It’d taken her a while to skulk through the alleys of the town, avoiding confrontation. Kirche hissed whenever she moved her arm the wrong way, either one really. Her right arm was caught in a sling, pins and needles across it in uncomfortable islands. She kept trying and failing to flex her fingers. The wrist of her other hand, meanwhile, was ragged and raw from straining against the handcuff. Her red hair hung down in sweaty locks, the pins normally used to keep it up had made for functional enough lockpicks.
It was a slow, painful process to get herself free, but here she was, out through a rusted gap in the fence around the rear of the town. She was away from danger, at least. It’d be too risky to try and free Silver, and the other two were hospitalised. She was fairly sure Antonio didn’t make it through the night anyway, all the glimpses of him she caught between flicks of consciousness in the surgery, none of them were promising.
“There we are…” She purred to herself, seeing their vehicle outside the town, picked clean but left where it was. She smirked seeing the empty gatehouse, the pair of guards busy elsewhere. It wasn’t locked, the starter key was still left in the dashboard. The injured machine rumbled to life on the first try.
“You’re fired up too, huh?” Kirche sneered, keying in the frequency to King’s office. Static warbling stabilised, establishing the connection. Kirche winced, wrist moving badly as she pinned the receiver against her shoulder.
“Hello?” Cassie’s voice crackled through. “Hello?”
“Cass, It’s Kirche. I ne-” She grimaced as the excitable woman cut her off.
“Kirchy! Are you okay? You were meant to be back by now, I got us dinner…”
“CASSIE SHUT UP. Focus!” On the other side of the radio, Cassie deflated, sunk low by a weight in her chest. “...Are you there?”
“...Yes. How can I help you.”
Kirche rolled her eyes. “King, put him on. Asap.”
“...Right away, Ms. Kuvie.”
Kirche sighed, that was probably irreparable, a bit too hard too early in. Shame too, Cassie was fun, but she had a job, and a duty.
“Speak.” King’s rough, steady voice boomed through.
“We failed.” Two words, two, painful, sharp words. She waited for what felt like minutes for King’s response.
“Losses?”
“Razgrith and I are injured. Silver’s imprisoned. Rocco and Tiny are K.I.A.”
“Confirmed. Hold.” Another few minutes of static silence, broken by a sharp burst that stabilised into the choir of radio patterns. A new voice, cleaner and smoother joined in.
“Ms. Kuvie, my name is Garum. If you would be so kind, we have some questions for you.”
Shit, she knew that name.
“And why is a Seere bigwig on my line?”
“We have a vested interest in the safety and development of Ingram. If what you’re saying is true, where multiple individuals have been injured for the simple act of surveying the town. Well, that’s not very safe, is it?” Slimy, conniving suits. They were all the same.
“I suppose not, alright, I’ll answer your questions. If you answer one of mine first.”
A break, a pause, she rolled her eyes again. So predictable for a corp, stopping and conferring over every small decision.
“Ask your question, if an answer is provided, well this part of our conversation isn’t prevalent to the Ingram issue, is it?”
She rolled her eyes, such a pompous, roundabout way to say it’s off the record.
“How do you know Scirocco Reyar?” The question had been gnawing at her since his odd behaviour with the Splinter. Whatever their dealings were didn’t bother her as much as the idea of Scirocco having been setting King up for failure.
Another pause, she expected that. She didn’t expect it to drag on for several minutes.
“We have no records of any interactions with a Mr. Reyar.”
Of course they didn’t.
“Alright…ask your questions.”
“Wonderful, let’s begin.”
A half-hour of carefully prepared and loaded questions, and she freely answered, giving Seere all the ammunition they needed. She knew what it would accomplish, that this mud pile would be paved over for her words, it didn’t matter. She could still get paid, and make it out of here with the better half of her team.
After a while, the Seere agent disconnected, Kirche caught King as he was signing off.
“Hey. Why are we backing them?”
“What?”
“Few years back, you’d have found the scumbag on the other end of this line and choked him with the cord. The great, anti-corporation King of Iron, come on. You owe me a bit of an explanation at least.”
“I owe you nothing!” The speakers crackled with his roar, Kirche winced as she moved the earpiece away.
“Right, fine, I’m not owed anything. But I’m curious, why them?”
“...I’m growing old, Kuvie. I can’t deny it.”
“Aww c’mon, you’ve still got a few good ones in you.”
“No, I don’t… You are one of my oldest subjects, I trust I can confide in you?”
Kirche leaned back against the seat, realising his tone. Kirche had naturally assumed the role of confidant over her years of loyalty for King, despite the nature of their work and relationship she could almost describe the bond between them as something approaching trust.
“Shoot.”
“I’ve failed as King. I look outside and see my subjects starving. I look in the mirror and see myself dying. I’ve failed to create the haven I desired. Priloca, the Corporations, Cheires, they’re all slowly digging their fingers in. I can’t stop it, but I can at least profit from it…”
Distaste pulled her lips down. She’d sided with King on his campaign to get away from speak like that.
“Seere and I will arrive in a few days to procure the town. The Splinter needs to be dealt with. Captured alive, ideally, we can barter with the Shekhinists. Dead will do, the body is still usable. Do not let it get away. We cannot close a deal with it as a variable.”
“A few days? I thought we had a couple weeks.”
“Two weeks were given to find and identify the disturbance, I think we’re all past that point. The sooner this is over, the better.”
She pursed her lips, he was speaking faster, looser.
“You’re desperate.” Kirche finally cut in, then started cackling.
“Do not mock me, Kuvie!” He rumbled over the radio, she could visualise it. The way he raised from his desk, red anger flushing his features coupled with the wispy blond hair, she often joked he was such a peach in those moments.
“Oh relax, it’s a good look…sound, for you, getting worked up, brings back some of that youthful vigour.” Kirche leaned back in the chair, stretching herself along it.. She didn’t get a response. “What’s in it for me then? This is a big ask, money and a roof might not cut it-”
“Bell.”
It was Kirche’s turn to go silent.
“Bell is alive.”
Three words, instantly severing the faint threads of trust between them.
“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me…” She hissed into the receiver.
“Bring me the Splinter. I will tell you where he is.”
“He’s dead!” Instant, unearthed screaming.
“He is not.” The steady tone paused her anger.
“...I saw it. I saw the transport explode. I saw Argent there, she even confirmed it, gloated about it!” Kirche was shaking, uncontrolled disbelief and rage spitting into the radio.
“And who told you he was in the transport?”
She felt ill, she wanted to heave, vomit up the dark pit that was building in her stomach.
“...Argent. What about Argent, she thinks she killed him.”
“If I lied to you, why couldn’t I lie to her?”
Furious silence, Kirche’s chest heaved, aching her ruined arm with each pulse. She could feel the tears of betrayal building fast.
“Kuvie?” If not for this conversation, she’d have mistaken his tone for concern. Maybe it was, not concern for Kirche Kuvie, his loyal follower, but for Kirche Kuvie, the asset.
“Why? Why do this? I already believed in you. Followed you. Obeyed you.” Her voice went from strained chokes to shaky screams. “I trusted you! I betrayed for you! I killed for you! What could you possibly have gained from doing this to me?!”
Calmly, flatly. King answered.
“Insurance, for a time like this..” In a flash, her anger turned to sickness. Insurance. She almost gagged at the word, all the promises of being better than the money men, standing higher and more moral than the suits. Giving her and others scattered by the Scouring a better home. The promises that made him King. Her King.
Utter Bullshit.
“Kuvie, your brother is alive. He wasn’t in that transport. Bring me the Splinter and I will give you what I know.” King paused, letting his words settle in. “Extend the offer to Argent, if you deem it appropriate. If she assists, I’ll clear the remaining time for her contract. She’ll have her property too…Kirche, you’ve been a loyal subject to me. I have not returned that honestly until now. Here it is.”
The plastic of the receiver creaked under her grip.
“You want to talk about honesty?”
She breathed deep, and spoke blasphemy.
“I’m going to kill you. Now that’s honesty.”
“Then I’ll take what I know to the grave…Bring me the Splinter, Sister Kuvie of the Red Shoulders.”
The line snapped dead.
Kirche roared, laughed and sobbed until her throat turned to sandpaper. Shaky breaths came out as weak giggles.
She turned her head, hair hanging wild and loose, glaring at Ingram through a curtain of fire.
“Then I’ll take what I know to the grave…Bring me the Splinter, Sister Kuvie of the Red Shoulders.” King flicked a stiff switch, cutting Kirche from the line. He sighed heavily, a storm of emotions quelled by forced nonchalance. The other feed unmuted with a hum.
“That sounds like it’s going to become a headache…Should we start on a contingency plan?” Garum mused back over the line. King could hear the smug smirk through the static.
“No, Kuvie is mine to handle.” Calm and composed, the way of Kings.
“...Very well, can she be trusted though?”
“Entirely. Kuvie will do anything I ask of her. Especially now.” King steepled his fingers and stared daggers into the radio setup.
“And the other? Argent? I’m sure you’re aware of the name's history.” Whether it was a blip in the static or a genuine pause, King caught trepidation in Garum.
“This one’s nothing like it. She’s spineless, and likewise will do as I say. I can assure you of that.” King’s features tightened at the pause, his leg started to vibrate, old aches building around his unused cybernetic plugs.
“...Very well. I’ll leave the grunt work in your capable hands…” The smirk was back, King tightened into a snarl. “As for our arrangement. I have good news about the Rubix Project.”
“Oh?” King prodded, trying to hide his piqued interest.
“We’re approaching the final stages of testing now. The newest subjects are showing very promising results. Of course, once the project has been deemed a success, you’ll be first on the waitlist my friend.” King swallowed the excitement in his chest.
“I’m glad to hear that, Garum, and I trust the results are going as well as predicted.”
“Exceeding them! Breakthroughs in the last batch of testing showed a large jump in restored function.”
“Good, that’s very good.” King settled back into his chair, grunting at the pain dully growing through his body.
“...We’re finalising the date with Am-Ray now, three, maybe four days' time. They wanted a week but I think it’s about time to wrap this debacle up and start moving on.”
“Agreed.” King replied through closed eyes.
“Good man, we’ll be in touch.” The line hissed shut.
King waited for a few minutes, gathering himself and shutting out the aches before leaning forward to press a switch on the console. No sooner had he opened his mouth to request his aide had she appeared in the doorway holding a tray of processed food, clean water and an assortment of medicine.
Cassie’s eyes were red and pained, a shaky smile towards her King as she silently offered the tray.
“Good girl…” King tried to take it, but scattered the assortment on the dirty ground of the office. She was already spilling apologies, scrambling on the floor to try and gather the varied pills.
King was deaf to it, stuck staring at his hand, uncontrollable tremors wracking through it.
“Out…” He whispered.
“It’s alright King, I’ve almost got them all-”
“OUT!” He bellowed, Cassie set the medicine she had collected on his desk and bolted for the door.
Even braced against the desk, the tremors continued and intensified, spreading out from his body. Shaky fingers rifled through the small mountain of pills, it wasn’t here.
King threw himself off the chair, shaking and heaving as he scanned the ground with blurring eyes and shaking hands, but he found what he needed. He inhaled the medicine, choking it down without water, and fell to the floor. He breathed deep and weak, watching his tremors slowly come back under control.
“Damn you, not yet damn you!” He groaned against the floor, righting himself to gather the rest of the medicine, half the pills on the ground were already dissolving into the spilled water. He barked and coughed. The door peeked back open, and Cassie risked the question.
“Sir? Do you need help?”
King didn’t respond, down on his knees and arms, staring at the medicine fizzling against concrete.
“Sir?”
“Yes…I do…” A hoarse, quiet, disgraceful admission of defeat. Cassie came in, shutting the door behind her before slowly, steadily helping King back to his seat before disappearing again.
What had happened, just five years ago he was feared and admired. The empty plug in the wrinkled skin of his hand stared back at him. He’d turned to technology to cover his weakness once before, and dreaded to do it again, but Seeres' proposal was his only way to retain his kingdom.
That’s what mattered, nothing else. Let Kuvie hate what he was doing, who he’d become, let the other mutts die or be free, it didn’t change what mattered.
That as long as he stood as King there would be a heaven outside the hell of the corporations, and if he had to make a deal with Seere devils to maintain that. So be it.
A gentle hand met his shoulder, Cassie had re-entered the room with a soft smile and fresh collection of medicine. King smiled back, this is what he was working for, people like Cassie to have a safe place and life, for the good in the world to not be exploited.
“Thank you, Ms. Wren.” He saw her off with a nod.
That night, in the small office room she’d been lucky enough to call her own, Cassie would be unable to sleep. She was too tormented by the sight outside her window.
There were fights in the tent city again. They were an inevitability; too many mouths, not enough food, too many hands, not enough money, too many eyes, seeing the hell around them.
The bodies were left there in the main street amongst broken, bloody scraps of rust and wood, waiting for the morning where someone would come and beg her for a job, to be paid to clear them. Three bodies, three limp, dead bodies not more than twenty metres outside her window. One of them was staring at her. She couldn’t look away, stuck in the distant, dead gaze that couldn’t break away from her. She was simply stuck there sobbing at the sight of the haven King promised them all.
Garum switched off the line with a sigh, the doddering old fool was exhausting to deal with. Cleaning the polished chrome of his eyepiece, he turned to a series of papers on his desk, eyeing one off in particular.
“Oh, yes.” He murmured to himself, swivelling back to the radio terminal. The light to a secretary was lit and ready. It opened with a blip.
“Could you please check if I have any messages from a Doctor Clepius last night? It will be from a C2 frequency. Decryption key is G-R24-2M25A”
“Confirmed, please hold.” A steady voice replied, so much cleaner than the static mess from before. “...Doctor Clepius left two messages, playing now.”
The line shifted with a hiss, the message times were robotically read out.
- 35th Duous, 32:21
“...He’s stable, comatose, but stable.”
- 35th Duous, 36:54
“Patient cleared release, en-route to your facility now.”
The line clicked back.
“Will that be all, Sir?”
“No. Send Doctor Clepius a gift, something classy-” The eyepiece whirred, twisting into the plug in his empty eye-socket. He hissed from the cold, surgical pain, the vibrations uncomfortably resonating through his rotting skull. The locking bolt snapped shut into place, and the webs of unhealing flesh started weeping. “No flowers or anything so… gauche, or cliche - a wine basket, perhaps, and schedule me an appointment while you’re at it.”
“Confirmed, anything else, Sir?”
“No that will be all-” Garum picked up the papers, laden with confidential warnings. Inside, pictures of bodies covered by white hospital sheets were side by side, the further he flicked through the document the more blacked out with encryption the pages were. His eyepiece thrummed as it uncensored the images into horrifying surgical processes. “-Just be sure to leave a nice message with it, thank him for his exceptional work and that Seere looks forward to our continued cooperation and success.”
The line shut, leaving Garum alone to quietly flick through the documents. His cherub face defiled with a wide grin.
