If only for Thoff's sake, I'm posting the rest of what I've got so far. I'll hopefully get back to writing this someday.
Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Dan stayed at Zero’s side for a few moments, still unwilling to accept the death of one whom he had fought side by side with many a time years ago. Wiping a single tear from his eye, he looked to see Selkie behind him, wiping dust and debris off himself as he made his way toward the scene. Selkie said nothing as he approached, understanding in his silence. Dan turned back to Zero.
“I always took him for granted, didn’t I?” he said, a small choked laugh escaping his lips.
Selkie grimaced only slightly in disagreement, his brows furrowed.
“No. He loved Majestic Tragedy for who we were, as the rest of us did. It wouldn’t have been that way without you. Without any of us.”
Dan said nothing, shoulders shaking inconspicuously.
“He’s brighter than we believed him to be. His mind was just always in battle.”
Selkie nodded appreciatively.
“It’s time we go, however. This isn’t the time or the place to stop and mourn a fallen comrade.” Dan stood up, brushing himself down as well. “Our situation is more dire than we thought it to be.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“I think if the enemy was trying to prevent us from going to our original destination, that means good things for us. As such, we’re going to the same place we originally planned on: New Mexico.”
Selkie raised an eyebrow. “Walking?”
Dan gave a small smile.
“I had something else in mind.”
“So let me get this straight,” Selkie began an hour later. “You left stashes of rocket barrels scattered about in areas around our different places of residence?”
“In case of emergency, yes,” finished Dan.
“It would seem that idea was moronic enough to work.”
Dan didn’t respond as he kept digging in the outskirts of a nearby farm. Eventually, the shovel he had procured earlier clashed against something solid.
“Jackpot.”
From the sturdy box that was uncovered, the pair was able to salvage a pair of rocket barrels for the both of them. After much struggling on Selkie’s part to get his on, they were able to ready themselves for their upcoming flight.
“How fast, exactly, do these things fly?”
“You’ll find out,” Dan chortled, and switched his rocket barrels on, kicking the switch on Selkie’s pair as well.
The two barreled into the air at incredible speeds, Selkie’s screams of terror echoing across the countryside.
“How do you steer these bloody things?” he roared above the wind.
“Make yourself one with the barrels. They’re an extension of your body, treat them like it.”
Soon enough, Selkie was able to roughly steer his rocket barrels well enough to be able to at least cruise at their altitude. Dan stayed nearby at a leisurely pace.
“We’ll be there by nightfall,” he shouted. Selkie nodded, unwilling to speak any further for the duration of the trip.
It was up here that Dan was at peace, alone with his thoughts and free from the shackles of the world below. He knew people were after this rocket barrel technology for the wrong reasons, and that’s why he didn’t want them to have it. To corrupt a device made for such rudimentary purposes -- such as slightly more convenient transportation -- would go against everything Dan had been raised to stand for. Sure, the issue seemed minor, but it was not something to be ignored. Nor would it ever be considering how people went after it.
But this was far from the matter at hand. Right now, it was imperative that he and Selkie arrive in New Mexico so that he could begin what he hoped would be an eventful search for old friends. However, his thoughts were interrupted quite suddenly as Selkie shouted out to him.
“We’ve got company!”
Dan hastily looked around, groaning at what he now saw. It was getting dark, but he could still make out the threat that was headed their way: A squadron of about a dozen flying infantry-men were soaring to meet the two barrel-riders at a swift pace. Wearing dark suits with equally dark capes with a rich purple hue to them, the Meta-Knight squadron was a force to be reckoned with. Their golden blades sharp with multiple teeth glimmered even in the fading light of a setting sun, and the speed with which they wielded these swords was very nearly unmatched. On each of their shoulders was stamped the acronym “TCF”, and at that moment, Dan knew exactly who was behind this.
Quite literally “behind this”, as the Meta-Knight bringing up the flank in order to cover the others was clearly the leader. Dan would have recognized him in a moon-less night. It was this vision that haunted his nightmares. Not for any fear of Draco Blaze, but because of the sheer anger it stirred within him. Anger because of how great everyone thought he was, anger because of his sheer idiocy, and anger because of the unfairness of it all. They were all the same, every last one of them. Mindless, uniform, and completely brain-dead. Their leader was fit for the position, being the most brain-dead of them all.
Dan looked over to Selkie, both their minds working tactically and in unison, they needed not shout out verbal commands. They knew how to handle this situation, Dan from experience, and Selkie from diagrams and plots. Selkie kicked on a slight boost and sped ahead while Dan flew off to the left side while maintaining his straight course. The Meta-Knights, confused, decided to focus on Dan as he was the closest target. This was precisely what Dan and Selkie had anticipated, and the TCF Squadron was soon to experience Formation Delta.
Trying to figure out how to make Formation Delta work while being short three men, Dan flew onward, veering ever so slightly off to the left side. Without warning, he shut off his rocket barrels, thrusting him instantly downward as he desperately counted to five. During this time, the Meta-Knights were befuddled, but decided to give chase anyway. Selkie made a sharp turn, heading back toward Dan, unlatching one of Dan’s attached peanut-cased explosives from its place. As Dan turned his rocket barrels back on and propelled himself with the maximum blast possible, Selkie did a nosedive into the Meta-Knight Squadron headed downward. As Dan and Selkie passed in the middle of the group, they exchanged a high-five, planting the explosive on one of the infantry-men. Realizing the ploy, Draco Blaze had stayed behind, and now made his escape to where he had come from as his entire squadron went up in an explosive burst of flame.
As Selkie flew up to meet Dan, he watched Draco Blaze fly off into the distance.
“Think he’s got anything to do with the Hunt?”
Dan was silent for a moment.
“I don’t know. I do intend to find out, though it will have to wait until after our current errands.”
“Do we really need the whole rabble? Honestly, we handled this situation just fine.” As Dan shot Selkie a skeptical glance, he added, “I’m joking. Let’s keep on, then.”
As the duo flew toward a New Mexico sunset, Dan began to wonder about TCF’s involvement in the Hunt, and what the implications of it could be. TCF was a powerful entity to be reckoned with, for sure. No brains, but plenty of brawn. They would pose a problem should they decide to ally themselves with the Hunt. But for what reason? The man in charge of the Hunt would surely dispose of them afterward.
They probably didn’t know that. Though as much as Dan hated TCF, he would just as soon spare their lives than let an unknown man take control of the world as they knew it. Would this world be recognizable after the war looming over the New Mexico sunset’s horizon? Only time would tell.
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
The setting sun began to shed its last beams of light as the two aerial travelers began their descent into New Mexico. The little scenery there was to behold began to form underneath them as they hovered over an unpopulated part of the state to escape unwanted notice. An arid, desert terrain took shape, surrounded by sparse vegetation. The good thing about New Mexico was it cooled down in the evening considerably, giving way to a reprieve from the day’s heat. As they neared the ground, they slowed their barrels to a smooth landing, unstrapping them from their backs upon contact with the ground. Dan bent over each one, removing a key element from the barrels and ensuring that no one else could make use of them. He then proceeded to dismantle the barrels and scatter the components for good measure.
The pair began to move toward Albuquerque, where Dan knew they would find what they were looking for. A couple of hours’ walk through the barren desert of New Mexico led them into the bustling almost-metropolis of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Miraculously, they were able to flag down a kind driver that was willing to take them to their destination. The faded red truck slowed to a halt next to them as the man inside motioned for them to get in. He introduced himself as Roberto as they drove into the heart of the city.
Roberto was an average man. He had a wife and three children -- two boys and one girl -- and a house in the suburbs. He worked as a rancher, a hard worker at that from how he spoke of his job. He was passionate about what he did, and it was obvious. Roberto was a heavy-set man, but not because he was overweight. Powerful muscles bulged in his dark-toned legs and arms, and his body was caked in a generally light layer of dirt. Latino music played from his speakers as they drove, and he cheerily made conversation, his gruff voice contrasting with his social personality. He cursed freely and his breath smelled slightly of alcohol, but nevertheless, Dan and Selkie were able to enjoy the ride toward the restaurant.
As they pulled into the restaurant, Roberto stopped the vehicle and let out a long sigh.
“You know, I’ve enjoyed your company, guys. I hope you realize the restaurant closed two hours ago, though?”
Dan and Selkie were silent for a moment, pondering why he had even given them the ride. As if reading their minds, Roberto went on.
“But you’re in luck because I know the owner of the place, so I can get you right in!”
Responses of gratitude poured out of both Dan and Selkie’s mouths, but Roberto waved a humble hand in a motion of silence. They exited the truck and walked toward the restaurant. The place looked very high maintenance; three stories towered over the travelers. A large glowing sign featuring the face of the famous Chef-Man cast a shadow over them as it blinked repeatedly, the winking face of the cheery Master Chef looking down on them merrily. The sign below it read “Chef-Man’s World Famous Cuisine!”, putting out a global challenge to anyone that should try to outperform this place. Chef-Man’s restaurant was the reason Albuquerque was now on the map at least five times as much as it had been before, and contributed in a hefty part to the city’s bustling economy and population. Overall, the restaurant had been a blessing to the city, and they had much to thank Chef-Man for as his winking face smiled down at them day and night.
As they continued to admire the restaurant, dumbstruck, Roberto began to fumble at the door. An unusual whirring and zapping was audible, but the two travelers thought little of it. A few moments later, Roberto beckoned to them, motioning for them to follow him inside.
They entered the famous restaurant carefully, finding it to be pitch-black. Dan’s eyes adjusted quickly, however, as he saw the tables with the chairs upside down on top of them. The place was perfectly clean as it was supposed to be for the night, but something felt. . . wrong.
Dan’s fears were quickly confirmed as the door slammed behind them, and they were thrust into an even deeper darkness. His eyes adjusted as he saw Roberto’s bulky figure standing between them and the doorway, his shoulders quaking in silent laughter. Selkie’s vision was impaired in this setting, so he would not be of much use. It was smart of Roberto to trap them in here, if that was his plan. Luckily, at least one of the two could see in the dark.
“So, the great Dan de Arche and his butler Conner really are in town, after all. How pleasant a surprise.”
Suddenly, it all made sense in Dan’s head. Mostly, anyway.
“Taco?”
Laughter quickly followed the question. “Yes it’s me, and I’m wondering what the hell you’re both doing here as such easy prey.”
“You don’t have your suit,” Selkie observed, taking a stab in the dark from an assumption that Taco had not been able to properly equip himself for battle.
“You’re both right and wrong, Conner,” he replied with a chortle. “But that’s besides the point. Answer the damn question.”
“You know why we’re here, why should we have to answer you?” Dan retorted.
“Well, do you know why I’m here, then?”
Dan shook his head before realizing Taco couldn’t actually see him.
“No,” he said quietly.
He heard a few steps coming toward him then stopping a few yards away.
“Because,” Taco began. “In the underground and black market, there’s a hefty sum of money for anyone who brings either one of you in.” Taco trailed off, and added with an audible smirk, “Dead or alive.”
“So you’d really sell us out that fast after all we’ve been through?”
Taco rounded on Dan in the darkness, his silhouette emanating his sudden fury.
“All we’ve been through? You mean you throwing SMAC out of Majestic Tragedy, and then proceeding to take down everything we had built upon your assuming control? You made what was once a place full of fear and respect a place full of tender-hearted cowards and weaklings. We used to rule the place with an iron fist, the Tri-Head of Authority. But no, you came in, turned us all against each other, took the throne, and exiled all of SMAC.”
“I let you back in, though.”
“Ah! But only after you had made Majestic Tragedy into your own image of pathetic desolation,” Taco interrupted. “You emphasize authority through equality, yet you hold the final word. We at least held the guise of democracy. While the people believe they have power, even if they see the authority exercise their own power, they will submit. Anything we said was accepted and undisputed. Your rule? You had uprisings and disagreements almost every other day. There was no ruling that. And you wonder why Majestic Tragedy was shut down. . .”
“That’s enough, Taco.”
“Oh, is it? Because I think Team Degree has a score to settle with you, Commander.”
Dan’s teeth clenched. Unless Taco was bluffing, they really were in for a tough fight. Team Degree had broken away from SMAC and created their own division, running rampant in their own definition of justice. Whatever they saw fit to do, they did, regardless of others’ opinions. Powerful but unstable, Team Degree was quickly shut down by the Overmind Organization’s elite soldiers.
A mechanized whirring sound followed Taco’s statement as he began to undergo a transformation. His suit had been bound to his body, able to be summoned at will. This was no ordinary battle suit, however. Taco had the capability to shoot energy blasts, seeker missiles, and other such powerful weaponry from the suit as well as having a nearly impenetrable defense from the suit itself. Before the suit finished readying itself, however, Dan dove at Taco, and they rolled through the front windows of the restaurant, shattering the glass in their path. They tumbled through the streets in a flurry of growls and blows, while cars honked and veered off the streets. Within seconds, there were wrecks all around, creating a makeshift circular arena of scrap metal around the two combatants.
Selkie quickly climbed out of the restaurant as well, but almost immediately had to dodge a burst of flame aimed directly at him. As he looked to his left, he confirmed one of his fears for this conflict. There towered a gargantuan, scaly beast. Its hard outer shell was riddled with sharp spikes, rivaled only by its razor-sharp teeth. His hands and feet both had sharp claws protruding from them, and a patch of blazing red hair lined his head. This gigantic tortoise-lizard hybrid let out a deafening roar, and began to charge Selkie.
“Ah, Gen, I was wondering if you’d make it to this party,” Selkie taunted as he nimbly leapt out of the way of a slow claw swipe. “You look like you’ve put on some weight since I last saw you. McDonald’s has NOT been kind to you, my friend.”
A resounding roar of pure fury met Selkie’s ears, and he had to dodge another claw swipe. To taunt a monster of Gen’s size was dangerous for most, but Selkie so enjoyed the challenge. As the swipes began to get faster and deadlier, Selkie’s dodges rose to meet the standard, rendering him nigh untouchable. He began to unfurl some throwing knives from his belt, trying to decide where best to throw them. It all depended on whether he wanted them to be crippling or deadly, really, and while this debate went on in his head, he was having to exert slightly more effort to dodge the seemingly endless barrage of gigantic claws flying his way.
Meanwhile, Dan and Taco had initiated a bizarre battle within their makeshift arena. Cars in the vicinity were being riddled with energy blasts from Taco’s suit and explosive peanuts from Dan’s pop-gun. Dan was agile, and was able to dodge most blasts, while Taco’s suit was able to deflect the explosives that he was unable to dodge. Now and then, the two would get within reach of each other and begin exchanging blows. Naturally, they took more of a toll on Dan than on Taco, but Dan fought on. While he mercilessly beat on Taco’s suit with his staff, Dan was becoming depleted of energy very quickly. He looked around for a way to finish this, his mind racing. His eyes came to rest on Selkie’s battle mere yards away, as the towering beast chased after his tiny opponent. During the time that Dan’s head had turned, Taco had leapt toward him, so that when he turned back to look, he was knocked into a nearby vehicle. The impact sent him into a helpless slump as he immediately felt himself being lifted from the ground.
“Had enough yet, you little primate?” he heard Taco hiss as his head was slammed into the car. A groan of pain escaped his lips as he weakly struggled against his opponent’s iron grip. Another slam sent a fresh wave of pain throughout his entire body.
Selkie had turned to look when Dan had been thrown into the car, which provided Gen with all the distraction he needed to catch him in his hand. He flung Selkie into the car next to Dan and trudged over to where Taco was. The pair sat there helplessly as their opponents looked over them triumphantly.
“That was too easy. I expected more from the glorious leader of Majestic Tragedy.”
Dan tried to mumble a response, but only a groan came out. Taco laughed out loud.
“Ah, but today, we will be made very, very rich. C’mon, Gen, let’s take them in.”
As Gen leaned over in obedience, the sound of steel whistling through the air preceded a howl of pain from Gen as he quickly leaned back in pain. Taco also fell back as a barrage of fire balls hit him square in the chest. This was followed up by a caped figure swooping down and dealing a swift kick where the fireballs weakened the suit, knocking the wind out of Taco as he, too, flew into a nearby vehicle and was rendered unconscious. A swift swordsman continued on a relentless attack on Gen, forcing him backward. This eventually made him fall over, leaving him to struggle to get back up. The swordsman landed neatly next to his caped accomplice as they both quickly turned to Dan and Selkie.
“Come on, Dan, let’s get you guys out of here,” came a familiar voice. The last thing he knew before he blacked out was the face of the caped crusader, its exact replica hanging above their heads, smiling down at them from above the restaurant. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Dan’s eyes snapped open as a sharp pain in his stomach woke him. As he sat up, he immediately regretted his course of action for multiple reasons. First, he had forgotten the events of the day before, which had left him severely sore. Second, he realized the pain was from hunger, not from a wound, which made his reaction pointless. Regardless, he grunted several times to himself as he forced himself to stay up. He looked at his surroundings for the first time, rubbing the back of his neck.
He was in a sunlit room, the sun’s rays playing across the sheets of his bed as the curtains shivered in the slight summer breeze coming in through the window. It was sparingly furnished, with only a dresser, a wardrobe, and a night table adorning the room other than the bed. Most likely a guest room of sorts. The house smelled delightfully of savory food, and Dan’s stomach roared in protest once more. Shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, Dan rose to his feet and hobbled to the doorway, poking his head out to look around. He could hear voices to his left, so he followed the sound.
“. . . is coming, Martin.” Selkie’s voice grew louder as he approached, though it was little more than an urgent whisper. “The signs are everywhere. You must have noticed.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” came another familiar voice. “Why else do you think I came to help you guys out at my own place? But that’s not the point. Why are you both here, in New Mexico?”
Selkie let out an audible sigh.
“Dan is on a personal mission,” his voice became somber. “He wants to reunite Majestic Tragedy.”
Silence.
“Is the situation that bad? Bad enough to where Dan has to come get all of us one by one?”
“Hard to say, really,” Selkie mused. “All I know is, our mansion has gone up in flames, we watched Oliver die, and we were attacked by TCF’s Meta-Knights.”
“Oli died?” Dan heard the other voice gasp. Dan took a deep breath and a step forward.
“Oliver died saving our lives,” he said gravely.
He watched as Martin’s eyes flickered over to his face. Chef-Man hadn’t aged a day since Dan had last seen him. His eyes still twinkled with youthful vigor, his mustached smile spreading warmth throughout an entire room. Besides being a fearless fighter, he was even more fearlessly loyal a friend. It was hard not to like Martin. In this very moment, however, his eyes shone with sadness.
“I do think the situation is that bad,” he continued. “The Hunt has launched attacks against several old Majestic Tragedy soldiers, the FC corporation, and even the Overmind Organization.”
Martin let out an audible gasp.
“They attacked the Overmind?”
Dan nodded. “Two years ago, yes.”
“I see,” Martin trailed off, deep in thought. After a moment, he looked back up at Dan. “Dan, you understand why it would be hard for me to leave this place, don’t you? I have a life here. I have a restaurant that makes a lot of people happy every day. I even have Bread!”
Dan and Selkie both looked at Martin questioningly.
“I’d hope you have bread, you run a damned restaurant,” Selkie said.
“No, I mean Sushi-Master. I have him helping me.”
Matthew had joined Majestic Tragedy as an apprentice swordsman, and Dan still remembered that day. Since then, he had worked tirelessly not only on honing his swordsmanship skills, but also learning practical skills. Above all, he was known for his sushi. He thus became known as the Sushi-Master, a respectable swordsman with a killer dish.
As Martin spoke his name, Matthew entered the room. His hair had grown longer and was now kept behind his head in a ponytail. A long, thin sword lay in a hilt at his side as he walked in with a plate of his famous sushi. He looked over at Dan, flashing him a warm smile and giving him a respectful bow after placing the sushi on the table in front of them.
“Dan, my friend,” he spoke in a quiet and serious tone. “I never thought I’d see the day that we would meet again. It is a good day when I am able to see my old leader once more.”
Dan smiled, flattered.
“The honor is fully mine. Seeing both of you has done me a lot of good already.”
Matthew spoke again, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I . . . I believe I overheard your conversation prior to my entering the room. If you are here to ask for our help, you can account for my sword at your side.” As he finished speaking, he gave a wary look toward Martin, who looked down in somber thought.
“What about my restaurant, Dan?” he wondered sadly.
“Well, for starters, Dan and Taco made a right mess of it three days ago,” Selkie muttered. Dan shot him a dirty look.
“We kind of shattered some of the front windows as we fought. Also the street in front of your restaurant will probably be in need of repair. Closing the restaurant for a while might even be in good taste.”
“I guess you’re right, guys,” Martin said, standing up. “What now?”
Dan looked at Selkie.
“I, for one, am still pretty beat up from the other day. I won’t be of any use in a fight any time soon,” Dan admitted. “But I am well enough to travel, I think.”
“The question is, where do we travel?” Selkie finished.
“What about SMAC, Dan?” Martin asked. “I was reminded cause Team Degree attacked you, but that wasn’t all of SMAC, was it?”
Dan didn’t answer right away. The truth was, he was (and always had been) skeptical about the Super Mega Awesome Clan. Even after being invited into its ranks, it had always seemed a bit . . . off. It was the height of both elitism and favoritism, and Dan had never truly been attracted to either philosophy. In truth, Majestic Tragedy gave chances to the underdogs that most other organizations would not have -- including SMAC.
All of that aside, Martin had a point. SMAC would be a powerful asset to the cause, if they could be persuaded to join. Dan had severed ties with them only a couple of years after the disbanding of Majestic Tragedy, opting to cease attending their underground meetings and instead live out his own life. Whether they would hold that against him or not would be something he would have to find out.
“No, that wasn’t all of SMAC. I know their meeting place, though. At least, where it used to be.” He sighed. “I suppose we can start there. It’s all the way out in Florida, though, and I’d rather not risk another airport.”
Martin smirked.
“Don’t worry, Dan. I’ve got us covered.”
After making necessary preparations, Chef and Sushi met Dan and Selkie only a half hour thereafter, ready to go. Both had brought cooking supplies (much to Selkie’s amusement) and their weapons of preference: Sushi’s falchion and Chef’s flame-gloves. Provisions were set in the bags, as well as extra clothes for all members of the party. Chef had thought of everything.
“You guys ready?”
Dan and Selkie nodded.
“Ok, follow me.”
Chef walked over to a bookcase and began counting books, searching for the eleventh book from the left on the third row. As he touched it, the bookcase moved, revealing a secret chamber behind it.
“Chef, that is the most cliche piece of work I have seen in my entire life,” Selkie sneered.
Chef shook a single finger at him.
“This isn’t your everyday secret room, Selkie. It has the Chef-Man’s touch! If you don’t know it, you fall into my secret prison room!”
Selkie and Dan were quiet for the next few minutes, dumbfounded by Chef-Man’s newfound interest in taking prisoners. Following his instructions, the party descended down a spiraling staircase lit by torches (which Selkie scoffed at). At the second to last floor, Chef-Man stopped, opening a door nearly invisible to his right. A single light turned on as the door was opened, revealing a large and shiny green tube in the center of the room. Big enough for people to fit inside.
“Martin, what is that?” Dan asked, pointing.
“A Warp Pipe!” Martin turned around proudly. “It can take us anywhere we need to go. The only problem is, I only know how to make us come out into sewer systems so-”
Groans erupted from the entire party, but they soon grit their teeth and agreed to this unconventional method of transportation. One by one they stepped into the pipe after Martin had input the coordinates for Destin, Florida. As Dan peered into the pipe, all he could see was black all the way down the pipe. He shrugged his shoulders, plugged his nose, and took the plunge.
He had expected a dramatic process of whishing and whirring throughout space and time itself, bending the laws of physics and feeling it every step of the way. Instead, what he felt was an instant plunge into the dirtiest water he had ever had the displeasure of being in. If you could even call it water at this point.
“Follow me!” Chef-Man said, alarmingly familiar with the sewer systems of Destin, Florida. After a few minutes of trudging through a half-solid half-liquid substance, they were able to climb out into the streets of Destin. Cleverly enough, Chef had chosen a street devoid of much traffic, where prying eyes would not notice their unhygienic rise from the sewer system. Nevertheless, the party made quite a scene upon reaching the surface, causing Chef to roll his eyes in impatience.
“First things first, since you guys are a bunch of sissies,” he said, pulling out his F.L.U.D.D. device. He aimed it first at Selkie, shaking the device in frustration and waiting for it to turn on. Eventually, F.L.U.D.D. came to life, blasting Selkie with a powerful jet of water that launched him into a nearby wall.
“Oops,” Chef chuckled to himself. “I forgot to change the pressure.”
Selkie muttered curses under his breath as he brought himself to his feet. As he looked down, however, he saw that his clothing was miraculously clean. Chef began to methodically, albeit less forcefully, spray down Dan, Sushi, and lastly himself, removing all trace of sewer materials from their clothing. He replaced his device in his pack, and shouldered it once more.
“Okay, Dan. Where to?”
Dan looked around. To his surprise, their destination was but a few blocks away. Without a word, he began leading them onward, a nervous hand constantly twitching at his side. Destin felt different now. Though this had always been a quiet area of the city, it had never been this quiet. Dan tried to shake the feeling of paranoia without much success, leading them through different alleyways and backstreets.
Eventually, they reached the house where SMAC’s meetings had been held years ago. As Dan looked the house up and down, he began to wonder just how good of an idea this actually was. It was more rundown than usual, meaning the elderly woman who had used to own the house probably no longer walked the earth. SMAC would meet in her basement without her knowledge, as she was deaf and all but blind.
Dan grit his teeth and led the party onward. As he reached the door, he prepared his full strength to shove the door in. To his surprise, he found it unlocked, needing only a little bit of pressure to push inward. The house was dark and cold, completely abandoned. If Dan was being honest with himself, it gave him the creeps. Nothing more than a house like this would have normally creeped him out, however. He immediately turned to his left, and stared at the basement door.
An intricate system had been placed on the door, allowing only members of SMAC to enter by pressing their rings into an emblem on the wall next to the door. As Dan placed his ring in the emblem, he was relieved to feel the warm glow beneath his finger, and see the ember light flood part of the hallway as he removed his finger from the wall. As in old times, the door swung in, revealing a staircase leading to the lonely basement.
The party descended the staircase carefully, making sure each step was able to hold their weight after all these years. The basement looked untouched to Dan, and it probably had been left untouched. The only ones with access to the room were SMAC members, and they had probably been gone for years.
“Look around for any clues of their current whereabouts,” Dan whispered, feeling too uncomfortable to speak in a normal tone. As he searched, he found several trinkets and pieces of memorabilia from the old days: Newspaper clippings featuring SMAC members, initiation certificates, pieces of broken weapons that had been shattered in a memorable battle. Nothing relevant, however, until-
“Dan.”
Selkie motioned for him to come over. On a wooden table leaning against a wall, a single piece of paper lay perfectly centered. Dan leaned in closer to read it.
You didn’t come alone, did you?
The last sound Dan heard was familiar laughter echoing around the walls of the room. Chapter TenChapter Ten
Dan turned around slowly, his gaze shifting from the paper on the desk to what was no in front of him. Before him stood two tall figures, both pointing long blades at the trespassers, both entertaining the same smile: cold, unyielding, and furious.
Alex, on the left, looked nothing like he had many years ago. His hair had grown well past his shoulders, as if magnetically attracted to his lower back, and now glowed a brilliant crimson. Oftentimes, his figure was mistaken for scrawny, a notion he was quick to dispel in the heat of battle. His dark eyes flashed from person to person in the room, sizing them all up as he (presumably) began to put together plans for battle.
On the right stood Jordan, a contrast to Alex, though undeniably in a powerful way. Jordan stood slightly bulky by comparison to Alex, larger muscles filling out a matching black shirt. Short, blond hair clung to his head, lighter eyes peering out in a curious manner. His eyes remained locked on Dan, a mixture of fury and pain filling them. With his free hand, he stroked some stray stubble on his face.
"When you chose to opt out of SMAC's meetings, I had my doubts," he began. "But I never imagined this from you, Dan."
Selkie's eyes flashed dangerously, but Dan laid a cautionary hand on his shoulder.
"Imagined what, Jordan?"
"That you would bring outsiders into our place of meeting."
"Outsiders? You've got some fucking nerve-" Selkie growled, interrupted as Alex lunged forward as if to strike, only to pull back at the last possible moment.
"You must realize, then, the gravity of my situation," Dan replied, his voice quivering slightly.
"Gravity of your situation?" Jordan scoffed. "I hope it includes one good reason why we shouldn't just silence all of you here and now."
Dan's eyes narrowed.
"That's something Cosmick would say."
Jordan's blade wavered.
"If you knew how hard we work to ensure our secrecy here while still guarding the surrounding area-"
"Then I wouldn't be here unless I was in dire need of help," Dan finished.
"What could the great De Arche possibly need help with?" Jordan remarked snidely.
"It's the Hunt."
Alex's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I did mention that the other day," he murmured to Jordan, who nodded slightly.
"We've been doing some investigating of our own on the subject. What about it?"
"Have you not noticed the string of recent victims? Surely you've made the connection."
Jordan's arm flew downward and back to his side in a frustrated motion as he quickly walked past Dan.
"Of course I've made the connection," he growled, fumbling through drawers behind them. "That's why I'm not too happy about you giving away our position."
"Giving away your position? We traveled through warp pipe to get here, our location is a secret," Martin chimed in.
"Oh yeah? Darky, get us a lock on Martin's place of residence."
Alex nodded, having already pulled out a phone from his pocked and pulled up the aerial view of New Mexico. As he did, he turned the screen to face the others. Smoke covered the screen as a fire billowed below. Martin let out a panicked gasp and a silent "No. . ."
"Warp pipe my ass. These are Hunters, and you'll need more than that to escape notice. We'll probably need to-"
Before Jordan could finish his sentence, three high-pitched beeps sounded overhead. Jordan and Alex froze.
"That was fast," Alex said.
"Did we leave anything important here?" Jordan asked quickly.
"Research, but we have backups for all of it."
"Good. Chef, start burning papers. Bread, stay with him just in case. Dan, Selkie, follow us."
Three pairs of eyes locked on Dan questioningly, but he gave a slight nod and put a wary hand over his holster. Sky and Darky led the way up the stairs, stopping in front of the door. Sky motioned for the other two to stand next to him, and put a finger to his lips. As they reached their positions, Darky placed an ear to the door, listening intently. Sky warily glanced out the window. Dan watched as his eyes narrowed and he pulled away from the window.
“They’re here.”
“Who’s here?” Selkie asked.
“Not who I expected, to be honest. . .” Sky responded, deep in thought. “They’ve managed to recruit former Silver Wolves to their cause, it seems. Sunnycide and goIrish are leading what looks to be a trained troop of Hunters. I can’t see their faces, though. Five of them, seven in total.”
“I like our odds,” Alex smirked.
Selkie shook his head.
“Something isn’t right. If they know they have a lock on four targets, why send only seven soldiers? Either the minds behind the Hunt aren’t as bright as I first speculated, or we’re about to walk straight into a trap.”
“Regardless, this won’t be overly difficult to finish quickly,” said Dan. “If we’re able to take them out before they’re able to make any sort of signal, we can get ourselves out of here before they even realize we’ve left.”
“That could end very badly if they have some tactic up their sleeve that we are unaware of. We could be captured and killed, easily. We can’t really go out and face them head-on.” Selkie paused to think. “Why don’t we let them walk in and investigate on their own? We’ll have the turf advantage.”
“You’re hurt though, Dan!” came Chef’s voice from the stairs leading to the basement as he ascended them. “You and Selkie can’t fight them right now!”
Sky and Darky exchanged glances for a moment, then nodded.
“Better idea,” Sky smirked.
“Yes sir, we’re at the location right now,” Sunny murmured into his communicator. “Do we have orders to move in? Oh? Yes. Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Very well, sir.”
Sunny put away his communicator furiously. After all the work the Silver Wolves had done in tracking the targets for the organization, they were being repaid by told to stay
put? Ungrateful, that’s what it was, and Sunny wasn’t about to step aside and let others take the glory for his own achievements.
“Orders, Commander Cide?”
Sunny looked over at Irish, trying to create an appropriate response.
“We are to investigate the location. Immediate and unrelenting aggression on any found targets. Everyone on me. Get a move on!”
A chorus of monotone “Affirmative!” echoed throughout the company as they moved toward the quiet house in front of them. There was nothing conspicuous about the house. In fact, it looked like every other house on the block: Rundown and uninhabited. Good, Sunny thought to himself. Less innocent people in the way. There wouldn’t be casualties like there were at the airport incident. More importantly, there wouldn’t be any screwups.
Sunny quietly drew his blaster, and Irish withdrew his twin blades. Sunny looked back at the others. If he was being honest with himself, they gave him the creeps. They dressed fully in dark green clothing that covered their bodies entirely, including hoods to cover their faces. Underneath their hoods, they had masks covering the bottom half of their faces, as well (dark green, of course). They were all highly trained, or so he had been assured, and were the best in their fields. What that meant aside from the fact that they could kill you before you’d even notice was beyond him, but he knew better than to question the recommendation of higher-ups when it came to matters like these. He had lost half of his men to people like this before deciding to join their cause, something he wasn’t bound to forget anytime soon. However, if this was the path toward revenge, he would gladly take it.
As he moved to step into the house, a firm hand grasped his shoulder. His head swung around in a nervous panic as he faced one of the faceless men. He watched as the man’s mask twitched into what he could only guess was a condescending smile. Sunny quickly hid his reaction.
“What is it?” he hissed.
“You’re a liability,” came an unnaturally deep voice. “The chances of us being sent in directly like this are minute, and your motivation for this mission compromises the safety of the operation. If we’re to go in, we go in my way.” As he finished speaking, the man put a forceful thumb to his chest, the rest of his hand balled into a fist.
Sunnycide could feel his teeth about to break from how hard they were being pressed together. For a moment, all he could do was glare at the man. He decided against contradicting him, however, and settled for a nonchalant shrug.
“We’ll take the rear, then,” he muttered.
“Good man. The boss loves the submissive kind.”
Dark chuckles erupted from the other hoods. Sunny bit back a retort, smiling instead.
“After you, then.”
Irish walked up beside Sunny without looking at him, instead staring pointedly at the ground. The other four hoods pushed past them on their way into the house. Their footsteps were nowhere near muffled by the pavement leading up to the door, their approach far too obvious. They weren’t planning on hiding their entrance, apparently. Sunny did not move, however, and Irish followed suit. They watched as the hoods kicked the door down, sprinting into the house. Despite the various orders being shouted, it seemed fairly chaotic.
“Should we follow them?” Irish prompted.
As Sunny opened his mouth to reply, he saw something that made his eyes widen.
“DIVE!” he bellowed.
Irish followed the command without hesitation, more than likely saving his own life in doing so. As the pair dove to the ground for cover, the house burst into an explosion of flames. Immediately, screams were heard from the inside, wails of agonizing pain, the cries from the sensation of burning flesh. Some stray bits of rubble hit Sunny and Irish, but nothing major other than ringing in their ears kept them from getting back up suddenly into an alert stance.
“Commander-”
“Leave them. They’re dead.”
Irish looked from the house to Sunny, and back to the house.
“Who do you think did this?”
Sunny broke into a grim smile as he turned his back on the house now up in flames.
“Majestic Tragedy. Majestic Tragedy did this.”
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Night had fallen over Destin, and as the moon finally broke through the barrier of clouds overhead, its light shone on a single lone figure walking its white beaches aimlessly. The man was of average height and average build, nothing extraordinary. His short, dark-brown hair was hidden mostly in the night, as were his dark clothes. His pale skin reflected in the moonlight, however. He kept his head down in deep thought as his bare feet basked in the white sand below them. It wasn’t difficult for Sunnycide to be inconspicuous in a “normal” setting. No one that looked at him would think at first glance that he was a trained fighter, which quite often worked to his advantage.
Irish had been called back to another operation in Ohio, but Sunny had been told to stay put and await further instruction. In his experience, this meant nothing good. Irish had almost suffered the same fate, but Sunny had managed to convince their superiors that it was all his doing. Sure, his punishment would be greater this way, but he wasn’t about to let Irish take the fall with him. He had let their targets evade them, and had lost five men in the process.
As he walked, another figure silently joined his side, seemingly out of nowhere. They walked in silence for a moment, the other figure slightly shorter and slimmer than Sunny.
“Good of you to show up, Corr.”
The shorter figure, a man in his early 20s, looked at Sunnycide.
“You told me you had good info. I can’t resist some good intel, and you know that.”
Sunny remained silent as he continued walking.
“Well? Where are they?”
“They were here, but now I don’t know. I was hoping you knew,” Sunny sighed.
“There isn’t much I don’t know in terms of people,” Corr said. “But I don’t know where they went from here. Hell, I didn’t even know they showed up here. I’d have said hi,” he laughed.
“Do you think they’d welcome you?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. I may have done a lot of hopping around in the old days, but I was always ‘faithful’ to Majestic Tragedy. At least, as far as they know.”
“Dan always did let you come and go as you pleased. Even when you had your own army for a little while.”
“I was the youngest commander Blackout, or any army, ever had. Then Dan offered me an ultimatum: Majestic Tragedy or Blackout.”
“And you chose Majestic Tragedy.”
Corr didn’t answer. Yes, he had chosen Majestic Tragedy, but his return hadn’t quite earned him a welcome party. Quite the opposite, in fact. Most of the members from that point forward were rude and cold toward him, moreso than he could stand. Pretending to be loyal wasn’t difficult, however, and he was still able to travel anywhere at anytime for any reason. It was at that point that he became a stockpile of information on any and all organizations of the time. He knew everything there was to know about everyone actively fighting at the time, and not many people realized how much he actually knew. Sunny had been one of those that had realized, but by that time, he had been stripped of all authority of his own army, and he had Dan to thank for that.
“I need you to find them for me, Corr.”
Corr turned to look at Sunny.
“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to find them, too.”
“I need you to tell me where they are when you find them.”
“And why would I do that?”
Sunny raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me you’re still loyal to Dan and the others after how they treated you.”
Corr looked away from Sunny.
“Ahh, so you are still loyal to them.”
“It’s more that I’d rather not get sucked into your plan for revenge.”
Sunny rounded on Corr in a fury, causing him to stop walking.
“Must I remind you what Dan and his accomplices did to me? I’d hope you wouldn’t have forgotten so quickly. Though I’m sure you remember, let me refresh your memory,” he growled. “Firstly, I never did anything to Dan personally. We fought against Majestic Tragedy when they were under a different leadership, so my quarrel quite obviously was not with Dan. I even remember seeing him on the sidelines of battle, not among the ranks of Majestic Tragedy’s champions. I still remember the look in his eyes: Scared, helpless, naive. I would not have expected he would be my downfall.
When he took leadership, the transition from helpless boy to ruthless warlord was an incredibly quick one. Wars were fought left and right with Majestic Tragedy coming out on top. Their champions were unstoppable. Any challenges to their faction were met and overcome. So I knew to steer clear of Majestic Tragedy and mind my own business. How much good do you think that did me when Dan came looking for me personally a few months later? Driven by some idiotic and misinformed idea of who he thought I had been in the past, he attacked me. Though I begged him for mercy, he was relentless. He beat me to within an inch of my life, while his friends watched, of course, and left me for dead. My troops found me in the forest and took me home to tend to my wounds. Though I knew they cared about my well-being, some of them were ashamed of my current state, and abandoned our faction in favor of others. Slowly, but steadily, our numbers dwindled. We became nonexistent in the eyes of many, and hardly worth the effort in the eyes of the rest. Dan single-handedly stripped away every part of my honor from me, and for no reason. He beat me down in cold blood, and has been able to live the rest of his life free from judgment for his crimes. I intend to bring judgment down on him,” Sunny exhaled. “No matter the cost.”
“So you’re asking for my help to do that,” Corr responded, arms folded over his chest, mostly indifferent to Sunny’s narrative.
“Oh, I’m not asking,” Sunny replied. “I just respect you enough to not start with the unpleasantries.”
Corr raised an eyebrow.
“Unpleasantries? I think I’ll take my leave now.”
As he turned to leave, Sunny’s hand flew onto his shoulder.
“Oh, but what about that girl... Karla, was it?”
Corr did not turn around, but he froze. There was no way Sunny had gotten to Karla. How could he have?
“It would be a shame if anything were to happen to her, wouldn’t it?”
“You don’t even have her.”
“Oh, but I do. It was quite easy to nab her, to be honest with you. Here, let me show you.”
As Sunny dialed a number on his cell phone, a shrill voice came from the other end.
“Corr? What’s going on? Please help me!”
Corr turned around, eyes alight.
“What do you want me to do?”
Sunny smiled.
“That’s more like it.” Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
The smell of coffee brewing tore Hunter away from his many computer monitors, all of which were rapidly displaying unique bits of information, and into his kitchen. He yawned as he lazily dragged his feet to the source, hoping the caffeine would help him to wake up. It was an early morning, moreso than what he was accustomed to, but for the first time in a while there was work to be done. Actual work, not the boring day-to-day stuff that he would always be done with within an hour’s time. He popped his neck as he poured himself a mug of fresh coffee, stretching his arms before picking it up and taking it back with him. The house was kept cool by the trees surrounding the area and widespread throughout Baker.
The town of Baker, Florida was a quiet town, one that was mostly unknown by people outside of the state (or even within it). It was an unremarkable town, to say the least, which was perfect for laying low. Though it was scenic like the rest of Florida, it wasn’t quite up to par with the state’s major locations. Baker was filled with trees, several creeks, and a couple of rivers. Anyone that enjoyed a slight resemblance to swampland didn’t mind living in Baker. Hunter didn’t mind it, as long as he was able to keep to himself for the most part. His command center kept him in contact with the rest of the outside world, but interpersonal interactions were best kept at a minimum.
Jordan and Alex had contacted him with the news that they had met up with Martin, Conner, Matthew, and Dan in the old SMAC headquarters. While he was surprised that they were all traveling together once again, he was pleased. It meant he had meaningful work to do once more. Ever since his music career had fallen through after a series of asshole lead singers had disenchanted him with the path, he had taken on several odd computer jobs here and there. Simple stuff, really, but that was all about to change once again. The Majestic Tragedy group was on the move headed toward Ohio, and they’d need his help breaking into a high-security establishment in the area.
As he walked into his room, he froze. He had heard something, but only barely. He gingerly set his mug on the desk, grabbing a couple of drumsticks from his drumset. Hunter walked quietly to his door and opened it, peering outside carefully. He took a few confident steps outside of the door and stopped to look around. Something was up, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. A rustle of movement came from his left, to which he whirled around quickly and came face to face with Corr. He screamed (a little higher-pitched than he would have liked) in surprise, and took a few steps backward. Corr cocked his head slightly to the side, a minute smile forming on the left side of his face.
“Oh hey, Acrilyc. Fancy seeing you here.”
Hunter stared for a moment longer before composing himself.
“Hey Corr,” he replied flatly.
“It’s been a while,” Corr continued. “Obviously I’m not here just for a chat, though. I need your help.”
“Yeah? With what?”
Corr glanced around Hunter, trying to get a look into his room. What he hoped to see was beyond Hunter, but he moved to meet Corr’s gaze and block his view. Corr looked him in the eye instead.
“As you probably know, we’re all being hunted right now,” he said quietly, worry filling his tone. “There’s not really any mercy coming from the people we’re up against, and, honestly, I’m a little scared of what’s coming.”
“So what do I have to do with any of this?”
Corr repressed a dirty look.
“You’re part of this too. You know that, right? You know they’ll eventually come for you? What are you going to do when that happens?”
“If that happens,” Hunter corrected him.
Corr was beginning to get impatient, but managed to not give it away.
“Well, I also heard a rumor that Dan was gathering up old members of Majestic Tragedy to fight back. And the way I see it, there’s safety in numbers. The Hunters have made it known that they have a global reach, not just in this country. That’s why I came here.”
“Dan’s gathering up old members, you say?”
Corr nodded.
“Things must be getting pretty serious, then. Who has he recruited so far?”
“Chefman, Selkie, Sushi, Sky, and Darky,” Corr rattled off without thinking. “Or so the rumor goes,” he added as a quick afterthought.
“Interesting. Sounds like he’s finding his strongest fighters first. I guess that’s why you haven’t been on his list yet,” Hunter smirked.
As Corr lunged at Hunter, Hunter quickly hit him with both drumsticks. Corr recoiled in surprise.
“Listen here, Acrilyc. I know you know where they are. You just tell me where they’re headed and we can be done here.”
“I don’t think so.”
Corr’s hands began to glow blue.
“Have it your way, then.”
Corr leapt at Hunter again, this time prepared for the drumstick attack. He snatched both of them from his hands, snapping them in half and tossing them aside.
“Dude, are you kidding me?” Hunter growled. “Those were Zildjian Dave Grohl promo sticks!”
“Yeah, they sure were,” Corr replied, rolling his eyes. The next thing he knew, a strong fist collided with the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. He looked up in time to see a foot pin his chest to the ground.
“You’re going to leave me the hell alone right now,” Hunter said dangerously.
“Not likely.”
Corr pointed his hands at Hunter and a blue sphere of energy formed from them and flew at Hunter’s chest, launching him backward. Corr leapt up, dashing at Hunter with extreme speed, dealing quick blows to his chest and knocked his legs out from under him.
“Now, where are they headed?”
Hunter said nothing, struggling to get up against the pain flaring in his chest. A swift kick was dealt to his side, knocking him back down.
“Come on, this can be a hell of a lot easier if you just help me out. Times are tough, and we’ve got to stick together.”
“Yeah? Well what do you call this?” Hunter said, spitting out blood.
“Desperate measures,” Corr growled, picking him up by his shirt. “Now, please, tell me where they’re going.”
“Washington,” Hunter panted.
“Washington?” Corr said, his grip loosening slightly.
“Yes. Chef is worried about Dee.”
Corr snorted.
“Of course,” he mused. “Alright, thanks bro.”
He let go of Hunter, letting him collapse on his knees.
“I’ll be seeing ya around, I hope,” Corr smirked as he got on his rad skateboard and skated away into the sunrise, Mountain Dew in hand.
“Stupid bastard,” Hunter muttered. He shakily brought himself to a standing position and walked into his room. As he sat in his chair clutching his chest, he pressed a few buttons on one of his keyboards and waited a few seconds.
From inside of their hijacked van, Sky’s phone began ringing. He looked at it before answering.
“This is Sky.”
“You guys almost in Ohio?” came Hunter’s voice from the other end.
Sky looked at Dan, who nodded.
“Yeah, we are.”
“Good. Keep me posted.
“Will do.”
As the call ended, Sky pocketed his phone.
“So, is this where he lives still?”
Dan smiled, his eyes still on the horizon.
“Yes, and hopefully by sunset, we’ll have ourselves another missing Link.”
Selkie’s eye roll at Dan’s bad pun was almost audible as their van carried them into Ohio, toward the next step of their journey. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Despite the hustle and bustle of the rest of the state, the Ohio Valley was an area that was far removed from the daily routines of the business class. It was a densely forested area, one that was peaceful and reassuring to those wondering if life really had anything else to offer outside of a nine-to-five workday five days out of the week. For some of these people, hunting had become a pastime; it was an escape to many, and a way of life to few. For those few, hunting was a scarce way to make a living, and even less of the few could actually sustain themselves with it.
Brian awoke that morning knowing he was one of the scarcer few. He was undeniably one of the best in the hunting business, and though it was a business that was quickly becoming obsolete, he still depended on it. He depended on this lifestyle not financially, but psychologically. He had been trained for combat for several years with various different weapons. It wasn’t something he was just going to be able to shake off. He had kept track of the other ex-Majestic Tragedy members, and had been envious of their ability to assimilate so easily into society following the closing of the Old System.
He shook his head briskly, forcing the feelings of feeling sorry for himself away. As Brian washed his face to wake up, he reached for his crossbow near the door, making sure he had ample bolts to spare. He gave his sword a quick glance, deciding against bringing it along. However, he slung his shield over his shoulder. He wasn’t going anywhere without it.
As he walked out the door of his secluded cabin, he took a deep breath of the air around him. Everything was as it should be.
“You good to go, Brian?” came a quiet voice from his left.
Brian had not heard him approach, but he knew who it was.
“Yeah, Cam, I’m ready.”
Cam stepped out of the shadows, dressed in dark, abstract clothing that disguised his presence in a variety of places, making his ability to move swiftly and soundlessly a deadly combination.
“Still don’t really get why you don’t hunt alone anymore,” he admitted after they had walked a fair distance together.
“You can never be too safe,” Brian replied.
“You can,” Cam smirked.
Brian gave him a small chuckle in response.
“One of these days it’s going to be your ass in trouble, and you’ll be glad I was around to save it,” Brian added.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that one.”
The two continued walking in silence, their paces silent as they kept their eyes open for potential prey. Brian was becoming frustrated relatively quickly. After all, he had sensed prey nearby when he’d first left home. Where was it now?
“So, how’s the hunting been going lately?” Cam asked quietly.
“Nothing too big, nothing too fun,” Brian said dismissively.
Cam looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Pretty boring lately, then?”
Brian nodded distractedly.
“So you’d be up for kicking things up a notch tonight? There’s been a string of robberies lately and I think I know where they’ll be going nex-“
“No. Definitely not,” Brian barked, snapping out of his daydreams. “You know we can’t do that stuff any longer.”
Cam grimaced.
“Look, who’s going to notice?”
“Everyone, that’s who. If the cops aren’t the ones that take care of it, people notice. Leave it to the cops.”
“You’re probably just scared you’re rusty,” Cam muttered.
Brian ignored the comment and kept walking. Both men slowed down as they reached a clearing, spotting some decently-sized deer below. Brian brought a finger to his lips as he turned to Cam, signaling for silence. Cam rolled his eyes as he repeated the motion sarcastically. Brian carefully loaded his crossbow, taking methodical aim at the deer below. Choosing his target, he held his crossbow steady, preparing to release. Brian inhaled deeply, a single bead of sweat forming on his forehead.
Moments before releasing, a crashing sound came from across the clearing, causing all of the deer to run in fear. Brian released the bolt in frustration, cursing aloud. Grunting, he picked himself up, starting to walk into the clearing. As he reached his bolt, he bent down to retrieve it, only to have another bolt land at his feet. He froze as he looked up across the clearing. A lone figure stood on the other side aiming a similar crossbow at Brian.
“Put your crossbow down or next time I won’t miss,” the figure echoed from across the clearing as it made its way toward Brian. Brian squinted at the man, trying to make out his face, but he was too far away. He obediently placed his crossbow slowly on the ground and took a couple of steps back.
“Good. I appreciate your cooperation, BWill,” came the arrogant voice once more. “It makes my job much, much easier.”
“Yeah? What job is that?”
The figure stopped and looked directly at Brian, who finally recognized him.
“Killing you,” Kirin laughed, shooting a bolt aimed at Brian. Brian quickly dove aside, grabbing his shield from his back and wielding it in front of his torso defensively. Kirin cirlced around Brian, crossbow still aimed at his heart.
“Oh, but how rude of me, I forgot the part where we exchange pleasantries. How are you, BWill? What’s it like living in my shadow once more? And in your final moments, too. What a pity,” he laughed once again.
Brian’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing in response as he began to bide his time waiting for