The lift descended with a gentle hum, while the digital display of the floor indicator clocked down gradually, regardless of there being no one there to read it.
101. 100. 99. 98. 97.
It slowed and came to stop. With a ‘ping’ to announce its arrival, the centre of one of the seamless walls parted down the middle as the doors whispered open. A man in his mid twenties stepped in and paused. By the time he turned around, the doors had closed, sealing him in the seamless box. As though late for an appointment, he checked his watch nervously.
10:42
The lift descended.
96. 95. 94.The man fidgeted in his new clothes – this week’s fashion, complete with packing creases. He pushed his small, wire-framed glasses up his nose before glancing at his watch again
10:43
His pale blue eyes darted about with nothing to look at except the floor indicator counting down.
93. 92. 91. 90. 89.
The lift slowed to a halt. The man pushed his glasses up his nose, the skin becoming greasy as he sweated a little, followed by another glance at his watch.
10:45
The doors slid open, admitting a young, feral Ebon. She was dressed smartly but moved in a jittery manner. Her eyes had deep, dark rings about them and were heavy lidded until she noticed the man, when they became wide saucers of turquoise. Her fingers shook slightly as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest, as her posture became defensive.
Mannerisms of a junky on the way to score, thought the man with a grin. He moved out of her way as she backed into the corner, her nervous eyes drawn irresistibly to the indicator as the lift began its descent.
89. 88. 87. 86.
The man checked his watch.
10:47
85. 84. 83.
The lift slowed again to stop at the 82nd floor. The man’s nervousness abated when the doors opened and a middle-aged man in an expensive suit stepped in. All eyes avoided each other and rose to the red glowing display when the lift set into motion.
81. 80. 79. 78. 77.
The young man’s left hand slipped into his jacket pocket, fumbling with its contents. When he removed his hand it was sheathed in a mechanical glove. He raised it in front of his chest for the other two to see and flicked up his thumb.
76. 75. 74. WHOOMPH.
The explosion was muffled through the soundproofing but the result was the same. The lift plummeted.
73-72-71-70-69-68-67.
The Junkie shrieked and pressed herself up against the wall. All eyes were transfixed on the rapidly diminishing numbers.
66-65-64-63-62-61-60-59.
“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!” screamed the man before laughing insanely.
58-57-56-55-54-53-52-51-50.
The man clenched his gloved fist, initiating the sound of grinding metal and screeching breaks, heard in muffled tones from above as the lift slowed in a rough jerk.
49-48-47-46. 45. 44.
With a gradual lurch, the lift stopped between floors, the display flashing between the numbers 44 and 43. The Junky curled up in the corner, whimpering, while the Suit turned to face the gloved maniac to demand an explanation.
“Ah-ah,” said the maniac, holding up his gloved hand, “I’ll do the talking thank you very much. Otherwise…”
He relaxed his hand momentarily and the lift lurched.
43-42-41.40.
With a clenched fist, he brought it to a halt.
“If I lose consciousness or open my hand flat, the relay is broken and nothing will keep the lift from falling.”
The Junkie rocked on the balls of her feet, curled up in the corner, hugging herself. The Suit was about to say something but the man relaxed his grip again, silencing him, though the girl screamed.
39-38-37.36.
“Now that I have your attention,” said the maniac to the Suit, his eyes wild with the fires of madness “I can inform you that your are about to die. In the name of Kaihab-Darhemm, you are sentenced to death. My sacrifice brings me closer to He-Who-Bri–“
The Junkie moved fluidly, seizing his gloved hand with surprising strength. Her other hand slid its fingers over the glove’s cuff and under the sleeve to touch his bare wrist. Now in direct contact, she made a calculation and extracted the information she required on the Cult via telepathic link. After the brief moment it took, she discharged a jolt of electricity, sending the maniac unconscious.
35-34-33-32-31-30.
“Are you mad?” screamed the Suit, “We’re gonna die.”
29-28-27-26-25-24-23-22-21.
“Shut up. Th’name’s Glimmer, SCL 6b. Saving your arse ain’t in the job description, so if you want me to leave you…?”
20-19-18-17-16-15-14-13-12-11-10.
“N-no.”
The Operative grabbed the Suit and closed her eyes to calculate.
9-8-7-6-5-4.
With a whoosh of displaced air, they were gone, leaving the cultist to open his eyes in time for the flickering above attracted his attention.
3-2-1…
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