Given his… ‘proclivity’ for violence, Felix expected much more push back on his new-found pacifism. Instead he got curious and interested inquiries about the gray areas of a situation most wanted to see as black and white. He had expected Case to react more like Frank who had just called him a pansy.

Even off the field, Case continued to carry that air of an attack dog biting through its leash. Speaking to him felt like he was meeting with a psychiatrist, every word spoken was chosen carefully and every response thoroughly analyzed.

Don’t get him wrong, Felix did not dislike Case by any means, though one might would call them more “work friends” than anything else. He surprised himself by enjoying their few and far between conversations; While Felix sometimes felt like one wrong word could get him attacked, he appreciated the way the man did not waste words nor time by dancing around a topic.

After the facility, things changed. 

Gone were the eyes that seemed to pierce through him to any and every skeleton he had hidden away, and in their place, something too sunken and hollow.

For the first time since meeting him, Case seemed somberly human.

He shouldn't; Surviving prolonged exposure to a biological weapon engineered to make its victims commit suicide should have made him feel more inhuman than ever.

Before the venture in Kentucky, the house was always busy. It was far too big for the six people occupying it yet they managed to make it feel crowded anyway. And Case was always somewhere, doing something weird that could have been clarified with a simple explanation that he never gave.

But now he only rotated which chair he sat in as he read or stared off into nothing. Sometimes it was in the security room next to a lit fireplace and sometimes it was him sitting outside in the cold for so long that his fingers looked cyanotic by time he came back inside.

He wasn’t allowed to exist unaccompanied either.

Frank wanted to volunteer for the role, but that had to be vetoed; As much as they got on each other’s nerves, Felix did feel sympathy for the man as he was completely sidelined while his friend suffered. With Marshall busy trying to get in contact with Adler and Harrow, it left Sevati and Felix on rotation.

There was no real schedule, just them tapping in and out as they needed sleep or just a break; It would have annoyed Felix as he’d still had non-babysitting work to do, but Sevati took watch more often than he did.

She had been much quicker to forgive Case for his little episode than Felix had. What possessed her to let Case drag them both outside in the winter rain was something he may never know. Hell, he even saw her painting his nails.

Felix didn’t have a problem with Case having painted nails, mind you, but he did have a problem with everyone seeming to forget that Case was still a danger. Maybe it was because he was the only one that actually had to fight him that day, but Felix didn’t have such a selective memory.

Even though he felt like it was a fatal mistake, he kept his concerns to himself. A lesson he had been learning since he was a child was that when feelings were involved, no one liked facts to be brought up.

With Case, the fact was that it didn’t matter if the man was a pacifistic vegan who paled at the sight of blood, the Cradle was going to do what it was designed to. Case’s personal convictions and strengths mattered naught when he had a poison taking over his system and telling him to kill.

The only thing that had let him sleep at night (aside from a locked door) was the idea that the reason Case had made it two weeks without another episode was that the version of it he inhaled was either diluted or expired in some way.

And Felix did not like Case sleeping upstairs, either.

Again, everyone refused to talk about it, but the screams and begging cries for the pain to stop as the man suffered from some nightmare bad enough to break his calm facade were much louder without the sound-proofing the basement provided.

The cracks were showing and creaking a warning that they would give any minute, but Marshall called him an asshole (though he used different wording, Felix wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t pick up subtext) for pointing out that it might be better to keep Case off the field for the rest of their mission. Everyone acted like they cared and yet Case was still left screaming in his sleep at night.

The man at the center of it all leaned back from the piano keys, uninjured leg jumping as he lost himself in thought.

Felix was right behind him, a chair pulled up almost right behind the bench to prevent any sudden departures. For once, he had voluntarily agreed to watch Case though he still didn’t particularly want to.

He knew Sev was in her room upstairs but he doubted she was sleeping. Woods had exhausted himself but still wasn’t able to sleep, choosing to go outside for some air rather than fruitlessly laying in his cot. Marshall— Well, Felix wasn’t entirely sure where Marshall had gone after his burst of anger.

Felix couldn’t blame him.

He’s not sure he would have been any better had he found out that his friend was the head of an evil organization intent on killing thousands, if not millions, of people with a lethal gas.

Case seemed more upset by the demonstration of the Cradle than the reveal; he didn’t seem surprised at all to see Harrow on that video. He had looked almost calm, like he was still waiting for the reveal of whatever was dire enough to call a sudden meeting and only reacted when Marshall threw the projector.

Given the way their last discussion on the Cradle had ended, Felix volunteered to be the one to keep an eye on Case.

He had the best odds in a fight against Case if he became violent, but Felix had a feeling that he had the best odds, not good odds. If they were sparring, something friendly and decidedly not deadly, he would have a much better shot. But Case fighting like his life depended on it was a different story— It took Sevati pointing a gun at him to get the upper hand last time.

In the end, he would probably land with the same outcome as everyone else. But Felix was responsible for unearthing the information and at the end of the day, he was still the one with the best chance.

So there he sat, studiously watching a man who broke his own arm with a hammer play the piano.

He seemed to be playing random melodies from memory, occasionally glancing to the right like he was looking for sheet music in the wood grain on the wall. He was growing frustrated, something that had Felix's guard raising lest he need to act.

If Case died on his watch, Troy Marshall and Frank Woods were two people he did not want to have as enemies. Marshall wasn’t as violent as Case, but he was loyal. And it only took one misstep to turn loyalty into violence.

And Frank Woods was not a man he wanted to cross. Ever. Felix had heard enough stories to know that he would still be alive, awake, and aware for whatever punishment he would come up with.

There was a new rule that everyone had to keep a gun on them in the wake of all of their other weapons being hidden away so that they were not without arms should disaster befall them; Felix only complied to avoid the argument that would surely ensue had he fought back.

But if something happened to Case? He would certainly be using it on himself before having to tell Frank or Marshall that he failed — He meant that jokingly.

…Mostly.

Felix was jolted from his thoughts as Case played and held a deep, reverberating, off-sounding chord. He waited to see what would follow.

Case let the note fully ring out and fade into the air before he played it again and again in quick repeated jabs of the keys, a tune of frustration. He pulled his fingers from the keys and dropped his elbows against them, pulling an awkward mix of notes, with his hands in the air as he stared exasperatedly at the keys.

At first Felix thought the stress of everything might have finally gotten to him, but he looked more annoyed at the piano than mad at the world.

Felix waited a few seconds to suggest in feigned innocence, “There may be some sheet music around if you would like.” Felix was too interested in figuring out what Case was doing for it to be an honest offer.

Case shook his head as he stared at the piano; He sat up and his fingers went to mess with his nails absentmindedly before ‘resetting’ and clasping his hands together, making an active effort not to pick at them. His nails were still orange from Sevati painting them, albethey chipped and outgrown.

Noticing the staring, Case gestured to the piano and then knocked on the wall.

“…What?”

Was that some weird American thing or was Felix supposed to understand what that meant?

Case looked between him and the piano, debating if he felt like answering. Case from a few weeks ago wouldn’t have even done that much; He would have just nodded in acknowledgement of his question and gone back to whatever weird thing he was doing.

But he had either changed or simply accepted that Felix was going to be his shadow for the foreseeable future and might as well offer an explanation.

He grabbed his cane and stood slowly, his knees audibly popping as he did so. The cane was not ideal, but it was better than nothing or using a broken arm on crutches.

It was some ostentatiously opulent thing they found while poking around the house. The handle was made out of a light colored metal and shaped like the head of a raven with odd, cheap-looking purple gems for eyes, while the rest was such a dark shade of purple, it looked black unless held up to the light.

With how ornate and expensive it was, it paired wonderfully with the discolored, ratty, moth-eaten sweater Case insisted on wearing everyday.

(Felix has watched Case bifurcate a man’s head with a godforsaken cleaver, yet he had a favorite sweater. A favorite sweater he loved so much that he had lit up and smiled for the first time in days when he saw it in a pile of folded clothes.

It gave him a headache to think about.)

Felix had to back out of his way for him to be able to take a step and he took the time to appraise the man before him; He didn’t look like he was planning to run and the fact that he used the cane to help him stand meant his ankle was hurting enough for him to admit that he needed the walking aid. What exactly he was getting up to do, Felix did not know.

Reasonably sure enough that he wouldn’t run, Felix moved out of the way and Case hobbled off, away from the piano and towards the operations room. He stared at where Frank sat on the balcony as he walked around the dining table, cane clacking with every step.

Case had kept a blank face when he saw the video of Jane Harrow over-watching the demonstration of the Cradle’s effects. Looking at Frank smoking on the balcony, he looked sad. Guilty, even.

Had Felix not spent three weeks living in the same space as Frank, he would have thought the man was a chain smoker; He didn’t smoke this often before Kentucky. Yes, he smoked, but it wasn’t even close to the pack-a-day habit that it was now.

Felix wondered if it was going to worsen now with the news about Jane Harrow.

As soon as he was in the operations room, Case was poking around desks and tables, searching for something. And again, it seemed he only realized he should give Felix an explanation after catching his perplexed expression.

Case made a few hand gestures and it took a second for Felix to realize that it wasn’t a pitiful attempt at charades but American Sign Language — Which apparently everyone in the house save for him and Sevati were fluent in. Even Adler knew it, according to Frank. The only thing Felix remembered about it was that he held his hand out like he was showing off that he could count to five.

He started to sign it again, slower, but stopped as he brought his hands up, suddenly remembering that Felix would not know ASL. He pivoted, turning to the desk behind him and grabbing a marker and notepad in the scrambled mess and scrawled quickly.

BLACK LIGHT

Curiosity piqued, Felix looked through the clutter where he knew a blacklight should have been, glancing up at Case every few seconds as he did so. It felt like if he looked away for just a moment too long, it would be the difference between a simple night of Case frustratedly playing the piano and another hospital trip.

Felix found it rather quickly but hesitated on handing it over, his curiosity piqued. Though he debated over it and knew it was better to stay quiet, Felix’s curiosity won and he asked, “That sign you did, was that the sign for black light?”

Case shook his hand in a so-so motion.

BLACK + flash LIGHT

Scribbled on top of his last written message, the word ‘flash’ was slanted to fit in the small gap left between the two words and added symbol.

Felix hummed and hoped the day didn’t end in him wanting to learn ASL. Considering he had to refrain from asking Case to sign it again so he could remember did not bode well for his upcoming free time. He had no need for it, but now it was an apparent gap in his knowledge that he was itching to fill, just for the sake of learning.

Pondering over his thirst for knowledge temporarily cast aside, Felix handed it over. Case unwittingly made his problem worse with another sign he did not know; his hand flat with his fingertips on his chin, bringing his hand down and forward.

Case made it to the large doorway of the operations room and stopped as he messed with the light. He pointed it at the floor and tried to turn it on. It didn’t respond so Case flaunted his electrical engineering prowess by beating it against his palm until it flickered to life.

This time when he pointed it at the floor, it revealed a trail of footprints that led into the ops room. Case followed the trail backwards, having to hold the light awkwardly with his non-dominant, splinted hand to use his cane.

Around the dining table, through to the sitting room, past the fireplace, and to where the prints emerged from the wall.

"A secret door, then?" Felix muttered aloud. "And you believe the piano is tied to the opening mechanism?"

Case nodded and pointed out Cyrillic characters that were shallowly carved above the keys; Felix never would have noticed them had he not pointed them out. Case grabbed the piano and tried to shake it back and forth, demonstrating that it was firmly bolted in place against the wall.

Felix hummed again; He wondered how long this puzzle had to be left on the back burner, burning a hole in Case’s mind as a conundrum left unsolved.

“I’m guessing you’ve tried every melody you can think of,” Felix said, prompting Case to nod in affirmation. “And spelling things with the notes…?”

Case nodded again and signed something else rapidly. He didn’t bother with paper this time, only waving off Felix’s confusion as if to say that whatever he signed wasn’t worth the time it would take to write down.

Felix held his hand out for the black light and Case gave it to him as he sat back down on the bench and stared at the keys. There was no telling what the code was; Really, the chances were that it was written down on some random, moldy history book that had been torn apart to be used for kindling.

He was surprised that Case was bothering with a code at all and not simply forcing the door open. He’d done similar things to people’s guts but maybe walls deserved more respect than humans.

And since there was nothing else to do other than sit and watch Case think, he figured he might as well help. He looked around the room with the black light as if a clue would magically appear before him and—

“Case.”

Case lifted his head and turned his ear towards him but didn’t fully turn.

“Case.”

He looked at him, made a confused face when he saw Felix just staring at the wall above him, and then looked to where Felix was staring.

Even from behind him, Felix saw Case’s jaw drop.

МИ

It was written on the wall above the piano, bright green and glowing in the black light. Felix followed arrows that pointed to the right, finding the next note. Case stood and watched, his jaw left hanging the entire time, though his face distorted into something more and more vexed.

Just five notes, spread out and marked on the walls, a simple melody.

МИ РЕ СИ ДО РЕ

Case remained in shock.

“Are you familiar with Ockham’s razor?” Felix asked him; He had spent a small enough amount of time on the puzzle for the revelation to be funny rather than infuriating.

“What the fuck?!” Case exclaimed, too exasperated for much infuriation.

Felix chuckled in surprise at the outburst and dumbfounded expression. But it was cut off quickly as he realized that it was the first time Case had properly spoken since his return.

Why did Case’s first words since everything have to be with him and not Frank or Marshall? Would they get angry at him if he told them? Surely not, right?

Felix shook his head; It was just three words. He didn’t have to say a damn thing over one simple exclamation.

Case limped to the piano and stared at it for a moment before he played the notes without sitting at the bench.

A small click resounded quietly and the wall cracked, a sliver of darkness breaking the pattern of wood paneling.

He stared like it just cussed out his mother. Still on the other side of the piano, he used his cane to push the newly unveiled and unlocked door open from a distance; It revealed a landing only just big enough for the door to swing out of the way with a dark staircase extending into and beneath the shadows.

He glanced back at Felix for a second before he slowly approached the landing.

Case stood at the top of the stairs without as much fear as he perhaps should have felt for the ominous sight and pulled the cord hanging down from a small light bulb.

It did little to fix the foreboding feeling; It only illuminated a few more concrete steps leading further into darkness. There was some light spilling forth at the very bottom of the stairs.

Felix suddenly realized that Case was going to want to explore this secret basement which meant Felix had to explore it too. Good. Great. Fun, even.

Case did not hesitate to descend as soon as the light was on. What little it did enlighten was mitigated by his shadow and Felix watched in exasperation as instead of asking Felix for the black light, he used his cane to find the edge of each stair before he took a step.

Felix probably should have told someone what they were doing but Case was already descending and he didn’t want to risk inciting Sevati’s wrath if she was asleep or bothering Frank while he was brooding.

Felix instead checked that the pistol he’d been forced to carry was still in the holster; While he had sworn off violence, he did not know what or who was down there. He did not want to hurt anyone, but that did not mean that he would get himself or Case killed through inaction. Self-defense was still on the table, though the idea of more blood splattering onto his hands made his skin crawl.

Reassurance holstered on his hip, he followed behind Case and into the dark shadows. His eyes adjusted quickly, but it did not help him see much. The brickwork was old, a failed attempt at plaster still cracking over the masonry.

Waiting for the man in front of him to make his way down gave him plenty of time to reflect and look back at the narrow passage, his skin prickling the longer they stood.

At the base of the stairs sat some kind of reception or intake area — An unoccupied workspace that spilled light onto the floor, protected by bullet-proof glass that someone before them had been kind enough to test.

The walls were still dark so Felix turned the black light on, providing enough light to make him wish he knew more Russian as several signs that he could not read were revealed.

The door, their only option forward unless they felt like unloading an entire mag into the window (which he did not, but Case probably wouldn’t mind), had some electronic locking system but showed a green light.

"I guess now we know what that generator you fixed powered, hmm?" Felix asked theatrically but Case was already unlatching and pushing open the door, no caution at all.

Felix, feeling the eyes of unknown people watching him, put his hand on Case's shoulder to stop him. He dropped the black light into his hands and stepped forward, not having much choice but to trust that Case's insatiable curiosity would keep him from running.

Falling back into the routine with uncomfortable ease, Felix pulled out the handgun and checked the area. He hated the weight of it in his hands. Even through his gloves the feel of the rubber grip made him want to scrub his hands until they were skinless.

There was another reception/intake-type window to the left but a long hallway to the right; It was all starkly devoid of life with random debris scattered everywhere. There were several barricaded steel doors and more windows of bullet-proof glass.

The cold, clinical bunker lights flickered. Felix wondered if they were intentionally spaced to only just provide enough light and leave shadows stretching across the floors and up the walls. He’d been in places like this before and he hated it every single time.

Felix indicated for Case, who had been waiting surprisingly patiently in the doorway, to step forward. No longer blocking its path, the heavy metal door squeaked as it fell to close by itself and scraped against the floor.

And he may have still been recovering, but Case's reflexes were fine enough to catch the door before it slammed shut — But it was heavy. enough for his hand to almost get squished between it and the frame.

With the generator running, it probably would not have magically locked had it shut but that wasn’t a risk either of them were taking. Felix looked around and kicked a wood board that had been rotting in a pile of junk to the door frame; He moved quickly as Case had to hold the door awkwardly with a very unsustainable stance as his weight rested on his uninjured ankle alone. Improvised door stopper in place, Case let the door go slowly, making sure it would hold.

And when it did, they carried onward. Felix took point, leading them down the hall and Case trailed behind him, cane clacking along with their footsteps. If the clacking paused, Felix paused too.

Every single time he expected to see Case doing something he shouldn't, and each time it was Case doing something too casual for their current location. Be it peering through the windows to observe the desks and filing cabinets they protected or pulling open electrical panels just to see what was inside like the loose, fried wires were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen— Case looked perfectly at home in the haunting halls.

The first open doorway was a four way split at which Case thankfully listened when Felix told him to wait. Two long halls of locked doors straight ahead and on the left with one locked room to the right in a small alcove; they weren't much to clear with most of the doors barricaded or locked, but the worry of Case doing something stupid when his back was turned had him on high alert.

Once he was given the all clear, Case began poking around again, doing his own mini-sweep of the available space. He went left first, a short hall with three doors, only two of which were barricaded but all still locked.

At the end of the hall was a metal locker mounted to the wall. Case hooked his cane over his arm and went to open it but paused.

The further down the hall they went, the louder some buzzing noise became. It was unnatural in the space and did not fit with the whir of electricity running through wiring that was certainly not up to code.

Case pulled a confused face and cocked his head, listening closer and only growing more confused.

“Do not worry,” Felix said, almost joking, “I hear it too.”

Case didn’t acknowledge the statement; He listened to the buzzing for a little longer his eyes eventually falling to the only locked door without a barricade. His hand hovered over the pocket with his note pad, but he did not pull it out.

Then he turned to the locker and started trying to pry it open.

Case’s incessant need to pry everything open and check every nook and cranny certainly explained how he was constantly bringing back hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of dollars from missions he was sent on. Had he not become an assassin, he would have made a great too-nosy neighbor. Or maybe just a raccoon.

He finally won his fight as the door completely fell off, rusted past the point of usable.

The locker was empty, save for some trash in the bottom. Case walked away, his cane clacking towards the other hallway.

So much effort, such little reward and yet he didn’t seem fazed. Though Felix supposed he wasn’t one to talk and he was sure he would be called a hypocrite for speaking ill of someone else’s curiosity given his own track record.

Case paused at the cross section, looking to the long hallway now to his left and the alcove straight ahead before he made up his mind and went to the left.

There was more stuff in this hall but Case didn’t seem as interested, quickly enraptured by the barricaded door at the very end of the hall. None of the other barricaded doors had caught his attention, the reinforced steel enough to deter even Case’s curiosity. But this one, for whatever reason, was different.

He sped up as he approached it, even more excited by it than he was by the random electrical panels and empty, rusted locker. As soon as he was close enough, he tapped it with the metal handle of the cane a few times before he put his ear to the door.

Okay.

So perhaps Case was not on the up and up.

Case turned and silently shushed Felix even though he had not made a single sound, holding his finger up to tell him to wait and listen. He had a smile, indicating to Felix that he liked whatever he heard.

Waffling on the decision a bit, Felix weighed his options before he mumbled, “What did you…” Felix’s voice tapered as he realized he couldn’t ask Case what he heard because he couldn’t be sure that Case ‘heard’ anything at all.

Case didn’t mind the unfinished question and pulled out his notepad.

The generator

And tapped on the door with the marker.

“…The generator,” Felix slowly repeated. The generator. Not a generator,but the.

Case nodded.

The generator.

“…The generator that powered the door?” Felix asked, pointing back to the entrance.

Case nodded.

Why was he playing twenty questions over something Case was hallucinating?

Marshall and Woods were used to this type of conversation, able to decipher hums and a tilted head as a full response and have an active, two-party but one-sided conversation with him. Felix was not. Nor did he even know if what Case was referring to was real.

Case seemed happy that Felix was “catching on” to what he meant. And at the end of the day, he wasn’t just a parole officer to make sure Case didn’t do something he wasn’t supposed to, it was also in his best interest to keep Case… well, happy. Not annoyed.

So twenty questions it was.

His mind worked hard to figure out the code. The generator that powered the door is…

“Is…” Felix started and trailed off in one word.

Case sighed and pulled out the notepad back out and wrote in an even messier scrawl than before.

basement

The generator that powered the door to the bunker is in the basement.

Yes, he already knew that—

But that’s not what Case was saying.

“The generator- This door connects to the basement?”

Case nodded.

same type of door coldn’t open it from otherside

His writing was even messier as he tried to write fast enough to convey what he had to say as quickly as he would have while speaking.

Felix wondered how long Case had spent chipping at the other side of the door — Had he been sleeping in a room with a door that he didn’t know where it goes?

“You spelled ‘couldn’t’ wrong.”

And ‘other side’ is a two word phrase, but Felix would let that one slide as a simple word spacing accident. It wasn’t as funny.

Case looked confused and annoyed but turned the paper around. The shock he had upon seeing the misspelling was comparable to that of when he learned the answer to the piano puzzle had been right under his nose. Well. Right above his nose.

Felix, an asshole, said, “Coldn’t.”

Case didn’t laugh or even really smile, but the fear that had been plaguing him was noticeably absent for a moment.

“Coldn’t,” Case repeated.

Four words, still not worth mentioning… Right?

The notepad went back to his pocket and he hobbled along. Felix did not doubt for a second that Case was going to come back down to get the door open at some point, even if he had to rip the doorframe out of the wall.

The last path left unexplored, Case headed towards the locked door that had been to the right of the entrance. It was in a small alcove with the same decoration as the rest of the bunker — ruined papers, detritus, and pieces of metal that looked like they just fell out of the wall.

The only distinction this spot had was a ruined corkboard on the wall; The only surviving note on it was a ‘no open flame’ warning sign that Felix was sure never dissuaded anyone from smoking within the halls.

The door was locked by a keypad, one that he was surprised to see still worked when Case pressed the delete key to test it. A five digit code, there was no way to realistically brute force it, but if Case used the black light to—

Case turned the handle and the door opened.

It was unlocked.

Case was surprised by the development as well, the door only opening a crack before he pulled his hand back like it had been burned.

They glanced at each other with a “What the fuck?” look. Case, standing behind the wall like he was preparing to take fire, slowly pushed open the door with his cane as he peeked around the corner.

Felix let out an uneasy sigh as he drew the gun once more; Everything about the bunker felt like a trap, everything was too easy, but Felix knew that Case wasn’t going to drop this and he made a promise to Marshall.

Case stayed on the door while he advanced. The room — a server room by the looks of it — was a cluttered mess with a maze-like layout; The only functional terminal was tucked into the back as if it had been intentionally hidden away.

When he got the okay, Case entered with a similar apprehension, scanning the corners and shadows even though Felix had already cleared the room. And when he found the tucked away terminal, Case gave it a distrusting look as he backed away. At least they were on the same page about the creepy terminal, Felix supposed.

Felix poked around, but there were next to no environmental clues and all of the writing was in Russian. He brushed up enough on the language to know how long to let something boil before he turned it to a simmer, but the paragraphs on the files were far beyond his know-how.

Case picked up the files he set aside, skimming them. He did a double take on one which was enough to snag Felix's attention.

Translating and quoting the file directly, Case read, “‘Access to the observation room and cell will only be granted via the terminal in the mainframe room.’”

(More words, but he was only reading something off, so did that even count?)

“It cannot be that simple,” Felix said, staring at Case in disbelief.

And he only shrugged in response, not needing to remind Felix of the piano nor the unlocked door.

He sighed as he sat down at the desk and the steel chair screeched as he moved closer causing both men to wince. The terminal was old but it was easy to get through, the digital equivalent of hiding a spare house key under the welcome mat. The simplicity was a welcome break after the never ending headache that had been trying to crack that blasted disk.

They heard a quiet beep and then a louder clunk as a door opened; Case immediately went out to check but still waited at the entrance of the server room for Felix, who wasn’t long to follow.

Next to the door that connected to the basement, a previously locked door was now cracked open.

Felix preemptively pulled his gun, reminded of too many horror movies he never even watched. Case stayed behind, again letting him lead and clear the room before he entered.

(Felix wondered if the man’s willingness to let someone else take the lead had always been there and Felix just hadn’t noticed or if this was yet another aberration of the Cradle.)

The room was small and dark. There were a few desk lamps miraculously not just plugged in, but plugged in with working bulbs as well; But most of the light was coming from a window showing the next room over, spilling red light over the shadows.

Directly across from the entrance was another locked door, one that should have been opened by the terminal.

The room was clear, but Felix did not feel good about putting his gun away.

Using the small black light to see, Case looked to the shelves on their left, the violet light following the wall around the room and looking at the desks. When he circled back to the only other door in the room, he paused.

The shadow encircling the concrete in front of the door just looked black under the poor lighting. But the spray, splotches, and drag marks left no confusion on what the true origin of the stain was, echoes of what had transpired in the next room remained embedded in the foundation.

Felix tried the handle but it was locked, their luck from the previous door having ran out. Case, despite having short hair that did not need to be held back, pulled two bobby pins from his hair and bent them into shape with a practiced ease and quickness.

Case moved towards the door, but Felix snatched them out of his hands. He reprimanded, “Ah, ah, ah!”

Case looked insulted and annoyed but mostly confused.

“Did you think I forgot about your injury?”

With the way he looked down, Felix wondered if Case forgot about his injury. Either way, the man was not going to be kneeling in front of a doorknob to pick the lock.

Felix was learning a lot about Case today, namely that the man knew how to choose his battles; Lock-picking the door was one that he thankfully did not choose and instead looked around the room, finding some papers and documents to occupy his time.

It had been a while since he had been in the field and was a little rusty at lock-picking; While it took him a few minutes, Case likely would have been able to do it in seconds. But Case was still injured, so a few minutes it would be.

It took patience and a cursing of his lack of due-diligence in maintaining his skills as he should have, but in time the handle turned and the door opened.

Case was not paying any attention at all, completely absorbed in reading from a random journal he found on the desk.

“Case, the—”

Felix was cut off by the very man he was addressing holding up a finger, shushing him again. Though annoyed, he did recognize the karma given the attitude he had just given Case in regards to the door. He waited, watching with a judgmental stare that was ignored as Case flipped through the pages, going back and forth.

“I think… it was intentionally easy,” Case said. “The people here before were a mix of Russian and English speakers. The guy here before them — or their leader? — had some money he didn't want the Russians to get, so he made a… a ‘treasure hunt’ that only someone fluent in English could solve.”

Case flipped back and forth through the pages, double checking his words as he spoke.

God fucking dammit.

A few hours ago, he hadn't spoken a word since going silent after his gas mask broke, his only vocalizations being screams and cries. Even before that, he rarely spoke, engaging in conversation if he was curious enough about something, but often keeping his own responses quick and concise.

Why now?

Case wasn't always silent, but why he was now suddenly comfortable enough to joke with Felix, the one he knew the least and the one to get into a physical altercation with him a few days ago?

Felix was not going to tell anyone a thing, he suddenly resolved.

Should he? Yes. They also should do something about Case’s never ending night terrors, but fuck it. Felix was not going to deal with Frank or Marshall getting upset that Case spoke to him.

“But the piano notes were in Cyrillic?” Felix pointed out as if Case was the one who designed the puzzle.

“I don't think they were very smart,” Case said bluntly, pocketing the journal and surprising a chuckle from Felix.

Case pointed to the door. “Anyway, one of the Russians swallowed a key they needed so they pried it out of him.”

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. Case wanted a reaction from him at the harsh change in topic and he tried not to give it to him.

(Felix remembered Woods telling him that on the team, you were a special agent first but most importantly, a comedian second. Unfortunately for him, Case seemed to get those reversed most of the time.)

Felix rolled his shoulders and they stepped into the foul-smelling room.

The overheads didn't turn on when the switch was flipped; the only light came from an obfuscated source that left the room tinted red.

The wooden chair in the middle of the room was dark and he was suddenly glad for the poor lighting. He was also glad that Case did not pull out the black light to see better.

Instead, Case used his cane to poke at the shackles hanging from the ceiling, the rattling of chains filling the silence. Felix said his name in reprimand and hit his arm; the man jumped and set his cane back on the ground, looking like a kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar.

The key that could theoretically unlock their next door sat on rag crusted in dried blood. Felix hesitated for less than half a second, but that was all Case needed to snake around him and grab it.

He was grateful that he didn't have to touch… any of that, but would not voice that out loud. Perhaps that made them even with Felix preventing Case from worsening his injury.

As soon as they had it, they stepped out into the hall, closing both doors behind them, locking away the stench of rot and welcoming the smell of mildew.

They looked down at the stained key in Case's hand. One key, one locked door without a barricade.

“If that is the key and they went through all that trouble to get it, why did they not use it?” Felix asked.

“I think the other Russians got angry.”

“So they wiped each other out before they could get this theoretical treasure?”

Case shrugged and Felix supposed he was probably reaching his quota of available words for the day.

(Thank God.)

They could go back upstairs. They could wait for Marshall to get back and tell him about the secret evil basement. They could do a lot of things, but dammit, Case had gotten him invested.

So he gestured for Case to lead the way, following behind him. For his sake, Felix pretended not to notice the worsening limp.

Case glared up at the walls as the humming became ever-present once more. He went to the right side of the door, Felix taking position on the left.

By now, Felix was reasonably sure that if anyone was down there, they would be a corpse unable to skeletonize in the cool, damp environment, but assumptions like that are what get stupid men killed, so he drew his gun for what was hopefully the last time in a long while.

With a nod from Felix, Case inserted and turned the key. The door opened in and to the right, blocking most of his view of the room; The little he could see from the hall was clear.

The humming was definitely emanating from the room, growing more noticeable as he pushed open the door. He instantly honed his sights in on the person sitting next to a TV.

And took a few seconds to realize that it was a mannequin.

His gun dropped for a second, exasperated by the obvious attempt at a scare. That he fell for.

He pushed further in and jumped and aimed at a second mannequin standing almost right behind the door.

He fell for it twice.

His heart rate settled and he internally scoffed at himself, jumping at shadows and inanimate objects like a trigger-happy rookie. Felix rolled his eyes and laughed at the idea that Woods may have been right about him being a pansy if he almost attacked a mannequin.

The whole room was set up like a window display from the 60’s; It once would have been a stark contrast to the rest of the bunker, but enough time had passed since the scene had been set that the wallpaper had faded just as much as the brick.

It only made it worse, reminding Felix of those abandoned, feeble attempts at nuclear bunkers that were never constructed properly and wouldn’t have saved anyone’s life had disaster struck.

Felix waved Case in and holstered the gun; He heaved a sigh of relief, hoping it would stay in its holster until the group recanted their ‘Everyone (except Case) must carry’ rule. The radio near the TV was likely the source of the humming and given that it had specifically been left on for all this time, he had a feeling that would be the source of their next clue.

He turned to Case with a smile on his lips and a joke about the fidelity of the puzzles they had faced on the tip of his tongue, but they both died right then and there.

Case had frozen completely stiff and stared into the room.

His eyes jumped between the mannequins. He was gripping his cane hard enough that his fingers were turning white and his hand was shaking.

“Case?” Felix asked.

He didn’t get a response. There were tears in his eyes.

“Case, they’re mannequins.” He tried to keep his voice quiet and steady though the more Case stared at them like they were something deserving of his fear, the less Felix was sure of their harmlessness. “We’re fine.”

Felix’s hand accidentally grazed Case’s arm and suddenly he was aware of his presence again. It only made him more panicked and Felix mentally prepared himself for what was to come; After what happened two weeks ago in the basement, he knew a bit better of what to expect, but he really did not want to go through that again.

Case looked like he was watching a bomb steadily countdown as he frantically looked around the room.

“They’re no—”

Felix’s feeble attempts at assurance were cut off as Case grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side. He pushed Felix away and towards the door, firmly putting himself between Felix and the rest of the room.

Case had his cane and arm over Felix’s torso, trying to gently push him out the door despite the force with which he’d moved Felix barely two seconds ago. His eyes did not once stray from the mannequins.

“Case!”

Nothing.

Not knowing what else to do, Felix pulled Case out the door, closing it firmly behind them. The man stumbled backwards, first from a lack of balance and then shock before his back met the opposite wall and his cane clattered to the floor.

Felix grabbed Case’s shoulders just to make sure he didn’t bolt. He tried to keep Case’s attention but his eyes always went back to the door behind him. Felix glanced back, seeing that Case left the key in the lock.

Taking a gamble, he let go of his shoulders and turned around and relocked the door, pulling out the key as he held it up for Case to see.

“We’re safe.” Felix didn’t say anything more. Comforting words never came to him like they did for everyone else.

Case’s legs shook. Felix guided him to the floor while he still had the coordination to do so somewhat controlled; His legs splayed and his cane was pushed further away, clanking along the floor loudly.

Felix supposed they may have at least have some level of idea of what was hallucinated during his solo adventure; He doubted that Case had a fear of mannequins beforehand. He doubted that Case feared anything before their doomed mission, really.

Felix kneeled next to him.

He felt incredibly awkward, wanting to help but not having the slightest clue on what would be helpful. He couldn’t sit with him in case he tried to run and even if he knew what to say, words didn’t seem to make it any further than the air around him.

Case brought the knee of his uninjured leg up like he wanted to curl up and tried to cover his face with his hands like he wanted to guard it but neither of his goals were possible with his injures. Instead, his other leg bent in and his fingers shook and trembled, constantly trying to do something he didn’t want them to as he stared at the spot where the top of the doorframe met the wall with blank, glossy eyes.

(Distantly, he compared this Case to the one who had been introduced with a bloodied LMG over his shoulder and took no offense when Felix didn’t shake his dirty hand.)

Case gripped the sleeves of his sweater stiffly, pulling it tight across his arms.

Felix didn’t know what to do. Most people would talk but words refused to come to him and worthless platitudes wouldn’t help. Considering that Marshall touching his shoulder had set him off last time and grazing his hand set him off mere moments ago, he also doubted any physical touch would help.

So he just awkwardly sat on the ground next to him. He didn’t look to be in any condition to run, anyway.

The humming became unnoticeable background noise and as he anxiously messed with his fingers, Case’s heaving became louder and louder.

But what could he do?

There was nothing he could say to quell his panic nor did he know enough about why he was panicking to be able to offer even the most minimal comfort.

It was so easy for Frank and Sevati to help, why could he not do the same?

He didn’t want to be the asshole that sits there and does nothing, they were friends for God’s sake, but his mind played useless static on repeat. And he just sat there. He sat in silence as Case hyperventilated next to him. No different from when he was “questioning” persons of interest.

Had he grown at all since then?

Was he any better of a person if he reacted the same when he was the torturer as when he was comforting the tortured?

And why was he thinking of himself rather than Case?

His mind went painfully blank and he was only staring at the cinder block in the wall across from him that had been cut in half for the doorway.

Case moved, finally leaning against the wall, and he wasn’t relaxed but his adrenaline likely just crashed. When he moved, his and Felix’s arms were close enough that to say they touched was an overstatement but they brushed against each other if they inhaled at the same time.

Felix froze a little, worried that Case would freak out again, but Case stayed… not calm, definitely not fucking calm, but he didn’t get worse.

It took an ashamed amount of effort to not let his mind drift again. To peacefully lose himself to his thoughts was a cruelty when Case struggled to breathe next to him.

Although he felt like Perseus turning to see if Medusa was waiting behind him, Felix risked a glance to Case.

Magically, he was not turned to stone.

Case had his eyes clenched shut; His eyebrows were furrowed and he was subtly turning his head left for a minute and then right, like he was caught in between a conversation he didn’t want to hear but still needed to pay attention to. Or, based on his still-distressed state, was being forced to listen to.

Just like on the balcony that horrible day, Case shook his head in disagreement over whatever he heard.

Yet, barmily, Felix did not feel fear as he did before. Instead, he felt worried. Not even for himself, but for the man next to him.

Case looked awful, a personified tank reduced to a huddled, shaking mess on the floor over a few mannequins. But God, did it get worse.

Case finally opened his eyes. And the sudden dread that flooded Felix’s veins brought his system to a standstill.

But it was his first thought that echoed worse than the imagery and would stick for far longer than any grown man would be willing to admit.

That’s not Case.

Facial expressions were never Felix’s forte, much better with body language, but it was so apparent that he didn’t need to have normal deduction skills to tell that something was wrong.

Pupils just a bit too shrunken, blinking too jittery, and his focus far too stationary, never jumping to look around, only gazing in slow and miscalculated movements. But his hands still shook.

Every other tell was screaming ‘I’m fucking terrified,’ but Case’s eyes were trying to convince him that everything was fine.

Whether the ‘him’ in question was himself or Felix, Felix did not know.

Case stood like he was being held at gun point— Like a civilian being held at gun point. If it was Case being held at gun point, he wouldn’t care. But he looked like he was scared for his life and being forced to his feet against his will.

Felix followed suit, standing with a gaze that never wavered from watching his compatriot, waiting for the snap or stumble. Case never once tore his eyes from the door.

“Case?”

Nothing.

“Why don’t you stay out here while I—”

Felix couldn’t finish his suggestion before Case shook his head, finally protesting to something Felix was aware of. He tried to march towards the door but was stopped with a firm though not unkind grip on his shoulder; Felix didn’t let go as he bent down to grab the forgotten cane and refused to speak until it had been taken.

Felix suggested, “I could go in but leave the door open…?”

But that was silently shot down too.

“You still want to go back in there,” Felix reluctantly said for him; Clearly something still terrified him and he hadn’t wanted to suggest that Case put himself through… whatever it was, but Felix was slowly coming to terms with the fact that his words had little bearing on Case’s ill-advised choices.

But then Case’s response was reluctant too, taking a few too many beats to lie and nod his agreement.

What the hell is going on?

The sentiment bounced around in his mind but never found a good enough answer. Was he still susceptible to the Cradle’s influence almost two weeks later? But there was no way that it had the lifespan to still be distorting his perception—

Case grabbed the key out of Felix’s hand and unlocked the door.

Felix flinched back, not even noticing the movement.

Part of him was tempted to snatch Case back and make him wait until he had either snapped himself from whatever state he was in or had at least calmed down, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. For whatever reason, the man was determined to go back in there and there wasn’t a chance he would let Felix get in the way of that.

The stupid display-case of a room felt worse on the second entry as Felix was left trailing behind a shaking Case.

He looked awful as he limped inside. He didn’t go much further past the door and leaned against the wall, taking vigil like a fallen gargoyle.

It took a second for Felix to realize that it meant he would be left to figure out the puzzle. And he felt incredibly stupid kneeling in front of the radio.

The ridiculous simplicity of the bunker’s trials had been a funny joke; Now neither of them were laughing but he had to press on. Case wanted the puzzle solved, so that’s what they were going to do. Although Felix felt like he showed up to a funeral in a clown costume.

The excitement of solving a mystery had vanished, and in its place was something cold that Felix had only seen when he walked into the sitting room to find Case just shy of a seizure while Marshall and Woods worked together to prevent him from scratching his own skin away.

Tuning the radio to the correct frequency took a matter of seconds and a heavily accented voice filled the space.

“A record played the sounds of a rocket launch. I was disappointed, wanting to see it on film instead.

“‘When you’re older,’ my sister said, as she used the iron to press our father's work clothes.”

Felix looked at the model rocket to the right of the radio and then to the record player on its left.

He turned to Case. He looked tired. His eyes were completely unfocused yet somehow still alert. But he was also digging through his pocket for something.

The radio’s message repeated.

He found it and held it out to Felix without looking away from the center of the room.

The black light.

“Simplest solution,” Case said with a thousand lives’ worth of incomprehensible horror sitting just behind the blank expression.

His voice shook like his throat was clogged after crying for hours upon hours. Like he didn’t want to speak. Like he couldn’t. But he had to.

Felix took the light.

“Yeah…” he mumbled with a lingering look, like Case was going to do something that was going to suddenly make everything make sense. But he just stood there, both like he trusted Felix with his life and like he was waiting for Felix to end him.

He turned on the light and revealed numbers all over the room on random items, too many for the code to be realistically brute forced— Unless you were fluent in English.

Midway through the message’s fourth loop, Felix muted the radio.

A number assigned to each item.

A record player. A model rocket. A roll of film. And an ironing board.

5-0-2-4

The only thing of note was when he had to get near the sitting mannequin to see the number on the ironing board. Case’s eyes weren’t so vacant anymore, looking at Felix like he was playing Russian roulette and looking at the mannequin like it had been the one to load the gun.

“C’mon,” Felix said; It didn’t matter if he got the numbers wrong or if it was actually significantly more complicated, they got what they needed and Felix just wanted the Hell out of there— He wanted to get Case the Hell out of there.

Case gestured his head for Felix to leave first, staring down the sitting mannequin. Felix did so reluctantly.

And when Case walked out, he walked out backwards, never breaking line of sight until he slammed the door shut and relocked it. he took a moment, his hand resting on the handle and his forehead slowly coming to rest against the door.

That first day, Marshall had said that they should be grateful that they don’t know what Case was seeing under the affects of the hallucinogen.

The idea of something that moves when you aren’t looking was nothing new. It’s something he could imagine Case playing peek-a-boo with, the man was so blasé when he was the one in danger.

There’s a strong comfort in knowledge and experience; Case was comfortable around danger, a comfort that could be easily mistaken for arrogance.

Whatever he had seen in the Cradle was worse than anything he had experienced. The prickling need to know was there, scratching at him like knowing what Case saw would help.

But Felix did not know what puzzle he was trying to solve any more. He had so many questions, most of them didn’t even have a reason to be asked, but every aspect of whatever the fuck happened was so nonsensical, even just one answer would help.

Case walked away slowly with his head down, trying to look to the left to counteract the urge to look back at the room and missing the agency he needed to use the cane properly. He stopped at the door they left held open by an old wooden board, staring at the improvised door stop.

With every step Case took, Felix tried to think about it was that he could have seen at USATA to spark such a reaction (Because it had to be more complicated than just mannequins, right?), but he was never good at reading people in that way.

Reading if someone was lying about not knowing anything and needed a few more teeth pried out? Of course. Reading what a friend was suddenly terrified of? Not so much.

Staring at the tremoring hands and shaking head did nothing to tell him what Case was trying to prepare for.

He watched Case’s face, morbidly fascinated.

Case’s lips twitched and his jaw shifted; He was trying to speak, but couldn’t — Not as if he were mute, but as if he had his voice robbed from him. But he didn’t look like he wanted to speak either.

The comparison of how Case behaved in the bunker before and after that room would plague him horrendously.

Case curled his lip but it twitched like he was trying to hide his frustration. Then he finally pulled out the notepad.

there’s a safe upstairs.

It took him much longer to write and every motion looked like it was a struggle. His normal handwriting was almost cursive but not quite neat enough or flowy enough to be such. But now each letter was individually segmented, writing like he was carving the words into the paper rather than marking it with the ink of the marker.

Felix nodded and gestured forwards. “Lead the way.”

He tried not to cringe at Case’s slow, jerky movements. It was obvious that his leg was bothering him more than he was willing to accept or admit. The worst part was that the staircase wasn’t wide enough for Felix to help — It was barely big enough for them to go single file.

In the sitting room, Felix stopped him.

Case never belittled his contradictory distaste for violence nor did he laugh when Felix washed his hands until they were red and raw because his gloves ripped.

It would be cruel for Felix to not extend the same courtesy to Case’s fears.

Felix forced the piano bench between the piano, wall, and door; The only way to open the door would be to slide the bench out of the way, effectively barricading it for anyone or thing trying to leave the bunker. He had to kick it into place, forcing it and probably ruining the finish on something.

Felix double checked that it would hold and walked on, only stopping in the doorway to the dining room when there was no clacking cane following him.

Case stared at the bench.

12 seconds passed.

Without a word or a facial expression to hint at at what he was thinking, he moved on as if he had never paused at all. Felix decided that he was going to take it as approval.

Frank was still on the balcony, though he now held his head in his hand and watched the night sky; the cigarette barely hanging onto his fingers was half gone but with no glow at the end nor any smoke falling off of it, likely having been extinguished by the wind. Felix hoped for his sake that he’d finally fallen asleep.

The air felt weirder after spending so long in the bunker. The concrete walls and cold, clinical lights were gone but he still felt like he was being watched, or that something was off.

Or maybe it was the lack of transition that threw him — The house should have felt warm and cozy and comforting, especially after whatever took place beneath them. But worse than the prevailing feeling of being watched was the somberness that still clung to them. A flight of stairs and a barricaded door did not remove the lingering fear that clung to Case like a parasite.

At the base of the main staircase, Felix stepped in. He was kind enough to let Case hold his autonomy for the first floor, but pride be damned, the man was not taking a third flight of stairs with a messed up ankle.

Case didn’t protest when Felix got under his arm to help him, whether it was because he knew he needed help or knew arguing with Felix wouldn’t get him anywhere did not matter.

Case passed Felix his cane, his right hand grabbing Felix’s shoulder and the left on the banister.

They took the stairs slow — Felix forced them to, holding Case back when he tried to walk too soon without getting his balance. Every time he got pulled back, Felix could feel the other’s regret for not fighting when he had the chance.

But Case still surprised him when he spoke, mumbling, “Feel like a drunk friend bein’ escorted home…”

It took a second for Felix to understand what he said, the syllables barely coherent.

Case must have been embarrassed, trying to make fun of the situation even when speaking was a struggle. Which sucked for him, but Felix wasn’t going to let him worsen his sprain over pride.

In a voice much clearer, Felix hummed and reassured, “Just try not to piss in the sink and we’ll be doing great.”

Had Felix not been holding him up, he wouldn’t have noticed Case’s silent and invisible laugh. But he was and so he did, feeling the slight shake and noticing that he relaxed ever so slightly at the cutting of tension that Felix hadn’t known was there.

At the top, his cane was returned but he still used the handrails to help himself along. Felix did not know where the safe was, but he wasn’t surprised that Case seemed to know right off the top of his head.

The bedroom Adler had taken during his short stay seemed to be the answer, and Felix was relieved that it wasn’t too far.

Inside the cramped and awkward room, there was a safe on the floor to the left of the bed. Case sat down in front of it, his left leg crossed and right extended to lie straight under the bed.

Felix kneeled behind him. “5-0-2-4,” he reminded, even though he’d already started to input it.

He watched the door closely, trepidatious excitement at what this whole damn circus could have been for.

“I hope it’s a pony,” Case said, thoroughly distracting Felix with the out of pocket statement. Definitely a comedian first. Not a good one, but definitely a comedian. It distracted him so much so that he was staring at Case in confusion when the click of the safe unlocking sounded in the small room.

Case had to lift his left leg and lean back awkwardly to be able to open the door but didn’t change the way he sat, going back as soon as it was opened far enough.

“Gott im Himmel,” Felix whispered in shock, surprised that there was anything in the safe at all; Part of him felt like the whole thing would end as a wild goose chase, but the stacks of money proved otherwise.

Case pulled the stacks of money out by the handful, passing them to Felix. After the money had been moved, he could see the rest of the safe held various documents and passports, some jewelry, and even an engraved knife.

The papers were standard fare, though he set aside the few papers in Russian for Case if he wanted to read them — Who, with the safe emptied, stood slowly while keeping his injured leg off the ground and sat on the bed.

Felix began to count the money while Case inspected the knife, a simple liner-locking pocket knife with a green and black handle.

It was very distracting, trying to keep up with monetary values while he continually messed with the blade, testing its weight, flicking it open and closed, spinning it around his hand like some magician doing a coin trick.

“Ten thousand U.S. dollars,” Felix announced, straightening the stack.

Case paused his parlor tricks and his eyebrows raised, but he looked more annoyed at the money than anything else.

“…You are still annoyed over the piano, aren’t you?”

Case ignored him for that comment, pointedly looking away and going back to messing with the knife.

Felix messed with the paper band around the cash. “Could you teach me ASL?” Felix asked, unrelated to anything at hand.

Case paused his fiddling once more, surprised by the sudden inquiry. He shrugged and nodded, like he was waiting for an explanation.

Felix didn’t really have one. It was childish, but the fact that four of the six residents had their own secret language he did not understand was eating at him. He didn’t feel that way with his ignorance of Russian, but, well, it’s not like Case went through bouts of only speaking Russian.

For once, Felix was aware of the awkward air around him and of the fact that he was at fault for that awkwardness. No words came to mind but Case didn’t seem too bothered as he tossed the pocket knife into the air and caught it as it fell back to his palm.

“Case,” Felix warned, now very much feeling like a babysitter.

But he did it again, this time catching it by the spine, flipping it back to hold the handle, and tossed it again.

As soon as it landed in his hand, Felix knocked it away with a very unimpressed and tired stare.

It fell loudly, hitting the wall, bouncing off the safe with a metallic clang, and clattering to the floor. Case looked down at it sadly.

And to think, Felix used to be scared of him.

There was a thump from the next room over and they both sat up quickly; Both he and Case seemed to have forgotten that they weren’t alone.

“It is two,” Sevati gritted, “in the goddamn morning. What the fuck—?” She stopped at the sight of an entirely too tall stack of cash. She repeated, more incredulous, “What the fuck?”

…

Frank had been surprised by the news of the fortune found upstairs, of course. And while he appeared conflicted over the day’s whirlwind of emotions, he still seemed proud of them in his own weird way — Which is to say that he looked proud but the ‘compliment’ he gave them about the two nosiest people in the house doing as nosy people do was maybe a little backhanded.

Sevati, on the other hand, didn’t look all that shocked after she processed the story she was regaled with, like finding a secret bunker and $10,000 was standard fare as far as Rook-based shenanigans went. She also said that Case’s call sign should have been Klepto, and Felix couldn’t disagree.

Marshall barely reacted; He just nodded, mumbled, “Good job,” and went back to his room.

(For a second, Felix understood why Sevati always seemed to be arguing with him these days.)

The rest of them lingered in the dining room, chatting mostly about the fact that they were now ten grand richer and that there had been a secret torture bunker beneath their feet all this time.

For the past two weeks, Case had been kept under strict surveillance. In a heel turn that all three of the other conversationalists were surprised by, Felix vouched for Case to be allowed to sleep on his own.

Frank was starting to crash (again) after around two weeks of only getting about three hours of sleep a night, though he tried to hide it. Unsuccessfully. Very unsuccessfully. Felix ‘casually’ suggested that Case slept in the ops room with Frank. He spouted bullshit over how everyone was tired and Felix would be falling asleep too after double checking the contents of the safe or something and that Case needed to rest his ankle.

Case had stared at him and then at Sevati and Frank. He shuffled backwards almost imperceptibly; Whether it was because he genuinely just wanted their opinion or if it was because he didn’t think his own opinion mattered, Felix wasn’t sure.

The three were staring like there was some silent conversation, one Felix wasn’t privy to. But he stood firm in his suggestion. Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely altruistic as he mainly wanted the opportunity to speak with Sevati alone, but… Case guarded Felix from whatever was horrifying enough to make the assassin quiver — A little trust was a lot overdue.

That was how Felix saw it anyway. And hoped he was making the right call.

Sevati voiced her approval indirectly, pointing out, “I don’t know if we have a spare cot, but I know we have about seven spare couches— I’m sure one of those could be dragged in.”

Frank turned and asked him directly, “Case? What do you think?” Frank was undoubtedly in favor of the idea, but refusing to answer until Case had would mean that there was no risk of Case worrying over hurt feelings; Frank was so often annoying and abrasive, it was startling (but not surprising) to hear him be so… assuring. And compassionate.

Predictably, Case shrugged, too much like Frank. It was supposed to mean, ‘I don’t care/It’s up to you,’ but Felix was happy to take it as a yes and run with it.

Felix and Sevati dragged one of those many spare couches in, putting it in the corner with the old elevator shaft facing the evidence board, not too far from Frank’s cot. He and Case had grabbed his pillows blankets, though Felix noted that Frank was the one that brought the pain killers Case was supposed to be taking.

It felt like they were setting up for a sleepover, all they were missing was the bowl of popcorn and movie.

After the two were laying down, he and Sevati left with a heaping dose of apprehension. As they walked, Felix muttered without turning his head, “We need to talk. Five minutes…”

Sevati nodded and mumbled, “Upstairs.” Without so much as a glance, she went off upstairs.

Felix did actually have something to do as he made sure the money was secure in its hiding spot and just quietly lingering to make sure he was right about Case being okay enough to not have a chaperone right next to him while he slept.

And maybe he was stalling a little too.

Five minutes passed and he stood at the base of the stairs next to the kitchen.

Three minutes later, he went up them.

Sevati did not seem fazed by his tardiness.

There was a fire going in the fireplace and a chair next to it, angled in the corner. She was standing at her desk when he entered and wordlessly offered him a flask with a cigarette between her lips.

He hadn’t drank in years — It felt like it would be too easy to lose himself in trying to drown out memories and search for peace at the bottom of the bottle.

His self control wouldn’t hold if his hands stopped shaking after enough drinks, regardless of how many it took.

Felix shook his head.

Sevati rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. She tossed the rejected flask onto her bed and gesture him to the chair in the corner before knocking the ash off into an ashtray on the nightstand. While Felix moved and sat down full of nerves, Sevati dropped herself onto her bed with a cough, cursing at the cheap brands Frank likes to keep around.

Part of him wished he hadn’t rejected the flask. To be anything other than sober at that moment sounded like a dream.

Sevati didn’t comment on his awkwardness; She just stared at the burning logs and maybe they were closer to being on the same page than he thought.

They hadn’t spoken much one-on-one since they had to baby-proof the house. Mostly his own fault, and for very hypocritical reasons at that. Sitting outside in the rain wasn’t as bad as exploring a dangerous, hidden, KGB bunker.

With the sun starting to rise, the world turned blue and a depressing light meandered through dirty windows.

Sevati was the one to break the silence.

“Do you remember when this was going to be an easy job for easy money?”

The statement pulled a derisive laugh from him. “Help the stupid Americans save their oh-so-benevolent government?”

The fire crackled, an ember flying out and dying out all alone on the rug, not even hot enough to leave a hole. The gate that was supposed to go in front of it to prevent those embers from ever getting that far was off to the other side of the fireplace. Sevati must have moved it when she made the fire. He had a feeling she would react negatively if he brought up the lack of safety.

“I was going to bounce after we got Adler out,” she admitted.

“Really?” Felix asked, not surprised that that had been her plan but that she admitted it.

She hummed in affirmation. “I was worried about their… ‘lack of discretion’ on the exit. Thought they were too reckless and I wanted to bolt before it turned sour.”

“Do you regret staying?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“I really fucking should.”

And Felix seconded that sentiment.

Silence sat between them again. It wasn’t as soft as the silence that he normally enjoyed, almost there, but not quite; Cozy and comforting as a scratchy and too-warm sweater.

He didn’t know how to ease into the topic so Felix didn’t bother with a banal preamble.

They both knew why they were there.

In a whisper that betrayed his reticent fears, he murmured, “It’s like he was missing for years, not hours…” But speaking only made him less sure of his words. “…Right?” He turned to look at her, to watch her face.

A true assassin, he couldn’t read a damn thing other than the fact that she was very invested in the fire. He felt like he was going insane; Observing was one of the few things Felix could do well and everything he’d observed pointed in contradicting or impossible directions. The house had grown divided with Marshall constantly working, Frank turning silent, and Case left in Cosper Solutions, battling aberrated monsters none of them could see. He needed Sevati to agree with him, even if it was just a lie.

“The way he looked when we found him…” Sevati stopped as soon as she stared, shaking her head like she could shake away the memory. “I don’t even know what he could have seen down there to fuck him up so bad.”

“I… might have a clue,” Felix said without thinking. He hadn’t mentioned the incident to the others when telling them about the treasure hunt.

Sevati stayed silent and it took him a second to realize that she was waiting for him to continue.

Felix tried as best he could to give an adequate summary of the events that took place after they unlocked the door, from the mannequins to Case’s freak out and reluctant re-entry — and the way he made sure to always keep them in sight.

“Mannequins…?” Sevati mumbled to herself confused.

She stayed silent again, this time thinking.

“Oh my God,” she groused, shutting her eyes and massaging her forehead even with her cigarette between her fingers, unhappy with the weight of her realization, “That’s why he kept staring at us— And ’s why he was so scared when he fell off the couch. He was staring at us but we kept moving.”

Voice sounding dead and tired, Felix told her, “That’s not all.”

“It—” Felix started and stopped in one word, his thoughts running too fast to catch one. So he went down a different avenue. “You believe he was fully aware of his actions in the basement, yes?”

“Yeah,” Sevati said, ready to defend her point.

Felix blurted, “Re-entering the room… It was like— It was like he was being puppeted.” His own words made him shiver, finally finding a tangible explanation for why that had scared him so badly.

“What?” she asked, the statement not having near as much of a punch for her as it did for Felix, “Like the Cradle is still in his system?” She was hunched over at an odd angle, her head held up by an arm that itself was resting on her knees, cigarette smouldering, and trying to make sense of it all. “He thought the— the mannequins were dangerous so he went back in to use—?”

“No,” Felix said, only feeling a little bad for cutting her off, “In all the Cradle’s trials, it was out of a person’s system within days at max. He’s not— He shouldn’t be…”

Sevati pointed out, “You said—”

Felix immediately began rambling because he knows. He fucking knows, goddammit — It doesn’t make sense.

“I know, so it must still be in his system, but it’d be an outlier by a wide margin— An outlier that just doesn’t happen—”

Sevati stood and walked up to the fireplace, tossing the butt of her nearly finished cigarette on the embers of the fire. She stopped next to him and patted his shoulder. “I hate to say, but I might agree with Woods on this one.”

He stood too and took a few steps forward, feeling like this was her trying to wrap up the conversation so she could sleep. “You think we should give up?” Felix unfairly accused.

And Sevati smacked the back of his head for it, making him flinch and rub where she’d hit. “No, I think that you’re not going to find the answers you want. The only person who knows what’s going on with Case is Case, and I doubt he’s opening up any time soon.”

But it was all right there, the next hint so close he could brush the very tips of his fingers against it; He had the files, had the disk, but at this point he doesn’t know what question to ask.

“Go to sleep,” Sevati told him.

Felix nodded and left with no plans to listen to her advice.

Downstairs, Case and Woods were still asleep. He would have been paranoid that Case was faking it for one reason or another, but he knew the man was certainly sleeping; If he was awake, he would have been trying to hide the look of panic from his constant nightmares.

But they were both asleep, Sevati was getting ready for bed as well, and Marshall was locked away in his room. So no one was there to see him pocket a flashlight and snag the keys to the van they had taken to Kentucky.

There were several missing puzzle pieces and while finding just one (or two) wouldn’t solve the entire mystery, it could always help make the picture a little clearer, give maybe just a little context.

The two extra guns that had been recovered from the facility had been left in the back of the van since the group’s return.

It felt odd to sneak around in the open as the sun had firmly risen. Felix unlocked the back doors of the van, crawled in, and shut them quietly behind him.

It reeked of flowers.

He clicked on his flashlight.

Both the LMG and the shotgun were there on the floor of the van. Neither were what he was expecting; They were both heavily modified, most notably was the magazine on the LMG — Now almost empty, but much bigger than the standard mag — and a laser sight on the shotgun. None of the modifications seemed to be there to off-set the weight of the LMG or the recoil of the shotgun.

Felix looked at the PU-21 closer, picked it up, and examined every inch. Most people would have considered the gun unwieldy.

There was an engraving on the recoil pad of the PU-21:

Case One — 200RM18KGLMG

And on the Marine SP:

Case One — TLPACSG12G-DB

These guns… belonged to Case One?

Hmm.

There were a lot of things Case One could be.

An earlier version of the Cradle, a protocol, an experiment, a codename — But whatever it was, they saw it as a weapon.

The way they spoke of Case One, the authors of the files were scared of the possibility of ever losing control. They spoke of it like it was an animal, dangerous and unpredictable.

And Felix had a sinking feeling that Case One was never an ‘it.’

He tried to tell himself that he did not know enough to make a call on what Case One was, but from the very beginning his first assumption was not made on baseless gut feelings. He wanted for it to be a weapon or a project because he didn’t want to think about the alternative.

But if Case One was a person, why would it (he?) have been given guns?

Felix did not like the story that was slowly unfolding in his head.

Felix focused on the LMG, finding it far more interesting than the shotgun. The shotgun’s mods were an odd selection, but nothing more than that, just odd; The LMG’s modifications would have made the gun usable for almost everyone who picked it up.

Mechanically, it looked as though it had been well cared for before the facility fell to ruin. The gun had jammed, likely a direct result of its abandonment.

He wrestled with the gun to clear the jam, maybe not as careful as he should have been given the likelihood of an unintentional discharge, but it worked and he was able to detach the magazine; A good chunk of the gun’s weight free, it was much easier to look over.

Mechanically, it had been loved; Physically, the wood accents looked as though they lost a battle with a wolverine.

The stock and hand guard were scratched to high heaven. It looked like there had been multiple instances of the damage being sanded over and re-varnished, though the scratches on the hand guard were not as well erased; Felix could imagine that they had troubles sanding the smaller, more rounded surface area when compared to the stock.

Paying closer attention, he saw the pattern in the scratches, like it was the same few words that had been carved in over and over.

He felt the wood and his heart skipped a beat at the realization that there was one spot in particular where he could feel the markings, just one particular spot where they were still deep enough for his nail to catch on them.

Felix’s eyes widened, a shark smelling blood in the water.

He was almost too excited to be careful as he took the gun; He remembered to be quiet as he shut the van’s door but had forgotten his fear of the potential for contamination from any residue on the gun.

Carrying the evidence of him profoundly ignoring everyone telling him to drop this mystery with him into the house was risky, but he needed better lighting than what his flashlight and the van’s tinted windows offered.

To carry it into the ops room where both Frank and Case were sleeping was plain stupid, but he knew Marshall wouldn’t be popping up with two of his closest friends finally getting some well deserved rest and hopefully those two were out-out, as well as Sevati.

And hopefully if one of them did wake he would get some level of warning to hide his little project, what with Frank’s constant snoring, and Case’s constant heavy breathing.

Felix’s corner of the room wasn’t even the best lighting, but it was the most comfortable place for him and his desk lamp and flashlight were still better than the van’s shadows.

He moved his keyboard, balancing it on top of the monitor and delicately set the ridiculously oversized LMG in its place, wincing as it still clinked against the metal desk.

Thankfully, neither of them woke.

Felix probably looked insane as he kneeled before the desk and held his flashlight in his left hand and his desk lamp in his right, moving them both this way and that as he tried to catch any shadows to no avail.

But fuck, he was so fucking close to fucking something.

With the light a bust he grabbed around for a piece of paper, finding Case's notebook and frantically flicking it open to the next empty page. Despite his hectic nature, he made sure to rip the paper quietly. He was playing with fire; Waking either compatriot of his would be disastrous though they posed very different worries.

Felix held the paper to the hand guard so tightly that his hand was tense enough to be on the verge of cramping.

Trying to shade in the etchings didn’t help much. Instead, he tried to catch the pencil on whatever indentations were still deep enough to catch on and follow them as best he could.

It was shoddy work that he would be embarrassed by if anyone else were there to witness it. The engraving went diagonal across the paper and he almost ran out of room, the pencil skating off the edge on the last marking.

Some lines were perfectly straight, some were curved like a half-circle. But it was clear that whatever had been carved had been carved over and over again, not just on every part of the wood, but over the previous engravings as well.

The wood was scratched, USATA tried to remove the evidence of whatever had been written, and it was scratched up again; A cycle of damage and cover-up, one that probably only ended when the facility fell to disrepair.

Felix stared at the scribbled lines.

Most went past where they likely actually ended and a few were probably just the wood grain itself. But there was something there. There had to be.

His knees ached and cracked when he stood. He locked his elbows and leaned on his desk, his arms also sore from not moving and maybe the lack of sleep too.

He looked over his desk, trying to parse through a way to decode random scribbles.

It hadn’t been too long since he slept, just a little over 28 hours. His mind felt like it was dragging but the idea of sleep felt more like a punishment than a mercy. Yes, his reflexes were slowed and his neck seemed to be protesting having to hold his head up, but he felt no desire for rest.

The notepad he’d ripped the paper from was still open; The last page that had been written in was only partially flipped over. Felix flipped it back and stared at the message, the most recent one Case had written pertaining to the location of the safe.

And it was likely his minor sleep deprivation that made him so nonchalant as he compared the note to the messy scrawl Felix had transcribed, holding them side by side and comparing shapes and lines that began to look more like letters.

Felix could make out one instance of an ‘r’ towards the end and four letters that could have been a lowercase a, e, or o.

It began to click when he angled the paper to a new perspective he hadn’t stared at yet and realized that the first letter was a ‘W’ — specifically a capital ‘W’ where as most of the others were lowercase, save for one other.

A name, first and last, one USATA tried to hide.

Felix took a step back. Physically. He stepped away from his desk.

A name, one desperately etched into the wood with a fingernail in the hopes that the writer wouldn’t forget it.

Felix looked to his left. Frank was still snoring as the golden hue of morning faded into something duller and less saturated. The spare couch was still occupied, its inhabitant shaking beneath the blanket that was being used as a shield, shaking as if cold, yet sound asleep.

A name, one that belonged to Case One.

He stepped back to the desk quickly and snatched another piece of paper. Following the writing style of the note he’d ripped from the notepad, he wrote a name, fifteen letters but sixteen characters with a space in the middle. Starting with a ‘W’, first and last.

He compared it to the paper he’d covered in scratchy lines and the scratches themselves.

Felix stumbled backwards and looked for something to disprove the answer sitting before him, waiting for him to accept reality.

…

“Are you familiar with Ockham’s razor?” Felix asked Case.

…

“Simplest solution,” Case said with a thousand lives’ worth of incomprehensible horror sitting just behind the blank expression.

…