Anthony glanced at the piece of paper rendered nearly unintelligible by his squeezing and twisting, simple words written in the same hand that warned him that Orion was hunting him, “I took something from you; if you want them back, come and find me. 34.28.3 -Orion.”
Anthony gritted his teeth and turned to face Thearen. He, Anthony, and several other guild agents gathered together in an emergency council, just like a normal council, but with a much more urgent air. “Where are they? What do these numbers mean?”
Thearen cleared his throat, “Yes, about that, the general method for describing quadrants within Cypostello is to divide the city into a circle with four quadrants like a graph and describe movements to the right and down as negative and up and left, in miles separated by a period: therefore, the new guild building would be 4.-3.”
“This I know,” Anthony growled, pacing in a circle.
Thearen narrowed his eyes, “Would you just let me finish?”
Anthony sat down, gripping his hair and breathing out slowly, “I’m sorry, Thearen, I just… This is my fault that he has them. I challenged him. I thought he couldn’t hurt me, but now he’s hurting them to get at me.”
Thearen sighed heavily and continued, not addressing Anthony’s statement, “The point that Orion gives has three numbers referring to a three-dimensional plane…”
“… Referring also to a certain height above the city!”
“Yes, now, if he started with the center of Cypostello as we presumed, we move 34 miles to the left, 28 miles forward, and we are outside the city in open space. Then we move 3 miles up, and we are high above the city on an old maintenance satellite, abandoned when life support failed, and is waiting for a salvage mission to go up and bring it back down.”
“So that is where Orion is waiting?” Anthony asked no one in particular, “What do you have for energy signatures? What is happening up there?”
“A positive increase!” one technician yelled, coming up from his computer. “We have definite signs of activity on board. There is even life support sustained in several sections!”
Anthony nodded. “Transportation, have any ships docked there?”
“The main airlock is broken,” Thearen noted, staring at a three-dimensional representation of the satellite station, “but a small vessel hooked up to a backup port three hours ago.”
“Corresponding with the kidnappings?”
Thearen nodded, “Yes.”
Anthony stood, “Alright, arrange a transport, I’m going up.”
Thearen turned to the room at large, “I need a team of an agent and three sharpers ready to leave with me and the chief in five minutes!”
Sharpers (or sharpshooters) was the guild nickname for a type of guild warrior who functioned as everything from sniper to bodyguard, to storming an enemy base.
Anthony turned back to Thearen, shaking his head. “No, I’m going up alone.”
Thearen folded his arms. He wasn’t in a position to dictate to Anthony, per se, but he was only not the chief because of his suspicious past; he had enough experience and talent to be in charge. Thearen had once been a criminal, but he was tried because the mayor pardoned him after he helped the guild stop Death Grim. Thearen, however, was a very senior guild member and had been an agent since around the time that Anthony was born. “You are not going up there alone; Orion is waiting there for you.”
“He has proved on multiple occasions that he is no match for me,” Anthony said, stepping up into an alcove in the wall and letting his armor attach itself onto him, sealing well enough to be considered space worthy under the right conditions. “And now that he can’t kill me when he tried, he is going to kill everyone I care about as retaliation. I can’t have anyone else die because of Orion. I will take him on, one-on-one, and end this today.”
“You can’t just…” Thearen began, but Anthony shook his head, stepping into his boots and gloves, sealing them on too. He stared at his much smaller companion who mentored him through all of the struggles after the fall of the Dark Band, “I have to do this, Thearen, but don’t worry, I’ve got this guy, it will be easy.”
“It would be easier if you had a team behind you,” Thearen muttered, but Anthony’s resolve was not changing.
Anthony shoved on his helmet, which connected to the rest of his iridectly blue bronzish armor. He crossed the room and turned at the door. Thearen was watching him. Anthony shrugged, “Well, here goes nothing.
• • • • •
Orion chuckled; it made a wet sound in the back of his throat. Tiberius glared at him from across the room. Orion knew it; he could feel both of his captor’s eyes boring into the back of his head with his golden cloth hood over his head. Tiberius leaned over to Alia and whispered close to her, “I think we can make it out through the service elevator, be ready to break for it when…”
Tiberius’s voice, quiet enough that Orion couldn’t make out the words, reached the hunter. Orion, not looking, raised his pistol and fired a shot into the wall between the captives’ heads.
Alia turned in alarm to meet the golden gaze of Orion’s mask and hood. He cocked his head in a quizical manner, nearly comical in nature. “If you plan on escaping, don’t try to go through the service elevator or ventilation shafts; they lead directly to the air lock. I busted it up so the seal doesn’t work, the whole thing empties straight into space.”
Tiberius huffed something about not trusting people like Orion. Orion turned around. “Your friend is coming.”
“Anthony?” Alia asked.
Orion inclined his head in agreement, folding his arms over his torso. He wore a thick body suit of golden mesh; the rest of his armor hung on the wall behind Orion, but it looked more ornamental than functional. “Yes. He will arrive in ten minutes, linking to a secondary air lock; he will be alone.”
“Anthony would never do that,” Alia scoffed, “he’ll have an entire team of Sharpers and agents all over you in a matter of minutes!”
Orion laughed again. “Maybe, then again maybe not. In our previous encounters, I may not have been completely candid about my abilities. Between you and me, he has become overconfident in his abilities and thinks himself immortal, or impervious at least.”
“Thank you,” Tiberius said, rolling his eyes. He firmly believed Anthony took reckless risks, assuming he’d come out fine far too often. As he spoke, however, he seemed to realize who he was talking to; he cleared his throat, “umm… well, he can stop you.”
“No,” Orion said, turning around, “no, he can’t.”
Anthony was disembarking at that moment, not knowing of the conversation others had about his overconfidence. The door of his space transport slid open, and Anthony stepped out in his metal boots, clicking heavily against the metal floor. Many scholars nicknamed this age they lived in, the metal age, with synthetic metals and new, more powerful alloys becoming easier to get; most structures could be up to more than three-quarters metal.
The life support in this section of the dilapidated satellite didn’t work all the way; it had air and falsified gravity, but the temperature was as cold as space. Anthony didn’t feel it; his suit was completely insulated. After a few minutes, he reached a heat lock and crossed into a normal temperature area. His metal skin was so cold that he instantly was covered in frost and condensation.
He held two magnetic activation charges, one in each hand, and carried a rifle slung across his back. His footfalls shook the frame of the floor as he walked, reminding him of how flimsy this structure was. Still, Orion did not appear.
Anthony glanced around the corner cautiously; no one was there. Orion was hiding from him, strange considering that it was the man himself who’d practically called this meeting. A scuffing sound behind him, Anthony spun and leapt back, hurling his magnetic activation charges like a pair of discuses at Orion, who marched stoically forward. The charges whistled through the silent air straight at their target, flying true. The guild designed the charges to connect themselves to metal, and that action activated them (as their name implied), causing a relatively large explosion as far as hand-tossed bombs went.
Orion watched them come closer and closer. Anthony watched Orion, somewhat fascinated. Anthony’s AI overlayed its advice over his vision, assessing Orion and warning him of the man’s biggest strengths and weaknesses.
Orion wore a metal body suit of a light golden hue, similar to his mask and golden cloth hood and cape. Over this suit was an entire set of some kind of Spartan armor. On Orion’s back was a long spear weapon with large curved knife blades on each end.
The magnetic charges locked onto Orion’s body suit’s electric field and changed their course, coming right at him. Orion tentatively reached out and spun one of them around with lightning quickness. Anthony had never seen. The opposite magnets on their bottom faces hit each other, blowing them out and into the walls on either side with a blast of heat and light that knocked Anthony back. Orion took it solidly, not shaking, not speaking.
Anthony whipped out his rifle, firing off rounds at his attacker, green energy lashing out with all the anger and fear Anthony didn’t show. It was a predominantly silent fight after the explosion. Orion fell into a crouch and dodged the first barrage, then whipped his bladed staff from his back, using it to block the lasers. They somehow absorbed the energy, and Orion lazily plowed it into each of Anthony’s strikes. Then he struck forward. Anthony rolled away, but Orion anticipated this and followed Anthony with his blow, cracking into the gun and using his boot to knock him back.
Anthony leapt up again, ducking low under Orion’s next swing and coming up close. Orion’s spear weapon didn’t work in close range. Orion stumbled back as Anthony smashed into him, extending his hand as the blade slid out of his gauntlet and jabbed into Orion’s armor. The blade was wired to shock a blast of electricity into the victim. Orion overcame his momentary confusion and reached forward, gripping the bare blade in his fingers, snapping it. He kicked Anthony back again, knocking him to the floor.
“You see now, Chief Irin? This is the guild’s best: fancy trinkets, powerful gloves, and techy armor. You have no real ability or skill; you can’t stand against raw, fierce power. The power of Orion. The unstoppable force of the Dark Hunter!”
Anthony slammed into Orion, driving him backwards into the wall. Orion ran up the side of the wall, sticking one of his blades into its surface to get him leverage. He flipped over Anthony, who spun to face him, slamming his fist into Orion, who blasted back into the opposite wall.
“How about that, Rufus?” Anthony said, pointing his arm at the prone figure below him. The armor on his wrist slid apart, and a small explosive shooter pulled out. “Where is your raw strength now?”
The shockwave of Anthony’s fist threw Orion’s helmet off, leaving just the hood and the mask. He pulled back the hood and pinched his mask. The face clinging disguise melted, running like a liquid into his palm before solidifying again.
The Mayor of Cypostello glared up at Anthony. Rufus Malin, the mayor for the past decade, gripped his bladed staff in his hand. “What Anthony? No surprised face? Questions? Or invitations to monologue? I’m disappointed.”
“You were Deadbolt’s tool all along,” Anthony said confidently, keeping his sights trained on the mayor’s face. “I bet he rigged your first few elections!”
Orion glared and, in a sudden motion, before Anthony could react, he brought his blade up, knocking Anthony’s arm aside. Anthony’s shot plowed into the wall away and exploded in a blast of fire. With a speed completely unimaginable, Orion replaced his mask and swung his bladed staff up, striking Anthony in the chest. Anthony tumbled over, rolling away as Orion drove the blade down into the ground where he had been moments before.
“I was never a tool of Deadbolt! Death Grim doesn’t control me! I serve the people of Cypostello and all of humankind.” Orion growled.
Anthony fired up more explosives as he tried to stand. Orion deflected them aside into the walls, shaking the entire station. “You sound really convincing! You do realize that Death Grim wants to kill all humankind; working with him is suicide.” Anthony muttered, finally getting up and dodging Orion’s next swipe.
Orion cut off Anthony’s weapon, then thrust to stab him, just missing. “I know of Death Grim’s plans. I intend to stop him just like I will stop the guild!”
Anthony leapt into the air, flipping as he did so to crouch on the metal ceiling, activating magnets in his kneepads, boots, and hands.“I don’t understand how those objectives are compatible.”
Orion smacked the flat of the blade into Anthony’s helmet, missing him with the point only because Anthony dodged. The helmet spun away, bouncing off the wall. Antony fell back, dizzy. Orion once again stood over him. “Humanity has been trapped by the guild that controls all tech and scientific advancements. We are leaving humanity’s future in the hands of an organization created by mutants. An organization that can destroy half a city without repercussions. That is why I fight against the guild. I work not just for my city but for the future. Humanity must not stagnate, and the guild has completely blocked advancements in areas they deem dangerous! The guild is of the old world and must die; a new order will be born, and all will be right.”
Anthony tried to sit up, but Orion drove his blade down into him, smacking him back to the floor and cracking the breastplate. Only Mishion could break Mishion armor. Anthony registered this in the back of his mind, noting that Orion must have illegally obtained it; this supposed hero of humanity had committed another crime.
Orion raised his blade for a final strike through the hole he had made. Anthony didn’t even have the strength to resist.
Tiberius was yelling. It was that stupid battle cry that Anthony had come to know. Anthony sat up abruptly, and Tiberius crashed into Orion, slamming him back into the floor with a sickening crack.
Tiberius brought around his foot in a round house and smacked into Orion’s skull just as the mayor stood. The bladed staff tried a jab at Tiberius, but the guild agent evaded it skillfully despite his lack of armor or tech of any kind.
Antony struggled to his knees, “Tiberius! The gun!”
Tiberius turned and saw the rifle that Anthony had lost near him. He lunged, dodging Orion’s next swipe, and caught up the weapon, firing off the triggers, striking into Orion’s armor. Orion fell back but quickly flipped back up and over Tiberius’s head. Anthony sprang to a crouch and struck out at Orion, a blade unfolding from his armor and spinning towards Orion like a razor frisbee.
Orion ducked, missing the swing he would have aimed at Tiberius. He turned back to Anthony and jumped forward, but Tiberius caught him in the back, and Alia ran in holding a stun pistol.
Orion growled, stepping back. Alia gasped, realizing who the masked man was, “The mayor?”
Orion grinned, “That’s right, you guild members, look at the true power of Cypostello, the power to rid the Solar system of you once and for all!”
Orion continued to back up despite his comments blocking Tiberius’s attacks just as easily as he had done with Anthony. Alia moved in, surrounding him, forcing him back into an alcove. Orion was right about one thing at least: Anthony couldn’t stop him, not alone. But even the force of all three of them didn’t seem enough. It was Anthony’s fault they were in this predicament in the first place, and he intended to do something about it.
Orion lashed forward, knocking away Tiberius’s weapon and stepping out of his alcove. Tiberius had to jump back to avoid being impaled. Anthony studied the alcove, his eyes widening.
Alia stepped forward to cover Tiberius firing at Orion, who took her shots unaffected, Orion’s armor stopping the stunning blasts from doing their work. Anthony raced forward as Orion made to strike her, stepping into the hunter’s path.
Orion stepped back into the alcove in surprise. Anthony drove forward as Orion lunged, sticking the blade of his staff into Antony. Anthony crumpled, falling to the floor. He reached up as he fell, pressing a button on the wall above him.
The confused Orion, who had backed up into the alcove, stared down at Anthony as the door slid closed between them. Orion looked around in fear, panicking when he realized where he was: a backup airlock and an exit to space.
Orion pounded on the plexiglass barrier, sealing the noise of his yells out. Anthony, his fingers and limbs growing numb as his wound bled, reached up with a final effort pressing the last button.
Orion continued to pound on the barrier, screaming as the outer door opened. Orion blasted out into the darkness, his face frozen in a silent scream. The hunter, cornered by his prey.
Anthony’s world faded to black until someone brought him back; his numb body tingled with pain and a cold that seeped through his bones. Tiberius was trying to heal him. He was trying to keep his life from spilling out. Alia was saying something. Anthony couldn’t tell; two words filtered into his brain.
“Stay alive.” Maybe it was someone speaking, or maybe it was a hallucination.
“No,” Anthony whispered. It was done, he was done. He’d gone too far, tried too much, it was over.
“They need you, Anthony. People are counting on you; you have to pull through.”
Anthony couldn’t speak; his thoughts were muddled at best. Why would they need me?
“Because Orion was wrong, the people need the guild; you can’t give up; the guild needs you.” Probably a hallucination, then, how would Alia or Tiberius know what he was thinking?
Another Hallucination, or maybe not. The voice of Death Grim hissed in his ear. “I am coming for you, Anthony, coming for Cypostello. You can’t stop me.”
“No, of course not, I can’t, but we, together, can.”