Everything had been going swimmingly until they reached Chancery Lane Underground station. Then, the proverbial had hit the fan. Alistair and Balderick cowered behind a derelict ticket booth filled with cockroaches as the firefight intensified. Balderick snacked on the scuttling cockroaches as the Loyalists set a sound defensive line, fortifying themselves within the abandoned ticket hall, though that said they were cornered by Futurist Guards hell bent on their capture.

Alistair buried his face in to Chelsea's shoulder as both sides traded volleys of shots. Rocket raced back, avoiding gun spatter as he detonated a string of charges at the second entrance; collapsing, the rubble formed a makeshift blockade to keep further Guards from flanking their rear. Flash rolled on to his stomach and fired off splats of protoplasm acid causing Guards to recoil as the caustic residue ate through their armour causing an industrial stench to waft through the ticket hall.

"Enjoy the acid trip," Rocket jeered gleefully, helping Arcadia load more shells. Flash signed from the other side and Rocket nodded his understanding, whilst Arcadia gave them a thumbs-up. All three soldiers' switched ammunition, brazenly jumped up, pumped out a number of concussion shells and dived back down for cover before being targeted themselves.

In the thick of it, Alistair could make out shadows and silhouettes in the Guards' lights. Thatcher and Arcadia took turns bobbing up, shooting and ducking. Their electro discharges sizzled Guards like sausages on a BBQ as the Futurists returned fire with real steel bullets. With an abundance of ammunition, they peppered the ticket hall; the Loyalists were far more judicious with their shot selection and it showed in the body-count. Guards writhed about in pain, either jagged, frizzled or splattered but the Futurist chain of command couldn't have cared less, ordering more Guards in to the station.

"They must have tremendous recruitment officers," Julian quipped as Guards dragged away their fallen comrades and padded the positions with fresh troops.

"Cut the chatter," Col Rose ordered. "And find us a way out of here!"

"I know a way out," Rocket cynically joked. "In a bodybag."

Gun shot spattered up the walls, flicking grout and tiles in to the air, obliterating plexiglass dividers and sending streaking cracks through the tile work. Julian shielded his head, wiped his face and smeared sweat and white caulk across his nose and cheeks. Julian grew weary of the masochism and with one of Col Rose's spare rifles, dexterously bagged his quota, before squatting and allowing the return spray.

"Will someone please tell these clods guns don't kill people," Julian pleaded. "I do...with guns!"

"Which way Alistair?" Chelsea shouted over the din. Julian's muzzle bursts lit up the hall like a strobe light and Alistair checked for any conceivable escape route via his goggles. Finally, after several false starts, he connected the dots and figured out a possible passage.

"If we get down those stairs over there, it takes us right down to the old platforms," he called back.

"That's not a good idea," Julian dismissed, exhausting his ammo and callously tossing the rifle aside. Crawling on his hands and knees across the ticket booth floor, he joined Thatcher, who like a jack in the box, bobbed up and down peeling off rounds. Julian helped himself to Thatcher's side arm and explained to the children why it wasn't a good idea.

"They sealed off all the platforms behind iron barricades many moons ago when they interred the Hack dead. Now, with the high tides, the barricades stop the high water surges bubbling up to the surface, bringing with it filth and the possibility of disease."

Alistair consulted a tidal chart in his goggles.

"But the tide's out."

"I still wouldn't go down there if you gave me all the Queen's jewels. And a Bacardi and Coke."

"Don't be such a wuss," Chelsea smirked. "And it's the last thing the goons will expect: us traipsing in to a RIP Zone!"

"You are such a ghastly sprog," Julian sniffed. "But you do make a valid point." Further pondering their fate as more bullets whistled over-head, he came to appreciate their predicament. "That said, they did keep the bodies in rather fetching seal-proof bags," Julian recalled, biting his lip. Sold on the idea, he hopped on his haunches over to Col Rose and offered the solution.

"What if we go down there, and we can't get the doors open, we'll be shot ducks," Col Rose warned. "And there's the lurgy to consider. No...I don't like it."

"It's either shot ducks down there or dead ducks up here, my dear," Julian answered grimly. "I'd rather take my chances in that tunnel than be topped by these Nancy boys."

Alistair covered his ears as Julian and Col Rose mulled over the decision. Thatcher joined their committee meeting then reached in to his webbing. Handing Julian a wrench handle, Thatcher bobbed and weaved his way back behind a pillar all the while scorching off some serious heat. Meanwhile, Arcadia and Flash were having enough trouble behind their makeshift barricade as Rocket laid down some suppressing fire. Julian peered over the ticket counter and reluctantly Col Rose gave Julian the nod.

"You've got five minutes to get those barricades open!"

Julian saluted and as the Loyalists provided a unified wall of cover fire, Julian grabbed both children's hand, hauled them to their feet and sprinted with them across the shot up ticket hall to the top of the derelict escalator bay. As Balderick flew after them, Chelsea jumped up and slid down the smooth metallic surface between two gutted trusses. Alistair tossed the Red Special to his feet, the equilibrium core hovering him centimetres above the sole remaining track of rusting escalator steps. Julian waved ta-ra and balanced on both feet as he skimmed down the makeshift slippery dip, right behind Chelsea.

Alistair needed all his skating skills to avoid skittling off his board and causing him self an injury, however, Chelsea and Julian squealed as they slid down into the dark depths. Alistair and Balderick made it to the bottom first and hastily warned the sliders that the end of the bank was imminent. Chelsea used her boot heels as brake pads against the deteriorated rubber of the handrail grips, slowing herself before rolling off the newel and landing with a bump. She began cursing, massaging her bruised rump as Julian leapt over her and landed precariously on both feet.

Recovering, Chelsea swashed her fading glow stick and the trio were greeted by Biohazard signage embossed in to the imposing, thick iron floodgate denying their escape through to the platform. Alistair was already checking for openers as Chelsea withdrew her last glow stick and snapped it on. Way above, the din and crackle of the fire fight continued, unabated.

"Bugger this," Julian swore. "I tell you my dears, I've been in stickier jams than this, but I always had an escape plan. I never thought I'd find myself intentionally breaking in to a hell hole."

"Jules," Chelsea sighed. "You are such a drama queen!"

Suitably chided, Julian tore off his fur coat, got down to his T-shirt and held up Thatcher's wrench handle; it had a circular winch gear key attached to the end of it and Julian felt across the cold metal wall, pinpointing the socket. Flicking away grime, he shoved the key in and began to twist the wrench handle until the winch teeth clicked in to place; Julian scowled as his shoulders tightened, spinning the handle with anti-clockwise turns. Chelsea found a second socket as Flash skimmed off the end of the slide and Rocket bounded off the escalator steps.

"Is this such a bright idea?" Rocket queried. "There's a reason biohazard signs look so scary. Seriously, all those people in there...rotting."

"You'll be next," Julian grunted, straining with the lock.

"I thought you'd have it open by now," Rocket said smugly as beads of sweat coated Julian's brow; he doubled his efforts, straining with the exertion. Rocket placed his hands over Julian's and with their combined grunts, the metal creaked, grinding, before they managed to defeat the rusting mechanism and unlock the latch. Flash had his own winch key and with his feet up against the curve of the tunnel wall, coerced the mechanism to unfasten. Chelsea and Alistair combined to help Flash and even though it was tight with age and rust, they finally succeeded in prying it loose to complete the manual override.

Julian had begun on the third and final lock when suddenly there was a sheering snap.

"Bugger me again!!!" Julian hollered, holding his bloodied knuckles, cursing and kicking the floodgate. He banged the handle against the metal a number of times before resting his forehead against the thick, cold steel.

"Well that's certainly put a shit sandwich in the picnic basket," Rocket declared, assessing the damage. The winch gear key had sheared off in the mechanism, and Julian forlornly displayed the wrench handle and they all saw the broken teeth. Flash tried to plug in his key but it was no good. The barrel had been spoilt, the broken teeth lodged in the lock and nothing was going to help.

"Got a pocket-sized 10-tonne boring drill?" Rocket asked Flash. Flash looked like he was about to slap his mate then tossed his wrench handle away in disgust and frustration; it dawned on all of them their fate had been sealed. Peering up, Thatcher, Arcadia and Col Rose were now holding fort at the top of the escalators and Alistair could hear the bursts of their gunfire echoing in the escalator shaft.

Rocket grabbed Flash's ammo bag and bounded back up the escalators to give Col Rose a status report and refresh their dwindling ammo supplies.

"I can't believe this is how it ends," Julian said glumly, sitting him self down on the escalator steps whilst Flash futilely tried to extract the broken teeth from the lock barrel. Alistair resorted to scanning his maps but had plunged them in to a dead end.

A detonation rocked them and dust puffed down the shaft. They covered their faces with their jackets as Rocket, bounding down three steps at a time, unsteadily landed on both feet and spoke with Flash, who signed quickly.

"Yeah, their ammo's nearly out," he told him. "And the goons got past the blockade. We haven't got long. Lozenge?"

Flash signed back; Alistair could see the outrage in the mute man's eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. I'd rather take a bullet before I suck on one of those lozenges."

Flash signed again. The two soldiers looked at the children.

"Don't worry; if I need to, I'll do them quick and painlessly. The goons won't take any of us."

Alistair backed away as Balderick sat up on his shoulder and crowed protectively.

"Darling, it shan't come to that," Julian said, stepping in-between the soldiers and the children.

"Oh, sorry," Rocket snorted, laughing at his own misunderstanding. "Flash here said to 'protect' the kids. I thought he said 'dissect' the kids."

Embarrassed, Flash furiously signed an apology.

"That's right, Flash," Rocket agreed. "There's still plenty of fight left in us."

The guns silenced for a second and Alistair heard something. Kneeling, he placed his ear against the floodgate.

"What is it?" Chelsea asked.

Closing his eyes, it was there again, barely audible.

TAP...TAP...TAP...

"Hear that!" Alistair jumped, pointing at the door. All of them put their ears against the metal floodgate. The dull clunks returned.

TAP...TAP...TAP...

"Someone's there," Alistair shouted.

"It could be Guards," Rocket countered.

"Yeah, right!" Chelsea scoffed.

"We've got nothing to lose," Julian reasoned. Snatching the winch gear key from Flash's grip, Julian began banging metal upon metal.

... --- ...

He repeated the message twice more then listened for a response.

Along the seam of the two floodgate doors, there was a groan as grime sprinkled from the frame and a minute sliver appeared in the doors.

"Look!" Chelsea pointed. Slowly the gap widened to about a couple of centimetres and they all lurched forward taking a position and wedging their fingertips in to the crevice and began to try and prise the doors apart. After much elbow grease, the doors had separated about a decimetre, though the floodgate seals were still interlocking and overlapping.

Alistair's fingernails were tearing off the tips and blood dripped off Julian's knuckles as collectively they strained with all their might. Col Rose barked through the comms and Rocket answered.

"We're a bit busy at the moment, sir," he replied through grinding teeth. All of them could hear Col Rose's furious response.

"That may be so, sir, but orders are orders. If we don't get these doors open, I'll take my chances with you court-martialling me for insubordination any day. Yes sir, no sir, I know sir..."

Even with the strain and anxiety, the absurdity of the one-sided conversation gave rise to giggles.

The door runners appeared and water seeped on to the landing. Finally, two hands slid through the gap and with a tremendous heave, two red eyes suddenly peered out of the darkness. Delilah flexed her bionic shoulders; her smooth hands, elbows and torso whirred in overdrive. Shunting the doors, she pinned back the heavyset floodgates with her robotic strength.

"Am I glad to see you!" Alistair said joyfully, elated to see Delilah.

"Alistair Raven – you just wait until I get you home!"

"I've never been so happy to see you Delilah," Julian said, clasping his hands to his chest with a smile of relief.

"Mr. Essex – you just wait until I get youhome!" Delilah snarled.

"Point taken," Julian replied, his smile fading. "Shall we leave?"

"Flash, you go through first," Rocket ordered. "Secure the perimeter and I'll fetch Col Rose." Delilah held the floodgates and Flash ducked under her parted legs whilst switching his glow back on, illuminating the derelict platform.

"Let's make this quick, shall we?" Delilah grimaced and Julian required no second invitation and scurried through the gap, followed by Alistair. Chelsea squinted back up the escalators, watching gun blasts crackle as Rocket again returned.

"Give em sixty seconds," Rocket said out of breath, "Thatcher's plugging in a thermal shield and..."

BOOOOOOOOM!!!

A blast rocked the tunnels and Delilah slipped, the doors squeezing back on their tightly coiled springs. Delilah regained her poise but had lost traction and Chelsea ran back to the base of the escalator. Rocket scooped up Chelsea and she flailed, kicking and screaming. Suddenly, a canister bounced down the metal steps spewing out a plume of stinky yellow smoke.

"DAD!" Chelsea screamed. Rocket shouted across his comms but received static.

"That was a concussion blockbuster," Delilah told an overwrought Rocket. The soldier swung around, looked back up the escalators then cast Chelsea through Delilah's parted legs. On the other side, Chelsea resisted and Flash dragged her through as she again kicked and screamed for her father.

Rocket tried the comms once more. The stun gas began to thicken and he looked at Delilah, looked up the escalators once more then back at Delilah.

"I'll make this easy for you," Delilah negotiated. "I'll count to three and then I'm stepping back."

"One..."

"Col Rose!!!" Rocket yelled through his cupped hands; there was no answer.

He called again and finally, Rocket slung his weapon over his shoulder and dived head first through Delilah's legs. The gas fuddled Delilah's scanners and withdrawing, she relaxed her arms and allowed the floodgates to bang back together.

"NOoooooooo!!!" Chelsea moaned with a tear streaked face. Her hands banged on the opposite side of the doors and she began begging and pleading with Delilah.

"Please, we can't leave them," she implored. "Open the doors, please!"

Delilah was unswayed; by the light of the antibacterial UV lamps, she co-ordinated their escape.

"You there," Delilah said pointing to Flash, "you can take point. Rocket, you cover the rear. We march down that left tunnel and we head home. With the tide out the tunnels are sealed around us, so we should be able to avoid any further Futurist entanglement through the Central Line."

Flash and Rocket accepted their new orders, nervously eyeing off a mountain of yellow synthetic body-bags piled high on the platform that were clearly labelled "Don't Open" and emblazoned with the biohazard logo.

"I don't like this," Rocket muttered, affixing his face mask.

"Do I make myself clear?" Delilah reiterated. Flash and Rocket buckled up, snapping to attention and Flash scurried up the platform. Delilah turned to Chelsea who sat sobbing. Alistair stepped forward to console her, but Delilah held him back, thumbing him in the opposite direction. Julian took the lead, and led the boy down the platform to tag after Flash who had already jumped into the track bed and was wading in the cold stream towards the tube tunnel. Rocket re-lit his jacket and reloaded his weapon.

"Anything moves, I shoot. A lot!" Rocket warned Julian and Alistair.

"Boo!" Julian teased causing the soldier to jump.

"Chelsea, we must leave," Delilah urged and Chelsea curled in to a ball against the doors. Unsympathetically, Delilah stood over Chelsea with her hands on her hips.

"Is this how you would want your father to see you?" Delilah asked. "If we all want to survive this mess, we have to haul out now." Chelsea choked on grief, snot and tears and she resignedly pushed herself up. Wiping away her tears, she composed herself. Delilah led Chelsea down the platform and Rocket paused a second; racked with guilt, in the scheme of things, he knew Delilah's orders were right. They could fight but they wouldn't win. Without knowing Col Rose, Arcadia and Thatcher's status, it would be he and Flash who would need to keep their nerve as they tried to get home. Covering the rear, he strode