Author Games: The Absent Empress

Semifinals: Glacier

"Left or right?" The question was proposed by the young man to the left of the group. He stands with his feet parted carefully and an easy expression, blank gaze, relaxed posture, lips run in the natural frown that pulls down the corners of his lips. A hand runs over his jacket, massaging his shoulder delicately caught up in thoughts of something else. Dante can't blame him; they all are.

"What does it matter?" Words come from the voice of his left. Always so quiet that he's surprised when she manages to speak without being prompted. More surprised that it isn't sarcastic. "We won't make it to the rendezvous point either way." She tucks a strand of navy hair behind her ear and stares off at the concrete wall ahead of them.

'Split up,' Irene had said. And who was the one who had the map of this place? To be fair, it wasn't much of a map. Pieces were missing or blacked out and others required coding or passwords to see whole sections of the dingy place. It was impressive though, above the filth of the level they stood on were stories of lies and deception. No one would think what hid beneath the building was anything other than a parking lot or a furnace and spare generator. Still, for such a place it was a maze to navigate. Dante found himself relinquishing the warmth his hoodie pocket provided to rub at his left temple in hopes his headache would go down. Too many halls they'd been down and not enough of them had lead to the Empress.

"Oh honey, aren't you as optimistic as ever," King breathed to himself with a shake of his black curls. He stretched out his hand and ran it through the dense locks that were giving him trouble. The humidity was stifling for how far underground they stood and because of it his hair had begun to poof up. For a man who cared about his appearance as much as he showed he did, it must've been the beginnings of a tragedy.

Dante, however, had no time for such things. He was sweating, he was cranky, and he had no clue where he was going. Alarms rang overhead but they were faint now. They came from the higher levels they'd broken into and continued to sound without any show of stopping. Hell had broken loose up there and they had the signs to prove it. Dante's personal evidence was the scrap of a pocket knife along his left shoulder. Blood had soaked through his hoodie's sleeve and now worked on drying, but the damp sticky material forced his body to flinch each time it made contact. Whether the wound itself was continually leaking he hadn't bothered to check, but what he did know was that it stung hard enough to force his teeth to grit everytime the shoulder was moved.

"We're going right," Dante decided for the three of them. He reached out and shoved King gently to get his point across and was given something between a glance and a glare as they started to move.

It got even hotter. The thrum of a generator struck up and hit the back of Dante's ear and vibrated the floor beneath his feet. It was as subtle as a train rolling across the tracks. Ahead of them, footsteps echoed too. They turned to glance at one another. Miserable shakes of their heads that meant there was nothing to be done.

Alarms blasted over his pounding feet. The intercom in his ear crackled but the static dislodged any sentence he could make out. King was already ahead of him and moving faster and Nora, well when he craned his neck he couldn't find her but the sounds of the tunnel were too loud to be sure of anything.

They met the first assailants around the next bend. A pair of guns that were shot out of the guards hands with icicles and King was left to finish the job as Dante dodged around a crumpling form and went ahead. Now they knew where they were there was no time for lieger. He sprinted down one hall and turned left and went down that one until he found himself spotting a pair of figures before him. A door was propped open and computer screens flashed inside as hands sped across then. Dante allowed a thin smile.

"There you are. Where are the others?" Irene held up a hand in deep concentration and offered an apologetic glance to Dante as he slipped into the room.