Pete cursed as his papers all went tumbling down the steps, and people tried — and mostly failed — to avoid them, dirtying and creasing his hours of work in only seconds. After everyone had filed out and he had put everything else away, he tiredly slid out of his seat and began gathering the destroyed pages.

At the bottom of the rows of seats, his music theory professor was whispering with another student, careful to not let anything get to Pete's ears. The student, a young French girl who had just transferred into his class not two days ago, nodded along with whatever was being said. After a pat on the back and a heavily-accented thank you from the girl, she turned towards the exit (and Pete), just as he lowered his eyes as if to pretend he wasn't obviously just eavesdropping. At this point, he had gathered a small stack of papers in his hands and was tapping them against the carpet to straighten them.

"Hello."

It took a moment for Pete to realize she was talking to him.

"Oh, sorry." He scooted over to let her pass, but she only laughed in response.

"No, no. I just wanted to talk to you," she explained. "I am Sophie."

Pete eyed her now-extended hand suspiciously. "Pete." He took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, placing his papers on the nearest desk. "So... you're from France?"

"I am."

"That's cool. I guess."

Sophie laughed. "Thanks. I guess."

Pete gave her a curt nod and a moment of silence passed.

"Would you like some help?" Sophie glanced back at the scattered papers draping the steps, and Pete scratched the back of his neck, shaking his head 'no'. "Are you sure?"

"Uh, well." He shrugged. "Actually, sure. Thank you."

Kneeling down to pick up some papers further down the steps, Sophie smiled. "Of course."

~~~

They entered through the front door. Of course, while Kobra strutted in with all the carefree confidence in the world, Pete's heart was pounding the whole way to the elevator. It was twice now that Kobra's fake identification cards worked, and Pete didn't want to risk a third. Not that he even knew how any of it worked.

Each ding of the elevator signalling them passing another floor made Pete jump. He knew it was only a matter of time until they reached the top floor. Apparently, going up 60 floors was a quick experience here. 

He didn't want to think about what was waiting at the end.

In an attempt to calm his nerves, Pete rubbed his thumb against the handle of the pocket knife in his hand, given to him by Kobra when they first arrived. "Keep it," Kobra had said. "A little something to remember me by if I die." Of course, he was joking. Sort of.

Pete was just grateful that he had Kobra there with him. As long as they were together, it would all be okay, he reminded himself.

"Hey." Kobra elbowed him softly. "You okay?" Pete nodded, through even he was unconvinced of that. "It's still not too late to opt out."

Pete looked up at the lit up numbers above the elevator doors.

59.

"Actually." Ding. "It is too late." The metal doors wooshed open and Pete stepped out before Kobra, trying to push down the fear that was boiling up inside of him.

The halls were more empty than Pete had expected. This floor wasn't one that was open to the public (Kobra had to hotwire the elevator controls to get them up without an authorized keycard), so it made sense that there wasn't as much security, Pete assumed. As they walked down the hall, Pete stayed beside Kobra, fearing not being close to him.

The walls were lined with pictures framed in dull metal. Pictured in each was the same man again and again. Bald, with either a blank expression or a scowl, he wore a grey jacket over a black, low-dipped vest with white ruffles lining the neck. In some photos — or, rather, projected images, Pete noticed — he held a white gun similar to those of the Killjoys.

Inscribed on the silver plaque under each:

"Korse. Top Exterminator." And something called a 'version number' in minuscule text.

Pete studied the man's face as he walked past over a dozen of the images, before he realized Kobra had stopped in front of one on the other wall.

"Kobra? You okay?"

No response. Kobra's shoulders moved as he took a deep breath, and Pete walked closer. On the image he was staring at, Korse was glaring at Pete, and to his right, a small girl stared blankly at them. Her wild, dark curls were pulled back into a poofy ponytail, and an oversized white uniform was draped upon her tiny shoulders and hung heavy next to Korse's perfectly fitted clothing.

She was just a kid.

Kobra's solemn eyes were glued to her face. When Pete asked who she was, he answered with, "ask me that again sometime," and walked off as if nothing had happened.

The inscription had been scratched away.

Pete studied the image for a moment more, but, for fear of separation, quickly caught up with Kobra, matching his suddenly fast-paced strides.

They came up on a split in the hallways, and Pete looked down the right. "Maybe this wa—"

"You!" bellowed Kobra as he charged forward to the left hallway. Pete whipped his head around just in time to see Kobra leaping up and punching someone in the jaw before whipping out his gun and holding it up with both of his shaking hands. He pointed it at the same man from the photos. Korse.

Pete took a step forward, reaching for his own weapon. "Kob—" Dozens of soldiers, dressed in white suits with matching, terrifying masks, surrounded him. In their gloved hands, they each held their own guns, pointed at either Pete or Kobra, as Korse pointed his own unsheathed gun at the latter. Pete, his hand hovering over the hidden knife in his pocket, turned completely around and eyed each of the soldiers.

Dracs. He recognized them from the first night he spent out in The Zones with Kobra.

"Michael." Korse sneered. Then his face turned serious and threatening. "Put it down."

"It was you! You tried to kill him!" Kobra took a step forward, but then everyone else turned their guns on him and he froze. "You will pay."

"I'm sure I will. But until then—" Korse pulled the safety and took a step forward, pressing the muzzle of his gun to Kobra's head. Petes breath caught. "—You first." He then addressed the dracs: "Cuff his friend and take him. Michael is mine."

Pete's arm was wrenched behind him and away from his weapon, and his wrists were bound with something hot. When he shifted, his wrists were shocked with some sort of electric current.

Korse, after binding Kobra's wrists with the same thing as what was used on Pete, leaned in closer to Kobra's ear, as if to whisper, but spoke loud enough for Pete to hear too. Smirking, Korse turned his evil eyes on Pete. The gate woman's eyes were so dull, Pete remembered, in contrast to Korse's, which burned with hate and viciousness. But Pete knew he too was a robot. "I see you've roped someone else into your little band of miscreants. It will be so fun to play with him."

That must have ignited something within Kobra, because he then jumped over his bound hands and pushed Korse away, grabbing Korse's gun from his holster and tossing it to Pete, who spun around just in time to catch it. The drac that had cuffed him fell back into a wall and his handcuffs deactivated. When Korse advanced, Kobra spun around him and wrapped his arms around his neck. Standing behind him, Kobra let the electric cuffs hover against Korse's neck, a clear threat. Korse was taller than him, so the position was awkward; but it worked. Pete pointed his gun at his captors and backed up towards Kobra. The dracs looked lost and disoriented without their leader barking orders at them.

"What now?" Pete whispered once he was beside Kobra.

"Didn't get that far," replied Kobra through gritted teeth.

A drac stepped forward, and Kobra tightened his grip around Korse's neck, stopping it in its tracks. Though he struggled against the restraints every few seconds (which only resulted in Kobra tightening his grip), Korse said nothing; he simply growled like an animal and sneered, glaring at the wall since he couldn't see Kobra.

Pete pushed back his hair with the back of his hand and said, "great. So now we have a hostage, we're surrounded, and we're handcuffed." He nodded and continued, "perfect."

"You're such a pessimist," Kobra joked.

"Thanks."

They had been slowly backing up, and the dracs were slowly moving forward. Korse was shuffling his feet to keep up.

"We're going to go now," Kobra announced. "Try anything and I'll kill him, got it?" He tightened his grip as if to demonstrate his point. A few dracs looked between each other, but still said nothing. Pete had begun to wonder if they simply couldn't speak.

Once they had backed up a substantial amount, Kobra gave Pete a look, threw Korse into the crowd of Dracs, and ran. While toppled guards regained their composure, Kobra and Pete had already disappeared into the halls, sprinting away to freedom.

"Nice not-plan!" Pete called, laughing.

Then his head hit the ground and everything went black.

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January 24, 2020
1,599 words
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