Click, click, click. The claws of death himself dragged along the armrest of its chair. Many were intimidated; Orion was not.
“You know why I have summoned you here?” Death asked.
Orion had an answer; he always did. He prided himself on that fact. “You wish for me to kill again. Who is my target?”
Wires like the nest of an arachnid wove around and through the man above Orion, and that was the worst part about him; Death Grim was not a man. “You know of my humiliation at the hands of a simple guild agent, Anthony Irin?”
Orion smiled behind his mask, because that was the worst part about Orion: no one knew who he was, not even Death Grim. “I am to murder the one who stopped you.”
The gears and wires clicked and spun, an echo of Death Grim’s anger. “He only won because I was betrayed, and now I am not ready, but soon I will return to take Cypostello for my own. I want Anthony gone when I arrive.”
“He is my target?” Orion confirmed.
“Yessss.” The clicking resumed.
“Then he will not survive.”
• • • • •
Shadows enveloped the city of Cypostello, darkness encroaching on the life below. Cypostello was named the city of light, but the name couldn’t be less indicative of the truth. Cypostello was a city of near eternal night, the gloom only pierced by dome lights at what the council declared was day. Earth’s orbit blocked out most of the Sun’s light, so Anthony couldn’t say that he was surprised, though most days he did wish for a bit more sunshine.
Though Cypostello was considered the crown jewel of cities, Anthony couldn’t help but think that the darkness suited its real nature. Cypostello was a world of crime, a city of dangerous men, plots, and even more dangerous creatures.
Anthony crouched on the roof’s edge, musing on the nature of his job and how things had changed. Thearen stood beside him, not much taller than Anthony’s crouching form. He was well enough to take up his duties as a guild agent once again, despite the mark that his previous adventures had left on him.
Thearen had been Anthony’s idol as a kid, and Thearen was why Anthony joined the guild (Anthony could still remember when Thearen had spoken at his high school about guild apprenticeships). Around the time Anthony became a full-fledged agent of the Mishion Guild (a group of scientist warriors dedicated to protecting Cypostello and other cities on Earth from villains too highly advanced for the police to handle), Thearen had disappeared. The previous chief of the guild had been doing illegal mutation experiments, and when Thearen tried to put a stop to it, they shoved him into one of their cruel machines.
Doctors had done what they could, and now Thearen was back to looking somewhat normal, though he’d never gained back his impressive six-foot stature and was still a little more than three feet. His skin was back to a dark tan, no longer the off white of the goblin creature the experiments had turned him into. He had a mostly regular face, though his nose was rather long, but most importantly, Thearen could see and breathe without the use of a bulky machine strapped to his hunched back.
They watched the streets below together, both were certain that Death Grim would return, and both were afraid of what he might do when he did. Anthony wore his guild armor fully stocked up with weapons of every kind. It was the most advanced and powerful protection suit in the whole guild. Thearen had a custom-made version of the same armor that fit his diminutive build. While Thearen was short, he was strong and skilled enough to beat Anthony in a sparring match most days.
“It might have been an empty threat.” Thearen muttered mostly to himself, “When there are so many problems throughout the city, trying to find Death Grim isn’t necessarily practical.”
Anthony shrugged. He himself had voiced the same conclusion on occasion, “I just don’t think Death Grim seems like the kind of guy to make empty threats. Thearen shrugged, fingering the throwing blades and nanite shurkins he had strapped to his belt. While he had used an energy gun, he preferred these more recent and deadly (if hard to use) forms of combat.
Alia came up behind them like she usually did. Everyone in the guild had two jobs, one for peace and one for war. Alia was a peacekeeper and engineer. She wore her engineer outfit now, a simple gray suit and short cape, with, of course, the ridiculous flat engineer hats. Anthony looked over his shoulder at her, “Oh, and what brings you here?”
In addition to her other jobs, Alia had a personal mission of making Anthony’s life harder and reminding him whenever he messed up. She was kind of like an annoying older sister. “You are supposed to be entering in five minutes!”
Anthony sighed and got up because, unfortunately, he had two other jobs: guild agent and new guild chief. Thearen looked at him and said, “You accepted the job; now do it.”
Anthony had accepted the job on the battlefield just after the infamous Dark Band had fallen, and the Mishion Guild had no leader. Anthony regretted accepting the post now; at the time, it had made sense, and as leader, he’d managed to free many of those the old chief had locked up and ended harmful experiments. But what he had expected from leadership was being on the front lines, leading troops to cleanse Cypostello, not showing up at government functions in a tight suit to give speeches.
Anthony got up, grumbling to himself, ignoring the teasing messages his AI in his helmet sent him. They scrolled across his view as small portions of text. “Fine, I’ll do it, but I won’t like it.”
It took Anthony far too long to put on the suit. His mechanical armor would fold around him in moments; this ‘simple’ tuxedo was like a puzzle with no solution that everyone else had figured out. As for more casual wear, Anthony liked his simple black pants and long white lab coat, which was his usual work garb when he was a science lab director reporting to the chief. Before he took off his helmet, his AI wished him luck, which was another example of how this AI seemed more conscious than others. No one thought Anthony’s AI could be sentient. He didn’t really believe it, but… his main enemy, Death Grim, was a sentient AI in one sense… A robot that had destroyed its creators.
About ten minutes later, Anthony strolled into the room. The new guild building was under construction near the city’s center, on top of where the Dark Band had flattened it over three months ago. For now, the guild operated out of a government-provided facility that had housed some offices for a purpose unknown to Anthony; the main entrance of this building was filled with dignitaries and businessmen, all chatting away, eating cake off of small plates. Anthony’s job tonight was to convince the government officials and hopefully some of the businessmen to fund the guild’s new command center. The previous chief had found funding by selling mutated lifeforms on the black market. Anthony planned on proving there was a better way.
Alia was at the party somewhere with other high-up guild members. Tiberius, the head of all guild agents under Anthony, was arguing vehemently with some entrepreneur about how the guild was necessary to build up commerce opportunities free of bandits.
Anthony took a deep breath and gulped down a glass of some kind of fancy wine; it helped settle his nerves. In a few minutes, he would get up and give a speech officially beginning the night’s program. As he looked around nervously, a figure stepped into his peripheral vision.
“Anthony Irin,” the man said, stepping forward with a hand out to shake. “I’m Oliver, Oliver Hunter. It is a pleasure to meet the legend himself in person.”
Thearen, over by the door, glanced down at his guest list. The AI in his helmet, much less lively than Anthony’s, showed him a face to go with each name. Oliver Hunter wasn’t on the list, and his face didn’t appear on any of the databases. Thearen straightened and moved through the crowd, heading towards the two of them.
Anthony returned the handshake, “Are you part of the governmental agency here for the fundraiser?”
Oliver gripped Anthony’s hand a bit harder than necessary. Anthony felt a sharp prick on his skin, but ignored it and extracted his hand from the shake. “No, I represent a private corporation for Earth-to-city transportation.”
Anthony nodded, glancing down at the flash of glinting metal under the cuff of Oliver’s suit and then back up at the other’s face, “What do you think of the new changes to the guild?”
Oliver grinned, “I heard enough to whet my appetite. I came to hear more.”
Anthony briefly explained the new programs and protocols they’d implemented and described the new state-of-the-art facility where they could begin working with the government to eradicate crime in Cypostello and on Earth. Oliver seemed very interested, asking questions and providing insights.
“Amazing,” he said. “My company would like to donate a generous sum to your operation, and I would like to toast to the new Mishion Guild’s success.”
Anthony returned the smile and went to grab a new glass. Oliver shook his head, “No, allow me.”
Thearen had trouble moving through the crowd. In his head, he repeatedly cursed his three feet two inches and railed against the old chief and supposedly ‘controlled’ mutation. He found Alia and tugged on her arm, “Someone broke in here, and they’re talking to Anthony.”
Alia wasn’t on duty like Thearen, who still wore his armor; she had no weapons and suddenly felt very open and vulnerable. “I’ve got it,” she said, moving through the crowd in a way that Thearen could only envy.
Alia arrived at the two of them. Oliver had two glasses, and as he held one of them out to Anthony, a small metallic glint caught her eye, something, a wristband of some sort, stuck out a prong over Anthony’s drink. A clear, somewhat cloudy liquid dribbled into the glass before the prong shot back into hiding under the man’s cuff. Alia raced forward, nearly tripping as she went. Anthony had the glass up to his mouth. Alia reached him and put a hand on his shoulder just after they clinked glasses, and Anthony took a large sip.
“Anthony!” She whispered urgently, “Don’t drink it! He poisoned your glass.”
Anthony drank down the rest and made eye contact with the rapidly disappearing Oliver Hunter, who had begun his exit as soon as Alia had arrived. “I know, it is a lethal, naturally occurring marine poison, saxitoxin, quick-acting and deadly.”
“Why did you drink it?” She whispered fiercely.
“I’m immune to most poisons, including this one,” Anthony said, setting down the glass, “part of the guild agent training, along with how to recognize them, I know that one, and the one he injected me with while we shook hands.”
“He injected you with poison!” She said, barely clearing the whisper level.
“A paralytic botulinum meant to shut down my nervous system, it’s nothing. I have already taken the antidote; I carry several with me. I am more interested in showing him how strong I am to get him to back off before he tries anything more drastic.”
Alia shrugged and stepped back. “Shouldn’t you go and get a check-up just in case? And who is this guy?”
Anthony shrugged. “I’ll have one of the guild docs look me over after the party. And no, I don’t know who this guy is, but I intend to find out.”
Thearen finally found Alia, “What did he do?”
Alia shook her head, “Poison, Anthony drank it on purpose.”
Thearen shrugged. “He is immune; his attacker has to know next to nothing about guild agents if he tried out that. Where did he go?”
Alia glanced around. “I don’t know, he was right here, he can’t get out of this main room without passing our guards.”
Thearen marched off. “We’ll catch him.”
• • • • •
Orion chuckled to himself. It was a small pleasure, and he pulled the face off his own, donning his mask again. He always felt a little uncomfortable without his golden mask, a synthetic face one was good, but felt insufficient. The face was copied from a man named Keith Reamons, but Oliver Hunter sounded better, so Orion went with that one.
Death Grim’s voice whispered through the earpiece in Orion’s mask. “Is he dead? So easily?”
“No, I gave him a paralytic injection and some saxitoxin in his drink; he is immune to one and has countermeasures for the other.”
“Fool! If you knew he would survive, why would you try to poison him?”
“No one calls me fool Death Grim,” Orion said, letting himself down from his perch. “I have a plan, and I stick to it. It is a game, and I’m going to win. Orion always wins.”
• • • • •
Anthony sat back, sighing in relief. He wore his casual clothes again, though he was always most comfortable in a guild agent’s armor. Thearen sat in another chair next to him, and so did Tiberius and Alia, who were also with another guild overseer named Hannah, who was in charge of finance. They waited for the science lab director (Anthony’s old job) and a few other members of the guild oversight committee.
“So,” Anthony asked, “how did tonight’s gala go?”
There was silence. Anthony turned to Hannah as Timothy, the resource planner, and Jack, the new science director, came in. Hannah hemmed a bit, “Well, we received positive feedback from the government and three different business firms agreed to help fund the project. Anthony nodded slowly, “But no monetary support from the government?”
Hannah shook her head, “No, not as of yet, our production of certain technologies as a backup way to make money might generate revenue and investors…”
Anthony shook his head, “No, I’m not going that way, they’ll want things I can’t provide.” Anthony had always been more than a little bit suspicious of his finance overseer. The 54-year-old woman looked older than her years, and always had a slight smile. She used to be a guild undercover operative and was good at hiding what she thought or felt. Anthony was almost sure on some days that she had convinced the old chief to provide outside corporations with mutated life forms like Thearen.
“Chief,” Tiberius said slowly, “it might become our only option; we can’t expect continuous outside funding unless the government gets involved. By defunding us, they basically gave us a choice: become a separate corporation or disband. As a separate corporation, though, we wouldn’t have the authority to do law enforcement.”
Anthony sighed and rubbed his temple, “I’m not sure what to do then.”
“We need to petition the government,” Alia said firmly, standing up. “We saved the city from the Dark Band, let’s seize on that!”
Anthony shook his head. “They already know that; everyone saw the guild fighting that day, that doesn’t change their choice.”
Tiberius joined Alia in standing. “Then let’s not let them forget it! Go to them, remind them that without us, they’d all be dead, and then ask them to refund us, with what we already have from outside corporations, we’re even more likely to get them to agree.”
Anthony slowly nodded, “yeah… I should talk to the mayor and the city council tomorrow. Hannah? Can you arrange that?”
Hannah smiled again, giving Anthony the hibie-jeebies, “Of course, cheif.”
Timothy and Jack had nothing to say, and neither the apprenticeship coordinator nor the tech director had shown up. Anthony stood up, sighing. It was just another example of what everyone in his guild thought of him. When he called a meeting and didn’t force them there at gunpoint, they arrived late or didn’t come.
Anthony assumed they would show him more respect, but apparently not everyone agreed with Tibeirous’s announcement of Anthony as chief; many would have preferred Tiberius or Thearen to Anthony and let him know that. There wasn’t necessarily time to vote or anything on the field of battle, and most people had been impressed by how he took control of the situation after the guild’s collapse, but they weren’t impressed with him anymore.
Anthony bid them all goodnight and left, planning his meeting the next day. He composed himself for sleep in his rooms and lay down; he subconsciously noticed something behind his pillow. Anthony reached back and pulled out a note.
Muttering under his breath, Anthony flicked on his light to read the paper, “You are in danger!” it read, “Orion is hunting you!” Anthony paused, glancing around. The name Orion sounded familiar; he was a mercenary from the Deadbolt days, a friend to the lifeless man who now called himself Death Grim. Very strange, Anthony would have thought that Orion would have been arrested or killed with the rest of Deadbolt’s crew. From what Anthony knew, he was a dangerous enemy; he remembered the words and shuddered, “Orion is hunting you…”
• • • • •
Anthony stepped out of the temporary guild hall and breathed in the cool air of midday Cypostello, the brightest it got around there. The dome lights were turned to full brightness, chasing away most of the shadows. An air transport had been prepared for him, and Anthony climbed in to go meet with the Mayor of Cypostello; he wore the suit again to his great discomfort.
“Where to? Sir,” the driver asked.
Anthony glanced up, catching a glimpse of a mask over the driver’s face in the review mirror, which was weird. “To the town hall, center city.”
“Yes, sir.”
They started forward, and Anthony grabbed a pistol concealed in his belt. Silence reigned in the car. “So, Orion, what convinced you to climb out of your hidey hole now? You used to do paid assassinations weekly during the Deadbolt days. Surely, you can’t be scared of us, the insignificant guild. If not, why did you hide? And why are you back?”
The driver turned. He wore the normal formal outfit of a transport pilot, but over his face was a golden plate of metal, seemingly fitted to his face like pouring molten gold over it and letting it cool. The voice came out sounding like tapping cold metal against another piece. “I was never in hiding. As for your guild, it does not concern me; I am content knowing I could kill you all at any time. And it is an annoying common misconception that I did assassinations for money!”
Anthony raised an eyebrow, “So… why haven’t you? Not to mention, I’ve heard you always wear that mask, do you think that I didn’t see your face last night when you tried to poison me?”
“I would not gain anything by it; the guild will slowly rot anyway. You might have shocked it back to life by taking control, but you can’t keep it up as an institution much longer. And no, you didn’t see my face, that was Oliver Hunter; he is dead now.”
Anthony pointed the pistol at Orion’s head in a sudden movement. “What do you want with me?”
Orion lifted his hands into the air cocking his head in surprise that his frozen face couldn’t show, “Oh, you have a weapon? You think you are all-powerful, guild agent?”
The transport began to swerve wildly, careening downward. Anthony straightened, “What are you doing?”
“Making sure my quarry is dead,” Orion said, smiling behind the mask..
They careened closer, and Anthony began to panic, “You’re going to die too!”
Orion shrugged, “Give me the gun.”
The ground rose up at them. Anthony pulled the trigger. The bullet smacked into Orion’s mask, which pulsated like liquid as Orion’s head snapped back. Anthony lunged forward into the pilot’s chair, slamming his shoulder into Orion’s reeling form. Orion smacked into the transport door as the side became the new floor. Anthony reached up and pressed the button to open it while Orion shouted in alarm, falling away.
The transport was still headed for a building up ahead. Anthony couldn’t get the controls to respond, the transport was hanging sideways, and he didn’t know how to drive. There were a lot of problems.
Working quickly, Anthony activated the self-destruct mechanism and leapt from the transport. It exploded mid-air, vaporizing into nothing rather than crashing into the town hall below. Anthony looked around for Orion, but the assassin was nowhere to be found.
The air rushed around Anthony’s falling form. He pulled the sleeve of his suit back, revealing a cuff across his wrist that offered him his choice of several tools. Anthony chose a tether cord and fired it. The tether latched to the town hall roof, and another hit a nearby skyscraper across the street. Anthony let the cord out using decreasing speed, slowing him down and eventually setting down on the town hall’s steps. He retracted his tethers and stood in a rather dignified posture on the front steps.
Silence from all citizens around. Anthony glanced through the slight gloom at the small crowd gathering. It wasn’t every day that one of the city’s most important men descended from the sky in a brilliant explosion. But then again, this was Cypostello, where anything could happen. Usually bad.
Anthony tipped the brim of his hat at the gathering crowd, turned, and entered the building. Thearen was already waiting for him; he’d arrived earlier in the day with one of Anthony’s aides.
Anthony greeted Thearen, and Thearen nodded stiffly. They walked together towards the Mayor’s office. Before he left, Anthony motioned to his aide to come closer. The aide complied, and Anthony spoke softly near him. “I’ll need you to arrange another transport and this time, make sure my driver isn’t Orion.”
The alarmed aide nodded and fairly sprinted away to arrange it. Thearen grabbed Anthony’s arm angrily and pulled him to the side. He still reprimanded the much younger guild agent on occasion. “May I remind you that you are not immortal?”
Anthony glanced at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“So far, you have been treating this assassin casually, and not like the threat that he is.”
“He can’t kill me, Thearen, I’m safe.”
“He will kill you if you don’t treat him like the threat that he is!”
Anthony walked up to the mayor’s office and was announced by the mayor’s secretary. In no time, he was seated at a desk across from the mayor, and Thearen was up against the door in full armor.
“Anthony Irin!” The mayor said jovially, shaking Anthony’s hand. “So glad we could have this meeting. What’s on your mind?”
“I am interested to hear what Cypostello’s thoughts are on the new guild, and I am very much interested in the possible contributions following up on the encouragements given to me by your representatives at the temporary guild building yesterday.”
The mayor stroked his chin, “contributions, hmm… You do know it was a nearly unanimous vote to drop guild funding to the thirty percent of the total it is now. The city council is probably a better place to take your plea.”
“You do have considerable power with the council,” Anthony remarked. “If I could get you to agree, they surely would follow your decision.”
The mayor, Rufus Malin, smiled knowingly. Anthony eyed him cautiously. Rufus had been elected mayor during the Deadbolt days, when every politician was just another member of their gang, or tied to it in some way. Anthony was never sure if he could trust him. What were the mayor’s ulterior motives?
Rufus himself was a striking figure. Tall and muscular, with a buzzed short crop of black hair and a very dramatic-looking goatee.
Rufus had dark, smooth skin and sharp eyes that seemed to pierce your thoughts. He had a way of smiling that would calm the most nervous of interviewers and a way of glaring that could unsettle the most hardened.
Rufus rubbed his hand across a red lump alongside his forehead where something must have struck him, “Well, Anthony, frankly, Cypostello is no longer interested in the guild and even now is considering dropping to zero funding.”
Anthony sat up straighter, eyes wide, “I must say this is… unexpected. I received a very positive response to my inquiries last night.”
“I have a proposition for you, though, a sort of… compromise, as you might have it.”
Anthony raised his eyebrows suspiciously, “And what sort of compromise might this be?”
Rufus leaned forward. “Move the guild, relocate your headquarters to one of the other cities on Earth needing your presence more than us. Leave behind some of your technicians, and I will pay a hundred percent of the expenses they incur while keeping this city running.”
Anthony couldn’t speak for a moment. Many leaders of Cypostello had tried to throw out the guild in recent years, despite how much they loved it when there was trouble. The main reason the guild stayed was that they kept Cypostello running; without the guild, the city would fail. Now Rufus was suggesting that the guild leave behind the technicians necessary and vacate the others. “But what about protection?”
Rufus shrugged, “If the police feel that a riot is getting out of hand, they can call in a squad of peacekeepers. Or if the detective on a case needs back up, he can call for an agent from Earth; there is no reason for the Guild to maintain such a presence in Cypostello.”
Anthony began to answer, but Thearen came up behind him, whispering in his ear. Anthony turned to face Rufus, “Well, good day. Your honor, I will think about your proposal.”
Rufus smiled winningly, “Good, good.”
Anthony left with Thearen, “What is the issue?”
Thearen sounded anxious as he spoke, “I’m not sure. I didn’t get all the details, I think Orion has struck again.”
The aide from earlier ran up to Anthony, gasping, “Chief Irin, sir, it’s Tiberius and Alia! They’re gone!”
TO BE CONTINUED…