litranaut

Marcus sat on the floor of his empty apartment.

This was it.

His final job. No more after this.

Everything changed after the freelancer died. She was going to join the crew and caught a loose round. It was just bad luck – nothing he could have seen coming. But now nothing seemed worth it. 

He walked to the window, remembering the snow. That had been a good few months ago.

He sighed and turned back to the empty room.

It was his time. He was old and tired. Everyone he knew was either getting out of the game, or had already left. 

So, he had spent the last few months sorting through his stuff. Everything that was his had been packed up, transported, intercepted, stolen, moved to a safe store, stolen again, fenced, split up and sent all around the country.

There it was sold or auctioned and bought by a set of double blind, fake personalities.

Half of those items had been stolen from the auction house, lost in transport – or destroyed in random arson attacks.

The insurance payouts had been quite impressive.

But now all of it was safely on its way towards a small plot of land in a name that he hadn’t used for a very long time.

Everything else had been incinerated, re-incinerated and nano-wiped.

He wanted a clean break. No loose ends.

He only had one of those left now, but he figured it had been loose for so long that it probably wasn’t all that loose at all.

That it was pretty much tied up. 

He sniffed and rubbed his nose.

In each corner of the room was a nano scrubber. He held the activation device in his hand. As soon as he hit it he’d ceased to exist.

“Time to go.” His voice was a tinny echo in the empty appartment. He walked towards the door when his arm vibrated. He flipped a switch and checked the incoming message:

“Subj: Re:Coffee

>?

Maybe…”

He smiled. Maybe that end wasn’t so tied after all.

Still – the job had to come first. There’d be plenty of time for coffee afterwards.

He walked out of the flat and pressed the button. 

Good Grief.

Anyone would think that this was dead – along with me!

But no. It’s been in hiatus – which is lovely this time of year.

This probably won’t be going back to one story a day, every day. There’s a lot of things going on at the moment. But there is also a store of stories here which means that there’s going to be a lot more activity.

The Forum is closed for the moment. Too much spam getting in. I need to work out a better security system for it – but that requires time 🙂

Still – there’s a mailbox, and a widset private chat channel and I’m sure we can add some more things if you mail in and ask for them.

OK – That’s it for today. There’s some fiction coming this week. Keep an eye out for it!

He stood in the aisles watching others move round him. They seemed so sure. Their hands moved with confidence, with…well, with practiced regularity. As he turned and walked away from refrigerated goods it occurred to him that, maybe, they didn’t know what they wanted. Maybe they just bought what they always did.

It wasn’t that he was indecisive. Far from it. “I used to be but now I’m just not so sure.” He blushed at his inner monologue as he walked back to fruit and veg and smelt a melon.

Other people were doing it, so it must be ok. Piped around the store was the voice of someone telling him that he’d never be given up.

“That’s nice.” He thought.

No – not indecision. Just paralyzed by options. The singer was interrupted by women proclaiming a spillage on aisle 34. He wondered if was on sale and hurried down to see what it was, but by the time he got here it had been dealt with. Though looking at the shelves he was quite happy about that. The aisle, all of it, stretching the length of the shop itself, was dedicated to fish in various sauces. At the end was some fermented shark meat. Icelandic, the label said. He shuddered and put it, carefully, back on the shelf.

“I mean – look at this place,” he monologued. “No wonder I’m confused. How many kinds of orange juice do I need? All I want is chunky, pure juice.” He walked past another cooler. “Added vitamins, less sugar, added proteins, concentrated. Why?”

His phone buzzed. Smiling for the security camera he pulled it out.

At last.

He’d messaged his circle a simple question.

“You want pasta.”

“Soup – maybe a stew.”

“What do I want for dinner?” They would have good suggestions, and he could pick one of them

“Man Pie with Cream Sauce” (He made a note to start a “question group”)

“Cooking? So last century darling, you want Sushi”

“Lambs testicles?” (Absolutely starting a new group)

“Is this a quiz? Is there a prize? Oh, I don’t know…Meat?”

He sighed. It’s not that they were indecisive, they just liked different things.

A tall dark haired woman walked..well, more sashayed…past and smiled at him. It was a purely indulgent smile, one that said “Oh, look at me. I’m wonderful.”

He returned it and glanced in her basket. Keeping a safe distance he followed her, selecting everything she did. Except the lady razors and tampons.

***

He got home, flicked on his podcasts and unpacked the shopping:

Chicken, rice, white wine, some peppers, garlic, assorted vegetables – peas, corn.

What on earth was he going to do with that?

He pondered before announcing “Google.”

Helstrum was bored.

He, and his summoned army of Demons, had – as promised – subjugated the land. Well, this land. He didn’t much care for the others. The Slave Pits were working at full strength, the City had been ground down to a sea of misery. It have been going on for a while too – so all hope for that meddlesome costumed heroine had been stolen from the inhabitants.

This meant that his nightly rounds were never interrupted. He didn’t even need a guard now.

“It takes all the fun out of the bleeding, let me tell you.”

The terrified inhabitant squealed. He was being held over the edge of the Dark Lord’s balcony. The unfortunate had endured the Dark One’s whining for over a hour and hoped that Helstrum’s arm wasn’t getting tired.

“Oh – what do you car-” Helstrum faltered.

He was a vampire. His hearing was beyond all imagining. He could hear the sweat leak from the pores of the villager he was terrorising, he could hear the breathing of the only living person in the building.

So hearing a second pair of lungs inflate and deflate, and the almost silent sound of someone landing in the room behind them wasn’t a problem at all.

Other then they shouldn’t be there. It couldn’t be a rescue mission, this guy was randomly plucked from the slave pits. He sniffed.

It was almost scentless, and with the stench of panic coming from the one he was holding, almost should have been good enough. If Helstrum hadn’t been, as stated before, a vampire. Male. Not the costumed one, but could it be a new challenger?

It was, to Helstrum, deliciously exciting. He was about to turn round and confront the intruder when he heard the air itself part and a third step into the room. A teleporter? A Gate spell? They weren’t demons. Demons stank.

He looked out at the human he had dangling. There wouldn’t be much fun in that one. “You know, I hate to leave you hanging around.” He let go.

Now – the turn should be masterful. It should be…why wasn’t there a scream? Or a thud.

“He knows we’re here.” Helstrum turned. Where was the usual fear in the voices of those who faced him.

He saw a small man clad in black. Only his eyes were visible behind some black mask. Was he an assassin? Someone had sent an assassin to kill him?

Helstrum laughed until the appearance of the other in the room broke his train of thought. At least 7 foot tall, as pale as the Vampire was, his eyes were milky and yet he moved around the room with a practiced ease.

“I don’t care. I know he’s here.” He spoke with a voice that also seemed to tear the air. Helstrum had no idea what that was. And he figured he should be worried – especially with that lack of thud.

A familiar scent flooded his memories. And it wasn’t just the stench of the panicking villager.

He turned to see that one floating, albeit in an awkward fashion, in the air.

A word was breathed, so softly that only Helstrum could hear. It was a command. A command that filled his bored heart with joy, fear and excitement.

It was joined by the steps of the two behind him moving.

He span a kick out to where the little one should have been and watched as the shape leapt over the his own outstretched leg and landed, sending a crushing blow into his cheek before sweeping his supporting leg out from under him.

Helstrum leapt up.

The villager had been placed safely behind the three. The Assassin, the freak and, on point, the cloaked, masked figure of his nemesis. A figure he hadn’t seen for years.

Naomi spoke, and her voice was as thunder. “Missed me?”

The teacher/grandfather/father/priest/authoriton/swami/mentor sat before the class.

S/He/It started. “Shall we carry on from where we left off?”

The class pulled out their writing implements and started to trace the shapes they had learnt the day before.

===

The Hunter came to his ward. It was a long time since the caves; since the trip to spread the light. Now he walked slowly; now his back stooped, his hair grey.

He grunted, pointed to her bow and walked away. She hesitated,knowing what he meant.

Her face broke, tears forming at her eyes. But still she gathered her items and followed him.

She caught him at the lake’s edge. This was where he had built his barge and covered it with kindling. As she approached he turned and smiled. He pointed to the small fires he had built for her, proud at his handiwork, but his happy grunts soon changed to the hacking coughing – and that was too much for his girl

She threw herself at him, crying, mewling, holding him close. He stroked her hair and blinked his own tears away. They both knew this day would come. Both had hoped it would have come a lot later.

They spent the day together. She caught dinner, showing off her hunting skills. She would have to take his place, now, and wanted to prove her worth to him.

As if that were necessary.

 He cooked and before the sun disappeared, they lit the fires and placed small, covered lamps on the boat.

He coughed again. Slowly at first, but quickly it developed into deep, tearing hacks. She held him, hoping that she could keep them away. 

He spat. It was red.

He took her hand and looked into her eyes. It was time. 

She tried to open her mouth to protest but he placed his fingertips over her lips and shook his head.

It was time.

They held for the last time. Long and tight.

Finally, he took his place on the barge which she pushed into the water, before taking her place in her personal circle of fire.

She was to bear witness to his passing. To make sure he didn’t come back, because their Old Enemy had learned a new trick.

The night was cold. Her friend’s coughs echoed over the lake. His breathing rattled until, just before dawn, the final spark of his life blew out. And with that light gone, the Dark rushed in to take it’s place.

She watched the body jerk up, abruptly. Watched it tried to get to its feet – a meat puppet with jagged, uncontrolled movements. She notched an arrow, pushing the tip into the flames. Her heart broke at the desecration. Tears flowing down her cheeks.

The arrow flew, trailing the flame in the sky.

She notched a second.

The first overshot, landing harmlessly in the lake. Her crying ruined her aim. She took a deep, steadying breath.

The second flew. The flaming arrow drove into the chest of her old mentor. Her friend.

It burned its light into the dark places inside.

The body fell to the deck, convulsing.

Burning arrows rained down on the barge, catching the kindling, turning the barge into a pyre.

The Hunter said his last goodbye, and she sat in her circle of light sobbing for her old friend.