Convergence: Genesis

by Flores Bermúdez, Heiner; Christina Hopkinson, Rachel;

  “Is it really El Vaquero?” he said in the direction of the device his man was holding.

  “Indeed. Yes? I recognised him myself. Yes? Since the moment he got out of his ship. Yes?”

  “What’s he doing there?” he asked, enthused.

  “Yes? He says he wants to talk.”

  “El Vaquero has come to talk?” he said, and let out a sinister laugh. “It’s not that he’s come to kill us?”

  Golat moved away from the wall and went up to Dasslak.

  “It’s not that you’ve come to kill us? Yes?” he asked the assassin.

  “I just want to talk. I give you my word... Tell him I give him my word.”

  Golat dragged himself along on his tentacles, back to the wall where the communicator was, and continued:

  “He claims he only wants to talk. Yes? He says he gives his word. Yes? What should I do? Yes?”

  The Puppet Master looked delighted, he was enjoying what fate had brought him. His smile would have been capable of frightening anyone. Just before answering, he stuck out his tongue and tasted the air.

  “Tell him he can come.”

  “Do you want me to bring him? Yes?”

  “Don’t you dare come here, you disgusting monster!” he said to him, angry, “he knows how to get here on his own.”

  The Puppet Master knew very well who the assassin was, and the danger he represented, but it was all just too exciting to waste the opportunity to be in front of the legendary man.

  He, just like the vast majority of the Alpha members, was a Plusinian, a species similar to humans, but with very pale skin and pointed ears. Their eccentric personalities were famous throughout Autoro. They were not particularly well known for their prudence.

  Golat left the communicator and went up to Dasslak once more.

  “The Puppet Master says that you can continue. Yes? They’ll receive you in the Tower. Yes? My name is Golat. Yes? Just in case you still wanted to know. Yes? You can go alone. Yes?”

  “I heard him. Take good care of my ship.”

  Dasslak left the hangar and began his journey of almost a kilometre under the rain, through a dirty and malodorous street. As he went along, strange beings looked at him, uttering strange words from indecipherable dialects, a few running scared to hide. He was a feared and well known man, his last visit to the place had left its inhabitants somewhat nervous. The Puppet Master, from his balcony, continued looking through his binoculars at Dasslak walking through the street, without being able to get rid of his perverse smile, until he could no longer see him, just before he went into the tower.

  Dasslak entered the building as unperturbed as always. It was a strange place; its white walls were decorated with geometric figures in strong and outrageous colours. An enormous fountain shot up jets of a white liquid with such pressure that it splashed the floor. Two men were constantly cleaning whilst a woman in a suit supervised them, writing some squiggles on a tablet.

  On a counter, a charming young woman was calling out a number at regular intervals:

  “Number seven million, three hundred and eight thousand and forty!”

  “Me!” said someone.

  The lady sent him through a door, at the same time that another person came out of it. This person now went up to a dispensing machine, where he took a number, and sat down in the place the previous man had just vacated.

  “Oof! Looks like I’m going to be here for quite a while,” said the man, after looking at his number, to the other people who were waiting.

  The assassin remained motionless for a few seconds, close to the entrance, looking all around. He was expecting somebody to come and meet him. Amongst the peculiar scene that was developing there, he was able to notice a beautiful Plusinian girl was walking towards him from a room at the back of the place. Just like the majority of the beings of her species, she had beautiful grey eyes, a small indication of a nose, and long pointed ears, which poked out from her long silvery-white hair.

  The girl walked coquettishly towards Dasslak, looking at him, with her daring smile, and, when she was at his side, she gently hooked his arm.

  “Hello, Vaquero!” she said to him. “Now I understand why you’re so famous. You look like a bad boy... I like bad boys.”

  Dasslak looked at her with mistrust, he did not want to get caught out with any surprises. He extricated himself from her, and pushed her away. The girl, spellbound by Dasslak’s rough appearance, was not going to give up, in spite of having been rejected. She looked at him provocatively, trying to captivate him, and proceeded:

  “What’s wrong, Vaquero?” she asked, moving herself closer once more to the assassin. She brought her mouth up to Dasslak’s ear, and asked: “Do you not like me, or something?”

  “I’ve come to speak with the Alpha’s leader, and I don’t think that’s you. I have no business with you.”

  “Business can wait, Vaquero. We’re going to have some fun! Take out your pistols and let’s shoot at those statues over there,” she said, pointing towards some bizarre statues, of naked women, in the distance. “I want to check how good your aim is.”

  “I don’t have time for that,” Dasslak pushed her away, this time somewhat more brusquely than before. He was beginning to grow impatient. “Where is your leader?”

  “I was right, you are bad, Vaquero...” assured the girl, now less smiling. “The boss is waiting for you upstairs; I’ll take you there. Follow me,” she said to him, and went back to showing her seductive smile.

  The girl beckoned with her hand, and Dasslak followed her through the building, amidst strange looks and whispering, until they arrived at a lift that would take them to the top floor. She pressed the button to call the lift, and crossed her arms as she waited for it to reach the ground floor where they were. She raised the end of her right foot up and down, tapping the floor again and again, in a signal of impatience, but smiling at a bewildered Dasslak who was looking perplexed by the young woman’s confusing behaviour.

  The door to the lift opened, and revealed its over-crowded interior. Inside, there were six people; five lean men, and one very fat one, with his cheeks made-up, and strange clothing in lurid colours.

  “Going up!” cried out, at the top of his voice, the man in charge of the lift controls inside, causing an expression of annoyance from the assassin.

  The girl took Dasslak by the arm, and they got into the tight space, where everybody squeezed together as much as they could to make room for the two of them. She took advantage of this situation to move in as close as she could to the assassin’s chest, as smiling as always, without Dasslak being able to stop her.

  “Which floor?” asked the man on the controls.

  The girl did not take her eyes off Dasslak. “Top floor please,” she said, smiling, and in a very coquettish tone, as if she were trying to make the assassin even more bothered.

  The man pressed the button on the lift panel and the door closed. Dasslak looked at the panel, perplexed; he had not been able to avoid noticing that the lift only went to two places; Top Floor and, of course, Ground Floor.

  The lift started up, and began a brusque, jerky ascent, almost as if it were fighting to work. Dasslak was beginning to feel uneasy; everything in this place seemed absurd. He looked at the girl who was maintaining her seductive attitude, and strange smile, and he did not sense any concern in her; she was clearly accustomed to the lift’s jumpiness. The rest of the passengers in the lift were not saying anything; they simply looked at a floor indicator which showed only two different alternatives, whilst they listened to a peculiar melody, making the whole journey even weirder.

  “I like the sword you carry on your back,” said the girl. “Can I borrow it?”

  Dasslak did not respond, he simply looked at the current floor indicator, waiting anxiously for it to change. The assassin was on high alert; he was sensing that it could be a trap, and he was now well prepared to kill them all.

  “I like how you smell, Vaquero,” the girl said
to Dasslak.

  An unmistakable sound heralded the end of their trip. The door opened, and both the girl and Dasslak began making the effort to get out of the tight lift. “A little more,” she said, just before they burst out all at once. Dasslak frowned; he was beginning to feel indignant. He was on the verge of cursing everyone, but a man who was coming in the opposite direction caught his attention. He was wearing an extremely long and strange hat which he removed in order to greet the girl and Dasslak as he passed by their side. ‘Good day,’ he said, and got into the lift that Dasslak and the girl had just left.

  “It’s through here,” said the girl, and she began walking down the corridor.

  “Going down!” said the man at the controls. Dasslak could not resist looking back, discovering that nobody, with the exception of the two of them, had got out of the lift. He was able to see the man in the hat as he squeezed himself in as much as he could, in order to get into the crammed lift.

  “Don’t get distracted, Vaquero,” said the girl.

  The assassin followed her down the long corridor up to a corner, and turned his head again towards the lift. ‘What floor?’ could be heard, and the doors to the lift closed.

  Dasslak felt as if he were among mad people, he did not want to stay much more in this place. He followed the girl a little longer until arriving at a door at the end of the corridor, which led to the entrance to a room in which the Puppet Master was waiting for him.

  Dasslak walked inside, leaving behind the corridor he had come through. Just as he entered, in front of him, was the balcony on which the Puppet Master would go out, in order to contemplate his city. The rain continued incessantly, falling over the sinister place. He turned his gaze to his left, and he could see a man sitting on a throne, almost as if he were some kind of King. At his side, two Alpha members were protecting him.

  "This is the Puppet Master, current leader of the Alphas," said the girl out loud.

  The Puppet Master was waiting for him with his villainous smile, sitting on his throne with one leg crossed over the other.

  "Welcome, Vaquero. Come in, please... Do you remember me?"

  Dasslak walked up to the Puppet Master’s throne, stopping just a few metres away. The girl who was escorting him had sat down in a chair behind him, on the opposite side to the throne.

  "Why don't you refresh my memory?" replied Dasslak.

  "I was still a boy. Thirty years ago...in Ranore... I was working in a tavern, and you came in to kill a man..." he said, and he paused to taste the air. "You ended up killing everyone. Do you remember?"

  "I don't remember the details of all my jobs... At least I let you live, didn't I? That could be of use to me today."

  The Puppet Master looked at him, smiling for a few seconds without saying anything.

  "But where are my manners? Do you want a glass of milk?"

  "No," replied the assassin.

  "Well I'm going to have one." The Puppet Master made a signal to one of his men for him to serve him a glass of milk.

  His subordinate walked up to a small fridge, from which he took out a jug full of milk. He took a tall glass from a shelf, and placed it on the floor. The man brought the jug towards the floor, and began pouring the contents into the glass, lifting the jug increasingly higher, until it was above his head. The milk fell from the height, towards the glass, with excellent precision, before the assassin's amazed gaze. When the glass was full, and the jug was completely empty, the man put it back in the fridge, and brought the glass over to his boss.

  The Puppet Master took the tall glass and began to drink from it, without even taking a breath. The assassin's sense of anxiety was beginning to grow, watching that strange man swallowing the liquid. A few moments later, he finished.

  “Oof! That was delicious!" The Puppet Master gave the glass to his subordinate, and continued. "Many people want you dead here in Brass, Vaquero."

  "So I heard.”

  Although the assassin was already beginning to get irritated, outwardly he looked as relaxed as always. The Puppet Master was delighted; it was as if that man were incapable of feeling fear or concern. He did not imagine that behind that calm appearance, the annoyance was growing. Dasslak felt that they were wasting his time.

  “You killed the previous Alpha leader," said the Puppet Master. "You're standing in front of a potential enemy, but even so you come here calm as anything. Haven’t you considered the possibility that I might want to kill you? Or perhaps you have done, and you still don't think it's dangerous?"

  "Perhaps."

  "So? Doesn't it bother you?"

  "No, it doesn't bother me. I'm prepared to beg for my life.”

  “What?" The Puppet Master was surprised. "Beg, you say? The man of legend, whom everybody talks about, doesn't beg for anything."

  "I didn't create that legend you're talking about. The truth is that I'm a very modest man... As I am aware that in the past I killed an important member of the Alphas, and on top of that I'm in your house, I want to be polite. I do not come looking for trouble, I gave my word that I have only come to talk."

  The Puppet Master was enchanted with the discourse; it was precisely the reason why he could not refuse receiving the assassin. He turned to look at his two guards, and was able to note that they were also very entertained.

  "So I see. You're not looking for trouble, but... that isn't important, right? What happens if I don't want to listen to what you have to say? I'm just trying to understand why you came so calmly to the lair of an enemy. What if I just let you come up here to kill you?"

  Dasslak did not appear to be perturbed. His gaze looked as calm as ever.

  "I've just come to talk. I gave my word... I don't like to repeat myself. I said I wasn't looking for trouble. If in spite of that you want to kill me, well then I'm going to ask you please not to; the only thing I want is for you to let me speak. If in spite of that you ignore my pleas, I'll have no other option than to kill each and every one of the Alpha members. But as I came for information, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to find out what I want to know, and only afterwards will I end your life, just before I raze this place to the ground... So... What you want to do?"

  The Puppet Master was utterly thrilled. His guards, on the other hand, were no longer so comfortable. They drew their weapons and aimed at Dasslak. They were scared.

  "As if we were going to let that happen!" said one of the guards, fighting against the tremble in his hand. For a moment, it almost seemed as if he were going to drop his weapon. "I'm going to kill you before you take even one step!"

  Dasslak did not become agitated, he kept his eyes on the Puppet Master, who was sitting on his throne with a huge smile. The girl, who was still sitting on the other side of the room, was very surprised by everything that was happening. She was finding out why people talked about El Vaquero with such fear.

  "Put away your weapons," said the Puppet Master, before the situation could become anything more. "You're going to make this man kill us all."

  One of his guards looked at him, astonished.

  “But boss, this man's just threatened us."

  "No he hasn’t," continued the Puppet Master. “Didn't you hear that he's only come to talk? He's even given his word. You have no idea what this man's word is worth."

  "Are you... sure, boss?" asked the other guard.

  "I've just said!" he responded, striking the arms of his throne, his face full of rage. "Put away those weapons or this man will kill us!"

  Dasslak crossed his arms, and the two guards slowly lowered their weapons.

  "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill anyone," said Dasslak. "The truth is that I can't give myself that luxury... Like I said, I just want to talk. I know my presence in this place can cause people to get nervous, so the sooner we finish, the sooner I'll be leaving. I don't want to impose any longer than necessary."

  "You assume a lot, Vaquero," replied the Puppet Master. "The truth is that you don't displease me all that much, and in t
his place, the only thing that matters is what I decide matters."

  "I don't displease you? Then I’m glad I left you alive in Ranore,” said the assassin, in an ironic tone.

  "You weren't coming for me in Ranore," he said, and smiled. "... That's irrelevant. You killed Garet, and Alpha was without a leader. It turned out well for me. Now I am the leader... Tell me, what is it you want, Vaquero?"

  "I'm looking for a girl. It's possible that she works for the Alphas."

  “Eh?" He claimed, puzzled. "What girl?"

  "I'm searching for The Augur, and somebody heard that a girl named Cora, possibly a member of the Alphas, found him recently. It's the only lead I have. In order to find The Augur, I need to find that girl. Perhaps you can help me."

  The Puppet Master burst out laughing.

  "The Augur...? So somebody paid you to kill him... He has it coming."

  "It's not that. I just want to talk with him," affirmed the assassin, causing something of disappointment in the Puppet Master.

  “What’s up with you, Vaquero? Now you just want to talk. Since when were you so chatty?”

  “As you know, there are things that only The Augur knows. I need to ask him a few questions.”

  “I’m sorry to have to break it to you, Vaquero, but The Augur is a fraud.”

  “I’m not interested in your opinion. Can you help me, yes or no?”

  The Puppet Master’s smile died, giving way to an unsettling seriousness whilst he meditated on his options. He remained in absolute silence for a moment, and then he continued:

  “Let’s say I do know who the girl you’re talking about is... Why should I tell you who she is, Vaquero?”