Those who lived in the woods surrounding the city of Alter were often considered some of the strangest, most backwards folk to ever live. Savages, the lot of them, hunting and gathering and claiming to be at peace with the Deity. Claiming that the city was a “bad omen”. As far as Cameron Lark was concerned, anything a person wanted to be a bad omen would be their very own bad omen. It just so happened that the majority of these bad omens, across the world, were dark things. Black cats. Spiders. Snake skin. Hogwash, all of it.
No, as far as Cameron was concerned, Alter was the only place he could possibly find a home. The young man trudged along the path, sighing to himself. He was a sammler man, with a fairly young face and black hair that stuck up in what seemed to be an awkward attempt at growing out a buzz cut. His blue eyes were hidden by his hood, and his light traveling clothes made him appear fairly inconspicuous. However if one were to examine him more closely, one might notice the under armour he had on him, or the knife sheathed at his waist, ready to cut a man’s throat at a moment’s notice.
The setting sun remained at his back as he continued his trek. He’d run out of clean clothes, the rest sadly having been stained with blood from his travels. Some of the blood was his, most from everyone around him. It would be a long walk to get away from everything around him and he’d already been on the road quite some time.
A tingling in his neck caused him to steady his walk slightly. He sniffed slightly and smiled under his hood as he quickened his pace, slouching further and putting his hands in his pockets. He could sense the forms near him. Their every motion, twitch, movement, and if he listened closely enough, their breath. It was a gratifying experience to say the least and he greatly enjoyed it. Probably more than he let on.
He closed his eyes and smiled wider as he stopped in his tracks, allowing the forms to continue moving around him. Finally, he spoke up.575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMlZaL4f6yp
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“So. You gonna tell me who you are?”
The sound of someone cursing, and suddenly five figures emerged from the trees, surrounding him. He opened his eyes and saw metal reflecting off of the setting sun. Knives were big with these guys.
One of the men moved towards him with knife in hand, only to have the one in front motion his hand. “Stop, stop! Don’t hurt him yet.” The scoundrel sneered and backed off.
Cameron lowered his hood and the one who appeared to be in charge moved towards him. Cameron examined him. A boy, around 17. Strange that these men were deferring to him. Granted, Cameron had to crane his neck to look the boy in the eyes. Hawkish features, and hazel eyes. No battle scars.
Cameron grinned in an attempt to emulate a shark. Although he didn’t know it he came across more like a goat. “You new around these parts?”
“That’s my question,” the boy said condescendingly, looking down at him before holding up a gun. “You’re coming up on Alter, y’see. In order to enter you’ve got to pay the toll.”
“Toll?” Cameron asked, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as he shifted, elbowing the crook next to him before raising his hand between him and the boy, stage whispering to the random crook. “If you ask me this sounds like a scam.”
The crook elbowed him in the gut, and he keeled over.
“The Talons only take money or blood,” the boy said cheerfully, as two men dragged Cameron by both arms. “Either you pay up, or you lose a limb. And believe me when I say that the hospitals are filled to the brink already.”
“You don’t get many visitors, do you boy?” Cameron asked politely. “What’s your name?”
“Carter,” the boy said. Cameron snorted at this. The boy looked defensive. “What? What’s so funny?”
“You just...told me your name. From the way you said it it’s clearly your real name. You clearly haven’t been doing this long,” Cameron said, before sighing and shaking his head.
“We should kill ‘im for his lip, boss,” one of the grunts said, holding a knife to Cameron’s throat. “We can just take his valuables after that.”
Carter glanced around anxiously to another one of his men, who nodded in grim agreement. The boy sighed. “O-okay. Kill him.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Cameron warned.
“Don’t care,” Carter said, and gestured for the criminal to slit Cameron’s throat.
In a quick, fluid motion, Cameron swept his foot under the criminal’s legs, sending him to the ground. Within another second he’d drawn his knife and slashed another of the men across the throat. Quickly he stabbed the man he’d dropped to the ground in the head before dodging gunfire from the two remaining men. Carter stood back, holding his gun steadily and trying to remain calm.
“You’ll have to do better than that!” Cameron laughed before kicking the gun out of the other grunt’s hands and slamming him into a tree, drawing the knife across his throat. The final grunt lunged and failed, and quickly Cameron broke his neck. As Cameron eyed the four dead men on the ground, he stretched, cracking his back with his knife still in his hand. Carter’s hands shook as he eyed Cameron.
“The hell is wrong with you?” Carter whimpered, gun shaking in his hands.
“Well, for starters, I’m a cynic and a killer,” Cameron said casually. “I also probably don’t shower as much as I need to. Oh and I get the urge to pee at the absolute worst times, you have no idea-”
The shot was fired, and Cameron’s eyes turned to look at the bullet hole a full foot away from his head, embedded in the tree.
“Nice try, kid,” Cameron yawned, and lunged, his knife stabbing Carter through the chest. He released and calmly sheathed the blade as Carter fell to the ground, sputtering.
After Carter kicked the bucket, Cameron glanced over the cleanest dead man, checking for any identifying marks or tattoos. He pulled up one of the men’s sleeves and noted the tattoo of a bird claw. No, a talon of sorts. He filed it away before walking away from the scene before him.
About ten minutes later he found himself looking up at the city gates. Alter was an old city, at least seven hundred years old as a matter of fact. However it constantly was being updated, with new projects, new buildings, and the like. The wall surrounding the city and separating it from the outside world remained completely intact. As he moved up to it, he could feel the vibrations from inside the city. Of people moving around, preparing to head back to their houses and sleep. It was a gift and a curse, to be blessed with such powers. He wasn’t the only one, though, and his were among the less impressive ones. He’d once known a man that could fire lightning from his hands. Cameron had been jealous at one time. That was much cooler than just enhanced senses.
The gate opened before him, no toll required. Alter’s reputation preceded it. A large chunk of the city was controlled by a number of warring gangs, all vying for dominance. Part of Cameron’s mind hoped that he’d never get involved with anything dangerous ever again. The other part of him seemed to be secretly hoping he would. After all, it didn’t really matter either way what he did. What would happen would happen. Nothing he said or did could change that fact.
He seemed to move through the streets in a haze. An orphan girl tugged at his leg but he didn’t really have the time or money to offer anything. He moved into a tavern, rubbing his eyes as he pulled a piece of gold out of his pocket, glancing at the bartender and placing his coin on the table, nodding.
“First room to the left, how long are you staying?” the man asked as he placed a key on the desk. Cameron swiped at it, nearly dropping it but holding it in his hand.
“Dunno yet,” Cameron mumbled, moving up the stairs with the grace of a drunken swan. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
As he unlocked the door to his room, he thought back to the boy he’d killed. He probably could have let him off with a warning. Kid probably didn’t know what he was doing. Oh well. That was the way the world worked. Probably did him a favor in the long run.
Cameron eyed the bed, and without even changing out of his clothes literally jumped into it, bouncing on the bed slightly as he closed his eyes.
It’d been a long walk.
The whispers started in the morning. He’d been walking down the street with his hands in his pockets, wiping at his eyes. Why the hell was he so goddamn tired all the time? Cameron was the kind of guy who slept too much for his own good, and was regardless always tired. At first he thought he was hearing things. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But as he continued his walk he overheard several snippets that seemed to repeat themselves.
“That’s him! He killed the Talon boy!”
Cameron was surprised and somewhat insulted when as he was passing by people they seemed to step away from him, huddled and conspiratorial. He scowled. He didn’t know what was such a big deal. People died. That was the way of things. Anyone who disagreed could get stabbed for all he cared.
The last straw was a mother whispering to her toddler son. Cameron passed by, glancing down at the little fellow, who stared right back up at him with narrowed eyes. Then, as his mother watched, the kid picked up a patch of mud and flung it at Cameron, splattering his leg.
Cameron stopped in his tracks and turned to the woman and her son. “Control your bag of excrement, lady,” he snapped.575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmADNd13zGp
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“Stay away from me and my son,” the lady replied, stepping between this strange man and her son. The son smirked from behind her.
“Son? What, this smug sack of shit?” Cameron sneered, and the woman’s face turned red. Cameron stepped towards her. “I risk my neck to help people like you, you know that? And this is what I get in return? Mud slung at me and stupid-ass parents defending their kid’s behavior?”
“You killed a 17-year old boy,” the woman replied, stepping towards him and was surprised to find that she was taller than him. It was an oddly empowering feeling. “Stay away from me and my son. Now.”
“How the hell do you know about this anyway? Why the hell is everyone just assuming it’s me?”
“Grant Talon has spies on the force,” the mother said. “One reported witnessing a scuffle with some of his son’s men, and then you come with bloodied hands over to the gate? What the hell was he supposed to think?”
“Okay, okay, I killed a gang member,” Cameron seethed. “So what?”
The mother looked confused. “You...you really don’t know, then?”
“Know what?”
The woman looked around fearfully, and glanced upwards. “The streets here are controlled by a gang known as the Talons. They’re led by Grant Talon. And they’re saying that...you...you killed his son. And he wants to find the one responsible.”
Cameron took a moment to process this information before relenting. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you or your son in danger. But please tell him to watch himself. He should know better than to throw mud at a random stranger. I know some people wouldn’t hesitate to harm a kid.”
“Alright then,” the woman said, before taking her son and walking off. Cameron sighed. If this was the way it was going to be he might as well just leave. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went and he didn’t know how or why, but he had to always be ready for the worst case scenario.
For the rest of the morning, he kept his eyes and other senses honed to make sure there would be no attacks on him. He was surprised to find only whispers from civilians. Nothing that he couldn’t handle. He overheard some other names that he didn’t really have any particular context for but would have to learn to watch out for. Apparently some thought he was a spy for the Red Ants. Whoever the hell they were. Who the hell called a gang the “Red Ants”? So fucking ridiculous. Granted the “Talons” weren’t much better, but at least they could be taken seriously.
He returned to the tavern for lunch, placing more gold on the counter. The bartender glanced at him, smiling before shifting a drink over to him.
“I hear you’re a wanted man,” the bartender said with a smile. “Should I be worried about a shootout in my tavern?”
“Nah,” Cameron said. “I don’t use guns too often.”
“Oh. So you’re Gifted?”
Cameron tapped his nose and ear. “Enhanced senses. Double edged sword if you ask me. Hate the worst parts of the streets. Y’know where people dump their shit on the pavement for everyone to smell. Like me.”
The bartender laughed. “Can’t say I envy you. Say did you hear some of my other inhabitants...making themselves cozy?”
“The woman three doors down is trying too hard to sound like she’s from a porno,” Cameron sneered. “Disgusting if you ask me, but no one asks me.”
A smirk from the bartender, and Cameron downed his drink. The bartender passed him another. “What’s your name?”
“Cameron Lark,” the man himself replied. “Coming through, cynic and mercenary extraordinaire.”
“Ah,” the bartender replied. “Excellent. You can just call me Phil if you want.”
“That’ll work, Phil.”
Phil grinned. “Anyways, you aren’t the first merc to come through here. This other guy came through a while back. Seemed like you, but not quite the same.”
“That’s specific,” Cameron grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I could probably tell you a lot more about him if I met him.”
“I’m sure you could,” Phil replied. “Anyway, you were right about the girl three doors down. She’s staying with a real jackass, y’see. Wants to make him happy so she can get his money. Wouldn’t be surprised if one of them ends up killing the other.”
“You make it sound like this is a regular occurrence,” Cameron said warily. “Should I expect to be jumped?”
Phil smiled wryly. “It wouldn’t be unheard of. Let’s just say I’ve learned all the best ways to mop up blood.”
Cameron sighed, slamming the drink down on the table. “Alright, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer me completely honestly.”
“Alright. Shoot.”
Cameron scratched at his arm. “Is this place that bad? Is it worth living here?”
Phil took a moment to respond as he rubbed a cup with a piece of cloth. “Honestly? It’s got its charm. There’s a lot of shit but it makes the good stand out more if you ask me. Sure there’s a lot of crime and the government can’t do shit about it, but civilians are stepping up to help out, whether that’s helping people below the poverty line, fighting gangs, or what.” He nodded and smirked. “It’s all...very inspiring.”
Cameron snorted as he motioned for another drink. Phil raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s only lunch you know.”
“I could use it,” Cameron said.575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlYDsEW0DCx
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“And that doesn’t...affect your ability, correct?”
“It does, I just don’t care right about now,” Cameron said. “And I think I’m gonna stay for now at any rate. It seems okay enough.”
“I’ll be happy to have you,” Phil replied. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Probably,” Cameron said, before standing. “I’m gonna job hunt for a bit. Maybe try to find this other guy you mentioned. See what he can do.”
“See you around,” Phil nodded. Cameron nodded back in acknowledgement before exiting the tavern.
Cameron continued walking aimlessly. He almost felt like it was instinct at this point. It’d been a long trip to Alter after all and he’d sort of gotten used to trying to outrun people.
“Scuse me! You look familiar. Do we know each other?” Cameron turned to see an average sized man with large brown eyes moving towards him. He saw the punch coming before it hit and prepared to block. What he wasn’t prepared for was a large gust of wind to accompany the blow, blasting him backwards onto his ass on the pavement.
“Fucking shit!” Cameron winced, slowly rising to his feet as several more people surrounded him. “Oh for fuck’s sake not this again. I already killed five of you assholes don’t make me-”
The brown-eyed man clapped his hands and suddenly two sharp gusts of wind came at Cameron from opposite directions, twisting him and knocking him to the ground. It’d been a while since he’d had to deal with Gifted opponents.
As Cameron rose to his feet once more, the brown-eyed man’s eyes stared strangely at him. Suddenly, Cameron felt a pain in his neck as the syringe entered it, and suddenly he felt himself slipping out of consciousness. He had no idea whether he’d wake up or not.
He probably shouldn’t have had that drink.
Grant Talon stared blankly at the wall. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet, what had just happened. It hadn’t even been 24 hours since it’d happened. All he could imagine was Carter’s youthful face heading out to go wheedle some travelers out of their valuables. It’d have been his fourth night doing so and up until that point had been quite profitable. Perhaps it was fitting that he wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Maybe it was karma for not being there for the baby’s birth. He doubted the boy’s mother cared. Considering she was dead and all.
“Sir.”
Grant turned and made an attempt to look presentable. His lieutenant, a rather average guy named Paul Mann, stood before him with those bizarrely deep brown eyes. Grant had sent him to fetch the one who’d killed his boy. He was glad to see he’d returned alive.
“You have him?” Grant asked anxiously. Paul nodded, and snapped his fingers. A shockingly small figure was shoved into the room with a bag over its head, and in an egregious and completely unnecessary display of his powers Paul used a gust of wind to fling the bag off of the man’s head.
Grant moved towards the man who’d killed his son. Talon was an oddly well-dressed man for someone of his vocation, with meticulously combed sandy hair and a slight beard. He had the same eyes and hawkish look to him as his son, which was the first thing Cameron noticed when he first started to come to.
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“Do you know who I am?” Grant asked, looking down at the woozy man before him.
“I...I dunno,” Cameron slurred. “You look like you’re that type of guy who sells people miracle potions made of vinegar and dog piss with a lil’ bit of strawberry in it.”
The emptiness was mitigated within Grant as the rage filled up instead, and he slapped Cameron across the face.
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“Do you know that you just killed my son?” he hissed.
“If I recall he was gonna kill me,” Cameron said sardonically. “Don’t think you’d have had a problem then-”
Grant reached out with his hands, wrapping them around Cameron’s neck as he choked and sputtered.
“You think you’re some kind of wise guy, huh.” Grant grimaced as he tightened his grip. “I’ll bet you don’t know how it feels, to lose a family member. To have the bastard in your sights who did it.” At the word “sights” Grant’s eyes bugged out a little bit. Paul remained to the side calmly, seeming to be ready to calm his boss down at a moment’s notice.
Grant’s grip released and suddenly Cameron sputtered for air, gasping loudly as he reached for his throat, stumbling to the ground.
“I have...not been having a good day…” Cameron wheezed. “I could really go for a milkshake right about now. You buyin’?”
“You don’t even care that you killed him, do you,” Grant replied coldly, looking down at him. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and stabbed Cameron in the shoulder. The mercenary cried out in pain before Grant removed it and he looked as his bleeding wound.
“Toss him with the other one,” Grant said callously. “Let him rot for a bit before we kill him. I want him to feel every last bit of pain he can before he dies.”
“Sounds like a plan, boss,” Paul replied in monotone, kicking Cameron in the back to move him along.
Grant turned back around as the feeling emerged in his gut again. He couldn’t afford to show fear. Not when so much of being a gang leader relied on inducing it. No, he’d have to swallow his sadness and translate it into rage. The boy hadn’t been ready yet. He shouldn’t have died.
No matter. At least the one responsible would die too.
Cameron yelled in pain as he was unceremoniously pushed to the floor of the cell, still hurting from his wound but honestly more hurting in his pride. This was somewhat embarrassing after all, being jumped and made to dance like a fool by a guy with measly wind powers. Cameron supposed he probably had it coming though. He could understand Grant Talon’s rage at any rate. He should have been more careful entering. Making enemies was not the best way to start off his tenure in Alter. Not the way he’d envisioned it.
Slowly, Cameron rose into a sitting position as he glanced around him. He glanced around, trying to regain his senses but having a bit of trouble. At any rate he was likely the only person down here unless-oh god something huge just moved. Cameron’s eyes widened as something growled from another cell, shackle clanking as it moved. It would be just typical for Cameron to be locked inside a cage with a bear again and he really wasn’t looking forward to figuring out how to get out of it this time.
Then, to his surprise, the bear started to talk.
“So. What’d you do?”
The voice was gruff, bass, and sounded like the man had been punched in the throat one too many times. Cameron’s eyes started to adjust to the darkness, his ability allowing him night vision of sorts. He got a clearer view of the man in the cell across from him.
“Killed Carter Talon,” Cameron grimaced. “Didn’t know it.”
The other man snorted. “So he brought you down here with me then. Figures.” Cameron’s eyes adjusted into focus and he could clearly see the man before him for the first time. The man was huge, at least a foot taller than Cameron and weighing something tremendous. He was almost ludicrously muscular and very dark skinned, which was very disconcerting in the already dark room.
“Eh, it’ll be okay.” Cameron laughed. “Birds of a feather flock together, and these guys seem as dumb as geese.”
The bear of a man gave a bark of a laugh at this. “I think they consider themselves eagles actually. Dunno how they got the better of me but they did. I don’t do well in the dark, and the slightest wrong move on my part could activate the traps they have in this room.”
“Traps? What traps?” Cameron scanned the room for possible booby traps. “What kind of things did they talk about?”
“Oh, all sorts,” the man said earnestly. “Uh, trapdoors. Arrows from the walls. Spikes coming up from the ground. They...they said they got inspiration from the bad guys in that one old movie. I asked if I was the hero and they said no. That I’m too angry to be a hero and should just sit here like a good little boy. Booby traps will keep me in line, they say. S’why I haven’t tried escaping. Super strength isn’t any good when you can’t see in the dark. I’d get impaled before I know it. So yeah I’ve been here about a week.”
Cameron came to a conclusion about the state of the “booby traps” in the room but decided to keep it to himself for the time being, his only real conclusion being that the man before him was surprisingly gullible.
“Okay then,” Cameron said. “My name’s Cameron Lark. Yours?”
“Malcolm,” the large man replied. “Malcolm Truman.”
“Alright then,” Cameron said, leaning back against the dingy wall. “So how’d you get here?”
Cameron winced as the shackle moved again. He really hated the sound of metal clanking.
“Well,” Malcolm said. “I went to Grant Talon asking about a guy I thought he might know. He got really angry with me and suddenly I felt like I was being blown into a thunderstorm, lightning and all. About fried me I think.”
“They’re avian themed, not lightning themed,” Cameron sighed, shaking his head. “You might have been imagining things.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Malcolm replied in the manner of a child asserting that he was not, in fact, a poopyhead. “I got blown into the air and there was lightning.”
Cameron rolled his eyes though he knew the other man couldn’t see it. “Right, just like all the booby traps in this room! Guess what wise guy? They lied to you! I have super senses and there isn’t SHIT keeping you here except your own gullibility.”
“What?” Malcolm asked, his voice rising in anger. “You sure about that? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Someone intelligent enough to realize that your captors are bluffing and we could easily escape!” Cameron said indignantly.
“Oh. Right.” Malcolm rose to his feet and Cameron’s stomach dropped as he realized just how tall his new acquaintance was. Malcolm began to pull apart his shackle, Cameron's’ eyes widening as the metal began to break apart.
“Wait.” Malcolm stopped before finishing. “I don’t think this is a ‘we’.”
“What?” Cameron asked. “We’re both in these cells! We should both get out, we’d have a better chance fighting together. Of course it’s we.”
“Well yeah, but…” Malcolm sat back down. “From what I can tell you’re kinda an asshole.”
“Oh come on you can’t make judgments like that so easily!” Cameron complained. “Jeez dude. We barely know each other. C’mon, tell me a bit about yourself! We can be buddies!”
“You first,” Malcolm dared. Cameron bit back a retort before swallowing it, saying nothing. Malcolm let out another short bark of a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Who were you looking for?” Cameron asked, sincerity entering his voice for the first time. “Who was so important that you went to the Talons and got sent to prison for a week?”
Malcolm sniffed like a large dog. “Well, uh. I feel like you wouldn’t really understand.”
“Try me.”
“I used to have a family, y’know.”
“Oh fuck me,” Cameron groaned, and suddenly Malcolm’s temper flared, a snarl escaping his lips as he feinted a lunge. Cameron scrambled back in a panic.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ve just...heard that sob story before, okay?”
“It’s not a sob story,” Malcolm said. “It’s the truth. There was this group a while back sayin’ that they were gonna show the people the truth about what was really going on in this city. Led by this guy, Quinn Hayes. Called himself a revolutionary.” Malcolm snorted. “What a jackass.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard of him,” Cameron sighed, relaxing a little bit.
“Yeah, you just got here. He was active for a while. Made ‘strikes for freedom.’ Or some bullshit like that.” Malcolm’s fists clenched and Cameron could see that he was furious. “My wife and son were at the library when he wrecked the place with his goons. Said the place was filled with propaganda and it needed to go. Called it a victory for those who sought the truth.”
“So you tried to track him down?” Cameron asked.
“Yeah,” Malcolm said, as if it should have been obvious. “No shit. I mean it’s not really like you’d understand.”
Cameron sighed, feeling slightly guilty. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s kinda my default response. To like. Everything.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal. Anyways, he checked out of town. But I heard rumors that the Talons might be involved with him.”
“So that’s why you’re here then.”
“Yeah.” Malcolm inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I’ve talked about this with a lot of people. They always say the same things. But I never seem to ask them about how they’re doing. So… uh. You wanna talk about your life story a little bit?”
“Absolutely not,” Cameron said quickly. “How about we get out of here?”
Malcolm looked around nervously. “And you’re sure there’s no lava pits.”
Cameron smiled. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Malcolm beamed. “Okay then!” With a delighted grin the big man ripped open his constraints and bent the bars of his cell out of the way. He stepped through and moved over to Cameron’s cell before walking directly into the bars, hitting his head.
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“Whoa, steady,” Cameron laughed slightly as Malcolm staggered around a bit. “I’ll have to be your eyes here, don’t want you giving yourself a concussion.”
“Okay, okay,” Malcolm said, stretching his hands out forward and walking towards Cameron’s cell again, grasping his hands firmly around it and ripping it apart. Cameron rose to his feet and held out his restrained hands for Malcolm to free.
“Alright, easy now. Move your hand forward-okay you got it. Now down, down, slowly...grab. God this sounds weird but whatever.”
Malcolm broke the chains and Cameron grinned. “Alright, you ready to get out of here?”
Malcolm nodded. “Hell yeah.”
Cameron guided Malcolm to the door out of the cell and rapped on the metal door so that Malcolm knew where to punch. Malcolm obliged, knocking the door off its hinges and slamming a grunt in the face.
“Quickly,” Cameron muttered and the two broke into a run, as Cameron heard and smelled several guards incoming from behind them.
Gunfire pierced the air as a grunt stood before them carrying a machine gun. Cameron took cover while Malcolm grabbed a pipe from a nearby wall and broke it off, before throwing it at the grunt, smacking him upside the head and sending him to the ground. From where the pipe had been, some kind of gas was now spewing into the air.
“We’ve got three coming in down the stairs to the east, and two to the west!” Cameron called out, looking for some kind of weapon to use.
“What’s the way out of here then?” Malcolm asked. Cameron concentrated once more, closing his eyes. The three grunts from the east raised their guns, only to stop when they realized that the gas pipe was leaking. Malcolm grinned and started jogging towards them, slowly accelerating his pace and savoring the looks they were giving as they realized that they were screwed. It was a look Malcolm had seen all too many times before and he never got tired of it.
Malcolm yanked one by the arm and slammed him into the second, the sheer force knocking both of them out. The third one tried to knife him. Malcolm grabbed his wrist and chopped him in the throat.
“Nice try,” he said quietly.
Cameron stood and started walking west, quickly knocking the air of of one of the grunts before slamming his head into the stair railing and taking his knife to stab the other in the gut. He glanced upward as he heard more soldiers incoming. It would only be a matter of time before Grant Talon or Paul Mann would come down themselves, and he didn’t want to be there when it happened.
“Malcolm, more are coming down!” Cameron yelled, motioning for the bigger man to follow him.
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“No, Malcolm. Not now. We gotta get out of here. We’re in no shape to keep fighting like this.”
“But-”
Cameron groaned and jogged over to him, tugging at him to follow. “I know the way out, you can get your revenge another time, okay? Fucking shit just follow me so you don’t get killed!”
“Oh okay, sorry,” Malcolm said as he was being dragged along. Cameron let go and went into a full blown run. His senses determined someone waiting behind the next corner, and as such he quickly incapacitated the man before he could do anything. Malcolm followed behind like an obedient puppy.
“Alright, we’re almost there,” Cameron said, out of breath. He grinned as he saw a door leading to a parking lot. “I can see it-”
They heard a single gunshot from the corridor where Malcolm had torn off the gas pipe.
The building rumbled before them and they could hear an explosion, the walls before them bursting apart and chunks of wall flying at them as the building tore apart. Malcolm yelled and jumped on top of Cameron, shielding him as the chain reaction brought the building down around them.
After a while, the dust settled and Malcolm remained conscious, still covering Cameron. Groaning, he rose to his feet, feeling blood and bruises across his body. Cameron rolled over onto his back, stretching and trying to recover.
Malcolm fell to his knees as his head spun. He was done.
The last thing he heard before he faded out was a faint police siren.
In a world where some people possessed certain powers, it stood to reason that some would have the power to heal. It also stood to reason that these services were much more expensive than regular doctors, surgeons, and the like. The medical industry in Alter was as such fairly divided between those with powers and those without. Those with powers generally served the rich and/or powerful, and often found themselves in service to or abducted by gang members to give them an edge over the opposition.
It was often viewed as a curse to be granted the gift to heal. It was too easy to take advantage of.
As Cameron came to, he felt an odd sensation that he’d only felt once before, when as a boy he’d gotten the chance to be healed on a field trip. Other than that he’d never had the funds to be healed, instead having to rely on regular doctors to help him whenever he got hurt.
This...this was new. And somewhat suspicious. People didn’t just heal random mercenaries for no reason.
Cameron glanced around to find that he was not restrained to his hospital bed at all, and with an odd sense of joy he stood, feeling strangely elated and full of energy. He smiled genuinely. The first in a while.
The door opened and he scrambled back slightly, as he sat back down in his bed. The door closed and he observed the woman standing before him. She was small, somewhat stout, with coffee brown skin and glasses. Her face was drawn in a scowl, which lessened a moment too late before Cameron saw it.
“So you’re awake then,” the woman said, sounding unimpressed as she moved over to sit in a chair besides the bed. “Cameron...Lark. You’re new around here, Cameron?” she asked, biting her lip as she sifted through a few papers in her hands.
“Well, uh-” Cameron began.
“Don’t care,” the woman replied. “Well, it seems like you and your friend have gotten into a little bit of trouble, huh.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, but she gazed at Cameron as if expecting an answer.
Cameron shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Why am I here? Why did you have me healed?”
The woman crossed her legs so that her ankle was over her knee. “Do you know who I am?”
“Nope, and I really don’t care.”
The woman laughed, grinning slightly. “I feel like we’re gonna get along juuuust fine then. My name is Lori Bishop. I’m a representative of the Alter government. I oversee operations against the gangs of this city.”
“From what I’ve heard you’re not doing too good a job, then,” Cameron replied bluntly.
Lori tilted her head slightly. “There’s more going on than you think, boy. How many gangs can you say you’ve permanently beaten?”
“Well-”
Lori took a paper and slapped it down on his bed. “The Green Sky executed a military official this morning for no other reason than they could. His mangled body was dropped on the capitol doorstep as a message. You think you’d know how to respond to that?”
Cameron looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t say I could do any better-”
Lori slammed another paper down on the desk. “The Red Ants killed an entire rich family so they could use the mansion and its assets. Sure, we froze their credit cards but they still have the goddamn place to do who knows what with.”
“Yeah, but-”
“And the Talons? They’ve been taking hostages and trying to get us to play nice, and if we refuse WE look like the bad guys!”
“Okay okay, I get it!” Cameron yelled. “You don’t have to keep lecturing me! What the hell do you want?”
Lori sat back and uncrossed her legs. “I just wanted you to know that we do appreciate mercenaries for what they are. And we appreciate that you just managed to blow up a Talon stronghold.”
“But…”
Lori grimaced. “But, the moment you get hired to hurt an innocent or a military soldier, you won’t be as welcome with us. Thank you for your work on the Talon case.”
Cameron looked confused. “But...we didn’t blow up the-”
“Yeah yeah, plausible deniability and all that,” LOri sighed. “I get it, you don’t want to have to explain why you shouldn’t have to pay for the building you wrecked. Let’s just say it’s off the record, kay?”
Cameron’s mind turned as he tried to make sense of what was going on. He decided it ultimately would be best just to go along with it. “Alright. Will that be all?”
Lori nodded. “Yeah. We’ve talked to your partner too. You both are free to go.”
“He’s not my-”
“Again, don’t care.” Lori rose to her feet and walked off, hands in her pockets. “Might see you again soon!”
“Hopefully not,” Cameron muttered as the door closed. Cameron got back to his feet and noticed a pair of clean clothes about his size on the table. He removed his hospital gown and put on the shirt and jeans, stretching.
As he walked into the hall, he looked around for Malcolm as he moved through the busy hospital. After a few minutes he found the lobby. Malcolm was sitting in a chair much too small for him, humming. As Malcolm saw Cameron approaching, his face lit up and he scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over the chair as he moved over to him.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” Malcolm said, smiling. “I tried to protect you from the explosion, wouldn’t have made me feel good if you’d died.”
“Why did you care?” Cameron asked as they walked. “We barely know each other.”
Malcolm shrugged. “You seem like a nice guy under all that bluster.”
Cameron bit his lip before looking at the checkout counter. “Are we free to go?”575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXvhKjgGusp
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“Yeah, I checked out before you got here. Said you were with me.”
“Okay.” The two walked out the front door and into the bright sunlight. Cameron shielded his eyes, not used to the brightness. “So, what now?”575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrAV0dkH4X8
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“Well, I was thinking…” Malcolm said, twiddling his thumbs as he walked. “Well, I don’t really think things through too much. I probably would have died in that cell if you hadn’t told me they were lyin’ about booby traps.”
“Always happy to help,” Cameron said, sounding somehow both sincere and incredibly sarcastic.
“Well yeah,” Malcolm said. “But you probably couldn’t have gotten out of there on your own. We made a good team. You planned, I smashed. And it worked out.”
“We got caught in an explosion that neither of us caused! Speaking of which, I’d like to know what idiot fired at that gas pipe.”
Malcolm didn’t look concerned, and his grin only widened. “Don’t think it matters too much. Fact is we still kicked ass. So I was thinkin’ that maybe we could work together.”
“You mean as mercenaries?” Cameron asked. “Sorry, I work alone.” Cameron’s face grew offended as Malcolm repeated the words in a mocking voice. “Hey, what’s your deal?”
Malcolm laughed heartily. “You think you’re some kinda cool guy, huh? You probably sleep with a stuffed bear every night, that’s the kind of guy you are.”
“Pscht,” Cameron folded his arms, trying not to remember that he’d slept with a stuffed cat until the age of 17. “You’re not making me want to work with you.”
“Well, I’ve got a pretty nice place!” Malcolm grinned. “Here, I’ll show ya!” Still with a huge-ass grin on his face, Malcolm started dragging Cameron along, much to the smaller man’s displeasure.
“Hey, hands off! I don’t need to be dragged, thank you!”
“Oh, sorry.” Malcolm let go and led Cameron through the streets, still striding confidently as if he owned the entire block. “It’s not too far, just another block or two.”
“Okay, I’m willing to consider this, but what’s in it for me?” Cameron asked. “I don’t wanna split what I earn.”
“You’d be paying half rent,” Malcolm pointed out. “And you’d also have a much better chance of making it back from your jobs alive.”
Malcolm’s pace slowed and Cameron slowed with him as they walked up to a fairly old-looking hole in the wall shop labeled “Adams Armory.” Cameron sniffed and recoiled slightly, quite unimpressed.
“This is where you live?” he asked warily.
“It’s better than it looks,” Malcolm reassured him, and opened the door. The door jingled as it went and Cameron stepped into what was quite possibly the most dangerous room he’d ever seen in his entire life.
The entire room was filled with guns of every kind. Pistols, revolvers, automatics, sniper rifles, the like. If it existed odds are it was on one of the cluttered shelves in the store. It almost seemed to be an experiment on how many dangerous items could be fit into a fairly small store. Behind the counter, an older, tiny Eastern woman sat with her legs kicked back on the counter and a cigarette in her hand. Cameron looked flabbergasted as he observed that she for some reason had shaved half her head and dyed the other half pink.
“Ey, Malcolm!” The woman yawned, shaking the cigarette slightly as she looked down at your watch. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you were dead!”
“Not quite,” Malcolm said, smiling politely as he moved forward to meet her. Cameron followed, still trying to take in the entire bizarre scene. “Lee, this is-”
“Ah! Remember what I told ya, Malc.”
Malcolm sighed overdramatically and rolled his eyes. “Firebird I-”
“No, Firebird was last week.” The strange woman put her legs down and made eye contact with both Malcolm and Cameron. “THIS week it’s Root Beer Float, got it?”
“Cameron, this is Lee Adams,” Malcolm said, deciding to ignore her strange antics and just get right to the point. “She lets me stay upstairs for a lesser price than most others, and provides me with all the weaponry I need.”
“You new around here?” Lee asked Cameron, pointing roughly at him with the other hand behind her head. “I don’t know your face, and no way you’re a civilian. So how’d you two meet?”
“We were next door neighbors in the Talons’ prison cells,” Cameron said, folding his arms. Lee laughed at this.
“Talons? Those buffoons? Wow, Malc. I’m disappointed in you. You should be less sloppy.”
“I know, Lee-” Malcolm began.
“Ah!”
“Lee, I am not calling you Root Beer Float,” Malcolm sighed.
“Is she right in the head?” Cameron whispered to Malcolm. Suddenly, a broom started sweeping the floor without anyone handling it. Cameron yelled, slightly startled. “What the hell?”575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR3jo49GfFX
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“I’m a telekinetic,” Lee explained, as her shop began to clean itself. “Damn good one too.”
“Telekinetics are really rare!” Cameron hid behind Malcolm as a machine gun was dusted in the air. “You could have ANY job you wanted pretty much, and you chose to own a gun shop?”
“Yep!” Lee chirped. “Rule number one: don’t pick the winning side. Pick all sides, and you get a profit any way.”
“So why help Malcolm?” Cameron asked. Malcolm sat down across from Lee, stretching his limbs.
“I owe Malcolm my life,” Lee explained. “He saved me from an unhappy customer. Beat the bloke’s head in before he could put a bullet through mine.” Suddenly, she clapped her hands and jumped to her feet. “SO! Cameron...”
Lee stepped onto her chair, and then onto the counter, looking down at Cameron, who looked completely flabbergasted. “You look ex-military. Pretty recent too. Wanna explain that?”
“No.”
Lee grinned like a maniac. “Well, sooner or later we all have to reveal our secrets when the time comes...that day will be soon for you, Cameron Lark…”
Cameron sat for a moment before realizing something. “Wait, how do you know my last name?”575Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcPVHXRVX6y
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“Oh, a mother has her ways.”
“You’re a mother?”
“What? Ew no. At least, I hope not.”
Cameron shivered. Lee leaped down onto the ground, now having to look up at both of the two taller men. “Well, Malc? I like him. He can stay for half price.”
Malcolm beamed and nudged Cameron. “You hear that? Really affordable, I guarantee it! I think you’re gonna love it here.”
Cameron remained quiet for a moment before finally giving in. “Alright. Partners it is.” He extended his hand for Malcolm to shake. “Don’t...crush it.”
Malcolm laughed some more at this and gently shook Cameron’s hand. “It’s a deal then.”
“From now until the end of time,” Lee added in a low, raspy, faux-demonic voice. The two looked down at her and she looked around faux-innocently. “What?”
“Nothing,” Malcolm said, and moved behind the counter and headed up the stairs. “C’mon Cameron, this way.”
“Is she always like that? Cameron asked as he followed.
“Pretty much,” Malcolm admitted. “You’ll get used to it.”
Malcolm opened the door to one of the rooms, and gestured Cameron inside. The room was much nicer than the one he’d stayed in at the tavern, with better sheets, lighting, and temperature. Cameron sat down on his new bed, thoughts running quickly through his mind.
“Thank you for this,” Cameron said sincerely. Malcolm smiled.
“No problem.” Malcolm closed the door.
Cameron lay down on his new bed, the events of the last 24 hours still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t come to Alter wanting too much danger but that would appear to be what he was going to get.
He might as well just go ahead and make the best of it.
The building was of little consequence in the long run, but the fact that two prisoners, one of which had killed his son, had escaped and blown the place up made Grant Talon’s blood boil. He took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He’d need to remain calm to exact revenge efficiently. Grant remained at the window of the old building he’d paid to have used as his primary headquarters. Simply thinking. Plotting.
“I’m sorry to hear. About your son.” The female voice came from behind him. Grant turned, sighing.
“I thought I told you lot to back off for a while,” he said, looking down at the woman standing before him in mercenary clothes. “Thought I told you to leave running my gang to me.”
“He asked me to check in on you,” the woman replied in an accented voice. “He is sorry for your loss as well. Who was responsible? Do you know?”
“A nobody,” Grant spat out bitterly. “Carter went in over his head. And he got killed.” He choked on his words slightly. “I’m going to have to learn to live with it.”
“And to kill the one responsible.”
Grant began to respond before stopping slightly. “Yes.”
“Well, I assure you we will continue to provide you with whatever you need.”
“Thank you.” Grant turned to face the woman, smiling. “I can’t thank you enough for everything.”
“It’s no problem,” the woman replied. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. As long as you’re a good investment you have nothing to fear.”
“A good investment…” Grant turned back to the window, thinking more and more. “Very well. Thank you. That will be all.”
The woman nodded, turned, and left. To tell the truth Grant hated relying on that asshole and his slut of a second in command. But as it stood, he was the only thing keeping the Talons from extinction. Gang leaders didn’t have a long life expectancy, after all.
Grant turned and started mulling over ideas in his head. The only thing he knew for certain right then and there was that Cameron Lark would pay.
Sometimes it was nice to have a place to start.
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