Act III

Those whom the gods wishes to destroy they first drive mad…

"How's the hindquarter?" asked Ny'rath as he turned his suit back on and jogged.

"Not so bad. I managed to get the projectile out with the med-kit's forceps. I keep forgetting how much projectiles sting," replied Ghiz, who was still seething over the whole incident.

"Did you make a lot of noise?"

"Nah, I didn't bother with that horrid gel stuff, but I'm thinking of slathering some of that junk on the ooman when I catch him."

"Oh, so you found the male who did it?"

"Yeah, I had a hard time keeping up with his vehicle, but I was near enough to see where his lair was located, but I had to stop and take out the annoying projectile. That is when I met up with my old pals. Luckily, I was already done with my wound," Ghiz said as he stepped over a parapet and dropped down to a ledge. "The ooman lives in that structure over there." He pointed to the old apartment building. "I was thinking of bombarding the place with our plasma cannons, but I figure we should be more subtle."

As he leaned over the edge, Ny'rath asked, "How subtle?"

"Let's see, we could go over unseen, crash through his window, and jump him."

"You call that subtle?" Ny'rath grimaced at the image that conjured up.

"Well, what did you have in mind? Fling a smart disc at him with a note that says 'To whom it may concern,'" asked Ghiz.

"You sure are grumpy this morning," said Ny'rath.

"I am not grumpy, just bitter; very, very bitter."

"Shhh, what is that noise?" whispered Ny'rath. Near the ledge Ghiz was on, there was something flickering in the open window. The tinny sounds coming from it was enough to pique the interest of the two yautja. Slowly and stealthily, the two invisible forms of Ghiz and Ny'rath peeked through the window. They switched vision modes in order to 'watch' what was happening on the screen of the primitive version of a gkinmara. They watched the performance, not caring about the translation, but letting the action unfold before them. It was something they have only heard about, but have never seen in its entirety.

The darkened living room of the apartment revealed the bald scalp of a snoring ooman in his chair and in front of him, in its entire black and white glory, was the film, 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers.' The frantic actions of the oomans trying to maintain their humanity and the insidious alien pods that bore an all too similar resemblance to the eggs of another alien species made a lasting impression on the two yautja. The film ended with the sole survivor trying to warn his species of the catastrophe awaiting it, and the two hunters burst into laughter, waking the human from his deep slumber. Luckily, for him, the hunters at his windowsill quickly leapt onto the roof, unseen and unnoticed.

"Darn noisy pigeons!" spluttered the bald guy as he went back to sleep.

"Can we get back to what we are going to do with our latest prey? We have places to go and other types of prey to hunt you know. The Clan ship will not wait for us again; remember what happened on that gods-forsaken rock Üskände?" clicked Ny'rath.

"Yes, yes, I remember. How was I supposed to know that it was a penal colony for another alien race? Damn Zanti misfits. Let's see, what to do, what to do," said Ghiz as he rolled the projectile he removed from his wound around and around in the palm of his hand.

Being careful and patient hunters, the two settled down to study the behavioral patterns of their new quarry.

xXx

It would seem strange to the normal person to say that opera was a fun activity. Sometimes it would not be prudent to recommend your normal fun loving sports fanatic or crime boss to attend a glorious production of some opera with an unpronounceable name being staged at the nearest opera house.

Nevertheless, Messer knew Mr. Rufrano was a big opera fan. Thinking that perhaps a token of goodwill, such as free tickets to the city opera's very first outdoor staging of Wagner's 'Die Walkϋre,' would help mend the bad Dopey business, Messer took out his phone and dialed the number of a guy who owed him a favor. It was good to have 'friends' in low places. Glancing at the television set, he was surprised to see the end credits of an old science fiction film from the fifties. The tape he had on earlier was finished; he had dozed off earlier while watching 'Attack of the Giant Leeches' and had the weirdest dream. He blamed it all on what had happened earlier.

Hoping never to see those freaky hitmen again, Messer poked his head out of the open kitchen window and surveyed the surrounding area for any suspicious characters. The little kid in the apartment next door was also looking out of his window and was about to climb onto the fire escape that lined the side of the apartments. Upon seeing Messer, the kid stuck his tongue out at him and quickly ducked back in. Grumbling a few obscenities, Messer stared at the buildings across the street. There was a bit of heat haze on the roof, directly across, right above the overhanging ledge. It looked strange, but there was probably an ordinary cause to it.

Afterwards, he checked his phone messages and received a follow up reply to a call he made months ago about his missing ATM card. Strangely, he remembered the day he lost it, but could not remember where he lost it. Adding to that financial mishap was the missing money from his account. The bank informed him that he had taken out the large amount since there was a record of him using his ATM card and withdrawing money on that day; he was going through a lot of trouble and a lot of jobs just to make up the missing amount, like this latest hit for instance. A hit he was not going to be paid for.

Grumbling as he picked up the cereal box, he scratched at his head as he poured the cornflakes into the bowl. Out of nowhere, something flew through the open window and struck him right in the left temple.

"Goddamnit!" screamed Messer as he dropped the cereal box and grabbed his head with both hands. "Nnggh, nnggh, that friggin hurts, what the heck was that?" He hopped around in agony and then dropped to the floor, fumbling around like a landed fish. It was not from a pellet gun; that was bad, because whatever it had been, it was large and hard enough to hurt like a sonuvabitch. Clearing away the reddish haze from his eyes, Messer could see the slightly deformed bullet in front of his face. I'll be damned! The darn thing looks like one of my rounds for my rifle! His mind gibbered, as he lay curled beneath his kitchen table; he thought he had picked up everything, including the spent shell casing. Who could be pelting me with spent rounds?

xXx

"How's that?" clattered Ghiz as he surveyed the open window across from his perch.

"Nice throw, but when I said to get rid of the projectile, I did not mean for you to give it back to the ooman," clicked Ny'rath as he shook his head. It had all started with the annoying clink of the metal round as Ghiz rolled it around in the palm of his hand, glancing off the knuckle-dusters that encircled his fingers. Exasperated, he had told Ghiz to get rid of it, so he did with a searing pitch into the open kitchen window of their intended prey. "I just hope you didn't hit him hard enough to kill him!"

"Honestly, I was aiming to miss him, but his head got in the way. Let us just call it intimidation and see how he reacts to it. I hope he considers it a challenge!" answered Ghiz.

xXx

"Hey mister, you all right in there?"

Messer still hid beneath his kitchen table, holding his head and wondering. He could feel a large goose egg slowly making its presence known on his head. His stomach was grumbling and now the kid next door was annoying him. He was going to get a splitting headache from all this. Slowly squirming his way out from beneath the table, he headed for the fridge, carefully keeping away from the windows. Upon reaching it, he opened the door and quickly took down whatever he could get his hands on and crawled once again to the safety of his kitchen table.

"Mister, I heard you scream. Are you okay?" cried the kid next door.

"I'm okay you little punk! Will you shut up and leave me alone!" yelled Messer as he looked down at what he brought back from the fridge. This is not going to be my day he thought as he twisted the cap off the bottle of beer and opened the package of cheese, old cheese; cheese from the Paleozoic. If it had been blue cheese, the mold would have evolved into a sentient race by now. Nevertheless, breakfast was breakfast even if it was eaten beneath the kitchen table. Seating himself comfortably, Messer ate the decrepit cheese, picked up some of the scattered cereal from the opened box, and chased all of it down with beer. It was frankly, a veritable friggin breakfast of champions.

Perhaps the beer was not a good idea after all. His headache was beginning to grow and the serious bump on his temple was not helping. Crawling from beneath his shelter, Beck made it to the bathroom and quickly got in. Wincing at the sudden way he stood up, he steadied himself at the sink and slowly looked into the mirror. The bump that stood out from the left side of his head was hideous and his face had the frightened look of a field mouse when it realizes that it was not dreaming of flying, but caught in the talons of an owl.

"I'm going to die of fright in here! It's gotta be them! Heaven help me, I know it's them! They found me and now they're going to tan my hide! I gotta get out!" whimpered Messer as he rushed out of the bathroom and promptly fell to his hands and knees. He crawled to one of the windows and peeked over the sill. Seeing no one, he crawled to the coffee table and picked up his phone. "H-h-hi Mr. Rufrano, is it okay if I could come in early today? Yeah, I know there's a set time, but I thought…yeah, okay, he'll be here in ten. Thank you Mr. Rufrano!" Messer was so happy that he was going to leave his apartment that he forgot why he was crawling around in the first place. He stood up andwas about to go to his bedroom when something came whizzing through his living room window, and struck him right between the shoulder blades. Falling face down, he cursed his carelessness and promptly crawled away to the safety of his bedroom. As he was about to close his bedroom door, he managed to take one more look out of his living room window. He saw the kid from next door on the fire escape holding a slingshot in one hand and sticking his tongue out at him.

"Don't ever tell me to shut up, mister!" cried the kid as he loaded a large marble onto his slingshot.

Messer shut his bedroom door in time as the marble struck the doorframe.

When Tell arrived ten minutes later, he found a disheveled Messer waiting just inside of the apartment lobby. As soon as he stopped the car, Messer made a mad dash to the door and frantically pulled it open.

"Quick, hit the gas and get me the hell outta here!" he wailed as he looked around wildly at the people walking on the sidewalk.

"What the heck happened to you? Where'd you get that nasty bump?" cried Tell as he took one look at the mental wreck that was Beck Messer.

xXx

"Oh look, he's fleeing," observed Ghiz. "I wonder where he will lead us this time."

"It had better be some place good!" chimed Ny'rath.

The two hunters left their perch and leapt in breathtaking bounds from building ledge to building ledge, startling flocks of pigeons in their path and accidentally snapping the ropes and wires that made up the laundry lines strung between apartment buildings. They kept the vehicle that held their prey in sight, never taking their eyes and scanners off it.

Eventually, the vehicle stopped at an area of semi-used and abandoned warehouses. Large freight containers were stacked here and there among the shattered crates and rusting mechanical equipment. Tufts of grass, mounds of dirt, and piles of broken wooden planks dotted the desolate landscape of industrial carnage. In its heyday, it must have been a bustling place of burly workers and yelling supervisors, hustling here and there, loading and unloading the very products of materialistic need. The old warehouses that made up most of the hulking structures of the industrial landscape were mostly empty and silent; their broken windows framed by jagged lids, looking upon an empty concrete world of rusting iron and brittle old wood.

One, and only one, fenced compound was busy with very suspicious characters and they were looking over the parked vehicle, questioning and inspecting the driver and his passenger. Luckily, for the hunters, every one of the men guarding the building was armed.

"The males have hidden weapons. We should approach with caution if we are going to retrieve our prey," said Ghiz.

They watched their prey and the accompanying male leave the vehicle and head for the large building that loomed in the middle of the compound. Edging closer, they soon became aware of the system of cameras and tripwires lining the perimeter. Fortunately, their shiftsuits were on and they managed to slip through. The unsuspecting guards looked about them, seeing and hearing absolutely nothing.

xXx

"You got me tickets to see what!" yelled Mr. Rufrano.

Messer cringed at the sudden loud noise. He wished he had his revolver just to end it there, but he had to surrender it at the security station before entering the offices of Mr. Rufrano. Before the meeting, Tell had fixed him up with coffee laced with a healthy dollop of whiskey to calm him down and had given him a comb to arrange his messed up hair. Messer had winced every time he came near the large bump on his left temple. He had felt refreshed and quite mellow before his meeting with Mr. Rufrano, but he was once again a bundle of nerves, trembling at the angry words that came out of the boss's mouth, a strange counterpoint to the lovely Italian aria playing in the background.

"How could you get me tickets to 'The Valkyrie'? Do you know what it's all about?" cried Mr. Rufrano.

Shaking his head, Messer ventured to get a word in, "But 'Die Walküre'…"

"No buts and don't call it by its German name. You sound like you're swallowing your tongue every time you say it! This so-called 'music drama' has all the hallmarks of a depraved sideshow. First, you have incest between a brother and sister, adultery, murder, and gratuitous violence. Did I mention incest? Moreover, all of that happens in the first two acts! It gets worse as the whole thing progresses! If I was to see this feast of depravity, my mother would give me a guilt trip and she's the travel agent for guilt trips!" explained Rufrano.

Messer would have laughed if he could, since he realized the aria in the background was from the opera 'Turandot', an opera of a bloodthirsty princess who got her kicks from decapitating the amorous suitors that failed to answer her three not-so-easy riddles. Yet the incest thing was something he did not know about 'The Valkyrie': oops.

"You know what you could do with these tickets? Tear 'em up and flush 'em down the toilet. Tell, come in here and help me with this!" said Mr. Rufrano as he suddenly stood up from behind his desk.

"You called, boss?" asked Tell when he entered the room.

"I want you to take Beck aside and explain to him why I'm giving him a second chance. Afterwards, beat him up for failing on the last job and then give him his next job. Sheesh, some people are only alive because it's illegal to kill."

"I've been looking forward to this ever since I picked up your sorry ass!" snickered Tell as they both walked out of the office.

As they passed the security station, Messer happened to look at the half dozen or so security monitors. He noticed something on one screen that did not look quite right.

"Hey, why are we stopping? You have an appointment with my fist and…" the last part of that sentence went unfinished as Tell saw Messer raise a shaky hand to one screen. The security operator staffing the station put down the magazine he was reading and stared at the screen, frozen with indecision.

At first, everything looked fine on the television monitor, except for the legs of somebody lying dreadfully still in the dark pools of something that looked like shiny motor oil or chocolate syrup in black and white. The legs were sticking out from one corner of the screen and a shower of sparks seem to cascade on and off as a flailing figure flew from one part of the screen and crashed silently among the wooden packing crates that lined one side of the room. Now there was something invisible shoving the heavy crates around as if they were nothing but playing blocks, inexorably making its way to the figure that had crashed earlier, and who still clung to his weapon. As he shakily got to his feet, he waved the gun around, aiming here and there. The invisible thing that moved the crates around soon made it to the weaving figure and with an invisible swipe, the head of the poor crash victim said good-bye to its bodily anchor. A few of the surviving guards could be seen firing their weapons in bursts at something off screen and one or two of those same guards were being picked off by something that flashed incandescently bright on the screen, exploding against their bodies like liquid lightning.

"What the heck is going on?" said a voice behind Tell, the security operator, and Messer. All three turned to see Mr. Rufrano looking at the screen. "Do we have an audio feed? I want to hear what's going on! Get Lammermoor on the radio and ask him what the hell is going on down there!"

"Um, I think that was Lammermoor that just said good-bye to his head, sir," quietly stated the security operator.

The blaring klaxon of the fire alarm soon reverberated throughout the warehouse and a sudden deluge of water came down as the sprinklers tried to quench the sudden flames that licked up from the burning wooden crates and human debris.

xXx

The strange and violent action captured on the security cameras above and witnessed by four bewildered men had started with the most innocuous sound.

The two hunters would have made it in unnoticed if Ny'rath had not stepped on a twig just as they were sneaking right behind one of the guards. Unfortunately, the guard had a very itchy trigger finger and when he saw the shimmering figures of light that stood near him, he managed to release a few bursts from his semi-automatic before he felt rather than saw the invisible blades that entered his chest and impaled his heart and one of his lungs. Then all hell broke loose as the remaining guards headed their way.

"Look around us, Ny'rath. There are no trees in sight and you managed to step on the only twig in the area!" commented Ghiz.

"I did that on purpose," said Ny'rath.

The oomans in the warehouse were putting up a fierce fight. Ghiz was busy with one male who tried blocking his path to the upper levels of the structure. Armed with an axe and a gun, he tried to use the axe on Ghiz who blocked it easily and tore it away from the ooman's grasp. Ghiz then struck the male a powerful blow, watching him skid down the aisle and trip up a couple of armed males as they tried to reach him. Seriously hampered by the netting that tightened and cut through their flesh, a pair of struggling and shrieking guards tried occupying Ny'rath's time.

Mr. Rufrano's security chief, Len Lammermoor, showed up then with a phalanx of henchmen. Sadly, most of them ended up easy pickings for Ghiz, who had the advantage of being in the upper levels and was using his plasma cannon for a bit of target practice. Lammermoor managed to make it to safety. He was no less surprised by the light bending figure that appeared immediately in front of him as he tried to make contact with Rufrano. Yanked from his hiding spot and thrown across the room, Lammermoor uttered one short yelp before crashing among the hard, unyielding wooden crates. Lammermoor managed to survive his flight and still hold on to his weapon, but he lost his head completely, courtesy of Ny'rath's ki'cti-pa. The screams and yells soon blended with the small explosions caused by the ammunition bursting in the weapons heated up by the surrounding fires caused by the arcing sparks from torn wiring.

Before the fires activated the sprinklers, Ny'rath made it up to the rafters where Ghiz watched and waited.

"I know where our particular prey is located and he's accompanied by three others. Shall we go and get him?" asked Ghiz.

"Yeah, this hunt has gone on long enough. We can come back to gather the trophies when we are all done. Hey, let's turn off our shiftsuits to make it sort of even," added Ny'rath.

xXx

One, then two cameras went offline and the gaping screens showed nothing but snow. Mr. Rufrano looked at Tell, Tell looked at Messer, and Messer looked at the security operator, who then looked at Mr. Rufrano. The radio was completely silent and the only sounds from downstairs were the dripping and hissing of water putting out the still guttering flames.

"Do you have something to tell us, Beck?" asked Mr. Rufrano.

Messer had to look innocent. He had the sneaking suspicion that the culprits behind this attack were the weird pair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Messer, why were you so scared this morning? You looked as if you saw a ghost. Did you have somebody follow us?" queried Tell.

"Nope, nothing, I swear!" sputtered Messer.

"Uh, guys, you have to take a look at these weirdoes," said the security guy as the cameras lining the passage that led to Rufrano's offices and the security station captured the image of two large figures cautiously making their way from doorway to doorway. "I don't know about you guys, but I think these hulks are high up on something weird or they could be something not, uh, quite human!"

"It's them! It's them! They're here to get me!" screamed Messer as he leapt forward and grabbed his revolver from the stunned security guy. He ran to the fire escape doors and down the stairs, leaving behind the puzzled trio of Tell, Rufrano, and the security operator.

Right after Messer left the building, a loud roar and a violent bashing knock on the door announced the presence of the infiltrators. The security operator immediately left his post and went the way of Messer, quickly rushing out through the fire escape doors and outside. Fortunately, for him, he was unarmed.

"Well, that seems to have answered our questions. I guess Beck had some uninvited guests coming over and he didn't have the balls to tell us," stated Tell as he picked up a weapon.

The door to the offices exploded in a maelstrom of large plywood splinters and swirling clots of sawdust. The two figures that came in through the shattered doorway were gigantic and strode purposefully towards Rufrano and Tell.

Mr. Rufrano yelled as he rushed at the advancing figures with a gun in each hand. "I'm not going down without a fight! You guys are mine!"

His suicidal attack was followed by Tell who squeezed off a burst of gunfire as he followed Rufrano.

The outcome was swift and painless. The two strange 'hitmen' that had infiltrated and destroyed most of Rufrano's property had sidestepped the coming attack. An explosive burst of light from one of the 'hitmen' flung Mr. Rufrano back and as he fell, he kept firing his guns wildly. The boss finally fell silent when a disc flung by one of the creatures cleanly lopped off Rufrano's head.

As for Tell, he realized all too late that they were up against the strangest hitmen ever. We should have hired these guys for Dopey's hit instead of Messer thought Tell as he felt his gun slipping from numb fingers. He looked down and noticed he had no more fingers. Actually, he had no more hands. A sudden swipe from the wicked blades that emerged from the large wristband of one of the tall hitmen had taken away two of his appendages, and he did not even notice. Tell still had the bewildered look on his face as a spear pierced him from behind, skewering his heart and forcing it out in a spray of blood, splayed ribs, and torn muscle. The soon to be late and unlamented Tell stared at the sight of his still beating heart. As it spasmed in its death throes, Tell's brain repeatedly flashed the incongruous image of an apple impaled by an arrow.