She swallowed hard. “I thought,” she stuttered.
“You thought I was fucked up and passed out and easy to kill.”
She shook her head but the rest of her, including the knife in her hand, betrayed her.
He looked at her with a sly little smirk and said, “You sobered me up. Recall?” he asked, flaring his brow.
She nodded.
He watched her, pondering for a moment.
“Please.” It escaped her lips without her meaning it too.
He peered at her. “You know what kind of world you’re about to find yourself in?” he asked her.
She blinked at him.
“You seen the news? You think I’m a monster you just wait. Still, I do like you,” he admitted with a sigh. Then added, “First bitch I wrangled bold enough to tell me about my ass,” with a chuckle. “Something about a girl who’d go through all you did to endear yourself to me just to lie in wait. That takes a sort of strength. Could be the sort that finds you a decent place round here and a handful of respect. Keep what’s comin from doing worse to you yet.”
She nodded and blurted, “I’ll be good.”
“Might be that’s true,” he added, looking at her with a suspicious eye. “Still… I want you to remember that I’ll never trust you.” He glared at her and assured her, “Next time you find yourself on the business end of my gun it’ll be your last set of ticks.”
Eloine swallowed hard and nodded.
Render let the hammer fall gently into place and said, “Why don’t you come give me some sugar then.” She took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed. “Nothin’ better in the world than a bit of makeup sex,” he said with a smile.
Richter Crow’s car passed the line of security watching his house and went through the gate of his estate. He sat silent as the vehicle rolled down the long driveway, parking near the front door. He said nothing to the driver as he stepped out and made his way toward the entrance with his shoulders slumped. He’d sent word for his sons, Gren and Voz, to head home before the worst of it came to a head. Before the networks linked and the report about his plans for Saffron had come through. After that there was outrage and rioting. Any building marked by Blue Moon was a target.
The colleges were the worst, young people are always so full of fire and love nothing more than an ideal. Luckily his boys had gotten out or this madness probably would have torn them apart. Now he meant to collect them and head for one of the other ships, there were, after all, four others and he’d be damned if his worthless cunt of a daughter and a bunch of hooligans were going to be the end of him. He would escape. He would live on. That’s how he’d win.
He opened the front door and stepped inside. “Gren! Voz!” he called and heard the reply, “In here.”
Richter Crow hurried toward the sound and it wasn’t until he entered the living area and saw the blood he realized the voice belonged to Sticklan Stone.
Richter’s legs went weak when he saw what the man had done to his sons. Flesh shredded, bones broken. One was missing an eyeball and… and he was still gurgling, choking on his own blood. The other was lying on his belly, twitching, flayed and nearly inside out.
“What have you done?” he asked without realizing he’d spoken. His knees gave out and he collapsed.
“What I’ve been waiting decades to do.”
Richter looked up at him as he approached. The blade in his hand was so sharp it shined through the thin layer of blood. When he slashed it cut quick and clean. Richter felt the burn across his cheek, then the warm trickle. He touched it with his hand and drew away blood.
“You can’t do this,” he said, rising to meet the man eye to eye. “You know who I am, I’ll have you shredded.”
Sticklan smiled at him and answered, “But I have.” He stabbed deep into Richter Crows shoulder and twisted the blade slowly.
“I made you.”
“No you didn’t.”
The blade found him again. “I found you. I kept you clear, gave you money,” another slash, this one across his chest. “I gave you a fucking life,” the man shouted.
Richter Crow was so stunned someone in his employ was daring to defy him that he let Sticklan take his hand. Richter dropped to his knees and cried out as the killer twisted his index finger back. From the floor Richter looked up at the man and shouted, “You crazy fuck, I bought you. I own you.”
Sticklan Stone smiled down at him and said, “Sticklan Stone will break your bones,” then gave the finger a hard jerk and felt the crack through his grip. Richter screamed at the agony and looked up just in time to see the man touch his knife to the broken finger. “No,” he pleaded but Stone began to saw. Blood drizzled and pooled on the beautiful hard wood floor as Stone worked his way through the finger until finally he twisted it completely off. Richter Crow fell onto his back and cradled his appendage. As Stone settled on him he said, “And death will follow after.” The man finally got what he wanted. He saw fear and realization in the arrogant prick’s eyes. All his money and power were worthless against one man with a knife. He spent the next few hours affirming that.
“Nobody knows, the trouble I seen,” the voice sang. “No body knows, but Jesus. No body knows, the trouble I seen. Nobody but Jesus.”
“Who the fuck is Jesus?”
Jacob looked up. He wasn’t expecting company but here it was, a tall man with short hair and the robot titled Boyfriend. Movement and hushed voices alerted him that somewhere further back there were others. Jacob smiled and replied, “Nobody knows.”
The man peered at the head resting on the table. “Who are you then?”
“I am a friendly interface, who are you?”
“Names Eric Hoss. Where’s this Jacob character. Heard he might be dangerous.”
“The one called Jacob was freed with the other things below. They came back when the defense parameters reverted back to ‘guard mode.’ He did not.”
“This isn’t him?” Eric asked Boyfriend.
“I never met him,” the bot answered. Then he turned to the head and said, “He wants access. Said if I didn’t take him to something that could help he’d put a bullet to me.”
“Well then it’s your lucky day,” Jacob smiled. “Because it’s my function to be helpful.”
Eric nodded.
“Sadly I can’t at the moment because my body was taken for repairs. In all the commotion Ryla forgot to bring it back to me. It’s right down the hall though, and if you were to bring it to me I’d be more than happy to be helpful to you.”
Eric looked at the bot suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s my function. Lucky for you there’s an oversight in my parameters and they don’t specify me not being helpful to strangers.”
Eric pondered the head’s words for a spell.
“Down the hall?” Eric asked and looked toward the corridor.
“Yes. Right hand corridor, second door on the left.”
Eric nodded behind him and figures hurried to find the body.
“You sure this is a good idea?” one of Eric’s men asked.
Eric looked at the head and replied with a shrug, “Seems harmless enough. Besides, I didn’t go through all this shit not to get my hands on that crazy bitches tech.”
When the group of men entered the room carrying the robot body they’d found—a heavy thing constructed out of an alloy they didn’t recognize—and complaining about the weight, Jacob smiled and nearly laughed. Nobody knew the trouble they’d see. Not a single one.
Final Words
Thank you kind reader, and I hope you enjoyed this tale. If you did, feel free to tell a friend about it, or possibly even mention it in a post on your chosen social media site, as word of mouth is the only sort of advertising I can afford right now. I’m working on something called The Sumerian Device just now, so keep an eye out for that in the future. Follow me on Twitter (b_walkers_here) if like, and possibly Tumblr if I ever get sorted how that works exactly. Thank you again f
or reading.
Also thanks to all the writers I have read over the years for continuing to inspire me. Particular thanks go to Ray Bradbury who chronicled the events of another planet once, and changed what I thought science fiction was. And to Stephen King for existing, despite what I was told. It’s a long story, and that’s coming from me.
Cheers, and I hope you enjoyed this.
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The Saffron Malformation
By Bryan Walker
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