Wormholes and Wanderlust

Chapter 9: Bunker

Elizabeth's perspective...

"Katherine, I think Grant needs a little... encouragement to leave the cockpit," Calliope suggested, her voice low and edged with intent.

Katherine responded with a sinister grin, cracking her knuckles in anticipation. As she loomed over the cobra, her towering stature nearly grazed the ceiling. "Fine by me," she said with a smirk. "C'mon, Grant. You wouldn't want to end up lying next to Izabella, would you?" she sneered, her tone mocking.

Grant, undeterred, squared up to her, a determined growl in his voice. "Try me," he challenged, his stance betraying readiness despite his size disadvantage.

As Katherine nonchalantly closed in on him, she scoffed, "Oh, please. You couldn't hurt a—" The syringe gun alarmingly flew out of Calliope's hand, striking Katherine squarely in the jugular with startling speed. The action was so sudden and unexpected that both Calliope and I gasped in shock. Grant's expression remained steely and serious as he gestured with his hand.

Everything else seemed to stop as the syringe dispensed its contents. Katherine, on reflex, managed to yank it out, but it was already too late. "O-Oh, fuuhhhh..." she slurred, her words trailing off as her strength ebbed away. The syringe clattered to the floor as she swayed, then collapsed in a heap, falling next to the corpse of the old man.

An unsettling fear washed over me as I witnessed Grant exert a newfound, almost unnerving, power. It was a stark contrast to the unassuming presence he had always maintained. Calliope, equally taken aback, alternated her gaze between Grant and the floating syringe gun. "Just... listen, Grant," she began cautiously, her hands raised in a placating gesture.

But she stopped, jumping forward. Her move was quick, a sudden lunge for the syringe gun, but it floated just out of reach. The tool remained suspended in the air, obedient to Grant's silent command.

"Back off," Grant ordered, his voice firm and unyielding, as he directed the syringe menacingly towards us. Calliope retreated hesitantly.

"Okay, okay," Calliope conceded, urging me with a nod. "Do what he says." We began to back away slowly, me leading the way out the door.

But in a swift, almost imperceptible motion, Calliope grabbed a slender fire extinguisher by the door frame. In a fluid movement, she swung it at the syringe gun. The extinguisher connected with a crash, shattering the vial and smashing the syringe against the wall, also damaging one of the panoramic screens.

Grant's reaction was immediate. "No!" he shouted. His gaze fixed on the extinguisher, and with an outstretched hand and a clench of his fist, the canister crumpled and imploded, bursting and releasing a chilling cloud of gas.

The explosion left my ears ringing and my senses reeling. The cockpit was quickly engulfed in a thick, cold fog of carbon dioxide. Fans whirred to life, working to clear the air, but the damage was done. We were all left coughing and disoriented, struggling to regain our bearings in the aftermath of the sudden and intense altercation.

In a flash, Aria sprang into the cockpit, shoving me aside. Her fist connected solidly with Grant's face, rendering him unconscious in an instant. "No!" Miggins' caughted  and was cut short as Aria quickly subdued him, pulling him from the controls and applying a chokehold until he too lost consciousness. As he dropped, a pistol fell out of a holster on his figure.

As fans whirred to clear the vapors, the craft remained steady in the sky. I assumed there were instruments keeping it oriented with the horizon.

As the vapors finished clearing, I stood up and reached out to help Calliope to her feet. "Well, that just happened," I murmured, still processing the rapid turn of events. I glanced at Aria, then at Grant. "Great. That'll make him trust us more when he wakes up," I said sarcastically.