Disclaimer: Underworld is a gay erotic story with such content. Namely, there is sex between 16 year old boys here. If you are under 18 or it is illegal where you live to read this type of material or if it simply offends you, then leave now please. Otherwise, enjoy Underworld and please email me your comments. No flames or viruses please.
Damien and Kyle took a private elevator up to the clan's quarters on the top floor above the club. basically, a hall with a series of doors, all leading off to various dorms. They walked down it until they reached the door at the end. It was slightly ajar and Kyle pushed it open and led the way in. Here another spiral metal staircase led down into a more spacious area full of abandoned equipment with more large, boarded up windows. In the center of the room, though, was an old oriental rug and two old couches that were in a state of relatively less disrepair, creating an oasis of life in the abandoned room. The only light came from the six or seven computer and television screens of varying sizes, all on this large computer rack. There was also a bunch of other computer equipment, a jumble of wires and gizmos spanning from the mid-80s to the present. All blinking away, flickering like a campfire in the metal forest. Kyle led Damien down the stairs to the couches. Kyle turned to Damien and whispered, "Sit."
Damien did so on one of the dusty couches while Kyle continued down to the computer, where a boy sat in an antique chair and a tall, striking young black woman leaned over his shoulder, watching the screens intently. Kyle approached the young woman and whispered something to her while gesturing to Damien. She nodded understandingly and even looked in Damien's direction and smiled reassuringly at one point. Damien felt very nervous and was shaking in his seat. He didn't know this place or any of these people, it was beginning to occur to him that while it was easy for him to interact with Kyle, their would be many others in this new world with whom he'd have to learn to coexist. When they were finished with their exchange, the woman and Kyle approached Damien and sat on wither side of him on the couch.
The woman began in a reassuring, maternal voice, "Hello, Damien. My name is Miranda and I'm the chief of this cell, which basically means I'm in charge around here. Kyle told me that you've already learned quite a bit on the way here, are there any other questions you have for me?"
"Um, no, Miranda, but thank you.
She sensed his nerves and smiled soothingly, which was surprisingly successful in calming Damien's nerves. "Alright then, well I'll let Kyle take you to your dorm for tonight,"
"C'mon, Damien." Kyle once again took Damien's hand and led him up the stairs. As they exited through the door, a young boy with black hair dyed crimson pushed by them, obviously in a rush, and entered the room. Kyle and Damien both stopped in the doorway to see what his rush was. He strode across the room over to Miranda. He spoke with urgency.
"Nathaniel's here."
"What? I thought he was in New York. Do you know what brings him here?" Miranda countered, her tone turning more administrative.
"No, his people just called saying his chopper will be here in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?!"
"Maybe not." The boy at the computer spoke up for the first time. He turned in his chair toward Miranda, "Come look at this." She walked over, glanced at one of the surveillance monitors and saw Nathaniel and his entourage walking through the club's main entrance.
"Shit." She paused as if pondering something and then turned towards everyone in the room, including Kyle and Damien, "Okay, everybody out, I need to speak with him alone." If he was visiting this impulsively, it must be something very important.
The crimson-haired boy, the computer guy, Kyle, and Damien all left the room and drifted off to their respective destinations. After a few minutes, Nathaniel abandoned his entourage in the club's VIP lounge to continue to the room in which Miranda sat, expectantly. He entered briskly and took a seat on the couch opposite her. He began.
"Hello, Miranda, I know this is unexpected."
"Then enlighten me, Mr. Carrion, what is it that brings you this far west?"
"It's actually quite important. You see, I just left a meeting and we're moving ahead with Project Omega."
"You mean Sanger's melodramatic pet project? Please don't tell me you're taking that seriously."
"I'm sure you know how attacks have been on the rise. Why, just this last cycle, you could barely fend them off."
"Well, that doesn't mean it's time to begin listening to freaks like Sanger. He just gives me a bad vibe."
"He gives us all a bad vibe, but he's chancellor. Besides..." Carrion paused, "he made a very convincing argument."
"And what, exactly, was that?"
"Not important, the point is I'm moving your unit ahead of schedule, we need you in New York by Tuesday."
"Tuesday?! What for?"
"Because part of Sanger's plan is first detaining the Renegade."
"The Renegade? But it just came in over the Wire that the Nightwatchers have got him."
"Exactly. Wu's sending in some Raiders."
"Are you being serious?! What is the Triad thinking, attacking the humans? Much less the very branch meant to preserve our way of life, Nathaniel!"
"The Renegade is vital. If werewolves are developing the ability to change at will, we have to detain him, get as much information out of him as we can, and destroy him before he can pass on his trait to any others."
Miranda looked at Nathaniel quizzically for a moment, he felt her reading his thought patterns. Vampires can't read each other's minds, but they can get a sense of their mood based on the mental waves they send out. Carrion felt antsy under her watchful eye. She responded slowly, "I know there's another reason Sanger's after him, and why you're willing to be a part of this ridiculous plan." Nathaniel was tired of this, it was time to wrap this up.
"Look, the point is, they're bringing him in from upstate to one of our interrogation rooms in the city. The current cell operating there has been severely weakened by the recent raids and I'll need fresh eyes there for the undertaking. You'll receive your unit's train tickets tonight, leave tomorrow." With that he stood up, straightened his blazer, and began to leave the room. When he reached the foot of the staircase, Miranda called to him.
"Wait, Nathaniel."
"What." He responded agitatedly, he was eager to leave.
"Just be careful with this project. I mean, if Sanger can talk you into this, I don't know what will happen next." Her genuine concerned melted his ire somewhat, allowing him a sympathetic response.
"Neither do I." With that he left the room to join his entourage in the VIP lounge.
"How long until he's awake?" Bamford asked the Chief.
"After a turn, the body's fatigue will take about four hours to subside, factoring in his wounds adds about another two. It could even be longer, what do we know about a wolf who can change out of cycle?"
"Well, Harris got a blood sample, so we can glean what we can from that in the meantime."
"Mm-hm." The Chief just continued to stare at the lifeless figure on the table, behind the thick, bulletproof glass of the detainment cell. Bamford joined him, looking at the infamous Renegade, now reduced to a vegetable in a small room.
Outside, a squadron of men in dark swat-like uniforms, infrared goggles, headsets, kevlar vests, utility belts, boots, dark hoods, entirely obscuring their heads, and armed to the teeth scurried to encompass the cliff that rose behind the rear of the building. They each had a white armband featuring the Imperial Dragon symbol. The leader gave some quick hand signals to the rest of the people to continue in formation, getting in place for the raid. He put his hand back to his headset and whispered, "Okay, we're in position, where's the Renegade?"
A man in a fully-equipped surveillance van in a black suit and shirt with a white tie responded while looking at the building's schematics on one of the monitors, "A detainment cell, down the hall about twenty feet east of the main room. All set?"
"Yup, we'll repel down now. You sure the firewall is working?"
"Absolutely, they're blind to you."
"Perfect, here we go." He signed off and with that, signaled to the rest of the squadron. They repelled down the cliff stealthily. Once they softly landed on the roof, they crouched and waited for orders. Silently, the leader guided them into position around the main duct. He sent four "spiders" down. They were men in tighter, sleeker uniforms, meant to move about easily and undetected. They, on the other hand, in their bulky cargos and boots, were just meant to shoot up the place and clear a path for the spiders. So the rest took their stations around the perimeter of the roof and reassembled their repelling gear, ready to leap of the roof and through the windows directly below them into the main room.
Meanwhile, the spiders crawled through the ducts silently, guided over the headsets by the man in the surveillance van. They all soon found themselves above the hallway of the detainment cell. One looked down through the vent and saw two men standing outside the cell. The surveillance man gave them further instruction, "Now stand down until I give the signal to the rest."
The roof squad received the signal to go and leapt over the edge of the roof, swinging on their roofs directly through the windows in thunderous, simultaneous crashes. The Chief and Bamford heard the crashes and turned and ran to Cave, not noticing the glowing red goggles of the man above them in the air duct.
As soon as the ten men crashed through the windows of the cave, everybody immediately ducked below their desks and grabbed their guns. They all had begun showering the room with their automatic weapons, whereas the agents all had 9-mms and only ducked out from behind their desks intermittently to get in a few shots before having to duck below again.
Hallows noticed them all heading toward the center of the room as they sprayed bullets in every direction, mostly just to make everyone else duck. She lay down parallel to the floor and aimed for their legs, their weakest point. She noticed one that had burst through the window directly to the left of her desk and managed to get two into his shin. Once he fell to the floor, she put another two into his head. That cleared up her right side as she scurried below the gunfire to the desk across from her. Under there she reloaded and popped out from behind to shoot a few more at the ones facing the desk. She got one in the shoulder, but that did little more than alert him to her presence. He immediately began blasting at her, forcing her to leap across the aisle, completely open to fire, and shoot defensively to cover her path. She miraculously avoided getting shot and found herself next to Bamford and the Chief.
"Do you know who the hell these guys are?" the Chief asked.
"Not a clue." She responded.
Bamford interjected, "here, look what I pulled of that body over there." It was a white armband from the one Hallows had shot with the Imperial Dragon symbol on it.
"The Dragon Clan? Why the hell would they be doing this?" the Chief recognized it. Neither had a chance to answer because they noticed one of the men standing over them, gun poised. Not wasting a moment or getting up from the floor, Hallows kicked the gun away from them and swept his legs out from under him. Bamford provided the coup de grace with his 9-mm.
"C'mon, let's get to the arsenal, cover me." The Chief ordered as he crawled to the hallway behind them. Bamford and Hallows followed, guns ablaze. Once they turned down the hallway and were out of the line of fire, they stood up and adjusted themselves. Hearing a creak behind them, they turned and saw one of the spiders' upper body come down out of the ceiling vent, a gun in each hand.