Cavalry ch 7

I think it's about time ONE day passed.
WARNING: More than 4000 words. And as such, I'm afraid that Russet and Aure will only appear next chapter.

Edit: Bg info for newbies.

The Cavalry series is a fanfic of GunZ.

Fighters make up 25% of Astra.

True-Fighters (K-stylers) make up 40% of that 25%. The rest are normal people with no augmented abilities (E-stylers). For people who play GunZ, k-stylers can, well, k-style and they have the same moves as from the game (But this chapter isn't a very good example of it because the fight's kinda done. Chapter 6 has moar, though).

The rest of that 75% are civilians, a.k.a. normal people with normal lives like you and me.

Astra is an isolated continent and pretty much all its denizens think that they're alone. It's about the size of Australia and has three States- Axiom, Pearce, and Kepler. Axiom is the smallest and contains most of the fighters. Major cities include Town Original, Town-1, 2, 3 and 4 , Guntrix, Unamm and Balgin, with Balgin as a trading port between Axiom and Pearce. For now, we're only going to bother with Axiom because that's where our epic story is.

The only major fighter's war was between the forces of Kavveled and Yurith. It was a war with merged all three states under one government, and unveiled, for the first time, the power of true-fighters in battle(enough to send bodyguard and private police companies into a hiring frenzy). While the history books are unagreed on their motivations and personality, it is generally agreed, however, that Yurith was a cold-blooded murderer of thousands while Kavveled was a saviour of many. They were such skilled fighters that fighters started using their names as if they were immortals after the war ended.

In any case, Astra is completely self-sufficient and nobody really cares what is going on outside.

Probably.

Fable clan is currently the largest fighter's clan in all Astra. They recruit anyone willing to join and serve, that's why. But quantity still matters. Their leader is a mysterious figure. The second in command, Relat, is less so, but nobody besides his most trusted aides really knows what the man is planning.

Axiom is another main clan, whose members are only limited to True-Fighters. They're smaller than Fable, but their origins date back to the Kav-Yurith war, and their leader is still alive. They generally try to stay neutral, although they do express their dislike for Fable. It's a good thing they don't take sides because Axiom, after all is filled with k-stylers only -some members recruited and trained from toddler age- and is certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Cavalry is a relatively new clan recently set up by Ganz because the Fable clan is starting to get bold, killing off random people without provocation. They number only at 10, but their members include infamous names like Reve the Turtle, Legro a.k.a "Boom and Presto!", and Shadow Quick-step and so warranted Fable clan's attention, and because they promised to defend civilians, the civilians newspaper covered them. And that's why everyone seems to know who they are, so fast.

Of course, there's a better plot under all that. But it's pretty hard to unfold because I know you people will get bored with loooong chapters.

Yes, this series has a crapload of characters. And yes it's hard to keep track of them all. But I try.

The fighter's mind is a complete enigma of contradicting motivations and incomprehensible, inane thoughts. I suggest you give up trying to decode its insanity before your speech betrays you to be an insane maniac… Not that I can't tell that you are already.

~Dr. Nassanei to Dr. Dest in a psychologists' seminar

10 years before the events of the Cavalry

The girl had been walking down the alley that rainy afternoon, the hood of her rugged jacket drawn, her torn, oversized trousers covering whatever scant foorwear she may have been wearing. She couldn't have been older than 8, and yet her eyes seemed to be of an entirely different age. A scimitar too big for her size hung from a belt frog at her waist, the point of its scabbard dragging lightly along the ground. Her shoulder length, silver blonde hair was greasy and dirty, speaking of many days gone without washing- typical of a child street urchin of Unamm.

A door in front of her swung open, a foot emerging from behind it, accompanied by a string of disgruntled words from a man succumbed to frustration. He walked down the slippery steps down to the alley with tentative steps, a cello in his hand.

The girl stared at him as he bent over to place the instrument onto the wet ground, exposed to the rain. Straightening, he wiped his hands on his coat, a more satisfied expression replacing the one of frustration.

'…Stupid piece of junk,' he said, more audibly this time, shooting the cello one last glare, turning to move, glad to be finally rid of that failed project he should have dropped the moment he ran out of the same type of wood.

Then, he saw the girl, approaching the cello with ginger steps. He halted midstride, swinging his gaze to look at her with something like disdain and curiosity. What business would a street urchin have with a cello, of all things?

And yet, she was apparently mesmerized by the cello, walking over to it as if in a trance, carressing its subtle curves, running her little fingers along the f-holes.

Pfft, typical kiddy curiosity. She'll be letting go of it soon enough. 'What, you like it?' He said in a rough voice.

She jumped as if startled. Her body stiffened as she turned to look at him, her sapphire eyes meeting his own in an inquisitive look.

'It's a piece of junk,' he said, glaring at it again. 'Used two different kinds of wood for it. Two different grains! It's likely to turn out absolutely horrible.' He flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture, snorting. 'So get away from that… Thing…'

In spite of himself, he found his voice trailing off as he looked at the girl again.

There was that gleam in her eyes, a pleading look, as her gloved hands wrapped around the cello's neck, and she leant over it, seeming to seek to protect it from the rain with her body.

'You even know what I just said?' He said, in a tone of annoyance. 'I said, it'll sound horrible! It may look nice and all, but it'll sound so bad!'

Her expression did not change.

He let out an exasperated sigh. Kids, they never seem to understand. He was about to attribute it to innocence when he looked into her eyes again. No, there's nothing innocent about this girl. Those eyes look too bloody old. And that sword gives us all a big clue why…

'Alright, fine! Fine! Have it your way, let's all waste time, shall we? Grab that cello and let's hurry in before the water soaks the wood through,' he said, throwing his arms overhead in an expression of giving up. Well, she wants to find out the hard way, let her! The man furiously wrapped his coat tighter about himself, and watched the girl pick up the huge instrument in a hug, her face lighting up with childish joy.

Somehow, a smile emerged unbidden to his lips, and he forced it off before she could spot it. Well, but that's innocence. That really is innocence. Innocence is ignorant bliss… A wonderful place, albeit of delusion. But, Abyss take me, that's why it's so pleasant. Illusions thrive and reality is kept at bay.

We need more kids who are kids, damn it,

He gave her a cynical smirk, relaxing his grip on his coat, gesturing at the door leading into his fiddle workshop.

She pranced up the steps.

Town-3

Reve felt her head burning. Oh, it burns. And throbbed. But mostly it burnt. And it felt like something was clamping on her head from all sides. Oh, what a bad, bad feeling. She groaned, putting a hand to her head, opened her eyes, shutting them again as the light stung. How long have I been out? She opened them a fraction, and gently let the light seep in.

And saw…

‘Krakken…?’ She breathed, as a blurry face swam into view. She kept staring, expecting it to sharpen.

And sharpen it did, to the point where she felt uncomfortable, and she flinched as details – too many details- revealed themselves. She jumped violently, knocking her head against the wall behind.

‘Ow!’ She shouted, grasping the back of her head, looking up at the man again. It can’t be Krakken! That’s… That’s…

It was Imppala.

‘You bloody ox!’ She bellowed, curling up on the chair, her eyes darting everywhere, jumping from object to object, around the room. Well, it was a clinic, since they had anatomy charts hanging from the walls. And then, two nurses, one male doctor, Shadow, Imppala, and Metro…

Too many details! She could see every little flickering expression, every wrinkle, every skin fold, every strand of hair, the texture of their clothing, the little grooves and layering materials on their guns, every little scratch on the swords! Which was absolutely terrifying. She hadn’t seen so many details before, ever! Or maybe she did. But not in recent memory, that’s for sure. She gave a squeal.

Imppala stared down at the girl on the chair, who suddenly started cowering and trembling, raising an eyebrow, looking at Metro and Shadow – They both shrugged, Shadow holding back a laugh.

‘What have you done to me?!’ She squeaked, covering her eyes with her hands.

‘What?’ Imppala said, gesturing fiercely. ‘You got pommeled in the head really hard and we fixed you up! Aren’t you feeling heaps better, you little ungrateful wench?!’

‘No, not that!!’ She said, voice rising in pitch with every word, before lowering sharply into a rasp. ‘Everything’s too clear!!’

‘Are you out of your mind?! Isn’t that a good thing??!!’

‘No, it’s not normal!’

‘Wait,’ Shadow cut in, ‘You were serious about the whole drunk thing?’

‘Did I look like I wasn’t?’

Shadow looked at Imppala, who said nothing in response.

‘Hard to tell when you’re serious and when you’re not,’ Imppala said, scowling. ‘And I think it’s even harder now.’

‘I’d say she’s going to be fine,’ the doctor said, clearing his throat, a dark expression on his face. ‘You people can leave right now if you want to.’

Reve looked up at the man, buried her face in her hands with another moan.

And then… Memories. Sharp. Close. Real. Flashing in her mind, vivid, with unyielding clarity. Her mental vaults unlocked, vague seas of images and scenes sweeping through her. Memories she sought to forget. She distanced herself from them, building a wall to block them out, and yet feeling as if those memories would explode through any moment, delivering unimaginable carnage.

A terrible feeling of bitterness now gripped her, and its hold was… Alien. She felt a shiver run down her spine. No, this isn’t normal. Not even a little bit… Kav!

Krakken. A single name which shook her to her very core. And yet, the memories were on the other side of the wall. No… She could not, would not tear that wall down. The struggle to stay away from the thoughts, to keep the wall intact, grew more intense with every thinking moment in the silence of the clinic.

Images.

‘Someone,’ she whispered,’ Talk. Please.’

Imppala’s scowl faded as he heard her speak. A simple request, yet there was something foreign in her voice. No, not anger, not frustration. Sadness? Despair? No, not Reve. She was too insane for that. He couldn’t imagine for a moment that she had a larger range of emotions than that of a rock, and even then, those emotions were limited to cheerfulness, bordering on insanity. He knew this from whatever small talks he had with this girl. Probably insanity born of extreme boredom, then? Yes, that makes sense, of course. The scowl returned.

Metro laughed at the progression of emotions flashing through Imppala’s face. He ignored her.

‘Well, I suppose we should leave.’ He said, clearing his throat. ‘It’s quietened down outside—‘

A single shot from a shotgun rang across the town.

Everyone fell silent for a moment, Reve reacting so violently to it she almost jumped out of her seat, cursing and swearing.

‘Sounded like a Cruelizon,’ Metro said, glancing at Imppala. ‘The one Leg carries.’

‘Right,’ he said, tightening his belt, ‘That’s our cue to leave.’

Half blinded by pain, stumbling in the streets. Legro berated herself for being so careless, for not anticipating Reve’s sudden melee. What a stupid mistake. One that would cost her.

Ganz is not going to be happy when he hears of this. It took a lot to finally convince Reve to join their cause, and she was undoubtedly a powerful ally, talented at both fighting and gathering information.

That katana which Reve stuck through her struck a nerve, somewhere, perhaps – She wasn’t sure. And she didn’t really care. But it wasn’t numbing somehow. Which was bloody strange.

She collapsed behind a garbage bin, yanking her shotgun off its strap, checking how many shells she had left in her ammo pouch. It brought a strange sense of comfort. Well, if someone wants to attack, she’ll screw them over a thousand times with this little monster. She bit her tongue, zoning the pain out. It wasn’t pleasant to be constantly seized by sharp pain from the wound, every few seconds. It was starting to get to her, gnaw on the fighter discipline that was the only thing stopping her from keeling over. She’d begun to take the numbing of injuries for granted… Until this. It happened a few times before. But now, she happened to be in the apartment district, infamous for its armed gangsters. They were wannabe fighters, but they could get lucky.

Then it struck her. The mission. They’d forgotten. Cavalry III and IV, supposed to get to Unamm via Guntrix, and join up with Ganz and Ciel for the all out assault on Relat’s little den, information courtesy of Reve. Then Arladerus’s Mule had to explode in Shadow’s face, and since meds don’t work for burns they had to get her to Town-3’s clinic -not that they had any left-… And there they met up with Reve, who had just killed off a Fable dude, but was supposed to be in Town-2 with Nova, Reck and Falerix to eradicate the small band of Fable clan–

An explosion rattled Leg from her thoughts.

There had been one, a few moments after she left the clinic. She didn’t think it was for her. But now, that nade seemed… Closer.

‘Oh, Kav,’ she murmured, readying her shotgun. It suddenly dawned on her that she might just get killed. My last thoughts ever, then? And yet I’m thinking of how I’m thinking about nothing. How pathetic. 17 years of existence, and it all ends, with nothing.

But she found herself so detached that… She didn’t care. Not a single tinge of fear. She’d thought back to a small part of one of the late Mr. Nazgul’s novels, the part where a character died, trying to relate what he felt to what she was currently feeling, and it didn’t match at all. But that was good. It never was nice to feel despair…

Footsteps. A man had entered the alley now. Legro stayed immobile. She didn’t shoot. Not yet. She was going to wait for him to get closer. Though she didn’t think she could beat him, she thought she would give it a try.

Now-

She shot out of her cover, and was surprised at how close he really was… But that is a good thing. Going along with the sudden favorable change of events, she continued her motion, extended her gun arm, pressing the barrel against the man’s stomach. She squeezed the trigger of the shotgun, looking up to savor his expression of terror, shock and horror.

And her own face washed over with the same emotions, although it did not last long.

He screamed as his stomach exploded in blood, lashing out blindly at his assailant. Legro felt the huge barrel of his rocket launcher cracking hard against her head, and that was all she felt before everything flashed black altogether, and she sprawled onto the ground, the shotgun falling from an insensate hand.

The man staggered back, pointing the launcher at her head, before finally falling over from the horrible shotgun wound, his weapon clattering noisily onto the ground.

‘Oh, what the flying F*CK!!!’ Prodigy yelled, pressing a hand against the blood now spraying from his abdomen.

Not worth it. Not worth it at all. He just threw a couple of nades outside, maybe fired a rocket or two, just to vent some of that anger. How dare he, how dare that talentless hack expel him from Fable! Over the most stupid of reasons at that- spilling a coke on the man’s coat! Oh, why did Relat have to suddenly travel all the way to Town-3 from Unamm, now of all times? It’s not as if someone’s going to suddenly decide to go over and bomb the place, seeing as there were like, a dozen fighters guarding it. Relat and his paranoia made him want to kill someone.

And he certainly tried. He figured that woman who ran out of the clinic bleeding and stumbling was a nice target… Oh, he regretted it now. What a horrible, terrible day! All that crap happened, and then, and then!!! He got himself point blank’d by a Cruelizon, a freaking 10 gauge shotgun! And it practically created a tunnel in the middle of his stomach! He was no true-fighter, oh no he wasn’t…

Perhaps he was going to die. Oh, die in regrets, oh yes. Relat will be so, so sorry.

If only I had meds. I’d f*cking fly over to Relat and butt raep him, only with a sword…

He tried to laugh at himself for thinking such silly thoughts at death, but only felt his throat filling up with the sick taste of iron. He bent over and vomited blood, slightly unnerved by its quantity, and, suddenly feeling himself rid of strength, flopped into the pool, gasping.

Oh, Kav would have laughed. What a shitty way to die…

He’d caught a glimpse of the woman’s face. A very short one. But its features resonated with something within him. A long, long, time ago…

His life began flashing before his eyes. Quiet, peaceful days, surrounded by musical instruments. At that memory, he felt… Surprised. He never remembered anything beyond his entrance into the fighters’ world. Never remembered those quiet days under the sun, with no cares in the world, in musical heavens. I was a musician once. What… How?Then, one fateful day, the fighters came. Guns blazing. Shattering their quiet lives. Of course. He’d thought himself dead after he got shot, but a man saved him. A middle-aged fighter, impossibly skilled, so much so that I’d have thought he was Kavveled. The two traveled together for a time, until that man disappeared one day without a trace. Then he joined Fable, flying through the ranks… Days of excitement and danger, unbelievable stress…

He remembered… More. That face. I know her. Of course…

His world now a sea of darkness, Prodigy reached out, his hand caressing the bloodied ground. Reaching… For something. A sudden coughing fit destroyed his efforts, making him curl up against the wound.

Oh, but none of it matters now… Of course… Nothing at all.

Prodigy felt the breeze momentarily sweep over his sweaty skin, gentle and comforting. He heard faint footsteps, drawing ever closer. Kav was coming for him. How wonderful. He closed his eyes.

On the road from Guntrix to Unamm (A civilian city)

Ryxtre felt the wind blowing across his face, ruffling his blonde hair, blowing against his clothing, and beneath the shrieks of the wind raged heavy metal music, the drum beat sending his heart pounding with adrenaline. It was fitting. The sky was dark, the long road down to Unamm was mostly empty countryside, vast yellow plains lying on either side, an occasional farm or two breaking the otherwise monotonous landscape.

'Throwin' up your arms, givin' in to all the shit in this world!!…'

Imppala's voice was powerful and clear, piercing through the chaos of the heavy distortion of the guitars and the booming drums. Oh, Ryxtre missed that man. Out of all the extreme metal bands in Astra, Imppala's band seemed to be the best, seeming to use all the right notes and chord progressions to guarantee an absolutely mindblowing song capable of putting your mind in absolute heaven. Better than drugs,' the man had said.

Stupid Fable idiots, Ryxtre thought, feeling his blood boil despite the chilly night air. Those men took a most precious life, and they didn't even know it.

Imppalas band momentarily had a new singer, but Ryxtre had hated the boy on sight, and so did almost all of Imppala's other hardcore fans – Nobody could replace Imppala. The band, finally realizing this fact, disbanded with great reluctance. None of them were ever heard from again

Well, no matter. If he ever found the man who killed Imppala, Ryxtre vowed to empty an entire magazine into his head. And, perhaps, into the little sacks of family jewels between his legs.

He looked down at his speed-o-meter. 326. He laughed, throttling it up a notch. After all, there was nobody around. No risk of a crash or anything. And he wasn't afraid of the heat.The Mule had such an efficient cooling system that it was possible to maintain, shortly, a speed of 400kmph without the engine overheating. The only bike that could beat that was the Axiom clan’s standard-issue bike, the Steed, from the same maker, which could speed up to a staggering 500kmph. However, Ryxtre thought that 500kmph was a little overboard, and Ganz shared his thoughts. Besides, you can’t store your weapon on a Steed.

He somehow suddenly remembered Arly and Shadow's Mule overheating in the middle of the road to Guntrix just that afternoon. He supposed Shadow went slightly overboard and maintained a 400 for too long than the Mule can handle… Especially with two people on.

He took a breath to laugh when he heard the tiniest popping sound.

With the smell of burning rubber, he immediately shifted his weight to his left, hearing a bullet sear past his bike. Ryxtre whipped his head around to look.

The roaring engine of the pursuing sports car was barely audible beneath all that wind and blasting music, but the headlights were clear as day. Yurith take me! Ryxtre berated himself for being so careless. He reached down to the compartment in front of him, wrapping his fingers around the trigger of his rifle, yanking on it.

A barrage of shots, now. Ryxtre gasped as he felt one thud into his shoulder even as he pressed himself flat on the bike, swerving right and left to avoid the shots, gritting his teeth harder with every sound of a ricocheting bullet. Who in the bloody Abyss…?! And he waited. Waited for the gunshots to stop…

There—

—————-

The gunman in the car cursed. He needed to reload, and he had no idea where his next magazine was! He rummaged around in his pockets, cold sweat forming. Damn pesky true-fighters! He looked to his side to see the driver – the man’s eyes were squinted in concentration, and he was no longer smoking on his cigarette for fear of distraction, and both hands were now on the wheel instead of one. The gunman looked back ahead, biting his tongue in frustration and fear. They were already travelling at an astonishing speed of 300kmph, and yet it seemed that their quarry was, impossibly, faster.

Then the gunman felt his fingers close around a magazine at last, and he hastily muttered thanks to Kavveled as he clicked a new magazine into his submachine gun—

A flash from the motorbike ahead. It took a moment for its implications to sink in. Then, shock gripped the gunman and he made to scream, but a string of bullets immediately buried themselves into his head, killing it in his throat.

The driver of the car snapped his head sideways to look at his companion, finding the man slumping in his seat, blood pouring from a localized area of many holes in his forehead. A pang of fear flashed through him. Yurith’s balls! That guy can aim!

He jumped as he saw and heard the flash and rattle of the man's rifle once more, his arms moving in reflex to direct the car out of the way. Holes were punched into the glass and cotton spewed out from the seats as the bullets found the car, but the driver managed to evade. He let go of one hand, fumbling with his baldric in search of his gun, his heart hammering faster and faster with every second… There it is!

It suddenly struck him that he no longer heard the sound of shattering glass or the thudding of bullets into the seats.

As if in response, a vague, but audible popping sound issued from the car. And at around the same time, the vehicle lurched.

The driver understood its implications. Screaming, he immediately shot both hands onto the steering wheel, thumping a foot into the brakes—

————-

Ryxtre had stopped aiming at the car. He decided to put his ingenuity to the test… Have more variety. He steadied his rifle arm, directing it slightly lower, and squeezed the trigger.

Popping sounds and smoke from the car’s tyre told him that he had hit his target. He licked his lips in glee, his heart seeming to soar with the success. The screeching of brakes came next…

Just like he predicted.

Ryxtre immediately aimed high, staring right at the driver’s eyes as he did so, savoring his final expression of awe and fear. The driver had just successfully gotten out his pistol after all that fumbling, but even as he took his hands off the wheel to flinch, his head snapped back with the impact of a quarter of a magazine’s worth of bullets. The entire windscreen then shattered, shards of glass stabbing into the corpses who lay in the front seats of the car, mutilating them beyond recognition.

”Let’s just kill ‘em ALL!!” Imppala’s voice screamed through the speakers.

Ryxtre found himself laughing uncontrollably, the adrenaline coursing through his body, and he could think of nothing more than the pleasure of killing. He watched as the car disappeared beneath the horizon, then turned back to the road, clicking his rifle back into the compartment, cranking up the speed a few more notches, letting out a whoop as the guitar solo now pierced the air. Success! Unamm lay just a few minutes away. Then, a hot meal and a perhaps, if Ganz allowed it, a bath.

Of course, he completely neglected to note that those people were neither Fable clan nor robbers.

In the middle of the desert settlement near Town-3

The shadows came back. And then, color. Detail. Light.

I’m alive?

Dragoon blinked, taking in his surroundings. He was in a mess of blankets and ragged fabrics barely qualified to be called a bed, within a rundown, but spacious wooden shack. A single window and a closed door was all that broke the monotony of the walls . The room was filled with ammunition and weapons, with various swords leaning in a line against the wall on his right, and a huge array of rifles, shotguns, and other types of guns dumped in a heap on the other far corner of the room. There was a table with a lamp atop of it to his left, and before it sat a woman with short and messy brown hair, her face twisted in a smile so unnatural it was scary.

Dragoon groaned, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain flashed across his abdomen, and he let out a yelp, falling back onto the bed, a hand against his stomach, which he realized had been bandaged.

Oh, yes… He remembered now. He just got gutted. But wasn’t he supposed to be dead…?

‘Oh, woken up already?’ The woman said, turning to look at him with a lazy expression. ‘About time, it’s been a day.’

Dragoon stared at her, but took in none of her features, nor her words. He was trying to recall what had happened before he got himself gutted.

He had been patrolling… Yes. Then…

‘Oh, Yurith’s balls!’ He exclaimed, massaging his forehead. ‘Who in the Abyss attacked me?’

‘The idiot, Reptor,’ she said, a genuine grin showing on her face now. ‘He’ll be here anytime—’

Knocking sounds came from the door. The woman sighed, rising from her chair, and, dragging her feet, walked over to the door to open it.

A man in a black longcoat, with a shadowed face and fine, chiseled features, stood in the doorway. He looked at the woman with an odd expression before entering the room, immediately walking towards the heap of guns, unbuckling his weapon belts, throwing his shotgun and his revolvers into it, belt and all. The woman watched a moment longer before she swung the door closed.

‘Oh, what a day, what a day…’ He groaned, setting himself down on the chair, rolling his shoulders. ‘Just wasted a med. Damn it.’

‘Reptor,’ the woman said. ‘Nice timing. I assume you cleaned up the mess, then.’

The man named Reptor hesitated for a second, momentary panic flashing on his face. ‘And saved a sorry whelp’s behind along the way,’ he then growled, the previous, killer’s expression returning.

She was initially dismissive of that statement, but it only took a silent moment for the woman to put two and two together.

‘What? What’s that I hear?! HAH!’ The woman laughed harshly, then walked over to him and jabbed a finger into his chest, eyes burning. ‘You saved a worthless stranger with a med! Great, we’ve gone way over our budget- not that it was supposed to be this high- and then, and then! You used a med! You know better than anyone what meds are worth, and you just wasted one on an idiot, who will probably never repay it!’ She retracted the finger, turned around, threw her head back for another laugh, before falling into a sitting position onto the dusty ground, murder in her eyes.

‘Calm down, Silver. I’ll lever some repayment from him if it comes down to that,’ Reptor said, an uneasy expression now showing.

The woman –named Silver- turned to glare at Reptor –Dragoon perceived that she mouthed something-, before snorting and twisting to face Dragoon.

‘You’re Dragoon of the Town-3 Apartments Police, aren’t you?’ She asked, supporting her head with a hand.

Dragoon nodded gingerly. He had remained silent throughout, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable around these two to the point where it was even difficult to feel angry at Reptor. Then it struck him that his weapons were nowhere in sight. His gaze darted into the mountain of guns, searching frantically for the familiar shape of his shotgun and his handguns.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll give you back your stuff soon enough,’ Silver said, observing the frantic ricocheting of his pupils. He stopped, looking straight dead at her. She betrayed some unease in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, a scowl now dominating her face. Dragoon appropriately averted his gaze to ostensibly scan the room.

‘No, just wondering where we are,’ he denied his paranoia in a casual tone.

She muttered “lies” under her breath, before clearing her throat with a beatific smile. ‘Well, very very very good. Now let me educate you. We’re in… Nowhere! Wondrous, is it not! No of course it isn’t. So, stop asking questions because now your life depends on our continued goodwill and as you can see, I can’t wait to kill someone!’ Silver said in one breath, her voice ending in a high register, her smile now more unnerving than beatific. She suddenly rose to her feet –Reptor stiffened- , dusted the dust off her trousers, and added in a much more polite tone, ‘Tea?’

Dragoon realized that he was leaning so far back that his back was now pressing painfully against the wall. He abruptly sat up straight, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead, and said in a tremor, ‘Uhh, yeah.’

Reptor reached out and poured some hot liquid into a cup from a flask. He walked over to Dragoon, placing the cup into his hands.

‘Now, you answer our questions,’ he said darkly.

Dragoon looked up at him questioningly. Silver’s silhouette rose into view beside Reptor’s.

‘You know damn right,’ she said. ‘You’ve met Yurith.’

On the detour from Guntrix to Town Original

It was night, and Lith was on the way riding back towards Town Original. He suddenly sneezed, and wondered if there was someone out there cursing him.

Imppala's music was playing on the radio. He reached over to turn it off.