1 Chapter 4
1.1 Pieces
"Enter." Tren's voice echoed. The hydraulics in the doors had beeaving some difficulties. After a few aggravated minutes, the door creakepen, but only halfway. Keith Alcolm squeezed himself in between thegments. He carried with him a black folder.
He strode diligently and quickly over to Tren's desk and took a seat.
Keith glanced back at the door and gave a humorous cringe. "So when'hat supposed to be fixed?"
"Oh, the door?" Tren had been a bit dazed. "I'll be damned if theet it done in a month." He turned his attention to the black folder.
"Well?"
"Oh, right!" Keith had apparently had a bit of a long week, and ong time to prepare his speech for Tren. However, as of now, he haompletely forgotten the entire presentation. He did, though, remember thpening statement. "Factionalism must be abolished."
Tren leaned back in his chair. Keith was expecting him to laugh ais faltered attempt to sound professional, but the armored man stayetern. "I know."
Keith's eyes widened. He had also prepared an entire argumentatiocenario to convince Tren of his idea, he never thought the Exoduresident would actually agree with him.
Tren continued on the thought, "I realize that you want to unite the
Factions." Keith nodded. "In order to do that we would have to first likach other, and we've at least gotten that ball rolling, but it will takime."
"Can't we speed it up somehow?"
"I expect that the new generation will do that without realizing it."
Keith cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow at thomment.
Torik crouched down on his hunches, staring at the gravestone. Had been there for maybe close to two hours, just staring and thinking. Aast he started talking, maybe to himself or Terrence's corpse or both.
"What the hell am I sitting out here for? Do you know? No, no I don't.
I'm lost." He stood up and paced before the grave. "What is it that yoeeded? Why did you need to become me?"
He stopped pacing. "Who are you?"
Hyle sat against the fence surrounding the stones. The gate creakepen, then clanged shut. Torik stood still, thinking. "So, did you geny visions?" Hyle mocked.
Torik chose his words carefully, "You shouldn't show that attitude ie're to work together in solving this case."
"Look, I don't have to like you. And I won't respect you if yoespect than damn Bounty Hunter. That freaking murderer." Hyle stood,
throwing his cigarette in the ground.
"I don't recall you smoking." Torik observed.
"Let's go meet up with Chris." He put his hands in his pockets antarted off.
"The Bounty Hunters did something to your life." Torik stated. Hylalted.
He responded quietly, "Let's go find Chris."
Chris leaned back in the officer's lounge, taking the opportunity telax. The opportunity didn't last too long, however, as Hyle angriltormed into the room. "Get up, I need to talk." Yep, Hyle was definitelissed, but Chris did not get up.
Instead, the councilman ordered Hyle to shut the door. "Do it beforour head explodes." Hyle not-so-humbly obliged.
The top floor of Direct was extraordinarily clean. Nothing lined thalls. No panels or portraits hung to showcase their history. Only a feaster living quarters settled up here.
Torik exited his elevator with curiosity. He was amazed by thesolateness of the top floor, but he knew where he was going. The finauarters on the right. Before his hand could touch the keypad, omputerized voice ordered him to identify himself.
A security simulator up here? OK. "Torik Stronkhold, here to see the
Tactical Administrator, Syria Shoven."
What answered wasn't the computer, but a quiet, anguished voice. "Why dou come here? What do you want from me?"
"I need to talk to you." Torik whispered back.
"Leave, immediately." The voice hissed.
"I can't do that, I apologize, but I must know what you know for thionfusion to end."
"I said, to leave me in peace."
"Once again, I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Either you talk to me or yoalk to one of my rather virulent partner as of now, for later, if he eveools off."
Shheeeuuwaa! The door slid open then, revealing the gentle curves of
Syria, standing just at the edge of the door.
"Uh, good afternoon." Torik respectfully bowed to her. She smiled weaklt his politeness.
"Why aren't you leaving?"
"Why do you want me to leave?" Torik asked in return. "You've been in youuarters for nearly two weeks straight. One could get worried about you."
He smiled gently.
Syria paused for a long while, staring into Torik's eyes. She noticehose same sky blue eyes. The same confidence. And the same charm. "Comn." she backed up to allow him entrance.
Torik came into the darkened room with caution. Everyone had beeariously on edge since his arrival and the awakening of the truth. Also,
anyone involved with his father had elapsed into a state of a depression oome kind and hidden themselves away from the rest of the staff. At thaoment, he felt the responsibility for politeness and the urge to breahis wake of cowardice that has swept over the Faction.
"I'm only telling you this because you're HIS son." Syria whispered.
For some reason, maybe it was the light, or lack of it; she looked muclder and paler. She stepped slowly over to her couch and gingerly took eat, still not looking at him. "When the Elimination process was stoppey that Enforcer and the Orson kid, Aidam was more than angry."
"So he planned the Elimination?"
"It was a tactic no one used anymore." She shook her head. "Aidam thoughhat unearthing it would somehow heighten his resolve. It didn't."
Torik brought her back, "What did he do?"
"He…He regretted it. He wanted to erase it from ever happening."
"You can't erase the past. It's done." Torik paced around the room. Still
Syria did not look at him.
Finally she spoke, her voice was heavy and breathless. "Aidam hired
Hunter."
Torik's head turned to one side toward her. He wasn't actually lookinoward her, but his eyes felt close nonetheless.
"He was surprised when Hunter agreed to the deal."
"What exactly WAS the deal?"
"Most of its specifics were not told to me, but one thing I did know ihat it would be blamed on the Bounty Hunters." She chuckled, "I'd saihat that would have made the decision for Hunter."
"A no?"
"Exactly. Why would he want to desecrate his own illegal Faction?"
"Indeed." Torik gazed out to the cloudy day, the sun breaching through onln short spurts, even then as slits in the skyline. "I'll bother you nore."
Syria looked to him finally, twisting around. He seemed to sink into thilhouette made around him. At that moment, she knew his emotions aneelings for his father were waging war on each other. After a minute thaasted longer, he pushed off the window and started toward the door. Hassed the couch briskly, with no intention of lingering. She intentltood.
"Torik." Her voice was soft. She held out her hand. In it was mall, folded white slip. "I have the name of a Runner. His informatiore what led Aidam to Hunter."
Torik eagerly took the slip, sticking in his jacket. "Does he stileep contact?"
Syria nodded, "He's a little, well, skittish."
"Most Runners are, too much sugar." Torik grinned, then abruptleft.
"Good luck, Torik." Syria whispered to the dark.
"Aidam, ahem, my father, needed someone at the time to get rid ohose that had stopped his plan before. Those that had stopped Cinder."
Torik had been pacing back and forth in the small lounge, Chris once agaiesting on the couch. He had stopped when he had an idea going.
"Hunter has a band of skilled assassins, Aidam hires Hunter.
Meanwhile, while they're biding their time, Aidam has second thoughts ohe entire situation and instead only targets Kane, the Enforcer. And
Hunter poses a heavy interest in the force mechanism." Torik starteacing, lost again. "But how does Terrence fit into the scenario."
"What was Terrence?" Chris already knew the answer, but was simplushing Torik into the decision. Chris had found himself as somewhat of uide, even if he was wrong in some instances.
"He was a trickster, improviser…An Actor." It dawned on him. Toriegan speaking so fast it was hard for even Chris to follow the mess odeas.
"Hunter created the distraction, of well, me, but actually Terrenco occupy Aidam and give him the means to escape with the Force cannon tbtain his own objective."
"Hmm, sounds about right." Chris chuckled.
"What we don't know," Torik slowed down, "Is what the hell thabjective was."
"We should take a rest."
Torik looked around. "Where's Hyle?" Chris' silence said thbvious. "Where is he Chris?"
"It isn't your place to ask." He maneuvered.
"He's my partner." Torik argued.
"He's my friend." Chris stated.
"What is it with him? Why is this case so taxing on him?" Torisked.
"Like I said, it isn't your business. If he wanted to tell you, hould." Chris asserted.
Torik and Chris locked glaring eyes for a moment. They bore intach other, looking for answers. They found none that were clear, onlints of pasts. "What did they do to him?" Torik finally asked, noreaking the glare.
Chris' eyebrows rose at his assertion. "Even I can't tell you that.
He never talks about it." He broke gaze, questioning himself for anstance. Looking back up, he whispered his only hint to Hyle'hereabouts. "Because of them, he has nothing left to lose."
Torik lightly bowed, and was gone immediately.
Hyle knelt at three specific gravestones, smoking again. The birdhirped and the wind was weak. Hyle was wearing his black jacket, with neal caring as to how the collar was set. As it was, the collar waticking up all around his neck, covering and shading his sharp face. Hilack hair was parted in the middle, but was still a little messy. A fetrands had found their way across his forehead, but the locks were shornough not to hinder his vision.
Hyle's green eyes read across the stones. Claire Erikson…… Jon
Erikson……
"Crap." Hyle murmured. He reached out and rubbed some of the grimff his sister's gravestone. Underneath lay a shining, metallic surface.
Hyle saw Torik in the reflection.
"How old were you?" Torik asked gently.
Hyle stood, dropped his cigarette, pulverizing it into the grass.
"Obviously not old enough."
"I can understand."
"How the hell would YOU know!?" Hyle whirled on him. "How in God'ame would you understand??"
Torik sighed. "You cannot make assumptions only by a person'ccupation."
"Answer me!"
"Trunks made an assumption of me based on my father. Based on mlood."
"Damn you! Answer!" Hyle plunged forward, hiking Torik up by theck of his coat. Torik did nothing. "How could you sit and watch as theassacred one sibling after another? Huh!?" he dropped the Venoson. "Hoan you understand?"
"I know what it's like to watch death come, time and time again, tover and strike blows upon my life. But I suppose I can't say I knoecause I can't measure the magnitude of the blow it had on you. But I caay that Terrence was not as bloodthirsty and horrible as what you haitnessed."
Hyle composed himself again, this time angry and indignant. "Is thihat they taught you at Venoson? I thought you were taught to hunt down
Bounty Hunters."
"We were also taught to understand them. Terrence was a trickster,
he caused mischief, but he didn't kill anyone."
"He was the instrument used to raise hell here! In all certainty,
because of him, we lost the Freeshade and half our military strength!"
Torik softened even further, "And our job is to find out why. Yore angry, but you can't stay that way forever. There will come a timhen you can't justify yourself anymore."
Hyle stopped. "You've been talking to Trunks haven't you?" Thiade Torik grin. In turn, Hyle grinned. Then Torik giggled and Hyliggled. And the two young men shared in a good belly laugh, the same kinhe human emotion uses to deal with others, even in awkward moments.
The alleyways near the outskirts wreaked of mildew and grime. Thmoke rising from the sewers was fitting enough for the atmosphere. Iasn't as if the scum of the earth roamed or anything, it was just a gooiding place for those exiled by society. Torik found the settinurprisingly humble.
The young Venoson looked once again at his surroundings. He hatopped in a dank crossroads, each path masked by a wave of smoke, eacith its own personal set of vents in the ground. The furthest ahead oim had a darkness moving about it. He was startled when a small facrotruded from the mist and gazed at him. The face spoke, "Are you the
Venoson?" it asked in a hushed whisper.
Torik nodded. "Hurry, before we're seen!" A tiny hand flowed frohe mist as well and beckoned him. Torik quickened his cautious step. Hmerged through the gray and found himself in a dead end. Why am I
trusting this guy? Torik thought as he realized no one was there waitinor him. He carefully made his way further into the corridor.
"Venoson, sir?" Torik's heart skipped a beat at the voice, his senseuiding him to the roof at his left. The sun had just peaked its wahrough the clouds down to them. The Runner was in a crouched position, ieminded Torik of a frog. His shape was silhouetted atop the lower terracf the roof. The Runner's grin showed a white streak over his dark face,
flashing some unusually white teeth. He immediately dropped onto thavement before Torik, landing on all fours. He arched his body back utraight, well, as straight as he could make it with his curved back. "I
am sorry, Mr. Torik, sir, but I wanted to be sure you were not followed.
Not many take kindly to Venoson in these corridors." The Runner shifted hieight.
"And what if I was?" Torik asked.
"I would run."
"And leave me to fight."
"Yes…" The Runner nodded vigorously.
"Let's cut to the chase Runner."
"Yessir!"
Torik quietly stepped a little closer to the Runner, who in turkittered a few steps back. Torik smiled at the terrified messenger.
"Calm yourself, Runner, I won't hurt you."
"Miss Syria told me that, sir." The Runner recalled happily.
Torik grinned at Syria's mention. He glanced back down at the sheehe had given him. "Skit." He experimented.
The Runner jerked up and stood a little more rigid, unsure if heard the Venoson correctly. "That is your name, correct?"
Skit erected even further, pausing, then suddenly nodded vigorously,
smiling now. It seemed the mention of his name killed any uncertaintoward Torik that he had felt. He grinned happily, "I am ready to tell yohat I know."
Torik grinned back, "I am ready to listen."
"Terrence wasn't one to take his targets, sir." Skit got right intt. He had been briefed before by Syria as to the information Torieeded. "He instead chose to impersonate them." Torik lifted an eyebrow.
"He even got all the fixings for them, all the make-up, the voice maskers,
everything."
"Wouldn't he be hunted then?" Torik asked.
"The commanders didn't like it at first, they denounced him anemoted his rank, but that didn't stop him. He continued to impersonatis targets seamlessly." Skit paused, collecting his thoughts. "I caecall an instance when his actions aided one bounty hunter with importannformation on her target's whereabouts. This pleased the commanders anhey realized his use."
Torik thought if he should say it. He did. "Was I one of hiargets?"
Skit faltered, but recovered, his speech momentarily disfigured. I-
in one sense, yes. You were a target, but more his character to portray."
"I see, go on."
"Yes, well, the commanders thought this to be too much of a task, anlso would end in failure on both sides, but Terrence had been progressinis parts higher and higher in the social class. You, Mr. Torik, were thext big step."
Torik's face showed now no confusion, only absolution. "He wanted to gut with a bang." He laughed lightly, "No pun intended."
The Runner looked nervously around, in no mood for humor.
"I'm just trying to loosen you up, Skit." Torik consoled.
"Sorry, Mr. Torik, s-sir." The Runner stuttered, "I'm not used to ind Venoson." The quick messenger gave a nervous smile.
"Understood." Torik laughed. "Is there anything else you can tell mbout Mr. Jackson. Anything, the way he clipped his toenails?"
The Runner actually snickered at the joke, but then composed himsels much as he could. "He wasn't too fond of one of our Commanders…"
"Hunter?"
"…..I don't know…." Skit's eyes darted around, then went to his feet.
He shifted his weight from side to side.
"Skit?" Torik tried to persuade him to continue, but the Runner onlontinued to shift his feet.
At last the Runner whined, his voice squeaking like a baby mouse, "I
can't say, Mr. Torik, I just can't say. You don't know what'll happen-
"Nothing is going to happen, Skit."
"-most horrible, horrible things, sir, you wouldn't-
"Please, Skit, calm down. Was it Hunter?"
"-things will happen to me, like the things that happened to Hyle, I-
Torik struck forward, grasping the Runner's collar and shaking hiack to reality. The young man spoke in a hushed strife, "What happened to
Hyle?"
"I-I don't know, sir, please put Skit down, sir, I-I don't know."
Torik shook him again, but Skit fell mute. The little Runner only looket him with the wide eyes of a child looking up into the face of parenfter doing something wrong, filled with both tremendous fear and sorrow.
Torik set him down carefully. The moment the Runner's feet felt the coltreet, he was gone.
Torik stood in the alley, letting the heavy wind find him and lifis long, black coat. He couldn't pry his thoughts away from his partner.
He took no notice of the clouds descending over the city.
"Daddy, where's Hyle?"
"He's in bed dear."
"Is he still not feeling well?"
"He's got a bit of a tummy ache, Claire. But don't you worry, he'le fine with a good night's rest."
The wind pounded against the windows, the rain coming down likassive broadswords, striking themselves in the pavement below. Hyle san his green leather couch, looking out the window, his eyes narrowed. Had tucked his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Thain continued to pour.
"Daddy, who's outside?"
"Now, Claire, don't scare me like that, you know I don't like it wheou say that."
"But I heard a car door Daddy, listen!"
"Claire, I mean it now."
"Listen!"
"………Claire."
"Why are you speaking so softly, Daddy?"
"Lower your voice honey………And get under something."
A streak of lightning lit the sky, illuminating Hyle's dark room. Hulled his knees tighter to his chest, and continued to stare into thtreaking water outside.
"What's wrong Daddy?"
"I love you Claire, now get under that desk. Do it."
"Why, Daddy?"
"Do it. And stay there, don't move from that-
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Hyle buried his face on his knees, also resting on his crossed arms.
Two more claps of thunder rose in the night.
"Daddy!"
"You sons of bitches, stay away from my family!"
BKEWBKEWBKEWBKEWBKEWBKEW!
THSEWW!
"Gaaaklt!"
"DAADDY!"
"Nice knife, there, Thorn."
"Sir?"
"Yeah, kill the kid too."
"Daddy! Please, Daddy, get up, please, Daddy. Dad-
BLAM!
A final streak cut the sky. And Hyle was gone from his room of dusk.
For both sanctity and redemption purposes, Direct's multiplasements held a small cathedral, for those soldiers that believe irayer. However, and much to Shane's disapproval, it has been blocked off,
no longer "needed".
Hyle strode silently into the small, dark room, up to the cross. Thed glow from two candles sent reddish-orange waves over the walls, thines shuddering at every step. He knelt before the rusted, golden symbol,
and slid the podium aside that stood under it. His hands hesitated ovehe floorboards, then slid them aside. What shone in the dark hole beneatas a fine black case, several inches tall and three times that wide. Hylifted the box out and set it on his lap.
The hinges were still untouched by time and moved fluently, spening the case remained silent. Within was a long, black and sleek shaff one of the newer models of the velocity revolvers. The other fixingncluded a crimson silver handle, the custom cut slits that were bullets,
and a generation crystal to give a little extra punch of psionic energy the hot lead.
Hyle began to assemble the gun slowly, every movement sending hiack to when he did use this forbidden weapon.
"I thought councilman weren't allowed to withhold guns." Chris appeared ihe doorway, leaning on its frame.
"Shut up, Christopher." Hyle shot across the blackness, "It's noike I'm going to use it."
"Yeah." Chris strode across the room. His gold hair shone a dark ren the candlelight. "But you were thinking about it."
Hyle didn't answer, instead he took aim at an imaginary foe,
critically straightening his arm and fixing his stance. He relaxed again,
dusting the powerful black barrel. Chris leaned against the wall in fronf Hyle. His face was cut down the middle by the light, forming a dark anight side. "You do realize that the Syndicate Venoson was abolished wheheir methods became, well, more civilized?"
Hyle's eyes flashed. "Why do you ask questions to which you'vlready formed the answers to?"
Chris changed the subject, "Appropriate place to store it, I suppose.
A holy weapon of justice wielded for the good of humanity." He murmurearcastically.
"I am in no mood for your sarcasm, Chris, and you know that." Hylissed to his friend. The candles flickered in the exchange of angroices.
"Who you gonna' kill tonight, Hyle?" Chris fired over the floor.
"Don't know." He returned offhandedly. He flashed the gun up aneveled on Chris, who stiffened by reflex. "How about you?"
Christopher actually grinned at this action. His own friend froiddle school and military training pulling a gun on him. How justified.
His grin vanished when he watched Hyle pull the cock back and narrow hiyes, also straightening his arm further.
"You gonna' shoot me there, Hyle?"
"Guess." Hyle hissed.
"It won't bring them back, my friend."
"Will it make me feel better, my friend?" Hyle asked. His shadolickered in the light.
"Depends on how malicious you can be." Chris didn't move from hipot.
Hyle's eye twitched suddenly and his arm abruptly swung down. BLAM!
A thick black hole to the right of Hyle's foot now shone through thloorboards.
The next morning was slow, despite a planned celebration later thaay. Torik met Hyle and Chris at Direct's steps. Hyle was looking ratheale. Chris was also a tad flustered on his own.
"So I'm guessing you heard?" Torik broke the tired silence.
"They're closing the case for now because they're afraid the BH
faction will strike." Chris delivered monotone.
"But they're still throwing a party for the success of the messagnd/or your return to the land of the living." This came from Hyle, alsonotone.
As the day rolled on, literally nothing happened. There were nnterrogations. Syria did not leave her room. Signals into space for the
Freeshade commenced, but to no avail.
The evening came upon them in ascension, no one really noticed whet arrived. It rolled in with the mist and fog, although the attitude ohe night was still one of joy and fun. The Direct building churned witxcited bodies, all headed to the ballroom in the first level of thasement.
Hyle was setting his suit on his bed when Torik walked in. There wa small pack on the desk.
"Hyle, I'll see you there, right?" Torik asked.
Hyle nodded briskly, "Sure thing, but I'll be a bit late."
"Why?"
"I just have something to take care of." Hyle answered offhandedly.
"All right, then." And Torik left quietly. Chris started to follow,
then processed what Hyle had said. He looked at his friend, his eyes askehe question.
"Don't ask, Chris." Hyle glared back. "Really, don't ask."
The two friends locked gazes, and broke them at the same time as
Chris left and Hyle got back work gathering his things.
The councilman emerged through the mist rising from the grate witenown control. He saw the Runner called Skit crouched before him.
"Oh, are you Hyle?" Hyle nodded. The Runner continued excitedly,
"You work with Torik right? Good, good, good. I'm sorry for mranticness, but you know what happens if I get caught, right?"
"They kill you, I know." Hyle said without emotion. "You don't havo worry about that."
"You made sure no one followed you?" Skit the Runner was small aneek, but quick as a bullet. But he was always convulsively shivering whee stood still, as if the sheer aspect of not running was making his bodwitch. He looked like a child on a sugar fix.
Hyle was still very cool and calm. "Yes, I made completely sure."
Skit looked at him expectantly for something, but he didn't know whaet. The Councilman pulled back his jacket on the left, revealing elocity revolver.
The city was a silent wake of moonlight and artificial street light.
No birds chirped at dusk. And among the sound of silence, four loud shotere sounded within themselves. Shots sounded from a sleek, velocitevolver…
1.1 Pieces
"Enter." Tren's voice echoed. The hydraulics in the doors had beeaving some difficulties. After a few aggravated minutes, the door creakepen, but only halfway. Keith Alcolm squeezed himself in between thegments. He carried with him a black folder.
He strode diligently and quickly over to Tren's desk and took a seat.
Keith glanced back at the door and gave a humorous cringe. "So when'hat supposed to be fixed?"
"Oh, the door?" Tren had been a bit dazed. "I'll be damned if theet it done in a month." He turned his attention to the black folder.
"Well?"
"Oh, right!" Keith had apparently had a bit of a long week, and ong time to prepare his speech for Tren. However, as of now, he haompletely forgotten the entire presentation. He did, though, remember thpening statement. "Factionalism must be abolished."
Tren leaned back in his chair. Keith was expecting him to laugh ais faltered attempt to sound professional, but the armored man stayetern. "I know."
Keith's eyes widened. He had also prepared an entire argumentatiocenario to convince Tren of his idea, he never thought the Exoduresident would actually agree with him.
Tren continued on the thought, "I realize that you want to unite the
Factions." Keith nodded. "In order to do that we would have to first likach other, and we've at least gotten that ball rolling, but it will takime."
"Can't we speed it up somehow?"
"I expect that the new generation will do that without realizing it."
Keith cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow at thomment.
Torik crouched down on his hunches, staring at the gravestone. Had been there for maybe close to two hours, just staring and thinking. Aast he started talking, maybe to himself or Terrence's corpse or both.
"What the hell am I sitting out here for? Do you know? No, no I don't.
I'm lost." He stood up and paced before the grave. "What is it that yoeeded? Why did you need to become me?"
He stopped pacing. "Who are you?"
Hyle sat against the fence surrounding the stones. The gate creakepen, then clanged shut. Torik stood still, thinking. "So, did you geny visions?" Hyle mocked.
Torik chose his words carefully, "You shouldn't show that attitude ie're to work together in solving this case."
"Look, I don't have to like you. And I won't respect you if yoespect than damn Bounty Hunter. That freaking murderer." Hyle stood,
throwing his cigarette in the ground.
"I don't recall you smoking." Torik observed.
"Let's go meet up with Chris." He put his hands in his pockets antarted off.
"The Bounty Hunters did something to your life." Torik stated. Hylalted.
He responded quietly, "Let's go find Chris."
Chris leaned back in the officer's lounge, taking the opportunity telax. The opportunity didn't last too long, however, as Hyle angriltormed into the room. "Get up, I need to talk." Yep, Hyle was definitelissed, but Chris did not get up.
Instead, the councilman ordered Hyle to shut the door. "Do it beforour head explodes." Hyle not-so-humbly obliged.
The top floor of Direct was extraordinarily clean. Nothing lined thalls. No panels or portraits hung to showcase their history. Only a feaster living quarters settled up here.
Torik exited his elevator with curiosity. He was amazed by thesolateness of the top floor, but he knew where he was going. The finauarters on the right. Before his hand could touch the keypad, omputerized voice ordered him to identify himself.
A security simulator up here? OK. "Torik Stronkhold, here to see the
Tactical Administrator, Syria Shoven."
What answered wasn't the computer, but a quiet, anguished voice. "Why dou come here? What do you want from me?"
"I need to talk to you." Torik whispered back.
"Leave, immediately." The voice hissed.
"I can't do that, I apologize, but I must know what you know for thionfusion to end."
"I said, to leave me in peace."
"Once again, I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Either you talk to me or yoalk to one of my rather virulent partner as of now, for later, if he eveools off."
Shheeeuuwaa! The door slid open then, revealing the gentle curves of
Syria, standing just at the edge of the door.
"Uh, good afternoon." Torik respectfully bowed to her. She smiled weaklt his politeness.
"Why aren't you leaving?"
"Why do you want me to leave?" Torik asked in return. "You've been in youuarters for nearly two weeks straight. One could get worried about you."
He smiled gently.
Syria paused for a long while, staring into Torik's eyes. She noticehose same sky blue eyes. The same confidence. And the same charm. "Comn." she backed up to allow him entrance.
Torik came into the darkened room with caution. Everyone had beeariously on edge since his arrival and the awakening of the truth. Also,
anyone involved with his father had elapsed into a state of a depression oome kind and hidden themselves away from the rest of the staff. At thaoment, he felt the responsibility for politeness and the urge to breahis wake of cowardice that has swept over the Faction.
"I'm only telling you this because you're HIS son." Syria whispered.
For some reason, maybe it was the light, or lack of it; she looked muclder and paler. She stepped slowly over to her couch and gingerly took eat, still not looking at him. "When the Elimination process was stoppey that Enforcer and the Orson kid, Aidam was more than angry."
"So he planned the Elimination?"
"It was a tactic no one used anymore." She shook her head. "Aidam thoughhat unearthing it would somehow heighten his resolve. It didn't."
Torik brought her back, "What did he do?"
"He…He regretted it. He wanted to erase it from ever happening."
"You can't erase the past. It's done." Torik paced around the room. Still
Syria did not look at him.
Finally she spoke, her voice was heavy and breathless. "Aidam hired
Hunter."
Torik's head turned to one side toward her. He wasn't actually lookinoward her, but his eyes felt close nonetheless.
"He was surprised when Hunter agreed to the deal."
"What exactly WAS the deal?"
"Most of its specifics were not told to me, but one thing I did know ihat it would be blamed on the Bounty Hunters." She chuckled, "I'd saihat that would have made the decision for Hunter."
"A no?"
"Exactly. Why would he want to desecrate his own illegal Faction?"
"Indeed." Torik gazed out to the cloudy day, the sun breaching through onln short spurts, even then as slits in the skyline. "I'll bother you nore."
Syria looked to him finally, twisting around. He seemed to sink into thilhouette made around him. At that moment, she knew his emotions aneelings for his father were waging war on each other. After a minute thaasted longer, he pushed off the window and started toward the door. Hassed the couch briskly, with no intention of lingering. She intentltood.
"Torik." Her voice was soft. She held out her hand. In it was mall, folded white slip. "I have the name of a Runner. His informatiore what led Aidam to Hunter."
Torik eagerly took the slip, sticking in his jacket. "Does he stileep contact?"
Syria nodded, "He's a little, well, skittish."
"Most Runners are, too much sugar." Torik grinned, then abruptleft.
"Good luck, Torik." Syria whispered to the dark.
"Aidam, ahem, my father, needed someone at the time to get rid ohose that had stopped his plan before. Those that had stopped Cinder."
Torik had been pacing back and forth in the small lounge, Chris once agaiesting on the couch. He had stopped when he had an idea going.
"Hunter has a band of skilled assassins, Aidam hires Hunter.
Meanwhile, while they're biding their time, Aidam has second thoughts ohe entire situation and instead only targets Kane, the Enforcer. And
Hunter poses a heavy interest in the force mechanism." Torik starteacing, lost again. "But how does Terrence fit into the scenario."
"What was Terrence?" Chris already knew the answer, but was simplushing Torik into the decision. Chris had found himself as somewhat of uide, even if he was wrong in some instances.
"He was a trickster, improviser…An Actor." It dawned on him. Toriegan speaking so fast it was hard for even Chris to follow the mess odeas.
"Hunter created the distraction, of well, me, but actually Terrenco occupy Aidam and give him the means to escape with the Force cannon tbtain his own objective."
"Hmm, sounds about right." Chris chuckled.
"What we don't know," Torik slowed down, "Is what the hell thabjective was."
"We should take a rest."
Torik looked around. "Where's Hyle?" Chris' silence said thbvious. "Where is he Chris?"
"It isn't your place to ask." He maneuvered.
"He's my partner." Torik argued.
"He's my friend." Chris stated.
"What is it with him? Why is this case so taxing on him?" Torisked.
"Like I said, it isn't your business. If he wanted to tell you, hould." Chris asserted.
Torik and Chris locked glaring eyes for a moment. They bore intach other, looking for answers. They found none that were clear, onlints of pasts. "What did they do to him?" Torik finally asked, noreaking the glare.
Chris' eyebrows rose at his assertion. "Even I can't tell you that.
He never talks about it." He broke gaze, questioning himself for anstance. Looking back up, he whispered his only hint to Hyle'hereabouts. "Because of them, he has nothing left to lose."
Torik lightly bowed, and was gone immediately.
Hyle knelt at three specific gravestones, smoking again. The birdhirped and the wind was weak. Hyle was wearing his black jacket, with neal caring as to how the collar was set. As it was, the collar waticking up all around his neck, covering and shading his sharp face. Hilack hair was parted in the middle, but was still a little messy. A fetrands had found their way across his forehead, but the locks were shornough not to hinder his vision.
Hyle's green eyes read across the stones. Claire Erikson…… Jon
Erikson……
"Crap." Hyle murmured. He reached out and rubbed some of the grimff his sister's gravestone. Underneath lay a shining, metallic surface.
Hyle saw Torik in the reflection.
"How old were you?" Torik asked gently.
Hyle stood, dropped his cigarette, pulverizing it into the grass.
"Obviously not old enough."
"I can understand."
"How the hell would YOU know!?" Hyle whirled on him. "How in God'ame would you understand??"
Torik sighed. "You cannot make assumptions only by a person'ccupation."
"Answer me!"
"Trunks made an assumption of me based on my father. Based on mlood."
"Damn you! Answer!" Hyle plunged forward, hiking Torik up by theck of his coat. Torik did nothing. "How could you sit and watch as theassacred one sibling after another? Huh!?" he dropped the Venoson. "Hoan you understand?"
"I know what it's like to watch death come, time and time again, tover and strike blows upon my life. But I suppose I can't say I knoecause I can't measure the magnitude of the blow it had on you. But I caay that Terrence was not as bloodthirsty and horrible as what you haitnessed."
Hyle composed himself again, this time angry and indignant. "Is thihat they taught you at Venoson? I thought you were taught to hunt down
Bounty Hunters."
"We were also taught to understand them. Terrence was a trickster,
he caused mischief, but he didn't kill anyone."
"He was the instrument used to raise hell here! In all certainty,
because of him, we lost the Freeshade and half our military strength!"
Torik softened even further, "And our job is to find out why. Yore angry, but you can't stay that way forever. There will come a timhen you can't justify yourself anymore."
Hyle stopped. "You've been talking to Trunks haven't you?" Thiade Torik grin. In turn, Hyle grinned. Then Torik giggled and Hyliggled. And the two young men shared in a good belly laugh, the same kinhe human emotion uses to deal with others, even in awkward moments.
The alleyways near the outskirts wreaked of mildew and grime. Thmoke rising from the sewers was fitting enough for the atmosphere. Iasn't as if the scum of the earth roamed or anything, it was just a gooiding place for those exiled by society. Torik found the settinurprisingly humble.
The young Venoson looked once again at his surroundings. He hatopped in a dank crossroads, each path masked by a wave of smoke, eacith its own personal set of vents in the ground. The furthest ahead oim had a darkness moving about it. He was startled when a small facrotruded from the mist and gazed at him. The face spoke, "Are you the
Venoson?" it asked in a hushed whisper.
Torik nodded. "Hurry, before we're seen!" A tiny hand flowed frohe mist as well and beckoned him. Torik quickened his cautious step. Hmerged through the gray and found himself in a dead end. Why am I
trusting this guy? Torik thought as he realized no one was there waitinor him. He carefully made his way further into the corridor.
"Venoson, sir?" Torik's heart skipped a beat at the voice, his senseuiding him to the roof at his left. The sun had just peaked its wahrough the clouds down to them. The Runner was in a crouched position, ieminded Torik of a frog. His shape was silhouetted atop the lower terracf the roof. The Runner's grin showed a white streak over his dark face,
flashing some unusually white teeth. He immediately dropped onto thavement before Torik, landing on all fours. He arched his body back utraight, well, as straight as he could make it with his curved back. "I
am sorry, Mr. Torik, sir, but I wanted to be sure you were not followed.
Not many take kindly to Venoson in these corridors." The Runner shifted hieight.
"And what if I was?" Torik asked.
"I would run."
"And leave me to fight."
"Yes…" The Runner nodded vigorously.
"Let's cut to the chase Runner."
"Yessir!"
Torik quietly stepped a little closer to the Runner, who in turkittered a few steps back. Torik smiled at the terrified messenger.
"Calm yourself, Runner, I won't hurt you."
"Miss Syria told me that, sir." The Runner recalled happily.
Torik grinned at Syria's mention. He glanced back down at the sheehe had given him. "Skit." He experimented.
The Runner jerked up and stood a little more rigid, unsure if heard the Venoson correctly. "That is your name, correct?"
Skit erected even further, pausing, then suddenly nodded vigorously,
smiling now. It seemed the mention of his name killed any uncertaintoward Torik that he had felt. He grinned happily, "I am ready to tell yohat I know."
Torik grinned back, "I am ready to listen."
"Terrence wasn't one to take his targets, sir." Skit got right intt. He had been briefed before by Syria as to the information Torieeded. "He instead chose to impersonate them." Torik lifted an eyebrow.
"He even got all the fixings for them, all the make-up, the voice maskers,
everything."
"Wouldn't he be hunted then?" Torik asked.
"The commanders didn't like it at first, they denounced him anemoted his rank, but that didn't stop him. He continued to impersonatis targets seamlessly." Skit paused, collecting his thoughts. "I caecall an instance when his actions aided one bounty hunter with importannformation on her target's whereabouts. This pleased the commanders anhey realized his use."
Torik thought if he should say it. He did. "Was I one of hiargets?"
Skit faltered, but recovered, his speech momentarily disfigured. I-
in one sense, yes. You were a target, but more his character to portray."
"I see, go on."
"Yes, well, the commanders thought this to be too much of a task, anlso would end in failure on both sides, but Terrence had been progressinis parts higher and higher in the social class. You, Mr. Torik, were thext big step."
Torik's face showed now no confusion, only absolution. "He wanted to gut with a bang." He laughed lightly, "No pun intended."
The Runner looked nervously around, in no mood for humor.
"I'm just trying to loosen you up, Skit." Torik consoled.
"Sorry, Mr. Torik, s-sir." The Runner stuttered, "I'm not used to ind Venoson." The quick messenger gave a nervous smile.
"Understood." Torik laughed. "Is there anything else you can tell mbout Mr. Jackson. Anything, the way he clipped his toenails?"
The Runner actually snickered at the joke, but then composed himsels much as he could. "He wasn't too fond of one of our Commanders…"
"Hunter?"
"…..I don't know…." Skit's eyes darted around, then went to his feet.
He shifted his weight from side to side.
"Skit?" Torik tried to persuade him to continue, but the Runner onlontinued to shift his feet.
At last the Runner whined, his voice squeaking like a baby mouse, "I
can't say, Mr. Torik, I just can't say. You don't know what'll happen-
"Nothing is going to happen, Skit."
"-most horrible, horrible things, sir, you wouldn't-
"Please, Skit, calm down. Was it Hunter?"
"-things will happen to me, like the things that happened to Hyle, I-
Torik struck forward, grasping the Runner's collar and shaking hiack to reality. The young man spoke in a hushed strife, "What happened to
Hyle?"
"I-I don't know, sir, please put Skit down, sir, I-I don't know."
Torik shook him again, but Skit fell mute. The little Runner only looket him with the wide eyes of a child looking up into the face of parenfter doing something wrong, filled with both tremendous fear and sorrow.
Torik set him down carefully. The moment the Runner's feet felt the coltreet, he was gone.
Torik stood in the alley, letting the heavy wind find him and lifis long, black coat. He couldn't pry his thoughts away from his partner.
He took no notice of the clouds descending over the city.
"Daddy, where's Hyle?"
"He's in bed dear."
"Is he still not feeling well?"
"He's got a bit of a tummy ache, Claire. But don't you worry, he'le fine with a good night's rest."
The wind pounded against the windows, the rain coming down likassive broadswords, striking themselves in the pavement below. Hyle san his green leather couch, looking out the window, his eyes narrowed. Had tucked his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Thain continued to pour.
"Daddy, who's outside?"
"Now, Claire, don't scare me like that, you know I don't like it wheou say that."
"But I heard a car door Daddy, listen!"
"Claire, I mean it now."
"Listen!"
"………Claire."
"Why are you speaking so softly, Daddy?"
"Lower your voice honey………And get under something."
A streak of lightning lit the sky, illuminating Hyle's dark room. Hulled his knees tighter to his chest, and continued to stare into thtreaking water outside.
"What's wrong Daddy?"
"I love you Claire, now get under that desk. Do it."
"Why, Daddy?"
"Do it. And stay there, don't move from that-
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Hyle buried his face on his knees, also resting on his crossed arms.
Two more claps of thunder rose in the night.
"Daddy!"
"You sons of bitches, stay away from my family!"
BKEWBKEWBKEWBKEWBKEWBKEW!
THSEWW!
"Gaaaklt!"
"DAADDY!"
"Nice knife, there, Thorn."
"Sir?"
"Yeah, kill the kid too."
"Daddy! Please, Daddy, get up, please, Daddy. Dad-
BLAM!
A final streak cut the sky. And Hyle was gone from his room of dusk.
For both sanctity and redemption purposes, Direct's multiplasements held a small cathedral, for those soldiers that believe irayer. However, and much to Shane's disapproval, it has been blocked off,
no longer "needed".
Hyle strode silently into the small, dark room, up to the cross. Thed glow from two candles sent reddish-orange waves over the walls, thines shuddering at every step. He knelt before the rusted, golden symbol,
and slid the podium aside that stood under it. His hands hesitated ovehe floorboards, then slid them aside. What shone in the dark hole beneatas a fine black case, several inches tall and three times that wide. Hylifted the box out and set it on his lap.
The hinges were still untouched by time and moved fluently, spening the case remained silent. Within was a long, black and sleek shaff one of the newer models of the velocity revolvers. The other fixingncluded a crimson silver handle, the custom cut slits that were bullets,
and a generation crystal to give a little extra punch of psionic energy the hot lead.
Hyle began to assemble the gun slowly, every movement sending hiack to when he did use this forbidden weapon.
"I thought councilman weren't allowed to withhold guns." Chris appeared ihe doorway, leaning on its frame.
"Shut up, Christopher." Hyle shot across the blackness, "It's noike I'm going to use it."
"Yeah." Chris strode across the room. His gold hair shone a dark ren the candlelight. "But you were thinking about it."
Hyle didn't answer, instead he took aim at an imaginary foe,
critically straightening his arm and fixing his stance. He relaxed again,
dusting the powerful black barrel. Chris leaned against the wall in fronf Hyle. His face was cut down the middle by the light, forming a dark anight side. "You do realize that the Syndicate Venoson was abolished wheheir methods became, well, more civilized?"
Hyle's eyes flashed. "Why do you ask questions to which you'vlready formed the answers to?"
Chris changed the subject, "Appropriate place to store it, I suppose.
A holy weapon of justice wielded for the good of humanity." He murmurearcastically.
"I am in no mood for your sarcasm, Chris, and you know that." Hylissed to his friend. The candles flickered in the exchange of angroices.
"Who you gonna' kill tonight, Hyle?" Chris fired over the floor.
"Don't know." He returned offhandedly. He flashed the gun up aneveled on Chris, who stiffened by reflex. "How about you?"
Christopher actually grinned at this action. His own friend froiddle school and military training pulling a gun on him. How justified.
His grin vanished when he watched Hyle pull the cock back and narrow hiyes, also straightening his arm further.
"You gonna' shoot me there, Hyle?"
"Guess." Hyle hissed.
"It won't bring them back, my friend."
"Will it make me feel better, my friend?" Hyle asked. His shadolickered in the light.
"Depends on how malicious you can be." Chris didn't move from hipot.
Hyle's eye twitched suddenly and his arm abruptly swung down. BLAM!
A thick black hole to the right of Hyle's foot now shone through thloorboards.
The next morning was slow, despite a planned celebration later thaay. Torik met Hyle and Chris at Direct's steps. Hyle was looking ratheale. Chris was also a tad flustered on his own.
"So I'm guessing you heard?" Torik broke the tired silence.
"They're closing the case for now because they're afraid the BH
faction will strike." Chris delivered monotone.
"But they're still throwing a party for the success of the messagnd/or your return to the land of the living." This came from Hyle, alsonotone.
As the day rolled on, literally nothing happened. There were nnterrogations. Syria did not leave her room. Signals into space for the
Freeshade commenced, but to no avail.
The evening came upon them in ascension, no one really noticed whet arrived. It rolled in with the mist and fog, although the attitude ohe night was still one of joy and fun. The Direct building churned witxcited bodies, all headed to the ballroom in the first level of thasement.
Hyle was setting his suit on his bed when Torik walked in. There wa small pack on the desk.
"Hyle, I'll see you there, right?" Torik asked.
Hyle nodded briskly, "Sure thing, but I'll be a bit late."
"Why?"
"I just have something to take care of." Hyle answered offhandedly.
"All right, then." And Torik left quietly. Chris started to follow,
then processed what Hyle had said. He looked at his friend, his eyes askehe question.
"Don't ask, Chris." Hyle glared back. "Really, don't ask."
The two friends locked gazes, and broke them at the same time as
Chris left and Hyle got back work gathering his things.
The councilman emerged through the mist rising from the grate witenown control. He saw the Runner called Skit crouched before him.
"Oh, are you Hyle?" Hyle nodded. The Runner continued excitedly,
"You work with Torik right? Good, good, good. I'm sorry for mranticness, but you know what happens if I get caught, right?"
"They kill you, I know." Hyle said without emotion. "You don't havo worry about that."
"You made sure no one followed you?" Skit the Runner was small aneek, but quick as a bullet. But he was always convulsively shivering whee stood still, as if the sheer aspect of not running was making his bodwitch. He looked like a child on a sugar fix.
Hyle was still very cool and calm. "Yes, I made completely sure."
Skit looked at him expectantly for something, but he didn't know whaet. The Councilman pulled back his jacket on the left, revealing elocity revolver.
The city was a silent wake of moonlight and artificial street light.
No birds chirped at dusk. And among the sound of silence, four loud shotere sounded within themselves. Shots sounded from a sleek, velocitevolver…