Chapter Text
Along the unpaved gravel road of Rural Louisiana, a white armored truck packed with six elite mercenaries raced toward the bayou. They sat in silence as they tightened their vests and fixed their rifles. Preparing for the job ahead. Silver Sable sat closest to the door, securing the holster around her thigh. Her thick Symkarian accent breaks the silence in the truck.
“Alright, we are about five minutes out, let’s go over this one more time.” Sable held out a picture of a blond-haired woman who couldn’t be older than twenty, dressed head to toe in designer clothing and expensive jewelry.
“This is our target, Maddie. Two days ago, she was taken around this area, and her parents have hired us to track her down.” Sable explained, passing the photo around for the others to get a good look.
“We’re doin’ search and rescue work now?” Carl Striklan asked, examining the picture before passing it down to the next.
“I know, it’s not our usual work. But with Sandman absent, we need this get-right job before getting back into the swing of things. And the amount of money offered makes it worth our time.” Sable continued.
“I sure hope you aren't expectin’ to find her alive, not out here.” Doug Powell snickered, passing the picture back to Sable, who snatched it out of his hand.
“Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter; they just want a body.” Sable hissed as the truck pulled off onto the side of the road.
Opening the doors to the truck, the Wild Pack climbed out onto the gravel. The road was empty; there wasn’t a car, streetlight, or road sign in sight. They were surrounded by woodland and whatever lurked in the murky swamp water in those woods.
“What was a girl like that doing out here, anyway?” Paladin asked, following the pack into the grassy ditch beside the truck.
“The ‘Butler’ claimed to have taken a wrong turn attempting to find a place to check his flat tire. When he got out, they got ambushed by ‘Men With Orange Eyes’.” Sable quoted, gesturing to the treeline in front of them. “He managed to escape, while Maddie supposedly got dragged into the woods.”
“Men with orange eyes? I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” Lemar Hoskins said, looking around to the others who shared a look of confusion.
“My theory is that they came from an isolated cult, but the maps did not show any buildings around.” Amy Chen stated, the team beginning to follow Sable into the forested wetland.
They treaded lightly through the unknown woods for several minutes, careful to avoid whatever predator hid underneath the thick brush and dark water. The soil beneath them becomes soggier with every step forward, until they’re ankle deep in mud. Sable seemed more concerned about the terrain than the rest of the team, who trailed behind her openly conversing amongst one another. It admittedly irritated her more than it should’ve, wanting them to tighten up and lock in, even if they were just searching for a body.
“Focus!” Sable finally hissed, glaring back over her shoulder to the rest of the team. They fell silent for a moment, watching as she continued through the thick mud with her fists clenched.
“What’s up with her? She’s been more, uh… irritated than usual. Is it because of Sandman?” Paladin whispered as he leaned closer to the others.
“No, no.” Doug snickered, “She’s still throwin’ a fit because her Lover Boy up and left her.” He gossiped. Sable turned again, staring daggers at him, which shut him up quickly, and made the others shift uncomfortably.
Lemar looked around as the team stood in awkward tension. His eyes landed on a pair of vultures gathered around just a few yards away from them, he couldn’t make sense of what they were scavenging. It was caked in mud and had already been torn up and mutilated, but something in him was telling him it wasn’t a dead animal. As they continued through the mud, the vultures took notice and retreated away from the carcass. A shiver ran down his spine as he was finally able to make out what looked to be the corpse of a man. Noting the visible bones and brunette hair.
“Shit…” Lemar gasped, loud enough to draw the attention of the others, who quickly turned and shared similar reactions.
Sable approached the body, having to use her arm to cover her nose. The smell was putrid, as the body had already begun to decay and rot under the harsh humidity; unfortunately, the smell wasn’t even the worst of it. His limbs had been cleanly amputated and were nowhere to be found; a civilization of maggots had taken over the body, and he had an obvious look of fear painted over his face, even through the decay. The man certainly didn’t die of natural causes, and he didn’t go peacefully. The sight made them all sick to their stomachs.
Recoiling at the sight, Sable took a few steps away from the body to collect herself. This job was going to be more troubling than she was expecting, and Amy’s cult theory didn’t seem too far-fetched now. She took a few deep breaths, looking around to confirm they were clear, before noticing a pair of footprints leading into the brush. The prints seemed to be made by several barefooted people, even creepier considering their landscape.
Amy approached on her right, patting her on the shoulder. “Are you alright?” She asked. Sable waved her hand dismissively and stood up straight again.
“I’m fine, just keep walking.” Sable huffed, beginning to follow the prints into the wet bushes, the team quickly trailing behind her. She pushed aside low branches and stepped over fallen tree limbs. The footprints became more inconsistent and hidden as they led them into deeper water. Eventually bringing them out on the other side of the woods and onto a flooded road.
Looking ahead, the Wild Pack laid eyes on a lost building, an asylum forgotten by civilization and reclaimed by nature. The building was old and large, the brick walls cracking and covered in carbon stains, some of the window frames missing glass panels. The place was nothing short of creepy; any reasonable person would hightail it in the other direction, but they had a job to do.
“This place was not on the maps.” Amy sighed, following Sable’s tracks up the flooded road.
“I know.” Sable said, stopping at the rusted and busted security gate to look at the placard on the brick wall.
(St. Albans Asylum) (Opened in 1925) The placard read, Sable looked back over her shoulders at the others. “Stay close.” She commanded.
Looking back up to the dark asylum, the sun was setting behind it, casting a dark orange glow over the area. Sable took a deep breath and leaned into the gate, the old, rusted-out hinges creaking as she pushed it open…