The children of the same mayor and sheriff. Gavin had been sorely disappointed to see that they were actually on the verge of adulthood. Actual children were easier to control, and the threat of their demise tended to be taken more seriously. Perhaps that was it. The reason why a pile of corpses lay behind him in the burning remains of the walled in town. They hadn’t taken him seriously.
Then again, given half a chance, he’d have killed everyone here just for the entertainment value. Maybe not personally, the twins could have dealt with this lot easy enough, but he would have definitely watched.
Gavin positioned his three hostages just so. Lining them up as they wept and attempted to plead with him through the gags in their mouths. One man and two women. If they hadn’t been ugly, maybe he’d have entertained the notion of bringing them along for a few days and using them until he grew tired of them. But then again, he’d rather have the water and food that would be required to keep them alive and clean enough to use.
Yet again, he’d just taken enough supplies from this place to last him and his two servants around a month. The twins were a little different. They didn’t require much in the way of supplies. At least not for the next few months. No matter, he thought as he hefted the great black blade above his head.
With one brutal motion, he brought the blade down. Simultaneously striking the necks of all three of his hostages. Decapitating all of them with one strike. Tied together, the bodies slumped together and managed to remain on their knees while arterial spray sprang forth.
Gavin roared in triumph, lifting the blade over his head for all to see. But there was no one there to witness his glory. Bah, he thought. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone. He stepped behind the three dead hostages and sent them tumbling to the ground some five meters below the bed of the truck with a casual kick like what he might have used to pass a football in his youth. They landed with a dull thud, spilling what remained of their blood amidst the dust and sand.
His moment of victory behind him, Gavin looked out over the small town as it burned. Perhaps, he thought, he should have left just one person alive to carry the story to others. To tell the rest of the world what it meant to try and fuck with him.
Somehow, these bumpkins had heard that a Cent-Sec suit had been stolen. And that a large reward was being offered for its return. And somehow, in their tiny minds, they had been able to put two and two together. Attempting to arrest him had been their first mistake.
Awakening him from a sound slumber after he’d shared the bed of the Mayor’s sister and holding blades at his throat with ill intent. He’d seen that coming though. Knew better than to not have a plan for something like this.
If Gavin hadn’t been tired of wearing the exoskeleton, if he hadn’t wanted to sleep in an actual bed, eat actual food and drink actual wine, they might have just passed the town by. But the confines of the combat exoskeleton had begun to grow claustrophobic. The food stale and the drink without flavor.
Seeing the glimmering walls of this settlement, built around a small oasis in the vast desert, Gavin had known that a well-deserved break was at hand. They’d entered the town, five in total, like a Roman emperor of old on a Triumph. All had gathered to see them arrive, no doubt having been spotted miles away by lookouts.
Gavin had held his head high and strode with imperious pomposity as he passed through the gate opened before him. Perhaps they hadn’t considered just five men a threat, even if one of them was piloting a combat exoskeleton. Perhaps they had sought to entrap them. Regardless, they had allowed Gavin and his crew to enter their town, and they had sealed their own fates.
He issued his commands to the twins in the few moments after their arrival and before the appearance of the sheriff. Find the children of the men in charge and keep track of their position. If they received a predetermined signal from Gavin, take them. The signal he’d given when he’d put up token resistance against the five or so deputies who’d come to take him early that morning. While they read charges against him including murder of Cent-Sec personnel and theft of Cent-Sec property, which elicited gasps of shock from the naked woman lying beside him, he’d reached calmly for his pants and the gear there.
A simple press of a button on his compact data slate and the twins sprang into action. Ryan and Zhou would secure the exoskeleton in the broken down barn it was temporarily housed in, but not under any circumstances were they to touch it, and Varg and Virgil would take the hostages.
The plan was executed without problem and by the time the deputies arrived at the sheriff’s headquarters, the twins had stood holding their hostages, four in total, with blades to throat. Gavin was released and the three took their human shields to find the combat exoskeleton and the two men guarding it.
Men, playing at soldier and carrying homemade blades, had already surrounded the crumbling barn, pinning Ryan and Zhou inside and keeping Gavin from retrieving his suit. For the moment at least. When he’d threatened to cut off the head of one of the hostages, the men had actually laughed at him. Not believing he was capable of such a thing. So Gavin had done just that.
In the middle of the street he’d pushed a boy, no older than seventeen or so, facedown in the dirt and begun sawing into his neck with a large knife. His hysterical cries of pain and terror turning to pathetic gurgles as his wind-pipe was cut and he began choking on his own blood. That had gotten the attention of the would-be soldiers. They watched in horror as the boy’s blood had flowed out and then Gavin had stood, holding the severed head aloft for all to see. They fled from the barn when he threatened to kill the others if they did not withdraw, but they still raised a general alarm.
Within a few minutes the twins had found the large truck and located it near the barn for an easy escape. Gavin had bound his captives with rope found therein. But before the quintet could leave, the gates had been lowered and barred.
They would serve enough obstacle and complication that things had gotten a little more serious. The small town was enraged that a man they suspected was a wanted criminal had murdered one of their own. There was no way they were going to let him escape. Every last man, woman, and child capable of holding a blade was coming for him.
As Gavin had prepped the combat exoskeleton, the entire male population of the town had closed in on the barn, armed and with vengeance in mind. Their chorus of threats and promises of pain turning sour as he emerged clad in the exoskeleton were like music to his ears. The twins held the hostages in the truck, leaping down from it to join the fray at Gavin’s command.
“Kill everyone,” he’d told them. “Women and children first.” And that was exactly what they’d done. They disappeared into nearby buildings to go about their work. He wouldn’t need to see it to know it was done. Varg and Virgil were nothing if not reliable.
Gavin strode among the men of the town, invincible. Achilles among the Trojans, his body a storm of scythes harvesting the over-ripe wheat of their flesh. Clubbing them to the ground with his fists and feet, killing indiscriminately. Not even bothering to use a weapon. And why should he? They couldn’t hurt him. He was like a god among insects.
Their rage drove them into him, their desire for vengeance and their righteous fury no more significant than raindrops from a light midafternoon shower against the bulwark of advanced nano-composite alloys. Amounting to nothing other than a barely perceptible annoyance. No more than the distant ringing of personal communications device as their pathetic blades struck his divine flesh and failed to pierce it. As soon as Gavin turned his attention to the individual gnats, they ceased to be.
The last man stood before him, seemingly aware that no others remained. Face twisted in a mixture of fear and anger battling across his features, moving back and forth like waves of human bullets in no man’s land. One driving the other back before itself succumbing in a perpetual storm of change.
Gavin strode towards him, supreme in his confidence. What could this one man do, other than die? The man lunged at him, the point of h
is blade harmlessly striking the chest of the exoskeleton. Not even scratching the surface. Gavin slapped the blade away with contempt, sending it flying from the man’s hands and into the side of a stone building.
He reached out and grabbed the man’s head, closing one of his steel fists around it. The man began thrashing and screaming, trying to escape as Gavin lifted him from his feet and into the air. After a moment, he simply closed his fist, utterly crushing the man’s head and sending a stream of blood into the air. He opened his hand, letting the body fall to the ground.
Playing back the sequence of events in his mind, he realized that one man was missing. A coward perhaps, or just too smart to fight him. What could he be doing, other than hiding? Gavin reached no conclusions that were good for him. He would go and find the man to make sure.
When he’d reached the sheriff’s headquarters, Gavin ripped the front of the building off and threw it into the streets amidst a storm of splintered wood and plastic. The man who’d ordered his arrest was frantically trying to use a small radio, but the exoskeleton had detected the communication and jammed it. There would be no one to hear.
Gavin dragged the man out into the street, throwing him to the dirt before seeing the large black sword that hung on the wall in the office. An executioner’s sword by the standards of men. Large and heavy, and sharpened on only one edge to ensure that a convicted man’s head came off in a single blow. But just the right size for use in an exoskeleton. The sheriff was the first man Gavin killed with it. On his knees begging for his life. Cut in half from left collar-bone to groin.
The body still twitched as Gavin stood over it, looking down at the mess of severed entrails amidst the spreading pool of blood. The man had been remarkably fat, at least for a desert dweller. Vast swathes of sickly yellow tissue showed themselves now, contrasting with the pale white of the man’s skin and the dark red of his blood.
The dead man’s face twitched and his tongue moved, sticking out of his mouth as though he was trying to speak and lick something at the same time. Gavin laughed as he watched, but fell silent when he noticed something on the side of the man’s head, revealed when the death throes pushed the hair away there.
Gavin knelt and gripped the sheriff’s head with both hands, ignoring the twitching body it was still attached to. This was just too good to pass up. He’d been a fool to pass on such an opportunity before. A second mistake would not be made.
Gavin pulled on the head and began twisting it, bones in the neck crunching as they broke. Two complete rotations of the head later, he began pulling harder. The exoskeleton’s hydraulic muscle was more than enough to rip the head clean from the body. He cradled the head in one hand, like a child playing ball with his friends.
Gavin turned his attention back to the office, already strongly suspecting what he might find. News sent forth over the radio, the one piece of tech that didn’t seem to be going anywhere, that bandits had massacred a detachment of Cent-Sec soldiers in their sleep. Interrupting their mission to save a remote town from the predations of said bandits. A combat exoskeleton stolen and more credits than a man could hope to earn legally in his lifetime offered up as a reward for information regarding the whereabouts of the suit.
No mention of the perpetrators identities or suspected locations though. A minor inconvenience until Gavin could hide the combat exoskeleton. Of course, if things worked out for him, there would be no reason to hide it.
People screamed in the distance. Mostly women by the sound of it. The men of the town had all been gathered at the barn to try to arrest him and save the hostages. They were all dead now. Soon enough, everyone else would be as well. The twins worked quickly. Efficiently.
Pleas for mercy reached his ears. Gavin ignored them as he would the warmth of the sun on his back on a cold day.
Gavin returned to Ryan and Zhou, now standing watch over the huge truck. Armed with what meager weapons they had brought when recruited by Gavin. Each carried one of the blades stolen from Reiji, but by Gavin’s decree they were forbidden from using them.
They looked to him with no small amount of fear in their eyes. Were they about to die as well? Gavin didn’t fully know until he reached striking distance. The urge to turn them into ground meat was strong. The executioner’s blade a pleasant weight in his hand that reached out to him, demanding action. Demanding blood.
“Take what you can, and burn the rest,” he spoke, voice amplified and carried to them by speakers on the combat exoskeleton. “Burn it all.” He gestured to the buildings crowded within the high stone walls. They didn’t hesitate, sensing that to do so might mean their deaths. They nearly ran from him, looking for something, anything to take or to set on fire. And then Gavin stood alone, looking up at the bed of the monstrous truck. Deciding the fate of his hostages.
When Varg and Virgil returned, their assigned tasks complete, they were spattered with blood and gore. Silently, they communicated the tally of their actions. Near one hundred dead. He added a few more to the count, disposing of the hostages.
The flames grew more and more intense as the fires spread, rocks popping and plastics hissing. The inside of the wall surrounding the remote town reflected the heat back inwards and soon it was like standing inside an oven.
Gavin removed the faceplate of his exoskeleton and the heat slapped him. He took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the places. Blood, fear, death, smoke, and burning synthetics assailed his nostrils.
The rest of his crew returned, carrying food and water. A box plainly marked as wine. Only the most valuable things they could find. One by one they crawled up into the truck. The twins took control, plugging directly into the piloting systems.
With a lurch, the massive vehicle began to move again, aimed for the gates. Steel things, closed and barred. Ramming them might damage the vehicle and then they’d be right back on foot at the pace of the men loaded down with supplies. So close to being beyond the reach of Cent-Sec, Gavin could begin to take his time if he wished. But he did not.
Moving at such a dismal pace would only delay his inevitable triumph. Something that would be enjoyed more the sooner it came. With this in mind, Gavin replaced his faceplate and leapt down from the bed of the truck.
He felt power surging through his limbs as he approached the gate, the exoskeleton’s systems scanning it for weak points. Several spots were highlighted in his vision, and his fists slammed into them. Shattering metal and destroying locking mechanisms. The entire gate slumped in its housing, threatening to fall but tenaciously clinging on.
Gavin returned to the truck and issued his orders to the twins. The truck slowly moved forwards as the spreading flames licked at it from all sides, and pressed its front grill against the gate. The engine roared as it began to produce torque aimed at liberating the truck and its occupants from the inferno surrounding them.
A great screeching sound of the metal giving way filled the world and the vehicle lurched forward, knocking the gate outwards to the ground and riding over it to the relative safety beyond.
Gavin stood in the bed, watching the burning town recede in the distance. Every single one of them dead, he thought with a smile. His only regret was that he didn’t have the opportunity to spend more time enjoying the destruction.
Silently, he called one of the twins and a minute or so later was joined by the stone-faced automaton as he climbed into the rear of the truck. Gavin held the sheriff’s head aloft, in the palm of one hand. The dead man looked out with bloodshot eyes that were rolled halfway back into his head.
“It’s time for a little surgical work.”
“WAS it worth it?” Reiji asked, suppressing the urge to urge to cough. Choking smoke swirled about him, stinging his nose and throat. Burning like infection. He gripped a long sword in his right hand and a short sword taken from a downed foe in the left.
A weak facsimile of Kaishakunin and Little Brother, but the similarity to the stolen blades felt oddly comforting. The weight was wrong, but it was simil
ar enough to not interfere with Reiji’s use of the weapons, as attested to by the dozen or so men he’d killed in the past few minutes.
The men he faced gave no verbal answer, but instead raised their blades and came at him. Three precise steps. Three surgical strikes. Three men falling to the ground dead or dying.
Tod screamed, not in anger, or fear. Just a scream. But he moved too. Far more quickly than Reiji had ever seen him move before. The over-large kukri struck and another man went down, hands clasped to his neck. Trying desperately to stop the flow of blood. But Reiji could tell from the strike and the amount of blood, that unless the man was a regenerator, he would not be rising again.
The boy struck again, avoiding the incoming blow from an opponent, side stepping with textbook foot placement, just as Reiji had taught him. The blade flashed again and gouged into the man’s lower abdomen, just above his groin, cutting edge facing up. The man grunted, dropped his own blade, and began to scream as Tod ripped the blade upwards and across, eviscerating his target in a shower of gore.
“Where your shocky sticks now?” Tod’s voice roared, filling the room, as he screamed at the dying man. Genuine rage sounded behind it. ‘Shocky sticks’ he called them. Reiji knew then as stun-batons, but that was as good a description as any.
It had been a few days since he’d felt their blows. Punished as they’d been set upon in a narrow tunnel. Tear gas had filled it, nearly incapacitating Reiji and Tod as they had climbed out of the APC. Moments later, dozens of men with thick armor, gas masks, and stun-batons had set upon them.
The beating had been almost bearable, with no real damage done. But the touch of the stun-batons had been agonizing to say the least. Like a hundred hornets landing on the point of impact and stinging repeatedly as they moved out from there.
The Way of Death Page 24