S3, 03 Trouble on Rerador (FB) (April 30, 2016)

Corresponding text underneath each picture.

**4th April 2096: Present Day**

The clouds broke around the Viper as we hurtled through the atmospheric storm surrounding Rerador.

Tracks bleeped and whirred his unease.

Tank: “Don’t worry about it, buddy. We’ll be landed in less than an hour.” I comported and he grunted in response.

We headed for the co-ordinates that Mr. Grey had given to me a few days ago, back on Zarus, and, as per my estimate, a little under an hour later, arrived.

Located in the middle of one of the vast, barren mountain ranges, tucked away on a cliff ledge, a small green-tinted dome stood isolated. The dome was a shield. Every occupied area on Rerador had to have a shield covering it due to its unhospitable surrounding landscape. Volcanic and hot, it was almost impossible to survive outside of the domes. The dome-shaped shields acted as a barrier, keeping the sulphur, ash and other nasties out, while keeping conditions within at a level that was liveable-in.

I began circling the area, and we both looked down at the lone building inside the dome below us. It looked like an ordinary factory of sorts, nothing out of place, but the fact it was tucked away out here in the middle of nowhere, away from the major domed cities, indicated that *something* was off.

A factory this small and lonely would surely spot an unusual fighter as soon as we approached, so there was no use trying to be sneaky and so, after a couple of minutes of observing from the sky, I took us in.

We passed through the shields and I brought us in to land on the rocky outskirts, near the edge of the cliff ledge, making sure to stay away from the landing pad I’d spotted on the other side of the building.

As the Viper’s engines settled, I clambered out and Tracks followed. As we stood on the rocky ground and looked at the factory, visually searching for an entrance, Tracks grunted quietly.

Tank: “Yeah, I noticed that too.” I confirmed. “I can’t see any guards anywhere.”

Tracks whirred a question.

Tank: “They *could* be expecting us, but I doubt it. But be prepared anyway.” I replied.

Tracks whirred an affirmative and slowly, weapons drawn we headed on foot towards the factory.

We paused up against one of the walls and I peered around the corner. Still no guards.

Tank: “I don’t like this.” I muttered as we proceeded around the building.

Just a few meters further along that wall, we came to a door that was slightly ajar. I motioned for Tracks to get to the opposite side of the door and then very slowly nudged it open.

It swung inwards into a small dark room but I couldn’t see any movement.

Tank: “Tracks.” I prompted and he turned the brightness of his eyes right up so that they acted as flashlights.

It turned out that the room was more of a shed, but that wasn’t what confused me. What confused me was the pile of dead guards heaped on the floor.

Tank: “What?” I muttered aloud to myself as I moved in to examine them more closely. They were all in matching uniforms and had weapons. Definitely guards. So why on Earth had they been killed? I gently felt one and found the body still warm and looking at the floor found it covered in sticky blood. This had happened *Very recently*.

Tank: “Come on. Let’s go.”

Together we moved back out of the shed and continued along the wall to where another door stood wide open. I peered inside and this one seemed to be a proper entrance, although all of the lights inside seemed to be turned out.

We cautiously entered the factory and slowly moved along the dark corridor. Several rooms led off of either side, but they all appeared empty. At the end of the corridor was another room, this one a little larger and lit by dim emergency lights.

We reached it and found that it too was empty.

Voice: “Drop the guns.”

We both froze at the voice from behind us. Clearly one of those rooms *hadn’t* been empty after all.

Voice: “I said drop ‘em.” The voice, a male, repeated firmly. He spoke with a hint of an African accent, quietly but with authority and I did as he commanded, shortly followed by Tracks.

Voice: Turn around nice and slow.”

We did so and I found myself looking at a well-built man with dark skin, wearing equally dark robes and holding a rifle in my direction. He also had two rucksacks swung over one shoulder. I imagined that if he wanted to be, he would be almost impossible to see in the darkness.

Man: “Who are you?” He demanded. “You clearly don’t work here. I heard your ship approaching and you’re not in guard uniforms. So tell me; who are you and why are you here?”

Tank: “My name is Tank. I’m looking for a man named ‘A. Bowen.’” I told truthfully. He needn’t know why.
The man frowned.

Bowen: “I am A. Bowen.” He replied, confused.

Tank: “What?” I asked, equally as baffled.

Bowen: “My name is Amando Bowen. Why are you looking for me? How did you know I was here?”

Tank: “I… I was told you’d be here.” I stammered, still baffled by the turn of events. “I have some questions for you.”

Bowen: “I don’t know who told you I’d be here. Nobody knew except me! Anyway, I do not have time for your questions. You must get out of here immediately.” he commanded, lowering his weapon.

Tank: “What? Why?”

Bowen: “Because…” he replied, swinging one of his rucksack around and showing me what was inside – explosives. A whole bag of them.

Tank: “Wait, you’re blowing this place up?” I asked, getting more confused by the second. I thought Mr. Grey had said he owned this lab?

Bowen: “Yes! Now please, either leave or help me!”

I thought about it quickly. If I left, I might lose my opportunity to ask him about Zeth Stripe.

Tank: “Okay, I’ll help. But only if you answer my questions.”

Bowen: “Your questions can wait. I will answer later.” He replied, already thrusting one of the explosive-filled bags into my arms.

Bowen: “You go that way. I will go this way.” He pointed to two doors on opposite sides of the room. “We will meet outside by your ship once we have both finished.”

And with that, Amando strode off, leaving me rather baffled and holding the rucksack full of bombs. I looked at Tracks and after a moment he shrugged. I sighed and thrust that sack at him.

Tank: “Here, you can carry this.” I announced as I bent and retrieved our dropped weapons.

About an hour later and Tracks and I were in the main area of the factory, still planting explosives all over the place. The factory itself seemed abandoned. I don’t know when it had stopped being in use, but there was a decent layer of dust on top of everything. Which begged the question, where was the supposed drugs lab that was in here? Clearly it was hidden away somewhere that we just hadn’t gotten to yet.

Since splitting up, I hadn’t seen Amando again, but I trusted that he was elsewhere in the facility. I *had* to trust that really! If he wasn’t, I could lose everything. Not just my chance at finding out about my parent’s killer, but also my life! If he blew these charges while I was still in here with a bag full of them, I’d have no chance!

I primed another charge, stuck to a metal girder and then Tracks and I bounded up a short flight of stairs next to us and made our way along a metal walkway to a blue-painted door at the far end.

I tried the handle but it was locked.

Tank: “Damn.” I cursed quietly. Did I try and break through without knowing what was waiting on the other side, or did I leave it and move on?

As it happened, I didn’t even have to make a decision.

Loudly, the fluorescent lighting in the ceiling suddenly turned on, one at a time – the light spreading across the room with each new one turned on.

I shielded my eyes from the sudden brightness.

Bowen: “Stay right there!” Bowen’s voice shouted and I squinted through my fingers to the other end of the walkway where he and two guards were approaching, guns raised.

Bowen: “Drop the sack, scumbag!” he demanded.

What was going on? Was this a double-cross?

Tank: “What’s going on?” I demanded in return, my eyes starting to adjust to the new lighting conditions.

Bowen: “I was hoping you’d be the one to answer that question. Who the f\*\*k are you and what the hell do you think you’re doing in my factory?”

Tank: “What? Your factory?” I asked. This day just got more and more confusing. So Mr. Grey *had* been right. He did own it. So why the heck was he trying to blow it up?

Bowen: “Yes! **MY** factory! What’s the matter? You deaf or something? Now, drop the sack or get put down!”

Tank: “Okay! Okay!” I gave in, still confused as hell, and gently placed the sack on the ground. “What’s with the change of plan?”

Bowen: “What plan? Shut the f\*\*k up, asshole!” he shouted and motioned for his guards to advance on us. They came in close and disarmed but myself and Tracks. They didn’t know about Tracks’ concealed shoulder minigun though, however, we also couldn’t use it because if we killed him, I’d lose the lead on Zeth. I needed those answers from him.

Tank: “So, I suppose you’re not up for answering those questions then?” I said, slightly cockily.

Bowen glared at me and marched straight along the walkway towards us. I braced myself just in time as he lashed out and punched me right in the face. I would have fallen, but Tracks caught me and robotically squawked at my attacker.

Bowen: “Take them to the cells!” he commanded his guards. One unlocked the door I’d been trying to get through while the other kept his own gun closely trained on both Tracks and myself and then, once the door had been opened they shoved us both through. Tracks growled in warning.

Tank: “Tracks, don’t.” I told him, my head still groggy from the punch. I also appeared to have a nose bleed.

As we were marched through this part of the facility, I noticed that everything here was a lot cleaner and as we went through a double set of doors, saw tables upon tables of drugs. I wasn’t sure where the workers were, but I assumed that, as it was night time, they had all gone home.

Several minutes later and we had been marched into a room that had been converted into a cell block.

Guard: “Get in there.” One of the guards demanded and gave me a harsh shove into the room. Tracks growled again but then followed me in peacefully.

Still holding my face, I slumped to the floor against one of the cold, stone walls. Using my sleeve as a cloth, I mopped the blood from my nose and then, looking up, found Tracks staring down at me.

Tank: “What?”

He grunted and grumbled and then sat down nearby.

Tank: “Look, I’m not exactly happy about it either, but I couldn’t have you blasting our way out of there. I need him alive, remember that. I don’t know why he turned on us, but don’t worry. We’ll get out of here.”

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but it must have been around half an hour before we heard movement from outside the door. We both stood up in preparation for whatever might come next and then the door opened. A guard appeared, sneering and threw Amando into the cell with us. He crashed to the floor, face-first and I grimaced.

The guard shut the door again and the only sound to be heard was Amando’s coughing on the floor. He looked dreadful; a split lip, a black eye and cuts on his robes – he’d clearly been beaten quite badly.

Tank: “What happened? Your guards turn on you?” I asked with mock sympathy.

Bowen: “Those are not… my guards.” He coughed as he pulled himself into a kneeling position.

Tank: “So, what, they’re infiltrators?” I asked, still with mock-care.

The door opened again and I looked over, but now my mouth fell open as my brain tried to figure out what I was seeing.

Bowen: “No. They’re mine.” He announced with a smirk as I looked in bewilderment between the man standing in the doorway and the man kneeling by my feet.

**Elsewhere….**

Wolfhide: “You have the right to remain silent… blah, blah, blah.” He explained to his captive as he shoved them into a tiny holding cell.

Wolfhide: “We’re meant to read it to you in full… but, we’re not really ‘lawmen’ plus I’m sure you know your rights anyway, so I never bother.”

Prisoner: “I want a lawyer!”

Wolfhide: “Oh, sorry, when I said, ‘I’m sure you know your rights’, I didn’t quite finish. What I meant to say was, ‘I’m sure you know your rights don’t apply any more.” He said with a smirk as he locked the cell door.

Prisoner: “Please! What did I do?!” he asked, rushing up to the bars and grabbing hold of them.

There was a massive, metallic ‘*CLANG*’ as Hammerstrike’s hammer crashed into the cell door, rattling the whole frame and sending echoes through the facility. The prisoner shrieked and leapt back from the bars but the Beta Squad member just laughed cruelly.

Ranger: “Was that really necessary?” he asked, joining the party.

Wolfhide: “Hey, leave him alone.” He defended threateningly and Ranger just shrugged and stepped away.

Wolfhide: “John Francis Junior?” he addressed the prisoner.

John: “Yeah?”

Wolfhide: “Did you or did you not escape from Lockhurt Prison during the event known as the Shift?”

The prisoner didn’t respond.

Hammerstrike: “Guilty.” He sneered, enjoying the torment.

Ranger: “Don’t worry. No harm will come to you unless you do anything stupid, okay?” he assured him and slowly the prisoner, John, nodded. “It’s our job to recapture escaped convicts, that’s all. So play nice, and you’ll just end up back in prison. Fair?”

John: “Okay.” He nodded again.

Darkblade: “Or…” the squad leader added as he entered the room behind them all. “We use you for target practice. I’ve been missing out on that recently.”

John: “What? No! Please!”

Ranger shook his head and sighing, left the room.

Darkblade: “Yeah. I like that idea.”

John: “No! What… what do you want?”

Darkblade: “There we go.” He said, sounding pleased. “I want to know everything you know on Frank Foster.”

John: “What? Who?”

Darkblade: “Frank Foster. Or Chain Rockwell. Or Tank. Heard any of those names?”

John: “No! Please, I swear I haven’t!”

Darkblade: “We’ll see. Everybody else – out.”

**BONUS PICTURES**

The micro, domed factory set.

The storage shed set.

The control room set.

Another of the sets used.

The set for the Beta Squad scene.

As my series is going to be jumping around though time, I will include a date on each episode and add it to the timeline at the end of each episode so that you can follow it.

TIMELINE