by Marc Mulero
Volaina nodded in approval, pushing her mop around with purpose.
“One of your boys stole the schematics for us. Rodest had it built, and I’ll have the manpower ready when it’s used. We’re in danger of becoming an efficient unit.” He grinned.
She rested her hands over the wooden pole. “Look around you. We’re more than a unit now. This is a small city. Time does strange things.”
Drino’s scars stretched as he scowled. It was painful for him to see Volaina so weak. Sensitivity was not his strong suit. “We’re gaining ground, Volaina. If it weren’t for the pussies needing rest, I wouldn’t have stopped home to take a day’s break. Melissa hits the southern states while I take the northern. Word is spreading. The Sins are no longer the vile. We’re protectors now.”
He clenched his fists together with excitement. “I gotta say, it’s good to see you back on your feet, commander. Your team is awaiting your return.”
Volaina sighed before saying, “The commander you knew died in the Dome, Drino. That life is over for me. I will carry my weight in other ways now.”
“Abandoning your post? That’s not the woman I know…”
She peered up at him, judging with tired eyes. This man was everything that had left her.
His hair was perfectly combed to the side and his body was a solid connection of muscles under old wounds. The deep-set scars upon his face evoked fear from even the greatest of warriors and his manner demanded obedience. He was a hardened war hero and a cold-blooded murderer, all in one.
“We all change, friend. Look at you, the man that gave families nightmares during times of war. You’ve parted children from their parents and crushed their skulls for kicks. Now you’re here, protecting everything that you used to destroy. You’ve found peace in your own twisted way. Let me find mine.”
Drino grunted. “Death’s coming to me, I know. I spear that fuck in the chest every day so I can get a head start on killing my old brothers. I’m going to free as many civilians as I can before that bastard catches up with me. You’re supposed to be in the shadows aiding me, soldier.”
Volaina’s shoulders grew heavier with every taunt.
“You’re really going to let Melissa top me? She has that gem-wearing daisy guiding her the whole way through. I could use an edge, too.”
I grow tired. My body is rejecting all of this pressure, all of this pull. I think I have to leave this place and find my own way. This isn’t going to stop. My reputation is making sure of it.
Volaina smiled wearily, before walking over to Drino and lifting her gaze to the man who dwarfed her.
“Thank you. This helped me find some clarity.” She squeezed his bicep and patted it before turning to leave.
I have to make amends, once and for all.
He looked at her with a narrowed eye, confused because she appeared more depressed than before.
She slowly made her way back to the crowded hall, dodging working bodies to find Cherris.
The matriarch waited with concern, fixated on the being that moved a little slower than the rest. “What is it, my dear?” She stepped forward, grasping cold hands under her shawl.
“I request a leave from my duties. I need personal time, if you’ll allow it.”
“Volaina, I’m not your bos-” Cherris began to respond, and then thought better of the former spy’s fragile state. She firmed. “Yes, you may take all the time you need.”
Volaina bowed graciously. She carefully put her supplies away, neatly storing the items in their respective places. “Thank you, Cherris, for everything.”
The matriarch’s brow creased with unease. There was nothing to say. Volaina had protected this mansion since the Sins overtook it. If she had cause to leave, then that’s what she should do, uninfluenced by any worries a civilian may have.
Now begins a new chapter.
Volaina made her way back to her private quarters. She shut the door behind her and moped toward a closet that she’d forbidden herself from touching since she first arose from her bed. Her fingers hesitantly punched in the code and the doors unhatched. A spy suit loomed at the wardrobe’s center. It was the furthest item of clothing resting up against the wall. It stung to see it. She used to rip down the uniform with pride, but now it evoked pain. It was a tombstone for her old self. Some may see it and remember greatness, but to her, it was just a stark reminder of failure.
She scoffed and shuffled through the closet, picking tarnished pieces of armor that she’d gathered from the past and shoved them into a duffle bag.
After a long sigh, she grabbed the keys to her motorcycle and was off.
You can do this, Volaina. You will find release. You just have to go undercover one more time to get it.
Biljin and Melissa stood before a massive mob, just three days after a great victory. Sin, Rogue, and Dactuar fighters had been hard at work and Hiezer pressure points were pushed to the brink. Quartermasters from around the globe were taken if they’d surrendered, and killed if resisted. Hiezer flags were yanked down from their posts. One by one, bases were overthrown. The façade was done. The Grand City of Nepsys was nearly closed in on, surrounded by the very citizens it was built to rule. It was only a matter of time before the Sin rebellion marched to the Gates of Eternity.
“Yuck,” a familiar hunter’s voice came through radio. “Blague redirected me to you and your high and mighty perfume.”
Biljin arched an eyebrow and couldn’t help but smirk. “Sabin. I’ve been wondering when you would crawl out from your cave.”
“Oh, I’ve been out. You know, always fighting while you’re what… what is it that you do? Sit? Yeah, that sounds about right, while you’re sitting,” he cleared his throat mockingly, “your excellence.”
A snort came through the Champion’s nose, followed by a laugh.
Biljin spoke through his grin, “The crowd awaits. Drino’s forces, the Dactuar Crescent, Sins, Rogues. The whole world is becoming mutinous. And they’re… here.” He paused to eye the horde.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sabin’s voice echoed both through radio and from behind where the genius was stationed. “I can see that.”
Biljin clicked off his device and turned around to see the hunter smiling wide.
“My bald friend.” He extended a hand, then shifted. “Melissa, good to see you on better terms.” Mars barked in agreement.
Biljin eyed him curiously. “So then, Blague broke silence?”
Sabin nodded. “Oh yes. Don’t worry, the Sins won’t have to follow some lame imposter too much longer,” he looked over at Melissa and thumbed toward Biljin. “We will be seeing our fearless leader again soon.”
“Oh, well in that case, the stage is yours, overlord,” Biljin replied.
The hunter’s lips curved inward. “Uhh… hmm. I may have mislabeled you earlier. Hm yes, I think so.”
“Hah. You had it right. I am just some ‘lame imposter.’”
“No, I insist, interim commander of the Sins.”
Biljin rejected, as Sabin turned to Melissa. “Champion of the Dactuars?” he questioned in a high pitch.
“No, no. There are few Dactuars here. These Sins know not of my presence. Most of them walk on the mainland for the first time. The citizens that abandoned their homes here are of the Terra and Templos. The Old Americas need a face that they know.” She gestured for him to take the stand.
Sabin blew air from his mouth like a horse and slumped his head. “I’d ask Drino, but uhh, we don’t need another dictator.”
They shared a laugh.
“Alright, alright. C’mon Mars, keep me company up there.”
Sabin nonchalantly kicked his feet as he walked up the stage, looking to the floor to avoid the eager eyes in hopes to down play his nerves. This was every willing body of the not-so-free world after all. That was a lot of pressure. How was he, the jokester, supposed to encourage them to take their freedom back? Oof.
Mars didn’t see it that way though. His tail wagged happily at the sig
ht of Drino along with his squadrons out in the crowd. Familiar faces. And then some not so familiar ones: new Sin soldiers pointing and whispering about the Rogues’ new spearhead and the Sins’ old friend, who was about to address the crowd.
“Hi,” Sabin waved his hand leisurely to the enormous mob. “Hey,” he winked and pointed to a few, keeping the situation as light as he could. The more serious citizens expressed concern and irritation, but the hunter’s smile was bright. “Okay, okay, settle down with the chatter folks.”
Eyes began to focus with mouths drawn shut. Sabin had the stage.
“So Blague’s not here to give you that encouragement that resonates with us all whenever he speaks, so… um… sorry for that. Aldarian, my father, is no longer with us to give the comfort of his master plans. Damn bastard. Obviously, there are better people than me who should be up here giving this speech, but they gave their lives for this fight. Briggs, Lito, and even that mope Eugene. These men were my friends. More importantly, they were founders of this movement. You would all be wise to learn their history. In the honor of these brave souls, I stand before you, ready to accomplish what they set out to.” He paused, taking in the silence of the audience that stood below him. “The Hiezers will fall. Not years from now. Not months. Not even weeks. Tomorrow, my friends, the Hiezers will fall.”
The first cheer ever shouted on Sabin’s behalf was loud. He took his first deep breath of excitement, feeling the rush of those he bled with looking to him for guidance.
“We have the numbers. And for the first time in history, we have the balls. Sorry ladies, but we all need a brass set today.” He smirked at the crowd’s chuckles. “New maps are being drawn, ones with fewer symbols of the mighty. Their strongholds have been taken. No more cold-blooded executions. No more confinement or exile. And no more Quarantine!”
The crowd cheered again. Parents roared the loudest, optimistic for their children’s futures.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please,” his voice lowered. “This is never going to work… if you don’t know your neighbors. Look around you. We have so much to learn from one another. I was raised as a Templos, served the elite in adulthood, and grew into a Sin at heart. It’s time to let titles melt away as we band together. We all have much to gain from one another, and much to overlook. There is a greater cause at play here and you’ve all experienced it now. Mulderan and Eldra are our enemies. They are the masterminds that took our families, that keep us awake when we try to rest, that make us unite when death knocks. They must not be forgiven. The Hiezers’ debt to its citizens has come due. It’s time to collect. In the words of our great Commander Drino, ‘Buckle up, pussies, hell ain’t gonna fill itself!’”
Roars of enthusiasm ensued. It was glorious! So much so that Sabin turned back to Biljin and Melissa, his eyes bulging in an obvious expression that said, “I can’t believe I just pulled that off.”
Both smirked at his goofiness while raising their hands higher, to show that they, too, were joining in on the applause.
Drino on the other hand had no time for this. He wanted to take the torch that Sabin just ignited and run with it. He shouted amidst the newcomers in an attempt to get them into orderly lines. “This is no blundering militia, motherfuckers, you’re not wielding pitchforks. Get the fuck in line!”
Discipline had to be taught if they were going to storm the greatest city ever known.
While Drino worked, Sabin scanned the crowd - his mind on one thing and one thing only.
Oy, where is she? I can’t believe I didn’t ask Blague when I had the chance. Fear got the better of me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But there’s no way she could have fallen… no freaking way. She’s too great an assassin for any of that.
I’ll find you again, Lesh, if it kills me.
Chapter 19
Dendrid returned to the Sin mansion to face the exiled in a new light. A glorious one. For this time, he wasn’t hiding innocent bodies behind walls, but instead presenting guilty ones as trophies… Hiezers, all of them. He was finally paying for his sins in armored weight.
Just the thought of this brief trip sent euphoric tingles shooting through his crooked fingers, his long toes, even his loins. And yes, if he could be so lucky, was even granted a reward - symphony.
Well deserved, after all. He’d overthrown an entire fortress – the Dome – albeit far less guarded than the Sins’ previous encounter, but still. Glory to the rebellion! And what’s better, the name “Dendrid” was beginning to strike a different chord.
“I haven’t bled in combat since I was a child.” He glared down at the boy walking beside him, feeling a twisted connection with him through the act of death-dealing. “It,” he took a long, satisfying breath, “it is exhilarating.”
“You’re sick.” Milos scoffed.
But Dendrid ignored him and just kept on. “Oh those Hiezers… coming in their formidable numbers,” he cackled, “they tried,” he emphasized his wounded arm of muscle twisted around bone, “but were unprepared nonetheless.”
Milos only shook his head and looked away from the madman. “You know my friend hates me because I helped free you.” He looked back up at him, waiting for a reaction. “But even though you’re clearly insane, I still think I did the right thing. You got us another home. Everyone tells me the Sins were starving in Old Naples, and now they’re not. I… I did the right thing.”
Dendrid sniffed in amusement. “Guilt. Such a useless toy.”
“Toy? Well, then what brought you back to us, hm? Must’ve been some sort of guilt.”
The killer gargled in the worst way, like a demon laughing while it choked to death. “No, no. What’s right is right, boy. I pay for my wrong doings, tipping the scale back to even. I look for a home free of prison. There is no guilt. Only promise.”
The curved blades stacked on his back clattered against one another while he roamed about the mansion, refilled fluids in his IV bag swishing around too. People still stared because his presence was endlessly weird, but this time around, they weren’t cowering. Could this be a chance at redemption? A way for things to look up for the Mentis Shade?
“Well even if you feel nothing, you still have to help me make things right with Kentin.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh! You should have never raised your blade to him. You need to apologize.”
“Apologize,” Dendrid pronounced the word oddly, like he’d never spoken it before. “Alright, boy. I will make amends on your behalf, and then another scale will be balanced. You helped me out of prison, I put your friend’s troubles to rest.”
Milos smirked. “Deal.”
“Yes.”
They walked in silence for a moment, letting the words settle.
“Blague is back apparently,” Milos announced.
“Is he now? I wonder… is that where you’re taking me?” The phantom orchestra reduced to a dull hum so he could better hear the kid.
“Cherris says he comes with news. I hope it’s about Lesh.”
“The knife woman?”
“Yes, her.”
“I, too, hope she is well. It’s not often someone can step to me.”
Milos scoffed again. “She would bury you.”
“Yes, maybe. And then again, maybe not.
“Hmm,” the Shade pondered. “The last time I faced your leader, he confined me to a cell. Maybe it would be best to give him the news of my freedom before I just march out there.”
Now it was Milos’s turn to laugh. “Blague knows you’re free, I’m sure. Even if he didn’t, he would trust the Sins’ decision.”
“So… this is what it feels like to be accepted,” he sneered. “Unsettling. At any moment they could turn on me. I’d almost rather animosity. It’s easier to read, easier to gauge,” he said, peering around at the Sins casually walking by.
Strange. This is much like the agreement I had with the Vacals fleeing Quarantine back in that truck. Mutual benefit. Trade. Their transport in exchange for my protection. Is tha
t what this is? Does destiny point my blades toward atonement? He twitched. No more Hiezer dictation.
Milos looked at him curiously. “You’re weird.”
“What does that make the boy willing to accompany me?” Dendrid’s smoker’s voice quipped.
He resumed his observation of the people around him at work. It was difficult for him to resist determining the fastest way to slash through the crowd. Exposed necks, weak limbs, vital arteries; these were his automatic switches. Like a hungry wild animal, it was almost impossible to dial it back.
The two approached the grand back doors, where Sin fighters waited and stared at the tall man glaring back through hooded eyes.
“Sins are less restricted than the Hiezers. Their eyes have life in them yet, however naïve that may be. Whereas the elites… well, they are drunk with power and rigid from supremacy.”
Milos shoved Dendrid to the side, wounded arm first. The killer only smiled as he swayed into the motion, losing no sense of balance from the intended push.
“Hope is a hard thing to keep after experiencing loss. You would be smart not to belittle our efforts,” Milos scolded, sounding wise beyond his years.
The Mentis Shade’s laugh didn’t sit well with Milos. It was menacing, too much so.
“Alright, alright,” Dendrid offered a hint of respect after the humor left his voice. “Fair enough.”
The large entryways were unhinged and drawn open by the guards, who stood at attention for the revered youngster to pass. It wasn’t so long ago that these very same men used to rub Milos’ hair and kneel down to address him. But that time had long gone. Now everyone knew he was the prodigy of a fierce killer – Lesh, and he now stood beside the Mentis Shade. There was almost cause to fear the boy.
“He has returned, Milos,” one of the guards said, holding the door. “But I haven’t seen her.”
Milos’ lips pursed into a hard line, and a knot formed in the pit of his stomach as a flood of thoughts suddenly piled in. Oosnie was gone, Kentin was angry at him, and Lesh hadn’t returned. He looked up to the Mentis and felt a longing like never before. As much as he identified with the killer, he certainly did not want to become him.