Page three hundred and sixty-one out of six-hundred. Under the dim, hanging lights of a quaint coffee shop, one word immediately leapt out at me from my old, worn-out hunter’s notebook.
Nightstalker.
Right underneath it, there sat the reason that the next few pages were heavy with the weight of lead.
Bounty worth: 256,000 merkuri. Explicit orders to kill. Bonus upon delivery of head or heart.
I flipped through my notes slowly, steadily, and with purpose, feeling the warm glow of a nearby fire pit cooking some skewered meats through my undersuit. The soft plinking of rain against the rafters lulled my mind into hyper-focus. Even then, marching through the pages was an arduous process, not helped that there were dozens of photos inside that were of places caked in disgusting gore. Time wasn’t on our side either, as I was here for a good reason. An artifacted voice called out to me from across the table, seeing my exhaustion.
“Sir, you must take your tea before you lose focus. It will help you in the rain as well.”
I looked up with a small smile of thanks.
“Thanks, but it’s for later. The hatcha’ll mess up my focus and my notes.”
The other voice belonged to my brother, TARN, across the table. A towering, silent war machine in the midst of adjusting his right arm slash multi-gun, his weathered silver frame spurned the looks of others around the shop. These were not looks of mystique and curiosity; they were daggers of suspicion. My presence was the only thing keeping them from trying anything funny. yet their silent reactions were something I understood completely.
Most of us were born from the ashes of the Old World, a world whose end we could never fully divine in our deepest, darkest dreams. Some concluded that a brutal war wrecked the very mantle of our world, disturbing the fabric of the universe and sending it rebounding back to us. Others spoke of an unfathomably large hurricane that lashed out against us, poisoning our world forever and not even realising the civilizations sitting on this orb. To this day, nobody knew how the world ended.
Whatever the cause, thus was born the Hollow Peninsular, a savage land of monsters, rampant machines, and cosmic refuse underneath a shattered, violent sky. Whether we talked about it or not, all of us had a deep understanding of where humanity was; the tail-end of a dying candle. If the monsters dropped from the Warp Storms ravaging our world didn’t kill us first, then the storms themselves will. It was why these people looked upon TARN with silent hostility. He too was one of the skyfallen things from beyond.
On the night he arrived, his carriage was that of star-metal and fire, spat out by a particularly rough storm, where I watched him slaughter insect-like creatures by the dozens. When me and my mercenaries finally got to him, TARN had been reduced to a shattered torso and a broken arm. Ever since then, the war machine had been at my side, running the Pursuit Specials with cold, supreme efficiency. My greatest challenge, so far, was acclimating him to the human condition, as his next statement proved.
“You will lose it if you don’t drink it now,” TARN said, a rectangular line crossing his face, “I’ve logged a noticeable lack of sleep in your cycles. Our pursuit of the Nightstalker cannot be hampered by overexertion, sir.”
My tired eyes blinked twice. He had a point. So did I.
“You shouldn’t be too worried about that,” I flipped towards the next page, “There’ll be rest when the bounty’s been claimed.”
“It might find you first. Please, take the tea.”
A decidedly lethal assessment of my state-of-mind. I quietly took the cup in front of me, reaching out with a sore spot in my arm. In my state of focus, my mind went from the thought of drinking to examining the tiny details on it.
On the bark, I saw the finely etched markings of a bird in flight, leaving behind a trail of feathers and stars. Beautiful, I thought to myself, have I met its carver before? A long, illustrious life had prompted this question, having seen dozens of people come and go. In the end, the answer didn’t matter. I drank it down quietly, enjoyed the bitter bite of grinded hatcha leaves, then went back to my work with a clearer mind.
Despite his bluntness, TARN was right with his observations. The tea helped me remember that I needed all my wits about me. The Nightstalker certainly demanded it the last time we had met through blade and claw.
I turned my head towards TARN, feeling a little emptiness in the air at our table. Everywhere else had some kind of noise, just not us. “Old friend, tell me again. How likely are we to meet our monster?”
His singular eye flickered. An iridescent shade of green and dim yellow blinked twice before he responded, “Sixty-five point three three three five seven percent, sir. Percentage increases with the presence of the storm above us, coinciding with the day it attacks on.”
My scarred face cracked open to grin and shook side to side, “Someday, I’ll teach you right about acting more human around us.”
“Was my answer insufficient?”
I pursed my lips, resting it on the cup.
“No. No, not really, if you were a scientist or a mathematician.”
TARN’s body shifted. It was a gentle reminder that he was easily a head taller than me, even if his demeanour was decidedly less intimidating than most.
“I detect sarcasm. It is mixed with-”
“Enough with that.” I turned towards him, adjusting my cloak and making sure my free hand was still on the hilt of my war axe, then I waved him off. “You don’t need to say all that. Remember what I told you?”
“Yes.”
I thought he was going to recite his next words. Instead, he just played my own voice through his own speakers. The patrons at the coffee shop were slightly spooked to hear two of the same men talking, though they weren’t too scared of TARN himself.
“Buddy, try talking more… human? Don’t be so precise, just think roughly. Get rid of the proper military mumbo-jumbo. You do that, you’ll have a more comfortable time fitting around these parts.”
A chuckle escaped me. Evidently, someone else was also amused; an ancient woman, still light on her feet, who came up to us from the back of the shop in a reddish, dull gold dress, an ornate blue pot in her hand.
“Your kawan, he’s very interesting. Don’t mind the others, ha-ish, and don’t be so harsh towards him.”
I spoke just as she offered to refill my tea.
“Interesting? I don’t believe so. We’re just two mercenaries amongst a dozen, ma’am. If we were any more interesting, we’d be working under SELURIT.”
“You think those blowhards are interesting, Sir Junshi? To the likes of you?”
I nodded sheepishly, not trying to be patronising. The store owner could clearly tell I wasn’t putting my thoughts into it.
“You! The man who had slain demons and held off Metal City for three days finds SELURIT interesting? That’s new.”
Kuala Isyarat was a mega-city far older than any of us, whose shining jewel of anomalousness was the frozen remains of twin skyscrapers from centuries ago, stuck in some kind of Warp bubble that prevented them from ever ageing or falling. In the distance and under the cover of night and rain we could barely make out the shadows of these towers in the dark, alongside the faint traces of orb-ish light constantly rising upwards. Defending this place from the hostile wastes outside was Homebase One, a nation seeking to reclaim what was lost from humanity. SELURIT, in particular, was the most elite branch of Homebase’s armed forces; professional soldiers who grit their teeth daily on steel- so the stories go.
We had fought alongside them before. I can safely conclude that in the grand scheme of things, especially tonight’s hunt, that they did not matter. Our employer made sure they were paid enough to stay out of our way, a move that made me wonder: will she have any merkuri left to pay us with? The thought of money influenced my next words.
“Nushi, please,” I tapped my feet, “We’re just trying to make money. I leave smug superiority to the ones who think they’re worth something.”
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“Hmph!” The matron smirked, daintily bowing her head, “Any more humble than that, I’ll almost mistake you for my husband.”
“Isn’t that something.”
She held the pot by one hand and stuck out her hip to the side, throwing me another question. This one was fair, answerable, and completely justifiable. Her shop wouldn’t be the exact kind of place I could be found at normally.
“So what brings two legends to Kuala Isyarat? I’m sure that dreadful bordello’s not your destination. By Tuah, I hope not.”
Me and TARN looked out and to the right, where a dim, red glow- provided by aged neon signs shaped in the crude image of flowers- filled the air, thrumming and flickering in the soft rain. Though I didn’t think much of it, I did understand why her lips trembled at the idea. Tahsa Mengdi, our client, was a woman who few dared to cross, much less normal people like the matron. She had christened the nearby bordello- an Old War hotel- the Market du Satine, after years of deals and back-breaking work, making it her headquarters and fortress. In the clear nights of Kuala Isyarat, the glow of her neon lights easily let others know that this was her turf. Whether they still respected her in the wake of the Nightstalker’s hunt, however, was up for guesses.
I had halfway opened my lips to disagree with her when TARN beat me to the punch instead. With less grace than I planned, of course.
“The Nightstalker, madam. We believe-
Her face immediately twisted into a grimace. I felt my body move quicker than my mind to subtly tell him off. My tone, as far as I could tell, tried its best to be diplomatic.
“While that is our concern, we’re just here to hear more from our client. There’s nothing to be worried about. You can trust me.”
“Client? You mean Tahsa Mengdi, the bitch,” the matron responded, “it’s no secret she’s been pushing that contract, trying to make herself seem bigger than that monstrous thing. You wouldn’t believe how quiet her den has been in the last few weeks. You’d hear all these flesh parades going on in there almost daily, but now her palace is a ghost town. Good.”Then she spat on the floor with force, having been stirred up by her own words.
“The evidence we have collected over our investigations goes along with your observations. I, however, am obligated to remain neutral about Miss Mengdi’s business.”
“Have you ever seen her, ‘bot?” said the matron, “your master here has, if I remember correctly. Can’t help but wonder if you’ve got any thoughts about her.”
“Nothing that registers as important to my cerebral- I mean, mind.” TARN stopping himself and using a casual term made me nod with my lips puckered downwards, “she is a client, requires help with an issue that we will deal with, and has promised us a generous sum in return.”
“I doubt she will pay you back with the losses she’s making. If you ask me, this monster business is what she deserves. That lady’s got a poisonous heart with the things that go down in her territory.”
On that, my heart picked up a shield.
“Whatever she does, nushi, it’s her business. Sometimes, you’ve got to find something, anything, to do to make a living,” I explained calmly, “and before long, you’ve got an empire. She’s just trying to live, like all of us. You don’t chastise us for being hunters, don’t you?”
“That’s because you’re doing a necessary job, Sir Junshi, to protect and serve,” said the matron to me, fire behind her eyes, “but her? Please. Her empire’s built on backstabbing, trafficking, and ruin. The amount of people who can’t escape the Satine’s clutches grow larger every day, only stopped because someone finally did something about her.” Her face winced, almost caved outwards, when she stopped for a moment, “Were it not for this place being our greatest dream, we would’ve packed up and left a long time ago. I can’t have my heart break everytime I see these cruel figures come by with the weak and broken, you know?”
I resisted the urge to hang my head in shame. In fact, I ended up firing back.
“Without her, this district would be in worse shape. I remember this place falling to pieces before she came by. You’ve been here long enough to see that, haven’t you?”
“Whether I remember that or not, it doesn’t change my mind,” she looked rather disgusted at my attempt to defend the client, “can’t change it, won’t change it.”
“In the end, she’s helped you indirectly.”
“Perhaps, but at the cost of too many others,” the matron wagged her finger at me, hiding her true feelings behind a smile, “that is all I will say on the matter. I’m just someone who wants to run this place as best as she can in the end. Forgive my impudence.”
“Aye, that’s understandable.”
As I sipped more on my tea, alternating between watching my brotherly machine calibrate the barrel ring of his rifle-hand and observing the matron’s mannerisms, she made a peculiar humming sound that lasted for a sonnet. After that was a question that caught me by the legs.
“Now, sorry to keep bugging you and all, but mind humouring me with another question?”
“Go ahead.”
“What happened down in Tunra?”
I nearly spat out my tea. TARN covered for me and, his voice adopting a hint of danger, suggested to the matron that she was approaching a topic most unwise to tread upon.
“Nothing. The situation was under control, ma’am.”
“Goodness me,” the matron said, not budging in her step, “I’m sorry if I stepped on your knickers. I only asked because a merc of yours came by the other day with a bunch of friends. Pathfinders, I reckon, or maybe Iskandarians, can’t remember for the life of me.”
“Sounds like fun,” I queried, aiming to steer this conversation’s direction somewhere more amicable, “might I know who this mercenary of mine is, nushi?”
“Might I ask why? Intending to issue some discipline?” a cheeky tone answered me, “don’t worry, I made sure he never went to the Satine or took a drop of Firmento rum.”
“Not so loud, please. It’s not about discipline. I’d rather keep Tunra down under wraps. ”
“Oh dear, that bad?” The matron said, “I did hear something about the Mercenary’s guild getting–”
TARN’s steel feet grinded against the shop’s dusty floor. I saw his lights flicker with a protective amber glow, his body moving slightly against the table.
“Ma’am, I insist.”
“Okay, okay,” the matron said, covering her heart with a wrinkly palm, “I’m sorry I intruded on personal business. I asked this because there was something I heard about a poor child caught in the middle of it.”
TARN’s posture changed once more. However, I quickly defused his logic circuits with a curt shake of my head. One could easily tell there was no malice in the old woman’s voice, only curiosity- and, perhaps, a hint of relatability.
“Yes, there was a child. He got hurt. A lot of people did.”
She didn’t know the truth of the matter of this child. Of course, why would she?
“Your merc’ said something more about this kid. Said something came over him. A dark shadow unlike any other. They looked miserable the entire time while talking about it, like it was just yesterday that it happened to them. Hearing it made me think back to my own boy. He grew up ready to take over this whole business. Lost him to the gangs near the city border. No parent should ever be visiting the graves of their kids. Such demented fate.”
I said nothing. I owed nothing in words. Whatever happened to me and my son stays between us, my brother, and my company. Fortunately, at that moment, TARN’s antenna began blinking. I had the perfect excuse to leave my reservations at the door.
“Thank you for the hospitality, nushi. I’m sorry to hear about your own son, and please don’t worry about that business. Stay inside, if you can.”
I nodded towards TARN, watching him adjust his own cloak. Before we left, I made sure the matron was well-paid for her service and troubles; three slips of merkuri notes, plus some cents on the side minted with the face of a long-dead haggard banker. As we walked away, TARN began laying out the details of the interruption.
“Our contact within himoc has reported in. Several constables have reported sightings of the Nightstalker’s visage on the west end of this district. Police forces have been mobilised quietly, but passive radiation from the target is making it hard to keep its presence concealed.”
The HMOC, or himoc, were Homebase One’s equivalent to Old World police forces. SELURIT owed their existence to them, even if they now outstripped their predecessor’s capabilities. Still, they were not a division to be trifled with; all the better that we had some ties with them from a previous operation.
“Give me a sitrep, clear as day, sharp as a blade.”
On my hilt was the crescent-edged orb I called my helmet. Adorned with countless scars from previous encounters and flecked gold paint, my head comfortably slipped into its cushioned interior. All was dark and cramped for the moment, my breath fogging up the interior visor amidst the downpour on my form. Then, a calming voice cooed from within.
Welcome back. Standard mode, engaging.
As the helmet’s neuro-interface booted up, the thrumming of rain turned heavier, accompanied by the distant booming of thunder. TARN’s predictions became even more foreboding.
“Target seems to be travelling via rooftops and sewers, alternating in between inconsistently. Himoc teams are running into issues keeping up with the Nightstalker, as well as reporting dead ends from different search teams. They’ve also reported sightings of other mercenary companies prowling this district, which may cause issues for our own pursuit. Constable Javol reports that a hunter team ran into it before communications were cut off from a radiation burst.”
“And the last things he heard were…?”
“Nothing,” TARN noted dully, “upon contact, communications ceased.”
“Mark them off as MIA for Javol. Let him know to focus on the hunt.”
“From previous analysis of the Nightstalker’s kills, highly unlikely.”
“Wouldn’t want to chance it based on its mood. How is Mengdi holding up?”
The robot turned its one eye to glare at the Satine. Never had I seen her establishment so miserable. Every window of the establishment, usually staffed by a twirling topless man or woman, was darkened, boarded up from within. Nobody had walked in and out in the last few hours, save for her own men patrolling the streets. My sighs that moment were deeper than ever, coming straight from the bottom of my gut.
“She reports confidence in her abilities. Javol attempted to offer some assistance and was strongly rebuked. At the current moment, there are now forty foot mobiles in the building. The chances of her success are moderate to low with her demeanour, unless she has plans to escape the city through her own devices.”
“She wouldn’t. Too proud of a woman to do so,” I scoffed, “come, we waste time. Last reported location?”
Within seconds, I was staring at a topographical overlay of this part of the city. A swarm of red dots appeared in different locations in unmanageable numbers. TARN noticed and immediately had them streamlined into the most likely route of the Nightstalker.
“There, near Messala Boutique. I will provide support fire, as I hadn’t had time to repair my radiation shielding.”
That was only ten minutes away.
“Up we go, then. Don’t worry, we’ll make this quick.”