Chapter 55: Book 1: Chapter 21 (Part 3 of 3)

<Quest ‘Who’s the Boss O*’ completed. 2,900 XP and 10 Notoriety awarded> Quixbix formally intoned.

<You’re share of the kill XP will be a little under two and half thousand if Shana gets all of those that are in the water. Each kill is also worth +1 Notoriety for killing another character, so probably another twelve by the time you’re done. Maybe more depending on what you do with your four prisoners> the imp followed up with.

“Understood,” I told him.

Jackson was on the main deck vainly trying to lift one of the unconscious Fighters. I joined him and he helped me get the man on my other shoulder.

“I’ll take these two down and put them in the cells, you watch the other two for signs of movement. Call for Ana if that happens,” I commanded and headed for the hatch at the prow. Those stairs were closer to the Brig on the lower deck.

“Oh, and Jackson,” I said over my shoulder.

“Yes, Captain,” he responded.

“You did well today. I’m proud of you,” I told the lad and he blushed crimson at the praise.

With those Captain duties out of the way I returned to the conversation with Quixbix. “Will I always get one Notoriety for killing people, not mobs?”

<No. There are diminishing returns the more Notoriety you have. Technically, you get two Notoriety for every character slain, but you lose one point for every hundred points you have bringing it down to one. When you reach two-hundred Notoriety you lose two every time any Notoriety points are awarded, so you’ll only get any for deeds that award three or more Notoriety at a time> he answered.

“That makes sense. It would also make it easier to rebuild your score if you should drop below one hundred,” I used.

<True, but that would still be an epically foolish idea> he warned.

“Relax, Quix. I’ve no intention of wussing out on you. Just thinking about the possible worst-case scenarios,” I chuckled.

  I got to the Brig and opened one the nearest cell which was a large communal one. I chucked the random fighter into that one and moved down to a smaller cell for Marco. Just as I opened the cell door there was a crackle that came from my unconscious prisoners’ pants.

“Marco, are you there…Marco, come in…This is Luca…Have you taken that ship yet…Marco ya better not have fucked this up. Marco!” a muffled voice screamed from Marco’s pants pocket.

I put him down on the ground and rummaged through the man’s pockets and retrieved a purple kid’s walkie-talkie and then shoved the unconscious man into the cell with my booted foot and shut the door.

“Marco, I’ve sent Johnboy and his guys to meet you at Blue Bridge…Are you hearing me…Is this fucking thing working,” the voice of this Luca person continued to berate Marco.

This had to be the head honcho.

Now the sensible thing to do here would be to keep my mouth shut, keep listening and leave this clown in the dark.

But then again, we’d be out of Grand Rapids and his sphere of influence in ten, maybe fifteen minutes. He wouldn’t have time to reorganise his people and the scumbag had tried to take what was mine.

I clicked the button on the side of the walkie and spoke. “Marco can’t come to the phone right now; he and his pals have come down with a case of something distinctly terminal,” I wisecracked.

There was no need to let this guy know some of his people were still alive and being ripened for interrogation. Besides it wasn’t precisely a falsehood, they may not be dead yet, but their prognosis was undeniably grim.

“What?...Who the…uck is this,” Luca snarled over the crackling walkie.

We had to be getting to the edge of the toy walkie-talkie’s range. This would be a short conversation.

“There is no need to be rude,” I answered back. “This is Captain Torin Carter of the Marena’s Mercy, a corsair extraordinaire, and who might it be that I have the displeasure of insulting?”

“What…re you, some kind of wise guy?” Luca snapped back.

“I wouldn’t call myself wise but I’m a reasonably intelligent fellow, a college boy before the Framework and a life or waterborne larceny beckoned. Now who are you dipshit?” I taunted.

“…do you think you are…I’m Luca fucking Gattosi, remember the name punk. You’ll be screaming and begging me for death before long,” Marco’s boss raged at me.

“Luca ‘fucking’ Gattosi. How unusual, were your parents as intellectually challenged as you or did they just hate you from the moment your momma pooped you out?” I chuckled.

“…ur fucking dead! Ya hear me, fucking dead!” crackled across the walkie.

Possibly I should have left it there, but I was swept up in the moment and a dark urge pulsed hot within me. “Oh, snap. I was just about to say that. The difference is I don’t make empty threats. So, listen up Luca and listen well. You have made an enemy of me this day and that will not end well for you.”

Luca seemed to calm down, which was unexpected, and he spoke again in the odious tone of a snake-oil salesman. “You will turn that ship around and make dock at the nearest jetty and then come present yourself, hand over the ship, the crew, and offer me your fealty.”

I physically shivered with disgust. It felt like my body was being used to filter sewage.

You have resisted Luca Gattosi’s attempt to coerce your allegiance. You and those signed to your Canon are now immune to any further attempts from him or those aligned with him.

“Did you just try and Jedi mind trick me motherfucker?” I growled in response.

I felt something deep from within me rise and it met something delightedly gleeful.

I had a flash in my mind of something, someone. He was dressed in a dark green hooded robe. His hands, the only part of him visible outside the robe, were seemingly encased in flowing metal armour. The inside of the hood was impenetrably black, but I sensed the figure grinned at me, and there was a name softly whispered.

Drakonis.

Then the name was gone and fading from my memory as quickly as the memory of dreams flee with a morning awakening. I tried to hold on to it, but it was like grasping at smoke, utterly futile.

All I could truly recall was that as I parted ways with who or whatever that had been, he had bridged a gap between me and something other, connecting us.

This new entity dominated my attention and our connector faded into a half-remembered echo.

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The new entity was something I couldn’t describe adequately, but it was immensely powerful and equal parts malevolent, altruistic, indifferent, intrigued, supportive, and disapproving all at the same time.

I should have been afraid, but I was a day late and a dollar short for fear.

An impulse from the darkest vestiges of my soul responded and mingled with the presence of that unfathomable power and what I said next was now inevitable.

“I shall break you Luca Gattosi. I will take all that you are and all that you have. I will leave you as naught but a shattered ruin of a man. And when you have nothing left for me to take or destroy, then, and only then, will I end your life.”

“Within one year this will be done. I swear this on the name of the Shattered Goddess, so she may feast upon the tattered remnants of your soul when I succeed. By her will, it shall be done,” I finished the speech that surged from some instinctive place within me and crushed the walkie into shards in my hand.

There was a roaring in my ears that drowned out everything else around me. Anastasia, Quixbix, or the prisoners could have been talking to me, but I couldn’t hear anything but that great power, somewhere, out there, in the galaxy.

I dropped to my knees as the pressure grew in my mind until after what seemed like aeons, the overwhelming roar coalesced into a cacophonic array of feminine voices.

This was only mildly less disorienting than the wordless wall of white noise, but I could at least pick out some of what was being said.

“We have heard…”

“…ignored…

“…belittled…you Torin Carter.”

“You’re words…”

“…actions…”

“…feelings…please us…”

“…mean nothing to us…”

“…amuse us…you will be rewarded…”

“…punished…”

“…recompensed…when you succeed…”

“…fail…”

“…forswear.”

“We wish you luck…”

“…misfortune…”

“…nothing, and our undying love…”

“…lust…”

“…hate…”

“…rage…”

“…indifference.”

“May Chaos reign…”

“…flounder…”

“…ebb…”

“…and drown the world in blood… love… lust… hate… vengeance… wrath…insignificance.”

There was more, so much more, but those were the only words I could make out. But I understood the gist of what they meant. Do as I’d sworn or suffer the gravest consequences.

I was committed to the pledge I had made. If I didn’t utterly dismantle Luca Gattosi’s fledging empire in a year, then I would be well and truly fucked. As in my soul and the souls of those bound to me would be devoured by some immensely powerful entity with a split personality.

On the upside it sounded like there could be some tasty rewards when I was successful, which I would be. I had to be.

Silver linings and all that.

Razor thin linings.

Had this been a few days ago I would likely have thrown a rage-filled self-pity party and smashed some shit up as yet another powerful, untouchable, entity shoved their head up inside my business. These days I’d adjusted to rolling with the punches and seizing opportunity when it presented itself.

How tough could it be to take down somebody who already had enough people under his thumb to control a city with a population of close to two-hundred thousand with only a crew of four?

Yeah, I was definitely going to need more people.

The direct connection between us severed abruptly and I fell to my knees as the darkness of sleep washed over my mind.

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