by Jake Bible
Roak put three plasma blasts into the man’s side and most of his torso disintegrated into ash and pulp.
The only sound was Yellow Eyes snickering over by the tavern entrance. The creature hadn’t moved a muscle to join in either side of the fight.
“You better be sure she’s dead, Roak, or I will tear your arms off and shove them up your ass,” Taps said as he came out from behind the bar. He offered Roak the Flott and Roak took it, handing the thug’s plasma rifle to Taps.
“She’s dead,” Roak said and turned to face Bvsho. “Tell him.”
“She is dead,” Bvsho said, not having moved at all from where he’d last stood.
He looked calm, but Roak could see his whiskers twitching. Odds were the guy had a tail tucked into that cheap suit and it wanted to be free so it could flick back and forth over and over.
“Then time for you to die too,” Taps said and lifted the plasma rifle.
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Bvsho said and a purple stream of light emitted from the buckle of his belt.
Roak dove to the ground and Taps roared with pain. Roak barely managed to catch a glimpse of Taps’ fate as he rolled onto his back and watched the huge Urvein turn into falling particles of purple light.
“Piece of shit,” Roak said and shot both of Bvsho’s kneecaps off.
The Cervile screeched and fell face first onto the tavern’s floor.
“You use a molecular disruptor on a living being? What kind of sick fuck are you?” Roak shouted as he scrambled to his feet, crossed to Bvsho’s still-screeching body, and kicked the Cervile square in the face. “Huh? You think you’re a monster? Super tough guy?”
Roak kicked the Cervile again and again until Bvsho stopped screeching and only lay there moaning.
Something streaked past Roak and wrapped itself around Bvsho. The Cervile’s screeches started up again.
“Sweet bloody Hells,” Roak said as he yanked an infuriated Yellow Eyes off the bookie. Roak held the wriggling mass of rage up and away from him. “No killing the bastard until I get answers, got it?”
The wriggling mass of arms and legs froze in mid-wriggle. Those huge eyes blinked then Yellow Eyes nodded once.
“Gonna let you down. You gonna be cool?” Roak asked. Yellow Eyes nodded. “Good.”
Roak set the creature down. It sprang back on top of the moaning Cervile.
“Eight Million Gods dammit,” Roak snapped as he pulled Yellow Eyes off once more. “I will kill you.”
Yellow Eyes froze in mid-wriggle again then relaxed until he was nothing but a bunch of dangling limbs. Roak walked the creature over to a table that wasn’t overturned and set him down on top.
“Stay,” Roak ordered. Yellow Eyes didn’t move a muscle. He stayed.
“Time for a talk, Bvsho,” Roak said as he returned to the wounded and crying bookie. “Can you guess what we’re going to talk about?”
“Bishop,” Bvsho grunted. “I ain’t talking.”
“Then I should kill you now,” Roak said.
“No, no, wait, don’t,” Bvsho pleaded.
“Why? If you ain’t gonna talk, then what good are you to me?” Roak asked. He went and found a chair, brought it over, spun it around, then sat down with his arms folded across the back, his Flott resting against one bicep. “Bvsho? I just asked you an important question. You might want to answer it.”
“If I talk, they’ll know,” Bvsho said and tapped at his temple. Even that movement seemed to cause the Cervile agony and he whimpered in pain. “They’re listening and watching right now.”
“Then they know you just played some of your cards,” Roak said. “The smart thing would have been to keep me thinking it was just you and me having a nice, private chat. You did not do the smart thing, Bvsho. Your bosses know that now. You’re dead either way.”
“No, I make good bank for them,” Bvsho argued. “They’ll keep me alive for that. Might get a brand seared into my ass, but they’ll keep me alive. Earners earn, Roak.”
“Keep my name out of your mouth,” Roak said and slammed the toe of his boot into Bvsho’s forehead. “The only name that you are gonna speak from here on out is Bishop’s. Where is he?”
“Don’t know,” Bvsho replied.
“You sure about that?”
“Come on, Ro… Come on. I ain’t gonna tell you where Bishop is even if I did know. But I can say that I don’t. That’s the honest truth.”
“The honest truth?”
“The honest truth.”
“Who does know?” Roak asked as he shifted his Flott so the barrel was pointing down directly at the spot between the bookie’s eyes. “Think carefully before you answer.”
“No one on Ballyway knows where Bishop is,” Bvsho said. “He made sure of that.”
“Who made sure of what?” Roak asked.
“Bishop. Anyone that knew too much about his operation is dead,” Bvsho said. “I placed bets for the guy, but I didn’t know squat about where he lived or did his business. He let me live.”
“You’re saying Bishop cleaned house here on Ballyway? Killed all his contacts?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what he did. Bodies kept showing up left and right, front and center,” Bvsho said. “Only connection my people could find was Bishop.”
Roak stared hard at the trembling Cervile then shook his head.
“Wasn’t Bishop,” Roak said, mainly to himself.
“Sure it was. We checked. We double-checked.”
“Did you triple-check?” Roak asked. Bvsho only stared up at him. “That was sarcasm, idiot.”
“Oh.”
“So your people checked and found that everyone dead had some connection to Bishop,” Roak said. “You ever think that maybe there was another party on Bishop’s tail and they killed those beings the same way I’m going to kill you? You know, Bvsho, in order to cover one’s tracks and also to make sure that I can’t get the same intel out of them that they got?”
“When you say it that way, yeah, maybe that’s what happened,” Bvsho mumbled. “They’re still dead.”
“But you’re alive,” Roak said. “Dammit.”
“I got lucky,” Bvsho said.
“Not really,” Roak said and obliterated Bvsho’s head with a squeeze of the Flott’s trigger. “More like useless.”
Roak stood up and took a moment to check himself over. The stun blasts had left discolored patches on his armor, but that was about it. His body felt sore, but he was fine otherwise. He’d be even more sore tomorrow once the adrenaline had worn off and he wished he had a tub of that secret concoction of Ally’s.
Roak quickly pushed any thought of Ally out of his head. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
“They’ll be coming,” a deep voice said from the entrance.
Roak looked over and Yellow Eyes was back at his post.
“What was that?” Roak asked.
Yellow Eyes tapped at his head over and over.
“They’ll be coming,” he said again. “Fat cat’s boss will be sending more thugs to kill you.”
The creature blinked and swallowed hard.
“Kill us both,” Yellow Eyes added then moved faster than Roak could track.
Like a yellow blur, the creature rushed around the tavern then returned to his post. But, unlike before, the creature had a weapon clutched in each stick hand.
“Ready,” Yellow Eyes said.
“No point in getting yourself killed,” Roak said. “I’m done here. You should leave when I do. Stick around and whoever you think is coming will tear you apart.”
“My job is here,” Yellow Eyes said just as the entire entrance wall exploded around him.
Roak went soaring through the air and hit the far wall with enough force to crack the faux brick. Then it all went dark.
8.
“Wake up!”
Roak’s eyes popped open as searing pain exploded under his fingernails.
“There you are,” a woman’s voice announced. “Awake, awake
, awake.”
“Ms. Lika? Please step away from our guest.”
“Got him awake.”
“I can see that.”
“Want me to wake more of him up?”
“Not right at this moment, but thank you.”
“I’ll stand over here.”
“Yes, you do that.”
“Got my stickers for waking.”
“Excellent. I appreciate the preparedness.”
“Always prepared to stick and wake.”
“Which is why I keep you around. Now, please, allow me my chance to speak with our guest.”
“Yes, sir.”
Roak had been taking in all the words, but not really comprehending them. The fact that he had no less than thirty small needles embedded under the fingernails of his right hand was keeping most of his attention.
“Mr. Roak? Over here. Mr. Roak?”
Roak swiveled his head and stared at the most boring-looking man he’d ever seen. Human, but not even five and a half feet tall, pale skin, shit-brown eyes, wispy hair on a head that was speeding towards bald. The boring man wore brown slacks, a brown button-up shirt, with same colored vest over it, and brown-framed glasses. Glasses. In a time of ocular implants and med pods. Glasses.
To add to the image, the man had a tiny little mustache that looked more accidental than intentional.
“I’m Wendell,” the boring man said. “It is nice to finally meet the famed Mr. Roak.”
“Roak.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Just Roak. No mister.”
“I prefer to be formal and polite when I meet someone for the first time,” Wendell said.
“I prefer not having needles under my fingernails. You can call me mister all you want if you take these needles out of my fucking fingers.”
“I’m afraid they must stay.”
“Then call me mister again and I’ll slice your balls off and feed them to…” Roak looked over at a lithe, tall woman with bright pink skin and huge blue eyes. Roak had no idea what race she was, but he knew her name. “Ms. Lika was it? I knew a Lika once. Lipian whore. She’s dead.”
“Did I kill her?” Ms. Lika asked.
“Uh… No,” Roak replied.
“Too bad,” Ms. Lika said with a shrug. She pointed at Wendell. “I won’t eat his testicles, so do not attempt to feed them to me. I’m vegetarian.”
“Good to know,” Roak said.
“Roak?” Wendell asked, calling attention back to himself. “You killed some of my employees. I’m displeased with that action. In order to maintain my status as lieutenant here on Ballyway, I have to harm you in a way that is seen as equal compensation for the loss of those employees.”
“Gotta keep the bosses happy,” Roak said.
“Yes, quite,” Wendell replied. “But I am reluctant to harm the famed Roak.”
“Not so famous,” Roak said. “Just a guy with a job to do.”
“You’re being modest,” Wendell replied. “Please don’t. It wastes our time together.”
“Wouldn’t want to do that.”
“You see, Roak,” Wendell continued. “In order for the scales to balance, I have to kill you multiple times. That is what Ms. Lika is here for. She is a savant when it comes to torture. She can kill you and bring you back as many times as I need her to.”
“I’m that good,” Ms. Lika said. “I am.”
“Your parents must be so proud,” Roak said.
“I killed and ate them,” Ms. Lika replied. “I wasn’t vegetarian then.”
Roak didn’t respond to that. He felt it best not to comment on that one.
“I will need to create a holo of your torturous deaths and miraculous resurrections, of course,” Wendell said. “Except, considering your reputation, I have a feeling you will figure out a way to survive your final death. Then you will kill me and most likely kill Ms. Lika.”
“I can’t die,” Ms. Lika said as if she was saying she had arms or legs. A childlike statement that sent a chill down Roak’s spine.
“We all die, Ms. Lika,” Wendell responded with some impatience and disdain. Roak surmised it was not the first time they’d discussed the subject.
“So, your problem is you need to kill me multiple times for your bosses, but you’re afraid that will take too long and I’ll find a way to escape,” Roak stated. “Which leaves me where?”
“I will be forced to kill you once and only once,” Wendell said. “Unfortunate for me, but possibly merciful for you.”
“Not seeing why you are telling me this,” Roak said.
“Well, and I would consider this a huge favor, would it be possible for you to try to put up a fight? Maybe attack Ms. Lika so she has no choice but to kill you outright?” Wendell asked.
Roak waited for the laughter. Guys like Wendell always tried to pretend they were serious with crazy requests like that then simply ordered Roak to die. He’d been in similar situations more times than he could count. But Wendell didn’t laugh or take back his request.
“Hold up. You’re serious?” Roak asked. “You are going to kill me and you not only want me to do you a favor, but you want me to be complicit in my own death?”
“Yes, quite,” Wendell replied.
“Ms. Lika? Does that sound sane to you?” Roak asked.
“I don’t understand the question,” Ms. Lika replied.
“Fair enough,” Roak said.
“So, do we have a deal, Roak?” Wendell asked.
“Sure,” Roak said.
“We do?” Wendell looked honestly surprised.
“Ms. Lika appears to be very good at her job and as much as I’d love to get to know her, I think the shorter our time together, the better,” Roak said. He looked down at himself and acknowledged that he was stripped down to only his underwear. “Besides, I’m cold.”
“It is so refreshing to hear that you aren’t going to fight me on this,” Wendell said. “You see, Roak, I came into this business as an accountant.”
“You don’t say,” Roak replied, his eyes locked on Ms. Lika, studying her every twitch and breath.
“It’s true,” Wendell continued. “I have had to prove my worth to my bosses again and again because I did not rise through the ranks of violent station gangs like they did. I am constantly being tested to see if I have what it takes to continue as a lieutenant. Hardly fair I should be penalized for my education.”
“So, this fake attack of mine is going to be hard to do with my wrists bound as they are,” Roak said. “Also, being tied to this chair is restricting the Hells out of my mobility.”
“Yes, we shall take care of that right now,” Wendell said. “I will turn on the holo recorder while Ms. Lika undoes your restraints. Please wait until she is finished before attacking her. I would hate for you to have an unfair advantage.”
“That would be a shame,” Roak said.
“Right. Well, here we go,” Wendell said. “Ms. Lika?”
“Do I kill him as soon as he moves or pretend to fight him off for a while?” Ms. Lika asked.
“If you can stretch it out, then please do,” Wendell said. “But only so long as it does not put you in any harm. You are very valuable, Ms. Lika.”
The woman tittered at the compliment.
“Can we get on with it?” Roak snapped.
Wendell frowned, but said nothing. He nodded to Ms. Lika then swiped at his wrist, apparently activating whatever holo recorder the bare room was equipped with.
Ms. Lika produced a knife from one of many pockets she wore on her cargo pants and cut the restraints that held Roak to the chair. Then she cut his wrists free. Roak went for her without any prompting. He found himself upside down and flying across the room. His back hit the wall and he slid head first to the floor.
“Shit,” he muttered. He didn’t see Ms. Lika set up for the toss, let alone the action of actually throwing him. That wasn’t good.
“Roak, please do not resist!” Wendell cried with such bad acting skills th
at Roak was fairly certain the man was going to get killed by his bosses just for the horrible performance.
“Please resist,” Ms. Lika said. She wasn’t acting as she strode over to Roak and lifted him off the floor. Then he was flying again and colliding with the opposite wall.
Roak scrambled to stay alert. Instinctively, he jammed his tortured hand into his mouth and plucked six needles out with his teeth. Then he tucked the needles up against the inside of his cheek as Ms. Lika came for him again. Roak tried to take a swing at her, but he missed spectacularly and found himself with his face jammed up against the wall and his arm pinned behind his back.
“Pressure,” Ms. Lika said and lifted his arm up until Roak screamed. There was a loud pop and Roak’s shoulder came out of its socket. Roak screamed again. “Pressure, pressure, pressure.”
Ms. Lika spun Roak around and had a knife point aimed at his left eye.
“Plucky,” she said.
“We’re thinking alike,” Roak responded.
That confused Ms. Lika enough that she paused for a split second, giving Roak time to spit the needles from his mouth directly into the woman’s eyes.
“See,” Roak said as Ms. Lika screeched and stumbled back away from Roak, her fingers clawing at the bits of metal that bobbed painfully from her eyeballs.
Roak did not let the opportunity slip away. He kicked out hard, nailing Ms. Lika in a spot just below her sternum. She grunted and gasped, but continued to try to free the needles from her eyes. Roak closed on her and dodged a defensive swipe.
Blind and panicked, Ms. Lika kept swiping at Roak to keep him back. Roak studied the frenzied swipes until he saw his opening. He came in fast and slammed the knuckles of both hands into her throat. Ms. Lika’s grunts and screeches became gurgles and gasps then a thin, high wheezing before she fell to her knees.
Roak gripped the sides of her head, stared a terrified Wendell straight in the eye, and twisted as hard as he could. The woman’s head spun about three hundred and sixty degrees so it was back facing Roak. He let go with a sneer.