I reached the nearest doors of the warehouse slightly ahead of Ashley, and wrenched it open while both its rusty hinges and my rusty muscles creaked in protest. The shriek of swinging steel was hardly subtle, though stealth was hardly an option now that someone was shooting. Together, Ash and I rushed into the building, each of us sweeping our respective corners with a glance before turning our attentions to the centre of the room. Or rather, the barrier separating us from the centre of the room. The warehouse floor was a maze of packing crates and pallets, stacked haphazardly in crude rows, reaching up about twenty feet and spanning the length of the building. We had entered facing the foremost row, which blocked our view further in and provided altogether too many potential ambush sites.
With a few silent gestures, Ash and I split up, taking opposing sides of the rows and progressed deeper into the warehouse, checking each row as we passed. We had only cleared the first two rows before we heard the voices, speaking in Cork accents so dense that words could hardly escape its gravitational field. The kind of voice that seems mostly to comprise of disjointed syllables masked in a lilting brogue. What follows is the closest interpretation of what I could discern.
"It's definitely dead Jim."
"Course he is. I'm a dead eye when it comes to marksmanship."
"Pure fluke, twas. Only dead eye you're accustomed to is the black one you got when you fell onto the corner of your barstool."
"Still a better dead eye than the look your wife gives ya when you're late home."
"Shut up, will ya?"
"It's only a joke lad. Lighten up ta Jaysus."
"No, shut up! I think I heard something."
"Rats probably."
"I don't know many rats that can open steel doors. Save your brother, that is."
"Oi!"
"Anyway, we'd best be off before someone finds us."
"But what about this thing? Can't leave it here to be seen now, can we."
"We don't got a choice. Boss man paid us to kill it,it's dead. That's all that's important. It'll all be written off as a drunk hobo, probably."
I could sense the moment already slipping away. If we had any hopes of interrogating those two, we had to act before they made their escape. With a yell, I tore down towards them. Ashley, momentarily stunned by my reckless reaction froze before continuing after me. Ahead, I could see the two men now, though they were obscured by the weak and halfhearted lights overhead. One appeared short and fat, while the other was tall and thin. This was only in relation to each other however, neither was far removed from the average male in absolute terms. The slightly taller man was the one holding the gun, which appeared to be similar to a standard, old fashioned bolt action rifle, if you ignored the flashing lights and strange metal adorning its surface. Already, the pair was beginning to turn and run for the exit nearest them. I increased my pace, frowning. Not to sound ungrateful, but I wondered why neither of the men were shooting at us. Was it because the rifle really only held a single shot? And even if that was the case, surely the little man would be carrying a weapon of their own? I decided that my questions would be best answered if and when the two were in custody.
On the floor near the spot where I had first spotted the men, I could now see was slumped a Weevil. Obviously dead, the poor creature had been shot through the heart. Sure, I've had to put down a fair few Weevils in my time, usually as a last resort, but something about this seemed wrong. It was too clinical and precise. The work of a professional hunter, not a desperate survivor. It hadn't been killed because it posed a threat, merely because it was different, alien. I looked into its eyes, (her eyes, I decided), and saw the barest flicker of life. Something the two men wouldn't have understood or cared about. She was dying, nothing could save her now, but she was determined to cling on to life as long as she could manage. I saw that glint in her eye, the glare of hatred and revenge. She wouldn't rest until the pair who had done this had paid.
"Hush, hush now." I said, crouching down before the Weevil. I laid a hand on her shoulder gently. Feebly, she tried to pull away before giving up due to the pain of her chest wound. Ash ran past in pursuit of the men, barely paying me any attention.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what they've done." I pleaded with the Weevil. "But mark my words. I'm going to make them pay."
I couldn't tell if she was smart enough to hear me, to comprehend me, not to mention if she was lucid enough. Although, I could have sworn her lip curled in a vindictive grin, or maybe it was just a grimace of pain. I continued to hold her as the last of her life ebbed away and she collapsed with a final shuddering gasp. I sat alone in silence then, the sudden deafening silence that's left, void-like, when a living being imperceptibly nothing but a mass of decaying meat. Life is such a fickle thing, something we can't truly grasp until someone is ripped from us. We are all of us constantly rotting and degrading, life is merely the chemical process that balances entropy and keeps us muddling on, and yet it is so much more, as felt by the intense absence left in the wake of a death. In my time with Torchwood, I've seen so much death, of friends, enemies, and the innocents in between. But it's always the same. Every death leaves a mark, invisible yet indelible upon you. And I know that nobody should have to face it alone.
Ashley's voice buzzed in my ear, via my Bluetooth headset.
"Damn. Bastards had a vehicle stashed away just outside. I lost them and there's no way we'll catch them tonight." She sighed, breathing heavily.
"Did you get the reg?" I asked, as I stood up from the deceased Weevil.
"Missing a digit, but enough to establish a trace, assuming they aren't fakes or anything. At least it's a start though."
"And, if that doesn't shake out, I think I've found a lead of my own. Bring the car around, I want this Weevil collected for autopsy. Maybe we can find out what kind of weapon our new friends favoured."
"Got it. Best be quick though, in case either of them tries to call the Guards down on us."
"Got it. But that's not my lead. No, I'm more interested in these crates. They're all Devlin Tech branded. The entire shipment is full of Tech Specs. Something is fishy here."
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