Light in the Dark
The outline raised a hand, a silent gesture only visible to the shadows that followed in her wake. With a soft rustle they separated, a diaphanous form splitting to one side as the shadows reformed on the other. Soft, rapid hand gestures followed, and then the three continued down the darkening tunnel, unseen and unheard, their purpose clear, yet known only to themselves.
~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s over 300, now. We need to find where they intended to bring them. It can’t just be Florida.” Charlie’s voice seemed calm, but to Viktor and Emma the undertone of frustration was clear. They’d been working on the trafficking issue for months and the problem only seemed to grow in scale the more they uncovered. A deeper strike was needed, and they all knew it.
“Feinberg.” Em slid a pack of smokes towards Charlie, lighting one of their own. “It’s been a while since we tapped him up for information, and he often knows more than he realises. I’ll head out, see what he has.”
Charlie nodded slowly, taking a cigarette and offering one to Viktor in the same motion. “This is the New York Agent, da? His info, it could be good. I will see what I can get from the streets.” A small disquieting smile spread as he drew on his smoke. “Umbra appears, and people talk.”
“I’ll tap the rest of our network, then. The Foundation has their ear to the ground on missing people, children particularly, I’ll see if there’s anything new there.”
The three shared a look, decision made, then smoked in silence until moving out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The soft gurgle of blood was the only tell that the first guard had fallen, his lifeless body draped in shadow as it slid silently to the ground. Normally the hero known as Umbra avoided killing blows, but not today. Not in a place like this.
Many metres away, separated by walls thick enough to block even the loudest screams, the second guard dropped to their knees. Small clouds of black dust rose as they hit the floor, hands scrabbling around their throat for a grip that wasn’t there, until finally their eyes rolled back and Lifeline released the hold.
In a room below them both a final screen powered down with a small hum. The shrouded figure cracked their knuckles, throwing a glance at the paper pusher cowering in the corner. As their gaze landed the woman scrambled backwards, raw fear plain on her face, until base instinct lost over physiology and unconsciousness took her. With a small nod of satisfaction, Moodmusic stepped over the body and back into the dark tunnels outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A spread of flip boards covered the space, long discarded takeaway containers pushed to one side. The only sound was the occasional click of a lighter, pour of coffee, or scribble as a thought was added to a board by shadow or force by the two pensively staring figures. Behind them a door swung shut, but neither moved; opening that door with ease meant you belonged, or they were already dead.
As if to prove the point, Em pinned a note to a board before sitting down with an irritated sigh. “A week, and that’s it from Feinberg - a few too many cargo trucks moving south. But they always check out.”
Long minutes passed, all three now staring at the boards, until Charlie slowly cocked her head.
“What sort of cargo?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tunnels branched deeper and wider, but the steps of the three heroes never faltered, all sure in their direction. As they walked the walls changed from smooth stone to rougher cuts, veins of quartz and more exotic minerals visible between the dark and sooty streaks. Under their feet debris flattened without sound, old bones and railway sleepers mixing in equal measure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This is the fifth container dock we’ll have staked out. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. The mining equipment can’t be a coincidence. We just need to find out where it’s going.”
“And if we encounter anyone on the way?”
“No. The location, that’s the important thing.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
High in the rafters of the pit ravens eyes gleamed. Far away the trio paused, shadows whispering patterns and placements in their ears. At the next fork they split, darkness spilling left as the faintest whisper of footsteps, audible only to the canniest ears, turned right and descended deeper again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lights of the dock flickered into standby as the last truck of the night pulled into its bay, ready for loading the next day. Shutters rolled down on the various offices around the area. When one stuck for a moment, nobody paid any real attention; it was an old building, and the weather was damp this time of year. There were bound to be a few faults now and again.
An hour later a figure stepped out of the shadows, hood up, and walked to the desk. Nimble fingers unlocked the safe beneath in a matter of seconds, and a few minutes later the shipping manifesto was memorised. Two similar figures in similar offices were doing the same. Once all three were done, the papers replaced exactly as they’d been, they pressed the silent signals on their belts.
Within moments, shadows swallowed them up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly the walls widened, cracking and careening into a combination of natural and carved crevices, each faced with a rough fence. The appearance hid their strength, damascus steel meant to be combined with coursing electricity to contain even the wiliest super. Within, however, were no cunning heroes.
The shape swept the area quickly, senses and mind roaming wide for anything unseen lurking outside the cages. A moment passed, then another, before apparently satisfied she extended her hands and the doors sprung open. Small whimpers came from some. From others, scared but curious faces, searching for the source of their freedom. Some were simply silent.
A careful motion, a relaxed stance, and the monochrome figure appeared in the centre of the space.
“My name is Lifeline, and I’m here to bring you home.”
Her voice was low, yet seemed to spread, resonating and filling the space. Seconds that could have been lifetimes passed and still she didn’t move - arms outstretched, the weight of her seemed to hang in the air. And slowly the children came forward.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A new board joined the already vast collection, but this one had a clear purpose. Pins marked multiple spots across America and thin strings led from cities to the pins, tracing major highways and trucking routes.
Viktor dragged on a cigarette pensively. “So they move them to these mines, da. And mines are being set up as tiny forges, da. But how are they concealing them in transit?”
“You already found that out.” Charlie paused, mid way through pouring coffee, to float a note from another side of the room and land it in front of him. “That tidbit about a street deal going south when hours later, a gang claimed guns they’d been sold turned into boxes of action figures?”
“I think,” she said, resuming her coffee making and bringing a cup over to him “that someone has been doing a little moonlighting alongside their main job. Which is to conjure cover for trucks full of children.”
A string of unrepeatable Russian followed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This branch of the tunnel was particularly dark, shadows so deep they concealed hidden falls and jagged stones at every other step. The added depth that moved amongst them cared not, however, melding and moving in a way indistinguishable to the eye, at home in the near ink.
As it flared outward, both space and light increasing, the shadows did too.
Throughout the wider area heavily armed thugs walked, some welding whips on their belts. One of them pushed a boy of barely eight in front of him, a cruel smile playing on his lips as the child fell to their knees.
“This one looks weak. Maybe he’ll be next week’s dinner, eh?”
In the laughter that echoed throughout the hall, nobody noticed the boy screw up his eyes in fear and then concentration. Nobody saw the shadow that briefly ran close to his ear, whispering firm instructions to close his eyes and keep them closed, no matter what he heard. And nobody expected what came next.
A blur of black blades and panicked gunfire ended as quickly as it began, and the child flinched as a hand landed on his shoulder.
“You can look, mal’chik.”
As his eyes opened slowly, fearfully, to land on the writhing purple and black form of Umbra, the boy began to cry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viktor peered over the small table, photos littering the entire surface. None were particularly clear, most looking years or decades out of date, but he stared like they contained answers only he could find.
“You think it’ll be enough?”
Charlie was perched on the edge of an armchair, had been for hours. It was her standard seat when they were planning, and this was too important not to think through in depth.
“No. Not for all of us. Is too risky, they are out of date, it will have changed.” He sighed, a hand running through his hair. “For me, as shadow, is enough.”
“Then we go in from the front. Together.” She raised a hand before he could protest. “And you send a little bird into the depths, to guide our way.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This area of the mine was just as deep, but the ore had been pillaged clear, leaving clean walls and smooth ceilings. From the scaffolded rafters hung stark fluorescent bulbs to light the work below, where bleached beds lay next to ominous looking equipment and brown stained tables.
Unlike their colleagues, Moodmusic did not conceal their entrance. Instead they walked right in, inviting shocked stares from the white coated men and women who were murmuring and moving from table to graph and back.
“You know” they began, as a hush fell over the room, “I have a reputation as a hero that will do anything for a job. That there is nothing off limits, no line I won’t cross, to get my work done.”
Reaching a tray of scalpels they pause, picking one up, their veiled face examining it. “But there is one rule, one truth that is sacrosanct.” The blade spun expertly in their hand.
“Not children. Never children.”
Later, Moodmusic would say only that they were glad the bodies on the benches were unconscious while they worked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Em wasn’t moving, their eyes fixed on a series of pictures and notes. “So between the information we already had, and what the kids at the foundation said, we could be facing basically anything.”
Charlie shrugged one shoulder. “Yes and no. We know there’ll be mainly human guards, a few supers, some scientists. We know they might have Phoenix on hand but it’s unlikely, it’s too unstable to rely on. And importantly, we’ll know the layout of the space.”
Viktor nodded. “They will not see us coming.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“They are all transported out, except this one. He would not let go.”
Umbra gestured to the boy wrapped around his leg. Silent tears fell, somehow being absorbed by the unnatural looking fabric of his coat.
Lifeline dropped down, her faceless mask at odds with the soft voice coming from within. “You’re scared, right? Scared of the dark, scared it won’t let you go? It’s ok now, we’ll bring you somewhere safe.”
Through the tears the boy shook his head, his grip tightening.
“Ah.” Her head tilted slightly, looking upwards. “You’re scared it won’t be there to save you again?”
The slightest of nods was his answer, and she stood, moving back.
“Umbra, will you tell him how the darkness works? Tell him why you were able to come.”
The shrouded form of Umbra looked down at the child, the russian gravel of his voice softening to a kinder tone.
“I am the strongest shadow because I look for the brightest lights. If you have hope, if you believe in the light, there’s nowhere I can’t follow. Let us bring you somewhere safe and we will keep you that way.”
The child inhaled, a deep breath that spoke far more than any words could, before nodding one last time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Dispatch, this is Lifeline, reporting in for Equilibrium.”
“Receiving, Lifeline. What is your team's status?”
“Going ghost, Dispatch. 48 hours expected. Evac for civilians to Lighthouse facilities on end.”
“Status updated. Good luck, Lifeline.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the entrance to the mine the trio reformed, silent in their collected resolve. The fight had been easy, at least from a paperwork point of view, but none of them had any illusion the next would be as smooth. But the effort was worth it, whether it was a hundred children or one.
The cycle would be broken.
