The hallway continued to repeat the same tired pattern. The imperfections on the blocks used to construct the walls even seemed to recur. The dimming of the light cast by the flaming pillars was the only noticeable change as the corridor was sprinted down, eventually ending with a wall of black. As the void was entered, the loose floor could still be felt beneath his rushing feet, and then everything changed. Midstride, the weightless feeling of drifting through nothing and no where surrounded his body, but, as his foot came down, a whole new world was around him. Greenborne had been spat out another of the engraved doorways, a notorious Fate Gate. This was the next room.
Trying to break his charge, his soles scraped against the floor, finally stopping with his toes hanging off of a ledge. The very nature of the chamber should have shocked the lunatic, but there was little left in this world or others that could manage such a task. Unlike the priors, it was constructed from metals. Beams, gratings, and pipes were bolted everywhere, supported by chains in cables that stretched off in every direction. Various gears and cogs pulled these along. Steady jets of steam spewed into the air periodically, thickening the air and causing it to fade out to a blue haze in the distance, both ahead and below. It looked to be a far drop with no real footing, just several black lines contrasting against the pale beyond. The clouds also seemed to be a safe guess to why the structures were all half rusted through.
Each step down the thin walkway clanged and rattled the flimsy structure. If anything needed to be alarmed of an intruder, they were already aware. Clamouring down the aisle, a second pair of footfalls seemed to ring through the track. Stopping, along with the other sound, a look ahead and glance back only confirmed that he was alone. Starting up again, the accompanying noises returned. Quickly, Frederick spun about with fists raise in dueling fashion, but his efforts were wasted as there was no one for him to face. Stumped, he brought his knuckles to his jaw, bowing his head in deep introspection to sort the matters out when, it turned out, the matters were right under his nose all along, as well as beneath the rest of his body. A pair of skewers rocketed up through the grating the fiend was standing on, hopping back in time to spare his body any additional opening.
The two spears tore open the floor as another set like them appeared. Bending over the railing, they pulled up the massive frame they were attached to. An iron sheet was donned over its face, bent to a wide angle down the middle as each side rose to a sharp point. Six tiny eyes were stacked three to a side on the mask. Four jointed spikes stuck out from behind each side and writhed with life. Thick steel was worn over the massive chest as the breastplate doubled as a harness to support the extra, mechanical limbs sported by the foe. The unarmoured portions of its body were covered in a blue, skin tight, banded material. Around each wrist wrapped an enormous bracer that sprouted four bent spikes. A belt worn about its sturdy waist was adorned with an emblem. In it sat the silhouette of an arachnid, but its back legs crossed to form the shape of a "W". This was no beast or denizen of the dungeon. It was a man, if the term could be applied to one so ruthless and murderous. This ill-famed bounty hunter, and bounty on several lists, known only as the Spider Warrior. A click came from the brute, followed by some static.
"Sorry, mate," a cracked voice echoed from the giant, "but I can't just let you go about and compromise my mission. That'd be a bloody shame. Nothing personal, though." The white noise ceased. Neither of the men twitched a muscle until instinct kicked in. The Disaster chose flight. Almost tripping over his own feet, Fred scurried away, pulling himself along on the frail railing. The cyber suited colossus’ chest bobbed as a silent laugh was muffled in his gear. Taking a single fist, he broke through, shattering, the eroding skywalk, but the destruction caused continued. A shockwave generated from the force of the punch ripped through the rest of the path, collapsing the rusted meshing to crumbs as it passed. As the bridge vanished beneath his feet, Rick found himself in a freefall, and there were no other bridges in sight. His hands flailed, desperately reaching for something, anything. His arm hooked around a single, thin duct, but before it could buckle under his weight, the searing temperature of its surface demanded an early release. The second plunge was more guided than the first as a conveyed chain was spied within reach. With the help of a little boost from his previous hangout, one of the dangling hooks suspended from the ushered links was clasped in a lessened hand. As the maniac swayed helplessly like a piece of meat in the mist, the ear splitting sound of metal scraping against metal drew near. Looking all around as he was twirled on the chain, he spotted the seeker crawling downward, his artificial appendages piercing through the steam pipes to serve as stepping stones.
Rocking on his lifeline, Greenborne steadily gained height in his swings until the chain from which it hung was within an arm span. The fiend pulled himself upon the moving links and balanced himself in a lowered stooping position. Working to unbind the two connections, the hook from the lower bonds was still firmly in his grasp. Once the Spider Warrior drew close enough, the Disaster hurtled the patient gaff only to have it immediately smacked aside with a backhand which spliced the end from the length. The headless chain fell limp and dangled lifeless from his hand as he looked down at his failure with a sunken heart.
"Well, I ain't all too certain what that was suppose to do," guiltily admitted Fred as he started to wrap a wrist with the shortened chain, "but I know what can be done with it." Before the cutting legs could rend him to pieces, he bolted down the wobbling chain. The mercenary, yet again, destroyed the path the four fingered man traveled down; however, that was expected this time. Lashing out his bound arm, the links tightened around a pipe. As his body was swayed upward, the hold loosened, since nothing latched it in place, and another tube was lassoed. As his body revolved around the conduit, an outreached hand clasped onto another duct, and the process continued. Climbing through the pipes in an acrobatic display, his height steadily was reclaimed. Landing an a gear, he had waited as it spun him to its compliment, scaling the indentations before leaping to the next cog. Taking a rest at his newly reached altitude, he let the turning piece give him a good lay of which path to take next. His first choice was ascending a series of pipes that seemed space too far apart. Another choice was a cable that appeared to be angled. It had to terminate somewhere. Thirdly, he saw the Spider Warrior slashing through anything that got in his way.
"Oh, craps!" Rising early from his breather, Greenborne dashed towards the slanted cable. Bounding out far to reach it, his chain snapped around the cord with the loose end being caught in the same hand that held the base. There was no pause before his rapid descent began as a terminal velocity came quickly. The arachnid assassin, as per his habit, sliced the wire. As the taut line changed to falling with him, the lunatic cursed "that eight legged douche" while plummeting fast. Waiting to accept him was a massive, opened steam tube. Humid air raced past him as he crashed deeper into the pipe. As his body fell into the blackness, the air turned cool and no longer rushed through his hair. The feeling of isolation returned and departed just as it had done in times passed. The entire shift took no longer than a moment, a heart beat, and Frederick found himself somewhere entirely different.
