Stained Gold, Red Rising Fan Fiction

Red Rise Part 4

"Who the bloodydamn fuck are you?" one of the big Stained monsters guarding the gates rumbles. "We welcome no Golds here. Not today."

I scrub the blood from my eyes and look at the white-haired monster in his tattooed face. "I'm Oslo ThunderGod's Razor Sister."

The Stained chuckles, loud and deep. "Oslo's a pup. He's not earned the right to declare Razor Kin. So fuck off." He raises his pulseFist, indicating there will be no second warning.

I fight back the sobs threatening to wrack my pain-filled body. I have nowhere else to go. If they do not help me now, I will likely bleed out within the hour. I suck in a deep breath and plow forward: "I'm Reaper Blood. Twenty-seven generations back, my Kin--Darrow of Lykos, the bloodydamn Reaper of Mars himself, brought your Kin, Ragnar Volarus, the Shield of Tinos, out of slavery. Together they broke the chains. I'm being hunted by Gorgons. Under the pact Ragnar and the Reaper made--a pact later strengthened further by Sefi the Quiet--it is my right to claim Sanctuary. I do so now. Do you or do you not carry the Honor of Ragnar Volarus on your shoulders, Stained? Because if you do not, you might as well shoot me between the fucking eyes, because I'm already dead without your help."

The monstrous Stained sniffs. "All know the Reaper's bloodline is no more. They were slaughtered when their empire fell to the Weasel King. The Usurper."

I rip a section of blood-soaked fabric from my sleeve and toss it his way. "Yeah, I thought so too until this morning. Life's a fucked-up thing. Test my DNA. Reaper DNA is the most commonly known DNA in the galaxy. Mercs make entire careers off being able to claim a tiny portion of it. Mine's only 27 generations removed. A straight shot."

The Stained monster bends forward and scoops up the crimson-stained fabric, activates his gravBoots, then shoots up and over the gated wall. Less than a minute later, the hardened, battle-steel gates rumble open to reveal my friend Oslo, fully up-armored, standing there, a crooked grin decorating his face.

"Hey, Dork," he says as I stumble in. "You never told me you were Reaper Kin. That's so badass!" He slaps me on the shoulder, the one I'd been stabbed through a few blocks back. "Look at us. Ragnar Kin and Reaper Kin back together. Ready to kick some ass?"

I collapse.

Sometime later, I regain consciousness in the Obsidian compound's med unit. The first thing I notice is the reek of disinfectant. The second is the resFlesh plastered all over my gowned body and the drip bags pumping quickHeal into my arms.

Already I feel better.

"You're up," Oslo says, startling me. The crafty Obsidian boy possesses that creepy ability to sit or stand so still you don't even realize he's in the same room as you. History tells us that Ragnar commanded the same ability and often startled the Reaper with it. "Damn, Goldielocks, you sure took one hell of a beating. Why didn't you tell the gatemen you were all shot up?"

I snort. "They knew. They just didn't give a flying fuck."

Oslo is one of the few Obsidians I've met over the years who display their hearts openly. His eyes immediately radiate pain. "That was my uncle, Tikko. He's more bark than bite. He'd have taken you in."

"He's Stained."

His laugh is like granite boulders tumbling down a mountainside. "So?"

"Stained are killing machines."

"Are they?" He arches one of those bushy white eyebrows of his. "How many do you know?"

I think of my uncle Julius, whom I've never met. He is Stained. And so are his troops... And wouldn't that mean Mother was Stained as well? But where did her ink go? And where does that leave me, will I someday sport Stains after uncle Julius rescues me?

I sniffle as tears once again flow. What if Julius doesn't come? What will I do then?

"I'm sorry, Victra," Oslo says, wiping my cheeks with his huge, six-fingered hand. His eyes have turned soft. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," I reply, then battle back my fear and spill my guts, telling him everything. Not that I know all that much.

And, in the end, his doubtful eyes betray him. He doesn't believe me. At least not the part about my Reaper pendant being an emergency beacon. He shakes his head when he realizes I know. "Nothing short of a gravWave could escape this compound undetected. And to create one of those, you'd need a piece of equipment larger than a starship. I think your mother was just trying to offer you hope in the end. Give you a reason to keep fighting. I'm sorry, but you're uncle's not coming."

At first, I want to argue; to scream at Oslo and call him a liar. But then I remember one of my teachers--from a few planets back--explaining to the class how gravWave communication would have changed modern warfare if only the scientists could have figured out how to miniaturize it. So gravWave had been relegated to planet-to-planet communication only.

I sigh and drop my head back into the pillow. Another lie from Mother. Which, at this point, is no big surprise. Did I ever even really know the woman?

The monstrous Stained, Tikko, sticks his head into the room. "Get her into some armor, Oslo. The Gorgons have arrived."

I yank the quickHeal intravenous drips from my arms and jog behind Oslo to the armory. There I'm issued Obsidian flexArmor, a pulseShield, a pulseFist, and handed my razor, Night Stalker. I know, it's a corny moniker, but Momma made me name her. And yes, my razor is female.

Outside, atop the wall, I see how truly fucked we are. The Obsidians have everyone--men, women, and children--up-armored and manning the walls. Counting myself, we number around a hundred or so fighters, with twelve of us rocking Stains.