Exumber didn’t bring much of a scenery change, but something in the air surely felt different, as tall, crowded buildings and narrow streets were a common thing it had with Ashcote, as well as the lack of greenery and roads full of cracks and bumps. However, it was much quieter than Ashcote, although that quietness came bearing a harrowing vibe with it. It was as if the shadow of Code Sanguinary enveloped the city with its presence, as if Charles Blackburn himself, the Deserter General, was watching everything and everyone in that city. Everyone in Exumber knew that it was home to Code Sanguinary's one and only outpost, and every person in the city feared their men. Demilan knew that they would be right to fear them.
As he walked with Maileena through its streets, memories came flushing at him. Exumber was his hometown. It was where he gained everything that he had that was worth something, and it was where he lost all of that.
Still recovering from his Vex relapse, Demilan straggled to walk, and he had to use Maileena's aid to get by. My body became so dependent on Vex so quickly… no wonder they say Vex is the most addictive, most dangerous drug ever invented. I hate being so weak. But I have to carry on… for Telia.
The two reached a large structure, locked away behind a steel gate and an armed guard. 'Cowden Meats' read the big sign on the structure.
"This is it," said Demilan.
"Cowden Meats?" Maileena looked perplexed. "Code Sanguinary's outpost is in a meat factory?"
"Yeah. They operate from the basement floor of this place. The factory manager here, Iren Eustis, allows Blackburn to do this for… well, quite a decent rent."
"Isn’t Cowden Meats in bed with Mallistrom?"
"Yeah. I also heard that their CEO has business with Reus, and Iren is no exception. Shortly after Reus replaced his old father, Joseph, he wanted to make sure his father's friends would become his own friends, and Blackburn had good relations with Joseph. Back then, Blackburn was struggling to find a location to use as an outpost, and he and his men moved around a lot from one deserted place to another. Reus used his connections at Cowden Meats to arrange it so that Blackburn would be able to use the basement floor of this factory, so long as he pays its manager, Iren, every month."
"So I guess Iren is well connected to Reus." Maileena figured.
"Oh, absolutely. Iren became very close to Reus ever since then, and Blackburn had shown his gratitude by selling Reus guns whenever he needed. Either way, Iren doesn’t give a shit about whatever is going on in that basement. All he cares about is money. Trust me, I know him."
"So, anyway… how do we do this? How do we go in there?"
"There's no 'we' here. You have to stay outside. They'll never let you anywhere near that basement. I'm the only one who can go there. They know me."
"If they know you, then they must also know that you're no longer a member."
"I happen to have a friend that'll let me in." a wry smile appeared on his face.
Looking upset, as she never liked being left out, Maileena stayed behind as Demilan marched on towards the guard at the gate. It's been a year since Demilan had been kicked out of Code Sanguinary, and yet the short walk brought him back to the days when he walked it on an almost daily basis, with green-grey camouflaged Elastics and his trusted Skyla-30 rifle, as a proud soldier of the Deserter General. He recognized the guard as the same one that has always been there, even back in the old times. Some things don’t change.
"Hey there," He greeted the guard. The man looked at Demilan with a peculiar look, as if he was trying to recognize the familiar figure. "You don't remember me?" Demilan asked.
"I do." The guard said. "It's just that I haven’t seen you in a long time."
"Yeah, I know." Demilan bowed his head. "I was in a hospital for a year." He partially lied.
"Seriously? What happened?"
"Coma. I got beat up by some Ferals." The lie became more intricate.
"Damn savages." The guard looked repulsed. It's a good thing he can't know what's going on inside the organization, being only a gate guard, so he can't disprove me.
"Anyway, can you let me in? The guys are expecting me."
"Sure thing." The guard clicked a button in his booth and the metal gate buzzed open, its metal hinges creaking with every inch of its movement.
Demilan walked in with his head high. The meat factory was home to him for many years, yet now he was walking towards it like a stranger in someone else's home. He felt like an outcast, like a trespasser on holy grounds. The grounds of Charles Blackburn.
Sounds of clashing metal and turning cogwheels greeted him as he entered the factory. Among the heavy machinery and abundant chunks of meat that were traveling around on the running tracks, there were plentiful of workers, all wearing blue uniforms, hairnets, and yellow rubber gloves. Demilan passed his gaze around the workers and noticed that he could still recognize some of them from back then. Everyone in this factory must know what's going on in the basement. They've seen the green-grey Elastics walking around and disappearing into the basement floor. And yet they don’t feel intimidated. They know who Blackburn is. He doesn’t target innocent civilians like other ringleaders. He only targets government officials and Justicars. He shouldn’t even be compared to that sadistic bitch, Trife, or that greedy bastard, Mallistrom.
He started making his way towards the basement floor. When he reached the stairs that led below, he felt a slight tremble in his hand. He struggled to figure out if it was due to the Vex detox still affecting him or simply because he felt anxious.
Just as he was about to step forward, he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Where do you think you're going?" the voice said. Demilan turned around and saw Iren Eustis, dressed in a gray suit with his hands crossed and a frown on his face. Iren's facial appearance changed as soon as he saw Demilan's face and recognized him. "You… I remember you."
"It's good to see you too, Iren," Demilan said with a hesitant smile.
"What are you doing here?"
"W-What do you mean? I'm about to head down to—"
"Don’t bullshit me. You may think that everything that goes down there never reaches this floor, but I'm the exception. I know you got kicked out, plus, I don’t see you wearing any Elastics, so why don’t you tell me why you're really here." Dammit. I should have known. I guess Blackburn pays Iren with information, on top of money. "Well?" Iren urged him. Demilan remained speechless. In any other case, he might have been able to think of something on the spot to get himself out of the situation, but his mind was still slightly scrambled from the detox, and so he had trouble doing so. "Alright, I'm going to make it easy for you," Iren said. He reached for his suit and drew a gun from a shoulder holster. Demilan looked around. None of the workers were looking at them, even though at least one of them must have noticed what was happening by now. He wondered if they were so indifferent because they were scared or because they just didn’t care.
Demilan tried to find words, only to blurt an awkward stutter. "I-I—"
"It's okay, Iren, he's with me." Demilan heard yet another familiar voice, only, this time, it was a much more welcomed one. Winselt Langton climbed up the stairs from the basement floor with a calm smile on his face. Rough stubble adorned his face, along with a long, gruesome scar going from his forehead, through his right eyebrow, to his right cheek. He had Elastics on his legs while the gloves and mask hung on his belt, and silver double-barreled pistols rested in their chest holsters, under each of his armpits.
"Winselt!" Demilan shook his old friend's hand and gave him a warm hug.
"It's good to see you again, Demilan," Winselt said with a cheerful smile. "Anyway, like I said," he turned to Iren. "He's coming with me." Iren snorted and turned away. As soon as he left, Winselt's face embraced a concerned expression. "What are you doing here? What were you thinking coming here? You know we have cameras watching everyone who enters this facility. As soon as they saw your face, they alerted Blackburn immediately. They sent me here to take you to him."
"It's okay, Winselt. Take me to him."
"Did you… come here to see Blackburn?"
"Not exactly. I'll explain things after I finish talking to him. Right now, I'm sure he's waiting for me, so we shouldn’t waste time."
Winselt's face remained looking concerned. "Alright. Let's go." He said.
The two walked down the stairs. Demilan took each step slowly and carefully, while hanging on to the wall rail, as he had trouble keeping his balance on such steep stairs. Winselt noticed Demilan's painfully slow pace, yet he didn’t dare to ask about it. Two years ago I was walking down these stairs as a proud soldier… now I'm walking down them as a hunted outcast, barely able to keep his balance together.
The hallways of the basement floor were as narrow and ghastly as he remembered them. Grey walls lit by white fluorescent lights sent off a sense of seriousness and coldness, just like the soldiers of Code Sanguinary. Demilan held off any memories of those hallways from rising with all his efforts, in an attempt to stay focused and keep his mind collected.
He looked at Winselt, focusing on the silver pistols on his chest. "I see you still carry those old pistols, eh?"
Winselt chuckled. "Oh, yeah. Umbra and Lux never left my side." He drew them and landed a soft kiss on each of the double-barreled pistols. Demilan always considered an assault rifle to be much more effective in battle than those pistols, yet Winselt always liked those guns, and never liked using any others.
"I can't believe you've been using them all this time. I'm surprised you're not dead yet."
"These bad boys never let me down. They're the reason I'm still breathing." Winselt grinned.
Finally, Winselt stopped in front a white door at the end of the hallway. Demilan recognized it as the door leading to Blackburn's office. He was never allowed to enter that room. Only Blackburn's lieutenants were. As he walked through the door, leaving Winselt behind, an amusing thought came up to him. Who would have thought that the day I would get to enter Blackburn's office would be in such circumstances?
The door closed behind Demilan with a loud shut. A long, rectangular black table stood in the middle of the room. The spiraling lines of the Seditone were carved into the middle of it. Blackburn always bore that symbol with pride. Five characters sat around the table. On the right side of the table sat Jonathan Conley and Bradley Hodge. On the left side sat Keith Gaines and Peter Hoover. Those were Blackburn's four lieutenants. They were all in their 50s, gray and white hair being their common feature of appearance. They all had an impressive military experience and had proven themselves time and again on the battlefield. I wouldn’t expect Blackburn to choose any lesser men to stand at his side. At the top of the table, sitting right in front of Demilan, was Charles Blackburn, staring at very soldier he kicked out a year ago.
The five shot-callers of Code Sanguinary, Demilan thought.
"Sir, I—" Demilan started saying.
"Don't," Blackburn interrupted him with a wave of his hand. He went on to stare at Demilan for a moment longer with his dark blue eyes. His facial expression was dead and cold as a corpse. All eyes were fixated on Demilan, as he stood there like a criminal waiting for his sentence. He tried reading into Blackburn's face to see if he could guess his thoughts as the General stared at him in silence, yet the Deserter General was unreadable. The eerie quietude lasted a few moments longer, making Demilan more and more nervous. Blackburn's stare gave off an ominous, baleful feeling, one that no other man could possibly give off.
"It seems that lately people have been underestimating me," Blackburn finally broke the silence. "I only just got exonerated from murder charges. It was a desperate attempt by Jonah Dillard to make me another player in his game of bribes. He thought I could be played like a puppet, to be intimidated by such a corrupted scum like him. I gave him a very clear answer, in the form of three dead bodies. Jonah Dillard thought I could be manipulated. He thought he could twist my arm. And now here YOU are, back again where you were told to never step foot again. It seems that everyone has forgotten who I was… who I am."
"I know." Demilan bowed his head down in shame. "I know I'm not supposed to be here."
"And yet you are. Have you too forgotten who I am?"
"No, sir. I never did. I served you for many years and I've always admired your leadership—"
"Save the ass-kissing." Blackburn frowned. "I'm glad you still remember." He got up from his seat. The four lieutenants did the same. Before Demilan had a chance to figure out what was about to happen, the two lieutenants who were the closest to him, Jonathan Conley and Keith Gaines, brought him down to his knees with a kick. It wasn’t hard to knock Demilan out of balance in his current state. Once he raised his head, he saw the barrel of a gun being pointed at his face, held by Blackburn himself. "That means I don’t have to explain your punishment," He said in a cold manner.
This wasn’t part of what I planned. I know Blackburn. He would never harm his own soldiers. But… his eyes… his face… he looks eager to pull the trigger. Was I wrong? Did he change? Or is it that he no longer considers me a soldier? "I only came here to ask for help!" Demilan cried.
"Help?" Blackburn wondered. "Why would I help you?"
"I don’t know. It was a last resort. I hoped maybe you could let bygones be bygones. I did serve you for a long time." Blackburn remained silent. His hand remained firm around the gun handle. His dark blue eyes remained dead and fixed. "Please… it's my wife, Telia… she's been kidnapped by Men of Midas. She's held at the Godly Succubi. I have to get her back." Blackburn's eyes narrowed. "I know I was kicked out. I know I'm not welcomed here but goddammit I still served you loyally!" Demilan begged. "She's innocent. She's helpless. There's no telling what they're doing to her."
Blackburn lowered his gun, his face still looking blank. "As much as I'm sorry for your wife, I'm running an organization here, and I must put its sake above all else. My relations with Reus Mallistrom are good at the moment. We sell them guns and their money helps to keep us going, so I have no interest in doing anything that might harm his club, and let alone I have no interest in helping a junky like you." He didn’t even look sorry or sympathetic. Blackburn truly is a cold and calculated person. No matter how much I beg or how dire my situation will ever be, he will never help me. "You mentioned your long service in my ranks. Consider that the only reason you're being spared." Demilan was raised back on his feet. "However, the next time I see your face around here, I won't even give you the chance of crying to me."
The door behind Demilan was opened by one of the lieutenants. "You are no longer a soldier. You're just a walking sin." Upon those hurtful words uttered, Demilan left the room, looking shameful and disappointed. He glanced behind one last time, seeing Blackburn's dead stare as the door closed.
Winselt waited for him on outside the room. Once he saw Demilan walk out of it, he looked quite relieved, probably since he was still alive. "I'm going to have to walk you out," Winselt said.
"I know." Demilan walked with him, as the two made their way outside.
"How did it go? He didn’t kill you so I guess it wasn’t that bad."
"Oh, I may be alive, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t bad. I didn’t expect to be ambushed by his lieutenants as well."
"Don’t flatter yourself. You happened to catch them in the middle of a meeting. You're not that important to Blackburn."
"I see."
"Was it worth it? Was it worth risking your life and coming here?"
"I don’t know yet. That's up to you." Demilan's eyes turned to Winselt.
"W-What do you mean?"
"I didn’t really come here to see Blackburn. I knew that I would be forced to see him as soon as I step foot in this place, but I was actually coming here to see you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. I need your help."
"Well, you could have called, you know."
"Actually, I couldn't. I lost my SmartWrist about six months ago, along with your phone number." He held his hand high and showed him his bare wrist.
"Couldn’t you just track my number somehow?"
"Winselt, I'm on the run, in case you haven’t noticed. It's not like I have a phone book or online access at my disposal."
"I see. So what do you need from me?"
"Up until yesterday I was living in an apartment in Ashcote owned by a friend of Telia who generously allowed me to use it while he was out of town, but I can't stay there anymore and I have nowhere else to stay."
Winselt gazed at Demilan, looking sorry for his former comrade. Everything in Demilan was saddening. The trouble he had to keep his balance, the need to risk his life only to beg for his old friend for a place to stay, but on top of all that, his eyes were the most saddening. He had the eyes of someone who had lost all that is dear to him. The eyes of a soul so lonely and desperate that a thousand cries of sorrow wouldn’t match its own.
"Alright, I can help you," Winselt said. "There's a motel not far from here. The owner owes me a few favors. I'll give you the address and call him up front. Go there and introduce yourself. I'll make sure he'll give you a room to stay."
"Winselt… thank you." Demilan was humbled.
"God knows I own you more than this little favor. I'll drop by to visit you there at some point, and when I do, I'm going to want to hear your story. I need to know what's going on."
"You will, Winselt. I promise."
