Ficly

Going Up, Again

As Acrylic got out his grappling-gun, I tried to change the subject. “So why don’t you think you can see the plans anymore?”

Turning his face me, he explained, “It is my belief that MegaCorp has at last detected our intrusion—or at the very least, that MEPHISTO is now nonfunctional—and wishes to minimize any further detriment wrought upon their systems.” When he got done saying this, he squeezed the trigger without looking back. There was a hiss of compressed gas and the grappler shot up, trailing its carbon-filament trail behind it. A light on the hilt changed from red to green; the round had found purchase.

There was a sniffle. “Let’s go,” intoned Fetus dully. She nonetheless tried to recapture her usual near-emotionless demeanor despite her red eyes.

Acrylic produced one of his smaller weapons. “I find our meeting resistance upon emergence to the roof highly probable,” he announced, clamping it between his teeth. Fetus handed me the saber-taser and I did likewise.

We started up the shaft.

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