Slowly, my back hugging the wall, I slipped down the stairwell to the basement taking care to leave no trace of my passing like the noblest of ghost shits.
Harthur had let slip that there was some kind of Facility down there. One that controlled everything. This was hot fucking Banana. For too long now I had the feeling that we, as a people were being controlled, nay manipulated by someone or something.
My mind skittered back to the creature we had crossed in the server room. It had shouted something about bolting a rocket. Was there extraterrestrial foul play here?
I paused to tip my fedora at an angle befitting an Illuminati alien buster before plugging on to the bottom. I guess I was going to find out.
The very bottom.
It was dark down there, just a single door crammed beside some mops and garbage bins. Dust was thick on the floor and it didn't look like the door had been opened for a very long time.
I rustled about in my pocket for my trusty sharpened shit-stick. It had seen me through many encounters and I leaned in close and kissed its fetid crusted tip.
Don't let me down, old girl.
I heaved the door open.
Strong ape-ish hands thrust out of the opening and latched onto my chest hauling me in, the door slamming shut with a CTHLANG behind me again.
I felt myself being half dragged, half lifted forward. Vainly I struggled to get the Shit-Stick up and plunge it into the hot and stinking meaty hide of the beast that had me in its grasp.
In the end, its grip was too strong and my arms were pinned to my sides.
The whole experience reminded me of picking up a girl at a German nightclub.
Vainly I fought against getting an erection but by the time I was thrust into a cheap plastic-feeling seat it was too late and I was sporting a half-master.
The hands let go.
A wan yellow light clicked on, I had only been moments in the dark but still, I blinked, disoriented by the brightness.
E20 is it? You think you would know better to remain where you can so easily be found. But alas it seems not?
The voice came from an old lady in a spartan grey dress, sitting before me behind a desk raised on a small plinth so that she was looking down at me as if I were an old bag she was debating keeping. Battleship I decided to call her.
What? E20? What the fuck does that mean, OW!
They had not disarmed me and I still had the Shit-Stick in my hand. I had tried to rise from the seat with the intention of flying over the desk and impaling this evil bastard alien creature in a dress but I had forgotten Ape-Hands.
Those hands slammed me back down in the chair with more force than was decent. Perhaps Ape-Hands had noticed my half chub and was acting as a prophylactic or perhaps he liked sitting men. Either way, it bloody hurt.
That was fucking sore?
I whined petulantly.
Well you did attempt to come at me with a weapon?
I looked down at my lap, oddly flattered.
Oh for the love of god, not your penis?!
I felt our sexy connection fizzle away.
What are you doing here, E20?
Why do you keep on calling me that? I am here to find out exactly who you are. What happens down here. You are going to tell me everything or so help me...
I thrashed around a little but didn't convince anyone, even myself.
Battleship smirked then reached into a drawer pulling out a long black cable.
Perhaps this will explain things?
I looked at it and then at the old woman and her knowing ancient eyes.
Is that?... Is that my phone charger?...