Upon arriving in Russia, I swipe a motorcycle from a nearby parking area and head out to the drop point. I find it to be some desolate building out in the middle of nowhere. To the untrained eye, it looks like an abandoned building, but it's not. Hidden in the trees along the dirt road up here, I spot countless hidden cameras. As if that's not enough, I hear the slight click of a pressure plate buried under the dirt. I imagine it would set off an alarm of some sort, maybe even some kind of trap, but since they are expecting me, none go off.
The building looks like an old office structure. A thick layer of dirt covers the windows so you can't see inside, but that's by design. Approaching the front entrance, it's clearly a reinforced door. I can't imagine what the hell they are holding here, or what I'm going to do when I find out.
I have no taste for human experimentation, for obvious reasons, so if I find something I don't like, I have no reason to hold back. The door is locked. I could yank it off the hinges, but for now, I prefer they don't realize who I am. I glance around and spot a small camera in the corner; I hear it zoom in on me.
"Helmet off." A voice echoes from the intercom beside the door.
Right. I put on the helmet so I don't get pulled over. I slip it off and turn back to the camera, then pull out the case from my backpack and hold it up. Since it's considered one of my products, the case bears my insignia. But I have no worry about him recognizing me as the Crimson Queen, no one really knows my face, and those who do usually end up dead.
I hear the click of the door unlocking and head in. I am greeted by a dark carpeted hallway, the fluorescent lighting struggling to do its job. There are a few doors along the walls; one swings open. These seem to be normal wooden doors. Out emerges an older, fat man, his hair so receded I can't tell where his forehead ends and his head begins.
"Thank you, my dear. Once we confirm the contents, the remaining payment can be sent," he says, taking the case from my hand.
He gestures for me to follow. When he pulls open a door, I am greeted by a steel elevator. Once we enter, he taps his wrist to the wall, and it starts moving. What did he just do?
I guess my face gives me away, as he holds up his wrist and wiggles it. "Chips in the wrist. Technology is a lovely thing."
I don't know what he means by that. I've found it to be a pain in the ass myself. Although, when I leave it to Echo, she gets things done easily for me using it. But still, I don't like it.
When it finally stops and the doors reopen, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention at the smell. I know it well, the disgusting stench of a sterile environment, but just beneath the scent of medical-grade cleaner reek the hints of death.
I follow him into a large circular room, metal covering the entirety of it. A few computers are scattered around. An area off to the left is the only place not covered in metal; it's glass, peering into a lab where a man in a body suit is messing around with chemicals. Another two people on the opposite side of the room, a woman and a man, sit at computers, typing at an alarming speed without glancing away for a moment. I can see the camera monitors just above them on the wall. Some are outside, some cover the main door, elevator, and other rooms.
I hear the case pop open and turn to see the old man put on large black gloves and some kind of helmet before opening it. I guess he thinks he needs it.
Inside is what he ordered: two Chitauri weapon cores, small purple spheres filled with some odd liquid and an incredible amount of power. He shuts the case quickly, ditches the safety gear, and a lecherous smile forms on his face.
"Perfect. These will do." He turns to face me, pulling out a phone and tapping away at it.
The phone Goliath gave me before I left dings. He made me take some weird-looking device to confirm payment, and it does just that, the screen lights up, indicating the other half of the balance has been delivered.
"Got it?" he questions.
"Yes."
"Good. Then you know the way out. Pass our thanks on to the Crimson Queen. We hope to do more business with her in the future." He takes the case and slides it through a slot into the glassed area for the man in the weird bubble-like suit to handle.
"What are you doing here that you need that for anyway?" I question, pacing around and glancing into the lab, spotting another large reinforced door off to the side.
"That doesn't concern you. You've been paid. Now leave." His tone turns cold, as if this old man is supposed to scare me. Maybe if I were a regular woman, it would, but now he just looks like a toy that if I throw too hard, would break.
I waltz over to the computers where the other two are looking and glance over the cameras. The two rooms look like prison cells with no inmates. I lean over the two doctors sitting there; finally, their fingers slow to a stop. I can hear their heartbeats accelerate. They are close enough to smell it on me. No matter how many showers I take, the stained smell of red will never wash off.
Placing one hand on each of their shoulders, I push my face between them. "What are you doing down here?" I question again, my patience wearing thin.
"Leave now! Our business has concluded!" the old man yells from behind me, drawing his gun.
I was going to be nice and leave peacefully after they tell me to. After all, repeat customers are great, and killing your consumers isn't a solid marketing strategy. But we aren't in Madripoor, clearly no one knows about this place, and lastly…
I don't give a flying fuck anymore.
I tighten my grip on the young man's shoulder. A scream erupts from him as it snaps beneath my grasp. Before the old geezer can even pull the trigger, I fling the boy across the room. In this metal dome, the sound of him splattering echoes endlessly. I keep a hand on the girl's shoulder, it's loose, no harm is being done, but she shakes like a leaf. I turn back and smile at the old geezer. Even the bubble man has stopped moving and just stares at me.
"I won't ask again."