Future Reborn Box Set

by Daniel Pierce

  A sidekick is one of the most powerful uses of the human body, and I chose to disengage from Rolf and reward Carron for his patience. Coming toward me with murder in his eyes, Carron didn’t expect something like a kick. His eyes were locked on my blades.

  Big mistake.

  I caught him in the hip, collapsing his leg with a muffled snap. “Holy shit, I’m Bruce Lee.”

  “Who?” he asked, reaching to his ruined leg while waving his sword about in weak circles.

  “No matter,” I told him and used him for a ramp. In two steps, I did a dirty parkour off his enormous chest, driving him into the dirt and twisting to greet Rolf, who was halfway through a killing blow that would take my head for a trip to the clouds. I disagreed with his plans, so I took his blade on mine, letting the raw power of his cut pull my arm out and way, spinning me around like a toy.

  I drove my other blade into his kidney, pulling it out and stabbing him again just because I’m a mean bastard when it comes to preventing my own murder. The look on his face was a thing of beauty because he had clearly never considered the fact that he could be beaten.

  Slowly, he went down, like a ship taking on water. Bleeding freely, he could do nothing to stop me from kicking his sword away in disgust.

  Then Rolf’s fist crashed into my temple, and I saw lights that weren’t there a minute before. My knee hit the dirt, and I heard a weak laugh as a shadow crossed my vision before Mira could finish screaming my name, but I still had both blades and that meant all I had to do was push.

  My hands shot out in the general direction of Rolf’s wheezing voice, and I felt them both go deep in his chest, a pair of pins that opened up his lungs with ruthless precision. My eyes cleared, and the ringing in my head stopped as I tossed a little thank you to my ‘bots and preceded to pull out my blades, cutting Carron’s head off with a scissor motion.

  Rolf coughed in terror, but I wasn’t ready to end things, not just yet. Sore, panting, and more than a little pissed, I still had to convince Wetterick that fucking with me was the worst idea ever.

  I looked to Wetterick, who watched me through narrowed eyes. His tent was oddly empty for a warlord, and he knew the next minutes would go a long way toward determining his future.

  Without raising his voice, Wetterick called Salas, who appeared like a ghost. “One thousand imperials. Now.”

  I held up a hand, glancing at my shoulder. The leather was slashed, my skin a bright pink underneath. “How much does good armor cost?”

  “Around four hundred imperials. Five hundred with studs,” Mira said.

  “Fifteen hundred imperials, Salas.” My tone offered no argument, and all Wetterick did was nod.

  I spoke to Rolf, who was bleeding out on the sand. “Do you want me to help you?”

  He spat, then looked up into my eyes. With a short nod, he lowered his head, exposing the bull neck without hesitation.

  “Nothing personal,” I told him.

  “I know,” he said.

  I brought the blade whistling down, giving him relief from his wounds. “Salas?” I called the man who hovered near his warlord, wringing his hands with sickened worry.

  “Y-yes?” he responded, fearful and bewildered at being addressed by a murderous rogue.

  “Get help. I want these men buried before nightfall. I’ll pay the cost. If anyone robs their graves, I’ll find out who did it and string their fucking guts from the post walls. Is that clear?” I lifted my voice so that it carried, knowing people were listening. They were already filtering back toward the tent since even the guards stood in mute shock. I knew their stillness wouldn’t last, and it was best to collect and go regardless of what I’d just done.

  “Sir, may I?” Salas asked his master, who gave a terse nod. Salas bustled forward with a sack of coins. I took it and handed him one with a jaunty flip. He caught it like it was on fire, then let it drop to the ground. It was probably a good move on his part, given how his boss regarded our exchange.

  I stared at Wetterick then smiled. If I’d been smarter, I would have killed him right there, but it isn’t in my nature to take life easily, despite what I’d just done to three of his men.

  “A kind man in addition to being honorable. I’m sure you’ll find our town to your liking,” Wetterick said. His eyes flashed with the anger of someone who saw power slipping through his hands, and I loved it. I knew he’d crushed people in the past and was lucky I was feeling generous.

  I wiped my blades on the tent as we left, the bag of coins in hand. “It’s growing on me.”

  12

  Mira lay on me, naked, her skin prickled with the cool of evening. In the Empty, the temperature rose and fell with the sun, and the light curtains moved with erratic puffs of air like ghosts. I could see a crescent of her eye in the low light, bright with interest.

  “Not tired?” I asked her. We’d just gotten done proving a theory of mine. Wine and a big bag of money make everything better, including sex. The first time had been rowdy, the second more civilized, and the way she eyed me in the gloom told me the third time would be better still.

  She said nothing but slid under the sheets to take my growing erection in her mouth.

  “Oh, it’s that kind of insomnia,” I said, smiling into the darkness as I leaned back. I tried not to think of anything except the heat of her mouth, knowing that my work here in the Empty had only begun. I had a beautiful woman in my bed, giving herself to me in every way, and something nagged at my mind, even through the haze of her skilled tongue.

  “Slow down or speed up, but don’t stop,” I said, and even to me, my voice sounded thick. She slowed down, and I felt her smile, then continue her own work, leaving no part of me in the cool air for more than a second. I’ve been with women who were giving, but the way Mira moved my hands away was something new. She wasn’t letting me do anything except feel her mouth, a moment all for me.

  It didn’t last long, but like anything perfect, it never does. But as moments go, it was damned near perfect, ending with my legs shaking hard enough I thought I might die from leg cramps. What a way to go.

  “Good,” she said, crawling back up my body like a vine when she was finished, tucking into the muscles of my chest while her fingers played at drawing shapes on my skin only she could see.

  I craned my head to see her curls spilling over the bed, a half-moon of her face lighter in the dark room. I knew three things. Since Bel died, Mira was alone, yet not fully alone because of me. She was mine in a way that I had to consider, unless I discarded her and moved on across the sweeping sands of a place that was more lethal than anything I’d ever seen before.

  The decision was easy, because I also knew the Empty—and the post—were in need of justice and order. A strong hand to rebuild, even recreate the best parts of my world without all the bullshit that dragged us kicking and screaming into whatever this land had become.

  I let my hand rest on her full breast, soft under my touch. Tomorrow, I would take the next step, but for tonight, I would be still. If she would let me.

  13

  Morning broke clear and bright. I heard Lasser cough discreetly at the door, then rose to greet him, pulling on the linen shorts Natif scrounged after I made a plea for clean clothes. Mira turned over, naked and stretching like a cat. It took a moment to tear my eyes away, but I opened the door and stepped out into the dim hall.

  “Morning,” I said, looking at the carafe he carried, along with two mugs. “I don’t suppose you have coffee in that?”

  “Even better. I have desert bean with honey, and good morning to you, Jack,” Lasser said. I took the offered mug, watching him expertly pour something hot, dark, and fragrant.

  “Desert bean?” I asked. The smell was incredible, whatever it was. My mind told me it was coffee, but my eyes thought my mug had a sheen on the surface, like oil.

  “Coffee grown in the western highlands. I roast it here myself, leaving the husks on. The oil is a bit...aggressive. Proceed with care, Jack,” he s
aid with a wink. I didn’t know if he meant the desert bean or Mira, who opened the door behind me, waving sleepily. “Mira, good morning. Desert bean?”

  “Hit me, friend, and call it coffee before I’ve had a cup. Saves time.” Her smile was thankful.

  “Now that you’ve reduced Wetterick’s champions to bones, what do you have planned for today, Jack? Sacking Kassos?” he asked me. Mira lifted a brow over her cup, saying nothing. The mood shifted from playful to tense when I realized he was only half joking.

  “Kassos is the city?” I asked. I needed a second to consider my next move. I had an idea, but it meant planning ahead.

  “It is,” Lasser replied.

  “Tens of thousands of people. Rotten to the core but rich beyond your dreams. Hightec is common there, but it isn’t cheap. You’d have to kill a hundred champions to afford what they have,” Mira said.

  That sealed my decision. “I met a girl, Scoot. Said her father was an armorer?”

  “He’s a rare talent, that one. Scoot is his agent since her mother passed last year. Good kid and a good family. No one deserves what happened to them.” Lasser sighed as he waved us down the steps, the carafe balanced in hand. “Derin was a wreck, but Scoot kept him fed and helped while they both grieved.”

  “What happened?” I asked. We made it to the landing, and the entire bottom floor of the hotel was empty, though the windows were open and bright sun filled the rooms.

  “Wetterick’s ego happened, that’s what,” Mira said. Her voice was so sour, I turned to regard her, waiting for more, but she just shook her head in disgust.

  “Mira is right. The bastard tried to make an alliance with the agents of some deluded fool to the east who thinks he’s some kind of minor god. Invited his men to the post for a feast and a night at Lady Silk’s, all in the name of brotherhood, of course,” Lasser growled. It was the first time I’d seen him lose his mask of control.

  I knew where the story was going. “Was Scoot’s mother a beautiful woman?”

  Lasser’s eyes snapped to me as if stung. “Yes. She was.”

  “And the men found her, thought she was one of Lady Silk’s girls, and something went wrong?” I asked. I could feel the blood pounding in my temples as the anger rose.

  “She took two of them down before...before the lieutenant had his way with her. Then he gave her to the other men,” Lasser said. “She did not survive the attack. Scoot and Derin were in transit from Kassos on a supply run. She was already buried when they made it back, and by then, the offending party had already left, gone to the east in service of the monster they serve.”

  “Name,” I said.

  “What?” Lasser asked me, confused.

  “A fucking name. Give me the name of the lieutenant—and his master, for good measure.” I mimicked writing something on a list. “I like to keep a record for my future travels. You never know who you’ll run across out in the Empty, and I want to make sure I send greetings from Scoot and her father.”

  “You don’t even know them,” Lasser said, but his protest was weak, bewildered. He didn’t know me well enough yet. He would.

  Lasser blew out a long breath, and I knew I’d hit a sore spot.

  I decided to explain myself, because everyone would know how I felt. “It’s nothing you’ve done, Lasser. This is about every shithead who acts like other people exist to live under their boots as stepping stones. I’ve hated it since I was a kid, and I hate it now. There isn’t any civil authority here, which mean it’s like a constant state of low-level war, and every time I’ve seen this kind of thing, the same people get hurt.”

  “People like Scoot,” Lasser said.

  “Exactly. What if I could change that?” I felt the ripple of muscle across my chest and wondered just how far my new body could take me. What else did the ‘bots do, other than add speed, strength, and a strange desire to turn into Wyatt Earp? I didn’t know.

  I was going to find out.

  Mira took my arm, her expression grave. “You wouldn’t be the first person to challenge Wetterick or the people like him.”

  “You would be the first to go after the Temple Unseen and their leader,” Lasser said. “You wanted a name? The Temple is a scourge, run by a warrior priest named Taksa. He’s evil all right, but his right-hand man isn’t a man at all. It’s a woman who calls herself Senet. Where Taksa is bad, she’s just vicious.”

  “Vicious? How?” I asked. I needed to know. I had a feeling we would meet one day.

  Lasser exhaled, thinking of how best to describe two assholes who were both bad but different. “Taksa does things in the light. He likes grand shows of pain and humiliation. He seizes wives and daughters, strips them nude in public while the family is there. He kills, to be sure, but Senet is worse. Far worse. She makes people vanish and travels with the Black Room as her own personal torture chamber. It has no windows, and it’s drawn by four dark ogres with their horns wrapped in razor wire. They’re fed a steady diet of victims when she’s done with them, and they’re always hungry because there isn’t much left. Not when Senet finishes her questions. The only ones who survive have the mark on them, although true believers take it out of devotion rather than torture. You’ll know it when you see it. An arrow on their back pointed to heaven. It’s how he knows they belong to him and that bitch sister of his.”

  My knuckles cracked, loud as gunshots in the empty hotel. I shook my hands out and let my eyes flutter a few times to purge the building rage. A torturer and a would-be god. I’d prove them both wrong, given the opportunity, but I couldn’t do it alone.

  I also couldn’t do it in a glorified set of pajamas.

  “Take me to Derin and Scoot,” I said, pointing toward the wide doors with my chin.

  “Armor?” Mira asked.

  “Not just armor. I need something that’s going to scare Taksa the way she scares people in the Empty. I don’t think I can just be myself anymore. I need to expand my presence, and it starts with how I go into each fight. I wiped the dirt with Wetterick’s men because they were used to soft competition, but that won’t always be the case.”

  We emerged into bright sunlight and heat, the day now in full swing as people bustled around like a school of fish. They had more purpose to them than the day before. Some seemed to stand taller, and a few touched my arm as they passed, muttering words of thanks.

  “You’d better get used to it,” Mira said, a slow smile bending her full lips.

  “The thanks or last night?” I asked her. Lasser coughed politely, looking away.

  “Both,” she said, and the sun got a little hotter just then.

  14

  Derin was as wide as he was tall, with hands like hams. He also had a smile wider than the sky, and I liked him immediately.

  “And you say you need armor with a purpose?” He was sketching on a piece of parchment, using charcoal in bold, clear strokes. I saw shoulder armor take shape, then the beginning of a chest piece. He was an expert, there was no doubt about it.

  Scoot watched him, grinning all the while. “Told you he was the best.”

  “Shush, now. We let the product brag, not our lips,” Derin told her, but his smile revealed that she could do no wrong in his eyes, and she knew it.

  “Bye, Da. Gotta get you lunch. Want the bird again?” she asked over her shoulder, pelting away as only a kid can run.

  Derin lifted his voice to reach her, never looking up from his work. “Yes. And for our friends.”

  “You don’t have to—” I started to say, but Derin waved me off.

  “She’ll buy you lunch regardless, so I may as well go along with her. She’s more like her mother than I could ever explain,” the big man said to us all, his eyes bright with wonder.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking away as he gathered himself. I could see his wife’s death was still close at hand, and Mira touched his arm in sympathy.

  Lasser entered the conversation smoothly, giving Derin a moment. “I wouldn’t presume to speak for Jack, but
I think his armor needs a particular look, not just a purpose.”

  Derin looked up sharply at that, tilting his enormous head. He was a handsome man, in a broad, friendly way, with dark eyes and a square jaw. His hair was cut to black stubble, and when drawing, he scratched absently at a white scar above his left ear. “What purpose might that be?”

  I considered what lay ahead, closing my eyes as I tried to see the future. I was already in the future, but it may as well have been the distant past, given the erratic technology and primitive conditions. That meant things had to protect me as well as send a message that I was here to stay. There was no going back to my old life. I would build my new life here and now, and it started with Derin’s designs.

  “Light. Mobile. Protection of vitals if possible, work in my two blades and a shoulder holster,” I said.

  “You have a gun?” Derin asked.

  “Not yet, but I will,” I told him.

  “Long rifle? Shotgun?” he asked, sketching.

  “Shotgun. Has to work with protecting my shoulders, elbows, knees,” I said.

  “Why those?” he asked, looking up.

  “Because that’s what I’m going to use as weapons,” I said. If I was going to be in hand-to-hand, I didn’t need broken knuckles. Not in this world. My ‘bots were going to get a workout, and I had plans to see just what they could do.

  “Good. Knees, greaves, shoulders. Alright, what do you think of this?” Derin asked. He’d added metal studs to the shoulders, meaning that anyone who attacked me would experience both offense and defense all at once. I nodded my approval at his quick work. He was a master of armor, no doubt.