Blue Words

by M. C. Edwards

  “Needs to be kept really tight, the Warlock is still out there,” added Arrow.

  “Military have him,” corrected Dagger

  “So they say,” Arrow added distrustfully.

  “Can’t get any more secure than the vault anyway,” said Dagger.

  “Exactly why we are here,” grumbled Sword, ending the discussion.

  A black four wheel drive rolled into the concrete cavity, the lights shining in its glossy coating. Out of the front doors climbed two armed greys who proceeded to give the cavity a thorough examination before tapping on the rear door. Two more climbed out of the back seat, leaving only a solitary figure in the car. The head was shrouded with a black cloth bag. “Any problems?” asked Dagger, nodding at the figure. The head grey shook his head.

  “Alive?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Anyone else know where you went?”

  “No sir.”

  Arrow leaned in and pulled the body from the car, Sword closed in to help. One paladin took each of the tattooed arms and walked the shrouded figure towards a large red elevator door. The Dagger followed, leaving only the four greys in the car park. Just as they reached the lift Dagger turned and opened fire, dropping the greys in lightning succession with four precise shots.

  “Ready for cleanup crew,” she said into her radio as she joined the trio in the waiting elevator.

  “On its way,” the radio crackled back.

  Now alone, they removed the hood to reveal a thick shaved head, heavily scared. The grim face was set with dark eyes and a rough stubbly beard. “Was the bag really necessary?” growled The Heir.

  “Yes Guardian, you will be vulnerable for some time, we couldn’t risk anyone getting even a hint that you are here.” His nod was accepting, but still skeptical.

  “Is all prepared?” he grunted.

  The Arrow nodded, “Yes Guardian.”

  “The new Hammer here?”

  “Not yet sir, another day or two,” said the Sword.

  “How many men do we have left?”

  “Less than a hundred left including the forty on their way with the Hammer,” reported Arrow.

  “So few?”

  “Many fled after Raven’s Skull, but the ones who stayed are staunch men, the ones dedicated to the cause.”

  “Good I would take one of those for every ten of the regular mercenary pricks anyway. One of those gold digging bastards nearly killed me at the mine, had to get saved by the fucking Warlock of all people.” He stretched his tattooed arms.

  The elevator released a trio of melodic tones as it reached the bottom of the shaft. The group stepped out into a small laboratory, identical to the rooms in the Raven’s Skull Creek facility. There was three medical staff fussing around a modified dialysis machine. A metallic chair set with heavy restraints sat central on a small rise, machinery of varied size and purpose surrounding it like minions.

  “Do you need anything before we begin Guardian?” asked the Sword, before adding, “The initial process will take about four hours.”

  “No, let’s just get started,” he said gruffly, “and enough of this Forsaken Guardian shit, just call me Malaki.”

  Thank you to all who helped to make this possible.

  I could never have done it without you.

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