by S E Zbasnik
"Keep the fuck up," she said. "We can't afford to fall back. Any of us. Gah!" Pain sizzled through her side as she rose to glower at her husband. "I'm all right," she tacked on quickly, trying to bite down upon the infection churning up her insides.
Taliesin reached into his pocket and removed a syringe. He uncapped it and inched up the arm of Variel's shirt. Marek blurted out, "What's that?!" as if the elf that just saved them was about to poison his lover for shits and giggles.
The elf cast his yellow eyes at the human, the pupils small pin pricks in his anger, and didn't respond. To Variel, he whispered, "Courtesy of our doctor."
She nodded, "How many did you get?"
"Two," he admitted. "I could hide no more upon me."
Her fingers brushed against his cheek leaving a few flecks of her dried blood upon him, "It's all right." It wasn't anything to numb the pain, even he couldn't smuggle that, but the infection had a hefty dose of antibiotics to fight its own battle to the death.
"Where'd the leather daddy come from?" Marek asked as Taliesin hurled the syringe down the alley where it shattered with a clink in the cloying night air.
"The ship, same as you, doggy bag," Variel said trying to massage the knot out of the other side of her wound. What a time for that scar to act up again.
"You weren't in the lines with us, I'd have seen you," Marek said, not willing to let this stupid detail go.
"No, you would not," Taliesin said looming his extra inches above the human.
"Assassins don't travel with the rest of us plebs. Special Planetpass," Variel said, hoping she didn't have to break up a fight. She still needed Marek alive. "They can also legally import things the rest of us can't."
"Like tight leather pants," Marek said, failing to notice that the elf did not in fact wear leather pants and had no intention of starting. Kevlar breathed better.
"Hopefully some blades, a gun, and a few grenades," Variel said, turning to her secret weapon.
Taliesin extracted the pistol he borrowed from her stock and handed it back to its rightful owner followed by one of the two knives. He wobbled the one used to remove the troll's head and watched the blade bend in the light. Brena was not going to be happy; it was her favorite veg knife. Marek held out his hand, expecting to be rewarded with an implementation of death. The assassin watched it, blinking slowly, before giving him a small device for making noise.
"A whistle?"
"If you are being killed, blow it and someone will come to assist you. Possibly," Taliesin said so straight laced even Variel was uncertain if that was elven humor or he was in a bad mood.
Marek pouted as his wife and her trained killer both checked their weapons over. He rolled the whistle ball with his finger and then whined, "How are we getting out of this?"
Skies parted with a heavy crack as clouds burst from the escaping engines of the last shuttle of the day. "That," Variel said, cursing to herself. "Too much gloating?"
"Perhaps," Taliesin said, "but it is understandable."
"I'm so bad with the gloating."
"It is not the time to injure oneself," the elf tried to comfort her, getting a confusing half chuckle in response.
"I'll explain later. And you're right, we need somewhere safe to hide for the first shuttle of the new day. That's what...?"
"Three and a half hours away," Taliesin said having memorized the transit schedule as he sat in the deluxe wing of the departure an hour before the others.
"That short?"
"It is a small planet."
Marek turned away from the two lovers having their moment without him. A can scattered at the end of the cul-de-sac entrance, bounding against every wall and dumpster in the way. One of those blighted rat cats must be after them as well.
"I don't know how they don't all go completely mad with such a quick night," Variel muttered.
"Considering the current circumstances it is impossible to claim they have not."
Another can scattered across the street, the force of it echoing against the brick walls. Marek tried to telescope his eyes with his hand and squint down the red street lights, but he only saw more shadows. Big ones.
"One day I shall visit a planet where half the population isn't trying to kill me," Variel said.
"You will become bored within a hour."
The shrill whistle ripped the two apart from their private world, and Variel turned to glare at her husband. His weapon fell from trembling lips and he pointed to a massive shadow lurking towards them. As Taliesin stepped back from her, a body dropped upon his head, furry arms wrapping around his neck. Instinctively he crashed his head back, shattering sharp teeth with an iron barrette concealed in his hair. The kitsune staggered back from the blow, but still dodged both of the assassin's swipes with a knife.
Variel watched the troll rounding upon them, his tree trunk legs gathering enough speed his run began to bounce. "Shit... Marek, duck!" she shouted, needing her panicking husband out of the way.
He dropped to the ground, and she fired, but her bullet ricocheted off the energy shield protecting the troll who was quickly gaining speed. "Double shit! Taliesin!"
The assassin almost had his hands around the kitsune when Variel shouted his name. Umai used the distraction to slink around the man and grab onto her hip. His fingers tore into her side digging through the bandages to rip open her wound. She screamed the feral roar of any animal in so much pain it could bring about the end of the universe to stop it. The kitsune danced away from Taliesin, dragging her body with him as he wiggled his finger deeper in.
She tried to aim the gun at his head, but he kept bobbing his body making a clear shot without suffering blowback through her own flesh impossible. Another lance of pain burst through her side and the gun dropped from her fingers. Taliesin reached for it, but Umai kicked it away.
"You'll pay for this, bitch," he hissed into the night, rising to watch the helpless assassin turn towards the rampaging troll and the shiny human pissing himself down the alley.
What he failed to notice the captain's now free hand plundering her pockets for anything. As Umai's claws sliced through her skin and dug into her muscle, in pure rage, she spun about in his grasp and drove the wobbly kitchen blade into his shoulder. The kitsune dropped its pray and Variel collapsed, unable to stand while fresh blood dribbled from her wound across her pants.
Taliesin ran forward and kicked the fox hard in the snout, sending the copper head snapping back, the kitsune's body tumbling into a pile of garbage. Taliesin wrapped an arm around Variel and she pointed with her head while hissing in agony, "The gun."
Trying to not roll his eyes, he picked up the weapon first and shouted to the other human, "Marek!" The useless husband gurgled in terror from the fox attack tearing through the two of them, then he looked back to the troll only a few steps from them both.
Taliesin rolled his head, "Get over here and carry Variel."
Marek watched his wife trying to rise to her feet -- as she failed against the low gravity and collapsed to the dust -- then back to the troll. He made a calculated decision and shook his head.
"Marek!" Taliesin shouted again, hoping he could force common sense down the human's throat.
But the human had only his own hide to think about. Turning to the building behind him, he chased up a set of metal stairs and heaved his shoulder hard into the door of a warehouse. His shoes left vomit foot prints behind as he vanished out of the alley.
"That son of a testicle mutilating donkey's ass!" Taliesin cursed. The troll didn't notice the small prey vanishing, it only cared about the two beside its boss.
He hefted Variel quickly into his arms, her one hand trying to cover the still bleeding wound, the other gripped around his neck. Taliesin got a few steps before the troll fired a shot. The smell of burning cow hide filled the alley as the elf jumped to avoid the coming bullet. Thankfully, trolls are terrible shots at close range, and worse than a race of nondescript movie guards when it came to distance.
The elf dashed up the stairs into another abandoned warehouse, the door left hanging forlornly open as if it wanted visitors. Variel kept giving him a report from the back view as he eyed the options in the empty warehouse. Stairs, they could hide but they'd also be trapped. Ground floor meant easy ramming speed for the troll.
"He's snorting and checking on the kit in the garbage."
Taliesin nodded, in too much of his mental space to be able to answer back with words. Stairs, their best hope was probably to hide on the stairs. He lifted his captain a bit higher, grateful for the low gravity and began the climb. She didn't fight about him putting her down, for which he was grateful. The staircase creaked under as it took both of their weight and Taliesin tried to scurry up it.
"He's in!" Variel shouted as the hefty form filled the doorway.
Taliesin didn't turn as the staircase cried in agony from the heavy load of a troll's foot, then the other. Only a few more steps to the landing, focus on that small problem, then get to the next. The stairs death throes continued, unhappy with this weight load crushing down upon them.
The troll roared but didn't race after them -- even he was smart enough to know adding too much weight too suddenly and the stairs would all come crashing down. Taliesin leapt to the landing, his feet partially flying in the air as he entered into the open air of the second floor. A few pillars broke up the unending floor illuminated from dozens of windows lining the edges. There was absolutely nowhere to hide.
"Give me the gun," Variel said, her eyes still following the shadow on the stairs.
"Why?"
"Your arms are a bit full at the moment."
Right. He passed her the gun as she let go of her wound, the blood pooling into his jacket. "What's by the window?" she asked, a very stupid idea filling her head.
"There is a tin roof a story below, but no other means of escape," Taliesin reported, cursing his choices. The ground floor meant escape.
Luckily, Variel had other ideas, "Right, get by that window and open it."
He was about to question why, but heard the loud creak as the troll found its footing upon the last two stairs. There was no time to debate it. If they survived, she was right. If not, there wasn't much point in kicking up a fuss now. Taliesin glanced around the sealed window, the glass a few inches thick to ward out the drifting sands of a poorly terraformed planet. "This may take some time."
"We don't have it."
"Right." Flipping around quickly, he let her shoot a single bullet, the glass shattering into the night air. Taliesin kicked at the shards clinging to the sill, trying to provide a good exit and leaned down at the roof.
"Wait," Variel said, watching the troll as she tried to steady the gun upon the assassin's shoulder. "On my signal."
"What signal?"
"You'll know it, trust me."
The troll snickered, like the sound of stone dragged across cement, as it watched the cornered prey. Variel began to fire wildly at its shield, which bounced the energy straight up into the roof. Blam blam blam.
"Come on, you piece of shit," she mumbled, glaring at the ceiling.
"You are aware that a pistol cannot break even a simple reverberate shield, yes?" Taliesin asked, the sarcasm dripping from his sentence.
The troll stopped, and Variel unloaded the clip, each bullet bouncing harmlessly into the air above it. The sniggering returned, "Foolish human, you die for my brother," he said, lifting his weapon and trying to aim for Variel's head. The red light drifted more towards Taliesin's back.
A creaking caught from the roof, as if the high winds shook the building to its foundation. The troll paused and looked up when twenty tons of decaying, condemned roof fell on his head. Taliesin struggled to regain his balance from the ceiling collapse shaking the whole building, his hands splayed out across the empty window sill but the troll crumpled beneath the load racing to bury him. A single stony hand reached out from the mess. Then the crisp crack of splintering wood reverberated below their feet.
"Now!" Variel shouted. Taliesin rushed forward, carrying them both out the window as the entire second floor collapsed onto the first, dragging the troll with it.
Marek's hands splattered across the unfinished walls, a bent nail slicing across his palm. Three drops of blood followed his trail stumbling through the dark of an abandoned storehouse. He waved about what he believed to be an ancient blade, forged from the fires of time; but was actually the broken catch for a gear on the "doll head" conveyor belt. It still reeked of burning plastic and undead eyes from the fire.
Dust clouded his obscured vision, leaching into his nostrils and fogging up the rare bits of light poking through the grungy windows. He waved his hand about, trying to scatter the dust and heard a thick snap. "Gods damn it all," he shouted as his fingers picked up the torn strap, the final hold out in keeping his gut at bay. Mounds of in denial flesh bulged from the belt; Marek may have felt self conscious at his secret if he'd seen any other bodies in the past hour. At least the box of unicorn still dug deep into his backside, the pointy edges finding a home spreading into his hip fat.
This wasn't exactly what he'd planned. Marek laughed to himself, as if he could have had anything to do with some fox thing pretending to be a dwarf chasing them down a street and living rocks throwing dumpsters at the buildings. He couldn't plan his breakfast without asking the blender for assistance.
Suddenly, his knees rolled beneath him. The entire complex shook as if one of the attached warehouses collapsed in on itself. He tried to find a window to see what happened, but got turned around on the second floor walking around the same fake hair piles. By the time he got his bearings and ran down to the ground floor, the dust settled and the raucous building stood. Whatever he missed couldn't have been that important.
In theory, his wife still lived. Probably. If not, there was a very good chance he was stranded on this desolate hell hole full of green tentacled aliens and no easy way off. That diminutive pilot of hers, the one always coated in sugar, he wasn't caught in that kitsune's trap. Perhaps he had some tracking magic/find people button. And if not, he at least had the return tickets.
Marek, having settled on a plan, began to turn back towards the door when a hand lashed out of the darkness and yanked his shirt collar back. He raised his weapon but the second arm caught his wrist and squeezed. His bones cracked as if they were made of ramen and the magic sword tumbled free, clanging into the disturbed dust. Marek fell limp, unable to do anything but whimper.
His assailant twisted Marek's limp arm out of the way and yanked his face close. Yellow eyes, narrowed in rage, pierced the grimy darkness.
"You!" Marek shouted, relief flooding his slack body. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you again."
Taliesin glared and lifted the little shit higher, both of his hands curling around the silver collar, "You are the excrement at the bottom of the septic system."
"Okay," Marek struggled, the collar on his jumpsuit thicker than he remembered as it dug into his larynx. He'd been expecting far worse after he turned tail and ran.
Then the assassin leaned into the man gone limp as a rag doll and squeezed his hands into Marek's brittle collar bone, "I should break you in half myself." A squeal escaped through Marek's rictus lips like air out of a balloon. He'd seen enough "reports" of "Dangerous Elves on the Loose" to know what even the typical pointy ear baker was capable of. A trained killer could destroy entire platoons with a small finger.
"Sin, put him down," the voice was calm and soft, reaching out of the darkness from a shadow leaning against an abandoned machine.
The elf growled, the sharp double set of canines seeming to extend in his rage. He shook Marek twice, but acquiesced to Variel and let the human regain his footing. Marek stumbled to his knees, massaging his arm that was only sore and not even sprained, never mind broken. The assassin didn't move, his shadow falling over the coward, but Marek was secure enough to know what he was. Threats of physical harm did far more damage to the man than emotional bl
ackmail ever could.
He scooted away on his butt as Taliesin stepped back to the reclining Variel, half scooping her up to his side with an arm. "You might want to drop the scary assassin act," she ordered,
"Who says it is an act?" the elf whispered to her, his pupils still slits in his rage.
She patted his arm and said, "Okay, but if you scare him so bad he shits his drawers, you're sitting beside him on the shuttle."
The elf didn't say anything, but his mood lightened as he helped her limp over to her husband. It'd been surprisingly easy to find the moron. Even if he hadn't left a trail any half blind tracker with his attention glued to a PALM game could follow -- blood splatters, disturbed dust, cans of beans rolling across the floor kicked out of boredom -- the fact Marek tried to log onto the ether within ten minutes of getting separated made finding the lout child's play.
She surveyed the warehouse the idiot claimed as his own. It wasn't bad, the windows were high enough no one on the street level could spy them, giant machines blocked most views and could be flipped on for distractions. They tried to find Umai first, walking back to the scene of the attack, but only spotted a bit of that orange blood of the kitsunes and a whole lot of problems. It was over two hours before the next shuttle, more than enough time for someone hell bent on getting back his merchandise to come around for another go.
Variel shrieked as the fist of pain pulverized her side, working higher into her ribcage than before. "The floor," she gasped. He lowered her down until she landed with a soft thud onto the the cracked concrete. Cold off the ancient concrete seeped into her enflamed skin.
Taliesin shook open a small emergency light, the green illuminating his face as he turned out his pockets looking for that last syringe. Chomping down on her thumb, Variel managed to bite back the pain as she watched her assassin uncork the syringe. "Stop," she said, waving him off, "I'm fine."