In one swift move, Zarfa rolled toward the can of paint, hoping and wishing that it wouldn
’
t be empty. As he came out of his roll, he snatched the can in his hand and felt a wind above his head. Any lower and he would have caught another strong, swift blow, one that might have done him in.
His throat had stopped convulsing and he could breathe again. He was still in a crouched position from the rolling maneuver he had
quickly
completed. He hoped his ears would help him in this wicked battle, but they were still failing. His eyes were fine, but he could hear nothing but a loud screech drowning out all noise.
A
s he felt the blow glance over his head, missing him, he performed a back flip. The best he could tell, his opponent
’
s blow had come from in front of him. How could he be moving so quickly? He was sure he had broken his leg with his counter.
Standing, he sprayed the paint from the can in a wide angle in front of him. The yellow paint misted the air and he could see an outline of a person, much smaller than he had remembered. This outline stood at merely five-foot, five inches. It was directly ahead of him.
Without hesitation, Zarfa launched forward a blow with his left hand, hitting approximately where he assumed this enemy
’
s eye would be. It landed. There was a scream followed by blood squirting on his hand. Zarfa pulled back from his attack and took a defensive stance.
How many are here?
Before
,
his ears failed him; he hadn
’
t heard the big one move because he hadn
’
t. He was being tag teamed by these specters of death. He still didn
’
t know why. He had only been in the city a few weeks, surely not long enough to make enemies.
The little one was no longer invisible to him. Between the yellow paint and the blood trickling from his face, he could make out the small one. The time for questions and games was over. It was time to end this.
Zarfa sprayed around himself again. This time, he pivoted on his heel and in one swift motion, had sprayed a cloud of detection three hundred and sixty degrees around his body. This move had revealed that the large one was sneaking up behind him, no doubt to try to hold him or perform another sucker punch.
“
I
’
ll start with you,
”
Zarfa said aloud.
Zarfa heaved the can at the small enemy
’
s head while simultaneously throwing a powerful haymaker and leaping toward this cloaked figure. They both connected. First the can hit and echoed a loud pinging noise. Second, his haymaker landed square in the ear of th
e
little one, surely blowing out his ear drum.
This enemy that had been besting him hit the ground so hard he took an additional blow to the head when it connected to the pavement. Without letup, like a furious tempest, Zarfa threw a low kick where he expected the little enemy
’
s neck to be.
It was there; he felt it connect with all of his fury and force. This vindictive blow proved fatal. He couldn
’
t hear it, but he felt as his shin connected with the neck of his foe. He felt as cervical vertebrae separated and shatter
ed
from one another and the enemy went limp on his leg.
Quickly, he switched stances and turned to see the behemoth. He knew the jig was up when he had been sprayed with paint. By now, he
’
d dropped his cloak and Zarfa could see him clear as day. No more games, no more tricks.
“
Who are you?
”
screamed Zarfa, spit coming from his mouth.
The ringing was beginning to fade.
These damn bots are more trouble than I thought,
he said inside. He may not be able to hear clearly yet, but he planned to extract answers one way or another.
“
I am Faraza,
”
the giant said, pulling out a pistol and aiming it at Zarfa.
“
And on that note, you are dead.
”
He squeezed the trigger and fired three shots.
Zarfa ducked the moment he saw the gauss pistol drawn. The projectiles missed and he could hear them clear as day make contact with the alleyway behind him. His hearing was back; he was happy about that turn in luck. Now
all
he had to
do was
avoid being shot.
He was in a crouched position like a sprinter ready to come off the line. The first barrage of bullets he had been quick enough to avoid; he only hoped to be as lucky with the next. In a split second, the man
had
changed his aim and was firing upon him again. Bullets were fast, but Zarfa could see their paths; his eyes were quicker.
He took off from his crouch and was closing the
ten-foot
gap quickly toward this beast.
Faraza—what are they doing here? How did they know where to find me?
Rage welled deep inside of him as he remembered, once again, the day Sarah had been snatched from his life.
In the two seconds it took to close the gap, he relived the battle in his mind. It then trailed to the woman who had asked him directions only an hour ago. Seven more shots had been fired in haste. One went under his armpit and glanced his ribs, fracturing two of them on the right and causing blood to spit from his wound.
He tried to dodge them all; he was fortunate that this was a mere flesh wound
barely deeper than the surface, not fatal by any means. He grabbed the Faraza agent by the wrist that was holding the pistol. With his right arm, he pulled the man
’
s arm down and forward. With his left, he sunk his elbow into the wrist of the assassin.
Like a tree branch under the foot of a large man, he heard it snap. The bone protruded from the skin and blood flowed forth. He dropped the pistol and it hit the ground; it was on a hair trigger. The impact caused it to bounce backward with the barrel facing his enemy. It fired again. The bullet missed Zarfa and st
r
uck the calf of the assassin
’
s unbroken leg.
His enemy and would-be killer fell to his knees. Switching his grip to the man
’
s left arm, he pulled it forward and kicked his shoulder, dislocating it. This man on his knees was still at about abdomen height compared to Zarfa. Zarfa jumped into the air with great agility and planted both of his feet on the Faraza, launching off from his chest in another great back flip.
Zarfa landed on his feet as the Faraza sprawled on his back, nearly dead but still conscious.
“
Faraza? I thought I left you all back in Ilyeion!
”
exclaimed Zarfa
.
His rage was wearing off, but he wasn
’
t going to make this easy. He needed answers. He demanded answers.
“
I
’
ll bet you did. Looks like you really got the best of us
.
What is the body count now? Into the hundreds, I imagine. You left quite the wake of destruction before your exodus.
”
“
What
’
s it to you? You
’
re all evil. You nearly killed me, kidnapped my sister, and pursued me with a vengeance for killing one of your men in a raid. You expect me to show you mercy or concern? I want answers and I will torture you if I have to
in order to
get them!
”
The Faraza was laughing maliciously.
“
I know you will, boy. Are you stupid? Do you know why we pursue you? If you did, perhaps you would have allowed us to capture you today… Then again…
m
aybe not.
”
“
Enlighten me; why do you keep chasing?
”
“
Sarah.
”
The world grew black. It made sense that he would know, but what was she to them? To them, she should be just another captive. To them, she should be another one of their mindless minions. She had her name intact?
“
What of her, swine? It didn
’
t seem like you were trying to capture me. It seemed as if you were trying to murder me.
”
“
That first hit was intended to knock you out. Sarah wants to see you. That
’
s why you
’
re here, right? So you can find a way in? We would have let you in, idiot.
”
“
What do you mean she wants to see me? Stop being cryptic and be straight with me, lest I start removing precious appendages.
”
“
I
’
m not trying to be cryptic,
”
he let out, writhing. The adrenaline had worn off and his body was wracked with pain.
“
So what then? You expect me to believe that my sister, one of your drones, wants to see me?
”
“
Drone? Ha! Far from it. Are you daft, boy? A talent like that would be a shame to erase and turn into a drone. She holds an esteemed position. I assure you.
”
His tone was smug; he knew more than Zarfa and he knew it irked him. He enjoyed taunting him. He was already in agony. He already knew he was going to meet his demise; he had accepted it. He was drawing his last breaths. The last bit of joy he would derive would be in taunting Zarfa.
Zarfa couldn
’
t help but feel sick. His composure was calm. He had won the battle; there was nothing left to do but extract information. However, with each sentence, he heard his heartbeat grow rapid and more tense. He hadn
’
t seen his sister since she had been taken three years ago.
To think, is she still alive? Intact?
Couldn
’
t be. This was some sick game. Everyone who had ever been seen alive after the Faraza had kidnapped them was always a twisted drone that had no resemblance of their former self.
“
Shut up about my sister. I know she isn
’
t dead. I know she is with the Faraza, but she is nothing more than a minion
, one
of the drones now. Last I saw her, her eyes were dead, lifeless. She was
nothing but
a shell. She isn
’
t asking for me by name, giving commands anywhere. You
’
re just angry I
’
ve been killing you off left and right.
”
“
I can
’
t help it if you choose to believe that. Don
’
t worry, you will see for yourself.
”
“
Damn right I will. As soon as my business is done here, I
’
m returning home and I will kill every last one of you if that is what it takes.
”
The Faraza assassin was laughing as blood trickled down from his every injury. The pain he was in must have been unbearable. Zarfa stood there sizing him up as he held his side that had been grazed. Blood flowed from between his fingers and his body ached from the shattered ribs.
Zarfa knelt down and picked up the gauss pistol that had been used against him. He looked in the magazine and there was one bullet left. Methodically, he loaded it back into the gun and aimed it at the Faraza.
“
Any last words?
”
he asked dryly.
“
Would you believe them?
”
“
Probably not.
”
The shot rang in Zarfa
’
s ears. The bullet went clean through this fiend
’
s head. He no longer laughed at the frustration he caused Zarfa. He no longer writhed in pain. He just lay dead, rapidly cooling on the sidewalk near the entrance to the alleyway.
Where are the police?
Zarfa asked in his mind.
He holstered the newly acquired gun into a pocket sewn into the inner seam of his pants. It wasn
’
t comfortable, but it would do and it was less visible than a side holster. He then took off the cloaking device he had seen his would-be killers use from off both their wrists. He had no idea how to use such a device, but he was sure it would come in handy if he had them.
After looking around for a few minutes, assessing the world around him, he realized that this type of battle wasn
’
t uncommon to these people. The moment the violence had ended, the cockroaches had made their way back to their assigned spots in the alley, not like Ilyeion at all.
The world in general was a harsh and cold place to live, but this was hell. There appeared to be no law; it was practically anarchy. He could have died in the streets this day. Justice would never be found for him and the human carrion birds that surrounded him would probably rustle his every pocket to make sure everything of value was stripped from his cold, dead corpse.