115: Chapter 115 The Morlocks' Crisis

"The harvest season has only just begun, and the warehouse is still more than half empty."

The warehouse didn't stay empty for long.

December 5th, 2:30 PM, at the counter of the Antique Shop.

Yan Zheng was using sandpaper to polish the base of a Ming Dynasty bronze incense burner. A thin layer of copper dust had collected on the mat, and the afternoon light leaked through the gaps in the blinds, drawing thin strips across the counter.

The old phone in the drawer vibrated.

Yan Zheng put down the sandpaper and picked up the phone to check the caller ID.

Liu Kun.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Liu."

The background noise on the other end of the line was very loud, with people shouting in the distance, mixed with the echoes of clashing metal; it wasn't an indoor acoustic environment.

"Mr. Yan, something has happened."

Liu Kun's voice was half a beat faster than usual, and his breathing was unstable.

"Take your time."

"The Morlocks have been attacked."

Yan Zheng's hand, which was polishing the bronze burner, stopped.

"Who attacked them?"

"It wasn't Project Purity, and it wasn't the Police. It was The Brotherhood themselves."

Yan Zheng placed the bronze burner back on the mat and gently curled his fingers on the counter.

"Which branch?"

"They're called the Predators. The leader of an extremist faction under Magneto brought four or five combat-type Mutants and snuck into the Morlocks' tunnels late last night. The reason given was that the Morlocks refused to respond to The Brotherhood's mobilization order and refused to participate in the armed protests after the bill passed. The leader of the Predators said they were traitors who betrayed the cause of the Mutant race."

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ˘ ͈ ꒳ ͈ ͈ )

"How many died?"

"I'm not sure. My informant heard it from a Morlock who escaped; that person said there were corpses everywhere in the tunnels. A dozen or so, maybe more. The Predators are still hunting deeper inside, with no intention of stopping."

Yan Zheng switched the old phone to his left hand, while his right hand reached into his pocket, pulled out a scalpel, and placed it on the counter.

"Which line is the Morlocks' settlement on?"

"The abandoned section of the A line, north of 190th Street Station. The specific entrance and exit are uncertain; my informant only knows you can get in through the ventilation shaft at the south end of 190th Street Station, but he couldn't say how to navigate once inside."

"What's the makeup of the Predators?"

"Five people. The leader's nickname is Axe, and his ability is to harden his arms into some kind of metallic texture. My informant couldn't clearly describe the abilities of the other four, only that one can conjure Fire and one runs very fast."

Yan Zheng's fingers slid over the handle of the scalpel twice, warming the metal from room temperature to the warmth of his fingertips.

"Mr. Liu, where is your informant now?"

"He's with me, scared out of his wits. I gave him a cup of Water and a blanket."

"Ask him one thing."

"Go ahead."

"Is the leader of the Morlocks still alive?"

Liu Kun's voice could be heard on the other end of the line asking in a low voice, muffled for a few seconds.

"He says he's not sure. When he escaped, the leader was still organizing the retreat, but the Predators were pursuing closely, and he doesn't know what happened afterward."

Yan Zheng picked up the scalpel and spun it around his index finger, stopping with the tip pointing down.

"The leader of the Morlocks is a sensory-type Mutant with a gene level slightly above intermediate."

"Mr. Liu, this information is very valuable. Thank you."

"Mr. Yan, are you planning to…"

"I plan to go for a walk."

"The abandoned A line tunnel. I looked at the subway system map for that location in November. The ventilation shaft at the south end of 190th Street Station, right?"

"Right, but Mr. Yan, that's the Predators' battlefield. Five combat-type Mutants are still in there killing people."

"I know."

Yan Zheng's tone was no different from when they were discussing the location of the ventilation shaft—steady, polite, as if he were saying the weather was nice and suitable for going out.

"However, Mr. Liu, by the time I get there, the fighting should be almost over."

"The Predators have been hunting the Morlocks for over twelve hours; five people have been chasing dozens underground for an entire night."

"No matter how good their stamina is, there's a limit."

"By the time I arrive, those who should have fallen will have already fallen."

The line went quiet for three seconds.

"Mr. Yan, do you need any support?"

"No. Help me take care of that escaped Morlock and don't let him run away again."

"I might have questions to ask him."

"Understood."

"Thank you, Mr. Liu. Goodbye."

The call ended.

Yan Zheng put the old phone back in the drawer, stood up, pushed the bronze burner and sandpaper to the corner of the counter, and took a pair of white gloves out of the drawer and tucked them into his jacket's inner pocket.

He walked to the back door of the shop and opened it; the cold air from the stairwell, carrying a faint scent of formalin, surged up.

Underground Room.

The creations' various colored phosphorus fires flickered quietly in the shadows. Mr. Brute was crouching in the northeast corner, the Knight stood under the dome in the deepest part, and the Gunner's lean skeleton leaned against the west wall, its purple phosphorus fire dimmed to its lowest.

Yan Zheng stood at the bottom of the stairs, switching his Mental Link entirely to assembly mode.

"Gentlemen."

Six colored pulses lit up simultaneously.

"Today's configuration."

"Mr. Knight, Mr. Brute, come with me."

Golden and dark red pulses jumped twice.

"Mr. Gunner, stay behind; Mr. Thunder Guard, provide core defense for the Underground Room."

Silver-white and purple pulses flickered steadily.

"Frost Archer and Acid Walker, act as perimeter guard."

Ice-blue and dark green lights responded to the command.

Yan Zheng walked to the workbench, took the New York subway system abandoned line map from the drawer, and drew a circle with a pencil over the location of the A line 190th Street Station.

"Target: The abandoned section of the A line tunnel, the Morlocks' settlement."

"Mission: Collection."

"Collection scope: All dead and dying Mutant biological materials."

"If the five Predators are still alive, do not initiate contact."

"They are helping me slaughter the pigs; there is no need to interrupt."

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ ≖ ᗜ ≖ ˵ )

"But if they stand between me and the pigs after they finish slaughtering."

He took the scalpel out of his pocket and spun it under the light tube; a cold white light slid across the metal blade.

"Then I'll collect the hunters as well."

He put the scalpel back in his pocket, zipped his jacket up to his chest, and slung his canvas bag over his shoulder.

"Mr. Knight, Mr. Brute, depart from the drainage tunnel on the west side of the Underground Room, and transfer to the subway maintenance passage via the C-zone main pipe."

"The underground distance to 190th Street Station is about four kilometers, a forty-minute walk."

"I will go from the surface and enter through the ventilation shaft. You will merge from the underground pipe network."

"Rendezvous point: The bottom of the ventilation shaft at the south end of 190th Street Station."

The two creations stood up from their respective corners, the sound of their skeletons unfolding echoing dully in the low space.

Yan Zheng walked up the stairs and pushed open the back door; the afternoon sun of Ninth Avenue outside made him squint.

His gold-rimmed glasses turned into light gray polarized lenses in the sunlight. He pushed up the frames on the bridge of his nose and walked north along the street.

The scalpel in his pocket tapped gently against the lining fabric of his jacket with the rhythm of his steps, making a very faint metallic clinking sound.

"The Morlocks, forty or fifty Mutants living in an abandoned tunnel."

"Most are low-level, but the numbers are there."

"Even forty low-level genes can expand fifteen to twenty grunt-level Skeleton Soldiers."

"What if there are intermediate-level surprises inside?"

Yan Zheng's pace did not quicken; it remained his standard stride of seventy centimeters per step.

"The leader of the Morlocks, sensory-type, slightly above intermediate."

"If he is dead, that mental perception gene will be today's biggest harvest."

"If he isn't dead."

His soles stepped over a piece of newspaper blown into the middle of the sidewalk. The front page headline read Mutant THREAT ESCALATES, printed in large, crooked letters.

"Then I'll just make a note of it and deal with it later."

"Let's go, gentlemen. Dinner in the subway tunnel doesn't wait for anyone."