And heeeeere it is! Chapter One! Technically chapter sixteen- the one I've been waiting to upload! Who was it that said they liked death by strangulation? Well, I've created a much more…creative… death. Visser Three will approve (am I the only one who still thinks Esplin is Visser Three? I don't care that he became Visser One he's still Visser Three in my head.)
By the way, later I'm going to add a chapter before this one to summaries part one, but not now, I'm not in the mood to sum anything up.
Anyway, enough talk and more of the story;
PART TWO;
SIXKILLER- SXK FLIPS TIME
Chapter Sixteen
"Come on," she urged softly in his ear, "We need this to look good, we need this to look perfect, we need it to look real."
The girl was of average height, her silhouette lean and frail, a typical feminine composition; it looked particularly so against Mark's sturdy build. One could see that he was rather occupied since he was sitting hunched on the few steps that led to an elevated dry surface in an underground sewer connection. The girl had finished lighting the couple dozen fire-torches –since the electrical ones were shot- and came to a stop inches away from Mark's bowed back. She was bent over whispering in his ear.
Mark looking a bit doubtful, returned the girl's reassuring grip on his arm, "Whatever you say. I just want to get rid of him, but don't hurt him though, okay? Victor's been my man since childhood."
"This friend of yours is rather a pesky weakling, why not just get rid of him completely? If we just push him off he's sure to come back with his righteous idiotic decisions, and who knows? Maybe he'll run to the Yeerks to get rid of us?" The girl's head tilted and her eyes flickered as Mark sighed loudly, but then she peeked into his eyes and took his face in her hands, and with the most modest voice she could muster she spoke, "I understand, you don't want him to hurt himself."
"Yeah," Mark sounded like he was trying to convince himself, "That's it."
The girl's black hair shimmered and her sinister eyes glinted with dark excitement, "I'll padlock the cage, I want this to look convincing, like I have you -the big lock will stand out."
"Right." Mark expelled his breath as he walked into the small cage; the vertical bars were reinforced by mesh wire to hold the animals that were confined to it. As Mark took his position he said, "Do you have to tie me to the metal cross? I don't see the need, what on Earth are you trying to represent, you know I'm not going to be standing here for long."
Mark missed the telltale twinkle of mischief that were characteristic to the girl's dark personality, she blinked her eyes to regain her innocent composure. "It's symbolic, don't you think? You're Christian."
"And you're not," Mark flexed his arms and shook his legs before taking his final position, as he watched her come over to him with the thick rope he commented in an offhand opinion, not imposing his view. This was a great mistake, hadn't he done so he would have noticed something fishy, if he persuaded the matter more fully and thought properly he would have realized, but no, "I don't think it has to be this…extreme."
"Yes it does," the girl gave him a small smile, "It paints a dramatic image. You tied to a cross and the doves in the cage with you? Why, it is rather symbolic; doves are a sign of freedom." In her heart she also knew that a dove is a sign of death, the rising of spirits to the heavens. It was not to Mark's knowledge she intended to portray the latter.
She worked quickly and quietly, nimbly tying each of Mark's extremities –hands and legs- to the appropriate places on the beam cross. This left Mark with the painfully narrow support of the vertical beam, cutting sharply into his back as she tied him securely; with his chest thrust out and his arms fully extended..
As she left him in the cage with the seventy or so doves, the girl's left hand trailed across the length of his arm and raked his hair, she kissed him gently and closed the door behind her, but before leaving, she agilely snagged a dove without capturing Mark's notice to it.
Tossing the bird in her back pack and covering it-to stop it from flying away in panic, she spoke loudly to mask her movements and throw off any suspicion from Mark, "I guess I have to bid you temporary farewell; so long. Sweetheart." She went back to the cage and started applying the padlock, despite her effort to conceal her previous activity Mark questioned her disappearing to the other side of the cage were he couldn't see her. She replied calmly, knowing that Mark was starting to sense something wrong about the settings, "I was getting the padlock, what's wrong Mark? You want to get out?"
Mark was no quitter, but the sight of the girl in the isolated underground connection had it's own appeals. Mark did not mean that at that particular moment he didn't find her unbelievably attractive, but something was screaming away at his guts, eating him alive, something that howled danger. What aided his gut instinct were the hellish hues of the tunnel; as if forecasting what lay ahead; the fire torches provided dim lighting; casting the entire passageway into shades of black, yellow, orange and red.
Seeing that he did not answer and taking his silence as a no, the girl spoke so quietly that it startled Mark, "He'll be here soon." She paused, not a deliberate gesture, but something that was more of a habit, "With him will be Roger."
Mark heard another scream from his mind, a queasy feeling overcame him and he suddenly felt like throwing up, he held it back, and tried to speak in an unwavering voice. "How do you know?" despite his efforts to keep pain out of his voice it slipped out anyway, the increasing torment of the metal beam was adding to his physical and mental stress.
"I just know." The girl looked at him with a smile, it was a sad sort of smile, but there was something not so humane about her eyes, they appeared obscurely black, the whites disappearing in the gloom, was it real or was his eyes playing tricks in the dark? Her simple answer had added to his growing nausea. She turned away adding a few swift words, "Now hush, we want to surprise them."
As her head turned away from him his eyes did it again, her face mutated completely, he no longer saw her clear honest face but a demonic countenance with black eyeballs and skin that seemed to decay before his very eyes.
Mark's head dropped, he felt a fever play across his body, his lips were parched and he longed to get a current of fresh stinging air. Yet the "we" in her sentence came back to him, he pushed aside his illusions and spoke; half repulsed half engrossed by his notion, "Then it will be you and me. Together."
The girl –her face back to normal- glanced back at him; momentarily diverting her attention from the entrance of the tunnel, behind them was a dead end. "I will join you. Perhaps later. Yes." Smiling to herself she added; maybe in the after life, if one even existed.
The tunnel was consumed with the deafening ring of silence, the water underfoot made no noise since the air was dead still, there was no fast current, the girl was confidant that she would hear her the approaching threat ten minutes before it reached her.
And true to her belief, ten minutes after she heard faint splashing the vague figures of Victor and Roger appeared. After surveying the scene Victor took a step forward and his hand disappeared in his jacket.
"Damn you Sixkiller." Victor took another step forward. "What did you do to him?"
"Victor." The girl answered calmly, "Don't swear at me."
Victor swore again, he pointed a gun at Sixkiller, "Don't ever tell me how to run things and don't you dare tell me what I'm supposed to do."
Sixkiller was unarmed, but she felt no threat of any kind, "will you be so kind to your friend and listen on his behalf? I'm afraid that any rash decisions, like maybe shooting me, may and will jeopardize your dear friend's life."
"You bitch," Victor said in a low growling voice, "I'll shoot you right here and now."
Sixkiller's impassive eyes lit with anger, she swiftly strode across the side of the tunnel. She lifted something in her hand- retrieving it from her backpack. It was no weapon.
Victor laughed, "You really are wacko you witch, you're trying to threaten me? With a pigeon? You're even crazier than I thought possible."
Roger remained mute and unresponsive through all this, he eyed the girl suspiciously, Roger recognized that in the girl's hand was a dove, and what else? It had two crossed nails tied to its claws; the bird was a representation of all the other birds inside, they all had nails tied to their little bird feet.
"This dove, Victor, this one dove can lacerate your friend."
Victor hooted loudly, this caused the doves in Mark's cage to shift and shuffle. It was at this point too that Mark was becoming nervous, he didn't hear anything about laceration, what did Sixkiller have up her sleeve? And why haven't he noticed the nails?
"Bitch." Victor spit as he took aim. Chewing his tongue in an effort to steel his nerves; he had always found it hard to aim and shoot at the girl, but this time was different, this time he managed to psych himself into doing it, he had always had this phobic belief that whenever anyone stood up against the girl bad things happened. He'll never forget what happened to Jimmy. Never.
"Victor." Mark said cautiously, "Victor-"
"Don't worry buddy." Victor sounded a bit lost and childish as he spoke, "I'll save you, I know you care for this monster but this will only hurt for a while. Then we'll be back together like old times."
Eyes wide Mark eyed the doves, "Victor, don't shoot, please don't shoot." Mark was suddenly aware of the high numbers of birds in the cage; they no longer looked cute and divine; they spelled evil. He looked around helplessly, but Sixkiller had her back to him, "Sixkiller?"
"I'm sorry Mark, it's for your own good," Victor whispered as he closed one eye to take better aim, "You'll get over it."
"Victor!" Mark said, a few pitches away from shouting, he realized the immediate danger, it could not be avoided by screaming hysterical, the very screaming will cause it to happen. Mark's breath caught in his chest as he tried to come up with something to say, only he was bitterly trapped, and disappointed, he couldn't bare looking at Sixkiller, he just couldn't. "Victor I'm sorry tha-NO!"
Victor squeezed the trigger.
BAAAM!
The roar of the explosion reverberated across the tunnel.
The birds took flight in the cage. Mark started screaming in agony as the doves mercilessly ripped at him as they flew in confusion.
Victor forgot all about Sixkiller, dropped the gun and splashed towards the cage, "Mark! MARK! MAAARK! NOOOOOOOO!"
Victor fumbled at the lock as his friend screamed in terror and distress, finding that he couldn't get the lock open Victor started kicking at it, this caused even higher havoc in the cage the birds totally engulfed Mark's body, bird feathers floated out of the cage as well as specks of blood; from both bird and human.
Victor ran to his dropped gun, he vaguely noted Roger standing hypnotized staring at the rising form of Sixkiller. Victor ran towards the cage and shot off the padlock, he swung open the door and doves battered and tore at his face as he pushed himself in.
"Mark? Mark?" Victor's voice was cracked and tired, more and more birds flew out of the open cage, slowly he started seeing his friend's body…strangely red and hanging limp with the head dropped backwards. Victor reached for the head, tilted it, to look at his friend's face, "Mark I'm-ARRRRRRRRRGGHHHHHHH!"
"Arrghhhhh! Argh! Argh! Arrghhhhh! Argh! Argh! Arghhh!" Victor stumbled backwards and fell as his friend's head swung forward, his face bloody and unrecognizable and his left eye a mess of red and white while the right eye was a dark nonexistent socket. His cheeks were torn and so were his clothes. Blood dripped off his wounds, and the grizzly face of Victor's dead friend burned forever in his memory.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god. Mark." Victor -crouching with his hands over his heading shielding himself- whispered shell-shocked, "Mark, Mark. No, no, come back."
Victor was blind to all of what happened around him, he did not even notice that Sixkiller and Roger were scuffling over the gun, grunts and snarls from both fighters as they splashed into the water.
Victor continued staring at the horrific remains of Mark's body, he longed to look at his face, his true clear healthy face, but even that image was no longer available, all he could see was the flash of his muzzle and then him looking at Mark. He did not recall anything between, or anything before.
"Victor! Victor! Hel-" Victor's eyes reluctantly broke their gaze from his deceased friend, as he looked away he scrambled up crying to himself.
"VIC-argh-hel-" A violent scuffle, more splashing and something flew and skittered towards his feet.
Victor in the gloom, barely recognized what the glint of metal at his feet meant, as another splash and scuffle occupied his attention he looked up to see Sixkiller sitting above Roger, his face held forcefully in the water.
Victor's mind worked slowly, registering his thoughts seconds after he had them, yet he had the greatest trouble adding up what he was seeing; Sixkiller plain in his view and unshielded, Roger's half immersed body, a gun at his feet.
Victor watched stupidly as Roger's body slowly ceased to thrash, and then, then he got it, but by then, it was too late.
Sixkiller got off Roger's back and kicked him, his lifeless body floated down stream, away from the cage, she dashed towards Victor and tired to tackle him, but she fell short and instead, reached out to grab the gun, Victor stomped her outstretched hand causing her to emit a sharp bark of pain, he grabbed the gun, shaking and taking a few steps back he said, "Go away, I'll shoot, I swear I'll shoot!"
Sixkiller rolled up to her feet. Victor cocked the gun. She froze.
"Go away!" Victor yelled, tears streaming down his eyes, he took another step back, stumbling on the few steps that led to the elevated surface and the cage, "I'll shoot!"
Sixkiller regarded his eyes carefully, "No you wouldn't. You wouldn't shoot me."
"I'll sh-sh-shoot! I s-swear it! Just go away, I'm giving you a chance to go. G-go away." Victor was terrified, he was babbling out anything, trying to look away from her beautiful face but was far too afraid to do so. In the dark, as he stared at her stunning face the image mutated into something that resembled a rotting carcass, he blinked trying to erase the image but it refused to leave, he wondered if what he was seeing was true; a gorgeous female converted into a hideous resemblance of a rotting corpse in seconds. Her dark eyes blazed.
"Take that gun down," Sixkiller said, her usually husky voice was as distorted as her image, he wondered if it was an illusion, if his eyes and mind were playing tricks. Beads of sweat covered his face.
"You aren't going to use it, give it to me."
"N-n-no. Step BACK! Stop it! Back off I s-say!" Victor yelled hysterically as she advanced. He waved the gun a little then took aim with a shaking arm, "D-d-don't. Don't take a step. Another s-step. Don't. I'll, I'll sh-shoot!"
"Victor." Sixkiller said with a low dangerously silky voice, blinking, the vile image was slowly dissolving back into the darkness, she looked like her old self again, her eyes –now tender and caring- her expression almost peaceful, "Bad things happen when little boys play with dangerous toys." She took another step forward.
"I'll shoot! L-l-look what you did to M-m-mark!"
"Oh, god." Sixkiller tilted a concerned head in Mark's direction –almost mockingly, then looked back to Victor, in a concerned parent's voice she said, "What have you done Victor?"
"I-I-I didn't do anything! It. It was you!" Victors eyes blurred with tears, he felt miserably alone and helpless, "It was all you."
"No. No. No." She reasoned with him the way a parent reasoned with a child that had done wrong. "You shot the gun. You killed him. Look what you did to him." Her voice turned from hard to soft, "Victor, give me the gun, before you kill anyone else."
"I-I-I'll shoot! Don't. No! No! NO! NO! NOO!" Sixkiller was inches away from Victor's terrified eyes, in his mind, Mark's repulsive face flashed before him, he felt his grip loosen on the gun as Sixkiller gently pried it off him. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine and his entire body felt the growing heat of flames as her fingers brushed his.
"That's good. Now." Sixkiller said coldly, "I'm going to leave. Then later on, when someone finds you, you'll report to me, tell me what you see and what happened. Do you hear me?"
Crying in submission and pure self-pity, Victor nodded his head.
"Good. Make sure no one sees you. I'll know where to find you." Sixkiller said curtly as she holstered the gun, she petted Victor's head and walked off, disappearing in the gloom of the tunnel; leaving a sobbing terrified Victor huddled in a corner with the two dead bodies of his beloved comrades.
Leaving him with clear evidence of his failure and an embarrassing stamp of his submission to her leadership.
A leader that will no doubt spread an evil far greater than the capacities of the Yeerk scourge; only a few things can beat a corrupt, evil human, and that would be another human with equal power and strength.
Such a person did not exist.
Yet.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Oh, nice isn't it? I'm particularly fond of the death by doves. Hehehe, my creativity is infinite –it's because I'm sooo evil. Either that or I'm related to Visser Three, hmmm, I don't know, I better check on that one. You'll find out the length of Sixkiller's deceiving abilities later on. I'm not sure that the eye tricks are actually eye tricks, there's something behind having Sixkiller's face mutate in the dark but I'm not definite on that, yet. So until then, I better go along and prepare the next chapter, I bet you want to know what happens -by the way, I am writing a reunion between Tom and Jake, I know it doesn't look like it but I am -in fact it's already written.
