The Shady Outskirts

[Denalik Hystere]

The sun shone brightly on Station Square. The day was fresh and beautiful, and most of all, peaceful. Birds sang in the trees, a gentle breeze could be felt, and the warmth of the sun beat down gently on the various passerby and pedestrians of the city. People went about their daily lives in peaceful bliss, the crisis only a couple of weeks ago put on the back burner for most people in exchange for their normal, everyday problems of what they were going to do about their unkempt hedges, getting that raise at work, or how the heck they were going to get their wife to forgive them this time. Only those that had been directly affected, the refugees and the soldiers, and the families of those lost, still kept the invasion in the front of their thoughts, but even they thought more of what they would do now rather than what had been done. Throughout the city, it was, for the most part, peaceful and safe.

But of course, for every light there must be a shadow, and Station Square still had plenty of those. Illicit dealings in dark basements, muggings and theft in shadowy alleys… and of course, there was no end to the looters from Radical City, coming to Station Square to sell off their ill-gotten gains. But none of these shady going-ons could compare to the crime about to be committed in one dark back alley on the outskirts of the city.

--- --- ---

Theodore Shaftson, a human in his late fifties, sat on the curb next to his car, holding his head in his hands. On the ground in front of him lay a knife, which moments before had been sticking out of the tire of his small hybrid car. The only people nearby where in the cars that went down the wide road, headed towards the heart of the city and away from the dingier, shadier outskirts. Most of the vehicles were military jeeps and personnel transports, returning from patrols and other tasks around the ruins of Capitol City. Very few civilian vehicles passed along the once busy freeway to Capitol, and there were no pedestrians on the sidewalks. Nobody but Theodore.

Theodore himself was confused and angry. He had been driving from his parent’s house in the countryside a few miles out from Capitol City, where he had been staying for a while to make sure they were doing alright, and was almost home when he had abruptly felt something hit his car. He immediately pulled over to check what had hit him. When the car stopped he had heard a loud *thunk* as he got out, only to find a strange knife lying in the street, a scratch and a dent on the side of his car, and another strange knife jutting out of his rear tire, letting the air escape it with a loud hiss. He had already used his spare on the way home when he’d accidentally run over a nail, so now he was stuck here on the side of the freeway in the shadiest, most dangerous part of town. He had forgotten his cell phone at his parent’s house, so he had no way of calling for a tow truck or anything, so he had been standing by his car flagging down passing vehicles, asking help or a lift, but to no avail. Now he sat here on the side of the road, confused and angry as to why someone would throw knives at his car, especially such weird, angular ones such as these, and despairing that he would have to walk all the way home, and probably get mugged to boot.

As it would turn out, his fate would be far worse than that. A figure, cloaked from head to foot in a black trench coat, his head and face hidden in the deep hood, walked up almost silently behind Theodore. He was so quiet and still that it took Theodore a couple of minutes to realize that he was there, and that was only because he caught sight of the edge of a shadow. Immediately he got up and whirled to face the newcomer, expecting it to be some punk here to mug him and loot the car. Not that he could do much about it if it was, and he knew it.

“Hello, Your Honor,” The figure said. His voice was deep, but raspy, a grating tone halfway between speaking and cawing. “Do you remember me?”

Theodore looked at the figure with a combination of caution, curiosity, and fear. “Um… I’m afraid not… were you… um… uh…” His biggest fear at that moment was that this was some thug he’d sent to jail, back to get revenge. But it felt different from that… there was something wrong here…

“Allow me to refresh your memory. Do you recall the case of the murder of Aislyn Hystere?” The figure took a step closer. Theodore could feel his hot breath on his face. The figure wasn’t tremendously tall, but somehow his very presence, his voice and his tone, and the way he carried himself, made Theodore feel smaller and frightened.

“Of course, that case was one of the few murders I’ve judged,” he said, sounding flustered and distressed. “It was open and close. The jury found the defendants not guilty…”

“Unanimously, I know.” The figure’s voice took on a harder, colder edge, and he took another step closer. Theodore took a step back, and felt himself bump into his car. What had they said about that raven Aislyn’s husband? Something about being ‘a ninja’ and having ‘supernatural powers’? Theodore’s heart jumped to his throat. Was this Aislyn’s husband, back for his revenge? “Just because the jury says it doesn’t make it the truth. And you know the truth, don’t you, Your Honor?”

Suddenly the figure lashed out, seizing hold of Theodore by the collar. Theodore noticed that the hands were covered in purple feathers, and the fingernails were sharp and black. In an instant it hit him. “You!” he shouted. “You were her son, weren’t you? That… that…”

The figure hauled him bodily into the alleyway and summarily hurled him against the wall. A few cars and military vehicles passed by, but nobody stopped or got out; nobody did anything to save him. They didn’t know who he was, and they didn’t care. To them it was just another mugging. Theodore slumped to the ground, and the figure advanced on him. “That’s right, I am her son. The hybrid, the crossbreed, the abomination. Call me what you will, I don’t care. Nothing you could call me would save you from your fate.” The figure waved a hand, and an audible humming could be heard as a tiny pinprick of purple light appeared in midair and expanded. When it was roughly five feet wide it stopped growing. The disk was completely and totally flat, and it’s surface shimmered and seemed to ripple like a liquid, but it pulsated with a dark purple and red glow and emanated a sinister energy.

“P-please, don’t do this! I didn’t decide whether those men were guilty or not. I-I felt terrible about your mother’s death, you’ve got to believe me, but there was nothing I could d-do! Please spare me!” Theodore begged and pleaded, his eyes filled with fear. The figure merely ignored him and pulled out a knife from inside his coat… identical to the two that had hit Theodore’s car.

“It really doesn’t matter if you could have done anything,” The figure said as he grabbed Theodore and hauled him to his feet before stabbing the knife through his shirtsleeve and pinning it, and by extension his arm, to the wood wall. “What matters is that you are a judge. You are meant to uphold justice. Whether you could have done anything or not, you failed to uphold justice.” The figure pulled out another knife and repeated the process on Theodore’s other arm, leaving him pinned firmly to the wall. “And now justice will be served.”

Ignoring Theodore’s panicked pleas the figure turned away and stepped aside, leaving Theodore pinned to the wall directly facing the disk of purple and red light. The figure turned back to face the man and the disk, extending his hand open-palmed towards Theodore, and abruptly what appeared to be glowing purple tentacles snaked out of the disk and reached out for the trembling, helpless man. Each one was as thin as a pin, but it quickly became apparent that they were also razor sharp. One merely brushed against Theodore’s cheek, as though petting him, leaving a thin line of blood seeping up in its wake. “Goodbye, Your Honor. Give my regards to my mother.” With that, the figure clenched his outstretched hand into a fist, and the tentacles surged forward in a mass of lashing purple energy.

--- --- ---

Half an hour later the figure stepped out of the alley. There was no trace of the glowing portal that had been there moments before. A big black plastic bag lay on the ground in easy view, with a sheet of paper reading “FOR THE MAYOR” in large black letters attached to it with an eight pointed shuriken. The figure picked up the two knives off of the ground next to the abandoned car and slipped them back into his coat, then turned towards the heart of the city and continued on his way.
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[Denalik Hystere]

Denalik was thirsty. He'd been traveling for some time now, headed ever closer to the thriving heart of the city, and away from the site of his grisly revenge. He didn't like the idea of stopping for a drink somewhere, not in public, but all the ninja discipline in the world doesn't help when you haven't had anything to drink all day.

The hybrid stopped at the first shop he saw, which happened to be a little convinience store at a gas station. Still shrouded in his black overcoat, his face hidden in it's deep hood, he felt relatively safe from prying eyes. He passed through the empty gas station and entered the shop without incident.

The storekeeper didn't even look up as the door swung open, jingling a bell attached to it. He merely turned the page of the magazine he was reading and ignored it, which was fine by Denalik. The ninja went straight to the back of the little store and pulled out a bottle of ChaoCola out of the beverage cooler, then went up to the front counter. He quite abruptly recalled his lack of cash as the cashier boredly ringed it up on the register. "That'll be five rings," he said with a monotone drawl. "Cash or credit."

"Credit," Denalik said, quietly to mask his peculular voice. When he didn't produce a credit card the casheir glanced up at him with a look that said he'd delt with penniless punks before. "I mean, I'll pay you back later," the ninja said quickly, though not nervously in the slightest. The only thing he was worried about was whether or not he'd have to kill this guy for a bottle of ChaoCola, which quickly seemed to be becoming the case.

"Look punk, I don't care if you think you're awesome with that 'mysterious' look you've got going on, but if you don't have any real money then you can get the hell out of my store." The casheir jestured towards the door.

"I'm afraid you don't understand me," Denalik said, letting a little more of an intimidating quality into his voice. "I need something to drink. This is the cheapest thing you've got. I'll pay you back later, but I need it now."

The cashier didn't flinch. His shop was in a bad part of town, so he'd delt with plenty of punks and would-be toughguys trying to intimidate him in his time. "Ooh, I'm so scared. Don't hurt me mister mysterious scary guy." He reached under the counter and produced a double-barreled shotgun. "Punks like you don't scare me, I've seen too many of ya. Now get the hell out of my store before I fill your ass with lead."

Denalik frowned within his hood and reached into his overcoat. It was all the incentive the shopowner needed. He cocked the gun with an audible *chick-chick* and fired.

The bullets never hit their target. Fast as lighting, Denalik slammed the gun aside with his free hand, so that the shot smashed into the beverage coolers, shattering the glass and sending soda spilling all over the floor. In the same deft motion Denalik rolled over the counter, producing an elongated melee-kunai from within his overcoat and holding the long blade to the storekeeper's throat. The cashier, who wasn't stupid, immedietly went limp and dropped his gun, which Denalik kicked aside. "Wh-what do you want?! I'll give you anything, all the money in the register, anything, just don't kill me!"

Denalik reached over to the counter with his free hand and grabbed the bottle of cola. "This will do, thanks," he said cooly. He stepped back to the counter again, knife in hand an cashier cowering in the corner, and stabbed through the clean wooden surface. The knife-tip protruded beneath, and it speared through a red button beneath the counter. "So you can't call the cops," he told the cashier as he removed his kunai, replaced it in his overcoat, and picked up the discarded shotgun.

Taking the drink and the gun, Denalik left the little shop, which was by now rather a mess, walking back into the gas station (ignoring any observers, of course) and headed back for the street. He tossed the gun aside casually before continuing on his way down the street.

[Sly]

At the time, Sly was fueling up his beater with gas in the same station, when he saw what was happening in the store through the windows. F4 was always looking for new recruits. Sly himself had done some of that when he was a new operative. This guy looked interesting. He just had to hope that was a furry under the cloak. Sly honestly didn't care about F4's mission at all, but he had to keep up appearances anyway.

So, he stole after the hooded figure on foot. He made sure to keep a fair distance, in case this guy decided to lash out at him too. "Excuse me!" he called out, letting one hand rest near the holster for one of his bowie knives.

[Denalik Hystere]

Denalik stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Slowly and deliberately he reached inside his overcoat, saying nothing. Thoughts coarsed through his head at a mile a minute: Who was this guy? It couldn't be a cop; he hadn't seen any cop cars or heard any sirens, so the chances of it being a cop were slim to none. It didn't seem like this newcomer was threatening him, as he'd heard no click of a gun being cocked or snick of a blade being drawn. But... the person seemed bold and unafraid...

The ninja cut his line of thought short. He couldn't sit there and think about it for too long: he had to do something. Slowly, exageratedly, he turned around to face the man who had called out to him. "Can I help you, sir?" he said quietly, cocking his head to the side slightly and keeping his hand in his over coat.

[Sly]

Looks furry...good. Although I won't know for sure until the cloak comes off.

Smiling, Sly began to speak. "I couldn't help but notice the little show you put on in the shop. Looked like you were trying to pay for the drink, but didn't have any money. I can help you with that, if you're interested. You look like you'd be really suitable for the kind of work I'd have for you..." Sly trailed off, so as to give the hooded guy a chance to reply.

[Denalik Hystere]

Denalik straightened. This guy wants to give me a job? he thought incredulously. I am strapped for cash... but I have more important things to do than do some random job for some guy I don't know... and besides, what happens when he finds out what I am...?

Denalik shook his head. "I don't know... I need money, but I have a certain... condition... that generally makes it hard for me to take a job. I'm not sure it would be safe for either of us to have me working for you..."

[Sly]

Sly disregarded the ominous-sounding tone of Den's voice and focused merely on what he'd said. It was like they were at an ordinary job interview in an office building. "What condition is that?"

If this guy is right about his condition preventing him from working me, well...no big deal. There will be other applicants. Although with that display in the shop, I do think I will be disappointed if I have to walk away.

[Denalik Hystere]

Man, this guy just couldn't take a hint, could he? Denalik had been sure that at the very least his tone of voice would have deterred him, but apparently this was not a man to be deterred. Well, I guess we'll just have to find out about that, he thought to himself. It's not like I can't just kill him afterward.

"Alright, I'll show you, Denalik said, "But don't be surprised if I kill you afterward." The threat would have sounded like a joke if it weren't for his cold, buisnesslike tone of voice.

Denalik glanced about for a moment, and, seeing no one, Denalik reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a human... but covered up entirely in deep purple feathers. His piercing yellow eyes were those of a bird, and in place of hair he had a crest of long red feathers crowning his head. "In case the appearance didn't give it away, I'm a hybrid. Human and raven. Now then, to buisness." Denalik replaced his hood, then his other hand, which until then had still been in his overcoat, now emerged gripping the elongated melee kunai he had used in the shop. It was obvious he was already sure of what Sly's reaction would be. "I wish I could say I was sorry about this, but I'm not. I can't have just anyone knowing what I am, you know." His voice was cold and level as he advanced on Sly, knife in hand.

[Sly]

Sly's eyes widened at the hybrid's bizarre appearance. He'd never seen a hybrid quite like this. But under F4 he'd been assigned to kill many of them, considering the organization thought of them as 'abominations', even worse than pureblood humans. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd seen such an odd mix. So the eye widening was the only initial reaction.

He remained standing where he was as Den approached, but all the same he did draw out his Bowie knives in self defense. But Sly continued to assume the 'job interviewer' tone of voice. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed if you didn't want to work with me. I have no idea who you are, much less a reason to hurt you. But you will regret it, if you attack me."

[Denalik Hystere]

Denalik paused, knife raised. In that one moment he had met two unexpected obstacles to the murdering this man. The first was obvious: he was armed, and calm in a dangerous situation, which indicated he was a vetran fighter and would, as such, prove more of challenge than the average guy. Denalik also couldn't rule out the possibility of this guy having supernatural abilities, as so many people seemed to have these days.

What really stopped him however was Sly's reaction. He had not, as Denalik expected, reacted negatively to his species. His eyes had visibly widened, but it was only for a moment and he hadn't shown any other reaction. Most of all, he hadn't seemed to be repulsed by his appearance, other than the intial surprise. Denalik didn't trust anybody anymore, but he needed money and so far this guy was his best chance at an employer...

"Wait," Denalik said quickly, lowering his knife but keeping it in a ready position, "you aren't disturbed or revolted at me being a hybrid? You would employ someone like me?"