Proditor Pro Falsi Parti

By Sakki

None of the characters, plot devices, ideas, theories, lines of poetry or song lyrics are mine.

~~~

            Torn wasn't pleased to report to the Baron that the Underground's feeble attempts to make a strong move against him had once again been foiled.

            Well, it wasn't that he was upset about that. He was tired of dealing with the Underground, and to hear that they had been put down once again was a relief. What he wasn't happy about was the fact that he had learned this from Erol.

            Erol, who had approached him just outside the barracks, with blood splattered across his face and armor.

            It had been Erol, according to the other soldiers, who had figured out from simple thought that the attack was taking place that night instead of in two weeks, when the new moon was supposed to be. Torn hadn't been happy to learn that Erol had done something right for once.

            But he had his job. He was to report this to the Baron and receive orders from there.

            Calmly, Torn strode to the elevator and rode it up to the Baron's throne room. As soon as the doors opened to reveal the glass-coated hall, he stepped out and walked across the room. He was careful not to look down. He kept the secret of his occasional bouts of vertigo to himself.

            The Baron was pacing in front of his throne, reading a paper. His form was large, but it was well muscled and toned, unlike the disgusting mass of lard known as Krew.  He was an imperious man. He looked like a good ruler.

            Ignoring the military skills, he wasn't.

            "Baron Praxis, sir."

            "Commander." The Baron nodded slightly, not looking up from his paper. "You have a report?"

            "The Underground's attempt to destroy the ammo dump in the slums was successfully countered. All but one of them was killed, and that last one is currently in the prison awaiting interrogation."

            "Excellent. This should put them off for a while." The Baron stopped pacing and turned his attention to Torn. "I was informed that the attack wasn't for another two weeks."

            "One of my men has apparently been keeping star charts and knew the new moon was last night."

            "Really…" Torn watched as the Baron turned and glared down at the city from one of the glass walls. "I wonder what sort of soldier would spend his time watching the skies."

            "I'd rather not go into specifics."

            The Baron offered a tiny half-smile, half-grimace. The man was constantly pained due to a recent injury on his arm, inflicted during an attack on invading Metal Heads. Torn himself had suffered wounds from the Metal Heads, but fortunately, none of them were crippling.

             Although sometimes, he wished they would be.

            "This should keep those Underground bastards down for at least a little while." The Baron turned back to Torn, his face set with determination. "Get men working to interrogate the prisoner. I want answers as to where the Underground's hideout is. I want to know who the Shadow is."

            "Yes, sir. I'll get a squadron on it."

            "Also, I want you to stop the hoverboard punks." The Baron pulled a few sheets of paper from his pile and handed them to Torn, who took them automatically. "They're causing too many disruptions and damage to the city."

            "I'll have the boards confiscated and the citizens detained."

            "Don't detain all of them. I want some killed on the spot."

            Torn's gaze shot from the papers to the Baron, suddenly frozen in a sort of shocked horror.

            "What do you…you want me to kill innocent civilians?"

            "We need to set an example for the others. They need to know that they will die if they disobey my laws." The Baron stroked his beard with his right hand as if contemplating something. "I'll need to send out the recording of it, and register it as a new law…"

            "Sir, I can't do that. I can't just kill them because of the way they act."

            There was a tense silence in the air. The Baron turned to look Torn in the eyes, glaring much harder than he usually did. Torn glared right back, although with less fierceness.

            "Do not argue with me, Commander," said the Baron quietly. "Or else I will use you as an example as to what happens to those who disobey me."

            Torn's glare wavered. He didn't want to be killed right now, nor did he want to kill. But it was one or the other; either a few rebellious citizens who had only lived a decade or two, or him.

            His ears sank slowly, the only indication of his submission.

            "They…will be killed."

            "I'm glad you agree." The Baron turned his back on Torn, who suddenly wanted to rip the knife from the sheathe on his back and plunge it into the vulnerable spine in front of him.

            But he didn't.

            With the papers still clutched tightly in his hands, Torn turned and stalked out of the throne room. In his subdued rage he ignored the glass floors and dizzying view of the city below, forgot his vertigo, disregarded the guards who questioned how the meeting had gone.

            As much as he hated the people who lived in Haven City for their ignorance and stupidity, he had no desire to kill them.

            Not like the Baron.

            Not like Erol.

            Not like the Metal Heads.

            He picked up the intercom on his zoomer and turned it on.

            "Alpha Seven, I need you to commence with the interrogation of the prisoner you captured last night. Alpha eight and nine, you will report to the commercial district immediately to eradicate the hoverboard problem."

~~~

            "So tell me. Why don't you like to kill?"

            "You sound like a psychiatrist."

            "That's the point, Torn."

            "And what are you trying to get out of this?"

            "Oh, I don't know. Your childhood traumas…psychological issues…even your hidden, deep-seated fear of heights."

            "Hey, how do you - "

            "I live in the Palace, Torn. I've seen you walk in and out of there all the time and you always avoid looking down. Always."

            "That doesn't mean I'm scared."

            "You just admitted it."

            "…shut it, Ashelin."

            "Answer my question and I might. Why don't you like to kill?"

            "Do you like to kill?"

            "Metal Heads, yes."

            "What about people?"

            "Oh, is this what it's about?"

            "Your father made me kill a group of teenagers for no reason other than to 'set an example'. Should I enjoy that?"

            "No. Why didn't you say that right off?"

            "Say what?"

            "That you didn't like killing people."

            "I don't know. Stop interrogating me."

            "I'm not interrogating you. I was trying to get to the root of your problems, but you already had it. You were just too lazy to tell me."

            "Shut it, Ashelin."

            "Every time you say that, I can just imagine the little gears in your head giving off sparks of anger because they know I'm right."

            "I said shut it, Ashelin."

            "Hey, that was fierce."

            "You're being a bitch."

            "Excuse me while I go cry."

            "You're excused."

            "You'd better buy me a drink when I get back."

            "Why should I do that?"

            "Because it's something a gentleman does."

            "A gentleman buys a woman a drink."

            "Excellent deductive skills."

            "I'm not doing it."

            "You're saying you're like Erol?"

            "No, I'm saying you're not a woman."

            "What? Oh, you callous, typical male pig. I should castrate you with this."

            "A mug? It's not even broken."

            "The duller the item, the more feministic the attack."

            "I think I should leave now…"

            "Oh, no, you don't. You're buying me a drink, Torn."

            "Or you'll castrate me with a mug?"

            "Exactly. I want a Seven Point."

            "You're a caustic bitch."

            "And you're a complete jackass."