The Hole

[Heritage]

Grim cautiously climbs into the room, has a good look around, and then drops to a crouch so she can yell back through the hatch.

"We got a big ol' room, well-lit, almost like a mini-stadium. There is a definite 'American Gladiators' vibe going on, kinda like Laser Tag with all kinds of little hiding places."

She gnaws her lip and shakes her head.

"Something tells me we're in for a hell of a show."

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival clambers up the ladder. He crawls through the hatch, pulls himself up, and rises inside the new room. Examining the massive space, his fists lie clenched at his sides. For now, his body has withstood the relentless battery of tests but his mind is wearing thin. Warden's specialized prison is not only designed to have lethal countermeasures to keep them from escaping, it can demoralize the hardiest of souls. Nightrival stands beside Grim.

"Yeah, it looks kinda like a trainin' range," he says, almost to himself. "Used ta prepare soldiers ta fight in different environments."

He takes a step forward and lifts his head. "Whatever ya throw at us, we gonna throw right back atcha," he yells at their unseen jailer.

[Veiled Malice]

"Indeed?" The Warden's amused voice echoed about the shooting range. "Then it's just lucky for me I get to throw it at you first."

"I have to congratulate you. You've made it a long ways, much longer than I expected you to. All the challenges I've laid before you have been designed to test every facet a criminal might display. If you couldn't make it through, I couldn't be sure anyone else could either. But this... this is the end." Several hidden doors up on the sides of the walls closest to them opened up, revealing concealed turrets, each one armed with a vicious-looking gun.

"There is no trick to this room, no special way out, no hidden doors or codes to let you get past. This is the acceptance of inevitability, gentleman and lady. The end that comes for every unrepentant criminal. This is your firing squad."

The guns swiveled into line with the two heroes, 12 in all, 6 on each wall, spaced equidistant from each other along the center portion of the room.

"Goodbye, Nightrival, young lady. I enjoyed our time together."

And the guns began to fire...

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival ducks and slinks behind a fake wall. "Ya take that wall, I'll take th' other!" he shouts to Grim.

Before she can reply, he has already vaulted over the fake wall towards his assigned target. He soars fifteen feet through the air in a perfect arc, arms and legs splayed open, and he snags the machine gun on the farthest right by the barrel. He clambers on top and wraps his arm around it, as though he's trying to wrestle control of the weapon.

[Veiled Malice]

Nightrival's erratic motions and quicksilver-like reaction speed allowed him to get to the guns practically before they had a chance to lock onto him. The fact that he was all over them like a bad rash shortly thereafter didn't help either. Though they tried the best a machine could, all their shots went wide, with the exception of the one Nightrival had directed at its allies.

The middle turret on his side of the wall was sliced through in an instant, holed by its brother gun. More than that, though, the section of wall it had been attached to partly melted from the extreme heat of the disabled turret. However, there was still one more to deal with, and hanging off of the gun the way he was offered Nightrival little in the way of maneuverability.

Grimalkin, without the the benefit of her mentor's years of experience, was caught flatfooted by the guns near her and was bracketed by fire from all of them at once. Fortunately, only one managed to get a hard lock on her nimble form and clipped her as she tried to get to cover.

[Heritage]

With a sharp intake of breath, Grim leaps behind the nearest obstacle and fades into the background as she clutches the graze on her forearm.

Man, that hurts! Okay, we're about to find out just how sharp the eyes on these guns are.

The young vigilante stands up and walks unhurriedly to the next closest obstacle, waiting to see if she's targeted, and ready to dive behind cover the minute a gun swivels in her direction.

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival doesn't see Grim get clipped by gunfire, being so occupied trying to disable the machine guns before they're riddled with bullets. He chuckles when the guns on the opposite wall tear through the others. Seeing his opportunity, Nightrival slides off his mount and drops to the ground underneath it. In one swift movement, he rolls onto his hands and pushes himself back up like a rocket. His feet smash right where the barrel meets the receiver then settles back to the floor, tumbling back into an upright position and ready to duck out of harm's way.

[Veiled Malice]

Grimalkin's casual walk quickly turned into a mad dash as the space she had just occupied became filled with energy bolts, with another one clipping her. Apparently, Grimalkin's being invisible was no impediment to the turret's sensing her, and it seemed to matter none at all that the two bolts that missed were carving up the surrounding scenery fairly well.

Nightrival had more luck, destroying yet another turret with a massive footstomp that nearly caved the entire device into the wall itself. But unfortunately, the Warden appeared to be serious about his boasts of this room being the two heroes grave, as two more guns popped out of the nearby wall and opened fire. It was probably from the surprise that Nightrival's reflexes weren't as sharp as usual, and he was nailed by one of them.

[Shadowboxer]

With machine parts dropping to the floor around Nightrival's feet, the vigilante smirks to himself until more guns appear to replace their smashed predecessors. He gasps, and his eyes double in size at their unexpected arrival. He realizes with horror that there is no cover to duck behind just as the turrent on his right swivels into place and fires before Nightrival can think or even react. The gunfire hits him square in the stomach, and the impact alone would tear him in half. Luckily, he twists his entire midsection when he sees a flash erupt from the gun's muzzle, in hopes of maneuvering himself away from the line of attack and perhaps, if he times himself right, he can reduce the damage somehow.

His feels as though someone is slashing his stomach with a red hot poker. The burning pain tightens his muscles and he suddenly cannot feel his arms and legs. He rolls and falls to the floor. The room darkens and blurs; he clasps his stomach and lifts himself onto his knees, with the other arm holding him up.

Get up ya fool, he thinks angrily. Get up or ya not gonna make it outta 'ere.

He grunts, slides one foot under him, then snaps back up. Amid the deafening gunfire he slowly moves his hand away from where the gun shot him: a ragged horizontal gash bleeds underneath his torn costume. A flesh wound. He whistles then remembers he's in the middle of a killing floor. After a brief sprint he leaps over the closest fake wall. With his back pressed against it, he examines the room for anything to help the two heroes escape.

[Heritage]

The two near-misses Grim's taken hurt like the blazes, but thankfully don't seriously impair her; they do, however, make her very pissed off.

I am not going to die in some stupid deathtrap, not if I can help it.

She shoots quick darting glances around the chamber, looking for anything like an air vent or seam she can try and pry open, or anything else that might be even vaguely useful. Her other thought is somehow getting up behind a turret (Rival might have to throw her), and see if she could rip apart the works with her claws. But as intently as she scans the room for a possible way out, she remains ever vigilant for the next attack, which will surely come from where she least expects it.

[Veiled Malice]

Though out of sight, it appeared Nightrival was by no means out of mind as the scenery around him got chewed up by repeated laser blasts. It was only through his near-inhuman vigilance and dexterity that he managed to avoid getting perforated by energy bolts that carved their way through the metal coverings. His spontaneous display of acrobatic mastery took him out of the immediate destruction zone, but it also gave him a perfect view of his former hiding spot.

The lasers were, as Nightrival well knew, extremely powerful. If he hadn't turned with the last burst of incandescent light, he would have picked up several new extraneous orifices. But it seemed the Warden had skimped on the building materials, as they were not holding up well under the assault from the very weapons he'd installed. Perhaps a couple more good hits would cut a clear path out of the deathtrap Nightrival currently found himself in.

Grimalkin, however, found herself unable to devote much time to finding a way out as she madly dodged about like a demented ping pong ball in a desperate attempt to escape the searching laser bolts. Her wild motions eventually caught up with her as she stepped into a half melted groove created by a near miss and she flew head over heels into a concrete bunker.

Narrowly avoiding bashing her head in on contact with the ground, Grimalkin found herself in tight quarters, with barely six feet from wall to wall on the bunker's interior. Fortunately, she now had cover on all sides and the concrete should be able to hold up to repeated pounding better than the metal outside could. Several vision slits allowed her a view of the outside without allowing the turrets a clear shot at her, but little else.

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival peers around the edge of the wall, wincing as chunks come flying off as it slowly erodes from the constant barrage of gunfire. He catches a glimpse of a significant hole on the other side, just below the turrent that was blasted due to Nightrival's acrobatic trickery. The wall will be nothing but a stub in a few seconds, so he ducks and tumbles across the floor as red hot bolts chew up the ground while he rolls away from danger, then he springs to his feet when he gets behind another fake wall. With another quick glance he sees Grim find cover.

He jumps up and leaps off the top of the wall, hurtling high above the other obstacles standing in the room. He bounds off another wall and performs another mid-air somersault, and then hits the ground and races towards the bunker where Grim has found safety. He slips inside and crouches low to avoid the slits.

"Okay, yer doin' good," he whispers to Grim. "I think I found a way out. Jus' follow me and ya'll do alright."

[Heritage]

Despite her best effort, Grim is just beginning to crack under the strain of this seemingly endless nightmare. All her defiance and witty banter is gone, and her own possible death (as well as that of her friend Nightrival) looms ahead as blast after blast destroys the world around her.

"Okay, yer doin' good," he whispers to Grim. "I think I found a way out. Jus' follow me and ya'll do alright."

At this point, the young woman can only nod and whisper 'okay'; she watches and waits for Rival to move.

[Veiled Malice]

Bright red strobes flashed through the slits in the bunker, creating stark lines of light across Nightrival's face. Dull thumps echoed inside, shaking the enclosure from the force of incoming fire. The situation was made even worse by the noxious smell of burning concrete that threatened to overwhelm Grimalkin's sense of smell. She was already working through her last nerve, and being stuck inside a pillbox being hammered from outside wasn't helping.

Then, all of a sudden, the fusillade of energy bolts stopped. The air grew close and still in the wake of the pregnant pause in destruction. It was possible the turrets had simply lost track of the two heroes... or maybe they were waiting for them to poke their heads out.

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival squeezes his eyes shut to avoid the bright flashes outside the bunker. His teeth rattle from the booming sounds just a few feet from where he's hiding. He nods to himself when the guns finally stop; he anticipated this moment. If the two heroes race for the hole they might make it out alive. In the few precious seconds it takes the guns to find their targets and shoot, they would have gained significant ground. Nightrival turns to Grim and places his hand her shoulder.

"That's our cue," he whispers. "Stay close and run fer all yer worth. Go inna zig-zag pattern, a'right?"

He winks and streaks out of the bunker. Counting down until the guns kick into life, he flips out of the crevice housing the bunker and forces the muscles in his legs to push as hard as they can. He turns onto his hands and heaves himself over one wall in one perfect roll, and then lands on his feet to continue running zig-zag to another wall. This time he jumps and graps the top edge, vaults off it, and hits the ground in a forward tumble before standing and pouring the last of his strength into one final sprint through the hole melted through the wall.

If there is gunfire erupting all around him, Nightrival doesn't hear a thing.

[Heritage]

"That's our cue," he whispers. "Stay close and run fer all yer worth. Go inna zig-zag pattern, a'right?"

Grim nods, her whole body wincing from the sensory assault that is nearly overwhelming her keen senses; when Rival makes his move, Grim is on his tail, running, flipping and jumping like a mad thing, doing everything in her power to make herself a difficult target as she pours it on, everything focused on getting through the hole alive. She might not be as graceful as her mentor, but it's a thrilling and oddly elegant display nonetheless.

[Veiled Malice]

Crossbeams of visible light flashed out of the turrets lining the walls, stabbing at the two heroes as they made their mad dash towards the hole Nightrival had found. For the few agonizingly long seconds from one point of relative safety to the other, the room was light up with a cacophony of light and sound unseen outside of the Normandy landing... or at least, very good recreations of it. Metal droplets flew through the air, flash burnt off of the barriers hemming the two in by bolts of killing power. Thunder and heat buffeted them both, Grimalkin most of all, and for one brief moment, it seemed as though several beams were going to rend her limb from limb-

And then she was through the hole, nearly flattening Nightrival as the dark avenger came up short on the other side of the wall. He had no choice, really, because there was another wall barely a couple feet in front of him. The passage they were in now was some sort of maintenance tunnel - too small for humans to work in, but not too small for the two heroes to crawl through. The way ahead was nearly pitch black, barely enough for even Grimalkin's keen eyes. However, there did seem to be at least some light up ahead.

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival stumbles forward when Grim bumps into him. He quickly straightens himself up, mumbles a few words, and then glances over his shoulder. He seems to be flexing and relaxing his shoulders as he speaks.

"Well, a'right. That was fun, huh? I 'aven't seen that many rounds fired at me since tha' one time in Moscow, and tha' was . . . um, sorry. Guns get me all, um, talkative. If yer feelin' up ta it, when should get goin'." He peers into the maintenance tunnel and scratches the back of his head. "We only got one exit. It's th' best I can do in such short notice. I'll go on ahead."

He climbs into the tunnel and crawls along its cramped corrider. His arms and legs shake from the adrenaline seeping out of his system, and suddenly the image of snarling guns flashes in his mind. He thought he could forget them. He chokes back the terror from realizing that he was only seconds from being torn to pieces, then he replaces the fear with rage. He thinks of Warden snickering in his secured control room, warm and comfortable and safe. He gathers all that anger and uses it to picture the indescribable amount of pain he's going to unleash upon that psychopath. Nightrival doesn't think of what could have happened to Grim.

Man, I 'ope I'm not pushin' Grim too 'ard. We don't got th' time fer talkin'. If we don't keep movin', we end up dead.

He pushes further towards the light.

[Heritage]

Grim mumbles an apology as she rubs her face; Nightrival's muscles are indeed as taught as they look. For a while she crawls along behind him in silence, her whole body quivering from a near state of shock but at last her true nature reveals itself as she speaks in a quavering voice.

"Okay, I know we can't kill him, because it's not...the way we do things, but I have...have to process this somehow, or I'm just gonna curl up into a little girly ball and cry my eyes out." She's quiet for a few seconds, then begins speaking again, but with a hair more confidence.

"What I would like to do to Warden when we catch him, by Grimalkin, grade 6. I would like to cover Warden in chips and dip, then leave him tied up in a New York sports bar during a Yankees game. Feel free to join in here, boss."

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival listens but does not reply. He's struggling with the horrid thought of facing Grim's death, knowing it would be his fault. She does joke around when they have their backs to the wall, like it was her way of dealing with the fear and danger. He decides to go along, more for his sake than Grim's. For what seems like hours, he finally whispers back to his partner.

"I think o' it this way: there's what I wanna do ta 'em and what I'm gonna do ta 'em. If I had th' time, I'd roll 'em in barbeque sauce and leave 'em atta steak house in Texas. I don't 'ave that luxury so . . . "

He slows down his pace and his voice lowers to a rumbling growl.

"If ya pinch the spot between yer thumb and yer finger ya'll feel a sharp pain. That's called a pressure point, it's like the body's weak spot. We gotta whole lot o' them. Now, can ya imagine what would 'appen if ya hit a bunch o' 'em over an' over? Like, really 'ard? That's how I'm gonna show Warden what justice really feels like."

[Veiled Malice]

The two traveled in companionable silence, only the sounds of quiet breathing and scuffling hands and knees on metal broke in on their awareness. Dull red lamps, emergency lighting, was the only thing to see by, meaning Nightrival had barely more than a few feet between lamps of visible distance before being plunged into darkness again. Grimalkin had it much better than her mentor, but she was still haunted by her near-death experience at the muzzle of the Warden's guns.

Before long, the crawlway started sloping upwards - a good sign, considering they were still underground. Finally, the single shaft opened up into an intersection. Large metal fans from above and below, fortunately walled off by metal grates, circulated air into the facility, presumably from the surface. Before they could choose a direction to go in, however, the sound of metal on metal echoed throughout the larger room. Tiny clanks, like small blades tapping against the steel floor - coming closer. From out of the darkness, red eyes began to show up at the end of every shaft... and all of them were converging on the pair.

[Heritage]

Despite herself, part of Grim was thinking that they'd been through the worst part of the Warden's death trap and lived, but then the tiny paranoid mini-Grim that lived in her head got to wag her little finger and 'say I told you so'.

"Oh crap - deadly robo-spiders. Or maybe robo-rats; either one could fit his theme, I guess. This totally sucks." Her claws spring out as she makes ready to defend herself from the inevitable attack.

[Shadowboxer]

"Keep on eye on these things," Nightrival whispers to Grim. "I jus' need a second."

He draws his attention to the walls on the corridor. If they're crawling inside the utility tunnels for Warden's deathtraps, he surmises, then there must be a room just on the other side. Or at least he hopes there is a room nearby. He slides his hand across the walls and the floor, then gently taps them with his knuckles. He tries to ignore the robots scuttling closer to them, though he can hear the tink-tink-tink from their small metallic legs against floor grow louder.

[Veiled Malice]

The scuttling sound grew louder, but nowhere near as loud as the beating of Nightrival's heart. Every moment he stood there, with his ear against the wall trying to listen for any sign of something behind it, the red eyes drew inexorably closer, invoking a sense of dread deep within the man. Metallic claws scraping against the floors grew more pronounced, threatening to drown out his ability to tell if there was anywhere to escape to beyond the confines of the ventilated tomb the two heroes found themselves in.

All of a sudden, he found it. A hollow section of wall next to a "Warning: Hot Surface" sign. Nightrival knew he could bust through, but with the mechanical... whatever they were closing in, he would be otherwise occupied. Even now, the things were coming out of every access port; thin, blade like legs tapping insistently against the floor. They seemed to be metallic ants of some kind, with small, segmented bodies and razor-sharp jaws.

And they were converging on Nightrival and Grimalkin very quickly...

[Shadowboxer]

Nightrival looks at the panel then looks back the large robotic ants. The constant tapping from their legs begins to drill into his head. He needs time to break through the panel, and to do that he has to keep the little metal monsters at bay. He remembers one of Grim's many talents: shapeshifting. She can not only change form, she can also turn her hands into deadly weapons. He's seen her use them against bad guys on many occasions. He could certainly punch his way to the other side, but he would have go hand-to-hand with the robots at the same time. He needs distance. A plan emerges in his head, though he's unsure if it'll work. Only one way ta find out, he concludes.

"Grim," he says sternly over his shoulder, "get ta work on this here panel with those fancy claws of yers." He points to what he means. "I'll keep these can openers busy."

He shifts a few steps forward and draws out a handful of his slim throwing knives from under his belt. He holds several of them at their tips, takes aim at the closest robot, pulls back his arm, and then snaps it forward. The knives fly towards their target with lightning speed.