by Hugo Damas
After making sure the cabin had no phone or anything, he locked her in and walked off.
Luckily, his kidnapper was sending the scouts all by themselves. Lazaros’s keen paranoia helped him see them before they saw him, and his intimidating and empowering charisma made sure they wouldn’t run away. That was good because he wouldn’t have been able to chase them down before they alerted others to where he was. Soon as Lazaros got close, he knocked them out with a swift hit to the back of the head. No arguing with them.
Eventually, the Don finally found the damn place.
“Hey, Jun,” was what the pilot said, not looking well enough behind him.
Lazaros inspected the room, seeing a number of chairs in front of panels full with flashing lights, knobs, buttons and switches. Lots of vents trailed the machinery, along with circuits carrying electricity. That made him nervous. Lazaros also noticed one particular chair was empty while the other six were full. The man who had just talked seemed to be the captain.
“Jun?” Finally looking back, his eyes landed on Lazaros holding a gun down at him. “Whoah-what?!”
They all finally noticed his presence. Lazaros glared back at them all, scaring them witless. “This Jun guy. D’we need ‘im to pilot this thing?” His voice came out demanding and threatening.
“Uh…”
“No,” someone else said.
“Then you,” Lazaros called, pointing at the captain. “Lock this room from the rest o’ this bucket.”
“What? I will do no such thing.”
Lazaros smiled, hungrily, and approached the man while keeping his eyes on the others.
“Do it, or I’m shooting you in the arm,” Lazaros threatened.
“Ha,” the Captain said, shaking his head. “You don’t have any bullets, we emptied your gun.”
Lazaros grinned and casually pointed the pistol down. A loud and abrupt bang sounded out, rocking everyone to their core with fear. The man took a few seconds to realize a bullet had shot clean through his left arm.
He yelled, but Lazaros promptly slapped him across the face and then grasped him by the mouth. He was purposefully rough about it.
“I think I have all the bullets I need to kill all o’ you.” Maintaining his grin, Lazarus pointed the gun at the rest of the crew. “Now lock us in or I’m letting you bleed to death.”
With frantic nods, the man dashed off to lock the door. Meanwhile, Lazaros turned to the rest of the crew members there.
“Now, I imagine, what with you bein’ accomplices in all o’ this, that you’re not really aware of who I am… so allow me to enlighten you.” He grabbed at his coat and stood powerfully. “I am Lazaros Infeperio,” he said, and saw the look of realization in a couple of them. “For those who don’t recognize the name, I’m a very important person in Igtahlia.” Then the rest of them widened their eyes. “Lotta connections, lotta power, see? So you’ll take me up, see? To the surface and to the land, or else… I won’t kill any o’ yous.”
He smiled, pausing for effect,
“I’ll leave it to my associates to figure out what to do with you…they’re a bunch o’ loyal buttons, see? All the way up to the capos, and pretty creative if I can brag about it.”
Lazaros grinned. “And I sure do.”
“It’s…ugh…it’s locked,” said the captain from behind. Lazaros turned and waved his gun dismissively.
“Well? What d’you need, an invitation?” Lazaros hated to be interrupted. “Get back to your chair! You,” he pointed at someone random, “take off your jacket and tie it around his wound.” The captain whimpered, almost crying. “Stop cryin’, you baby, the bullet went through, you’re fine. I know what I’m doin’.”
“Question is.” Lazaros looked back at the rest of them. “Do any o’ yous?”
They looked away from him and back at the panels, getting to work on doing what they had been told.
“No choice here, fellas. Let’s head on up, how far are we from the coast?” Asked one of them.
“Couple of hours,” replied someone.
Lazaros looked back at the locked door, judging the heavy metal that it was made of. “That’s fine,” Lazaros said, leaning over one of the contraptions, “and no funny business, I’m watchin’ you.”
“Bridge! Why are we going up?”
Lazaros looked at the source of the voice, finding another box of sound. This one was fixed to the captain’s desk so he couldn’t see the wires that were connected to it.
“I say again, bridge, what’s going on in there? Do we have a malfunction? Why are we going up?”
Lazaros approached it with his face and noticed there was one button that was labelled ‘on.’ He pressed it, and the box cut the man’s voice off in the middle of the question. Lazaros then realized it was like a telephone, hence the wires. He let go of the button and it only took a couple of seconds for the voice to return.
“This isn’t the time for jokes, what’s going on over there?”
Smiling, Lazaros pressed the button again. “Hey. We’re goin’ up ‘cause I told ‘em to go up,” he said, glancing at the crew threateningly, “and smart people do what I tell ‘em to do.”
He let go of the button.
“Lazaros?!”
“Lazaros Infeperio,” he said, and let go of the button.
“Lazaros, this is ridiculous, how exactly are you expecting to run away from us? Even if you do submerge? The only way out is outside the bridge.”
“Not from where I’m standin’,” he said, looking up at the massive glass wall and ceiling that was the bridge’s window to the exterior. He would break that and get out.
“Are you going to run away on foot? From us? The hatches leading outside are manual, there’s no way you can lock them. We’ll just chase you down.”
Lazaros let go of the button and asked if it was true. The captain confirmed it. Shrugging, he hummed in thought, and then pressed the button.
“Well, thanks for lettin’ me know.” Lazaros laughed and turned to the others, without muting the communicator. “What coast you takin’ me to?”
“To--”
“Grehkia,” Lazaros interrupted, “that’s the coast yer takin’ me to. Mayor there’s a friend.” Lazaros grinned.
“Uhm…Eight to nine hours?” Said the pilot, still pained by his wound.
“There we go.” Lazaros let go of the button, and the man lost no time.
“You!” He had no words, only that rage-filled defeatism that Lazaros loved to hear. He had beaten him, whoever his kidnapper was. “I have eight hours, Lazaros, I will find a way inside. And then I’ll make you regret what you’re doing!”
Lazaros looked down at the communicator with disdain. Frowning hard, he pressed the button.
“Oh, fanabala, ya rat, who do you think you are to kidnap Lazaros Infeperio?!” He rose his voice utterly insulted, for the next part. “My suggestion to you? Take these eight hours to come up with how you’re gonna convince me to just kill you and leave it at that. See ya then.”
Lazaros looked around and found a switch, which he turned off. Then, he stretched his arms with a long and well-enjoyed yawn.
“So, eight hours, huh? Anyone with some good stories?” Nobody said anything. “A deck o’ cards? C’mon, this doesn’t have to be borin’,” he said laughing.
* * *
In the end, Lazaros had to tell jokes. That was okay, he knew a lot of them. The tension made it hard for anybody to laugh but he had nothing but time to get them going. Eventually, he did start to get some giggles out of some of them.
“Hey, stop worryin’, I’m not about hurtin’ people who didn’t know, see? Just relax before you make me mad.”
And he told some stories too, always the funny ones. That got them laughing and, before long, he had gotten on their good side.
It was still a boring wait, and twice did the doors to the room get pounded on and drilled on and whatever else they were trying to do. After the second time, Lazaros admitted to bein
g a bit curious as to who they all were.
“So.” Lazaros turned to the captain and asked, “who hired you, captain? Why are they after me?”
The captain scoffed all disgruntled. “Hnn…trying to get me killed now?”
“No, just curious.” The Don shrugged. “My guess’s someone who doesn’t like Shadow Conclave’s influence? Maybe wants my information on them.”
“Your guess is right,” he said with difficulty.
“It usually is,“ Lazaros said, smugly, “I know these things. I would assume he went after all the others who were invited… but I doubt he has many of these machines. So did he?”
“We ferried a woman a few days ago,” he told him, holding his arm tightly, “some kind of jungle woman.”
“Okay, good. If he’d only come after for me, then that would’ve meant he thought I was the easier catch.” Lazaros shook his head at this notion, “and that just ain’t nice, not nice at all, see? But ok, so, what happened to this jungle woman?”
“We don’t know,” he said. “We arrived at our destination, we went to the cabin to retrieve her, and she wasn’t there.”
Lazaros chuckled.
“Yeah, I guess stealth really isn’t my thing, huh? Good for the broad, good for her. Are you scheduled for another pickup?”
“No,” he said, wearily.
“Good. I tried to time my okay to the invite so I’d be the last contestant, see? That confirms it.” Lazaros scratched the stubble on his chin, intrigued. “So if you only picked one other person, am I to assume everyone else escaped before getting into this bathtub?”
The man looked aside, still lightly massaging his wound. He was sweating from dealing with the pain.
“Yeah…”
“Heh,” Lazaros said, having to nod in respect. “Guess I still gots things to learn.”
Lazaros didn’t really force the captain to say who was behind the attempting kidnapping. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure it wasn’t Shadow Conclave behind it all, fashioning one final test for their chosen contestants. His own people would eventually figure out what happened, what was really important was getting back to the surface and move on to the conclave. He needed to win.
“There was also a kid.”
“A kid?” Lazaros reacted confused, “you mean like a guy in his twenties?”
“No, a kid, a street urchin.” The captain scratched his head, “I…let him go. It was just a kid, no way he was who these guys wanted.”
Lazaros looked back at the big window, pretending he wasn’t watching a bunch of fish swimming around.
World is full of surprises, Lazaros thought, knowing exactly who the kid ought to be. The Street Rat was a popular enough name, for sure.
The underwater vehicle eventually made it to its target location where around fifty soldiers were waiting for it. They boarded the vessel and eventually opened the door for Lazaros who walked out in their company like the boss he was. When outside, he requested the presence of his kidnapper, and the man was brought before him. He was a bit roughed up from fighting to escape. Waiting on the soldiers to mobilize and make it all happen took a few more hours, within which he was able to contact his men to come and get him.
Lazaros strong-armed the militia soldiers to let him take care of the man right there on the beach. A little threat and the presence of some of his own soldiers was all he needed.
“So,” Lazaros said, then with the man forced to his knees in front of him. “I know you probably didn’t suffer any consequences for yer attempts to catch the others, but I am not just any thief, kid. I’m the real deal, see? Now, you got somethin’ to say to me or what?”
The man just stared at the sand, sadly. “I have nothing to say to you…”
“Suit yerself.” Lazaros nodded at one of his capos, and he took him away. Then, he turned to Florin. “I want to know everyone he knows. You find out who tried to do away with me, and you make ‘im pay.”
“You got it, boss,” he said for everyone, just when his consigliere was finally showing up.
Walking calmly, Protos took a stand next to the Don. “Quite the ordeal you went through, huh, Lazaros?”
“I tell ya, Protos, these goons messed with the wrong Don,” Lazaros said.
“Often the case when anyone messes with you, hm?”
Lazaros smiled, proud of his reputation. It’s what had brought him up through the ranks, and it’s what had gotten the conclave interested in him. The attitude had never failed him, his mind had never failed him, his men hardly ever failed him because he judged them on attitude and mind instead of just looking at how much money they brought in.
The Don grinned. “Lazaros Infeperio is not some random punk, and after I win the Shadow Conclave, no one will ever make that mistake again.”
Protos, ever the loyal counselor, nodded his head in agreement.
“The real envoy of the Shadow Conclave is here, Don. We checked properly this time, he’s legitimate.”
“You vouch for him, you suffer the consequences if yer wrong,” Lazaros simply stated in a manner of a jest.
“I am aware.” Protos said, not even flinching. “He’s the real deal, Lazaros. On my word.”
“Good.” Lazaros shook his head in impatience, “now get me a cigar before I shoot someone.”
Protos laughed mildly as he got one out. Lazaros put it in his mouth and held it so Protos could light it, which he did with practiced movements. Lazaros breathed in heavily and pleasurably, and then let out all his tension with a heavy sigh.
“Those mooks and their mookin’ plans,” Lazaros complained.
“No doubt, Lazaros,” Protos agreed.
He took another puff of the cigar, and then held it in his mouth by itself, putting his hands in his pockets.
“Well, take me to this chaperone already. I’m actually dyin’ to see if those guys at Shadow Conclave can walk the talk or not. So far, I’m just not impressed.”
To Be Challenged
Zaniyah had escaped the underwater machine, a challenge she had assumed to be the final test she had to pass in order to officially make it into the Shadow Conclave, the greatest of challenges in the world. She had passed it, easily making it out unnoticed and exiting the vessel when it was near enough to surface-level. The swim had been long but well within her abilities.
Once she got in contact with the real guide, she discovered it had been no test but a kidnapping attempt. It was what she was told, at least, she wasn’t sure she believed it. Regardless, she was led to a mansion belonging to the Magni House, which was known to be right in the center of the lands of Wahls, to the north and high, even if it was impossible to reach through natural means.
The House of Magni was a non-political entity which still controlled most of the country by being sought after for counsel and judgment on all important issues, including those of government. They had several around the world which were only reachable through the use of magic spells, and thus usually only known to them. The mansion was by far the main one.
Right out of the teleportation, she could only see clouds, regardless of which face of the horizon she set her eyes upon. They were on top of a mountain, but the weather was nice and warm around the mansion, even if it was snowy and windy outside of that radius. That level of weather manipulation was the kind of thing that made her intimidated by magic.
The mansion itself was a rich traditional concoction of gothic-styled architecture, with equally stylized rooms and furniture. It was packed with servants and what looked like noble dignitaries. Or rulers. And mages, of course.
She was asked to wait in the hall, and she complied, but when offered the chairs, she preferred to stand.
As used as she was to being under-dressed, it was all the more notorious in that environment. Everyone was wearing fashionable suits and dresses, pompous and exuberant in all the kinds of cloth or fur that they were made of. The mages, who dressed humbly, still offered a stark contrast by wearing long robes with cloaks and hoods coveri
ng their features. To make matters worse, most of them moved around floating inches from the ground. They seemed mostly observant, not to say idle, floating around not really looking like they were engaged in any particular task. Except for the one who she noticed was attending a dispute between two nobles that had gotten loud.
She, however? She was the Hunter. She had a small top to cover her chest and some cloth hanging down her belt to work as a small skirt, to cover her underwear. Her shoes were simply cloth tied around her soles and ankles by a string. The string on her left foot was longer, tying around her left leg so she could have a small pouch in which to hold darts and a dagger. Finally, she had put on a cape, with a large enough collar to cover up to her chin, and down to the upper chest so her cleavage wouldn’t show. There was nothing on her head to hide her short grey hair that already played the part of a hood since it reached down to her cheeks on all sides but the front.
The Hunter waited, silently. She was good at waiting.
Everyone ignored her, even though she sensed that they were acknowledging her, and she even caught them glancing at her, at times. Without exception, they decided to dismiss her.
She could not care less. However, it was interesting how those people hid everything but their faces. She was the exact opposite. Zaniyah didn’t like it when people could clearly see her face, that was a way to track thoughts and impressions.
The Hunter waited some more, patiently, until the one mage came around, following a child. The kid was clearly very out of place, like the Hunter, but in a different way. She sported clothes Zaniyah would expect out of a resident of Neyerk, but they were dirty and spent, leading the Hunter to assume the kid was homeless. The girl smiled at the Hunter so innocently that she felt compassion for her. She was thinking about what she could possibly be doing there when the mage called to her attention.
“Follow me, Hunter.”
Nodding in silence, she promptly followed him. Only when she was properly apart from the child’s presence did she consider that the child might be one of the participants.
That child…logic would suggest she is a participant like me. But my observation tells me otherwise…as do my senses.