“Are you going to say anything? Beg and plead? Tell me it’s not yours? That you got drunk on too much whiskey and some cunt with big tits and a forked tongue marked you up while you were sleeping?”
Dominic shook his head. “No, what would be the point? You’ve seen it. You know who I am. Do what you’ve gotta do, Hause.”
“You were a Saboteur, correct?”
“You tell me?”
The tattoo was a series of swirling chain links, weaving up and around his neck and shoulders, and down across the middle of his chest. Hooked around a single link on the bottom, perfectly positioned between his pecs, was a large anchor.
“I thought we’d put the last of your kind to the rope.”
“I guess you miscounted.”
“That we did. That we did. Tell me; were you at the Battle of the Valley?”
“Sounds familiar.” Every man that fought through that battle, and lived, remembered it. The Rebels had been ambushed. The Union boys had held the high ground, exclusively. They’d shot down on him and his unit like they were fish in a dusty ass barrel. When the ammo went dry it became blade against blade and skin against skin. It was ugly business. He’d escaped death the same way every other smart man in history had, he’d run.
“We gave you a proper pounding that day. We teach that one in history classes now, ‘The battle that sealed victory for the Union and scattered the Rebel hoards.’ ”
Dominic nodded. “Well, it was something; you people always did have a thing for mass slaughter. Pity there was no civilians there for you to rape and pillage. I’m sure your men were disappointed.”
“You truly are a sore loser. We had the numbers and the supplies. It was only a matter of time.”
“You may be right.”
“We both know I am.” Hause ran his fingers across the inky links of chain decorating Dominic’s chest. “You and your men struck fear into almost every Union soldier under my command.”
“Let me guess, every Union soldier except for you?”
“But of course, I am their Lord Marshal. What sort of leader would I be if I trembled at a bunch of ghosts?”
“A smart one.”
Hause’s fingers coiled around Dominic’s throat. “Do you remember the destruction of Vector Fort?”
“Of course, I led the breach,” Dominic gagged as the fingers around his throat grew tighter, “I laid the charges.”
“My brother was in that building when it came down!” His spittle washed across Dominic’s face.
“Guess that makes us about even,” Dominic managed, even as the fingers grew tighter. Dominic’s eyes bulged from his head. His lips grew numb. The sound around him shrank away as he struggled for air. The pulse in his neck began to weaken. Then, without ceremony, Hause let go and shoved him away like a punching bag. Dominic coughed and spit and dug his toes into the dust as he struggled to stop the swinging motion that threatened to rip his shoulders from their sockets.
Hause walked towards the torch with his hands clasped at his back, his shadow stretching across the ground, a black specter dancing in an orange doorway. “It took ten, maybe even twenty, Union boys to match one of you… Saboteurs,” his voice managed to drip with disgust and respect simultaneously.
“Is this your plan, to compliment me to death?” Dominic’s voice was still raspy from the throttling he’d taken.
Hause stared silently for a few seconds into the torchlight before speaking. “So, you’re still plying your trade? Selling your abilities to the highest bidder?”
“Something like that.”
“And I suppose you’ve got a good reason for killing the only man in Genesis capable of mixing a decent drink?”
“I didn’t shoot him until you and your men forced my hand. The bounty said dead or alive, I tried alive, it didn’t work out.”
“Who drew up the bounty?”
“Mayor of Karaville.”
Hause shook his head. “Not familiar with the man. Anyway, continue?”
“Your drink mixing savant raped and murdered the mayor’s daughter, cut her up, dumped her body out in the open for everyone to see.”
“Did he? Hmm, he always struck me as a rather even tempered man. Couldn’t keep a clean glass to save his life, but even tempered.”
“Just don’t turn him down for a date.”
“If what you say is true then I suppose I should be thanking you. The last thing we need in Genesis is a rapist. I can’t stand them; such low creatures.”
“I seem to remember your soldiers being quite fond of rape.”
“Ah, such fantasies.”
“I do have a big imagination, or so I’ve been told. You wanna thank me by unlocking these chains and letting me walk out that door?”
“Not a chance,” Hause said, without hesitation. “But I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to kill you.”
“Baby steps; let’s not rush to any decisions.”
“Oh, no, not rushing. I mulled this over long before I walked through that door. And I think that I’ve come up with two different options for you. Shall we have a look at them?”
If they were going to take the knife to him he’d rather they just get it over with. But now Hause was attaching the strings and forcing him to dance. What choice did he have? “Let’s get on with it.”
Hause clapped his hands twice and footsteps sounded in the torch lined hallway beyond the open door. Dominic could see two shadows forming on the wall, one smaller than the other. The first figure that appeared was monstrous. He had to duck to get through the doorway. He was covered up from head-to-toe. A black leather mask was wrapped across his face with only holes for his mouth and eyes. A long black robe flared out at the top of his neck and flowed down across the tops of his black boots. He carried a spiked hammer at his side as if it were a bundle of flowers, swinging it to-and-fro with ease. His bloodshot eyes washed hungrily over Dominic’s naked form.
The second figure was a much more pleasant sight to behold, one with pale green eyes and cropped blonde hair that dropped down in white spikes across her forehead. She wore quilted leather pants, with blue stripes down the sides, tucked inside tan combat boots. Her black tactical vest rode just above her hips and exposed just the slightest bit of sun kissed skin above the waist line of her pants. A black pistol was strapped across her thigh. Extra magazines were tucked away in her vest. Two black, fixed blade, combat knives were sheathed on either hip. She wasn’t a tall woman by any means. But her straight backed posture, and the array of weapons she wore, gave her a sort of quiet ferocity.
“He doesn’t look like much,” the woman said.
“Hey, lady, I’m a grower. Just give me a chance.”
She sneered and looked to Hause. “A waste of time, I don’t know what you’re thinking with this one. We don’t need him.”
Hause looked over the roadmap of scars running zigzags across Dominic’s body. Each one told a different story: a battle won, a battle lost, men he’d killed, men that had tried to kill him. “That tattoo says we need him.”
“A tattoo? There are plenty of guys here with tattoos.”
“They don’t have that tattoo, my dear. They are not Saboteurs.”
“Should I be impressed?”
“They were before your time, but yes, you should be impressed.” Hause walked across the room and stood beside Dominic. He leaned in close and extended a hand towards the two newly arrived guests. “That is Lerah,” he said, gesturing towards the woman as she crossed her ankles and leaned back against the far wall, staring with contempt. “She is a Shadeux, one of the best.”
“Maybe I missed something while I was wandering the wastes, but what is a Shadeux?”
“The unit hasn’t been around very long. They’re our elite. Depending on which road you choose to take, perhaps Lerah will be able to explain more to you.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she mumbled, while staring at the backs of her nails.
“That big gentleman, looking
at you like you’re his supper, is Loviatar.”
“That’s an interesting name. Mind if I just call you Love? Big Love, maybe? How about the Hammer? That’s pretty manly.”
Loviatar growled and pounded at his chest with a meaty fist.
“No? Well, alright then.”
“Loviatar means Goddess of Death, in Finnish,” Hause continued.
“Goddess? Is he even Finnish?”
“No, he’s not Finnish.”
“I bet that confuses the hell out of people when you try to explain it. Then again, you’re probably not a guy that gets asked a whole lot of questions, are you?”
“Let me smash his head!”
“Yes, please, let him?” Lerah begged, her hands tucked beneath her chin.
“That’s not very nice, you barely know me,” Dominic frowned at her.
“I’m hoping to keep it that way.”
Hause waved Loviatar off. “So, Saboteur, these are your two options. As I stated earlier, I’ve got some very important work that could use a man with your particular abilities. You would be working with Lerah. It’s not dissimilar from the work you’re doing now. It pays well, and we both know how much you like your coin.”
“That I do.”
“The other option is that me and Lerah leave you here with Loviatar and his hammer. What he does with it, well, that’s up to him.”
“Oh, boy, this is a tough one.”
“Just bash his brains in so we can go home.” Lerah kicked off the wall and turned towards the door.
“Choose now, or I’ll let Lerah choose for you.” Hause had started an invisible countdown.
Dominic’s eyes walked up Lerah’s legs and across her leather clad ass. “Well, I’ve always had a thing for difficult women.
4
He stayed the night in Genesis. The following morning his clothes were delivered to him, cleaned and pressed. They looked newer and smelled fresher than they ever had, which wasn’t saying much considering he’d stolen them from a corpse. He was given time to clean up and dress before being escorted by a small contingent of armed soldiers to Hause’s office.
The Office of the Lord Marshal was located on the top floor of Tower 1. Tower 1 was dedicated purely to military personnel and operations. Climbing the winding column of narrow stairs was an adventure all its own. It rose through the center of each floor like a spinal column made of metal. The outer layer of each floor looked the same on the outside; a narrow landing with three sets of doors. On the other side of those doors were winding halls of barracks, offices, classrooms, and countless other moving parts that made up the left hand of the vertical society. Workers and soldiers, both men and women, pressed themselves against the railings as Dominic passed them by. They eyed his scruffy, scarred up face with suspicion. The soldiers at his back didn’t push him along, but they didn’t let him slow down either. They stayed exactly two steps behind him, their heavy black boots crashing in time against the grated floor.
Once on the top floor Dominic was met by a pair of towering wooden doors, accented by intricate black brass inlays. It was far more extravagant than anything he’d passed on the journey up. The four soldiers that had served as his escort lined up across the walls running off either side of the doors. They didn’t speak. They gave him no instruction. They just stood and stared.
Not at him.
Past him.
Through him.
Just robots waiting for a command.
“So, I guess I’ll just… knock?” He wasn’t really asking for direction as much as permission. He didn’t feel like catching a bullet. He’d killed one of their own last night and knew some of them had to be itching for it.
He approached the large door with big dramatic steps.
The soldiers didn’t twitch.
Before he could knock the lock released, heavy and metallic. The doors peeled backwards. Standing there, gripping one of the handles, was Lerah, still dressed in her quilted leather pants and wearing her bullets and blades. She met his presence with the same contemptuous glare. “Ah, it’s you.”
“And you.” He winked.
She rolled her eyes. “Close the door, you’re letting a breeze in.” She sauntered back towards the center of the room as he stepped inside and the doors slammed home.
Hause’s office was made up of one grandiose display after another. Ornate marble rose up on all four sides of the room and met with a domed, gold plated ceiling, complete with a multi-colored engraving of a glorious battle raging against a luminous skyline; dark clouds of discharged gunpowder filled the air, generals in gaudy hats swung glinting sabers from atop their well muscled steeds, and the fallen bodies of defeated foes lined the muddy ground. One wall was lined with towering, hand polished bookshelves. They were twice as high as any man and packed end to end with thick volumes of literature documenting the rise and fall of the old world, military strategies, and family lineages. Another wall held unfamiliar pieces of art, encapsulated in thick metal frames, plated with shiny gold. There were glass display cases filled with antiquated weaponry and documents of flaky unreadable parchment. At the center of the room there stood a table, as long as it was wide, lined around the edges with black leather and encircled by high-backed chairs. Beyond that there was a desk, bearing the same leather trimmings as the table. Inlayed across the front of the desk was a black brass flag with three stripes and a single star in the upper right hand corner; the Union flag.
“Hell of a spread.” Dominic turned circles towards the table, staring up at the ceiling, taking everything in. “I didn’t think places like this still existed.”
“The Lord Marshal will be back soon. Until then, feel free to read or wander around and salivate some more.” She kicked her feet up on the table and removed the pistol from the holster clasped around her thigh. She ejected the magazine and locked the slide back. She held it up to the light, twisting and turning it before her eyes, examining it the way a mechanic might examine an engine after popping the hood.
Dominic sat down across from her and propped his elbows on the table. “Perhaps I’ll just sit and talk to you.”
“Conversation requires a two way commitment.”
“You don’t like me, do you?”
“You’re perceptive.”
“And why is that?”
“Aside from you coming into my home and shooting the place up?” She set her gun on the table and removed one of the blades from her belt, examining the edge.
“I didn’t know it was exclusively yours.”
“I’m a third generation resident. I’m Union through and through. I’ve sworn my life to Genesis, just like my father did, and his father before him. What do you know of loyalty?” She turned the knife over in her hand and flared her eyes at him.
Dominic wasn’t shaken by her intensity. “I don’t reckon I know a whole hell of a lot.”
“Yet, you fought for the Rebels.”
“It was a paycheck; three hots and a cot.”
“You kill for money and a meal?”
“Well, the money buys the meal, but for the sake of simplicity, yes, I do.”
“So you believe in nothing? You fight for nothing?”
“I believe in money. I fight for money… sometimes for fun… but mostly for money.”
“You don’t deserve to wear that mark on your chest.”
“That’s what I told them when they were putting it on me.” He sat back and crossed his arms.
“You should have just let Loviatar bust your empty head.”
Dominic stood and leaned forward. “Do it now little lady, let’s save the dance.”
Before she could act on his invitation the doors flew open and in walked Hause. “Lerah, I see you’re entertaining our guest.”
Lerah came to attention. “I cannot work with this man, sir. He’s a mercenary, a man without honor, an enemy of our people. As an officer of the Union, sir, as a Shadeux, I must object to placing myself beside him on the field of battle.”
> Dominic laughed and slumped back into his chair. “My god, you’re so dramatic. There’s no battle going on outside these walls; just desperate times and desperate people. I know it’s tough to see all that from your ivory tower. Not to mention, the Union talking about honor? That’s rich.”
“Children, relax, take a deep breath. We will make this work. We must make this work.” Hause sounded like a father trying to break up a pair of toddlers tussling around on the living room floor. He was bent across his desk, sorting through mounds of paper. “Let me see, it’s somewhere here… ah, there we go.” Hause emerged from the mess with a large piece of parchment now attached to his hand.
Lerah reluctantly took her seat and the room went quiet.
Hause approached the table and placed the paper between them, doing his best to smooth out the wrinkles. “I really should be taking better care of this, it’s the only copy that we have.” The paper rose and fell against the tabletop, a trapped pocket of air slowly seeping from the center of the document.
Dominic and Lerah both stood to get a better view. Dominic immediately recognized what it was. It was the country, post war. Most of the page was blank, except for the very center, the small slice of land the Union had managed to discover, or rediscover, as it were. Within that small patch of familiar settlements, landmarks and roads were marked. And right there, in the center of it all, were the Genesis Towers.
“It’s a slow process, but this is what we’ve managed to map with the men and resources we have available,” Hause said.
Dominic just nodded his head, uninterested. “So you need me for what? Am I translating maps?”
The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 1 Page 4
