by Hugo Damas
The Tech Guild was made famous by the original Dark Runner.
The Hunter didn’t like it. The floor was too cold on her feet. Between the vapor and smoke generated by all the technology going on and all the residents’ smoking habits, the air was the filthiest she had ever breathed. Disgusting even. And there wasn’t a moment of silence to be heard anywhere. She never thought to say she could hear silence, but after one hour inside that tower, she was certain she could. And she missed it very much.
The only favorable thing to say was that she did not feel that naked. People in there had a natural disregard for what others thought or how they felt, so with the hot temperature generated by all the working contraptions and the dense population, they dressed light. She had seen many wearing only near enough to cover their privates, even while unhealthy in their lifestyle.
Zaniyah still hated it there. However, she had a responsibility not only to her guild but to a fallen comrade.
Morgana…
The Sorcerer had stepped up to lead an attack on the invading force of the Beasts. She had fallen in combat and died before her eyes. The Hunter was the only witness to her death, and she had failed to honor her with appropriate words. She was used to the wild ways, so she had to remind herself that people didn’t like dying alone in the first place. Finding appropriate words for the situation had been beyond her.
The Hunter had already been interrogated by the leaders of the Shadow Conclave. She, of course, warned them of the Mad Genius’s true intent. She, of course, told them of the Sorcerer’s bravery but did not let them know her name. Zaniyah was sure that would be a slight on her memory, to be known she had failed in that.
Now? The Hunter waited. The Don and the Shadow had both left directly for their respective territories, to join their respective organizations. They had been summoned immediately and were expected to arrive soon. Once they arrived, a meeting would take place. With what intent, she did not know.
The prophecy had failed, far as she could tell.
Since there was no clear winner of the contest, it was impossible to tell who was the chosen. On the other hand, maybe that is what they wished to declare. Maybe it was all about revealing who the chosen was. Perhaps whoever had the highest score by the time the Beasts surfaced?
In her opinion, it was most likely the Sorcerer.
I’m being watched. The Hunter was so lost in thought she hadn’t realized. She turned around in a flinch to land eyes on none other than a familiar dark figure. The figure flinched in reaction, momentarily edging to escape but readily shifting weight to stand still. Upon closer inspection, the Hunter recognized her.
“Shadow,” she said, with a tiny hint of a smile in her tone, and in reaction, the Shadow leaned forward, welcoming, giving the Hunter the impression she was about to be hugged.
The Shadow leveled her foothold, though, again in a kind of awkward movement, and stood still instead. She only approached.
The Shadow was harder to read now. She was wearing a full-face mask, and her eyes were covered with some dark material that filled everything inside her eye slits. Her outfit, once blue and elaborate, was now black, though no less elaborate. Her hair was the same, long and tied back into a spread ponytail while also reaching over the front, to frame her mask. The Hunter got the impression that the Shadow was not one for simple or even repeat outfits.
The Hunter could not relate to that.
“I apologize,” the Shadow said with her serious voice, heightened by her accent, “for leaving you. I never thought the Sorcerer would perish.”
The Hunter didn’t know what to say.
She was curious why she had done it but asking would sound accusatory. It was equally odd that the Shadow would feel the need to apologize for anything.
It seemed Zaniyah should say something, though.
“I’m glad you’re alive.” Her voice came out less hoarse than expected, probably due to the interrogation she had withstood. It had been only a few hours ago, and she had spoken at length.
The Shadow nodded. “It was the clown. He saved me.”
That was surprising. Zaniyah’s view of the clown was of an insane person running around cackling like some mix between a hyena and a bird.
Her thoughts must have mirrored on her face.
“I know, I was surprised too. He freaks me out,” the Shadow said, glancing to the side as if expecting him to be behind her.
The Hunter would be surprised if the Circus Freak even showed up to the meeting. He had not shown up yet despite not having anywhere else to go, or anyone to report to. Even if he showed up, Zaniyah couldn’t even imagine what use the Shadow Conclave could have for him.
“The Sorcerer…did she die soon after?” The Shadow asked, hesitantly.
The Hunter gave a somber nod, the emotion bouncing off to the Shadow. “In minutes.”
The Shadow’s hands went to grab each other behind her back as she looked down, regretful.
“At least, you were there.”
The Hunter didn’t feel like she was much consolation but she was glad to know her impression that people didn’t want to die alone was not wrong. She still felt awkward at even having that conversation, but that was a much more familiar feeling.
The Shadow leaned forward a bit, curious.
“Any idea what the conclave might be planning?” The Hunter shook her head. “Did they ask all of us here?” The Hunter shrugged. “Did you come here directly?” The Hunter nodded. “I kind of dislike like this place, it is very dirty, isn’t it?” Zaniyah nodded twice in agreement.
The Shadow chuckled, again unexpectedly. And apparently, she agreed, she immediately straightened up and composed herself.
“I will see you at the meeting, Hunter. I just wished to thank you for your help.”
The Hunter bowed slightly with her head, and the Shadow gave her an odd look in return. She seemed to be thinking about something, something that made her envious. Then she bowed her own head and turned around, leaving without a word.
The whole exchange had been odd, especially considering all of the rumors around the Shadow.
Of all the titles claimed by world-class legendary thieves, three rang the most infamous: The Dark Runner. The Sorcerer. The Shadow.
Zaniyah had expectations, based on the rumors, of a grim man. Silent and deadly in presence, obfuscated in form. Yet, the Shadow was a young woman, if even that. She was probably a few years younger than the Hunter herself, and far from the intimidating sight that Zaniyah had expected.
The Hunter did not feel anything negative towards her -- she seemed like a good person -- but that was an odd impression to have of someone who should be the greatest thief and one of the most dangerous individuals in the world. As it stood, the Hunter was pretty confident she could beat her in a fight. And that she was the better thief.
For that reason, whoever the prophecy was referring to became that much more of a mystery, and in turn, so did their hope to deal with the Beasts.
The Hunter turned her back to the world outside and headed into the tech jungle within. No matter the circumstances, she was resolved to find the solution. She would honor her tribe.
Guild, she corrected in her mind. Guild.
Her tribe was gone.
* * *
There was no table nor any seat to take. No bar with drinks or servants. It was a room like any other, filled with gadgets and trinkets, dusty, with two exhaust pipes leading somewhere outside. Yet, it was larger than most. Less like a janitor’s closet and more like a big storage room.
The Shadow was already there when the Hunter arrived, along with the Street Rat. The Street Rat turned out to be the girl she had seen back at Magni’s main estate. She was proud to have had that confirmed.
Despite the demeanor that made others have compassion for the old child, the Hunter knew better. She knew what a child was capable of; she had been one once, after all, and she had been capable of plenty.
The next to arrive was the Mad G
enius. Zaniyah was surprised to see him. She wondered how he had the gall to show up after having offered to help the Beasts. Indignation flared inside her to the point that she had to allow it to seep through her stare.
His reaction, as he paused to look over them, was to dismiss her.
“Shadow,” his accentuated voice called out. “Is that you? Surely not, you must be a messenger, I imagine? A representative.”
“I am the Shadow,” she replied, with that accent of hers that made her feel all the more foreign and mysterious.
The Mad Genius just shook his head. “What a disappointment.”
The Street Rat didn’t react. Whether or not it was intended, the Hunter’s impression was that the Mad Genius made the girl nervous.
“Yer one ta talk.” They turned to see a well-dressed man, by far the oldest of them. He was wearing a suit of dark and red and holding that large cigar in his mouth as if it was part of his personality. “’I killed their leader, ya wrote. What a bunch o’ bull.”
The Mad Genius looked at the Don insulted. “How dare you? If I state I shot the man, I did.”
“If you did clip ‘im, how come we’ve seen no reaction?” the Don asked.
“What control have I of that? The conclusion is obvious: going after their leadership will have little to no result. But if that wasn’t the case, this would have already been over. Thanks to me.”
“A lesson to be remembered,” the voice announced itself.
Those two really liked their entrances, but the new arrival was the man who owned the entire tower. Griff, the original Dark Runner.
A white-haired, black skinned individual. Truly black, not like her own burnt skin which was more the color of almond. He wore a vest over a saggy old torso and shorts which hid the flab in his forelegs. He had mostly fake teeth and a prosthetic hand made of silver which was leaning on a cane. The cane was a gadget itself, that much was obvious, with how it was made of cracks and ragged edges of machinery.
The Hunter couldn’t help but notice how Griff wasn’t hunched over at all. He was standing up straight, looking not the least bit feeble. His eyes pierced them with an energy that was hard to describe. She felt like doing something, anything worthwhile.
Then his gaze changed as it passed by the Mad Genius. It was instant yet noticeable to pretty much everyone.
Meanwhile, Eliza, the organizer of the Shadow Conclave and head enchanter of the Magni, came forth. She seemed as tranquil and motherly as Zaniyah remembered her, although a deep sadness was hanging over her this time.
“Thank you for coming so swiftly, everyone,” Eliza said in greeting.
“What about that ridiculous clown?” The Mad Genius voiced, “I assume he was not invited?”
“Anyone reading the scroll was invited,” Griff replied with some impatience. “He just decided not to come.”
“OR DID AYEEEE?!”
Everyone.
Everyone did a double-take towards the horrific screeching howl as they flinched or otherwise actually jumped back and away from the sudden appearance of the figure. He had been hiding behind three gadgets in a way the Hunter could not understand, lying down behind the Shadow and out of view of everyone else who were forming a circle around her.
The Circus Freak started laughing. His back cracked as he straightened it, showing the Hunter that he was missing his left arm. Both…faults had been necessary for him to hide there properly.
“I caught you good! Oh, the look on your faces!!!” He giggled some more, and everyone was either embarrassed or, in the case of the Mad Genius, furious. The Street Rat was just laughing.
“You insane lunatic!” The Street Rat accused, giggling amused at herself and how she had reacted.
The Circus Freak raised his hand. “Present and accounted for!”
“Alright, enough!” Griff slammed his cane on the floor, obtaining silence. They all naturally took back their places to shape the circle. “I called you here because, now more than ever, the prophecy is important. The best of you will fulfill it.”
“I can certainly give that guarantee,” Mad Genius quickly announced, “but for me to achieve this, I will need the cooperation of--”
“Nobody said it was you, Falk,” Griff said, his words laced in spite.
The Hunter was getting the sensation he really didn’t like the Mad Genius -- but then why would that be surprising? Who did? Who would?
“The fact of the matter is we do not know who it is,” Griff continued. “So the first thing I wanted to do was ask all of you: who do you think it is?”
“The Mad Genius,” he, of course, said, without a hint of hesitation.
“The SHADOOOooowwwoOowowow…” the Circus Freak mentioned, like it was a joke, echoing the name himself to add a mockery of a supernatural sense to the name. He also did a few waving gestures with his hand.
“I’d go with the magic lady,” the Don shrugged, puffing out some smoke. “Sorcerer, right?”
“That’d be my pick too,” the Street Rat mentioned, “but with what happened, I’d say the Hunter.”
The Hunter caught the girl eyeing her, complimenting her with both words and facial expression. She felt honored but, a slave to her instincts when it came to any kind of interaction, especially coming from the child, she mainly felt suspicious.
“The Shadow,” the Shadow mentioned, which actually caught the Hunter by surprise. Did she really believe that? She had said it too quickly to gauge her tone.
“Hunter?” Eliza called out, reminding Zaniyah to also give her opinion.
“The Sorcerer,” Zaniyah said simply. Calling out her own name was pointless, that was a biased opinion that they would see no use in.
“Right, that was as useless an exercise as I expected,” Griff stated, nonchalantly. “What I really want is for us to work together against this invasion. One of you is bound to fulfill the prophecy if we’re all working at it.”
No one said anything in response, really. Except for the Mad Genius.
“Sensible.”
“Glad you think so,” Griff again showed some spite and, this time, the Mad Genius felt it. He sneered back, finally realizing there really was something personal to Griff’s demeanor towards him.
Hunter could only guess it was the fact the Mad Genius had offered to help the Beasts.
“The situation is dire. The Sorcerer is dead. The Dark Runner is dead. There’re very few of us, but with Eliza and me, we still have the support of the Tech Guild and the House of Magni.”
Eliza stepped forward then, placing a hand over Griffs’ own, on the cane, as if gently asking him to interrupt. He seemed to shudder at the touch but then relaxed, edging the shoulder lightly as agreement.
Eliza removed the hand and stepped forward.
“As it stands, the Beasts are impervious to any form of combat, even though it can delay them. So, as in the past, when they first arrived, the only applicable strategy for victory seems to be subterfuge.
“Luckily, they seem unprepared to deal with that approach. That much is evident by the fact we have already succeeded twice in the span of their first hour up here. We have killed their leader and stolen something from them.” She gestured towards the Shadow, and that all but clarified to the Hunter why she had stayed back.
It had not been panic, and it had not been a mistake. She had done it with the intent to steal from the Beasts.
Was it the mask? A part of the outfit? Something she left back at Kagekawa? It didn’t really matter, Zaniyah supposed. Yet, from her posture, and the conversations they had had, Zaniyah had the feeling it had been luck. The Shadow even said so, the clown had saved her.
She’s brave. The Hunter had to admit that much. Luck or no luck, superior skill or not, it had been a brave thing to do.
They started planning. The meeting went the way every meeting always went, far as Zaniyah could tell. Long as every member felt their opinion was as valuable as the next, and that there was no one in particular to convince, topics ke
pt derailing, and mouths kept running with no goal in sight.
“All I’m sayin’ is I got cigars older than she is,” the Don argued, disgruntled.
“Age is not that much to brag about, Mr. Seniority,” the Street Rated stated from her side, speaking confidently despite the fact her head was about the height of everyone else’s waist.
“Shut up, kid, the grown ups’re talkin’.”
The Street Rat rolled her eyes but didn’t talk back. In that room, three individuals were causing a lot of tension.
With the Mad Genius, it felt like, at any moment, anyone could say something that might trigger him to try and kill them. The aura of menace only grew thicker with each passing moment of conversation that wasn’t centered around what he wanted.
The Circus Freak was simply an intimidating sight. He had his eyes closed, his body waving back and forth like a slow pendulum as if he was sleeping, but the effect of that was that he looked like a corpse with silly markings over his eyes. Crosses that looked stitched.
Then there was the Don. An otherwise old man who looked tough, but his mannerisms, the way he gestured and said things, left her with a sense that if she got on his bad side, he had the power and resources to hunt her down and make her wish she was dead. Even though it wasn’t a rational sense, since the Hunter knew nothing about him, it was still very much real.
The only one who seemed unaffected by all of it was Griff.
“You’re all kids to me,” he patronizingly stated. “We won’t accomplish anything if you keep squabbling like brats. We have different skill-sets, and we should put them to use. Shadow, Circus Freak, and the Hunter are the only ones here who can hope to succeed at actually stealing from the Beasts. Shadow most of all, due to her arts.”
