(Reverence 4, 59 / 12:09PM)

  (Pacithiest Adobe)

  (Stan’s Group)

  (Stan) Just keep moving!

  Five men ran through the white-painted walls of the hallway, keeping their eyes forward.

  All of them wielding their individual weapons, all of their hands laced with their own sweat, as their breaths were shared by the small enclosed hallway they sprinted. Passing through many wooden doors, the four of them stopped at the farthest one.

  A door that was a dead end.

  Opening it wide, it swayed its hinges open to let their eyes kinder the sight to behold. Behind the door, was a flight of stairs deep down into the basement. Stan, who held the door handle with his right hand, let the others go in first, even letting Jumbo take the rear before he closed the door shut.

  Closing the door, he let the pitch-black air swindle inside of their lungs.

  (Stan) Alright. You said that the escape route is through the basement right?

  (Jumbo) Trust me when I say no agent will ever figure out this route, not even the wannabe emo man in the front entrance.

  (Stan) Gotcha.

  Walking along the wooden steps of the basement, their breaths all crashed onto the back of their necks with one another. Most of their hands grazed the stone wall to the left of them, it gave their souls a sense of comfort, as their boots nestled down onto the wooden floor below.

  The wood creaked and screamed, their left hands dropped down to their sides, letting them rest along their thighs. Jumbo, who was in the rear, walked out of the group to run into a small metal chain hanging in the center of the room.

  Pulling it, their eyes were bestowed with light.

  Their eyes dilated to the artificial sunlight that they were spooked upon, all of them except for Jumbo covered their eyes with their hands. Pressing their palms deep into them, low groans shook the room, scurrying away the one or two cockroaches into the darkest of corners.

  (Stan) So about this exit. Where is it exactly? Because I don’t see any doors.

  (Jumbo) Let me see.

  Standing in front of a bookcase, Jumbo tapped his finger repeatedly onto his chin, his bunny fur getting stuck into his dull fingers. Tapping his right boot, he turned his head to the four men in back of him.

  Putting his attention mostly onto Stan, Jumbo lit up a sly smile, as both corners of his lips pushed up his cheeks.

  (Jumbo) Now Stan, what book do you think I would pull to get us out of here?

  Stan and his group had deadpan faces.

  Folding both of his arms over his chest, he closed his eyes while walking to the bookshelf in front of them. Standing right next to Jumbo, both of his hands twitching endlessly.

  (Stan) You're rage-baiting me huh…

  (Jumbo) Well, what is the correct book, Stan?

  (Stan) sighs … it's the displaced book that is obviously a key to open the secret door that is behind the shelf, right?

  Jumbo let out a soft giggle from Stan’s answer, hunching his head forward while his body trembled from laughter. Placing his right hand onto the displaced book, he took it out of the bookshelf, for only nothing to happen.

  No sounds of a switch or mechanism being heard, nor the sound of rolling, it only left Stan to darken his eyes. Both of his knuckles grew white, and some of his fingernails began to stab themselves into his palms.

  (Stan) You’re actually rage-baiting me this bad…

  (Jumbo) Hey, not my fault you fall for typical cliches.

  (Stan) Just get us out of here!

  (Jumbo) Okay okay. Calm your tits man. I was just playing with you.

  Placing the displaced book back into the bookshelf, Jumbo trailed his other hand onto a random book that seemed the most well fit. Pulling it out from the rest, a clinch and a clack of a mechanism in front of them was heard, leading to the wooden bookshelf that seemed heavy…

  To roll away.

  There being a wooden door just in front of them, its hinges slowly sparked free from the old stone wall underneath Terra. Letting the five men see the dark corridor filled with stone and moss, Gary, Fred, and Diego stood behind Stan.

  (Stan) We’re in a hurry to get out of here. Don’t tell me that you guys are afraid of that.

  (Gary) Hey, I don’t mess with dark corridors.

  (Fred) Me too.

  (Diego) Me three.

  (Jumbo) Unless you guys want to be spending the rest of your lives in a cell with P Mimmy, then just go.

  The three of them had their faces as pale as cotton, with their sneakers still clutching the wooden floor. Keeping their hands inside their pockets, the only person that ended up in front of Stan was Fred, who placed his right foot onto the stone-moistened floor of the corridor.

  Putting his other foot on the floor, his entire body felt as if he was being cooked from the inside out. Grabbing his head with his hands, sweat already formed along his forehead and cheeks, dripping down onto the wet floor.

  (Gary) Is it hot?

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  (Fred) It’s humid…

  All of them setting their feet deep into the dark stone floor, their bodies were slammed by a wave of humidity that they had never known. Their breathing heavy, their collars soaked, Jumbo’s fur puffed out a small afro to replace his slick back hairstyle.

  Chuckling dryly, Stan put his balled left fist over his mouth, coughing on the inside. Rolling his eyes, Jumbo clicked his tongue before walking to the front of the group.

  (Stan) Don’t like the taste of your own medicine?

  (Jumbo) Whatever man…

  (Fred) Come on guys. The wooden door is just on the other end of the corridor.

  (Gary) Yeah, before we ended up being cooked alive in here.

  The five men looking around the dark corridor, took note of the lack of decorations, or anything to stand out from inside. With nothing to look at, most of them ended up looking down at the wet puddles that formed along the edges of the wall.

  Fred, who walked alongside Gary and Diego, stared into the wooden door that grew larger and larger by the second. Putting both of his hands into his pockets, Fred straightened his neck.

  (Fred) Hey uh, Gary?

  (Gary) What Fred?

  (Fred) Do you think Luke and everyone else would make it back here?

  Gary let his hands motionless to his thighs, and all along his boots sludged themselves on the wet stone floor. Stepping on a small puddle that wasn’t near the wall's edge, a tiny splash of moisture and water blanketed Gary’s right foot, washing it with its warm contents.

  Sniffing a couple of times, a small stream of mucus escaped from his nostrils.

  (Gary) Luke is unbeatable in terms of luck. He’ll come back here no matter what.

  (Fred) But what about the others?

  Both Gary and Diego ceased their walking, with Gary slowly forming his hands into fists as he still settled them onto his sides.

  Letting his eyes downcast onto the stone floor, Gary stepped along another puddle in the corridor, with this time the water being splashed not on his shoe but in all directions. Softening his lips with his tongue, he moistened them despite the air being soupy enough to pour it into a bowl.

  (Gary) They’re … with Luke … so they should be ok—

  (Diego) But that’s more of their luck, not Luke’s…

  Diego had both of his hands stuck inside his pants pockets, his eyes staring into one of the puddles that reflected himself without the need for light. Despite not seeing the reflection, he knew it was there, as he just blankly stared with a dead face.

  Both of his legs trembled, and his knees buckled as not even his feet were able to carry him onward.

  (Diego) First, let’s just get out of here…

  The rest of the men continued along the dark corridor path. Their sweat trickled the floor, their feet kicking off unneeded pebbles lying in front of them, they eventually reached the door where not even light was shone.

  Being in front of them, Jumbo extended his right hand on the handle, his furry hand scurrying the dark metal that took all his strength to push down.

  (Fred’s thoughts) Who am I to blame Luke’s luck, when we all have our luck to blame.

  Opening the metal door wide, Jumbo released the door handle as the metal let itself work. Noticing another flight of stairs, Jumbo peeped his head out to notice a soft trail of sunlight escaping from the bottom of the door.

  Being the first one to walk on the stone-cold stairs, Jumbo let his left-hand trail the stone floor and its pebbles. Some of it sinking deep into his fingernails, he looked over to the others as they followed his example, their fingers going red from the excess bumps and rigid stones that rubbed their skin.

  Finally, they reached the blocked light at the end of the tunnel.

  (Jumbo’s thoughts) Now what I remember when I first joined, this would lead me to the backyard of the adobe.

  Grabbing the handle with his furry hand, he unleashed the old hinges of the metallic door. Letting it open, the sun's rays shone onto their desolate faces—

  A man clad in all black blocked the sun.

  Standing in front of them, a man had his hands inside of his tuxedo jacket, his eyes staring into all five of their shocked faces. Another person, a woman clad in her usual tuxedo suit and fedora, walked right next to him.

  Followed by another woman wearing sunglasses.

  (Agent Eren) Gotcha.

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  (Iris)

  Briggs didn’t dare to let his fingers touch the butt of his revolver.

  Keeping his hands close to the height of his shoulders, he continued to stare deep into Iris’s frigid eyes, unable to see his reflection within them. Huffing out a large exhale of air from his pink lungs, he kept his eyes on the rolling pin that barely twitched under Iris’s calm and smooth palms.

  But in the split second that the hot desert wind stopped blowing on his back, he pushed both of his boots off the ground, sending him straight to Iris.

  (Iris) Fool.

  Pushing her feet to take herself back, she narrowly avoided the quick punch that Briggs threw. Since she didn’t see him thrust it back, it looked as if he already had the momentum locked within his arm, as if both of his arms and hands worked like guns.

  Thrusting back her sharpened rolling pin, she glided to the left as the tips of her boots didn't let her feet falter. Pushing her left hand forward, the rolling pin that directed its course straight into his liver made contact with his suit.

  Until his left hand pressed onto her left wrist. His fingers dug into her skin, and his nails soon sunk deep into the bone, causing her to clench the rolling pin she wielded to crack.

  (Agent Briggs) You’re the fool.

  Like the swish of a gun, his other free hand bolted toward Iris in half a second, plowing straight to the right side of her cheek. His knuckles jabbed deep into her right cheekbone, blood sprayed the cement floor of the porch.

  Which only caused her to flare her nostrils outward as if steam was piling out from her airways.

  Pulling him toward her, every muscle along her arm bulged in the desert wind, the breeze only moisturizing her somewhat wrinkled skin. As soon as she was close, Briggs pulled back his left foot, angling it so that the tip of his church shoe struck the liver area of her stomach. But Iris let him deal the blow.

  His shoe sinking deep into her skin, she used every bit of strength to push the sharpening rolling pin. Biting her lower lip, blood seeped out to trail her chin and jawline, directing the pain to her face rather than her liver. Fortunately for her, she wasn’t the only one who had blood seeping out of her.

  (Agent Briggs) Damn…

  Stroking down the left side of his body, his liquid flowed. Both of his feet began to tremble violently, he lowered his body only an inch from his normal height, letting his kneecaps bend.

  Pulling back his left foot, he directed all of his upper body strength to his biceps. In slow motion, he put all the weight of his, and her body, into his calves.

  As he lifted the middle-aged woman in the air. Letting himself fall, all of his arm muscles worked together to pull Iris down faster than he could hit the ground. Her head in the center of his face…

  (Iris) And you’re the foolest.

  She pushed both of her feet deep into his stomach.

  The air bending around her heels, sunk deep into the defenseless Briggs, leaving him to spew out chunks of saliva from his mouth. His air from his lungs, throat, and mouth, all jumped out from his mouth all at once. His back slammed into the pavement, his lungs couldn’t withdraw or deposit air as they should be doing. His mouth wide open, Iris stepped away from his slim stomach, letting her heels trickle to the ground.

  (Iris) You may be an agent, but my father was a master in terms of The Art of Togo.

  The back of his head looking up at the daytime sky, no clouds overhead gave him a comfort of shade. Drool flowed out from both corners of his mouth, and both of his hands lay motionless.

  His feet numb, his legs weak; his heart began to slowen from the lack of air he was taking in. Scrunching up his fingers, his nails scratched the surface of the pavement, causing them to blister and tear.

  (Agent Brigg’s thoughts) I could still fight…

  Both bottoms of his palms pawed deep into the floor.

  His elbows allow him to push his body up, he slowly let his legs carry him. Letting out two to three dry coughs reek from his lips, his own throat parched from the lack of water and saliva.

  Slowly walking toward him, she stood right next to him. Both of her hands were placed on her hips, she blocked the sun with her head.

  (Iris) You’re not getting a scratch on me.

  The front door came swaying open.

  Coming out from the front entrance, a 14-year-old girl with pigtail braids and black hair walked the front porch steps. Wearing black leather boots, a black leather jacket, and black slacks, her braids reached down to her shoulders, while she carried a large suitcase on her back.

  Standing in front of the two, she placed both of her hands on her sides.

  (Loraine) It’s been a while since I last seen a fight!

  A large grin formed along her face, with both corners of her lips reaching up to the bottom of her ears. Eyeing the blonde-haired agent, she analyzed the left-side bang that covered his left eye, followed by his black hat that was dropped to the side of him.

  His tailbone sustaining his weight, his eyes widened at the sight of her.

  His frown deepened evermore, and both of his palms were laid flat on the ground. Staring straight at the teenage girl, his darkened eye bags that encapsulated his lower eyelids started to lighten up.

  As if his insanity was being cured.

  (Agent Brigg’s thoughts) She looks … a lot like Emilia…