Assassin's Vendetta - Chapter 1

Assassin's Vendetta

By

J. R. Urie

Chapter One:
          The capital city, Verton, had just fallen into an intense spell of winter. The cold and brisk air settled in from the South. There was an impervious stale clayey smell in the frosty air tainted lightly with virulent sulfur. The disgusting smell could ripple anyone's nose. The weather excepted to be cold this time of the year. Mallory had to wear at least three cheap wool jackets and two pairs of synthetic cotton pants to keep warm from the chilly air. It held his breath freshly and firmly before him. He had short brown hair with considerable touch of gray, sparkling hazel eyes, muscular with a small swollen gut, and was six feet tall. He was a man who picked new grown crops at a food produce factory where he had just gotten a ride by one of his fellow coworkers.

          The crops flourish magically by energy cells, known as ECs, in the Energia factory across the north end of the city. The energy cells assimilated continuously from within the planet's core. For picking corps, the pay wasn't exactly well, but it fed the family, his wife Dorrv, his two daughters; Adella and Delilah; and his son Matherion.

         After days of work of picking the freshly grown corps, he marched up the semi-rotten wooden steps to a small apartment on the third floor. It was a run down building with about less than four hundred square feet of area. The steps of the stairs squeaked and creaked under his feet. The high-rise buildings filled his entire vision all the way to the viewpoint. The walls of nearby high-rise buildings plastered with brick resembling stone from the prehistoric days. Every time a lustrous mobi went by him, there was electrical humming sound from the energy cells generating power. On the way up the wooden steps, a Verton-Titro`en limousine parked on the terrace on the other side of the airpathway. The terrace was a long tiled concrete walkway with chipped and cracked orange tiles and a steel alloyed railing, resembling a balcony. It was covered with rubble, grainy dirt, plaster powder, rotting wood pieces, and broken platiglass.

         The limousine was long and satiny with smooth and lustrous black alloy synthetic steel appearing like it burned for several days to get that tone of black. Even though the limousine was not wide, the length made up the room. Several balls of brilliant light encased with clear platiglass globes on the nearby building cast shadows around him and the sleek black limousine. The same kind of limo the pernicious drug dealers use all the time. It had the standard telecom with vidcom/trideo and stereo, a small wet bar, a satellite dish, full climate control with ClatSeal, and spacious seats. They also had flawless protective tinted magmissile proof shielding windows. It was the choice among the corporation Execs and, particularly, the drug dealers.

         The hate for the drug heads and dealers was not too strong a word, particularly for these ones, who made profit from everyone's misery. He paused on a step to stare at the black limousine. At one time, they tried to get his oldest daughter helplessly addicted on their Seraph Dust and SPIRIT. He had prevented his daughter from being hooked on the drugs or magsimsense chips by having them arrested for rape about year ago. Even though, they never actually did it. He regretted what happened to the bond between his daughter, Delilah, and him ever since.

         Seraph Dust is a high priced drug with effects that make a person either feel so good, beyond happiness, or provoke the very strongest of dark emotions even though it was rare. SPIRIT is a type of drug with hallucinations resembling a vivid vision of heaven and makes people feel good about themselves in it.

         On the last wooden step of the stairs, three skagmen marched into an abandoned building. They were wearing very expensive stylish gray outfits made out of polyester. Two security guards wore loose armor clothing, lined leather coats, synthetic snake skinned boots and miniature ear phones. Glancing cautiously in every which way, they made sure there wasn't any immediate danger to their client, the pernicious drug dealer. They were professionals.

         A telecom with a videophone, which had the light display feature, in the synthetic brick wall caught his attention. He marched over to it, then dialed the number for the Paladin Police. He watched with annoyance and anger as the words 'Please Wait' flashed across the filthy mirscreen for several seconds before it changed to 'Connection Complete.' Drumming his fingers on the plastic videophone panel, he waited impatiently.

         A stunning brunette police dispatcher appeared on the mirscreen of telecom, wearing a pair of glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose. She was a beautiful woman with Asian features; dominant cheeks, and almond-sleek eyes. He couldn't quite tell what she was wearing through the thick smudged and smeared brown filth across the mirscreen. Probably, she was wearing the silky black jumpsuit uniform with a logo of a large white P enclosing around a smaller P on her right breast area. She said nothing for several moments. Her stare and expression became so harsh that almost all of her beauty faded.

         "Yes, may the Paladin Police help you, sir?" She inquired hiding her disapproval with pleasant enthusiasm. A bright auspicious smile that slowly filled half of her face.

         "Yes, you can by dispatching a squad mobi to Jordan Avenue, district nine." He answered through his tight clenched teeth while forcing his anger and frustration back.

         "A squad mobi will be dispatch in several minutes. In the mean time, stay where you are until," she turned to fix her gaze at another screen. "The squad mobi arrives, okay?" Flashing her eyelashes innocently, she smiled.

         "Is that all you can do?" He demanded.

         "That is the best," she paused to make sure she had the right words, "we can do at this time. You are on the edge of the district. It isn't exactly around the corner from us." She became annoyed with him, because he had overstepped the bounds of expected politeness. She intended to let him know. "It will take some time for the squad mobi get there, so, please do not move from the spot." She answered commandingly. Her face filled with malicious anger. Numerous wrinkles showed themselves finally.

         "If you don't get these drug heads and dealers out of the neighborhood, then I will! Don't force me to do that!" He cried vociferously. His voice echoed off the brick wall.

         Quickly breaking the connection, furious, he struck the brick wall. Pushing himself away from the ridged brick wall and the telecom videophone, he marched angrily yet somewhat proud, and crossed a bridged viaduct to the other terrace where the black Verton-Titro`en limousine parked. Towering above him, the buildings stretched endlessly with analogous of terraces clinging to the buildings.

         A troglodyte bodyguard, some people called them hominids, stood stiffly at the entrance of a nearby building watching him approach. He was quite a gruesome sight with a twisting nose and ears. His skin was gray and scaly. He wore a heavy synthetic blue cotton armor clothing and a gray lined polyester coat similar to the other bodyguard.

         Mallory had brought his small Berta 25 mm gun of hard cold syn-steel and components along with an extra energy pack just in case for this type of situation. He had never carried it to work until today. The bodyguard brought around the barrel of the Mira 10s light automatic gun. Looking into the barrel, he kept his gun gently pressed against his body. The gun's massive cold synthetic steel barrel was large enough for him to place at least three fingers comfortably into it. The troglodyte's intense eyes stared and bored into him, searching with determination for a purpose of him approaching. He paused for a moment to keep himself cool before continuing to the troglodyte.

         Pointing the gun's laser sighting directly onto his chest, the troglodyte snarled licentiously. "What do you want, white scum?"

         He ignored the comment and looked into the stone-cold black eyes of hatred toward smoothies, in another words normal humans like himself, and replied. "I want to purchase some Seraph Dust."

         "They aren't selling any Seraph Dust dirt bag. They're in a meeting. So, keep on moving." The troglodyte growled, shuddering the large gun defiantly at him.

         "Look, I need the dust now. I have the money in my pocket. Please, let me by so I can get some dust." He begged just as a drug head or chip head would do when they needed more.

         "All right, just this once, but if I find you around here again. You will find another hole in your head, Hacar vosu-ka?" The troglodyte growled malignantly and nodded his head with a little flatten hatred.

         "Gotcha. Sure. So ka." Relieved, he mumbled fretfully under his breath, agreeing with him.

         The troglodyte reluctantly side stepped out of his way to let him pass without any trouble. His lined coat flapped with the movement.

         There were at least two more minutes left before the Paladin Police officers would arrive on the scene. Knowing this, he stepped into the stairwell after opening a partially rusted syn-metal door once the troglodyte supplied the security code. Overwhelming pride overtook him for each step he took up the stairs to the thundering and pounding of his steps. He figured with optimistic hope that he would be a courageous hero in the neighborhood for a moment, at least.

         The writing in orange, green, red, and blue fluorescent colors carpeted the entire synthetic plaster walls of the stairwell. In the fluorescent red paint there was also partial dried blood. There was a concentrated layer of grainy dust on the steps with pieces of paper and platiglass from broken bottles.

         On the third floor, he discovered another bodyguard in a chipping and cracking sky blue painted corridor. The apathetic bodyguard stood with a large MU2 loosely on his left shoulder before a Syrian brownish-white door. The guard was a slender human, no, an elf in a long overcoat with slightly wavy hair, dark skin, nearly two meters tall with ears shaped to a definite point. He probably had a wire and reflexes link up and muscle enlargement stimulators for his job. He wore razor blade glasses, which reflected Mallory's face in the glinting silver tint, to conceal the almond-shaped eyes.

         Mallory eyed him curiously to see if he had a data jack to the cyberspace of magrix behind his ear, even though he probably had it hidden under his long slightly wavy hair.

         The elfin bodyguard wore similar armor clothing and an ear phonecom that was equipped with an excellent digital booster, hanging over his right ear. He noticed Mallory peeking around the corner of the stairwell doorway entrance. He did not appear as obnoxious as the troglodyte bodyguard, but probably could do his job just as professionally. With a heavy pronounced voice that carried down the corridor and a slight nod of his head, he inquired. "What are you doing here, chummer?"

         "I'm looking for someone so I can purchase some SPIRIT." Mallory answered petulantly while realizing his small mistake. It made him uneasy.

         Confused, the elfin bodyguard demanded with an unblinking stare. "Hey! I thought that you wanted some Seraph Dust?"

         "Oh, I'm sorry. I had other things on my mind like money for the next fix. I just forgot what I came here to purchase. Can I speak to someone, eh?" He replied timorously, shifting back and forth, off one foot to the next. His voice became shaky and tremulous.

         The elfin bodyguard stared at him for a moment with those cool eyes through the silver tinted razor bladed glasses before shifting his right hand toward the earphone comm. "Hey, boss, there is someone here who wants to buy some SD." He paused momentarily to listen. "Yes, he's a drug head." He paused again to receive instructions from his boss. "Yeah, sure boss." He turned and shook his head, verifying Mallory's presence. "Boss says that he will see you for a sec and that's all."

         He nodded.

         The elfin bodyguard wheeled and reluctantly opened the Syrian brownish-white door. Upon entering a pinkish orange living room, he took out his gun to place it behind his back. It was filled with a videophone, a couch, three small tables, a painting hanging on the far wall, and a small Verton palm tree on one of those small tables.

         Standing next to a brown oak door on the opposite wall in a synthetic gray suit, a large man gradually wheeled to him. The face of the pernicious drug dealer was scaly gray and had very long razor-sharp teeth between two doughy lumps of flesh, which were his lips. His doughy lips pressed uncomfortably into an erroneous smile. The drug dealer was a repellent gargoyle!

         He must have gone through the torturous metamorphosis of the most dangerous and wildly spread retro-pathogens. Several years ago, there were numerous rumors of a scientist who had made the retro-pathogens for a certain kind of gang activity. Somehow it had gotten loose into the air throughout the suburbs about five years ago and was still on the loose.

         He despised everything the gargoyle drug dealer represented and wore because he had made everything by profiting from the misery of others. The synthetic gray polyester suit was filled out showing that the repellent gargoyle had some lengthy, rock-solid, muscular arms. He shoved his gun into the gargoyle's face, listening to his heart pumping loudly in his ears. Fear and excitement rippled throughout his body to the point where his hand started to shake. He aimed the gun nervously at the drug dealer. Squeezing the trigger, he squinted through the tears of sweat dripping off the ripples of his forehead.

         The gargoyle's huge eyes began to widen larger in horrorstricken expression and stare fixedly at the barrel of his gun. As much attention as he gave the gun, he still moved his monstrous hand into the breast pocket of his suit and started to pull out something.

         He didn't let him finish. With a grievous trembling hand, he jerked the trigger to the gun as a magmissile struck the gargoyle drug dealer in the chest. In the next unclear seconds, the gargoyle's body recoiled and twisted, crashing ferociously into a lamp and a small table. As pieces of the lamp scattered all over the floor, the legs of the small table gave way under pressure of the gargoyle's body. Blood splattered across the walls. The magmissile had exited the gargoyle's body and left a small hole in the wall. The gargoyle's body convulsed severely once it had an impact on the linoleum floor.

         The brownish-white door behind him started to opened. The elfin bodyguard was entering the room, sweeping his machine gun. Magmissiles sprayed the walls in uncontrollable bursts, creating small burned holes. The door slammed against the pinkish wall in a thunderous boom. Instinctively, he reacted and raised his gun. He shot at the composed and collective elfin bodyguard in the chest. The dermal armor clothing astoundingly absorbed the magmissile and shielded the elfin bodyguard. The magmissile had only stunned him momentarily.

         His second magmissile went wild and struck the oak door frame. His third and final shot struck the elfin bodyguard in the dead center of his throat. During the mist, several magmissiles savagely shredded the pinkish wall behind, above, and around him. The elfin bodyguard fell back through the doorway and into the colorful graffiti sprawled corridor. blood began to saturate the lined synthetic wool coat and the dermal armor clothing.

         Suddenly, there was hollering behind him. He really didn't care what, why, or who was yelling about. At this point, he darted for the door knowing that he needed to get out of there before the other bodyguard arrived. The undiluted stench of burnt synthetic plaster and wood had completely saturated the apartment and his nostrils.

         With his heart pounding in his ears and a dry throat as if his heart were lodged there, he sprinted out of the apartment and toward the stairway. Thunderous footfalls approached the third floor and him. It was the troglodyte bodyguard dashing up at the steps, trapping him in the corridor. Panicking, he saw a doorway in the center of the fluorescent covered wall with a door half broken off its hinges. He had never had been this scared or frightened, including the time when he was almost drafted into the Paladin Dragon Force and would have to patrol the colonies throughout the astronomical sphere system. Only eighteen years old at the time, but the thought of going into boreal space on a sphere ship frightened him out of his cheap syn-leather boots. Luckily, for him anyway, the government had to pull out of space due to a power failure to the Ruby City orbiting the planet. The Chosen One and the other Immortals had disappeared without any trace many years before, leaving the city without a power connection.

         Upon entering the loitered living room, the horrendous smell of urine from the licentious and abominable raven rats gagged him. He had to breath through his mouth. The empty bedroom had one miniature window. With the troglodyte's footsteps getting close, he attempted to open the miniature window. It seemed stuck. With his muscles straining to his excruciating effort, he grunted and swore peevishly under his breath.

         The footsteps stopped in the apartment followed by soft whispers where he had shot the gargoyle drug dealer and his elfin bodyguard. The voices were men uttering over the deafening rhythmical pulses of his heart. Unable to come up with any other ideas, he hastily went back to the miniature window and attempted to open it again. After several attempts, the window opened with annoying squeak of wood rubbing harshly against wood. It caused him to pause for a moment. No sound disturbed the abandoned apartment or footsteps pounded thunderously on the linoleum floor in the corridor. He heard an indistinct rhythmic groaning and grunting sounds jumbled with compassionate murmuring and chanting. Not thinking anything about the sounds, he became somewhat relieved, but didn't let himself relax not even a moment.

         Placing his head out of the miniature window, he found and climbed onto a half foot wide syn-concrete ledge. At one point, he even attempted to close the miniature window and nearly falling off. Deciding against it, he cautiously moved away from the window and waited. The air was extremely strong with chilliness numbing his reddening cheeks and nose. It seemed several hours when he saw several people emerge out of the building and climbed into the sleek black limousine on the terrace below. It appeared to be another drug dealer and his bodyguard.

         His heart pounded just as deeply and loudly in his ears as before. Carefully, he climbed back into the abandoned apartment, hoping they had not seen him out on the ledge. There was an energetic hum. Looking back through the window, he saw the black limousine dart up into the airpathway and vanish from his sight. When he glimpsed into the apartment where he shot the drug dealer, he noticed the living room was scrubbed and cleaned. There was no blood anywhere, not even on the floor or the walls. The bodies of the elfin bodyguard and the gargoyle drug dealer were missing. As he pondered why they had cleaned up the place, whining sirens roared throughout the airpathways. The Paladin Police had finally arrived on the scene.

         Because he still had his gun, he now wished he hadn't phoned them. A second Police mobi arrived, echoing the first. The Paladin Police mobis were painted solid blue with a large white shield and twin red flashing lights, having the most scientific and magical equipment to fight crime. Except, they don't use it down in the lower levels of the city mainly because they don't dare to go down there.

         His heart continued to pulsate deafeningly in his ears as the entrance doors bang open. Twisting and turning, he optimistically searched for a way out of the building and a way to ditch his gun. If they discovered him in possession of it, he would go directly to jail and lose at least a week's worth of pay or more. Dorrv, his wife, would become very upset at him for causing trouble with the drug dealers in the neighborhood, bringing a curse down on the family.

         Passing the apartment door where he had shot and killed the gargoyle drug dealer, he noticed the pieces of the small table and the lamp still scattered on the floor. Was there a powerful illusion brilliantly formulated to conceal the spilled blood of the lifeless bodies?

         Overpowering hysteria was the last element he ever desired to contemplate right now. His whole body began to shake to the point where he had to closed his eyes to calm himself down. Then he had unexpectedly reached and tossed his gun out an open filthy platiglass window into the gloomy alley. The platiglass window was obviously left open to allow the cold air into the building. Following the silvery form down into a rusty dumpster with his eyes, it disappeared. The dumpsters were the latest improved version with the power to dispel trash or anything else thrown into it except for complex organic matter such as a body.

         "Freeze!" An experienced Paladin Police officer cried in a sharp deep authoritative voice, standing at the end of the corridor. He held a standard issue Inram Cam 65 mm.

         He froze to the coarse voice and gradually raised his pasty hands into the air. He hadn't notice the cold when he entered the building. Glimpsing over his right shoulder, a second Paladin Police officer was checking the empty and abandoned apartments.

         'Why are the drug dealers let go or not even arrested while the citizens of Verton are arrested on a regular basis?' He wondered inquisitively, watching the Paladin Police officers approach him cautiously.

         One officer patted him down roughly, beginning with his arms then working down to his feet. Finding nothing on him, the officer nodded negatively to his partner. He watched nervously.

         "What are you doing here?" The first officer demanded. It surely sounded like a challenge carrying a hint of a threat as the Paladin officer cautiously stepped around him. "Hey, aren't you the one who called us about the drug dealers? So? Where are they?" He demanded peevishly, laughing aloud and glimpsing around for the drug dealers. Meanwhile, the other officer acted as if he were searching attentively for them.

         "Take it easy, chummer. They just left after I called, so I came here to look around until you showed up. I do apologize for your inconveniences." He answered regretfully. He used his best apologetic glaze, working it carefully from one officer to the other.

         "Yeah right. And I'm a RC billionaire." The second officer mumbled a sarcastic wise crack under his breath. Both officers chuckled mercilessly.

         He did not think that crack was humorous and frowned profoundly at them.

         "All right, you can go, but I don't want to see you around here again, Hacar vosu-ka, chummer?" The first police officer said seriously once he stopped his guttural chuckling, glazing at his partner, then tried to hold back his laughter the best he could.

         He bowed tenuously with some understanding. Even though they won't travel into the subordinate levels anyway, he wouldn't have a predicament. He made his way down the graffiti corridor toward the stairwell. Why would the drug dealers conceal the perished bodies and the splattered blood from the Paladin Police? Not unless they were either planning something or protecting themselves. He figured his first speculation was the correct one.

         On the way out of the abandoned apartment building, his thoughts turned to his wife. He knew he needed a very good explanation for his tardiness, frowning again. The two Paladin Police officers followed closely behind him all the way to the terrace then turned toward other officers. The two new officers were incessantly chatting and waiting at their mobis.


         Monroe stood next to the doorway of the bedroom of the abandoned apartment building next to an oak cabinet with broken platiglass and pieces of dishes, waiting for his brother. There were pieces of polished oak, once forming a family dining table, scattered chaotically across the dining room floor. The apartment walls were bare except for an occasional hole. The teal carpet was in patches barely covering the synthetic concrete floor. He elegantly wore a new stylish gray polyester suit, silk shirt, red striped tie, and an expensive pair of Syrian shoes. His business was successful so far this year. The large oak door suddenly opened. His brother stepped into the dining room, wearing a tan polyester suit similar to his own. The gray scaly skin did not match or set tone with the suit.

         His brother had caught the wild retro-pathogens, causing him go into the painful metamorphosis, that he survived when he was eighteen years old. Now, they are the most dominant, formidable, malignant drug overlords in the city. Even a small portion of the valorous Paladin Police force was nervous of them. His brother uncomfortably smiled with those long sharp teeth.

         He wheeled subtly to his brother and inquired. "How is biz on the west side, Jax?"

         "You know. It's getting better. Now, that the retro-pathogens are slowing down." His brother muttered hoarsely back through the monstrous razor-sharp teeth, forcing an uncomfortable brotherly false smile. "Why did you call me here, brother?"

         "I just wanted to see if you were doing okay with your condition and to get out of business for the day, that's all." He exhibited a small perfidious smile, lying, almost turning to his samurai bodyguard.

         The samurai bodyguard had two large canine teeth on both sides of his mouth and wore a camouflage flight jacket and matching pants. He was an ork, who also went through the retro-pathogen metamorphosis, and carried a Heckock 21G semiautomatic gun that sat on his lap.

         "You are lying, brother. What is it you are planning? I know what you are going to say, but I want the truth. Now, what is it?" Distinguishing Monroe's lies, his brother sat into an old Syrian oak chair and demanded.

         "Okay, okay, you twisted my arm. You always could read through me like a glass ever since we were young boys. I have been thinking about going through the metamorphosis of the retro-pathogens." He answered, turning to his brother, and sympathetically explained his reason for the meeting between them.

         "You are going to do what?! You can't do that! You might die from the process! You will do no such thing! It's bad enough that I went through it." A milky egg-shape cocoon like shell and the feeling of pain flashed through his mind. He remembered the transformation into an ugly monster. "We can't afford you go through it, besides, you would probably need some medical treatment if you did which you won't. You going to have it injected into you, aren't you?" His brother cried, standing up and knocking the Syrian oak chair down on the linoleum floor.

         "As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I will have a medical staff with a cleric standing by watching me every hour, every day." Rotating his shoulders, he exclaimed back at his brother. "Who knows, I might be a gargoyle like yourself."

         "I said no!" His brother bellowed angrily, wheeling away from him.

         "That's your final answer, then, even if I have developed a new retro-pathogen with painless metamorphosis process?" He questioned to the back of his brother's profuse skull.

         "What would our father say about this?" His brother inquired, forcing himself to hold back his anger and frustration. He peered back at him.

         "Our father is dead, Jax. Remember that. He is gone." He answered in such monotonous coolness that made him the pernicious drug overlord he is today.

         His voluminous eyes were as traumatized as anybody's could be, but his brother sensed them piercing ponderously into his soul. He had hoped that he concealed his trauma from him. Suddenly, there was an annoying electronic beep from the mobile telecom unit next to him on the small Drexian pine table.

         "Hey, boss, there's someone here who wants to buy some SD." A tranquil, but adamant voice of his elfin bodyguard ungraciously interrupted their conversion.

         Pushing a button on the telecom to answer, he questioned while watching his brother sit down into the old oak chair. "Is he a drug head?"

         "Yes, he's a drug head." An expedient answer came from his elfin bodyguard.

         Disengaging the connection of the telecom between them, he questioned his brother. "What do you think?"

         His brother sat there momentarily and thought about it then said, peering up at his brother. There was no shred of resistance remained in his voice. "I'll take it."

         "Are you sure, Jax? I can handle it." He thought about his brother's well being and health. He grated his left hand gently across the console of the telecom, wearily rolling his shoulders then said. "It's only a drug head. Besides, it's my turf. I don't want to sound selfish or anything, Jax, but if you really want to. It's up to you."

         "No," his brother shook his head. "That's okay. I'll handle it." He replied warmly bestowing his fallacious smile and stood up from the old Syrian oak chair, marching to the brown-washed oak door.

         He knew his brother was as remorseful about his response and regretted their father being deceased as much he did. "Let the poor drug head in. My brother will handle it from here." He instructed to the impassive elfin bodyguard in a poignant and vindictive tone of voice.

         Jax opened the Syrian oak door to the living room with confident march, closing it behind him. In the first minute, there was mellow silence from within the living room. Suddenly and abruptly numerous tiny blasts seemed to shake the entire abandoned apartment building.

         He was in a dilemma, part of him wanted to charged in after and rescue his brother while the other part wanted to dive behind something and hide. The ork bodyguard, who sat restlessly on an extra chair in the corner, leapt up and to the door instantaneously with the 21G gun in hand. He anxiously listened to the exchange of gun fire and grunted to the smell of burning wood and plaster.

         "Get down!" The ork barked an ordered, standing closer to the door frame. Holding his enormous semiautomatic gun in huis left hand and against his hip, he grunted to the gun fire.

         "What's going on in there?!" He snapped indignantly at him and glowered at the brown-washed Syrian oak door. "Tell me now, damn it! How is my brother?! Is he wounded?! Answer me! Damn it!" He screamed constantly. Concern, uneasiness, and nervousness thundered in his voice. Tears formed and dribbled down the cheek.

         A smell of incinerated plaster and wood became more concentrated. The living room fell silent. The ork bodyguard ripped open the door to it and immediately discovered Jax unconscious on the floor. Splattered blood and pieces of small oak table and a Drexian lamp scattered chaotically everywhere. Shocked, someone gasped out aloud. He realized it he had gasped for air when he saw his brother's lifeless body on the floor.

         Feeling guilty for letting the drug head into the building unchecked, the ork bodyguard stepped uneasily into the living room. Feeling his boss staring at him with such fury, animosity, and indignation in his eyes, he shrieked away from the lifeless form of the elfin body.

         Motionless for a moment, he stared down at his brother's body. He turned to the ork bodyguard. "Quick, get my power focus and equipment, now!" He uttered, snapping out of his neurotic fixation on his brother's lifeless body.

         The ork dashed into the bathroom then came out, carrying a brown leather suitcase with a security maglock. He snatched the leather suitcase out of the ork's hand, placing it down onto the dining room table. It held his personal, ruby encryption, Id stick, a red power focus crystal, a yellow spell focus crystal, a blue spirit focus crystal, a totem, and a metal spell lock. He formed a white pentagon, expeditiously circling it, with white chalk on the dining table then sat in the center. He gently placed the power focus crystals and the totem at each corner of the pentagon. He chanted the ritual, rising his hands into the air in front of the totem. Weaving the pattern, the energy of the totem warmed him from the chilliness. It had invaded the living room. He had not noticed it before until now.

         Once he finished chanting, his brother's body along with the elfin bodyguard and the blood vanished. Because his emotions coursed vertiginously through him and got in the way, he was unsatisfied with the emancipation of the powerful spell. Forcing back the tears, he inserted his power foci and the totem back into the suitcase.

         Starting for the doorway, he commanded two bodyguards to follow. "Let's go before the Paladin Police show up."

         In his sleek black Verton-Titroe`n limousine, he stared out of the tinted window at the syn-brick buildings that sailed by, pondering what went wrong. With tears of grievance dribbling down his cheeks, an image of his brother's body flashed in his mind over and over until he slammed his fist against the console of the telecom.

         Twenty minutes later, he finally calmed down. "When I get to my office, I want all of my brother's files transferred to my computer. Then go back and get my brother's body as well as the elfin's body, too. The invisible spell should have faded by then. Once you finished with those tasks, I want you to get a medical team ready for the procedure then get two vitals of retro pathogens of transformation, Hacar vosu-ka?" He ordered, wheeling back to the passenger rear tinted window.

         The ork bodyguard raised an eyebrow quizzically with a trivial smirk and questioned. "What are you going to plan, boss?"

         "You want to know?" He questioned, removing his attention from the blaring scenery of stone blocks, and blinked to the ork's question. The ork bodyguard nodded with curiosity. "Well, first, I want revenge on that sewer scum drug head, who shot my brother, and his family. Then, I might go through the metamorphosis." He answered, glancing back at the ork bodyguard. Even thought he was going against his brother's wishes, ultimately it was his decision to go through the metamorphosis.

         "Then, you probably want to know who that drug head was." The ork remarked, wincing involuntarily when Monroe wheeled to him.

         "You know who it was?" His eyes widen at the ork. Petulance swelled within him again. "Then, tell me."

         "Yes, I do." The ork responded vaguely.

         "Then spurt it out all ready." He voiced venomously, ascending half way out of the crumpling black Iasian leather seat.

         The ork spasmodically shrank away from him. "His name is Mallory and he works at the Energia factory on the other side. He has a family of two daughters; Adella and Delilah, a son, Matherion, and a spouse named Dorrv." In guttural voice, he responded.

         "Mallory, eh?" He pondered about the name and gradually sat back down into the pool of black Iasian leather. After a moment, he inquired to the amazed Ork. "Do you know where he lives as well?"

         The ork sighed. Relieved that he went unpunished, nodding.

         He smirked, chuckling amusingly, and straightened his polyester suit. The two bodyguards precipitately fell silent, staring at the beguiled smirk that developed across his face. According to family honor code, rev'noh'i`kar, he had to vindicate the vengeance of his brother Jax, Jacksmord, through Syrian blood.

         "Can I rape his daughter? Delilah, the pretty one, boss?" The ork questioned suddenly, shrinking back into the far corner, the opposite end, of the black Iasian leather seat next to the tinted window.

         "Uh? What?" He frowned when he was interrupted from his thoughts on the rev'noh'i`kar ritual. "His daughter, Dililah, oh, yes. She is a pretty one, is she?" He understood that the ork bodyguard had an honor code as well, to straighten out his error. That had caused his brother's and his comrade's unfortunate death. He nodded approvingly, comprehending perfectly well what had occurred to the ork.

         All though he was narcissistic and gleeful right now, the desire for the troublesome insect to be removed from the neighboring metroplex. Now, he has an immediate method, even though, his intent is to use his brother's death as a justification. Sometimes, he can be a merciless and heartless person just to produce more multitudinous revenue on SPIRIT and Seraph Dust.

         The rev'noh'i`kar ritual is performed in mourning of a family member's death, such as his brother. The death must be caused by someone other than his relatives. If a relative kills another family member, they become exiled in a ritual known as Hoth'ex'ili'm. Some families are more interconnected than his. The Hoth'ex'ili'm rituals are as uncommon as a RC billionaire or even snow in summertime, but performed. He nearly became exiled through the Hoth'ex'ili'm ritual once until the real murderer confessed he iced the old man. It was over fifteen years ago after the new era arrived in the nation once called Featherwood.

         The rev'noh'i`kar should be performed immediately, before raiding the house of Mallory, in the temple where he kept his foci and totems. He was supposed to do the ritual alone. This time the ork would be involved because he wanted revenge for his fallen comrade as well.