I’ve decided, for now, to move the Deep Underground to a free wordpress blog. I’m still figuring out a way to redirect the url from this site to it, but for now, if you wish to visit that new site, you can find it here: http://thedeepunderground.wordpress.com (Where you are now!)

While you’re there, leave a comment on the latest hiatus post (This one!!) and let me know if you like that new theme there or if you think I should return to the one I’m using on this site.

That’s all for now. Thank you for your patience and understanding while I get things sorted out. The Deep Underground should be back in business soon.

~Heidi

I want to thank all of you for reading (and hopefully enjoying) the Deep Underground.  I will do my best to finish this tale for you. Even if I have to simply get a free WordPress blog to do so.

I’ll continue to update this post, offering a new link (if needs be) here and on the twitter account for this site: TheDeepUnder.

Again, I do apologize for the delay in the story.  Thank you for your understanding and I hope to be back at this for you all soon.

Sincerely,

Heidi Cautrell

The warehouse had once been used for storage of furniture.  The pieces that had survived the two centuries of decay were made of metal or thick wood that had some how survived the rotten fate most wooden objects in the Deep were cursed with.  The makeshift table in the center of the grimy floor was a mishmash of metal tables pushed together to form something like a circular saw blade, all pointed corners and sharp edges.  That seemed to set the mood for the milling crowd that gathered around the table.

Tension was palpable from every Transie in the room.  The fact that so many opposing groups had come together was a testament to their self-restraint.  Any other time and they would have been at one another’s throats with knives and powers.  Ada sat on the edge of her seat, body relaxed in a way that spoke of her readiness for a fight.

The heads of each sector sat around the table, along with what was left of Ada’s group that had infiltrated the Genetics Council building.  There were three empty chairs, one for Oe, which was next to Pyr.  Another was for Pepper,which was next to Bombastic–who was, oddly enough, one of the few outside Pepper’s sector to openly respect her and to sympathize with her eccentric behavior.

The remaining empty chair was for the leader of the Proles, whomever that maybe.  They had chosen to wait, though not with out some disagreement from the majority, for the Proles before the council began their discussion.

“They’re just Proles.” Bombastic’s voice boomed through the empty warehouse that still had a great deal of open space high above to nicely echo his words.  He seemed pleased with the affect.

Pyr shook his head. “They are not just Proles.  They are what my tip the balance in our favor.  I’ve already told you the numbers of Enforcers Waldgrave has.  We need their help, they know the Enforcers better than any of us.”

“Not all of us.” Ada’s grip tightened on one of the flash grenades inside of her trench coat.  Pyr’s gaze shifted toward her, his fatigue obvious from the bags under his bloodshot eyes.  She knew he’d been up most of the night with Lexi.  He nodded at her, then returned his attention to the others.

From the corner of her eye, Ada saw Zare shift in his chair. His lips twitched, as the did on occasion, when he was talking with one of his hacker buddies through their internal link.  Her hand absently went to her ear where the tiny com implant had been placed.  It was the one exception she’d made to her rule against artificial enhancement and only because it wasn’t inside of her brain, but in the skin of her ear.  Zare’s posture relaxed as she watched, which caused Ada’s eyes to narrow briefly before she looked away.

Ky, Cedric and Seiza all had their own version of stoicism etched on their faces.  Tomo fidgeted in his chair, eyes darted furtively, but somehow just missed landing on Ada.  She wondered when his last fix had been.

The the warehouse door creaked open, turned everyone’s heads.  A small path opened through the Transies and a trio of Proles stopped before the makeshift table.  The woman in front was willowy thin with stringy blond hair, sharp gray eyes and a pale face dominated by hollowed cheeks and wide, thin lips.  On either side of her were two men, shorter, thicker and dirtier, dressed in rags and smelling as if they’d not bathed their entire lives.  Ada idly wondered if this had been done on purpose; to remind the Transies just who they were dealing with.

With a swirl of his red cape, Pyr stood and bowed to the woman. “Ah you must be Amelia?”

Amelia’s gaze swept over Pyr’s shorter frame. She nodded once. “I am. And you are Lexi’s father, Pyr.”

A faint smile curved his lips as Pyr pulled out the empty chair he’d reserved for her. “I am, madame. Won’t you join us?”

The two Proles with Amelia restlessly scanned the crowd of Transies. They paused to look at Ada more than a few times.  She smirked at them each time.

More than a few Transies murmured to one another while they watched Amelia and her Proles.  The willowy woman settled into the chair Pyr offered her with a sense of grace that belied the dinginess of her gray workclothes.  If Ada had had to guess she’d say Amelia was one of the lucky few that had been given a supervisor job over the other Proles.

“Thank you.” Amelia sat with her back straight, her hands one on top of the other on the table.  She assessed each of the Transies at the table, her pale gaze critical as it moved to each in turn.  After several moments of silent regard, she said. “Shall we begin?”

#

Soi nervously ran her palms of her thighs, her furtive gaze darted around the empty alley. She quickly knocked on the door before her. When it slid open, she stumbled inside.

The person on the other side regarded her silently for several moments.  “Were you seen?”

With a wild shake of her head, Soi said, “No. They’re all at the war council.”  She squinted into the darkness that surrounded the humanoid shape she spoke to.  She honestly wasn’t sure who it was, but had already decided she didn’t care.  They were going to give her what she needed, so in the long run it didn’t matter.  She hoped.

“Good,” said the voice, it’s tone neutral.  Soi could hear neither emotion nor even inflections in the voice, yet some how she knew it still to be human.

“Y-you have what I need?” White teeth worried her lip.

“Yes.  And you’ve brought what is required of you?”

The item had been burning a hole in her pocket for days. With no little relief, Soi pulled the small vial of clear liquid from her pocket.

“Put it on the table next to you.”

Once the vial was on the table, she turned, eager for her reward. “Well?”

“Your son will be returned to you in a fortnight.”

“What!?” Soi made a slicing motion with her hand. “No! That wasn’t our deal.”

“Our deal was you get your son. There was no promise of when. And right now a fortnight is the soonest it can be done.”

Soi snarled and went to grab the vial. “Then you won’t have this until-”

Sharp pressure in her minde dropped Soi to her knees, blackening her vision. “You’ll leave the vial and be glad you leave with your life.”

“My son…” Soi clawed at her head to no avail.

“…is fine. Now go.”  Though the voice was still neutral, the volume increased to a painful level in her already pained thoughts.

Outside again, Soi blinked through the haze in her mind.  It felt as if some unseen hand had picked her up and tossed her out the door like a bag of trash.  From her hands and knees, Soi staggered to her feet.  She’d chosen to play a dangerous game and it was very possible, even if she did get her son back as promised, that she’d doomed them all to lose.

The room was just as she’d left it, not a thing out of place. The bright cloth swathed the room in warmth that had gone cold.  Something was missing and it put a painful lump in Lexi’s throat.

Pyr gently squeezed Lexi’s shoulders from behind.  She tipped her head back to look up at him.  If it weren’t for her father, she might never have met, Oe.  And now, because of a man Lexi had never met, she’d never see or talk with Oe again.  Grief crumpled her features, darkened her pink cheeks. “She’s gone, Daddy.”

Pyr swallowed audibly as he jerked his head into a nod. “She is, but we won’t forget her.  Now more than ever we must press on.”

Lexi turned toward her father, her arms gripped his waist like a vice as she tried to pull him as close as she could.  His warm arms cuddled her thin frame close.  It was sometime later that Lexi’s head slowly lifted, her gaze wandered around the room.  Everything seemed in place, yet something that was gone teased at the back of her mind.

“Oe’s gone,” she gasped as she tugged herself from Pyr’s arms.  With an almost fevered urgency she tore at the silk coverings of the couch.

“She is, honey, but it’s okay.  We’re going to do all we can to stop Waldgrave.”  Pyr stepped forward as if to stop her, but Lexi darted away from his grasp, going toward one of the red silk-hangings that served as a wall around her bed.  Lexi tore it down.

“No! Her body! It’s gone!”  Lexi stared at Oe’s empty bed.  On top of it lay the purple silk dress Oe had been wearing when she’d collapsed.

Once Lexi found Oe on the floor, she’d called one of the doctors that worked for Oe. When the woman arrived–a sweet, purple hued Transie named Shade–she pronounced Oe dead when she’d hit the floor.  Together Lexi and the doctor laid Oe on the couch.

After a pause, Pyr said, “Are you sure Lexi? This is where you laid her?”

Lexi’s pink pigtails flicked against her cheeks as she shook her head. “No! On the couch, but that’s the dress she wore!”

Pyr stepped around her. Lexi watched as he approached the dress and touch the material lightly.  His eyes widened a bit.  His hand slid across the dark blue blankets and sheets, a frown formed between his brows. “It’s wet.”

Lexi stared at her father and then at Oe’s bed. “But why?”

Pyr shook his head as he straightened and approached her. “I don’t know, Lexi.  But it’s going to have to wait.”

Lexi bit her lip, then nodded. He was right, even if it did hurt.  Lexi bowed her head.  “The Proles will be there tomorrow, Daddy.”

A sigh brought Lexi’s head up.  Pyr’s smile was a wan mockery of his normal smile.  “Thank you for doing that, Lexi.  It would seem you possess something unique and I’m glad you rescued me when you did.”

Through the grief, Lexi felt her heart swell with pride and bittersweet happiness. She smiled as happy tears blurred her vision. “I’m glad too, Daddy.”

#

Ada stood with her back to the wall, her features composed into a thoughtful mask as she waited for Lexi and Pyr to return.  She’d just spoken with the doctor who checked Oe’s vitals after she collapsed and pronounced her dead.  Though Doctor Shade said she had no fever, she didn’t doubt it was the work of Waldgrave’s virus.  She told Ada she’d taken a sample of Oe’s blood and returned to her lab to begin analyzing it for an antidote.  The doctor quickly found out that Oe had not contracted the virus after all.  She’d returned to Oe’s place to check the body again only to find Oe not on the couch, but on the bed.  Stranger still was when the doctor had gone to examine Oe and watched her body turn into water.

Puzzled by the circumstances of Oe’s death and what it could possibly mean, Ada found herself at a loss. She had no ability to fight this, nor could she possibly help the doctors in their labs.  Now that they actually had a patient, Pepper’s man, they could begin their work and had done so with brisk efficiency.

The door to Oe’s place slid open. Lexi stood in the doorway, her features swollen and pinched.  Ada turned toward the small girl, her expression somber.  Lexi said softly, “Ada. I need your help. Please?”

With a nod, Ada walked toward the door and stepped inside.  Lexi stepped backward.  The door shut with an almost inaudible thump. The cool, brightly decorated interior felt empty without Oe to bring the colors to life.

“What do you need, Lexi?”

“Oe’s w-water.”  Lexi bit her lip.

Eyebrows near her hairline, Ada glanced at the girl, then toward the exposed bed that was still drenched.  “What do you want me to do with it?”

Lexi pointed to a large, clear vase next to the bed. It almost three feet tall and around a food wide; its wide mouth tapered down to half a foot then the body of the vase widened out again and curved down into a flat bottom around three-fourths of a foot wide.

Ada stepped toward the vase, her hand touched it lightly.  She turned to the bed.  Teeth gritted against the swell of emotions in her chest, Ada lifted a hand as she pulled the water slowly from the bed and covers.  As she worked she realized there was something odd about the water.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she could easily distinguish it from the moisture in the air.

As Ada channeled the water, it poured into the vase as if from an invisible faucet.  The vase was close to full when Ada could find no more of the water to extract.

“Lexi, would you mind if I took a small sample of this to Doctor Shade?”  Ada used her gentlest tone.  She hated to upset the girl further, but something about the water nagged at her.

With a heaved sigh, Lexi nodded.  She stared forlornly at the vase. “Just a small one.”

“Of course, I won’t take much, I promise.”  Ada made a scooping motion with her hand.  A small amount of water rose from the vase, forming into a sphere the size of a golf ball.  Ada pulled the water sphere close to make sure nothing disturbed it as she took it along. She smiled at Lexi then at Pyr. The father and daughter returned the smile, though it was obvious their hearts weren’t into it.

Ada let herself out quietly. The pair could have the night to grieve. Tomorrow they would start their war meeting with the Transies and Proles.

The slick concrete glistened in the false moonlight of the Deep as Ada headed toward the lab around the corner.  She tapped on the door; four short, two long, one short.  When the door slid open, she stepped inside.  Though the Deep was falling apart, the Doctors had technology on par with the Genetics Council labs.  They were perhaps a series or two behind, but what they lacked was made up for by the fact that Doctor Shade and the other two doctors was supposedly geniuses.

From her work bench, Doctor Shade glanced up from a microscope. “Ada, back so soon?”

“Do you have a container I can put this in?”  She lifted her hand, palm up, to display the water sphere that hovered above it.

Eyes wide, the doctor nodded, then reached over and grabbed a beaker. She held it up. Ada sent the sphere toward the glass container, settled it in the bottom then released her hold on it. The sphere reformed to the shape of the beaker.

Doctor Shade blinked. “Well, that’s certainly one way to get a sample.  But what is…” She trailed off, then cleared her throat. “This is some of Oe’s water?”

Ada nodded. “It’s different from other water I’ve touched. I can’t pinpoint what that difference is, however.  Can you look at it?  I know you’re busy but Oe’s death wasn’t exactly normal.”

Purple eyes on the beaker in her hand, Doctor Shade nodded. “I agree, it wasn’t normal.  I’ll take a look and see what I can find.”

“Thanks, Doc.”  Ada left the same way she’d gone in.

She mounted her motorcycle, tugged on her helm, and started up the bike.  As if on queue Ada heard the tone that signaled Ky was hailing her.  She lifted her fingers to activate their com system, but hesitated.  After a moment, she placed her hand on the handlebar of her bike.  She revved the engine then roared off toward her safe house.  Ky could wait until she got there, she needed the length of the ride and the rumbling white noise of her bike to think.

Ada watched as Pyr took up a place in Bombastic’s opera hall that afforded him a view of everyone–Jet on the floor to his left and Bombastic and the rest of the Transies before him. As usual, Pyr waited for everyone to settle in before he began. There was something about him that radiated peace that was at odds with his fire abilities. Or perhaps was a direct result of his perfect control over those abilities.

“First we must discuss what we know of the virus Waldgrave claims to have sent down upon us. From what I have gathered and from what Oe has told me, the virus works slowly, but by the end of the two weeks it will have spread almost completely. After consulting several doctors and one of the geneticists in Oe’s section, I’ve come to the conclusion that the easiest way for Waldgrave to infect us is through the air supply.”

A murmur rose through the group then died off as Pyr raised a hand. “One or two of Oe’s Transies have already fallen ill, so I’ve asked the doctors and the geneticist to begin working to find an antidote. They don’t know if it’s possible to create one, but they’re working on it with all speed.”

Bombastic shifted on his throne. “And what do we do in the meantime? This isn’t exactly something we can fight.” His people murmured their agreement.

Ada frowned at the crime boss, then shifted her gaze back to her mentor. Bombastic was right but it still chaffed to hear him question Pyr.

“We organize ourselves and we prepare to fight back against Waldgrave. We’ve put up with his oppression for too long and this is the final straw. What more can he do to us? He’s already made us prisoners and labels us a lower class. Now he’s taking our identities away from us and will likely kill most of us to do so.” Pyr spoke quietly, but the construction of the opera hall allowed his voice to carry to everyone inside.

Ada wondered absently if Pyr had the ability to use speech to persuade those he negotiated with. As far as Ada knew, he’d never not been able to mediate a dispute in the Deep.

“I can’t say I disagree, like everyone else I have a hatred for Waldgrave and his bastard Genetics Council, but I am skeptical that we can actually do anything to stop them. We rely on them for whatever we can get.” Bombastic was rubbed his palm over his smooth head as he stared at some point over Pyr’s shoulder.

Cedric shifted in his chair then pitched his voice to be heard. “Be that as it may, I think we can all agree we need to do something. If we can agree on that, then between all of us, with our powers and munitions, we should be able to come up with a plan.”

Pyr nodded at Cedric. “And…” He paused as if choosing his words. “We have another resource.”

A murmur rose from the Transies. Ada tensed but kept her hands from her weapons in the hopes that their reaction to Pyr’s next words would not require her to start blowing people up.

After another pause in which Pyr waited for the murmurs to die again, Pyr said, “We have the Proles.”

The silence was more deafening than any cries of outrage might have been. Bombastic stared at the sanguine negotiator. Even Cedric seemed stunned to silence.

Finally, Bombastic spoke. “The Proles? Have you caught the fever as well, Pyro?”

Pyr shook his head. “No. I have not. If you think about it you’ll find that it’s the perfect answer. The Proles number in the thousands and they may even out number the Enforcers on their own. Waldgrave and his people wouldn’t be expecting a revolt from them. It would be the perfect distraction.”

Cedric rubbed his cheek. “Pyr’s right. They wouldn’t be expecting that from the Proles. Problem is, we don’t treat them any better than the City does. Why would they help us?”

“Because we can start treating them better and because the people of the City are the ones forcing them to work in such terrible conditions. They don’t have much to lose as it is. And-” Ada was cut off by a gesture from Pyr. She sat back with a nod and clenched fists.

Pyr nodded at Ada, then addressed the group again. “And we have a liaison with them. My daughter, whom I recently just met much to my happiness and profound regret for not having met her sooner, was raised a Prole. She is contacting them as we speak.”

As Pyr fell silent again, the room continued to remain quiet. Everyone seemed to either be mulling over the options or waiting for someone else to make a decision. Ada’s gaze shifted from each group in turn as she tried to gauge what would happen.

Briefly Ada’s eyes rested on Zare who was hunched in on himself. It was obvious he was struggling with something. Ada wondered if he’d been ordered to kill someone just as Jet had.

Thought of the traitor caused Ada to glance in his direction. He had his head bowed, the slump of his shoulders spoke of defeat. Ada then shifted her gaze toward the Transie with the fever, who hardly seemed to be breathing at all. Though Pepper’s other Transies stayed close to the one fallen ill, everyone else in the room had given them a wide birth. Not that it would matter in the long run. They would all fall.

With a shake of her head, Ada pushed the morbid thought aside. Death or change, neither was preferable in her mind.

“All right. We’ll be at the meeting tomorrow. You’re right, it’s now or never. After all, what is there to lose if we fight?” Bombastic’s voice boomed through the hall.

Everyone seemed to straighten a bit once the crime boss spoke his decision. It would have been doable without his support, but the more they had to fight Waldgrave, the better the chances for everyone and that seemed to be lift a bit of the weight off everyone’s mind. Ada let out a soft sigh and straightened in her chair.

Pyr nodded and gave Bombastic a smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Bombastic.” He turned then and regarded Jet. “As for a trial for Jet, I must ask that you postpone it until after this is over.”

Ada and everyone else in the room stared at Pyr. “What?” she said.

“I know that’s a lot to ask, but we need all that we have. I’ll have Oe look into his mind, but I believe that was the only order Waldgrave implanted in his mind.” Pyr turned toward Ada as he spoke.

Ada frowned, but eventually she nodded her agreement. The others seemed resigned as well to Pyr’s decision though Pepper’s Transies seemed the most disgruntled. And Ada couldn’t blame them. She glanced at her father. Though she still harbored some resentment toward him, if someone had killed him she’d be furious. He was a good leader for Delta Section, even if he was a lousy father.

“Good. Then if the leaders will come with me, we’ll bring Jet to Oe and prepare for tomorrow’s meeting.” Pyr nodded at Bombastic then Cedric.

The bosses rose and moved toward Pyr and the door. Cedric’s posse followed behind him, as did Zare. Bombastic gave a few orders then seemed to randomly call out names of those who would come with him. Pepper’s people rose–one picked up the infected Transie the other escorted Jet.

Raised voices outside the doors stole everyone’s attention. After what sounded like a slight scuffle, one of the doors banged open and Lexi raced inside. She flew at Pyr, her face a mask of rage and tears. Pyr caught his daughter, his hand smoothed her bubblegum hair. “Lexi? What is it?”

“It’s Oe! She dead!” The young girl wailed then buried her face in her father’s chest.

Ada heard the faint tone that Ky used to get her attention. With a flick of her right fingers, Ada activated their com system. “Ada. Go ahead, Ky.”

“Ada, get your ass to Zeta Sector. We need everyone there.” Ky’s urgent words were like a bucket of ice water.

“Bombastic?”

“Just do it!” Ky snapped, then his side went dead.

Blue eyes narrowed in anger, Ada gunned her bike. The machine tore down the street with a squeal of tires. Ada shoved aside a Prole who paid no attention as he walked into her path. Muttered obscenities of painful retribution made a quick trip of the distance to the Zeta Sector. Though Ada was still annoyed with Ky’s attitude, a thread of worry crept into her mind. He was never quite such an ass unless something was terribly wrong.

The streets were slick with condensation, the walls of all the buildings grimy from decades of neglect. Like every other sector in the deep, Zeta fared no better. What caused it to stand out was the fact that it had no Proles wandering around. Bombastic had relegated all the Proles from his sector to the Alpha Sector. He still held control of both, but he’d split the two and forced his Proles into the worse slum the Deep had. As a result, the Zeta Sector looked practically untouched by people.

The Transies under Bombastic were fastidious to say the least, though they didn’t change a thing about the outside of the buildings. To show just how fastidious Bombastic was, he commandeered the local opera house for his base of operations. The outside was a falling down ruin, but inside he’d refurbished everything. Acoustics were important to the crime boss and he loved his opera.

Ada arrived outside the opera house with a look of wistful longing that she quickly schooled when she saw a pair of green Transies approaching her. No need to let them, or anyone else, know she adored the opera and all of its trappings. The glare Ada shot them drew them up short. They glanced at one another, then approached her more cautiously.

“You Ada Kaze?” The taller of the two asked. Though truly their heights and builds were almost identical. Their coloring was only a shade or two off as well.

“Yeah. I’m here to see Bombastic.” She swung a long leg behind her as she dismounted, the jerked her helmet of and set it onto the bike seat.

“He’s waiting for you. Go on in.” The shorter one spoke this time. His gaze traveled Ada’s body; what he could see of it through her trench coat anyway. In response, she peeled back one side of her coat revealing a .45mms as well as an array of flash bombs and grenades.

“See something you like?” Ada bit out, eyes narrowed.

The man’s eyes widened as he took an involuntary step back. His twin let out a snicker. “It’s okay Ada, go on in. I got this guy.” He snagged his friend around the neck with a beefy arm and shook him.

With an eyebrow arched in amused surprise, Ada let her coat close. She turned and headed up the stairs, her combat boots gave a satisfying crunch as she walked up the wide steps that ran from one end of the building to the other.

The front of the building had columns that supported the roof and left an open area of about twenty feet between the columns and where the building walls and doors were. There were three sets of double doors, all solid metal. The main pair were the only ones that seemed to be in working order, so those were the pair Ada headed toward.

Once at the doors Ada noticed a rust colored Transie clad in a purple evening gown to the right of them. It seemed Bombastic liked his Transies to look the part as well. The woman nodded at Ada then opened one of the doors with a flick of her hand. Ada nodded her thanks then entered.

The foyer was plushly decorated with thick carpets, tapestries, paintings, even a gold and fine crystal chandelier overhead. The opulence left a bitter taste on Ada’s tongue. Bombastic was no better than the Descendants to Ada with his obviously bloated sense of importance.

As she moved toward the doors that led to the main floor of the opera house, she could feel eyes on her. As she glanced up she spotted a few of Bombastic’s lackies in evening ware with machine guns or the occasional laser held casually ready. Once she reached the doors another Transie, a orange male in a suit, opened one manually. Ada nodded, but didn’t pause as she strode into the hall proper.

If the foyer had been over the top, the main hall was the bloated, crusty grandfather of decadence and garish decorations. Blood red velvet was everywhere, on every seat, even on the walls and the balconies. Where there wasn’t velvet, there was silk or gold or brocade. Gold and red were the main colors, but white and silver and even some black added accents that clashed, yet seemed appropriately gaudy. The main floor had around fifty seats that faced the stage and orchestra pit to the right as Ada entered. To the left Ada could see the raised dais and the throne Bombastic had set up as his place of honor.

One might expect a man with a name like Bombastic to be of large girth or stature. Though the crime boss was by no means a small man, he was neither a giant. And like everyone else in the Deep, he was fit, though he looked healthier than most because of his control of not one, but two Sectors. Rather his name came from his abilities. Bombastic possessed the ability to manipulate air in a way that could break bones and burst organs. Rumor had it he could even explode a head if he had half a mind.

Ada knew that most rumors in the Deep had a grain of truth to them, so she’d always steered clear of his territory. Regardless if he could explode heads, he was still notorious for his short temper and mean streak when it came to poaching on his territory.

The room was half filled with Transies of all colors, shapes and sizes. All but a few were Bombastics, if only because they were all dressed to the nines in dresses and suits. The ones that weren’t in evening wear, Ada noticed, were Ky, Cedric and his crew and Zare. Ada moved toward them in time to catch Ky finish speaking.

“We don’t know why Jet would do something like that, but he was changed by Waldgrave. It’s possible he implanted a suggestion in his mind.” Ky glanced briefly at Ada, then returned his gaze to Bombastic.

The crime boss was staring at Ada as she approached. His pale, sand-colored eyes regarded her silently for several minutes. Ada lifted her chin, meeting his scrutiny with an open assessment of her own. Like the rest of his people, Bombastic was dressed well. His black tuxedo, black shirt and red bowtie contrasted nicely with his sand colored skin. His head was bald, a seemingly natural occurrence. He sat on a throne that was as ornate as anything else in the room. A few female lackies gathered around him, sitting in smaller chairs and fawing over him and each other.

At last, Bombastic spoke. “Ada Kaze.” His eyes widened briefly. “I’d always wanted to meet the half-breed of Cedric. Looks like rumors don’t do you justice. Are you truly as deadly as you are beautiful?” His voice was a booming bass. Ada wasn’t sure if it was natural or part of his front as a crime boss.

“More.” Ada’s dark lips quirked.

Bombastic threw back his head and laughed. Then he straightened and stared at Cedric. “You made a fine child, Cedric. Too bad I can’t poach her. She’d look stunning in purple silk.”

Ada’s jaw tightened. “You wanna talk, you talk to me. He’s not my keeper.”

A smile slashed across the crime boss’s face. “I can see why they say you’re difficult. Sounds like you simply know when not to take any bullshit.”

Chin lifted, Ada didn’t respond further.

“Good. Now we just wait for Jet. He’s being escorted by his own people to my borders.” Bombastic settled back into his throne, propping an elbow on his arm rest he thoughtfully rubbed his lower lip with a thumb as he stared at Ada.

Ky moved to stand next to Ada. He murmured softly, “Jet killed Pepper. Soi is missing. Pyr’s on his way.”

Ada’s pale blue features almost turned white at the news. Jet and Pepper had been close. He’d been her right hand man for years. If he could be turned to kill her, then Ada was almost certain Zare and Soi had been as well. Ada nodded at Ky. She shot a brief glance at Zare, who stood stoically on the other side of Cedric’s posse. His pale, hairless features were pinched but showed no real sign of what was on his mind.

The main doors to the hall opened then. Ada turned to see Jet being escorted in. He was gagged and his hands were tied behind his back. The three that guided him forward were all shades of green and brown and wore clothing made from moss, grass or some variation of plant and bark. Ada had known Peppers people were strange, they rarely showed themselves outside of the Deep Park, but she hadn’t realized just how odd they’d become. Several of Bombastic’s people followed behind Pepper’s people, taking up assigned places it seemed.

Words boomed through the hall then. “About time! Let the trial begin!”

Ada jerked her gaze from Jet toward Cedric and Ky. The pair shook their heads slightly. Ky mouthed, “Wait for Pyr.”

Jaw clenched, Ada turned back to Bombastic. The crime boss grinned at her, then rubbed his hands together as if he looked forward to the spectacle of a trial. Ada silently fumed as she waited for Pyr. Time was running out. And worse, they still had no leads on the origin of the virus.

As if the train of her thoughts had triggered something, one of the Transies escorting Jet stumbled and collapsed into a heap. When the others stopped to help him, they found him unconscious and drenched in sweat. “He’s got a fever!”

The ripple of fear was palpable as everyone stared at the fallen man. No one else dared touch him or the others of Pepper’s Sector. Transies don’t get sick, not a cold, not cancer, nothing; so the reactions were likely more extreme than might normally occur with a simple fever.

“Everyone stay calm.” The words brought everyone’s eyes to the main doors. Pyr stood there in his cloak and hood of flame. Ada felt a sense of relief wash through her at the sight of her mentor. The relief seemed to spread to the others as well as they relaxed. Still, no one made a move to help the fallen Transie.

Pyr moved toward Bombastic and dipped his head into a respectful nod. “Bombastic, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I regret the grave circumstances of our meeting.”

To his credit, Bombastic hid his worry well. He offered Pyr a nod in return and an almost genuine smile. “Same, Pyr. Now why don’t we all take a seat and discuss just what is going on?”

Pyr gestured for Ada and the others to settle into chairs. One of Pepper’s Transies helped her fallen comrade while the other moved Jet to a far corner where they settled him on the floor to wait. Ada chaffed at the need for this discussion, but she bit her cheek and sat. Then the real meeting began.

The Deep was, at one time, years ago, a thriving city like any other. It had its upscale apartments, its slums; there were movie theaters and ice cream parlors and restaurants of all types. When it came to the park, however, everyone seemed surprised the Deep had one. The rest of the old city had decayed, so to most it stood to reason that the Park would have as well. And perhaps it might have, if not for one thing: Transies with the power to manipulate plants.

Jet stood at the entrance of the acre wide park. It had been overrun by trees and other plants decades ago. There was an order to the chaos of the Deep Forest and not many dared enter. It was the one Sector where the reins of power were actually handed down by choice from crime boss to crime boss. After all, it wouldn’t do to allow someone who couldn’t care for the park to take over. There had been attempts, even by fire and  other means, to take over but the bosses of Sector Gamma had learned one thing quickly and followed that rule always. Never leave the Park.

The rule echoed around inside Jet’s head. He’d left. Pepper, the current boss, had let him. Now he wished he’d stayed put. He shook his head. No, he was glad he left, he had Soi because of it. He just regretted that now their son was taken. It was like someone had shot a basketball sized whole through his chest, yet he still managed to survive it. It killed him with an agonized slowness.

The Park was closed off as a rule and only those who asked for entry and were known to Pepper were allowed in. Jet stepped forward, his movements were slow and deliberate as he placed the palm of his hand in an indentation the shape of a hand that was sunk into one of the tree trunks nearby. He’d lost his coloring, but hoped the tree could still sense it was him.

At first there was nothing, then slowly, with a great, pondered effort, the smaller trees bunched together parted. The path that appeared was layered with leaves and freshly moved soil. Jet started down the path, his gray eyes darted between the trees and foliage as he moved. Pepper would have sent an escort.

Once he finally reached the inner sanctum of the Park, felt more than heard the trees moving back into place behind him. It felt like a door snapping shut on a cage. Jet swallowed his nervousness as he headed toward the nearby amphitheater where Pepper held court.

Most Transies were never what Normals would consider sane, but Pepper and her predecessors were truly insane. It ran in the blood. Or perhaps it was the fact that they communed with plants. Whatever it was, it made Pepper into a mad queen who ruled over her court as if it were a millennium ago and they were back in the feudal era.

The amphitheater was like most others, full of ascended rows of concrete seats and at the bottom a half dome stood mostly intact. Up on stage Pepper sat on a throne of live tree roots that had burst their way through floor of the stage and twined themselves into a chair that suited the woman’s tastes.

Jet’s feet felt like lead as he headed down the steps of the amphitheater. Each step closer to Pepper settled onto his shoulders like a weight.

Pepper sat regally on her throne, a crown of roses without the thorns sat on her brow. Pepper was one of the few Transies whose coloring was the exact same all over her body. Her hair, skin eyes, even her tongue were all a rich mahogany color. Her skin was smooth as polished wood. She wore a long flowing dress the color of lichen. As Jet drew closer he realized it was actually made of lichen. It covered her modestly enough, though it left her shoulders and collarbone bare, every other inch of her body was covered, to her wrists and ankles.

When Jet finally stood at the bottom of the stage, he took a knee and waited with his head bowed.

“What are you talking about? Jet is gone.” Pepper’s voice was a contralto, smooth and mellow despite the anger in her tone.

Unwilling to move for fear of Peppers further anger, Jet waited. A soft gasp and a rustle were all he heard after several moments. Then he felt his body being lifted. A giant root wrapped itself around his body, binding his arms and legs tightly. When Jet finally dared to look up it was to see Pepper’s dark features staring at him.

“You’re not Jet.” Her tone was cold, angry. Her features softened then. “Yet you are. Waldgrave is a silly man, but I hadn’t thought him silly enough to cross me.”

“Pepper, I-” Jet began.

The root squeezed his body, the air in his lungs evaporated.

“NO! You do not speak. I speak. You listen.” Pepper pinned him with her angry glare, then sat back, her expression smoothed out once again. “You’re not Jet. But I’ll put you back to right. You’ll see.” She smiled secretively, a faint dimple in her right cheek displayed itself.

With a gesture, Pepper had the root pull Jet closer until he could see his own reflection in her glassy eyes. Jet’s eyes welled with tears. Pepper sat up then, her fingers gently stroked his cheeks. “What’s this, not-Jet? Tears? Tears for who?”

“You,” he whispered softly, then spat venom directly into her eyes.

Peppers screams tore across the dome of the amphitheater, echoed infinity time and time again as the shrieks crashed and mingled. Peppers attendants screams only added to the chaos.

It was over in seconds. Pepper lay across her throne, her back arched at an impossible angle. Her face swollen beyond recognition. The roots released Jet as soon as Pepper’s life gave out. He didn’t run. He slumped to his knees before his pretend queen and he wept.

“And this… is just the beginning,” he said through his tears.

Soi Soren was normally a soft-spoken woman.  Slow to anger, easy going and generally a caring woman, it was rare for her to do more than raise her voice.  However, just like the wind she controlled, she could be wildly unpredictable when angered.

“WHERE IS MY SON?” Soi’s ethereal voice had a ragged edge to it that snapped at the air like cloth in a strong wind.  The question was directed at Seiza, who she had pinned to a wall in an alley with tendrils of thickened air.

Seiza clutched at his throat, his fingers slid through the molecules of air as they reformed to continue their strangle hold on his windpipe.  He shook his head in wild denial.  His reaction only fueled Soi’s anger. She pushed a palm toward him. His eyes bulged in their sockets, his face mottled as blood pooled under the skin.  After three seconds that felt like three years, Soi released the stranglehold. Seize collapsed to his hands and knees.  He sucked in the precious air, coughs shook his frame as he gulped it like water.

Soi’s boots crunched on the pavement as she stalked toward him.  Aboot landed in Seiza’s ribs. His coughs took on a ragged edge.  “You bastard, I trusted you!”

The crime boss shook his head as he put one hand against the slick wall near his head. “Didn’t hurt… him.  Waldgrave… took the kid.”

“You’re lying!  Belen wasn’t there!”  She aimed another kick for his ribs, but Seiza blocked it with his arm.

As he stood he shoved her foot away.  He glared down at Soi.  “You know better than this, Soi. Use your head.” He panted lightly. “You had my protection, why would I hurt your kid?”

Hands balled into fists, Soi returned his glare. “You were mad because I joined up with Jet. That we were happy and I had a baby!”

Seiza’s colorful features softened into a neutral expression.  His voice was low when he responded. “I’d never hurt your kid, Soi.  You were my life once. You meant everything to me.” He sighed heavily, lifting his scraped hands to scrub his fingers through his hair. “I was hurt that you left me. But I’d never try to get back at you for that.  I know you can’t control your heart.  I could see, eventually, that you were just as torn up about it.”

Soi’s anger drained from her face in incriments as he spoke.  When he was done, all that was left was a haunted expression.  She nodded slowly, then swallowed against the lump in her throat.  Of course she knew he wouldn’t really harm her child.  So why had she thought so in the first place?

“Waldgrave…” Soi’s voice was a whispery growl.

A finger brushed her cheek, jerking her pale gaze to Seiza’s face.  His gaze traveled over her features. “You still look like you, even if you aren’t yellow anymore.”

The words snapped something inside of her. “He did this to me.  He must have implanted some thoughts as well.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, you know.” Seiza shrugged as he pulled his hand back.  “That’s how he gets obedience out of the Enforcers.”

Soi stared at her former lover and leader for several long moments.  “I’m sorry, Seiza.”

He gave her a tired smile. “I am too.  But don’t worry.  I’m going to help you get your son, Soi.  I promise.”

With a nod, she turned away from him. “Thank you.  I should get this transmitter into place.  You’ll be at the meeting?”

“Yeah. Cedric payed me a visit. I really need to stop taking visitors. It’s bad for my health.”  He chuckled wryly as he rubbed at his bruised ribs.

A smile flicked across Soi’s features. She picked up the bag she dropped and headed inside the building they stood next to.  “See you, Seiza.”

#

Pyr and Oe hovered near the couch in Oe’s living room.  Lexi lay on the soft cushions, her small frame draped in another colorful creation of Oe’s. Her eyes were closed, her breath so shallow her chest hardly rose at all.  Pyr kept checking her pulse and breath to make sure she hadn’t slipped away completely.

“You’re sure she knows what she’s doing?” Worry laced Pyr’s words.

Oe nodded. “I am sure, Pyr. I’ve seen her in my visions. She’ll become very adept at this as time goes on.”

Pyr frowned, his sanguine features taut with worry and now confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Lexi will continue to do this as she ages and the more she does this, the better she’ll become.  Just like all of us with our powers.”  Oe’s expression was calm.  She picked up a cool, wet cloth from the table and lightly patted Lexi’s forehead with it.

“Oe, what exactly is she doing?”

“Lexi seems to have inherited the ability to speak into other’s minds.”  Oe set the cloth aside, then turned to regard Pyr.  “What do you know about Lexi’s mother?”

Pyr shook his head.  “Very little.  She is a Prole, however.”

Oe pressed her lips together, then said, “I don’t think she is, Pyr.”

He blinked at her.  “What do you mean?  Of course, she is.”

Her dark eyes bore into him as if she were searching for something.  Pyr shifted uncomfortably.

Finally Oe spoke. “She’s not.  She was the child of a Descendant. She was abandoned because she was the result of an affair.  She was born with powers, but she’s never learned to control them, so they only show up sometimes.  Lexi inherited your coloring in part, but she gained her mother’s abilities.”

Pyr turned his incredulous gaze back to Lexi.  Her pink features were in repose, but he could see the maturity peaking out from under the bloom of childhood.  “She looks like her mother.”

“Time is slipping from us, Pyr.  You need to go if you’re to place that transmitter.”  Oe gently rested a hand on his forearm.  He looked down at her hand, his own covered hers in a light squeeze.

“You’re right.” He released her hand, then rose.  He smiled at her. “Thank you for taking such good care of Lexi.”

Oe smiled warmly.  “She is a joy. I do hope you’ll let her visit me once she is settled with you.”

With a nod, Pyr turned away, his red cloak swirling around him. “Of course I will. I see how happy you two make one another.”

Bag in hand, Pyr quietly slipped out of Oe’s home.  One or two of her people stood at the mouth of the alley as he emerged. He nodded at them, then headed to his bike.

Time was growing short.  What worried Pyr the most however was complete lack of illness in anyone.  Of course it had only been two days since Waldgrave’s announcement.  He supposed it was too early to know for sure just how far and fast the virus would spread.  And, of course, there was the question of how he’d spread it in the first place.

Absently scratching the back of his neck, Pyr shook his head, then mounted his bike, started it up and roared into the night.  Now to deal with Bombastic.  Oe said it would require most of them, but especially Pyr for the meeting to go in their favor.  He just hoped none of the others had started without him.

By way of apology and to tide you over until I can get the true post up and running, I present the Dystopian Dictionary of the Deep Underground.  Basic terms are defined, however if you feel I’ve missed any, please let me know in the comments here and I’ll happily add entries as needed.

Thank you for your patience and as always thank you for visiting and reading the Deep Underground.

~Heidi

Ada drove her motorcycle up onto the sidewalk outside of Tomo’s Bar.  She let the engine idle for a moment as she removed her helm.  Her leather clad hands absently adjusted the long pigtails she preferred.  It was by accident Ada had discovered just how good a distraction the girlish hairstyle could be and so she used it without thought. She’d even grown fond of it.

As the motor cut off, Ada swung her long leg back and over the seat of her bike.  She set her helm on the seat then patted down her long, leather trench coat.  Satisfied she had everything, she stalked toward the door.  As usual there were no bodyguards.  If you could survive a night in Tomo’s Bar, then you could survive just about anything.

The thump of the techno music muffled Ada’s footsteps as she stalked toward Tomo’s dais.  The strobe lights, flashing disco ball and the body jewelry that gave off eerie, neon glows caught Ada’s gaze only briefly.  Ada didn’t frequent the bars in the Deep–she had better things to do then get drunk, high or sleep with fellow freaks of the Deep–so on the occasions she did go in, she found herself staring like a fool before she came to her senses.

Tomo’s dais loomed before her. When the man himself became visible through the crowd of writhing Transies, Ada found herself suddenly struggling to hold her temper at bay.  When she’d heard about the bounty on Ky’s head, she’d shrugged it off, unable to even think of it when she had so many other things on her mind.  Now, however, Ky was as safe as he could be in the Deep and the very thought of Tomo’s price on Ky’s head made Ada’s hands itch to shove a bomb down the slimy worm’s throat.

Anger in check for the time being, Ada stalked up the steps to the dais. She loomed over Tomo, using her height to her advantage.  At first Tomo seemed intent on ignoring her as he stared just a bit too hard at the ass of a nearby dancer.  It was until the crime lord turned toward Ada that she realized he was high.  His heavy lidded gaze widened comically as he reared back in his chair. “A-ada!”  He twittered out a nervous laugh, his elongated fingers ran nervously through his spiky blue hair.  “Ah, so you made it out! Ha-ha! That’s… great!”  His gray pupils dialed wildly as he struggled to focus on anything.

Lips pressed together, Ada glared down at the stuttering Transie.  “You’re pathetic, Tomo.  But you’re also connected.  You will bring with you every Transie and Prole you know and you’ll be at the warehouse on Z Street by tomorrow night as the lights dim.”

Tomo stiffened at Ada’s insult. He dragged himself up right and glared at Ada, though it was obvious it took a great deal of effort to force it through the haze of drugs in his system. “You don’t order me around. I’m Tomo!”  His tone bordered on a screech.

Ada lunged like a panther. She pounced on Tomo; her slim fingers gripped his throat as she shoved him back into his chair.  From her trench coat Ada pulled a small, metallic-blue disk. She slapped it onto the middle of the crime lord’s forehead.  She glared at him as Tomo struggled against her hold on his neck.  She lifted him then slammed him back into the chair. “You are walking a thin line, Tomo.  You’re lucky I don’t kill you here and now for that bounty you put on Ky.  As it is, I need your sorry ass.  And so, you will prove yourself useful and do what I say.  And if you do it well, then you’ll not only save your own ass, but your livelihood as well.”

Tomo struggled to swallow under Ada’s grip on his throat.  She eased off just enough for him to breathe.

“So it’s true? About the virus.”  His gray skin turned a sickly yellow.

With a grim nod, Ada shoved him away from her and straightened.  Tomo cautiously lifted his fingers to the disk on his forehead.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.  It’s got a trigger, but those kinds of explosives are sensitive to vibrations too.”

With a squeak, Tomo dropped his hand and a second later froze in place.

A decidedly evil grin curled Ada’s dark lips as she turned away from Tomo. “Tomorrow, don’t forget.”  Ada didn’t look back as she stalked down Tomo’s dais and out of the bar, her trench coat and pigtails swirling in her wake.

#

Cedric slammed his fist into Seiza’s face, the thump of flesh on flesh echoed in the otherwise silent room.  Behind Cedric were his most loyal friends, Archer, his second, at the center.  Across the room stood Seiza’s gang, a mishmash of rough looking Transies who remained stoically in place, despite the fact that Cedric was currently beating their leader to a pulp.

“I knew you were a piece of shit, Seiza, but this takes the cake even for you,” Cedric growled, then slammed his fist into the man’s abdomen.

Seiza was on par with Cedric’s build, tall, muscled and the like. His coloring, however, made him a wildcard.  Most Transies at least seemed to follow some kind of pattern with their coloring and their powers.  Seiza, however, looked as if a box of crayons had melted and run together. His hair was streaks of blue, red and purple. One eye was green the other orange.  His skin was a mottle of yellow, brown and black and on top of that he had thin stripes that turned the yellow, brown and black to negatives of blue, gray and white.

With a feral snarl, Seiza struck back, his nails extended into claws as he slashed at Cedric’s shoulder.  Rolling his shoulder with the claws, Cedric winced as the minimized cuts welled with blue blood.  He slammed his fist into Seiza’s face.  Cedric’s eyes widened when he saw the blood coming from Seiza’s nose was a normal red.

“Fuck you, Cedric,” Seiza snarled as he wiped away the blood on his face. “I did what I had to. They were screwing me over.  I didn’t do nothin’ any other boss in the Deep hasn’t.”

Cedric growled as he lunged at Seiza again. “Like hell.  You know better than any of us that taking a kid is lowest of the low.”

Drawn up short by Cedric’s words, Seiza merely side-stepped the Iceman’s feint. “The hell you talkin’ about, Cedric?  I don’t fuck with kids. No one does unless they want the whole Deep on their asses.”

Straightening with a sigh, Cedric regarded Seiza for several moments. “If you don’t have Jet and Soi’s kid, then who?”

Seiza’s eyes widened, then his jaw hardened, his lips flattened into a grim line. “Waldgrave.”

“Shit! No way, man.  How’s that possible?”  It was Cedric’s turn to be surprised.

“I was watchin’ the kid for Jet and Soi.  Nothing off, they asked me to until they got back on their feet. They lost their shit while gambling in Tomo’s place.  Then outta the blue twenty Enforcers show up, kill my people and take off with the kids.  Jet and Soi wouldn’t believe the story.  Hell, I wouldn’t either. Why go after a Transie kid, right?”  Seiza shook his head slowly.

Cedric dipped into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He lit up and offered it to Seiza.  The multi-colored Transie accepted the peace offering.  He took a drag, exhaled slowly as he handed it back.  Cedric nodded as he scratched at the back of his head. “Sorry about that, man.”

Seiza jerked his chin. “Like wise.”

The two exchanged brief, wan smiles.  The Cedric spoke again. “You’ll be there?”

Seiza glanced toward his group. Their expressions of muted anger were easy to read.  He looked back at Cedric and nodded. “We’ll be there.”

With a nod, Cedric took a puff on his cigarette as he stalked toward the door.  Archer held out his leather jacket as he walked past.  He snagged the coat, pulled it on and left the small backroom into the alley.  He paused as he saw his daughter roar past on her motorcycle.  Ada caught his eye and then smirked before she was out of sight again.  Stunned, Cedric fumbled with his cigarette, burned himself twice and finally let the damn thing hit the ground.  He stared after his daughter.  A few seconds passed before he turned abruptly toward his own bike.  Time to question her later.  For now, they had a hell of a lot more to do.

“Where to next?” Archer settled onto her bike next to him.

Cedric grinned at her and said. “Time to fry up some big fish.  Let’s go see the Bombastic.”

Archer’s blue eyes widened briefly. Then laughed ruefully. “You’re gonna get us killed one of these days, Iceman.”

Cedric chuckled along with her. “Just not today.”