2.63 As Below, So Above

By the time Neter returned to the Hub, the crews were back from wherever they had gone, and were moving a load of boxes and crates from the Shipping office onto a train. He ducked into a recessed doorway so as to study the scene, only to be met by a sickly odour wafting from the door jambs, followed by a nasty flashback of the empty bottle of wine in the Gora lab.

         He spun around to assess the doorway, it was nondescript, there was no sign. He placed his ear to the slab, there was a gentle hum inside... Water sloshing... He scanned the Hub, the soldiers were ensconced in their moving gig, they hadn't spotted him. He tried the door... It was unlocked… He pushed it ajar and almost keeled over from the stench billowing out. Resilient to his gag reflex now, through the narrow opening he scanned the establishment, it was full of giant vats and strange machinery. There was no one around but it was obviously operational, lights were on...

         The stench inside was overwhelming, worse than the TLS Program, like vapor it seared his lungs. He was beginning to understand why Atalon doused himself in frankincense; everywhere he travelled in the Atlan Empire he was faced with the rotten aromas of death, it was much worse here than he remembered. The need to know was growing in exponential ways, overcoming the discomfort of the investigation. He climbed the ladder that ran up one of the giant vats, as he climbed higher, he could feel lumpy contents bashing into the walls, as if an agitator was churning solids inside. As he reached the top, he peered over the rim to look inside...

         "Ugh…" He almost passed out. Reeling, he gripped the ladder tight. Inside the vat, large beaters were beating up body parts, distilling some sick cannibalistic wine. Shaking, palms sweaty from the shock and ready to hurl again, Neter took extra care as he descended back down the ladder, feeling completely defeated, his body and soul couldn't take any more of Atalon's bloody hell. Once again, Zara's stories were merely soft vignettes of the real horrors he had found lurking here. He knew now, he would never fully recover from the sickness he had seen.

         Stomach emptied of it's last sustenance, shaken and traumatized to the core, he fled the Brewery only to find himself trapped between one hell and another. Patiently, he had to wait in the alcove until the soldiers left with their train. Eventually the coast was clear once again and he could make his way towards the TLS reception. But as he passed the stairwell, the taunting signage caught his eye once again...

         "As Below, So Above?" He stopped to ponder the sign with awakened eyes. Sick of the horror, starving and tired as hell, he couldn't leave Atlan without a quick look upstairs.