Aetheral Space

Chapter 161:7.10: Swift Flight and Swifter Knives

For the first time since she’d started speaking, Serena del Sed blinked.

"Mr. Dragan, would you help me kill a person?"

The answer was obvious.

"Sure," Dragan said truthfully. "Who? Cott?"

Serena nodded. "Bruno isn’t safe as long as he’s alive. We need to make him stop being alive."

Even though she was saying it in kind of a creepy way, Dragan couldn’t deny that Serena was right. Bruno and Serena had been apart from their group for barely a quarter of an hour, and they’d come back minus one foot and their blood sprayed on the floor.

There was no way to tell where this Cott’s next attack would come from -- only that it was definitely coming. In this situation, the best defense was offense.

Dragan rubbed his chin as he sat down in the doctor’s chair. "What do you have in mind?"

Serena blinked again. "We kill him."

"Yeah," Dragan rolled his eyes. "But how do we kill him? What’s our plan?"

With a wince as she aggravated her regenerating foot, Serena pulled herself up into a sitting position in the bed. She looked at Dragan seriously. "Me and Bruno know Cott better than anybody. We’ll be able to track him down. Once we do, we just kill him. That’s it."

Dragan frowned doubtfully. "That’s not much of a plan. I’d say going after him directly is better for him than us -- if we wear ourselves down with an extended

He was that obvious, huh?

"Alana just told me this building’s location has been leaked," Scout said seriously. "We need to get out of here -- get somewhere safe. There’s no telling how long we have until the Hunter Game players make a go for this place."

The bedsheets shifted, just slightly, as Chloe adjusted her position.

"You go," she muttered. "I’ll stay here. It’ll be fine."

Scout crossed his arms. "I’m not going without you."

"Then I guess you’re not going."

Silence settled over the room, like a shroud had descended to drown out any noise. Scout just stared down at the lump on the bed, biting his lip in frustration. They didn’t have time for this. Scout understood, but they didn’t have time for this.

"You’re right," he replied quietly. "I guess I’m not going."

The lump shifted. "What?"

Scout went on. "If it’s safe enough for you, then it’s safe enough for me. I’m not going anywhere."

Chloe’s face, her eyes ringed red by tears, poked out from underneath the bedsheet. "You can’t," she mumbled. "You’ll…"

"Die?" Scout smiled humourlessly. "I guess so."

Chloe’s brow knitted together in anger. "Get out, then!"

"No."

"I said get out!" Chloe’s voice rose into a shrill scream -- one that took most of the effort she could muster, judging by the heavy breathing afterwards.

Scout slowly shook his head. "The only way I’m leaving is if you’re coming with me. That’s the only way you’re gonna save me here, Chlo."

The look on Chloe’s face was as if grief had collided head-on with rage. Her teeth ground together, tears ran from her eyes, and her lip trembled violently.

"You fucker," she hissed, wiping her eyes on the sheet beneath her. "You’re a fucker."

"I guess I am." Scout extended a hand. "You coming, then?"

When Chloe took his hand, he could feel the warmth returning to her body, like life coming back to a corpse. It seemed he was pulling her out of far more than just a bed.

He stood up.

"What happened here?" Chloe asked, looking around the ruined foyer. Her voice was still hoarse, but the horror in it was audible all the same.

Corpses were scattered throughout the entrance to the building, at least five of the bodyguards that had been assigned to this place. Glass sculptures had been shattered by countless impacts, and the front desk had been warped beyond recognition.

Alana turned to glance at them as they entered. Apart from the blood dripping down her face from a cut on her forehead, she seemed unharmed -- and she was accompanied by two more of her subordinates. A goateed man in a red-and-white striped sweater, and a burly woman with the barrel of a cannon protruding from her chest.

"You two okay?" Alana breathed, returning her revolvers to their holsters. "Good to see none of them made it past us."

Scout glanced down at the nearest corpse, a young woman with tattoos like cracks running along her skin. He’d seen her earlier today, when he’d first entered this building. She’d seemed nice enough.

"What happened?" he asked, repeating Chloe’s unanswered question.

Alana sniffed. "Workplace dispute," she said regretfully. "When they received the rules for the Hunter Game, they decided just taking you two out would be an easier payday than the alternative. We ended up disagreeing."

Indeed, many of the corpses had smoking bullet holes in them. The idea that these people had been coming to kill them, though -- that sent shivers down Scout’s spine more than anything.

Chloe hadn’t let go of Scout’s hand since they’d left her room. She squeezed it tight, looking down at those bodies.

"The cars are waiting outside," Alana said, cracking her neck. "We’re a little short-staffed, but it’s best we start moving."

Scout nodded, stepping forward.

Only one thing saved him. Only one tiny thing stopped him from dying right then and there. Only one passing thought.

Why had the bodies been shot in the back?

Bang.

Scout threw himself and Chloe down to the ground with Pugnant speed and strength, Alana’s bullet sailing over their heads and slamming against the front doors. He transitioned into a roll, pink Aether flaring around him as he put himself between the treacherous bodyguards and his cousin.

Alana had her guns pointed right at him, one eyebrow raised. The man in the red-and-white had long, thin claws of bone protruding from his fingers. The cannon in the burly woman’s chest whirred as it readied itself to fire.

Behind Alana, several bullseye targets -- like something from a shooting range -- were floating in the air, bobbing and weaving around her back.

"Sorry, kid," she smirked, a mocking sneer in her voice. "Like I said -- the Game pays better."

The targets hurled themselves at Scout like a swarm of rabid frisbees. At the same time, Scout plunged his hand into his backpack, pulled free the squirming creature --

-- and jabbed it’s sharp mouth onto the base of his spine.

His Aether roared.

The usual liquid whimsy of Serena del Sed’s mind had solidified into a kind of cold clockwork, the objectives before her becoming the only things of consequence. She had to kill Cott. If she didn’t kill Cott, Bruno would not be safe. If her friends wouldn’t help her kill Cott as soon as possible, she’d do it herself.

Her foot was almost fully reformed. Once it did, the best thing to do would be to leave and track down Cott again. Then, she could kill him. Easy peasy.

Bruno had retreated far back into their mind. When it came to Cott, unconsciousness was as safe as he could get. Serena would protect him.

She went to sit up, to test her new foot, only to stop right in her tracks as she saw she was no longer alone in this place.

There was a woman by the door, staring back at her. A woman with a jet-black kimono and an eyepatch, the image of a red centipede curling around the fabric. The woman’s inquisitive eye regarded Serena with great interest -- but behind it, she could tell, was a hate much like her own.

Something was coiled around the woman’s waist, too: a grotesque centipede the size of a serpent. As Serena watched, it’s head peeked out from over the woman’s shoulder, red smoke drifting up from its mouthparts. The woman didn’t so much as flinch as the grotesque creature rubbed it’s ugly face against her bare cheek.

"Cottian del Sed," the woman said quietly, eye set square on Serena. "What exactly… does that name mean to you?"