The Basement

Gallus climbed down into the dank darkness of the secret hotel basement, his wrist device painting the walls with a very faint blue light. He climbed down for what felt like ages, but was probably only about a minute or two. When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he turned his light into the large space before him. It was the size of a small warehouse, but incredibly dark,

Without some way of turning on the lights, he would only be able to see a few feet in front of him. He walked forward slowly and carefully, the light from his device illuminating a few feet of concrete in front of him. He fumbled around on the wall for some kind of light-switch or button, but there was none. It didn't seem like there was any kind of lighting in the place at all.

Was he in some unused cavity or unfinished construction project? It was a tempting thought, but it didn't explain the strange readings he had detected. Pulling the detector out again, he found that the oxygen levels were even higher now that he was in the basement. He called out a loud greeting through the dark expanse, hoping to see how much it echoed.

Based on the weak echo that returned, the room definitely had objects in it. He cursed modern tech designers for making wrist assistants with such horrible built-in flashlights. He continued to stumble around awkwardly until he slammed his shin on a hard metal object. He cursed ever word in the book and seethed through his teeth, but immediately moved the light upon the object he had run into.

In front of him was a smooth cylindrical container. It was metallic, and cold to the touch. As he brought his light close he could make out several gauges and valves. He was looking at a container for holding compressed gas, and he could imagine what kind of gas it was. He tried to snap some pictures of it, but even with the flash on, he could barely get the entire cylinder in frame.

He needed evidence that showed the gas was being siphoned, stored, and sold. A cannister in a dark, unrecognizable room wasn't good enough. He searched and searched, his faint light moving over as many pieces of equipment as possible. After a minute or two of this though, the lights came on. He felt like God himself had come down and blinded him, as the facility's extremely bright LED lights all flashed to life at once.

Gallus yelped and fell backwards, rolling on the concrete from shock. Heavy footsteps thudded behind him, and he felt himself hoisted into the air by the collar of his jacket. Behind him was the terrifying and ragged old face of Grotto himself, coming into focus as his eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness. Behind him were several other large figures, masked and armed with old-school firearms.

Grotto set him down and stood before him, several inches taller and far broader. He grinned at Gallus and chuckled to himself. "Looks like we found a rat. Stealth isn't your strong suit, Earthling. Maybe you and your mountain friend should..." Before he could finish his sentence, Gallus snapped. Hidden behind the mildness of Gallus' personality was a very deep sea of anger. Anger at his family, anger at the world, anger that people like Grotto existed.

Generally it just simmered, kept at bay by a mixture of fear and pragmatism. But in that moment, Gallus no longer cared about right or wrong, life or death. The heat of rage infected every cell of his being, and was in full control of his personality. He swung at Grotto with all the force he could muster, striking him hard on the chin. The much larger man staggered back a step, and Gallus fell on him in a frenzy.

The scuffle lasted only a moment or two. Gallus had the element of surprise, but he was weaker and not trained in any kind of martial art. Before Grotto's men could even come to help him, Grotto slammed his knee into Gallus' stomach, knocking the wind right out of his body. He felt to the ground, writhing and struggling to breathe.

"That's enough Gallus. Unless you want to die in this basement, I suggest you calm down and behave like a rational adult." Grotto said. "I know you have a lot to lose, and taking care of you would be a messy job. How about we destroy that little watch of yours, and we both go on our merry way?" Gallus spoke softly, struggling to fill his lungs with air.

"My.... associate, already has those pictures. Ever hear of the cloud? If anything happens to me, the world will know you did it." Grotto laughed. "And how will they know it was me?" Gallus grinned slyly, and responded with glee in his voice. "I've been recording this entire time. Smile for the camera, cocksucker." Before Gallus could speak again, he felt Grotto's boot smash into his wrist, breaking his watch and probably his bone.

He wailed out in pain, rolling over onto his side, as Grotto began to kick him relentlessly. Gallus' rage began to wear off, and the pain began to mount. He began to scream and cry as he felt his ribs bruise from the larger man's onslaught. After a moment, Grotto's men pulled Grotto away, and Gallus was left on the ground, barely conscious, bleeding and moaning in agony.

"C'mon Grotto, show some restraint, you damn near killed him." Grotto spit on the ground angrily. "Fucking twerp deserved it. Besides, I broke his fucking watch, all he has is footage of dusty cannisters and of him assault me, his boss." Grotto's man didn't seem convinced. "How do we explain all these injuries?" Grotto shrugged. "Self-defense, you saw how viciously he was attacking me. We'll throw him in the truck with the cannisters, drop him off at the local hospital. Then we file a police report."

Gallus struggled to sit up, blood running down his face. "I'm not going anywhere with any of you." He sputtered. "I know." Grotto said. "Not awake, anyway." Before Gallus could move to stop him, Grotto jammed a rectangular device against his shoulder. He felt the pinch of a syringe pierce his skin, and he fell onto his back again. As his mind faded into the darkness of unconsciousness, he heard Grotto laughing; the same callous laugh Gallus had heard in his office.