Suleman winced as his foot found itself in a pile of freezing sludge. He looked up at Kuravaan, who had shifted back into his true form in the absence of any Huntsmen around and was illuminating the sewer tunnel ahead with the crimson light of his eyes. “…Are we all quite certain that this is the correct path to the city’s original population?”
“Yes,” said Torch, their tread unfazed by the damp concrete floor.
“Alright, good, but how do you know that?” asked Suleman. “You never asked anyone here for the–”
“Irrelevant,” said Torch. “The route I have led the two of you on is correct, as can be indicated by the fact that the entrance to their shelter is immediately in front of us.”
Kuravaan’s gaze shifted slightly, which revealed a side passage in the tunnel that had been marked by a strip of reflective tape placed overhead. Kuravaan sighed and shifted back into human form. “So it would seem.”
Kuravaan and Suleman entered the processing chamber ahead of Torch. Upon noticing their arrival, the locals simply glanced momentarily at the two of them with exhausted expressions, then went back to what they were doing. The Huntsman stationed among them, however, ripped off her mask and stormed towards them. “Where the hell have you been?! My shift change has been… seven…” She halted upon noticing that neither of the two men were dressed like Huntsmen, nor were they armed at all. “…You aren’t my shift change, are you?”
“Standard occupation operations have been momentarily disrupted due to the enactment and conclusion of a significant armed engagement aboveground,” said Torch, drifting between their two subordinates. “A shift change will likely be scheduled once Prime Senior Huntmasters Suleman and Kuravaan have assumed their new positions.”
Suleman gave a half-hearted wave. “We’re just down here because Torch needs to do something quick.”
“So you’re…” The Huntsman’s eyes came to rest on the hooded, masked figure before her. “…Oh. Oh, um…” She began patting herself down and looking from side to side. “Am I meant to, like, bow, or… Wha–What’s the procedure for this? W–Was I supposed to know you were coming?!”
Suleman waved the Huntsman down. “It’s okay, don’t worry. What’s your name, Huntsman?”
“I…” The Huntsman looked over at the locals behind her, who by now were very much paying attention. “…You mean my code, or my name-name?”
“Code,” said Kuravaan.
“Um…” The Huntsman straightened up. “Junior Huntsman Bucket, s–sirs.”
Kuravaan rolled his eyes. “We are not using that. Your name, then.”
“Oh, then, uh… Red. Red Kwon.”
“…Never mind.” Kuravaan stepped back. “Torch, if you would.”
Torch stirred slightly, as if they had not been paying attention before their name had been said. “You are not to waste my time, Miss Red. You are to stand aside and let me carry on with my reasons for coming down to this settlement.”
“Uh, I– Of course.” Red stepped to the side and gave Torch unobstructed sight of the locals in the wide-open room, and vice versa.
One of the locals rolled his eyes. “Well, here’s the next one in the chain of weirdos ruining our day. Hey, buddy, I don’t think there are any, like, Greek plays for you to narrate down here.”
Torch remained still throughout the subsequent round of derisive laughter. “Given our relative positions within the movement that you have all recently found yourselves joining, it–”
Another one of the locals made air quotes immediately after Torch said ‘join’. Torch’s mask moved ever so slightly to face the offending individual, the reptilian slit in the middle making it look like a single, enormous eye casting judgment.
“It would be prudent,” continued Torch, “for you to all understand precisely who it is who you will henceforth be taking orders from, especially considering the recent confluence of key points in this location.”
“So I guess you’re the one in charge of all these Servants?” asked one of the locals. “Figures they’d put someone who dresses like that at the top.”
“It has indeed been brought to my attention beforehand,” replied Torch, “that this collective has proven antipathetic to cooperation with the rest of the Servants in regards to expunging such parties as–”
“No, you know what?” One of the locals stood up and turned to the woman sitting next to him. “Do you want to back me up with this?”
“Jean, don’t bother,” said the woman. “These people are off their rockers. Just keep your head down until they get bored and leave.”
“No, come on, let me get this off my chest,” said Jean.
Kuravaan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, kid.”
Jean scowled at Kuravaan as he strode up to Torch, a few words of encouragement from his companions behind him. “We’ve had your people come up and say that we’re part of your whole cult for a whole day now, and not once have any of you actually asked if we want any part of what you’re selling?”
Torch remained still as a statue while the local continued less than a foot from their mask.
“You come into the city that we’ve all been living in just fine for the past two years,” ranted Jean, “you act like we’ve already agreed to you being in charge, you go on and on about some massive problem that none of us have had to deal with this whole time, and when any of us do anything other than agree with everything you say, you make us send our own people to your own hospitals! We haven’t heard anything from Tuck yet! For all we know, you’ve killed him! And this is all for the ‘greater good’, because apparently, you know some magic ritual or whatever to bring back all the billions of people who vanished years ago. Because obviously, I should trust the stranger in the hood and mask who says they have magic everything-fixing powers, just because you say it with big words!”
Torch’s head twitched slightly, implying a cursory attempt to look Jean up and down. “I was aware of the prevalence of such a sentiment within your community. Considering the evident forthrightness with which you protest our activity within Portland, I would like to offer an alternate perspective: What factor or information does your group possess that sets it apart from the entire rest of the planet?”
“You’ve done it now, Jean,” said a local sitting near the far end of the room.
“There are, as of present, no other known instances of human communities anywhere on the planet who have not willingly agreed to work alongside the rest of the Servants of Reckoning,” said Torch. “Is there something that you thirty-nine people – now twenty-six – know that the remaining two hundred and fifty thousand do not?”
From behind Torch, Red waved to Kuravaan to get his attention. “Is… Is that the real number?” she whispered. In response, Kuravaan merely shrugged and looked ahead.
Jean continued glaring at Torch’s mask. “A while ago, one of your guys came along and said you wiped out San Francisco when they didn’t want to join up.”
“Primus sympathizers,” said Torch. “Now that–”
The SUV’s driver pushed past the two Huntmasters and cleared her throat, making Torch look back at her. “Um, Torch, it’s me again. Sorry for interrupting whatever this is, but we just got reports that one of the patrol units was able to track the targets to a spot that it looks like they’re staying put in. You, uh, wanted me to get you if that happened?”
“Correct.” Torch made a sound that seemed to resemble a sigh of relief, then turned around and followed the driver out of the chamber. “Mister Kuravaan, continue my statement. Mister Suleman, with me.” They grabbed Suleman by the sleeve of his jumpsuit and dragged him out of the room.
The foremost local sighed once Torch was out of earshot, then looked disdainfully at Kuravaan. “Please don’t tell me you believe that guy.”
Stolen story; please report.
Kuravaan sighed. “The Servants do… what’s necessary for us. I wasn’t there for San Francisco, but I do know that siding with the Primoi didn’t work out for them, and it hasn’t worked out for many other groups that I’ve seen fail.”
“So when you say ‘fail’…” said one of the locals.
“I…” Kuravaan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, we joined the Servants because it was the only way to keep my…” He glanced at the Huntsman standing anxiously off to the side. “…my family safe. None of us are especially happy with the arrangement, but with the state of the world right now, sometimes there are no options available that will make us happy. We can worry about fairness later, but right now, it’s in everyone’s interests to play along. It’s what we need to do to keep on going.”
“So, uh, I…” Red glanced at the passageway that Torch had exited from, then stepped forward. “I don’t know much about the, like, upper-level politics of the Servants, but, uh, when did you actually join the Servants? Mister… Kuravaan?”
Kuravaan looked down at the Huntsman and sniffed. “About five months ago now. Why?”
Red blinked. “Wow, okay, that’s… recent, for one of the guys at the top. Sorry, I didn’t mean that like a–”
Kuravaan narrowed his eyes, his red irises shrinking to pinpricks. “I reached such a high rank because I was… valued for…” He sighed and looked ahead at the locals, ignoring the Junior Huntsman. “Sometimes we wonder if us and our family would have been better off staying by ourselves. But we would not have been able to survive forever with all the scourges of modern life literally at our doorstep. It’s like Torch was about to say: Eventually, the correct solution becomes obvious, because every other option will end up having the same results.”
“And whose fault is that, exactly?” asked one of the locals.
“That doesn’t matter!” snapped Kuravaan. “Why are you interrogating me about this?! I’m just doing what Torch told me to do! Everyone else in the Servants is fine with where they are now, why are you any different?! Why should anyone be?! Why are you acting like the people just trying to help you are all mindless sheep?!” He pointed to Red. “What did she ever do to make you all decide that she isn’t worth listening to?!”
“Wha–What?” Red looked between Kuravaan and the crowd before her, whose eyes were now on her. “What did I–?”
“I just… We can’t understand how you can just throw away the thoughts and dreams of everyone else in the world just so that you can feel superior,” said Kuravaan. “Surely with all the Huntsmen who’ve been watching over you this whole time, some had to actually be nice to be around. Actually, yes, someone mentioned earlier that the Servants offered medical aid when one of you was hurt, correct?” He pointed to a local who had, up until that moment, been silent. “You. What state would that friend of yours be in if we refused to help them?”
The local blinked in surprise and turned to the others sitting nearby to her for support. “I…I mean, yeah, Tuck probably wouldn’t have been doing so hot if you hadn’t taken him up? I guess?”
“Exactly,” said Kuravaan. “You can’t treat every single Servant other than yourselves like some raving lunatic. Both we and this Huntsman here are ordinary people with lives and beliefs, and we are simply trying to do what we need to to keep things afloat. We haven’t done anything wrong to any of you, so why are you lumping us in with people who have doubtless already faced punishment for whatever we’ve done to you? Nothing is ever going to get accomplished if we’re constantly at one another’s throats; what we need right now is understanding of our fellow Servants, so that we can all realize what really matters in this fight that we all partake in, whether we like it or not. That’s all we ask of you.” He looked to Red. “Isn’t that right, Huntsman?”
“I mean…” Red shrugged. “It’s not like we can really, uh, understand all of what’s going on. I’m just in this so that I get enough extra rations to cover for my brother. Couldn’t, uh, couldn’t do that if I hadn’t volunteered.”
“Precisely.” Kuravaan turned to look over his shoulder at the station’s entryway. “We need to go back to catch up to Torch, but tell you what: Huntsman, when we send you your shift change, offer to take whoever among these people is willing with you to the aboveground. Give them a chance to finally see firsthand their fellow Servants.”
“I… Sure?” Red looked to the locals and shrugged. “I can do that, sure.”
“Wonderful.” Kuravaan turned and left. “And keep your mask on, Huntsman. You’re at work.”
–
“Unit A is to be moved to a point approximately 100 metres east of the planned location, to be deployed at my command.” Torch moved away from the radio’s receiver. “That will be all.”
“And in terms of Huntsman allocation?” came the radio’s response.
“None. As I said, that will be all.” Torch indicated for Suleman to turn off the radio. “Is there some ancillary meaning to the phrase ‘that will be all’ that I am somehow unaware of that my subordinates are inferring from my instructions?”
“Not to my knowledge, Torch,” said Suleman. “But… Are we just going to send that single Chosen to deal with the Burning One? With no additional support from the Huntsmen?”
“Correct in that there will be no Huntsmen present during the engagement,” replied Torch. They unslung their sword from their shoulder. “Incorrect in that the Chosen will be alone.”
Suleman stared at the sword. “…You can’t be serious.”
“I would recommend you show more respect in regard to my decisions, Mister Suleman.”
“Or what, Torch?” Suleman folded his arms. “I should respect your decisions, or else what happens?”
Torch remained silent and unmoving.
Suleman sighed. “I can recognize an empty threat when I see one. I don’t know why, but with all the promotions one after the other without me even having to do anything, I can tell you need me around for something. I want to make it clear that if you want to suicidally run in after the Primus that eats entire cadres of Huntsmen for breakfast, I won’t stop you. But I know that whatever it is you want from me, it means you can’t afford to actually put me in my place.”
A slow breath came from behind Torch’s mask. “To clarify, my personal involvement in the engagement is not ‘suicidal’. I have killed multiple Primoi over the course of my present existence, especially in the early–”
“Primoi other than the fakes that you stab whenever you want to make an entrance?”
“…Yes. In addition to the props, I have ended the lives of ninety-seven Primoi in total.”
Suleman narrowed his eyes. “Then if killing the Burning One is such a routine thing for you, why did you never even attempt it during all the past months where it’s been running around, easily tracked, and destroying everything the Servants build? Would’ve made everything a lot simpler for everyone.”
Torch inspected their sword. The blue glyphs that occasionally appeared along the blade flickered into view, bathing Torch’s white mask in ghostly light. “…I concede that many of my actions on a macro scale are quite notably irrational, at least to a limited perspective such as your own. I suppose it is fortunate for you, then, that the caprices of my creator seem to favor you so often.”
Suleman took a small step back. “Y–Your…?”
“Principle dictates that I eliminate any party who becomes privy to such context without my creator’s explicit permission beforehand,” said Torch. “But his attention is presently elsewhere, and my knowledge of his predilections leads me to believe that, if he were presently witnessing this discussion, he would find it… funny. Which is frequently the most prevalent factor in his decision-making process, particularly when you are involved, Mister Suleman.”
“N–Now hang on a moment,” protested Suleman, “that can’t be right, bec–”
Torch lowered their sword, and the glyphs faded from view. “I would recommend that you continue to concern yourself with prior responsibilities as Prime Senior Huntmaster, Mister Suleman. This recommendation is meant to be received not as a threat, but as a suggestion. Parties present in this area have roles assigned to them that you are not intended to comprehend, and as such, you have no power over them. Much like your coworker, your position and security is not a result of any legitimate competence in your field. You have simply been deemed the most amusing option in a field which, to simplify, is not considered particularly important in the wider scheme of current events. To simplify further, stay in your lane, Mister Suleman.”
A similar blue light to the one from Torch’s sword began to emit from within the folds of their cloak. “There are many other individuals in this city alone who are much more necessary to safeguard than you, Mister Suleman. You are currently permitted to hold this minute amount of information, but I should advise you of this: If you make any attempt to spread this information to the likes of Mister Kuravaan or any other Servant of Reckoning, I believe my creator will be easily persuaded to throw an occasional source of mild entertainment away.”
In a fraction of a second, Torch vanished from Suleman’s view, leaving nothing but a patch of color swimming in his vision.
Suleman stood silently in the snow behind the SUV, blankly staring at the spot where Torch had been previously. A few moments later, Kuravaan emerged from the manhole nearby, which had had the surrounding snow cleared away in a circle. “Alright,” said Kuravaan, “we’re done. It would seem that Torch left to handle their own matters personally?”
“Oh, um… Yes.” Suleman blinked and moved to his side of the SUV, knocking on the driver side window. As he climbed inside and took his seat, he felt the vehicle’s ignition start. He cleared his throat to get the driver’s attention. “And, um… Just so you don’t worry about it, Torch went their own way. They said I should just tell you that so you didn’t get confused about why they aren’t here.”
“Got it. I was wondering what you two were talking about for so long outside.” The driver waited for Kuravaan to get into the passenger seat, then pulled away. “I don’t know if it’s actually improper or not to talk to my higher-ups like this, but I have to say, it’s gonna make my day to finally lie down on something soft and stop worrying about gas for a while, you know?”
“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” said Suleman.
The driver sighed. “Well, I find that that kind of pessimism just isn’t very productive. I try to just focus on one thing after the other, and have faith that as long as we keep working hard, Torch’ll finally manage to put things right.”
Kuravaan glared at Suleman from the rear-view mirror. “At the very least, you could keep such thoughts to yourself and not drag everyone down with you.
“…Of course.” Suleman glanced at the armrest on the other side of the SUV, still spiderwebbed in cracks from Torch’s grip. “How stupid of me. You can just ignore me.”