Scorched Worlds: Afterburn

[Sword-for-Hire]

((Closed to Jasmine.))

“I don’t give a flying FUCK about protocol! You tell that sonofabitch he can kiss my ass ten ways til Tuesday! You hear me!?”

A used coffee mug flew across the room and slammed into a door which opened immediately after. Two men dressed in all black entered with looks that would stump a professional poker player. Their neatly pressed suits and shiny black sunglasses told the police chief what level of government power had just fell upon him.

The taller of the two, a man in his mid forties, did something that could almost be mistaken for a grin. “I assume you’re aware of our orders.”

The chief’s haggard eyes and quivering lip gave away his weakness. The shorter, younger man stepped forward, obviously still new. “Give us what we came for and this’ll all be over.”

“Easy there, Stentson.” The older man snapped. His gaze never left the chief. “We wouldn’t want to imply anything. After all, those who don’t exist can’t be a threat.” The younger chuckled and slowly stepped back.

The summer heat sweltered in through the window, causing beads of sweat to drop even faster from the police chief’s brow. His sorry excuse for a ceiling fan slowly turned, just fast enough to move the stale, warm air to new spots in the cramped room.

Slowly, the chief put down the phone he’d been yelling into a moment ago. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said defiantly. His eyelid nervously quivered as a drop of human moisture fell from his eyebrow.

The older agent laughed hoarsely. “Well then, I’ll just have to assume my intelligence was incorrect? That a creature of unidentifiable origins appeared out of thin air in the middle of Los Angeles, California and was making his way, as he said and I quote, “Was just walking to that placed called ‘Jack-in-the-Box’?” His brow scrunched forward. “And that he wasn’t carrying an array of weapons that would make a heavyweight boxer fall over from just holding one of them?” He slowly advanced on the broken officer. “You mean to tell me that all the eye witnesses and phone calls describing this man were a complete fabrication?”

“Y-yes.”

The agent shook his head from side to side slowly and sighed. The instant he turned his back, the younger agent shot a small needle like projectile into the chief’s shoulder and he fell to the floor in an instant.

“Find it. We need the creature alive. And get me a report on the ‘female’. I heard she had a run in with some thugs. I want a complete analysis of their hospital reports. We need them both by tomorrow or it’s our asses.” He said quickly and quietly, but with just as much authority as if he were bellowing to an army.

Stentson nodded and walked out of the room. The older agent looked over his shoulder and looked at the crumpled body of the chief.

“Should’ve played ball, you old fool.”

***

Well this can’t be good.

Oberon sat in the main holding cell by himself. After a large, dark skinned man had tried to bring the moon reaper to his knees, he had broken his arm and punched him in the side of the head.

His body was still lying unconscious on the ground near the stranger to this world. The rest of the inmates had been screaming non-stop for guards that would never come. Meanwhile, Oberon had been quietly thrumming his fingers against the bars, debating on tearing them from their resting places and heading to freedom. Only problem was that they had confiscated all his weapons at gunpoint and locked them in some unknown room. He had to get information out of the guards first and then make his way out of this strange place he’d been teleported too.

“Well well, look what we have here.” A deep, dark voice said.

The moon reaper’s mismatched eyes bolted to the doorway, sizing up the silhouetted figure in the doorway. He was older but very experienced. That’s what his stance told Oberon at least. He gripped a metal bar, ready to tear it off and use it as a crude club if need me.

“Oh don’t think I’m going to get very close to you.” On that note, a large clatter of heavy footsteps began thundering behind the shadowed figure. “You’ll be coming with us now. There are some things we need to…discuss.”

Twelve heavily armed men entered the room as the man stepped out of their way coolly, and leveled their MP5’s at the large warrior.

“Don’t worry about your toys.” The man said as he stepped into the light, revealing his dark glasses and grim smirk. “They’re coming with us too.”

[Jasmine]

Jasmine sat stiff-backed in a chair in a small, windowless room. There was a small table in front of her, behind which sat a medium-sized, balding man in his mid-40s. In front of him were several papers. Above her, the fluorescent light flickered every now and then. Jasmine was struggling to keep a tight lid on her anger and frustration. The man in front of her sighed, and rubbed a hand over his head.

“Look, Miss, I don’t know where you’ve come from, but if you’re not going to cooperate, then we’re gong to have a problem. Now, I’ll ask you the questions again. What’s your name? What are you doing here? Why did you attack those men?”

Jasmine only glared at him. She understood him just fine, but she was not about to answer any of his questions. The men he was referring to had attacked her shortly after she’d purchased some food. She’d done absolutely nothing to them, but had suddenly found herself surrounded by five young men. They had been making rude, sexual jokes and suggestions, making her believe that she knew exactly what they were wanting. Instead of waiting for them to try anything, she’d simply drawn her sword and proceeded to beat them with the flat. She’d not drawn blood, but had left a large number of welts and bruises on their arms and legs.

However, before she could walk away from the men, one of the strange contraptions pulled up behind her. Two men had gotten out, and using their contraption for a shield, they’d pointed guns at her. She had rarely seen guns on Althanas, but she’d seen enough of them to understand what they were. Calmly, she’d sheathed her sword and tried to explain herself, but they did not seem to be in a mood for listening. They took her weapons, handcuffed her, and read off a list of rights before shoving her into the car. Jasmine was taking that right to remain silent literally. She had no intention of telling these men anything at all if she could help it. She smirked as Baldy sighed again, then rose to his feet.

A knock sounded on the door, and Baldy went to answer it. He seemed almost relieved to have something to do. He’d barely opened the door, when it was shoved open further, admitting two men dressed in black suits, with sunglasses and very precise haircuts. One was tall and thin, the other was somewhat shorter and decidedly round.

“Sergeant Mulligan?” asked the tall one.

“That would be me. What do you need?” the Sergeant answered gruffly, none too pleased at being interrupted by these men.

“We are here for the lady,” the thin one continued. “You will give us custody of her immediately and hand over any all possessions you’ve confiscated from her.”

“Are you out of your mind!?” Mulligan thundered. “She’s in my precinct, I’ll take care of this.”

“Sir,” the short one interjected, his tone of voice soft and cajoling, but lined with steel, “this is over your head. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Now, just quietly let her go with us, and dispose of the paperwork. You never saw her or questioned her.”


Sergeant Mulligan thought about it for a moment. He glanced at the still silent Jasmine, then to the black-suited men, then back to Jasmine. At last, he walked resignedly over to the desk. He picked up the papers, glanced over them once more, then tore them in half.

The taller of the two men, almost smiled. “Good choice, Sergeant. Miss, if you’ll come with us? We have a great deal to discuss.”

Jasmine stood reluctantly, speaking for the first time, “Where are we going? Who are you guys?”

“Who we are is not important right now. Suffice it to say we specialize in helping people like yourself. Where we are going is also not important right now. We will collect your belongings and be on our way. When we get to our destination, we will see about answering your questions.”

Jasmine looked at them for a moment, debating for a moment whether she could make a break for it and run out the open door. She was small and quick. The round one would not be likely to move very fast at all, but if she was nimble enough to outmaneuver the tall one, then she could possibly get away. She did not know who these people were, but she doubted that they would help her any more than the police did. She took quick notes on where each man was standing, then bolted.

At the same time, the taller of the two stepped back to block the door. While the round moved with a speed that belied his girth. Before she knew it, his strong arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides and lifting her off her feet. He grunted as her heels thudded against his shins. Tall and thin stepped forward then, pulling an oddly shaped gun from his inside coat pocket.

“Let me go! Let me go!! I didn’t do anything! Just let me go!”

“Shhh,” the tall one said soothingly while his partner urged him to hurry up and get on with it.

“Let go! Do you hear me? Let me- ahh! That hurt you...you...you...”

Jasmine voice quickly drifted off as her eyes closed and she went limp in the man’s arms. Sergeant Mulligan looked unsure about his decision now and started to come forward.

“No worries, Sergeant. That was just a sleeping shot. You would do well to forget we ever came here.”

The Sergeant nodded mutely and watched as the two men left with the now unconscious Jasmine.

[Sword-for-Hire]

The slow rumble of the vehicle brought back fleeting memories of horse rides back home. “Securely” bound in titanium chains, Oberon played with the idea of using them as weapon for escape. But he knew he’d be taken down instantly by the five men pointed sub-machine guns at his chest, legs, and head. None of them spoke or even coughed; the moon reaper began to wonder if they were breathing at all. Their dark masked faces reflected bits of light from the two barred windows to the back of the large transportation vehicle.

No sighs. No twitches. No signs of life.

Wonder if they blink…

The thought brought a small chuckle to Oberon, which in understandably caused all five soldiers to grow apprehensive, to the point you heard each weapon move slightly in the tight gloved grip of his captors. Less understandably was the slightly muffled dialogue that followed.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move!”

“DON’T MOVE!”

“MOVE AND I’LL KILL YOU!”

“I’M THIRSTY!”

“I’ve got an itchy trigger finger you motherfu-...what did you just say?" The last solider switched his view from Oberon to another black clad comrade.

"Heh, sorry Sarge. Was just seein' if you was payin' attention. Bored and all."

"WELL GROW THE FUCK UP!"

The silence that fell upon the six occupants was replaced by the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels like stales chips.

"This ain't a funny ha-ha situation you little prick! Goddamn I hate you! First chance I get Wilkens, you're a fuckin' gonner you hear me?!"

"Yessir..."

"I said do you HEAR ME?!" The sergeant had his helmet and mask pressed right against the new recruit.

"Sir, yes sir!"

More silence. Oberon looked around with his eyes slowly, trying to act like he hadn't just heard all that. "So...you two get along?" He said with a grin towards the superior.

The sergeant kindly issued a rebuttal with a solid unknown object to the side of the captive's head.

***

Darkness. The sounds of footsteps echoed off the cement hallways that led to Oberon's room. Dried blood caked the side of his face, fresh sweat began to make its way off his brow, and he was so parched he was tempted to make a cocktail out of what liquids he did have on hand.

"Oh look who's up!" A voice said from the darkness. "Hey! It's awake!"

"It has a name, asshole." The moon reaper growled.

"Yea, whateva. HEY! Get the Major down here!" A voice down the hall said the person was on his way.

Oberon got to his feet and stumbled back a few steps, dizzy from the disorienting dark void that enveloped his entire being. He was unsure of how he was supposed to get out of this or where Jasmine was. If she had even made it through the same portal he had. Gripping the cold cell wall, he dry heaved as hunger tore through his body.

"How..." he choked out as he gripped his stomach with one hand, "...long have I been unconscious?"

"What?" The guard from the darkness asked. "Oh...uh, I think they gave you a sedative after Broone clubbed ya. They've had ya like that for the past few days til now. Dunno why they stopped. Can't read a damn page with all your hurlin'."

"Read?" Even with his sharpening vision in darkness, he was to weak to try and focus his slowly growing innate ability.

"Yea, read. Like words on a book. Jah-eeeez. Whatsa'matta with ya?" Oberon heard a tapping from the black world. "Night vision goggles. Work like a charm buddy."

"You're reading again?!" Broone bellowed from the doorway.

"Yea fuck you too Sarge. You ain' my commanda."

"Fuckin' guard jockies. Major's gonna be here any minute. Get your ass up and ready at attention."

The sound of a book closing and military equipment being dropped into a cloth bag echoed in the small room as Oberon tried to clear his head as quickly as possible. Who this man was or what he wanted with the moon reaper was beyond him, but he didn't want to waste another second waiting to find out.

Just as he was about to summon all his energy, a large, square shouldered man stepped into the room slowly.

"So...this is the creature. It looks...unhealthy. Is it sick?" The major said.

"No clue, sir."

"It's hungry moron." Oberon said through gritted teeth.

"Seems smart enough." The major said as he examined the prisoner as if he were nothing more than a hamster on display in a pet store. "Take him down to the female. Make sure armed guards and medics are present at all times. If all goes well, we'll being making a little trip to the desert."

"Ah fuck me. I hate Nevada." The guard grumbled.