by Chris Sapp
“Let’s see. Phaelan Lennox,” Durga scrolled through her archive. Izabel had never been wealthy enough to own a slave and now that she had seen first hand how they were treated she really hoped her father hadn’t owned any himself. Pretty much anyone with wealth did. But she really hoped that he didn’t even if it meant that they were out of leads and they had to go back to square one.
“Yes, Phaelan owned two slaves. One male and one female,” read Durga.
Two? Well, at least is wasn’t fucking twenty-four, thought Izabel. So, Durga and the rest of the Giants abused their slaves, that didn’t mean that her daddy had abused his.
“Where are they now?” Roe exhaled smoke through his nostrils.
“Who’s asking? The San Andreas Times?” The Giant fixed her blue gaze on Izabel.
“Yes,” Izabel spoke up “I’m doing a story about what happens to slaves after their wealthy owners die?”
“Oh,” said Durga. “Well, in a case like Phaelan’s when there is no apparent heir, although I’m sure he fathered several bastards throughout the galaxy, the slaves are returned to Terra Gigas.”
“You mean they are returned to you?” Izabel asked.
“Quick one isn’t she, Driskell?”
Izabel looked around and wondered if the two slaves they were looking for were amongst Durga’s twenty-four.
“So, what’d you do with them?” Izabel asked. Trying to keep the hostility out of her voice but not being entirely successful.
“When slaves come back to me, I have two options. I can either buy them at a discounted price or I can sell them. Most slaves are sold at the market but these slaves belonged to someone famous so they had them auctioned off. The auction was two days ago. It’s a shame you missed it.”
“Yeah, pity,” said Izabel.
“Shouldn’t you be writing this down?” asked Durga.
“I have a memory like a Minotaur,” Izabel said.
“Can you tell us who bought the slaves?” Roe asked.
“Attila Graves, he was a huge fan of The Phaes.”
“Shit,” Roe sighed.
“Why do you sound so disappointed?” Durga asked.
“We were hoping we could talk to the slaves. Ask them a few questions.”
“Oh,” Durga laughed, “well that’s up to Attila. They’re his property now. But, he’s got a fight across planet in a few hours. I could get you some VIP passes and arrange a meet and greet.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Roe said.
Durga smiled and then started punching keys on her datapad.
“What did she mean Attila’s got a fight? Who is this guy?” Izabel asked.
“Attila Graves is the meanest Supreme Brawler in the universe,” answered Roe.
“So, this guy’s a major dick?”
“To put it bluntly, yes,” Durga interrupted. “Everything’s all set. You can pick up your passes at the Terra Gigas Coliseum.”
“Thank you, Durga” Roe said.
“Be careful, Driskell. Don’t let this reporter get you into a situation where those death rumors become truth.”
LARKIN
LARKIN WASN’T AFRAID of death, surviving the Morphagen War had conquered that fear. He just didn’t want to die bare foot and wearing nothing but a bath towel. There was a section in Kariah’s Garden on Centropolis that was an outdoor bathhouse for centaurs and the faery fluttering in front of him had forbid him to enter without removing his clothes. His mobicams hadn’t been allowed either. Which was probably for the better, because the ‘verse had already seen him get stabbed in the face by a runt elf. His pride didn’t need to suffer further damage by being forced to parade around in a damn towel.
Magnus Slade had suggested that they meet at the bathhouse for privacy. But Larkin suspected that Magnus just wanted to remind him of his power. The sun was bright and warm on his exposed skin. He resisted the urge to stop floating and walk, because the grass was green and soft as velvet. He spit the excess juices from his chewing tobacco out every chance he got. If he looked right he saw magnificent white and purple flowers that stood nearly three foot tall. Blue butterflies hovered busily around them and to his left were pink and yellow blossoms that were small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. Yellow bumblebees weaved in and out of the green stalks like airboarders swerving around traffic.
He continued to follow the faery, propelling himself through the air, by bouncing from branch to branch. Below him was a shallow stream that grew deeper the further they traveled. Both sides of the stream were thick with trees and the branches seemed to be reaching across the stream for one another, like addicts separated by the unstoppable current of Detox. Part of the charm of Centropolis’s bathhouse was the flute playing faeries. He passed a trio of them fluttering in a nearby tree. The music floating out of their tiny flutes was enchantingly sweet…even through his earplugs. He’d heard that people contemplating suicide had entered the bathing ponds and emerged feeling happier than they ever had. Larkin wasn’t feeling suicidal so much as homicidal. He was severely agitated about the attempt on his life and if he was going to get any answers out of Slade, he had to stay that way. So, he plunged ahead, ignoring the alluring charms as much as possible. It wasn’t easy.
He passed a centaur couple that had succumbed to the desires of their hearts as much as their surroundings. The stallion was taking the mare from behind and she was cooing in ecstasy. Larkin grunted in disgust and he fought the urge to plunge into the water, cannonball style, right next to them. The faery led him towards a natural spring that rested against the side of a small cliff. A waterfall ran down the cliff and into the spring. A ledge lined both sides of the spring like double staircases. As Larkin propelled himself along the ledge he noticed that there was an entrance into the cliff hidden behind the waterfall. The faery hovered at the entrance and motioned Larkin into the darkness. There was no point in the faery trying to talk because the roar of the waterfall would have easily drowned out her small delicate voice. The inside of the cave was dark and very humid. There was a wall to his immediate right but he didn’t dare use it to push off because it was covered with thick green vines that looked suspiciously like Emo Ivy. He bounced off the ceiling and floor instead, traveling deeper into the cave. By the time the waterfall had been reduced to a dull roar he arrived at another spring. Magnus Slade stood in the middle of the spring. The water came up to his knees and Larkin was glad to see that the stallion was also free of clothing. A female slave with four legs extending out from her torso like an insect or sea creature was bathing him with an organic sponge.
“Ah Mr. Grundy, I hope you wanted to meet so you can deliver your end of our agreement,” said Magnus as Larkin floated into the cave.
“The elf runt wasn’t on Nos482 and neither was Phaelan Lennox,” said Larkin.
“I haven’t personally seen Lennox’s body on Nos482. But I assure you it’s there,” Magnus said.
“Oh, there’s a body in the morgue at Security Headquarters and it looks remarkably like Lennox. But it ain’t him and we both know it. If I had to guess I’d say it was a kameleon addict.” Larkin smiled and changed the wad of chew tucked behind his lip with a fresh one. Magnus’s eyes met his and the stallion no longer seemed to be enjoying his bath.
“How do you know this?” Magnus asked.
“Agent Barstow told me. Before I killed her.”
“Agent Barstow?” He was either playing dumb or maybe he really didn’t know about the protection detail that had been placed on the bodies.
“Barstow was investigatin’ the Lennox Barge explosion,” Larkin continued, “and after I examined Phaelan’s body, she and two other vampyrs jumped me. She claimed they were under orders from you.”
Magnus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in what seemed like genuine frustration. Larkin noted that Insect Slave must have been a regular because she stopped bathing him and backed away without having to be told.
“ I hired you to kill an elf, not i
nvestigate dead rockstars,” Magnus growled.
“Yeah, and after watching the datapac of said elf blowing up a tour barge that belonged to said rockstar, I decided that figuring out the connection between the two might help me find her. For my efforts I nearly became vamp shit by people under your employ,” Larkin said.
“You think I setup you up?” Magnus asked.
“It crossed my mind. But then I realized why you would go to the trouble of buying me a new ship just to kill me?”
“You’re right, I didn’t set up you. I just underestimated you. Investigating the bodies is a move I didn’t anticipate,” Magnus said.
“Look, maybe Slade Enterprises killed Phaelan Lennox and used a kameleon addict to cover it up. Maybe they didn’t. Who gives a shit? I sure as hell don’t. But if you told me how your elf is connected, I could find her that much faster and I think it would be in your best interest to share.”
“What are you getting at Grundy?” Magnus asked.
“Driskell and the elf are working together. He stole a blood sample from the barge before the girl blew it up. So, if they don’t already know about Phaelan, they will soon enough.”
“Damnit!” Magnus stomped his hooves as he paced angrily in the water. Larkin waited patiently for the Druglord’s anger to settle.
“I can help if you let me,” Larkin said.
Magnus glared at him. His nostrils flared and the vein in his forehead bulged.
“The elf is Phaelan’s bastard daughter,” Magnus said, “a loose end that refuses to be tied up. If Driskell’s working with her…then he needs to be eliminated as well. Are you up to such a task bounty hunter?”
Kill Driskell? That was something Larkin had been dying to do to do since he and the Fenixborn had first crossed paths during the Morphagen War.
“Name your price,” Larkin said.
KARIAH
EVEN THOUGH KARIAH had awoken in Blair’s arms, it was her husband Magnus she thought of. Today was the day she was going to kill him. No, today was the day they were going to kill him. Killing a Druglord was no easy feat and she couldn’t have done any of it without her wonderful smiling Blair. She looked over at him, intending to watch him sleep and found him awake and smiling.
“Good morning my love,” he said.
“Morning,” she said.
“Are you sure you want to go through with it? We can still turn back,” Blair asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said with complete assurance.
That had been three hours ago in the safety of Blair’s arms and the privacy of his personal living quarters. But now that she was actually here in the greenhouse, she was a nervous wreck. Her gloved hands were trembling and drops of sweat kept appearing on her safety glasses. Plus, she had watered the same bed of green Ivy twice. The door opened and bright Centropolis sun flooded in. A moment later the same sun was blocked by a large shadow. It was Magnus. Her heart raced and she forced herself to calm down. Part of her couldn’t believe that he actually came. She and Blair had lured him to his death on the premise that they had a new form of defense Ivy that they wanted to present. But then again Magnus had a sadistic streak. He always enjoyed seeing a condemned stray attacked by one of her vicious creations.
Kariah instantly recognized the slave that followed Magnus into the greenhouse. It was Crab Legs. The slave that had saved her from the berserk blood oak. She felt guilty for never learning the name of the slave that had saved her life. Apparently, saving the wife of the great Magnus Slade had elevated her status from forest grunt to one of Magnus’ personal slaves. Kariah didn’t know if she should be happy or sad for the poor girl.
“Thank you for coming, I know how busy you are,” she said to Magnus.
“I seriously doubt that,” he said and then his eyes fell on her and he didn’t try to hide the fact that he was ogling her. She tried her best to hide the disgust rising in her gorge.
“So, is this your new defense Ivy?” Magnus asked as he approached the table that Kariah had just finished watering.
“Yes,” Kariah said, as she finished rolling up the hose.
“It doesn’t look new,” Magnus said. “In fact it looks like your last Ivy creation, the one they used for the Crucible.”
Magnus had an excellent memory and she knew it. He was just pretending like he couldn’t remember to get under Kariah’s skin.
“Emo Ivy,” she answered through a clenched jaw.
“Emo Ivy. That’s it,” said Magnus.
Kariah looked away when she heard the familiar clanking of what sounded like metal shackles. Blair sporting a matching lab coat, gloves, and safety glasses, entered the greenhouse with their test subject. A naked stallion that made the detox list just this morning. Blair had informed Magnus that they would need a condemned stallion to test their new Ivy on. It was a reasonable request and an easy one to fulfill. Hundreds of centaurs made the detox list everyday. The stallion had tried robbing a bank to pay for his morphagens and had been shot in the process. His wound was bleeding through the bandage. Blair forced the condemned centaur to the floor.
“I assure you Lord Slade,” said Blair, “although this Ivy may look similar to Emo Ivy. It is indeed very different.”
“How so?” Magnus asked.
“Well, the defense mechanisms in Emo Ivy are triggered by emotions,” Blair explained, “where the defense mechanism in this variety of Ivy is trigged by smell.”
“Smell?” Magnus asked.
“Well, body odor to be exact. I hope everyone has visited the bathing ponds recently,” Blair laughed and Magnus took a cautious step back from the Ivy.
“I’m kidding Lord Slade,” said Blair, putting a reassuring hand on Magnus’ shoulder. “We can get as close to this Ivy as we want and it won’t harm us.” Blair leaned forward into the bed of Ivy, taking Magnus with him. Their faces were inches from the twisted vines. Kariah had to keep a smile from forming on her face. Blair’s performance was absolutely perfect.
“Now, the Ivy will respond to body odor but we’ve tailored it to only respond to a specific type of body odor,” said Blair.
“Which is?”asked Magnus.
“A centaur under distress of detox,” Blair said, gesturing at the condemned stallion.
“Interesting,” mused Magnus, “Show me.”
“Of course sir,” said Blair.
Both centaurs stood and turned away from the table. Blair crossed to the test subject. But when Magnus started to step away two thick vines of Ivy lashed out and quickly wrapped themselves around his throat. Magnus gagged and tried to pull the Ivy away from his neck but defensive thorns sprouted out of the vine, piercing Magnus’ fingers and his throat. He tried to yell in agony but it was crushed by the strength of the vines.
“Magnus!” yelled Kariah.
Blair turned at the sound of her scream. His eyes widened and he galloped forward. He unsheathed the knife on his hip.
“No! Stay back Kariah. It’s too dangerous,” Blair shouted when Kariah rushed forward to help. Tears streamed down her face. Crying had come much easier than she thought it would. Kariah began to worry when Crab Legs skittered forward to help Blair. But the vines were two inches in diameter and covered in razor sharp thorns. Their attempt to free Magnus was feeble at best. Blood streaked down Magnus’ chest staining his light colored tunic. The color was draining from his face. The cords in his neck bulged as they desperately tried to pump oxygen to his brain. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.
“Hurry Blair!” yelled Kariah. Her outward concern feinting the joy she felt inside. The Great Magnus Slade was finally going to die.
Then Crab Legs snatched the knife out of Blair’s hand and kicked the centaur aside with her powerful mutated legs. Kariah watched in stunned silence as Crab Legs freed her master with two quick slashes of Blair’s dagger. Purple blood spewed forth out of the severed stumps. It was acidic and burned everything it touched, like Magnus’s back and the slave’s exposed hand. Another one of Blair’s wonderful addit
ions.
Sensing, that the plant was under attack, a fresh wave of vines snaked forward. Nothing in the galaxy could have prepared Kariah for what happened next. Crab Legs morphagen into a spitting image of Magnus Slade. She yanked the real Magnus out of the way and met the approaching vines head on. Magnus folded his fronts legs under him and dropped to the floor, coughing violently. Then just as the vines were about to wrap themselves around the fake Magnus, Crab Legs morphed into a third person. Kariah’s jaw dropped open at the sight of this third transformation. It was Vi. Magnus’ most loyal soldier and protector. Vi was never a vampyr. She had been a kameleon the whole time. The vines froze in mid air like a confused animal because their target had suddenly vanished. Vi strolled over to Magnus who was angrily pulling the severed vines away from his neck and tossing them across the room. They impacted the wall, leaving a burning blotch of purple blood.
“Magnus, are you all right?” asked Kariah kneeling next to her husband. She didn’t know what else to do. She had no idea if Crab Legs had ever been real or if she had been Vi in disguise the entire time. Her stomach turned to knots at the thought.
“Your fucking Ivy just tried to kill me. What the fuck do you think?” Magnus asked.
“Lord Slade, I’m—
“I don’t want an apology chemist,” Magnus barked, “I want an explanation.”
“I can’t, my Lord,” said Blair.
“Try. Your life depends on it,” The fact that Magnus was kneeling on the ground, did nothing to diminish the thousand yard stare he gave Blair.
“Perhaps, I can offer an explanation,” Vi said.
“What do you know about genetic manipulations?” scoffed Magnus as he got to his feet. He removed his tunic, saw that it was ruined and tossed it on the floor. The holes in his neck were still bleeding and now the blood ran down his bare chest. Kariah tenderly inspected them and to her surprise Magnus let her.
“The thorns weren’t poisoned were they?” he asked.