Chapter 5
Signal
The black-robed hunter crumpled onto the ground, sounding a firm SNAP as he hit. Skit recoiled away from the corpse beside him. Hyle had frozen at his action.
"He-he, came to kill…." Skit stuttered.
"He came to kill you." Hyle's body was now shaking convulsively, but his face remained the same tranquility.
"Mr. Hyle, sir….I…"
"Run, Skit, run now."
Skit complied, flying over the rooftops away from the site. Hyle was left with the corpse, his gun, and processing his actions. He lifted the gun to his eyes and gazed across the barrel. "What does this mean?" he whispered, "That I would defend a bounty hunter. What peace does it have?" The moon was full, he just noticed. Maybe it had some answers. "WHAT PEACE DO I HAVE!" it didn't answer.
Glasses clinked, the atmosphere finally not false. Shane even set up the celebration. Those there consisted of agents of Direct's smaller Elite Squadron and some new ambassadors keeping up appearances.
"So, Mr. Stronkhold," Trunks struck up conversation. Torik finished his next gulp of champagne while turning his chair around. "What are your thoughts on the council? On its direction?"
"The council." He answered.
"Yes, the council, since you have been among us for a time." Shane commented.
"Chairman," Torik directed to Shane, "There is no guarantee that I will be staying here among you, despite what a great…pleasure it is to work alongside your officers."
This brought a chuckle across the councilman. They did enjoy this boy's company, despite his secrets. The discussion continued without delay, but not many noticed when the lights were dimmed without permission. Only Trunks minded. He broke off from the debate and scanned the ceiling. Something was wrong, off course he could sense it. Could these humans know?
Crraash! The overhead skylight shattered as three figures descended onto the stage. One, two, three, they all landed firmly on their feet, then took to one knee as they bowed to the guests. The shards of glass rained both into the bunch bowl and wine glasses. As screams elapsed and echoed in the domed room, Trunks, Torik, Shane, and Chris remained seated and took time to size up the invaders.
There were three of them, of course, each wearing a color trench coat. The first to stand, Trunks guessing was the leader, was female, wearing a blue coat. She had lightning red hair, long and flowing. The two flanking her rose much more slowly. There was a bearded man in a dark gray coat, and the third, who trudged to a far end table, brushing its plant off, and sat on it. He was rather large, not wide, but very tall and very heavily built. His coat was black with gold strips running down the sides of the back and front. The coat was more like a thick leather armor, as the shoulders were especially prominent.
The woman in blue grinned menacingly at the other guests. She raised her arms high and wide, in exaltation of something. "For the glory of the Hunter." She said.
Trunks' arms twitched and eyes flashed. Torik moved for his gun. He caught the gray man's eyes. The gray man's arm flew out and straightened, sending a small metal spike shooting from under his wrist. Torik's eyes went wide as he rolled out of his chair, the spike missing. Another arrow, however, caught his gun, and a third pinned his sleeve to the floor. Trunks stood up, but moved no more than that. The gray man laughed at him.
"You think your foolish attempts will stop us? We have the roof surrounded, any further disturbances and our reinforcements will enter this room and as you might say it," he gestured around the room, grinning more, "Administer a royal 'beat-down'."
Now Shane stood and addressed the three, "You take action upon us and we will administer a blow to your faction that will tear it to shreds. You do realize this? You have condemned your own people."
"We speak of a higher authority." The tall man in black and gold now spoke, twirling a long knife with his massive fingers.
The gray man interpreted his colleague, "Ah, what Nolan means is that our faction is one within a faction. We were exiled by our superiors, but still live as what you might call Renegades. We speak for further glorification."
"Fanaticism." Torik whispered from his place on the floor.
"I see your Ghost has alternate views of the Revolution." The gray man seemed angered by Torik's voice.
Shane addressed the gray man now. "Ah, Branil, you haven't changed a bit."
The gray man, Branil, took a few steps back, considering the councilman. Trunks looked quickly from one to the other. "You know this man?" he hissed to his friend.
"Make your move." Shane whispered back. Trunks got the picture, his eyes flashing white. In that instance, the woman in blue and Branil were surrounded by wind, then were flung back into the wall, crumbling half the risers.
Trunks whirled on the other guests. "Get everyone out of here!" he screamed. Darin was the first to comply, trying to get all the ambassadors out first.
"Not so fast!" Branil warned, revealing an intercom. "Tell the soldiers to attack." He murmured.
Torik had succeeded in prying the spike from his sleeve, was on his feet, and, holding the spike like a throwing knife. He flung it to the stage.
Kkkrrzzk! The intercom was simply no more. Branil rose from his position on the stage and froze. He watched as Torik brushed his jacket aside and pulled out another Force blaster, his backup. He leveled the weapon toward the ceiling. "Bring it on."
Shane now stood, ready to help with the door. And Trunks was the slowest to react, Chris nearly throwing water at him to get up. The man loosened his tie, slipped off his jacket, and hung it over his chair. And then, they came…
The room rang with the sounds of exploding glass. Bats, clubs, staves, swords, fists, chains… Damn, they must've hired every Renegade in the world. Trunks assumed fighting stance. He spread his legs, keeping his hands and arms loose.
The nearest Chain immediately lunged at Chris, who brought up his left arm. The chain locked around it, he himself also catching it, then pulling the Renegade to meet his outstretched fist. Chris, now tearing off his tie and jacket, wrapped the chain around his left forearm. He kicked his table over, onto a Bat wielder, revealing his rapier, still sheathed. It was launched up by his foot and caught by his now chained arm, he drew it with his right, splitting another Bat's weapon in two.
Shane had made his way with the ambassadors and other guests. As the last innocent dashed out the door, it was crushed shut, a grinning toad-faced thug before it.
"I finally meet you, coward." He slithered.
"Perhaps the fact that I left resurrects myself as the bravest of you." Shane answered.
The hunter raised his eyebrow then yelped as Shane's unsheathed rapier rode over his hand. As he clutched his bleeding appendage, the councilman socked his grimacing face. He stayed down.
Trunks sensed the chair swinging toward his head, his left arm flying up to catch it, then commanding his body to whirl and fling the projectile into its owner. Two more from the right and left! Trunks' mind flared up. Both men leapt up for high kicks. The alien took one step forward. His right hand caught a leg, his left caught a leg, and he did a 360, flinging both men in their opposing directions.
"You believe you can stop us?" the deep voice of Nolan cut the room. Torik heard the sliding of metal off of sheath and darted his eyes for the source. Trunks already found it. "Die, Direct scum!"
Whhooom! Trunks ducked the massive bastard sword, raising his Ki only slightly. The psychic energy needed for his sensory didn't seem to be helping. Where the hell is he? The rest of the room had cleared out, Shane and Chris were nowhere to be found. Good, they're safe. But…Torik!
"Yaaaaa!"
Another war cry behind! Trunks turned on his heel, and immediately leapt back. The slash had shredded his tie. Nolan was truly massive. And the councilman now noticed a good deal of controlled energy radiating even off his black and gold coat. His sword was the largest he'd ever seen, and the Renegade held it with one hand. Crap.
Suddenly, Nolan stumbled to the side, smoke rising from a singe in his shoulder. The trajectory led to Torik across the room. There was a flash of black and red behind him, and the door opened and slammed shut again. A Runner. Torik nodded approval, and bolted after it.
Nolan didn't much care, and looked to advance on his shorter foe. Instead, he propelled himself backwards, summoning a smoke cloud. As expected, when it cleared, he was gone.
The mist layering the streets served as good cover. The Runner was fast. The Venoson was faster, as strange as that seems. The night air gave a cool sense to the night, leaving trails of breath as the two pursued each other. The mist was fitting once again.
The Runner turned a sharp corner, only to slam into Torik's solid figure. The small aid instinctively stalked around Torik's legs, only to find himself at a dead end. When he turned back around, he was staring down the shaft of a Force blaster. The Runner tried to plead, knowing full well the stories of the mercy of the Venoson.
"Please, we must get the signal out. If we don't, then, then we can't-…they won't know that we want them to come." This one was even more skittish than Skit. Funny. "They need to know, please, let me go. The Legion must-
The Runner froze, his eyes very big. He clamped his hands over his mouth, also by instinct.
"You've been consorting with alien powers?" Torik kept the gun level, but his eyes widened, then narrowed at his own question.
"I-I, …AAAAAaaaaaa!" Torik whirled out of the way as two shots connected with the Runner. Torik, from the ground, immediately aimed to the roof and fired with experience. He glimpsed a figure shadowed in complete black launch himself all the way over traffic. Torik's custom force gun followed the descent, but he didn't strenuously fire, waiting for a clear shot. There never was one. The figure never landed on the opposing roof, only vanished.
Torik returned to the Runner's body. One shot burned through the heart, another between the eyes. He didn't stand a chance, he was already dead. And he knew it.
Branil landed in the alley in a clatter of his finely crafted shoes. He cast a sigh and leaned on the brick wall. "Heh heh, who ever thought the revolution could be so cumbersome." He uttered. Then something caught his eye. His breathing skipped.
The shadows moved and expanded into a form, black coat billowing and trailing behind. He caught two sleek flashes of twin revolvers…
"Who in the-
Blam! Blamblamblamblam! The hot lead yielded no mercy for his garments and flesh. He was flattened against the red. What escaped his mouth were a few choked vowels, but no real words formed as the Hunter slid down the wall, casting a deeper red coat against the brick.
Hyle strode out the shadows and proceeded to kick the Assassin. "Cumbersome?" he hissed. "Cumbersome enough to kill your own?" he spit upon the corpse and reentered the shadows. "To hell with you, blasphemer."
Torik saw Hyle piercing the mist. "Hyle! Where have you been?" he called.
Hyle didn't answer right away, he took his time in getting there, but when he did, all he murmured was, "I have killed the assassin of your Runner. He has no honor." And continued walking.
"Hyle, wait!" Torik called after his form.
The ex-syndicate swiveled back around to face him, but still walked backwards. He spread his arms, beholding the sky. "Wait for what? They all just wanna' kill us anyway. If they want a war they'd better hurry up and do it. Get it over with. God knows I'm ready." And he turned back around, his black coat billowing behind him.
The moonlight cast a dim glow upon the Wing residential section. Its reflection was fitting for the blade of a sword.
Leon swung at imaginary foes, leaping, flipping, and kicking, all in that dim blue shade. In a way, his own king sword emitted a blue tint, perhaps not of the moon. He stopped mid-slice at one particular move, his mind getting creative. The boy grinned.
The boy ran full speed ahead to the edge of the roof. Two feet from it, he altered his weight onto his left foot, skidding on the dusty plaster. He then pushed off the left foot and was launched high into the air. He performed a side-flip, whipping out his sword as he twirled against the moon, creating his own whirl of death.
Leon landed, setting his sword to rest once again in front of him.
"You've been up here every night since Aidam's defection."
Leon was startled as he noticed Tom leaning against the doorframe of the stairwell. "Mind explaining why?" he ventured.
"Ever since that first battle, when I fought Cinder." Leon shook his head, "I don't know how to explain it to you because you weren't there to begin with. You didn't see what happened to me. Kane did."
Tom looked up at the mention of his Enforcer friend. "And so did Trevor?"
Leon shook slightly. "Trevor I'm sure felt it. The force of the blow. Whatever it was, I felt a surge of something. A power. And maybe all my nights up here will make me realize how much I can dig into that power."
"Whatever." Tom shrugged it off as nothing and headed back downstairs.
Leon hardly noticed. "Yeah, I need to tap into it." He took stance again. Leon spun the sword around him and slashed, immediately leaping into the air. He executed two full spins horizontal against the moon, to land in the same stance. He wasn't even shaken, it was easy now.
High above the clouds rested a colossal ship. The same one that had split the sky and assaulted the powerful apprentice, Sesix. The watcher within its contours ordered the ship's computer, Colt, "Keep an eye on that one. He shows great promise. Perhaps even a sense of what is to come."
"You got it." Came its hearty, electronic reply.
The sands of the outskirts had begun to churn seasonally, but never with this much vigor.
"Have you ever seen the hills like this before?" Torik asked.
Hyle continued on his patrol, hardly paying any mind to his partner. Finally, he stopped, and pulled out his revolver, spinning the gun around his index finger. "Maybe they are the Winds of Change." He muttered.
"Hyle, I know your anger. But know this, vigilantism is not the way. Taking these matters especially, into your own hands won't solve anything."
Hyle shrugged. "Who says I'm trying to solve anything?"
"Are you trying to start something?"
"Let's put it this way." He shrugged again. "Anything that gets in the way of my directive will be dealt with."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Torik tensed.
"Perhaps it means a Revolution is coming?"
"What the-
The two men whirled on each other, looking for the owner of the voice. Out of the copper wind they came, one on each side. Renegades. You could tell by the patch on their arm. The sword and gun were separate on these symbols. They quickly positioned themselves on either side of the Officer and Venoson, so that they had to set against each other's backs to see the hunters. One was clean shaven and bald, his low laughing telling them he was the owner of the comment. His partner was a much younger, careless haired, hunter, obviously uneasy. Both wore terra-cotta trench coats.
"How many revolutions does it take to prove a point?" Hyle growled. His trigger finger was twitching, his malice growing again for these Renegades.
"You had your turn when Aidam defected. Now it's ours."
"Since when do we take turns in the changes that occur in our time?" Torik was more composed, calmer in these situations.
The bald hunter shrugged answered with a flare of assurance. "Since the time of Signal."
"The time of what?" Hyle was now even more angry but also confused.
The Hunter's partner stepped up to him and whispered, "It doesn't matter, they wouldn't understand."
But the bald one continued. "The time when your own trusts and loyalties turn against you."
"Say that again?" Hyle's coat blew back, his right hand immediately grasping his revolver.
Torik grasped Hyle by the shirt. "You want to start another war, then you pull that gun." He hissed.
The hunter over Hyle's shoulder noticed the act of kindness, and took the opportunity, launching a knife from under his long jacket. Torik saw it coming, gripped Hyle's shoulder, and shoved him down. Pushing off his partner, he jumped up and over him. He brought his other hand up and the knife slid across his palm till he caught one of the finger-holds. Torik landed in the sand with his back to the thrower, turned on his heel, and flung the blade at its owner. The sharp edge connected with the hunter's bald dome. He arched back, spreading his arms from the hit, and the moment slowed. Torik's mind raced with the consequences of his action just now. The hunter's hovered in its decent.
The bald hunter's partner twitched and quickly brushed back his cloak, drawing his shotgun. Hyle was up and aiming.
BKEWW! FFWWIT! The burning lead left a spiraling smoke trail as it easily punctured the skin of the gunner. His shotgun was nearly level. Hyle's moment slowed. He felt no pity. It was a work of cinema. The floating, running river of red now flowing from the hole in the skin. The fingers becoming slack from the weight of the rifle. The tension of the arm as more strength was summoned to try and compensate for how much was being lost. And then, the face. That look of desperation, the clenched teeth, the vivid look in the eyes. Shock. Surprise. Disbelief. Denial.
Hyle was sick of this moment. He ended it.
The gunner's head snapped back with another bullet in the face, and a final shot to the other side of the chest to keep it on the ground. The bald corpse also found its home in the sand. Hyle had bent his knees and half-knelt. He held his gun with both hands over his head, looking between his arms at his victim. The long tail of his coat was just settling from his last movement.
Both men froze in their positions.
"Shit."
Hyle pointed to the horizon. "Look!" There perched on the hill was a figure in thick desert robes. Its face was hooded, complete with bronze sunglasses and dust mask. It also, as Torik noticed, sat atop a crimson hovercycle.
"Crap, we've been spotted." Hyle exclaimed, brandishing his gun, not that he'd do anything with it.
"Don't worry, she's harmless. For now." Torik calmed him.
"How do you know it's a 'her'?"
The Venoson shrugged, "All Rogues are women. They're the only ones given that right, to deny their elected masters."
"Rogues?" Hyle raised an eyebrow. "How many separate powers are there these days?"
"Same reasons why the Renegades exist."
"Different beliefs?"
"Yeah."
Hyle turned back to the hill. The Rogue was gone. "Will she warn them?"
"No, Rogues only answer to themselves."
"One of these days you're going to have to explain this to me." Hyle commented.
"I'll be sure to. But for now, all we can do is head home and wait for her to contact us."
Again, Hyle raised an eyebrow at his partner.