The MMEP Part 2 Survival Isn't An Eight-Letter Word

It had only been about a week since the MMEP compound had been bombed, but Clara, Bandit, Clark, Adam, Sasha, Baird and Brendan were not doing well. They slept in hour-shifts, but nobody really had the chance to sleep due to constant hunchback attacks. Most of the group could sleep two to three hours on a good day, but Clara hadn't had a wink of sleep since they returned to the tunnels.

Baird's food had also been divided, so they had around another week until they had to raid one of the kitchens. Sitting crouched against one of the tunnel's metal walls, Clara chewed on a thick, sticky ration bar. Her normally neat red hair was disheveled and in a wild mess. The dark circles under her electric blue eyes were so black she looked almost like a panda or a raccoon. She had gotten considerably skinnier, her cheeks hollowed out and her ribs showed through most of her green shirt.

Tired, she tried to make the most of her bar. It wasn't big, actually quite small, but she needed something to eat. They had enough food to survive, but not enough to satisfy. None of them had showered or brushed their teeth in weeks, so they were all filthy, covered in sweat, dust and flecks of dried blood. They couldn't find a single bathroom that wasn't yet demolished.

Sasha stirred as Clara chewed a particularly hard part of the bar. Clara checked her watch; it was two minutes until Sasha's shift started. The schedule must have gotten into her, because she woke up in exactly two minutes. "Clara, it's my shift now. You can sleep," she said. The food and sleep deprivation had taken its toll on Sasha as well. Her formerly warm cocoa brown skin was greying, and her bones grew more prominent.

Nodding, Clara finished off the bar and curled up on the floor. She closed her lapis-blue eyes to sleep, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fall asleep. She tried for a few more minutes and finally started tot nod off. But just as her breathing evened, a bang sounded from somewhere farther down the tunnel. Everyone jerked awake, drawing weapons.

A cluster of hunchbacks crawled their way through the tunnel, followed by two ratmen and something else. A hulking mass of rotting grey flesh, purple tentacles, browning cotton bandages and green bones. "...something called the Grotesquery," Clara remembered Sasha saying. Everyone started attacking the horde. Clark shot both ratmen through the head and Brendan secured the kill by shooting them in their torsos, his aim seemed to be improving. Baird, Adam and Bandit handled the hunchbacks while Clara and Sasha focused on the other monster. Sasha looked shocked, "I THINK THAT'S THE GROTESQUERY." Clara nodded in silent response.

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Once the other monsters had been taken care of, the Grotesquery shambled towards them. Bandit was the first to react, sending three knives spinning. All three hit, with no effect. One of its slimy, purple tentacles reached out to grab her. Gritting her teeth, Bandit pulled out two melee twin daggers and slashed at it. The tentacle continued on, wrapping Brendan, Clara and Sasha in its grip. Adam and Bandit tried to attack it, while Clark struggled to free Clara, Sasha and Brendan.

"I think we might need to retreat!" Adam called.

Almost freed them Clark signed.

"Do it faster!" Adam yelled.

I AM MOVING AS FAST AS I CAN Clark rapidly signed, sawing at the tentacle.

"Boys, so impractical," Bandit muttered, she sheathed her knives then charged at the tentacle, wedging her fingers in the gap between it, Clara, Sasha and Brendan. She pulled and made a decent gap. She then slit a knife into the gap.

She pushed the knife deep into the tentacle, cutting it and enlarging the gap. Sasha managed to wriggle out and so did Clara, leaving room for Brendan to break free of the Grotesquery's grasp. Everyone grabbed their things and made a break for it in the opposite direction of the Grotesquery.

They had been running for presumably three or four hours when the sound of the Grotesquery's squelching faded away. Stopping in a tunnel to catch their breath, they slumped down to the ground.

"This is terrible," Sasha breathed,

"Clearly," Baird gasped.

"What do we do?" Clara asked, "We have a dangerous monster on our trail."

"Weren't all the monsters dangerous?" Brendan responded.

Panting heavily, Adam managed to force out a few words, "Yes, but this guys is especially dangerous."

Wiping her forehead, Clara groaned, "Wasn't that pretty obvious?"

"Wait," Baird paused, "Where's Bandit?"

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Burning, the books were burning. Every evidence of what the supposed Heroes Corporation had done would be gone forever. Only survivors of the MMEP would know. The hooded figure threw a stack of newspapers into the blazing bonfire. Carefully, as if not to damage it, he produced a strange electronic device from his pocket.

Holding the USB between his forefinger and thumb, he read the label to make sure it was the right chip. After squinting at the label, he threw it in as well, more savagely than he had taken it out of his pouch.

"I trust you are carrying the job well, Johnson?" A cool, female voice rang out from the surrounding wood. Another hooded figure approached, a sense of authority in her stride and posture. A single, black braid was visible from her brown hood. Nothing more.

"Yes ma'am. All trace exterminated," the burner saluted.

"Good," the female pulled a photograph from her pocket and showed it to the man, "I have another job for you."

"Yes ma'am. Where can I find her?" Johnson asked, examining the picture.

"Where I will be."

The photograph was brightened by the firelight, flames dancing across the starry night sky. In it was a smiling, pale girl with firey red hair in an impeccable braid and glittering, round, electric blue eyes. There was a caption on the white borders of the photo.

Clarabella Spencer.

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Voice scratchy and hoarse, Clara ran along the tunnels, calling Bandit's name. Hoping that she was still alive, Clara headed towards the tunnels they had previously camped out in. Not a single sign of human life. "BANDIT! BANDIT! Where are you?" She gasped, "It's me! Clara!" Something made her stop dead. Footsteps. Curiously, on high alert, she followed the sound. Turning a corner, she found not Bandit, but the circle of a gun. Before she could do anything, a syringe came flying at her neck.

Gasping, Clara pulled the needle out, but the damage was done, whatever that had been in the dart had emptied out. Suddenly feeling exhausted, she looked up at her assaliant, but all she saw was a brown hood and a pair of green eyes. Black spots danced in the corners of her eyes as she was tied up and gagged.

The ropes were rough and hard, more like a wire than rope. Thick coils that snaked around Clara's wrists. As the hooded person tightened the cords, her bound wrists jerked back, digging against the cold, thick rope. In a desparate attempt to break free of her bonds, Clara twisted her wrists around to no avail.

Moving onto the gag, she tried to bite it free, but the second her tongue made contact with it, she spat it out. It had a foul, metalic taste to it and were woven of rough fibers that scratched the inside of her mouth. It left a burning sensation that creeped all around her tongue. Meanwhile, her vision was not improving, more black spots appearing at the edges of her line of sight while her captor tightened the ropes binding her.

Then slowly, black overwhelming her vision, she completely blacked out.