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OC Story 3 Chapter 14

Previous Chapter: Chapter 13

Monuments x to x Thieves

The cold wind breathes recklessly upon the North in the dividing range between the sister provinces. The UPIO's tallest mountain, Mount Akupara, is Northern even of the mountain temple, and shares some of its lands with the territory of the country bordering the UPIO to the North. It is true that the weather is much cooler for more of the year in the country to the North, and Mount Akupara is not immune to this fact. Truer still, the climate of higher elevations is that of an arid tundra, keeping its fallen precipitation much longer, even in the sun. On this day, the sky was blocked out by the silver fog of dew and mist, erasing the boundary between mountain and the above. There is a stretch below the peak of Mount Akupara that is simultaneously too treacherous for the average tourist, yet also still livable. It is a belt of wooded slope reserved for those in the UPIO who wish to remain solitudinous.
.
So he walks the belt to disturb the purposeful loneliness of another. So he takes care to cover his tracks, as the snow remembers his foot steps till the next storm. One which might not come till another day. As one would ready a bow for a meal, he readies his mind and his breath for what he set out to do.
.
Barrett Kal was instructed to climb this mountain in as inconspicuous a path as feasible. He was to remain undetected by any inhabitants of this solitary belt, so they could not share knowledge of his presence with each other. Kal was instructed to find a particular domicile. Then, he was instructed to complete his task as efficiently as he sought fit.
.
It was a type of assignment which was used to relay a message to any and all wetwork operators. It was a test of trust, and a promise of a potential future. No matter one's career thereafter, this would remain a memory, a reminder of the consequences of one's life over another. In a word, it was almost that of a game with a predetermined set of rules which were followed as much out of tradition as they were for utilitarianism.
.
"One day I might return to this mountain," Kal thought to himself, not daring to interrupt the frigid silence of the slanted forest, "so maybe I should scout out potential real estate."
.
Occasionally, the degree of incline varied. These variations were instrumental in determining one's progress up the mountain, as they served as a road map for the blind. Blind, as any who would scale a snow-covered mountain blanketed in mist. He breathed economically, tempering his presence.
.
Needless to say, Kal kept his aura, and any other facet of his being alive, hidden. This meant he was to hike unassisted by that of Nen. Furthermore, he was to avoid any disturbance he might inflict upon the local wildlife, should they cross paths. His steps plunged.
.
A foot would sink into the snow past his ankles. This was a deeper bank. En would be useful in determining the topography below the thick mounds of fluff. But it was not to be.
.
His feet came up and plunged back as vertically upright as possible. The bored holes were then carefully filled in with quiet movements. Even the friction of clothing was a nuisance. Occasionally he'd pull a gulp of water. Occasionally he'd rest standing upright, on alert.
.
Step. Covered tracks. Breath masked by the howls of wind. Sweat frozen to the pores.
.
Repetition after repetition until he caught the first sign of evidence. Uncovered tracks. A path of snow shallower than the rest, as a trail of snow must have been melted by use via walking and travel, but still snowed over like the rest. This bank would lead Kal to his destination.
.
He kept to the side of the path, moving from tree to tree. The uncovered tracks eventually linked up with the path, aiming in a direction which seemed to corroborate his intel. Kal moved, alone, away from the path, and used knowledge of the surrounding mountain to ascertain a proper route to his desired vantage point. All the evidence was confirmed. Though he might have veered astray slightly thanks to the fog, even this margin of error was planned for prior to his ascent and corrected accordingly.
.
Kal came upon a high position with his rifle. He looked down over the edge. The cabin sat, quaint and peaceful among the snow, a small stream of smoke billowing upward and into the fog, the wispy black erased by the silvery air. Kal took up the rifle and peered through its scope.
.
At this elevation, in this fog, it was as if he was laying in the middle of a cloud. The dark, hardy wood of the cabin was juxtaposed against the brights of the mountain and above. Kal gently nudged the rifle one direction, then the next. He found his desired angle, through a window and onto a cheaply made wooden chair. The tiny stand beside it held a few pieces of paper. Kal knew exactly what they were for.
.
From this angle, he could vaguely discern the drawings and scribbled hand-writing, yet he didn't know the message or effect. Only the top was readily visible. Soon, he changed focus. A man had come to rest in the chair with a mug in his hand, as per his determined morning routine. The fire was lit, his stove was warming up, and the robed man was set to drink from his mug in the chair seen through the window from Kal's perch.
.
Despite the window's relative uncleanliness, the crosshairs settled on the man with an abject clarity. He leaned his head back after a sip of his drink, his eyes closed. He'd just awoken, yet he might fall back asleep. There was an acceptance. There was peace.
.
"So this is how a soldier goes." Kal said to himself with the finality and realization of one uninvested in current events.
.
Barrett Kal, himself, felt at ease with this. The rifle was set sqaurely on the man's resting head. He would exit the world in a state of complete rest. There would be no pain, no sudden ending. It was simply as if he were about to fall asleep.
.
The trigger depressed. The rifle cracked. The round nigh-instantly found the window, and reflected off into the snow. The man was on the move.
.
"Shit!" Kal said to himself, realizing he was going to have to move as well.
.
Kal took his weapon and rolled away, scrambling up without letting any profile of himself be exposed over the edge of his perch. With his ability, he could fire powerful rounds through his rifle, with much greater velocity than a normal weapon of such size could muster. Still, the window deflected it.
.
"It must be enhanced with Nen, somehow." He thought.
.
Inside the cabin, the man conjured a revolver in his hand, then grabbed a pen from a nearby table, also covered with papers marked with combinations of drawings and writing. Kal, outside, was making his way around the cabin, to try and find a new vantage point. He settled on a backup area which would allow him an ease of movement to several other potential vantage points, should the need arise. He moved to the spot, feeling a warm aura gracefully touch him. The origin seemed to be beneath the snow.
.
"Nen mines?" Kal wondered, "That's not something they said to expect!"
.
Cautiously, he abandoned course to the point and made his way quickly behind a few trees in a patch of wooded slope facing the front door of the cabin. Should the man venture out this way, Barrett would simply use the trees as cover and snipe him. However, the aura mines must have given away his location. Even after moving, it's possible that he was tracked. Remaining on the defensive for the time being would be the smartest decision, he concluded.
.
Inside, the man scribbled a drawing on the top half of a piece of paper. It was a well-rendered, cartoonish dog-shaped apparition, sniffing along the ground as it moved through obstacles as an apparition might. Then, he scribbled a few sentences on the sheet beneath the drawing. They read, "The hound-spirit sniffed and sniffed, until it found who it was looking for. But when it did, they were so afraid of the poor dog, that they were frozen in their tracks."
.
After that, aura seemed to highlight the sheet, and it curled up into a small cylandrical shape. Then, it was encased in a rounded carapace. This pill-like thing was then grabbed by the man and tossed into his mouth, chewing. A second later, he held his conjured revolver out in front of him with the cylander open. He then spat into one of the empty chambers, and, with the spit-wad chambered, reclosed the cylander.
.
All these steps were necessary for his ability to function. The more complex, the stronger the result. That was what he was told. As a former wetwork operator, though, he specifically created his ability to be varied. As a general rule of thumb, the more flexible the ability, the weaker it is in comparison to a more niche Hatsu. The required steps helped cancel out the potential loss of strength from creating an ability as varied and pliable as his.
.
Kal remained behind the treeline, moving from tree to tree, attempting to find a decent vantage point on some of the windows of the cabin without moving to the obvious vantage points, which Kal determined were predicted by his target, the cabin's inhabitant. The cabin dweller raised his arm off to one side, holding the gun out toward one of the cabin walls. His gaze remained straight ahead while the weapon came up outside his view. With his arm straightened, he relaxed his elbow a bit, and loosened his muscles. After a smooth exhale, he squeezed the trigger.
.
The sharp attack of the gunshot was heard, but the ringing crash that was expected after the initial combustion was instead replaced, or transformed, into that of the ending sustain of an otherworldly howl. As soon as Kal heard the crack, though at his distance outside the cabin, the shot sounded more like a "pop," he returned to his cover behind the tree. He knew there weren't any points that the dweller could have used to spot him. The howl flared. Suddenly, Kal felt stiff.
.
The round had phased through solid objects until it hit its target. That target was Kal. His location had become aware to the dweller via the mines placed throughout the snow. This was also a facet of the same ability. These mines were created using a story page much different than the "Ghost Hound," and afforded the cabin dweller the ability to flash his En from a remote point and "tag" or "mark" whomever it came into contact with. Though these stories yield semi-predictable results, based on wording and imagery, the cabin dweller nonetheless can never be too sure about what exactly the round will do, or its potency. By recreating certain story pages, however, the guess-work is limited. At that point, it's up to how faithfully he could recreate a page, and the quality of line-work in the drawing, as well as the wording and legibility of the writing, to determine the potency of a recreated story page.
.
After his round hit Kal, the dweller casually slipped on some shoes and unhooked his coat from its hanger. Then, before he left the door, he grabbed a few sheets of paper and got to work. He re-opened his cylander again, revealing half of the chambers being still occupied. Before he got to drawing and writing, he ran a finger along one of the still chambered shells.
.
"Won't be needing the window-protection right now," He said, pushing one of the empty shells out.
.
As the shell dropped, its corresponding ability was erased. As long as an ability was still in use, another one couldn't be chambered. Furthermore, the chamber would need to be properly cleaned first. Putting ages-old military training to use, the dweller quickly cleaned out the chamber before adding a few more rounds to fill out the cylander.
.
Finally, after some minutes had passed, he exited the cabin. He trudged along in the snow toward where Kal had been. At this point in time, the effects of his aura mines had worn off, and Kal's position was again basically unknown. However, he was confident in the "Ghost Hound" bullet that had struck Kal, and wasn't too worried about his opponent.
.
As he neared where Kal was, he spoke to himself, "That can't be." He was in a combat posture, moving much quicker now, "How could he have gone anywhere?"
.
He altered his path, arching around as a flanking attempt to Kal's former position to check for tracks from afar without being too predictable in his trajectory. He turned around a tree with his gun readied at the point where he hit Kal. The sun was beginning to burn through the fog. Its warmth was present, yet the cold didn't let itself be forgotten. The snow fought for every moment to exist on that mountain.
.
Kal did not. His rifle law half-buried in the snow. Kal, himself, lay stiff, like a child who had given up on making a snow-angel. Confused, the cabin dweller moved quickly toward him, abandoning the combat-ready stance.
.
"Come on, kid, no one needs to die out here like this."
.
He wasn't sure of Kal's age. The difference in age, as the dweller came to see it, stirred up worrying sensations within him. Truthfully, Kal was not someone most would call, "kid." He moved beside Kal, who was lying in the snow.
.
"This is a gunfight. Fakin' it doesn't really work like it does in the movies." He knelt down by the sniper.
.
His now-cold fingertips were pressed against Kal's neck. After a few seconds, he took them back. Then, confused, he grabbed Kal by the jaw and forced his mouth open. What he saw angered him.
.
"They sent you in 'with breath-mint' on a thread-closer?" He stood up, looked around, then back at Kal's corpse, "They wanted to close my thread, yet denied you the chance to come back?"
.
Kal had done as instructed. He had failed his mission. The "Ghost Hound" bullet had worn off just enough to regain use of his mouth. The toxic capsule, or "breath-mint" was able to be dislodged using his tongue. The capsule, inscribed with God's Letters, reacted within his mouth, as he focused aura on it, specifically, just as he had been trained. He died before he even saw the face of his target up close.
.
Klaus Bonaparta sat next to Kal's corpse. He'd spent his military career chasing a dream of being in a special unit. He picked up Kal's rifle and dusted it off. Klaus had achieved that dream, and more. He sat in the snow, next to a fallen soldier whom he hadn't wished to kill.
.
Klaus had been selected for wetwork, just like Kal. His pedigree in his special unit earned interest in his capabilities. Just like Barrett Kal. Klaus had been put to work all over, from Crater Town to Tortugaea. He'd assassinated Cartel targets, ultimately at the behest of the Cartel themselves. He'd eliminated political opponents. He'd even been deployed to proxy-warzones, in an ironic turn of events that was, all things considered, nostalgic.
.
But the thing about dreams is that it can be hard to remember them when you eventually wake up. Harder still when more dreams come along and beg for the next couple of years of your attention. Klaus had followed them. He'd followed them just like the orders he was given during and after the great war. And now those same orders led to a death he didn't think was necessary at all. One more in a great line of them.
.
Klaus sat with Kal for an uncertain period of time, "I've had it with this." He started walking back to his cabin, "Can't even let someone go."
.
He spent an hour choosing a location, digging a hole, and holding a ceremony for Kal. He lowered the sniper into a grave behind the cabin, with his rifle as the gravestone.
.
"I guess they decided one of our times was up, no matter what." He shook his head, "Like it has to fuckin' be this way."
.
After having a chance to think his morning over, Klaus packed some things up, got dressed, and left the cabin for down the mountain. The whole thing didn't sit right with him. How could it? He'd suspected a time like this would come, and made the arrangements for it, but he'd always planned on "saving" whatever newbie they'd send his way. He never expected the powers that be to demand suicide of those that couldn't carry out a classic mission of tying off loose ends. But Klaus supposed that was wetwork: doing things nobody should do and dying for people who shouldn't be served. And so, after this run in, he'd decided he'd had enough of solitude. No more waiting around for the next soldier to be sent to kill or commit suicide. It was time to give himself the best protection he could think at this time. It was now finally time to give himself something which had been denied of him long ago: a role in society.
.
*****
.
"Hermoine's handling the Gambler as we speak." Niori informed Fireza.
.
The women were cast out from society against their wishes long ago, each for their own reason, or lack of it. Their prospects were much the same, yet still needed vetting in order to discern if they were up to snuff. The Ophiuchus dealt in dangerous matters almost exclusively.
.
"She shouldn't be alone." Fireza stubbornly added, knowing full well that Hermoine insisted on doing this by herself.
.
Quee was training her strikes against stones found embedded in the ground while Fireza watched, overseeing her training.
.
Niori deflected from Fireza's understandable concerns, "I think it's safe to say that the Gambler was overwhelmed with bets regarding the bombing in Auxilium. I wonder if he'll even be able to help us find Yuya and Law's assailant."
.
Fireza barked, "Enough with the stones! You're sparring with me, now!"
.
Hermoine being gone all night was one thing. Norine and Dex being gone all morning was another. Theoretically, both were safe, in the hands of those that were deemed capable in one way or another to protect their friends and allies, yet they'd deliberately made a point to avoid splitting up if at all possible. Due to the nature of the Gambler's building, which would manifest itself seemingly out of nowhere, this meant that waiting for Hermoine to arrive at least wasn't too risky. She was relatively safe so long as she was with the Gambler. As for Fireza, Quee, and Niori, they were now prime targets for any possible attack.
.
There they waited in the field where Hermoine told them to wait. Supposedly, the Gambler would return her there. How she knew, none of the other mercenaries were exactly sure. They assumed it must have dealt with some other request she'd make of the Gambler. They also knew why Hermoine had gone alone. Given the nature of her ability, it meant that risking pain could be mitigated if anyone else had gone with her, as she could trade the pain away. This would possibly weaken the effect of the Gambler's ability, as pain of any sort, physical, psycological, metaphysical or otherwise, would lack the necessary weight to counterbalance the bet.
.
Fireza was beating Quee in a very one-sided battle. Each time Quee was knocked back or down, Fireza would stop and bark at her. Niori knew Fireza was enjoying this, being their strongest member. Perhaps a part of her was punishing Quee for admiring Yuya's strength so much, when Fireza was the brutal warrior or the organization, and Yuya was an infiltrator. There was a pride in being the lead warrior of the lot. Fireza wasn't just teaching Quee to become a stronger fighter, she was teaching Quee a lesson for wanting to learn from Yuya instead of Fireza. Though, the methods of teaching likely played a part in Quee's original wish.
.
"Your silly idols aren't gonna help you in battle! You rely on your fists! You pray to yourself!" Fireza instructed.
.
Offended, Quee wordlessly threw herself at Fireza with the reckless abandon of one insluted by an enemy. Quee wasn't sure if Fireza's words were just to get her riled, or if they were meant as honest advice.
.
Fireza batted her back, "That's the right aggression, but a weak strategy!"
.
Niori used her conjured computer to analyze their movements numerically. Understanding these vectors may come in handy later. Quee again lunged, using Ko at 60% on her right fist.
.
Fireza kept her feet anchored and rotated very minimally about her waist, using her momentum to backhand QUee in the face with her left hand as she was about to connect, "Inefficienct!"
.
Quee was sent tumbling around Fireza, ending up behind the powerful warrior. Using rudimentary enhancement techniques, Fireza increased the strength of her joints: namely, her right ankle, her left shoulder, and her right hip. The small increases in strength compounded, resulting in a full-body movement that held much greater potential energy than a simple strike normally would. Due to the division of her aura, Fireza only needed a little more than 20% use of Ko on her left hand to deal a lightning fast hit that dealt considerable force. The minimal movement involved afforded her a level of precision that was necessary in order to quell Quee's attempt. Combined with Quee's full body weight being put into her lunge, and her aura being mostly focused on her attacking hand, the attack could have resulted in a particularly damaging result, if not for Fireza holding back considerably.
.
"I think that's enough," Niori decided.
.
Fireza grumpily agreed, noting that her attack, despite the restraint, was still harmful, and that Quee was clearly not ready yet to engage in a direct battle at a level Fireza was accustomed to.
.
Quee rolled over and stared up at the sky with her arms flopped out to either side, "I couldn't even land a hit."
.
Fireza walked away from her, "That's because you weren't paying attention."
.
Quee sat up, "What do you mean?"
.
Fireza refused to answer.
.
Niori took up the responsibility, "She means that, had you noticed her stance as you were mid-air, you could have divided your aura up more responsibly, to avoid taking too much damage. And, if you had noticed, you maybe could have used your predicament to bait out an attack and prepare for a better counter, rather than just planning for direct attacks constantly."
.
"Oh," Quee rubbed her head, clearly with an ache, "damn."
.
"Yeah," Fireza said as she turned and sat in the grass, "damn. As in, 'damn, I'm dead,' 'cause that's what'll happen to you in a real fight."
.
It was, quite literally, adding insult to injury.
.
"I got a text," Niori again shifted discussion, "looks like they've finally gotten a chance to talk to him... though I still think I should have gone with them."
.
"Wasn't it your idea to make sure Dex got some more socializing in her?" Fireza didn't like Niori being shifty.
.
"In any case, I only hope they'll get along with him as well."
.
Fireza stared Niori down through the corner of her eye, "You've made too many friends here."
.
Niori sat, looking at Quee who was still dealing with her headache, and the peaceful field surrounding her, "Maybe," a field not at all disimilar from the one where Yuya and Law were seemingly killed, "or maybe we could use a few more friends."
.
*****
.
Without friend. Without family. With only one thing left to her. She sought to remove from this plane that which took her family from her.
.
Luna Liturj, stumbling through life since Thazath's rampage through Maremortuus took her siblings from her, and almost took her life as well, was now heading to North Anhydrought City, originally bound for Auxilium, till it was wiped from the map. Much time was spent sulking, depressed and beaten. Now, she walks through Anhydrought, indifferent to Auxilium's fate. She simply needs money, and some of the stimuli being thrust upon her fail as weakly as the breeze upon the mountains she crossed prior.
.
"There better be a job listing in the city," Luna angrily scowled to herself, "and it better not be from the Government. They're probably begging for help after all the shit that's been going on." Sand filled her shoes as she walked, "God damn sand." She lifted one foot up to remove the shoe and dump it out, "God damned UPIO. They keep releasing these beasts. Probably some childish military idea or something." She replaced the shoe and then moved to remove the other, teetering her balance from leg to leg, "And we were working for them when that all happened, too." She continued walking, "God damn UPIO..."
.
Luna, muttering obscenities to herself, as she often did these days, wandered out of the desert, toward the city. At its edges, Marla's people were awaiting, with offers of a variety of cheap drugs. In a moment of little-to-no competition, quality control was thrown out the window in favor of making as many sales as possible. In addition, Marla's dealers became secondhand salespeople for more recreational drugs as well, selling their own supplies of relaxers and psychedelics at a high markup, like the more addictive, crude variants of the "designer" drugs they normally peddled.
.
"Fuckin' drugs." Luna muttered to them.
.
Marla's dealers overheard and looked at each other. Then shrugged and resumed hocking to the next passer-by. The police did nothing to quell these newly sprung up hotspots. The NAPD did veritably nothing at all during this period.
.
Luna walked inward, with no objective in mind. She entered a public library and sat at one of its computer stations. There, she began searching for jobs. So long as it wasn't tied to the Government in any way, she would take it. This proved a more difficult task than she had originally assumed. She searched and searched and wrote down contact information. She spent hours that morning doing this, and feeling as though she were making no progress at all. Furthermore, she knew that there would be a considerable wait once she did make contact.
.
The whole thing burned her up, "Fuckin' jobs."
.
Someone was reading quietly behind her and overheard. Shocked, they turned to see the origin of the foul language. Once they did, they calmly turned back to their book, unsure if they had heard correctly.
.
Luna noticed this, and, much quieter than before, muttered, "Fuckin' people."
.
And her day went on just as this. She cursed the world, piece by piece, each minute, and dredged the internet for job postings. Eventually, she would find what she sought. But it would be a little while longer before then.
.
*****
.
"Is he awake yet?" Matt impatiently asked.
.
They were still in the same alley as the night before.
.
Banda yawned, "No wake."
.
Unintentionally, this referred to Roy as well.
.
The yawn infected Matt, "What was the point in sleeping in shifts last night? All it did was make sure we were both tired. One of us could have at least gotten a full rest."
.
Banda put the back of her hand against Dwyer's forehead. He was sweating, and he winced at her touch. Occasionally, Dwyer tossed and turned, still not waking.
.
"What the hell do we do now?" Matt paced, wanting to continue on with what he'd planned for the day, "This guy is gonna slow us down."
.
"No process anyhow."
.
"We made progress!" Matt snapped. Then, he quieted down a bit after Dwyer turned some more, "We know that where ever he is, we haven't run into him yet. That's gotta mean something, right?"
.
Banda kept tending to Dwyer.
.
Matt walked over to them, took a good look, then walked away again, "Who am I kidding? He's probably focused on that explosion, not some dirty street scuffles."
.
"He needs hell."
.
"What? Oh... help. Yeah, don't we all." Matt turned around in his pacing pattern and stopped, staring at Dwyer's twitching body beside Banda.
.
Banda caressed Dwyer's head, "I know." She whispered to him, "I know what's like."
.
Matt overheard what she'd said, and, in a moment of clarity, finally understood, "Fine."
.
Banda looked over her shoulder at Matt, who turned to face the wall of the building which outlined one half of the alleyway. With a stern move, Matthew thudded his forehead against the wall and its gritty dusted cement. His forehead was cold against it, the dust scratching his skin.
.
"I'm not gonna sit on the sidelines anymore, waiting for something to happen." He spoke to the wall, "If he comes, he'll come." Then he turned back around, increasing in volume at Banda who was still sitting beside Dwyer, "And when he does, he'll see me, doing what he apparently couldn't do!"
.
Dwyer's eyes flickered.
.
"I guess I'm the only one whose even gonna try and stop these bastards..."
.
Banda turned back to Dwyer, who was waking up from the constant commotion.
.
Matt walked over to them, "Sorry to wake you up, but I'm gonna need your help with this."
.
*****
.
The night prior, Forde had led Brandon to the edge of the city, learning of the wind's direction. Onyx took one look at the plume, then turned away to sniff the ground, sometimes returning to gaze toward Auxilium for a few rudimentary sniffs, as if to unpack what the sight meant. Forde, upon realizing that the winds would carry the rose's poison to Petrorgana, felt it was too late to act, and stood there longer than Brandon had expected.
.
"Did you have one of your people there as well?" Brandon solemnly asked.
.
"I have a duty." Forde coldly replied, "I have to observe all of this."
.
Brandon assumed he understood what Forde had meant. They spent that night mostly awake, saying very little. Onyx slept outside as they sat. In the morning, still awake, they moved to a cafe to ingest enough caffeine to continue being awake. They kept aprised of some of the ancillary events. Every second Forde spent worrying over the consequences and rammifications of what had occurred was a second he felt was wasted not observing, recording, and otherwise serving as witness to the tragedies of both Auxilium and Petrorgana. The caffeine excacerbated this tension. The lack of sleep of course didn't help, either.
.
"I understand if you have to go," Brandon eventually started.
.
Forde chugged yet another cup of coffee. Instead of sipping as it cooled, he'd wait for a cup, then let it sit and cool on its own. Once he'd deemed it long enough, Forde would then dump the entire cup back, taking it in in just a few gulps. After every other cup, he'd wash it down, and clear the lingering taste from his mouth with some water. Brandon watched curiously.
.
They left the cafe to take in the sun. The natural vitamin absorption would help keep them energized enough to refrain from sleep. The walking helped a bit, too. The copious amounts of coffee left a swirling, pained feeling in both of their digestive tracts. Still, it can't be overstated how instrumental its effects were in this time.
.
Along some edges of the city, parks of grass and pale paved walkways lined the barrier, ironically between the vast sands and the vast cold urbanized landscape. Onyx walked ahead of Brandon and Forde, who conversed on matters as they traversed the parks. Brandon kept a watchful eye on Onyx as he playfully transitioned from point of interest to point of interest, sniffing, pawing, sometimes even rolling upon. Onyx began sniffing along the railing lining the desert where a mossy lichen indicated a history of being urinated upon.
.
"You're a Terrorist Hunter," Forde pointed out, "so you should be focusing everything on the Poor Man's Rose."
.
"I can't just abandon what I started."
.
Onyx would stop from time to time and sniff for a prolonged period, still never failing to keep ahead of the two, let alone fall behind.
.
"As a Hunter, you need to think about what your purpose is."
.
"I know mine," Brandon casually exclaimed, "just as you know yours." Then he added, "You don't need me to achieve your-"
.
"It's not about needs or even wants. Right now, I'm talking about duties. We each have one." Forde was passionate.
.
Brandon tried not to belittle his passion as he watched Onyx stop to mark his territory, attempting to override years of wildlife and domestic training, "I'm a Terrorist Hunter for many reasons, one of them being to prevent evils from being done. This doesn't change that."
.
"What about the greater good?"
.
Onyx continued on, with Brandon trying his best not to sound upset, "Should we let one evil go because of a 'larger' evil? Should we give up on the supposed 'lesser' goods for a 'greater' good? Evil's evil and good's good. I'm not the only Terrorist Hunter out there, and I'm certain I'm not the only one who can do something about the Rose. But I might just be the only one who could do something about this city right now."
.
As he finished talking, Brandon realized they had passed by Onyx, who was forcing his puppy snout through the railing, sniffing over the edge. Brandon went back to catch Onyx up, as he must have become fixated on something. Forde waited where he was as Brandon backtracked, thinking on what the Hunter had just said to him. Time had passed in such a way, that, if Forde had replied to what he said at this point, it would feel hollow and pointless.
.
"Come here, Forde." Brandon hopped the railing.
.
Onyx pawed at his obstruction as Brandon came down into the sand. There, leaning against the raised concrete foundation of the city's edge, was a man, motionless. Forde came to the railing and looked over at the scene. Brandon checked for a pulse, then looked up to Forde with sorrowful eyes. Then, as practice and experience dictated his next actions, Brandon began searching the man's person.
.
Forde then hopped over the railing as well, his landing reflected in the dead man's sunglasses. Forde tried his best not to kick up sand as he got near. Brandon carefully inspected the man's pockets. Then, he slowly took his hand back.
.
After checking on Onyx, who was above them, peaking through the rails of the park, Brandon then dusted his hands off, "Whomever he was, I think it's safe to say he was homeless."
.
"No ID at all?"
.
"Only thing I found was some stale bread and some empty plastic bags."
.
Forde understood what the bags were for, "A junkie?"
.
"Lots of homeless are. You have to keep moving on cold nights to keep warm enough, and you have to suppress the aches from walking for so long to keep going." He turned to Forde, "And sometimes coffee aint enough, or even open at the time you need it."
.
Forde looked down at the body, "Seems so matter-of-fact when you put it like that."
.
"There's a rather simple explanation for a lot of this kind of stuff." Brandon then knelt beside Forde with his hands held out, palms upward.
.
Forde stepped with one foot on the platform Brandon was making and was hoisted up to grab onto the railing beside Onyx. Slightly perplexed by this movement, Onyx backed away from the railing and growled slightly.
.
"Stop that, Onyx. We're just climbing up." Brandon commanded before jumping up to grab a spot of railing, himself.
.
Once the two were back in the park, Brandon called for the police. They sat on a bench and awaited their arrival.
.
"How long did they say?" Forde inquired.
.
"Could be an hour." Brandon checked his phone to see how much time had passed, then returned it to his pocket with mild frustration, "Guess they've got their hands full today."
.
"So a homeless guy gets high, stumbles over the railing and just dies?"
.
Brandon sighed, "The desert gets real cold at night. This city has cold nights every so often, it being in the desert. He just happened to be in a bad spot to weather it on one such night. Probably froze." Brandon placed his head in his hands, "I'm so tired."
.
Onyx climbed up onto the bench and curled up on Brandon's lap.
.
Forde stared off down the road, trying to spot the police, "You think he might have overdosed?"
.
"Possibly," Brandon took his head out of his hands, "could have even been given the wrong stuff by accident. It's not like these criminals have regulations in place. Not like a clinic would."
.
Forde relaxed his posture, feeling defeated, "And that's who you're after."
.
Brandon looked at Forde, saying nothing.
.
"Profitting off of people's misery..." Forde mused to himself, still waiting for a sign of the police.
.
Onyx adjusted his position on Brandon's lap.
.
Brandon eventually realized the inevitable outcome, "So, when do you leave?"
.
Forde nodded his head, as if understanding that he didn't have a choice, given the circumstances, "I think I'll get an hourly room and catch up on some sleep. Then I'll see about heading South."
.
Brandon was gently petting Onyx so as not to wake him, "We'll run into each other again, I'm sure."
.
The two were sitting on the park bench in the sun with their backs to the railing which separated the park from the desert and Roy's corpse. They looked off, half asleep, waiting for the police. They didn't show up for another hour, being even later than they'd said on the phone. The reason was that they weren't sure if it was related to Body's crew or not, so they tried to cross-reference locations of Body's crew as they knew it, and finally determined that it wasn't, in fact, at all related to them. Ironically, it was tangentially related to Marla's crew, though there was no way for them to determine that. Not even after the toxicology report returned. By the time the police arrived, Forde and Brandon's eyelids were so heavy that the officers almost questioned them for drug use as well.
.
*****
.
[continued in comments]
submitted by GuyWithSausageFinger to HxH_OC

Heavy metal

Kerk watched appreciatively as the dancer finished her set, she had been graceful and elegant, He tipped 200 units into the common pot, maybe a bit more than he should have but he was feeling good and had the units to spare. He took a pull at his drink and waited for the show to resume,and then he saw the symbol on his table light up.'Oho' he thought to himself as he saw the dancer make her way to his table, 'I like the way this is going” he thought. He pulled out a chair for her and offered to buy her a drink, she indicated what she wanted and he made the order. She was even better-looking close up and he thought to himself 'Don't screw this up, you ham-fisted idiot” She reached across the table to him and....
The pleasant scene in front of his eyes dissolved into swirling colours accompanied by a discordant two-tone alarm. 'Aww dammit' he thought as he was slammed back into reality 'Why am I not surprised?' He switched off the alarm and let the nodules in the pod knead the back of his legs for a few minutes to bring his muscles back into play.
He climbed out of the sleep-station and did the mandatory exercises, stretching, bending and twisting his body until he was satisfied that he was ready for duty.
His thorn rifle and helmet were extruded from the Liveship bulkhead and he equipped them, he used to think 'How did that all work?' but as no answer was forthcoming he just accepted that it was 'just the way it was'
His eyes fell on the symbol glowing on the bulkhead, “The Captain, what does the Captain want with me?' Still, having no time for idle conjecture, activated the door and strode into the corridor. He left in haste, in such haste in fact, that he didn't notice the other two symbols that appeared under the first one.
He made his way to the bridge, greeting others he passed them in the corridor until he turned into the Command area.........and stopped dead
There were two additional guards outside the bridge, an acolyte of the Exarch, and a Highborn guard. In his experience this was rare, and rarer still, there appeared to be no tension between them “They weren't there when I went for my resting period, politics and religion together, this can't be good”, he thought to himself
He entered his entry code and the door vanished and re-reappeared after he passed through the opening.
He entered and took in the room at a glance, the Captain at her command station, and to one side of her was a Highborn, a youngling by the look of it, and on the other side an ageing Exarch of the Exalted Order, and various crew members at their stations.
“Ah Kerk, better late than never” said the Captain in a tone of voice, which absolutely did not, I repeat did not scream “Watch what you do, and watch you say” As per protocol, Kerk responded “At your command, Captain”
“We require the benefit of your experience Kerk, what do you make of this?' said the Captain indicating the glowing panel in front of her.
He looked at the panel, “What sort of game is this?' he thought, aloud he said 'It appears to be some sort of sh--'.
He was interrupted by the dry voice of Exarch, 'It is customary for soldiers to appear bare-faced in the presence of the agents of the Order is it not?'
As he reached for his helmet another voice arrested his movement,
'It is customary for soldiers to be unarmed in the presence of a Highborn is it not?' said the Highborn 'However on board ship this requirement is negated'.
'The Order's requirements take precedence over the wishes of the Highborn do they not?' croaked the Exarch,
'On Home that may or may not be the case', said the Highborn, 'however, we are not on Home, therefore those requirements are invalid'.
“You have the effron---”
The Exarch's voice was cut off by the Captain, “on board ship all crew members are helmeted and armed whilst on duty”..
'”But'--, croaked the Exarch,
'Enough of this' said the Captain, 'the helmet and the rifle stay, on board ship I have the final authority as given by the Highborn council and the Conclave'
'This will be brought up in the Conclave meeting upon our return' rasped the indignant Exarch.
Kerk, noticing the look the Highborn gave the Exarch thought to himself 'I wonder what odds I can get that the Exarch never makes it back to Home?'
'Now to business” said the Captain, 'What are your thoughts on this?'
Kerk looked at her unreadable face and gave the only answer he could, 'It's some kind of ship” he said, 'though not a configuration I am familiar with”
'What would you do prior to being ordered to attack and or capture this ship?' said the Captain in a tone of voice that absolutely said, “don't let yourself(and much more importantly me)down'
Kerk heard his training say, 'Size, composition, weapons, drive and crew, that's what we would need to know”
'Proceed” said the Captain,
Kerk turned to the sensor technician 'What have we got?'
'It's huge', he said, '8 miles x 4 miles x 2 miles huge”
'That's just not possible' said Kerk, 'our own ship is not even a mile in length!'
'Nevertheless, that's what the scan indicates' said the tech, 'as for composition and crew, unknown, the scans are inconclusive, it would seem that somehow the scans are being reflected'
'As for weapons, no pulse signatures, no energy signatures, no thorn signatures, no indications of any known weapon system at all'
'As for the drive, no Livedrive signature, no Q-signature, no slip-drive signatures, no recognisable signature at all”
'That's impossible' said Kerk, 'no weapons, no drive?'
No known drive or weapons systems' said the technician in the 'I am just telling you what the system says, no more no less” tone of voice in tandem with the 'If it all goes down the tubes, you ain't blaming it on me” voice.
'Recommendations?' said the Captain,
'Are we still stealthed and undetected?' asked Kerk,
“Fully under stealth, the target shows no sign of knowing of of our presence'
'That's all we got?' said Kerk,
'That's it' said the tech. 'nothing in the common files that comes even close to what we are seeing' said the tech..
'This is pointless' ...came the harsh voice of the Exarch, 'we have done all this before he was summoned, he has brought nothing to the situation”
Kerk thought to himself, 'thanks very much for that, you little shit”
Kerk turned to the tech, 'Nothing in our files?' What about the files we have “acquired” from other species?'........
The Captain said to the Exarch, “This is why he is a Raid leader and you are …...what you are”.....
'I can't access those files without the proper clearance' said the tech,
'Who has the clearance?' said Kerk.
'I have the authorisation' grated the Exarch, 'but I refuse to give the codes to a common soldier or even the Captain as it would a dereliction of my duty to the Conclave'
The Captain was getting annoyed, 'even if it costs the Conclave their share of the spoils?'? She said,
'That is contrary to the protocols of con-..' The Exarch was cut off by the Captain.
'I am not putting this ship or my crew at risk for you to play the I am just following the rules card'
'This is not see-...' again the Exarch was interrupted by the Captain,
'Escort the Exarch to his quarters' She said
'This is blasphemy' screamed the Exarch as he was surrounded by four soldiers, lifted bodily to his feet and carried out, the sounds of outrage fading as he was carried down the corridor.
Kerk though to himself, 'crap, the odds just fell through the floor'
'A bit much there' said the Highborn, 'mind you, he is an up himself idiot though, and whilst I concur with your decision and it's implementation, unfortunately I do not have the codes you require' Saying that, he gave the Captain a searching look, 'I believe I will retire to my quarters to await the conclusion of this impasse' in a voice that most definitely did not, and I repeat myself did ..not.. say 'do what you have to do' And with that, he departed.
'Suggestions are welcomed' said the Captain.
'Ah, err, if you give me a cleared bridge and a little time I might be able to effect a solution' said a tech.
'A cleared bridge with my back turned to you is the best offer you are going to get' said the Captain.
'Err umm, that will do' nodded the tech, they all filed out, then the Captain called back the tech who had spoken up. Kerk filed out with all the others, Some time later, they were all called back in . 'Not only will none you ever mention this event to anyone in the future, this event never actually took place at all, is this understood?' There were a chorus, of 'yes Captains',and 'ayes'
Kerk spoke up, 'What about the ship files, won't they have a record of this?'
'No, they won't' said the Captain, looking at the tech, who had the grace to look abashed.
'What was in the hidden files' asked Kerk, 'Only one species we know of has any sort of knowledge of this type of ship, a Dor'rakken squadron encountered a ship that resembles what we are looking at”
'What happened?' said Kerk,
'Of course, them being the Dor'rakken, and they being in their mating cycle at the time, they attacked the ship which was bigger than the one we are looking at' '
And..?' said Kerk.
'Their group was destroyed, every single ship, only a beacon survived to broadcast their fate' said the tech,
'That's impossible'(it occurred to him that he may have used the word 'impossible' a lot more times since he was awakened than in his life prior to this point)said Kerk, 'The Dor'rakken are almost on a par with ourselves, and that would have been a lot of ships'
The Captain said “Indeed a lot of ships, normally there are 24 ships in a Dor'rakken scout squadron but they are only small craft, no ships of battle'
'Even so' said Kerk, they have nearly the same level of weapons as we have, even though their ships are not as durable as ours'
'Captain' said another tech, 'in our dump files there appears to be a historical record of our people meeting a ship of this size ratio,but it was a bigger ship, however, it was not in our space but far out in the outer reaches of the spiral arm'
'Continue' said the Captain,
'It was hundreds of cycles ago, which is why it was not part of the main files, it was most likely added as an afterthought, probably because the report would not have been seen to be credible'
'Not credible? what details are there'? asked the Captain,
To be honest, not much at all, just the similarity of the design of the ship and the apparent lack of of drive and weapons' said the tech. 'There was no hostile contact with the alien vessel, but a stealth probe gathered some information that is interesting'
'Interesting? In what way' asked the Captain
The alien ship was made of metal' said the tech,
'Made of metal? '
That's imposs--' thought Kerk biting off the rest of the sentence.'Dammit'
'Why did not our ship gain more information' asked the Captain,
'According to the records, they were damaged, and at the very limit of their range, if not having passed their safe return point, if they took any action at all, they would not have been able to return to Home'
'Is this an official record?' asked the Captain.
'It appears to be' said the tech,
'How closely do the descriptions of the ships match?' Kerk asked,
'The ratios are the same, but the other vessel was bigger than this one' said the tech. 'Also, it tells us that these craft range far and wide, out in the spiral arm, in our space and in Dor'rakken space at the very least'
'Reasonable to assume that they were ships of the same species then', said Kerk, if the size ratios match, probably not a coincidence'
'Agreed' said the Captain, 'we need to recall the Exarch and Highborn to let them know what we have discovered'
'First of all' said Kerk, we must confirm that this ship is of the same type encountered in the past, can we get a stealth probe onto it?'
'The alien vessel has shown no deviation from its course and it is likely that they cannot pierce our stealth, so a stealth probe is more than possible' said the tech.
'In that case I recommend the deployment of the stealth probe' said Kerk.
'Do it,' said the Captain, how long will it take to deploy and how long will it take for the information to come back?'
'No time at all to deploy, as for the information transfer, that is unknown; said the tech.
A while later, Kerk looked in amazement at the probe's transmissions, 'the hull contains unknown metals and is over a yard thick? Just what have we found here?'
'If this ship is made of metal how much would there be?' asked the Highborn,
'More than on our own continent certainly' said the tech, 'possibly more than on the whole of Home'
'We must acquire it' burbled the Exarch, who looked as if he was suffering some sort of seizure, 'so much metal, the riches, slaves, the road to total domi---' he cut himself off, 'we must do everything in our power to seize it for the Or—-MostHigh' The emotions playing over his face were obvious to all that were present, greed, hope, the lust for power, all writ large in his eyes.
''What are those readings, Kerk said to the tech,
'Life form readings' said the tech 'and odd readings at that'
''How so?' asked the Captain.
'240 mobile life forms pulsing with some form of life, 2160 immobile life forms at lower life levels, and innumerable immobile life forms at barely detectable life levels'
'Are some of them injured or what?' said the Captain,
'The life force reading of all groups are steady, there no fluctuations at all' said the tech.
'Are the life force readings, compatible with our own?' asked the Highborn,
'I don't know' said the tech, 'they seem to be surrounded by some some of shield, aura or radiance, I can't even get a reading on their physical shape'
'What can you tell us about them then?' snapped the Exarch who seemed to have recovered somewhat from his earlier outburst.
'They appear to be about two thirds of our size, their atmosphere seems similar to ours, but a little bit thinner, gravity, a little heavy for us, but not catastrophically so, those conditions would appear to be shipwide, that's about it' said the tech.
'The active life forms are mostly concentrated in just over a cubic mile space at the front of the ship. The not so active life forms occupy a similar area adjacent to this area, the barely active life forms are spread throughout the ship, in addition there appears to be an area of biomass in the order of 8 odd cubic miles in the middle of the ship, purpose unknown, the ship consists of multiple levels”
''There is no more you can tell us?' asked the Captain'
'So much metal would appear to be limiting the scans, that is all the information we have' said the tech.
'Not much to go on' said the Captain'
On the contrary' said the Highborn, from what little we know, in my opinion it is safe to assume that these aliens are capable of defending themselves in a way of which we have no knowledge and therefore can be classified as dangerous to interact with'
You can say that again' said the tech, 'the Dor'rakken attacked in standard formation and in no short order were smeared all over the sector, by some unknown weapon system whilst doing no damage to the alien vessel”
'I said it before and I will say it again' said Kerk, a Dor'rakken scout squadron whilst not heavily armed, are no joke to encounter in battle, as our history often shows, yet they did no damage to the alien vessel at all? that is concerning, as they fundamentally use the same weapons as we do, which does not bode well'
'I tend to agree' said the Captain, as species go, they aren't that bright, but their fighting prowess cannot be denied'
'Enough talk' barked the Exarch, 'it is our duty to gather the spoils of battle and return them to Home for the glory of the Or---, I mean the MostHigh' I sit here listening to 'they are dangerous' 'they should be left alone' ...'it seems this ship is crewed by weaklings and cowards, we sho---'
Kerk growled in his throat and looked at the Captain, who nodded almost imperceptibly, Kerk walked over to the Exarch, 'Weaklings and cowards is it?' The Exarch looked up at and swallowed nervously as Kerk loomed over him,
'I will give you the one chance afforded to you by the Honour Code to withdraw your statement else I will challenge you to personal combat here and now' said Kerk.
The Exarch stammered 'Com--combat? You can't do tha---'
The voice of the Captain interrupted him, 'he can and he is within his rights to do so, the Honour Code co-signed by the Order and the Highborn allows, no, almost demands it'
It seemed to Kerk that the Highborn was trying unsuccessfully trying to stifle a smirk.
'This is outrageous' shouted the Exarch,
'That statement is contradicted by the Honour Code' continued the Captain, we await your reply'
Kerk turned away from the Exarch and walked to the bulkhead, from where his thorn sword was extruded, he took it and walked back to stand in front of the Exarch. The Exarch couldn't take his eyes from the sword, it was as if he was hypnotised by it.
Suddenly, a cunning look crossed his face and his eyes flicked to the door,
'If you are thinking that your acolyte could stand in your stead, you are correct, however after he is dead, the challenge will remain' said the Captain
'But-if--' said the Exarch,
'No ifs nor buts, the challenge will still remain, Remember if you will the Exarch of Liveship 237---'
''Yes I remember' shouted the Exarch, 'foully murde---'
'Not so, said the Highborn smoothly, 'that Exarch was was also challenged to personal combat by a Raid Leader, he, like yourself no doubt, thought that his acolytes could protect him, he was in error and both he and his acolytes paid the ultimate price'
'You Exarchs are all the same, you pick the biggest acolytes you can find and put them into a uniform and expect people to fear you and them' 'In reality, your acolyte is at best a cosplayer, and poses no threat to anyone other than himself'
The Exarch looked at the Captian, who nodded very slightly and the Exarch seemed to collapse into himself. He swallowed nervously. 'I appear to have insulted your honour, I withdraw unreservedly the remark that I injudiciously made'
Kerk returned the sword the bulkhead and it was as if it was never not there in the first place 'how does it do that?' thought Kerk, the answer was still not forthcoming, 'Honour has been satisfied' said Kerk in accordance of the archaic terms of the Honour Code.
There was an audible silence
'I think I will retire to my quarters and meditate for a while' squeaked the Exarch, and stumbled out of the bridge Nobody said anything as he left, but the three other main players in the drama were doing their best to stifle grins.
submitted by Ice_cream_and_whine to HFY

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