«What is love? Of course, there are a few answers to this question. Still, I like to think that love is a beautifully engineered delusion—neurotransmitters hijacking logic to serve evolution's primary goals. It is not as profound as others make it out to be; just biological blackmail dressed as poetry.»
«Sweet, addictive, poetry.»
The time was 6:56.
It had been a few days since he infected his boss's computer with malware.
Evening draped the city in a burnt orange haze, creating shadows too deep for the imagination to bear. The stench of weed hung in the air.
It didn't help that the substance was now legal, making it even more ubiquitous.
The sound of chatter mixed with the occasional rumblings of passing cars, yet one's attention would still be drawn to a couple entering a run-down apartment building.
It was Mr. Valen and his partner, Lia, who upon reaching their apartment, collapsed on the bed, her breath tinged with exhaustion.
"That was wonderful, it's like you planned everything to the minute." She laughed, before sitting up. "I never knew you could be so thoughtful, what made you want to go to the mall today?"
Her jovial tone was met with a smile from Mr. Valen, one that did not reach his eyes as he closed in. "I have to keep you distracted, don't want you talking to the wrong people now, do we?" he teased.
"What are you even talking about?" Lia muttered, her breath low as she put her hands around his neck drawing him even closer, their breaths touching.
"You're changing, why is that?" She asked as she kissed him, and of course, Mr. Valen kissed back pulling her by the waist, but his thoughts could not help but wander.
'Mallpoint Plaza huh, It could serve as the perfect escape route if things don't go as planned, Who knew it had a direct route to the city's sewage system-'
"Ohh, by the way, I wanted to ask, why did you give that homeless guy so much food?" Lia asked inquisitively.
Tilting his head, Mr. Valen chuckled. "I'm trying to be kinder, you-"
"Ring!"
A sudden chime from Mr. Valen's phone interrupted the moment causing him to pull back with a sorry smile. "I have to take that."
"Why," Lia moaned like a child, latching onto him with the force of ten men.
The strength with which she commanded shocked Mr. Valen; he could hardly break free, so he bargained. "It's work, darling, we wouldn't want my boss to get angry now, would we?"
"Hmm," Lia pondered before asking. "But aren't you on the morning shift today? You already went to work this morning."
"I took up a bit more work today, I kinda need the extra pay." Mr. Valen chuckled as he felt Lia's grip loosen.
This allowed him to escape from her, and pick up his phone from the couch.
He saw the missed call was from an unknown number—one he couldn't call back—but he didn't panic
Instead, he picked up a large tactical or hiking backpack, which he had prepared before, and mounted it on his back.
"I'm heading out," Mr. Valen said to Lia, adjusting his hoodie, to at least retain some level of decency.
It was worth noting that he was not particularly happy with his attire, but he could not change it, as there was nothing to change it to.
It would appear that the majority of Mr. Valen's wardrobe consisted of thrift store hoodies and jeans.
With that, he stepped out of the building and immediately stopped a taxi, ignoring Phill, who offered to sell him some weed along the way.
"Where to?" The driver asked, his tone blank as he observed Mr. Valen from his rearview mirror.
But he received no answer because Mr. Valen seemed a bit distracted, his eyes locked on a man in the far distance who had been observing him for quite some time now.
Unfortunately, he was too far to make out the details of his appearance, so he turned to the taxi driver, who was beginning to get annoyed, and showed him the location on his phone.
"I'm going to this place," he said.
"Took you forever to decide." The Taxi driver murmured as he sped off.
Meanwhile, at a distance, a skinny guy with long curly hair and black eyes watched Mr. Valen's Taxi as it drove out of view.
Immediately after, he picked up his phone and called an unknown number, which rang twice before it was answered.
From the other end, a voice responded. "What is it?"
The voice seemed familiar, and if one paid attention, they would discover that it was Lexa's voice.
Quickly, as though fearing something, the skinny man responded. "You asked me to look for strange movements, right? Well, today he was on for the morning shift but now he's gone out again, and he's wearing a rather large backpack."
"He almost never leaves. Where is he going?" Lexa asked lazily, her question accompanied by a yawn.
At her words, the slender man felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. "I—he—I couldn't—"
"How incompetent." Lexa cut him short before ordering. "Communicate with your colleagues, and be on standby to see what happens when he gets back."
"Beeeep!"
Her words were followed by a long beep indicating that she had hung up.
-------
Nighttime in District-Forty Two was very colorful, with brightly lit high rises, neon signs, and digital billboards showcasing one commercial or another.
The roads and streets were busy, moving cars driving through with their headlights on, pedestrians going about their daily lives, and much more.
But not all parts of the city were bathed in light; some parts were shrouded in shadows so thick that one feared to venture in.
One such place was an old abandoned sock factory east of District Forty Two, which was scheduled for demolition in a few months.
The area around it was remote, but strangely enough, one could spot a man approaching this place with steady steps.
It was Mr. Valen who had stopped in front of a cafe not too far from here before hiking to this place on foot.
He spied the factory from a distance, but it was not unfamiliar to him, because he was the one who picked this place.
The factory's rusted frame clawed into the sky, skeletal beams jutting out of crumbling brickwork.
Vines had crept up its walls over the years, while shattered windows gaped like rotting teeth.
As Mr. Valen approached, the world seemed to quiet around him, but he remained calm. "It is not unlikely that I'd be robbed in a place like this," he thought as he moved.
The distant buzz of District Forty-Two's neon lights faded into a muffled hum. He could hear them before, but the closer he got to the factory, the more the world around him grew unnaturally quieter.
Mr. Valen was graced with a very bad feeling, his instincts screaming at him to turn back, but he did not.
Before him, a flickering streetlight cast irregular shadows that danced across the broken pavement, elongating Mr. Valen's silhouette until it seemed like a second figure walked beside him.
Every step echoed louder than it should have, until he arrived at his destination, a massive iron gate blocking his path.
The massive iron gate creaked open at his touch, the sound groaning into the night like a warning no one would hear.
Inside, the factory floor was choked with debris, twisted conveyor belts, toppled shelves, and shattered glass.
That was the meeting point, and so Mr. Valen resolved to look around.
'This place has not been empty for long,' Mr. Valen thought, pondering deeply.
«There are faint boot prints in the dust, prints which belong to a rather sizable person. There is also a crushed cigarette on the ground. I expected Lucien to come himself, but it would seem that he couldn't make it.»
"I'm here Rigg," Mr. Valen suddenly said, his voice bold, echoing in the quiet factory.
"You knew I was here, that's impressive," Rigg's voice sounded out, his tone calm as he responded, "come this way."
Hearing Rigg's words, Mr. Valen stepped forward, entering a room on the lower floor of the factory.
There, Rigg sat with a large tactical hiking backpack, similar to the one Mr. Valen was wearing.
"Everything is here," Rigg said once he spotted Mr. Valen, looking around.
He then asked, "so this is where you will be operating from?"
"Yes, it is," Mr. Valen answered before throwing a bundle of cash at Rigg, which he caught effortlessly.
Observing the bundle of cash, Rigg did not count it; rather, he observed that Mr. Valen was wearing a bag identical to the one he had brought, piquing his curiosity.
"What's in your bag, kid?" He asked, his head tilted.
"Insurance. I prepared in case things don't go according to plan," Mr. Valen answered.
Raising a brow, Rigg said with a chuckle. "You brought a gun? Haha, that's funny. I don't want to do anything to you now, but when you fail to deliver what you promised, then I will deal with you."
His words were accompanied by a certain stillness that spoke of his seriousness, but Mr. Valen was hardly threatened.
"Ha," he scoffed, walking closer as he added. "You don't want to harm me, or you were ordered not to, which is it?"
"Don't push your luck, kid." Rigg expanded before throwing the bag to Mr. Valen, allowing him to check its contents.
Mr. Valen unzipped the bag to find that it was filled with the materials he needed, not a single bit missing.
Standing up from the table, Rigg asked while watching Mr. Valen as he went through the bag. "So you're gonna leave these things here?"
"Yes, I'll come back for them at the end of the month," Mr. Valen said before adding. "I chose this place because even homeless people don't come near it, due to how easily this place could collapse it-"
Mr. Valen suddenly stopped in his tracks as he felt a chill run through his spine once more.
He was not the only one, Rigg also seemed to feel it, his eyes narrowed as he asked, "what the fuck kid, you are really bad at choosing locations, this place is chilly."
"This is not a chill," Mr. Valen warned, and at the sound of his words, the ground began to vibrate faintly, said vibrations overlapped by a subtle pulse.
Then came the sound, it was not a growl, nor was it a roar, instead it was a scream—one too deep to be human, too ancient to be earthly, and it came from the street before the factory.
Rigg's eyes widened at that scream, cold sweat streaking down his forehead as he ran out of the factory.
But Mr. Valen did not move immediately, rather, he moved to the bag on the table and picked it up, exchanging it with his own.
It was then that he followed Rigg and, upon reaching the factory's compound, he observed with widened eyes something he'd read about but never truly seen.
It appeared outside the factory gate, not too far from the factory itself, a sight that was difficult to describe.
It seemed that the surrounding space had become a shattered mirror, and within that shattered space was a slit which revealed nothing but darkness beyond.
It reached a length of about twenty feet, but it was still growing.
Fortunately, it was too thin for anything to pass through, or so he thought.
In that moment, two hands, or should one say two silver claws, jutted through, holding each end of the rift, and soon began widening it with sheer strength.
It was at that moment that loud sirens were triggered around the city flaring loudly, the sound almost deafening.
Simultaneously Mr. Valen along with everyone in the surrounding area received an SMS, which read:
A temporary passageway has appeared at Latitude: 39.1928° N Longitude: 96.5823° W it is advised that one proceed with extreme caution.