Airith- the Kentilan War Page 10

  “You mother fucker!” Rapha bolted upright. The cords yanked free.

  “Well, would you look at that. Miss TV star has secrets.” Mox grinned widely at Airith.

  “I will stomp you to death!” Rapha raged, jumping off the table and straight into an uppercut from Mox’s guard. He toppled back onto the table, clutching his jaw. “Ow! Fuck you, Mox.”

  “You will.” Mox chuckled, but all his attention was on Airith.

  She flinched as she turned to Rapha. They both knew that Mox knew. Rapha picked himself back up, imposing his full height, but the guard stepped in his way. His expression was grim.

  “What is this fuss about?” Toddboy sighed, obviously bored, and swirled his glass. It was almost empty.

  “Ah, Toddboy. It seems you don’t know. I bet all your friends don’t know, either, Airith.” Mox shook his head, feigning that sigh again.

  Airith could feel the heated gaze of everyone in the room. Even Phara was slowly taking interest. “If you have something to say, come out with it. Don’t waste my time,” she forced in a bold tone.

  “Well, I just read through Rapha’s memories and realized you were and still are Mother’s puppet. You are a trained assassin, built for Mother’s bidding.” Mox burst into shrill laughter.

  “What are you mouthing off about?” Toddboy grimaced. His gaze had not left Airith. He also had a bean to pick with Mother. Like Rapha, he was amongst the rejects.

  “I always wondered why you became a child star. You obviously had no real talent, but there you were, Mother’s pawn, a decoy disguised in starlight, put in plain sight to perpetuate her killings. How many Parliament ministers did you kill Airith?” Mox cocked his head. “Merely curious.”

  “Shut up, Mox.” Rapha was mostly worried about Toddboy’s reaction. The man hated Mother just as he did. All of a sudden, his doting fancy for Airith had vanished, replaced by sulking hate.

  But Airith’s silence only urged Mox on. “Or how many Kentilan was it? Don’t make me pull up your file again. The download was interrupted but I think I got enough.” He laughed, as a holoscreen popped up before him. “Ah, here we are. I must say, I do give you props for your style of execution.” He paused. “Writing stylus to the throat, always left “Rad as Mofongo” playing on the stereo at the crime scene,” Mox stated, sounding like an electronical device.

  Luna snorted something under her breath. Airith snapped a glare in her direction and for a moment, the two women conducted a war with their eyes. Mox grinned at the print on Airith’s top. Rapha edged closer to Airith, blocking his view.

  “We’re here because of me, so let’s get back to that, you asshole,” Rapha grumbled, and eyed Toddboy.

  Toddboy suddenly put on a smile and rose from his seat. He sauntered over to Airith and Rapha, and said softly, “We’ll talk about this later.” Turning to Mox, he continued, “Rapha’s right, Mox. Do what you want with that info but that’s not what we’re here for.”

  “Very well.” Mox waved. “I will let you race one more time. But you’ll lose. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “In your dreams,” Rapha scoffed.

  “You won’t use either the Penelope or Katalina. I will give you a wave racer of my choosing.”

  Mox chuckled as the color drained from Rapha’s face. His two wavers were customized to his taste, accommodating his prosthetic left foot, which resembled a clamp instead of a foot.

  “If you win, deal. Do you agree?”

  “How am I guaranteed you won’t rig the craft you give me?”

  “You will personally inspect if before the race. What do you say Rapha, deal?”

  SIERRA AVE

  A irith was the first one out of the Mox’s chambers.

  “Where does she think she’s going?”

  She heard the raw edges of vocal cords that had seen hell, rusted and stern. Airith subconsciously knew who had spoken although she had never heard Luna speak before. Her limbs still groaned from the debilitating shock of Mox’s earlier stunt and her legs shook beneath her weight, but that was nothing compared to having her past slapped in her face out of nowhere. No one had known her skeletons except Rapha.

  Airith turned to face the other woman. The tenacity was a crimson in Luna’s eyes; in a way, those eyes mirrored Airith’s. It was perhaps the only thing common between them. Hatred had dwelt long enough in Airith’s heart. She knew it like the cracked labyrinth of skin on the back of her palms. It had become her.

  “Tired of the pissing-off contest? Are you truly going to challenge me now?” Her sword was at the ready, and she could feel it pulsing with her own rage. She didn’t know what fueled the fire in her opponent’s eyes, but she didn’t care. Luna was just another marker in her way, possibly another reject that could never get close enough to Mother to get revenge.

  It took one stride for Luna to squelch the air between them and hover a good five inches over Airith. This made Airith smirk; she had cut down much taller.

  “Luna. Stop.” It was Toddboy.

  Luna’s shoulders dropped quickly, and she stepped away, but her eyes never left Airith.

  “Now, Toddboy, I know what you’re going to say…”

  “That’s the last time I put my ass out for you. Your girlfriend’s THE ASSASIN, and you don’t even tell me? Gee, what else? Do we even know if she’s truly with the Creator now?” Toddboy spat, shutting Rapha up.

  “She’s absolutely with the Creator now. And so am I. Our sole goal is to kill Mother, and she wants it too, more than anyone else in this place,” Phara said calmly. It was creepy how she always remained in the background—a figure not specifically noted but very important.

  “Gee, thanks, human torch.” Phara’s response shook Airith, made her skin pimple all over, but Airith immediately shook it off. “Well, since no one has the balls to break free of their dog chains and challenge me,” Airith said pinpointedly in Luna’s direction, “I’ll go back up to that lousy party and see what liquor they’re selling.” She snorted, careful to guard her underlying relief at not being further questioned about her past, and left, listening closely behind her.

  No one was following her. Her heart settled. She couldn’t bear to face them, having to see the distrust growing in their eyes.

  The tunnel of displayed desires came up to the elevator that brought her back to the airtight vacuum that was the party. The loud music scraped at her ears, and she shut her hearing down. She didn’t need to hear anything. She just needed a drink and a good night’s crash. She recalled Mox saying something about where they could spend the night, but she could barely comprehend anything coming out of the dimwit’s mouth, especially after the big expose. All she could see was her past in his lecherous eyes.

  She stopped at the edge of the raving crowd, seeing swinging arms, whipping hair, sweat-glistening bodies, and the madness, the madness of the song reverberating in their eyes and bodies. She didn’t want to be in the midst of all that; the last thing she needed in that moment was body contact. Her body was twitchy all over, and emotions roiled underneath her skin, mostly anger and helplessness. She felt desecrated, hanging up there in the air, unable to do anything; and Mox had only done that with a flick of a finger. She flexed her fingers tightly around the hilt of her sword. He would get his, that Mox.

  She almost wished Luna had challenged her to a fight as she picked her way around the dancing horde, edging toward the large alcove into one end of the room where liquor cannisters were stacked ceiling high behind a glowing counter. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she could have defeated Luna; ex-elite soldiers were wrought for war. The scars she’d glimpsed from under Luna’s armor weren’t there for show, and the blaster she carried around was only a part of her because she had paid dearly for it with the loss of an arm. Elite soldiers were expendable units in the Kentilan army, only employed for suicide missions. Luna was a relic of a chaotic past in the history of the Kentilan Empire. Airith knew this well because she had been a child assassin then, and most of her targets
had been Kentilan diplomats seeking solace over the barrier of Homecity.

  “A cup of desert rat.” She sat on one of the vacant stools as she flicked a coin at bartender. The robot behind the counter caught it with the flick of its wrist. It was a tall muscle of scrap and bolts, a chunky contraption put together with incongruent parts. One of the cheap-tier models; effective service, just not great in looks. After all, no one found love at the bar, these days. The human attendants had all been replaced with artificial intelligence, to ensure micromanagement and accountability.

  The bot whirred and rustled about behind the counter, coming up with a glass and a bottle of the grog. He upturned it and hazel pellets rattled into the glass. It swiped up the cup and held it under a tap. Water gushed into the glass, just enough to fill a quarter of it.

  Airith raised the glass to her chin. It was cold to the touch as she watched the pellets fizz to life, and bubbled gas raced to the surface in a frenzy, popping when it came in contact with the air and giving off the pungent smell that hit home at the nape of her neck. The tingles ran down her spine. She downed the glass, the acidic drink burning its way down and leaving a silkiness in its wake. It wasn’t the sensation she was after, but rather the side effect that came later. Her head began to float but never took off, like a hot air balloon held steadfast, just drifting in the breeze, filled with nothing but air. Just blank. She lived for her moments with this drink, and yet the feeling came with disadvantages, like the many other sensations around her that became so much louder!

  Like the throbbing of the loud music. It was a churned, jarring noise pressing all around her, its jagged points scratching the edges of her consciousness. She felt the splintering of the wooden counter under fingers and the rubbery squelch of the cushion under her ass. Sadly, the side effect of the drink didn’t last long, and after just a few minutes she could feel herself floating back down.

  “Hey, sassy.” She felt the unmistakable grope of strong, tapering fingers. They squeezed hard into her butt cheek, squirming for the feel. The intensity of the sensation grew as her reflexes slowly returned to her.

  “Hey, I think she likes it,” the voice snickered. Thin and shrill.

  The man flexed harder, digging into her flesh and she turned slowly, with a big smirk. Finally, a fight.

  He was a gaunt fella in ragged shorts and a T-shirt, thrift wear from the scrapyards. Airith was almost disappointed. His beard was a bushy tendril that enveloped half his face and yet his teeth shone yellow as the bulb above their heads, revealing that glint of lust in his eyes.

  “You’re a dirty one, ain’t ya? I can tell.” He leaned in, his breath rasping at her face, stale with the cheapest grog there was, gringo.

  “Same way I knew you’re a cheap one.” Airith’s fingers wound round the hilt of her sword, strapped to her other side, facing away from the man. The insult darkened his features, and his hand froze. “But don’t worry, I don’t care.” She grinned, and hope brightened his face again. “Just for tonight, you’ll fucking do!” Her movement was a sudden jerk, an up thrust that slammed the hilt of her sword into his chin, and she relished the crack of bone as he toppled backwards into his companion. They both went down.

  “I will castrate you!” Airith saw red as her sword came to life in her grasp, the buzzing from the radioactive edge humming, a resonance that drowned out the panic from the surrounding crowd. Her suitor was just before her, trembling at the sight of her blade, blood trailing from the side of his mouth, his companion scrambling from reach. Airith raised her sword.

  “Airith?” The voice was familiar. “Airith!” Rapha grabbed her arm as his face loomed into view. His eyes were seedy and wary, the eyes a trainer gave his stray pet.

  She hated that, hated Rapha trying to rein her in all the time. She flung his arm off.

  “Airith, did you see the dildo tattoo burned into the side of that man’s face? That’s Mox’s signature. You don’t want to kill him. Especially not here, in Mox’s house.” He touched her shoulder gingerly, eyes boring into hers.

  Airith followed his gesture to the cowering man before her. Fair enough, there was a small black scar carved into the side of his face. It had looked like nothing at first sight, but it really was shaped like a dildo.

  “Another glass of desert rat, please,” Rapha said to the bot behind the counter, who immediately went to work. “What are you still doing, get out of here.” Rapha snapped at the man.

  He scrambled off into the crowd and Airith seethed as she put her sword hilt back. She plopped back down onto her seat as the watchers gradually melded back into the background.

  “Don’t try to reassure me, Rapha. I like it this way. At least now they know what I am. I don’t have to feel insecure. I can face the apprehension head on.” Airith snatched up the new glass and downed its contents. Her thoughts skipped back to Mox’s big reveal. The desperation hit her like cold water, and she trembled.

  “What if we can’t kill that bitch, Rapha? What then? Everyone dies if she dies! You do know she’s putting together another plan. I can feel it.” Her hand jerked steadily but she kept them on the counter in front of her. “How is that possible? How can I still fill her? I thought the Glitch abolished her effect on her children. So why?” Airith hung her head, as the tingles came again, loosening the knots that kept her head on. “Oh wow, this never gets old, you should try it.” Airith drifted.

  “Quick, a glass for me!” Rapha snapped at the bot. It whisked up another glass in half the time it took for Airith’s ecstasy to stay afloat, so as she floated back down, Rapha was going back up.

  She watched his eyes roll back into his head. “I almost forgot why you… like… this… drink… so…” He was adorable in that moment, a boy trying to play catch-up to his sweetheart. But that didn’t matter.

  “You do know we have to get to the Creator. This changes everything.”

  “Yeeeaaaaah.” She could see him coming back to her. “But we need the hack first. Vidmantas and his morons could be anywhere.” Rapha sighed. “Two more glasses plea—”

  “No. This is serious,” Airith said, unable to make her voice as strong as she wanted it. Her nerves were still rattled from her last drink. She needed the ecstasy, but she also needed a solution.

  “Okay.” Rapha summoned all the seriousness he could muster. “We win the race tomorrow; we get the hack. That way we can face Mother head on. We arm ourselves to the teeth, and then!” Rapha snapped a finger between them. Airith’s soul and body focused on it. “Then we throw the biggest party Homecity has ever seen!”

  Airith blinked.

  “There’d be a lot of booze, we’d make them get wasted! Then we go off to kill Mother. That way, we all have a good time before we all die.” Rapha’s grin only flourished a moment before Airith’s smack almost slammed his head into the counter.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Bad idea?”

  “Worst idea I’ve ever heard. Are you even taking this seriously?”

  “I’m sorry, babe.” He took her hand in his. Turned it over and trailed kisses across her palm, touching the aching spots from the brass contact with Rapha’s half-metal head. He paused to beam puppy dog eyes at her.

  The heat rose in her cheeks and her thoughts stilled. How had they gotten here, again?

  “I’ve got another idea.” He grinned wryly and Airith knew he was about to crack another one. “If we can’t kill her, we should take her prisoner, shut her in Phara’s COCOON for the rest of her useless days.”

  The idea stirred premonitions that only fed her hunger for revenge and death. Mother trapped in an airtight box was a pleasuring thought, but Airith would much rather drive her blade into the monster.

  “Airith.”

  Rapha touched her chin lightly and her vision steered back to his face, taking the entirety of his looks in. Rapha wasn’t one those handsome fellows with the sparkling eyes, chiseled noses, and strong jaws; in contrast, his features were mild, except for the metal plate t
hat centered on his forehead and chin.

  “The music changed,” he whispered, drawing her attention to the change of atmosphere. The loud brass assault was gone and so was the synergism that had swept the room. Now a familiar mix of percussion drums and guitar serenaded the place, in a pulsating tempo of 128BPM, and just like her favorite drink, the music meandered into her head, stimulating signals that made her hips sway provocatively.

  “Dance with me. Enough of that whore up in the ruins.” Airith moved off her seat as the synchrony of the music and her body took over and her feet obeyed. Her waist stretched as she contorted in tortuous twirls that made all eyes within a five-foot radius burn in her direction. She spun nimbly, wrapped in the rhythms that took her until she felt the enveloping heat and taut muscles of someone from behind, his hands sliding around her, slithering with every pulse of her hips, his breath bellowing hot in her ear.