“I am disappointed, Son. Clearly you are still performing under the bar.” My father addresses the lackey. “Take him down and put him in an empty cage.”
I keep my lips zipped and expression neutral as I’m dragged down the basement stairs. The smell hits me first. Piss, shit, and blood—not to mention thick body odor. I raise my eyes, seeingall the cages full, except one. There are women of all ages—young to older, fifties, probably. And the children. God, I can’t look at them. The youngest looks like a fucking toddler. The screaming and crying pierces my ears, but I can’t react.
I'm shoved headfirst into the empty cage. It’s bare, except for a bucket which is clearly a toilet of sorts. No blankets or anything. The lackey orders me to strip and hand my clothes to him through the bars. I go down to my boxers, and he shakes his head. Fuck. I shove them down, and hand them to him with everything else.
He leaves, and I huddle and shiver in the freezing air down here. One girl chokes on her tears in the cage next to mine. “Please help me,” she whispers. “I know you’re his son... you have to help me. Please!”
I shake my head. “I can’t help you. I'm so sorry.” Tears well up in my eyes, and I shove it all down. I can’t show any weakness.
I have no idea how long I’ll be down here, probably days. I settle in as best as I can, sending my mind elsewhere.
I hover outside Augustine’s office, waiting for him to leave. It's close to lunch time, so I figure he’ll leave to eat at least.
I'm proven right after about five minutes or so. He walks out, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t even lock it—he must not plan to be gone long.
I slip inside, checking the walls first for any tunnel entrances. Nothing. Next, I check behind and around the paintings and bookshelf for a safe or hidden latch. Again, nothing.
I move to his desk. I disregard the top, knowing nothing of importance will be in plain sight. I start to open the drawers, butthey are all locked… except one. I slowly slide it open, seeing files inside. I reach in and grab the first one. The cover simply has one name: Aslanov. What the fuck? Frost's last name?
I flip it open, seeing some kind of dossier on the top. It's all his family members, and a bunch of numbers next to the names.
I’m trying to reach in for more when I hear the Director’s voice close by. I shove the file back in, no time to even take pics. I poke my head out, making sure the coast is clear.
I go out, blending in with everyone else. Head still down, I leave the admin building to go back to the apartment. I need to relay this to Frost and Purge.
Synn
I'm crashed out on the sofa, arm thrown over my eyes. Too many thoughts swirling in my brain to try to sleep. Purge is in his room, and Frost is across from me, doing the same.
The door snicks open, Ghost walking in. “Hey, I have info. I got into Augustine’s office for a minute.”
Frost and I sit up straight, and Purge joins us. I motion for Ghost to continue.
“Where’s Razor and Trikk?” he asks.
I shrug. “Just tell us.”
“I found an open drawer with files inside. The one on top had Frost’s last name on it.”
Frost’s head snaps up. “The fuck?”
“Yeah, it had a list of your family members, with numbers next to each one. It's all I could look for before he came back.”
“Wait... what kind of numbers?” Purge questions.
“Not sure. Just long numbers, I couldn’t study it to be able to tell.”
“Okay. We have to get back in there,” Frost says, and I nod in agreement. “Chances are there could be clues to the location of the morgue, and who-knows what else.”
“I agree. We have to figure out a time he’ll be gone for longer. Purge, I know you can pick locks.”
“In my sleep,” Purge confirms.
“Someone needs to keep an eye on that office. Frost, can you do it?” I ask him.
“I can. I need something to do anyway to chase away this restlessness.”
I shift in my seat, still shocked to see my friend FEELING. I don’t say anything, though, sensitive to the situation. Me... Sensitive. Such a crazy thing...
