He opened his eyes to see the familiar sight of his bedroom celling, its clean white paint rebounding some of the faint morning light that came in from the window, helping to gently illuminate the surrounding features. The dryness of the morning air dehydrated his mouth and brought with it a sharp coolness which lingered on the exposed skin of his face, deterring even the most dauntless person from leaping out of bed.
"Hon, what time is it" he inquired from his semi-submerged state under the blanket.
"6:10. You missed your alarm." a voice replied beside him.
"You didn't wake me up?"
"It was cold..."
"Ugh. You know I don't have the luxury of sleeping in, I've got to pick up my co-worker before I get to work remember." he explained as his sat up and threw the blankets from his legs.
"Make him get a car."
"In a perfect world he would." he answered walking to the ensuite bathroom. The light switch made an audible clack as it was toggled on and lit the room with its belated yellow glow. On the sink's soap holder lay a cheap and abhorrently bright-coloured toothbrush, its bristles frayed and chewed to bits, still retaining the ice cold dampness from its prior use. The generic toothpaste that was placed beside it was crushed into a jagged ball and left with its lid ajar causing a meniscus of paste to ebb out from the nozzle. He sauntered to the sink and reached to retrieve his toiletries but suddenly felt the shock of cold water contacting with the soles of his feet. Impulsively his jerked his leg back and lent down to inspect the puddle that encircled around the rubber rim of the bathroom mat.
The cause unknown and senseless to investigate he ignored it and returned to his teeth brushing ritual. Quickly a lather built around his mouth as his heavy brush strokes scraped the various particles of grit from his gumline. The reflections of his metal-filled molars in the mirror glinted in the meger light while he left his mouth agape. The morning continued to take its usual course of hygenic maintanace and preperation in the brisk atmosphere. White whisps of breath trailed into the surrounding air as he moved about the fridged corridors gathering provisions for work. He returned to the bedroom dressed in his working attire to see his wife hadn't budged in the last half an hour.
"I'm off" he called to his spouce, who lay entrenched in the multiple blankets that draped over the sides of the bed.
"Ok... don't forget that its my co-worker Shara's birthday. I'm going out with the girls to celebrate it with her after work so I'll be back later tonight." the sheets replyed.
"Got it."
The catch on the door clicked back into place as it was closed and he set forth towards the main hallway. Various metal locks and dangling chains braced the entrance shut to prevent an onslaught of theives from overruning their household during the nights. He fiddled with the mechanisims managing to free them from their braces and left throught the front entrance. The work truck was luckily planted just a few meters from the front door at the street curb.
The vehicle carried a thin coating of ice that formed out of the morning dew, a rare sight to behold in such an arid environment. The glistening sheen was remeniscent of days long gone when the freshly polished paint of its youth mirrored the passing horizon; now left to slowly fade behind the accumulating fog that built up around it. Entering the vehicle he noticed the brittle flakes of ice that accumulated around both the handle and edges of the door frame that desintergrated to a firm touch. The engine rumbled to life with the turn of the key sending a shiver through the truck as if it was being awaken for its slumber.
Smoke billowed from the corroded lips of the exhaust pipe and the air conditioner sprung to life sending warm heat to buffet the now opaque windows. The truck lurched forward slightly before swinging out from the curb to join with the few cars of the early morning transit to the city. The smell of the ash-scented cigarette graveyard that was the floor now wafted along the parched air in the cabin, blending into the perfect cross section of his co-worker.
Motorists and foot traffic alike were drained of their warmth as the biting atmosphere stole the hot, foggy breaths from their mouths; many of them binding inches of fabric to their heads and extremidies to stave off its vampiric nature or the dreaded drafts dashing and lashing against them. The sight of day workers clustering like penguins in the cold was a definitive sign that (C2) had once again past into Grentin. He turn into the usual street and parked at the usual place on this unusual day and waited.
Time slowly passed as (C2) indulged in the warm oasis of the truck, oblivious to the absence of his co-worker. The usual suspects wandered past the front of the car on their daily trek followed by a prolonged period of inactivity, forming a niggling sensation on the back of (C2)'s neck. Something was odd. To ease his mind he stuffed his callused hands into his jeans and retrieved his small work phone. Its scratched screen and accumulated years of harsh treatment warped the writing into a indeciferable mess, the icons on the buttons had been rubbed off and the backing was taped and retaped to the case to hold the battery in.
"Indestructable" he humored under his breath while mashing in (C1)'s home phone number. Holding it to his ear he waited for his partner to answer with an expectedly convincing albeit contrived alibi. The ring tone persisted untill it eventually rang out leaving (C2) to mull over the scenario.
"Droped him at the clinic. Then he went home; but then he would have picked up the phone if he did. So instead he went to the pub and had a few drinks and afterwards fell out of existance. Best bet is to head to the pub and ask around." he thought to himself while unconciously geturing with his hands.
He wedged his work-hardened fingers into the door handle and levered it open. The wind began to vortex in the low pressure area behind the now open truck door, sucking the heat from his former oasis. (C2) pulled himself out of the driver side and planted his tan coloured boot onto a discarded cup of coffee on the ground before slamming the door shut.
The collar of his insulated jacket writhed in the frigid gusts as he made his way out of the ally and towards the infamous bar. Luckily for (C2), the disolusioned workers walking homeward would make it easy for him to find his way, their perpencity to return to their watering holes defeated meant that he could pinpoint its location quickly.
A trio of elderly men trudged past him seeking the inebriated sanctuary of their pubs with (C2) quickly following them in tow. Their weakend bodies swaying as their short strides brought them to a fork in the pathway at which they parted down seperate lanes. Unable to persue them all (C2) made a split decision and began to follow the more ungainly of the three. The man's rubber sandles kicked back up into his blackened heals as he strode down the unsealed walkways. Seemingly unaffected by the terrible gusts flowing through the alleys he zig-zaged past walls of decrepid buildings eventually leading (C2) to the front door of the Crimson Flower.
Standing aside the door was a large, rotund man sweeping glass away from the entrance. His drawn-out motions were followed through by his the rythmic pendulum of excess fat hanging from his torso. The tired eyes that were sunken behind his brow remained motionless as they continued to stare at the ground infront of him. As (C2) approached he swung his hunched torso around to look at him with his neck remaining locked in a stooped position.
"Excuse me, have you seen a guy come through here; Short-ish hair, fair-skinned, looks like he was put through a wood chipper." (C2) asked.
"Which one?" the man coldly replyed.
"Young, late 20's. He had a messed up arm."
"Yeah, we 'ad some'un like dat come frew. Does 'e owe ya sum monney?"
"Unfortunately I'm his work colleague. Did you see where he went to after he left?"
"After dey leave 'ere it's got nuffin to do wif me. Anyway, I can't leave de bar durin' rush 'our, bastard's 'll rob me blind." he replyed with an assured tone.
"Thanks for your time." sighed (C2) in a defeated tone.
He turned back to face the strangly quiet street to think about the next port of call. The merciless wind poured through and around the storefronts, seeping into (C2)'s coat sleeves and halting his train of thought. Glaring in the direction of the disturbance his eyes pinned themselves to a crudely made sign; it was fashioned from an old corrigated sheet with the words "ADAM" splattered across it in red pain.
"Guess they might know where he'd wander off to"
He neared the sign turning the corner onto a darkened street overgrown with a canopy of awnings. Sparse curtains of light breached the fermented corridor highlighting the dusty particles that washed past (C2)'s person as he passed by. Blockades of litter barred passage to branching paths, entombing them in the rancid refuse. The path ahead had also been swallowed by trash forming a cluster of garbage bags to bottleneck the exit.
His slowed footsteps passed over countless needles and the glass caltrops that spilled from the shattered remains of bottles. The darkness built as he persued the freedom of the exit with both the dangers and stench building as he approached. With so little room to manouver he began to sidestep the last few feet in order to avoid smearing the unsavoury liquids that trailed down the pillars of rubish.
The refuse began to part allowing (C2) to take this oppotunity to build some speed and distance from the area. As he briskly walked away pocket of foul air built in his wake, trailing behind him and drawing out his exposure to the bouque of mould and human waste. After traveling through many more alleys he found himself just a few stores away from 'ADAM'. The clensing winds of the open street removed the dogged odours that hounded his journey, strengthening his resolve and projecting him towards the building.
The front window of the clinic was caked in grime and an opaque filter of breath clung that to the inside, bluring the fidgiting masses into an ambiguious blob. Oppisite him, on the other side of the pane, sat a throng of misfortunates slumped in the rigid plastic seats provided, the closest of which rested his the side of his head against the window's suppoting frame.
(C2) griped the frosted metal handle of the door and pulled it open to be greeted by the warm dampness of the sickly exhelations that bloated the room. The low murmers and coughs bombardeded (C2)'s ears as he approached the counter. A frazzled bun of hair jostled frantically above the tall barrier that boardered the counter, the noise of shuffling papers and stationary bustles from the nook, drawing his attention from the infirmed.
"Excuse me, could you spare some time to answer a question?" (C2) curitiously queried.
"If you need medical questions then you must take you position in line; all other questions, be it legal, financial or informative must be submitted via handwriting including a return address and will be responded to in a timely fashion, thank you." the blond woman droned into the counter, fully engrossed in the modest stack of paperwork piled to her right.
"I'm here to ask about my friend, last time I saw him was by the clinic yesterday. He should have come in with a injured arm." (C2) clarified.
The woman remained silently scrawling the final notes on a patient's form before reaching across the counter and collected a thick folder of papers. She poured the forms into a small clearing of the table and thumbed through them, skimming past each with supernatural speed.
"Bad arm. Bad arm..." she muttered to herself.
"Nathen Pent, 39, dark skin, came in with two large lacerations to the hand and arm. Is that your guy?"
"Uh no. He's mid-late 20's and it was a distinctive burn." he reaffermed.
"Hmm.... no one like that yesterday unless he aged about fifty years and became a amature cook and grandmother." She joked in a flat tone.
"Even if you didn't process him, did you see him ouside?"
"I see a hundred faces a day, all of them hollaring in pain and demanding immediate treatment for their sore toes or their blury vision or their hang nails. I don't have enough time to have a lunch break let alone oggle padestrians passing the clinic. Have you bothered to check the bars or the morgue?"
"I can see your tired so I'll get out of here. I'll give you my card to call me..." (C2) said, rummaging for card in his belt before being interrupted.
"Get off me you lunatic! Your ripping the skin off my arm!" a loud, and rather familiar voice yelled from one of the back rooms.
(C2) pushed himself away from the counter and walked around to the hallway nearby, tracking the location of the disturbance by ear. The short corridor consisted of only three doorways, one of which had an assistant nurse glaring into the open room at the end. Passing the suprised staffer (C2) stepped into the room where a cluster of healthcare were attempting to restrain the enraged and wounded (C1).
"(C1), calm the hell down, your gonna take someone's eye out with all that flailing!" (C2) reassured his co-worker.
The altercation slowed in pace as (C1) realised his friend's presence in the room. Both the doctor and nurses backed away from the bed, parting enough for (C2) to see the red-faced (C1) spawled on the dishevled bedding. The ruffled clothes that were draped over him were the same that he had was wearing when he was dropped off, its sleves barely covering the full length bandage encasing his arm
"I hope you haven't been treating the staff that badly since I dropped you off." (C2) infered.
"Mr (C1) was admitted to the clinic earlier this morning after being found concussed in a market stall tarp. The injury to his arm seems to be unrelated. What is your relation with the injured, Mr..." the doctor led.
"Just call me (C2); He's my workmate. Didn't he come for observation yesterday afternoon?" he inquired, glancing back to his friend to notice a welt protruding from his brow.
"Mr (C1) has not attended this clinic as a patient prior to this incident; even then he was hard to subdue and treat after he was woken."
"This would be the last place I'd be even if I was run over by a train! You people couldn't save anyone with that gold-toothed fuck in charge!" (C1) asserted, inadvertantly proving his agression.
"Ehem. (C2), may we talk in the other room." the doctor requested while ushering him into the consultation room.
The nurses hurried to clean away the bottles of lotion and excess gause as the men left the room. They passes back through the hallway and into the room closest to the front counter. The interior was bright and aseptically clean to the point where the room carried the faint scent of sanitizers and industrial cleaner. The strong lights illuminated the ceramic tiles and reflected of the immaculate metal fixtures, its light surrounding the medical chair in the centre of the room. At the far corner the doctor rested himself into the cushioned chair behind his desk and waved (C2) to sit adjacent.
"Excuse me for that informal introduction, my name is Dr. Richard Tepensce, I am the active general practitioner of this clinic. Your friend wasn't too keen to wake up in our care this morning, he has fought us tooth and nail to be discharged in his current condition dispite my constant advisery." Richard explained as he straightened out his desk.
"That's understandable doctor but we both know that you can't force him to stay. He's not the type of person you can just shackle to a bed, he won't go against his own judgement." (C2) informed the doctor earnestly.
"As much as I want him to stay I cannot disagree with your logic. I'll sign his discharge form and allow you collect him from his bed. Just make sure that he does his best to clean his burns to avoid it getting infected and if it does then rush him back down here before it worsens." Dr. Tenpensce advised.
As he said that he reached into the upper drawer of the desk and slipped out a blank discharge form. (C2) lifted his heavy frame from the seat and began to head to the door before turning back to inquire about his co-worker's statement.
"I wanted to ask you something before I leave. That man my friend was talking about, the one with the gold teeth, who is he?" he inquired.
"That would be our former GP, Dr. Nole Graft. He had several teeth replaced with gold stand-ins after suffering from chronic gingivitis. He left this branch and retired about two years ago to live in Royar hill, much to the dismay of his close patient."
"Uh, thanks for the infomation. I'll get (C1) and be out of your hair."
Returning back to the other room, (C2) approached the side of (C1) and helped him up out of the bed, moving gingerly to avoid aggrivating any of the newly accumulated sores that peppered his upper torso. Their eyes clashed just as (C1) planted his feet back to the ground, his expression was a faint mixture of pain and hatred for his surroundings. After gathering his personal belonings (C1) moved towards the front exit with a distinictive limp in his gait; (C2) staying behind him careful to match his comrade's walking pace.
Richard stood in his office's doorway ready to hand the papers to (C2) as he passed by but was intercepted by (C1)'s icy gaze. Without breaking their stride their continued towards the entrance with (C2) collecting the papers from Dr. Tenpensce before they left, giving the doctor a subtle nod in thanks.
The morning temperature now began to ease back into the normal blistering heat that dominated the people's lives, mitigating the need for (C2)'s cold weather attire. Along the short trip back to the truck carried an awkward silence between the two dispite their usual banter. When they arrived at the vehicle and had jumped inside, (C2) broke the silence as he bundled his jacket on top of the console.
"How do we get to your place?" he asked
"The padestirans will be choking up the street. I wouldn't bother driving back there, just get us to the first job of the day."
"You just got out of a medical bed, I don't think you should be so antsy to get back to work. Just take the day off and get some rest." suggested (C2)
"I'm fine, I've had enough sleep. It's easier for everyone if we just continued the day as usual." he replyed curtly as he felt around his brow for injuries.
A few seconds passed as (C2) started up the truck. The tense scenario had left him in thought about how to approach the situation without agrivating it. He quicklydecided to ignore his friend's condition and continued the morning as if nothing had happened.
"Well today's job is quite a strange one. We're going to be working on the roof of the Mare's Bank skyscraper, they've reported two seperate incidents that has caused their exhaust fans to blow out. The first was a week ago when it stopped and they sent the technician to investigate, guess what he found" (C2) inticed.
"Rats. Maybe a bird." his co-worker apathetically answered.
"Absolutely right, Birds! About a dozen of them too. But that's not the strange part...they forced their way through the wire mesh blocking the fan. We're talking wire you would need pliers to get through."
"And how does a story about suicidal birds become our problem? We're pest control people, you know, baiting rats, killing termites. Isn't his completely out of our job's boundries?"
"That's where the 2nd incident comes into play. Yesterday when we were at Ken's Lockers they called our office for help with a fungus problem in the same exhaust fan. There is some speculation by both them and our guys that it might be directly linked to the bird carcasses. Needless to say we're playing clean-up crew for the whole morning."
"Sounds invigorating. Should I bring my favorite paint scraper to chisle away at it or do we want to rip it apart by hand like last time?" (C1) asked, dripping with venomus overtones.
"As much as I would like to jump on that landmine of a question, we aren't gonna be taking this one too lightly. Work ordered us to think of it as a class three biohazard so I've picked up some PPE from the supply beforehand."
"Hmm." pondered (C1) with a quizical inflection in his tone.
The truck lurched forward onto the street and returned back to circulate with the main streets. Turning through the conveluded roadwork of Grentin rays of light danced intermittently across the paint-flaked bonnet, a juxtaposing sentiment to the world weary mindset rife in the town.
The scenery flashed past as they drove through the varying socioeconomic groups that ringed consentrically around the oasis of Royar hills. Each of the tiers living with unfathomably greater comforts than their lessers; Lighting, curb side greenery, planned building complexes, happyness.
What was shacks bundled like battery cages became the iconic middle class tenaments walling away the rich's view of the fettid slum and vice versa. The air now seemingly carried itself with a gay abaddon, as if freed from the toxic environment of the shanty towns.
Sitting at the center were monumental skyscrapers adorned with the many businesses' logos that made their riches here and elsewhere. The towers' feet rested on the lush, manicured gardens and streched itself skywards, piercing the clouds and the very sky itself in a gaudy display of wealth.
"Pricks." (C1) unconciously muttered under his breath.
"Try to avoid calling our customers pricks when we get there; At least not where they can hear you." (C2) advised him in a light harted tone.
The comment bounced off (C1) without any affect leaving the atmosphere in the truck frozen in its awkward state. Ahead the Mare tower's silluette cast a monelithic shadow perpendicular to the road that the vehicle sputtered along, its profile across the skyline was an unmistakeable indicator that they had arrived. Its pominence dwarfed all but one building across the skyline, the unrivaled epoc of industry, the Hatter Conglomerate Headquaters.
The HCH stands as the main architectual focal point of the city with its extravagant hourglass figure intwined by a golden heliptical spiral acting as its spine. All buildings, regardless of size or grandure paled in comparison to what some hail as a wonder of the modern world. The Mare tower stood brazenly above the neighbouring buildings in a act of defiance against its uncontested presence, staring back through its conservative square designed walls of glass.
(C2) banked into the turning traffic to make his way into the underground parking below the tower. The ever-warming sun and constant traffic led (C1) to stare out of the grimy window, listlessly following the padestrians with his eyes.
"Who would wear a suit in this climate? No dress code is so important that you'd spend everyday in those white collar shackles." he thought to himself.
"Can you believe having to wear that on a day like this?" (C2) coincidentally noted as waited for the lights. Both men silently watched the suit wander off the street untill they were allerted by the cars infront of them taking off and began to drive into the Mare Tower's carpark.
The road sloped downwards in the catacomb-like throng of parking spaces, its passage fiecly protected by an on-duty security guard posted behind a glass booth. The out of character truck loped down to the guards station where it was met with the supprised expression of the solo garrison.
"Pest control people; we've been sent to sort out the air conditioner problems on the roof." announced (C2) as he leaned out of the window.
The guard's suspicious demenour made him linger for a few seconds before glancing down at the clipboard resting in front of him. His eyes flicked between the paper and the vehicle across from the window a few times before wordlessly smacking a button and waving them through the gate.
"A real 'people person' isnt he? I guess that's why he's earning the big bucks in the car park station" humored (C2).
The truck weaved through the tight corners perpetually risking paint and wheel to the concrete render that bathed the walls and floor. Passing by the countless luxury vehicles that reflected the truck's profile across their spotless paint they arrived at the maintanance zone. Unlike the artistic flare of the landscaping outside the real core functionality of the building was raw industrial efficiency. Ridgid straight lines, cold, lifeless steel and thousands of tonnes of concrete combined to form the best embodiment of this, the utillity elevator.
The boom gate blocking passage into the caged metal monstrocity was wrapped in abrasive yellow and black caution paint. Thick bindings of cables jumped from one electrical junction to the next and up passed the lift into the upper floors. Standing to one side of the gate was a well dressed man in a sharp grey suit adorned by a brace of lustrious buttons pinned across his breast.
"That must be the our guide. You know the drill, I'll go sort out the scenario and you sherpa the gear to the elevator." (C2) instructed.
(C2) drove the truck infront of the gate and softly bumped his hand against the exterior of the car door to get the attention of the man. He glanced up for a split second before looking down at the tablet he held in his hand, swiftly tapping and sliding his fingers across the screen. He once again looked up at the two of them and waved them over to him.
They clambered out from their seats with either of them heading to other ends of the vehicle. (C1) slowly began to unlock the door of the truck's tray as (C2) interacted with the young man.
"Pest control, where do you need us." (C2) opened the conversation.
"The rooftops. You've been sent all the relivant information on the job so I don't have to explain it to you. You've only been allocated two hours on the roof before we have to pull you down, don't ask me why, its just business policy for contractors and maintanace. I'll send some one up fifteen minutes before you need to be off there. Is there anything else you need to explained to you or are you ready; Remeber your on the clock as of now." the man curtly explained.
"No thats all fine, I'll get my co-worker and head up there."
"Good, the elevator is just there. It should be simple to operate for you people." noted the man as he began to walk away.
"What a prick..." (C2) muttered to himself.
During their conversation (C1) had been piling up work supplies near the elevator shaft. Tools, small chemical canisters and an array of PPE were piled on top of each other like an unstable totem pole devoted to a panthenon of pest-slaying gods. (C2) sauntered over and collected his bundle with one hand before stepping into the lift, his co-worker folowing close behind.
The control pannel was a simple leaver jutting out from a semi-worn, square box. Its rather archaic design made (C2) unconsciously let out a sharp, soundless laugh as he viewed the mundane item through a nostaligc lense. He pressed the palm of his hand against the end of the leaver and pushed upward into position letting the machine slowly ascend up towards the rooftop.
As it rose through the many stratas of the building numerous sections of concrete showed cracks and fissures that had been poorly patched up by the builders. The inconsistant repairs left meter long trails of discoloured cement arcing up the wall like bolts of lightning.
(C1) stared at the sea of wires and wall fixtures that passed mere inches from his face while systematically patting his pockets. He knelt down and reached into the satchel by his feet slowly sweeping his hands around its interior.
"Damn, left them in the glovebox." (C1) muttered dejectedly.
"You won't need cigarettes when we're up there, you won't be able to smoke through the mask's filter anyway. Actually, we might as well suit up while we're waisting time here." instructed (C2) as he reached for his equipment.
The two men began methodically cladding themselves in copius layers of protective clothing. Their hands and shoes were contained in blue laytex sheaths and overlapped by a full-body suit of glistening yellow. The grey masks strapped over their faces connected to a rounded, rectangular air tank that contoured to the men's upper chest that bared cautionary reminders and biohazard stickers. Around their waists was a belt of oversized compartments each filled with virgin tools to be disposed of after their work was complete.
"Tape." (C2) requested.
(C1) pulled a roll of masking tape that he had temporarily stuck to his pants leg and began to seal the suit around his gloves and shoes. (C2) quarentened the suit by tightening the plastic cowl around his face leaving just the tinted plastic eye protection and the filtered snout of the mask jutting out. He returned the favour by taping his comrades' suit firmly shut and handing back the tape to be throw back into the bag.
(C1) turned around and looked back at his slightly overweight dopplganger peering back at him through the darkened veil of the goggles.
"Sexy." he joked in an obvious tone.
"I wouldn't be talking." came a quick reposte by (C2)
(C1) gave a light smile back that could only be seen through his emotive eyes; his mouth having been obsqured by the mask doing him no disservice. He glanced up through the metal grate that acted as a celing to see that they were nearing the top of the shaft.
"Final checks: air, seals and electronics." reminded (C2).
Both men made a final overview of their gear, testing the oxygen supply, tracing the tape seals and inventorying their tools just before they reached the roof top. (C2) gingerly pulled back on the leaver and eased the lift to a stop where it firmly contacted the metal braces at the top. Agittated, a fine powder drifted down from the celing onto and past the two suited figures highlighting the daylight that bounded from underneath the only door in the room. The barrer facing the exit made a metalic click and swung ajar allowing the men to step out from the lift with their satchels slung over their shoulder.
The metal door to the rooftop eminated an aura of warmth, it's handle embuded with a searing heat that bit at the touch. (C2)'s rubber grip coersed the door open inadvertantly unleashing the sun's ambush on the two, its intrusive light pierced through their paper-thin suits.
They walked between rows of off-white junction boxes, each rooted into the floor with a plethora of large cables. The low hum of the electrical units soaked the men's ears with the ambient overtones of industry. At each quadrant of the roof sat a wide induct caged under a mesh of pencil thick bars, the blades of the main fan obsqured by the darkness as it sat motionless at the bottom. Near the centre of one of the cages was a large perferation covered in a muddy red blood, its bars bent and twisted inward under a sudden and immense force.
(C1) and (C2) approaced it with cautious steps and peered into the putrid pitfall. The exhaust fan's case was modern day canoptic jar filled with mounds of decaying vicera splattered along the entire length of the ducted walls.
"Looks like hell." (C1) commented through his mask giving him breathy tone.
"You'd be turned to pulp too if you went face first through a centimeter of steel bar before falling into an industrial fan. I think before we do anything else you should throw a light down there and see the extent of the damage."
"Sure" responded (C1) as he pulled a spool of nilon thread from his waist pocket and tied it around his flashlight. He lowered it through the breach and down the shaft where it's illumination riccoeted of the metal walls, slowly rotating clockwise as it screwed through the darkness. As the fan came into view it was obvious to the cause of its malfunction, large obstructions that cemented its blades into its housing, jamming the groove that traced around its circumfrance.
On closer inspection sponge-like nodules protuded from the clumped masses slowly releasing lightly biolumonescent particles into the near surroundings. Sporangiofores pillared outward from the centre each scarred by the irregular growths of intact and broken spore pods.
"Well fuck me." (C1) aired suprised by the new revelation, glancing over his shoulder to see his partner's response.
"Don't be so supprised, we were warned weren't we? I didn't put on this outfit just because it shows of my arse." joked (C2).
"While you're down there try to scrape a sample of it to be tested, we need to sort out what kind fungicides we'll need to kill it off." he continued as he fiddled with his mask.
(C1) looked back down at the flashlight dangling near the fan and began to swing it towards one of the clumps. Moving in a pendulum motion it approached one of the many spore-laden limbs clinging to the wall of the vent. As it contacted the spore pod a vertical seam bisected it causing a byuterious fluid to ooze onto the front of the light, its excess continuing past the lense and driping from the hand loop at its posterior onto the fan below.
"Hell, (C2)! This thing has sacks of stuff dripping onto the fan, they're cysts or something. I'm pretty pretty sure that mushrooms don't do this kind of thing!" (C1) yelled to his pre-occupied partner fumbling through his bag.
"Cysts? That's not normal." he replied.
"Well thanks for clearing that up! Now do you want to say something more constructive or should I just improvise?" (C1) retorted sacrastically.
"What can you do? Just bring the gunk up and I'll put it through the I.S.I.K." he reassured his partner.
"The I.S.I.K.? That better be an "Incendiary Solution Incase your lacking Knowledge" gadget because I think fungicide it would just make it angry."
"Infectious substance identification kit, its an 'all-in-one' chemical test for a bunch of different things from fungus to bacteria to malaria and just about everything. All we have to do is smear some of that stuff onto a swab, douse in two chemical solutions and let it marinade. After about three or so minutes we can throw it in this little device here." (C2) explained as he waved a metalic cylinder in one hand.
(C1) slowly fished the torch through the deformed grate careful not to bump into anything and coat it with the muddled brown slime. He gathered all but a small length of the nylon thread which he held outstretched letting the torch hang at hip-heigh beside him.
"Ok professor, science it up." (C1) said to his scientifically suited co-worker.
(C2) walked towards his partner and began to handle the specimin. He coated a small cotton swab with some of the thick liquid placing it into a small beaker and began to invert it with this thumb and forefinger. The pink coloured chemical in the tube began to change into a murky brown as the swab jostled about inside, it's composition corrupted by the crude concotion covorting in the containter.
He took his thumb off the opening and poured a metalic-white powder into the new mixture, briefly shaking it again before finally placing it into the strange metal cylinder he had displayed earlier. The top of the I.S.I.K. clicked back into place begining the testing process as indicated by a solid red light appearing on its hilt.
"We've got to wait about three or so minutes now so we might as well have a break. Chuck that torch into a contaminant bag and we can check out the view."
(C1) disposed of the item into a yellow biohazard bag and joined his friend by the railing that skirted around the roof's perimeter. A gentle breeze wound its way up the building's windows where it met the two men's suits, each audiably crinkling as they rustled. They leaned against the rail peering at the out at the audacious designs of buildings and landscape however (C1) eyes began to linger one a singular building, the Royal Grove Hospital.
"How's your arm?" inquired (C2).
"Not bad. I think I'll just tear it off if it gets worse, better to get it over with quickly than fumble around with it for a few more weeks."
"And yet you wouldn't let those nurses fix it up for you."
"That's different, doctors and me don't get along. I've never met one that was truly empathetic, we don't see eye to eye."
"Old wounds?" (C2) probed.
"Something like that. I've got a bad history with the medical prefession going back a long way; Screw it I'll just tell you the whole story, we've got to wait for the thing anyway."
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