Ten miles out of Bilbury, England, deep in the countryside, is a castle that once belonged to some grandson of a grandson of a Duke's bastard. It's called The Lion's Maw, now home to the Tinkerer White Rabbit. The contract is simple: 500 million dollars to steal a piece of Tinkertech and deliver it to a pub in London called Ole Billy's. The same pub we're meeting in now. I don't know who hired us, and I don't want to know; it keeps things cleaner that way. The only thing we care about is that the check clears.

"So what do we know about White Rabbit?" Heart asked.

Angelique Monet, known by the sobriquet Heart, is the muscle of our mercenary group. The Trinidadian woman is the newest member of the Suits, not that it means much when she joined over a decade ago at the young age of sixteen. Her skin is several shades darker than most from the Caribbean, making her gray striped hair stand out more than it normally would on a woman so young—a side effect of her power, but one that is quite welcome in our line of work. Traversal abilities are pretty rare, especially one that has other additional abilities alongside it.

"I already told you that we're waiting for Spade to finish checking this place out before we debrief. Just order a beer and chill out," I said, picking up my own mug and sloshing the disgusting piss yellow liquid around.

Ole Billy's is a shithole. The sorry excuse for a booth we're sitting in is made of rotted wood that was made by the most spiteful carpenter in existence. The curvature of the back support is at a seventy-five-degree angle, forcing me to lean forward and developing a cramp the longer we sit here. To add to the fucking misery is that there isn't any padding to make it slightly better. It smells of stale air and wet dog in here. Every surface is stickier than a teenage boy's wastebasket, and I can't put my beer on the table out of fear it'll be stuck permanently. There are a total of five lights in the entire place, and I don't think a single one is operating at full strength. Some might say it's to help set the mood, which I'd say it's quite successful at if the mood is suicidal. I've seen parents at the funeral of their child who were more lively than the patrons of this pit. Five of the sorriest looking pieces of shit, all racing to see which one can die from liver failure first. All of them have the look of laborers who spend every earned pound on drowning their sorrows in swill.

The bar's big enough to fit fifty people comfortably, but the four of us, the bartender, and the combined cloud of depression from the sadsaps make it a bit of a tight squeeze. The bartender is a chubby, pasty unit with jowls that make his aggressively antisocial frown even more pronounced. His thin black hair is trimmed short and neat. The tucked-in faded blue polo, dark pants, and clean shoes show that he is someone who considers his appearance. Despite that, he is one of the unfriendliest motherfuckers I've had the displeasure of dealing with, communicating in grunts and mumbles like some kind of zombie. The beer he served me was warm and tastes of grass clippings and vinegar. I only bought it so he wouldn't make a stink about us being here for so long.

When Spade comes back in and sits, she disturbs the dusty dirt and grime; a cloud of it descends over me, the table, and my drink. At least I don't have to finish drinking it. Andrea Parker, also known as Spade, has been my partner for over forty years. The two of us grew up in the Bronx together, triggered together, and formed our mercenary group, The Suits, together. She's one of the smartest people I've ever known, and would've done a lot if we hadn't triggered. Brilliant white girl who could've went to Columbia, instead of being in this shithole with me.

"Everything's good. But don't eat anything. The place is even easier than it looks," Spade warned.

The fourth member of our group is the currently unresponsive man with glassy eyes—Hector Suarez, the Argentinian Cowl, who now goes by Club. A former lieutenant to one of the South American warlords, he escaped to Mexico shortly after the Heroes' Union began to sweep through the continent, removing warlords and freeing the people who were living under their iron fist. His ability is incredibly useful, especially in our line of work. Even if we're forced to keep his body safe while he does it. Heart is an infiltrator, Spade is our information gatherer/planner, and I'm the muscle. Club is capable of filling all of those roles himself if needed.

"You don't need to tell me that, sista. Diamond was drinking the bee-uh, but apparently, dust is whe-uh the man draws the line of ingestible items. Now that you're here, can we finally talk about the target? Every one of you seems to know about the White Rabbit, cept me," Heart said, her accent slightly slipping through.

"Relax," I said. "Spade, you mind?"

She pulls out a large black folder, containing the dossier we have on White Rabbit.

"White Rabbit is a Tinkerer whose specialty seems to be creating tech that is capable of connecting to alternate dimensions. They use this to varying effects, such as spheres that function as portals to these dimensions, bombs that replace the detonation site with a chunk from another reality, weapons that can do things we wouldn't even think of, among other things. They have been operating for a long time, and there are rumors that they might even be an Original. Despite how long they've been active, they don't get involved with conflicts or even interact with any other Neuvohumans. They are neither a Cape nor a Cowl, and seem content to just tinker and research in their castle. No one even knows the Tinkerer's gender," Spade said, going over the file.

"If they have no affiliations, then why don't we just try and buy the item from them? Or if that won't work, threaten them into giving it to us?" Heart asked.

"I wasn't finished. The reason they are able to maintain their isolationist nature is that they have disappeared every single person sent to interact with them. BNA Special Agents, Heroes' Union representatives, government officials, rogue Capes, opportunistic Cowls, every single person who trespasses on their property is never seen from again. No one knows what happens to them, but if White Rabbit is doing it on purpose, they have succeeded in crafting a terrifying reputation. We need to get in and out without alerting White Rabbit to our existence, or we're never leaving," Spade said ominously.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"And here I was thinking that 500 million was going to be an easy payday. A girl can dream," Heart sighed.

Club's body stirs as the man readjusts to the sensation of being human again. He shudders, the hair on his tanned arms standing up with goosebumps. He blinks slowly, the glossy look in his eyes fading as the light returns to them. Stretching out all his limbs, the sound of cracking and popping comes from his bones. With his body being unmoving, sitting in this uncomfortable fucking booth, I bet he's sore as shit. While he continues to sort through the memories and feelings he just had with those of a human, Spade continues going over our job.

"We are there to grab an invention of White Rabbit, a piece of Tinkertech called the Tea Cup. We've been given a brief description of what it looks like, alongside a rough sketch of it. Green light on weapons, explosives, and tactics. All that matters is getting the item. Even then, I still believe our best bet is to move like ghosts and leave no traces. Club, you well enough to tell us what you found?"

He clears his throat a few times, rotating his jaw and cracking his neck. "Yeah, I'm alright. The castle has no guards on the property that I could find. I couldn't find any anti-air weapons, or any weapons for that matter. There are no force fields, radars, or surveillance equipment at all. What I did find was that the entirety of the surrounding area is dotted with giant portal spheres. Based on the displacement of dirt and their general location, I believe they're from landmines buried in the grounds of the property. I didn't venture into any of them, but I did manage to get inside the castle and explore. What I found isn't good; there's nothing there," Club answered.

Fuck.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"There's no lab anywhere. I checked basements, bedrooms, inside the walls, and stairwells, everywhere. There wasn't a single living creature there, not even a spider in the corner of the ceiling. The place doesn't have power, and there isn't a sign that anyone lives here. It wasn't until I checked out the servant's quarters that I found a clue as to White Rabbit's whereabouts. In the closet of one of the rooms, I found a stable portal. That's probably where the actual laboratory is," Club suggested.

Is that just a red herring? Spade might be able to discover a hidden room or a secret entrance that leads to the lab. But, odds are, Club's right about the portal. God damn it.

"You're probably right, which means we're going to lose the element of surprise and have to take them on in an unfamiliar battleground. We took on the job; we have to finish it. We're the Suits, after all. We'll go in expecting a prolonged fight, so check all your gear. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna bag us a rabbit," I said.

Seeing firsthand what Club was talking about is eye-opening, to say the least. In my decades of mercenary work, I have been a part of dozens of skirmishes, and the field stretching out in front of me looks reminiscent of a warzone. What was once beautiful, grassy terrain is now a dry, barren, brown field of peaks and valleys caused by explosions. There's a discoloration to the dirt here that is only found in areas where lots of blood soaks into it.

The spheres Club mentioned truly look like holes punched through the world. The outer edge of the orbs glimmers like fresh snow. Some of them are embedded in craters, while others float just above the ground, and even more are hovering over fifteen feet in the air. Each one is a unique window into another reality, and I'm in awe of what few I see. Upside-down vibrant jungles with inverted color schemes, open skies overlooking floating mountains made of crystal, black flames burning across a desert of white sand, glimpses of the infinite void of space as gas giants combust, great machines the size of skyscrapers harvesting glowing veins from the corpses of kaijus, and a world of spirals composed of equations in a language I'll never know. I tear my eyes away from the last one; it was starting to give me a headache.

I give my equipment a once-over, checking the magazine of my rifle and the sights. My arms are bare, showcasing the metallic gray color of them. It's an unfortunate side effect of my power. The rest of my skin is unaffected and retains its normal black color. The rest of my outfit matches the others: a white ski mask with our suit on the temple, form-fitting reinforced zip-up black jackets with matching tactical pants, and grey boots. Spade, Club, and Heart each have their preferred equipment. Spade loves her dual pistols, and her power completely offsets the usual accuracy issue dual-wielding has. Heart has all her knives and various grenades. Club brought a high-caliber rifle and a submachine gun, so he's got any range covered.

"Heart, go ahead and secure the portal. Keep your eyes peeled, there's no telling if Club's intel is still correct. We'll begin moving in five," Spade said.

Heart's shadow begins growing behind her. Thick, swaying tendrils made of shadow emerge from it and wrap around her body. She falls backward, but instead of hitting the ground, she falls into her shadow, which disappears with her, leaving no trace of the woman. After the five-minute waiting period, Spade starts moving. Club and I carefully match her exact movements; her bubble is the only way we're going to be able to avoid any remaining landmines. We pass more and more spheres, each more fascinating than the previous, but I don't allow myself to lag behind.

We reach the castle wall without setting off any bombs and start scaling the decaying old thing. Holes are missing in the bricks, creating plenty of handholds for us to grab on. I reach the top first and help pull up my two comrades. From there, we enter the actual property, guns drawn and ready. It's the silence that is getting to me, as we move through the hallways to get to the stairwell that will give us passage to the servant quarters. The door that leads to the room with the portal is ajar, so Heart completed her part. Spade lowers her weapons as we reach the door, which is as good as a coast is clear we're going to get. Club and I relax as we follow Spade inside to find Heart standing in front of our destination. The closet doesn't have a door. It has a metal frame that encloses the portal, which seems to be the reason for its stable appearance. I can't see any sign of an ambush, but I remain alert. The scene beyond is one of lush vegetation, deep shade, and trees formed from giant mushrooms. I can't see any animals or traps, but that doesn't mean much when you're taking on a Tinkerer in their chosen environment.

What awaits us through that portal?

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.