The Brothers Locke, page 16
“Oh, for Dea’s sake! Just let us show you the video,” Kale shouted.
Kale and Jocelyn opened up their portable computer and played the video for Ikon. Discretion wasn’t a concern at this point. Ikon was not very curious about the video at first because his aim was not to prove anything but simply to keep these kids from causing any more disruptions. Despite this, once he saw what was on the footage, he immediately changed his attitude.
Dana could clearly be seen in the video confronting No One and Mongrel. Bando came into the frame just after she did, and there was a brief standoff. The teens, who had already played the video back a dozen times and were still shocked by it, watched Ikon’s reaction as he witnessed Bando suddenly strike Dana on the back of the head, knocking her out. Her limp body slumped to the floor, and Mongrel collected her in its massive arms. No One and Bando could be seen exchanging words for a moment, and then No One passed Bando an object that no one could quite make out from the camera angle. The slimy boy left, and then Bando hurled himself against the wall and crumpled as if he was hit. Pretending to be injured, he waited for the rest of the team to find him.
“That’s unsettling,” Ikon commented after the video finished.
“That’s one word for it,” Echo said.
“So, you see why we have to speak to the Councilman. Bulk is in trouble.”
“Well now, I see that this is a matter that ...”
Ikon was unable to finish his sentence as the elevator doors opened behind them. Three members of the High Council emerged and were quickly briefed on the turmoil caused by the teens. From the looks on their faces, their patience with the teens had come to an end. With a few hand gestures, they gave orders to the guards near them, who all began a methodical walk towards Ikon and the teens.
“I don’t think they’re coming to escort us upstairs,” Kale said.
“You had better get out of here,” Ikon instructed them.
“Someone has to tell the High Council what’s going on,” said Mouth.
“I’ll handle that. Don’t worry. Just get going.” Ikon began to head towards the incoming security guards but stopped himself in place, nearly forgetting his manners, and quickly turned back to Mouth to shake his hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you young people. I wish you all the best.”
The gesture was sincere to an extent, but it was also clear that Ikon had reached his limit with the chaos that the entire Solas group had caused him in the last twenty-four hours. The teens ran off but not without Mouth having one last thing to say as they left.
“You don’t mean that,” he shouted back to Ikon.
“Yes, I do. Honestly, I do.”
Echo shouted back, “No, you don’t.”
Ikon watched as the five of them fled and a gang of security guards blew past him in pursuit. The whole ordeal was far from what he ever expected to have to deal with when he was assigned this task. He did, however, have one last task to complete, and with any luck, it would be the end of all of this for him. Taking a moment to think about what had just happened, he put his index finger to his chin and grinned slightly.
“Actually, they’re right. I don’t mean it.”
***
The mountains were now eclipsing the view from the military vehicle, their rough blue-gray slopes capped with splashes of white powder stretched wide and high. Their peaks pointed like arrowheads towards a white sky as if hoping to poke a hole into the swirling ivory. From the clouds came the first indications of snowfall — nothing substantial — in the form of lazily falling flakes of ice and snow.
This far north there were few buildings around. Most that were along the deteriorating road were abandoned but still functional for either shelter or fuel repositories. Use at your own risk was the idea, as neither shelter nor fuel here was maintained on any sort of schedule.
“Whatever we find there is going to change everything you know,” Bando said to Bulk. “We’re taking a myth and proving that it is a fact.”
“It was never really a myth,” Bulk replied. “When I was a boy, there was a Child of the Spire that started the last Great War.”
“That’s right, it was just before my time, but you actually remember it?”
“Bits and pieces. They say most of the wars between the East and West are sparked by the arrival of these Children. It’s against the law nearly everywhere to bring one into the Dea, but somehow, someway, folks keep doing it. It’s like we don’t learn or don’t want to learn, you know? It’s been quiet, though, for nearly forty years. That’s probably why Dana wanted to keep herself hidden and stayed on the fringes.”
“Power and belief can be a dangerous combination,” said Bando.
“It can even make people betray their friends.”
There was something in how Bulk Brown turned the phrase “betray their friends” that piqued Bando’s interest. Did he know?
“Well, Dana can’t be blamed. That cult may have gotten into her head,” Bando said, now moving away from Bulk but clutching the handgun tightly as he turned towards the front of the vehicle.
The truck rolled over a bump in the road that nearly shook Bando off his feet. He braced himself before falling over.
“Yeah, it can get in anyone’s head, I’d imagine,” Bulk continued. “How’s that side of yours by the way.”
Bando turned to his friend and went to place his hand on the fake wound he had been selling for nearly a day now. He touched his right side and gave the slightest of squints so as not to overplay his hand. Bulk immediately smirked, grabbed a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it.
“You do know that back at The Paramount it was your left side you were holding, right?” Bulk laughed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Bando looked down at his stomach, thought back to The Paramount’s lobby, and then exhaled deeply as he realized Bulk was right. The game was over, but now the question was how long had he known.
“So now what?” he said.
“I don’t need any grand exposition on what your plan is. I think I’ve figured that much out. The one thing I do want to know is was it for money or something else?”
“What do you mean?”
Bulk took another puff of the cigar, crossed his arms, and leaned towards Bando from his seat. He truly did want information. Bando was for hire much like himself. They had known each other for decades. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to get a better deal that would result in mercenaries being on opposite sides, despite their friendship. But Bulk sensed during this entire ride up north that there was more to it than financial compensation.
“You went on and on about that cult. It started to sound like you bought into what they were telling you. Am I right?”
Bando’s face went through a series of expressions — fear, anger, remembrance, frustration — until settling on placid. He lifted his chin high. With pride in his decision he offered an answer to Bulk.
“I think you know the answer. I didn’t want to have to do this now,” Bando’s hand tightened on the handgun, “but at least this way you will know the truth before I kill you.”
“You weren’t even going to tell me? Tisk tisk, Bando! After all we’ve been through?”
Bulk was being extremely cavalier about this whole thing, almost arrogant. Perhaps he thought the five other security mercs in the front of the van would be his saving grace. No matter, Bando knew it was time to take his shot.
“Sorry about this,” he said pulling the trigger.
The muzzle flashed, his aim was straight, and Bando watched the expression on Bulk’s face. It went from a sly smirk to outright laughter.
Nothing happened.
“Blanks, my man, blanks. You thought I’d give you a loaded gun?”
Bando nodded and smiled himself. He went back through the entire sequence of helping Bulk load the weapons and the conversation that happened during it all. Clearly, Bulk knew that Bando was a traitor long before they even got into the truck.
With supreme confidence, Bulk picked up his firearm of choice, the shotgun, and slowly aimed it at Bando. He clamped his cigar between his teeth and nodded once to his fellow merc.
“How’d you say it? ‘Sorry about this’?”
“What in the Dea are you two doing back here?” shouted one of the Pharracrop mercs as he stuck his head into the back of the van.
Bando had to move quickly. The distraction was enough for him to grab the young man’s firearm with his left hand while pulling him as a shield with the right. Bulk fired, but the human shield had done its job. The boy screamed in pain, which called the other officers to the back of the vehicle.
Before Bulk could take another shot, Bando had flung the dead corpse at him. He toppled to the back of the truck, hitting the doors so hard they nearly opened. As he pushed the dead soldier off of him, he could see Bando easily dispatching the three others.
“Why does it always have to be so difficult?” Bulk muttered to himself as he fumbled first for his cigar, then the shotgun.
He stood again, but it was too late. Bando had started firing. The first two bullets hit the metal door behind him. Seeing no other option, Bulk flung his girth backward. The rear doors of the truck opened, and he toppled out of the moving vehicle onto the snow-covered road.
Bando went to take another shot, but the truck hit another bump. He fell backward and then tripped over two of the fresh corpses he had created. With a roar, he stormed to the front of the truck where the driver was desperately trying to throw him off balance by swerving from left to right. One bullet to the back of the head ended his insurrection. The massive vehicle screeched to a halt, kicking up a plume of dirt and snow into the air.
“Where is he?” growled Bando as he made sure the truck was secured before looking for Bulk.
He couldn’t have gone far with that bad leg. No matter how many drugs he took, it just numbed the pain but didn’t heal the wound. With his size and dark skin, it would be easy to spot him out here in the developing snowstorm.
Nothing to the right. Nothing to the left. Bando walked a few paces in the snow, following the vehicle’s tracks. They soon disappeared as the increasingly falling snow covered up any trace of the vehicle or Bulk Brown. Even worse, this meant Bando had little time to get to his intended destination. Even with the military vehicle, he didn’t want to try and navigate through this snowstorm for much longer.
Ultimately, he decided to leave Bulk’s fate to the elements. With no food, no medicine, and no one coming way out here to find him, the leader of Solas would soon freeze to death. With that rationale, Bando turned back to the van, dumped the bodies of the five dead soldiers into the nearest abandoned shelter, and drove the vehicle onwards into the icy foothills beyond.
The Brothers Locke
Episode 7: Cacoethes
No modern maps of the mountain ranges that dominated the north central part of the Dea existed, so getting lost was fairly easy to do. Bando did his best to navigate the oversized armored military vehicle through the desolate wasteland of snow and ice.
Far ahead, he saw an encampment which was his destination: a series of black tents set just at the base of the mountain. Several vehicles were already parked around the area, but only two guards stood outside. It was sheltered by a rocky outcropping that hung overhead, providing enough shelter so the tents would not be buried under the accumulation.
“I’m glad you could join us,” Sim Sam greeted Bando as he entered the main tent. “We were worried that with the storm you might not.”
“Just a few snags on the way. Nothing major,” Bando answered as he wiped away the layer of snow that had built up on his face.
“Well, come sit near the warmers and get ready. We’ll get down to business and be done with this as soon as we can. The weather is about to break.”
Break? Bando had just come in from what looked like a storm but apparently, Sim Sam knew otherwise. He dismissed the claim, grabbed a hot beverage from one of the nearby tables, and sat himself down next to a warmer.
The tent was large but far from empty. On one side of the room was a group of men in uniforms, not from Pharracrop. From the symbols and patches they wore, it seemed they were from Avidity. It made sense; Sim Sam would not come out this far in the East without security. The other group was made of winged creatures who stood like statues, watching him. He knew them from before. These were Von Strauss’ monstrous soldiers — Bascelics, they were called — a cross between man and wild bat. Their master was casually sitting at his own table, his tall black boots propped up on a chair while he puffed away on a pipe.
“Everyone’s here, I assume?” Bando asked Sim Sam.
“I see you are eager to get this business concluded,” Von Strauss answered, his German accent thick. “I must say that I was surprised when Sim Sam said you were a sleeper operative. Not working for us, of course, but also not working for him. So who do you represent?”
“It’s a long story, but just know that we can all benefit from this even though our goals are different.”
Sim Sam scoffed, “My goal is the same. I have no interest in going up to that mountain or whatever it is they call The Spire. Purely financial here, son, purely financial.”
“I still don’t understand why he’s involved,” Von Strauss expressed once again. “A spy makes me uneasy. Who is to say he’s not working against us as well?”
“He’s not.” Sim Sam wasn’t concerned about Von Strauss’ posturing and continued to tinker away at some small device he had laid out in pieces on his table.
“The boy was touched, shall we say, by powers more divine than either of us. They say when a man is touched by divinity, only a fool would question it or his loyalty to it. That’s a mistake his prior companions made. I saw an opportunity.”
Von Strauss smirked at Sim Sam’s explanation, not fully believing the fat man’s words, but parts of it made sense. Bando had been a hired hitman for most of his life and had never shown any allegiance to any state, group, or power. For anything to sway him to betray his long-time partner Bulk Brown, it must have been paramount.
Being a merchant in information, Sim Sam clearly knew what had motivated Bando. The man had worked undercover in Icagoro for a fanatical group that studied The Spire, the Children of the Spire, and several prophecies about the ancient location. Clearly, something had sparked a desire in him that went beyond money. Sim Sam had known about Bando’s change of heart long before Pharracrop had hired him, Bulk Brown, and the group Solas. All that was left was to put the pieces in place so that when all the items were collected and the hard work was done, he could swoop in and reap the benefits.
“So, you have betrayed your friends for this, yes?” Von Strauss turned his attention back to Bando. “A man with such size and power and cunning … Shallowhale perhaps could be an option for you?”
Bando’s face said otherwise. His disdain for Von Strauss couldn’t be contained, and he stood up from his seat, glowering over the smaller man. The Bascelics immediately moved to back up their master, their sharpened teeth and leathery wings flowering in protest. The giant wasn’t intimidated.
Von Strauss ordered his protectors to back down with a slight hand gesture. He smiled at Bando, now impressed by his fearlessness as well as his ruthlessness.
“Very well, we work for mutual benefit for now,” he said.
“For now,” Bando ominously repeated.
“And what about you, Mr. Sam?” Von Strauss now directed his attention to the tinkerer. “I must admit, while I have very little interest in the politics and money you and your master hold so dear, I am impressed by how you seem to have your hands in everything.”
“Like I said, it’s all for profit,” Sim Sam answered, not bothering to look up at Von Strauss nor take his attention away from the gadget he was working on.
“Well, nothing would have happened if you hadn’t made it so those boys could steal the Key of the Spire in the first place. But I do wonder, what would happen if your master were ever to find out?”
“My boss,” Sim Sam corrected him. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. The Miscellany has my loyalty as an employer, but that man’s attention is so divided that this was a passing annoyance to him. The Key was a trinket he thought had outlasted its usefulness. He searched for a long time to find out what it was worth, but at this point, he couldn’t really care, to be honest.”
“Seems foolish.”
“Not foolish. Just not important to him. Believe me; The Miscellany is anything but foolish. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew about this whole deal anyway. The man is an information broker after all and has electronic eyes and ears everywhere. If he really wanted to put a stop to this, he would have.”
“So this was all a big show? What you’re saying is that The Miscellany let the Key of the Spire be stolen from him? Even more, he lets you do whatever you want?”
“Not necessarily. But like I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. He’s not like your master,” Sim Sam made sure to emphasize that word, as it more accurately described Von Strauss’ employment status than his.
“Shallowhale is more traditional, shall we say. I have no objections to serving my master. I have no problems with the word master. If you ever met him—”
“I have no desire to, truly.”
“Yes, but if you did, you would understand why. My master is quite powerful. He will see Shallowhale return to what it was and rise to what it was meant to be.”
“Very well,” Sim Sam sounded as dismissive as he could to Von Strauss’ rantings.
While it was true that Shallowhale, the darker sister city of Avidity, had seen a resurgence in activity under a new master in recent years, the stories about demons and monsters of a more supernatural nature didn’t interest Sim Sam. Dr. Psi’s experiments did, however. They were more scientific, more biological, more practical than the spells and incantations that men like Von Strauss held stock in. It was a power that Sim Sam, much like his boss, The Miscellany, was well aware of and would keep his eyes on. The West could only be ruled by one city, and that was a battle that seemed inevitable in the future.
Kale and Jocelyn opened up their portable computer and played the video for Ikon. Discretion wasn’t a concern at this point. Ikon was not very curious about the video at first because his aim was not to prove anything but simply to keep these kids from causing any more disruptions. Despite this, once he saw what was on the footage, he immediately changed his attitude.
Dana could clearly be seen in the video confronting No One and Mongrel. Bando came into the frame just after she did, and there was a brief standoff. The teens, who had already played the video back a dozen times and were still shocked by it, watched Ikon’s reaction as he witnessed Bando suddenly strike Dana on the back of the head, knocking her out. Her limp body slumped to the floor, and Mongrel collected her in its massive arms. No One and Bando could be seen exchanging words for a moment, and then No One passed Bando an object that no one could quite make out from the camera angle. The slimy boy left, and then Bando hurled himself against the wall and crumpled as if he was hit. Pretending to be injured, he waited for the rest of the team to find him.
“That’s unsettling,” Ikon commented after the video finished.
“That’s one word for it,” Echo said.
“So, you see why we have to speak to the Councilman. Bulk is in trouble.”
“Well now, I see that this is a matter that ...”
Ikon was unable to finish his sentence as the elevator doors opened behind them. Three members of the High Council emerged and were quickly briefed on the turmoil caused by the teens. From the looks on their faces, their patience with the teens had come to an end. With a few hand gestures, they gave orders to the guards near them, who all began a methodical walk towards Ikon and the teens.
“I don’t think they’re coming to escort us upstairs,” Kale said.
“You had better get out of here,” Ikon instructed them.
“Someone has to tell the High Council what’s going on,” said Mouth.
“I’ll handle that. Don’t worry. Just get going.” Ikon began to head towards the incoming security guards but stopped himself in place, nearly forgetting his manners, and quickly turned back to Mouth to shake his hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you young people. I wish you all the best.”
The gesture was sincere to an extent, but it was also clear that Ikon had reached his limit with the chaos that the entire Solas group had caused him in the last twenty-four hours. The teens ran off but not without Mouth having one last thing to say as they left.
“You don’t mean that,” he shouted back to Ikon.
“Yes, I do. Honestly, I do.”
Echo shouted back, “No, you don’t.”
Ikon watched as the five of them fled and a gang of security guards blew past him in pursuit. The whole ordeal was far from what he ever expected to have to deal with when he was assigned this task. He did, however, have one last task to complete, and with any luck, it would be the end of all of this for him. Taking a moment to think about what had just happened, he put his index finger to his chin and grinned slightly.
“Actually, they’re right. I don’t mean it.”
***
The mountains were now eclipsing the view from the military vehicle, their rough blue-gray slopes capped with splashes of white powder stretched wide and high. Their peaks pointed like arrowheads towards a white sky as if hoping to poke a hole into the swirling ivory. From the clouds came the first indications of snowfall — nothing substantial — in the form of lazily falling flakes of ice and snow.
This far north there were few buildings around. Most that were along the deteriorating road were abandoned but still functional for either shelter or fuel repositories. Use at your own risk was the idea, as neither shelter nor fuel here was maintained on any sort of schedule.
“Whatever we find there is going to change everything you know,” Bando said to Bulk. “We’re taking a myth and proving that it is a fact.”
“It was never really a myth,” Bulk replied. “When I was a boy, there was a Child of the Spire that started the last Great War.”
“That’s right, it was just before my time, but you actually remember it?”
“Bits and pieces. They say most of the wars between the East and West are sparked by the arrival of these Children. It’s against the law nearly everywhere to bring one into the Dea, but somehow, someway, folks keep doing it. It’s like we don’t learn or don’t want to learn, you know? It’s been quiet, though, for nearly forty years. That’s probably why Dana wanted to keep herself hidden and stayed on the fringes.”
“Power and belief can be a dangerous combination,” said Bando.
“It can even make people betray their friends.”
There was something in how Bulk Brown turned the phrase “betray their friends” that piqued Bando’s interest. Did he know?
“Well, Dana can’t be blamed. That cult may have gotten into her head,” Bando said, now moving away from Bulk but clutching the handgun tightly as he turned towards the front of the vehicle.
The truck rolled over a bump in the road that nearly shook Bando off his feet. He braced himself before falling over.
“Yeah, it can get in anyone’s head, I’d imagine,” Bulk continued. “How’s that side of yours by the way.”
Bando turned to his friend and went to place his hand on the fake wound he had been selling for nearly a day now. He touched his right side and gave the slightest of squints so as not to overplay his hand. Bulk immediately smirked, grabbed a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it.
“You do know that back at The Paramount it was your left side you were holding, right?” Bulk laughed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Bando looked down at his stomach, thought back to The Paramount’s lobby, and then exhaled deeply as he realized Bulk was right. The game was over, but now the question was how long had he known.
“So now what?” he said.
“I don’t need any grand exposition on what your plan is. I think I’ve figured that much out. The one thing I do want to know is was it for money or something else?”
“What do you mean?”
Bulk took another puff of the cigar, crossed his arms, and leaned towards Bando from his seat. He truly did want information. Bando was for hire much like himself. They had known each other for decades. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to get a better deal that would result in mercenaries being on opposite sides, despite their friendship. But Bulk sensed during this entire ride up north that there was more to it than financial compensation.
“You went on and on about that cult. It started to sound like you bought into what they were telling you. Am I right?”
Bando’s face went through a series of expressions — fear, anger, remembrance, frustration — until settling on placid. He lifted his chin high. With pride in his decision he offered an answer to Bulk.
“I think you know the answer. I didn’t want to have to do this now,” Bando’s hand tightened on the handgun, “but at least this way you will know the truth before I kill you.”
“You weren’t even going to tell me? Tisk tisk, Bando! After all we’ve been through?”
Bulk was being extremely cavalier about this whole thing, almost arrogant. Perhaps he thought the five other security mercs in the front of the van would be his saving grace. No matter, Bando knew it was time to take his shot.
“Sorry about this,” he said pulling the trigger.
The muzzle flashed, his aim was straight, and Bando watched the expression on Bulk’s face. It went from a sly smirk to outright laughter.
Nothing happened.
“Blanks, my man, blanks. You thought I’d give you a loaded gun?”
Bando nodded and smiled himself. He went back through the entire sequence of helping Bulk load the weapons and the conversation that happened during it all. Clearly, Bulk knew that Bando was a traitor long before they even got into the truck.
With supreme confidence, Bulk picked up his firearm of choice, the shotgun, and slowly aimed it at Bando. He clamped his cigar between his teeth and nodded once to his fellow merc.
“How’d you say it? ‘Sorry about this’?”
“What in the Dea are you two doing back here?” shouted one of the Pharracrop mercs as he stuck his head into the back of the van.
Bando had to move quickly. The distraction was enough for him to grab the young man’s firearm with his left hand while pulling him as a shield with the right. Bulk fired, but the human shield had done its job. The boy screamed in pain, which called the other officers to the back of the vehicle.
Before Bulk could take another shot, Bando had flung the dead corpse at him. He toppled to the back of the truck, hitting the doors so hard they nearly opened. As he pushed the dead soldier off of him, he could see Bando easily dispatching the three others.
“Why does it always have to be so difficult?” Bulk muttered to himself as he fumbled first for his cigar, then the shotgun.
He stood again, but it was too late. Bando had started firing. The first two bullets hit the metal door behind him. Seeing no other option, Bulk flung his girth backward. The rear doors of the truck opened, and he toppled out of the moving vehicle onto the snow-covered road.
Bando went to take another shot, but the truck hit another bump. He fell backward and then tripped over two of the fresh corpses he had created. With a roar, he stormed to the front of the truck where the driver was desperately trying to throw him off balance by swerving from left to right. One bullet to the back of the head ended his insurrection. The massive vehicle screeched to a halt, kicking up a plume of dirt and snow into the air.
“Where is he?” growled Bando as he made sure the truck was secured before looking for Bulk.
He couldn’t have gone far with that bad leg. No matter how many drugs he took, it just numbed the pain but didn’t heal the wound. With his size and dark skin, it would be easy to spot him out here in the developing snowstorm.
Nothing to the right. Nothing to the left. Bando walked a few paces in the snow, following the vehicle’s tracks. They soon disappeared as the increasingly falling snow covered up any trace of the vehicle or Bulk Brown. Even worse, this meant Bando had little time to get to his intended destination. Even with the military vehicle, he didn’t want to try and navigate through this snowstorm for much longer.
Ultimately, he decided to leave Bulk’s fate to the elements. With no food, no medicine, and no one coming way out here to find him, the leader of Solas would soon freeze to death. With that rationale, Bando turned back to the van, dumped the bodies of the five dead soldiers into the nearest abandoned shelter, and drove the vehicle onwards into the icy foothills beyond.
The Brothers Locke
Episode 7: Cacoethes
No modern maps of the mountain ranges that dominated the north central part of the Dea existed, so getting lost was fairly easy to do. Bando did his best to navigate the oversized armored military vehicle through the desolate wasteland of snow and ice.
Far ahead, he saw an encampment which was his destination: a series of black tents set just at the base of the mountain. Several vehicles were already parked around the area, but only two guards stood outside. It was sheltered by a rocky outcropping that hung overhead, providing enough shelter so the tents would not be buried under the accumulation.
“I’m glad you could join us,” Sim Sam greeted Bando as he entered the main tent. “We were worried that with the storm you might not.”
“Just a few snags on the way. Nothing major,” Bando answered as he wiped away the layer of snow that had built up on his face.
“Well, come sit near the warmers and get ready. We’ll get down to business and be done with this as soon as we can. The weather is about to break.”
Break? Bando had just come in from what looked like a storm but apparently, Sim Sam knew otherwise. He dismissed the claim, grabbed a hot beverage from one of the nearby tables, and sat himself down next to a warmer.
The tent was large but far from empty. On one side of the room was a group of men in uniforms, not from Pharracrop. From the symbols and patches they wore, it seemed they were from Avidity. It made sense; Sim Sam would not come out this far in the East without security. The other group was made of winged creatures who stood like statues, watching him. He knew them from before. These were Von Strauss’ monstrous soldiers — Bascelics, they were called — a cross between man and wild bat. Their master was casually sitting at his own table, his tall black boots propped up on a chair while he puffed away on a pipe.
“Everyone’s here, I assume?” Bando asked Sim Sam.
“I see you are eager to get this business concluded,” Von Strauss answered, his German accent thick. “I must say that I was surprised when Sim Sam said you were a sleeper operative. Not working for us, of course, but also not working for him. So who do you represent?”
“It’s a long story, but just know that we can all benefit from this even though our goals are different.”
Sim Sam scoffed, “My goal is the same. I have no interest in going up to that mountain or whatever it is they call The Spire. Purely financial here, son, purely financial.”
“I still don’t understand why he’s involved,” Von Strauss expressed once again. “A spy makes me uneasy. Who is to say he’s not working against us as well?”
“He’s not.” Sim Sam wasn’t concerned about Von Strauss’ posturing and continued to tinker away at some small device he had laid out in pieces on his table.
“The boy was touched, shall we say, by powers more divine than either of us. They say when a man is touched by divinity, only a fool would question it or his loyalty to it. That’s a mistake his prior companions made. I saw an opportunity.”
Von Strauss smirked at Sim Sam’s explanation, not fully believing the fat man’s words, but parts of it made sense. Bando had been a hired hitman for most of his life and had never shown any allegiance to any state, group, or power. For anything to sway him to betray his long-time partner Bulk Brown, it must have been paramount.
Being a merchant in information, Sim Sam clearly knew what had motivated Bando. The man had worked undercover in Icagoro for a fanatical group that studied The Spire, the Children of the Spire, and several prophecies about the ancient location. Clearly, something had sparked a desire in him that went beyond money. Sim Sam had known about Bando’s change of heart long before Pharracrop had hired him, Bulk Brown, and the group Solas. All that was left was to put the pieces in place so that when all the items were collected and the hard work was done, he could swoop in and reap the benefits.
“So, you have betrayed your friends for this, yes?” Von Strauss turned his attention back to Bando. “A man with such size and power and cunning … Shallowhale perhaps could be an option for you?”
Bando’s face said otherwise. His disdain for Von Strauss couldn’t be contained, and he stood up from his seat, glowering over the smaller man. The Bascelics immediately moved to back up their master, their sharpened teeth and leathery wings flowering in protest. The giant wasn’t intimidated.
Von Strauss ordered his protectors to back down with a slight hand gesture. He smiled at Bando, now impressed by his fearlessness as well as his ruthlessness.
“Very well, we work for mutual benefit for now,” he said.
“For now,” Bando ominously repeated.
“And what about you, Mr. Sam?” Von Strauss now directed his attention to the tinkerer. “I must admit, while I have very little interest in the politics and money you and your master hold so dear, I am impressed by how you seem to have your hands in everything.”
“Like I said, it’s all for profit,” Sim Sam answered, not bothering to look up at Von Strauss nor take his attention away from the gadget he was working on.
“Well, nothing would have happened if you hadn’t made it so those boys could steal the Key of the Spire in the first place. But I do wonder, what would happen if your master were ever to find out?”
“My boss,” Sim Sam corrected him. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. The Miscellany has my loyalty as an employer, but that man’s attention is so divided that this was a passing annoyance to him. The Key was a trinket he thought had outlasted its usefulness. He searched for a long time to find out what it was worth, but at this point, he couldn’t really care, to be honest.”
“Seems foolish.”
“Not foolish. Just not important to him. Believe me; The Miscellany is anything but foolish. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew about this whole deal anyway. The man is an information broker after all and has electronic eyes and ears everywhere. If he really wanted to put a stop to this, he would have.”
“So this was all a big show? What you’re saying is that The Miscellany let the Key of the Spire be stolen from him? Even more, he lets you do whatever you want?”
“Not necessarily. But like I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. He’s not like your master,” Sim Sam made sure to emphasize that word, as it more accurately described Von Strauss’ employment status than his.
“Shallowhale is more traditional, shall we say. I have no objections to serving my master. I have no problems with the word master. If you ever met him—”
“I have no desire to, truly.”
“Yes, but if you did, you would understand why. My master is quite powerful. He will see Shallowhale return to what it was and rise to what it was meant to be.”
“Very well,” Sim Sam sounded as dismissive as he could to Von Strauss’ rantings.
While it was true that Shallowhale, the darker sister city of Avidity, had seen a resurgence in activity under a new master in recent years, the stories about demons and monsters of a more supernatural nature didn’t interest Sim Sam. Dr. Psi’s experiments did, however. They were more scientific, more biological, more practical than the spells and incantations that men like Von Strauss held stock in. It was a power that Sim Sam, much like his boss, The Miscellany, was well aware of and would keep his eyes on. The West could only be ruled by one city, and that was a battle that seemed inevitable in the future.
