Dark Secrets Below: A Perilous Journey

"Those individuals who've been relentlessly pursuing me ever since they killed Ben?" I inquired, my voice tinged with caution.

"Indeed," Victor responded. Together, we maneuvered through the intricate network of tunnels, the flickering torchlight serving as a safeguard against stumbling over uneven ground or encountering unsightly sewer creatures.

"Um, I may be dense-"

"Yes."

"But shouldn't we be avoiding those individuals?" I questioned a note of concern lacing my words.

Victor came to an abrupt halt, causing me to inadvertently collide with his outstretched arm. As I tumbled to the unforgiving ground, he turned partially towards me, casting a glance of inquiry. "Don't you wish for the safety of your friend?" he asked.

"Well, if he were alive, sure, but he's not. That guy clearly stated that he had been murdered," I reminded him.

Victor's frown deepened, akin to the vast depths of the Grand Canyon or even further below. "Have you failed to learn any lessons?" he remarked.

I rose to my feet, dusting off the remnants of my tumble. "Learn from what? Fragmented snippets of information I have to extract forcefully from your undead being? How the hell am I supposed to glean any knowledge from that?" I retorted, frustration evident in my voice.

He pivoted towards me, taking long strides that forced me to retreat until my back pressed against the tunnel wall. His presence loomed over me, his voice a dangerous growl. "You are no longer a denizen of the human realm. This is the domain of the supernatural, where morality becomes obsolete, and the fusion of magic and science can bestow both the deepest desires and the darkest nightmares upon individuals. Life is but a creation, and nothing truly ends until the body is consumed by flames or returns to the embrace of the earth. We must recover Ben's lifeless form before they exploit their powers to manipulate his existence for their own use."

I winced, not only at the words themselves but also at the dreadful cautionary tone that laced his voice. "What kind of things are they capable of doing to Ben?" I asked, my voice tinted with uncertainty.

Victor withdrew slightly, his gaze shifting down the tunnel. "We cannot afford to dwell on the possibilities. That lifeless body harbors memories that must never be exposed, and thus it must be eliminated," he asserted.

"Isn't there any way to preserve Ben's memories? You know, for good?" I pondered aloud. Memories were the essence of who we were, and obliterating them would essentially spell the permanent demise of Ben.

"Though it poses great risks, and we've wasted enough time," he declared, seizing my hand and propelling me forward along the tunnel. It was an ordinary action, except for the fact that my feet left the ground as he shifted into vampire speed. Startled, I let out a yelp and clung onto his arm with my free hand.

We soared through the tunnels, maneuvering through their winding paths with abrupt turns. It dawned on me that this system likely spanned beneath the entire city, an underground transit system for the paranormal realm. Victor maintained his accelerated pace until well after my face had become a collection of bugs and my hand had gone numb from his unyielding grasp. This notion of speed was not all it was hyped up to be, and it certainly lacked any semblance of enjoyment.

As my feet finally met the ground, I found myself staggering on unsteady knees. "Isn't there any form of transportation, like a train or a bus, that we can utilize?" I asked.

"No," came Victor's curt reply. He approached a ladder, and I directed my gaze upwards, spotting a circular beam of light that illuminated another manhole. He began ascending the ladder, leaving me to scramble after him. Once at the top, Victor opened the weighty, round door, vanishing into the crisp night air. I followed suit and emerged to find that we stood merely a road away from the river, not too far from the warehouse where I had first met him.

"I thought our destination was the Third Precinct?" I inquired, seeking clarification.

"It's just a mile downstream," he replied.

"That close to your former hideout?" I questioned.

"What better place to conceal ourselves than right under their very noses?" he countered.

"Surely there are cleaner options than lurking so close to them," I remarked skeptically.

Unperturbed by my sarcastic remark, Victor pressed forward, guiding me across the block towards the riverfront. Merely a worn dirt road stood between us and the expanse of large rocks and scattered debris constituting the riverbank. Staying within the protective cover of shadows cast by the towering brick industrial buildings that adorned the waterfront, we advanced cautiously. After a few minutes, I caught sight of some commotion unfolding near one of the structures across the river road. Victor and I sought refuge in the nearest alley, both of us peering around the corner to observe our intended objective.

Our objective lay upon an island composed of boulders and gravel, a vestige of the past when river conservation meant ensuring unobstructed passage. Dominating the island was a towering, square structure boasting twenty floors and a flat rooftop. Its dimensions stretched across a hundred yards in both length and width, dwarfing the neighboring dilapidated buildings on the opposite side of the road. Encircling the perimeter, a formidable fence of barbed wire, several feet in height and adorned with menacing spikes, stood as a formidable barrier. However, the fence was left open on one end, where a brief flight of steps descended to a series of extended docks stretching out into the river. Positioned between the imposing building and the docks were several substantial container trucks, presently engaged in unloading their cargo onto the smaller boats stationed at the docks. While most of the vessels resembled wide fishing boats adapted for transporting goods, one particular craft stood out—an sleek jet-powered vessel, donned in black paint with vibrant red racing stripes adorning its sides, a clear indication of its need for

Vigilant guards armed with formidable scoped guns and accompanied by dogs, leashed with sturdy black restraints, diligently patrolled every inch of both the interior and exterior of the fenced perimeter. A ten-foot expanse separated the edge of the island from the imposing fence, while a wider fifty-foot gap extended between the fence and the towering structure. Access to the island was granted by means of a road that traced alongside the protective barrier, leading to a rolling chain-link gate where two compact guardhouses stood sentinel on either side. One of the black dock trucks emerged from the compound through the main gate, traversing the road and veering away from our position.

"Cozy place," I whispered.

Victor swiftly covered my mouth with his hand, his gaze scanning the fortified island. I couldn't fathom how he intended to infiltrate such a heavily guarded fortress unless he possessed some mystical tricks up his sleeve. The place appeared as impenetrable as Fort Knox on maximum alert. While Victor immersed himself in his infiltration strategy, I managed to wrench myself free from his grasp and stealthily ventured down the alley, desperate to distance myself from the menacing presence of guns, dogs, and imminent peril. Reaching the alley's end, I cautiously peeked down the adjacent blocks. In the distance, in the direction we had come, I spotted a pair of headlights belonging to a vehicle resembling those within the compound. An idea sparked within me, and as I turned around, I inadvertently collided into Victor's solid chest.

His gaze shifted towards the oncoming vehicle hurtling down the road, and a mischievous grin emerged on his face. "Let me guess, you're thinking of sneaking into the truck's cargo hold?" I spoke up

"No."

"In the cab?"

"No."

"On top?"

"No."

"The grill? Tailgate?"

"No."

I paled. That left only the undercarriage. "Oh hell no."

"If this plan fails, that might indeed become our last option,"

"You'll be embarking on that journey alone. My intention is to ascend through the elevator. Moreover, how do you propose we slip underneath the moving truck? It would require some remarkable sliding skills or-" Victor's grin broadened. "Actually, maybe it's better and wiser for me to just stay here. I have a desire to witness another sunrise, and even if we manage to infiltrate the premises, I would only serve as a conspicuous target for them," I reasoned, highlighting the potential risks.

"That is why you're coming," he told me.

My expression sagged, and I shot him a resentful glare. "Well, thanks for making me feel so special, but I'm still not going," I responded. Raising the ring on my finger, I added, "Unless this little trinket grants me the power to transform roads into exhilarating slip-n-slides, there's absolutely no way you can-" My protests were abruptly interrupted as Victor swiftly enveloped me in his arm, pulling me tightly against his chest. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I squirmed and wriggled, attempting various futile actions to extricate myself from this predicament. Unfortunately, all my efforts proved fruitless. "Let go! Damn it, I don't want to go!" I yelled, a hint of annoyance in my voice, as the truck came closer and closer.

"Not even for Ben?" he wondered.

My body stiffened, and my gaze narrowed as I looked up at him. "I hate you."

"Yeah, You should focus on that hatred and use it to stay alive."

"So what exactly am I supposed to do?Join the dark side?" I exclaimed incredulously, my voice laced with a mix of frustration and disbelief. In a daring move, Victor leaped out as the truck whizzed past, swiftly pulling me against his chest.

Clutching onto his coat, I held on tight as we slid down onto the road, ten yards away from the truck's path. Our momentum propelled us forward, and as I glimpsed the imminent danger of the front passenger wheel, I squeezed my eyes shut. we narrowly evaded that perilous fate by mere inches, sliding through the gap between the front and rear wheels. Victor swiftly reached out, attempting to grab hold of the muffler pipe, only to have it crumble in his hand like a flimsy artifact from China. However, he swiftly seized another sturdy component beneath the truck, its purpose unbeknownst to me, which held firm. With his legs wedged between the rear axle, he hoisted himself up, ensuring that I remained safely nestled against his chest. In that moment, I found myself caught between a rock and a hard place

This experience was far from enjoyable. The road beneath us was riddled with bumps, scattered rocks, and debris, causing it to resemble a treacherous path. The ground whizzed by beneath me in a dizzying blur, akin to a relentless spinning top of impending doom. Desperately clutching onto Victor's chest, I couldn't help but curse his accursed existence. "This is definitely not one of your better ideas!" I yelled, raising my voice to be heard above the cacophony of the roaring truck.

"So long as it works," he countered.

"That doesn't make it a good idea," I said.

The truck made a sharp right turn, venturing down the driveway that led to the foreboding gate of the Island of Doom. Coming to a halt, it underwent scrutiny during the inspection process. I held my breath anxiously, while Victor, fortunate enough not to require the act of breathing, remained unaffected. Heavy boots pounded the ground as personnel conducted a thorough examination of the truck's exterior. After a brief exchange of words, the truck surged forward, passing through the gate and entering the confines of the compound. Continuing its journey, it circled around the far side of the imposing building until it reached the docks, where it finally came to a stop.

Silently, Victor lowered himself to the ground, enfolding me in his arms, and our faces were locked in an intimate proximity. Under different circumstances, this close encounter could have been romantic, filled with the promise of a delightful evening out. However, I knew all too well that our current situation entailed impending shootouts and relentless pursuits once we got inside. This was just one of the many obstacles we had to overcome before embarking on our mission to rescue the corpse. Gaining access to the building was a paramount concern.

As the truck driver disembarked, his heavy boots crushing the gravel beneath his feet, other individuals joined him, their footsteps resonating from the direction of the docks. Together, they began unloading the cargo from the vehicle. Amidst their actions, a mishap occurred when one of the men clumsily dropped a portion of the shipment. A wooden crate crashed to the ground, splitting open beside the truck. That moment, Victor and I caught a glimpse of its contents, which were not the expected drugs and firearms. Instead, what spilled out were thick, hardcover books adorned with enigmatic symbols on their covers. I observed a subtle narrowing of Victor's eyes and a tightening of his lips.

"Be careful! Those things are dangerous!" one of the men shouted, his voice filled with alarm.

A hand emerged into view, reaching for one of the open books. In an instant, a malevolent aura emanated from the pages, accompanied by a sinuous and slimy tentacle. It seized the man's hand with a vise-like grip, forcefully dragging him downward into the depths of the book. I witnessed the sheer terror etched onto his face, and no matter how tightly I pressed my hands against my ears, I couldn't drown out the horrifying scream that pierced the air as he was engulfed by the book's abyss. It became abundantly clear that knowledge possessed not only immense power but also a terrifying strength and an unsettling ugliness.

"That's why ya gotta be careful!" shouted the first man.

With the books secured and the immediate supernatural threat seemingly contained, our attention shifted to the obstacles we still faced. Victor cautiously maneuvered beneath the truck, inching towards the side of the imposing building. My eyes caught sight of a closed door along the wall, likely locked and impeding our progress. I silently prayed for a stroke of luck to free us from our concealed position, and to my astonishment, the door swung open, revealing a man in a distinguished gray business suit. He was of shorter stature, appearing around fifty years old, and wore spectacles perched upon his nose. Sensing tension emanating from Victor, I held my breath, urging him to remain motionless. The enigmatic man wedged the door open with a weighty metal stapler and proceeded to approach the workers nearby, engaging them in conversation.

Seizing the opportune moment when the men on the right side of the vehicle were engrossed in their discussion with the unfamiliar man, Victor swiftly rolled us out from underneath the truck. He pressed me tightly against him as we sprinted towards the door, my body dangling like a lifeless doll, desperately hoping that none of the vigilant guards would catch sight of us. Once again, fortune favored us, and I couldn't help but entertain the notion that perhaps my prayers were indeed effective.