10 - Because You're Nothing
Udaev (Minor)
Colonial Space
Midrim Desert
First Light
Zeouna awoke half-submerged in a stagnant pool of frigid water. Her descent lines dangled in a brilliant pillar of morning light piercing the abyss, her eyes locked heavenward; petrified beyond sense.
This was all supposed to be a one-way journey down, but Zeouna had started back up as soon as she could, adrenaline lending additional strength to her climb.
There was no sign of the monstrosity that had stalked her, or indication that any of it had been real. She was still too scared to risk being wrong. Zeouna's lungs burned, but she didn't dare stop as it felt like she was being followed up the rope the whole way
The vulpes had pounded up the rope hand over fist, weighed down by the sopping wet fur on her bushy tail as it swung with each desperate lurch. She barely even used her legs to lock into the rope. She pulled herself up until the advancing sunlight blinded her; and even then kept going a few meters. There wasn't an iota of rationality left in her at the moment; and she still didn't have a plan.
Her legs and arms had redlined about ten meters below as the adrenaline subsided. The rest of the journey was to be a tapered-off slog. From there, she free-climbed until Usva's retreating moonlight calmed her enough to take a break. At the nearest outcropping, she transitioned to a slow walk up the rope.
She was as prepared to take their luck in the open desert with that truck. Or find another cavern. For the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes, she hung backwards to glance down the shaft; there was nothing following her.
Her body finally gave out. The line was too tight for her to ascend any further. She manipulated her clip and locked in, wishing Ariane had applied just a little more slack.
She swiped over her PDA. The dim blue haze displayed back what she'd hoped for. No messages.
"Ari!" Zeouna called, a weak smile grateful for having made it this far up.
Only, stillness and silence called back. She shook her head.
"Hey, princess!" She yelled mockingly, cupping both hands over her mouth.
Or she's picking through my damned ration bars again; the spoiled bitch!
With more than a little manufactured grunts and drama, she brute forced the last stretch; every tenuous fibre from her forearms to her biceps stung in red hot in agony. She'd be feeling this for a while.
She's going to think I'm crazy.
How am I going to explain what happened? Zeouna asked herself, swinging her right leg over the edge. She nearly lost her balance, almost rolling back over the ledge
I'll never hear the end of it. The 'I told you so's'. Just like that godsdamned safe.
How much longer will I have to hear about that?
A direct answer greeted her just as she started to swing her left foot over.
Flood lights clanged on, blinding her and unveiling the illuminatory subtleties left out by the slow-marching sun. Zeouna felt the rigid heel of a boot collide with her shoulder, dislocating it with a sickening, rolling thunder of snaps and crackling.
She was over the edge again. Zeo sank about three meters back before her rigging stopped the sudden freefall. Her body jerked backwards and she knocked the back of her head on a rock. She screamed in pain, her right shoulder completely out of its socket.
"Drop your weapons!" an angry, militarized voice screamed down at her.
Zeo felt she should have known it would end for her like this. No one, herself included, expected her to last this long. And, the same patterns she'd used to case her targets had finally caught up with her. It had been easy enough with her violating her own rules.
Using the same exploit twice. She cursed to herself, still reeling from the dislocation. Given enough time, even a room full of bootlickers could figure me out.
Zeouna had a policy: never respond compliantly to requests to disarm, especially not to Vikrman.
Her first instinct was to merely conceal her shotgun and die on her feet. They weren't watching; she thought. And her trousers had some give to them.
She sunk when she remembered. It wasn't just Zeouna at their mercy now.
"We have your accomplice already! Just make this easier on yourself!"
Zeouna's breathe slowed and her heart fluttered, remembering what was at stake up top. Ketumat's leader's survival instincts kicked in; but, not for herself now.
This isn't Ari's fault, Zeouna thought. They'll scan her eventually. They'll find out. Two-hundred million credit bounty. But my options are done here, If they know who she is; maybe they'll make exceptions for detention.
Or maybe they'll make a loud example of me. She shivered.
Zeo was going to play the game. If she was lucky, and she always felt she was, maybe it was just a small patrol looking to boost their incarceration numbers.
She looked at Ari's pull line, laid down two hours earlier, and then to the sling swivel on her shotgun's stock. Inspired by years of malicious compliance, she connected her weapon to the other line.
"I'm coming up, no weapon, no tricks. It's all gone," Zeouna bellowed back.
"Drop it," a presumptive Vikrman hollered back down the gully. "Weapons first! And, Then we'll pull you up!"
"It's gone! My arm's broken, fuckhead! What am I going to do to you?"
She felt vibration and force exerted on the line before it tightened and started to inch her upward. Without care, they heaved her over the cliff face; grinding her against the rocky face. The last major tug nearly fractured her hip against a boulder. She inverted halfway up, having only her rig to stop her from plummeting back into the cursed hellscape below.
Upside down and anything other than the rope to latch onto, she was lifted above the ledge. The dragging didn't stop there, as pebbles and particulates pulled through her fur as she was frogmarched a couple meters further in. Her one good arm death-gripped on the fibrous line.
"Gods, it's really her!" One of the Vikrmen exclaimed.
"Sounds like her," another confirmed.
"She's bullshitting. Bring up the other line," Yet another blurted.
She heard the clang of metal and murmuring above the ledge as she realized they'd called her bluff. They dragged her ancient weapon up, it was picked up, studied and cataloged by a Vikrman.
Zeo preserved her dignity the best she could. Sitting on her bottom, left leg extended out. Her tail was wrapped around her bottom and one of her braids flipped over the wrong way. She tried to assess her arm's dislocation; she'd played field surgeon before and the adrenaline was still peaking.
Her cerulean eyes went wide studying her surroundings. No less than three separate levicraft rangers, one of which was clearly armored. The silhouettes of Vikrmen; some in dark-red armor, others in cammies, flooded around her, chuckling and cajoling at her expense before approaching.
They bobbed and weaved as she tried to back away. One of them spit on her, another struck her on the head and felt her up rapaciously before being pulled off by a third, who finally properly searched her for weapons; the sloppy bastards that they were.
When he was thoroughly finished, he restrained her arms behind her back with a black zip-tie and tossed her on her side. Mercifully, resting on her left shoulder.
Zeouna was only able to make out the bearest details of the fourth Vikrman: a dog with some guilt and mercy in his eyes, who straightened her up just enough to see what was happening.
"Don't touch her!" Ariane yelled somewhere beyond the blinding lights, giving Zeouna much needed hope, "Don't you fucking touch her! You caught her already, she's your prisoner!"
Zeo tried not to react. More distance, the better.
Naive, Ari. As always. Just keep your mouth shut and your eyes closed. Don't give them what they want.
Zeouna heard some heavy-set footsteps approach her. She felt them too, vibrations in the sand and dirt around as a presence towered over her. She couldn't make out his species at first, the light was to his back, but she could plainly see he was gargantuan.
"I can't believe it," the colossus remarked, leaning in.
"Zeouna of Settler City. The devil herself. Mine at last!"
One of the floodlights slid away from her sightline, revealing more of the massive man in front of her.
A lion, a great hulking beast of a man. His red mane ran down beyond his shoulders and his fur was so golden it reflected light in places. Whoever it was, was clearly not a company man; his blood-red combat armor too well-worn to be part of Vikr's worthless collection of toy soldiers. His accent, one of the highland variety of Corneria, was almost soothingly jovial. Almost. There was a reservoir of malice beneath the pleasant diphthongs, she could feel it. Zeouna was even less appreciative of the behemoth's more aggressive features.
Those claws could tear open a person, no problem.
"Little trouble with your wiring job tonight; that's not like you, lass."
"First time for everything," Zeo balked.
"Last time as well," he said, with tinges of a real apology on the tail end of his sentence.
"Between you and me, I'd hoped we could meet under different circumstances."
Zeouna hated her keen power for observation. He had a blade holster fixed under his chest armor for easy access. But, given his size, where others fit a knife, he stored a machete. Different circumstances. Zeouna unconsciously squashed a handful of dirt with her good arm, furious that this man would possibly be her final captor.
"I respect your body of work too much for this to be so quick, I really do." The Lion remarked, pacing behind her. She shivered at his intonation but kept her head forward.
"I want to keep up this game of cat and…" He hesitated. "Err, whatever you are."
"Careful what you wish for," Zeouna returned, foolishly. She knew it was wiser to say nothing at all,but she couldn't help herself. Despite the futility, she did her best to be brave; but her wide eyes and shallow breathing gave away the game.
He laughed a belly laugh. It was genuine, she felt. Her brow narrowed.
"We've had some fun. Haven't we boys?"
He gestured his arm out and took a short bow to showcase his amusement with his catch of the night. Some of the Vikrmen laughed. Others were silent; their unfulfilled rage palpable. Some knew her work all too well. They all wanted a piece of her.
"Zeouna," Ariane said from Zeouna's eleven o'clock, "I'm sorry."
The lovely ferret wasn't restrained, to Zeo's relief. She was on her knees under the dimmed spotlight, two Vikr guards nearby in case she planned anything. They didn't seem too concerned.
There was a rather porcine mole behind her. The hairless kind; tan, saggy flesh and bloodshot eyes. To Zeouna, he looked as if he'd stepped out of the last century. Grey suit, ill fitting, complete with bolo tie and red-glowing a cigar. He puffed out a ring when he noticed Zeo's studious gaze.
Good news, Zeouna thought. Bigwig. And, she'd be practically flayed by now if they didn't think she was important. Maybe she's even got a chance to get released tonight.
Ariane had two things going for her. Besides her hidden identity, Ari was also a Nurr: a protected class of cityfolk. And, the duo had forged documentation and writ-of-access from Vikr.
Ari knew this too. She also had to know Zeouna wouldn't be so fortunate. If she was lucky they wouldn't make her watch what happened next. Zeouna hadn't given up, but she hoped they had a schedule to keep.
Zeouna could see the spirit of defiance thrashing about in Ariane's golden irises.
She was quiet. Though her love's arms were behind her head in feigned compliance, Zeouna had seen this look before; and always right before Ari made rash mistakes. She was brilliant, but she had a temper. The silence was rage.
Calm her down.
"It's ok, love," Zeouna comforted, smiling weakly at her love. "You didn't do anything wrong."
The lion walked around in front of her again, separating the two by over two meters of vicious masculinity.
"Three years. Took us three years to finally meet."
Zeouna kept her head straight ahead. She retreated to a vacant mental shell she hadn't needed in years.
Give him nothing. He'll try to rattle you. He will hurt you, he will touch you. But he'll never get anything other than silence.
"Three. Fooking. Years," he repeated, pausing for effect between each word. Zeouna flinched as some spittle landed on her face.
Ari's rage was apparently contagious; Zeouna lost control.
"Really now?" The Vulpes taunted. "Would've taken me three minutes to find you."
An honest admission.
The lion crouched again, extending his massive arm to her face. In his hands he gently stroked the side of her face, gently pulling his fingers and claws through her fur. It was terrifying, he could have torn her to bits with a single squeeze or swipe.
"Just required a change of mindset. See, you remind me of someone else I used to hunt."
He kept stroking, she turned her head down; Less chance of eye contact.
"Still, incredible run. Every time we'd be close to you, you'd somehow write a dramatic new chapter in my bankruptcy filings. Zeouna; the fooking accountant That's what you should be called," he said laughing, squeezing her chin and pulling her face up to meet him. She saw him then.
Dead eyes. Beady, black eyes. Buried in wrinkly sinkholes one could call eye sockets. The golden fur was window dressing on a walking war crime. She'd just been haunted by horror incarnate and he was still the most frightening thing she'd seen today.
"It's Rao Zeouna, you fat fuck!" Ari raged, "And she's-"
"-Not the main character in this chapter tonight, is she?" The lion screamed, enraged at the interruption beyond control. He took offense to Ari's pointed defense, standing and turning his back to Zeouna. His thin tail whipped across the vulpes face; it stung, denser than it looked.
He beckoned the Vikr stooge forward, pointing violently at him and then ferociously at Ariane.
"I'm the godsdamned author now! I am in fooking control, yeah?" He yelled, pronouncing almost all of his words incorrectly.
His shadow swung. Zeouna saw stars and tasted iron and dirt. She was on her side again, strewn about in a fog somewhere. Through her muffled disorientation she heard Ari being dragged; kicking and screaming the whole way. A beautiful tempest.
"And, I'm afraid, dear, there won't be a sequel."
Ari was thrown next to Zeouna. Eye to eye with her best friend, Ariane elevated to her knees overlooking Zeo's crumpled form. She was outlined by the lights, and Zeouna could see her clearly. She was aghast, the monster having done a number on Zeo's face. She mouthed the words 'I'm sorry,' as if she had brought this on them.
Zeo tried to roll up onto her own knees, but she was on the side of her bad shoulder and was only able to roll onto her side.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Zeouna reassured, reaching her good hand toward her paramour; fingers extended. She could almost touch Ari. Maybe she'd even be able to hold her hand one last time before-
Can't think like that! Can't quit. It isn't over!
The lion stood, unaffected by the emotional display.
The rustically dressed Mole, who had menaced over Ariane's shoulder earlier, strolled up to Zeouna. Unlike the lion, his face was animated and his eyes lit with the fire of life. Zeouna knew it, she could recognize it from kilometers away. A cruel man who lived for the sadistic display before him; hiding in plain sight.
Zeouna, using her good arm, reached inward to push on to her knees. She sat on them, cupping her shoulder. She grimaced at the movement.
"She's Nurr. Not your rules she has to be let go," Zeouna stated as plainly as she was capable of doing.
No reaction.
"She has your papers to be here. You signed them," She repeated. "She's a Nurr pilgrim. Not one of mine."
The mole chortled. He interpreted Zeouna's arguments as begging; apparently what he'd been looking for the whole time.
He responded by lifting his leg and digging the heel of his rancher's boots into Zeouna's dislocated shoulder. She collapsed, yelping but baring it the best she could. Tears flowed freely as he continued, but Zeouna held onto her composure. She bore teeth, rage and hatred for the old bastard.
"Stop!" Ari ordered. "Stop it!"
The mole whipped his head toward her; the dimples on his hairless face hid a smile on his chin.
He responded by kicking Zeouna in the chest.
He kept kicking her until she was half off the ledge again.
Ariane shrieked as Zeouna's rigging automatically broke her fall. Her hands tied behind her back, she was inverted; hanging helplessly on the edge.
"I'll fuckin' kill you!" Ariane screamed. Having to be restrained by the lion, a single arm pressing down on her shoulder.
Zeouna closed her eyes.
No time for mistakes now. When they believe they are strong, they are weak.
"They're going to kill me, Ari!" Zeouna yelled back, dangling only by her kit, "You just have to accept it."
Because I sure as hell won't, Zeouna thought, starting to place one leg through the cuffed loop the Lion had created. She fought through the agony. Zeouna would find a way out.
The mole turned his attention to Ariane.
"There's all the confirmation I needed. I thought that big-headed glare was familiar," the mole spoke. From Zeo's vantage point she could only see him play with Ari's hair. Ari tensed up with each stroke, knowing what often came next.
"Oh, just get on with it!" Another, younger voice rang out.
Maybe a voice of reason. Zeouna thought desperately, struggling now to get her right foot through her handcuffed wrist's loop.
"What were we to do with this one, again?" The mole asked, turning away from the edge.
"What, the Hybe?"
"That filth? No, idiot! The runaway."
"I'm in love," The lion fluttered. "Two bounties. One night."
They argued as Zeouna prepared.
She grunted as she placed the tip of her toes through the loop she'd created.
Her restrained hands now to her front, Zeouna tried finding a surface to hang on to reset her shoulder. She rolled it once until she found the path she needed to place her humerus back into its socket. Swinging her legs, she swayed until her right side was perpendicular with the rocks. With clever use of the rope resting against her chest, and tension pressed upward on her arms against the sandstone, she hung at a forty-five degree angle from a protruding knot hosted within the ledge.
She shook and pushed. Lightly at first, but harder until the humerus began to return to its home.
It was agonizing. She felt every second of it, even through the adrenaline. Despite it all, there was an audible pop after a few pushes. The shoulder was numb, but she had limited use of her left arm again. Her carabiner caught the s-clip linking the two lines and Zeouna was caught on the rigging, unable to pass further than a meter above the edge.
"I need the money, Percy."
"Demitrious needs inspiration. That's worth over nine-figures easily. You'll get yours."
"Is it even her?"
Zeouna was reborn with strength. She started climbing again, hands together on the rope, fighting through the pain; desperate to plead Ari's case.
"She's nobody! She's just a pilgrim from Settler City I picked up." Zeouna yelled desperately, "Walking across the midrim on rites!"
The lion raised an eyebrow, surprised at Zeouna's tenacity and completely skeptical of the claims being made.
"You're a long way from home then, lass," he said, amused. He oriented himself back to the ferret.
"Ha. Those animals? Those shamanistic heathens," the mole added, revulsed at the possibility.
"She has her papers. Love, show them!"
The lion hunched down to Ari's level, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Go ahead, Ariane. Convince me."
"Who are you?" Ariane asked, chin up, trying to ignore the massive hands and claws on her shoulder.
"The name's Anders, my dear."
The lion, Anders. Zeouna committed to memory. She was paralyzed.
He smiled wryly, appreciating the trembling fear he was responsible for. His fingers tightened.
"I need to hear you say it. Who are you?" He asked.
"You'll regret this!" Zeouna yelled.
"I'm am Ariane Jean-Starkly," Ariane confessed. The weight of her last name landed on the assembled throng like it was an edged weapon. They knew and yet it was still an overwhelming
"And I sent a message to my father fifteen minutes ago!'
Even the mole's sadistic self-satisfaction changed to a more reserved one when reality sunk in. No doubt asking the same question on everyone's mind: What do we do with a damned Jean-Starkly?
Everyone except Anders, it would seem. Who merely nodded in understanding.
"I thought you looked familiar, lass. To be honest, you rodents all start to look the same."
He took a jaunt to the edge of the cliff, chuckling all the while. He peered down Zeouna, holding on for dear life.
"Nobody," He mocked under his breath while looking into Zeo's panicked eyes. He fiddled with his wrist.
"You mean this message, right?"
His PDA displayed text in front of her as desperation took her.
"Love," he said to Ari, mimicking Zeouna's tone, "When was the last time you talked to your father?" He asked with just enough anger to get what he wanted. The last vestiges of his gentile wordplay faded. Anders turned his head, awaiting her response.
"You know he does everything through middle-men. Who do you think is chief among them?"
"What do you think will happen when he finds out what you've done to her?" She snapped, "You think he's still going to pay you? You think you'll walk away from that meeting? He knows what I am!"
"And what are you?" he asked, welcoming the challenge. "Where do we find you?"
"Ketumati," She said proudly. Her staggered breaths slowed and her shoulders relaxed.
Ariane furnished a black look at Zeouna, a sedative apology self-evident on her face. A resigned sadness displayed in a way that Zeouna thought meant 'I couldn't help myself'.
Anders flinched. The Mole grunted. The scenery was quieter for a few moments. Ariane refused to be intimidated, she would never abandon Zeouna.
"And don't worry about me, Anders," Ari threatened. "We'll find you."
The wind died down as the silent knowledge that she'd doomed herself rolled over the mass of watchers. She'd done it either through solidarity with Zeouna or out of sheer stubborn grit. Zeouna entered a foggy state of horror, nothing was happening the way it was supposed to, she couldn't even cry out. She grasped at rocks fruitlessly, her own claws scraping over the sandstone. It sapped the rest of her strength. She was anchored at waist level above the edge.
Anders took his hand off Ari's shoulder, and she fell forward onto her hands; still on her knees facing Zeouna. He chortled before responding.
"I'm looking forward to it, my dear."
The lion, Anders, grasped the back of her neck and lifted Ari like she was a toy. Zeouna couldn't look away as Ari's eyes shot wide with the shock of being lynched. She barely managed a gasp before his hand tightened around her spine and windpipe. She kept reaching lower, for her boot; but wasn't able to reach it.
His grip was total. Ari's panic was excruciating. She kicked and tried to scream by reflex, heaving pointlessly for air that never entered her throat. The inheritess resisted, doing anything to try to release his vice-like grip. Ari's feet kicked at his sides, and she tried digging into his flesh with her nails. Neither gave him even a momentary pause.
Zeouna screamed incoherently. There was no sense in any of it.
Ari wasn't going without a fight, but he was stronger. Inexorable, and very much incensed. His claws sank into her little neck and drew blood, trickling long crimson dots down her vest and onto the dirt. The droplets pitter-pattered off of Ander's armor and reflected in the moonlight as it ran down the micro-textured carbon plates.
He grimaced, struggling for what should have been an easy kill.
Ander's arms started sagging a bit as Ari's kicking sapped his strength, but he was still holding strong. Ariane jerked her legs back in forth, oxygen debt taking its toll. She shook as the monster shook her like a grim puppet. Zeouna was watching Ariane disappear before her eyes, and she was powerless.
In a last gasp of defiance, Ari was able to unsheath a small dagger from her boot and plunge it into the Lion's forearm! She twisted it, dragged it; gasping as he loosened.
The lover's eyes met for a mere second, more said wordlessly between them than their previous eleven years. Ander's grip, slick from her blood, slipped for a moment; allowing Ari to utter but two syllables before her arm released the blade. It was still stuck in his arm.
"It's not-"
The brute, reacting to the pain and Ari's unrelenting resistance, roared in agony. His vice-like grip tightened even further. Blood accelerated its course down his arm in river-like streaks of shiny red. Ari's kicks became more desperate; more marionnet.
Until.
Until there was a nauseating snap, some gurgling, and then Ari's life came to an end. Her darting eyes suddenly shone vacant in Usva's light. A final shiver. The rebellious streaks of gold that rippled throughout her irises forever stilled.
Her arms and legs went limp. Her head rolled back into his paws. Lifeless. The only good thing in Zeouna's life was gone. Dead and dangling unnaturally from the Lion's hand.
Murdered like she was nothing.
The monster threw Ari to the sandstone edifice just half a meter by Zeouna. Her body crumpled sickeningly; black-red blood staining her under shirt and jacket just below her crushed and torn throat.
Zeouna couldn't look away. The visage consumed whatever was left of her. It ruined every part of her; and inconceivable psychic damage. Ari's eyes were completely devoid of anything. The only noise was the horrid throbbing of blood out of her neck.
Slowly, it pooled on the cliff face and started to seep down the edges.
Zeouna gnashed and wailed, ripping open her fingertips from her hands as she attempted to claw her way across the jagged stones in a mad but futile attempt to protect her lover's body. There was no sense in it at all, just bloody instinct; a medulla-based reflex.
The throng of Vikrmen cheered the whole while. Anders was still leaping and hollering, wounded and clearly unsettled by Ari's final act of resistance. He wasn't smiling when he picked her up again.
She, it, dangled and dripped like a piece of meat. Zeouna begged for it all to stop; for just a modicum of mercy.
That mercy never came. The monster, with one arm, was going to toss Ari into the ravine below. He moved casually, like one would a discarding piece of rubbish into a street bin, not taking a moment to consider her life anything more. Like she was nothing.
"What the hell are you doing?" That third strange voice elevated itself from the gathered crowd.
Zeouna cried to herself, anesthetized with disbelief. She didn't care how long she had left to live, Ariane couldn't be gone. Not like this. Not now, when they were so close. All this had to be nothing more than a bad nightmare.
"She needs to be found."
"All of her?" Ander's asked.
"Send a message."
Zeouna didn't hear his response. The sickening rationality poured its way back into her as she committed to her own death. She figured the tyrants had already made up their minds, anyway.
There was a slide and a glint of metal. Somewhere in front of her, Ander's raised his machete. Zeouna didn't dare look; Ariane was already gone.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
As the monster began to hack away. Zeo looked away, flinching at every diabolical, fleshy strike. She tried desperately to placate herself with the knowledge Ariane was already gone; Zeo's only happy memory was over. No matter how horrific their mutilation was, they couldn't hurt her anymore.
THWACK.
It was a lie. One that brought her no comfort. Zeouna winced and whimpered, her world again became painfully lucid; if agonizingly small. Time lost its meaning as she disappeared into docility.
The lion grunted as he ripped Zeouna's anchor straight out of the sandstone and over his head.
Zeouna shrieked as she was suddenly raised up to eye level with the monster, still clipped into the rigging. There weren't many coherent thoughts left in her mind, but she couldn't believe in what were possibly her own last moments to be met with such dead, indifferent eyes. She had so much she wanted to say, but sorrow closed up her throat with an unfamiliar meekness.
Her body didn't get the same message; grief hadn't fully taken the fight from her reflexes yet. She resisted, attempting to rip her way out of his grip.
"Your turn, barbarian," The mole said, closing in on her, absolutely enjoying every second he could be himself.
Zeouna was no longer in control, something much more animalistic was at her helm. As the mole leaned into study her, the hybrid swung at him, sprinkling him with blood letting out of her maimed fingers. He winced as the droplets hit his face.
"Careful, Percival! For fookssake!" He sputtered. "Bitch is likely riddled with disease."
The mole. Percival. I'll fucking kill you. I promise. Someone will fucking kill you.
"I'm up on my shots," the repulsive rodent said, handling something in her peripheral vision,
"Look what I found. What better way to end this?"
She heard a familiar click. Her shotgun, its breech opened and closed. Zeouna found herself staring directly down one of the barrels of her primordial gun. Her only real possession in life.
"Poetic end to this heathen's life," Percival continued in his rural drawl. "don't you think, Jonny?"
The third voice, Jonny, entered her vision.
Tall and lanky, Jonny looked the most sophisticated of the group. He was also the youngest, possibly in his mid-thirties. A pure-white furred simian in a tightly fitted black v-neck tee-shirt and dress pants. He walked with a chromed-out cane, with a noticeable limp in his right leg. A lit clay pipe hung from his mouth. He grabbed the ornate gun out of Percival's hands, studying it intently for a few moments. Appreciating the intricacies of the engravings; the precision of the cuts.
After he was done appreciating the shotgun's significance, he made a point to look at his co-conspirators. He took his time with everything, it seemed.
The Monkey. Jonny.
"Did we have to kill her?" The slender Ape asked, sounding unsure of himself before looking at his comrades.
Percival shrugged indifferently. Anders didn't seem to understand the nature of the question.
"You said we could explore options," Percival responded.
"I said to think about it carefully."
Anders laughed curtly. "In my defense I said I'd try."
"Our hands were tied." The mole said, excusing himself, "Demetrius should have gotten his house in order sooner."
With an extension of his cane, Jonny walked past his entourage. Not too close, of course, but he studied his living enemy before assessing the appalling state of the dead. Zeouna dared not look withhim.
"This will destroy him, Percy."
"If that's what it takes. It's the only language he understands now. Justice. An Eye for an Eye," Percival spoke, his voice quivering with the delivery of a holy man delivering a fiery sermon.
"Aye. And the messenger?" The cat gestured at the shackled remnant of Zeouna.
Jonny nodded. "I don't even want a molecule of her left."
The wind picked up, the cold air of early morning was slowly giving way to the warmer gusts of the desert gales. Soon, the valley would be dredged in Udaev's sunlight. A forty-five-centigrade orchestra of death.
He didn't look like he wanted to, but Jonny unfolded his arms and sidled over to Zeouna. He approached cautiously, like she was something to be feared now; as restrained as she was. He didn't pass a self-imposed two meter circle he'd made for her.
"I've heard such amazing things about you. The Liberator of Set City. You have a small fan club in corporate, you know?"
His expression soured. The jovial features on his face disappeared.
"I thought about what I would say to you if we caught you alive. On the ride over."
"I was trying to be brave," He confessed, laughing awkwardly.
He invented a new comfort zone for him to push into as he stepped a single step forward unaware he had stepped in a small stream of Ariane's blood. Zeouna's eyes met his; resolute on butchering him.
"But seeing you up close? You're just so much more pathetic than I expected."
"You got her killed. A damned Starkly."
"You know what that's gonna do right? And for what?" He asked, raising his arms.
"Your turn is coming!" Zeouna spat at him.
Jonny laughed. Knowing full well that he would never experience actual consequences for his actions. Zeouna herself may not have truly believed her own words; it may have been aspirational.
Anders threw her to the dirt.
"My turn?" He chuckled, kneeling down to her level. "My turn comes eighty years from now. Warming my bones by my red marble fireplace as a girl your age brings me my dinner."
He held up her shotgun, with an appreciative smirk.
"Thanks for the accompanying mantle piece."
With a wave of his right hand, Jonny signaled he was through with her. His driver ignited the levidrive on his ranger. He took a final sympathetic glance at Zeouna; he genuinely was pitying her.
"What a waste," Jonny said, before turning his back to her.
"You could have been so much more."
He lifted off his knees, and turned toward Anders.
"Anders, I don't know how you do this for a living." He said blankly.
Anders didn't answer himself; but the remaining group knew the answer was about to be provided for the second time tonight. Jonny handed the shotgun to an accompanying Vikrman, who in turn gave it to Anders, who also studied the piece.
"I want that back when you're done. Close up shop, Anders. Quickly please. And clean up all the loose ends on the way back," the simian spoke, his attendant closing the ranger's door.
The Vikrmen around him began setting the scene. Jonny pulled Anders in, leaning back into his confidant for a final aside.
"Remember. Simple. No beatings. No extracurriculars. Finish and leave."
"What about the regs?" Ander's asked.
Jonny looked at the regular Vikrmen ensemble, still gawking at the macabre scene before them as they worked. They were all undoubtedly scum, but this display was excessive even for them.
"I didn't see any regs," Jonny declared, averting his gaze from the men.
Anders took his meaning. More molecules to dissolve.
With that, the Ape was done. He strolled back to the armored ranger, an attendant opened the thick, protective door and escorted him in.
Anders whistled and raised two fingers forward, and two Vikrmen moved to restrain Zeouna, grabbing her under her arms and dragging her to the edge of the cliff.
The mood changed again. Palpable dread among the men, the scene was set.
"Damn shame," Ander's said, approaching his victim. The limited shelf-life Vikrmen scurried away.
What remained of zeouna stood, instinctively choosing to die on her feet. Arms at her side, her hands stiff as boards; too scared to shake. She had unfinished business in her eyes.
Zeouna didn't take her eyes off Anders. Imagining his face when someone finally killed him; when justice was finally delivered.
Zeouna was cursed with her last series of sensations; the ferric iron smell of Ari's blood and the wind through her fur. If there was an afterlife, she'd spend eternity begging Ariane's forgiveness.
"Jean-Starkly?" He asked smugly, loading a shell in the breech and whipping the piece upward to lock it.
"You know why," he responded, gloating.
"Because I get to."
"Because I could."
"The money will come."
"Because you're nothing."
"All you."
She stared down the barrels of her own gun, as the cat indexed the hammer. The familiar tune of the firing pins, the familiar first break of the trigger.
Click.
I deserve this.
Tears balled up in Zeouna's eyes only for a moment until they were replaced by a blinding flash, smoke and darkness. All sensation was lost after that.
Zeouna would never know it took her body over four long seconds to shatter against the bottom of the ravine. She was dead before she even fell backward.
Onryo
Part One
Recommended listening: Kill Or Be Killed (Felsmann + Tiley Reinterpretation) · Muse. Youtube, 9 Feb. 2023, watch?v=aMyl3dJz5Fw.