Sol Boxset

by Samuel Small

  “Don’t sweat it,” Bolt said, “we were getting kinda bored anyway.” The woman began digging into her pockets and Bolt held up a hand. As usual, they would not be accepting payment.

  “Well, surely there must be somethin—”

  “There is,” Jake said, not even realizing he had something to say until the words left his lips. “Information. Do you know anywhere else that’s overrun? We’ve been to a few villages already, but some of them were cleared of Malice entirely.”

  “That’s likely on account of the mercenary who’s been operating round these parts. Word is he does the whole job by himself, although he charges you an arm and a leg for the service. Perhaps he didn’t bother to come here. Too poor, I’m afraid.”

  Jake thought he would want some decent compensation if he had to deal with all of those things alone. He’d be lucky to make it out alive. Despite that, he nodded and gave the girl his sympathies, although she only shook her head in acknowledgement.

  “Please, we’re just grateful to have you. Regarding places where Malice stood... I can think of a few villages, although if your goal is to help people I’m not sure what you can do.”

  “Not sure,” Bolt said, “what do you mean?”

  “Those villages have been completely wiped out.”

  Chapter 8

  “C-completly wiped out?” Jake said. He’d taken a step back and his whole body trembled. What this girl just told him didn’t make any sense. She nodded solemnly and looked away.

  “What do you mean, wiped out?” Thun said. “Did they have a dangerously low population or something?”

  The girl shook her head again. “No, nothing like that. We suspect it was an exceptionally strong Malice, one unlike any we’ve ever seen before.”

  “Unlike any you’ve ever seen before? So you haven’t seen it?” Jake asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Then how can you be so sure that was the case?”

  The girl looked down at the grass and her hair hung over her face. She raised her head and made eye contact with Jake. She didn’t bother to move the strands of hair that now obscured her features, but she didn’t need to. He could still see the fire in her eyes.

  “It’s because of the state of the villages afterwards. They’re completely gone. All of the buildings are destroyed, nothing but piles of rubble and broken bodies remain.”

  “It has to be a large Malice,” Jake said, turning to Thun. “If it was just a normal wave like what these guys faced, then a village should be able to hold out. I mean, for one to be taken out in its entirety—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. She had me at the destroyed buildings. The Malice don’t go out of their way to destroy homes unless there are people in them. The only way for it to do that would be—”

  “If it was so large that it simply destroyed them by moving around,” Bolt finished for him. His head was down and the setting sun painted shadows that obscured his emotion. Jake couldn’t tell if he was crying or smiling. Then he raised his head and all concerns regarding his demeanor were washed away. He smiled at the woman, placing his hands on his hips. “Then that’s where we’ll go next.”

  She opened her mouth to object, probably out of concern for their safety. Then she checked herself and took on a more relaxed posture.

  “Right, let me point you in the right direction.”

  ***

  Sitting across from Jake, Bolt tinkered with his gun, loading and unloading bullets while marveling at it as if it wasn’t some kind of deadly weapon. He even looked dead on into the barrel of the gun, presumably to check something, and even Jake with his poor knowledge of firearms knew that was a terrible idea. Still, Thun was right next to him and more knowledgeable than anyone when it came to guns. If Bolt did something wrong he was sure he’d get an earful.

  Jake was doing his own maintenance. He grinded a smooth stone against his blade in order to ensure that it remained sharp and ready to take out whatever the hell it was they were setting out to face. It made an uneven grating as he pressed the stone against the metal, like the scream of one of those foul creatures, although it didn’t bother Jake. It was music to his ears, in fact.

  “You’d figure that mercenary would’ve taken this one out too. Woulda saved us a lot of trouble,” Thun said, raising his voice so Jake could hear over the screech of metal. Jake angled his blade and inspected the edge: it looked good – nice and sharp. He sheathed it and placed it down gently next to his bed.

  “I think he’s done enough as it is. Things are bad now, so I can only imagine what they’d be like if he wasn’t around,” Jake said.

  Not looking away from the gun he was polishing, Bolt chimed in. “If he wasn’t here I doubt we’d be able to have much of an impact before we had to leave again. There’d just be too many of ’em, like trying to clear sand from a beach or somethin’.”

  “It was a joke,” Thun said, “don’t take it to heart.” He flopped down on the bed with a soft thud. His body bounced up and down, then rested, his eyes focused intently on the ceiling. “Still, I don’t like the guy. Not bothering to help people just because they’re poor – it’s fucked up.”

  “Greedy, greedy,” Bolt said.

  Jake rested on the bed, taking in what the other boys said. There was the faint sensation of a solid thought beginning to form, something they said didn’t sit right. The thought, like newly bottled smoke, began shifting and taking the outline of a solid shape, then Thun got up, blew out the candle, and it was gone.

  “We’re probably gonna have a rough fight tomorrow. It’s best to get some shuteye.”

  Jake nodded, then pulled the blanket over his head.

  ***

  Destruction. Pure destruction.

  Jake wouldn’t have known the pile of cracked wooden planks used to be a village had he not seen the location on the map. Before him was the path the villagers would have walked daily, meaning it would have been lined with houses and buildings, only now piles of rubble sat at either side, and many stray planks of wood littered the path. Bolt broke from the group and walked toward one of the mountains of broken timber, climbing over its uneven surface. With each step, he sent debris raining down and colliding with the rest of the shattered structures.

  Jake decided to follow him and see if his investigation yielded any results. As he shifted over the ruins he looked up at Bolt, who was moving some of the debris at the top to one side. He must’ve caught something, as he soon dropped to his knees and began to dig frantically. Jake quickened his pace so that he could help.

  He immediately regretted that decision.

  Lying within the rubble was a young boy. His face was white and frozen in some kind of unspeakable horror. Planks and splinters covered the rest of his body, and Jake felt a sudden urge to free him. He knelt down and tried to grasp some wood, only to find his arm seized by a tight hand. There, Bolt knelt beside him, an empty expression on his face as if all the emotion had been extracted from him long ago. He shook his head.

  “You don’t want to uncover that body. I doubt there’s much left,” he said, then stood up. He jumped down, surfing along the cascading wood like it was a wave. At the base he placed his hands in his pockets and strode toward Thun as if he hadn’t just seen a corpse. “There more over there?” he asked.

  Jake began to climb down the mound, careful not to slip and fall.

  “Yeah, they’re all over really. We’re lucky it’s winter or the place would’ve stunk too much to investigate.”

  “Anything else?” Jake said. “Claw marks? Footprints?”

  “Footprints? I’m pretty sure you and Bolt just climbed down one of ’em.”

  A chill ran down Jake’s spine as the three boys met at the path where they had started their recce. He looked to the others who stopped and inspected him, both with eyebrows raised. “What?” he said.

  “So you wanna keep looking? I think we’ll just find more of the same.”

  “I guess you’re—” Jake began, but stoppe
d when his comrades jerked their heads suddenly in one direction. He stopped and stared at them, not even trying to meet their gaze, until a crunch came from the same direction. He whipped his head around and then his eyes widened.

  Montasir walked down the pathway, sporting the same suit he had used to utterly thrash Jake and his team a few months before.

  “Hey, I was wondering if you could help me.”

  “Yeah, with what?” Thun called back, his hands in his pockets.

  “I’ve been employed to confirm a death. You seen a little kid round here? Hold on, I think I have a picture,” Montasir began, then stopped dead in his tracks. Jake smiled, he must’ve just noticed him and opened his mouth to call back, but something stopped him. He felt a rising tension, a murderous intent.

  “Those jackets,” Montasir said, his voice loud but flat in affect, “do you always wear them?”

  Jake took a fearful step back as he realized this evil intent radiated from Montasir in palpable waves. His legs shook and his body trembled. He turned slowly to Bolt and Thun, who were inching their hands to the inside pockets of their jackets where their weapons were concealed.

  “Yeah,” Bolt said in his usual playful tone, “we’re the Lightning Gang. The jackets are kinda like team jerseys.”

  “Team jerseys.” Montasir let out an empty chuckle. “Tell me, have you ever been around the Purist’s village?”

  Bolt and Thun clammed up immediately, their faces tense and pale. Even Bolt’s regular playful mannerisms were gone. The destroyed village sat in utter silence in that moment.

  “I see,” Montasir said, then a screeching sound emanated from his back: the sound of his twin blades becoming unsheathed. It echoed, pulsing in Jake’s mind and reverberating well after the sound had ended. He took a step backward then reached behind for his own blade: he had to, because if Montasir attacked him with intent he’d definitely die without a proper defense – hell, even with one. But his hand couldn’t grasp the handle. It was shaking too much.

  Montasir dropped his posture.

  Bolt and Thun removed their guns from their jackets and pointed them at the man, who didn’t move at all despite the threat to his life. The air was tense, almost tangible, and Jake was now well aware of the biting chill of the winter air on his skin. But it wasn’t the cold that was making him shake so damn much, it was Montasir’s dangerous presence. Dammit, Jake, get a grip.

  But Jake didn’t manage to focus his resolve in time. Montasir darted toward the group, his footfalls loud on the ground. There were two loud pops as Bolt and Thun’s bullets found their mark. One knocked into his shoulder, sending it whirling to the side but doing little to halt his forward momentum. The other found its way into his stomach with what looked like no effect.

  “Dammit! That suit’s bulletproof!” Bolt yelled, and to Jake’s horror there was a hint of fear in his voice. He threw his gun to the ground like it was trash and reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his switchblade. He charged for Montasir and Jake thought he felt static in the air. The static of two great opposing forces about to clash.

  When they reached each other, Montasir slashed across Bolt’s belly but he jumped backward. He came in again with an overhead swing with the other blade, to which Bolt rolled out of the way, creating a good amount of distance.

  “I have a friend. I don’t know what you did to him, but when he mentioned you I saw the pain,” Montasir said, holding the two blades at his sides. Bolt stood opposite him looking on, almost knowingly, with the knife clenched tight in his hand. Montasir raised the blades into a formal fighting stance. “What the fuck did you do to him!?”

  He came in again with an array of slashes. The piercing mechanical sound of the chainsaw teeth mounted in the blade filled the air. Each attack was narrowly avoided, and it was only a matter of time before Montasir landed a clean hit. Jake had to go in and do something or Bolt would die, but he couldn’t get a grip on his damned nerves.

  Thun broke from his spectator stance and charged for Montasir, the blade he used when sparring with Bolt held in his hand. Montasir turned from Bolt immediately, as if he didn’t consider the smaller boy a threat at all, and began slashing at Thun. In turn Thun dodged and countered, but Montasir’s blind rage was unmatched, and none of the attacks reached him – not even close. He dodged swiftly with minimal movements, sometimes only turning his hips so that the blade just grazed him.

  From behind, Bolt let out a roar then charged at Montasir, his arm cocked back in order to lunge. Montasir turned and raised his blade, but as he did Bolt spun around and landed a solid kick to the man’s gut. He stumbled into Thun who attempted to grab him from behind. Montasir spun around to face the large boy, slipped his right arm into Thun’s armpit, turned, and threw him down onto the ground. He then charged and engaged Bolt in a steady stream of attacks.

  Jake’s fingers touched cool metal and he gripped it tightly, afraid that if he let up even a little bit the blade would slip out of his hands. He pulled it out and raised it before his face, placing the dueling figures of Bolt and Montasir within his line of sight. Thun was on the ground coughing and trying to get up. If Bolt slipped up for a moment Montasir wouldn’t hesitate to finish the other boy off. Jake let his legs carry him to the battlefield, hoping he’d know what to do when he got there.

  Montasir cut at Bolt, grazing the boy’s cheek and allowing fresh blood to spray into the air. Bolt yelled and lunged at him, but Montasir shifted his upper torso to the side, avoided it, then pulled Bolt in and tripped him. He raised his blades and prepared to bring them down, but Jake arrived just in time.

  Their blades clashed and the sudden force of Jake’s heavy sword drove Montasir to take a few stumbling steps backward. It was enough time for Bolt to stand up, and as Montasir raised his blades to a more formal stance Jake heard Thun get to his side.

  “You?” Montasir said. He lowered his blades and placed his head down. He stayed still like a statue as a cool breeze blew across them. Some of the rubble swayed and collapsed. Out of the corner of his eye Jake could tell Thun had turned his head toward him, although he dared not look and see the boy’s face.

  “You’re supposed to be Dante’s friend, aren’t you?”

  Jake did not respond. He only gripped his sword tighter and held it at the ready.

  “Then why play around with his greatest enemy?!” Montasir yelled, and made a direct lunge at Jake. He managed to block the first attack, but the whirling sound of the chainsaw rang in his ears and upon blocking the second swing his sword flew out of his hands. He raised his arms before his head in a pathetic attempt to block, only to hear grunting and clashes.

  Bolt was now on the offensive, cutting and slashing at Montasir who was having difficulty mounting a counterattack. It was because Bolt had abandoned his defense, he swung the blade about with no regard for his own safety. It caught Montasir off guard, and he didn’t know how to respond. His assault was ill-disciplined and chaotic, which made it hard to anticipate.

  Thun made his way to assist Bolt and Jake decided to make a dash for his own blade. As the chainsaw sound, stomping feet, and grunts of pain grew fainter, Jake grabbed his weapon and pivoted on his foot, kicking up grass and dirt as he spun around.

  In front of him he saw Montasir holding off both Bolt and Thun. The two boys swiped at him and he blocked each with a single blade. They were trying to find advantageous angles of attack. Bolt leapt to Montasir’s right and Thun to his left, but Montasir turned his attention to Bolt, quickly forcing the boy to leap back to safety, then did the same to Thun before he could act. The two boys skidded across the ground and stood opposite the man, both breathing heavily.

  “Montasir, stop this! It’s a pointless battle,” Jake called while running toward the three men who were in a standoff. Montasir twirled his blades in the air and clashed them together.

  “Pointless? Is that why Dante’s searching everywhere for them? Busting his tail, going up against world governments for no reason?”


  Jake winced. He didn’t know how to respond.

  “That’s a load of bullshit! Something happened to him and these guys are behind it. I thought there was some kind of connection with the Republic, and now I know.”

  “Republic?” Thun said, and turned to Jake. His eyes were empty.

  Montasir swiped at Thun while he was distracted, and Thun was only saved because Bolt rammed into the man at the last second. Montasir fell to the ground and rolled to his feet just in time to witness Bolt’s blade once again. The two engaged in myriad combat patterns, Bolt calling out to his comrades.

  “You guys get out of here! I’ll hold him off!”

  “I won’t let that happen,” Thun said, and dropped his switchblade. He began flexing and stretching his fingertips. One or two sparks flashed along his hand. Then a few more. Soon there was a whirling mass of electricity gathered in his palm. Montasir stopped fighting with Bolt and looked at the boy.

  “An electricity user? Damn!”

  A violent, twisting series of lightning bolts shot into the ground as Montasir tucked and rolled to avoid them, springing to his feet. Thun’s hair flashed up and his whole body sparked as the stream of energy continued to crackle out of his outstretched palm. Montasir stared, shocked, as it continued to tear a hole through the ground, spraying dirt and grass up in violent tuffs. Jake smelled the burning in the air, and now didn’t know who he should be more afraid of: Montasir or Thun.

  The large arc of electricity began to lose its steam as fewer bolts of lightning appeared within its twisting vortex. It vanished, and Thun’s hair fell flat as little bits of electricity flashed from his fingertips.

  Montasir punched out at the boy and a net emerged from a gun attachment on his forearm. Thun yelled in surprise and let out another blast of electricity. It disappeared as soon as it touched the net, but the sudden force offset its trajectory and it soared past him. Montasir took a few steps backward.

  “I don’t have the tools to deal with someone like you, not right now.” He turned and began walking away, oddly confident that Thun would not attack. “My friend is very persistent. He’ll be on to you. Consider your days numbered.” His head turned lastly to Jake, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “All of you,” he finished and continued to stride away until he was out of sight.