NOTE: Edited version.
Greetings and welcome once again.
To start off, I'm sad to say that this will possibly be the only update, and also sad to say I won't be able to update for some time. My work is taking me far and away and for long periods of time. But there are chapters done as drafts and I am getting close to the end. However, I am NOT going to throw it all together so I can be "done" with it. Far from it, I will do a revision and post those up once this is all complete.
To warn you, I simplified some of the writing in this chapter some, for one it is long, and it also has a lot of action and figured you all want this to flow with the speed. Really, Please tell me what you all think of this chapter. I haven't done action in awhile and I'm working some new angles with this.
Disclaimer: YEA! I own nothing of the original characters and stand to gain nothing on their behalf.
Enjoy.
Killing Monsters
By: Mauser
Two taps; wood meeting wood.
Somehow Aleutian heard them over the driving bass that pounded the walls and his numb head, and he found himself glancing up and over his right shoulder, courtesy of his eyes catching a passing shadow in the dark nightclub. His hands were relaxed in front of him with his arms and elbows resting on the bar counter, catching view of a dark clothed being–a cat he could see, a yellow spotted tail wavering under the slit of a black dinner jacket–limping out with a long wooden cane supporting his steps. Aleutian tried to size him up further, however the cat disappeared through a dancing mob and the apparent hood Aleutian's head was under.
Had he been sleeping? It felt as if he had as he returned his attention to his hands, questioning then why he was wearing something with long sleeves that seemed to cover his entire body. A robe, and a good one at that, fending off the cold nature of the place. Lazily he lifted his eyes up with his head, searching his clean face in the mirror behind the bar for any answers if he had dosed off or he really wasn't paying attention to something that he was supposed to. He found nothing and in turn, stared past himself at the dancing crowd's silhouettes from behind the flashing rainbow stage lights, seeing the music being spun by a hand-pumping duck, his left ear covered by a headphone. Typical of any DJ, Aleutian gathered.
"Hey!"
The light nudge at his elbow, and the demanding tone in the calm voice was enough to break his pensive stare at himself to bring it around across his right shoulder. Blue feminine eyes quizzically met his, finding she was dressed in the same hooded robe as he.
"You up to this?..." she asked gently, crawling her hand to his. "We can go if you don't think this is right."
Aleutian broke his stare and shifted his head back over his right shoulder, looking for the dark clothed cat–leopard. "Two taps...two taps, and game on," he mused quickly, his face painting the expression clearly. Why did it take him that long to figure out and remember the signal? And in the blankness in his mind, why did he feel he was forgetting something? Was it purpose for being here; in this dark, rallying night club that as he sized the place up further, was fevered with vice from every table he gazed upon, and with every smell he breathed in through his nostrils. Just down the counter from him, passed two Mobians–one taking his time with his drink, the other losing strength to have another–Aleutian quickly studied a male racoon dressed to the nines in a grey suit that matched his fur, talking it up with a scantily dressed rabbit, her skirt riding high way passed her thighs and a tank-top which was probably cut low if she'd turn to face Aleutian. From the looks of her smile and inviting posture, leaning slightly on the bar, whatever the racoon had in mind for fun this night was possibly going to come true.
And from the shady room came a shady subject that Aleutian had to strain his head further over but just enough not to attract suspicion to his wandering eyes. "Target."
He snapped his face back to Emi-La on the whim of his voice, the hood concealing his furtive movement. "Nack's here," he spoke smoothly.
Emi-La stole a quick glance between Aleutian and her before twisting her head back forward. "Fedora, pointed ears?..."
"And underdressed even for this place," Aleutian finished, fighting to make his voice to be heard over the music but not to be heard from prying ears.
Emi-La waited for a few seconds as, from what Aleutian could tell, she looked for the purple weasel amongst the jumping mob behind them through the mirror. "He doesn't go this low, does he?"
"It's the underworld, babe. All you can do is go low."
Aleutian couldn't see it but he knew Emi-La had be to smiling at his remark. "What do we do?...You know Control wants him?"
There was no mirth behind her voice which surprised Aleutian. Faltering, he retreated his tone to match hers. Seriousness.
"If he stops at the door, we take him. If he doesn't, we'll get him again sometime later."
Emi-La only had time to nod. Aleutian only had time to repent why he couldn't remember the whole reason why they were here, but his words were leaping from his lips as if he knew the reason anyhow. And for the life of him, he was predicting what the bartender was going to say when his rounds finally took him to the sitting Echidnas, although he really couldn't make them out under their hoods. He was pudgy, even for an ape, and he wore a striped suit without the blazer as if to show what the dress code should be for the place though the patrons took one of their own.
Placing his hands to support him on the counter, he leaned into them so as to hear their request when he asked for it. "And what can I get you two...uh?..."
"We're missionaries, dear brother," Aleutian expressed brightly, executing a reverent head-bow to add to his and Emi-La's cover.
"You're what?" the bartender asked, leaning in further with his stunned expression.
"Missionaries," Emi-La affirmed with a smile. "We've journeyed long and far and we seek the enlightenment of Aurora, but alas, we must briefly stop our sojourn for we are tired."
The ape's open mouth was about to say something, perhaps stupid but could be dangerous all the same if fishing for a reply, when Aleutian cut him off. "Would your patrons be inclined for some guidance in their..." Aleutian glanced over his left shoulder to add emphasis, before turning back and casting an offering gleam towards the ape, "...savage ways."
The bartender looked onto them with perplexity that was really amusing to both Emi-La and Aleutian. What he said next was almost laughable if the ape's patrons weren't shady and possibly packing.
"Let me tell'ya's. Y'all have your work cut out for ya in this place. I hope you've got more than the good word to persuade people to go clean around here."
That "good word" so happened to be resisting Aleutian's left biceps to collapse against his rib cage. The weight, he realized after finally feeling it strain across his shoulders, wasn't there to test his endurance or strength. In fact, he felt healthier than what something inside of him was saying he shouldn't. It felt easier to hold his head up, it seemed. Easier to look around the room without feeling tired after the first swivel of his head. And looking at his equal he felt energized that for some reason, he had felt drained of.
He shrugged it off, consequently still trying to remember what he and Emi-La were there for. Aleutian raised his voice over the thumping bass. "You wouldn't have a room for us?"–the ape stood in silence, wondering if he should attend real customers then possibly go on with what he thought was becoming a prank. "This is an Inn, right, dear brother?" Aleutian added.
The bartender stammered for a second before he assured himself that the two "pilgrims" were in fact serious and were in fact looking for a room. "Sixty credits for the both of you's but I'll shave ten off if you'll cleans the room while you stay. I don't refund money for a bad night's sleep, so don't come wanting you's credits back because of the music."
Emi-La nodded under her brown hood and fished out some cash from an inside pocket under the robe. All the while Aleutian put his attention to the stale cigarette smoke air, laced with the scent of those looking to populate the world just for pure pleasure, and focused his eyes to a flight of stairs that led up and rounded left just to the right of the dance floor and stage. They reminded him of his basement stairs, which also reminded him he needed to replace a few steps so he or Emi-La wouldn't come crashing down and break legs or arms. Dry-rotted from his vantage point and braced against a wall at either side, they looked daunting, but the light that protruded from the hallway was enticing for some unMobian reason.
Maybe because he just saw Nack the Weasel climb the short flight and round into the hallway. Or maybe it was for the purpose they were there for. "If only I can remember when we get there?"
When the cash was passed, nods were exchanged and the key handed out, Emi-La took point and Aleutian proceeded to follow her through the dancing crowd. It was hard to ignore, much less traverse through, all the tail grinding, bucking pelvis from dance partner to dance partner, and the mating enticements, but Aleutian kept his eyes glued to Emi-La's straight tail, keeping his distance while still keeping close. She strode by a flailing couple like they weren't there. She just held a step long enough that when the fox and mongoose–the mongoose a girl–grinded backwards then shot forwards, Emi-La hastened her next steps so when the beat came around to the next measure, she had safely scooted away before they reclaimed their dancing space. Aleutian, with his hands tucked inside his sleeves like the monk he was trying to portray–and finding something anchored around his right wrist and lower forearm–slid past the two while giving them a wider berth than waiting for the down beat to end.
It wasn't until they reached the steps, from the initial taps that stirred him awake it seemed, to seeing Emi-La's questioning, concerned blue eyes, and now watching her dancing tail fidget with every step she took up the stairs, that an empty feeling showered over Aleutian, washing his sense of right and wrong and purpose away, and now wondering as to the meaning of this new sensation. Her beauty had never faded from the drabs she wore, through he felt spellbound just by the mere sight of her. When she reached the corner of the stairs leaning into the hall and leaned one eye out to peer down it, he felt afraid for her, as if wishing her not to look at the unknown. And when she turned to him, her face coming close to his, her warmth from the air she exhaled wafting over him, and the challenging look that seemed to have flipped on like a switch, Aleutian felt as if he had been missing all this for almost eternity.
But why?
He stood stiff like a shy schoolboy–and even at eighteen he still felt at times he was–doing his best to twist his face into the same resolute expression Emi-La had.
And to his shaking senses, she moved in close to him, carefully and cautiously finding her way through his robe, and before he could protest, her warm hands slid around his chest...and grabbed the object under his shoulder. The jerk that released his silenced pistol was enough to jolt him back to the current moment, and of what they were setting out to do.
"He's at the door, talking with our main guy," Emi-La elaborated firmly.
Touching the wall, Aleutian kept his eyes open as his inner sight overlapped his vision. Tracing the outer wall to the door frame, then around it to the other side, finding that the frame itself stuck out some from the particle-board wall down the hallway, he concentrated his vision to look down the dimly lit corridor. A few bulbs hung without lampshades and at the end of the six-door hall was the emergency stairs that lead out, not in. Fire exit, Aleutian somehow reflected: locked on the outside, not the inside.
But standing in the middle, four doors down was the purple weasel Nack, his tan and black short brim fedora lightly sitting atop his pointed eared head, striking it up with a slightly obese hog, pinkish in skin color, almost to that of lividity, and coming on as if he was a pimp: white suit, black patten shoes, and what Aleutian could barley see as a matching white vest under the jacket.
"Samuel Burr," the Guardian-in-hiding, but playing rough all the same, seemed to remember. His alias, of which Samuel perhaps wasn't so fond of, was "Sam the Slime" and the grisly skin of the hog added to that analogy. He seemed to be sweating as his lips moved, finding it rough going as he spoke. Then a nervous tremor quivered from his arm as he shot his fingers up to his collar, pulling it away as if to breathe it seemed. But the nightclub could have hung meat in the place.
Aleutian's conclusion, as he brought his hand away from the wall, was simple and plain to those with experienced eyes. "Sam the Slime" was really "Sam the Junky," wasting his tainted money on the Honey Suckle Lemon Juice. It was a wonder how Robotnick could get his supply of slaves with the doped up trash he depended upon to get them with. But the game had changed. Everyone to Lands End knew what a Swat-Bot looked like, and later, the robotocized mobians he used. Thus came the calling for those whose motives and morals consisted of greed and anarchy to the extreme. Asking with promises of money and outlandish fortunes–for some came true, others thrown into the robotocizer just to save money–Robotnick had himself a nice little network to weed out those who were against him, and those who were just "conveniently" in the way, and to be put to good use. Slaves. Mindless, robotic slaves to help defeat Sonic and the rest of the Freedom Fighters.
It was just too bad for the "Fat-Man" that the help he took had their detractive vices. "Take down Nack," Aleutian quietly whispered in Emi-La's ear, "Sam will be easy in his state."
Emi-La never nodded; never gestured anything of confirmation. Only that of raising the pistol, both of her fine hands firmly wrapped around the grip; left supporting right, fingers hovering beside the frame with her left index finger placed over the trigger-guard itself. She was side-straddled on the stairs, positioning her body just behind the thin wall both echidnas were leaning up against, but letting the edge of the passageway conceal the better part of her face, while exposing her right narrowing eye down the hall and down the sights of the black pistol. Nack's head was resting just under the aligned sight picture–
She reared back from the passage way when Aleutian jerked hard on the only thing he could grab of her anatomy; her straightened tail. With the pistol coming down, she let her scathing face follow, bearing her canines at Aleutian but only showing them to the back of his head. And the instant it took her to fuss the seething grin, she retracted her lips to the passiveness of the cover role she needed to play.
And somehow, without seeing this, Aleutian knew Emi-La had given him her demanding look of "What the heck are you thinking!?" though his attention was squarely on the bartender who had appeared out of nowhere.
"What's going on here?...You two lost or something. Can't find your way to the only floor with rooms?" the ape festered in a hoarse, loud voice.
Aleutian had to think quickly. The bartender knew Aleutian heard him, so a second of thought couldn't be afforded without the raising of suspicions and without Emi-La dropping the ape where he stood, and in turn exploding the place in panics and screams, blowing their cover in the most dangerous of places in Casino Night City sky high.
"I think that is where we are?"
"Your steps, dear brother!" The pounding speakers were just on the other side of the staircase, and Aleutian really had to shout.
"What about 'em?"
"My sister, dear brother, is tired and is taking her time in not to fall, you see," Aleutian replied, playing his demeanor and tone as if asking for understanding. It was something he learned as lessons from Lopper. Those sad blue and green eyes were cute enough to be a deadly trap. What Aleutian lacked was his teacher's charm that seemed to come naturally with him.
"Whatever?" waved off the ape. He then cocked his head some, Aleutian feeling the itch that a warning was going to become of it. "If you hear crying or screams from any of the rooms, just ignore them, and don't go looking to 'save' anyone in these rooms, or it might be you two who needs the 'savin! Got me?"
"We mean no trouble, dear brother. We are just passing through."
"And if you go a'knocking on doors, you'll be passing right out of 'er. And if you go to d'em Freedom Fighters, I gar-untee you's be praying to whatever gods you pray to for some heathens to find religion before they find you's."
Aleutian gave his best disarming smile, but in fact he really wanted to express his indifference with a firm look and knifing hand straight to the ape's throat. "It's Aurora, dear Brother, the goddess of whom gives us our destiny–"
"I don't care–just...just get the hell upstairs so I can get back to my customers." Aleutian smiled and bowed. The ape scoffed a humph and trotted off. "Damn, holly-rollers," Aleutian could hear him shout amongst the pumping music.
Making a glowing, insulting face at the bartender's back, Aleutian diligently turned on the steps to see his equal almost laughing. Her smile was so warming to him. "I think someone needs a nap," she quipped under that same smile.
"Who? Me or the guy in the monkey-suit?" Aleutian said with a mirthful chuckle.
She laughed, but like the switch he was so accustomed to, and somewhere within him he felt he was longing for it as if he missed it, her expressionless, challenging face that she bore to all the evil they had stalked and later faced together, cameback. It energized him in such a way that he felt his facial features matching hers. And he loved it.
Peering back down the hall, she suddenly snapped the pistol up and dropped the safety this time with a flick of her thumb. "No!" Aleutian can see her saying to herself, her lips perching at what he knew was a missed opportunity to bag one of the low-down scums of Mobius. Could she have done it? Yes. Could she have missed? Quite possibly, but the training between the both of them enforced the rule to take no unnecessary risk and no compromise. So she let Sam fumble his way down the stairs at the other end of the hall, watching his shadow flicker from the pulsing florescent light that tried to light the fire exit.
Now the long corridor was clear. Were they to follow them out and take them there? Something told Aleutian no when Emi-La left her spot from the passageway and entered the hall. He followed, checking his six o'clock out of habit and making sure no liquored and doped out couple were ready to make the bedroom. When they passed by the first room, Emi-La brought the pistol over her left shoulder, her hand crisply gripping the slide and offering the handle to Aleutian. He took it firmly, rolling the barrel up towards the ceiling and swinging the barrel clear from her back. As long as no one entered from the staircase, at which Emee would drop to the dusty wooden floor, and at which Aleutian would possibly let two rounds fly, depending on the contact, they were safe in their stealthiness.
Aleutian touched the passing walls to the rooms with his fingertips, letting his arm drag some out of resistence, while his pistol dangled from his left hand, hoovering by his leg. The second room he passed saw a male dog fighting his stupor so he could sleep, his hands supporting his sagging head, as he sat on the turned down bed. The third that came with a wall separating the two was occupied by an engaging couple sweating between the sheets. Aleutian couldn't see the species, but the idea of being intrusive made him snap his hand back from the sight. He still looked straight at the wall with his naked eyes, mustering an embarrassing expression which when Emi-La peered behind her back, she had the enticing feeling of what Aleutian had seen. Her Guardian did his best to shelter her from such passionate acts...but she had her fantasies. If only he would go the distance beyond a kiss and a cuddle to satisfy them for her. If only he would do just anything else exciting in bed except to sleep. "If only."
Shrugging off the curious, loving look Emi-La beamed to him, Aleutian returned his fingers to the wall. He was violently met with the reason why they were there in the forth room. He wanted to shake off and wrench at what his gift had cursed him to see, but he stayed true to his collective self. Instead he felt his hand stiffen on his black pistol as he felt his inner warrior self become emboldened to use it.
Three girls: a kitten–and still that–swollen and brutally beaten by the standing shadows Aleutian could see in the dark room. She was hunched over a supporting shoulder from a fox, her white evening gown soaked in purple blood but her face and posture was remained strong in her presence of mind. Beside her, facing away from Aleutian and the wall he was projecting through, sat a frightened squirrel, her fur texture of which he could make out matching that of his best-friend–if he got back home to the island to see him–Prince Elias Acorn. And on that thought, Aleutian prayed to Aurora that she wasn't Sally. Emi-La would have to cook them both a fine dinner just to break what could be the bad news between all of them: "You have a brother, Sally. Oh...and I ran away from home and I too have a brother," Aleutian could hear himself say.
Again, he shrugged his forethoughts away and put his alert attention to the situation at hand. "All gagged...nice! At least they won't scream, but you're rotten scums for doing it!" He sighed roughly, which caught Emi-La's ears and made her swing her head back to her equal. An affirming nod was all he gave, making her stop by the fourth door while he stepped around her and took up his position on the adjacent side. There, they took great care to stay clear from the fatal-funnel of the frame–where the edges of the door can silhouette someone and make them an easy target if they couldn't find cover fast enough.
Emi-La waited. She hoovered by the wall just as Aleutian was doing, watching him perform his abilities that he was born with, seeing through the walls and peering into the horrors within. A moment more she was feeling the curse of impatientness, tightening and loosening her hands to ease the tension. She wanted to tap to the beat of the muffled bass from down stairs. But she shied the thought away, only guessing–and guessing correctly–that the bass was doing a number on Aleutian's sight, watching him frustratingly search the vacant hall for the objects he was trying to identify in the room.
He lifted his hand away and produced three digits; then a flat, leveled hand plus a finger churning out an imaginary ring; then four fingers followed up with a fist; then two with a finger pointed towards her; then two more fingers and a thumb pointed towards him. Lastly, and not something she wanted to see, an additional index finger ending with his puzzled eyes.
And thus she broke down the silent language as this: "Three captives centered in a circle. Four hostiles; two my end, two his with a possible fifth." And the possible meant two things: one, the room was big enough to where Aleutian reached the bounds of his gifted abilities and couldn't see further inside, and two, she needed to do fast work on the other two at her end so Aleutian could have the amble breathing room to either reload, or target identify and if possible, take down the "surprise" if he or she is a threat.
"Hold on dears...freedom is coming," Emi-La prayed to the poor souls in the room, echoing the chant across her face at her loving equal.
It was enough for Aleutian to let out his determination across his body and slip his right arm out of his sleeve. Blindly he fished for the two yarns that held his monk's cloak to together and undid them. Emi-La followed suit like clockwork, untiing hers quicker and sliding the brown garment off her shoulders, letting gravity have it as a sporting gift.
She was immaculate, her body filling out and brightly showing under her saffron tank-top, her legs femininely curved as ever but showing the muscles of someone who exercised regularly, discreetly covered in a tan pair of trousers cut short at the calves. Her shoes a cross between boots and high tops, black in leather...and her favorite pair, Aleutian reflected. Across her shoulders was a black webbed harness supporting her black collapsible bow-staff, and centered across her back an Overlander plasma carbine which at her size–and Aleutian's–was more like a full fledged rifle. It too had a hard, square frame such as Aleutian's hush-puppy, but in contrast had bulkier lines and features with a full trigger guard that ran the length of the cell-well that doubled as a handle.
He on the other hand matched the crowd downstairs: a blue t-shirt to match his eyes, a pair of black cargo pants with more pockets than he wanted, however, it wouldn't give him away as someone with the law, and to his distaste, a pair of maroon suede shoes that he was glad as all get out they were only for cover and not his fashion. His shoulder rig was tight across his back and chest, still weighing some with the spare magazines under his right arm. The tight feeling he had across his right wrist and forearm was that of his quick reload: a spare magazine rig which ran diagonally down to the bottom of his wrist, and with a velcro opening at easy reach to snag the loaded mag inside.
In regards that they had packed light for the evening still had the notion they were loaded for bear. They were posed to rumble. Posed to become the freers of the enslaved...once more. And before they nodded and checked their tools of their deadly trade, the two echidna lovers, at their cozy home–if and when Aleutian decided to break the fragile ice she was wanting him to shatter–closed the distance between them and stole a passionate long kiss, wrapping their free hands around each others' shoulders before they briskly stepped back from the fatal funnel.
The collapsible bow-staff, a gift from Lopper among many to his two best and brightest students, was unsheathed from a round-leather holster under Emee's left arm. Rotated by birth on a machining lath from a time no one has been able to confirm, only to suspect, its folded cold steel body on the outside was glossy black and short–about the length of Emi-La's arm from shoulder to forearm. But like so many of Lopper's deceptions, including the lopped ear rabbit himself, what was portrayed outside the fur wasn't really what was under the skin. Two high tensioned springs, once measured at two hundred pounds per square inch, were separated between themselves by a space of solid steel and set to propel a pair of two and half foot steel rods at either side to complete the staff's full length in a blinding furry. It's use had many qualities but some still lay secret to the loving equal who wielded it. Some she managed to figure out on her own, beside the inevitable super-sized beating stick she was setting the thing up to do, but also a very compact battering-ram to gain entry to forbidden places. All Em-La had to do was press down on a tab at the head of the end she was going to use to send the bars of bone crushing death out from their holes.
Aleutian gripped his pistol with both hands, leaning his left shoulder on the wall to push himself into action when the door shattered open, anticipating Emee's confirming nod that she was ready. He could only admire her for the brief second of her energized beauty, her mouth gapping just enough to show that she was getting irritated with the waiting and wanting this to be done and over with. Her right shoulder supporting herself as well on a wall, legs bent slightly at the knees. She was cultivating the unstoppable furry Aleutian so vividly, and affectionately, remembered during their stay, and subsequent training at Lopper's low-lying house in the Badlands. From her stance now, she was a far cry from the naive girl he had found in the woods some three years ago.
And he loved every minute of having his tail handed to him from her. And she like wise.
A curt breath. He nodded, determination echoing in it.
Seeing it, she twisted a charged grin across her lips, her eyes narrowing in delight...becoming blood thirsty, focusing on the door. Did Aleutian worry about her indulgent look? Yes, to some extent. Why? Because once they got home, or even before that, she'd be back to her vivacious cooking-self and doing her best to either fat him up or wearing him out to keep him slim.
"If only he'd go further than wrestling games!" she lovingly muttered to herself, counting the bass beats with taps on the staff of her right hand. "But he has, hasn't he," she confessed to the walls.
Aleutian, to comfort his distressing mind, touched the wall one last time to gaze inside before he went full throttle. He didn't like what he presumably saw. The DJ had cranked up the noise further, and Aleutian was searching through the dancing static fuzz the sound waves produced over his gift. A bulky wolf on his side of the room inched his way closer to the door, arms crossed over his bare fur chest, his belt to his jeans undone–from what Aleutian could tell–and eyeing the female fox for his barbaric pleasure. And seeing this, plus the pistol the wolf had planted at the small of his back, sprang Aleutian's warrior voice to his ears. "Target...light him up!"
It happened to the millisecond. Aleutian leveled his pistol to the blank wooden wall; Emi-La placing her finger on the spring-release. Finger on the trigger, the safety still dropped from before, Emi-La anchored her feet to jump inside.
Aleutian stroked the trigger once...twice...feeling the slide buck back a third time, never hearing the brass casing flop on the floor thanks to the pumping music, nor the wood splintering from the bullet impacts at close range. Emi-La never witnessed any of this. Thesnapping sound and the shattering of the door handle overlapped the working slide of Aleutian's heater. With the door still flying open, she pounced inside in a blinding blur of red and saffron, her teeth baring her canines to their fullest show, and her hand rotating her staff to the other "loaded" end. The wolf she saw once inside to her left was rearing in pain from his back as he fell forward to the floor. As quickly as she saw him flop down, her tactical mind-set was searching for the next possible threat on her side of the darkly lighted room.
She found it not more than two feet from her, startled and fumbling for his weapon. Not giving the stunned goat a chance to brandish what he used for a gun, Emi-La crouched down over her knees, pointed the staff at her new adversary's left knee and pressed the button. It popped out like a jackhammer, slamming dead center on the goat's kneecap and shattering it as well as hyperextending it in the direction it wasn't meant to go. Backwards.
Aleutian came barreling around the fleshly open door, his knees bent and feet rolling from heel to toe for stability of his aim, observing the goat falling in screaming pain, and Emi-La shooting her staff up to nail him square in the chin, Aleutian saw another dark figure looming behind the goat...and to the Guardian's left–his next threat.
The black furred rat wasn't hard to spot, even the blackest of clothed or furred subjects can silhouette themselves in dark rooms with the lowest of lights. Aleutian only observed the rat's right hand cross his body to draw his pistol from the center of his pants. It was enough show of being a threat to let fly two rounds at center-mass from the glowing night sights of Aleutian's heater. No sound came from the mobian, other than his limp body falling backwards where he stood and crashing on a cheaply made table, before flopping to the floor.
"WHAT THE–"
Emi-La's eyes were glued to the raving hound-dog that just found himself a bat in a convenient corner on her side of the room. He yelled a charging war holler, which didn't phase her one bit, and pumped his legs after her, raising the bat over his head for a quick and fatal blow to hers. Doing as she was trained she held her ground, stiffening her hands on the staff are two-thirds of it was pointed to the dog's right side, her feet raised on the balls and positioned in the two corners of a phantom box.
Down came the bat.
And there went Emi-La, hopping diagonally in one fluid motion and delivering a down strike across the left side of the hound-dog's exposed muzzle. The force of her strike sent him to the ground but he rolled out of it, climbing to his feet and preparing himself for a side-swing with the bat still firmly in his hands.
Aleutian was maneuvering his pistol to the hound-dog to back up Emee. He was pulling his sights in alignment just when a beaver with a filleting knife happened to show up from the room that he couldn't see into. Here was the possible third threat, and he wasn't too happy, his bucktooth smile impassive but his eyes attentively looking for any spot on Aleutian's anatomy to slice up. He must've found it for he bolted straight at the echidna, never caring, or possibly never seeing the firearm in Aleutian's hand, as he drew back his right hand to thrust the steal blade into Aleutian's chest.
The Guardian never missed a beat with his instincts, putting his pistol on point and double-tapping the beaver at his rib cage, making fast work of the trigger. Again, he felt the pistol buck from the violently working slide twice over, but the beaver still kept coming, still charging hard, but faltering in pace some. Aleutian fed him one...two more shots, the brass casings ejecting and his right eye catching the glimmering reflections falling to the floor. All he heard was the muffled sniff of the bullets biting the air and the beaver's meaty tissue become punctured by them.
But the beaver still kept coming!
Was Aleutian missing? He couldn't be! No time to figure it out–the knife was throttling forward. Aleutian finding no answer than just to keep shooting, he fired another two rounds, sidestepping back under his quaking knees.
There, the beaver finally winced back in pain. His knife however was still in motion...cutting the empty air where Aleutian had once stood, slicing it to the floor along with a new fresh furry corpse.
Emi-La's aim was dead-on, slamming the staff on the dog's wrist and sending the sharp pain of bone meeting metal to his brain between his droopy ears. And those happened to be her next point of aim, spearing the blunt end at his hidden ear canal and driving it straight to the other side, if she could get passed his skull. The searing agony was enough to stun the dog into not wanting to resist further, giving Emi-La a free berth to knock the bat out of his hand with a down swing while propelling herself off the ground and spinning completely around to slingshot her next blow across his head. She came down hard with gravity adding force to the strike from her strengthened arms and timed in unison to her feet touching the ground. She felt the soft, fleshy sensation of skin and fur impacting steal through the staff, followed by the softer feeling of his skull giving way to his brain before his body sagged lifeless to the floor. In effect, he was either dead or he was going to be hand-fed for the rest of his days on Mobius.
Thirty seconds. From entry to chaos to order, the whole ballet of brutal violence took thirty seconds.
"Clear right!" announced Emi-La, breathing hard but keeping her eye on the screaming goat. Between his pants of air she could hear the girls in the huddled circle screaming as well through their tape gags.
"Clear left!" chorused Aleutian, hands still firmly wrapped around his pistol, legs flexed, shoulders and arms locked forward.
Emi-La pressed the locking tab down on one end of the staff, placed it on the floor while still kneeling closely over her feet, and slammed the rod back inside the staff, then repeated the process for the other end. The springs were still stiff from over time, leaving Emi-La a tad bit spent from the chore of collapsing the staff back to its dormant-self.
"Check the girls, babe," Aleutian said passively, doing his best to ignore the raving goat on the floor, balling at his knee. "Better yet, check him–"
"Ahead of 'yea, Aleutian!" Emee retorted evenly. She rose up from her knees, holstered her staff and swung the large carbine from her back, pressing the auto-stock extender switch on the end of the weapon. A twin-rail butt eased it's way back, locking into her shoulder. "Don't move!" she ordered dryly to the wriggling goat. Apparently it was too much to ask.
She kicked him over on his left shoulder, exposing his back to her. Keeping her right hand on the pistol-grip of the carbine, she reached down quickly with her left and snatched the Saturday-night-special plasma-pistol from the goat's waist line. The small thing could barley fit in her hand. "What's the matter–your friends won't let you play with real toys," she hissed, checking over him, then the girls, then following her soul-equal with her eyes to the unchecked room to the left.
With his weapon up, and side stepping to the right of the doorframe, Aleutian began the art of clearing the fatal-funnel as if he were a shy, nervous kid cutting a pie. His eyes were wide, attentively darting. His hands were sweating as he adjusted his grip. Mouth slightly opened, lips dry. Uncountable possibilities were running through his trained head during all this as he cleared the left wall of what seemed like a dungeon he was wanting to get into. A terrified girl or guy running out–"don't shoot!" An angry customer wanting revenge–"Make him cooperate or heat him up!" Weapon jams–"Cover, clear, press-on!"
Right foot crossing over left, hovering low. Finger off trigger; center area of the room clear of–
"Contact!"
And his finger stayed its residency on the frame–she was crying in the far right corner of the room.
"Don't shoot!" he yelled out to himself, watching the eyes of the terrified hedgehog in the corner shouting the same order at his. "Emee, I have one in here! She looks pretty bad."
Emi-La gently ripped the grey duck-tape from the fox's mouth, making her shrill from her lips being pulled off along with some of her natural fur. "You okay, sweetie?" she asked before diverting her calming, but yet concerned eyes to the room Aleutian had just entered.
"Ah-huh," came the tearing response. "Dorry, please look at her. They beat her just for fun!"
"Which one's Dorry?" Emi-La asked. The fox nodded to the slumped kitten on her shoulder.
Emi-La placed her gentle hand on the manx kitten and gave her a lite shake. She groaned hypnotically, a good sign that she was alive...however barely. "Honey?" she called out to Aleutian, wrestling to remove the bindings from the foxes hands as quickly as she could. A fast flick of a slim folding-knife from her back-pocket cured that dilemma.
"What?" Aleutian shouted back over his shoulder, holstering his pistol in the same instant. Then off came the tape, followed by the hedgehog's pain filled eyes from the action.
"What do you want me to do with the goat?"
"Talk to him...get as much as you can out of him. I'll be there in a jiff, babe."
She shrugged her face. "Take your time."
Looking to the fox, Emi-La gave her the knife before checking over her shoulder and the now, somewhat, subdued goat thanks to his shattered knee. "Can you help the rest?" she asked, squatting over her knees.
"Anything to help you. Thank-you for everything–"
"It ain't over yet, sweetie," Emi-La interrupted seriously, "can you carry her out if she needs it?"
"I've saved my strength just lose these goons. But yes, I can help the others out."
"Beautiful!" Emi-La replied doggedly.
And then, she slowly glided over to the goat, his hand shaking over his compound fractured knee–she could actually see bone sprouting out from his fur and skin and pant leg. The hound-dog just behind him was starting to twitch from his jolting nerves. "Yep...he dead!"
"Sorry about that," she begged apologetically, "I know knee injuries can be a kick in the tail."
Violet blood was crawling over the right side of his face from the small cut she inflicted from her strike. It was clotting some. He scoured a painful glance at her, still lying on his left shoulder. "Cut the crap, BIT–"
Emi-La did, gripping his knee with the slightest touch. With his damaged nerves at the height of tenderness, her easy tap was enough to repeal his vulgar name-calling and retreat back to his flailing screaming. "Now that's not nice, with little me trying to say I'm sorry." She then produced a mirthless grin that she was glad Aleutian was too occupied to see. "Guess that means we're not friends...too bad."
Aleutian in the other room had both his hands and shoulders occupied with the limping hedgehog. "Animals," she choked out without any show of remorse with Aleutian helping her out of the room that she wished someone would burn. He did his best to by-pass the pooling blood of the face down beaver, but he still was an eyeshot away. Upon seeing him, what will-power she still possessed shot through her heart and pumped her legs to get away from Aleutian. When she was fightingly released from the echidna, she set to kicking the beaver's side, rolling the limp body around as if it were a ball before her dwindling strength took over, and Aleutian raced to catch her.
She screamed in venom. She succumbed to her tears soon after.
"Don't," Aleutian said solemnly, bringing her head around to look away from what he now gathered as the thing who possibly had raped her. Guilt he felt with the conclusion of not having busted down the door sooner. "Don't loose your innocence just on retribution, ma'am."
And his own words sent a crawling chill all over his body.
Emi-La watched the whole ordeal; heard all the spoken words, finding pride in them along with shear hope that they held the true meaning she so wished. "Please, my love..."
Her acute eyes fell back to the goat. "How's Nack involved in this?"
The goat didn't respond as fast as she wanted, but her lower eyes back at his knee exercised what working brain-cells he had and his lips began moving quickly. "He fronts the cash...and..."–he held his breath to ease the pain–"and he provides the middle people to transport the product to Robotropolis."
"Wow, product," Aleutian observed scathingly. "How much is Sam getting out of all this?"
"A thousand-a-head. We picked up five yesterday."
"How and where?" Emi-La shot next, showing she was eyeing his knee once again.
"Here...at the bar. We juice 'em up and we lead them up here. Sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Emi-La repeated, teed off.
A bite at the lower lip; it didn't ease the hammering of his nerves either. "These we just snatched off the street. The kid was easy--"
"To beat?" Aleutian finished for him, placing the hedgehog down beside the kitten.
"Hey, she wouldn't settle down."
"No, that's not it," violently festered the fox, looking to the two echidnas as if she'd been robbed herself. "They did this for fun–telling us, 'You'll forget it when you're robotocized.'"
Emi-La cast a murderous gaze at the goat. "Wonderful."
"My friends are gonna crush you two," the goat said, finding a laugh under all his pain, "and then we'll see you robotocized and might have our funwith your woman."
Aleutian fought himself to not take out his pistol and let the goat have what was left in his magazine. Once he had saved Emi-La from her becoming a bunch of dogs' plaything, and he would always get tore up inside and always looked for an avenue to release his anger when someone talked about his Emee that way. But he stayed cool
"Fun will be had at your expense, bub!" he spat out. "Our friends aren't as kind as us, and you will be seeing them shortly." A resolute lung full of air eased him back to reality and to the operation. "Emee, we need to scoot."
She nodded. Standing to, she paced to the three girls, the squirrel finding her shaking legs better than the rest. "We all set?" Emi-La asked.
"Been," replied the squirrel, her head covered with a blue scarf with the rest of her clothes ripped to shreds.
"That's what I wanted to hear," Aleutian affirmed gingerly. "Help each other as best you can. We'll cover the way out."
"Okay," said the fox, supporting Dorry across her shoulder, the squirrel doing likewise with the hedgehog.
As of the entry, the exit was done quite the same. Aleutian pressed up against the doorframe to the hall on the right, Emi-La at the left with their weapons lowered at tactical ready, eyes peering out at their respective corners of the hallway. Aleutian nodded first; all clear. Emil-La repeated the gesture but with more firmness from her elegant face.
She stepped out, pointing the blaster towards the fire-exit stairs before swiftly turning one-eighty towards the main flight down to the bar. Aleutian wasn't far behind, rounding the door frame, weapon up and carefully duck-walking toward the fire-exit. One by one the girls followed him, the fox limping with Dorry laboring feverishly to stay conscious over her shoulder. The squirrel on the other hand was happy as can be to get the hell out of Dodge; she almost was pushing the hedgehog out the door. When they cleared, Emi-La staggered behind them purposefully, keeping the metallic coated plasma carbine leveled at the stairs. If one person so much as resembled the monsters they had just slain in the other room walked up the stairs, their night and their body was going to be hotly ruined. And gladly nothing came of it. When she touched down on the first step, she brought the carbine down and focused to her equal. Aleutian had inched the windowless, wooden door open, taking great care not to rattle the door lever.
His eye glimpsed down on a rain soaked alleyway, inhabited by trash-barrels and a grey stray-cat looking in one to snag its next dinner. The door creaked. Just enough to snap the cat's head up, freeze, judge the threat, and suddenly leap off the barrel and scampered down the alley with a whipping tail. At which Aleutian flung the door open, knowing his cover was blown, and quickly searched the direction the cat went with his gun doing the eyeing, then swung around to his back at blinding speed, weapon in tow. Nothing but the sounds of the gutters pouring water into the alley, and the passing of a hover-car racing down the street, left to right could be heard. The nightclub was three buildings deep from the street, Aleutian looking past the red brick monsters for a flash of a headlight or the flash of a blaster. Either one could definitely help cut the tension he was rearing to kill in the back of his head.
Emi-La stalked up behind him, touching his back with hers, and aiming down the dark alleyway in her direction. "Citizen?"
"Not yet," he growled.
The glow of a triple flash of lights resonated around the glossy brick walls. "Six o'clock, Aleutian."
"Excellent. Not my idea to go singing in the rain down some unfriendly streets."
"You and me both, dear," Emi-La bolstered playfully, lowering her carbine, but still at-the-ready, and taking her first steps towards their contact.
It was agonizingly slow for Aleutian, no matter how many times he'd escorted precious cargo out of bad areas and clubs such as this. Alley's were notorious for the obvious reasons, bad places to fight in: no cover, and one can easily get blocked in and trapped. And to add to his burdened mind as he squared his pistol evenly down the alleyway, they had left the goat to blabber which direction they had gone. "It was either him doing it later, or blowing our cover and dragging him by the scruff of his neck, bub!" Aleutian reasoned with himself loudly. At least now he would have a better chance to get the drop on the "reenforcements" if they came.
To his relief, none did when they reached a dull green truck at the end of the alley. The driver's side door slowly came open and out came a leopard, the same darkly suited leopard Aleutian had awoken to.
The brass tip of his cane snapped on the concrete as he stepped out of the driver's compartment and closed the door. Walking up to Emi-La he seemed to have smiled. "Rosebud," he said under a thick English accent.
"It's your sled, kid," Emi-La countered, placing the carbine around her back. "Citizen Cane, I presume."
"You presume well, Head Cook."
Aleutian just had to put in. "Death from within."
"Aye...I hear you can kill someone just by overloading their cranium with lavish taste?" said the leopard. "I hope my intel was to the 'T'?"
"Every word, Cane," Aleutian replied flatly, though somehow he still didn't quite remember what the information was.
"There is a goat upstairs," Emi-La said, "his knee is shattered so yourfeeler has a short night ahead of him. Not really our thing."
"So Control has instructed. I shall take these lovely darlings and pass on your information to my man. He is quite good at badgering the goods out of someone."
Aleutian wasn't a bit fond of the euphemism, secretively wondering as to why he wanted to shout obscenities at the strange face that came to mind. But he held his tongue. "Did you see Nack leave out of here?"
"His hover-bike. Bloke is getting wet tonight. I was afraid he was going to see me when I was looking for a place to park and read the paper, but I think he has other trivial things on his mind than to pay attention to an old cat like me."
"AndSlimeball?" Emi-La asked, helping the fox and Dorry to the back of the truck.
"Went back inside. Apparently he hasn't had his lot of fun yet," Cane replied watching Emi-La's kind hands help the pure but now damaged souls.
"We want him," Emi-La returned. "This just has to stop."
"It isn't going to, Cookie,"Cane replied eerily.
Aleutian walked passed the leopard, turned Emi-La around with a loving touch and stuck his pistol down her pants close to the small of her back before concealing it with the excess fabric of her tank-top.
"Well, at least we can try," she said, turning and smiling at Aleutian. "Care to dance?"
Sam the Slime was working diligently to add a better alias to the list he wanted to shred; Sam the Womanizer.
Needless to say, after another hit from his flask of "juice" and his heavy, bulky-self desperately working the moves, he wasn't getting anywhere near to bedazzling a thin figured goose. Her skirt was short, resting midway down her thighs, and from the outset of the night, she wanted to attract someone with better manners than the hog who seemed to fancy her. Unfortunately, arousing clothes for those hidden messages didn't come with ciphers to keep the scum away.
At least that was what Emi-La was reading on the goose's agitated face. "Good for you sister! You can see past him," she praised, holding on to Aleutian's shoulder with her right hand while grasping his free hand with the other. She hated that she had to push out the tender feeling of having his hand so close to her rump.
Aleutian spun her, working her fingers like they were piano keys before grasping them and drawing her close; each other's eyes burning into one another. What the DJ had spun–and had been paid to be spun by Mr. Burr–was something of a blues-tango; slow on the beat, minor in the key. And for Aleutian and Emi-La, it wasn't hard to dance to. She could tell her Guardian was bathing in the milky reverb of the backing guitar.
And when he spun her again and brought her back, his hand was smooth, phantom like; reaching at her belt line and pulling the weapon out. When she closed right back into him, her chest rubbing up against his, they wrapped their leading hands between them...and exchanged the pistol to hers. A break in the chorus, three beats with the guitar down stroking the fourth chord. They tapped their shoes to it, waving their carefree heads away and back. And thus the song played it's way back to the verse line. No breaks, just a smooth flowing tune. What Emi-La wanted for her equal to dance steadily.
Her aim had to be precise. One jerk, one stray dancer, one stray dancer behind the hog, those simple acts was all it took to lower themselves to that of the slime she was eyeing to kill. Did she like it? Absolutely not! Did Aleutian like it? The answer could be construed to be the same, but the voice in the back of her mind was nagging at her to be careful...to kill the real monster if it shows.
And to the secrecy of her mind, she was saying loudly that something felt so deja' vu. But she knew why!
Aleutian felt her step on his suede shoe. He squeezed her back in response and danced on a spot on the floor he would never move from.
Her blue eyes became a salacious beacon, casting to Sam who soon had enough of enticing the goose and was looking for an easier prey to go around with.
He moved with a lazy swagger. He didn't care. The plane he felt himself trancing upon pushed the idea of defeat from an "unsporting" woman out of his swirling head with ease. If he looked uncool that was for others to decide, not him. After-all he could buy his way to love if need be–
"Hold the bus!" he gasped in his daze.
He could see them, glowing wetly under the shifting lights in the dark. Her blue eyes! He would've disregarded them completely, for she already had a partner, but the inviting look they had, he couldn't let the temptation pass to see further. Sam tried to put the moves on. She didn't blink so they must've been working. He began to dance closer, swinging his pelvis around some for extra measure.
"Blast!" he cursed; a dancing couple cut him off to those calling eyes he was now in search for. He quickly remembered her partner was wearing a blue shirt, such as her eyes, and she was short enough just to cast them over his shoulder.
"Ah-Ha! There you are!" They were still moving around in the same spot. The closer he got, the better he studied her and him. They both had long hair; her's mixed thinly and bulky. Whatever species they were, she was looking for another. He could feel it just by the stare she was giving him. And thus he tried to move in.
However, another couple cut between him and his new quarry. This time it was fine. He needed the space to work out an idea to pull her away from her dance partner she seemed she wanted to exchange–
This time when his obstacle had cleared, he saw only one blue eye this time...the other rounder...blacker...and for some reason or another, that was all he saw afterwards.
The hammer snapped. Aleutian could hear it as plain as day for Emi-La had the pistol resting over his shoulder, her free hand still resting at his waist. With the hammer striking the firing pin, the primer touched off the powder of the purposely loaded sub-sonic round–which never broke the sound barrier with it's audible crack–and sent the nine millimeter hollow-point missile on a one way course to Sam the Slime's head.
The hog never felt his body slam to the ground, his face lying on its right cheek, his eyes still open widely, as if watching the feet of the dance floor in a vacant stare.
She rolled the pistol down from Aleutian's shoulder and tucked it back into her waist. Rasing on her tip-toes, she drew her lips close to his. "Let's go," and kissed him.
The two echidnas made their way out from the club, still dancing in their strides and looking the part of two in-love party goers. In reality to Aleutian, the cover couldn't be further from the truth.
Emi-La led him by the hand, hurrying her pace when a scream shrieked over the thumping bass just down the block. Some girl had just found Sam! Ignoring it, they turned a corner to the left, then entered down a lighted alley. This time they were running, Emi-La giggling some with Aleutian now chasing her. And when she disappeared around the end of the alley onto another street, what they had just done, the killing and rescuing, had become distant to them. Like they were in a totally different world living totally different lives.
"I'm driving!" she gassed when Aleutian appeared from out of the alley.
Under the winking stars and window lights of the surrounding buildings was Emi-La, fishing for the keys to the a sleek-bodied, but mean looking stance of a red car. It's grill was mesh, shaped like a frowning snake and headlights textured like that of a prowling shark. When he got to the passenger door, Aleutian couldn't help but trace theSpartan spear over the supporting doorframe by the rear window.
The locks shunted open and Aleutian was startled after he opened the door. Sitting in the passenger seat was a webbed bag and on top of it, a blue scarf and a note. "I think Citizen Cane has vices of his own," he said, frowning.
"Oh?" said Emi-La opening the driver side door.
A raised brow, "I think he's returning the gift of the carbine for," –he peered in the bag. "Hey! More books."
"Wonderful...more stuff for you to lounge around and spend our days-off without me being a part of it."
Aleutian raised his embarrassed, hurtful face over the roof of the car. "Well, Emee..."
"Don'tEmee me, Aleutian. I'm sure I can find fun things for you to do with me around the house--"
"Hey, check it out, babe. A scarf and a note," Aleutian smartly interrupted; Emi-La finding the calculated change of subject incredulous.
"What's it say," she said snidely.
"'Dear operators,'" Aleutian quoted, "'thanks for the carbine, and I hope I never use it. However, I took the liberty of finding your car's locking frequency and left parting gifts. For the bookworm, more to his collection,'" Aleutian couldn't help but smile, "'and to the lovely lady, a scarf that one of the girls said she would like for you to have. She twisted my arm, and I caved. Hmm...what if the enemy tries that. Sincerely; CC.'"
Aleutian folded the white paper note and stuck it in his pocket. Reaching down to the seat he took the folded scarf and handed it to Emi-La across the hood. She didn't let a moment pass, unfolding the blue silk linen before wrapping it around the top of her head, combing her hair just right to be held back by it then letting the scarf drape down around her abdomen. Aleutian couldn't help but gawk warmly at her added seduction.
"Where to," he asked, feeling his heart pounding to go home and be safe in her company.
"Store, food, then a way to get us back to the coast."
Aleutian's eyes went wide in protest. "Shopping; here at this time of night?"
"You wanna eat?" Emi-La scoffed.
A warm, playful smile. "Maybe like a mere peasant instead of like a king."
She frowned on his response. "You want left overs?" she asked slowly.
"We gotta clean the fridge out somehow! We can't just keep getting more and more stuff without a place to pack it. I mean, Emee; the reason I get more weapons and books is because I can store them all in the basement. C'mon, my legs aren't as hollow anymore."
"Hence the basement," she countered brightly.
He stared at her, deadpan. "You're impossible, you know that?"
She squirmed a smile, before managing to stick her tongue at him. "Get in the car and lets go."
Aleutian found himself smiling, putting his leg eagerly on the floorboard and facing down the narrow street before he slid inside–
"Aleutian!"
The deep monotone voice made him stop short of sitting. Regaining his balance, the Guardian eased himself back up, supporting an arm on the open door. His nerves were speaking to him this time while his eyes gazed down the street and a figure in black coming his way. It walked stiffly, it's strides determined in a cold way. Stepping under an amber casting street lamp, Aleutian could see the figure wearing a long rain coat and large brimmed hat. The attire wasn't all that suspicious, after all it looked to have rained not too long ago.
But it was the voice that told Aleutian to go to the highest of alerts. And it was the gun in the figure's hand that made him reach for his–
Emptiness!
His shoulder rig was bare, only his fingers finding the open snaps to an empty holster. His mind raced; the figure was getting closer.
"He's raising his gun, bub! Do something..." Aleutian's mouth fell from his smooth snout. He couldn't say the same for the Aleutian he was trembling at seeing with his wide eyes, tracing his long scars over his withering, aghast face.
The pistol became leveled, his finger gently feeling over the trigger–
A single shot sliced through the air as if it was the wind. And it flew true and slammed in the monster's head that Emi-La felt in her heart that she was hunting for. The hat was kicked off; his body falling to the ground jaggedly...completely soulless. Never again to raise it's pistol at her Guardian!
Stepping away from the open door, Emi-La stomped scathingly towards the body, finding her left hand unscrewing the silencer from the barrel of the pistol as her feet quickened in her passion. Three steps away she felt her face twisting into a fiery anger, charged by her love within her heart. Wirth a following step she barred her teeth. And with the last that took her right on top of the monster in black, she screamed as loud as she could, pulling the trigger in rapid succession which mixed with her distorted cry. The body flailed over and over, every stroke of her finger bringing satisfaction to the torture she felt she was unleashing on the thing that took her lover away. She never counted the shots, only stopping when the slide snapped back and never closed. For a moment she stared unmoved at the dead corpse at her feet. But a breath had turned her passionate face back to the car.
Aleutian had never moved from his frozen state, his body quivering at what he had just witnessed; at what his mind was coming to grips with. What he just lived through–a second time. It was all a dream. Why the feelings he had of doing this once before felt truer than that he couldn't gather. Why seeing Emi-La, alive and breathing, was tearing him up inside. Why he now wanted to break down and run to her.
And that she could see, letting the pistol fall from her hand and pounding the pavement in a fierce run that when Aleutian stepped out from beside the car, she nearly toppled him to the ground as her arms wrapped around his chest.
"I heard you!" she cried into his covered birthright. "I heard you, and I love you so much, Aleutian!"
His tears were streaming down his face like the rain. "And why haunt me, Emee," he said in a broken voice.
Her streaming eyes met his. "For you, my love. For you to come back to me...to come back to your family." Burrying her head back to his chest, letting her cheeks be pressed towards his heart as she held him tighter. And to her spiritual happiness, the Aleutian that laid on the street was gone; disappeared from existence. And what she knew was his.
"It's over, Aleutian. It's over for your sake. Our sake!"
The tremble in his protest brought her face to his.
"And if it means I lose you?..." he whimpered under sagging eyes.
"You never will," she whispered, smiling.
"I can't take it, Emi-La...I can't take it with you being away from my arms..."
A guiding finger to his lips hushed him. And with the tears streaming from his face she whipped them away from his muzzle. And in turn the appearing lines of his blemishes appeared in the same stroke. She wanted to stand back but she forced herself to stay, only blinking to force away the pain she inflicted just by her caring hand retracing his scars. But with her eyes refocusing, the blue shirt was gone, the holster nowhere to be found, his pants and suede shoes missing from his body. In their stead, his tan and green, bolt laced high-tops. His white gloves with the sharp knuckles spearing out of them firmly around his hands, caressing her body. His bare chest, his white birthmark glowing bright however with the scar slashing across it. Nonetheless–
"...my Guardian."
A gentle kiss to his lips. "I promise we will meet again. I promise you."
Aleutian fought for words, but he could not come to terms to speak. He just kept holding her.
The textures to the city were fading. Lights that made the city famous for it's backdrop twinkled out of existence. The car was gone...only blackness and the two soul-equals standing in an empty void, holding each other and never caring what was going on around them.
"I'm sorry Aleutian," she softly cried into his chest.
"Don't be, Emee. I am the one who is sorry for what I did. I'm the one who should have–"
"You have listened, Aleutian. You've listened to your heart all along, and you still do. Your destiny beats strong with it and it is why your family is calling you. Go to them. They deserve you, for I had you long enough in this world."
He shook his welling head. "You can have me longer. I won't mind one bit."
"And why I'm sorry Aleutian, but I can't. I can't explain it, but...I want you too, but I can't."
Succumbing to her tears, she laid her head on his chest like the many times she has done before. But there was no satin sheets to keep her warm, and there was no warm sun on the beach or the bluff, or the warm air drifting the swing back and forth while her head rested on his rising chest. Her soul missed those nature comforts.
But with all this she smiled and gazed up to her protector, her lover...her Guardian.
"You're warm, Aleutian...You're warm again.
And she kissed him, her lips massaging his as she breathed...breathing into him and filling his lungs...
He gasped deeply, awakening to the twinkling of stars in the dark night. Panting, he raised up from the rocky shelf he was laying upon and took in a series of breaths that soon were exhaled under his tears. The cool air he breathed in felt warm when his air sacks were inflated, oxygenating his blood to something he hadn't felt go through his veins for so many dark days that had gone painfully by.
Crushing over his knees, he slammed his hands to his eyes, holding back the tears. "Thank-you, Emee...Thank-you."
A long moment he cried. It was if he was crying to get his strength to climb to his feet. When he swayed upon his shoes Aleutian marched off the rock and through the undergrowth, finding his way back to the weeping willow tree. His heart was aching for the one he knew was under it. His emotions were at full height. His eyes were soaked.
His stride meaningful.
"Dad!" he heard himself shout out, still walking closer to floating tree. "Dad!..." he repeated, his inner voice reflecting his passionate but whimper voice.
And Locke heard his voice. Opening his eyes he was meant with Aleutian leaning down at him, picking something off the ground. It wasn't until his eyes finally became focused from the burning fog of sleep that he saw what Aleutian was doing. He fought to smile, however his son's quiver, submissive expression vanquished his notion.
"Dad," Aleutian said, this time his tone plain, pulling his left glove tight with his right glove anchored around his hand. When he was done, he looked deep into his father's eyes and flexed his fingers and hands under the determination he held within his stance. "Father...I'm ready. I'm ready to come home."
Locke never broke the pride in his stare...but yes he did. He smiled with pride. He smiled with caring love.
"I know, son. I've been waiting."
I hoped you all enjoyed this as much as I did. This chapter was a challenge and a new game for me. How to make this all a dream but have Aleutian think he is living this as if he was eighteen again--four years back. Plus, work with Emi-La's character, put somethings in her point of view and still bring out the ultimate end to the chapter...Killing Aleutian's monster. I wanted her to do it from the get go and this chapter has long be in my head since I began this little arc of mine.
Would like to thank my readers to the up most bottom of my heart. I promise not to fail to keep going and see this through.
Mauser