Winter Savior
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AlterOne
Chapter 7
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Past Chapters
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Chapter 7
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Past Chapters
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As they neared the base, the plane flew low over the canopy of trees.
“Easy now,” Hunter said. “Ease on in.”
He was letting Evina bring the plane in for landing. She’d been restless on the ride back and asked if she could take over. Hunter sat in the copilot’s chair and gave her the run of things, or so she thought. Though she was growing exceptionally well in the field, she was not much of a pilot. A time or two during the ride, he had to slyly right her wrongs from his side of the control panel without her noticing. He wanted her to have her moment, they’d had a successful mission and he needn’t lessen that for her. Another time, he thought.
He watched as the plane flew lower, into the trees. To an onlooker from afar, it would seem that there was no place to land the plane in the thick of the trees. It was the joining of an environmental illusion and a holographic projection. On the ground was a runway that led to the base’s underground hangar bay that lay beneath the compound, housing their small fleet of ships and fighters. Evina’s hand rushed along the keyboard as she input the access codes into the computer. As she made for her descent into the trees, their tops shimmered and faded, revealing the runway below. As she maneuvered the ship downwards, she felt a gust of wind. She turned around only to catch his boots as the Xenator leapt from the plane.
As Hunter made his way through the forest, he could sense the eyes upon him, sentries positioned around the perimeter. If it was anyone other than him, he had no doubt that the men and women hidden among the trees would have remained unseen. As he walked out from the tree line, the small castle revealed itself to him. It was not something of grand design, but an old and weathered mass of stone, its walls covered in vines and growth, with a battered look about it that attested to a battle long forgotten in time. Just outside the castle wall was a small village, no more than a few dozen houses of wood and stone. Surrounding all of this was a low wall short enough for a man to leap over.
At the entrance of this wall were a pair of acolyte guards, their automatic rifles slung over their shoulders as they sat relaxed upon the wall. As Hunter drew near, he saw the guards loose the false relaxation and bring their hands from their holstered side arms, now genuinely eased. Hunter gave a nod as he passed, entering the place he and his acolytes called home. In the mid-morning day, the little village was bustling with activity. The children took to playing in the streets while the men and women conversed amongst themselves throughout the village as they headed to the Common House. The smell of burning pig in the air indicated that breakfast was to be had.
He passed their smiling faces and looks of admiration as he walked up the hill to the castle. As he looked back at the people, he could only see how happy they looked, how they seemed to not have a care in the world. One would not even think that each of the men and women down there were trained assassins of the highest caliber.
Upon entering the castle, he took the stairs up to the Control Center. There, he entered a room full of large computers, bleeping lights, and a person at each station bent over a computer screen. This was where all their news and intel came from, overseen by the dark haired woman who was walking towards him as she adjusted her glasses.
“Sir, good morning,” she said, standing in front of him now.
“Morning Nova,” the Xenator replied. “You have something for me to see?”
Nova turned to the nearest acolyte, “Bring up the video from yesterday.”
The large monitor on the wall lit up, a black and white visual appeared upon the screen.
“This is from Alter City, a speech made to the general public a day ago,” Nova informed him.
On the screen before him was a bald man clad in the garments of a Veldt, save for the mask. At his side were two Veldt, their masks very much like his own, though his held no purple streak down the eye and theirs did not have an X carved across the right eye. The speaker, who Hunter took to be the leader, was talking before a large crowd outside of City Hall. Seated off to the right were the Commissioner and the Princess-Mayor Lamia Ebuza.
“No longer will you have to worry about these criminal menaces, because we will take the war to their doorsteps and we will break down their walls with our hammers of justice!”
Hunter gave a wave of his hand and the screen went black. He looked to Nova once more.
“I’ve been hearing whispers of their return,” he said. “My question to you is why couldn’t we get solid intel on this before now?”
“Sir, our intel on this has been no better than the rumors you’ve been hearing,” she answered.
“And why is that?”
“For the past few days we haven’t been able to get in contact with our acolyte in Alter City,” she replied.
“That’s because I’m not in Alter City.”
The Xenator turned around to see Daxpar Meradus enter the room.
“What news do you have from Alter City?”
He pulled out a chair and turned it about, resting his arms on its back end. He gave a sigh before speaking.
“Couple days ago I was spying on a Syndicate meeting, for the assignment I mentioned to you before,” he said, looking to the Xenator, who nodded his understanding. “Well while I was spying on the Syndicate, the Veldt were spying on me. By the time I realized it, they had already started their attack on the meeting. I got into a short one with one of the Veldt but I got away amid all the confusion, but not before he gave me this.”
He raised his tactical vest to reveal a long gash across his side. It was a clean cut; he had applied a thin coating of salve to the wound as well.
“Got me with that short sword of his,” Daxpar commented.
“Have that looked at,” Hunter stated. “But go on.”
Daxpar lowered his vest, “Yes sir,” he said. “So he got me with the blade and when I got clear of the raid, I was going to contact HQ, but I didn’t have time because the Veldt had come upon me again, they just kept appearing out of thin air it looked like. It wasn’t until I finally got to my plane on the outer limit docking bay that I realized they had put some sort of tracing spell on me. I was able to get airborne and just as I did, a fighter squad was on my tail. They chased me a good ways and I still couldn’t shake ‘em. We flew over a forest and I let them hit me. In the smoke and all, I flew low over the forest and leapt into the trees below just before the thing crashed. If I remember my studies it takes some hours before a tracing spell wears off so I stayed the night in the forest before making my way to the nearest docking station, just to be safe. Once I was at the docking bay I was able to grab a plane and make my way back here, came in few hours ago.”
“Grab?” Hunter said, inclining his head.
Daxpar shrugged, “Grab, steal, it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.”
“So what are we going to do?” Nova asked.
At this, everyone else in the room who had already been halfway listening to the conversation, stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the Xenator expectantly, waiting for his answer. The Veldt were back. Each of them had sworn to follow the Xenator, and he in turn, had sworn a lifelong vendetta against the Veldt, just as the Xenators before him.
Hunter looked from one face to the next, the room quiet as they waited for him to speak.
“Everyone is to continue their work as usual,” he stated. “Now.”
Daxpar arose from his seat and stood before the Xenator, “Sir, do you want me to head back to Alter City?”
Hunter gazed upon Daxpar for a moment before speaking as the man stood attentively, waiting for the next command.
“Prepare my ship,” he said in answer.
He stood just outside the door to his private chambers, pausing before entering the room. As he pushed the door open, he saw Nesta, barefooted and still in her morning gown, leaning over their son who lay asleep in the bed. At the sound of him entering, she brushed away her long black hair and turned to face him as he stood in the doorway.
“You’re back,” she said.
He raised his arms from his side, only to lower them again. He closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room. Nesta came up to him and stood on her tip toes as she gave him a kiss upon the lips. He smiled at her, before turning his attention to their son.
“How’s the boy?”
He walked over and sat down upon the bed near the child, Csongor Sel. A boy of three years, he slept on soundly as his father stroked his hair caringly.
“He’s been missing his father,” Nesta said at last.
He gave an exhale of breath, “We’ve been over this before,” he stated. “There’s no changing what I do. This—”
Nesta shakes her head and sits down next to him, “Rowen I’m not asking you to change,” she said. “I’m asking you to have more time in your life for your son.” She lifted the mask up and off, revealing Rowen’s face beneath, “And for me.”
She took the mask into her hands and looked down at it as she spoke, “You can’t count the many times I’ve seen you leave without even having known you’d come home. Not knowing if this time was the last time, if someone would finally get lucky and put a bullet through this mask of yours.”
She reached out and gingerly touched his olive skinned face. Rowen took her hand in his, and stared back at her with his grey eyes. When he spoke, his words were soft and sincere.
“You know that will never happen,” he said.
Nesta turned away from him, “I want to believe that.”
Rowen turned her face back to him and brought her lips to his. The two shared a tender kiss before breaking away. She looked at him for a moment before leaning in and kissing him in turn. Rowen brought her close, taking her in a tight embrace as he turned, laying her upon the bed, their faces entwined at the tongue. As Rowen began to raise her gown, Nesta slapped at his hand.
“Csongor..” she said, looking to their son, still fast asleep in the bed.
In answer, Rowen gave a sly grin and rolled onto the floor with a yelp from his wife.
Their clothes strewn across the floor, beads of sweat coating their bodies, the two lay bare upon the stone floor. Nesta lay upon his chest as he held her with one arm wrapped around her body. Rowen looked to the ceiling as Nesta twirled his black wavy hair around her finger.
“Nesta,” he spoke.
“H’m,” she replied, her eyes still closed.
“I’m going to Alter City,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Nesta rose from the floor and glared down at Rowen, “I’m coming with you,” she said sternly. Rowen began to protest but Nesta put her finger to his lips, silencing him. “I know what you’re going to say but don’t forget that I used to be a mercenary too, and you’ve trained me just as well as any of your acolytes.”
When Nesta had taken her finger from his lips, Rowen said. “I was going to ask about our son.”
“He’s coming too,” Nesta replied. “Neither he nor I have seen the place his father once called home.” She looked down at him expectantly. “Well?”
He gazed up at her, “You said you were a mercenary too.”
She returned his gaze with a look of puzzlement, “Yeah so?”
“I’m not a mercenary,” he answered, a smile forming upon his face. “Not to say you were much of one yourself.”
In answer, Nesta threw a pillow in his face for his trouble.
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ALTER CITY, FIRE REGION
ALTER CITY, FIRE REGION
Akko opened his front door to see Nandia standing before him on his doorstep.
“What a surprise,” he said dryly.
“May I come in?” she asked, to which Akko moved out of the way.
“Come to gather me up then,” Akko said. He gestured to a seat in the living room. “Have a seat. Do you want anything, water, coffee,” He have her a quizzical look, “alcohol?”
“Coffee is fine, thank you.”
As Akko busied himself in the next room, Nandia took note of the family photos around the room. There was a picture of his parents, his mother a beautiful dark haired women, fair skinned and a beaming smile upon her face, his father, clad in military attire and a just as happy expression as he held a small baby Akko in his arms. It seemed that the pictures had been done in a sort of timeline fashion. The next photo is of Akko and Ulrich, the latter a toddler in the photo, hugging their mother as she sat in the grass laughing. There were a few more black and white photos of smiles between the three of them, their father in no others until she reached one with the two boys, a few years older now, and their father all in black suits and somber faces. There were no more photos of Ulrich after that. Another showed a young Akko in military dress looking stone faced for the photo. The one nearest it featured a fully grown Akko, his father at his side as both men stood at attention for the photograph.
“I was called twelve times this morning at ten minute intervals,” Akko called from the kitchen. “Didn’t say anything, they just hung up. I thought to myself, who does that, then I thought some more and said oh, it’s those darn Syndicate guys.”
Nandia took the photo of the boys and their mother into her hands. Akko came back into the living room, a pot of coffee in one hand, two cups and biscuits on a plate in the other.
“There are less annoying ways to let me know you’re coming at noon,” he was saying.
“Your photos tell a sad story,” Nandia said, looking up at him.
Akko looked into her hand and saw the photo she held. He said nothing for a moment before placing the silver plate and coffee pot on the table before her.
“Here’s your coffee.”
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