10-10-2016, 12:23 AM
The Disciples of Camelot thought Kuzuru. To be honest it was the first time that the demon had even considered competing with other mercs over a bounty. Although the Disciples were more than likely expired, the thought still intrigued Kuzuru. There had been enough bounties post on the Dataverse to keep a demon busy for a very, very, long time. It wasn’t surprising that he’d run into other hunters. Ruthless mercenaries out to carve a name for themselves brought a dumb grin to the demon’s face. This place was alive, it was in motion and bloodshed greased the cogs of personal triumph. In other words the Omniverse kept revealing sweeter and sweeter treats to the bastard demon.
Something interrupted his frivolous daydreaming. His pupils dilated and his mouth filled with saliva. Sparks danced across the inside of his skull. An instinctual alarm bell rattled his core. It was an uncanny sixth sense, picked up through eons of warfare, that allowed him to predict incoming assaults. Someone was about to strike at him, but the real questions was who and from where? He froze. It was damn near impossible to get a sense of anything in this crowd. Sure he was used to the turbulence of a battlefield, but he was allowed to carve through anything in his way. The rhythm was different, the ebb and flow of bodies felt nothing like the killing fields. And so, it was for this reason, above all others, that the demon did not see his assailant coming. From behind, slipping through the mass of bodies like a stone in a river, his attacker grabbed the back of his neck. In a puff of smoke and blue glitter they were gone. The crowd didn’t even notice.
Slipping through space was a lot like a falling dream just before one falls asleep -- sudden, frightening, and brief. One moment there was a crowd, that cacophony of sounds and swirling colours. The next there was a silent and dim room. Like a drunkard being tossed into a fire Kuzuru prepared himself for battle. His blades erupted from his flesh and he turned about like a wicked dervish. A animal thrust into a foreign cage his furious eyes darted around the room. It was much larger than he first imagined. Rows of curtains obscured beds, some of them close and occupied, most of them empty. Braziers and candles flickered, trying their damndest to keep the large room lit. “Calm down,” a voice said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Kuzuru turned towards the source of the voice. A hooded man stepped from the shadows and answered and unspoken question, “my name is Scivo and I’m here to help you with your hunt.” The demon growled and lumbered forward, baring his blades towards Scivo.
“Where have you taken me?” Kuzuru asked.
“An infirmary for those on the wrong side of the law,” Scivo said and then smirked, “an ironic place for a bounty hunter such as yourself, no?”
“Why have you brought me here Scivo?” Kuzuru asked, his voice still taut with worry.
“A friend of mine wished for me to bring anyone hunting Ballad to him,” Scivo said and turned his back on the demon. He walked down the rows of curtains, came to a stop, turned around, and motioned for the demon. “Lower your weapons, you have no enemies here,” Scivo said and offered a smile. Kuzuru did as he was told and walked towards the mysterious man. He had an inkling that they were underground, but that was only because of the lighting situation. There were no windows. Asides from the occasional groan or cough the hospital was completely silent.
Behind the curtain was a man bound up in a hospital bed. His eyes were ratty little pits jammed into his skull. He looked more like a deflated ragdoll than a human, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest proved his life. Bandages were wrapped tight around his chest. “This is Jensen, he was the second-in-command of the Disciples of Camelot,” Scivo said, “Jensen, this is uhhh.”
“Kuzuru.”
“Right, Kuzuru, he’s been looking for Ballad.”
Jensen did not speak, but rather nodded. Kuzuru raised an eyebrow and removed his sunglasses. He glanced over at Scivo and got a good look at the man beneath the hood. Scivo’s face was one filled with youth, not even stubble marred his adolescent face. Kuzuru asked the boy, “how did you know I was looking for Ballad, I’ve only been here for like an hour.” Scivo smiled and peeled back his hood, revealing a breathtaking pair of sapphire eyes. He held out a bandaged hand and blue dust flittered above it. In a moment letters in an unknown language danced above his fingertips and he said, “you’d be surprised how fast word can travel, even in a primitive verse such as this. I knew about your little barroom brawl minutes after it happened.”
“Neat trick kid,” Kuzuru said and turned his attention towards Jensen, “and you, why’d you have ol’ magic fingers here kidnap me?”
There was a moment of pregnant silence as Jensen seemed to struggle with his words. A deep rasping inhalation dared to suck all of the air from the room. He spoke, keeping his hollowed eyes down, “he killed everyone.” Kuzuru raised an eyebrow and, upon sensing that Jensen would not speak unprovoked, asked, “Who?”
“Ballad.”
Another pause.
“Alright you twat,” Kuzuru said, stealing an insult from Charlie, “for this to work, you’re going to have to give more detailed answers.”
Another pause. Kuzuru growled. Jensen sighed and spoke, “my friends, he killed all of them. We lead him to our home and he razed it to the ground. Even our leader Agern fell to him.” A thin dry smile cracked across the demon’s lips. Jensen rubbed his palms together and shivered. For the first time since their meeting Jensen locked eyes with Kuzuru. It might have just been the lighting, or the crushing weight of a broken man’s soul, but his eyes took on an abyssinian quality. “I want you to find him,” the next few words tightened a spring in Kuzuru’s tummy, “and kill him.”
“That my cripple friend,” Kuzuru said, “that is something I can most certainly do -- problem is, I have no idea where the fuck he is.”
Scivo piped up, “I found Jensen unconscious in their hideout, Ballad was already gone by the time I got there. I’m not a fighter, so I didn’t stick around to make sure he was gone. But, I can take you there if you want to sift through the ashes.”
“Sounds like a lovely time,” Kuzuru muttered, “sure, take me there, maybe I can find his wallet or something…”
“When you kill him,” Jensen said, “let me know, let me know that my brethren have been avenged.”
Kuzuru wanted to laugh. He didn’t, but he wanted to. Ballad was no doubt a prime so killing him meant nothing more than a short vacation in the afterlife. The Disciples were weak and Ballad had culled them. He wanted to tell Jensen that his friends were nothing more than paved stones to be trod upon. He didn’t, but he wanted to. The demon wanted to tell Jensen that he himself was nothing more than a tool to be used. He didn’t, but what he did say was, “oh I’ll kill him, but I won’t do it for you -- you don’t deserve it.”
Jensen seemed to deflate even further than before. The flesh on his bones sagged, and the pits of his eyes grew darker. He broke eye contact. Kuzuru fought back the urge to chuckle. He turned to Scivo and patted his chest, “let’s get going, I’ve got a bounty to collect.” Scivo frowned, but nodded. “Wait,” Jensen said.” The demon grinned and looked over his shoulder, he said nothing. “At least,” Jensen muttered, “at least make him suffer.”
“That, that I can do, my crippled friend.”
Something interrupted his frivolous daydreaming. His pupils dilated and his mouth filled with saliva. Sparks danced across the inside of his skull. An instinctual alarm bell rattled his core. It was an uncanny sixth sense, picked up through eons of warfare, that allowed him to predict incoming assaults. Someone was about to strike at him, but the real questions was who and from where? He froze. It was damn near impossible to get a sense of anything in this crowd. Sure he was used to the turbulence of a battlefield, but he was allowed to carve through anything in his way. The rhythm was different, the ebb and flow of bodies felt nothing like the killing fields. And so, it was for this reason, above all others, that the demon did not see his assailant coming. From behind, slipping through the mass of bodies like a stone in a river, his attacker grabbed the back of his neck. In a puff of smoke and blue glitter they were gone. The crowd didn’t even notice.
Slipping through space was a lot like a falling dream just before one falls asleep -- sudden, frightening, and brief. One moment there was a crowd, that cacophony of sounds and swirling colours. The next there was a silent and dim room. Like a drunkard being tossed into a fire Kuzuru prepared himself for battle. His blades erupted from his flesh and he turned about like a wicked dervish. A animal thrust into a foreign cage his furious eyes darted around the room. It was much larger than he first imagined. Rows of curtains obscured beds, some of them close and occupied, most of them empty. Braziers and candles flickered, trying their damndest to keep the large room lit. “Calm down,” a voice said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Kuzuru turned towards the source of the voice. A hooded man stepped from the shadows and answered and unspoken question, “my name is Scivo and I’m here to help you with your hunt.” The demon growled and lumbered forward, baring his blades towards Scivo.
“Where have you taken me?” Kuzuru asked.
“An infirmary for those on the wrong side of the law,” Scivo said and then smirked, “an ironic place for a bounty hunter such as yourself, no?”
“Why have you brought me here Scivo?” Kuzuru asked, his voice still taut with worry.
“A friend of mine wished for me to bring anyone hunting Ballad to him,” Scivo said and turned his back on the demon. He walked down the rows of curtains, came to a stop, turned around, and motioned for the demon. “Lower your weapons, you have no enemies here,” Scivo said and offered a smile. Kuzuru did as he was told and walked towards the mysterious man. He had an inkling that they were underground, but that was only because of the lighting situation. There were no windows. Asides from the occasional groan or cough the hospital was completely silent.
Behind the curtain was a man bound up in a hospital bed. His eyes were ratty little pits jammed into his skull. He looked more like a deflated ragdoll than a human, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest proved his life. Bandages were wrapped tight around his chest. “This is Jensen, he was the second-in-command of the Disciples of Camelot,” Scivo said, “Jensen, this is uhhh.”
“Kuzuru.”
“Right, Kuzuru, he’s been looking for Ballad.”
Jensen did not speak, but rather nodded. Kuzuru raised an eyebrow and removed his sunglasses. He glanced over at Scivo and got a good look at the man beneath the hood. Scivo’s face was one filled with youth, not even stubble marred his adolescent face. Kuzuru asked the boy, “how did you know I was looking for Ballad, I’ve only been here for like an hour.” Scivo smiled and peeled back his hood, revealing a breathtaking pair of sapphire eyes. He held out a bandaged hand and blue dust flittered above it. In a moment letters in an unknown language danced above his fingertips and he said, “you’d be surprised how fast word can travel, even in a primitive verse such as this. I knew about your little barroom brawl minutes after it happened.”
“Neat trick kid,” Kuzuru said and turned his attention towards Jensen, “and you, why’d you have ol’ magic fingers here kidnap me?”
There was a moment of pregnant silence as Jensen seemed to struggle with his words. A deep rasping inhalation dared to suck all of the air from the room. He spoke, keeping his hollowed eyes down, “he killed everyone.” Kuzuru raised an eyebrow and, upon sensing that Jensen would not speak unprovoked, asked, “Who?”
“Ballad.”
Another pause.
“Alright you twat,” Kuzuru said, stealing an insult from Charlie, “for this to work, you’re going to have to give more detailed answers.”
Another pause. Kuzuru growled. Jensen sighed and spoke, “my friends, he killed all of them. We lead him to our home and he razed it to the ground. Even our leader Agern fell to him.” A thin dry smile cracked across the demon’s lips. Jensen rubbed his palms together and shivered. For the first time since their meeting Jensen locked eyes with Kuzuru. It might have just been the lighting, or the crushing weight of a broken man’s soul, but his eyes took on an abyssinian quality. “I want you to find him,” the next few words tightened a spring in Kuzuru’s tummy, “and kill him.”
“That my cripple friend,” Kuzuru said, “that is something I can most certainly do -- problem is, I have no idea where the fuck he is.”
Scivo piped up, “I found Jensen unconscious in their hideout, Ballad was already gone by the time I got there. I’m not a fighter, so I didn’t stick around to make sure he was gone. But, I can take you there if you want to sift through the ashes.”
“Sounds like a lovely time,” Kuzuru muttered, “sure, take me there, maybe I can find his wallet or something…”
“When you kill him,” Jensen said, “let me know, let me know that my brethren have been avenged.”
Kuzuru wanted to laugh. He didn’t, but he wanted to. Ballad was no doubt a prime so killing him meant nothing more than a short vacation in the afterlife. The Disciples were weak and Ballad had culled them. He wanted to tell Jensen that his friends were nothing more than paved stones to be trod upon. He didn’t, but he wanted to. The demon wanted to tell Jensen that he himself was nothing more than a tool to be used. He didn’t, but what he did say was, “oh I’ll kill him, but I won’t do it for you -- you don’t deserve it.”
Jensen seemed to deflate even further than before. The flesh on his bones sagged, and the pits of his eyes grew darker. He broke eye contact. Kuzuru fought back the urge to chuckle. He turned to Scivo and patted his chest, “let’s get going, I’ve got a bounty to collect.” Scivo frowned, but nodded. “Wait,” Jensen said.” The demon grinned and looked over his shoulder, he said nothing. “At least,” Jensen muttered, “at least make him suffer.”
“That, that I can do, my crippled friend.”