Protector of Men Ch 96

**WARNING!!**

This chapter has a lot of language. Please, if you find it offensive, don't read it. There are approximately 17 expletives in this, so be warned!

"They're here," she said quietly, observing their surroundings. There was no noise; no shadow in the distance that would alert her to their presence – but she knew they were there. The wind blew through the alleys, and trash scuttled by on the ground. The desolation was oppressive, but their imminent threat was more so. Cover pulled out his own phone and dialed for Kesia. Surprisingly, it worked.

"They've cut all our lines in six miles," she said, "I'll try and hook up one of our old ones, but it'll take a minute."

"In the meantime?"

Kesia paused; Cover could hear her madly typing in the background. "There's a garage almost a mile North. You've got five now; if you run, you can make it."

"Let's go," Cover announced, putting his phone away again, "Hurry." It was still quiet, and there was no sign of the agents. Zandra nodded and gestured for Trim to follow as they began to run.

But Trim didn't move; instead, he whistled. The called echoed in the street with intensity. Trim made a point not to look at them; instead, he looked to the sky.

"Trim," Zandra exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

He said nothing again, but a corrupt grin spread across his face as he turned to look at her. She would have punched him but at that moment, all of their attention was diverted to a more pressing event.

The agents approached in groups of two, three and four – from the tops of buildings, out of doors, and out from the black alleyways. It seemed that there were almost a hundred of them; they came from every angle and stopped at a distance, forming a large circle around the trio. Trim parted from them and walked a few steps away, to where the agents waited. It was clear what he had just done.

"Shit," Cover whispered, turning in a circle to fully assess their situation. They were surrounded – and though the agents were merely standing, the rebels were certain that they planned much more. Zandra looked to him, and he nodded. It seemed there was no way for them to get out, so for the moment, they would stay.

"Aren't you gonna run?" Trim asked mockingly, his tone icy and uncaring. The agents simultaneously pulled out guns and aimed for Zandra and Cover, who looked nervously about them.

"Nothing?" Trim continued, much louder. Cover clenched his jaw, but continued his silence. Trim was trying to bait them, but even Cover could see it.

Zandra's head was spinning; Trim double-cross them? After all of this… all of the fighting… everything they had gone through together – and lost… he was to be the source of their ultimate downfall? They were so close… and now so terribly, terribly far away. There had to be some way to get out of this, to convince Trim…

"Oh, Shade," Kesia cried, staring at the screens with dismay. He clambered into the core within seconds without a thought to his abandoned post. If a sentinel came, they wouldn't know until it was too late – but he didn't care. He had been waiting with trepidation for a call like this, and he knew it couldn't mean well. His eyes roved the screens, searching for a clue.

"Trim…" Kesia started, looking to him with teary eyes, "He's gone machine…"

No, Shade screamed silently, cursing the fact that he had let Cover go in instead of himself. Perhaps if he had been more adamant – if he had forced Cover to let him look after her – things would have gone differently… But now all they could do was watch and wait. Their hearts raced as fast as Zandra's, and they were equally as fearful.

"We need to help them," he said quietly, his breathing already labored.

"What can we do?" Kesia asked, still staring at the screens.

"Unplug him," Shade said forcefully, moving over to Trim's chair. Shade stared down at his pallid face with revulsion; the desire to kill welled up in him intensely. Kesia jumped out of her chair.

"No," she exclaimed, taking both of them by surprise. "No," she repeated softly, "What if he's being controlled? What if they kill them instantly?"

Shade looked at her imploringly, pleadingly, but said nothing.

"We can't," Kesia repeated, and they were silent.

"Look what you fucking made me do!" Trim shouted, waving his gun wildly through the air, "It's all your fucking fault, you stupid son of a bitch!"

Zandra stood motionless, unsure of what to do. Trim's vacillating moods were getting more extreme by the second, and his rage was even more unsettling. Agents stood around them, still statues. It certainly was a dire situation: Zandra knew that Cover wasn't able to fight, and she wasn't even sure that she could get out of it, either. Just anticipate.

"Trim, I'm sorry," Cover finally said, raising his palms up in symbolic offering. Trim's eyes widened, and his gun became steady.

"Sorry?" He repeated, walking closer to the two of them. He began to laugh; a forced, sharp laughter that rang eerily in their ears. "You're never sorry."

"Trim," Zandra said, surprising herself by the sound of her voice. She continued much quieter: "He didn't do anything." Trim stopped walking, almost as shocked as she. His gun was still trained on Cover.

"You stupid whore," he spat, "That piece of shit ruined my life. You know what he did to me?"

Trim walked closer to Zandra and began waving his gun at Cover again. The agents still watched.

"After all I did for you, I got nothing. I 'watched the ship'," he seethed, turning back to Cover. "I sat around waiting for you to come back," he continued hatefully, "I had to rely on her for contact! For company!" He spat on the ground in a crude gesture of repulsion and continued. "She's why you're here now."

Zandra felt a buzz in her pocket and looked to see if anyone had noticed. All eyes were on Trim. For now, there was still nothing anyone could do. Trim suddenly shouted, and was back at them again.

"I loved you," he told Zandra, a brief wave of anguish passing through his transparent eyes before turning to fire again, "You were all I cared about." He paused. "But you didn't want me." He turned to Cover again, eyes fully ablaze.

"And the one thing I had, you gave to him! My… feigned authority – you gave it to a piece of shit like him! My one pride! You fucking ruined me!" His voice broke, and Trim paused. A moment passed and he turned back to Zandra.

"And then you. You stupid bitch – you thought you'd be nice and give me a break." He sneered at Zandra's confused expression. "I was there," he continued, "Libertas has thinner walls than you think."

"I'm not your fucking charity!" he suddenly screamed, putting the gun back on Zandra. Zandra watched with pain as tears began to fall down his red cheeks. Again he paused, and then laughed. Another buzz in Zandra's pocket.

"But I'm done serving you filth," he said, his gun gesturing, vacillating between the two of them. The agents still didn't move.

"We'll see if that bastard Shade comes to save you," he said to Zandra, "Because I'm fucking done here."

Zandra stopped breathing for a moment. Was that the point of leaving him there? So that he would die trying to save her? Of course not, she thought scathingly, that was Cover's idea. But Shade was up there in Libertas with Kesia… was he planning his debut right then? Hopefully not… I don't need you to come, Zandra thought with disdain, that would only make things worse…

"Try and save him, Zandra," Trim suddenly continued, gesturing to Cover again, "I'd enjoy watching it." He paused, then turned to the agents. "Get ready," he told them, facing away from Cover and Zandra. Each agent steadied his feet and at once aimed only for Zandra.

"No more shit, Zandra. They've figured out your tricks – no more rubber bullets."

Zandra looked around nervously – had they really? Instantly she began to question her abilities… and their chances of escaping alive. Despite her fear, she hated even more the clear enjoyment that Trim derived from her fear. Something similar to hate welled up in her, and she felt the sudden urge to injure… to even kill her former crewmate. But in a moment, it had passed – she was more concerned with preserving her own life than extinguishing another. Anticipate.

"Isn't it a bitch, Zandra, isn't fate a bitch. Now say goodbye to your captain before it's too late."

"Trim," Cover started-

"Too late," he answered, and fired.

A/N – and thus the storm begins…

Kal Torak – Yeah, I always looked at Trim as a mix between the Kid, Mouse, and Cypher. He's just an awkward, gawky, pissed-off, hormone-pumped teenager. And that, as we have seen, is a dangerous combination.

As for how often I write, it's as much as I can. Today I wrote some in English while I had a second after copying notes… but usually it's like an hour every other school night, and like 3 hours on the weekends. I write furiously when I get an idea, or a conversation going. Fun stuff…

Thanks again… :) And don't worry, I'll always be typing no matter what!

Alocin – Ooh Cover! Now wouldn't that have been interesting… but no, it was Trim. Sorry to lead everyone astray, but I can't have everyone guess it, you know.