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“I thought Sylvester was keeping an eye on you two.” The bird-headed woman folded her wings- which sprouted from her shoulders in lieu of humanoid arms- across her suit jacket. “Why come here?”
“I wanted to gamble. The bull-guy said no. Thought these guys’ name was funny.” Lane picked her way through a bowl of pretzels and nuts, plucking the cashews out. “What’re you here for, Zekera?”
Zekera straightened her striped suit. “Just some social calls and business transactions. Boring things to you two- especially after your fiasco with Four yesterday.”
“I’d love to hear about it. Unlink my friend here, I’m visiting to see how the pack does business- in hopes to expand the Sanchez network.” Rosa leaned against the plush chair, her face one of placid interest.
Internally, she was panicking.
Before they had left for this painting-filled drawing room, Rosa had clipped a small mic onto Four’s shoulder. She was hearing patchy bits of Four’s petty arguments through her modded hearing aid, and it was… disconcerting. The assassin wasn’t here on pack business- in fact, she was here against the pack’s will. Against Arbiter Wolf. And working with the Vigil, at that.
The Wolf and his pack were invaluable for the Sanchez family- an ally with an effective monopoly over the shipping lanes in the most populous Metro City. She should do anything to protect her family’s interest here. Hell, if she told Zekera here about Four’s plans for betrayal, she could cement the Sanchezs as a powerful ally, maybe even the Wolf’s go-to relation in Norleans. She should tell her now. She had everything to gain.
Why didn’t she?
Zekera leaned forward. “Ms. Sanchez? Are you alright?” The green, tropical feathers on her face twitched in concern. “You zoned out there for a moment.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rosa pushed away her frizzy hair. “It’s been a crazy ride. What did you say?”
“I was talking about Lowharf’s underwater trade routes I’ve been negotiating for.” Zekera explained. “But you don’t seem well. I’m going to see if the butler can get you anything.”
“Oh, that’s really not necessary-”
“Oh, hush.” The woman’s wing waved away her concern. “I need to stretch my legs, anyhow. I’ll be back in a moment.”
After a second, the curtain door swung shut, and the two mages were left alone. Lane’s eyes flicked to Rosa as she crunched another cashew. “What’s up?” She spoke in Watermill Creole- a mispronounced slurry of French, Nahuatl, and Coalition Ojibwe. It sounded like childhood. “Worried about Four?”
“Not really. I’m sure she can handle herself.”
Lane shrugged. “I mean, I’m worried.” She admitted. “She’s good in a fight, but I don’t know if she’s wicked enough to do what needs to be done, going up against the pack. She seems kinda close to them.”
Rosa blinked, her mind racing for a moment. “Wait, how did you know what she’s doing?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “The bug’s only patched through to me.”
“You put a bug on her?” The mage seemed honestly surprised. “I was talking about her mailbox. That letter with a location- it’s a dropbox for the Vigil.”
“If you knew she’s a mole, why’d you want to come with her?”
“I thought we were helping her.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, she did save our lives.”
“But it’ll mean putting our families, the doctor, everyone against the Wolf and his allies-”
“And making us the ones who took him down.” An excited crackle of magic ran down her thumb as Lane flicked a nut across the room.
“Only if we do so.” How could she be so calm about this? What about Lin?
“If we don’t win, then we’re dead. Same as any fight.” She smiled. “I get to kick ass, we pay back our debt, and get to be called Wolf-killers, all in one swing. Not a bad payout.”
“We were nearly killed by a suit piloted by a mushroom.” Rosa reminded her. “Hardly Wolf-killer material.”
“Nearly-killed isn’t the same as dead.” Lane countered. “This time, we’ll be on the offensive.” She wondered for a moment. “And, I don’t like how the other members of the pack act.”
Rosa raised an eyebrow. “Sylvester seemed fine.”
“Yeah. And he shouldn’t.” Lane leaned back, folding her arms. “He’s a brute assassin working for the most infamous player in the city. And he was too dumb to know we left him behind at a store? And, her computer guy, the one she sent messages to at the noodle bar. He said he couldn’t find anything on that mushroom fuckwit, but Lin has already gotten back to me with some sightings of freaks like him all around the States. He may as well be a living cryptid.” She looked around. “And now Nekera’s here. Ahead of us. What does that all tell you?”
Rosa’s blood ran cold. Before she could respond, a click unlocked the swinging door, and the bird-woman stepped in. A new pot of tea wobbled precariously on an oven mitt held between her wings. “Oh, don’t stop on my count. The butler said this could help you stay focused.” She sat the pot down on the small coffee table. The feathers around her eyes crinkled in a smile her beak couldn’t form. “Did I miss anything?”
It had been a long time since the war of ‘69. Back then, Apocrypha was young, strong, and equipped with the best tech any settled planet could dream up. He vaporized legions of Hounds with a flick of his wrist. Those were the days.
Apocrypha’s fist cut upward. It landed just between the tamed Hound’s jaw and neck- a sensitive point he’d found in his previous scraps with the monsters. It yelped, rolling off of him, and he was unsteadily back on his feet. His body armor may as well have been a swimsuit, for all it protected his bruised and bloody torso.
Behind the dazed monster, Four sat atop a squirming Silvio Mohn, desperately trying to figure out how the small orb of dots and lights controlled the berserk Hound. “Any time now, rabbit!” His breath was ragged. The thing lunged, and he threw himself to the side, rolling hard off of a pile of metal film casings. They crunched in the thing’s jaws behind him.
“I told you it wouldn’t work!” Four protested. She pried open a panel on the side, and yelped as blue electricity shot across her hand. “This thing’s busted! It’s, uh, too mad, or some shit.”
The side of the tail winded the Vigilant. By the time he caught his breath, he was halfway across the room and the thing was midair in an arc towards him. An unclean dodge- he rolled back to his feet with several, shark-like teeth stuck in his arm. “Just fix it!” He palmed the scorpion-like tail away from his shoulder.
“I’m on it- kid, stop squirming!- I think I’ve almost got it.” Another spark. “Shit, give me another minute.”
“God dammit, Four!”
Apocrypha wasn’t sure how he survived. The room was a tangled mess of exposed flooring, wires, and destroyed cameras. The three captives weren’t caught in the crossfire, but everything else in the room had been touched by the thing’s rampage in some way. Scraps of body armor and the Hound’s metal fur were scattered across the room. Four was tying Silvio’s hands behind his back with his designer belt.
The Hound sat complacently, tail slowly wagging. Its collar emitting a low whirring sound as it glowed. The control orb lay on the ground in front of Four, too hot to hold, with electricity regularly sparking off of it. They didn’t have much time.
Apocrypha walked unsteadily to the Hound, sliding a dagger from his boot. Even sitting down, the Hound was still nearly a yard taller than him, and it’s eyes twitched in their sockets. The collar only controlled its body, not its mind. If the Vigilant didn’t know what these things’ minds were capable of, then he might have felt bad about slitting its throat. Hell, even knowing the sadistic thing’s nature, he still felt a pang of sympathy as it fell to the side. Why’d the Imperium need to make them look like dogs?
By the time he’d turned back to his accomplice, Four had already gagged and tethered Silvio to a support pillar on the opposite side of the room from the set. He frowned. She’s done that disturbingly fast. “See a first aid kit over there?” Apocrypha felt anemic. He began to unsteadily cut the ties of the three captives on the stage.
He automatically fell into his usual speech.“I am Apocrypha, Ace of the Alloton Vigil. I’m here to rescue you, but you are not rescued yet. Please, try to be quiet, remain behind us until…” He didn’t realize his speech was slurring. He blinked, the room spun, and Four was kneeling next to him. She raised his arm and was wrapping his chest. The two women were tending to the tortured man a few yards behind her.
“Shit, how long was I-”
“Just a few minutes.” Four said. “You know, when you charged in headfirst, I thought you had some secret weapon or plan.”
“The plan was for you to get the collar’s remote!” He coughed and tasted iron. Not good.
“Yeah, well, I’m not an engineer.” Four yanked on the bandage. It was a little too tight. “It was stupid of you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Just take the fucking gratitude.” Apocrypha growled. He leaned up. Most of his blood was still in his body, and the bandages might keep it that way until they got out. It was a start. “So, who’s the one you were looking for.”
The assassin stood. She looked over the freed captives- a pale man covered in scars, a younger woman clutching to some kind of tribal token on a leather cord around her neck, and an old woman with gray hair, a wrinkled tattoo on her shoulder, and a black eye. She turned to the older woman first. “Cordelia Reese?”
The woman stood, brushing off her hands on her baggy jeans. “Right. Should have known one of you’d come for me.” Her voice grumbled past a thick, western Coalition accent. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been controlled. The Wolf.” Four spoke quickly. She didn’t know how long they had before someone came looking for Silvio.
“Yes, I could guess that much. You’ve the look. The desperation of a puppet.” She folded her thin arms. “What do you want me to do about it?”
Four’s eyes flicked over towards the man on the ground and the captive over him, but they didn’t seem to be paying much attention. She leaned forward to whisper. “By chance, I’ve broken it somewhat, but there’s a mental block. I heard you could help me.”
The woman sighed, shaking her head. “They never want me for my legal research, do they?” She muttered to herself. She looked over Four with sharp eyes, and they flickered the electric blue of a Warden. “You have two controllers interfacing with your neurons. I can’t do anything about the one on your back- that’s a direct control of your musculature, with only secondary connections to your brain. Not my field.” Her eyes wandered away from Four, looking down at the floor. “It seems there’s another controlled individual down here. Two floors down. Much more cemented than your own- I would need at least a week working with their brain to free them.”
Without an incantation, the woman had identified what was going on with Four and had noticed the other pack member the butler had mentioned earlier. Four tensed. She was far more skilled than Bryce had implied.
“Still, for you, I’d need a few days, and a sanitary environment.” Cordelia continued. “I suppose Mr. Apocrypha here can provide that?”
“If you can do what you say.” The Vigilant groaned as he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “There has to be a catch.”
“Not many, medically-speaking.” Cordelia shrugged. “It’s brain surgery, so of course there are risks. But, the real risk is political. More Vigils and governments than you’d think employ controllers to do their dirty work. If my techniques were broadly known… Well, it wouldn’t go well for the status quo.”
Apocrypha’s lips tightened into a line. Of course he knew about the government use of controllers- he even had problems with Vigilants using them in his own group. “We’ll keep you in protection. Me and my inner circle.”
“I don’t suppose I have another choice, do I?” She waved her hand. “Joking, joking. You saved my life- my service is the least I can give.”
“That brings us to how we’re going to get you out.” Four interjected. “We can make excuses for you, Apocrypha, but they won’t let you three just walk out.”
“We could wait for the Vigil, right?” The previously captive young woman spoke up, supporting the heavily-bandaged man. “There’s a Hound here. Isn’t this the kind of thing you people deal with?”
“Unfortunately not.” Apocrypha sighed. “The Vigils are given very specific investigation privileges- magical, Rooted, and False Rooted crimes. That’s all we have jurisdiction over, criminally speaking.” He gestured to the dead Hound. “That thing’s an alien.”
Four wondered for a second. “What about me?” She asked. The Vigilant just raised an eyebrow, so she continued. “I mean, ‘pack member kidnaps Ace Apocrypha’ seems like a pretty good excuse for your people to come rescue you. Certainly probable cause.”
“You’d be arrested.” Apocrypha protested. “In the cops’ custody.”
“Only if I get caught.” Four rolled her shoulders. “I’m good at hiding.”
The man’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he relented. “Fine. I’ll make the call. Go and grab your friends. I’ll try to redirect my people away from you wherever possible.”
Four stepped to the door, flipping her pistol into her hand. “Thanks, cowboy-” Cowboy? The nickname came so easily. Why? “Uh, man.”
“Really? ‘Cowboyman’?” His stare was level and scathing. “At least get your insults right, rabbit.”
Suddenly swelling with awkwardness, Four didn’t think to dispute his own insult. She slipped out the door.