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Chapter 1: The watchman
The once thriving village of Greenthorpe had fallen into despair long ago.
Abandoned factories surrounded it and now stood side by side as iron monuments to days long gone.
Reduced to a rustic village it lay on the edge of the Peddleburg region.
The families that had stayed behind after the depression some two hundred years ago led quiet lives, harvesting crops or taking care of their cattle.
None of them were alive during the days when the charitable Lawrence Greenthorpe still occupied the old mansion just outside of town.
He had always been a warm and kind man and even though none of the villagers had known him in live, they all had a deep respect for him.
The Peddleburg region would be nowhere today if not for the economic boost brought forth by him.
The luxuries in live might not have been as plentiful anymore but the villagers were content with what they had.
There was food on their tables every day and their children had the opportunity to get proper education and room enough to play.
Greenthorpe still had a very attractive town square in which the villagers took great pride.
During the days of warmth the fountain in the central would be turned on. It was a true sight to admire how the water would squirt feet into the air and gracefully trickled down into the round, marble basin below.
Many a romance had laid its foundation on the edge of this basin as the sun slowly set over the town hall with it´s tall bell tower, with 49 feet the highest structure in town.
The town hall had still kept it´s function even though the number of employees was now considerably less then in the days of yore.
Several little shops were located around the square and every morning the delightful buzz of everyday life could be heard as the baker displayed his fresh loaves of bread and the grocer sold fresh fruits and vegetables harvested before on the fields just outside of town.
The town only had a single tavern named ´Hare and there´ and was the center of social life. The place to be on birthdays, wedding parties and the like.
One such wedding celebration was taking place this very evening as two young lovers had vowed to spend their lives together.
The ´Hare and there´ was filled to the brim with rabbits dancing, eating, drinking and singing.
The tables that were pushed against the wall were filled with the most delicious and exotic treats to provide the guests with everything they desired.
In one corner sat four youngsters huddled close together wound up in what seemed a heated conversation.
"I tell you, there is nothing there." A slightly overweight, bespectacled youngster named Markie said quite steadfast.
The girl to his right Lara firmly shook her head.
"I can not believe how anyone can be so naive." She crossed her arms in her trademark fashion.
The boy to her right pulled her ponytails and Lara gave him an angry look.
Tim was slender and the tallest of the four of them. "Watch out of the bogeyman will get you." He laughed and he tried to make a scary face that was more funny than anything else.
He had been making fun of Lara ever since she brought up the 'Specter of Greenthorpe mansion.' A nonsensical tale spread from parent to child about the ghost of Louie Greenthorpe who ate everyone who dared to enter the mansion. Louie was the late son of Lawrence and Audrey Greenthorpe born to them after the completion of the mansion and their permanent settlement in town.
He gave them many happy years until a terrible tragedy befell them and took their only child away from them.
Audrey and Lawrence died shortly afterwards and with them did the flame that kept burned in the heart of the town.
Across from Lara sat her little sister who had been listening to what the others had been saying with big eyes.
She could keep her tears back no longer and cried out for her mother who came rushing at her straight away.
"Have you boys been telling her ghost stories again? Do not think I will not tell your mother this time." The pleading of the boys did not help and they were grounded for the next two week and were to come straight home after school.
In class they had been talking about the mansion and they got excited over the prospect to enter the scary house, as childeren do.
Two weeks later they were playing soccer in the field just outside of town next to the road that led to the mansion.
Markie got tired and took a rest underneath an apple tree looking at the mansion a short distance away.
Tim and he crossed eyes and with a boyish smirk they both got up and ran towards the mansion in silent agreement.
Tim stepped up to the front door after passing the old and creaky gate closely followed by Markie who started to question whether this was such a good idea after all.
He took the doorknob in his hand took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"There is no such thing as ghosts." Tim whispered to himself.
"No, but if our mom's know we are here, they will kill us." Markie said and he knew he was right. His had told him not to go play near the house a hundred times and would be very upset.
He shuddered and left the thought for what it was as Tim pushed them door open and walked into the great hall ever so slowly, looking back at his friend over his shoulder one more time.
Fear in his eyes and excitement.
Tim gazed in awe at the many things that decorated this hall, paintings covered with the dust of ages. An old grandfather's clock, ticking away the seconds slowly, the once brown rug had now turned slightly yellow and a disgusting smell of urine filled his nose, a vase holding something that had once been flowers, was standing on a wooden table against the staircase that led to the first floor.
An ancient pirate treasure could not have pleased him as much as this old muck, he was in the house all the parents were afraid of. Him and Markie were heroes.
Markie covered up his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his shirt, against the smell but alas it did not have much effect.
A rat quickly made it's way out of the mansion, Markie and Tim got the eerie feeling that they should do the same as a gust of wind blew past them, but something kept them here.
They had come this far and they were not planning on letting the adventure and excitement end here, besides, ghost stories were for babies
A door creaked ahead of them and they quickly looked in the direction it was coming from, pale in the face, little drops of sweat found their way down the soft fur on their backs.
"What was that?' Whimpered Markie, grabbing Tim's wrist and squeezing it a little harder then he intended to.
'"Hey, that hurts." Tim said, getting his grip on reality back."It must have been another rat, look at this place, it looks like one huge rat cemetary."
To the sides of the halls lay small bones and carcasses, yet a path had been swept clean through the middle. As if someone or something still lived here.
"Boohoooo. I'm coming to get you Markie." Tim laughed as his friend stood cowering and looking at the door.
The door had opened just enough for them to have a peek into the next room.
A grand piano with a surprisingly neat stool in front of it stood in the far corner.
Their curiosity got the better of them and they moved closer to the door, inside of the room they could see several beautiful paintings.
There was even one of a royal figure they could recognize as the late king Sazz, Eva's father, above a fireplace that looked like it had not been used for quiet a while.
Tall curtains prevented too much light from falling into the room but a small ray of sunlight fell down on a shiny statue that looked as if it was made out of gold.
"Pirate treasure." Tim mumbled.
Markie, who had re found his courage, slowly pushed the creaking door open but he could feel Tim tugging at his arm.
"Maybe we should not go in there." Tim looked quite nervous to Markie's surprise.
The door was opened but not by Markie. Someone had pulled it open from the inside of the room and the young boys stood face to face with a tall and unhealthy looking rabbit who gave a dry cough as he noticed his two young guests. The two boys screamed at the top of their lungs as they peered into the hollows eyes and ran for it.
Tim almost stumbled over the smelly, yellow carpet as he made his way for the door. Markie jumped off of the marble stairs and rolled through the grass.
"It's alive!" Markie screamed and he cried as his little heart raced in his body.
The purple rabbit scratched his arm and looked after them as they stumbled out of the front gate.
The children arrived at an old tree near the peddleburg creek and sat down, out of breath, Markie a little more then the slender Tim.
Markie sat down on his knees next to the river and put his hands together to make a little cup, he took some of the clear water and rubbed it trough his furry face.
Both of the children did not speak a word to each other for another hour, the sky over their heads was getting darker but they felt safe here, so close to the village.
A woman came walking towards them and they straightened themselves out to look presentable.
In silent agreement they decided it was best if no one ever knew about their endevour. 'They would think we were crazy.' Markie thought to himself.
Newcomers in town always drew much attention as Marjorie Simms found out while she walked through the square and sat down on the edge of the fountain.
Gossiping neighbors quickly turned their heads away when her eyes found them and pretended to be talking about anything but her.
Majo, as most people called her, was used to this coming from a small village herself. She was born in Orangelia a town to the west with a population of approximately a hundred and fifty inhabitants and started wandering the world at the age of nineteen. Her late father who was a traveling jeweler had left her with a smart sum of money to get her started.
After nineteen years in a quiet town she wanted to see everything there was to see on this world and as a child she had often dreamed of visiting the places her father spoke of.
Majo had spend three years in Earian, the largest city on Carrotus with a population of nine and a half million.
Thanks to her charming looks and her positive attitude in life she had managed to find a decent job as a typist for one of the richer people in town who had provided her with a fancy apartment in Gathorich, the oldest and most luxurious neighborhood in town.
Earian lay by the sea and many people came and went, she was an outgoing person that enjoyed meeting new people and she could listen for hours when someone new would come in to the tavern she visited frequently and told a fantastic tale of hare and beast; and far away lands.
After three years Majo found it was time to move on, she packed all of her belongings and quit her day job to travel, through the lands where she experienced the most fantastic things life had to offer.
Majo saw the sun rise over the mills of Pneum Arlik, bathed in the lake of Farodine which supposedly blessed anyone who entered it and was situated in the most beautiful green valley on the planet.
She toured through the mines of Aroroth and visited the underground castle which, as legend tells, had been home to a mythical creature named Bruhn.
Majo had been on her way to New Carrotus, the capital city and still had a long way to go when she crossed Greenthorpe, a village with a rich history and a majestic mansion long since abandoned that had sparked her interest. She stood up and bought a small bag of golden-colored Talsian pears before heading for it and see which parts of the legend were true.
According to an old hare she had met in a tavern outside of Orleton the village was haunted by a ghost from it's own past often seen through the cracked windows of the mansion.
Majo left the village and made her way down the sandy path when she saw two boys resting in the grass.
"Don't go any further." Markie jumped up and blocked her path.
Majo smiled and decided she'd play along with what was obvious a little game they were playing. "And why would I not continue brave sir?"
She saw the fear in his face and in the face of the child still sitting in the grass and wondered if something else was going on.
"Are you two alright?" Her question remained unanswered for a few moments while the boys wondered if they could trust her.
Tim got up and walked over to Markie. 'She's not from around here, maybe we can tell her.' He whispered in his friends ear.
Markie nodded as he looked over the girl in front of him "There's a ghost in there, miss. We just saw him." He shuddered again at the thought.
Majo smiled and sank through her knees a little to level herself with the faces of the boys. "Tell you what, why don't I go in there to tell him to leave the innocent boys alone from now on."
Tim and Markie looked at each other, there mothers had only told them he eats children so they both figured the young woman had nothing to fear. They nodded in agreement.
Majo walked trough the gate onto the path that led towards the mansion. The door stood open, as if the house was inviting her to come inside.
The gate creaked as she walked down the path. This might have scared the children leading them into believing the place was haunted.
She walked into the hallway and covered her nose with her sleeve, just as Markie had done before her.
Majo took a quick look around. The place was disgusting that was clear, a few dead rats here and there, but certainly no ghosts.
A sound in the room beyond drew her attention and she walked over into the drawing room, the windows let through little sunlight and darkness enveloped most of it.
Her imagination seemed to be running wild since it looked as if a person was sitting in the chair facing the windows.
"Hello, is someone there?" She asked against better judgment.
The person in the chair clutched the arm and leaned over the side to take a look at his visitor.
A tired man with deep, dark eyes stared at her for a moment and then sank back into the chair without speaking a word.
Majo´s heart positively raced in her troath over this other presence in the house and she ran back to the door leading outside, but as she reached it to take one last look she saw that the tired man was still sitting in his armchair facing the window. Piles of books surrounded him, coated in the dust of decades.
Majo slowly walked back. The man might be a traveler like her, he was pale and tired but there was no sign of him being either a ghost or monster.
"Are you alright, sir?" She asked cautiously and her hand touched the back of the chair.
As she gazed down at him another wave of dread ran through her body.
His shirt hang open, buttons ripped off rather violently. His skin as pale as a blanket of virgin snow and his eyes were blank, void of life.
"Sir?" She asked again but the man did not respond, he merely turned his empty eyes towards her and coughed.
Majo looked around the room and noticed one door that stood ajar giving her a look into the bathroom beyond. She ran in there, turned on a rusty old faucet and filled a cup that stood on a shelf underneath the bathroom mirror with water. She ran back to the man and offered him the drink. "Take this sir." He looked like he could use it.
But he held up his hand and politely refused. "Thank you miss, but I am not thirsty for water." His voice was so soft that she could hardly hear him.
He got up out of his chair with what seemed like the weight of the world on his broad shoulders trying to hold him down.
The tired man took a few paces towards her, like an infant who just learned how to walk and fell down on his knees.
"I think we need to see a doctor, sir. You are not well." But the man waved her comments away.
"I will be fine miss, I always am, please take a seat and let me prepare something to eat for you, I must..." He coughed again and sat down on the floor.
Majo walked over to him still holding the glass of water. "Why don't you wait here while I go and get a doctor."
"No!" The man screamed as he managed to get up on his feet again. Majo took a step back color flushed over his body as he screamed but left right away turning him into the weak man he was before.
"Trust me, this has happened before, I'll be fine." Majo took a seat and allowed him a moment to recover, he walked into another room and left her waiting in here.
She drew open the curtains and thousands of particles of dust danced in the sunlight. A frightened spider shot out from behind a vase covered in cobwebs.
Between the two windows hung an old family portrait that caught her attention. A friendly looking man and a beautiful young woman both had a hand on the shoulders of a young boy in the middle that resembled the pale man she had met minutes before. She rubbed the small golden plaque attached to the frame underneath the canvas clean of the filth that had gathered on it and read 'Greenthorpe family portrait. 1242.'
"That makes it over two hundred years old." She mumbled to herself as the sound of footsteps behind her revealed that the tired hare had returned.
To her surprise she noticed that the color had returned to his face and his fur was thicker and softer then it had been before.
He walked up straight and his eyes that had looked so hollow before were so warm and friendly now. "My name is Louie Greenthorpe." He said as he reached out his hand.
"I'm sorry if my appearance before has upset you."
"Hello there son." Theodore Crompton waved at his son and his friend Tim who he found sitting by the creek.
Theodore was a tall and muscular man. A large ax rested on his shoulder for he would go into the forest to cut some wood for the oncoming winter.
The winters were very cold up north and he wanted to start early to make sure his family would not grow cold. He walked over to Markie and gave him a pat on the head.
"Hey dad." His hands were a little shaky and he quickly looked away in the direction of the mansion. Tim did the same because he could not face Theodore and keep the secret.
"Is everything alright boys, you look a little bit shaken up." Markie and Tim both revealed the secret of the monster in the Greenthorpe mansion instantly, because keeping secrets is what children do best.
Theodore threw the ax on the floor and grabbed the boys by their hands. "Now what did your mother and I tell you about that house?"
Markie cried "There was a girl, she went in there alone and she still has not returned."
Theodore told the boys to go straight home. If they were to be obedient their punishment would be considerably lighter and the boys ran off.
He picked the ax up of the ground and headed for the mansion to locate the girl.
Majo was full of questions, but the first one she asked was "What just happened?"
The man in front of her fell silent for a while not sure whether to tell her the truth or a simple lie. He could tell this girl was different from the visitors he had received to his home in the past.
For one, she did not have a clue of what was going on. Something his previous guests were quite aware of.
He decided it was best to play stupid and raised his shoulders. "I dozed off for a moment there, I am quiet alright I assure you."
Majo was not satisfied by this answer and pointed at the painting. "Who is that?" Her questions were short just like her patience at this moment.
"If you are referring to the boy in the middle, he was my great grandfather Egedius Greenthorpe." His face did not show any emotion.
It had not shown any emotion since she had arrived here and she could not tell what he was thinking.
She came around to her final question, for the moment at least.
"Why is this place such a mess?" Louie turned around not to face her and answered. "My family abandoned this house a long time ago and moved to a... different place. I simply came back here to check on things."
He turned to face her again with those sad eyes of his. "I am planning on moving back in here."
His answers were as short as her questions, but something about him made her trust him. And she was satisfied for now.
Louie grabbed an old broom from a corner behind a beautiful, old piano and he started sweeping the floor while hanging his head in shame.
"It's alright." She said and she smiled as she put her paw on his. His flesh felt cold and damp. "You've not been here in a while, let me help you."
Majo walked out of the room in search of cleaning utensils and Louie continued his sweeping unaware of the presence of an unwelcome guest.
"What have you done with the girl?" Theodore Crompton had made it's way into the house and faced Louie holding his axe close to his body.
"She is alright, please do not come any closer." Louie spoke in a calm tone. "I have not harmed her, I have never fed off of an innocent..."
He knew in his heart that what he was about to say was not true.
Theodore payed no head to his warning and stepped forward, slightly raising his ax.
"I think it's time we ended the myth of the Greenthorpe monster once and for all." He raised his ax and wanted to hit Louie in the face with it.
But in the blink of an eye Louie had grabbed the shaft of the sharp weapon and pulled it out of Theodore's hands.
He threw it across the room, grabbed Theodore's neck and opened his mouth to bare a pair of fearsome canines. "No, please."
Theodore gasped for breath as Louie sank his teeth into the main arteries in his victim´s neck. Blood forcefully spurted out and Louie drank as much as he could while he dragged him out into a hallways and opened the door to the basement. He stashed Theodore's dead body into a chest that had been used to store coal in for the old boiler.
Louie wiped clean the blood from the corners of his mouth and the tears from his eyes over the horrible act he had just committed and made his way back to the drawing room just before Majo entered with a bucket full of water and a ragged piece of cloth. "Many hands make light work." She smiled at him and he stared back at her.
"We have to leave." He said and made no notion to wait around for her he grabbed a brown jacket and walked out.
As he was halfway down the path leading to the gate she caught up with him and tugged at his arm.
"But you've only just returned to the home of your ancestors. What makes you want to leave?"
"Fair lady..." He started and Majo giggled over the archaic use of words. "I can not explain it to you but I can not ask of you to remain a guest in my house any longer. Please allow me to provide you with other accommodations for the night." He asked her and he gave her a kind nod.
"Why esteemed gentleman." Majo smiled at her own accent and took hold of the arm he offered. "Where to?"
"There is an inn a couple of hours away from here called 'The Green dragon.' It's not much but it should provide a safe haven for a short while." And off they went.
As they followed the flow of Peddleburg creek the evening set in and the chill wind in the air gave Majo goosebums.
Louie took his jacket off and put it around her shoulders, she gave him a smile but his eyes were focused on something in the far distance.
"I'm afraid we have some unpleasent company, but don't be afraid." Majo could see it too, a group of three or four men in the distance coming closer with seemingly unfriendly intentions.
She hid behind Louie as one of them with a toad-like appearance pulled a small blade out from behind his back and pointed it at Louie's adam's apple.
"Your money or your life, sir." He croacked. His long, slimey tongue hang from his mouth as he made a little bow.
"And they say chivalry is dead." Louie hissed and he kicked the toad hard in the crotch. The blade fell down to the ground before the toad did and his three accomplices jumped forward.
He took one out with a hard knock to the side of his face and kicked another in the teeth. The third hesitated to attack, but made up his mind rather quickly when Louie bared his sharp fangs and ran.
"Please, no, no." The toad on the ground cried out, but Louie grabbed a shivering Majo's hand and walked away.
After they had left their assailants behind them Majo pushed his hand away, as if she had regained her own voice and rational thoughts.
"You! You are a vampire." She finally said and the thought seemed even stranger out loud. "And to think I trusted you, you filthy beast." She took a few steps back towards a small ridge near the water.
"Wait, be careful." Louie took a step towards her to prevent her from falling off but it was in vain and she fell backwards and hit her head on a rock.
Majo woke up the next morning with the smell of fresh bread that was standing in a little basket on her night stand in the small room.
She eagerly grabbed it and feasted on the small meal. Her head hurt a little and she felt a bump on the back of her head.
'The vampire.' The thought of him shot through her mind and her fingers moved down to her neck. 'No puncture wounds, good.' She thought.
She took a few more bites of another lump of bread when Louie walked in to the room. She pulled up her sheets over her exposed chest and fell silent.
He had saved her twice and had not bitten her. And he seemed to be far from the persons she heard about in the ghosts stories. The night roamers feasting on innocent people to still their own aching hunger.
Louie sat down on the bed near her legs and looked at the ground. "I know what you must think of me, but I can assure you, it was never my intention to cause you harm."
He got up and walked back to the door. "If you need anything, just ring that bell over your nightstand and I'll be here in no time."
Louie left her to get a few more hours of sleep and sat down at the bar and several thoughts ran through his mind.
"How is the girl?" The proprietor of 'The green dragon' asked him as he washed several glasses clean of the stains people had left on them last night.
It was crowded when they arrived and the owner's wife had tended to Majo at ones and given her the largest room in the inn, right behind the bar.
"She will live, thank you for your concern." The innkeeper nodded and returned to his dishes.
Louie rubbed through his face and looked at the door to Majo's room. 'Don't worry Tobias. I have not forgotten.'
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Chapter 2: Divine Bloody Retribution
They deserved it.
A group of Carrotus' militia deserved it. No, all of them deserved, it. They weren't an army, not enough to be called Marines. They were just raiders and treasure hunters, and of course, many profits going to the government. That was okay, the money they used went to go feed people. No, it also went to weapons to destroy people. Money might have been what it was all about to group Beta4.
--- (Before the corruption)
The mission was simple. I would be the distraction above dropping small bombs to get their attention, and more importantly the turrets' attention. He had a shield and probably was the hardest to hit in the air. Why not be the bait as well as having 2/5 of the payment (twice as much) as anybody else for it?
James was the ruthless one of the group. Everybody wanted him in the group since he would have to do the dirty work that nobody else wanted. A perfect soldier for this mission and for anything that you might have called an army. He was to back up the safe-cracker should anybody notice the treasury had been breached. Usually peopole would become a great person through hard work, but I didn't know James wasn't one of those people. The brown, tall, rabbit towered over other people like they were insects. Maybe it was just becuase of his tallness that it seemed like that. 1/5 of the payment for him.
Eleanor was a pro. at what she did, stealing. A lot of flirting on the simulations had gotten her very close to James' heart, and wallet. She wasn't told what was in the safe, but just to grab anything that looked valuable. That is to say money, credit cards, gems, and data. The briefing emphasized on the importance of data for espionage. Strange how they weren't even informed who they were stealing from. She was a medium sized white rabbit with blond flowing hair. Despite the regulations for keeping it in a bun, she preferred the relaxed look. Maybe she didn't have a care in the world becuase of all missions and looting she have done. 1/5 for her.
Boz was just a technician. He wasn't into this army stuff at all but needed this money. Simple job for him. Cut the power, keep it cut, cut the security systems after the power was cut, keep those cut. This guy could have been a hacker, he looked weak and had darkly green fur. He was weak though and would probably be punched out by somebody like James before executing the TERM command if he wasn't on our side. 1/5 for him.
A 5/5 team.
-- (Before the killing)
High above, the first bomb hadn't been dropped and it was very silent. I tried to see who we were fighting, but most of them were wearing helmets and gas-masks for paranoia. Maybe they expected a wipeout of gas. There, that spot didn't have anybody patrolling it, I armed and threw a bomb at the space. The silence broke and sirens rang. I noted the three rabbits running but keeping their heads low. Boz was the one who strayed into the control room which he would probably gas, kind of ironic.
"And here come the first wave of turrets," I muttered to myself as I tried to gain altittude and dropped a lot of bombs Boz had given me. Mostly they'd just to cover the base in smoke since they detonated before hitting the ground and add for some fun confusion. No killing this mission, I wanted it that way.
The familiar scream of heat seeking missles came to mind and I set my small blaster onto flares. No aim required, just fire past them at the base. Their fault for using heat-seekers.
When the first seeker hit the ground a scream penetrated the sounds of firing and a 'CEASE FIRE, swit...' was issued. I dropped more bombs so they wouldn't know where they were fighting. The fools probably didn't notice the robbery.
'Takin' the fire, kaz?' the headset voice of James taunted me. I guess he was the only one with freetime right now while Elly cracked the safe.
"Yeah, how're Elly and Boz?" I asked and dropped more bombs and a few flares even though the seekers had stopped... the seekers had stopped, what were they doing? James didn't answer back. I was sure he was alright, but he seemed pretty sure of himself before. Relaxing, lowering altitude, putting up my blue shield below me. That was my mistake.
'A'ite, Elly an' me got the goods!!' James said over the intercom, they were probably already almost out and taking the same route out. It didn't matter, nobody would see them anyways, but the crescent shield I used stuck out like a neon sign.
"THERE!!". ClOSE RANGE!! I cursed at myself for going so low and put up the crescent in the direction of fire to avoid blaster fire from there... there weren't any from that direction. I dropped flares as well, slow heat seekers? Oh, the power must have been down. Alright, back to the group in the north.
Nobody figured out that the base ran on a small nuclear reactor, the radiation wasn't a problem becuase of the nature of the atmosphere and some other things, but things could still go wrong, like the safeties being removed by the security system. I cursed at myself for forgetting it. The reactors exploded, the main power had been cut from them, but they hadn't been shut off. Stupid Boz. The north one blew up as I flew past it and I saw myself signing up for this mission and saw several people asking me to not go. Then I saw the ATV we were camping in before I crashed into it. At least I'd die with the rogues, they must have
been rebels of some kind... they would all die. Why did it have to end like that? Now that I thought of it, I remember seeing the Carrotus signature on the cannons... were we fighting the good guys? Were they the baddies? And then I thought of nothing more for a while.
-- (After the killing)
I remember, no, I was seeing James passing me by, followed by Eleanor and then Boz. Boz looked happy but dissapointed that he had such an effect on the base, Eleanor looked happy for doing such a good job on the looting, I could see a large diamond pin in her hair now. James was happy. Why was he happy? WHY WERE THEY ALL HAPPY? WHERE WAS I IN THIS PICTURE?!?! I tried to move and couldn't get up. A small unarmed bomb rolled out from the bag I carried and cracked a twig. James twisted backwards and found me in a might as well be dead perception. My left wing was snapped but I still held a gun in the right.
"Hey, he did survive, James!" Boz was the first to say anything. Did they all think otherwise? Hah... they thought I was dead.
"'e didn't, 'e's dead, 'e was bait and died." James coldly replied. I tried to scream, say I was still alive to the moron. Why did he want me dead?!
"James, what'll we do?" Eleanor spoke, I called her many bad things at this time. HOW COULD SHE ASK THAT?! At the same time I choked. They wouldn't kill me, but they would leave me out here? James approached me and crouched down, his blaster ready to shoot a fatal shot. ... It dawned on me that I was the only one that didn't want to kill... and then...
"We'll h've his pay, darlin'." James turned to look at Boz to make sure there were no objections. Killing me for my pay to split among themselves... no..
"You can't do that!! I need the money too but it isn't worth killing for." Boz shouted at him and pulled out his own blaster ready to fight him. Stupid hypocrite... Nobody noticed myself raising my wing and gun, maybe it was fate that it was set on RF's. It was either me or them... right? James turned his head, not noticing the gun at point-blank in time
"We don-" BANG. I wasn't dead, dead people don't kill. James would kill if he still had a head.
Eleanor screamed at the headless bloody james, the fur coat turning reddish brown now. Boz aimed. How could he say that it wasn't worth killing for when he killed the families that were probably on that base? BANG and I shot again. They hadn't bothered to help me. Boz flew back like a ragdoll into a tree and blood seeped out of him. Eleanor screamed some more. She shouldn't live either. Her bag laid on the ground and she ran for it. How could she not think to help? How could she wonder if one's life or money mattered most?! I emptied out several RF rounds and saw the bloody mess I was in. I was the lone survivor. I was the most honorable one. It was clear now who the real enemy was. Carrotus, Carrotus and all of its' corruption.
It's money grabbing from the dead. We need a new military school for the children? Okay, let's go kill those families regardless of race and take theirs. It hurt on the inside to think of it. I would kill them, the bastards.
-- (After all the corruption, all the killing)
How ironic. I finished setting the bomb that was even made for Boz except with more blow-power. It wasn't hard to get in, the guards were cheap and untrained. I'd blow up this old fossil fuel supply that the military depended on. I'd blow it up, and every residence would follow the leader. They all deserved to die for their impurities, they who would run over the wounded on the road instead of helping. They who valued their own lives over others. The damned war loving children who would shoot their mom in the crazed patriotism of it all if they suspected she was not with them. They'll all die.
Three minutes. I was gone in one. Hahahahaha... rabbits, so similar to the humans grandmother always told him myths about; they never cared and they should suffer for it. I was only helping karma along.
* * *
It didn't matter, all these people he had killed over the last period. People that deserved to die. Bounty hunters for one. It was always intentional. One time it wasn't, a pink female rabbit with quite a few tricks, but no skill came after him. She fell too easy and looked dead. I just walked away, it wasn't my fault. The wench shot at me several times with seekers and I a flare back at her. Her fault. Not mine. Weren't you in that position a while ago?
Not my problem.
"Another," this was my fourteenth... "vodka!!"
"Don't overdo it, son." the bar-tender replied. I looked hard at him and wondered if I could... no. I was mad at somebody else. My head hurt too much to even pull the trigger. He was just concerned afterall. All I could remember right now was the taste of the vodka and what happened.
-- (earlier at afternoon)
I had gone more.. large scale on Carrotus. They expected military base bombings now. The 6th bomb was defused, somehow. I flew away too fast to check who did it or how in the world it was done. I think I actually made a popular topic of myself in the government. Hah, it didn't matter what they thought.
I moved on to what tools they used of those I hated. I hated weapons. You use weapons all the time... That didn't matter though. I'd posion this weapon factory. The type of posion was called "cherry blossoms". It turned eyes that sort of pink color after driving the user insane with a flood of memories becuase of a chemical reaction. Maybe it was the red color of the gas, or the fact that it was once used in a place with so many cherry blossoms and people seemed to scream about them the most. It didn't matter.
The ventilation was all from one large generator. Stupid move from the corporation. Maybe they never had to worry about it. It was a large typical rectangular factory, and they looked like they needed to save money on architecture. The windows let in little light and probably fit the grim surroundings. Smoke stacks towered on the roof of the building. They weren't very active right now, maybe they weren't smoke stacks. I'd stop the smoke, stop the evil, and there would be less weapons for a while. I'd stop all of them.
The poison was in a bomb that looked just like a regular metal barrel. It fit in perfectly with all the other supplies they kept in barrels near the back. Those were chained down though becuase the ventilation system sucked in a lot of air. It was perfect for intoxication. The intake machine or main vent was surrounded by a 20-feet high metal mesh fence with barbed wire eight feet and above.
I looked at the fence. Oh, it's gas, it'll flood in. I started to push it so it'd be in vacuum distance. Bah, the casing was too heavy. I shoved it, it didn't budge. Stupid Kaz, always so weak when it came to brute force. Backing up, I rammed it onto its side and rolled it. It got a bit easier since the wind started to blow my way. No wait, that was the vent sucking in the air!! I kneeled over as the gusts pulled off a few feathers and twisted the timer to 30 seconds and side-stomped on it. The barrel rolled and gained momentum (16), hit the fence which was too cheap to serve a purpose. Suddenly another wind twisted it around so it would emit the gas at me. Hahaha, I didn't deserve this divine retribution(3)... the small outlet on the top flipped open. It-... it wouldn't hit me. I know so. (0) The red gas, it reminded me of a smoke bomb from childhood. We had fun that day, so many fireworks. ARG. That gas, it came out three feet from me, but I scurried away and Cherry Blossoms was sucked into the vents. Mission accomplished.
-- (a bit after)
The smoke stacks on the top sighed barely pink, but eventually faded to their very light grey. It was past the ten minute life-time of the posion. By now it was too dispersed to have an effect. Should I go in? I walked to the front door and laughed as it seemed it wasn't made for tall people.
"HELP ME! OH PLEASE HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!! PATRICK? ARE YOU THERE?!!" some old bat was pleading. She was reliving something. Curiousity got the better of me and I unjammed the door. Why was it jammed?
She immediately clung to me! Her eyes were so pink, almost red. "You have to save my child!!" she screamed in my face. An innocent... was she innocent? "Why aren't you listening?! YOU HAVE TO SAVE THEM!!" she banshee'd some more. Her grip was so hard on my shoulders. It hurt now. It hurt to stare at her face, the way she clung to me like I was her savior. "I can-" her dead dropped before I could tell her I couldn't save her children. Congratulations, this is what happens. BAH. It didn't matter, it didn't matter at all. Why should it? Why should I stop the solution to the violence? She would have stood up for them anyways!!
-- (orig. time)
The 18th vodka. It still wouldn't go away. She's just with them. It's for the greater purpose. Everything was a swirl though, my thoughts, my vision, my destination, I was drunk. Things would flash red or blue occasionally. No wait... that's familiar.
I don't remember much else except for running out the back, and the bar tender yelling at me for not paying. Yay for me, I bought a small aircraft earlier today. It was squarish. The 'frisbee' model is made for overall speed, small guns, two small missles, but not exactly evasive, but the thinness made it hard to hit. Why did they call it that model when it was squarish? "Destination?" the screen displayed. "Anywher-bt-her," I barely mumbled and tied all the words together. I was going to have one hell of a hangover. It either lifted off to somewhere, or I fell asleep and felt light. Maybe it was both.
--
I need to get a job... it's too bright to be morning...
It was too true, I was running out of money from weapons, food, this ship. The only money I had left was in a bag that had grown considerably light. No credit cards, bank accounts, I withdrew from them all so I couldn't be as well tracked.
Am I dreaming? "Arrgh." Yesterday still pained me. I was awake, the sun was bright as thermite, and there was a large bag of money on the floor that accompanied my own. reimbursment it read. SH- This meant three things; Somebody broke in, somebody could have killed me and taken my money, and somebody had just hired me.
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Chapter 3: The Mad Technomancer
In a small house, somewhere in a city on Diamondous, a robot was coming together. A arm was attached, and wired in. The head was opened, and a final chip- the AI chip- was inserted. Jargon Random leaned back, and admired his new work. While he could just assemble robots with the magic of his order, those he makes with his own hands always turned out better. He said, in a tired yet excited voice, "Could you pass me the screwdriver, R-0B/y?"
After getting the tool from his robotic assistant (R-0B/y, Robbie for short), he screwed the final screw into place, and stepped back to grab his autocaster. He twiddled with the autocaster for a moment, setting its cubes into the right position, before he held it out at arms length. With a spark of electricity from his jump-start spell, the robot switched on and got to attention. Jargon, nearly falling asleep on the spot for having stayed up for three nights straight without any sleep to finish this new robot, told it to go to the storage room and turn itself off, so he could inspect it in the morning. Just pausing to look outside at the gloomy midnight sky, Jargon went to his bedroom...
That next morning, Jargon didn't have time to inspect his new creation. There was a knock on the door. He, still in bed, got up and went out to get it, wondering on the way why he doesn't delegate such tasks to his robots. On the way, he paused for a moment to look at his reflection. Not at all presentable. However, with a reputation like his, people didn't expect anything else. Jargon sighed, and then answered the door. He recognized the person there- John Radin, a friend from his order, the person who gave him R-0B/y. Jargon was about to ask what was all the trouble, but he was cut off.
"Quick, you need to go. Why aren't you ready?"
"Err... what?"
"Haven't you heard? We need to escape! The city is being invaded, and pretty soon they will have taken the space ports. Get your stuff quickly, we don't have time to wait. We will go to... say, Carratous till this blows over."
Jargon darted inside, and grabbed his autocaster. Realizing he would not be able to take much, he sadly scrapped his robots with his autocaster. After hearing some gunfire somewhere in the distance, he worked even more quickly, stuffing some food into a bag and then running outside. John ran up to him, and they set off.
There would be opposition, but that wouldn't stop Jargon, that wouldn't stop the Mad Technomancer.
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Chapter 4
Tony Waterback was considered one of the best pilots in the galaxy. The gray-furred jackrabbit from Technoir had won the Carrotan space race 5 years in a row, and was going to enter the sixth. He had built his own ship: a compact 1-man flyer with 2 large boosters, and 2 wings that curved up and around the top, each wing carrying a small pulse cannon in case of emergencies. This was an emergency.
He had been practicing by the old Sluggion asteroid belt when an old Shellian defense system had booted itself up and opened fire on his ship, at the same time calling for help. The asteroid-mounted turrets had been easy to deal with; their armor had been shredded by space dust and the only weapon they used was an outdated laser battery. However, the Shellian fighters that responded to the distress call were much more dangerous. They had piloting skill that rivaled Tonys own, and ships designed for combat as well as fancy flying. Tonys pulse cannons werent even getting past the shields on the fighters, and turning tail and running seemed to be the only option. Tony gunned the gyro thrusters, spinning his ship around in a perfect 180-degree turn before rocketing away from the Shellian fighters.
Luckily for Tony, the Shellians only carried clumsy radar-guided missiles and plasma cannons, which he could easily dodge. The only problem was that the Shellians would not give up chase. Tony led them all the way around Pezrock, Medivo, and even Chrysilis, and they never faltered in their chase. Apparently he had to find a friendly system that would destroy his assailants. Carrotus seemed like a good option, so he started heading towards there.
However, Tonys luck ran out when he reached the Carrotan Asteroid Belt. The asteroids were thickly clumped, and Tony was having a hard time maneuvering around all of them. He started concentrating more on the asteroids than the Shellians fire, which proved to be a mistake. After swerving around a particularly large asteroid, Tony found himself flying head-on towards a shellian missile. He tried to turn his ship, but it was too late. The missile struck his left wing, completely obliterating it and leaving the stump smoking. The ship could still fly forward, but due to its lack of left wing, it could not turn to the right. Tony struggled to pilot it out of the asteroid field, and somehow managed to succeed. His ship shot away from the last of the asteroids, the Shellians in hot pursuit.
Carrotus loomed ahead. The Shellians took this opportunity to break off before Carrotuss defense fleet saw them, leaving Tonys smoldering ship streaking towards Carrotus.
Landing without a left wing hadnt seemed to hard to Tony at first. He had forgotten about air resistance, though, and his ship persisted in turning to the right, throwing the landing angle off completely. Tony was coming down in a large empty field and had plenty of room to land, but it would be tricky with one of his wings gone. Tony tried adjusting the landing angle, but overcompensated and ended up hitting the ground side-on, smashing the right wing like aluminum foil and sending the main part of the ship to a spinning, flipping finale before finally stopping upside-down. Dangit, I spent a million credits building this thing! thought Tony. At least the ten thousand spent on this grav-chair were worth it. That was one heck of a ride! Indeed, Tonys grav-chair was the only reason he was still alive: the anti-gravity stabilizers had kept him in suspension so that he wouldnt receive any shock from the crash.
Tony picked his way out of the wreckage and inspected the damage. The cockpit had survived mostly, with the exception of the nose, which was bent nearly 90 degrees to the left. The body was dented in several places, and opening the service hatch confirmed that the fusion generator used to power the ship had been smashed like a soda can. About 100 yards away, Tony could see the sun reflect off what used to be his right wing.
Turtle snot, swore Tony. He seemed to be alone in the field, but as he looked around, he saw a building some ways away. Perhaps someone there could help him get back home
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Chapter 5
Some time ago...
The Civil War on Diamondus had been going on for almost two years. It was February now, the worst season on Diamondus at any time, but with the war confining everyone, the streets were filthy, dirty water running down them in rivers, and the blue circles under everyone's eyes were deeper. Rabbits everywhere kept their blasters well greased, their blades sharp, because there was no telling which side your neighbor had turned to. Species could not be a determining point, for it was well known that foxes, rabbits, and turtles alike could be seen sharing drinks in the grubby taverns. Clans, too, kept to themselves, meeting in secret, but even still, several mutilated bodies bearing matching cerulean armbands had lain in the rain and grime on the main street for two days before a Patrol carried them off. Inflation had skyrocketed, and tiny children could be seen begging in the alleys, bony paws outstretched.
Rain was pouring straight down upon Verity's hunchéd shoulders, soaking the brown paper bag with her precious groceries. Her black tipped, grey lop ears pinned back against the downpoar, she ducked into the cover of an overhanging doorway. Fumbling for keys in her pocket, she slipped into the dusty gloom of the apartment building. From her fifth floor window, she could see most of the city to the south and west. A plume of smoke, rising from somewhere in the buildings, blended with the leaden clouds. Too warm for snow, as always on Diamondus, but too cold to ever get the suggy chill out of her bones. Verity booted up her computer, stuffing packages from her bag into the cupboards. She peeled off several layers of colorless, sodden garments, shivering slightly as the drafty air touched her wet fur. Verity tied her dark auburn, waist length hair out of her pale green eyes, shaking rainwater out of it. Her body was skinny and unhealthily bony as she pulled on a dry shirt of neatly patched linen and traded her dripping shoes for knee high black boots. She reapplied the black eyemakeup that blended into her grey fur, and, after briefly checking for an update on her computer, she scrambled into more layers and prepared to leave.
For a moment she paused, looking out the west window. The sun was setting, and the clouds were bloodied by it's last rays.
Verity turned and walked out her door. The rabbit's heavy boots were noisy in the vacant apartment- many of her neighbors had been elderly, and had traveled to other planets seeking peace when the war broke out. Although Verity felt her 28 years weighed heavier on her than they should, she had stayed behind when requested, working as a hacker. She was sometimes needed for her skills at combat, though, as was everyone, and she bore scars of more than one skirmish that she would like to forget. At times it seemed hard to even remember why the war had begun. At times Verity was on the verge of tears as she remembered her childhood on this planet, and even more so when she recalled her peaceful life on Medivo. Though it rained there nearly constantly, the rain was warm and sweet, and the moss grew heavily on the ruins. Diamondus, though, had once been beautiful too- that was why Verity had chosen it, although it was not until the war that she had moved into the city.
Verity walked the cracked pavement to a small tavern, stepping around puddles and the ocasional blowing newspaper. Over the door, a battered wooden sign from which the weather had long since worn the name swung creakily. Searching again in her knapsack to find another key, she plunged it into the lock, opening the door into a dimly lit room crowded with chairs and round tables.
"Eddie?" Verity tugged off her cloak, already soaked from the short walk, and hung it by the door.
From a back room a dusty red rabbit emerged, peering over round lenses.
"Ah, Verity." He smiled, a scar scribbled in white through his fur.
"I've been working on the new code. It seems to be going well. You made excellent progress on the Uniform Amplification Locators, also."
Verity cast the older rabbit a wan smile, tying, as she did so, a short white apron over her garments.
"Try and look innocent tonight. You never know who might come in." She began to start a fire in the brick fireplace in the left wall.
Carrot ale gurgled into a green glass. "Get you another drink, Nick?" Verity's tray was perched precariously between shoulder and chin as she wiped a table down, smiling at a friend. "How're you doing, Riff?" She attempted an awkward hug and spilled a bit of sherry onto her tailtip. Grinning wryly, she topped off someone's glass while he dug in his pocket for more change.
"Another round, gentlemen?" She paused to laugh at a joke a tawny-furred cat was telling in the back corner, and eyed a cloaked visitor at the bar, who's tiger striped tail was twitching off the edge of the barstool. Verity made her way back behind the bar.
"Can I get you a drink, stranger?" While she tried to welcome people, there was no being too careful, and Verity did not like unfamiliar faces.
Green eyes peered out from behind the hood, inspecting Verity's features.
"Are you the bartender?"
"That I am. You look chilled to the bone. Nasty weather out there, among other things. How about a mulled wine?"
The creature sighed, relaxed slightly.
"That sounds nice."
Verity poured the liquid from it's copper tin into a glass mug, watching it bubble softly. She poured herself a Lemoncello and sipped it as she wiped down the bar absently. In the back room she could faintly hear Eddie clicking away at his keyboards. Her silver RF blaster was under the counter, her javelin leaning against the wall, and she didn't feel safe. As the only bartender, she knew half the people in the bar as regulars and had seen most of the faces before, always responded to their winks with a smile and a wave, would not hesitate to plant a kiss on a cheek before wishing one of them a safe trip back to their flat. She knew any of them would try and protect her, and she knew Eddie, not to mention the rest of her friends, would do twice what they were capable of for her. She did not feel safe.
She drank the last of her Lemoncello.
She wondered when she would feel safe again.
It was late in the afternoon the next day when she roused herself from her sleep, having gotten home from the bar at 6 AM. Verity clutched her cloak around her as she wandered from the tangle of blankets on her couch. She knelt on the floor, looking out of her window as she did so often, leaning against the chair back. She traced a scar on her arm, thought about the poison she kept in her medicine cabinet.
She thought about the poison every day.
Her computer beeped, drawing her attention.
Verity stood up. She would make one more person laugh tonight at her bar.
She would give at least one more day to her cause.
She would not give up yet.
Though she wanted to.
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Chapter 6
So hungry There was food, where? Ahead, smallish. Kill. Feed. Tier dashed through the undergrowth, his agility unbecoming of his decayed flesh. Food, small. KILL! The turtle grabbed the rat and downed it in two bites, feeling its warmth, its life seeping into him. For a second The Hunger was sated and Tier reflected on what he was doing. Hunting. To feed. Just like so many nights before. Don't loose scent. Food closer now. Tier dashed ahead, preparing to cut his prey off. It was small and would be dispatched easily.
Move in. Go for the neck...Larger prey! Stalk! Tier obediently followed the insticts of The Hunger, for Tier was a Zombie. Not the shuffeling moaning forms so often imagineg to rise from the grave, but an Arcainia Zombie, an undead predator whose sole existence was devoted to tracking and killing prey. Agile and violent Tier was a victim of his undead insticts, feeding of the living flesh to prevent his own from rotting. Now there was prey large enough to stop the hunger for a week, maybe longer. He didn't care. He couldn't. His mind buried under The Hunger only knew that soon his body would no longer be a festering corpse, at least for a few days.
Big, slow. Climb above and behind. Tier glanced down at his victim, a blue rabbit, with a gun. Unfortunate that an innocent would die, but The Hunger... The gun would be no problem, he was immortal, invincible to anything that couldn't reduce him to ashes, but an arm would be a long time in regrowing. Attack lower, aim for the side of the neck...
The cool night air was disrupted briefly by a growl, gunfire and the sounds of feeding. It would be several hours before Tier would wake to bemoan his fate.
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Chapter 7
Tom shifted in his chair. His cushion had "gone missing" long ago, and he wasn't going to bring another one to work in case that one "went missing" too. It's not that he didn't appreciate that there were people in the building with a greater need than his own. It's just that he suspected Gary Parker had taken the cushion home with him. With his inheritance, Parker was quite rich. Especially for a councillor. Especially in Greenthorpe. Industrial decline had reduced Greenthorpe to a shadow of its former self, and anyone living on more than a subsistence wage considered themselves lucky.
Thomas Bradhurst was a slightly short, orange rabbit, with a single lop-ear. He wore glasses with circular lenses and a thin, silvery frame. They covered a pair of dull blue eyes. He owned two suits, one of which he would wear to work as the other one was cleaned. They were both grey, and both shabby. He had one red tie, one green tie, and a black bow-tie for special occasions. Today he was wearing his green tie. He wore the red tie when he was doing the town's accounts, when he was afraid the ink would splash.
Tom looked at the letter again. It was too good to be true. At the same time, it worried him. How would people react?
"Dr. Bradhurst," it began. They'd certainly done their research. Most people didn't know he'd been awarded a doctorate. Clearly, they were eager. And it was a very good offer for the town. But what would people think of it? Most of them would be glad. The Greenthorpe mansion should have been pulled down years ago. And yet, it stood as a monument to the town's great past. Would people be willing to trade that for the town's great future? Thomas took his glasses off and mopped his brow. He'd run it by Gary Parker. Parker was almost always against him - if he agreed it was a good idea, there'd be no problem convincing the citizens.
"Parker!" he called out. Parker probably wasn't doing anything. The only time Parker could be expected to do any actual work was at the annual fête, when he would run himself ragged at the behest of his grandmother, who ran the show.
"Parker!" he called out again. A moment later, a door down the hall slammed shut. Not long after that, Parker stuck his head round Tom's door.
"Yes, Bradhurst?" sighed Parker.
"I want your opinion on a deal I have on the table. A company from Earian want to set up a new factory here. New jobs for everyone. New people in the empty houses. And... more money to pay councillors."
"You know you've got my attention."
"There is a catch. They want to take over the old Tambleside complex. And they also want access to the river."
"So the Greenthorpe mansion would have to go?"
"Yes."
"And they'd cover the cost of pulling it down?"
"I would have thought so."
"Right. So what's the problem?"
"Never mind. There is no problem."
"I'm a busy man, Bradhurst," said Parker, as he left. Tom snorted, then sat back, satisfied. There was only one thing left to be done. He headed down to the council library.
The "library" was a small, cramped room in the cellar. Any floor space not occupied by bookshelves or filing cabinets was knee-high in old paperwork. A single drawer in one of the cabinets was used to store all the town's maps. The cabinet was at the opposite end of the room from the door, and Tom had to clamber over the mounds of yellowing paper to reach it. Bracing himself against some nearby shelves, he tugged at the drawer. All the most commonly used documents were in drawers that wouldn't stay shut. Anybody looking for maps usually went to the school, so more specialised cartography was kept in the stiffest drawer. He eventually got it open. He reached in and pulled out a property map of the town.
No, nobody owned the Tambleside complex. No, nobody owned that section of the river. In between lay the grounds of the Greenthorpe mansion. They were shaded in, and there was a property code. He put the map back in the drawer. Hopefully it was a mistake. The tax records would show it. He clambered back to the other side of the room and opened another drawer. After a moment of searching, he found the tax records for the street.
Susan and Tom had lived in the village for almost three years. They had been married for eight. She was taller than he was, with ginger patches over her normally white fur. She had just started cooking dinner when Tom burst through the door.
"You're home early!" she exclaimed. Then she saw the look on his face.
"You are staying, dear?" she continued.
"Could you saddle my horse? I'll be packing."
"Where are you going?"
"Number 12, Ditchfield Street, Orleton. I have a very big purchase to make."
"There's an extra horse free if you need it."
"Not that kind of purchase. Here, take this."
"A letter?"
"It's to the leader of the council."
"Oh. Tom, no. I can't take your place again. Not after last time."
"You're the only one I trust with the job, Susan. You know that."
"There are plenty of people who are more than capable of sitting on the council. Your uncle, for instance. Surely you can trust him?"
"Uncle Martin would make a good councillor. Until he started demanding that the school teaches about the ways of vampires."
"Tom, I've been talking to the people in the village. Everyone here thinks there's a vampire."
"So? However ingrained the superstition is, it's still ridiculous."
"But some of them say they've seen it. In the old mansion."
"The Greenthorpe mansion? What a coincidence. It looks like I'm about to destroy the myth once and for all."
An hour later, Tom was riding towards the north east. He had changed into his travelling clothes, the only other clothing he owned. He'd be riding through the night. Better riding than setting up camp, he thought. When he was a child, his father had told him tales about the monsters that haunted the night. He knew it was irrational, but he was still scared of the dark. But as long as he rode, he was comfortable that he couldn't be caught by anything unsavoury.
Things had been so much simpler when he was a child. Then his uncle had agreed to send him to university on condition that he studied vampires. At the end of his first year he secretly switched subjects, and earned himself a doctorate in engineering. He had faked a diploma to show to his uncle and his parents. They had been so proud. He was still plagued by the guilt of knowing that he'd cheated his uncle. On top of that, his father had found out. They hadn't spoken since.
It was just past noon the next day when he arrived in Orleton. By one o'clock he'd found the offices at number 12, Ditchfield Street, and by two o'clock he was talking to Ranford Smith, Senior, one half of the Cholmondely & Smith legal team.
"I'm afraid," said Mr. Smith sympathetically, "that we are in no position to sell you the Greenthorpe mansion. Our position as trustee is clearly made out in Mr. Greenthorpe's will."
"Well, how long can you keep paying taxes?"
"The Greenthorpe fortune was considerable. The interest alone almost pays the tax. But don't despair. If you really are determined, there's one thing you may want to try."
"Yes?"
"We take care of the Greenthorpe fortune on condition that no heir can be found."
"Are you telling me there's an heir?"
"No. If we knew there an heir, he'd be in control of the estate, and you would not be talking to me now. There is, however, a possibility of there being an heir. But you'd have to go to the Carrotus Central Records Office."
"I assume that's in New Carrotus?"
"Yes. There are daily flights from Prestbury, if that's any help."
"It is, thanks. I guess I'll be going home, then."
"Good luck." With that, Tom left. Mr. Smith waited until he could see, through his office window, that Tom was outside. He picked up the phone and dialled Jack Cholmondely's number.
"Jack? Yes. I've just had a young man in here asking about the Greenthorpe estate."
"Did you tell him about the heir clause?"
"Of course I did. We are legally obliged to."
"Of course."
"He's heading back to Greenthorpe now. Just so you know."
"Yes, just so I know. Thank you, Ranford." He put down the phone. Jack's associates would take care of Mr. Bradhurst. The Greenthorpe estate was too profitable to lose.
Susan entered the council chamber. Everyone turned when they heard the door open, then stared as she walked down the central aisle to the leader's desk.
"Not again," said Parker, without any attempt to keep his voice down. Susan reached the leader's desk and handed him the letter. He smiled as he took it. Susan remembered that most of the people in the chamber did like her. But she could tell Parker's eyes were boring into the back of her head.
"Welcome back to the council, Mrs. Bradhurst..." said the leader, and he smiled again, "Susan."
"Thank you," she replied, and turned around. Parker quickly looked away. She walked over to her husband's place and sat down.
"The first order of business," said the leader, "is the Tambleside proposal. Would Gary Parker take the floor?"
"Thank you," said Parker, standing. There was a quick glance at Susan, then he focused on his notes. He continued, "I have been in communication with a prominent Earian company concerning a plan to redevelop the Tambleside complex."
"Oh, really?" interrupted Susan. "Would this have anything to do with the deal my husband is currently working on? The one that would require the demolition of the Greenthorpe mansion?"
"I don't know what your husband has told you, but I've been working on this for a while now. Yes, the Greenthorpe mansion would need to be demolished."
"You didn't even know about it until yesterday, Parker. I'm here because my husband is negotiating the purchase of the mansion."
"The building is dangerous. We have every right to pull it down without any negotiation."
"But the land would still belong to the Greenthorpe estate."
Night was falling. The creeping darkness urged Tom onwards. To his right was a forest, already shrouded in darkness. He would need to switch his torch on soon. He slowed down so that he could access his saddlebag. For a moment, he thought he heard hoofbeats. Then there was silence. He reached into the saddlebag and took out his torch. He switched it on and shone it over the road ahead and behind, then over fields to his left. Nothing. He turned to the forest, but the density of the trees reduced the torchlight to nothing after a few metres. He strapped the torch to his saddle and rode on.
An hour later he was riding through the forest, pitch blackness on either side. He shivered. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing in the woods that would leap out at him. All the same, he rode as fast as he could. But there was something up ahead. As he drew closer, he could see a crude fence across the path. He slowed down. That hadn't been there last night. Had he taken a wrong turning? He reached the fence and got off his horse. Something hit him in the ribs and before he could react he was face down on the road. He looked up and saw three tough-looking rabbits, all dark red. They were dressed all in denim, apart from their leather hoods. They looked ridiculous, but they didn't look like the kind of people who took constructive criticism kindly. Tom tried to get up, but the largest one promptly sat on him.
"Well, what do we have here? A puny rabbit travelling alone at night? Don't you know how dangerous the woods can be?" asked another one. He was missing a large patch of fur on one side of his face. Tom turned his head. His horse had bolted.
"Get off him!" shouted the rabbit. His large companion started to get up, but before he was standing Tom had lept up and floored him with a blow to the back of his head. The other two rabbits shouted and leapt at him, but he dodged out of the way. The only way he could escape was by heading into the forest, but the trees and the scrub were too thick. There was no obvious point of entry. He leapt over the makeshift fence and ran up the road. By the thumping behind him he could tell that all three were in pursuit. The road ahead was long and straight. There was nothing but forest as far as the eye could see. With nothing but moonlight, the furthest the eye could see was not very far. He pressed on. Then he saw it: a small opening between the trees and the ground. A burrow? He dove in. It wasn't a burrow, but it led to a narrow path through the forest. The larger rabbit would be unable to fit through the gap, so he'd only have to deal with two of them. He was starting to panic. He hadn't run this fast for a long time, and he didn't know how long he could hold out. He had no idea where this path was taking him. It started to slope downwards, and he found himself struggling to stay upright. There was a thick root sticking up out of the ground. He tripped. He felt himself rolling down the path, the forest turning in every direction around him. Then there was a searing pain in his head and he lost consciousness.
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Chapter 8: The Letter
"This was purely a violation of the Masquerade. If people like you keep running around showing your fangs, next time we'll be a little more...persistent with our demands. Now I know all about your, procedures and what not when dealing with these criminals, and frankly, I care about you and your protocol. Now I asked you kindly to enforce these laws, and until each of these rogue factions are eliminated, don't you think for a second that I won't make a house call on you. Now get out of my sight."
The nosferatu looked pleading, and even scared. But in silent agreement, they turned and slinked hastily out the door. The office was dimly lit, and the wooden door with the peeling letters "Office of A. Garand" was open with a trembling figure in it. A woman, by the age of twenty-two I'd assume, tall, in a purple dress. She was contemplating what she had seen, I suppose. New to the business. Heh, I remember the first time.
"Come in, Miss...?" I asked while extending a hand.
"Muh..muh muh ms." She stuttered.
"Tea?" I offered her. She took a sip, flashed a smile, and said "Thanks."
After we had both taken a seat, and gotten comfortable I asked her. "You seemed scared by the Nosferatu. Are you new to our industry?"
She looked a bit unsettled and mumbled "Yes."
"Aha, I figured. As you saw of me, they're nothing to fear. All you need to do is put them in their place. Vampires, Werewolves, Humans, they're all alike. If you show weakness, they'll exploit you. As a bit of advice, you must remember; as a denizen of this planet, it is your duty to send the impure of the dead, and the evil, to suffer eternal punishment."
She smiled again, and said "Amen." She laughed lightly and began to loosen up. "They all said that you were one of the best in our field. I guess now I know they were right."I grew uneasy. I knew that when she said they, that she was a messenger. And that always meant I was gonna be shipped right into the hands of disaster.
"Which brings me to my next point." She continued. "The division has been losing members left and right on the front lines. As such, you've been pulled out of management, and are now being re-assigned as a full fledged...hunter."
There it was. The kiss of death. She seemed to be cheery about it towards the start, as if I'd be happy to spill blood again. But she quickly lost her demeanor and actually turned away towards the end when she saw the look on my face.
"I...I'm sorry this is happening to you, but as you well know, our agency has fallen on hard times."
For the first time she looked straight into me. I lurched instinctively. Her eyes were blood red, a sign of a
"Vampire." She nodded and spoke with a heavy tone, "I'm actually not new to this agency. I'm Senior Officer Jaffa. On duty, a nosferatu got the best of our squad, and...well...I...it...I'm sorry, but I must be leaving now." she rushed. "Your first order of business is all listed in this package. God speed my friend." She rushed out the door.
"Wait!" I yelled after her. But it was too late, she had left and didn't think once of turning back. I suppose she was truly a creature of the night now. I walked back into my dimly lit office and sat down on the chair. It creaked as I leaned back a little while attempting to open the grubby package she handed me.
I spilled its contents on the desk. Several photos, video cassette, a letter, but the thing which truly caught my eye was a new clip of silver bullets. That told me what I would be facing. Vampires. The pictures included floor plans of the installation, pictures of the house from various angles, and even photos of the old owners, looking happy. I placed the cassette into a piece of junk I call a TV. Through the fuzzy black and white image I was able to discern that it was a news clip of some sort.
"What mysteries are contained in this old house? Well this reporter is brave enough to find out." A cocky old rabbit with slicked back grey hair and a trenchcoat was standing outside of the gates of a manor. It was night out, and lightly raining.
"My brave crew is going into the ol' Greenthorpe mansion, to find out if it really is haunted, and to quell these rumors once and for all, live, at channel Eight news." The camera man followed the host up the garden and through the path leading up to the front door of the manor.
"Huh...puh..why must this hill be so steep?" the camera man muttered. As they made it to the large wooden door, the host drew an axe and hacked his way through the barricade.
"Now we're inside the abandoned mansion, and no signs of life anywhere." the host said. The camera quickly turned and zoomed in on some decaying rat bodies. "Uhh, Mr. Berkly...." he uttered. "What is i...what...the..." the host replied. "They're dead. Dead rats. They...uhh...must be trying to live off of each other! That's it. Now, let's come over here." he beckoned while waving towards a dark corridor.
"This must be the den." he said emerging from the passage into an unlit room. He shined a flashlight across the room. Several beautiful paintings were hung on the walls, deteriorating furniture that had not been used for decades, some unlit candles, and a great brick fireplace.
"The previous owners of this manor, Lawrence and the fair Audry Greenthorpe, were rich people and the original founders of this town." he said while shining his flashlight across the room.
"This must have been where they spent their days in peace." the host continued.
As they came back into the lobby, the host turned to the camera. "Now I'd like to point out our good friends, the local marines."
The camera panned to reveal the armed squad that was following the host. "Now onto the next room." The host pushed open a door into what supposedly looked like a kitchen.
"Here we are at the...oh...my...god" In the room, a dark figure was clutching a rat. It winced at the light.
"CUT THE TRANSMISSION! CUT IT NOW!" The host screamed.
"We're offline." his camera man replied. "Good. Now shoot it." The host bellowed menacingly.
The marines opened fire on the figure, watching it be filled with holes. It immediately went limp.
"Haha, what a little son of guh...hur...uhbuh..." one of the marines started, but was interrupted by his chest being punctured by a steak knife. The camera followed as blood ran out of the guys mouth and eyes, all the while being lowered gently to the ground. It panned up to stare directly into the vampire's face, his eyes blank with no pupils or semblance of life. The camera was knocked over and fell to the ground. The audio was knocked offline, but the horror that followed was easy to determine. For about ten seconds there was nothing but blood running across the hard wood floor and seeping into the cracks, and eventually it was filming nothing until it ran out of video. At least I had assumed that. I ejected the film and began to read the letter that came with it.
Dear Alexander Garand,
It is my displeasure to ruin your business with this information, but in case our messenger, the lovely Mistress Jaffa didn't inform you, you have been re-administered to be a hunter. I apologize about this, but you are one of the most battle hardened veterans our development has under its belt, so it was only a matter of time before you'd have to fight again. Now to business. If you havent watched the tape, do so now. This cassette was footage from a film taken from the internet. The website that was hosting it was only linked to as a homepage by a new user on a message board, going by the name of Xavier. As is the nature of the internet, the footage was quickly spread throughout the internet, and outlived it's bandwidth in 2 hours. The film circulated for at least 48 hours, so countless people have seen it. We're under a full blown investigation, but are coming up empty handed. Be that as it may, this is not your case. You're being assigned to seek out and eliminate this unclassified vampire.
I do hope this won't have any adverse affects on our friendship.
Signed Walter
P.S: The arms department says that have a special order for you laid out somewhere in Prestbury. It was apparently a retirement gift, but during the re-org it was lost.
I sighed. It looks like I wasn't going to be able to worm my way out of this one. Not that I would have. That would be cowardice.
With a yawn, I reached down to pull open one of my desk's drawers. Inside was my old side arm, "Jacob". Completely unusable by a normal person, at 23 pounds and nearly a foot in length. Yes, Jacob had slain many of my adversaries before, and it shall come to my aid again. I loaded up the fresh new case of Silver bullets and cocked the gun out of safety. It was gonna be a bumpy ride from this point on, but it'd give me a chance to get out of the office. I quickly gathered my things, threw on a black coat, my glasses, and headed out the door. With one last look at the hole I had been calling home for that last 2 years I walked down the creaky old staircase and out into the cloak of night.
It was a full moon out, and even a novice Hunter wouldn't make such a mistake of traveling. It was even complete with a thunder storm. I didn't care anymore. I walked down the gloomy, dimly lit streets of Down Town Hopteego towards the nearest bus stop. Most people gave me side ways glances as I passed through small crowds of people. I suppose it's to be expected. It's not everyday you see a Four foot Five rabbit. I took off my glasses and wiped them with the corner of my shirt. As I re adjusted them, I continued to walk through the town. Even Hopteego was showing the signs of war. Beggars as young as ten, people crowding around small fires, all of these things dotted the landscape. It seemed that the only profession that a person could live off of was a Death match player or military. Even such great families like the Earlongs and the Jackrabbits feel the impact of the wars. But with Eva's and Jazz's marriage they promised a golden age, and look where we are now. Carrotus is not in good times.
I finally came to the information desk at the bus stop. I went up to the counter and a rather sad looking orange rabbit was sitting there, reading the news paper. I leaned up against the desk and cleared my voice. He jumped and dropped the paper.
"E Evening Sir. What can I do for you?" He said with a shifty look.
"Hey, can I get a map of Greenthorpe and the wilderness between here and there. Also, bus schedules would be nice." I asked politely.
"Certainly sir." He quaked with timidness as he handed me the papers. "But no buses have run to Greenthorpe in ages. We can take you as far as Prestbury, but then you'll have to hoof it. Here are your maps sir." He continued.
"Thank you." I replied.
I checked the schedule. The next bus was to leave in about ten minutes. While I waited I decided I should clean myself up a bit. I looked into a mirror put up on the bus station and combed my blond hair up and re adjusted my glasses. I tucked my shirt into my dress pants and bent over to tie my shoes. After I felt sufficiently groomed I sat down next to an unconscious homeless rabbit and waited. When the bus finally I arrived, I climbed aboard, and deposited four gold coins. It would be a days ride to Prestbury, so I got comfortable and sleep came quickly.
"Status report!" A voice screamed in my ear. I leaped awake and looked around panicking. I nearly drew my gun out on a loaded bus, but quickly regained my senses. We were still traveling, and it was about two A.M. Outside the thunder storm grew and it was tormenting rain. It had been long since I used my transceiver, and I had nearly forgotten about it.
"All clear, no engaments yet. No targets seen." I mumbled irritated. I readjusted my seat a little, read the maps and committed them to memory, and dozed off.
The train came to a halt at Prestbury. After a long day's travel I thanked the driver and left him another two coins. At least Prestbury was faring better than most other towns of Carrotus, and at least it wasn't raining tonight. I continued to walk through the desolate streets of a war torn city, until I came to the office doors of the Prestbury branch of my organization, Schism. Inside there was an old purple rabbit wearing a hat, furiously working at the computer. I took one step inside and he immediately spoke.
"Hello Mr. Garand. We've got your package right there. And you appear to have forgotten that we enlist psychics."
"Uhh...uh thanks." I stuttered while picking up the parcel.
"A heavy crossbow with 10 bolts. Complete with a wince for pulling the string back. Though I doubt you'll need it much. Good luck." He continued without looking up from his monitor while filing papers with his mind. I opened the package and sure enough, I had a 20 pound cross bow in my lap. I attached the shoulder strap, and looped it around my body. I thanked the receptionist and hurried out the door.
I left the building and walked to the edge of town. A small house lying on the mouth of the wilderness separating Prestbury and Greenthorpe. I walked through the grass and leaped over a rotting wooden fence and into the dark forested area. I instantly felt apprehension. There were dark beings in this forest, I could practically feel them. Ghouls, and werewolves were in control of this wilderness, but it was the shortest route to Greenthorpe. I pulled out Jacob, and walked forward. My feelings were confirmed as I heard the familiar howling of wolves in the distance. Taking caution in every step, I readied my gun and inched my way through the forest. I came to a river and suddenly, I heard a twig snap. Before I knew it, the wolves had me surrounded. Hideous creatures with dog like faces but a humanoid body. Their skin was black and as hard as leather, but their minds were entirely feral.
"Back off. All of you freaks. These bullets are not meant for you." I hissed through my teeth. I aimed my handgun at one of them. It froze, in place and cocked its face at me. With a single pull of the trigger, a loud bang echoed through the forest. The wolfs headless body sprayed black blood like a fountain as it fell limp on the ground. The others crawled up to their dead comrade and sniffed his body. I took the oppurtunity to rush ahead and put as much distance between me and them. I raced through the trees, panting, and hoping that they wouldn't catch up to me. Nobody can outrun a werewolves in full stride.
"Report." a voice over the comscever demanded.
"I'm being. Engaged. By hostile. Werewolves. Trying. To. Escape." I huffed.
"Do you require assistance?" The voice asked.
"Not yet." I gasped. I could hear the pads on their feet bounding across the forest in pursuit. Suddenly, I was flying. With a painful crack I came crashing down to the earth, lying in a pool of mud. I quickly turned over, my body exhausted. I aimed my gun up.
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Chapter 9: Hidden World of Characters
Muckamo was never the center of attention of its galaxy. It had never been a great place to live, considering that it is made up mostly of toxic waste, sludge, radioactivity, and basically every messy, disgusting, and dangerous substance you can think of. If the conditions were found on a well-off planet like Carrotus the area would be sealed off from society. It had always been the worst conditioned planet life could miraculously survive in. Even though it was unsafe creatures of all sorts survived there. The stereotype of a person from Muckamo was bad. On other planets they thought Muckamans were all rough, tough, scruffy, and barely civilized. Although anyone who could live on Muckamo had to be resistant to the poison that made up the planet, if you met a Muckaman on the street they would seem just as civilized and clean as anyone from Carrotus. It was a stereotype that Muckamans would hate if they knew more about it.
You see, there was no reliable way to get to Muckamo from other planets. Muckamo was banned from most space lines by the planetary governments because it was a dangerous place to be if you weren't prepared. It wasn't always that hard to find someone who would take you there privately and illegally. But for most people Muckamo wasn't exactly the ideal vacation spot. Muckamo was good for getting away from the stresses of the constant warfare in the rest of the galaxy. Muckamo was a peaceful wasteland. The inhabitants all lived in a small region of Muckamo where toxicity levels were lower which made it safer. That meant they had a lot of pride in their planet.
Nobody was able to survive living in the muck itself. The Muckamans all lived underground, where the ground protected them from a lot of the dangers of living on Muckamo. The city of Muckamo, uncontroversially named The City of Muckamo (mostly shortened to Muck City), would be considered the most populated city in the galaxy, holding almost over a billion people, but the planet itself was by far the least populated planet with life on it. The city was as high-tech as any other city. Muckamans stayed informed of what was happening around the galaxy with the Internet, which had overtaken TV, radio, and paper in Muckamo because it could instantly connect them to the entire galaxy.
Food was completely different in Muckamo. It was an extremely lucky accident that discovered the one and only source of food and water in Muckamo. Somehow there was a perfect source of everything life needed in the core of Muckamo. Nobody knew where it came from, how it got there, or how it never ended. They just knew it was there and it was keeping them alive. They definitely didn't care about its origins. Plenty of people did a lot of research, a lot of thinking and a lot of guessing about it, but nobody could figure out anything about it. But ignorance tasted pretty good. The substance they called rood could be whatever you needed it to be. It took commands from your voice. It was what you told it to be. They could get traditional food from other planets, but what they had was even better. They refused to export it to other planets because it was a Muckamo tradition and they didn't want other planets to enjoy it. Recently, there had been controversy about this, and it was probable that in the future they would stray away from their traditions and let the galaxy enjoy their products. The food grew everywhere underground so nobody ever had a problem with food. It provided air with a quality similar to that of Diamondius. Most living organisms produced gas as a waste product, but they were always either oxygen or carbon dioxide. It produced everything normally found in the air. It didn't produce light, but it produced electricity. It was basically the perfect provider. They had no sunlight but the electric lights they had given Muck City the nickname of "The City that Never Sleeps" because it was always light.
Diallo Kalu had never left Muckamo. He was young, 19, out of high school, and not planning on college. He shared an apartment with his best friend, Jabari McNabb. They were the same age and had grown up together. They were the type that were smart, but didn't put a lot of effort into school putting them at above-average in school. They were mostly concerned with having any type of fun they could get. Neither of them really knew what their future would be like or were prepared for it. Diallo didn't care. Jabari was different because he at least had a goal and knew what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to save lives. He was pretty sure he wanted to be a doctor, but he couldn't be sure. He knew he would have to further his education for that, but he was saving that experience for after he had had his fun. Diallo was walking home from his job at the 7-11 in his neighborhood when he got a call on his cell phone. He picked it up.
"Hel-"
"You might want to sit down for this."
"What? Who is this?"
"I'm the President of Muckamo."
"You're the President? Henry Flite?"
"Yes," answered President Flite. Diallo almost sat down on a bench, but his blue fur would have been painted grey. He felt the wetness and turned around to read the words "WET PAINT." He spun to a dry bench right next to the wet one.
"Why are you calling me? I mean, why am I important to you? Um, I mean, wow. Hi."
"You are Diallo Kalu, correct?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"Muckamo is going to war."
"What?"
"Muckamo is going to war," repeated the President tiredly.
"Muckamo is going to War?"
"Yes," the President sighed.
"Really?"
"Yes, really," he said impatiently.
"How does that concern me?"
"You'll be fighting it."
"No. Definitely not," was Diallo's refusal. Diallo couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I'm the President. Yes, you are."
"Whatever. Who are we warring?" Diallo asked. You could hear sarcasm in his voice.
"Ourselves."
"WHAT?" Diallo snapped.
"You could be put in prison for talking like that to me."
"No. This isn't real."
"You're right. I'm just playing with you. The voice had changed.
What the heck?
"Are you interested in purchasing-"
"This is stupid. I hate when people waste my time." Diallo was confused and angry. He hung up on the telemarketer. He started walking in a bad mood back home. He passed a new building being built. They had done a little of the framework. It looked exactly the same to him as it had the last day. It didn't look very different from it did last month, either. It apparently had caught someone else's eye, too, because he bumped into a rabbit who looked like a bodybuilder, with a six-pack covered by thick light green fur. He looked like a ticked-off monster.
"Watch where you're going, kid." The bodybuilder laughed, and pushed Diallo.
"Look. I'm having a bad day. I don't know who you think you are pushing me around, but you had better step off," Diallo threatened.
The bodybuilder laughed again. "I'm Carl Jackson," he shoved him harder this time, "and I'll do whatever I want, even if it involves beating you down." He clenched his paw into a huge fist and punched him in the jaw. It hurt like heck. He tasted a bit of blood. He swirled the blood around his mouth a bit. Then he spat the blood into his face. He then realized that one of his molars had been knocked out. He accidentally swallowed it. Diallo was already furious, but now he was even more enraged, after swallowing his own tooth. How did he know how his stomach would take it? What if the tooth cut his throat? He slammed his foot into his thigh. He was aiming for his stomach, but Diallo didn't care. It didn't really seem to bother his opponent.
Diallo's adversary grabbed him. He twisted Diallo's arms around and lifted him off his feet. He freed his right arm and held Diallo with his left arm only. He started pounding his chest and most of his body. Diallo decided he wasn't going to win a fair fight. This wasn't a fair fight. This rabbit could probably bench press five sumo wrestlers. He felt like he was in a junkyard and was being squished between three cars, falling down and endless pit, and bouncing like a super bouncy ball addicted to sugar. He would expect to die if the pain died down enough for him to think. He made a life-altering decision.
He reached into his pocket. That hurt pretty badly because he started being squeezed even harder. He stretched his wrists out and could barely reach what he was hiding. He had a grip on the object when he felt a grip on his own hand. His pinkie and ring fingers were now broken. He couldn't pull his hand out of his pocket. Diallo decided to take the risk of using it in his own pocket.
A bunch of birds flew away screaming. Diallo wanted to follow, but he could barely walk away. He went as fast he could while hobbling. He needed to get away from the scene. Carl Jackson wasn't going to catch him with a bullet fresh in his body.
He decided to get medical help after stumbling for a block and falling on his face. He groaned and rolled over. He wanted to hold the part of him that hurt, but his arms wouldn't reach around his entire body. The problem was that if he called an ambulance he would have a mess involving shooting someone in the leg. He didn't want to get into that kind of trouble. He was going to call Jabari to ask for advice, but he didn't have a lot of minutes on his cell phone after the telemarketer called. He wished he had Caller ID so he could sue. Wasn't it illegal to pretend you're the President? If it wasn't, it should.
He noticed another blood stain on his fur. He realized he had been distracted. "Pain can do that to you," he thought. He started to wonder about the evolutionary strengths of being distracted while you're in pain. If you're distracted from your pain...
"Come on!" he told himself. He screamed as loud as he could. It hurt his entire body, but he felt good. He screamed again. He started crying. He had killed someone. He was really screwed up right now. There was nothing he could do.
He tried not to think that way. "Screw it. I could die right now. If I go to court at least I'll be safe. Unless I get executed. But that won't happen." He dialled 9-1-1.
"Hello? Hello?"
"Ughhh."
"Are you alright?"
"No. I want an ambulance. No police."
"Where are you, sir?"
"I don't know..." Diallo rolled around. He got a view of the street sign. "I'm lying on the sidewalk of 1024th Street."
"Ambulances have been dispatched, sir. Expect help in under two minutes. Please stay on the line."
"Thanks... ugh..."
"Do you hear the ambulances, sir?"
"No... now I do."
"Good."
"They got me."
"The ambulance has reached you?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!" It hurt to talk louder. He thought he might have broken one of his ribs.
"You may now hang up."
"Bye." Diallo was nervous.
"Bye-bye."
Diallo hung up. He closed his eyes. He wasn't feeling better.
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Chapter 10
It was time for a new era of her life to begin, she could tell. The waters in front of her showed no changes in her reflection other than the wounds time was slowly carving into her, but she could feel it lurking somewhere between her shoulder blades. A lazy finger was pulled through the water enough to distort the transparent reflection, and then an angry fist shattered it.
Of course things would change one a final peace and solace was found. The cycles of life would not stop for a mere mortal no matter how much pleading was done. Good would be overcome by evilness, but the darkness would too pass like the darkness of the night. They had taught her of balance well.
For it was at a school of balance that she was staying, if it could be called a school. The word monastery fit it better, or at least the practice of stoicism made it feel like a place of monks. Life was lived to the fullest through the simplest of things deep within the ancient hallways buried deep within Chrystalis. How ironic that a people of humility and modesty chose the most shimmering of planets as their home.
It was a fitting place to live, and if fate would let it, she would have happily called it a fitting place to die. But amongst her brothers and sisters (as they called all of the participants) there were whispers and divinations of a change in the life of them all, and that soon enough more than half would be gone. Not that she really believed the divinations, it was a hazy practice started by rabbits who enjoyed staring into the swirling waters of the river instead of staring at runes of virtue. Few accepted them as true, and they most often were incorrect.
But even the unreliability of the waters could not calm the gut feeling she had. So she rose from the glittering shore and started down the smooth hallway, occasionally lit by faint murmurs of candles that cast gold explosions through the crystal. Past the rooms of pale sunless plants, past the greenhouse filled with pale sprouts that would soon wither if not harvested soon, the path took her.
How long had she been down here? Long enough to shackle the emotions that once ravaged her long ago. Now she even had control over her subconscious and didnt even dream. Or so it had been up till a week ago, then strange dreams started plaguing her mind. One of the brothers had suggested she spend some time at the waters to see if they could lend any help, so all her time had been spent roaming the banks of the rivers. But this had only further cemented her disbelief in the aquatic divination. It was a diversion though, and a pretty one at that.
All of her siblings of the order had already gone into the bed rooms, simple rooms of golden crystal pocked by rectangles carved into it, each box big enough to hold just one rabbit of average size. It was a coffin-like bedroom for a corpse-like person. Indeed, that was what they all were. Void of feelings and expressions, each with a blank look upon their sleeping faces.
They had been so kind to take her in all those ages ago. Every night when she would wake up writhing and clawing at her own skin one of her siblings would be there for her. They would read the runes to her, and she would drift off peacefully into the numbness of sleep. Once the dreams stopped coming to her, they moved her to the chamber with her other siblings.
At first it was difficult to adjust to the lightless halls and nearly-mirror like crystals. But over time her eyes grew to be permanently dilated and capable of seeing through the haze of reflections and shadows. The sprouts they grew and the water they drank had nearly magical properties, encouraging the bodys natural adaptation to lightlessness.
So into her box she slid, on her back with the ceiling barely skimming her nose. The founding siblings said that peace of mind could be found when the body was at peace, so the sleep chambers were made as small as possible to restrict movement. She used to wake up with bruises on her forehead and knees every morning, but over time the calm of the school smothered the desires to lash out in her sleep.
There was to be no trust in emotions, they said. Emotions could be the cause of childhood trauma, hormonal fluxes, or even possible head injuries. They caused people to war, rabbits to rage, and the problems of the world. It was encouraged that they tell themselves this every night before sleep; supposedly it influenced the subconscious to slumber. But it seemed to make the whole brain sleep; it was as if thoughts were a sin of the utmost evil. Before coming, she had never though herself to be capable of actually thinking nothing for long periods of time, but now it was all she could do. Time didnt exist; there was no hurry, no change in life aside from the waters. And even the swirls of minerals in the water seemed to be curling and fading in the same patterns.
The sudden thought of those hypnotic waves seemed to overload her brain and sleep suddenly stole her clarity of thoughts away. It had been so long since she had actually been able to control her thoughts, it was a shame.
Sleeps hold on her was weaker this night it seemed. Ever since the dreams had started, her sleep had been weaker. She was afraid to go to her siblings with her problem though, out of fear of being told of her emotional weakness. That fear had been installed in her subconsciously, and she knew it plagued all her siblings as well. They were supposed to be in control of themselves.
So when she suddenly jolted out of a nightmare and her skull made a dull thud against the ceiling, she didnt cry out. She had been dreaming about the waters. They had pulled her in and brought her to a place where there was wind, oh how she had loved the wind. Dancing in the wind were the same shimmering crystal swirls as there were in the water. The crystals seemed to slink together in lines, and it seemed like she was in a mass of shimmering snakes. It was so beautiful, even for someone in the heart of Chrysalis. For the first time since her early weeks there, she cried.
It was if finally all the cosmic dice had rolled her a reason to burst out with emotions. How long had she been there without an emotion on her face? How long had it been since she had smiled? Surely there was nobility in the suppression of everything pleasurable, but what was wrong with smiling just this once?
So she tried. In this barely-awake stage, she dove into her memories. Something happy was needed. But everything seemed to just be flashes, just flickers that died too fast. There were some people laughing. A little bunny with her short hair pulled up into little spiky pigtails. Was that her? The coloring seemed right. But that couldnt be her, she didnt remember it.
And then her body convulsed with sobbing. She threw herself out of her box and hit the floor, hitting her left arm against the ceiling with a pain that tore up into her shoulder. Her haggard, lung-searing breaths she tried to still while wide-eyed she tore her eyes across the room looking for anyone awake, but they were all asleep.
She needed to go someplace where no one would see her. She pulled her robes closer, in hopes of keeping the sound of the fabric to a minimal. She skittered into the hall, the slight click of her nails ringing in her ears and tearing at her nerves. Down the hall, maybe into the room filled with the plants? No, that was too close, they might hear her. The water called to her.
Although the stoic in her told her to go back to bed and to spend more ages in a conscious coma, the child she had awakened chose to ignore the mist in her mind. She could always justify it by claiming she had to divan something. So it was to the waters she went, and she didnt just go to the pretty golden bowls set by the river that were used to divan. She pulled off her robes, crumpled them up and put them behind the bowl. Even though they all slept at the same time, she was afraid of being caught.
How long did she stand up by the water? She knew she had to go in, or perhaps shed never have this day again. Perhaps time was pulling at her again. So she threw judgment to the wind and did not just step in, but she threw herself in.
The sudden ability to breath was stolen away and she floundered in the purple stream. She was able to gasp for air just before the seemingly peaceful waters undertow caught her and pulled her under and away from the shore. Her eyes were opened in the water, and she felt strangely calm aside from the burning in her lungs. The minerals in the water were swirling around almost just like her dream. Except now the minerals didnt look so beautiful, in fact they looked quite powdery. She reached out a paw into one of the strands of powder, and all of the clumps clung to her fur and
was it burning? Was not her fur withering and the skin beneath it blistering and turning white?
This perplexed her greatly, and as she was wondering why the previously glittery waters were now wild and silt-filled, the waters brought her up. But they brought her up to a roof of sorts with no air. Her paws grasped at it in hopes of finding air, but she was only driven against it more, her head knocking against it. But the force of the water kept pulling her to the right, and the roof ended. She gasped for breath in a room she had never seen before.
About three of her siblings were in an unpolished room, the floor dusted with a slightly greenish powder. More of the powder was in ugly molding barrels around the room. They had been pouring the barrels into the water, but stopped when she appeared.
She raised her hand up to show the leprous hand with fear in her eyes, but no help was offered. Brothers, what is this? she cried, with too much emotion. She pulled herself towards the shore, but once her good paw touched the shore encrusted with the powder, it started burning even more than before. The skin wasnt just blistering and turning white; it was bubbling and melting into a bloody valley. She had to let go, it hurt too much. Into the water she went again, the coolness offering some comfort but the now-paste still etching into her.
Arms wearing special gloves pulled her up. Her feet were dragged a bit against the powder, setting the nerves aflame and she screamed. They kept dragging her, into a room where there was no powder, just large vials of an amber-hued liquid. One of her siblings grabbed one of the vials from off the wall and proceeded to envelope her with the surprisingly thick liquid that smelled of vinegar. The bubbling stopped and the pain faded to a dull ache.
The brothers started arguing. She couldnt hear too much through her water (and goo) filled ears, but she heard something about cant let this out and end this, which are never good things to hear. Her eyes darted around the room, and rested upon one of the labels. Beneath the mold and dank mildew that streaked the tattered paper label it said Jade Dawn She had a feeling that she should know what this was.
OH! It had come back to her. Something about a war. Her sister had been a scientist, and they were studying a new form of chemical warfare. Jade Dawn was the code name for a poison powder that could be put into enemy camps water systems and placate them without any permanent damage. However, the shelf life was very low, and it was found that within two months of production the powder would lose its simple knockout affect and cause brain damage to anyone exposed to it. When mixed with water, the effects were doubled. It was quickly banned from all war zones and production was stopped in favor of making some other kind of poison. Something pink, she had forgotten what it was.
They were poisoning them? Suddenly it made sense how life had been a blur, how they could all sleep without dreams. Also, it explained why no one left. A sudden wave of betrayal swept over her. They werent really trying to help her, they were trying to turn her and every other rabbit there into a robot.
They pulled her up and threw some robes about her, then marched her out of the room on bleeding paws, her fur dripping amber fluid as she went. They went through another room filled with barrels, and into a corridor of doors. For a moment they let go of her, each to fish into his pocket, most likely for a key.
Fate smiled on her. She jerked backwards and ran with the fear of an animal. Back through the room of amber. Back through the room of powder. Into the water she dove, trying to fight against the current. But it was stronger than her, and just pulled her through more tunnels. Her mind reeled from this information, she had to get out, she had to get everyone out.
Wait. The river pulled her into a familiar room, the room where this had all started. The waters ebbed, and she was able to heave her waterlogged self onto the smooth ground. She wanted to lie there, but she knew she had to tell the others. So she pulled herself up and set towards the door, her diaphragm aching, eyes watering, and breaths coming out shallow and rapid. The wet robes dragged, her feet bled, and she wanted to just give up. But she had to go on. No longer was this a haven to flee to, but an enemy to hide from. Into the room where they all slept. She started grabbing robes and pulling the sleeping people to the floor.
Beloved siblings, I have discovered a grave secret. Our brothers have been lying to us; the crystals we divan from are not a gift from the divine but Jade Dawn, a poison that dulls our senses and weakens our brains. Before I came here and started consuming this venomous water, I knew what this did. Siblings, I am not lying! Please, hear me out. She pleaded, but they just stared back emotionlessly. Sister, you need to sleep. You are getting emotional. Your dreams give you false emotions. One of her sisters said, crawling back into her bedbox. The others wordlessly agreed and also went to bed.
She screamed. All logic left her, and she stood alone on the floor, with blood streaming from her wounds and the sensitive flesh of her ears. Nothing could be gained from it, but too much was happening. Too many emotions were flooding. Images were coming back. It was as if now she knew what the poison was; now she could fight it.
She ran. She had to get out. Maybe if she saw the outside world, she could help them. But how did she leave? She had to get down here somehow. But that was so long ago, so many ages ago that she had been trying to forget. It was in her mind somewhere, and in these halls somewhere. Shed start by going to the bedchamber of the new recruits.
So she thudded along the hallways, occasionally skidding due to the water left by her robes. The room was hard to find, she walked by it twice. Once inside, she found that there were no new recruits. Odd, she could have sworn that there were more
But then the siblings from the room with the barrels stepped out at her. They were wearing protective suits, and holding little grenade-like white balls with a five-pointed green flower on it, the symbol of Jade Dawn.
She knew it was coming but her reflexes were too numb to do anything other than blindly try to charge past them. One of the grenades exploded, white powder filling the room. She closed her eyes and raised her arms expecting sudden pain, but none hit her. She thanked whoever was watching over her, and kept running, hearing them shouting behind her but not stopping to listen. She wasnt that stupid.
There was an odd room in front of her. It was very small, only big enough to hold about six rabbits, with an odd lever of sorts. It struck her as familiar, but it took her a while to realize that it was an elevator. Sudden strength was given to her as she dove into it and pulled the lever. The chains pulling it screeched and made her already bleeding ears ring. She couldnt handle it, she fell to her knees and put her aching hands to her aching ears.
It was almost slow motion as she painfully raised her eyes to see them bearing down the hall upon her, but the lift was almost half up. It was gaining momentum, thankfully, and she would soon be hidden from them by the ceiling. But fate would not be so kind to her as to let her escape, one of them threw a Jade bomb into the elevator with her just before the ceiling closed her off.
She panicked. The room was now completely closed off. She tried to force it down the space between the lift and the wall but it wouldnt fit. Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled it into her hands to try to disarm it but it was a solid piece of work that would not open to her. Fearful eyes tore over the elevator looking for a place to hide, but nowhere was there any escape. Maybe she could get off the elevator before it exploded? It was going very fast
A sudden cloud of white blocked her vision with a click as the bomb went off. Her fingers were singed from the explosion, and otherwise she felt fine, for a moment. But the protective endorphins wore off all to soon, and her previously fine feeling eyes felt like someone was putting burning needles deep into them.
Animal like screams escaped her lips as she fell over and tore at her eyes, trying to either stop the pain or remove them altogether. She felt the elevator stop moving, and she rolled out of the elevator, onto her back.
Through the static-like stars filling her eyes, she saw something she hadnt seen in years. The stars. The sky was a deep royal blue filled with diamonds so fantastic. She hadnt seen them in so many years. Tears started mixing with the blood and the poison in her eyes and she felt sobs rising in her soul. She extended her arms to feel the ground, a rocky composition of crystals and sand, but something she hadnt felt in years. She closed her eyes for a moment to breath in the dry air when she felt the wind. The glorious wind, pulling at her fur and caressing her lips.
It was so beautiful. It was so alive. It suddenly made everything she had gone through worth it. She was alive, she was a part of this beauty now.
She tried to open her eyes, to see her beautiful sky one more time.. It didnt work, so she raised her fingers to rub them but stopped and recoiled with a cry when she felt the open sores on her eyes. Her lids were not down. She had opened them. She couldnt see.
And on that deserted stretch of land, beside a broken down elevator, she curled up and wept like a child, her soft cries carried off in the beloved wind.
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Chapter 11: A Surprise Visit
"Pardon me, but I think your ship is on fire."
A slender, golden-furred rabbit paused in her exchange amongst friends and turned to address the interruption. With a wry smirk she replied, "Is this how you usually start conversations?" The black rabbit before her disguised a smile as his indigo eyes glistened for a moment. And for a moment hers paused to study his face. Was that recognition?
"Your ship - out in the parking garage. License TOL42?", he responded, taking a moment to glance and admire her friends. He sensed they'd had a little more than a few drinks this evening. The girl's stare turned from buzz-induced amusement into slightly more sober concern. Perfect.
With one of her eyebrows raised she quietly replied, "That's mine. It's.. on fire?", as if he hadn't just said it was. The black rabbit nodded in a melodramatically rueful way. The girl looked despairingly at the ceiling and swore. "My father will be so angry!" The black rabbit hid a grin, grabbed her hand, and began to drag her through the small circles of people out of the door into the breezy night air.
"We were coming in when we discovered the problem. You must have left your lights on and caused an electrical fire, but there are already some out there putting it out." The girl didn't say anything back. She looked dazed and was walking rather clumsily. Peering back, the black rabbit spotted her friends back in the same place. He imagined they shrugged and ordered another round of drinks. Some friends. He was doing her a favour, really. Yes.
Half way to the parking garage he stopped walking and tried to catch his breath. "What are doing?" demanded the girl, "Why have we stopped?" She wasn't quite sober enough to realize standing here while her ship was allegedly on fire was not a good choice for priorities.
After a short moment the interrupter looked up at the girl and grinned playfully. "It's been quite a number of years, Naomi, but I never envisioned you ever letting me hold your hand again." Sobriety suddenly flooded in and Naomi came to her senses.
"Icarus? Icarus, you fool!" she cried out and pushed him back. "What are you doing here? My father told you never to come near me again!" She seemed perplexed and apprehensive, but underneath Icarus sensed something of the old days, when they had often snuck out of their houses to sit with each other under the stars, before Icarus was falsely accused of killing his own family. Despite the charges proving false, Naomi's father never trusted Icarus again.
"Oh, there it is again! You see, my lovely Naomi, it is always about your father, isn't it? Your father's ship being ruined, your father believing murderous conspiracies, your father doing whatever. It's how you have always been. When will you grow out of that and come with me?" By now Icarus had moved in a little closer and was staring at her pleadingly. She loosened up from the shock. He hadn't tracked down this girl only for her to reject him.
Naomi sighed and looked towards the sky. "You don't understand," she said, "it -is- all about my father when it comes to you. He doesn't trust you, Icarus. And frankly I don't even know who you are anymore. I thought when you left for Diamondus all those years ago that I'd never see you again. I've been so worried with the news from there, though. What have you been doing?"
"I've been helping in the relief effort, unofficially. I help find people who want to escape on a private flight, then me and a buddy of mine transfer them to where they want to go for quite a substantial fee. I've gotten quite rich. Our latest drop-off was to Carrotus, and I had to come see you again. I had to see if you would go with me."
Naomi bit her lip. "Go with you? Where? You know I can't just suddenly run off, especially with you..."
"And why is that, Naomi? Oh, that's right! Because of your father. There it is again. You are responsible for yourself now, so come with me! We need to take one trip back to Diamondus to find anyone else who wants to leave, and then I am going to find a small town in Carrotus where I can settle down again and find real work. I don't even need to make a living with all of the money I've earned, Naomi, I just want a normal life." Icarus reached down and found her hand again. "Please, come with me."
Naomi was lost in a sea of doubt and confusion. This had all come upon her so suddenly, but she did have a desire to run off. The chain of her father had gotten too bothersome to ignore long ago, she wanted to break free. Moreover, she knew this is exactly the way he had wanted her to feel. He knew she would give in to him, and she knew this was her time to go. After a moment she sighed again and said, "Alright, I'll go."
"Great, because I didn't have a ship.."
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Chapter 12: The First Survivor
The flames burned, so bright, so deadly. They consumed his home, his family, and his innermost being.
Jesse Aimon watched the blaze dispassionately, not wondering if anyone but him had escaped. He knew they hadn't. He was the mistake. He should not have lived.
"Jesse? Oh, Jesse," the usually amiable Miss Savon cried out, rushing towards him across the flame-lit lawn. She had been their neighbor for three years. She was also a spy.
Jesse said nothing, and her false joy at his escape faltered. He privately admitted that she was a very good actress; her feigned horror was very realistic.
"However did you escape," she said with a trace of disapproval, ostensibly directed at the firestorm that had been Jesse's life. The quiet 17-year old gave her a hollow look, and she fell silent for a moment.
It had most likely been her who had lit the fire.
Now she shook her head. "I always told your father that his contrary ideas would get him into trouble," she said. "And now look. Come, Jesse, you can stay with me."
And be murdered in his bed. Jesse's previously directionless anger crystallized. He shook his head firmly and pulled away violently when Miss Savon tried to take his arm. He remained where he was despite her coercions.
She left eventually, but Jesse stood and watched until the fire burned itself out and all that was left was a charred husk, devoid of all life, scattered around with glowing embers.
When dawn came the tall, lanky, white furred teenager turned his back on the destruction and walked away wordlessly. The neighbors watched him go, but no one tried to persuade him otherwise. None of them wanted to end up like the Aimons, which they knew they would if they interfered. As long as they stayed uninvolved, they reasoned, the war could not possibly touch their small town. They would remain unaffected.
None of them wanted to admit that the war had already reached them. The Aimons were only the first casualties, and Jesse the first survivor.
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Chapter 13
ShaH-li Felenzo Orbonzen threw open the double doors to the saloon impressively. Each door swung wildly out from the entrance, turning upon their hinges and smashing into their respective walls. The doors quickly rebounded, removing the unwelcome source of light by once more blocking the doorway, but by that time ShaH-li was already inside and surveying her surroundings.
The room, with the doors closed, was very dark; lit only by sputtering candles placed randomly on this or that table, and a hole in the ceiling which, around noon, served as a spotlight for the stage beneath. The stage was currently empty - its daily employees either resting, fired or dead - lending no musical backdrop to the animal mutterings escaping from dim conversation between the remaining patrons. A mouse skittered past, and ShaH-li this time resisted the ancient instinct to pounce upon it, rending the fragile creature from limb to limb and proudly carrying its bloody remains back to... where?
ShaH-li had no home to bring dead mice back to. Her earliest memory was of being found in the back alleys behind a sushi restaurant by a gang of armadillos, none of which saw anything better to do with their time than beat up a poor defenseless little kitty. ShaH-li had cowered at their dark, imposing faces, scuttling backwards down the alley until she crashed into a trash can and knew she was trapped. The eyes of the armadillos burned wickedly as their leader bent down to grab her by the neck.
Something awoke in ShaH-li just then - a long forgotten feeling, previously dwarfed by generations of civilization and evolution, but now brought back to the top by the sheer urgency of the situation. Snarling, ShaH-li lashed out with one paw, her un-kept claws leaving deep gashes in the armadillo's arm. It jumped backwards in pain, cursing, colliding with two others of its gang as it did so.
"You shouldn't have done that, kitty-kitty," said one of the armadillos, hefting a crowbar and bouncing it carelessly in one of his hands. "We don't take kindly to resistance, you see."
ShaH-li saw, but ShaH-li didn't care. When the gang began approaching, previously concealed weapons on display, ShaH-li exploded into a flying ball of tooth, fur, and claw, lashing at their legs, jumping onto their shoulders, viciously biting their hands, causing them to drop their weapons in agony. The slow, lumbering creatures had no idea what to do against an animal that fought back, and as such posed little threat to the hissing, spitting flying projectile of war which kept them on their toes and covered in bleeding gashes. When at last ShaH-li leaped backwards onto the trash can which had previously seemed to trap her, tail bristling, all four paws holding confidently onto its metal sides, the armadillos were all either unconscious or fled, caring little for their fallen comrades when compared to the value of their own pathetic lives.
Purring, ShaH-li began to lick herself, smoothing down her rigid fur and bristling tail, slowly returning to rational thought as she did so. The Kittie-Katts had been civilized for decades before ShaH-li had even been born, and here she was, in the aftermath of a purely primal display of ancient emotions and battle tactics. A name flicked through her mind at that moment - Anzlay - but ShaH-li had no idea of who it was or what it might have meant.
It was in this contented, blood spattered state that the police found her, investigating the screams they had heard a moment earlier. ShaH-li wanted to protest, but the battle fires had died down within her, and she was forced to sit there as they snapped handcuffs on her and led her to the station.
The chief there did not know what to do with her, that much was plain. They had been looking, apparently, for that gang of armadillos for months, but there was no room in the already dangerous city for a feline vigilante, especially one who could not keep her own wits about her in a battle. At the same time, the armadillos were all wanted criminals, and ShaH-li had not actually broken any law. (Besides, the Kittie-Katt's sensitive nose detected fear in the body of the police chief, as if thinking she would not take kindly to being put in jail.)
To make matters worse, ShaH-li had no memories of friends or family, so she could not simply be sent back to those who already knew her. The resident psychoanalyst had been unable to find anything in the mind of the Kittie-Katt, and had been forced to give her back to the police chief without any results at all.
Eventually, they decided that if they could not handle the problem, they would just let someone else handle it. ShaH-li was placed on the first flight to Oakloma, Carrotus, where her situation would not exactly be improved, but at least the police would not have to deal with her anymore.
ShaH-li's first thought in Oakloma was to bring this primal talent to use and get a job as a fighter. Unfortunately, Oakloma was more civilized than the city she had come from, and offered no such employment besides boxers and wrestlers, neither of which were expected to launch at their opponent, latch onto an arm or leg, and cut the offending body part into pieces. She had no other special skills, so mid-afternoon found her sitting dejectedly on the sidewalk, with a small cardboard box before her that she had found in a trash can.
"Fresh Fish", read the letters on the box, mocking her. She could turn it around to face the other way, so she would not have to see the scathing advertisement, but what good would that do? Passersby would not have fresh fish randomly flopping around in their pockets to give to her, and even if they did, fresh fish would hardly get her a warm place to stay for the night. The box remained as it was.
ShaH-li had sat there for an hour, staring mournfully at the animals who walked or flew past, ignoring her completely, before one of them stopped and greeted her with a slightly urgent sounding "Hey".
She looked up from her contemplation of the empty box to observe this new arrival. He was a tall brown weasel, looking mid-twenties, a black jacket hanging loosely from his shoulders. He wore long, leather pants, covered in strange patches and symbols which ShaH-li had no way of recognizing. Despite his youthful face, the weasel could not have lived an inactive life, as his face bore both a scar and an eye-patch, indicating recent physical combat. Something inside ShaH-li growled silently as his one blue eye met her own two, golden and curious.
"Who are you?" she asked, glancing meaningfully down at the box in front of her. It was a hint he ignored, making no move to produce money of any kind.
"Not now," he responded, sending a quick, furtive look behind his shoulder. "Look, I read the ship's records. You're a fighter, right? Some sort of pre-civilized wildcat?"
"I guess so," said ShaH-li, mulling the word over in her mind. Wildcat. That sounded nice enough.
"Meet me at the Hog's Belly saloon in an hour and a half. I've got a proposition for you."
"What's in it for me?" she asked, one more glancing meaningfully at the box. This time he noticed, as he produced a large golden coin from a pocket and dropped it into the old container of fresh fish. "There's more where that came from," he said, turning to leave. "Hog's Belly. Hour and a half."
Now it was an hour and a half later, and she was in the Hog's Belly saloon, staring almost mournfully after the mouse, which had disappeared down into its hole. Jerking awake once more, she looked across the tables of the saloon in search of the tall brown weasel which had brought her to this place. Nocturnal vision sprang into use almost automatically, and ShaH-li quickly spotted him at a table far off, in a dark corner of the room. The Kittie-Katt gracefully moved forwards, flowing in and out between tables until she reached the one occupied by the weasel, sitting down in the chair opposite. He did not seem surprised to see her there.
"You look different," he said, and she smiled. Her first step had been to get food, of course, but after learning how much the single coin was worth, and seeing herself in a mirror, ShaH-li decided she needed a makeover. Her claws were polished, her fur expertly smoothed down, her whiskers sharpened, and she had traded in her old threadbare shirt and pants for an un-constricting leotard, with small pockets fastened to each arm. ShaH-li had been surprised by how much her inner thoughts had rebelled at putting on even the leotard, arguing strongly that cats should not wear clothes, but civilized thinking won out in the end, and she became acceptably dressed. Now, of course, she was broke again, and was determined to remain on the good side of the weasel, as he was the one with the money.
"Thank you."
"Forget it; it was a statement. Do you need a drink, or can we get down to business?"
"I'm good."
"All right. My name," he said, leaning in closer after quickly checking for listeners, "is Andrew Ricarden. Does that mean anything to you?"
ShaH-li shook her head, and Andrew continued. "The Ricardens are an old, rich family, originating even before the Earlongs. My ancestors were some of the most powerful creatures on the planet, Ms... do you have a name?"
"ShaH-li. ShaH-li Felenzo Orbonzen."
"Great. My ancestors were some of the most powerful creatures on the planet, Ms. Orbonzen. My grandfather founded the Five Mile Diamondus Mine, if you've heard of that. My father, on a visit, allegedly started the Diamondus Revolution. Now here I am, on the top of the greatest discovery of the century."
Despite herself, ShaH-li was interested. "The greatest...?"
"Drink this," said Andrew, handing her a glass half full of purple liquid. Surprised, ShaH-li accepted the glass and sipped, not knowing what to expect.
From the few small drops which had passed into her mouth, ShaH-li instantly felt a delightful, warming sensation begin to spread itself through her body, the feelings of pleasure created only matched by the strength it made her feel. ShaH-li arched her back and purred, managing to set the glass back on the table instead of dropping it. The experience wore off quickly, and ShaH-li's golden eyes went side as she reached for the glass once more, only to have it be pulled firmly away by Andrew.
"Greatest enough for you?" he asked, once she had calmed down enough to listen to him.
"Incredible..." she breathed, licking her lips in search of any remaining droplet of the purple liquid. "What was that?"
"Fuel," responded Andrew, again looking around nervously. "Pure, unadulterated, 100% Dreempipes fuel. In addition to tasting wonderful, it runs machines, and increases the size and strength of exposed animals to incredible levels. Have you ever heard of the planet Jungrock?"
She shook her head, but the weasel continued anyway. "A while ago, a quantity of Dreempipes fuel was pumped into the planet surface. In the space of a few years, the inhabitants of the planet grew to at least three times their original size, strength and speed. Nobody has ever capitalized on this miracle drink, and while looking through old records, I have recently discovered that the Ricarden family - including me - owns the entire planet of Dreempipes, including the almost limitless fuel reserves."
ShaH-li's ears perked up instantly. "Where do I come into this?"
"Ms. Orbonzen, in the dangerous galaxy we live in today, a man such as myself ends up having many enemies. Until such time as I can be positive of my safety, and the Dreempipes fuel is established on the open market, I will need a bodyguard. Do you understand?"
A strange motherly instinct rose up inside of the intent Kittie-Katt, and she resisted the urge to wash Andrew protectively behind the ears. Instead, she grasped his outstretched paw in her own, making sure not to extend her claws, saying, "Of course. And... call me ShaH-li."
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