Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
The Killcanoe blazed across the arid ground of the realm's eternal night like a deadly silver missile. Her suspension and tires handled the terrain like a pro, gliding over fissures, scrub, and corpses with ease. Her headlights cut the dark like a scimitar. Her hood and windshield were already streaked red. Below her passengers' butts, the engine radiated a maniacal heat.
The skunk and mutt were already wearing all the weapons they needed. Their only stop was at the Tatterdemalion to let the Xenoikos in on the plan and to pick up some pre-suicide-mission drinks. Junella asked the bartending vegetation for a gin aviation. She wanted to feel mean but graceful. Zinc was amazed by its ethereal blue color. Afterwards, he slugged back two El Terremoto tequila shots: worm included. As the duo left the hotel, Mia assured them she'd help rally her friends and neighbors to pitch in their part.
Scattered around the desert's grim, choking gloom, nightmare constructs watched them drive. The mindless beasts turned automatically towards the presence of souls. Most had no hope of catching up and fell tangled in their own feet. The Killcanoe bisected the rest.
Zinc licked his lips as his beloved ride outlined another cactusyote in its headlights. Within seconds it was nothing more than two green smears on the hood. "WOO-HOO! She cuts like the finger a' God, don't she, Juney!?"
The skunk just 'hmph'ed, feeling a slight pang of jealousy. "She ain't bad. But ease up a sec and let me get this next one."
Coming in from their northwest was the lumbering, sloshing form of a furless drowned polar bear. Its skin was rotting black, sloughing off in chunks as it ran. Its footsteps soaked the ground with seawater and clabbered blood. It stared with empty eye sockets at the duo, readying a mouthful of yellow, jagged teeth to tear them apart.
Junella made her revolver appear at her fingertips. Crossing her left arm in front of her face, she rested the barrel on her elbow and aimed down the sight.
The arctic horror was headed straight towards them. Claws as long as cleavers. Broken ribs showing through its rancid hide.
Junella slowed her heart and steeled her aim. The ground was a little bumpy. A mild impediment. Nothing she couldn't handle.
Putrid saliva flew in ropes as the polar construct roared.
Then half its skull wasn't there anymore. Its head exploded like a firecracker in a watermelon, spraying streamers of brain across the moon.
Zinc flinched when the gun went off beside his ear. The ringing was pretty tremendous, but he grinned nonetheless as he watched the bullseyed bear faceplant into the sand like a crashing battleship. "Hot damn! I got Annie Oakley in my car!"
A very pleased smile as Junella dumbfounded her gun away.
Zinc glanced back. "By the way- And I want you to know I'm strictly playin' devil's advocate here..." he trailed off, annoyed by the tinnitus. He took his hands off the wheel long enough to pluck his ears off, give them a shake, and reattach them. "That's better! Anyway, yeah, I'm a hunnert percent down for a rumble tonight. But I can't help askin', what's the big rush? We got the drybleed. Ain't that enough?"
Junella shook her head. "He can make more."
Zinc felt foolish. "Ah. Yeah."
"Plus, this isn't just about preventing him from getting in. This is about sending a message." Junella poked her palm with a fingertip. "Nobody fucks with Music Box City. Tessie wants this guy dead for trying, and I couldn't agree more."
Zinc swerved slightly to separate a bonecuddy from most of its legs. "That's about what I was thinkin' too."
"I want this operation to go down quick and quiet. We get in, we get close, we slay the motherfucker, we ghost. There's a thread of a chance our man ain't even noticed the drybleed missing yet. I'm willing to roll the dice and try to get there before he does. Be one hell of a sweet spot if we did. If it never enters his mind we're the ones who stole it, fine by me."
He nodded agreement.
Her voice took a dip into grimness. "You know we gotta play this hard, right? No mercy. These jolly jokers make folks disappear. Permanently. We are bad enough assholes to want to join up with their outfit, dig? Can you do brute henchman?"
Zinc laughed out loud. "Can I do brute henchman? Can I do brute henchman!? Sister, I've been a hired goon more times'n I've clipped my toenails!"
She'd assumed as much, but confirmation was always nice. "I believe it."
"I'll bring home an Oscar. Don't you worry your pretty little head."
She smirked. "A little pinch of worry keeps a gal's eyes open. But for real though..." She leaned close and lightly scratched a handful of needles down his left wrench. "Y'sure you're up for this, junkpile? I mean, I ain't never actually seen you fight. How do I know you're any good at it?"
He could hear in her tone, this was not doubt, but encouragement. "Oh, you're gonna see me." His wrench-jaws clenched on the steering bars. "Just point me at whatever you want dead. I'm a hair trigger, mama! My safety's OFF! I'm red hot lead! I'm TNT!!"
"Music to my ears." She patted his shoulder and chuckled darkly. "Oh! And one more thing, 'fore I forget. I don't know what he looks like, but keep an eye out for Sulilong's bodyguard. I've heard he's tough."
Zinc swiveled his seat for a moment, to meet her eye to eye. "So's yours," he said simply.
Junella was struck silent as the mutt turned back around. She wanted to toss back a sassy quip, but nothing came to mind. In truth, she was oddly touched that he'd think of himself that way. And she wasn't sure why.
Their adrenaline made it seem like twice as long as it had taken the ratcar to reach Sulilong's desert sanctuary. During their spying, Junella thought it looked more tightly locked up than Fort Knox. Sneaking in was out. They'd be spotted approaching from any direction but above. So if the only way in was through the front door, then they'd walk right up and knock.
The car sliced through a few more cactusyotes before they finally caught a flash of their target's faraway glow. As the distance ticked away, they dwelt on the danger of their mission. The sheer number of foes they'd be facing inside. Though soon, all those thoughts were driven out of their heads by the sheer extravagance that emerged before their eyes.
Sulilong's palace was a self-contained carnival of light, sailing across the desert like the horizon's second moon. More than just a home or hideout, this was a declaration of presence. The qilin wanted his prey to know he was coming. He wanted them to have time to flee, so he could truly savor the despair of the ones he caught. Roughly hexagonal, the moving fortress blazed with broad stripes of alternating gold and bronze. There were towers and gables and archways and spires. Floodlights commanded the night away. It could have been a lighthouse, or a rolling Shangri-La. A design dreamed up in a young child's joyful fantasy. But there was a corroded heart sheltered away at the spangled structure's core. All the radiant beauty of its surface couldn't douse the aura of death it carried. The tracks its treads left behind in the sand stretched on for miles into darkness, like a winding pair of neverending cobras.
The Killcanoe coasted as Zinc fell awestruck. In a daze, words fell from his lips. "'In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree...'"
Junella was stunned to hear something so cultured come out of him. "What in the world was that?"
"Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Famous poem. I heard it once in school and it stuck with me for some reason."
"It's pretty," she acknowledged.
Then her eyes went wide. "THAT'S NOT!"
Directly in their path was a nightmare dimetrodon. In place of a fin, all sorts of horrible metal implements grew out of its back: curtain rods, fireplace pokers, swords, rebar, signposts. It turned on its stubby alligator legs and hissed at them. The headlights illuminated a mouth full of carpet nail teeth.
Zinc assessed it quickly. Too pointy to cleave. Those spikes would wreck the living shit outta the front end and probably impale him and Juney both. "PLAN B!" he screamed, and bashed a button on the dashboard.
The headlights flipped up and spat out two doughnut-sized spheres of incandescent plasma.
Night briefly turned to day. The construct literally did not know what hit it. One moment it was gearing up to chew some mortals to ribbons, and then it was subsumed in flame.
When the Killcanoe drove through its cremains three seconds later, her tires kicked up a cloud of black ash and desert glass.
Junella shielded her eyes against the scorched particles and coughed.
Figuring she'd ask, Zinc hollered back, "Nice, huh? Squirts out an injection of pure Mr. Sunshine, straight from the engine! Best kept restricted to emergencies though. Anything that perturbs the core comes with a ten-to-thirteen-percent chance of accidental detonation."
The skunk wiped off her lips but could still taste cajun-fried dinosaur. "Don't tell me these things."
When they were close enough to the castle to see the rifle barrels pointed out the windows towards them, Zinc slowed the motor and turn-signaled for a parallel course. He winced. "I guess I'm gonna have to park her. Hate to. I know the constructs won't chew on her, but still, I hate to let her out of my si-"
A harpoon shot through the hood. Grappling hooks sunk their fangs into the metal.
The skunk and mutt both jumped.
"That solves the parking problem," Zinc deadpanned. He was very relieved that each end of the car was mostly hollow and used for storage. If the harpoon had hit the engine, well, it would have accomplished their goal of killing Sulilong. And everything else within the diameter of a nuke blast.
A hatch rose up on the side of the castle, revealing four unpleasant men with painlaunchers. The red tips of the weapons glowed like stove burners. All were pointed at Junella and Zinc.
A sheepdog encrusted with dreadlocks shouted out, "Congratulations, dumbasses! You just got yourself caught by the talons of Sulilong!"
Junella stood up in her seat and blasted back, "Who you callin' dumbass, dumbass!? Why the fuck d'you think we were heading straight atcha? To ask for jumper cables!?"
The sheepdog looked puzzled, and a bit crestfallen. The look of terror in captured travelers' eyes was half the fun. "You... wanna sign on?" he asked.
Junella sighed exaggeratedly. "Looky here, Zinc, this one's got more'n two brain cells. Yes, assface!!"
The sheepdog's weapon drooped. His colleagues giggled at him.
Cheeks burning with humiliation, he snarled and pointed the painlauncher right between the skunk's eyes. "GET YOUR FUCKING CARCASSES OVER HERE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL MAKE YOU CRY BLOOD, GODDAMMIT!!"
Junella tossed Zinc a 'Not a bad threat' look. She gestured for him to cut the motor. He nodded and did. She was quite glad that he'd already picked up on her wanting him to hang back while she did the trash-talking.
Another of Sulilong's crew pulled a lever and the hatch slid and flipped to become a ramp. It trailed a line behind it like a finger in the sand. Four glowing red dots urged the skunk and dog to hop onto it immediately.
The castle was always in motion, but it was a slow enough crawl that, even if they were to miss the jump and fall, a brisk walk would have been enough to catch up. Junella and Zinc both easily transferred from the Killcanoe to the castle. Even though he was supposed to be playing the dumb muscle, Zinc could not stop himself from looking back just long enough to blow his beloved vehicle a kiss.
The treads rattled beneath them like an ongoing earthquake. Junella stood on the pockmarked metal ramp and stared down all four thugs, as if she could brush off their painlaunchers like they were pea-shooters. In truth, she hoped her bluff would work. She had been shot with painlaunchers before. You went down, and screamed a lot the whole way there.
Zinc stood one pace behind her, trying to look monosyllabic. He let his wrenches drag on the ground like a gorilla.
A tortoise with a scarred shell and a look of almost-competence in his eye stepped towards them, keeping his weapon steady in both hands. "You are going to get down on your knees. You are going to put your hands behind your head. You are going to surrender all your weapons and valuables. They belong to us now."
Junella met his eyes and didn't blink. "No."
He discharged his painlauncher an inch away from her foot. The red beam ricocheted off the metal, up at the stars. "I guess you didn't hear me clear 'nuff."
"I heard you fine," Junella returned coolly. "I just don't agree to the terms. In fact, here's what's actually going to happen. You're gonna take us to your leader, Tex, before I get impatient and kill all four of ya."
The tortoise chuckled derisively. The others joined in.
A rat with a nose like a chewed-up salami oozed closer to Junella, smearing his eyes all over her curves. "I think that'll be difficult, doll. I think we might kill you first." He drew in a deep, grinning sniff. "I haven't changed my pants in four weeks. Maybe I'll see if I can pistol-whip you to death with my aromatic meat hose?"
Junella put a hand on her hip. "Or maybe I'll just grab it like a handle and sling you over my shoulder into the treads. Make me some rat jelly."
More chuckles. Some beginning to turn appreciative.
The tortoise considered for a moment. "Allright, girly, allright. You got me curious. I am interested to see what kind of masochistic idiot comes to us outta her own free will. What's the story with your dumbbell buddy there? He wants in too?"
Zinc just glared at him.
"We're a package deal. He follows me like a second tail. Mops up whatever I don't take care of first."
"Two new fish for the frying pan," the tortoise appraised. He made a show of lowering his painlauncher, while keeping his scaly finger on its trigger. "Listen up, shitheads. Here's how this goes down. Two of us in front of you, two of us behind you. We will take you to Sulilong. There's an audition process. Standard procedure. It oughtta be fun." He emphasized this last word with a sadistic leer. "If you talk, we will shoot you and throw you in a cell to rot. If you pull out a weapon, same outcome. If you do anything we don't like, or if we just fucking feel like it, same outcome. This is not the magical land of Oz. This is a machine that breaks souls. You have just volunteered to grease the cogs of a carnival made of shit and screams. I hope you-"
In a geyser of blood, his head suddenly receded into his intestines.
Stricken, the remaining three watched their comrade drop to his knees on the ramp with three solid feet of hinged steel growing out of the top of his cracked and splintered shell.
Zinc walked over and yanked his wrench out, trailing guts behind. He shoved it back onto his shoulder mount and met eyes with the rest of the thugs.
"That one talked too much."
Not even bothering to shake off the blood, Zinc looked to Junella and jerked his muzzle in a, 'let's get inside' kind of way.
She gave him an appreciative clap for his performance. Then surveyed the remaining henchmen to see if any of them still wanted to talk terms.
None said a word.
Junella strode through, leading the way. She gave her record-shard tail a flick towards each of them, warning against any funny business.
The rat and sheepdog let her pass. They followed behind with their painlaunchers dragging. Zinc kept his eye on the pair.
The tortoise's corpse finally slid off the ramp. Three hundred pounds of meat and shell thudded into the dust, to be left behind and eaten by scavenging constructs.
A moment later he popped back to life in a new body, lying flat on his back in his own bloodstains. The remaining henchman, a nutria, helped him to his feet.
He shook his head, then gnashed his beak. He snatched up his painlauncher that had fallen beside him. "I am gonna stick this so far up that bossy little bitch's ass..."
"I hear wedding bells," his companion kidded.
"Shut up!!"
~~*-*-*~~
The interior was much the same as they had seen on the screen in Conrad's apartment, only their viewpoint was higher now. The hallways were unadorned, claustrophobic grey concrete, with rough edges that scraped one's shoulders. Unshielded bulbs hung down every few feet, creating alternating patches of deep shadow and blinding brightness. Junella tried not to look like she was memorizing the path backwards in case of a hasty retreat.
Thwomping footsteps rushed towards them as the tortoise caught up. Junella braced herself, but was still knocked to the floor by the sudden blinding agony of a painlauncher's tip jammed right beneath her tail. The tortoise yelled something at her, but all her senses were overloaded.
Junella panted hard for a few breaths, then dragged herself up the wall to her feet. She turned to face the tortoise. Despite the stinging aftershocks echoing through her body, she was pleased to see how pouty-mouthed mad she'd gotten him. She wiped puke from her mouth with her arm. "You made me spill my drink."
He bellowed back, "I'll spill your goddamn intestines all over the floor!! You backsassin' uppity cunt!!"
Zinc glared broadswords at him. "I could kill you again."
In reply, the tortoise jabbed Zinc in the breadbasket with the red tip.
The canine didn't drop to the ground, but only because it had been a quicker dose. He was still left bug-eyed and gasping.
"Sure you could. That's why I won't let you. Now MOVE!!" The tortoise slapped Zinc across the muzzle with the launcher. Not giving him a second blast with it, yet.
Zinc and Junella wrapped their arms around each other to brace themselves, then wobbled the rest of the way down the hall.
"Soon as them painlaunchers came out, I knew I'd have to take at least one shot," she whispered. "Sorry you did too."
"They ain't cake 'n Christmas, is they?" Zinc acknowledged.
"That they ain't. But if it's comin' anyway, might as well run my mouth enough to earn it," she said, and smiled weakly.
Zinc laughed, then rubbed his sore tummy.
The glaring lights bit their eyes as they limped. Junella spat and spat to get the taste out of her mouth. She could hear the snorting breaths of the tortoise behind her. Maybe a swat with her tail could put him down, but he might have the reflexes to zap it first, and her shards might not even pierce his leathery hide. No, this was the time to keep her head down and not dig herself deeper.
The closer they got to the core of the palace, the louder the noise grew. The gut-churning thrum of a massive crowd, plus the same strange music they'd heard before. Twisting orange light filled the passageway ahead. Weapons at their backs, Zinc and Junella were pushed forward into it. Their footpaws went from pockmarked concrete to polished hardwood.
The ballroom was a riot of color and roars. This was nothing like the dreary industrial hallways they'd been mazing through. From an unrestricted vantage point, the skunk and mutt could now see just how huge and gaudy this place really was. The interior finally matched the exterior. Gold and bronze stripes reasserted themselves on the wallpaper, alongside floor-to-ceiling tapestries. The stained-glass ceiling made reflections glitter across the mob. The space was close to packed. Mostly rough, low men in tattered clothes. The music drove its hypnotic, pulsing bass into their bones. Every carnal activity one could imagine was on display. Many fursons were dancing in a blind, clustered frenzy. Their movements resembled fighting, or mating, or both. Others drank themselves into oblivion under ever-flowing faucets of foaming alcohol. The few females among the group were being pawed at and passed around. Some looked entirely into it, others like they couldn't have been more numb. But the most popular activity among the crowd was watching the bare-knuckle fights in the center of the room, underneath the largest chandelier. Watchers surged and screamed, waving their betting money. Two hunched combatants with fur so bloodstained their species was unguessable crashed against each other like butting rams until one of them ran out of life and flopped to the floor. Cheers erupted, imaginite changed hands, and the loser was dragged away and slung into a corner. The next challenger entered, pounding his fists, eager to continue the dance.
"My kinda party," Zinc had to admit.
"Too fuckin' noisy," Junella assessed.
The revelers conscious enough to recognize that two newcomers had been captured shouted in glee and started pelting them with things. Junella bore down on her gritted teeth and tried not to react. Plastic cups and shoes smacked into her noggin. Zinc managed to snatch a thrown beer bottle out of the air and take a few swigs of it before smashing it on the floor. This earned him approving cheers.
The sheepdog grabbed a random partygoer by his collar. "Get Sulilong. These two wanna say hello."
The rando looked uneasy, but saluted and scampered away.
Junella and Zinc were shepherded towards the room's center. Dancers and drunks stumbled against the skunk from all sides. The commingled odors of this place made her glad she'd already vomited. None of these people seemed to have discovered the magic of bathing.
When they reached the edge of the fistfight spectators, the tortoise's voice rasped from behind Junella's ear. "How about before the boss gets here, I just chuck you right in the middle of 'em and see what they all decide to do with you? Maybe you'd get lucky. Maybe they'd take one look at your feminine charms and decide they didn't feel like fightin' anymore."
She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'd love an excuse to start slashing some throats."
He guffawed. "How many you reckon you could cut before the rest hitcha in an avalanche? Just imagine them all on top of you. Breathin' in your face... Grabbin' for a piece of the fun..."
She snorted. "Am I out of my mind, or is this projection? You tryna flirt with me?"
The nutria henchman stifled giggles.
The tortoise raised his painlauncher a fraction of an inch from Junella's nose. "I wouldn't fuck you if my dick was aflame and your slit was asbestos, you mouthy little-"
In a flash, Zinc's right wrench was clamped down on the painlauncher's barrel. He gave a twist and made the letter U.
The mutt stepped sideways between Junella and the tortoise, eyes ablaze with clear intent to murder. He'd been waiting for a moment of distraction and pounced on it when it came. He savored the look of total shock on his enemy's face. "Daddy-o, you'd better start diggin' your own grave."
The tortoise backed up and looked frantically towards his comrades. "Gimme another gun!!" he begged. But they held theirs close to their chests and shook their heads. From the uniformity of their reactions, an unspoken rule of Sulilong's crew was clear: if you start a fight yourself, be prepared to end it yourself.
While the reptile was looking in desperation to the others for aid, Zinc's other wrench darted forward to clamp around his beak like a big metal scarf. He 'MMMPH!!'ed in terror behind it.
Zinc slowly closed the jaws. A red line appeared around the edges.
"Now now," Junella said reproachfully. She sauntered out from behind the canine with her cutlass dumbfounded. "Didn't you learn in kindergarten that you have to share your toys?" She raised her blade and let it rest, light as a feather, between the tortoise's eyes.
He looked at it crosseyed. He was shuddering in his shell. "MMMMMMPH!!!"
Zinc closed his wrenches another inch. He heard a faint crack.
Junella began sawing.
"MMMMMMMMPPHHHH!!!"
The tortoise was spared an unspeakable death by the sudden jolting absence of music, and the sudden abundance of light.
Everyone blinked and looked around. The lighting had changed from a shifting, dizzying colorswirl to plain electric brightness. The room now looked like a hundred burglars caught by surprise in a fancy house.
The reason for the festivities' abrupt end became clear when Sulilong entered the room.
Now in an immaculately-tailored gunmetal grey suit, the qilin strode with an easy smile among his legion of followers. He waved to them with both hands, showing off his jointed iron palms and sparkling diamond cufflinks. His face's jade scales were polished to a mirror sheen. His horns were proud ship's masts. His mane and mustache looked like waterfalls of liquid gold. He beheld his crew with amusement, but not affection. Like a man passing a cabinet full of trinkets he owns.
They cheered for him, but the tone wasn't quite uniform. Some of the men were clearly in worship of this regal benefactor who blessed them with beds, booze, and food. Others, perhaps ones who had been on the poisoned end of his temper, smiled to keep up appearances. Yet their eyes showed the strain of a maltreated animal in captivity.
One would not have looked at Sulilong's body and guessed it artificial. The qilin stood at six feet five, but carried himself like twenty. A lithe fortress of compact might. Not tacky in showing it off, but projecting an aura of coiled, cultivated power. Secret service instead of bouncer. Olympic swimmer instead of bodybuilder. He walked like a politician.
Junella hadn't noticed it before, but at the back of the room was an actual for-real throne. 'Of course he'd have one,' she thought. With an ego like his, she was surprised there wasn't a giant painting of himself behind it. The massive pedestal was forged from what looked like four or five tons of sterling silver. Steps led up on either side, to a chair fit for royalty, eight feet off the floor. Sulilong ascended with unhurried grace. Still waving, still smiling. He sat with a muffled-but-audible 'clink' of metal meeting metal. Almost instantly, a lit cigar was placed between his fingers.
He brought it to his mouth and the whole room waited while he savored the first few puffs. Befitting a dragon, he exhaled two perfect smoke rings from his nostrils. "This'd better be important, boys. I was right in the middle of absolutely nothing."
The masses bellowed laughter. Junella could spot the toadies from how much they were overselling it.
Sulilong drew in a long breath, burning the cigar halfway to ashes. Then he flicked the butt into the crowd, heedless of who it hit. "So whazziss? I heard we got a few new friends or something?"
The deathmatch spectators were already formed into a circle. Now they parted to let Junella and Zinc get shoved into the bullseye. The combatants left in opposite directions. The most recent challenger had barely gotten blood under his claws. He stormed off, unsatisfied. The battle-scarred defender slunk away in relief, to find a secluded place where he could die quietly from his injuries.
The skunk and mutt were now the focus of everyone's attention. From the way the whole crowd hummed with anticipation, they'd seen this play out many times before. Zinc tried to look like he couldn't give a tin shit about any of it. Junella straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and drew on her own inner fire. 'You could take on everyone here if you had to,' she told herself. 'What's it matter there's a lot of them? Bunch of lowlife lopsided rummies. Half of 'em'd probly fall down before they even got to you. You own this room. You are the most dangerous thing in it. You are Junella Fucking Brox, and don't you dare forget it for a second.'
Sulilong scanned the new meat. Hands on armrests, he inclined forward and wordlessly picked apart every microscopic detail of the pair.
The room was so quiet you could hear the rustle of fabric from individual fidgeters in the crowd.
Junella's vinyl paw squeezed her cutlass' handle rhythmically. Its familiarity was calming.
Inwardly, Zinc was shitting bricks. Calculating if there was any possibility of them getting out of this alive. But he was a better actor than most would assume. One develops an impenetrable mask when one is reduced to doing almost anything for survival. Years of practice keeping his mouth shut and his feelings behind glass.
Sulilong drew a dark grey hand across his mouth, the metal plinking softly against the scales.
Junella took a step forward. "If you're gonna-"
The qilin's palm came up immediately: a clear gesture of 'halt'. He lowered his head and closed his eyes in annoyance at the interruption.
Junella buttoned her lip. This was an audition, after all. She'd have to pass it in order to get close enough to carve this smug slug's face off.
His head popped back up. "You know what? Let's not even do this right now. Shelve it. Put it aside for the moment. I've got a much better idea. Something entertaining. Plus, it'll give these two bright-eyed young scalawags a sample of what they've stepped into." He looked for agreement from the crowd. "That sounds like fun? Yeah?"
Even without knowing what the hell the boss was planning, the majority of the crew all nodded and agreed.
The two closest fursons to the throne were a badger in nought but leather underwear, and a bat wearing goggles and a grenade launcher. The badger seemed more lucid. Sulilong beckoned. "C'mere."
The badger scampered up the silver steps. "Yeah?"
"That nice young couple we picked up yesterday morning. Normally I'd have them marinate in their cells a while longer, but I think it might be instructive to bring them out now. What do you think?"
As if he was dumb enough to disagree. "Sounds fine! I'll run go tell the warden."
Sulilong appreciated proactive employees. "Exactly what I was about to ask. Go."
The badger looked relieved and delighted to have gotten a smile out of the boss. He zoomed out of sight in a blink.
Sulilong turned back to the pair center stage. His tone was relaxed but he projected his voice quite easily across the span of the room. "Okay. I want your names and your reasons for wanting to be here. Nothing else. No bragging, no begging. None of that horseshit. Straight and to the point. You're on."
Since Junella already had one foot forward, she spoke first. "Junella Brox. And here ya go." She raised her other hand and dumbfounded her Certificate Of Access.
The crowd went fucknuts. Junella's action was the equivalent of a vice cop flashing their badge in the middle of a speakeasy. Angry shouts raised the roof and all manner of weaponry was suddenly pointed at her.
Zinc tried to keep his eyes from bulging right out of their wire frames. Or from shouting at his partner, 'What the fuck are you THINKING!?'
Junella glanced side to side, noting everyone's reaction, and smirked.
Sulilong stood up and made a 'simmer down' gesture with his hands. "Hey, hey, HEY! Ease up! Let's allow the lady the benefit of the doubt. Give her a chance to explain the unfathomably stupid thing she just did."
It was impressive how easily he morphed the room's mood from outrage to humor. A chuckle rippled across them and their weapons were lowered.
Sulilong sat back down. "So, miss, what's the deal? Are you planning on arresting the whole bunch of us?"
Another collective chuckle.
"Not hardly." Junella tossed the end of her white scarf over her shoulder. "See, Tessie got your note. And she put out a casting call for someone to deal with the situation. I applied. She told me about the hole in the wall your mooks made. Or tried to make," she emphasized, getting some 'Ooooh's in response. She then dropped the COA to the floor and stamped on it like a cigarette. "She gave me an assignment to come out and smack your hand for being naughty. But see, I like to be on the winning side." She looked up and met Sulilong's eyes directly, her own gleaming with greed. "You made an impact. Pun intended. I figgered I'd better get in position to catch some of that imaginite myself when the piggybank breaks."
An appreciative smile grew across Sulilong's muzzle. One shared by many of his men. "Bold," he complimented. "And smart. And a little bit treacherous, so I'll have to keep an eye on you. But so far I like what I see. Next!" He turned his attention to Zinc. "You. What's your story? Or can the cavedog form words?"
Zinc maintained an expression of dumb, glaring disrespect. Exactly the right amount of surliness. Neither a bootlicking wannabe or too independent of spirit. Someone who'd grunt if given orders, but follow them.
Inside however, there was a vibrating string tugging his gut. He was 95% sure his partner had mixed a bit of the truth with a lie in order to pass the sniff test. But there was still that stinger of doubt. She wasn't really turning her back on her assignment, was she? And if she was, did she plan to just leave him in the lurch while she switched sides?
He forced his unease to keep silent. The mask had to stay up no matter what. He took a loping step towards Sulilong and sneered at him. "The name's Zinc. Nothin' else." He jerked his muzzle towards Junella. "And I go where she goes."
He stepped back.
Sulilong's golden eyebrows raised. "That's it? A man of few words. Good enough. You certainly followed my directions. "
Now that the boss had shown approval towards these newcomers, so too did the crowd. There were restrained shouts of goodwill towards the duo. Not at full volume; they knew full well that plenty of other rookies hadn't gotten far past the first hurdle. Failures either ended up on the absolute bottom of the hierarchy, scrubbing cooking pots and toilets, or deep below the cold, choking sand of the desert.
"I got a question," Zinc suddenly snarled.
Irritation flickered briefly across Sulilong's expression. A slight purse of the lips. "Oh you do?"
Junella risked a brief glance of 'What're you up to?' at the canine.
He didn't acknowledge her. Just kept staring at Sulilong.
"What would you like to ask, little puppy? Something about your wages here? Health benefits? Wanna know how many people I've killed? Wanna know if those wrenches of yours are stronger than these hands of mine?" He flexed his fingers with a soft creak.
Zinc was slightly rattled, as he actually had been wondering that. But his facade didn't slip. "Nah. I don't give a rip about any of that. I just wanna know if any you fuckers got bloodbacon. I ain't eaten in a while."
Sulilong was taken aback. He'd expected a challenge, not such a banal request. "Allright then. Someone toss that man a snack."
Amused by Zinc's sheer balls, quite a few of the henchmen pulled out wrapped bars of bloodbacon from their pockets, or dumbfounded them. They were tossed at Zinc's feet and he picked out the least-diseased looking one. Not giving even a nod of thanks, he tore into it.
Junella silently chuckled. 'You're on your way to that Oscar, mutt.'
Zinc had just enough time to finish his salty treat before his ears pricked up at scuffling coming towards them. From the doorway to the right of the throne, two mice emerged dragging their feet. They were ushered along by two absolutely gigantic slabs of hooded sadism. The mice thrashed and fought and kicked, but they were both clearly low on energy. Their struggles couldn't have done much even if their captors hadn't looked like stone golems come to life. The crowd parted to allow them through, laughing cruelly at what they'd soon face.
Junella could tell a lot about the mice from just a quick look. They were clearly a long-term couple, judging by the way they ignored almost everything else in the room but each other's eyes. They strained against the tree-trunk arms restraining them, pulling towards one another. And they were the same species too. Given Phobiopolis' penchant for kooky unplanned shapeshifting, she doubted they'd started out that way. There were places you could go to and get your appearance altered intentionally. It was a fairly common tradition for lovers to choose a resemblance. This guess was further strengthened by their fur being similarly dyed: his being sky blue, hers more sea green.
Also, they both looked malnourished, dirty, and desperate. Junella had caught a glimpse of the jail cells earlier. It didn't take a genius to put two pieces together. 'Must've been even worse than they looked, to do this to them in barely more'n a day.'
That thought chilled her. 'He caught them yesterday morning. While I was in the library, reading articles on this monster, he was busy kidnapping and torturing these nice people. Jesus...'
Zinc coughed.
Junella realized her own mask had been faltering. She tried to wipe all traces of sympathy from her face and sneer at the mice like everyone else.
They were brought into the ring. The two gargoyles grunted at Junella and Zinc to back up or get stomped flat.
The duo wisely did.
Sulilong flicked his hand at the two jailers and they let go of their prisoners. The mice immediately ran to one another and embraced. They babbled and cried and caressed one another, blind to all else.
'He kept them in separate cells,' Junella realized. Her sympathy began to boil into rage.
"Quiet down, quiet down," Sulilong said. "Let 'em have a moment. You folks might've already been informed by now, but you're about to make a choice. Same choice I extend to-"
The male mouse suddenly whipped around and screamed at Sulilong with tears in his eyes, "You BASTARD!!! I went through HELL!! Just one night was like a year in there! We already gave you everything we had! You already took EVERYTHING!! What more could you possibly want from us!?"
Sulilong's face did not change expression, but murderous indignation flashed red in his eyes. He replied, stiffly, "If you would just let me finish telling you..."
The female mouse was sobbing so hard she was choking on her breath. Clutching at her lover's shirt like she couldn't let go.
Sulilong steepled his fingers, sitting far back in his chair. "I am about to offer you two options. Two. Understand that. Not three or four or five, or any number other than two. You will listen. You will choose one of these options. There are absolutely no other avenues open to you, you impatient little mealworm. I want you to understand that completely."
Wrapping arms around his lover, the male mouse stared back defiantly into the face of evil.
The qilin held up a finger. "Number one: you join my crew. You will do what you are assigned and you will not complain. If you are obedient, you will share in the spoils of our victories. It can be a very rewarding life, let me tell you. You can have just about anything your heart could ever dream of wanting. Just so long as you understand that I will always get first pick of whatever we take." A greasy chuckle. "Heck, you might even earn back what we stole from you."
A rustle of laughter from the crowd.
The male mouse tried to stop himself from asking, knowing he was stepping into a trap. But he couldn't hold back the words. "...And the other choice?"
Sulilong leaned forward completely, so that he resembled a buzzard looming over a soon-to-be-carcass. "We dig a big hole and we put you in it. Then we bury you alive. And no one ever sees you again. The end."
The mouse's eyes went wide. He shuddered with his entire body.
His companion held herself tighter to him, as if his shirt was a bedsheet she could hide herself under to escape from the monsters.
"Choose. Now."
Driven back by the sheer cold-blooded callousness in those eyes, the male mouse's jaw juddered up and down as he tried to form words.
"Choose," Sulilong said again. "NOW."
"W-we'll NEVER join you!" the mouse shouted back. "You're sick! Heartless! You make me wish this was Hell so at least I could watch you burn! Bury us! Fine! We'll NEVER work for you! NEVER!!"
A barely-perceptible shrug of the qilin's shoulders, as if he couldn't have cared less either way.
The mouse turned his attention back to his beloved and whispered soothing words in her ear.
"Allright," Sulilong continued after a long pause, "but... what does she choose?"
The male mouse gave his treasure a fierce kiss between the ears. "Don't even talk to her. Of course she'll stay with me. How dare you even ask, you-"
With shaking arms, the female mouse reached up and pushed herself away from him.
He could not have looked more shocked. His body went rigid with disbelief. He stared at the space between them as if it was an impossibility.
She very deliberately stepped back, distancing herself.
"W-why...?" he asked.
Her eyes told the story. Rimmed crimson from endless crying. One could see that they weren't focused on anything in the room. She retreating back into herself, far away from her current reality. "I... can't. I can't. I'm... sorry. I can't... Buried. No. I can't. The sand... Buried... I c-can't. I can't." She started shaking her head. "I can't. Buried alive! No! I can't! I CAN'T!" Whipping her head back and forth, she retreated further and further away from him. Her words descended into gurgles. Her phobia consumed her.
The male mouse stood alone and destroyed, watching their time together end right in front of him.
"So you choose to stay?" Sulilong asked the female mouse, as casually as one might ask a colleague what they were planning to eat for lunch.
Her head drifted vaguely towards the question. Moments away from a full break with sanity, she nodded.
"Allright then." Sulilong turned back to the male mouse and gave him an exaggerated frown. "Sorry, Jack. Tough luck."
Junella watched as a delegation of women came forward to draw the quaking mousette towards them, tutting and patting her arms consolingly. A single glance at their weary eyes let her know exactly what services her new duty would consist of. And for a moment, pure horror exploded in her glassy gaze. One could see the question float through her mind: Was staying the worse choice?
And then it was gone. Her eyes turned as blank as two helium balloons, floating lifelessly in their sockets.
As the other women pulled her closer to them, it was like watching a venus flytrap close.
"I'LL KILL YOU!!!" came a sudden helpless screech.
The male mouse was making no move to rush forward and realize his threat. He was stuck to the spot. Rooted in place and shaking. Tears cascading down his face.
"YOU DEMON FROM HELL! I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL KILL YOU! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THIS TO US! YOU'RE EVIL! I'LL RIP YOUR HEART OUT FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!"
Sulilong winced at the man's volume. He held up his hands. "Could you- Could you not do that? Stop it. Come on. Cut it out."
The mouse stamped his feet on the glossy ballroom floor. "BARBARIAN! COWARD! MURDERER! YOU DESERVE TO BURN FOREVER!!"
"You really need to just stop that. I'm telling you, for your own good-"
"I'LL KILL YOU! YOU CAN'T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME! YOU DID THIS TO HER! YOU! SHE'S MINE, AND WE'LL BE TOGETHER!"
"Shut up."
"AND NOTHING CAN STOP US!"
"I said shut up. Please. Shut the hell up. No one wants this."
Snot was running from the mouse's face as he stomped his foot up and down, up and down, like an oil derrick. "WE'LL WIN! TOGETHER! YOU'LL SEE, YOU COWARD! YOU MONSTER! YOU'RE EVIL! I'LL BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY! SHE'S MINE!"
Sulilong looked physically pained. Not from the volume, but from having someone refuse to obey what he viewed as a perfectly reasonable request. He looked away from the noisy mouse to his followers. "Foam," he called out. "FOAM!"
The male mouse was in midsentence when the jailers both rushed over to grab his arms and restrain him. From out of the crowd, several goons drew weapons that looked like caulking guns. Which is pretty much what they were. They sprayed brown streams into the mouse's mouth, quickly filling it with fast-expanding plumber's foam. His jaw was forced excruciatingly wide as the substance within it became brick-hard in seconds.
One could tell by the strain and panic in his eyes he was still screaming, but not a single decibel made it out.
Sulilong visibly relaxed. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Ahhhh... Annoyance over." He made a 'whisking away' gesture. "Get rid of him. Do it now. Bury him extra deep, and throw some rocks at his head while you're digging. Stupid asshole."
As her lover was dragged away, thrashing and kicking so hard it was a wonder he didn't break both his arms, the female mouse's expression did not change. She had retreated into shock. She would not come back to this reality again if she had any choice in the matter.
Junella watched too. And as she contemplated the impending fate of the male mouse, and the unfathomable cruelty she'd just witnessed, she was very glad for the second time that she had already vomited.
~~*-*-*~~