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TheDevilsTrick — Privateer Chapter 104
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Published: 2024-01-07 15:56:33 +0000 UTC; Views: 4515; Favourites: 5; Downloads: 0
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[Collision]
The trio slunk through the harbor as best they could but, in the end, it was Evie who got them on the ship by using her illusion casting to mimic the image of a few of the crates that were being loaded onto the dreadnought.
“What do you think is in all this shit?” Belix wondered before Evie elbowed her hard in the ribs.
Resisting the urge to kill the transporters, Evie cast them in a curtain of invisibility and they carefully picked their way out of the shuttle, concealing themselves into the pile of boxes that were being stored on the ship. When the last of the deckhands finally left, Belix and the others emerged from their hiding spot and started to cautiously stretch their tired legs. A few minutes later, Belix was tearing open one of the boxes and letting out a low whistle.
“You know they’re gonna hear us if you keep doing that right?” Evie snapped.
“Let ‘em come,” Belix smirked back, pulling out a pair of hunting rifles, “I’d say our odds just improved significantly.”
“You know those aren’t loaded right?”
“So look for ammo,” Clyde shrugged, “They wouldn’t have packed them in if they weren’t going to use them.”
With a defeated shrug, Evie did as she was told and helped the others as they opened the boxes. In their search, they located sabers, spears, black powder, and eventually, the ammo crates they had been looking for. While Belix loaded up, Evie stood back, pensively considering the situation.
“No gold,” she observed, “No, gems, no artwork, just...weapons?”
“I imagine they don’t have the same needs we do,” Clyde mentioned as he tested the weight of a broadsword with a few swings, “Lets them travel light…” he considered the sword for a moment, then dropped it, taking a cutlass from the box and belting it to his hip, “Relatively speaking anyway.”
“Yeah, well, this ship doesn’t,” Evie continued, “No matter what they are, the boat they’re ridding in is still mechanical, it won’t run on hopes and wishes.”
“You’re right, Vanitas called out to them as she entered the room via a catwalk, “It’ll run on blood.”
Wearily, mentally berating themselves, the three of them turned around to see what fresh hell they had fallen into. Above them, leaning over the railing, Vanitas stared down smugly, then, slowly, they began to notice the swarm of insect creatures who were crawling down the sides of the walls, and apparently had been while their group was focused on pilfering their wares.
“That’s not a euphemism by the way,” Vanitas continued in an amused tone, “Our blood has some very interesting properties, just ten of us could keep this boat humming along for days.”
“She said, thinly veiling the threat that there are way more than ten of them on this boat, not to mention in this room,” Evie observed, quietly.
“So...what was your plan?” Vanitas wondered, leaning lazily against the rail now, not even bother to give them her full attention, “I only ask because, you never seem to have one, yet, things still seem to go your way.”
“You obviously don’t know us that well,” Belix mused, slinging one of the rifles across her back and moving away from the ammo crate.
Vanitas glanced over at her then shrugged.
“Answers that question I suppose,” the old queen mentioned offhandedly.
“How’s that now?” Belix raised an eyebrow.
“Thing is, I can never tell if you’re crazy or fearless, and well, this tells me everything I need to know.”
“’Cause I’d have to be crazy not to be terrified right now?”
“Hey, give the Drow a cookie would you,” Vanitas yawned, “After you tear her head off.”
“So...when I ask you, how big of a hole would it blow in your ship,” she pointed one of her rifles at the ammo crate, “If I just blew this up right here?”
Vanitas froze, her body rigid for a moment, then she turned to the trio, giving the swarm a signal to stop advancing.
“And before you try to tell me I’m bluffing,” Belix fired a shot through the crate, just missing a box of black powder, “Let’s just save ourselves the time yeah?”
“...so, are we negotiating,” Vanitas wondered in irritation, “Or are you just stalling.”
“Well,” Belix shrugged, “I mean, it’s not like you have anything we actually want, But, I’m told you won’t care about our intentions.”
“Which is?”
“To kill your boss,” Clyde put in.
“Ah,” Vanitas nodded her head, but waved them off dismissively, “I’m sorry, but it can’t be done, only an immortal can kill an immortal.”
“So what’s got you draggin’ ass?” Belix wondered.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re immortal aren’t you?”
“I’m working on it,” Vanital rolled her eyes, “And, as much as I do enjoy watching you lot flailing around trying, I can’t just invite you into his bed chamber and…”
“What if I said I had an idea,” Clyde mentioned, pulling the flask from out his cloak and showing it to her, “Do you know what this is?”
“Gilded spirits?” Vanitas shrugged, “But, I’m guessing that’s not the correct answer.”
“They call it the slumber, Seriquisse uses it to euthanize the undesirables,” he glanced around at the swarm of insect men who were still inching closer, “I see that you’ve found another use for them.”
“Well, lemons out of lemonade and all that,” the old queen mentioned dismissively, “I don’t see how a poison will…”
“It’s not!” Evie insisted, stepping forward, “It’s not a poison, it’s a drought of eternal slumber.”
She paused, blinking at the group, thinking it over, but then letting out a sigh.
“Why do you think I’m not attacking him right now?” she demanded.
“I assumed it was because…” Clyde began only to get cut off.
“He’s already asleep, but he’s still active,” she mentioned, tapping the side of her head, “Watching, waiting, and if I try anything he’ll just shut me down.”
“Eternal sleep,” Clyde reitterated, “And dreams he won’t want to turn away from.”
“And we don’t even know it it’ll work on him because he’s not fucking human!” Vanitas snapped at them, “While I would love to humor you on this, without a guarantee…”
“The cost outweighs the potential benefits,” Belix summarized for her, “Sort of like this…”
Belix racked a shot into her rifle and fired on the ammo crate.
Across town in the sewers, Mr. Kelly scampered through the sewers, his naked feet slapping against the hard stone tiles on the raised sidewalks. Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder, hearing several explosions in the distance, getting closer and closer by the second. In an act of desperation, he slid into a nook and hid there, breathing shallowly, hoping that the thundering in his chest wouldn’t give him away. The blasts, the explosions, the earthquakes, they drew closer, and then they stopped, just next to him. Holding his breath, he waited, peering through the crack and watching as the shadow beyond it loomed menacingly before passing him by.
He let out a sigh of relief, then instantly berated himself a new explosion sounded next to his head. The wall caved in, and a massive hand wrapped around his neck, dragging him through brick and mortar and throwing him into the knee high filth that swarmed through the trench below.
“Found You!” Granger declared maliciously, still looming dangerously on the drainage banks.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Mr. Kelly complained as he tried to collect himself.
The second he moved, Granger launched himself into the air and fell back down, hard onto Mr. Kelly’s body, cracking open his chest like a ripe grape.
“Shush,” Granger snarled, twisting his foot and snapping Mr. Kelly’s spine, “You just stay down There!” he declared, shoving his victim’s head under the water, “And it’ll all be over in a minute.”
In response, A titanic hand grabbed hold of Granger’s elbow, pushing him back as Mr. Kelly rose from the filth and muck, transformed into the toothy maw beast once more.
“I don’t have the time to play with you!” the bald man shouted, wrestling with Granger for control.
“Sure you do!” the big man growled back, “You’ve got the rest of your life!”
Planting one foot deep into the mud, Granger raised the other and stomped down on Mr. Kelly’s knee, cracking it loudly and almost gaining the advantage, but, fueled by fear and adrenaline, the Maw Beast hip tossed Granger against the raised drainage walls. Both of them weary from the long chase and even longer battle, they separated, hyperventilating and trying to collect themselves.
“So...this is a...symbolic thing...yeah?” Mr. Kelly grunted, “You think that if you defeat me, you can kill your past?”
“...no…” Granger responded simply as he stood once more, blood and dirt mixing across his skin like paint, “I think you’re going to hurt my friends, my crew...my…” his expression hardened, “I won’t let you hurt her!”
“Who the fuck are you even talking about? Evangeline? The Elf bitch?!”
No sooner did the words leave his mouth than Granger’s fist slammed through the cage of fangs and straight into Mr. Kelly’s teeth, sending him reeling.
“Answers that question,” the bald man grumbled, spitting his disturbingly blue blood into the drain.
“You’re my proof,” Granger responded cryptically.
“Whatever,” Mr. Kelly wearily shook his head as he rose to his feet, “I don’t even care anymore.”
He threw a kick, catching Granger in the gut, then struck him in the face, leaving the big man shaken, but his third strike never landed, wrapped in Granger’s tattered mechanical arm, pushed back even as the broken fingers clawed deep into the flesh of the Maw Beast. Mr. Kelly watched in horror as the big man slowly turned towards him.
“You, are my proof,” Granger repeated, a cruel smile on his lips as he continued to shove his opponent back by the arm, “Proof that I can stand on my own, that I can move forward, that I can lead in her stead… and be the man...she always said I could be…”
His human hand cracked against the armored side of the Maw Beast, again and again until it’s flesh ruptured, and his massive fingers pushed through, closing around Mr. Kelly’s neck.
“I’m killing myself today,” Granger declared, “Everything I was, to become everything I can be, that I want to be…” his grip tightened until Mr. Kelly’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, “You’re just collateral damage!”
Mr. Kelly lashed out, hitting Granger in the side of the head and forcing him to back away. The two stumbled as they parted, but quickly recovered and started squaring off again.
“You know…” Mr. Kelly glared at him, flexing the hands of the Maw Beast, “They say if you want to be born again, you gotta die first.”
“Done that already,” Granger sneered back, “Show me something new.”
They charged, slamming into each other with fist, feet and head, striking one another hard enough to clear the drain of the sewage that filled it, and crack the foundations of the city that loomed precariously over their heads.
Back on the ship, the rest of the trio had already suspected what Belix was planning and had been running for safety before she pulled the trigger. They managed to get behind the parked raft as the fire started to build, even managed to cover their ears before the ammo box fully exploded, ripping a hold in the side of the craft, and still leaving them partially deaf. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Clyde grabbed the girls by the arm and pulled them towards a nearby bulkhead with a door they could seal behind them. All of the insect creatures and Vanitas were too stunned by the blast to do much more than watch as they made their escape, and, once they recovered, they had more urgent things to worry about.
“...you…” Vanitas shouted after them when she noticed the fountain of water erupting from the deck and let out a frustrated sigh, “Get us out of the water!” she ordered, then, upon noticing that her minions were still stunned by the after effects of the explosion, grabbed one of them and shoved it against the guard rail, “Get Us Out Of The Water!” she screamed in its face, and pushed it into the open air where it just barely managed to flutter down to the ground before scampering off, “As for the rest of you!” she yelled at what remained of the group, “FIND THEM!! KILL THEM!!!”
The trio continued running through the halls until they found their way to a stairwell that seemed uninhabited and stopped for a breather. Both Clyde and Evie were gasping at this point, Belix was cackling madly.
“Did you see the look on her face?”
“Was it worth if?” Evie demanded.
“Fuck Yeah!” Belix snickered.
“Well I hope you’re happy because the ship is sinking!”
“Then they’ve got something else to worry about besides us!”
“Oh, don’t even pretend like you planned this!”
They continued on like that for a bit, eventually running the subject dry. For his part, Clyde, sat down on the staircase and waited the argument out.
“Feel better?” he asked when they had finally finished.
“NO!” Evie snapped, but let the matter drop.
“Hey, quick question,” Belix put in, almost fully recovered, unlike the others, “Were you planning that whole sleeping potion thing?”
“Made it up on the spot,” Clyde admitted.
“Do you think it’ll work?”
“I made it up on the spot,” he repeated, then put a hand on his sheathed cutlass, “But, if it doesn’t, we can still fall back on just cutting his damn head off.”
“We’re not sure if that’ll work either,” Evie whined.
“Won’t know ‘til we try,” Belix smirked, stepping towards the staircase, “You notice the other thing she said?”
“…he’s sleeping,” Clyde smiled back.
“And I’m guessing a massive prick like him would insist he be put in the captain’s cabin.”
“Right,” Clyde grunted as he stood up, “So up we go.”
Using Evie’s illusions, they managed to slink further into the ship undetected and, without too much effort, quickly located the captain’s cabin. They were relieved to see that there was no lock on the door and slipped through, closing it behind them.
“Nice,” Belix commented as she examined the room, the lush furniture and silk curtains, “Makes my cabin look like a hovel.”
“You mean the one on our current ship or the one on the clover?” Evie grumbled.
“…is it weird that we haven’t named our new ship yet?”
“Quiet,” Clyde hissed at them, spying their target and reaching for the golden potion under his cloak.
Before them lay the Fae creature, Ragda, lain atop a mound of flowers atop an ivory table, his large butterfly wings dangling over the sides while his clawed hands were clasped over his chest. Clyde approached cautiously, listening to Ragda’s labored breathing, wary for any change, any tell to say that his would be victim was starting to wake up. Quietly as possible, Clyde pulled the stopper out of the bottle and tipped it over Ragda’s lips, but before the liquid could fall, a strong hand closed around Clyde’s fingers.
Managing to pull his hand away before his bones could be broken, Clyde suddenly realized that he had lost the elixir and watched in horror as Ragda examined it, his eyes never opened, but he sniffed it curiously before crushing the bottle and throwing the wet contents to the dirt.
“Plan-B then!” Belix declared, lifting her rifle, but, even as she moved, the Fae vanished.
She glanced around in shock, but the others saw what had happened, Radga appeared behind her and caught Belix in a headlock before they could warn her.
“Gods you are so soft,” Radga whispered in her ear and licked Belix’s cheek, “Bet I could rip you apart like paper…”
“You’ve got a funny way of flirting,” Belix commented, cautiously pulling the iron cleaver Clyde had given her and then slamming it into Ragda’s face.
When he released her, grasping at the smoking hole in his face, Clyde threw two more knives into Ragda’s chest and drew his saber, advancing on him already. Clyde took three steps, and Ragda vanished again only for Clyde to feel a sudden tug on his cloak. The cloth tore free from Clyde’s shoulders and he turned in shock to see Ragda holding the tattered rag. Clyde leered at him, trying to understand this new development.
Belix fired two shots from her rifle and Ragda was hit only once, appearing again at her side and wrapping her head in the stolen cloak. He beat her across the face and Belix collapsed, dropping her gun, clearly unconscious, a thin red stain spreading across Clyde’s stolen cloak. Ragda stood over her still frame, smiling at Clyde who circled around him.
“You’re not scared are you human?” Ragda taunted him.
“Just taking time to come up with a plan,” Clyde glared back.
“Oh?” Ragda spread his arms wide and chuckled, “Is anything coming to mind?”
“At the moment,” Clyde shrugged, “I figured I’d just play distraction until she stabbed you in the back.”
“Who?” Radga scoffed, glancing down at Belix, “Her?”
“No,” Clyde responded simply as a sudden rent opened in Ragda’s chest, spurting out a disgustingly clotted gout of blue blood, a smile twisted Clyde’s lips, “The other one.”
Evie’s illusion faded away and she emerged, seemingly from thin air, shoving a fistful of metal needles into Ragda’s chest, smiling a bit as she twisted them around. Clyde rushed forward to help, tackling the Fae to the ground and shoving his cutlass into Ragda’s throat. On the ground, Clyde pulled out an iron knife and raised it for the killing blow, but, as he did, Ragda opened his eyes, blasting a gout of green flame at his face which Clyde barely managed to avoid. Wary of another attack, Clyde backed away, but made sure to keep himself between the enemy and the others.
Terrified, he watched as Ragda struggled to his feet, first ripping out the needles, then the cutlass and tossing them away. The Fae managed to stand, wings fully extended, and putting forward a strong front, until he fell to a knee. Behind Clyde, Evie let out a snicker.
“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” she advised him, “There was enough poison on those needles to kill thirty men…”
Just as she finished the thought, Ragda lifted his hand and extended his arm like a battering ram, striking her hard enough to throw her from her feet and slam her hard against the far wall.
“Shut your Godsdamned mouth!” Ragda groaned, clearly hurt and woozy, but refusing to go down.
Clyde tried to rush him again, but was hit with a wall of green energy that left a burn on Clyde’s cheek as he tried to dodge around it. Circling the room, he was forced to watch as Ragda slowly recovered, grabbing hold of a nearby bedpost to drag himself upright. Eyes narrowing, Clyde did his best to figure out what he was seeing. The Fae hadn’t been teleporting, but moving, faster than the eye could follow, and, thought he poisons had affected him, their effects were clearly wearing off. He also noticed the thick beads of sweat dotting Ragda’s brow and arms, they had been there since the battle started.
He’s sick, Clyde surmised, or something like it, that might be the only reason he hadn’t killed them yet, but it was also working against them, he was sweating out the poison before it could kill him. They needed something more permanent, more…invasive. A plan dawned in the back of Clyde’s mind and he gritted his teeth as he tried to work out how to implement it. Ragda slid across the floor, appearing in front of him and Clyde dove to the side, drawing and fell into a defensive stance. Thinking on his feet, Clyde pulled the golden cufflinks from his sleeves and whispered to them, feeling them transform into the twin spiders as he dropped them to the floor and then sidled away.
He had only taken two steps when Ragda’s boot slammed into the side of his head and sent him cartwheeling into a wall.
“Are you scared yet son of Deja?” the Fae demanded, “Do you fear me?”
“If I say yes, you’re just gonna hit me again,” Clyde grumbled, trying to ignore the disconcerting numbness settling into his skull.
“Well…” Ragda shrugged, “You’re not wrong.”
The Fae rushed him again, appearing next to Clyde, but stopping short this time when his arm split down the middle from the knuckle down to the elbow. Clyde reacted quickly, slicing open his own face and then stabbing the bloody knife through the severed parts of the arm, pinning them together.
“Look close,” Clyde warned him, twisting the monster’s arm around and causing a noticeable indent in Ragda’s flesh, “Do you see it yet?”
Ragda snarled back, but focused on the injury, finally realizing what he had missed.
“A wire,” the Fae commented.
“A thread,” Clyde corrected him, pulling the knife free and slashing at Ragda’s throat.
His enemy rushed away, only to hit a nearly invisible net that shredded his butterfly wings. Clyde dropped the bloody knife, pulled out a fresh one, and smiled.
“I thought this little ploy up a few years back,” Clyde admitted, slicing open his face again, “Actually abandoned it when I did, it’s not a great trap.”
With a ferocious growl, Ragda ran at him again, but a new wall, a new net, split his body open in a dozen different places. Clyde had to force himself not to chuckle.
“You see, the thread doesn’t stick, and it stretches, so it’s less of an impediment as it is an inconvenience, yep, against literally anyone else, this would never work.”
Ragda surged forward, dragging a clot of bound furniture with him, slowing him down enough for his enemy to counter attack and drive the blade into his chest.
“See,” Clyde commented as he drove the knife up to its hilt, “You’re just kinda stupid, you move so fast the threads don’t have time to stretch, and you’re not armored, not durable, at that speed, the thread becomes a blade, sliced through you like you were made of butter.”
Enraged, Ragda lashed out and grabbed Clyde by the throat, lifting him off of his feet as he strangled the mere mortal.
“You dare mock me?” the Fae snarled.
“...yeah…” Clyde grunted as his windpipe was squeezed shut.
“How dare you, you’re not even…”
“Curious?” Clyde supplied for him.
“...what?”
“Why I keep cutting my face…”
Shaking his head with disgust, Ragda lifted his free hand to deliver a killing blow but saw something that caused him to pause. A network of angry red veins spreading across his forearm emanating from the spot where Clyde had stabbed him. In horrified shock, he dropped Clyde to the floor where the man collapsed gasping. Then Ragda’s terror grew, he looked down and saw a new spiderweb of red veins spreading across his chest from the knife still sticking out of his flesh. In disgust, he tore it free and threw the weapon away, but the veins continued to grow, wrapping around him.
The heart of a the Fae was seized by an inexplicable sensation, hot and cold at the same time, weary and sore, aching and itching. The veins burned through his body and his flesh started to boil and pop.
“The poison…” Ragda glanced over at Evie.
“No,” Clyde corrected him, finally recovered, “That wasn’t her, it was me.”
Ragda could only stare at him in disbelief, Clyde had to struggle not to laugh.
“Healthy carrier,” Clyde stated, wiping a hand across his face, smearing the blood across his palm and balling up his fists, “That’s what they call it, I’m fine, but my blood is sick, diseased…”
“You…”
“In a normal person, it’d take a few days to fully manifest, but for you, that healing ability, the heightened metabolism,” Clyde sneered, “And because some stupid bitch actually mixed your blood with mine…”
“How dare you!” Ragda snarled, winding back his one good arm for a strike.
“You said that already!” Clyde responded, easily dodging the blow and answering back with a knee to Ragda’s gut.
Slowed by the threads, the attached furniture, the disease, Ragda could barely defend himself, let alone attack, so Clyde stayed close, raining down blow after blow until the Fae finally fell to his knees. Seeing his opponent defeated, Clyde left him and strolled across the room carefully feeling a space through the near invisible threads, until he found the meat cleaver Belix had left on the ground. Collecting it, along with the golden spiders, who quickly got to work stitching up his face, Clyde walked back to Ragda who’s very flesh seemed to be melting off of his bones, and grabbed him by the hair.
“You think this is the end?” the Fae managed to burble at him, “You...you think...you can…”
“I think I have,” Clyde told him raising the cleaver.
“Whatever victory you claim this day!” Ragda snarled earnestly, “I will take back, I have been felled before, and I rose from those ashes,” opening his eyes, Ragda revealed empty sockets behind his eyelids with twin roiling green suns barely contained within his own skull, “I Will Come Back!” he declared, “I Will RISE AGAIN!!”
Stricken, almost mesmerized by the sight before him, Clyde failed to notice Ragda’s spinal column splitting from his back, a nasty curved blade on the end. Yet, before it could strike, two shots rang out, one to shatter the tail even as it whipped through the air, and one to strike Ragda in the skull, blasting open his head like a ripe melon. The Fae became limp in Clyde’s hands, the twin suns died, and he let the lifeless body drop. Though he fell back on his own but, adrenaline finally leaving his system enough for him to fully appreciate his wounds, he looked over to the source of the gunshots and shared an awkward smirk with Belix.
“Hey?” she grunted weakly, blood still trickling down the side of her head as she gazed at him from under his tattered cloak.
He waved back, and was just beginning to wonder how the Hell they were supposed to get off of this ship when the door suddenly burst open. Brandishing a rapier, Vanitas entered the room flanked by a squad of insectile monsters. Clyde looked over at the others, he could barely stand, Belix didn’t seem much better, and Evie was still unconscious. Despair gripped his heart, he closed his eyes and he bowed his head.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
