Containment until

The room was a circular cut without any light bulbs. The background humming of soft machinery was accompanied by the constant trickling of liquid. Without any words, John stepped inside. As Igor didn’t stop him, he looked around.

The roof was slightly slanted, rising towards the centre. Steel pipes connected to the walls separated the room into six segments. From the wall, the pipes ran into a red container in the middle of the room. It glowed from within, pulsating with a faint heartbeat further visualised by a green line of magical light eternally making its way around the glass surface.

John walked to the container. The steel pipes weren’t actually connected to the glass container; he realised as he looked closely. Instead, the container was open at the bottom and hovered above, drops of the red liquid periodically dropping from what seemed to be a magical containment field into a small basin from which it then ran off. John prepared himself for what would come next and looked into the container itself.

Barely visible through the constant pulsating of red and the lines of green was the body of a small girl. He couldn’t make out a lot of her. Short hair, chin-length he guessed but with the bloody red liquid around her, it was hard to guess, eyes half closed staring indifferently. On closer inspection, the red of the container got thicker towards the bottom – Blood is thicker than water - clouds of blood leaking from the girl’s fingertips. Dozens of black spots covered the girl's otherwise unidentifiable skin colour.

‘The answer is under the nails.’ John thought, remembering one of Travolta’s screams of agony as he looked at the spreading flow of red coming from the fingertips. He also remembered his last request, the words echoing in his mind, the clear moment in the eyes of Travolta’s disfigured face burnt into his memory – “Please help her.”

Well, the truth wasn’t going to present itself this easily. He put his hand on the container, hoping that would accomplish anything. It didn’t. The naked girl inside was still floating with an empty expression.

“Thana.” He mumbled, “Mind telling me what this is about, Igor?” “When our glorious founder left the Blood he didn’t just rob them of his superior intellect but also of one of their greatest weapons. We don’t know how she was created, but this girl continually bleeds a tincture that heightens everyone’s capabilities. Although the reality of it is that everyone who drinks too much of her blood losses himself to her cursed influence the Soviets used it in very small doses to strengthen some of its soldiers.” “Gaia was fine with that?” He asked the Guild Leader with a baffled tone. Igor shrugged, “In small doses, an Abyssal **** is indistinguishable from a real one.”

He had heard that before. Where? A question for later. “So, you stole her from the Soviets.” John summarised, “And now you are using her blood yourself?” “All we do is follow our Leaders last command.” Igor said, “On his dying breath, close to the edge of her madness, he told us to kill her. Unwilling to take the risk of getting her out of this container after seeing the insanity her blood alone can spread it was decided to wait out her natural ****. For sixty years now we have monitored her.” “Sixty?” John almost shouted in disbelief and stumbled away from the container. The girl inside looking not a day older than 18.

Sixty years of what was, from all he knew and Observe told him, perpetual torment. Sixty years. More than three times his own lifetime. There was no way he was going to join up with these people. However, he had to make the impression if he wanted to get out of here.

“You are dedicated.” He complimented the only thing worthwhile, “Is it even working?” “Yes.” Igor pointed at the ever-turning green line as it jumped once again. “Her heart has been slowing. At the current pace, we should see her end in about two years. With that our order's holy task will be fulfilled.” John didn’t even need to ask anymore as Igor started rambling in his honey-coated voice. “Yes, indeed. All we do is for this our dear leader's vision. All we do is keep the prison active, John Newman, with the money our vassal organisations pay us. In return, we give them power. She is the source of her own ****.” His tone twisted into a happy ridicule, “Entirely fitting for Communist Scum.”

“And what happens when you are done?” John asked out of genuine interest, “When you have fulfilled that ‘holy task’ of yours? Won’t all the guilds you hold by getting them addicted to her Blood turn against you the moment you stop providing?” “That doesn’t matter.” Igor waved it off, “The moment she is dead the Bloodfallen will gather and attack the Blood. We will consume the remaining amount of her blood and take the Communists with us into an early grave. We will purge them off this world like they purged our ancestors’ families in the Gulag.”

And in doing so, they would become exactly like them. John’s suspicion was completely proven. The Bloodfallen had turned to another form of ****; they didn’t think about consequences they only wanted to damage the Blood of the Proletariat. It was like a religious zeal that glinted in Igor’s eyes, and Victoria looked at her Guild Master in admiration. These people had diluted themselves so far that they thought fighting the bigger evil made all of their actions justified.

John looked back at the tank for a moment. ‘Even if one of these actions is keeping a girl locked in endless torment, huh?’ He thought and turned to Igor. He needed to get away from here and find some solution for this whole mess. One that involved respecting Travolta’s last wish, one that would see Thana saved. There was no way he would find that solution here.

“I need time to think about all of this.” John argued, “If you could let me go today you will have my answer….” “No.” Igor flat out rejected, “You know too much to leave here like this. I need an answer.” That was expected, but John had another idea. He disliked it, but the risks were small. “What if I leave you an insurance?” Everyone in the room had a questioning expression. “Tell me what you mean by that, John Newman,” Igor demanded, and John walked back up to the group. He put his hand on Aclysia’s shoulder.

“I will leave her with you. Victoria can vouch how much she means to me.” John said and did his best at making a worried expression. He didn’t have to act much; he really hated doing this. How Aclysia was able to stay calm and collected despite being offered to the enemy was admirable, it was like she actually knew John’s plan already. Well, maybe she did.

Igor looked over to the newest member of the inner-circle, and the Slavic Sniper nodded. “Yet you are very quick to give her up.” Igor nonetheless wondered. “Well, I think I will join you.” John lied, “But I will need to be sure of it first.” That seemed to be good enough for the Guild Leader. “Fine, you have one week. Victoria will get you again afterwards. Go now.”

As John turned to leave he had not the slightest doubt that she would actually follow him immediately.