Page 58 of Echos and Empires (After #3)

Kirk merely laughed, an ugly sound devoid of mirth or sanity.

“You think you can stop what’s coming? What’s already here?

” He jabbed his chin at the corpse-like facility, the ghastly light lending a demonic cast to his features.

“This is just the beginning, a taste of the glorious future Lord Warrington has planned for us all.”

Bash’s finger tightened on the trigger, the metal biting into his flesh.

Retorts hammered in his mind, vicious and cathartic, but he bit them back.

Every second spent bantering was a second Kirk could use to bring his own weapon to bear.

In a lightning quick motion, Bash lunged forward, swinging his rifle like a club.

The stock cracked against Kirk’s wrist with a sickening crunch, the pistol clattering to the floor.

But the traitor was quick, far quicker than a man his size had any right to be.

He caught Bash with a devastating left hook, stars exploding across his vision as he reeled back.

The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth.

How could he have been so blind? They’d been followed from god only knew where. Someone had to have a phone on them, but he’d worry about that after. The knowledge burned like poison in his veins, fueling each swing, each bone-shattering impact.

The two men grappled viciously in the hellish red glow, a blur of flailing limbs and bared teeth.

Kirk fought with the frenzied strength of the fanatic, spittle flying as he spewed vile oaths and twisted praises to his dark master.

But Bash gave no quarter, his own rage tempered into a cold, lethal focus.

He weathered the storm of blows, absorbing their punishing impact, biding his time for the perfect opening.

It came in a fractured instant, Kirk’s arm cocked back for a haymaker, his guard dropped in his berserker fury.

Bash lunged inside the strike, driving his elbow into the traitor’s solar plexus with pile-driver force.

Kirk’s breath left him in an agonized whoosh, his eyes bulging in their sockets.

Bash followed with a lightning-quick jab to the throat and a sweeping kick that scythed the larger man’s legs from under him.

Kirk crashed to the floor in a graceless heap, gasping and choking, scrabbling weakly for his fallen pistol.

But Bash was on him in a flash, pinning the traitor’s arm with his knee as he hammered away with ruthless precision.

Each punch was a declaration, a repudiation of Kirk’s betrayal and the insidious evil he served.

“This is for every innocent soul your precious Lord has destroyed,” Bash snarled, punctuating his words with a vicious right cross that snapped Kirk’s head back. “For every family ripped apart, every dream shattered.”

He hauled the dazed man up by his collar, until they were nose to nose, Bash’s eyes boring into Kirk’s with incandescent intensity. “You chose the wrong side, you backstabbing piece of filth. And now you’re going to tell me everything you know about Warrington’s plans for this island.”

Kirk’s only response was a gurgling, blood-flecked laugh, a rictus grin stretching his split lips.

“You know nothing,” he rasped, madness dancing in his eyes.

“The wheels are already in motion. Cut off one head, and two more shall rise in its place. Lord Warrington’s vision cannot be stopped.

You are but insects railing against the hurricane of his glorious purpose. ”

With a roar of frustration, Bash slammed Kirk back to the floor, the traitor’s skull bouncing off the cold concrete with a sickening crack.

The man went limp, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as consciousness fled.

Bash crouched over his erstwhile comrade, chest heaving, knuckles split and throbbing.

The red haze of battle-fury slowly ebbed, leaving a bitter, hollow ache in its wake.

Bash stood over him, chest heaving, fists clenched and slick with gore. The rage still simmered in his gut, the betrayal a raw and gaping wound. But there was no time to process, no time to piece together the fractured shards of his trust.

With a wordless snarl, Bash went into pack and grabbed what he needed to zip-tie the traitor’s wrists with brutal efficiency, the plastic biting deep into the flesh.

He hauled the unconscious man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, staggering slightly as his own injuries made themselves known.

His head pounded mercilessly, his ribs a hot poker of agony with each breath.

But he pushed the pain aside, locking it away with the hurt and fury that threatened to consume him.

There would be time enough to lick his wounds, both physical and emotional, when they were free of this accursed place.

For now, he had to focus on getting his team out, on salvaging what he could from this unmitigated clusterfuck of a mission.

With a grunt of effort, Bash heaved Kirk’s dead weight more securely onto his shoulders and staggered towards the exit, the strobing red light painting his battered form in hellish hues.

“Anyone else want to own up to knowing what this place is? Because if there was a security member, someone fucking knows.”

Again, silence. Bash wasn’t certain if he could trust these men or not. But if he could, he had no doubt they’d want to help protect the island knowing this place existed.

“I’ll find out sooner or later, but for now, let’s see if there’s a back door.

The last thing I want us doing it going out the way we came.

” He bent down and picked up Kirk. If the man snitched that he got his ass whooped, there would be problems, but Bash had a feeling he wouldn’t, and sooner or later, he’d get him to talk.

A few mumbles, but no one argued with him when he started walking.

Corridor after corridor flashed by, each one indistinguishable from the last in the disorienting light.

The alarm blared unceasingly, a shrill, maddening wail that scraped at the nerves and set teeth on edge.

Bash’s breath came in ragged gasps, his lungs searing with each inhalation of the cloying, stagnant air.

But he pushed on, muscles screaming in protest, fueled by sheer desperate determination.

At last, a back exit emerged, a rectangle of blessed, searing daylight in the oppressive gloom.

They stumbled out into the smothering embrace of the jungle, gulping down air in great, shuddering lungfuls.

Bash staggered a few paces before sinking to his knees, dumping Kirk’s unconscious form to the leaf-strewn ground with an unceremonious thud.

For a long moment, the only sound was the rasp of labored breathing and the distant, muffled shriek of the alarm.

Bash scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing as his fingers encountered torn flesh and the sticky slickness of drying blood.

His mind reeled, struggling to process the enormity of what had just transpired, of the rot that had been festering at the heart of their group.

How deep did corruption run? How many more were against them, sleeper agents waiting to strike at the opportune moment? What, if anything, did Victor Warrington and his vitamins have to do with anything?

The questions churned in Bash’s gut, insidious tendrils of doubt and paranoia coiling around his every thought. Had he been too trusting, too willing to ignore the warning signs in his desperation for allies, for a scrap of hope in this blighted hellscape?

Anger surged, a cleansing tide of fury that burned away the fog of pain and exhaustion.

He would root out this poison at the source, would follow the tangled web of Victor’s machinations to whatever black heart lay at its center.

He would not rest until he had torn away every last vestige of the man’s influence, until Emma and their ragtag band of survivors were safe from his grasping, avaricious claws.

With a grunt of effort, Bash heaved himself to his feet, his battered body screaming in protest. He met the gazes of his companions, saw the same mingled shock, fury, and grim determination etched into every soot-streaked, blood-spattered face.

They had been tested this day, had stared into the abyss of treachery and emerged, bloodied but unbroken.

“This changes everything,” Bash rasped, his voice raw and gravelly. “We press on, we get back.” He punctuated his words by delivering a savage kick to Kirk’s ribs, eliciting a low, pained groan from the officer.

As one, the group nodded, exhaustion and revulsion momentarily pushed aside by the embers of renewed purpose.

They had a long, arduous road ahead, but they would walk it together, bound by the unshakable bonds of shared trauma and unbreakable resolve.

With Bash at their head, they melted into the waiting jungle, the facility’s malevolent specter at their backs, and the promise of retribution burning bright before them.

At long last, the cave’s battered expanse rose before him after slipping away from those who’d helped him, a sight that would have once filled Bash with relief, but now only stoked the embers of grim determination.

As they passed through the makeshift gate, he worried that others could put Emma in danger.

“We’re going to split up.” he announced without looking back.

“You’re all going to go back. Kirk isn’t getting up any time soon.

You’ll be safe. Go back and shatter your phones.

If you’re part of the missions tonight do not fuck up and bring them.

Kirk found us somehow, and until we know how, we’re all cautious. ”

Bash didn’t wait for a response before pushing ahead, forcing them to let him leave.

There would be time enough for explanations, for the painful untangling of lies and hard truths. For now, he had to be strong, had to get back to Emma and make certain who ever followed him hadn’t followed any one to her.