"No! No! Absolutely not!" said Rick, his speech still quick. "You're the whole cause of this! You're the goddamn wrench in the works!" He turned to Geddy. "Do we need him for anything?"
Geddy shrugged. "You were the one who decided to grab him. The orders just said we had to keep the item from him. But I think we should call Scar -"
"Great, then he's dead!" said Rick. He quickly walked to a table and pulled a pistol off it. Dane noticed while craning his neck with both excitement and dismay that his satchel was on the table. Rick walked over to Dane, then put one foot up on the edge of the chair between Dane's legs and then leaned forward, pointing the gun down at Dane's face. "This isn't going to save the deal, but you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this!"
"Wait just a minute," said Dane. "We can talk about this! It's in your best interest not to -"
"Shut up!"
Rick slowly started to pull back on the trigger, feeling the delicious resistance starting to give way.
Then he released pressure, turning away quickly and walking across the room. "No!" he said, tossing the gun on the table. "I want to enjoy this. We're going to do this the right way. Get the chair back up, I want to smell his fear."
Geddy walked over and righted Dane's chair. Rick had already pulled off his shirt. Now he was pulling off his leather pants.
"I'm not sure what you're doing, but I really don't think -" started Dane.
Rick kicked off his pants and Dane tried to look away and ignore the fact that the angry biker was going commando.
"Have you ever seen a wolf up close?" said Rick. "Have you ever seen a predator before it kills? Have you ever felt the fear come off you like delicious perfume?"
"I still think we can find another solution for this," said Dane. "Weighty metaphors aside."
"Have you felt your blood run to ice, some ancient part of your mind freeze up in terror, saying 'run, run', but no part of you follows that command? Have you ever known what it is truly like to become prey?"
Rick reared up, spreading his arms wide. The skin on his muscled arms had already started to move of its own accord, becoming plastic and pliable, muscles rearranging themselves as if rats or worms ran underneath his flesh. Hair began bursting out of his skin. But his face, mutating to a longer frame, was the scariest part. Black animal eyes with a yellow glow overtook Rick's human eyes, as if drops of ink had blotted out the humanity.
"How's it feel," said Rick, his voice deep and guttural, the lipless roar of something inhuman, "to see death in front of you?"
Werehouse
Staring ferocious rage-werewolf death right in the eye, Dane took a moment to compare this to the other near death experiences he had encountered as they flashed before his eyes. He had faced ferocious impossible beasts before, but never while tied to a chair. He had been tied to a chair before, but typically either by thugs or by megalomaniacal villains who just wanted to talk before unveiling their wildly complicated death device that took so long to execute the victim that Dane wondered if boredom was the actual killing mechanism. The thugs had always wanted something and were often dissuaded by low hanging fruit - money, oncoming authorities, or shiny objects. The villains had almost pathologically built flaws into their plan or their devices, so Dane just needed to find the flaw. And he had room to evade the impossible beasts when not restrained. All of those situations had escape mechanisms built into the situation.
But this one didn't. Having never encountered lycanthropes of any sort, he hadn't encountered before a villain that would tie him up, then go crazy monster on him. It didn't even seem sporting. What happened to the Most Dangerous Game? Dane realized that one other problem was that Rick didn't consider himself a villain. Rick just thought he was cleaning up after taking a risk that backfired. No monologue, no delicious death trap. No, Rick was acting more like a thug - all about the business. But Rick wouldn't accept Dane's money, it somehow became personal. The werewolf rage was just a curve ball, in a situation getting worse.
If only he had his hands free or had access to some of his gadgets! While he could not think of a single one of his gadgets off the top of his head which could help him, there was something comforting in having the bag of tricks available to him. He always felt he could rely on a burst of last minute creativity or blind luck as he flung a random object at his enemy and discovered a new and unique way that it miraculously saved his bacon.
Instead, he was tied to a chair and could only watch as the hulking furry beast moved toward him. The wolf's lower jaw hung lazily, drool falling from it on its way to the floor. There was nothing human left in those dark eyes, despite the vaguely humanoid figure he still possessed. There was a horrible stench from him: wet dog, bad breath, and cheap whiskey.
The wolf that was Rick Hellion swung out his massive clawed hand. Not a real attack, more of a playful swipe at an unmoving target. Of course, this would still rake the claws across Dane's chest if it connected. It was meant to draw blood but not kill. The wolf wanted to enjoy this.
Unfortunately, the claws didn't connect with Dane's flesh, only tearing at his jacket. At the last second, Dane pushed his feet down hard on the floor. It was a relatively weak movement due to his position, but it was enough. The chair rocked backward, out of range of the swipe. Then it slammed back on the floor. That was Dane's last play, the only ace in a deck that was now empty. It also painted him in a corner, as he was now flat on his back staring at the ceiling lights. He couldn't even see the beast that would probably eat him now. He had a quick and frightful thought that it might now start by devouring his feet.
Due to his position, Dane heard it all and saw almost nothing. First there was a rumbling noise, like one of the Rebel's motorcycles or a very loud car. Dane could tell that it was coming closer at rapid speed, building to a crescendo. First there was a loud crack as whatever it was struck the wall of the warehouse. Dane saw debris fly over him, dust landing in his face, causing him to cough. Then another hit on the wall, followed by a third collision. Then something tearing - he was pretty sure that was the wall. Then he heard the heavy pounding of footsteps that came into the room, something he hadn't heard since the last time one of Professor Honnenheim's robot squads had attacked. A shadow fell across him as something moved quickly through the room. Then there was a loud sound of metal on not-metal. A wolf - maybe Rick? - whimpered and staggered to the side. Clawed feet scrambled out of the room.
"That was satisfying."
Then a large form loomed above Dane. If there was any doubt of what the heavy footsteps signified, it was now dispelled. Even flat on his back, Dane could see that a heavy robot loomed above him, looking down at him.
The events went differently from Rick Hellion's perspective. He had almost completely embraced his beast, keeping just a small amount of himself above the swirling animal rage so he could savor this kill. His furred form walked with a canine swagger toward his victim. He always felt so much powerful when the beast was riding high. This was how men were supposed to be. This was his true destiny. He wanted this, to always be in this moment, just more intense and more often. More power, more pounding rage, more hot screaming death in his claws and veins.
His wolfish grin now far more wolfish, he swiped his claw at his prey. Just a quick paw at the Funny Guy, nothing serious, just a shallow cut, a rake and a gash. Enough to get him bleeding, enough to get the wonderful smell of delicious blood in the air. When this swipe failed and his prey fell to the floor, rage flooded Rick's veins. Of course the prey wasn't going anywhere, but being thwarted was one of Rick's pet peeves in both human and wolf forms. Nothing pissed him off more than trying to do something and finding that some lame twist of fate denied it to him.
Then came the rumbling. Rick heard the noise before Dane did due to his enhanced hearing. The rumbling wasn't something the wolf had heard before. He knew well the sounds of their bikes and this wasn't one of theirs. He could also feel the approaching heavy footsteps that came with the rumbling. The wolf turned, sta
ring at the wall. Whatever it was, it was coming right at the building. There was no door or entry point on its trajectory. But neither was the heavy rumbling slowing down.
The wall cracked and splintered as a large metal fist punched its way through, spitting dust and debris across the room. The dust irritated the wolf's nose as he looked at this new threat. Nearly the size of a human head, the fist was a dark gray piece of metal, the fingers tightly wrapped into a fist. Then that hand receded and there was a crack elsewhere on that wall where another fist rammed through it. Then a third impact. The fist was pulled back. A second later, the two metal hands grabbed at the newly made holes, using those entrances to tear open the wall.
Deep inside his mind, behind the rage and fury of the beast, Rick the Man wondered just what the hell this was and why this was even possible. But those thoughts were submerged behind the swirling vortex of the beast, barely leashed by his will. The beast didn't know what this thing was, but it knew threats. Threats made sense; it could deal with a threat. The why of it didn't matter to the beast. It just knew it was time to fight.
The thing that pushed itself through that opening was nothing either the beast nor Rick had seen before. Fully seven feet tall, its body was an enormous metal cylinder. There was no head on top of that cylinder. The arms attached to the side of the cylinder, each ending in massive fists. Short stubby legs came out of the bottom, almost ill-suited for the massive bulk that rode above them. Across the front, someone had stenciled in white paint the word: GAURISHAKIR.
The beast paused, not knowing what to make of this threat. In that back room where Rick's memories existed, there was part of him that recognized the basic shape of this. It was as if someone had taken the old boiler from the basement of his elementary school and attached arms and legs to it. In actuality, Rick wasn't very far from the truth, since the chassis for the GAURISHAKIR was essential a boiler.
The robot took the werewolf's moment of confusion as an advantage. It rushed forward, throwing a punch at the wolf. The beast's reflexes were enough that he lifted his claws in an attempt to tear at the robot, but they slipped off the thick metal of the boiler. The robot's fist connected with the wolf's jaw. An involuntary whimper escaped the beast and he staggered backward. Something clicked in the werewolf's mind. Claws were not working, but the threat had no problem hurting him. Definitely bad. Needing to reassess the situation, Rick darted out the door to the rest of the warehouse. He also had to psychologically adapt to having the feeling of having his butt kicked by a piece of heating equipment.
"That was satisfying." The voice that came from the robot was distorted and staticky. Dane knew he recognized it, but the distortion was keeping him from recognizing who owned it.
The massive mechanical automaton turned toward Dane. Using one of its massive fists and surprising precision, it lifted up the chair and set it right. Dane looked up at the massive barrel-shaped form of the robot and its GAURISHAKIR designation. He took a deep breath and hoped this wasn't one of those out of the frying pan and into the fire sort of situations.
"Umm, hello?" said Dane.
"It's me, Dane," came the voice through a cleverly hidden speaker on the robot. Closer to the source, Dane recognized the voice immediately.
"Jaya?" said Dane with shock. "How are you even inside there? I thought you were wounded!"
It was a unique experience hearing a massive robot sigh. Despite the strange technology Dane had encountered, it was a first for him. "I'm not inside here," said Jaya. "I'm operating it remotely."
"Oh, like Honnenheim's machines!" said Dane.
"Yes, except no vid screen," said Jaya's robot. "I'm actually handling all the remote communication with an old smart phone I have wired into this. It was grandfathered into an unlimited data plan. Since they're throttling these old plans, it's not enough bandwidth for video both ways, but enough to control a robot. I may not be getting high speed, but I'm still pushing enough data to pilot a fighting machine from miles away. Joke's on them for offering unlimited data."
"Oh thank goodness you're safe!" called another voice. Dane turned to see Abby making her way through the gaping hole in the wall made by Jaya's robot. She came over to Dane and took out a pocket knife.
"Abby, you're alive!" practically shouted Dane. He lurched against his bonds, trying to hug her and forgetting that he was tied up.
"Of course I'm alive!" said Abby, stepping behind him to use the pocket knife on the ropes which held him to the chair. "Why would you be shocked at that?"
"Well, just because I... uh..." started Dane.
"We had more concern over your wellbeing than her own," said Alastair. He was carefully making his way through the broken hole in the wall. He was dressed in a dark suit with a red sash. He had a leather bag at his waist, smaller than Dane's satchel, but probably containing a fair amount of arcane tricks. Alastair carried an ornate silver knife in his hand, held in a grip that conveyed less "fighting weapon" and more "wand". Behind him came Linda. Her blonde hair tied back, she looked out of place after so many years away from this life, but she was unwilling to give up her friend. Last came the imposing form of Mr. Douglas, wearing his motorcycle gear. He wore a goofy smile that turned up a few notches when he saw Dane.
"You're all here!" said Dane.
"Of course, you went missing!" said Abby. "So I called around trying to find a way to find you! Naturally everyone wanted to help!"
"How did you find me?" said Dane. "I don't even know where I am right now!"
All eyes turned to the GAURISHAKIR robot.
"I put a tracker on you," came the distorted voice of Jaya.
"Why would you -" started Dane.
"Oh, complain about trust and privacy all you want," said Jaya. "But it just saved your life. So let's gloss over any conversation about the ethics of trackers or the conversation we didn't have where I told you I put one on you. Just say, 'thank you for saving me' and then we all promise to smile and nod when you retell this story later and you talk about how it was all your miraculous luck that kept you alive and saved the day."
Linda smiled knowingly while Alastair merely politely averted his glance.
"Thank you for saving me...?" said Dane, but it sounded more like a confused question than actual gratitude.
"When we saw your location was the Riverside dock houses, we tried to figure out who we were facing," said Abby. "I left you dealing with the Thousand Hands, but we knew the Howling Rebels were hanging around Riverside. Ultimately I made an executive decision and decided it was werewolves and bikers. So we did our best to come prepared for them."
"I have come up with a list of possible techniques to assault these lycanthropes, but I have no idea which will actually be effective," said Alastair. "As of yet, I have not had an opportunity to test any of them out. Though I assume that such an opportunity might arrive in the near future." His gaze rested on the door to the room, beyond which they heard shouting and movement. His other hand reached into his bag and pulled out a small skull, too small to be a human's, but similar - maybe a monkey's. His hand gripped it from above, his palm flat against the top of the skull, his hand nervously flexing.
"Let's just get out of here," said Abby, sawing the pocket knife on the last threads of the rope. "I don't think we need any unnecessary conflict."
"I wouldn't mind punching a few more of them after what they did to my garage," said Jaya.
The rope fell away and Dane stood up, rubbing his arms. "We only need one thing. The Sphere!" Across the room was the table that held Dane's satchel, the discarded gun, and the Sphere. Dane took a few steps toward the table, but before he reached it, the door was flung open in his face, knocking him down to the ground.
A reddish-haired werewolf stood in the doorway. He took one look at Dane and the others, then looked at the table. With a quick grab, he took the Sphere. Then he receded from the room with quick speed. Dane was only barely back on his feet.
"That was..." started Abby, barely sure what she sa
w because it happened so fast.
Dane grabbed his satchel from the table. "After him!" he shouted, rushing through the doorway to the next room. His friends followed, Jaya's robot coming last, inadvertently enlarging the doorway with its bulk.
This next room was the main warehouse floor, a large space dotted with old crates, but mostly empty of anything other than enemies. In the room were a few werewolves and half a dozen bikers, still in human form. The wolf that was Rick Hellion stood in the center, holding the Sphere.
"You're not getting away with this!" he said. "You may have screwed everything else up, but we are keeping our profit!"
"I'm still completely willing to pay for it and the identity of your buyer!" said Dane. "Let's make a deal!"
"With you? Never! You'll pay with your blood!" shouted wolf that was Rick. The others began growling, the human bikers hooting in agreement.
This sound was interrupted by a loud bang. The Hellion wolf fell to the ground, the Sphere rolling away from his hand. A silence followed where everyone, both bikers and Dane's friends, looked at Rick's body, expecting him to leap back to his feet, giving a howl of rage or a sarcastic quip. But as they watched, his body laid still. Then their gaze travelled to Linda, who was holding Lyle Matheson's revolver with both hands, smoke curling from its barrel.
She turned to Alastair, still holding the gun in front of her, her arms tense, her breathing trying to slow. Her words were meant to be calm, but they came out weaker than intended. "Silver seems to work."
What followed was a standoff. Rick had been the leader in Scar's absence, but now he laid motionless on the ground. Lacking leadership and suddenly feeling far less invulnerable than they usually did, the werewolves and the bikers behind them were wary and cautious. Though Linda had downed a werewolf, Dane and his friends were also cautious. They didn't want a fight, and they all expected such a fight to go far less poorly than this initial display of strength. Both sides unwilling to make a move, eyes darted around the room. The only sound in the silence of caught breaths and unmoving bodies was the Sphere that was wobbling on the ground, still not having come to rest in its final position after Rick dropped it. It wobbled for what seemed like a long time, its prolate spheroid shape unbalanced. Claws and weapons were raised in readiness, but none were used as everyone was waiting for some unknown cue.
Burning Monday: (Dane Monday 2) Page 19