Season 02 - Episode 11

‘pitch dark illuminated’

“By the Mother!” says the man. “It really made a mess of this one!”

He and his partner are crouching over and picking through a jumbled heap of bloody body parts and and torn clothing, scooping them up into bags. The corridor is pitch dark, illuminated only by their shifting torches. Both men's heads are shaved clean on one side and they're dressed in brown and red rags.

“I wouldn't mess with it,” says the other man. “Some of the lads reckon it's made of darkness itself, that's why the light makes it so mad.”

“Well, whatever it is,” says the first man. “You won't catch me in here with the lights on. There's not enough treasure in all The Levels. Here! Look at this!”

He holds up a blood drenched watch, turning it back and forth in the the light of his torch as it drips.

“That's got to be worth a bit!” he says happily.

“Hang on,” says the second man, taking the watch and inspecting it. “I recognise this. Remember that guy we sent in here last week? The little one with the limp? This was his.”

“He did well,” says the first man. “They don't normally last that long.”

The men finish rooting through and gathering the remains, wipe their hands on their clothes and stand to leave with their loot and the sloppy sacks. They make their way through the blackened corridors towards a rickety door, bordered by a thin yellow line of light. Beyond the door are more corridors but now brightly lit.

“The boss'll be well pleased with that,” says the first man, his voice bright with relief as they leave the now bolted door behind them. “Tell you what though, I wouldn't mind...”

His partner nudges him into silence and nods. They both stop and the first man turns to see an older woman watching them from further down the corridor. She wears a simple grey cloak with a cavernous hood.

“Y'alright there?” he calls cheerily.

The woman approaches cautiously.

“Greetings,” she says in a strange accent. “I seek the seat of authority in this place.”

“Do you?” says the second man, grinning.

“What's your name, love?” says the first man.

“I am Mother Pho,” says Pho. “High Matriarch of The Innersides. You may address me as Your Holiness.”

“Well, Your Holiness,” says the first man, smirking and executing an exaggerated bow. “You're in the territory of The Sons of Kro now.”

“Indeed,” says Pho, wrinkling her nose. “Well then, summon your leader immediately. I would speak with him.”

“But of course, Your Holiness,” says the second man. “He's right through here.”

The men lead her back to the bolted door and open it for her. The corridor stretches away from them into darkness.

“Down there?” asks Pho, uncertain.

“That's right,” says the first man brightly. “Sorry the power's out at the moment, but don't worry, we'll sort that out for you. If you just follow the corridor and turn right at the end, you'll find exactly what you're looking for.”

Pho takes a step forwards then hesitates. She looks at each man in turn, scrutinising their expressions, then finally steps into the corridor. As soon as she's inside they close the door behind her and bolt it.

They wait a few minutes, listening carefully as they hear Pho's footsteps fade. Then the first man flicks a light switch beside the door. A soft glow bleeds round the edges of the door and from somewhere far distant they hear a howl, enraged and inhuman.

“Go get the boss,” says the first man.

“What? Why?” says the second man.

“Did you hear her accent?” he replies. “She might not look like much but I bet she's loaded. Some super rich Collapse refugee probably. Bet she's got all the family jewels hidden under her cloak and that thing in there's going to make short work of her.”

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