After the incident at Apollo’s Liar, Manfred and Lux quickly made sure the civilians were safe and accounted for. It looked like nearly everyone had made it out okay, but there were a few people missing.

“Torie and Fritz have to still be in there,” said Lux worriedly.

“And Alice! Oh my god, I can’t believe we dragged her into this...” Manfred rubbed his temple as he thought of Winona and Alice, two women missing (and potentially dead) because of their involvement with the faction. “What the fuck are we doing?”

“Not giving up on our friends, that’s for damn sure. We gotta go, but our place is probably crawling in Renfield goons. Let’s head to the safehouse, okay? See who all has gotten back to us about the plan.” Lux nudged his partner.

“You’re right, we can’t stop now. Winona still needs us.” Manfred sighed and the two men left the scene as emergency services started to show up. They made it across town to their safehouse and took the side door in.

Lux sat down at a desk and turned on the computer, while Manfred pulled a movie poster off the wall.

“Not Capital Vices!” Lux booed.

“Yes, Capital Vices!” Insisted Manfred. He flipped it over and laid it down on the kitchen table.

“Uhhh, toss me a marker!” He called to his partner. Lux rummaged through a pencil cup and found a black marker, launching it across the living room and into the kitchen. Manfred lunged over the table and just barely caught it.

“How are we looking? We got backup coming?” He asked as he tucked the marker behind his ear and began to think, staring at the blank side of the poster.

“Yeah, we’re not in bad shape.” The computer pinged as another notification came in. “Oh shit, it’s the helicopter guy.”

“We got the fucking helicopter guy!?” Cried Manfred joyfully.

“Circe and the Lost Boys Troupe are in,” Lux continued. “It looks like Jam Stoker left a few hours ago.”

Manfred cracked a sneaky half-grin and removed the cap of the marker with his teeth before spitting it out onto the floor.

“Can you please... not?” Lux looked over, unamused, but Manfred remained unphased and lost within his own ideas. It was fortunate, then, that Manfred was as crafty as he was crass, and overall did mean well. He began to frantically draw and write on the back of the poster.

“We need to create a distraction. Something astronomical, with all eyes on the scene. Everyone will be there, and when chaos erupts, we use that as our chance to slip in.”

They had the means and the willpower which gave them hope, but had they known the horrors that lay in wait, they would have known that what was to come was completely and utterly inevitable.

----------------

Fritz, Torie, Alice, and the mysterious stranger had reached the bottom of the ladder and stopped to catch their breath and process what had just transpired.

“Are you all okay?” asked the stranger, seemingly oblivious to his own actively bleeding wounds.

“I’m fine, just shaken,” said Torie. The stranger glanced at Fritz. “He’s okay too.”

“Torie, right?” Alice chimed in.

“Yeah, my husband here is Fritz.”

“It’s a pleasure. Can I borrow your shawl, Torie?” Asked Alice.

Torie paused before unclipping the brooch that held her shawl together, and handed the bundle of fabric to Alice.

Tearing the shawl down the middle, Alice briskly handed one half back to the visibly stunned Torie. Fritz took off his tuxedo jacket for his wife to wear, and she pocketed the rest of the fabric in a huff. Alice began to tightly wrap her half of the shawl around the stranger’s arm.

“......I......what are you....” he uttered.

“Shut up, I owe you one,” snipped Alice, before asking for his name.

“My name?” he hesitated. He wasn’t used to such casual conversation, and even less used to acts of kindness. He was suspicious and afraid, though he had learned to avoid showing it.

“Yeah. I’m Alice, and seeing how we’re stuck down here, I figure we ought to get to know each other a little.” The stranger paused and relaxed his shoulders a little.

“I’m T0F1.”

Alice cocked an eyebrow and looked at him.

“T0F1?”

“I believe it stood for Test Zero, Failure One.” He trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t tell me....” said Alice, connecting the dots. “No fucking way. Are you—you're from--”

“...The Renfield. I was part of an initial test group there. They grew us in these tanks in a matter of weeks; we were nothing but a chance to play god. We had no rights, no voice. They wanted us to do terrible things, to become their assassins, but I refused. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.” He was clearly distressed, but the others were stunned into silence. He had never opened up to anyone in person about himself, and it all came spilling out.

“They dosed me with poison and threw me down into the tunnels to die. But they should’ve dosed me harder, because after a few days, I recovered from the sickness and wandered until I found an exit. I came up to the surface and learned to survive in the city, desperate to find anyone to help shut that place down.”

“It was you who exposed them online,” said Alice. “But how did you know about the faction, and to be there tonight?”

“I’ve been watching them for a while. They’re good people, they help people. I thought they could help me.” T0F1 glanced at the ground nervously. “I’d hoped that they would see my story online. I didn’t know how to contact them directly without putting anyone in danger. I waited and watched, and I followed them to the bar tonight. I had no idea they’d already sent someone to the Renfield...” he leaned back against the tunnel wall behind him and slid to the floor, clutching his head in his hands. “They should never have let her go.”

“Hey, hey,” Alice crouched down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t responsible for their actions, alright? We’re all on the same side here, we want the same thing. You’ve already done so much to help.” He lifted his head out of his hands to meet her gaze, and she cupped his cheek in her hand. He flinched slightly before relaxing.

“Those men tonight, that shot Fritz, that attacked the bar... they’re from the Renfield. They’re some of the ones that passed the tests, that didn’t get discarded. You’re all lucky you weren’t killed; the things they do to you in there to normalize violence and terror.”

“How did they find us? Did they follow you?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, they followed you.” said T0F1.

“I can assure you I was not followed,” scoffed Alice.

“Does it really matter? They’re all dead, and we still need to find a way out.” Torie pulled a flask from her pocket, the same brass as Fritz’s lighter. She took a drink before handing it to her husband, who took a swig before his wife pocketed it once again.

“There will be more. Those weren’t the last of the Renfield's projects.”

“Wait, what did you say about tunnels?” Fritz asked.

“Beneath the facility there’s a tunnel system that stretches all throughout the underbelly of the city. I found an exit disguised as a sewer drain.”

“Apollo’s Liar was also an incredibly old building. These tunnels probably lead to all sorts of hidden places throughout the city.” Torie’s eyes widened. “Could you lead us to an exit?”

T0F1 sighed.

“I can try. We won’t be safe though. I wasn’t the only one discarded down here, and I highly doubt I’m the only one who survived. There’s no telling what could be waiting for us.”

“Then we’ll just have to stay alert.” Alice stood up and looked down to T0F1, still seated. “I can’t call you that though.”

“They made me. It’s what they named me. I don’t have anything else,” he shrugged.

“Tough shit for them, then, you don’t belong to anyone. You don’t have to go by a name that makes you feel bad about yourself.”

“What should I go by then?” He asked her inquisitively, staring into her sad green eyes.

“It kinda sounds like Toffee. I think that’s cute.” Alice smiled.

“I like Toffee,” he smiled back at her.

Alice stuck out her hand and Toffee grabbed it, helping him up to his feet. He was a canine, and nearly a foot taller than Alice; his ears just about touched the ceiling of the tunnel, and though her grip was firm, her hand felt so terribly tiny as she clasped it in his. He had one golden eye, one blue eye, and a jagged scar cut across his cheek and browbone. His fur was a pale yellow, with a patch of white running from his nose to his stomach. Toffee wore a gray and teal windbreaker covered in patches, with a cropped gray hoodie underneath and a pair of matching cargo pants. He had tactical gear and utility belts and looked incredibly lethal despite his soft and rather naïve demeanor.

Torie retrieved an extraordinarily long cigarette holder from her seemingly vast dress pockets, and Fritz pulled out his pack of smokes. He gave her one first, then tucked one in his own mouth. He grabbed his dented lighter and lit her smoke first, then his.

“We need to keep moving,” said Alice.