by Marc Mulero
Alice cleared her throat when she and Volaina stopped in front of them, causing both elites to suddenly stiffen upon sight of a very unexpected General Caova; the white stripes on her leather armor serving as a great source of intimidation.
"We must brief the general and we only have a few minutes," Alice said.
Just as Volaina was reminded of some of her older Hiezer missions, reminded that these elites weren’t exactly robot killer drones, but rather people, flesh and blood… that’s when a frightening voice startled her.
"Get ready!" Trillus shouted amongst the troops while scoping through a pair of binoculars. "They're here!"
Milos reached for a frayed string hanging overhead. A light dangling by decrepit electrical wire flickered to life, illuminating a cloud of dust raining down like gray confetti. He coughed and winced once it reached him, then sneezed.
“Bless you,” Oosnie said bashfully.
Milos wiped his nose and sniffed before taking a gander at what the light had revealed - Old World furniture covered in plastic and spider webs, wooden boards sloppily laid over cement divots, and rusted piping snaking all around overhead. It was the dingiest basement he’d ever seen.
"I have to keep looking. There has to be someone else who made it," Milos said.
"We have to wait. Your blue tattoo keeps shining through your shirt." Oosnie pointed to the mark.
Milos lifted his arm to look. "I'll take the chance. I don't want to sit here doing nothing for another minute."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he eyed a pink sleeping bag with a caved in pillow at its end and realized that he may have just made a mistake.
"You don't like my home?" Sadness was evident in her eyes.
Jeez, she considers this a home? Even the Sin huts were cleaner than this.
"It's not that," Milos responded hesitantly. "My friends might be in trouble. My teacher, I have to find her…” He looked away.
Oosnie sniffled and held back a sob. "Alright, back out we go, then." She turned to the stairs gloomily.
Milos grabbed her hand before she could take her first step. "You have a very nice home," he fibbed, hoping to give her some sense of joy.
Oosnie spun and flashed a timid smile. "Thanks!" She proceeded up the creaking wooden stairs.
Milos followed her up like they were playing hopscotch. Each step had a chunk bitten out, so one wrong move meant a broken limb, at the very least.
"Who lives upstairs?" he asked.
"A very old lady. She doesn't even know I'm here. I always hear her screaming that there's an elephant in the bathtub, so I think she has bigger problems than me." She giggled.
"Sounds a little crazy."
The young girl swiftly headed out the front door. "Just a little. So where do you want to start this time?"
"I'm thinking if anyone else is looking for help, maybe they would check near shore. Or, maybe..." An idea flashed to the front of his mind. "Do you know an 'Artie'?"
"Of course, Artie gives us lots of food from his boat!"
"Can you take me to him? He might be the guy one of my friends was talking to before the explosion."
"He's about ten blocks away by the southside harbor, where the fancy Terras live." Oosnie began running toward the end of the block.
Milos’s fast pace was forced into a jog to keep up. “Um… maybe we should walk this time? Hello, Oosnie! Wait!” He tried his hardest not to shout.
“We’re supposed to be in trade school, we’ll get in trouble either way,” she called out behind her.
She caught herself smiling at Milos, the cute boy that seemingly fell from the sky. It was a mere moment to capture the mental picture, to enjoy not being alone. But then she realized her legs were still running on auto-pilot, coming to just in time and nearly tripping over herself before freezing in place. There, straight ahead – a Hiezer guard on patrol, back facing them.
Her neck was whiplashed when Milos grabbed her arm and dragged her into a narrow passageway between two clay buildings.
“Um, harsh much?” She rubbed herself to ease the pain.
He ignored the nonsense and instead pointed to the other end of the split. "Take us the long way."
Oosnie, not thrilled that he was so rough, eventually nodded. There she went, kicking up dust and dirt as she bolted out from the alley and onto the next block.
They're stronger than me, so I have to be faster, smarter. I have to get back to Lesh with something to show for myself, to prove that I'm not just a ball of useless energy.
Most of the streets were crowded enough for the two kids to slip by unnoticed. Warm bodies made the scorching temperature almost unbearable, but the sea breeze helped to lessen the strength of the valley’s name.
“C’mon, we’re almost ther-” Oosnie yelled over her shoulder.
Milos’ heart stopped when she yelped in shock; an off-duty Hiezer guard had snatched her little arm like a lion rounding up a cub.
Don’t fight head on. Remember, they’re stronger.
Milos stealthily faded back into the crowd, keeping close watch on how this would play out, suddenly embodying for the first time what he’d been training for all along – a budding assassin.
"Shouldn't you be in class, little one?" the guard knelt to meet her eyes.
"I was, sir. I just had to run to the store," Oosnie lied.
"It's dangerous out here. There's construction going on all over the place," the guard lectured, gesturing to the workers around her.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll go back to class," she said, her voice beginning to tremble.
She tried to jerk her arm back, but the guard retained his grip.
"Where's your mother?" he asked, sincerely caring for the girl's safety.
Milos advanced slowly through the crowd, weaving seamlessly in between people to get behind the guard.
"She's not here." Oosnie painfully looked away.
"Alright, hun, come with me. I'll get you home safe." The guard straightened from his hover.
Milos crouched low, setting himself in ready position, waiting for the starter gun to go off, and when the last adult moved from his path, he launched himself high onto the Hiezer’s back. The man ticked like he felt the sensation of a bug crawling on him, and then thrashed about, clawing to pluck his attacker. Milos clung tightly around the man’s neck, shifting his weight so gloved hands would find nothing, and just before the Hiezer could strip the boy by his choking arm, Milos drew his knife. One quick slice under the elbow was all it took. It sent him into a blind fury, just enough to make his move. The guard felt the weight of the boy suddenly fall from him, and then whipped around to grab the defiler, but Milos had already dropped to the floor and somersaulted around the opposite side to tear Oosnie away. The Hiezer did a quick three-sixty, in utter shock that his saboteur and the little girl had vanished into thin air.
"That was so cool! Where did you learn to do that?" Oosnie asked while slipping through the crowd of people.
"Someone very scary taught me." Milos lugged her around the next block. "We have to get to Artie's now. Guards will be all around this area looking for you."
"Two blocks straight ahead." She rubbed her arm from the strain brought on by the Hiezer's tight grip.
“Worry about that later. C’mon.” He broke into a sprint, his shaggy hair clinging to him like wet leaves on the ground.
"It looks like his door is open!" Oosnie yelled, falling far behind.
The change in scenery was apparent. Freshly paved streets broadened from cramped alleys, and as the walkways extended, less and less people accompanied them. Vined gardens swirled around each neatly compacted front lawn, looking like the neighbors had the luxury of competing with one another. All of the visuals were quickly forgotten though, when a shriek sounded from two homes away.
Milos’ hair stood on end. The scream was so loud, so high-pitched, so hellish, that his ears were ringing, forcing his sprint to quickly devolve into a walk, then a creep. What was he walking int
o?
And then his head suddenly dipped, visions rushing back to him from the day he’d lost his mother… those cries had almost become commonplace. He shivered at the thought and picked himself back up again.
Get it together, Milos. Okay. Slowly.
He inched up the steps, past a hallway of neatly hanging flowers swaying overhead. There was commotion from within.
Not a sound.
Finally, into a room where tears and cries were justified. Oosnie huffed when she caught up from behind Milos, who motioned for her to shush.
Cautiously, Milos led the way in.
"My entire crew, everything! You killed a little boy, for fuck sake, Artie," a man yelled, followed by the noise of rusty gears churning.
"No! You're going to kill him!" a woman shouted in anguish.
Milos was stunned to see Morn, minus one arm, sort of, with the same riling temper. The Southerner’s magnum was drawn, facing a bloodied man on the floor, who was beaten to a pulp.
From behind, Oosnie clung to Milos' arm, cowering in fear. Her hands quivered while watching the nice man who kept her belly full beg for his life.
"He was a boy no older than your son!" Morn yelled, pointing to the kid in the corner.
The child’s eyes were nearly shut from screaming so intensely. Every sound begged for Morn to stop.
"A crew of fathers, just like you! What makes you worthy of sitting here with breath still in you?" Morn shook with rage.
"Please, he had no choice," the woman beseeched. She grasped for the man knocked out beside her. "Victor, wake up… stop him! He’s going to kill Artie!"
"You're all going to hell, I reckon," Morn seethed. "What's your wealth worth now? What’s your fleet of trade ships going to do for you? Huh? Murderin’ others because you can't protect your own family… what a piece of shit you turned out to be!"
Morn readied his arm in a fit of rage – the decision already made by adrenaline. When the trigger was pulled, so much had happened that couldn’t be seized by the human senses. Fire ignited from a pistol, gears churned, lead propelled. A bang that sent shivers down a family’s back. And blood. So much blood. A heart slowed, eyes went dark, and children’s lives were changed forever.
Oosnie and Artie’s son jumped at the loudness when everything caught up, but Milos remained unmoved. Blood had exploded through the exit wound, splashing the back wall as Artie’s body fell limply to the floor. Solemn silence followed the thump, his wife lunging over the fresh corpse to let out a soundless scream before Oosnie’s cry of terror filled the room with what Artie’s wife’s couldn’t.
Morn turned around to see the two kids bearing witness to what he’d done. He dropped his weapon upon the sobering sight.
"Boy, how are you still..." Morn began, disbelief replacing the anger.
Milos took a step back to shield Oosnie, fearing for her safety.
"That man murdered the whole crew that I took you to meet a week ago. All of those families are fatherless now." Morn pointed back at the cadaver. "I'm… sorry you had to see that." He bowed his head in shame.
Artie’s wife sobbed over the bloodied corpse, while their son curled up in the corner repeating the word “Daddy” over and over again.
“I- Milos… I’m so glad you’re okay.” Morn raised his head back up with a renewed sense of sanity. His next exhale was long, panic-filled. “We have to go. We have to get out of here. Now.” He quickly reclaimed his magnum and knocked Artie’s wife unconscious in the process. The traumatized boy was next - a cloth shoved in his mouth haphazardly, another bound his legs, all to contain the noise long enough for them to jet. He smacked Victor awake while dragging him away from the newly broken family. “Come, Milos, let’s claim our fleet.”
Sabin paced around a marble table with jittery energy, dinging one of his blades annoyingly against it. "Haven't you ever played chess?"
All parties sat, exhausted and defeated from the sleepless night before.
"Since before you were born," Blague said coolly, giving him the cue to take a seat.
"We had the king, Blague. He was in checkmate!" Sabin shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "I screwed up. Me. You should have made your decision based on priorities. Now I get to sit here as the piece of shit who lost all of our leverage. Great call, boss!"
Mars barked in response to Sabin's unrest.
"Your life is more important to me than our leverage. Had I denied that, I would be no better than my manic brother.”
Sabin was about to open his mouth, but Lesh kicked his leg to shut him up.
"I had the 'Mentis' in my crosshair… we could have come away clean," Eugene muttered.
"Men and women aren't awarded nicknames for their average skill sets, Eu. The name 'Mentis Shade' comes from the stories of his psychosis and his speed. He would have undoubtedly slit Sabin's throat at the sound of your rifle. Besides, fewer Sin lives have been lost under Mulderan's reign than the dissenting highlords."
"That's hard to imagine," Eugene jeered.
"Which part?" Cherris asked.
"Both."
"It's true,” Sabin’s voice started to cool. “I've only seen one other person move that fast."
Everyone looked at Lesh, triggering an eye-roll.
"I've never heard of a Mentis Shade or a Dendrid or whatever you jackasses want to call him,” Lesh admitted. “All I know is I wish I was there when he struck."
Crash. All eyes shifted to the front of the table, mouths agape.
It was the Sin Leader… the voice of reason, the pillar of strength, who’d suddenly dipped from consciousness like a flimsy wooden chair with too much weight on it. His elbows buckled, causing forearms to clunk against marble - head slumped, nearly knocking off the countertop before catching himself.
"Blague!" Cherris called out. "We need you at one hundred percent, and you’re not. You look like you haven’t slept in days. What's going on?"
His eyes trembled like he was experiencing some sort of trauma. A room full of concerned faces was now directed at him, but he saw none of it. Just a blank stare was held onward, to a ghost on the far side of the room.
Elaina…
He shook his head to bring himself back from the brink of insanity.
"I… haven't been rattled this much in over forty years," he finally broke the silence. "I thought I'd seen everything at this point, but it turns out I may have been wrong. My father explained that there's a whole other aspect to this life that I've been blind to. He renewed a hope that's been buried for ages."
It's strange to think that it's not just my father that I'm referring to. It's both of my parents, intertwined within one embodiment.
"You will all have to forgive me… and I ask that you support me, while I address this matter internally."
Cherris was visibly upset by her leader’s condition. She glanced around the room, noticing the same suspicions fork amongst them. He needed support though… this entire rebellion would not function without him. To turn their back on him now…
"We will, Blague. I, for one, would give my life for you. All you've done for us, I will never take it for granted." She clutched his hand with both of hers.
"You’re one of the toughest motherfuckers I’ve ever met," Drino winced like he’d just crushed a bug in his hand. "If something’s got you disturbed, I’d be a fool to challenge you for it."
The others silently agreed.
"There is a matter that only you can handle, though," Cherris said. "The Sins, the people, they need your assurance. They're still wary of the Aura and we just lost our most prized prisoner. Some believe you're making questionable decisions. Speak to them, Blague."
"I will, in time."
Sabin tapped his foot. "Oh, man, I almost forgot why I called this meeting!" he exclaimed. "When Dendrid held me hostage, he said he wanted to repay us for what he’d taken." The hunter motioned toward the graveyard in the back. "Which I'm assuming is the lives he’s claimed. He told me that the Hiezers didn't really mu
rder the kin of the Templos Rogue leaders, and that it was just a stunt to cripple them and make an example of rebels."
"It’s most likely hindered them,” Eugene said. “They're probably dealing with internal conflict as we speak.”
"Agreed,” Blague said weakly. “The Hiezers will keep them alive in case the public finds out. Then they could reveal the rumor of deaths as a hoax. Smart play, no doubt."
"But what would this information do for us?" Cherris asked.
Lesh leaned forward in her chair. "Allies. The killer gave us an opportunity to make allies."
Chapter 9
A familiar sight, but no less strange each time I see it.
Hundreds of cloaked Aura members chanted softly outside of the walled-off World Quarters, empowering their goddess, Asura, the only way they knew how. Eugene eyed them suspiciously on his walk toward the entryway. Echoing steps singled him out, turning Aura heads with curious looks of their own. Tension thickened after each visit, since it seemed that he was stealing their goddess’ attention all for himself. The sniper rifle strapped to his back and clenched fists spoke to his unease, and their rising voices spoke to theirs.
Blague has a point. The Sin civilians weren’t with us in Old New York. I suppose I would be nervous too, after seeing how these fanatics choose to spend their days.
Eugene turned once he reached the intricate door, staring at the crowd kneeling at the entryway. Smoke slithered out from the cracks at his feet, sensing him, and then surged to engulf him. His eyebrows rose, silently asking permission to proceed.
The Sins are strained, and so is the Aura… the lines of pleasantries will disappear at this rate. We need our leadership back. Something is dragging him down, but that bastard better pull his shit together soon.
The chanting lowered once more, giving the opportunity for one voice to speak out over the rest. “Such a lonely vessel you are,” a blind man said cryptically, before granting Eugene entry to enter Asura’s chamber.
