Redemption, Prologue

At the edges of the Northern Wastes, in the camp of the Undregons.

Anastasia hit the ground with a breath stealing, dust blooming thud.  The air escaped her in a quick, prematurely ended groan.  The pain in her chest distracted her from the pain in her jaw, but only for a moment.  She did not have time to take back her breath before a powerful hand took hold of her hair, yanked her head up, and slammed her face back into the ground.  The hand didn’t let go.  It pulled her, dragging her foot by agonizing foot toward the far side of the room.  Teeth and blood spilled from her mouth between abused, snarling gasps.  She reached at the things she hit, trying to find a handhold or a weapon.  Her attacker’s other hand gripped her at the thigh and hoisted her like a piece of lumber, only to toss her onto the raised stone altar.  She hit and her arm shattered beneath her weight, making her roll over in a flinching jerk.  One of the brutal hands grabbed the broken limb and stopped her involuntary escape in the most excruciating way.  Even through the pain and flaring lights in her eyes, she saw the man draw a befouled, rune-etched dagger from his hip and raise the weapon above her belly.

“In the name of the Four,” her attacker bellowed with an inhuman depth, “you have spawned your litter and served the purpose of the whore.  The Gods demand your soul.”

He raised the blade over his own head, summoning the strength and passion that only zealot barbarians can.

Anastasia screamed.  She screamed at the fates, she screamed at the Gods, she screamed at her attacker, and she just screamed.

Inception, Chapter 2 - Contrasts

Room is ten feet by fifteen feet.  Door likely an aluminum titanium alloy.  Glass likely a one-way mirror.  Breakable with three to four direct impacts.  Armed operatives on the other side. They will see me coming.  Draw them into this room and…

No.  For one moment in your life, just stop.

+ + + + + +

Steve inhaled deeply.  He rubbed his wrists again, feeling an aching tiredness settling into his bones.  He felt wasted and overdrawn, sensations he had not known since before the change.  He let the breath in his lungs go and it escaped him too quick to be relaxing.  It smelled of the steak descending into his belly and he caught himself hoping they were bringing more.

He ran a hand through the scraggly beard at his chin, pulling through the crossed and knotted hairs.  His fingers twitched with a nervous energy as he looked around the room.  He had spent over sixty years of his life on the run, in the wild, far from civilization and both its boons and restrictions.  The growing sense of claustrophobia was new to him as well.

The click of the door handle turning made his hands flinch into fists.  He forced them open and watched as the portal opened.  He expected operatives with restraints and weapons.  He expected the leader in the trenchcoat.  He did not expect a middle aged man in thick glasses and a labcoat, especially one that stood five four in shoes and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.  The man carried a file and was reading it as he entered.  When he saw Steve, his head cocked back in surprise, as if he weren’t expecting someone to be there.

The man pushed his glasses further up his nose and closed the file.  He looked Steve up and down with a hint of disbelief, as if he expected someone to reveal this meeting to be a strange joke.

“Wow,” he said with the tone of someone looking at a lab specimen, “you’re…big.”

Bloodhorn, Chapter 2 - Difficult Task

As he approached the feasting hall, Kelraxus found himself surrounded by the smell and sounds of company.  He felt naked without his weapons and armor, an acute vulnerability that could not be dismissed even in the presence of friends.  Propriety and respect for his fellows and their way of life demanded his disarming, but with each passing day he found himself slightly less concerned with societal constraints.

Baine marched ahead of him, dressed in a relaxed but dignified robe that indicated his status as Chieftain.  Kelraxus did regret his hostility to his friend, especially in the Tauren’s own home, but the image of the great warrior garbed for politics only solidified Kelraxus’s convictions.  The world had indeed moved on, and it felt more and more like a place he did not belong.  It was this notion, more than any risk to his physical person, that gave him reservations about Baine’s request.  All the scenic peaceful vistas in the world could not bring back the life he once had, nor could they quiet the song of war in his blood.  He flexed his hands and took a quiet, deep breath.  Reservations were for the weak, he told himself.

Baine stopped and turned back to him for a moment.  If the Chieftain held some annoyance or grudge at Kelraxus’s manners earlier, he didn’t show it.

“This is your last chance to say ‘no’, my friend,” Baine said. 

Kelraxus looked him the eye and let silence reply.

Baine nodded and entered the hall, Kelraxus a step behind.

Inception, Chapter 1: Progenitor

Colorado.  Rocky Mountains.  2012.

Downwind.  Temperature between twenty two and twenty four degrees.  No wind.  Distance between one-hundred and one-hundred and three feet.  No sign of competition or outside disturbance.  Neck turning to optimum angle in ten to fifteen seconds.  If first strike is a miss, target to flee at fifteen degree angle. Second strike to be thrown at ten degree angle to compensate.

Rise, slow and steady.  Raise spear to ear height.  Throw in three, two, one…

Vibrations.  Sounds.  Behind me.  Far, closing fast.

Helicopter.  Target notices disturbance and breaks for forest.

How did they find me?  Doesn’t matter.  Need to move.  Animal-skin gone, leaving obvious trail.  Doesn’t matter.  They cannot follow deeper into the mountains.  Storm approaching.  Keep moving.

Shapes in peripheral vision.  Black tactical suits.  Operatives.  They will not be able to keep up.

Helicopters can.  Military grade.  Deep rotor.  Likely carrying tactical teams.  Keep moving.

Operative, two hundred yards, directly ahead.  Woman.  Red-hair.  Slight build.  Confident stance.  Cold eyes. 

I don’t want to hurt her.  That’s up to her.  Go through her.  She will move.