He waited for a few moments, before climbing down from the gantry, the metal struts and supports not particularly sacred, but convenient for handholds. On the floor, he looked up, seeing the solar pattern cut into the ceiling, golden discs and circles. The engines and pumps chugged away with a constant throbbing sound, as he lifted the floor panel, then searched for the winch control.

He glanced down into the water – it was utterly black, no light at all down there. Anyone would be utterly blind and deaf unless the headsets included lights or speakers. It would be impossible to have any sense of time, just an endless void, until pulled back out. Probably not good for sanity, although that might be intentional.

The control had been hooked over a random dial, and at least was easy to work out. He pushed the ‘up’ button, something spinning into life, pulling her up. It didn’t take long until she broke the surface again, water streaming down her body. She was twisting in her suit, arms and legs bound in place, fighting against the tightness of it. He looked at the helmet, front completely blacked out. Was there any kind of quick release mechanism? If the helmet was airtight, cutting off the air might choke her.

First was getting her down on the ground, putting the panel back. As she was lowered against it, she shook and twisted, more violently now. The suit at least was easy, with a zip up the back. He pulled it down, revealing some kind of inner suit beneath, tugging it down as quickly as he could. Her arms slid free, immediately lashing out, almost punching him. They reached towards the helmet, pulling at in desperation, yanking on it, the head- and neckpiece resisting. How the hell did this kit work? There was a complicated-looking metal device on the neck that seemed to be sealing the thing in place, resisting his attempts to lift the helmet up. He focused, letting hunger surge through him, the metal vanishing. Bile rose up in his stomach, but he managed to keep it down for now, as he wrenched the helmet up, revealing Amy’s face, red and pinched from the helmet, her pupils dilated.

She looked at him, dazed and confused, swinging an arm with far too much force, almost punching him, grabbing hold and trying to pull herself up. ‘How long? How long was I down there?’

‘A few minutes!’ He managed to haul her upwards, her feet finding the floor after several attempts. He waved his hand in front of her face, trying to get her to focus. ‘Are you drugged?’

She spat. ‘Shit. Probably. A few minutes? Really?’

‘If that. We need to leave, now.’

She was swaying back and forth, looking nauseous. ‘It felt like days, or longer. So dark…’ She shivered, as Brandon picked up the helmet and looked inside. The inside of the mask had a screen built in, flickering with brain-numbing soft static, with white noise coming through headphones as well. He showed it to Amy.

‘Shit, no wonder it felt like my brain was turning to mush. Like being dead, just dumped down there. Couldn’t even hear my own breath or heartbeat. Fuck, we need to get the other one. Don’t know who it is, but they’ve been done there for days, and no-one deserves that.’

Her balance was coming back, as she took a slow step towards another controller, setting the winch into motion, before pointing Brandon at the appropriate panel.

‘I didn’t realise quite what promotion meant, thought there’d be induction or something first! Not dunked into sensory deprivation. Wonder how long they would have left me down there for?’

The body broke the surface, hanging limply in the air. Even when Amy began stripping off the outer suit, they still didn’t move. Her hands moved to the neck-brace, and she turned to Brandon. ‘You’ll have to get this off, it takes a special key.’

He felt like was about to hurl already, but could see the locking mechanism, a circular slot on the back of the neck. He pressed the stump of his finger against it, wincing as he felt the cold, still metal against the raw scar. It vanished, winking out of existence and leaving Amy free to pull the helmet off as he sank back, leaning on a wall and trying not to throw up, gulping in deep breaths.

‘Shit.’ There was a heavy clunk as the helmet was cast ahead, Brandon looking up. He repeated Amy’s exclamation, recognising the pale face showing above the suit as Amy tried to shuck them out of the thing. ‘I thought you said he was dead?’

‘He was, it didn’t stick. No idea what the hell happened, but he managed to make it back. Mostly. He went a bit strange, then vanished. I assumed he’d gone mad or killed himself.’

She managed to get him out of the suit, checking his pulse. ‘He’s alive, but I’ve no idea how long he was down there for. It’s probably not going to have done anything good for his sanity.’ She shivered. ‘Alone in the black for a few days, or weeks… that’s going to break most people.’

‘He was pretty broken to start with, to be honest.’ Brandon moved off the wall, peeling back the captive’s right sleeve. The pale, wrinkled flesh beneath was marked up with scars and tattoos, harsh black lines crossing over raised bumps and welts. ‘Think he did most of those himself. Courtessa tried to bring him in, but he managed to make a break for it. Which was probably better for him in the long run, she’s normally pretty rough with any test subjects she gets her claws into.’

‘If he’s here then…’ Amy looked worried.

‘He wouldn’t have let it out of his sight, so yeah, that’ll be somewhere about as well. This place got a lockup or anything? Unless they’re completely senseless, they’ll have put it the safest place they can.’

‘I’ve heard the Low Master mention a safe in his office. Reckon you’re up to getting through it?’

‘Fuck, I hope it’s only thin metal. But that’s probably the only damn thing that can wake him. OK, we’ll have to carry him.’

Fortunately, he weighed barely anything, his captivity having stripped away whatever muscle mass he might once have had. They moved as quickly as they could, hauling him away, Amy trying to guide them through the halls.

‘This place always so quiet?’

‘I’ve only been back here blindfolded, I’ve no idea. Standard pyramid scheme – get a load of minions, get them to do all the actual work, a few get pushed up the ranks, but only the most dedicated get to meet the real brains. I’ve only seen that woman in white a handful of times, she’s the highest ranked I know of. I heard she was after you, but don’t know why. Couldn’t even turn up more than a handful of details on her, either. Kashura Abyad, no previous names or known details, just showed up about a year ago and started this.’

‘Any powers?’

‘Definitely something, yeah. She’s golden-tongued, I’ve heard her speak and it’s far more enthralling than it should be. But she’s putting the hours in – this place does a lot of work to legitimately feed the poor, and there’s not been any disappearances, at least that probably haven’t just left and gone elsewhere. If she’s killing people, she’s being damn sneaky about it. And I’ve sensed that light a few times as well.’

‘So, she’s definitely doing something. And she’s managed to stay hidden all this time, so she’s either really old, or really young and really skilled. Neither’s great for us. Why did you not call for help?’

‘Who from? Courtessa’s nuts and would want to burn the place down, and you never leave the damn house. How did you get here?’

‘Courtessa threatened to burn my house down. And then one of these guys broke in and tried to attack me.’

They ducked into an office, even a cult needing a grimy little room with a day planner, a shitty computer and a load of printouts and memos. In one corner was a safe. As they approached, the unconscious man stirred, eyes fluttering, something inside rattling. Brandon approached, placing his hand against the metal – annoyingly thick and sturdy, just as an alarm started to ring.

‘Shit, we’re not due for a fire practice. Guess we’re rumbled. Whatever you’re doing, do it fast.’

This was going to hurt. He placed his palm against the dial, wishing he knew how to pick locks. Instead he felt for the void within, a remnant of what it had once been, and gave a command; Eat. The metal dial started to vanish, small chunks at first, but then accelerating, until the dial had vanished, and then the metal beneath started to vanish as well. The sense of sickness rose up in him again, and he couldn’t entirely control it, bile seeping into his mouth. He spat it into a corner, more and more of the metal vanishing until the door swung open. Something flew past him, hurtling towards the unconscious man. He somehow managed to move a hand and catch it from the air, eyes opening.

The door burst open, one of the burly guards appearing. He saw them, turning already to shout for help. The man extended his arm, pointing the gun and pulling the trigger. The guard fell over, slumping forward and falling to the ground.

He was vaguely conscious now, eyes still glazed but at least open, supporting some of his own weight. Amy grabbed some papers from the safe, shoving them up the sleeve of the undersuit.

‘OK, we need to get out of here. Are you OK, you look like shit?’

Brandon took several more deep breaths, bile rising up again, barely managing to resist the urge to spew. ‘Just… just a second. I goddam hate metals like that.’ He looked at the gun that had flown towards the man’s hand – heavy, weighty, and burnished to a black sheen, his hand gripped it tightly, despite the slackness of the rest of his stance, knuckles white against it.

Amy checked the guard. ‘He’s dead. Although there’s no bullet wound? Give me a hand getting the robe off him, he’s a dead weight!’

Wrangling the body over, even with two of them, was a challenge, but they managed, stripping his robe off. ‘OK, is there any way out of here that won’t start a riot?’

‘I think I know where the closest fire exit is. Just have to hope we don’t encounter anyone else. Those big guys don’t mess around. Can you carry him?’

‘I’ll try.’ He’d slumped back against the wall, eyes open but vacant, at least able to walk if guided. Brandon moved him towards the door, Amy swathing herself in the robe, peeking around the corner.

‘Follow me.’

The alarm was still going, sounds of movement and panic. They managed to duck into another room just as a guard thundered past without seeing them. The green glow of a fire exit beckoned to them, at the end of the hallway, Amy rushing ahead and shouldering it open, outside air blowing inside.

‘Stop.’

The command came from behind them, powerful and commanding, Brandon obeying without thought. Brandon glanced backwards, to see the woman in white looking at them. Her expression was of curiosity rather than anger, but where sunlight hit her, the effect was almost blinding, her white habit glowing in the light.

‘I wasn’t expecting quite so direct an assault. And to find out that you, Sandra, were a mole, is most disappointing. You truly seemed to be absorbing the wisdom of the Halo, I hoped that your time in the darkness would make you truly appreciate the peace to be found within the light. Although that you have pulled him out as well is regrettable. He was rather stubborn, and that wretched item of his was most disagreeable. It had to remain close to him, sadly. Now, I suppose you are going to make this problematic?’

Brandon managed to shake the compulsion off. ‘What the hell are you doing here? And who are you?’

‘My name is Kashura Abyad. And I will bring the true light to this broken world.’ She raised a hand, signalling to the guards behind her. ‘It will be easier if you surrender. A little time in the darkness will render you more amenable.’

The man was starting to shake and twitch, almost-words starting to form in his throat. She tutted. ‘I suppose it is to be commended that he retains some will, most are a little less… themselves after so long in the abyss.’ She advanced, taking a slow step forward, a shining glow starting to form.

He raised the gun, his arm straight and stationary, despite the rest of his body shaking. The gun caught the light, black metal shining. She stopped, a flicker of concern across her features. Two of her guards approached, cautious, batons in hand. They were loyal enough to step in front of her, shielding her with their bodies.

And then he pulled the trigger, slide slamming back. One of the guards twitched, falling to the ground, dead or unconscious. The other charged, baton raised, before the gun fired again. The man stirred, seemingly regaining more of his sense of self, eyes clearing somewhat.

Brandon spoke, trying to sound more confident than he felt. ‘We’ll be leaving now. And I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but if I have to stop it, then I will.’

‘Strong words from someone so limited. With your… friend so sadly departed, I doubt you have much capacity to prevent my goals.’

But she didn’t advance further, likely worried about getting shot, leaving Brandon to retreat, the gun-arm rigid as they moved backwards, finger taut on the trigger. He didn’t dare turn around to see how close to the exit he was, keeping his gaze looked on the woman. One of her hands was moving, a finger slowly, almost lazily, etching a symbol into the air, a slight smile on her face.

The finger squeezed on the trigger again, slide slamming again. Light exploded in front of the room, multi-coloured blobs swirling through Brandon’s vision. A hand grabbed the scruff of his collar and pulled, sudden sunlight warm against his skin, metal beneath his feet, the metal snapping of another shot being fired. His hand found a guardrail and he started moving down, pulling the man with him, trusting Amy to lead the way. The fire alarm was still going, as they ran down the steps, his vision starting to clear.

Fortunately, they exited onto a back-road, so they didn’t have to fight their way through a mob of cultists. They made a run for it, running through the streets, taking cover in a nearby park. He felt himself panting, even from the short burst of exercise. He could hear the fire alarm still ringing in the distance, but no screams of pursuit.