With a rough
chuckle, Grando slowly turned and strode before the bound man on
the chair. “But trust me, they’ll have nothing to fear … when
compared to you, Racowl.” He bent before the chair, bringing his
face mere inches to Racowl’s mutilated one. “For your sake, I hope
you’ve fully understood the true graveness of your position right
now.”
Racowl’s pupils
were wide with terror, as they watched Grando with a reeling
intensity.
“Tell me right
now exactly how much information about us you’ve leaked to the
secret forces,” Grando paused and swallowed a quick breath. “And I
may just let you live without a limb or two.”
Drawing himself
up straight, he turned to face the door to see if the Rash-con he
had sent had returned, before turning back to face Racowl.
“The secret
forces haven’t done a great job this time.” he said. “They put a
spy in a lethal terrorist group. A very bad spy … who had gotten
himself caught a little too easily.”
The six men
laughed harshly.
“And now,”
Grando bent down before the bound man again, his voice sinking to a
dangerous hiss. “that spy is sitting in the interrogation room,
badly tortured … and not far from his death.” He waited for the
terror to effect in Racowl’s bulging eyes before adding softly,
“But if you’d still like to defend your friends in the secret
forces, who have not a care as to what’s happening with you now, be
my guest.”
He reached for
the gag stuffed into Racowl’s mouth and plucked it out. Racowl gave
a rugged cough, and then burst out, “I swear, I didn’t tell them
anything! I told them nothing, I-” He stopped with a gasp of pain
as Grando dove his fist into his stomach, making him bend over on
the chair, heaving for breath.
“Wrong answer.”
Grando breathed coldly. “I know you’ve leaked information about
this terrorist organisation to the secret forces – as if I didn’t
have enough problems concerning the authorities already.”
“I haven’t
leaked anything!” squealed Racowl, shaking his head fervently. “The
secret forces haven’t heard from me yet.” His voice was filled with
desperacy. “Please, you have to believe me!”
The sound of
the door hissing open came from behind Grando, who felt a smile
rise to his lips. “Let’s see if I do.”
He turned to
see the Rash- con he had sent earlier march back in, holding
something with both arms. As he reached Grando at the end of the
room, the Redling snatched the gun from the Rash-con’s hands,
surveying it with wild eyes.
This was the
Stinger … The most unfailing torture weapon there was. This was the
finale. If Racowl didn’t budge even for this, then it would mean
that he was telling the truth after all … or that he was too tough
for even the Stinger. Knowing the amount of pain triggered in the
target’s nervous system by the Stinger’s shots, Grando knew he
would settle for the former.
Lifting his
eyes from the gun, he met Racowl’s terror filled ones, and a sense
of savage glee arose within him. The six men were now watching
closely, their faces holding a brutal joy in anticipation of what
happened next.
Grando held the
Stinger aimed steady at Racowl, who clearly knew enough to be
terrified beyond himself.
“Last chance,
Racowl.” he called. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
Racowl shook
his head wildly, his eyes wide with alarm as they stared at the tip
of the Stinger, which was held aimed right at him. The only sounds
he seemed to be able to emit were terrified, inaudible
whimpers.
Grando squeezed
the gun’s trigger.
A bolt of
bright yellow sprang from the tip of the barrel, soaring across the
distance between them, and smashing into Racowl squarely on the
chest. His chair rocked backwards on the impact. Racowl released a
loud, drawn out scream of agony.
The men jeered
with laughter, clearly finding the same savage sense of joy in
watching this as Grando himself did … This was the reason he
enjoyed working with these men.
As the jeering
and laughter slowly faded, every pair of eyes fixed itself upon
Racowl. He was gasping for breath for a long trail of seconds, the
aftermath of the Stinger’s shot.
“I’m warning
you,” said Grando. “The Stinger’s shots are meant to torture … but
usually three is enough to kill.”
Racowl finished
gasping and looked up at Grando, his eyes carrying a plea for
mercy. Something he was never going to find in here.
“I didn’t tell
them anything, I swear!” he squeaked. “I really didn’t! Please,
don’t -”
Grando shot a
second time. As the yellow bolt collided with him, Racowl gave a
second, louder scream, which seemed to linger within the room in
echoes for many nasty seconds.
Grando slowly
walked forward, lowering his head before a gasping, helpless
Racowl.
“Final chance.”
he whispered. “Tell me now: did you leak anything?”
Still gasping,
Racowl met Grando’s eyes and gave a trembling shake of his
head.
Grando bored
into his eyes, surveying them for a long moment, and then smiled.
This had to be the truth. Nobody could be that good an actor, and
nobody could stand
two
shots of the Stinger and still not
break. Not even Racowl.
He nodded
slowly, his smile growing longer. “Ok. I guess I don’t have a
choice, but to believe you.” He turned and trotted a few feet away,
before slowly facing his men. “So, tell me men, now that that’s
over … how shall we kill him?”
Racowl’s head
bolted up, his jaw falling open. He tried to form words, but only a
pitiful, whimpering noise emitted from his lips.
The men’s
expressions were now shining with anticipation. This was the moment
they’d been waiting for. All of them. Including Grando.
“You didn’t
actually think we were going to let you live, did you?” Grando
laughed cruelly. “I’m sorry, my friend, but you’ve seen too much of
what’s within us. We can’t possibly allow you to go on living.”
Racowl shook
his head, his face filled with horror. “No … please, don’t.”
The men cracked
their knuckles, some of them unsheathing razors and knives from
their belts.
Oh, this is
gonna be fun…
Grando watched
as the six men slowly closed in on Racowl, their eyes burning. But
right then, the hiss of the door sliding open from behind caught
everyone’s attention.
And then came
the sound of a pair of footsteps trotting into the room…
While Grando
waited where he stood, unbothered, the six others turned to gaze at
the entrance … and the looks on their faces slowly slackened from
joy to astonishment.
What’s
this?
Grando slowly
turned to face the entrance, wondering who this mysterious entry
was. And as he did, the shock swallowing the rest of the room
claimed him as well…
The intruder
who came striding into the room calmly, was Grando’s most dreaded
enemy … his foremost fear.
It was nemesis
one.
“
Ion?
”
Grando said in a mystified whisper.
The red haired
boy came striding into the chamber in an elegantly casual pace. As
he approached the end of the room, he spread his hands cheerily.
“Grando, how’ve you been, old friend? It’s been far too long!”
He stopped a
few metres before a thunderstruck Grando, a false grin on his face.
For a small eternity, the two of them stood metres apart, staring
at each other in rigid silence.
The eighteen
year old boy looked just as Grando remembered. Tall and stickly
thin. Dressed in a long black cloak. Long, messy red hair. The tint
of orange on his skin that would often go unnoticed. The same
youthful, vibrant face. And the same burning orange eyes.
“It wasn’t easy
finding you.” Ion declared, his voice just as casual. “Took me
pretty long. You’ve been living completely off the grid for some
time now. Deep in hiding.” He shook his head. “Grando, Grando. So
much of insecurity … over
me
?”
As the shock
passed, the old anger rushed back to Grando.
“You’ve got
some nerve coming in here, you blasted swine.” HHHhhe threw the
Stinger to the ground with a metallic
clang
, reached for his
Sparkler hanging by his belt, and took aim at Ion’s face.
Ion’s orange
eyes stalled over the gun briefly, and not a flicker of fear
escaped them. “We both know that’s hardly a wise move right now,
mate.”
Grando shook
his head, laughing. “You may be a mystic, and I’ve seen what you
can do … but I’ve faced far worse, kid.”
Ion looked at
Grando for a quiet moment, and then a twisted smile formed on his
face.
“When I’m done
with you,” he whispered. “you’ll wish you have.”
Without letting
another second pass, Grando opened fire. He pulled the Sparkler’s
trigger again and again … filling the air ahead of him with a tide
of deep blue bolts that soared towards the thin boy standing in the
middle of the room. Helpless.
As the Sparkler
shots sailed at him, Ion stood his ground, unflinching. And then,
at the very last splinter of a second, he held up his hand at the
rain of Sparkler bolts, as though commanding them to stop. And a
shimmering, glass like surface formed in the air right in front of
where he held his palm. The glass like surface acted like a shield:
the Sparkler bolts collided with it and died, as though having hit
a solid wall.
Grando knew
what had happened: Ion had used his mystical powers to conjure what
was known as a
shield
. Something told him that the Ion
standing before him now was not the same boy he had known. A more
powerful entity seemed to have entered this room than the one
Grando had known from earlier on.
Twitching in
panic, he turned to the Rash-cons lining the wall and roared,
“Rash-cons, ATTACK!!”
The robots
bolted forward to the centre of the room, their guns drawn and
blazing… spurting Sparkler bolts at Ion.
But Ion reached
for a handle emerging behind him. He pulled the handle, drawing a
familiar, long thin sword, and swished it over the air once. There
was a dazzling flash. And the blade of his sword was shining in a
bright orange colour. With wisps of steam emitting from it. The
boy’s orange eyes seemed to mirror the flaming glow of his sword.
As the deadly jets of light soared at him from all sides, Ion
launched into motion…
It was like
watching a video on fast forward: Ion twirled his sword at a
mindless speed, so that all that was seen of him was a wild orange
blur. Twisting, turning, ducking and leaping, he danced through the
cluster of robots surrounding him all over. His sword flew about in
violent streaks of orange as it cut off the Sparkler bolts sent at
him, and slashed through the robots at the same time.
Within six or
so seconds, the dozen robots lay on the ground in a clutter of
chopped up, steaming metallic parts. Wherever Ion’s sword had
sliced them, only an orange radiation glow remained, releasing
puffs of steam.
Ion’s eyes
travelled over the remnants of the batch of robots, before rising
to meet Grando’s again.
Grando felt his
insides writhe as he looked into the boy’s burning orange eyes.
Whipping about to face his men, he bellowed, “Well, don’t just
stand there, go get him!”
The men stared
with terror soaked eyes. But, clearly forcing down their panic,
they followed their leader’s orders and stormed forth at Ion,
firing.
Ion lazily
ducked below two of their shots, sidestepped two, and watched as
the last two streaked past him harmlessly. Before the men could
begin to think of the impulse to react, he gave a lazy flick of one
hand. The frontmost three of the men rose to the air, crashed
against each other, and toppled to the ground over the other three,
smashing the entire group to a helpless heap that lay still on the
ground.
Ion made no
further move, and calmly gazed at Grando with his shining sword
still held in one hand.
Wrenching
himself from the spot, Grando wheeled about and pelted towards the
door. But out of nowhere came a sudden swoosh of wind. And the boy
landed right in front of him, apparently having crossed the
distance between them in one effortless leap.
Stopping in his
tracks, Grando stumbled and fell, rolling over in the boy’s shadow.
As he lay there in a helpless, crumpled pile on the ground, a
powerful pair of hands clasped the front of his robes and heaved
him upwards … and he was staring into his age old nemesis’s eerie
orange eyes again.
“I’ve waited so
long for this day.” said Ion, his orange eyes blazing.
“You’re a
monster.” breathed Grando, his eyes wide as he stared into
Ion’s.
“I’m a
disease.” whispered Ion, a nasty smile slitting his face. “And I’ve
come for my cure.”
And with that,
Grando felt a
snap
across his neck … and the world dimmed
and went off.