and the woman smiled.  Ash knew better than to use honorifics like ‘miss’ around Harvesters.  The leader leaned back, walking around Ash as she replied.

“But it IS my business, motherfucker!  Our group here, we protect these streets from killers like you!”

She stood in front of her again, folding her arms.

“God damn, are you edgy-lookin’ or what?  I would have thought you were some gutless nobody if not for this scent… the scent of blood, so unmistakable… it clings to you like a haze~ and if I had to guess, you can smell it just like us, can’t you…?”

Ash rolled her eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Hahahaha~! So if I had to guess, you’re trying to turn over a new leaf or something?  Blood doesn’t dry that easy, kid.  A muzzled wolf is still a wolf.”

“You’re right,” Ash said, and flicked an inch of her sword from its sheathe.  Its red glow captivated the group for a moment, and several of them brandished their own weapons.  “So get out of my way or see the wolf for yourself.  I’m not better than any of you.  Except in terms of skill.”

Silence filled the street.  Strapped across the lead woman’s back was a massive saw-cleaver that made Ash’s katana look like a knife.  She sniffed a few times, then smirked.  Behind her lips, her teeth had been replaced with sharper ones modeled after a shark’s.  She stepped forward, and offered a hand.

“Name’s Tesla.  Any chance you’d wanna join us…?  We make serious dough off the rich idiots on this floor~”

Ash didn’t take her hand.

“Those days are behind me.  I hunt different prey now.”

She made sure to phrase her words correctly, sweat forming on her clenched palms.  To most gangs, you're either a threat, or nothing to worry about.  To Harvesters, you're either a threat, or a walking pay-out.  And either option makes them liable to kill you.  But mercifully, Tesla shrugged and finally backed out of her personal space.

“Fair enough, I guess… but don't go thinking you're done being a Harvester.  Everyone who's alive has to take from others to keep living.  At least the lives we take are put to good use when we sell off their lungs and heart!

“Save the preaching for the church.”

The other Harvesters laughed and playfully punched Tesla, yelling ‘she got you good!’ as Ash continued down the street, her cloak wandering in the breeze.

[iriswc1995]

Ash’s Diary Of Distortion 1:  ‘Family Christmas’

What follows are excerpts from the diary Ash keeps on Cygnus’ data storage files about the various Distortions and Distortion-like effects that she encounters on her excursions into Ordina.  They are brief glimpses into the inner workings of the city and the kinds of horrors that can be found there, and by extension, snapshots of Ash’s usual routine as an explorer/mercenary-for-hire.  They do not fit into the continuity of the main story and can be perused in any order.  Ash keeps these records for the purposes of learning more about the Distortion’s possible behaviors so that she can be as prepared as possible.  Perhaps one day they will help you, as well.

-----

Once a year, at the stroke of midnight on December 25th, there is magic in the air.  Even for the dogged and downtrodden citizens of Ordina, there are those who cannot help but feel joy bursting in their hearts during the holiday season.  And no holiday with quite the peculiar fervor or saturation of Christmas’ alien greens and bright reds.  

The Schmidt family were one such unit.  Despite the many compromises of modern life, they were a clan who remained staunchly loyal to the traditions of the old days.  Family values.  A clean house.  A love of the Christian God.  They were a large family of three generations and splitting branches in their grand tree.  Trees; a forgotten luxury of the upper-class, were almost sacred to the Schmidts; they are the Family, they are the Hearth-Fire, they are what every member of their bloodline gather around once a year on Christmas Day.

“Don’t crowd each other, kids!”  Annamarie Schmidt, the mother of the house, called out to the dining room.  While certainly a modest home - there existed no other kind for those of their wealth level - nearly their whole family would cheerfully crowd around the dinner tables.  Brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins galore.  Seating was arranged in a strict hierarchy based on age and importance, which Annamarie took great pains to ensure would not offend any of her lovely guests.  Granny Taylor sat at the head of the table, the oldest among them at age 66.  She smiled and spread her arms as everyone clustered into their chairs, rubbing elbows and adjusting plates.  From the next room, a radiant light shone into the kitchen from the artificial glass star atop the plastic tree.

“Ah, it’s just so wonderful to see all of you, on this blessed day…!  To see how much you’ve all grown up like little sprouts!”

“Meanwhile you’ve aged like a steamed grape!”  Said Aunt Helen, the promiscuous one.

A chorus of hollow chuckles preceded the Granny’s measured response.  “Grapes turn into fine wine too, don’t you forget.”

“Let’s pray that we all be as wise as you one day, mother,” Annamarie said dutifully.

One of the young ones, Ryan, bounced in his seat.  “Can we say grace yet?  I wanna eat!”  His mother smiled and chuckled with the others, but would of course punish him harshly once they returned home.

“Wait, but where’s Leo?”  Mary said.  She was the oldest of the children, allowed to sit at the adult’s table for the first time this year.  Several other people echoed her words in eerie unison, looking around the room as if he would suddenly appear at the mere mention of his name.

“Oh,” Anna said, pursing her lips.  There was a painful pause as she fidgeted with a cloth.  “You know how our Leo is.  Cooped up in his room, again.  No matter what I try, he just can’t seem to get in the Christmas spirit.  To think, he’s nearly old enough to sit at the adult’s table himself!”

“Ah, well,” said her sister May, putting a hand on her arm.  “Don’t blame yourself, dear!  Kids these days just don’t value family like they used to.”  May smiled, scathing judgement behind her eyes.  A vein bulged in Anna’s forehead.  How dare that miserable boy embarrass her like this.  Perhaps physical punishment would be the only way to get through to her problem child.  

“I wanna eat!  I wanna eat!”  Came another cry from the kid’s table.

“Hehe, alright then~”  Anna said, finally taking her own place at the table.  “But prayer comes first, of course!”

Silently, the children filed over to the main table so that they could all hold hands in one large circle.  Granny Taylor began a sincere, thoughtful speech to their heavenly father.  

The table in the center, save for the plates and silverware that Anna had set down, was completely empty.

“Amen~” said Granny Taylor, dead skin falling from her hair.

Annamarie smiled.  “Time to dig in, Family~ I hope you all enjoy it!”

Two of the uncles grabbed Mary’s arms and shoved her onto the table, flat on her back.  For a fraction of a second, she looked confused, but then her eyes went limp in their sockets, the same soulless smile of the other Schmidts attaching itself to her face.  Knives flashed.

Red began to cake the dining room walls.  Limbs were sawed, extremities cut, organs scooped with bare hands.  The Schmidts continued conversing among themselves in the hollow manner of most families; with the women talking about the unseasonable weather and the men discussing how business had been.  Mary, too, would join in now and then, oblivious to her ongoing destruction, and the adults would laugh at the delicious whimsy of a not-quite-adult but far-from-child beginning to learn the ways of the Elder.  They spoke without pause even as they stuffed their faces with her meat in the manner of ravenous wild animals; choking, spitting, and vomiting as their airways required.  They continued even as the flesh dwindled and they began forcing their teeth through her bones.  There was nothing left of Mary to continue speaking, yet now and then they would chuckle as though they could hear her all the same.

And they could.  For the cabinets around the room would open and close, the very walls of the house would groan and shudder in the rhythm of Family.  Afterwards, only rarely would the Schmidts refer to the one they consumed each year; always with the presumption they were still alive and well.  But the house groaned in response all the same.  Was it the people who hungered, or the house itself?  No, perhaps not the building but the gathering - was it possible for even a time of year to lose its mind?  

Long into the night and even to the next morning, the Schmidts mindlessly feasted, until not even the stains on their clothes remained.

Finally, only silence filled the home save for the sound of quiet weeping.  Leo, hiding under the bed as he did every year, knew he would never see cousin Mary again.  

------

𝔸𝕤𝕙’𝕤 ‘𝔻𝕚𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕆𝕗 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟’ 𝔼𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝟛𝟡:  ‘Family Christmas’

𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕆𝕗 𝔼𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕪:  December 26th, 2164

𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝:  Probably Green, I think?  It’s definitely dangerous, but it seems completely localized to the one family.  I hope I don’t see any more of it, at least.

This one is a unique case of a Dissonance occurring on a seemingly regular period while remaining in a kind of ‘dormant’ state for most of the year.  On top of that, it seems to only affect the Schmidt family, at least from what I’ve found so far.  I guess this is proof that tips from Harvesters about ‘blood in the air’ aren’t total bullshit all the time.

Cygnus helped me get in the house, and I could tell there was a Dissonance pretty much immediately.  Red ghosts were lined up around the house like they were in a marching order, almost.  All of them were facing the wall and smiling weirdly.  The family itself seemed to be in a weird zoned-out state too, which as I can tell now is essentially the Dissonance’s ‘honeymoon period’ where it puts everybody in this weird trance and alters their memories.  Creepy, but helpful.

Most of what I know comes from Leo.  Poor fucking kid.  I doubt he’s ever gonna get out of that hospital I dropped him off at.  Even then, I only know the vague details about certain things.  No idea how many years this has been happening… but it definitely happens every Christmas.  The eldest child is killed and eaten by the adults, who seem to have no idea what they’re actually doing, just treating it like a normal Christmas dinner.  And yes Cygnus, it’s disgusting, even for me.  They treat the kid like they’re alive for a while after that before sort of just forgetting them and moving on to the next one.  It also seems like the Dissonance, or the eating itself, somehow extends the lifespan of all the adults, which explains why the matriarch was so damn old.  I also have no idea how exactly this started, since it seems like either Leo’s memories were fucked with as well, or he’s just too traumatized to even remember.  The only clue is the family’s weird traditionalist mindset about stuff, but I’ll hold myself back from going on a rant about it here.

Anyway, the Schmidts are gone now except for the kid.  I burned the house down just in case it had something to do with it.  Happy holidays, I fucking guess.

[iriswc1995]

Ash In Ordina

Chapter One:  ‘Home’

The screech of the railcar grinding to a halt startled her awake.  Ash peered from under her hood, instinctively grabbing the hilt of her sword.  The car was empty save for her and a few wandering ghosts.  It was difficult to see through the smeared windows.  It was utterly dark outside.  She sighed, wiping crumbs from her eyes and standing up.  After a moment, the doors hissed open, and she stepped through.

The ‘station’ was hardly more than a platform of corrugated metal, dripping with rust, that bridged two sides of the yawning darkness below.  Orange lights gleamed like eyes on the distant walls that did little to reveal the vastness of the dozens of floors extending above and below.  Ash made her way across, combing fingers through her matted hair.  Past the station, a blue light illuminated a lone figure leaning against the wall of the corridor.  He had a boyish face, a mess of dreadlocks, and perpetual bags under his eyes.  His left arm was a cybernetic prosthesis, which he waved as she approached.

“Heya.  Glad you made it.”

Ash nodded and pulled her coat closer around herself.  “Lead the way, Cygnus.” 

She followed a few paces behind him through a labyrinth of oily hallways, trying to stay alert.  There was never much in a given Tower to distinguish one area from another, save the occasional worn sign.  What was different was the layout, and the people.  Smells of dirt and skin and cooking meat surrounded them as they entered a crowded intersection crammed with dingy shops.  This district had working traffic lights to dictate the constant flow of activity, which the pair pushed their way through as hastily as possible.  A thin stairway led to an auxiliary floor, where Cygnus cut the chains on a gate that led to maintenance.  Ash perked up a bit.

“Home sweet home?”

“Not yet.  Watch behind us.”

Complex webs of pipes and wires guided them through the dark, claustrophobic maze.  Cygnus didn’t say much except to warn her about a gap in the floor or the sound of footsteps approaching.  Ash stayed relaxed.  She trusted people who lived behind locked doors or in cramped spaces more than whoever was patrolling outside them.  As much as she would trust anyone besides Cygnus, at least. 

The arrival of more ghosts, pale and eerily indistinct like clouds of water vapor, signalled their exit from maintenance and back into a populated area.  Cygnus slowed his pace as they entered a long living hall, lined with apartment doors and people who were either hunched over or entirely prone along its sides.  A nearby sign read ‘District 17, Floor 3.’  Ash squinted.

“I thought you said you’d found somewhere isolated.”

“Again, we aren’t there yet.  We’ve still got a bit to go.  Are there ghosts around or something?”

“No more than usual.  I hope you got some food, by the way.”

“Two large pizzas, right?”

She chuckled.  They carefully wove through the carpeted halls of the district.  Thousands of people could live in a single Tower, and the corporation heads tended to cram in a lot more than that.  Ash wove disdainfully at buzzing flies and ignored the hands reaching out for her as they passed.  It’s crazy the kind of thing that the city can make into a routine, she thought bitterly.

Then, her sword vibrated in its sheathe.  Ash slowed her pace and looked around, flicking the hilt with her thumb to reveal an inch of the blade.  A familiar surge of adrenaline pulsed through her.  Her vision reddened, beginning to switch focus, blurring the halls around her but sharpening the humanoid figures, including the wisp-like forms of the ghosts.  The sword was a slender katana Ash had held on to for almost ten years, and it was unlike any other piece of equipment she’d found.  Glancing to the left, Ash saw a small group of wisps huddling together, but these ones were bright red instead of pale. Though they were partially obscured by a wall, she saw them suddenly begin moving downwards as a single unit, presumably down an elevator shaft.

“Ash?  What’s up?”

Cygnus had stopped a little ways down the hall.  Ash looked around for another moment before running to catch up.

“Nothing, for now.”

“We can’t stop for every skeleton bird ghost you see flying around.”

“That was one time, dude.”

He smirked and continued walking.  The apartments fell away behind them as they climbed another set of stairs.  Ten minutes passed before Cygnus stopped in front of a door that was dirty enough to look like it had merged with the floor and ceiling.  Wires drooped haphazardly above their heads, some of them still sparking.  He typed in a code on the number pad and the door lazily forced itself open.  The lights inside flickered on.  It was a laboratory, full of old computers lined up on desks.  Every surface was coated in dust, and the shelves were lined with boxes that had long ago been combed for anything useful or valuable.  What few tools littered the floor were rusted nearly to pieces.  In one corner of the room was a set of monitors that looked newly-cleaned, hooked up to several smaller devices that no doubt belonged to Cygnus.

Ash sighed and stretched her arms, immediately settling into one of the darkest corners of the room.  A small sleeping bag was already rolled up here; Cygnus knew her well enough to know she wasn’t going to be using any chairs.  She started to unroll it as Cygnus sank down at his desk and started typing away.

“Where’s my pizza?”  Ash asked.

A moment later, Cygnus tossed over an almond nutrient bar.

“Fuck yes.”

She tore into it without hesitation.  It had been a while since it’d felt safe enough to rest.  Their last hideout had been compromised so completely that they’d come a long way to find somewhere new, as far as possible from the patrols of Ordainers.  An hour passed quietly, save for the tapping of keys and the rhythmic scrape of Ash sharpening her sword.  She wasn’t even sure it ever needed it, but it was something to do.  Surviving in this city consisted much of filling the silence.  Ash stood up and sheathed her sword, leaning it against one shoulder.

“I’m gonna take a look around.  I saw something with Red earlier.”

There was the heavy sigh she’d braced herself for.  Cygnus stared hard at the empty space beside her.  “Ash.  We’ve been here all of five minutes and you’re already wanting to find trouble?”

“I’ll be more careful this t-”

“Every time, she says that every time and what do I do?  Not much, just get walked all over.”

“You know that’s not what it’s like.”  She walked over to Cygnus’ desk and put a hand down on it, waiting for him to look at her fully.  He finally did, resting his cheek on his hand.

“It always starts like this.  That’s all I’m saying.”

“This is important.  I saw red ghosts.  Something serious could’ve happened nearby, maybe a Dissonance.”

“Ugh.  Fine.”  He sat back, firmly rubbing his brow with his non-cybernetic hand.  He always did that when he was annoyed.  It was charming enough to make Ash smirk a little.  Even when he was stressed, Cygnus always thought about things carefully.  He took an earpiece from the desk and handed it to her.  “Call me when you’re back.  If the cops are chasing you again, don’t lead them back here.”

“Mhm, I won’t.”

“I mean it.  I’m not getting in another gunfight.  Good luck out there, I guess.”

----

Charred metal and snapped wires made her surroundings smell like a welding shop.  Sickly white lights illuminated the elevator shaft at the end of hall, right where Ash had seen the red specters.  It looked like it had been out of order for a long time, and wherever the car itself was stuck certainly wasn’t on this floor.  Ash braced herself; before taking a running leap, wrapping her arms and legs around the steel cords suspended in the shaft.  After getting a decent grip, she let go with her hands and allowed herself to slide downwards with the cords braced against her shoes and coat sleeves.  Several minutes passed, and when Ash felt her muscles start to ache, she picked another opening in the shaft to leap outside again, now on a much lower floor.

She stared down a hallway that was so ill-maintained it was listing partially to one side.  The floor was a mess of rubble and detritus, but the power still worked enough to illuminate the hall with the flashing signs and video advertisements that lined the area.  Ash stepped carefully through the neon-painted darkness.  It seemed like this had been a major thoroughfare of some kind at one point, but had gradually fallen into disuse as people migrated to higher floors.  Sometimes it was almost surprising how decayed certain areas of the city could be.  It was less so when Ash remembered that most Towers were so large, a missile could hit one part of it without people who lived on the opposite side noticing.

A red blur suddenly darted through her vision at an intersection up ahead.  Another ghost.  She walked up to where she had seen it and focused her vision, unsheathing an inch of her blade again.  Ash had seen ‘ghosts’, for lack of a proper term, ever since she’d first claimed this sword, which she called ‘Red’ for simplicity’s sake.  From the very start, it had been obvious it wasn’t a normal weapon, and it only became more intriguing as she learned its exact properties.  In addition to greatly enhancing her strength, it had the ability to sense an afterimage of beings who had died but, as far as Ash could tell, not yet fully passed on to whatever comes next.  The red ones in particular were those who had died fairly recently or in an especially brutal manner, still clinging to the memory of blood running through their veins.  

However, the sword also left a murky redness in its wake that could be followed by Distortions - or anyone else with a means to track it.  The perfect weapon for finding trouble, or for trouble finding you.  

Ash made her way down a spiraling concrete staircase while checking the gun at her hip, making sure it was loaded and ready.  While bullets were typically ineffective against the Distorted, she always had it ready in case she ran into a less paranormal opponent.  

Emerging from the staircase, Ash entered a room so colossal that a layer of cold fog obscured the opposite wall.  She blinked a few times, hesitantly stepping inside.  It seemed like an old hanger of some kind for transport shuttles or private vehicles.  Monolithic pillars supported a dizzyingly high ceiling, through which soft footsteps would echo like rolling thunder.  Much of the hangar was flooded, knee-deep, with what Ash hoped was just dirty water as she waded through it, alert for any sign of movement.  

She caught some when another ghost darted into a nearby office building, a crimson haze trailing behind it.  

Ash followed, running up the stairs to the railway where it had vanished.

A few kicks to the thick iron door broke it open just enough for Ash to cut through the lock with her blade.  It had been a while since she’d seen this many red ghosts in such a short time.  This had to be a Distortion, a group of Harvesters, or maybe some kind of turf war between rival gangs.  

The dark, brutalistic hallway of the office was eerily silent.  Ash stepped inside.  Her breathing slowed, hand tightening around Red’s hilt.  The only sound was the water gently dripping from her cloak.  One of the doors on the side of the hall was leaning open.  Ash peeked around the corner.  

The stench hit her like a solid wall.  Rotting flesh.  A single light flickered on and off above a sizable office space with desks, computers, cubicles, all in disarray and coated with dust.  Stretched between them and along the ceiling were dark, ragged curtains that almost resembled party streamers.  Whole cubicles were wrapped in them.  Ash covered her nose and stepped inside, looking around.  A stench this awful meant the deaths were recent.  It smelled like a big  pile of corpses - Ash lamented how well she could recognize that.  Flies and moths danced beneath the broken light.  On the chairs in front of each desk, an old suit and tie was draped, presumably the uniforms of the staff who worked here.  All of them were drenched with blood.  That accounted for some of the stench, at least.  But there were no bodies.  

Ash’s eyes flicked back and forth, her hands shaking.  One of the curtains stretched across the entrance of a cubicle to her left.  She experimentally nudged it with the hilt of her sword.

A sickening squish.  A few drops of blood.  Ash’s stomach turned, her eyes widening.  Then, a voice.

“ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ~ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ… ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ~”

Scratchy and inhumanly shrill, the voice was shockingly close.  One of the ceiling panels near the flickering light gently peeled aside, until an impossibly long, sallow-skinned arm slithered from the darkness.  The panel thudded to the floor.  A horrifying visage, an absurd  facsimile of a human face, stretched and twisted, with bulbous eyes and stained teeth, smiled down at Ash.

“ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅᴀᴀᴀᴀʏʏʏ~”

Ash drew her sword and leapt upwards, cutting at one of its arms, but like a skittering spider it retreated into the darkness.  The muffled tapping of fingers filled the room before it slunk to the ground a short distance away, fully emerging this time.  Its entire body was similarly twisted and elongated, and other than a vague humanoid shape and a head of patchy black hair, its overly-tight office suit was the only human thing about it, which only served to accentuate its monstrous, distorted nature.  Ash gritted her teeth, pointing her blade towards it with both hands clasped around the hilt.  This thing was disgusting, but it didn’t seem to have an overly adverse effect on her sanity.  Hopefully that meant no mental hazards to watch out for.  Its stance was spindly, off-balance.  Mindless.  She could win if she could corner it.  She slowly circled her prey, simply ripping through the curtains of flesh with her body mass.  The creature jittered and spasmed, lunging towards her with a clawed hand.  She ducked, and slashed upwards, but it was too fast again, skittering across the rims of the cubicles.

“ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴏʜ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!  ᴡᴇ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!  ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴘᴇʀ ꜰɪꜱᴄᴀʟ ʏᴇᴀʀ!”

Ash took out her gun and aimed towards the creature.  It continued moving in its frenzied pattern, and she aimed for a moment before firing three times.  Two of the bullets connected, blood coating the wall behind it.  As expected, it only flinched slightly, and began scuttling towards her again.  Her eyes gleamed in the dark as she grabbed a nearby chair and twirled her body, throwing it as hard as she could.  It thudded against the creature’s torso, and at the same moment Ash charged forward, cutting a red line across its waist.  It let out an ear-piercing squeal, and a flailing arm caught Ash’s head, sending her sprawling.

It jittered in place for a few moments, a cacophony of screams and squeals, before suddenly charging directly for her.  Ash tried to get to her feet, but its hand locked around her throat and carried her forward with its weight.  Her spine thudded against the door she’d come through and they came fully through the wall.  They careened over the railing, spiraling two dozen feet down to the hangar floor and splashing into the murky water.  Ash’s head swam with color.  She coughed, gagged, tried to reach for Red... its gnarled fingers were still locked around her throat.  It picked her up out of the water, reaching high above its head.  Its face wore a warped smile.  

“ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅᴀʏ~ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏɴꜱ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ~ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʟʟ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀ ʜᴏʟɪᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴅᴀʏ!  ꜱᴛʀᴇᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴡɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀʏ ʜᴏᴏʀᴀʏ~ ᴡɪᴅᴇ, ᴡɪᴅᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ɢᴏ~”

Fingernails dug into the back of her neck and tore outwards, beginning to peel the skin from her spine.  In doing so, its grip loosened slightly, and she swung back and forth to gather momentum before kicking it in the face.  One of its eyes popped, oozing dark pus, but it didn’t blink or flinch.  Ash’s lungs screamed for air.  This was bad.  She was too weak.  Her gun wouldn’t work.  Red was down in the water somewhere.  Out of reach.  Could she try to draw strength from it, even while she wasn’t holding it?  She had never tried before.  Seemed like now or never.

She closed her eyes and focused.  Focused on the red haze.  The smell of rust.  Sharpening instincts.  New sights and scents.  The world condensing to the head of a pin.  The tip of her blade.  Blood.  Thirst.  Strength.  Survival.  

Crimson haze ebbed from Ash’s form.  A guttural growl emerged from inside her, the raw sound of a desperate animal.  The creature continued laughing, and began slamming her against the ground, again and again.  Pain stabbed through her head, through her back.  But if pain was wood, she was a fast-catching fire.  She couldn’t muster as much strength as usual, but this had to be enough.  Her throat screamed for relief, but she forced her hands away from the creature’s fingers and grabbed its forearms instead.  She started to pull down, blood trailing from beneath her squeezed eyelids.  She felt the creature’s misshapen bones start to bend.  It squealed, shaking her back and forth, but she didn’t let go.  She pulled harder.  Harder.

SNAP.

Its arms broke at the wrists; its hands going limp around her throat.  She fell to the floor, sucked in a breath, and quickly dived, swimming between its legs as it screamed.  Her hand trailed along the concrete, searching.

“ᴅ-ᴅ-ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!  ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴᴏᴡ!  ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ!”

She felt it, and picked it up.  Holding her blade aloft, she swept it into its sheathe and sprinted at the creature.  Staggering, arms hanging limp, it turned to stare at her.

“ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅ-”

“Shut up.”

Warped guts exploded from the cloven rift in the creature’s midsection, the inertia of the blow forcing it backwards.  Ash twirled her blade, kneeled, and stabbed behind her, piercing what was left of its torso up to the hilt.  Blood rained down on her.  A few deep breaths later, she felt the creature’s weight begin to lessen.  She stood up fully as it dissolved into blood and flecks of pale ash that began to disintegrate in the dark water.  

Ash slashed the blade through the water to clean it before resheathing it, sighing and rubbing the back of her head.  She watched the pool of viscous remains spread further throughout the hangar.

“If someone else were here, I’d say something badass, like ‘party’s over’ or something.  But there isn’t anyone else here, so.”

She heaved another sigh and rolled her shoulders, starting to sluggishly wade towards the exit.  Hoping Cygnus would be able to stitch up her neck so she wouldn’t need to find a surgeon again, she began the long climb back to her new home higher in the Tower.