Heroes and Villains

Thanks to the creative gingerly-writing on Tumblr, I’ve recently acquired a set of characters and the bare bones of a story based in a world populated by super-powered metahumans, heroes, villains, and all shades of morality in between.  Our two main characters are Declan Mortell, an arguably psychopathic businessman/supervillain who uses his powers and schemes to further his company, and Aurelia Frisk, a mid-ranked superhero who finds herself the focus of Mortell’s attention.

The following pieces of fiction are based on the aforementioned gingerly-writing’s prompts (shown here in blockquotes), and are not necessarily indicative of the final state of the characters or their world, but should give you an idea of where my head was at when I started developing this story.

Prompt #1058

“It’s so fascinating, isn’t it? The inner workings of the human body.”

The hero took one look at the intestines splayed across every surface in the room, turned green, and ran for the door.

“Oh come on,” the villain called after them. “You asked me if I had the guts to face you. Well, here they are!”

The hero stood outside the room, doubled over, hands on her knees, breathing hard. “Get out here! I have questions!”

“I think I’ll stay in here, thanks.” The villain idly kicked at one of the assorted intestines, watching it splay across the floor. “I’m liking this new queasy look on you, and I get the feeling you’ll start hitting me if I come out there.”

“Bet your ass I’d start hitting you…” she grumbled under her breath, pushing herself upright and turning towards the room, holding up one hand to block her vision. “Where the hell did you even get this much guts?”

“Funny story, actually. You ever wonder what happens to the dysfunctional organs of people who get transplants?”

“Oh god, you didn’t-” The hero doubled over again, covering her mouth and gagging.

“Please, they weren’t being used for anything important. I might as well take them off the hospitals’ hands.” He shrugged.

“So you could use them as a fucking punchline?”

“Worked, didn’t it? I’m decidedly winning this encounter.”

“Get your ass out here and I’ll show you just how much you’re ‘winning,’ you psychopath!”

“Still good in here, thanks.”

Prompt #1066

“It’s not kidnapping, it’s just…preventative measures. Hero restraint.”

Unimpressed, the chained up hero crossed their arms and narrowed their eyes. “It’s kidnapping,” they asserted. “Stop trying to wriggle out of it.”

“Hero-napping?”

“I hate you.”

“I’ve never been anything but nice to you! Why would you hate me?”

The hero spent a long moment staring at him, scrutinizing his innocent expression. “You’re a supervillain. You commit heists from research labs, banks, and hospitals. You kidnap and experiment on innocent people-”

“Well yeah, but what have I ever done to you, personally?”

“Do you remember the room full of intestines?”

The villain chuckled. “Yeah, that was great. We had a good laugh about that, didn’t we?”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

“Yeah, you were mostly gagging out in the hallway.”

Her cheeks colored slightly. “Shut up. Besides,” she rattled the chains again, “this time you actually have kidnapped me.” When he started to open his mouth, she actually hissed at him. “Hero-napped. Taken preventative measures. Whatever you want to call it, it’s a crime committed against me, personally.”

His lips pursed, and he rubbed his chin. “Okay, fair. But can’t you let this one slide? What’s one little abduction between friends?”

“You’re a psychopath. I have a policy against being friends with psychopaths.”

“That’s a little able-ist of you, isn’t it, hero? Aren’t you supposed to be a symbol of justice for all people, not just mentally stable ones?”

She let out a groan, slumping forward against the chains. “Please just kill me and get it over with.”

“Kill you?” The villain sounded alarmed. “Why in God’s name would I kill you? Like I said, I just need you to be here for a few hours and not, you know… elsewhere.”

Her head snapped up again, fixing him with an intense look. “Why? What are you planning?”

He grinned, an entirely joyless grin that, for the first time, accurately reflected his behavior. “Let’s not spoil the surprise.”

Prompt #1084

“Just tell them!”

The hero shook their head. “I may be in love with them, but they’re still my nemesis. They never get to know.”

“He’s going to notice when you avoid him for six months.”

“I’ve avoided him before. Never for six months, but a few months isn’t unheard of.” She shook her head, cradling her stomach with one arm. “That’s why I told you. I need you to keep him busy.”

“You’re joking, right?” Their sidekick stood up, pacing rapidly back and forth across the room. “He’s a psychopath.”

“I know.”

“The only reason you can keep him as your nemesis for an extended period of time is because of this inexplicable thing you two have going on.”

“I know.”

“He’ll kill me! That’s not an exaggeration, either; remember what happened last time a hero tried to consistently foil his schemes?”

She winced slightly, a vivid mental image springing into focus. “I remember.” She reached out and took her sidekick’s hand. “But he won’t kill you. Killing you would hurt me, and he wouldn’t do that. Not in that way. He’ll come up with increasingly elaborate plots, trying to force me out of hiding, and he’ll present you with wild theory after wild theory as to why I’m avoiding him this time, but he won’t kill you.”

“That’s not much of a relief.” The sidekick sighed, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “So, what, in six months you show up and pretend nothing happened?”

“I’ll tell him I had a bad case of mono. It’s a stupid reason, but it’s all he’s getting.” She squeezed his hand, looking up into his eyes. “He can never know, understand? If he knew, God only knows what he would do. I know him better than anyone, but even I can’t say whether he’d take to the notion fondly, and want to control it, or if he’d see it as something coming between us and try to… get rid of it.” She shivered. “Secrecy is our only option.”

“And if he finds out? Finds out not only that it exists, but that you lied to him about it? Hid it from him?”

The hero’s hands curled into fists. “Then I’ll deal with him. Whatever that entails, I’ll make sure no one but me gets hurt.”

(Time passes here; gingerly-writing asked for a continuation, and so I wrote more.)

She could hear the door opening from the kitchen, where she bent over the counter, chopping vegetables for a soup. “You’re back early! Did he not show up today?”

“He got tired of the runaround.”

The hero’s grasp on the knife shifted from cooking to combat, and she whirled toward the sound of his voice. Her eyes were wide, and her heart raced. “H-how?”

Her villain didn’t respond immediately. His gaze slid from her eyes down over her, taking in her civilian clothes, the rounded belly peeking out from her loose shirt, her bare feet, and only after the end of all that did he bother to notice her knife. “So long as you kept coming out to meet me, I didn’t attempt to discover your secret identity. When I tired of your sidekick, however…” He shrugged lightly. “It only took me a week when I put my mind to it.”

She tightened her grip on the knife, cheeks coloring slightly from his casual examination. “What about-”

“Your sidekick is fine,” the villain cut her off with a dismissive hand wave. “A series of traps took him out of the picture for a few hours. He’ll escape eventually, or I’ll release him when I’m done here. I just couldn’t have him interrupting us.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what is it you plan on doing here?”

“Is it mine?”

The tip of the knife sank a few inches, and her gaze was drawn to his. His question, so forthright, so earnest… but coming from someone like him, it couldn’t be. Her knife came back up to combat readiness as she cleared her throat. “I don’t know.” He always knew when I lied. “I only had one moment of foolishness with you, and I was seeing someone else around the same time.”

“Who?”

The coldness in his voice had returned with a vengeance. “No one you know. He’s not in the picture anymore.”

He was quiet for several heartbeats, his gaze absently directed at her midsection, chin resting on his knuckles. “Do you have a doula?”

Another disarmingly earnest question. “I… a what?”

“A doula. A midwife. Someone to assist you leading up to the birth, during the birth, and in the weeks immediately following.”

“No… No, I’m flying solo here. I have an OBGYN, but-”

“I’ll send you a list of candidates tomorrow. Be a dear and pick one without putting up a fuss.” He had already pulled a small tablet out of his coat and begun tapping at it.

“What? No, no way! Why would I ever trust someone you sent me?” She shook her head, the knife hand having fallen to her side, confused frustration replacing fear.

The tapping ceased, and he took two steps towards her, cupping her face in his free hand, eyes gazing intently into hers. In a moment of panic, she swung the knife upwards, but the wrist of his hand holding the tablet casually blocked against hers, holding the knife at bay.

“If there is even the slightest chance that you carry my heir,” he murmured, thumb tracing her jawline, “then I am going to make sure that you, and he, are given the best possible chance.” He grinned softly, adding, “As to why you’ll accept my assistance… Let’s make a little deal, hm? As long as you’re allowing me to assist with the care of this child, I will not commit acts of villainy. No heists. No murders. No schemes or plots. If you are going to focus on this child instead of on me, then I will do the same.”

Her cheeks burned with a confusing mix of emotions. Fear. Suspicion. Hope. Arousal? She kicked herself mentally, letting the knife fall from her fingers, clattering to the floor beside them. It’s not him. You just haven’t felt anyone touch you but your doctor in months now. “If I agree to this… how long could I expect it to last?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual, mirthless smile. An uncomfortable smile, as though he didn’t use it often, but one with the faintest flicker of genuine warmth. “As long as you allow me,” he repeated, slowly guiding her hand back down from its attacking position. “If that lasts until the child is 18, then 18 years.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes. The villain who had never gone more than two weeks without committing a major crime was offering to give up crime for nearly two decades? “I can’t possibly believe that,” she said, almost a whisper.

“Then we’ll just have to take it one day at a time.” He released her, stepping back and turning for the door, tapping away on his tablet once more. “You’ll have that list by tomorrow.”

L&A: The Crimson Dragon

This is the last post you’ll get to see of Lezvie and Angela.  After this, I won’t let you see anything unless you buy the book. Mwaha.

The duo paused at the top of a rise. Lezvie frowned, looking down at the settlement below them.
Angela laid her hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”
“Something’s wrong. They’re too still. It’s as though they’re waiting… and not just waiting, but waiting in terror.” He pulled out a small pair of binoculars, looking down at the town. “I don’t think we should go down just yet. There’s been fighting here recently. They were attacked by someone with alien tech, and drove them off. That would explain the fear and the stillness.”
“How can you tell all that?” Angela looked at him, surprised.
“Heat scoring from laser or plasma weapons, which only come from alien tech. A mass grave in the graveyard to one side of town. Several unburied bodies, stripped of clothing and, presumably, armor.”
She went silent, looking at him in astonishment. He was more skilled then she had realized.
“And furthermore,” he went on, turning slightly and refocusing his binoculars. “I see tire tracks. They look like the same kind of trucks the Crimson Fang used.” He lowered the binoculars and pocketed them. “We’ll camp here tonight, behind this ridge. From what I’ve seen of the Crimson Fang, they’ll come back soon and hit hard.”
Angela nodded and wordlessly began to set up camp. No sooner had they started eating, however, then they heard a commotion coming from the town. They both immediately went to the ridge, peering over. Four sets of headlights were bearing down on the town, and when they came within a hundred yards of the town, the energy cannons mounted on the vehicles began firing, forcing the townspeople to take cover. The four trucks formed a semicircle near the main gate, still firing the occasional shot at anyone with a weapon they saw.
Then, a distant rumble, like thunder, filled the sky. A red glow appeared in the clouds above the town, and then something dove down, landing in the gateway to the town, backlit by the headlights of the four trucks. Angela gasped. “It… it looks like a dragon…”
And so it did. The thing, whatever it was, stood higher than the trucks around it, and had long wings that glowed red at the tips. It had two massive clawed hands, and the parts of it that were in the light showed that it was a deep red color.
Lezvie was peering at it through binoculars, and was about to say something when a booming voice issued from the thing. “I am the Crimson Dragon! You have defied my representatives and will now feel my wrath. Taste the fire of the Dragon!”
A powerful jet of brilliantly white fire blasted from the Dragon, igniting a large portion of the town, even melting solid rock.
“Feel the bite of the Dragon!”
One of the clawed hands gripped a large building that had not yet been touched by fire. The claw glowed bright, blood red, and the building distorted, also beginning to glow, before exploding violently.
Lezvie hissed softly. “That’s no dragon. That’s an alien battle suit with a flight attachment. Someone must have found a huge stockpile of alien weaponry that got left behind.” He pounded a fist against his thigh. “This is much, much worse that I expected…”
“What exactly is a battle suit..?” Angela asked hesitantly.
“You know how my daggers and sword are indestructible, because they’re an alien alloy?” At her nod, he continued, “Imagine a whole exoskeleton made out of that armor, and packed with enough weaponry to slaughter an army. That’s an alien battle suit. They’re bad enough when they’re landbound, since they’re fairly heavy and can’t turn fast. With the flight attachment, that thing’s just as agile as an average human, and a lot faster.”
“And… the Crimson Dragon has one?”
“So it seems. Found one, painted it red, called it a dragon, and used it to terrify the populace.” He scowled at the scene below, at the screams of the villagers and the flickering flames as the settlement burned. “Terrify and control and rule.”
“Can’t you do something?”
“No.” He smacked his fist into his thigh again. “I have nothing. Those battle suits are invincible. Even when I was with my squad, with the resources of the United States behind me, we had trouble with them. Guns are useless; there’s no opening in it large enough to allow a bullet through. Flamethrowers and incendiary explosives work all right, but since it has a flight attachment, it won’t stay in range of either of those.”
Angela fell silent, looking down as the town burned. Something else about the suit caught her attention, and she asked him, “How can the flamethrower melt rock?”
“It’s not your average flame. It’s a highly charged plasma, fueled by a microfusion reactor. Basically like spewing the sun out of a hose.”
Her eyes went wide. “How are you supposed to fight that?”
“You’re not supposed to,” he said, chuckling ruefully. “The aliens knew what they were doing when they designed it. It has weapons for short, mid-, and long range, as well as melee weapons, just in case.”
“So how did you fight them?”
“With electromagnetic mines. We mine the area they’re going to walk through, then activate them when the battle suit is over them. The suit is pinned to the ground, giving us an opportunity to get close and dispatch the wearer.” Lezvie ran a hand through his hair, scowling faintly. “Of course, I don’t have any mines.”
Angela looked back out at the town with a sigh. “There’s nothing you can do?”
“Not here. Not now.” He tapped his wrist computer. “If the Master has left me the location of the Crimson Dragon’s headquarters, then I may be able to slip in and destroy the suit’s inner mechanisms while it is unoccupied. So everything hinges on getting to my safe house and analyzing the Master’s files.”
“That’ll be tricky,” Angela murmured. “It looks like the Crimson Fang plans to stay.”
The four trucks had unloaded half a dozen soldiers each, and they rounded up the populace – what little remained of it – and herded them into a single large building. They then parked the trucks at the corners and made themselves at home in the rest of the town, converting the tallest buildings to watchtowers, setting up guard stations, and the like. A low rumble in the distance announced the arrival of more trucks.
Lezvie nodded, scowling. “So we have to try to go down into the canyon and back up the other side, or go several days out of our way to go around it, or try to get past the Crimson Fang.”
Angela watched him for a moment. “We’re not going to do the safe thing, and go around the canyon, are we.”
“No, we aren’t. Come along, Angela. By the time we get down there, they’ll have mostly settled in to their occupation and be weary from the night journey.” He picked his way down the hillside, heading for the town.
Shaking her head, Angela followed him. However crazy it might be, she was confident Lezvie could pull it off.
Their descent took them nearly an hour, as they had to be cautious of the Crimson sentries. Following a small goat trail, the two of them climbed down, gradually coming to the meager wall that encircled the village. Lezvie, after carefully peering over it, leapt to the other side, then pulled Angela over after him. The mottled greys of his suit showed their usefulness now, blending perfectly into the destroyed urban setting.
He led her through the alleys and lanes that the Crimson Fang had neglected to patrol, timing their crossings of the better-watched roads to avoid the eyes of the sentries. Every sudden footstep or smashing sound made Angela jump, and made daggers spring into Lezvie’s hand. Fortunately, none of those ominous noises heralded their capture. They slowly grew more confident, thinking that the Fang was off-guard, relaxed in the wake of its recent victory.
That’s why the shout of alarm caught them by surprise, only ten feet from the bridge.
“Intruders! Get them!”
Lezvie growled something incomprehensible. “Run, Angela! I’m right behind you.”
“I’m not just-” A spray of bullets whipped past her ear, and she shut up and sprinted across the bridge.
“Don’t shoot him!” A voice, amplified, boomed over the scene, and all of the soldiers froze, guns still trained on Lezvie, who stood watching them, confused, his knives at the ready. Heavy footfalls approached, shaking the ground lightly. The Crimson Dragon rounded a corner, blazing red eyes locked on Lezvie. “So you’re the mythical white-haired ninja who has caused me so much trouble.” He chuckled softly. “I expected you to be taller.”
“Yeah, well, good things come in small packages.” It wasn’t original, but it was the best he could do. Staring down an indestructible suit of armor capable of killing you from a hundred yards away made it hard to come up with witty comebacks.
“I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t call this suit small.” The suit let off a blast of energy, which streaked past Lezvie, shattering one of the posts that held up the rope bridge.
Lezvie managed to keep himself from flinching. The bridge now dangled by a single point on this side, swaying and creaking. Without responding to the Dragon’s retort, he sprinted across the bridge, his light step barely disturbing the feeble bridge.
The Dragon roared, “Do not let him escape!” Bright green flame shot from his arm, burning through the last support of the bridge.
It fell across the canyon, Lezvie clinging to it like a drowning man on a piece of driftwood. Bullets whistled through the air, smacking into the wooden planks in the bridge and the rock face of the canyon. Desperate, Lezvie wrapped his arms tightly into the loose ropes of the destroyed bridge, then braced himself against the impact that rapidly approached.
Angela, watching from the edge of the canyon, let out a small cry as the bridge slammed into the unyielding cliff face. Lezvie hung limp on the bridge, not falling, but not moving either. She heard a whirring sound, and looked up to see the Crimson Dragon firing up his flight attachment, slowly moving down the canyon towards Lezvie. His voice, though faint, remained distinct, due to the amplification system built in to the suit.
“I’m disappointed. I had hoped for one last futile, heroic action before I killed you. Instead, you flee.”
Lezvie stirred, trying to move but still dazed from the impact. The Dragon snorted.
“And you can’t even flee, now. This is the great ninja that has plagued me?” He raised his hand, readying one of his many weapons to end Lezvie.
A streak of fire flew from the top of the canyon, exploding against the flying suit of armor, coating it in liquid flame. The Dragon let out a scream of pain, thrashing around in the air before throwing himself down into the river at the bottom of the canyon.
Lezvie managed to drag himself the last ten feet to the top of the ladder that had once been a bridge, where Angela pulled him up. He looked at her, swaying slightly. “What… was that?”
She grinned faintly. “Molotov cocktail.”
“How did you…?”
“I lifted the a bottle of vodka back in town.” She turned slightly, showing him a tear in her shirt. “You said fire might work.”
“You… are a genius.” He forced himself to his feet. “We have to keep moving. I don’t think the Crimson Dragon forgives lightly.”
Angela silently slipped an arm around his waist, steadying him. She ignored his questioning look, supporting him as they limped across the wasteland.

A Modern Vampire

    The blinds were drawn on Number 17, Nightshade Lane.  Then again, the blinds were always drawn, not just on Number 17, but on every home on Nightshade Lane.  It was the largest vampire community in the Los Angeles area.  Advances in technology had created lotions and creams that allowed them to walk in the sunlight, but it was still an unpleasant experience.
Number 17, while not unusual for having its blinds drawn, had the distinction of housing one of the richest, most successful vampires in the world.  Gabriel Jinx; poet, playwright, novelist, stock broker, inventor.  Over forty published works and three ground-breaking patents, and all of the money he made from those multiplied exponentially in the stock market.  Forbes estimated his net worth at well over a trillion dollars.
On this day, unlike most, a sleek black car pulled out of the garage.  It looked more like an armored military vehicle than a civilian car, and the back windows were so tinted as to appear completely opaque.  The driver, an attractive young woman with deep red hair, steered the car down the almost-empty street, heading for one of the major corporate districts.
She pulled it into the parking garage that adjoined the headquarters of the Lestat Corporation, the largest collection of vampires in business in the entire world.  “We’re here, Mr. Jinx.”
Gabriel stepped out of the car, pulling his black cloak closer against the intruding rays of the sun.  Though the garage was mostly enclosed, a few slits in the walls did allow sunlight in, a compromise between the vampire owners and the human staff.  He strode quickly to the elevator, his driver following close behind him.
He pressed the button for his intended floor, then stood silently as the elevator ascended.  When it halted and began to move laterally, he reflected on the outdated name ‘elevator’.  Strictly speaking, it did more than elevate, as the sideways motion proved.  Still, no one had come up with a better name that stuck, so they remained elevators.
It halted its lateral motion and resumed going upwards.  They had crossed from the parking garage and into the corporate building, and were now approaching their final destination.   The doors slid open and Gabriel stepped out with his driver.
A vampire in a business suit greeted them.  “Mr. Jinx, I presume?”
“Presumption is a dangerous habit, but in this case you are correct.  I am Gabriel Jinx.”
Properly chastened, the younger vampire escorted the two newcomers into a conference room.  “Mr. Frost will be with you shortly.”
Gabriel sat at the head of the conference table, his red-headed companion sitting on his right.  He tapped the table, letting one side of his mouth come up in a half-smile.  Solid teak.  Anthony Frost had done well for himself.
As though thinking the elder vampire’s name were enough to summon him, Frost entered the conference room.  “Ah, Gabriel.  I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all.”  Gabriel rose to his feet, nodding to the older vampire.    “You said it was urgent.”
“Yes, quite urgent.”  He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.  “We’ve had another sighting of an infected vampire.”
Gabriel frowned, taking the paper and scanning it.  “That makes three this month alone, doesn’t it?”
Anthony Frost rubbed his forehead.  “Yes, and you can imagine that the anti-vampire groups are having a field day.  This one was spotted near Nightshade Lane.  Recognize him?”
“I believe so…”  Gabriel pocketed the paper.  “I’ll look into it.  If it’s not who I think it is, I can probably still find him.”
“Good.”  Frost clapped his hands together.  “Then we’re done here.  Unless you need any more equipment?”
“I have enough.  Thank you, Anthony.”
“You’re the one who’s doing me a favor.”  They both rose, and Gabriel left with his driver.
On the way back to Number 17, said driver, Kate, glanced at her employer in the rear-view mirror.  “Mr. Jinx?”
“Hm?”  He looked up at her, surprised.  She usually stayed silent.  “Yes, Kate?”
“What exactly is the infection?  I’ve heard it mentioned, but no one seems clear on the details.”
Gabriel chuckled.  “That would make sense, sense all the vampires in the upper echelons of society are taking great pains to keep it hidden.”
Kate blinked.  “They are?”
“Yes.  The anti-vampire groups would go crazy if they knew the full extent of the infection.”
“And… what is the full extent?”
“They have the numbers about right, though on the low side.  The real deception lies in how severe the infection is.  The media believes it is only an enhanced aggression and hunger, but it’s much worse.  It’s more like the vampiric version of rabies.”
“Rabies?” Kate’s eyes widened.
“Yes.  Vampires grow more savage and feral the longer we go without feeding.  Those who are infected become unable to repress that.  Feeding does not curb their savagery.  After about three weeks, they lose their…” he chuckled, “humanity.”
The irony of using that word was not lost on Kate.  “I… see.  So they become monsters?”
“Yes.  And the rest of us hunt them down and destroy them.  There is no cure.”
“So you’re going to seek down and destroy this one?”
“That is the plan.”  Gabriel looked out the window.  “Go to number 24.”
Kate nodded and obeyed.  When they arrived, Gabriel got out, pulling up the hood of his cloak to shield him from the sun.  He rapped on the door of number 24.  After several minutes and a few more knocks, he whirled and kicked the door in, shattering it at the knob.
As he strode inside, stepping over the splintered wood, he noticed a thick layer of dust over everything.  The vampire he was after hadn’t been here for weeks.  Or, more likely, he had been here, but had not been himself.
The very faintest of sounds behind him prompted him to whirl, whipping a sword out of a hidden sheath and blocking the wild swing of the savage vampire.  It had picked up a crowbar somewhere, and it was now stuck firmly against Gabriel’s sword, held there by the fact that the sword had cut more than halfway through it.
With a snarl, the infected threw away the weapon, throwing Gabriel’s sword with it.  He launched himself at his hunter, fangs bared and talons grasping.  Gabriel dashed to the side, kicking hard at the rogue.  It growled in pain, grabbing at Gabriel’s ankle, but the hunter used the grip on his foot to spin around and kick his prey in the side of the head.
When it fell, dazed, Gabriel stomped hard on its chest.  “Kate!  The black case in the back seat.  Bring me what’s inside.”
Kate dashed inside, clutching a compact, yet bulky, rifle.  Gabriel took it from her with a graceful twirl, pointing it at the prone vampire.  One pull of the trigger and the infected thing on the floor became a pile of ash.
Gabriel handed the gun back to Kate. “That was faster than I expected.  Let’s go home.” His eyes flicked to her neck.  “It’s nearly dinner time.”

The Horde and the Shades

The messenger burst into the throne room, face red, his breath coming fast and shallow.  “Your Majesty!  General Kaza is dead!  The Army of the Dragon has fallen!  The Horde marches on the Capitol!”
“Can this be true?”  The king stood, staring in disbelief at the messenger.
“Sire!”  One of his Royal Guard stood at the window with a spyglass.  “‘Tis true!  I see the dust of the Horde rising from the North.  If they approach, General Kaza must have fallen!”
“Inform Commander Gorem at once.  Tell him to rally the Army of the Wyvern.  They are all that now stands between the Capitol and annihilation!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Several men rushed off to do his bidding, and he turned to the messenger.  “Was it the full strength of the Horde?  Could you see their numbers?”
“Your Majesty, if this was not their full strength, then the Horde is limitless.  General Kaza fought them for hours.  Thousands upon thousands of the barbarians fell, but for every one we slew, a dozen took his place.  The Horde stretched out as far as the eye can see, filling the horizon.  No matter how many fell, their lines never thinned.”
“Then… the city is most likely lost.”  The king clenched his fists.  “But I’ll be damned if I let them walk in.  Call in the Reserve Guard.  Order the civilians into the caverns below the Citadel and have the Town Guard begin barricading the streets.  We will use the time Commander Gorem and the Army of the Wyvern buys us to strengthen our defenses as much as possible.”
As men scattered to obey his orders, he grabbed the arm of his personal servant.  “Get me Kallion.”
The man nodded and rushed off.  With a heavy sigh, the king strode to his window, looking out at the approaching Horde.  They were visible to the naked eye, now.  It would only be a matter of hours.

—-

Commander Gorem rode through the ranks of his men, spurring them to greater alacrity.  The Horde was closing fast, and the Army of the Wyvern was woefully unprepared.  They were a secondary army, only in the event of a sneak attack while the Army of the Dragon was away.  No one ever imagined that the Dragon would fall.
A shout from one of the scouts drew his attention from his own men back to the Horde.  Their front-runners were cresting the last hill, charging his men.
“Form up! Form up! Shield-bearers to the front, greatswords behind them, pikemen behind them!  Other soldiers, rank and file behind them!”
As his soldiers scrambled into position, he yelled, “Archers!  Volley!”
Arrows rained down, stopping the first few lines of the Horde, and they fell by the score.  Another volley, and another, and another, they cascaded on the invading savages.  Hundreds of the Horde died.  Still they came.  Never slowing, never showing the slightest sign of fear.  There were more warriors in the Horde than there were arrows in the Wyvern’s quivers.
When the archers had nothing left to shoot, the Horde crashed into the shield-bearers.  The massive shields they bore stopped the savages as the soldiers with pikes and greatswords hacked and pierced them.  For nearly fifteen minutes, they held the line.  Wave after wave of savages slammed into their shields, until finally one of them, a huge beast of a man, with a battle axe in each hand, smashed through, killing half a dozen of them before impaling himself on the pikes of the back row.
With the line broken, the Wyvern broke as well.  The soldiers, unprepared for such an onslaught, were scattered, and the battle dissolved into thousands of one-on-one fights, with the Horde coming out way on top.  The Commander scowled and signaled for his bugler to sound the retreat.
As his soldiers attempted to fall back, being destroyed by the unrelenting Horde, the Paladin assigned to the Army of the Wyvern rode up beside him.  “Commander, my Knights won’t do any good in the narrow city streets, but we can buy the footmen time to get inside the walls.”
Commander Gorem nodded, and the Paladin raised his shining sword, signalling the rest of his Knights.  As one, the armor-clad cavalry charged forward, splitting into two branches, pushing the Horde off the retreating foot soldiers.  Their initial charge gave them powerful momentum, and they cut a large swath through the Horde.  When that momentum began to falter, however, the powerful warriors of the Horde began knocking them from their horses, slaughtering them.
The gates were open wide, and the fleeing soldiers of the Wyvern rushed in, reinforcing the Town Guard in the barricaded city.  Commander Gorem rushed in with them, trying to escape the noises of the dying Knights.

——

Up in the top of the Citadel, the king watched as the Army of the Wyvern was butchered by the Horde.  A voice behind him nearly startled him, but it was nearly as familiar to him as his own.  “You summoned me, your Majesty?”
“Yes, Kallion.”  He turned and saw the chief of the Shadowy Hand, garbed in his standard outfit, black leather and fabric, with all skin obscured save his eyes.  “You’ve no doubt noticed the Horde.”
“I have been made aware of it, your Majesty.”
“It’s going to take the city.”
“I estimated as much, your Majesty.”
“I need you to do something, Kallion.  I need the Shades.”
“We live to serve you, your Majesty.  What must we do?”
“The city cannot be saved, but my people can.  Take the hidden tunnels into the forests, keep my people alive.  The Horde cannot remain this large and this strong forever.  One day, when they are weak, find allies and bring them down.”
Kallion’s eyes, normally so expressionless, widened slightly.  “But, your Majesty…  We are sworn to protect you.  If you do not leave the city, neither shall we.”
The king reached out and grasped Kallion’s shoulder.  “If the Horde does not find me, they will keep searching.  I will stand with my Royal Guard and buy you the time you need to evacuate the populace.”
“But…”
“No time to argue, my old friend.  Lead my people.  Never forget how great we were.  Bide your time.  Hold out hope.  Restore this city one day, ten, twenty, a hundred years down the road.”  The king’s eyes were shining as he released Kallion’s shoulder.  “Go now.  Gather your men.  Evacuate.”
The ninja nodded slowly, then straightened and bowed low before his king.  “It has been an honor to serve you, your Majesty.”
“It has been an honor to have you beside me, Kallion.”
Without a sound, the black-garbed man vanished into a secret door, rushing to the secret caverns beneath the Citadel.  A half-dozen men, attired similarly to him, met up with him as he walked.  “What is it, Kallion?”
“We’re leaving.  Taking the people and getting out.”
“But… the king?”
“He’s staying with the Royal Guard.  Don’t argue!”  Kallion cut off the younger man before he could even begin.  “The king’s orders are final.”
His men nodded slowly, then dispersed to begin the evacuation.  Kallion went on ahead, his natural pace quickly carrying him through the tunnel and eventually up into the dense forest.  He quickly shimmied up a tree, looking back at the city.  Fire and smoked rose from all of the lower districts; the Horde had left nothing.  Only the castle remained, resisting the onslaught of the invaders.  Even as he watched, he saw the gates fall, and the Horde stormed into the Citadel.
He looked back down and saw the first of the citizens coming out of the tunnel, ushered by the rest of the Shades.  Kallion looked to the city again, this time focusing on the flag at the top of the Citadel.  That flag could only be reached through the innermost room of the Citadel, no doubt where the king would be making his last stand.  When the flag fell, he would know that the king had fallen as well.
Below him, he heard his Shades directing the people deeper into the forest, but he kept his eyes on the Citadel.  Finally, just as the last citizen came out of the tunnel, he saw the flag fall.  The city was lost.  The king was dead.
Kallion jumped down from the tree, tapping one of the Shades on the arm.  “Where is the princess?”
The Shade pointed to a small knot of people gathered under a large tree.  Kallion went there immediately, seeing the young princess with her father’s most trusted advisers.  “Your majesty, I would speak with you.”
Everyone looked up at him, eyes wide at his use of ‘majesty’.  The princess stood, pale, and walked with him a little ways away from everyone.  “What is it?  And who are you?  I’ve seen you with my father before, but I don’t know who you or your men are.”
“Your majesty, you are now in charge of these people.  Your father is dead.”
The princess, normally so composed, let out of choked sob, putting a hand to her mouth.  “He’s dead?”
“He sacrificed himself to give us all the opportunity to escape.  It was his duty as king.”
She composed herself enough to give him a slightly suspicious look.  “You never answered me.  Who are you?  And how did you know what happened to my father?”
“My name is Kallion.  I am the leader of the group called the Shades.  We are the secret guards of the royal line.”
“Secret guards..?”
“Yes.  The Royal Guards protect the royalty from overt attacks.  We prevent the more sinister plots.”
“I… see.”  She looked up at him.  “So what happens now?”
“We establish ourselves in the hills and caves of the forests.  I keep recruiting for the Shades, and you keep the royal line intact.”
She gave him a look.  “I’m only sixteen.”
Kallion smirked.  “I didn’t say now.  That’s the big picture.”
“Oh.”  She paused.  “Can I… see your face?”
“Why?”
“If I’m going to be protected by you, I want to know what you look like.”
He reached up and unfastened his mask, pulling it off.  His straight black hair fell down around his pointed ears.
The princess let out a soft yelp.  “You’re an elf?”
Kallion nodded.  “Your father recruited me before my people left this land.  He needed someone better than a human to run the Shades.”
“All right…”  She nodded slowly, straightening her already straight dress.  “We’ll get through this, won’t we?  We’ll be restored eventually, right?”
“It might not be in your lifetime, but yes.  I will see the royal line again on the throne, and the Horde destroyed.”
She returned to her advisers, and Kallion looked towards the burning city.
No matter how many lifetimes it takes me, I will restore your kingdom, my liege.

Old Stories: The Fallen Angel

Another cool old story beginning I found.

The man strode down the road, his long, confident stride covering the ground quickly, as he moved single-mindedly towards his destination. He moved without fear, for his six and a half foot frame and the hand-and-a-half sword strapped to his back deterred even the most determined of thieves. Reaching his destination, one of the more reputable bars known as the Red Lion, the fair-skinned man paused a moment before  entering.

As he entered, he felt a brief wave of disgust pass through him, although no one watching him would have known that from his expression. Briefly scanning the smoky interior, he found the one he sought and strode directly to his table. The man, remarkable from his fellows by his broad chest and shoulders and the fact that he was only partially drunk, spotted the tall figure and beckoned him over. “Ho, Tsumar!” he bellowed. “Come, drink!”

Tsumar’s face remained expressionless. “You know that I do not drink, Brundor. What news do you have?”

“Big news, Tsumar,” the big man said, his face taking an expression of seriousness that was almost comical on his broad face. “Rumors of a high-class demon, most likely a pit fiend.”

A brief flash of emotion from Tsumar, an almost imperceptible quickening of speech. “Where? When?”

“Up north, by Brunswick.”

Tsumar stood up abruptly, flipping the surprised Brundor a gold coin, almost twice the standard fee. “Thank you for you services, Brundor. If this demon truly is a pit fiend, then I might have no more need of your assistance.”

Exiting the bar, leaving a rather bemused Brundor behind him, he strode straight out of the city gates into the forest. He gave a sharp whistle, followed by a long low one, and within seconds a powerful, masculine unicorn came trotting out of the woods. “To Brunswick!” he said, springing lightly onto its back, “My vengeance is close at hand!”

“You have learned the location of Da’seth?” inquired the unicorn, looking over its shoulder as it began galloping towards Brunswick.

“Perhaps,” replied Tsumar. “I certainly know the location of a pit fiend. Even if he is not Da’seth, he will know where I can find him.”

There’s also a pseudodragon shapeshifter chick named Gypsy, who I wrote about but evidently did not save.  She’s cool. So is Tsumar.  Possibly more on them later.

Having Wings Doesn’t Make One an Angel

This picture has been floating around my awareness for a while.  A picture prompt short story seemed like a good excuse to write about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loreli ran through the streets, staggering as the rough, wet cobblestones dug into her feet.  She gasped as her foot crashed into a puddle, spraying cold water up her legs, soaking her thin skirt.  On she ran, sobbing and shivering, her black wings flapping weakly to try to keep her upright.  Finally she could run no longer, and she stumbled and fell into a puddle of muddy water, staining the front of her shirt and skirt, lying limply, unable to move.  Her wings shook tremulously, the only motion in her.
Several pairs of combat boots clomped down the street, headed for the limp girl.  Combat boots meant soldiers, and soldiers meant…  She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, whispering to herself, “No, no, please no, not again…”
The heavy footsteps drew closer, and finally stopped, surrounding her.  “This one’s still alive, Sarge.”
“Glad to hear it.  They aren’t as much fun dead.”  A rough hand grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet, slamming her into the brick wall of the alley.
Loreli’s heart plummeted.  This wasn’t the first time this had happened to her, and she doubted it would be the last.  She braced herself against the wall and tried to relax, hoping they wouldn’t hurt her too much.
Just as the soldiers closed in on her, a different set of footsteps approached.  Fancy shoes, they sounded like, and accompanied by a cane or walking stick.  She turned slowly, looking past the armored soldiers and their grey wings.  The man approaching them looked to be older, with wings as white as his hair.  Loreli began to hope; white wings indicated a good heart, white hair indicated age and wisdom, and his pristine clothing indicated wealth and influence.
He stopped close to the soldiers, leaning idly on his silver and hold cane, which ended in a very sharp-looking point.  “What seems to be going on here, gentlemen?”
One of the soldiers spit at the newcomer’s feet.  “Get lost, gramps.  We’re having ourselves some sport with this one, so just move along.”
“Oh, I don’t think you are.  I think you were just leaving.”
Their grips on the young woman loosened as they all turned to the intruding man.  “Do you want us to break your face?”
He laughed, a rich, full laugh.  “Oh, you boys are welcome to try.”
Two of the soldiers walked towards the man, cracking their knuckles.  “All right, you asked for it.”  One of them drew back his arm and threw a punch straight at the man’s face.
His hand shot up, catching the soldier’s fist in midair.  Judging by the shock on the soldier’s face, and the pain which could be heard in his gasp as he tried to pull away and then fell to his knees, the man’s grip was very strong.  “It’s not nice to strike first.”  He followed this bit of advice with a strong kick to the soldier’s solar plexus.  As he collapsed backwards, the man ducked under the punch the other soldier tried to hit him with and followed up with a swift, strong punch to the kidney.
As the soldier collapsed, the man straightened, twirling his cane like a sword.  “Next?”
Three of them charged, drawing combat knives from their belts.  A single slice for each of them from the man’s sharp cane left them all on the ground, bleeding.
The Sarge gaped at him, then turned tail, running.  He paused at a corner to yell over his shoulder.  “You haven’t seen the last of me!”  Then he vanished.
Loreli looked slowly up at the man, who slowly approached her.
“Are you all right, little one?”
She looked up at him, trembling, and slowly nodded.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go?  Any family or friends to look after you?”
Briefly, she considered lying to him, saying she had somewhere to go.  But what good would that do her?  She shook her head.
He held out his hand.  “Do you want to come with me?”
“I…”  Loreli made up her mind.  No matter how bad this man turned out to be, he could not be worse than the streets.  “Yes, I do.”  She reached up and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.
“How are your wings?  Can you fly?”
She shook her head.  “It’s been too long…  And they were broken recently.”
“Will you let me carry you?”
Again, she hesitated.  But again, what did she have to lose?  She nodded.
The man stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.  Loreli held onto him tightly, faintly surprised by how gentle his touch was.  His wings slowly unfurled, and he leapt into the sky, his massive wings lazily beating, easily carrying the two of them upwards, out of the undercity.
Loreli expected him to stop in the Midway, the central city where the average citizens lived, for it was also where all businesses and charities were based.  If he wanted to help her, the most likely thing would be for him to drop her off at a charity.  So she was shocked when he kept climbing, his wings carrying them past the dull grey Midway.
“S-sir… Where are we going?”
He smiled at her confusion.  “To the Shining Heights.  To my home.”
Her eyes grew wider still.  Only the fabulously rich and powerful lived in the Shining Heights, and they never left their luxurious homes.  They had servants to do their errands for them.  To imagine that a resident of the Heights would come, in person, to the Undercity, and take one of its residents into his home… it baffled her.
The baffling man spread his wings as they glided down onto a landing platform on the edge of one of the great homes in the Shining Heights.  As soon as they touched down, a pair of servants came out, one male, one female.
They greeted him in chorus, “Welcome home, Master Chandler.”
He nodded to his servants.  “Clarisse, accompany this young woman to the guest quarters and find her some fresh clothes.  Milton, come with me.”
Clarisse curtsied to Loreli.  “Right this way, miss.”  She led the dazed young girl through the gleaming house, bringing her to a suite of rooms more luxurious than any she’d ever seen before.
“These… are to be my rooms?”
“Yes, miss.”  Clarisse nodded.  “Master Chandler has kept these rooms set aside in case of a situation such as this.”
“Have these situations arisen often?”
“The Master often intervenes in the goings-on of the Undercity, but this is the first time he has brought someone home.”  The servant girl indicated one of the doors.  “The bath is just through there, if you wish to freshen up while I get you some clean clothes.”
Loreli nodded, still somewhat dazed.  After she had washed and changed, Clarisse led her to the dining hall, where Chandler sat on an elegantly worked white chair at the head of the table.
His wings were half unfurled and relaxed, though when he saw Loreli he stood, his wings folding neatly behind his back.  “Well, you certainly clean up nicely.”
She blushed lightly, something that normally wouldn’t have shown through the grime that usually coated her, but her cleanliness left her bright red cheeks plain for all to see, accented by her red hair.  “Thank you, Master Chandler.”
He walked over to her with a faint smile.  “No need for titles, Loreli.  You’re not my servant, but my guest.”
If he had been going to say anything else, he was cut off by Loreli abruptly throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly.  “Thank you…”
Chandler’s wings unfurled, almost of their own accord, wrapping loosely around the young girl as shelter, as he held her close.  “It was my pleasure, Loreli.  No one will ever hurt you again.”

Introducing: Corath

Just because I wanted something to put up.

The frost of the tundra crackled under the heavy boots of the large Norseman who walked across it.  His large, muscular frame was wrapped in a leather harness that left much of his abdomen exposed to the frigid Arctic wind.  He didn’t seem to notice.
In stark contrast, the woman who walked beside him was slender and small, though not frail.  Her long blonde hair billowed out behind her, and she drew her fur cloak closer about herself as she walked with her companion.  She looked up at him, sighing softly when she saw his determined expression.  Maybe the brigands did deserve death, but she hated that Corath had to be the one to deliver it, and that she had to assist him.
Corath stopped at a low ridge, looking down at the camp.  As he expected, the eight brigands were all there, huddled around a campfire.  He looked over at the woman.
She nodded and closed her eyes, raising her hands and murmuring silently.  The wind changed directions and picked up, and a fog swirled in, so thick as to keep a man from seeing his hand in front of his face.  From below, they heard the curses of the brigands as the ‘demon fog’ washed over them, and their leader warned them to be on their guard.
The woman blessed the fog, for it meant she did not have to witness what she heard going on below; Corath’s keen axe found the vital spots of the brigands quickly, and they fell, one by one, until none were left.  Corath climbed back up the ridge, joining her.  She gave him a scolding look.
He chuckled and took his axe back out of his harness, cleaning the blade.  She nodded, satisfied, and they returned home.

L&A: The Mountain

Another Lezvie and Angela story. ^_^

Angela woke Lezvie just as the sun began peeking over the horizon.  They struck camp and moved on, heading towards the mountain.  Nothing happened to disrupt their trek, and they reached the foothills by late afternoon.  The hills were slightly less barren than the desert; less population meant that the aliens hadn’t wasted as much energy to Glass them.
“So, how far up the mountain is he?”
“In the peak.  But he should be coming into contact range before too long.”  Lezvie pulled out a small communicator, checking the digital display.  “I’m picking up his network, but it’s too weak for me to connect just yet.  Let’s give it another few hundred yards.”
They trudged further up, the air slowly getting colder.  When they saw the first evergreen tree, Lezvie pulled out his communicator again.  “There we go.”  His device beeped as it requested the password for the secure network.  A string of mild Japanese curses made Angela blush.  “Why would he change his passwords when it’s not like there’s anyone around to hack it?”
“Because he’s paranoid?  Didn’t you say that already?”
“I didn’t realize it was this severe.”  He tapped command after command into his communicator, only to receive flashing red reject screens.  “All right, that’s it.  I hate to do this, since he hates having it done to him, but he doesn’t leave me much choice.”
He tapped a string of commands into the device, bringing up a wall of numbers and characters that Angela didn’t understand any of.  The device finally displayed an empty window with a chat box.  His fingers flew over the keyboard.  Master, it’s Lezvie.  Let me into the network, I need to talk to you.
Lezvie???  Lord. I haven’t heard from you since before the Glassing.  Three seconds.
Three seconds later, a confirmation screen popped up, giving Lezvie the codes to log into the network.  He used them, and a minimalist home page came up.  The Master called him almost immediately, his voice crackling over the speaker.
“Lezvie, you purebred mutt, how on earth did you breach my safeguards?”
“Just a trick I learned from you, Master.  But never mind that, I need your help.”
“Of course you do.  Alien invasion can’t change the fact that I’m the only guaranteed source of information on the planet.  What do you need?”
“Ever hear of an organization named Crimson Dragon?”
The Master’s casual tone become suddenly more cautious.  “Crimson Dragon?  Why do you ask?”
“I think they’re behind the seemingly disorganized slave raiders.  I’m trying to stop them.”
“I see.  Well, this isn’t something I think I can discuss on a channel like this, so why don’t you come up.  When you get to the door, you’ll see the password.”
“All right.  Should be about… half an hour?”
“Right.  See you then.”
The channel went dead.  Lezvie frowned as he started walking again.  “He’s usually not quite that abrupt.”
“Well, it’s been a long time.”  Angela followed him.  “People change.”
“I suppose.”  He still looked uncertain.
“So why did he call you a purebred mutt?”
He chuckled.  “Because my heritage is purebred Swiss, but my character traits and mannerisms are a unique blend of nearly every culture.  The ones that deserved emulating, at least.”
“Ah, I see.”  They kept trudging up the mountain, the air growing colder as they climbed.
Lezvie stopped her suddenly, dropping into a crouch.  “Hear that?”
Angela could hear nothing.  “What?”
“Rotors.  Two of them, on the same vehicle.  No one I know uses that.”  He pulled her into a small gully sheltered by a cluster of trees.
Nearly a minute went by before Angela heard the rotors.  It was another minute before it flew over their heads.  The red circle and markings on the wings identified it as part of the Crimson family, but it wasn’t one they had seen before.
“Crimson Wing, I’m guessing.  Air force.  But if they’re coming from the peak, then…  Master’s in danger.”  He sprinted up the mountain, Angela keeping up as best she could.
Five minutes brought Lezvie to the large steel door that separated the Master’s bunker from the rest of the world.  He reached up and tapped a pattern on the metal plate over the door, and a compartment popped open.  The datachip inside fell into Lezvie’s hand, and he plugged it into his handheld computer.  “Reliable as ever, Master.”
Angela watched as Lezvie ran a wire from his computer to the door.  A few beeps later, the door slid open and Lezvie retrieved his wire and dashed inside.
The place was a wreck.  Smashed computers and electronics littered the floors and walls.  Lezvie froze in the middle of the room and slowly drew two of his knives.  “Angela…”
“Yes…?”
“Duck.”
She hit the floor as a spray of bullets erupted from the two other doorways leading into the room.  Lezvie seemed to have vanished.
Soldiers in the attire of one of the Crimson branches poured into the room, eight at least.  Lezvie dropped from the ceiling and slit two of their throats before any of them could react.  He leapt back up to the ceiling as the soldiers opened fire, hitting only each other, causing four more of them to fall.  The last two stared around in shock until Lezvie’s knives put an end to their existences.
“Master, you damn fool…”  Lezvie cleaned his knives and moved deeper into the bunker, Angela following hesitantly.
Deeper in, the devastation was worse.  Scorch marks, wires ripped out of walls, consoles smashed…  And the Master, sitting in his chair, a single bullet hole between his eyes.
Lezvie stepped over the broken glass and plastic to his old friend’s chair, then closed the dead man’s eyes.  He slid the chair out of the way, plugging his personal computer into the central console.  A chuckle rose to his lips.  “Typical grunts.  They smash the place up, but they miss the one piece that actually matters.”  His smirk faded as he scanned his computer’s screen.  “Come on, Master…” he murmured, “what did you leave for me?”
Angela stepped up behind him.  “Anything?”
“Yes!”  Lezvie laughed.  “The Master not only left me the codes to get in, but also the codes to the hidden files he’d collected on the Crimson Dragon.  This is exactly what I needed.”  He downloaded the information and disconnected.  “Come on.  Let’s get out of here.”
They left the bunker, which Lezvie sealed behind them, then destroyed the door controls.
“So what do we do now?”
“I need a bigger computer to analyze this information, so we’ll have to go to my safe house.”
“Your safe house?”  Angela raised an eyebrow.  “You mean, aside from the Remnant’s bunker?”
“Yes.  My personal safe house.”  He grinned.  “Come on, Angela.  With this data, we can save the world.  What’s left of it, at least.”

Cyberpunk – Beta Run

Conclusion of the four-part introduction to Jake and the Black Fire Corp.

The sounds of flesh striking flesh, metal striking flesh, and metal striking metal echoed in the small room.  Jake was quickly growing used to the metal parts, and now that he was physically equal to the other cyborgs he was proving his superior fighting ability.  With a mix of street fighting and expert martial arts training, he wiped the floor with his teammates.
As he used a kick planted squarely in one agent’s chest to flip himself backwards, the door to the training room opened, and a man entered in a business suit.  He raised an eyebrow.  “I see you’re adjusting well to your new form, Jacob.”
Jacob turned to the man and nodded.  His robotic eye scanned the man; facial recognition told him that he was a high-ranking executive of the Black Fire Corportion.  “Very well, Mr. Smith.”
“Good.  You’re going to need it.”
Ann walked up behind Jacob, slipping back into her jumpsuit.  “We got a job, sir?”
Smith nodded.  “Someone’s hired a cyborg mercenary to hijack some of our shipments.  Our normal security team was slaughtered.”
“We’re on it.  Come on, Jake.”  She led him to the equipment room, and he picked out some new equipment for his cyborg body.
—
“So that’s the shipment?”  Jake watched the trucks, his robotic eye scanning them and telling him how far away they were.  “And this is where the trucks were hit last time?”
“Yes, to both.”  Ann glanced at the cyborg on her other side, who held a large rifle to his shoulder.  “You ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.  If he shows, I’ll blow him away.”
“Good.  It should be soon.”
No sooner had she spoken than an explosion took out the first truck, spilling its cargo all over the road.
“What was that?”
“Anti-vehicle missile, short range.”  The sniper scanned the road.  “He can’t be- Yes, there he is!”
They cyborg was huge, with guns bristling from every part of his body.  The guards dropped like flies.
“I got him.”  The sniper fired, and the cyborg staggered, glaring in the direction of the team.  “How did he survive-”
He was cut off when a large shell tore a hole in his chest.
The others scattered as more bullets followed, tearing up the roof they had been camped on.
Jake glanced over at Ann.  “My turn.”  He sprang off the rooftop towards the cyborg.
“Jacob, wait!”  Ann swore and leapt after him.
He sprinted, leaping from wall to wall, landing on the highway a few meters from the cyborg.  “Hey, ugly!”
It spun, a minigun on its arm whirring to life, spewing bullets at Jake, who leapt forward, rolling under the weapon and drawing his katana, energy blade humming to life.  The cyborg whirled, but its size slowed it down.  Jake rolled away as his foe’s metal fist cracked the highway.  He slashed at it with his katana, but the cyborg’s armored suit deflected the blade.  Another swing forced him to roll back, sheating his katana.
“All right, more power.”  He drew two Smith & Wesson 500’s from his belt, diving between the larger cyborg’s legs and emptying the revolvers at its back.
It staggered forward, and Jake saw fluid leaking from the holes, but it didn’t seem to care.  One of its massive arms swung around, flame and explosives pouring from it.  Jake rolled further back, his suit resisting the scorching, as he pulled the biggest new weapon he had acquired out of its sheathe.
A buster sword, the blade alone nearly six and a half feet long.  Made of a nearly indestructible alloy, copyright Black Fire Corporation, it was also coated in an energy field similar to the one on his katana.  This one, however, was much more powerful, as it had a longer handle, which could hold a stronger battery.
The cyborg aimed its largest cannon directly at him, and Jake could see the energy charging deep in its depth.  He whipped his sword around, bracing his off hand on the flat of the blade, deflecting the bolt of energy that was launched at him, though the force of it sent him skidding backwards on the asphalt.  As he saw the cyborg charging another shot, he leapt upward, letting the bolt pass harmlessly under him, and brought the buster sword down fiercely, splitting his large enemy in two from head to crotch.  The two halves slowly fell apart, crashing to the ground.
Ann came running up.  “You are the biggest idiot I have ever known!”  She paused, looking at the fallen cyborg.  “Though, it did work.  Maybe you aren’t such an idiot after all.”
Jake grinned, putting up the buster sword.  “Admit it, you admired that.”
“I’m not going to say anything.”  She grinned.  “Not in public, at least.”
The rest of the team ran up, all congratulating Jake on his amazing victory.  He waved off their congratulations half-heartedly, grinning.
Ann looked around, frowning slightly.  “Something’s not right…  This one cyborg couldn’t have carried all these supples by himself.  He must have had backup.  And they’re probably still around.”
One of the cyborgs looked towards the side of the road, where several steel drums were stacked.  “Like, behind those drums?”
The whole group turned, and several men with machine guns jumped out from behind the drums, opening fire.  Jake extended his arm, and the metal opened up and shifted, changing from a hand into a gun.
He sprinted towards the drums.  A few bullets bounced off his machine parts, and a few more hit some of his skin.  With a single bound, he leapt over the pile of barrels, whirling and targeting the half-dozen men.  They turned to continue firing at him, but Jake’s in-arm shotgun blasted off six fast shots, dropping every one of them.  Then he swayed and fell to one knee, stablizing himself with his human hand.
“Jake!”  Ann rushed to his side.  “You are the biggest idiot I’ve ever known…”
“I’m fine…”  He tried to stand and went down again.
Ann caught him.  “Being a cyborg doesn’t make you a god, Jake.”
“Didn’t need to be made a cyborg to act like I was a god,” Jake said, smirking.  “It just helps.”  He groaned and collapsed, finally succumbing to his wounds.
—
He woke up in the medical ward, his human parts bandaged.  Ann glared at him.  “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“You keep saying that.  It worked, didn’t it?”
She kept glaring.  “Luck.”
“Skill.”  He sat up, grunting.  “However, I will be more cautious in the future.”
“Good.”  Ann looked around to make sure she was alone with him, then pulled him towards her and kissed him.  “Daft man.  Keep yourself in one piece.”
Jake nodded, chuckling.  With that incentive, he’d be sure to watch his back.

Cyberpunk – Transformation

Part three

 

Jake crouched atop a large pipe, peering through the binoculars he held with one hand.  Snipers patrolled the building across the street, a weapons manufacturer that thought it could compete with Black Fire.  Job was simple: in, plant explosives, out, detonate.  Private security and automatic turrets would provide the challenge.
He stowed the binoculars and sighted his grappling hook launcher at the highest point on the building, a water tower.  The hook flew across the gap and locked on, magnets securing it in addition to the clamp.  Jake hooked the launcher onto the railing he stood behind and clipped his handlebar onto the metal wire, which stretched taut above the road below.
A single push-off sent him skimming across the distance, gripping the handlebar tightly until he was over the other building, then releasing it and dropping the few feet to the roof.  The rough surface scraped against him as he rolled, but the sturdy material of his body suit kept him from feeling it.  When he was on his feet again, his katana was in his hand, the energy coating on the blade humming to life and giving off a faint blue light.  He sliced through the padlock on the entrance, swiftly pulling open the door and locating the alarm panel.
The code Ann had given him worked; the alarm system was disarmed, and he unlocked the doors at the back of the building.  He punched the timer on his wristwatch as he went inside.  In one minute and ten seconds, he would meet up with the rest of his team in a maintenance shaft.  As he moved swiftly and silently down the corridors, he drew the S&W 500 from its holster.  It had a heavy, solid feel to it, and he held it ahead of him as he navigated around the corners.
Footsteps sounded off to his left.  He threw himself against a wall, the gun held to his chest.  A guard walked around the corner, his rifle held low; he was paying little attention to his job.  Jake clubbed the back of his head with his revolver, and the guard went down with barely a grunt.  He hauled the body behind a convenient pipe and resumed moving towards the rendezvous point.
He had previously plotted out a path through the corridor that would keep him from encountering any of the building’s automatic defenses, so he met up with his teammates exactly on time.  Ann flashed him a grin.  “Nice work, Jacob.”  She handed him his portion of the explosives.  “You know where you need to plant these?”
“Of course.”  He slung the bag over his shoulder, returning her grin.  “See you in five minutes.”
They scattered, moving throughout the building and planting the explosives on key systems.  As Jacob placed his last explosive, her frowned.  There had been no opposition whatsoever.  It was too easy.
A hissing sound, followed by a loud click, came from behind him.  He whirled, and saw that the door to the room had sealed behind him.  He rushed to it and tried to force it open, but it resisted.  After glancing at his watch and seeing that he had only thirty seconds before the bombs detonated, he pulled the shotgun off his back and fired on the door, trying to blow open the latch and free himself.
When both the clip of shells and the battery for the energy shots were exhausted, he drew his pistol, hoping that the large, high-power slugs might succeed where buckshot had failed.  The door was merely dented.  He holstered the pistol and drew his katana, trying to slide the blade through the door and the frame and cut it open, but it was too tight.  Another glance at his watch: ten seconds.
He moved to the farthest corner of the room and pushed over the heavy desk and filing cabinet, laying behind them.  His watched ticked down the last three seconds.  Two.  One.
A deafening boom, and the desk was flung against the wall, crushing Jake’s lower body.  The fire washed over him, searing him through his combat suit.  He lay there, barely conscious, as the fire died down.  His vision was dim and blurry, and his ears were totally filled with a loud ringing.
Vaguely, as though from a distance, he heard Ann’s voice over his headset.  He couldn’t tell what she was saying.  Gradually, mercifully, he blacked out.
—
“Jacob, come in!”  Ann swore as she pulled a small palm computer out of a pouch.  “Did either of you see him come out?”
“No, ma’am,” one of them said.
“I noticed the building locking down just after I made it out,”
She plugged into the device, and her eyes went unfocused as she looked at her heads-up display.  Three small lights close together, that was Ann and the other two operatives.  That one light, still in the building…  “Bloody fool.”  Ann sprinted back into the building, her cyborg legs sending her flying over the burning rubble, leaping from solid patch to solid patch, then landed in front of the door that had trapped Jacob.  After a quick scan of the door, she punched the latch hard, snapping it, then pulled it open quickly.  Jake was crumpled against a wall, pinned by a desk that still smoldered.
“Help me get him out of here.”  The other two cyborgs pulled the desk away and Ann picked up his broken body and quickly carried him to the hover copter that they had flown there.  It took them less than five minutes to get back to Black Fire Corporation’s headquarters, and another two to transfer Jacob’s body to the medical ward.
The doctors looked him over.  “There’s nothing we can do to save this body,” one of them said.  “But he’s on the list for cybernetic recreation, so we’ll save his mind.”
Ann watched, her robotic eyes unblinking, as the doctors determined what of Jacob could be saved.  They put him on life support to sustain him while they transferred his life from a human shell to one that was primarily machine.  With a smoothness that spoke of a great deal of experience, the doctors removed his legs, his right arm at the shoulder, and the right side of his face.
As they finished removing the damaged body parts, Ann frowned slightly.  “Do you have the right parts for him?
“He was scanned during his physical.  We made a complete set of cyborg parts for him the day he started working for Black Fire.”  The doctor who said this opened a cabinet, revealing the aforementioned set of parts.  They took everything they needed and began merging metal and flesh, bonding the human part of Jacob to his new cyborg parts.
A faint smirk crossed Ann’s lips.  He had been good before.  Now he would be the best.
—
When Jacob came to, the first thing he noticed was that he didn’t hurt.  After what he’d been through, that was inexplicable.  He opened his eyes and noticed something else.  Everything looked different.  A few moments of contemplation let him realize he was seeing things partially in infrared vision, and he seemed to somehow have a minimal heads-up display.
That wasn’t the half of it, though.  He slowly sat up and felt that his right arm was harder, stronger.  Almost unwillingly, he turned to look at it.  Metal.  Mechanical.  A quick glance showed that his legs were metal as well, and he felt his face with his left, still human, hand.  Also metal.
Jake flopped back onto the pillows.  Sure, they had told him that they would turn him into a cyborg if he lost limbs, but reality is something altogether entirely different from what you hear someone says.
His flop must have made more noise than he thought, because Ann came quickly into the room.  “You’re awake.”  She smiled.  “How do you feel?”
“How do you think?”  He sat up again and moved to the edge of the bed, getting used to how the new body felt.  It responded just the same as his old body had; that was something.  “All right, I suppose.  How long does it take to get used to?”
Ann sat on the bed beside him.  “About a week.  Though, only the first day is really awkward.”
Jake slowly stood, feeling like a child just learning to walk.  The legs were high-quality, though, and carried him well.  Once he got the feel of them, he walked back and forth in the room, testing them.  He shot Ann a grin.  “How do I look?”
She grinned.  “Handsome and powerful.  Everything an agent should be.  And you seem well-adapted to it, too.”
He shifted from leg to leg.  “Indeed.  Let’s go train.”  They walked down the hall together, heading for the training room.
Jake grinned.  This was going to be fun.