Prologue
In the beginning there was the Matrix. A source of limitless energy, the Matrix was harnessed by the Creator, the first artist, a woman with pink hair who flew her Valkyrie by playing a bass guitar. Her name was Mylene and, along with the modern age, she fashioned two sons—a good son, Steve Bateman, and a bad, Khyron—so that their conflict may test the merits of her work.
Tried of his brother’s favor, the Backstabber betrayed and murdered his mother, stealing the Matrix. In defensive of the universes, Steve Bateman selected eight champions. They were called…
The Fellowship of the Matrix.
Chapter 10: The True Enemy.
The light hits Azoric like needles stabbing into his retinas. It comes so quickly, so violently, that it echoes in his head. His drowsiness is obliterated, and the pain of his breaths, of every heartbeat, is massively amplified. He shields his eyes, grabbing at the many injured portions of his body. He feels stuck in concrete but “fight or flight” pushes him past the obstacles. Reaching out to brace the ground, he falls onto it.
I was hanging off a wall? he thinks.
A voice speaks, “Your eyesight will return in time.”
“Who are you?” Azoric says, seeing only fuzzy blacks. “Someone who loves me?”
foodmart gives himself the once over, feeling at his lustrous and long purple hair, verifying the alignment of his green headband that his locks lay over. “We talked about this Azoric. Like a friend, I love you like a friend.”
Azoric braces himself against foodmart. He shakes his head like it might help his sight. “What happened?”
“You have hibernation sickness from the carbonite.”
Azoric feels faint. He wobbles, forcing foodmart to double his efforts. “I don’t remember being frozen in carbonite.”
“Um…it happened off-screen! But welcome back! I’ve already gotten the others.”
…
In the bowels of Backstabber’s castle, through the many sewers and drainage systems, is an unused dungeon. It is a dark, moist, generally cringe inducing, plague producing box. And it is where the Fellowship—Ravenchan, Marrin, Axoric, foodmart, Zor Primus, Punkr13, Duo Marquise, and Field76—assembles.
They eat pizza from the “Clone Zone Café.” Azoric eats at a moderate pace; whereas, the others attack the food like it were the only they’ve seen in years. He notices their mostly thin and gauntly bodies, contrasted to his own, which is well-fed and muscular.
“Why do all you guys look this way?”
Zor Primus looks up. A pepperoni hangs off his nose. “What’d you mean?”
A former supermodel, Fields was never one to partake in pizza but now she may die from it if she stuffs more down. “We’ve been in the dungeons. We haven’t seen the sun or tasted a decent meal in twelve years.”
Duo is cloaked in his magical cape, returned to him by foodmart. “Where have you been?”
foodmart takes this one, twirling a silver thermos in his hands. “At your trials, it was determined that, since Azoric was the leader, he should suffer the most. It was thought that would be carbonite freezing but it seems all it really did was preserve his body, including putting him in a blissful sleep. Ironically, he is in the best shape, both psychologically and physically, outta the lot of you. Go figure.” foodmart notices how everyone looks at him suspiciously, taking inventory of his meticulously kept nails, the high-class wardrobe and his exotic fragrance. “Guys, I’m a vampire. I always appear young, lethal and devastatingly gorgeous—it’s genre appropriate.”
It’s hard to look intimidating while struggling to swallow pizza. Marrin makes it work. “I’m a vampire. I look terrible.”
foodmart tosses the thermos. “This will fix you right up.”
As a vampire, Marrin recalls the taste of the boys and girls who cruised the streets of Sunnydale—so many choosing the dark alleys or the cemeteries. Followed by memories of the universes being wiped out by Backstabber, and her realization that she could stomach no more death. Marrin cannot consume human blood, even if it would regenerate her. “I can’t murder, foodmart.”
“Marrin, the True Blood revolution has given us an unending supply of synthetic blood. It’s a cornucopia of flavors. Grimy prostitute, got it. Elitist soccer mom, got it. Choirboy, check. Japanese schoolgirl, slightly more pricy but nonetheless available on demand.”
Marrin unscrews the thermos. Like an addict, she feels both drawn and repulsed by the blood. But the tomato sauce in the pizza, with its red tint, first got her thinking about blood. Now this enchanting red aroma tastes as good as it smells on its trip to her belly.
Ravenchan, a protégé to Fields, was heading toward modeling super-stardom when thrust into this world. Her immaculate appearance has changed little; however, while Azoric and Primus were given shape-hugging body suits and athletic shoes, and Marrin was given her leggins, leather jacket and combat boots, Raven was provided clothing that closer resembles a tattered bikini and accompanied by six-inch stiletto heels. “Why am I wearing this?” She pulls at the elastic band running across her hip. “And a thong? Really?”
foodmart nods understandably. “It appears you wearing this type of clothing was a thing that the writer thought was important twelve years ago. There was also a running joke about thongs. So it’s all just here for continuity’s sake—you understand.”
Off in the corner, the low light tints Punkr’s skin several shades of brown. He wears a similar body suit to the Zors, but he has ripped off the sleeves. “If we’re so concerned with continuity, then I seem to remember I was dating Britney Spears.”
foodmart laughs, then for some reason decides to break the tension by breaking into his impersonation of a cowboy. “You better holster that horniness there, partner. Like I said, a lot has changed, but don’t worry, I got you the hook-up.”
Raven spits out pizza. “Punkr gets a new girlfriend, and I still have to wear thongs?”
foodmart grabs at his chest in exasperation. “Don’t get mad at me for stuff I have no say in. Now as to why you are—”
Azoric stands. He is deadly serious. “Wait, foodmart… My memory is returning and I remember that you were judged worthy by the Backstabber, that you abandoned the Fellowship and became a Lord—”
foodmart interrupts. “That was such a misunderstanding. It’s actually a funny story.”
Raven stands up next. “What exactly have you been doing for the last twelve years?”
foodmart grasps for straws, feeling his throat grow dry before he eeks out his excuse. “Methodically plotting your escape, of course.”
…
foodmart leads the Fellowship to a winding staircase plotted along the circumference of a massive cavern, potentially miles into the depth and blackness. Despite withered bodies and souls, the Fellowship sets to the massive task with vigor. No matter the toll of the dungeons, these eight were chosen by Steve Bateman. When chosen, one develops a tremendous pride that refuses defeat; however, the further they sink, the larger the labor to breathe, as the giant plooms of torch-smoke are practically asphyxiating.
Punkr says, “I guess these things don’t work like in the movies.”
Raven coughs. “foodmart, you couldn’t have scrounged up some lanterns?”
foodmart pulls out a remote. “Actually, the entire subsystem has track lighting.”
Marrin is livid. “And you lit a bunch of torches?”
“I was trying to create atmosphere.” He moves on, upset at Marrin’s wussy reaction. He whispers, “That blood oughta kick in soon.”
Marrin says, “What?”
“I said you don’t even breathe, why do you care?”
Light fills the cavern, showing how much deeper the journey reaches. As they continue, foodmart says ominous things like, “This secret has been kept as buried from the world as it is deep in the planet’s core.” Fearing superfluous foodmart drama, Marrin confirms that this isn’t just a metaphorical journey but that something tangible resides down there. foodmart insists that there is, and that, “The secret is as hot and as sweltering as the boiling air that we breathe.” Azoric and Primus mention that it might’ve been nice to consider the heat before passing out fitted bodysuits. Only Raven is properly ventilated, her steaming skin shiny in sweat, defining her lean midsection and sticking to her bottom, outlining her bubble-butt.
foodmart says, “Raven doesn’t want to be objectified physically. You want a t-shirt during a heat wave. Do any of you hear how irrational you sound?”
The staircase ends at a giant vault. foodmart enters a series of numeric codes, pulling out the main lever and letting the Fellowship pass through. Inside, three prison cells are locked. A guard stands rigidly, a solider in full camos with a rifle at his side. If he struggles with the heat, there is no indication on his professional, proud face.
foodmart says, “This is General Totalkrig. He is the military commander of the resistance. He has been personally guarding this secret. That is how sensitive it is, as sensitive as the locking mechanism of this impenetrable vault.”
foodmart opens the first cell, dragging out a prisoner whose face covered by a mask, and after the mask is removed, is obscured by years of facial hair growth, but the eyes give it away. The same happens with the second prisoner and the third. The Fellowship is speechless. This is not how they expected to encounter Apollyon, Lord of Fire and Flame, Sixty, Lord of Darkness and Black, and Savage, Lord of Pain and Anguish—Backstabber’s infamous Henchman!
Duo surmises it. “So who conquered the universes?”
…
Azoric decides that it would be best if the henchman left the castle individually, taking different routes, in order to maximize their chance of escape. Totalk, Punkr and Duo are assigned Savage, and their destination is Totalk’s primary military force. The journey starts with high spirits but reaching safety is time-consuming. Escorting Savage, who is quiet and disoriented, requires their help in shifts.
Punkr knows this is a serious matter, but the silence is killing him. Someone has to start talking, if only to stir Duo from his heavy silence. Constantly trailing, the short, blue haired wizard walks with hung shoulders. Quite the pathetic sight while draped in his magic cape.
At one time, Duo was a happy-go-lucky teenager. All he wanted to do was skate with his lifelong buddy Punkr. When the Fellowship first assembled, Duo had the life of a powerless, frustrated teenager. Paired with the cape, he transported the Fellowship and part of the Matrix to safety. Next he forced Maxwell Station, a former satellite of Earth, to crash. He met a mentor, an old man named Rekiski, who instructed him that his magic was crucial to defeating Backstabber.
But I failed, Duo thinks. Backstabber still took over the universes.
Duo breaks from his trance when Punkr puts an arm around him. “Dude, don’t worry. If we get caught again, it’s the death penalty for sure!”
Maybe Punkr’s right. But Duo isn’t ready to release himself from his own prison.
Punkr chats up Totalk. “So how big is your primary force?”
Totalk reapplies his grip on Savage. “The resistance began as a tank brigade, but after the Fellowship was captured, I planned a five year logistical layout and strategic—”
Punkr interrupts. “So when do I meet this new girlfriend? And, could she be better than Britney Spears? I remember—”
Totalk interrupts. “Remember her marrying her high school sweetheart for one night? Shaving her head before assaulting an empty vehicle? Having two children with a former dancer whose name is K-fed?” Totalk saves Punkr from expressing his concern. “But don’t worry, it turns out that society still has a need for sexually-elusive, coquette-esque pop starlets who manipulate the very sound tenants of feminism in order to convince young girls that the sexual exploitation of their bodies is empowering.”
Punkr is interested. “And who is this remarkable young woman?”
“Katy Perry. And dude…” Totalk puts his hands under his chest. “Boobs. Boobs like you’ve never seen.” Once Punkr has been thoroughly debriefed on Perry’s assets and the acquisition site—she is at the primary force—Totalk says, “I’ve studied the intel reports on you all. You were dating Britney Spears during her hyper-religious brainwashed phase where she’d just tease you. But things have changed. Western decadence and moral erosion has seen the emergence of porn stars as bonafide celebrities. Literally, stuff that girls like Britney Spears used to elude to actually happens en masse.”
“Really?”
“Like, teenage girls take pictures of themselves practically naked and put it on the Internet because they think it’s cool.”
Punkr forces a tone of condemnation while his cheeks get red in excitement. “This is a terrible, terrible world. I hope we fix it immediately.”
Then a voice says, “Where exactly can one—*cough cough*, hypothetically—find such pictures?”
It’s Duo. He’s caught up to the group.
Punkr says. “Wait… I try everything as your best friend to get you better and the only thing that can cheer you up is semi-naked pictures of teenage girls?”
Duo corrects him. “Hypothetical teenage girls.”
Savage hacks mercilessly. It is so forceful, so sick, that Totalk loses his balance. Assisting Savage to the ground, he says, “He must be trying to tell us something vital about Backstabber.”
Savage sounds as dry as the dessert, hissing in-between coughing fits. “I wanted to say that… I’m also interested in the hypothetical teenage girls.”
…
Marrin and Primus smuggle Sixty through the castle via a series of passages that operate somewhat like the Underground Railroad. In murky basements or behind false walls or hidden in supply trucks, they pass through Backstabber’s castle. They watch the military-rich exterior, with look-outs and squadrons of storm-troopers, give to a residential center full of McMansions built around the tallest castle towers, including commercial districts with mega-malls, thematic novelty restaurants, and things like roller-coasters.
Intermixed are various murals, monuments, and barbershop quartets—all contributing to the propaganda campaign run by Backstabber’s PR department. Marrin notices that officers in Backstabber’s elite guard are so fanatical in their devotion that they’ve dyed their hair blue and had surgical enhancements to make them appear similar to the Backstabber.
In a basement, Marrin is startled when the door is kicked in by the silhouette of a woman. Wearing a beret with a red with a black bird stretched out at arms and legs, a mean-looking chica enters. She introduces herself as BruinKat.
“I run the secondary force for General Totalk.”
Primus drags Sixty by the shoulder, sitting him down. “One of the ‘henchman’…if there is such a thing.”
Bruinkat supplies Sixty some water, checking his eyes to confirm that his pupils still contract. She says, “Tell me why you are known as the Lord of Darkness and Black if you are a prisoner?”
Sixty leans back. “The Backstabber deceived us. He came to Maxwell Station… Twelve years ago… Dressed like… Like..”
BruinKat is insistent. “Like what?”
Sixty blinks so hard that it seems he might black out. “He was a she… Very beautiful… Had long golden hair with buns at the ends.”
Primus says, “That description matches Fields. She is a member of the Fellowship.”
Marrin adds, “If Backstabber used that disguise to take over Maxwell Station, he could also have used it to infiltrate us. It would explain why he was always a step ahead of us.”
Sixty is delirious. Beside the exhaustion, the psychological damage from being falsely imprisoned for so long leaves him in tremors. “Understand… The Backstabber is not the backstabber.”
Marrin repeats. “The Backstabber is not the backstabber?”
Primus says, “Whatever it means, Fields is with Azoric. We have to leave immediately.”
Primus stops at the door when a knife beats him to the handle. BruinKat approaches him, looking him up and down. He is too spooked to object. “I am sorry about your friend, but if what Sixty says is true, then it is too late to help. And that means you’re going only one place—to get a haircut.”
“A haircut?”
“To infiltrate the enemy, dressed as one of Backstabber’s elite guard.”
…
Azoric, Fields and Raven follow foodmart through the catacombs leading to Totalk’s secondary military force. Apollyon is with them, and while it is understandable that he is tired, that he is confused, Azoric cannot help feeling that the maybe-henchman is playing-up the role. Azoric figures it’s easy to think such things being so youthful and strong himself. He wonders if it is foodmart who frightens Apollyon.
What made foodmart decide to help us? Azoric wonders.
Azoric ponders it a little too deeply. At the edge of the secondary camp, foodmart quickly excuses himself, Raven in his grasp. “I need Raven for special strategic purposes! Far too complicated to explain!”
Before Azoric can complain, foodmart and Raven are gone. Over a few hours, Azoric and Fields move amongst the secondary base, assisted by soldiers and given their own barracks. They are fed and showered. Azoric is awarded command in Totalk’s military, and Fields volunteers to be second in command. Finally finished with all the formalities, Azoric returns to care for Apollyon, unable to ignore his intuition that Apollyon holds some vital clue.
Fields joins him. “We elected you leader of the Fellowship, so you should be the commander.”
Azoric tires of all this responsibility. He feels crushed by the expectations, almost as crushed as his hair by his clinching fists. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but lately I feel like I only make the wrong decisions.”
“This doesn’t sound like you at all. What is going on?”
Azoric rubs at his forehead, confused. “Raven left with foodmart. Do you think she…”
“You still love her?” Fields sees tears building in Azoric’s eyes. Fields puts her arms around Azoric, hugging him. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. To think after all this time, you stayed in love with Raven. It is almost as if… Even though you were separated, the thought of her kept you alive, kept you sane.”
Azoric wails! “It was exactly like that!”
A knock disturbs Azoric’s moment of emotional honesty. Fields curses it. “Who could be…”
A tall brunette in four-inch heel boots, a micro-skirt, a low-cut top, and her limbs decorated like an Egyptian goddess hurries inside. Her make-up makes her eyes look big like an anime girl. Her lashes are enormous…or so Fields observes.
Azoric is catatonic.
BOOBS!
The brunette’s breasts sling around in pace with her steps. She is bubble-gum bubbly! “My name is Katy Perry and I’m looking for Punkr’s room.”
Fields rolls her eyes. “Katy, Punkr went to the primary force on the other side of the castle.”
Katy looks confused. She was certain she turned left at the road that said “Primary Force.” Her confusion bows to curiosity when she sees Azoric’s pecs. “Hey, you’re cute.”
BOOBS!
Clearing his throat, Azoric says, “Actually, Punkr is my apprentice.”
Fields grumbles. “He is?”
Azoric responds, suavely, “I taught him everything he knows.”
Fields grumbles some more. “You did?”
Katy is ecstatic! She makes little jumps up-and-down in giddy excitement, approaching Azoric and latching onto his forearms. “That’s wonderful! I was told if I went to Punkr’s tent he could help me figure out the sexual issues that resulted from the repressive Christian values my preacher father built into my developing psyche as a child.” She looks at Azoric with her big doe eyes, her big, beautiful rack reducing him to epileptic tremors. She says, within all hope in her eyes, “You wouldn’t happen to know any ways that you could help me with that?”
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBS!
Azoric grins, bending at the waist in a gentlemanly manner. “If you accompany me back to my barracks, we can brainstorm solutions.”
Fields is aghast! “Azoric, what about Raven?”
BOOBS!
Azoric slings his arm around Katy’s midsection, patting her bottom. “I’m just filling in for Punkr. All part of the awful burden of leadership!”
Azoric gone, in giggles with Katy, Fields looks left and right outside the hut to see that the night guard has set in, and they are dithering in their duties. Tired of sucking it in to fit his gut into this second-skin of a suit that foodmart provided, Fields curses. I swear, why did I make him a lord? Being dead, these vampires never gain any weight. Once the belt is released, and the top undone a few buttons, Fields shakes until her long brown hair, with its cinnamon bun ends, dissolves into lengthy, messy, wirily-like blue locks, and her soft, elegant face becomes hard chiseled and the Zentraedi purple skin sets in.
Apollyon looks at the mad eyes of the Backstabber. “Sixty and Savage couldn’t recognize you, but I knew your face. I knew it was you. That’s why I kept quiet.”
“And if you don’t mind just doing me this one favor of no longer breathing,” Backstabber says. “We can keep it that way.”
Apollyon reaches out. “You were…deceived…by…by foodmart.”
Backstabber laughs. “foodmart? Please, I was there when he released you. I know that he—”
Apollyon interrupts. “No… Twelve years ago, when he rose to power, he convinced you we had betrayed you but it was him… We discovered that he was plotting to… Plotting to…”
…
Providing Raven a veil to conceal her identity, foodmart boastfully leads Raven through the castle, drawing as much attention to themselves as possible. He seems to know everyone’s name, and he can discuss details of their lives. Everyone is flattered, and they insist foodmart join them later for dinner, for drinks, for dessert, just come over!, and Raven is startled at how natural of a politician that foodmart is. It must be how he convinced Backstabber to let him become a Lord, she thinks. And while separated from all extravagances for twelve years, being a former super-model, Raven instantly recalls her memories of being courted by powerful, rich men with exotic lifestyles and unrelenting charisma.
“foodie,” she says. “You’re in your element.”
He feigns being humble, reaching for Raven’s hand. “Out there is the wild is not my province. This is my true calling.”
Still, Raven is suspicious. “But this seems a little practiced. Perhaps having a new girl on your arm is not such a startling sight?”
“Raven… I’m a changed vampire.”
“You’re what?”
foodmart leads her through his tower, the second tallest in the land. It is so tall that it almost reaches the clouds. Observed through a glass elevator, they pass the many floors with night clubs, bowling alleys, movie theaters, and museums. In the penthouse suite, big screen televisions hang off all the walls, beds with black silk sheets line the walls and a violin quartet plays music upon entrance.
A servant staff dressed in maid costumes swarms Raven. They are pushy and insistent. Swept into a large marble bathroom with a pre-filled soaking tub that rumbles bubbles that contribute to the soapy mess overflowing onto the floor. Raven’s stripped naked, then ushered into the tub. The ladies work at her with abrasive sponges that dislodge twelve years of dirt. Once clean, hairstylists, manicurists, massage therapists, waxers, stylists and seamstresses surround Raven, including Orlando Bloom, who reads her Sailor Senshi manga in Legolas cosplay.
She says, “Orlando, you’re making me sorry I lived in Miami all those years.”
Orlando looks deeply into her eyes. That adorable crinkle of a smile on his face. “My lady, you are the funniest, most special person I’ve ever met.”
Finally someone gets it! Raven thinks.
“Oh, it was so nice of you to dress like Legolas. You know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Actually, I’m due back on set soon.”
Raven stutter-steps her speech. “So you’re still…making Lord of the Rings movies?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re making other movies, right? You’re, like, a big star, right?”
Seconds later, Orlando leaves, wiping away tears while insisting that it’s the soap agitating his eyes.
Raven sips mai-tais and reads her Senchi manga while she is washed, dried, massaged, and put into full-out beauty queen do-up, including her hair being put-up in a fancy assembly. Her make-up artist is the best in the universes, a woman with pink hair named Esc who crash-courses Raven on all the contemporary supermodels and how Raven can position herself back to super-stardom.
Once finished, they make plans to get coffee.
Raven is flush. I can see why foodmart left the Fellowship.
Raven is led to a dressing room where a white gown awaits her. She puts it on, including the matching heels, and blows kisses at herself in the mirror. The only open door leads to a candle lit dinner. There, dressed in a white suit and pants, awaits foodmart. He has a bottle of bubbly and two glasses.
“It’s my family’s label.”
Raven drinks the booze copiously, and once a little wishy-washy, she blurts, “Wait, are you hitting on me?”
foodmart smiles. “Raven, I know we’ve had our differences but ever since I saw you my love has been rekindled.”
“And what…? You thought if you recreated the kidnapping scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark that I’d just fall in love with you? This is sooooo creepy.”
He swishes his glass around. “It’s only creepy when the bad guy does it.”
Raven gets a surprised look on her face, realizing that foodmart is totally oblivious to his situation. “Let’s see here: A stupendously lavish lifestyle while the world starves in poverty. Bikini clad servants who canter to your every wish. A tower in the largest castle in the entire universe. The best pound-for-pound make-up artist I’ve ever encountered! Supermercado, you are the bad guy!”
foodmart rolls his eyes. “Okay, but I’m a vampire! We can’t all be like Marrin.”
Raven considers how difficult it can be controlling urges as a vampire. She would know. In a chapter the author wants to forget ever happened, she was bitten by foodmart and become a vampire. But now she’s just a normal person, and everyone is pretending that such a messed up side-story never happened.
Raven says, “Well, at least you’re not killing people.”
foodmart contests, casually. “What makes you think that?”
“You told Marrin that because of ‘Tru Blood…’“ Raven makes quotations with her hands. “There is synthetic blood for vampires.”
foodmart laughs. “Oh, come on! How unrealistic is that? I just wanted Marrin to drink blood again”
“foodmart!”
“Hey, she’s my sire. I can’t see her this way. It’s not right.”
“If you gave her human blood, then does this mean that Marrin’s—”
foodmart interrupts again. “100% lethal.” foodmart sees an opportunity to convince Raven that giving Marrin the blood was actually a compassionate act. He says that when vampires cannot hunt, they are reduced to spectacles in a zoo. “Vampires were chosen to be the top of the food chain,” he insists. “It is natural for Marrin to kill people. Who would be against a species living in its natural habitat?” Once Raven’s buttered-up, he falls to one knee, caressing her hand again, looking lovingly into her eyes. “Baby, you complained about your clothes, I got you this beautiful dress. You complained about feeling dirty, I brought you Esc, who has not only made your beautiful but will again make you famous. I’m trying to change. To start a new life, a new life with you… Can’t you see that?”
Raven holds hints of cynicism. “Yeah, but you forgot one little thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When you laid out my clothing for this dinner… You left me another thong!”
…
Primus’s lengthy purple curls have, via a heavy trim and intense chemical treatments, been put straight and shaggy like the Backstabber’s own. His measurements have been quickly applied to a replica uniform from Backstabber’s elite guard—brown pants with a flare and a jacket with long tails. Off-center and in the front are a series of yellow lines climbing, forming a Zentradei V at the heart. Seeing himself in the mirror frightens Primus. He looks like a villain, and that was BruinKat’s intention, as she believes he will easily slip in amongst the Backstabber’s inner-circle.
BruinKat says, “Using foodmart’s influence, I have secured you a position as his temporary attaché to the Backstabber.” She feels at his collar, tugging on one of the neck cufflinks. “We will be hearing everything that you hear so try to get involved in as many conversations as you can.”
Primus looks toward Marrin. The closer he gets to the mission, the more withdrawn she becomes. He wants to believe that she is concerned for his well-being but it seems that she is falling ill. Her arms are crossed, and they cradle her stomach. Occasionally, her face breaks out in intensities that she suppresses.
Before leaving, Primus stoically comments, “My mother always said I’d end up with a serious job.”
BruinKat is off-duty. She unbuckles her holster, setting her sidearm on a desk. Removing her beret, she yanks clips from her hair until green splashes upon her shoulders. Her shirt is next, revealing a black racer-back and arms so crafted that they ripple with her every movement.
A bottle of Scotch hits the desk. She slams a shot, immediately pouring a second. “You should be proud of your friend.” Marrin is still in the corner. The vampire shakes occasionally, flush in sweats. “We could all end up owing him our lives.”
“You’re saying you’ve done everything you can for him?”
BruinKat straightens up, pounding another shot. “There is nothing else I—”
Marrin leaps like a jungle cat. It is so violent that she might escape her skin. K9s out and plunging, her face is smashed by Bruinkat’s extendable baton. The blast is brutal, knocking Marrin so senseless that she almost blacks-out. Her body collapses to the floor. Minus a wooden stake, or a method of decapitation, BruinKat can do little but prepare another defensive stance. This time she fails. Marrin tackles Kat, ripping out Kat’s feet and smothering her. BruinKat bashes Marrin rapidly with the baton, causing damage so serious that even a vampire recoils until driving her fingernails into Kat’s face. Dropping the baton, Kat grabs for Marrin’s wrists to spare her sight.
The last thing BruinKat sees is her own baton being driven into her head.
The last thing she feels is Marrin’s teeth sunk into her neck, compressing her insides with a suck so violent that Kat fears she may be ripped inside-out.
When BruinKat awakes, the taste of the air tells her that she is no longer in the basement, not in any of the places the resistance has established. Her hands are bound, and she hangs from a hook in the ceiling. Her feet are suspended in the air. She is too discombobulated to hold her neck in any position and it flops left or right. Spit dribbles from her mouth.
foodmart says, “You’ve remembered who you truly are?”
Marrin answers, “I owe you this time.”
“Why didn’t you kill the girl?”
“I thought you earned the honor.”
foodmart smiles. “Later—we have work to do. If Primus is trying to get to Backstabber then we need to help him. We need to help all of them. We’ll watch as they put an end to Backstabber’s reign… Only to see that it is the beginning of our own.”
Lord of the Matrix 