by Hugo Damas
Even that slight loss of pace made her more nervous.
The traps are all active! How is this happening?!?! If they had approached from that direction, how had she not passed by them?
Right then, the Hunter caught sight of the inner perimeter sentries. Two bodies were huddled into a bush. Why they had not bothered with hiding the other one, she didn’t know, but that was a mistake they would pay for.
Arriving, she was even more confused. Much of the people were still asleep, scattered around the big tent that was Mother Superior’s home, in their own smaller tents. Or they were in the open air, beneath the layer of treetops. No one was alert, and she did not see any signs of an attack.
Zaniyah didn’t understand it, but she wasn’t about to assume anything or to let the attackers know she was on to them. The Hunter rushed straight for the tent. A covert attack always tried to strike at the leader first. Someone else was there, however, not Burto.
“Hunter?”
Zaniyah stopped, breathing much more heavily than she should be. “We are under attack,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
And right then, it happened. The ground shook behind her, away from the main tent, but so much less compared to what an earthquake would cause. She feared it, Zaniyah feared the beasts had arrived there. How could they have been so fast as to have covered half the continent?!
What emerged from the ground was a drill, which was easily the size of a vehicle. It tore through the ground like a worm, and that’s what woke everyone up. Startled and confused, they watched while the drill disassembled into hands and then pulled the rest of the machine out onto the surface.
It looked humanoid, if one considered only the waist up. It was clearly constructed using cheap metal and steel, and so looked rusted and differently colored, all bolted together haphazardly around a mess of exhaust pipes and small contraptions. Zaniyah even spotted parts that had been taped together. Meanwhile, its base was a line of track wheels, and the hands had half of the drill but were already changing form to the sound of loud cranking.
The drills opened to show what Zaniyah could only describe as small cannons. As if a wrist opened all the way up to show a hole that was the hollowness in its arm.
The head was a transparent dome, glass, and it showed someone inside. The glass was so dirty, however, that it was hard to discern any physical features. It did look like a humanoid blur, but the Hunter couldn’t discern anything beyond that.
Everyone watched, wondering what was going on, and then reeled as a high pitch mechanical scream erupted, and then instantly dissipated. It gave way to an audible broadcast.
The voice was skewed by the quality of the sound which was not only bad but also reverberating. “Hello? Yes, okay, it’s working.”
That was definitely not the Beasts. But its presence and impact were almost as bad. The smog the pipes were creating was already thick, she could smell it. The noise, the destruction of the soil, that thing was as invasive as a thing could be. The Hunter noted, though, that if it weren’t for the audio system, it would have been quiet enough to handle the sentries, given the distance. Then again, The Hunter would have surely noticed a hole of that size near them.
The machine screeched again.
“Argh! Okay, here we go.” The voice coughed to clear itself. “We are Led by Anarchy! We will see civilization crumble! We will witness organizations brought to ruin! Surrender yourselves to chaos! And to the will of the evolved!”
There was an awkward pause within which more people, some groggy and others already alerted and wielding weapons, came out of their tents to surround the machine. All the while, the person inside motioned excessively, producing clanks and smacks and whirs.
Something in its massive arms flashed with light and suddenly the tips of the cannons, which the drills had cleared to uncover, ignited with fire.
And like that, in an instant, chaos was abruptly let loose. People screamed in pain and yelled out orders while the speaker, that the man had apparently forgotten to turn off, filled the air with his grumbles of concentration.
“Stay still, argh.”
“Fan out! You three, go to the well! You four, go to the river!”
“No, not left! Argh, turn righ--tsk, which lever is…”
Zaniyah held her spear high and focused on the dome. Maybe she could slay the pilot and end the madness in one fell swoop.
“Throw your spears! Get the pilot!” Someone yelled.
“Blasted thing! I told you we should’ve tested it properly before…”
The Hunter saw arrows fly, rebounding or getting stuck in the machine ineffectually. The man who had been standing next to her charged the machine, but Zaniyah simply observed, trying to find a weakness.
“Where is the dash?! I know dad added a dash!”
Zaniyah soon found herself alone, trying to find what part of the mechanism would perhaps unravel at least a portion of the machine if it were hit. Everyone else was doing their best, but the machine could rotate the torso with surprising swiftness. The pilot was doing a good job of keeping anyone from getting too close by continuously spinning it.
The flames burned on, trying to catch on to the ground and tents, as well as some people, but with the weather so thankfully moist and everything so wet, she doubted anyone would die. Tents might burn up but they could always make more tents. Burning away trees and bushes was the real problem. A fire might actually be given lif--
A scream surged from inside the tent behind her, all but stealing all of her attention.
The Hunter turned towards the big tent, facing the closed flap that was the entrance the guard had been standing in protection of. Her mind came to terms with her hearing.
That was Mother!
Zaniyah had never realized how scary the maze of fabric was until she had to traverse it while being oppressed by a long forgotten fear. The emotion was so stifling she didn’t even know exactly what the fear was, but it twisted her environment in a disorienting manner. The bent flaps of the tent, cut and sliced to make halls and rooms, were all slightly different colors. At every second, at every turn of those halls, the Hunter would hope to see Mother Superior and then be disappointed. Her desperation grew, and with it, her heart pumped faster and more out of control.
“You let her go, you bastard! I’ll gut you like the rat you are!”
Othinia, Zaniyah recognized. Othinia’s by her side!
The Hunter rushed in to stand next to her. Othinia glanced very momentarily at her, but she did not feel the need to do the same. She stopped and took stock of the scene developing at the center of the large portion of the tent that was Mother Superior’s room.
Burdo was on the floor, bleeding and passed out naked, not necessarily in that order. The bed of leaves was bloodied and messed up, and Mother Superior was being held up by the neck. Behind her stood an evil, disgusting man, though, in all honesty, that was perhaps an opinion made biased by the way he was holding Mother Superior, who was wearing very little.
“I said remain cal--Hunter?”
Objectively, he simply looked like a miner. He was wearing weird mechanical goggles, and they were as dirt-speckled as every other inch of his body. From the messy spiky hair to the common brown shirt and pants, and especially his old dusty coat, he looked like walking subterranean dirt. There was a hole behind him, on the ground, man-sized and freshly excavated, with a platform kept steady on top of it by four metallic braces. It was cylindrical, with a half-open capsule as a top.
The Hunter looked at him like she wanted to kill him, because she did, and he became a lot more anxious. His weapon, some kind of drill with a pistol-like trigger, pushed against the skin of Mother Superior’s neck.
“Let’s all remain calm,” he said, aware he could never defeat one of them, let alone both.
“We will find you, Mole, we will hunt you down and make you pay for doing this,” Mother Superior promised.
“You will do no such thing,” he cas
ually said, unworried despite shifting eyes. “We have her. And we will kill her should you in any way aid the Shadow Conclave, or anyone else, in their efforts against the Beasts.”
“Are you mad?!” Othinia yelled.
“My life weighs nothing when compared with the whole of Nature,” Mother Superior protested as she was pulled to step inside the capsule. The Hunter was nowhere near an expert on technology, but she understood what was about to happen.
“You better hope it do--augh!” Mother Superior hit the miner’s face with the back of her head.
The goggles made it so that it hurt her a lot more than him, though what she really wanted was the push, and she got that. He held on, however, and threw his weight back. It narrowly managed to pull her into the capsule. If it weren’t for hitting the goggles, Mother Superior might have pulled free.
“NO!” Othinia ran, apparently having decided death would be preferable to kidnapping. The Hunter, however, couldn’t think. Let alone decide.
Zaniyah saw a dagger bounce off the capsule as it closed and then saw the four braces whirring with the sound of saw blades. They had saws at their feet, and they were now working, quickly cutting through the thin layer of earth that was keeping it up.
“NOOOOOO!!!” Othinia dove and grabbed it but got little else than scraped skin and a deep cut across the surface of her left arm.
The machine fell down through the hole. It just dropped, at roughly the same velocity a heart can drop. Hunter knew that for a fact right then.
It was happening again.
“You bastard, I won’t let you!” Fueled more by anger than thought, Othinia dropped her spear, drew two daggers, and jumped feet first into the hole.
The Hunter was still staggered. She had yet to process the shock of all that was happening.
People, fellow human beings, had found out where they were. They had attacked and kidnapped Mother Superior, all with the desire of helping the Beasts. The would-be slayers of all mankind.
She had been taken. And now Othinia was gone and Mother’s oldest lover was lying there most likely dead.
They had no meaningful leadership left.
Her surroundings started to morph as her senses twisted everything around her, taking her back. The vivid memories of part times resurfaced.
“Stay still, fight not. This is how you live.”
Zaniyah shuddered at her core, her now extremely cowardly core. She saw the throat slashed open, she saw the head being bashed against the trunk of a tree. She tasted the raw flesh and felt her teeth rotten.
The bone crackling, the silent, desperate gasp for life…gone unsuccessful. She had bought and lost everything, inside and out. Then, se had done the opposite. Submitting.
“If they taught you anything it was to survive,” Mother Superior’s voice reached out suddenly, from somewhere inside of her. “But you can’t get anything out of that. It’s good when all you want is another chance, another day, but bad any other time.”
Zaniyah blinked. She shook her head, but there was no getting rid of the voice of her mother. It was in her mind to stay.
“But if you want to live? That is a lot more complicated.” The familiar room refocused around her. “Very worth it, though.”
She pushed away her déjà vu. Bit by bit, Zaniyah grabbed every piece of sensory memory that was breaking her down and threw it back into the pile she had buried deep inside the recesses of her mind.
Zaniyah clenched her fists. There are a hundred warriors in this Guild. If Mother can be saved, they will accomplish it.
She looked back towards the exit and frowned the tears away. I’m the Hunter.
She ran out. I am the best treasure hunter in the world.
She left, even while everything was a blur. Zaniyah told someone about what had happened inside, and meanwhile found out how the heavy flame-throwing machine had returned underground. They had apparently managed to wound the pilot, but they had still escaped.
The Hunter went on.
She will be disappointed in me if I show up to save her. She will be disappointed that I didn’t fight for…
The Hunter passed by a corpse, one of the sentries. She frowned harder and shook her head, refusing to cry.
I need to fight for the world first, Zaniyah thought, determined.
The Hunter would make Mother proud.
Web of Powers
It was hard to keep himself from laughing, to keep a straight face. He hadn’t felt that happy in a very long time. Maybe ever.
It was weird how easy it had been and how casually his reign had been assured.
“Those three things all sound very useful.” Like signing a contract without reading, Griff and Eliza had given the Don the backing of the Shadow Conclave. Same as if he had won the competition.
Lazaros arrived back home with a winning smile, the kind of expression anyone can read.
“You got it?” Protos asked.
“Who do ya think I am?” The Don puffed his cigar victoriously.
“But you didn’t win. How did--”
“Ha, it’s never over until I do win. You should know that.” Lazaros winked and walked into the car, seeing his advisor, his consigliere, grinning as much as he was.
It was the kind of smile that infected anyone who saw it. Anyone who’s on his side, that is.
A bit later in the day, Lazaros was smiling as smugly as he could right in Giuseppe’s face. He, in turn, was frowning as deeply as his cheeks allowed, trying his best to be intimidating.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Lazaros teased. “Imma good boss, just ask Florin ‘ere.”
Florin smirked in response.
“You think I’m afraid o’ shadows, Lazaros?” Giuseppe asked. “You want a war, I’ll give ya one.”
Lazaros shook his smile away, slowly. One shake of his head at a time.
“It’s all fun n’ games ‘till yer puttin’ lives down to defend nothin’ but yer worthless ego, Giuseppe. You can’t possibly win a war, and if you start one and if you cost us -- I said us -- all the buttons and capos under you, oh, I swear I’ll make you pay, see? Whatever you did to Leonardo finger-eater will seem like a vacation in the tropics, see?”
Giuseppe glared back at Lazaros without hiding any anger but he didn’t care, he even liked it. The easier someone was to read, the easier they were to control.
“Yer ego’s the only thing standin’ in the way, my friend. Nothing will change once I’m the Don,” Lazaros assured.
“Enough will change, you’ll ask for a cut of everything.”
“Payment, Giuseppe, payment for a service.” The Don smirked. “Protection, support, you’ll be part o’ something so much bigger than you, Giuseppe.” He lit his cigar right there in his office, he knew Giuseppe hated it. “You’ll be part o’ me, see?” He put the cigar to his lips and took joy in breathing in.
Giuseppe’s strong hands gripped against the armchair so hard they ripped a bit of the tissue but Lazaros, of course, pretended not to notice.
“Whadda say? Cousins?” The Don asked.
“I’ll sign in under yer wing, Lazaros…but the Light’s my witness if there’s ever an angle to take you out--”
“Ha.” Lazaros offered a quick dismissive laugh, “I wouldn’t be much of a Don if that was the case, Giuseppe.” He nodded at him appreciatively.
“No, ya wouldn’t,” Giuseppe agreed, leaning back.
With that alliance achieved, Lazaros was quick to leave the man to stew in his defeat. Giuseppe would hate him for a while, but then again, that was already the fact. Most of all his new family members were going to hate him, and what did it matter? They would be ahead of the line of people he’d send to fight the Beasts.
“Could we really beat ‘em in a war?” Florin asked.
“’Course,” the Don answered, grinning confidently. “We could beat anyone in a war, the problem’s what happens next. Takeover through war isn’t really a takeover, yer not exactly gaining anythin’, the only thing
you get is more territory and then you got less people to hold it. Nah, you either whack a guy the right way and take his stuff or you make ‘im give it to ya.”
“Heh.” Florin seemed to appreciate the thought. “Where to now?”
The Don chewed on his cigar thoughtfully.
“Where do ya think? Straight to Gonzalos’.” Florin raised an eyebrow. “Actually, lettim’ wait, I’m hungry for some ribs.”
“Ha. Gotcha, boss.”
Staring down others into submission always left Lazaros with a mad hunger. He wanted nothing but to grab a large piece of red meat by the bone and rip the flesh out of it. It made him feel powerful.
It did nothing for him that day, however, other than increase his happiness. It was probably because he was already as powerful as he could feel.
They left for Gonzalo and there, he again threatened him into submission. As they drove away, the Don knew that if the next boss filed in, that would be the point of no return. That would mean he could actually back up his threats in case the others called him on them.
The certainty of victory only made it so that when the car stopped unexpectedly, it felt all the more abrupt.
The Don was quick to protest. “Hey!”
“It’s Donna’s crew,” Florin pointed out, a bit intimidated.
“What? We’re not in her territo--did you drive through her turf?!”
“No, boss,” Florin replied, slowly. “I dunno what this is about.”
Lazaros, his senses returned to the real world, saw two cars in front of him blocking the way.
“Do I bolt?” Florin asked.
Lazaros frowned. “’Re you crazy? We look weak now, we’re done for. Get yer piece and come out wit’ me.”
“Alright, boss, let’s do this,” Florin agreed, always ready for a fight
I should be packing bodyguards, dammit. I got blindsided by my own ego, that’s the first thing he told me not to do. The Don slammed the car door in frustration, it was towards himself, but it would be interpreted as towards them.
The Don didn’t let them engage, he made sure to yell out before they did. “Is Donna lookin’ fer trouble, boys?”