"One man with a gun can control a hundred without one"

Vladimir Lenin

The church was small and white, flanked on both sides and to the rear by encroaching trees, and an image of the Virgin Mary holding her newborn baby gazed over the approach from above the small wooden entrance. The narrow road leading up to it was barely more than dirt, sucking at the tires of the car in the light rain that had been falling now for hours. The overcast weather had come in suddenly, the air temperature dropping quickly until Matthews was forced to put on a sweater.

So, he's still inexperienced with the nanos, or his don't work as well, thought Trials to himself. Useful information.

It had taken years for his body and the nanites to reach the level of compatibility they now had, and he was still finding new benefits and adaptations. How long had Matthews had his, he wondered. Unarmed, had he had them in his system long enough to be a threat to Trials?

Trials pondered over that thought. Yet such was the situation now. He didn't trust the man standing next to him, not one bit. After all they had been through, all the training and advice and shared experiences, Trials had come to learn that whoever he had thought Matthews was, he was wrong. Trials knew nothing about the man.

Matthews' silver hair flashed ahead through the branches as he cut his way around the building, holding a small pistol at his side, identical to the one now holstered at Trials' waist.

Matthews was scouting the surroundings before they went inside. Usually Trials would have gone around the other way so that both could flank any trouble that might lay in wait, but the distrust he felt inside wouldn't allow him to let Matthews out of his sight. He followed him from several feet behind, working hard to keep both Matthews and the church under observation.

They circled the church with ease, spotting no signs of activity from their positions in the undergrowth. At a single nod from Matthews, both men stood up and walked towards the entrance.

"What would he be doing in here?" asked Trials, not bothering to keep his voice down. Anyone keeping watch would already know they were coming.

"I'm not sure, but this is where his car was last seen heading. I suppose we'll have to go in to find out more."

"You haven't organised any back-up?" asked Trials.

"When have you ever needed back-up, my boy?" Matthews chuckled, in defiance of history. "Anyway, don't worry. If we need help, it will come. I've made certain... assurances."

Trials didn't press the man. Matthews was obviously taking pleasure in keeping him in the dark, and Trials refused to show that his ignorance was getting to him.

The church door swung open, heavy on its hinges. The creak of it reverberated around the inside of the building, echoing over the rows of pews and the small altar at the front. There was no-one inside.

Trials gave the room a quick sweep, but it was clear there was nowhere for someone to hide. Unless Matterson was crouching in an undignified position behind one of the pews, which Trial thought unlikely, he wasn't here.

"What now?" he asked. The sound of his voice startled him, sounding much louder and stronger in the silence of the building.

Matthews gestured to where the altar stood with his pistol, and Trials saw a small trap-door in the ground, hanging open. The hole it left in the floor was dark.

Shit, thought Trials, wherever that leads, it's going to be confined.

Trials had experience of what happened when two people attempted to navigate narrow corridors together. The front person was always a sitting duck, the rear unable to see or react to threats.

Matthews leaned over the hole with his pistol pointed into it, then looked back up at Trials.

"Catacombs," he said. "That wind..."

Trials stepped up, and could feel the cool, stagnant air rising from the hole.

"They feel big. Shouldn't be any catacombs of note here, not that I've ever heard of. Looks like he didn't give up completely on his archeology," continued Matthews, and stepped down into the hole.

Trials swore and followed him down, into the crypt.

The chamber under the church was nothing special. It must have been used as a place of storage, with boxes littered around, scattered between figurines and crucifixes that made strange patterns in the dim light. Trials could tell the place had not been in use for some time as everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. An ordinary basement, really, except for the man-sized hole in one wall.

The breeze was coming from there. Someone had taken a sledgehammer to the wall, smashing the crumbling mortar down and revealing a long, arched passageway of stained stone that ran far into darkness. Even with his enhanced eyesight Trials could not make out its end: any ordinary person would have been blind even in the basement room.

Matthews poked at the crumbling mortar at the base of the hole with his foot. Most of it had been cleared to the side, allowing unimpeded access into the catacombs.

"This hole was made a long time ago," he said. "He hasn't tried to hide it, so he must be very certain nobody he doesn't approve of can enter here. He is not careless."

Matthews looked up at Trials, then at something behind him.

"I'm afraid, my boy, that he must have lookouts on the approach. They must have seen us coming from miles away."

Trials turned around slowly and looked up, into the stony grin of Korez Marais.

Trials didn't wait for the first blow. He was instantly dropping low, smashing his fists into both sides of Korez's waist as heavily and rapidly as possible. Trials knew this moment was his only chance. Korez must have friends coming, but he had foolishly chosen to drop down into the basement alone. Too cocky for his own good - Trials knew from first-hand experience where overconfidence could get you.

The Mercenary staggered to the side with a muffled 'oof,' but instantly recovered. He started to swing his rifle, the exact same model as the other mercenaries had carried, up and towards Trials, but Trials was already on him. Smashing the rifle out of Korez's hands, Trials jabbed at his throat, but was knocked sideways by a wild punch from the man that caught him on the shoulder. No major injury, but a shock.

Korez's face had changed: his eyes narrowed and face flushed with anger, and a deep growl emerged from his throat. He smashed his right fist into his palm as the two men eyeballed each other across the floor.

Because he was squaring up to Trials, however, Korez was completely unready for the attack that came suddenly from his left, Matthews shoulder-barging him into the wall. Korez recovered quickly, grabbing Matthews in a bear hug from which he could not escape. Matthews struggled in his grasp, but could not break free, and all the while his body was blocking Trials from taking a shot now that he had finally got his pistol out.

Trials hesitated as Korez flexed one arm tightly against Matthews' throat. Trials was quite certain the mercenary could break his captive’s neck in one easy motion.

"That's quite enough of that," came a voice from down the passageway.

Stepping out of the shadows, face lit by a flashlight in his hand, came Nigel Matterson.

"No flaming torch, Matterson?" yelled Trials, not dropping his pistol from its focus on Korez's face. "More the style you're going for, I would have thought."

Matterson ignored him, and turned to the struggling Matthews.

"Lucy told me you were dead; I thought not. How did you find me?" he asked.

"Car tracker," wheezed Matthews through the vice-like lock around his throat. "The very contact who told you we were coming gave you up. You should know that those who have been corrupted once do so again with ease."

"Hmmm, he shouldn't have had details of my vehicle. Clearly I have been letting things slip. Still, no matter - corrupt police are a simple matter. You two, on the other hand..."

Matterson turned and strode back into the darkness. Trials found himself at a loss for a moment, turning back to the stand-off with Korez and Matthews, when he became aware of the figures standing above him, aiming their rifles through the trapdoor directly at him. Two more armed figures strode out of the dark where Matterson had appeared and shook their barrels at Trials, taking his gun and ordering him to follow. Korez released Matthews and took his pistol before pushing him forward.

Knowing he was outmanned and outgunned, Trials walked down the dark passageway.