Chapter 46 – Wave 3.
--/Day 17 09:42 Hours/--
--/Level 7-170 ‘The Hub'/--
Davan was up earlier than the Tenzanin and Grissom, who had now properly moved into the apartment in Workspace H. It was just as well, what with it being the place that Lain was tortured to death, Davan really didn't want to touch the place. Grissom had been up late last night using what they had left of the Pyrachloride to destroy the body. But Davan had things to do this morning, before the others were awake. He was making weaponry. He had a contract to fulfil with the Gunrunners, he'd promised them a small supply of laser hand weapons.
But in between that he had a pet project he was working on, a homemade grenade launcher. It resembled a water pistol, the gas chamber would be expended quickly, and it was probably only good for one or two grenades, which had to be strapped to the front. Part of the trigger was a strap release, meaning it would be unwieldy to reload, yet it would be effective. And Davan had always gotten on well with grenades after doing a great deal of weapons research into new kinds while he was still employed by the Nethrek military.
"Any activity so far?" Grissom said, moving through the door of workspace H. He was already wearing his armour. Davan looked up and shook his head. Both knew that there would be more of the damned bounty hunters sooner or later. Grissom nodded in return.
"I was thinking about setting up a series of mines and controlled explosives just out in the corridor and just inside." Grissom carried on, pointing to the wreckage of the shutters, leaving the front of workspace G completely exposed to the corridor outside.
"Whatever you think is best." Davan said, picking up his newest invention.
"Pretty toy." Grissom commented. "I'll get started." Then he turned and went back into his apartment where Davan knew he kept a personal arsenal about as impressive as Tenzanin's was becoming. Davan had two grenades with the proper straps already attached, and made sure to pocket them in his coat. He had a pistol holster that worked easily enough to carry it. He had another pistol on a waist holster anyway and the mysterious grey knife in one of his trouser pockets. The knife had four names on it, and one of those names wasn't under his protection at the moment. He pulled his coat on and checked his weapons. He was going to find Torn.
--/+2 hours 18 minutes/--
--/Level 4-207 Warehouse DY9-0/--
Torn's eyes slowly opened. They remained staring at the same direction for a long time, a look of utter remorse overcome him. Tenzanin's words still haunted him. They had killed that bounty hunter that he had subdued. Tortured him and killed him, for information. It made him feel sick, violated in trust. Like he was just that castaway clinging to driftwood lost in an ocean on hatred and violence, trying not to drown in it. That's why he'd left.
He had slept here last night, in the corner of the abandoned storeroom, wrapped in the cloak he'd found more than a week ago now. He hadn't slept well, but at least he was safe here.