Dragena walked away from the cracking fire, gesturing medics away from herself. She picked up the torn cape of Alsyn off the ground, making a large booming sound with each step on her way to the spherical dome. Soldiers were already getting the last of the hostages out of there. Larry stood before the entry to the dome.
"Was it really necessary? She was no longer a threat." He asked the warlord. The man looked at the warlord with ice in his eyes.
"She killed the hostage." Dragena nodded at the dead body that soldiers were carrying out of the dome, "She was the leader of a terrorist unit. She was found guilty of resisting arrest and firing at police and military personnel. Also, we do not have the means to deliver her to Torment safely either."
"Found guilty by you? You are not a judge. You could have sent her to Iterna. Because she attacked a citizen of Iterna, she is also subject to our laws. Doctors would have found a way to rehabilitate her. There was no need to kill the prisoner." Stubbornly responded Larry, looking in the eyes of the warlord, "The easy way out is not always the right one."
"Magnificent show! Bravo, bravo to you warlord!" The voice laughed from the receiver, and the warlord turned to look at this. Her paw made a gesture to Tegrin and the orais nodded, sending one of his soldiers with a strange device in their hands toward the receiver.
"Care to introduce yourself, mister?" Dragena inquired, as the orais sat near the receiver, holding the device to the back of the mechanism.
"No need, I was just along for the ride," The voice chuckled from the receiver, "but thank you for such a rich spectacle, nonetheless. I never expected that Alsyn could push herself to become a monster like that."
"We will find you, mister. If I had to guess, you were the one who provided Rift Talons with gear and even with VI to override defenses of this facility. Few have access to such expensive things." Dragena noted.
"If you want to try and catch the wind, then by all means, go on ahead, waste your time like the idiot that you are."
"If you think me ignorant, then by all means, enlighten me." Dragena offered, looking dispassionately at the receiver and working orais. The soldier shook his head, indicating that he had no luck in tracking the signal. The booming heartbeat of Alsyn finally stopped, but the orais kept emptying their weapons into the flame.
"What’s the point?" The voice laughed mockingly, "You are boring. Without feelings, there is no rage, no hatred, no way to become a true monster. You will die in some backwater one day, achieving nothing, and this will be the end of you. Ah, but I've wasted enough time on you as it is. Bye-bye, failures!" After a cheerful goodbye, the receiver went dark. It did not explode, buttons were still brightly lit, yet no words came from the machine anymore.
Dragena turned away from the receiver, walking inside the dome. Annie heard a loud tearing sound of metal and the crash of something big on the floor. Annie and Ultis came to the entrance of the dome, the only ranked wolfkins, in the hall. Kayleen and Carty were still unconscious and being taken care of, wolf hags from other packs swept over the facility. The warlord was missing for a good minute, tearing apart something inside. Annie couldn't see what was going on inside because the warlord turned off her own cameras. Finally, the ears of Annie caught the whining sound of a living being, barely audible, sounding like a person with pierced lungs trying to gasp for air and scream from pain. Heavy footsteps could be heard once more from the dome, and the warlord walked out of the dome, holding a cub wrapped in the tattered cloak of Alsyn in her paw. The limbs of the wolfkin were misshapen, the left arm was of normal size, but lacking two fingers, while the right arm was twice as small in length, but had normal fingers on it. Fur was falling from a small, screaming person. One eye was milky white, the other was barely amber.
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Two-year-old cubs were already old enough to run around and fight each other in the Wolf Tribe. They could read and even write. Wolfkins grew up much faster than other new breeds and normies, thanks to the Ravager's blessing legacy. Yet this cub, who was born at least two years ago, held no sentience in his panicked eye, no words came from the tiny mouth with missing fangs. By all rights, the cub was still just an infant in mind.
"Defective." Annie looked up when she heard Lacerated One's hissing voice behind her and saw the shaman walking silently next to her. Scarred One, looking worried, came closer to them, taking off her helmet. The woman licked her lips nervously, looking at the elder shaman. Lacerated One extended her arm toward the cub, and Larry became visibly tense, forcing himself to take a step forward, trying to stand between the warlord and the shaman. Neither spared him a look. Scarred One fastened her helmet around her waist and slightly released the claws on her right paw, bending her knees and looking pleadingly at Lacerated One. The shaman faced her pleading look with a stone-faced stare, turning to Dragena. Annie took a step forward, only to be stopped by Ultis, who wrapped her arms around Annie's waist and forced her to stop. Annie clenched her fists, feeling numb pain in them. If the shaman dares to, she will try to stop it, ignoring the warlord's desire if necessary.
Defective. Annie knew the meaning behind this word. The Wolf Tribe were proud people, blessed with many advantages over the normies. Spirits and warlords existed to temper their wilder instincts, as blood of Ravager ran through their veins, pushing them to ever greater heights. And yet they were a small group of people. Many females give birth to quite a number of cubs in their first lifegiving, but out of that first litter, often only a few cubs survive. The situation was getting better with each second and onward lifegiving, but even then, other dangers were arising. The blood of the Wolf Tribe's people was too mixed up. All of them were kin in one way or another. Because of this, sometimes cubs are born with defects. Shamans were the ones who helped in lifegiving. They were the ones who judged whether cubs would survive or not. Upon the birth of new cubs, the shaman waited for two days to see which cubs would make it. After two days, the shaman will announce her verdict on the surviving cubs, if they are deemed fit to live or not. Cubs with severe defects were culled out of pity and to preserve resources, the Wastes were not an easy place to live in the past, and it was considered to be a merciful thing to cut the thread of life and give the soul of a cub an easy way to be reborn once more. Nowadays, however, many dangers have taken a step back, and rare voices among wolfkins grumble, wondering if this practice is still needed. After all, the Wastes had their own orphanages. Some normies give their own cubs, even those who need very special care, to these places. Dissatisfied wolfkins wondered why the Wolf Tribe couldn’t follow the same example.
"Remove your paw, sister," Dragena said calmly, putting her free paw on the handle of the knife in the sheath, "He is not of the Wolf Tribe anymore and not subjected to our laws any longer. If you harm a civilian, I will treat you as a criminal. "
"It is cruelty to make him suffer any longer." Lacerated One said softly, pointing at the mishappening cub.
"It is cruelty not to try and make him live." Dragena responded icily, wrapping her paw around the handle of her knife. Muscles run beneath the neck of the warlord, pushing another trickle of blood out of the warlord's shoulder. Two locked gazes for several minutes, and Lacerated One nodded, briefly baring her neck in submission. Seeing that the warlord ignored invination, the shaman took off her helmet and bit the tip of her claw in her own blood, spraying it across the temple of the cub. Wheezing screams stopped, cub looked at the shaman with a calmed eye all of a sudden.
"Blessed be then," Lacerated One looked at Dragena, "He is scared. He is also feeling pain, adjust your hold to carry him more gently, you stubborn cusack."
"I know how to hold cubs. I assure you, my hold is…"
"And you are bleeding," Lacerated One cut off Dragena in midsentence, "Let the normies clear this place, we need to come back." Dragena nodded to the shaman, giving orders to the troops, walking to the exit side-by-side with the shaman, with the cub still in the warlord’s paw. But the warlord no longer held one paw over her weapon.
The smoking remains of Alsyn were left near the door, resembling more a pool of black oil than the remains of a living being. The orais still kept their positions, waiting for any sign that the creature could regenerate once more. Passing near the scorched remains, Annie briefly glanced at her deceased foe. There were no more movements in the pool of darkness. Alsyn was truly and finally dead.