Pegasi Autumn: Post Attack
29 Oct 2017Stryker Aune
Clair Dock, Tjakiri“You were lucky, you know. Just a little closer to that explosion, and you’d have a tag on your toe.”
The orderly was applying burn salve to Stryker’s skin, exercising neither gentleness in his treatment nor a particularly sensitive bedside manner. Around them were dozens of blast victims from across Clair Dock. The medical centers had overflowed with patients, and the specialty clinics were compelled to open their doors to handle the excess.
Between his grief and his pain, the bit of flippancy barely registered with the man. He was stripped to the waist, clear antibiotic gel sealing the many shrapnel cuts that he’d sustained. One by one, he’d had to sit and wince as the jagged pieces of metal were pulled from his flesh. But they were nothing compared to the residual shock he still felt, tempered by an old familiar cynicism.
All that planning for nothing. And it figures. This is Pegasi, where only the dreams of the wicked come true. The rest of us are just happy to have a roof over our heads.
Stryker looked up, frowning at the particular roof over his head. Herbert Glaboski’s Institute for Better Health was about the last place he’d have chosen, but all of Clair Dock was under emergency rule since the terror strikes. The staff at the Institute was clearly used to a less ragged class of clientele.
Indeed, the air around him was warm with the heat of so many bodies in such a confined space, on a cot or on the floor according to seriousness. There was a steady background noise of human voices, punctuated with wails of pain or sobs of grief. Reddened skin was the order of the day, those not incinerated by the blasts suffering almost universally from agonizing burns. But that wasn’t what made a queasy feeling grow from within Stryker’s gut.
This was where Mhera was forced to work to secure her freedom, under that Glaboski creep. What happened that left her so disgusted? Was it the research, or the man himself?
A familiar voice pair of voices cut through the surrounding rabble and into Stryker’s ears. One was hard and baritone. The other was delicate and Gallic. The bodybuilder looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening. Glaboski himself was making his way through the throng, a barely-concealed look of disgust on his face. He was accompanied by a shorter, feminine figure, her face concealed within a hood. And they were walking directly towards him.
Speaking of the devil…
“There he is. The brute who used to escort Doctor Bathana to the lab. What did you say his name was again?”
The smaller figure pulled back her hood, revealing a waifish beauty, betraying nothing in her delicate features. She looked at Stryker with an unsmiling gaze, and turned to Glaboski.
“Aune. Stryker Aune. He is in my mistress’s personal employ. You can trust him.”
A haughty look crossed the man’s features. “Marra isn’t employing anyone since that cute little speech of hers. I’m taking a chance just speaking to you. And you’re sure that she needs the device?”
Apollonia’s eyes sharpened, a knowing look giving her leverage. “Any that are ready. What you were working on for Exotica. You know the ones.”
The man laughed humorlessly. “Hardly any use for them now, is there? Exotica is gone, along with every worthless whore inside. At any rate, there’s only one working prototype, and I don’t think that he needs it.”
A flash of anger caused Stryker’s nostrils to flare, but his rage was tempered by a subtle touch from Apollonia. She continued speaking without a pause.
“One will suffice, monsieur. My mistress would consider it a parting gift from a trusted friend.”
A look of disdain crept over Glaboski’s face. “Your mistress doesn’t have any friends. I give you this device, and we’re done. Do you understand?”
The man produced a small composite box, handing it to the waif without a word. She accepted it and smirked.
“My mistress thanks you. And what a généreuse thing, opening your clinic like this for the common good! You really are an example in these challenging times, oui?”
With a huff, the man turned and walked away, taking care to not let his clothing touch the afflicted rabble surrounding him. The pale beauty turned back to the injured brute, her eyes sweeping over his ravaged body.
“It is a shame, oui? What havoc one woman’s inaction can cause. Are you sure you’re in?”
The man clenched his fists, both his natural and prosthetic hands tightening. “I told you- she’ll answer for her betrayal. I don’t care if I have to stim her every twenty minutes to keep her alive.”
An unstable look of glee crossed the waif’s eyes. “Then you should leave immediately. And when you find her-”
Taking a look around herself, Apollonia opened the case. Inside it was a lengthy medical injector, loaded with a pea-sized device that Stryker hadn’t seen before. She closed the case and handed it to the bodybuilder.
“When you find her, revenge will be yours. You bundled with her, oui? And she revealed all her secrets, all her dreams?”
Stryker looked down at the case, and then back up to the waif. “I already told you all there is to tell.”
The look of instability intensified, tempered with compassionate gaze. “I saw you with the woman outside Exotica. Caesar’s incompetence took everything from you. Your hopes. Your love. Now it’s time to take everything from her.”
A look of cold resolution settled over the man’s features as he tapped the case with a metal claw. “And this will do it?”
A manic smile lifted one side of Apollonia’s mouth. “It will ensure that her dreams are destroyed until von Steuben is. She’ll have to come back to m-”
The waif stopped herself, and then continued. “To Marra. But it all depends on you saving her. Saving her, so that she can right her wrongs.”
A cruel look twisted Stryker’s features as he flexed his claw. “What do I have to do?”
Unstable victory danced in the waif’s eyes as she leaned in, her face inches from his. “Nothing too much different than what you’ve already done…”
Authored by the talented M. Lehman!