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No Rest For The Wicked
She’d been busy the last few days. It had been about a week since she’d been caught breaking into Oslov Corp and she had yet to call Sarkozy back. Not for the first time in the last couple of days, Zoya eyed her wallet. The item was currently resting on her desk, facing upwards brightly displaying the date and time. It was a Friday afternoon, and she should have already left the CNC. Instead, she remained at her desk sorting through emails and articles concerning the city’s new reclamation project.

An old Soviet era factory in the outskirts of the industrial side of town was being cleared out and torn down in favor a more modern facility. Supposedly, after shutting down, the building had served as a storage area for toxic chemicals until they could be properly disposed. Now, the city was trying to clean it up, but something didn’t sit well with her. She’d spoken to some of the people that worked there and heard alarm bells go off in the back of her mind.

Some of the men had been getting sick. A couple mentioned having had to clean up a spill that was dismissed by the higher ups. Apparently, they also hadn’t been issued proper equipment to work with. It seemed as if the contractor hired for the job was cutting corners, and in the process, risking the health of the public and their workers.

One of them mentioned to her that some of the stuff was being transported to the Moscow underground. If something happened, there was no telling how much harm that could cause. It was no secret that some of the poor and immigrant population hid there, along with a long list of the city’s undesirables. Should something go wrong, then large amounts of people would be at risk exposure.

She at the time displayed on her wallet yet again. It was 6:30 in the evening. Likely, the factory was empty by now. Most people would have gone off to enjoy their weekend. If she went alone, the chances of getting discovered due to someone else's mistakes were minimal. The night of her arrest wasn’t the first time she’d picked a lock or two, but it had been the first getting caught.

It didn’t take long for her to slip on her jacket, and wrap her scarf around her neck. Picking up her gloves and wallet, Zoya made her way out of the main office; ensuring, of course, to turn off the lights and lock up.
It took her about forty minutes of driving, but at least she made it to the factory. Zoya parked the car about a block from the old complex and walked the rest of the way. The main building used as storage was old, and she wasn’t surprised to see it being torn down in the near future. It was a pity, however, the brick had likely seen its fair share of history as the years passed.

The whole property was flanked at either side by two other large streets, and behind it ran an alley that connected the two. It consisted of two buildings. The larger of the two, and the one she was focused on, was a huge L shaped structure. It rose for about 4 stories. A few of the windows on the upper levels were broken, and the rooms behind them seemed darker than the night outside. Aside from being worn down by time, some of the exterior was covered in graffiti.

She wasn’t sure if it was the cold night, or perhaps the ominous look of the place, but a chill ran down Zoya’s spine.

In a hurry, she walked down towards the alley, looking for a back entrance on the left side of the building. The right, she’d noticed, was where the chemical barrels were likely stored, but the only entrances in that direction were large rollup warehouse doors. On the plus side, there was no light in the alley to give her away as she looked for a good place to break in, but just to make sure she wouldn’t get caught, Zoya remained alert to any noises or distant shapes.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. She froze and listened while her pulse quickened, but after a couple of minutes waiting, the street was quiet once again. Fortunately there didn’t seem to be anyone about.

Earlier, she’d pulled her hair back so that it was half up and half down and the smaller tresses were held back by bobby pins. But, as she walked to the back door, her hands reached up to pull free a couple of the pins. It looked as if the lock had been replaced over the years and it wouldn’t be too difficult for her to break in. Again, she looked up and down the street while bending a bobby pin with her teeth, silently thanking her first roommate for teaching her that particular trick when they both locked themselves out of their dorm room.

“Bobby pins,”

she whispered to herself after inserting them in the lock and listening for the soft familiar set of clicks, “never leave home without them.”
Then, the woman turned the lock and pushed gently. The door opened, giving her a view of the dark interior. One last quick glance outside while she stuck the pins in her pocket, and Zoya hurried in, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

She was greeted by the usual musty smell found in old buildings. The air inside was just as cold as out in the street, but despite the fact that men had been working there during the day, the interior still gave her the creeps. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness of the building. Reaching in her left pocket, Zoya pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on.

She didn’t know the precise floor plan of the building, but Zoya suspected it wouldn’t be too difficult to get to the right wing from where she was.
Edited by Zoya Bocharov, Jun 20 2014, 05:46 PM.
A noise…

Something was different. The air smelled different. Sweeter…
The creature stopped in mid step. It walked on all fours. Though it resembled a human in some aspects, it moved with the predatory speed of a beast. Disjointed movements pushed it forward as it smelled the air once more.

Jaws opened and the skin around them peeled back as a low hiss revealed sharp fangs. Saliva dripped from its mouth. Yes. It anticipated the taste already. So sweet.

The blood.

The hunger.

There was nothing else. Only the hunger. Always the hunger.


It growled and made slow clicking noises as it searched for its prey. In one leap, the Rakshasa climbed onto a wall, holding on with claws as sharp as steel. Close.

It was so close.

In its heyday, the place had been dedicated to the building of Radio Equipment. The bottom floor was apparently pretty open. She’d passed an office or two, judging by the large windows that faced the assembly rooms, likely meant for supervisors. She could almost see the place filled with people, busy over tables that no longer were in the room. Instead, the large work bays were filled with boxes and crates. God only knew what was in them. Probably old electronics or documents.

By the time she made her way into the large bay that composed the right wing of the building, Zoya was ready to get things over it. She wasn’t exactly afraid of the dark, but the silence of the place was enough to make anyone a little edgy. Her flashlight swept across the large bay as she took in the various groups of barrels. There was a definite chemical smell in the air that didn’t sit too well with her.

Raising her scarf to cover her nose, Zoya walked up to the barrels. She tried to inspect the writing, hoping to find any indication of what they may contain, but some lacked markings altogether. Despite the variety of colors, from yellow and red to blue and green, all the containers had something in common. Rust.

How was it that these things were allowed remain this way for so long? About halfway into the warehouse, part of the concrete floor had a large stain. Whatever it was, Zoya suspected it had a lot to do with how some of the men she talked to had gotten sick. Pulling out her wallet, she dialed the number for the Moscow City Police.

“Yes, hello. Is there any way you can connect me with Officer Sarkozy?”
She spoke to the desk officer after uncovering her face. Judging by the voice that greeted her, it was the same fellow that had been there when Ivan brought her in. “Not in? Um… no… could you just tell him that Zoya Bocharov called? Yes, Bocharov. Um, no, he doesn’t need to come to me at the moment. Could you have him call me back though?”
She gave the man her number, repeating it a second time to ensure he had it written down right. “Yes, thank you.”
She returned her wallet back to her pocket and recovered her face while crouching down to look at the stain and wondering exactly what it had been. There was no way of telling without taking samples from the barrels, but she wasn’t equipped to do that.

I have to get someone here during the day…

It was as she stood up again that she heard a noise. Puzzled, she turned her face to look back the way she came. She aimed her flashlight to the doorway, seeing nothing at first. The hair in the back of her neck stood on end and an unpleasant feeling began to take hold in the pit of her stomach. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She’d probably been out in the dark too long. For a moment, Zoya turned the flashlight back to the barrels again and walked past the floor stain to inspect another pile of the stuff.

Was that a hiss?

She spun around again, aiming her light at the doorway, and froze. Two glowing orbs stared back at her. Whatever it was, it remained high up in the corner of the doorway. The fear was sudden. It was deep, and bone chilling. What the hell is that!

She trembled, but remained fixed in place. Her feet simply didn’t move. The thing, however, crawled forward and onto the ceiling. It looked at her. Its neck twisted awkwardly as it made a low crackling sound.

The scream died in her throat as the pale skinned creature exposed a pair of fangs and moved one threatening step closer. It was then that she found the strength to move. She couldn’t run straight at it and out the door, but maybe she could find another way out that she hadn’t seen before. She ran.

She ran, and the creature followed, chasing her as it leapt from the ceiling down onto some barrels, tipping them over as it scrambled for its footing and settling on to the floor. The clashing of the metal on the concrete floor made her jump. A quick look over her shoulder made the scarf fall off her face, but in her fright, she didn’t care.

The creature’s claws clicked against the floor as it crawled towards her. It was quick, and it moved in a way no person ever could. It shrieked and hissed as it got closer, cornering Zoya against a wall. All the while, the woman could hear her own panting, the heavy pounding of her heart. Not having anywhere to go, she fell back against the wall. Her head turned this way and that, frantically hoping for any way to get away.

The thing stopped about ten feet away, leaning off to the right as it studied her. At some point, she’d dropped her flashlight, and now she used both hands, and her feet, as she pushed as far back onto the wall as she could. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but Zoya could have sworn that she saw the creature better in the dark than she had at a distance with her flashlight. Everything seemed more vivid. The musty smell of the place mingled with the pungent odor of the thing. The sound of its own breathing seemed to blend with her frightened panting.

She watched it leaned back on its haunches and screamed as I leapt forward, throwing out her hand as if it could stop the thing. “Nooooo!!!”

A bolt of electricity shot from her left, striking the monster in mid-air. The light was blinding, but she could hear the inhuman scream as the thing was shot back, pushed a few yards away, and onto some of the barrels. To her surprise, none of them exploded as it hit them.

It lay still. Smoke rose from the limp, charred form. Heart still pounding, Zoya crawled onto her knees and up onto her feet. She ran, scrambling along the way to pick up her flashlight. She ran, crying and panting, wanting to be anywhere other than the factory any longer. She ran, leaving behind a dead monster and a smoking outlet she’d never once laid eyes on.

<small>Continued Here</small>

Edited by Zoya Bocharov, Jun 21 2014, 12:08 PM.
(to be deleted)

Edited by Hood, Jun 21 2014, 06:25 PM.

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