Starbourne, page 33
“Incomplete? My ass it’s incomplete!” barked Desmond. “Let’s review, shall we? First, the scene was set exactly as you specified. Second, the motley team we assembled for the job is being swept under the rug as we speak. A checkmark I could have personally added if you hadn’t called me away. Third, the case was delivered to you in person—”
“I reiterate, what use is a crate, if not for it’s contents?” Alton replied in a deadpan tone.
Desmond could feel the heat in his veins as he said, “And let me reiterate, you gaslighting little shaz. You gave clear direction that under no circumstances should the case be opened. How the hades am I supposed to validate the contents if A, you never told me what was inside and B, I’m not allowed to open it.”
“You fail to understand the implications, Mr. Harrington. The case should never have been in a position of compromise. Allowing a third party to interfere is what led us to this position. Your instructions were for your man to retrieve the case, intact, and to make the delivery.”
“Well so what? Strike an asterisk beside that and let’s move on. If those morons took something from the case, my guys will find it. The job ain’t over yet.”
Alton squared his shoulders as he spoke. “Oh, but I’m afraid it is, at least your contributions are.”
“Just like that?” Desmond retorted, not at all without a bit of animosity.
“Just like that,” stated Alton blandly.
Desmond scoffed. “Whatever you say. Just settle up and we’re outta’ here. You can chase the kids down yourself.”
“Finalized signed agreement, under article C, subsection three; If any such agreed upon points listed above are violated, the client retains all rights and actionable power to withdraw from the agreement, resulting in termination of the agreement in its entirety, free from all financial—”
Desmond pulled the cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at the executive. “You corpo scum bags, who do you think you are? You think because your boss’ name is on the side of some building you can play hardball? I own these streets. North, south, east, west. It’s all mine.”
“Allow me to impart one final message to you, Mr. Harrington. You own precisely and exactly nothing that we do not allow you to own. Everything you have, comes from our generosity. Just as quickly as we provide, we can take away.”
“Are you out of—” Desmond started, stepping away from Alton.
“Quite frankly, there are some of us, myself included, that believe we allow your people too much illusion. If it were up to me, I would remind you people just how unequivocally and firmly our boot heel is upon your throat, and that at any time we can seize what has been given.”
“See, that’s the problem with you penthouse types. You think because you’re in a room with a dozen of your brown-nosing conformists looking down on us, you’re better than us. And I may be down here looking up, but there’s thousands of people down here with me. Maybe it’s time we started walking up those stairs to pay you a visit,” Desmond said before pursing his lips together.
Alton allowed himself a smirk. “It will be difficult to walk up those stairs, Mr. Harrington, when I remove your legs.”
“Alright, buddy.” Desmond started, taking a puff from his cigarette, “When we’re through with you, your boss is going to have a hades of a time filling your position after the public display of suffering we put you through.”
“If I can offer any consolation, this was always my intention,” Alton jeered.
“Go on,” Desmond said, nodding his head to the two-armed men. “Get to work.”
The two men exchanged glances and simultaneously reached under their jackets to produce pistols. As the guards slid back the slides on their weapons, Alton Gale armed himself with his own weapon. The corporate executive had unsheathed a gleaming katana with his right hand, and in his opposing hand, he held a small piece of black cloth. Desmond eyed each of the combatants evenly, calculating his potential loses. It was possible he loses a man or two here, but he would be sure to make a house visit to the RusaCorp head honchos to let them know what happens when they cross Desmond Harrington.
Alton struck first at the man standing to his right. The guard had taken a step forward and extended his pistol hand outwards. With a flick of his wrist and a lunge, Alton swiped his blade upwards, intercepting the attacker’s forearm. Without resistance, the blade traveled through the man’s appendage, severing the hand just above the wrist.
Before the attack had registered on the now single-handed man, Alton redirected the momentum of his strike. The blade whirled through the air and arched downwards towards the second guard standing to Alton’s left. Once again, the blade passed through the man’s torso with ease, cutting him from where his neck met his left shoulder and exiting just above his right hip.
Pivoting once again, Alton tilted his katana, and sent it back towards the first guard in a horizontal swipe. As the first two strikes had done, the executive’s weapon sliced through the single-handed guard effortlessly. All three strikes had been delivered with such speed that it wasn’t until Alton had completed his assault that the single-handed guard reached to grasp at his damaged arm.
Desmond watched in dismay as both of his guards fell to the ground, his mouth gaped and the cigarette sticking to his lower lip. Neither one of his men were able to fire a single shot from their weapons before Alton had dispatched them both. The attack had occurred so quickly, the crime lord had only been able to make out a hazy blur where Alton had been standing, the man moved so fast that his eyes couldn’t keep up.
The corporate executive stood calmly, using the black cloth to wipe his stained blade clean. Desmond blinked in disbelief but shook himself free of the trance. He looked over to his own Technologist, Nyx, who also stood somewhat bewildered at the scene.
“Fry him!” Desmond called out.
“I can’t!” Nyx cried back. “He’s blocking me!”
“Then bleed him!” Desmond demanded.
Nyx reached underneath his jacket to retrieve his sidearm, stepping backwards. Alton moved to intercept and lunged at Nyx, just as he took aim. A single shot was fired from the pistol, missing its target wide. Alton’s katana passed through the pistol as if it were nothing, the separated metal falling uselessly to the ground with a clatter. The criminal Technologist threw the remaining piece of the weapon at Alton, to put the assailant off balance and to buy him some time to withdraw his own katana.
Desmond smiled to himself as he withdrew his own firearm. He had seen Nyx use his blade a handful of times, and knew the Technologist favored the weapon. Nyx now stood, blade drawn, between his employer and would-be assassin. Desmond felt a bit silly holding his own weapon, but given the circumstances, he would forgive himself for withdrawing his weapon so hastily. As he took a step to the side, Desmond saw something that made his smug smile sour. Normally, when Nyx had his blade drawn, he looked to be in his element. In this circumstance, a great deal of distress was painted clear as anything across the typically confident Technologist.
Alton struck towards Nyx, who narrowly stepped out of the way of the strike. The black-clad criminal returned an attack of his own, only to meet Alton’s blade in mid swing. The blades locked in the air for a moment before Alton directed Nyx’s blade towards the ground. Alton stepped backwards and redirected his blade to fall towards his opponent. Nyx managed to bring his blade up to deflect the new assault, although not without suffering a slight wound to his shoulder.
Alton used the momentum of his swinging blade to loop back around at Nyx, first swiping at his legs, then again at his torso. Both attacks, Nyx was able to narrowly avoid, but Desmond noted that his associate was now firmly on the defensive, and off balance at that. Nyx pushed forward, lunging towards Alton and slashing wildly. The executive parried the assault, and both men braced themselves against their locked blades.
At this point, Desmond could see his associate’s chest was rising and falling quickly as the man gasped for breath, while his opponent barely looked to have exerted any energy. Desmond glanced between both men, as he readjusted his grip on his pistol and looked for an opening to fire. He would prefer not to shoot Nyx, but if this pattern continued, it would be an acceptable loss in his books. The blades remained locked in the air, with Nyx seemingly exerting a great deal of energy trying to match his opponent’s strength. Alton’s gaze towards the other swordsmen was all but demoralizing, as if playing with a child.
Nyx finally managed to break away from the deadlocked blades, stepping back and whirling his blade around for another attack. But as his blade soared through the air, Alton seemed to shift through the room. His movements almost imperceivable to the human eye, he now stood directly in front of Nyx. Both Desmond and Nyx could barely react to the sudden change, and for Nyx, it proved fatal.
A gasp escaped Nyx as Alton’s blade sank deep into his chest. The katana immediately slipped from Nyx’s grasp, and it fell to the ground in a deafening clatter. Desmond watched the blade hit the floor before raising his attention to the assassin. The two locked eyes with equal parts animosity towards each other. With Nyx now all but disposed, he had no mixed feelings about opening fire.
One, two, the shots rang out with thunderous blasts towards their target. Three, four, nearly the entire magazine at this point, but Desmond continued to pull the trigger. Five, six, the final two explosions were followed by a subdued click, indicating the weapon’s magazine was empty. The hand cannon that Desmond used as his preferred sidearm carried enough firepower to penetrate two inches of solid steel.
The power of his favored weapon only added to Desmond’s disbelief as he saw that Alton still stood after emptying the magazine on the man. Desmond himself had personally seen the destruction this weapon had caused before, ripping through military vehicles as if they were made from cheap plastic. He knew of firearm barriers, but they had only been graded against weaker shots, and while they granted the wearer some protection, they hardly provided immunity.
“You...” The single word was all that Desmond could formulate as he stared in disbelief.
As the smoke cleared in the air from the hand cannon, a slight shimmering blue light surrounded the unscathed corporate executive. Alton’s arm was extended in front of him, as if to shield him from the blasts. A smirk spread across the indestructible man’s face.
“You’ll need something a lot bigger than that, I’m afraid.” Alton retorted as he lowered his arm.
Desmond continued to back away from the pursuing Alton, vainly pulling the trigger on his empty weapon. The sad quiet clicking sounds echoed in the room. Desmond felt his back bump into the wall behind him. Unable to go any further, his left hand finally reached for a replacement magazine. Alton closed the distance between them and slapped the gun from Desmond’s hand before shoving the man firmly against the wall. He raised the blade high for a devastating and definitive strike on the frightened crime lord.
Before the blade got too high in the air, Desmond franticly reached out and grabbed the katana with both hands. Pain immediately coursed through his arms as the edge of the blade sank deep into his palms and fingers. Desmond held the blade as tightly as he could to save off another strike. His arms shook as he mustered all his strength to keep the blade still, eyes locked on the katana.
“You only cause yourself more pain,” Alton said quietly as he violently pulled the blade free from Desmond’s hands.
Desmond cried out in agony and held both of his maimed hands close to his chest.
“Please, I’ll do whatever you want,” Desmond stuttered. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
“I know,” Alton said coldly, using his blade to push Desmond’s hands away from his chest. “There is only one remaining task we have for you to do.”
Desmond stood quivering, holding his hands up to signify his surrender. “Anything, just say—”
Desmond could say no more, as the katana sank deeply into his chest. The mortally wounded man fumbled clumsily at the blade, still in his chest. The weight of his own head became almost overwhelming, and Desmond could feel it wobble back and forth. Desmond let his head slump forward, his chin resting against his neck and collarbone, a burnt-out cigarette finally falling from his lips. From this angle, he could see the terrible grizzly sight of the cold metal blade penetrating his body.
“Signing on,” Alton said to no one in the room. “We need an open contract. Asset is at large. I’m sending you details now.”
Motionless, Alton stared down the length of his blade at the dying man. Desmond fought defiantly to return his gaze, his breathing becoming a laboured effort. His mind was racing, but he was unable to fixate on any single thought. Random memories flashed through his mind, along with feelings of anger, guilt, and remorse. A single defiant word tried repeatedly to escape his mouth, but his tongue and lips couldn’t agree on the right movement.
The pain coursing through his body seemed to shrink away, along with all the color in the world. Darkness seeped from the edges of his vision, consuming what little he could still make out. Despite it all, Desmond kept his gaze fixed on his killer’s expressionless face.
With fluttering eyes, he fought to stay awake for as long as he could. Through teary, dying eyes, Desmond thought he saw a change of expression sweep across Alton’s face. A look of pure ecstasy on Alton Gale’s normally sullen face, was the last thing that Desmond saw before his eyes shut forever.
“Kolworth is now introducing the TTG Gauss Pistol. Dominate any shootout with this cutting-edge weaponry. Get yours before the enemy gets theirs!”
(Fatima Kunzang, Lead Designer of Kolworth Weaponry Plus)
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Jaeden and Nellie had gotten into Hoss’ hovercar and escaped from the siege at The Wishing Well. They were lucky that Desmond’s men hadn’t thought to check the back of the building. They flew straight to see Cyrus and take refuge there. They had hoped to catch their breath and receive some sage advise from the experienced broker.
During the drive, neither of them talked about what had happened. They had both been mentally, physically, and emotionally drained from the day’s events. Jaeden’s entire body was aching, and he felt that at any moment we would pass out from exhaustion. This had been the longest and hardest day of his life.
As they arrived at the broker’s building, they made their way into the backroom and came across Alina Bray, Cyrus’ second in command, who had been waiting for them just outside of the broker’s office. Once they explained their situation, she escorted them into the back office and looked after Jaeden’s injuries.
“You’re a mess, kid,” Alina said, standing up over Jaeden. “I’ve done what I can, but you’ve got to stay out of fights for the next few days.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on fighting anymore today,” Jaeden said.
“Good, I don’t think you’d survive another,” Alina said, turning back to Cyrus.
Cyrus twisted the corner of his white moustache. “How bad is it, Alina?”
“Well, I’ve stitched up that cut on the side of his face. But he’s got at least three broken ribs, a low-grade concussion, and a second degree burn on his neck. Not to mention all the other scrapes and bruises.” Alina said, sitting on the corner of Cyrus’ desk.
“And a bad voxxing headache,” Jaeden said burying his face into his hands.
“That, I can help with,” Alina said, reaching into a red medical bag. She pulled out a small cylinder of pills and tossed it to him.
It hit his chest and landed in his lap. Jaeden looked down at the container, and then at Alina. “Thanks.” He laughed, unscrewing the lid, and tossing a pill into his mouth.
“Well, I’ll give you this kid; you’re one tough dirk, that’s for sure,” Alina added.
“Tell me, my friends, how did these events befall you?” the elderly broker asked from his chair behind his large wooden desk.
“Long story short; we took a job for Desmond Harrington, and it went sideways,” Jaeden said, settling into the chair across from Cyrus.
“Indeed,” Cyrus responded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “And now I take it, RusaCorp is looking for you?”
Jaeden furrowed his brow. “How did you know it had to do with them?”
“Desmond’s toady, Nyx,” Cyrus answered. “Or did you forget he was here. Likely how you two met in the first place, am I right?”
“News of that shaz show is everywhere right now,” Alina added to the conversation watching Jaeden through sympathetic eyes. “You guys really made a spectacle out there.”
“Yeah, well, we were just following the plan,” Jaeden said, running his fingers through his hair anxiously.
“And where is Mr. Hoskins?” Cyrus asked, looking over Jaeden’s shoulder as if he expected the man to walk into the room at any moment.
“He…” Jaeden started, looking down at his hands to see that they were still stained red from his friend’s dried blood.
“They killed him,” Nellie finished for Jaeden, her voice cracking as she said the words.
“Dead?” Cyrus asked, his white bushy eyebrows raised high. “Oh dear, I am truly sorry to hear that. And what of young Teagen?”
“We haven’t heard from her since the job,” Jaeden said, wiping his hands against his pants.
“Well, fret not, my boy,” the kindly broker started. “We’ll keep you out of sight, and let—”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.” Alina cut in.
Both Jaeden and Cyrus turned to her, each as confused as the other.
“Oh? Are there supplementary details?” Cyrus asked of his second.
“Here,” Alina responded dryly, producing a data pad and passing it to her employer. As the broker read the details, Alina surmised the report out loud for Jaeden’s benefit, “You’ve got a huge corporate bounty on your head; says here not only did you shoot down a corporate convoy and kill everyone on board, but you also killed your broker and shot up a local business, killing several inside.”
