by Leon Logos
“Very convenient that all you Councilmen are here,” Gunther smiled manically. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this! Coming here was the right choice! It’s a shame Alistair is already dead, I could’ve killed him instead. And I must give my sons credit, despite their treachery; they took it upon themselves to solicit Viktor Vankoza for help in assaulting you!”
“Indeed, they still possess the bitterness you’ve infused in them,” Dorian nodded. “Your influence on them is indelible.”
“Which is why I reconsidered in killing them, for now,” Gunther said with a scoff. “I’ll let them go, hoping they die in battle anyway.”
“Don’t trouble yourself with the semblance of fatherhood, it doesn’t suit you,” Dorian said critically. “You are no father, despite you deciding to spare the children you raised. No father would entertain the thought.”
“Dorian, you are quite bold in condemning me when I’m the one in control,” Gunther said, in a low voice.
“And speaking of fatherhood,” said Dorian, “are you really a father? You and Elizabeth, your relationship was rather complex.”
“Do not speak of that name in front of me,” Gunther spat.
“It’s doleful that you never got the chance to attend Sebastian and Elizabeth’s nuptial,” Dorian continued. “After all, you were gone before that. Was it jealousy, Gunther? Heartbreak? Desolation?”
“Dorian, I’m warning you…”
“What exactly is your relationship with your daughter?” Dorian said, not desisting. “Is she really adopted, as you would have her believe? The conundrum of her conception is begging to be unraveled! You’ve come for her, Gunther! I’m no fool! But why?!”
Gunther raised his rifle, pointing it straight at Dorian.
“Farewell, fool,” Gunther said mockingly.
“This is quite an imbroglio,” Dorian smiled, no fear visible. “Fine, do not make me privy. The Aurelian family will be virtually defeated after today, even if we ultimately best this Viktor. Your goal will be completed. But what’s next for you? That is a better question, yes.”
“I’d like to keep that to myself,” said Gunther.
“Well, I daresay it concerns Serenity,” said Dorian somberly, turning to her. “Good luck, Serenity. Even if you are duplicitous, no man in their right mind would wish such misfortune upon a child. You could acquire an epithet; how about, ‘Serenity the Unfortunate’? Or perhaps a simple sobriquet, like ‘Misery’? Shall I denominate you this?”
“I have no intentions of keeping the feckless girl,” Gunther revealed. “At least, not for much longer. I will take her back with me. But she will rue the day she was born during that period! Until I dispose of her!”
Serenity held her bated breath, stepping to the side out of Gunther’s line of fire. Cackle did the same, predicting what was going to happen next. And when it did, all Serenity could do was cover her ears and eyes. Gunther opened fire. His finger was stuck on the trigger for ten continuous seconds, spraying his weapon like a machine gun. Even with her hands clapped to her ears, the gunfire was audibly raucous and explosive. She was too terrified to open her eyes, dreading what macabre, grotesque scene awaited her. In her mind, she just hoped to God—to any divine deity—that Sixto was spared.
After an interminable period—what felt like eternity—she opened her eyes. Blood. Lots of it. And gore. Corpses. The bunker had transformed into the crime scene of a massacre. Blood splattered the metal walls, and severed limbs and intestines blemished the scarlet floor. In a heap, the bodies of the Councilmen lay. Slightly in front of them lay Dorian’s body, his torso ripped to shreds by bullets, entrails visible. His mouth was open, along with his eyes. A stab of distress stung her at the realization he was dead. Even if Dorian perceived her as an enemy, he remained cordial with her until the end.
Sixto thankfully looked alive; Gunther must’ve missed him, thinking he was already dead. The boy remained on the floor, now unconscious. Cackle got to his feet before her, swearing under his breath.
Someone grabbed her roughly. She knew who it was but didn’t care. She lacked the strength and motivation to resist; though, Gunther’s grip on her was too firm to fight against anyway. She was dragged out of the room, towards the stairs. Bravely, Cackle stepped in between them. His devotion to “following orders” and protecting her was tested; but he fell apart, disinclined in attacking his father. He did try, throwing a wild right hook. But Gunther was faster, knocking Cackle to the ground with the butt of his rifle. It was miraculous that the blow didn’t render him unconscious. Cackle lay on the bottom of step of the stairs, stirring and groaning.
“LET GO OF ME!” she screeched. Serenity then began resisting, flailing her arms and legs like a cat hit with a tranquilizer dart. Rage interpolated her emotions, eclipsing the grief and sorrow.
“Hold still, maggot!” Gunther growled, through gritted teeth.
He stomped up the stairs, his giant right arm wrapped around her waist. She was powerless against his unyielding grasp. Gunther ascended to the final step, forcefully opening the door. He stepped inside, back in the main house. The familiar clamor of warfare was still raging. Both inside and outside. She tried planting her feet on the floor, but her strength was insufficient. She even tried jabbing him with her elbows, but it was like hitting a solid wall. Any attempt at escaping was futile.
They shambled down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Bastion motionless on the ground, a couple yards from where the fight initially started. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or not. Nor could she be certain if Garen had won the fight.
An Aurelian reinforcement, one of the Venator’s men, limped out of the corner while clutching his left arm. He was visibly wounded and unarmed. He spotted the two of them and sprang into defensive position in alarm. He had no gun, not even a knife. Gunther raised his weapon and pulled the trigger. But to the man’s fortune, the gun was out of ammo. Gunther snarled angrily, throwing the rifle against the wall. Meanwhile, the man took off running. Gunther didn’t bother pursuing.
She didn’t know what he was planning to do with her. Or what he was planning in general. Was he trying to escape? Or hide?
Gunther stole a handgun from a deceased body. He used it to his advantage, instantly killing anybody in his path. Soldiers from both sides. Serenity was persistent, constantly squirming and resisting.
Gunther suddenly went back the way he came. In no time, she found herself in the entrance hall. He took her out one of the exits and into the courtyard which was still rife with fighting. But strangely, more close combat than with guns. Men were exchanging blows with their legs and fists, wrestling around. Others were swinging around knives wildly. Gunther stood in place for a second, thinking deeply. He then cursed, heading back into the entrance hall and thus the house. She didn’t have a clue what Gunther was thinking. They were going back and forth.
She could only guess taking the outside path was too risky, considering the intensity of battle there. They veered off to the left, crossing the hall leading to the repast Halls. Serenity managed to level her face with Gunther’s exposed skin on his burnt arm She clamped down with her jaw, biting down on his arm with all her teeth. Her mouth tasted salty, acrid blood. Gunther howled in pain, throwing her against the wall. She collided back first. The impact didn’t disorientate her much. She quickly sprang to her feet, darting to the opposite direction. But Gunther caught up with her. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and then violently pinned her against the wall. His hand clamped around her neck, applying pressure strong enough to suffocate. But not enough to kill. With monstrous strength, Gunther raised her up with one arm, still strangling. Her feet were lifted off of the ground.
She clutched his hand with both of hers, trying to wrench it off of her.
“I should just kill you now!” Gunther spat. “But not yet. I have plans with you, child… I’ve always had! If you don’t cooperate with me, I swear to God, I will cut off your legs! Those tears you current
ly shed will turn to blood after I’m done with you!”
“J-just die already!” she retched.
Gunther suddenly released her, and she dropped back to the floor. Gunther looked up, gazing across from him. He narrowed his eyes and his fury suddenly augmented. His eyes were almost bulging from their sockets. The man looked deranged, by every standard of the word.
“So…you’ve showed yourself, son?” he said. “Finally…?”
Once she could breathe properly again, she looked up. Her eyes widened. The surprises just kept on coming.
Desmos stood at the end of the hall, approaching them slowly. Blood stained his long-sleeved tunic, and also his face, but she wasn’t sure it was his. This was one of the rare moments in her life she was glad to see him. He was panting lightly, as if he had been running around the battlefield. She inspected him thoroughly, wondering what the status of his health was. The Aurelians had tortured him mentally, apparently. But it didn’t look like it. Desmos looked convicted, staring directly at Gunther with furrowed eyebrows and purpose. He didn’t look fazed at all at Gunther’s presence here. Nor surprised.
“Ah, you’re wondering?” Gunther said, noticing Desmos observe the severe burnt condition of his body. “Guess who?”
“Agno told me,” said Desmos. “Would never have expected that.”
“That’s my line,” Gunther seethed. “My own sons betrayed me! Words cannot express the sheer disappointment besetting me. You, of all people, went behind my back! Disobeyed me! For her?!”
“That’s right,” said Desmos nonchalantly. “That’s exactly what happened. I never asked the others to come with me. That’s on them.”
“You’re the leader, Desmos!” Gunther yelled. “I put YOU in charge!”
“I know,” said Desmos matter-of-factly. “I am. And I always will be. Too late to take it all back. I know you won’t forgive us anyway.”
“Maybe you, perhaps,” Gunther shook his head. “I’m willing to offer you a second chance, Desmos. Join me and I’ll let your transgression slide.”
“What are your intentions?” Desmos asked.
“To escape this mess,” Gunther replied. “The Venators are here. Aside from them, this battle is getting heated. We must go far from here.”
“I meant with Serenity,” said Desmos crossly.
Gunther glowered, expression darkening.
“Do you care…?” he tried. “I’m her father, I get to decide what to do with her. And you will obey me unconditionally. Understood?”
“If you were against us coming here, then why are you here now?” Desmos asked. “You didn’t come for us, that’s evident. But for her.”
“And?” Gunther scoffed. “How can I take back sons that have betrayed me? Your erroneous actions are irredeemable.”
“Yet you offer to forgive me,” said Desmos.
“Enough of this!” Gunther snarled. “Are you in or not?!”
“She looks distraught,” Desmos discerned, looking at her for the first time. “And terrified. Whatever you plan to do with her, it won’t end well for her. I’ve no doubt in my mind about that.”
“I’ve always believed you and your brothers didn’t care for her,” Gunther said, annoyed. “That she was a burden. A liability!”
“She was,” Desmos nodded. “But use your head. She’s the reason we’re all here in the first place. It all started with her.”
“You’re saying you do care for her,” Gunther said ultimately. “Ridiculous…utterly ridiculous…”
“And you’re not her father,” Desmos said boldly. “You never were.”
Gunther raised his handgun, pointing it at Desmos’s head.
“I see the firearm in your left hand, don’t try it,” Gunther threatened. “Nicely hidden. You won’t be quicker than me.”
“You’re willing to kill your son?” Desmos said curiously.
“You’re not my son,” Gunther asserted. “You rascal!”
“I agree,” Desmos nodded, acknowledging this for the first time ever. She couldn’t believe how much Desmos had changed. What happened? “But if you weren’t a coward, you’d drop the gun and raise your hands.”
This statement caused Gunther to laugh uproariously.
“You honestly believe you can best me one-on-one?!” Gunther boomed. “How presumptuous of you, Desmos! I was the one who taught you everything you know, do not forget about that!”
“I’ve already surpassed you,” Desmos affirmed. “In everything.”
“The temerity!” Gunther rebuked. “You’re beyond repair! All of you! I would’ve never expected this to happen. You all have failed me!”
“And I’ve failed myself,” Desmos confessed. “And my little sister.”
She couldn’t remember the last time Desmos had acknowledged they were siblings openly and straightforwardly, especially with—was it endearment she detected? No, it couldn’t be.
“You’re brave enough to defy me, Desmos?” Gunther asked. “And for what? For the offspring of a whore? A harlot’s daughter?!”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” said Desmos calmly. “But I intend to find out everything today. From you. About her. About you.”
“You won’t get the chance,” said Gunther. “I ask you this; when did it start? These inklings of mutiny? When did you decide you would defy me?”
“When I realized I was a puppet, too weak to cut his damn strings,” said Desmos, his tone suddenly vicious and censorious.
“I shouldn’t have made you leader,” said Gunther regretfully. “Maybe Garen was a better fit. With you being a traitor, your brothers follow suit.”
“I don’t want to fight you,” said Desmos. “But you leave me with no choice, as I don’t plan to let you take Serenity away. My mission was to retrieve her; and I haven’t given up on it yet.”
“I tasked you with fixing her, when I couldn’t,” said Gunther. “You’ve failed in that regard. Her incompetence is your fault.”
“I used to believe that, too,” said Desmos. “But not anymore. It’s not incompetence nor weakness; it’s normalcy. She’s an ordinary adolescent girl. And you messed her up. You. But I also worsened her misery, too. The others as well. But it was all you at the end of the day.”
“Goodbye, Desmos,” Gunther sighed. “I hope you ruminate your treachery in the afterlife, with regret and remorse!”
“Take her and hide, far from here,” said Desmos, oddly not speaking to either Gunther or Serenity. He was looking past Gunther.
Both Gunther and Serenity wheeled around, but it was too late for Gunther. In a flash, a knife was hurled towards him and struck him in the back. The knife stuck to Gunther’s backbone, the blade two inches deep. Gunther howled in pain briefly, groping for the knife to pull it out.
Cackle swept in and seized her. She didn’t resist as he carried her off. But Gunther, in rage, pulled out the knife like it was nothing. In a split-second, Gunther pulled the trigger, too frenzied to aim properly. It was unclear whether he was aiming for her or Cackle, initially.
But an explosion of agonizing pain flooded throughout her body, pervading her cells and nerves. She screeched beyond her lung’s limits. The bullet penetrated her right calf area, in her leg. She felt intense pressure where the bullet was lodged inside. Then radiating, excruciating torture. It felt as if someone stabbed her with a hot poker and left it inside.
Her vision went blurry and she began to grow queasy and faint. She had never felt this lightheaded before. This was her first time getting shot. As expected, blood poured out of her leg. Too much of it.
Cackle didn’t stop, continuing to flee. He was carrying her completely now. She was incapacitated, unable to move on her own.
With faint vision, she recognized Desmos and Gunther engaged in combat. Desmos must’ve rushed Gunther, disarming him and prompting a hand-to-hand battle. It was a scene so inconceivable that she could’ve never even foreseen it before: Gunther Carlisle fighting to the death with Desmos Carlisle, ini
tially his favorite, most loyal, subservient son.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Serenity fought hard to stay conscious. As each second passed, she was losing more and more blood. The lightheadedness and dizziness caused her the most discomfort. But she knew she couldn’t afford to black out. Not now.
Cackle stopped for a second to reposition her. He hoisted her up with a fireman’s carry. Satisfied with the more balanced grip, he proceeded onward. They had to be quick. There wasn’t much fighting going on the in the halls. In fact, somehow, the fighting had returned outside. Viktor’s men must’ve pushed the Aurelian reinforcements back.
“P-put me…down…” she said weakly.
“You have a death wish?!” Cackle refused.“
I’m dying…” she moaned.
“Screw it, I’m going up,” said Cackle.
Cackle swiftly ascended the steps of the entrance hall staircase, leading to the living quarters. The floor where her and many others’ chambers were located. Each door was already broken down, breached by Viktor’s men to be searched or looted. In a moment’s decision, Cackle decided to take the left path. She had an idea of where he was going.
A few seconds later, she recognized her own chamber as they entered. It was in a complete mess, as expected. The sheets of her bed were ripped apart and torn off. The dressing table was overturned, and the furniture was destroyed. Viktor’s men had gone overkill with her room.
Cackle set her down on the bare mattress. Acknowledging that she was losing blood fast and the situation was dire, he tore off a long strip of his pants. He fashioned it into a tourniquet in a single minute, wrapping it around her calf tightly. But not before inspecting the wound.
“Damn, the bullet’s in there pretty deep,” he noted.
“Leave it there,” she said quickly.
“Yeah, I’m not gonna go through that trouble,” said Cackle, tying the tourniquet. “It’ll be too annoying, with you squirming and all.”
She had to agree; but the truth was, she didn’t trust Cackle to perform any type of medical procedure on her. He disregarded her suffering, and would cause her tremendous agony, deaf to any pleas to stop. Furthermore, this wasn’t exactly his area of expertise. Cackle was no medic.
