Light flittered in the ruined corridor, an abstract display caused by the old, moth eaten curtains that still hung around the cracked and grimy windows. Vines in various sizes wove their way through holes from the floor and walls, winding their way upwards. A scattering of plants and brush lined the edges, finding a way to grow inside the old building. Eli stared patiently ahead, through the light broken gloom, his choice of cover a particularly large vine that stretch across the width of the floor, burrowing into the wall opposite. He continued to peer at the far end of the structure, his face mask set onto normal visuals. Yet, nothing moved except for the curtains in their layer of dirt and filth. Slowly he crept over the vine, crushing a half dozen of the purple and orange flowers that grew from it. He paid no attention, these particular breeds of flora were not dangerous like so many others, no, it was the sound he had heard at the far end that had him worried. He stopped making a quick check of his gear. The familiar weight of the revolver on his hip, the knife in his waistband, another in his boot, the soundless slap of the grappling hook's rope attached to his backpack.
Tck, Tck, Tck, Tck.
Eli held his breath, slowly moving his assault rifle from hanging loosely at his hip into a firing position. He watched the dark abyss before him through the lowest setting on his weapons scope, his heart racing. The world was a scary, horrible place. But it was what you couldn't see, what you didn't know, that was truly terrifying. He heard the sounds again, and he crept forward slowly, stopping just pass a window. The read eyes appeared in the blink of an eye, Eli pulled the trigger, aiming between them. Whatever it was let out a strained cry, the eyes fading, and a small thump letting Eli know he had hit his target. The building fell quiet, and for a moment Eli's hope rose. There was rumored to be a machine part he had been contracted to retrieve, something about one of the farms needing it. The Saviors didn't have the manpower to spare, which was formality for they didn't want to do it, and it had fallen onto Eli one late night in a rundown bar.
Tck, Tck, Tck, Tck.
His hope seized up and died inside of him. The sound came back, as a constant, a horde of skittering creatures. The red eyes appeared from the gloom, quickly followed by a dog sized mandible, armed with wide dangerous looking pincers. Four more appeared, one of which was on the roof. The creatures were something between a leech and a crab. Their bodies were hard with a crustacean like shell, including their tails. Their face was nothing but a set of eyes set above a pit of teeth, much like a leech. They would pin their prey down with their pointed, tri-pod legs and tear chunks off of them with their mandibles. A few could be dealt with alone, but apparently Eli had stumbled upon a nest of these creatures. They were also quick, running as fast as any average person. Eli had heard them referred to as Trants, Tri-pod Ants. Clever.
"Nope!" He shouted towards the horde of Trants. Which were currently busy launching themselves over each other in a desperate act to be the first to tear Eli to bloody pieces. He turned, unhooking his grappling rope. He vaulted over the thick, tree sized vine, smashing the end of the hook into it as he did so. He could hear the chattering of the Trant's pincers, perhaps they were just a little too eager. He turned sharply and vaulted out the window in a spray of broken glass. He could hear the creatures follow suit, more windows smashing, as he swung into the floor below him. He pressed a button on a small wrist piece he wore, the grappling hook retracting into itself. Eli gave it quick yank before letting go and quite literally running for his life. No time to gather it up again as the Trants crawled around the outside of the building, looking for their prey.
"Second floor, one to go!" He thought to himself, sprinting for the end of the hall. The window imploded in front of him, a Trant crawling inside via the ceiling. Eli tucked and rolled as the insect tried to land on top of him. He chose not to shoot it, so not to call the horde to his location. His decision didn't matter so much as the viscous little thing let out a screech. Hundreds of replying screeches sounded around him. "Not good, Not good," His adrenaline fueled mind screamed, as if he wasn't aware of the situation already. He was half tempted to slide down the railing to the first floor but the plant life entwined around it made him think twice about it. He bounded down the stairs, nearly falling but catching himself halfway down on the wall, as the stairs switched back the other direction.
He hit the ground in a puff of breath, refusing to acknowledge the shock of landing with such force. His ankles begged to differ. Dust rained from the ceiling as god knows how many of the critters swarmed over the building. Many of them were already outside looking for him, apparently they didn't get the memo the ones chasing him did. That didn't last long as a wave of Trants tumbled down the stairwell, their chirps and chatters alerting those outside. Whole sections of crumbling wall caved in as the Trants smashed their way through brick and plant, forcing him to open fire on those ahead of him. One clip, and four dead Trants later, Eli shoulder rammed the doors to salvation, the rotting wood smashing into splinters against his weight. He quickly scrambled to his feet, grabbing the grappling hook from where it landed in the tall grass outside. Eli really hated abandoning equipment.
Fifteen minutes later Eli was finally able to stop and catch his breath, pulling up his mask so he could breath easier. He looked back behind him, a few Trants still waiving their mandibles at him. Not as a goodbye, but in a territorial display of flesh rending power. They stayed another five minutes before wandering back to their hive, Eli still hands-on-his-knees gasping. He looked at the area around him, saturated in tall trees, tangled in miles of vines, and dense with tall grass and shrubbery. Each street looked nearly the same as the next, everything suffocated under a thick growth of plant life. He chose the shade of a large fern like tree to sit down and take a couple drinks of his mocha flavored slush. Eli fucking loved him some coffee, even if it wasn't even real, just the taste.
As Eli saddled up and started heading back towards Refuge, two men walked stopped across the street from him. "Holy shit Gram, Look!." The younger of the two exclaimed, pointing at Eli as he rose from his chosen spot next to the shady tree, hidden behind some ferns.
"Hey stranger, anything good uh-that-ah-way?" The older man asked, pointing in the direction Eli has just come from.
"Nope," Eli said, shifting the weight of his pack and heading down the grassy roadway.
It was almost evening when he arrived at the massive metal walls. He stuck a hand out, hailing the guards manning the gate mechanism, unflinching as both of the gun emplacements to either side pointed at him. One of the guards waived back, dressed in the dark green fatigues and body armor the Saviors wore. The gate hissed as it opened slightly, just enough to Eli to pass through. He nodded towards the guards on the other side of the gate, a checkpoint for those entering. "Eli Konlie," he said, barely stopping. The same guard was still sitting at the desk from when Eli had let earlier, not that it was easy to mistake Eli for anybody else dressed the way he was. He passed through the bustling, ramshackle little village. Weaving through crowded dirt roadways, around playing children, even stopping to pet a normal looking dog, though it had antlers and coat of fur that looked every bit like a fire; yellow, orange, and red. A child ran up to the dog, "Firetruck!" He cried gleefully, wrestling with the dog.
"Home sweet home," Eli sighed, leaning back in his favorite creaky chair, at his favorite bar in the village; Husky's.
"I heard you had returned!" An eager man exclaimed, causing Eli to look up from the rim of his drink. The man's eyes fell on his pack, "Did you get it?!" He asked excitedly.
"Nope," Eli said. Letting the silence drag on.
"...Well why not?" The man asked, fidgeting in his white coat, "It's quite important to our research!."
"Listen here White-coat," The nickname people gave the scientists when they felt like being rude, "Tell your informant there is a fucking, Trant, Hive, there."
The scientists eyes widened, "I'm s-sorry I h-h-had no i-idea!" He stammered. Eli waved him off and the thin man scurried out of the bar. No doubt to return to his precious farm, or plants, or whatever he did. Eli really couldn't bring himself to care about anything than a soft bed waiting for him down below on level 5.
