Short Stories of the Acolytes

Boxed Sword

~~~~~~This story takes place before the events in Haunted By Shadows~~~~~~

More than a lifetime ago, long before he became a hunter by the name of Snake, the man known as Syn was celebrating the birth of his daughter Zila. His wife Michone was resting comfortably as he paced the living room with his little girl in his arms, singing to her quietly. By watching him, no one would know he had an uncanny knack at aggravating those around him, and in his business an angry man is a deadly one. He was a man that refused to tolerate idiocy with a low tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, anyone that is except for his wife. She had a tendency of going out of her way to push his buttons and he loved every moment of it.​

The movements from the other room woke her from her slumber so she sleepily stepped into the dark room. She smiled as she watched the two interact, hearing her coo and him mimic the sound right back to her. She found it amusing that the first time he ever spoke to her, he only did so after killing two men in front of her and here he was talking to her and no one had to die.​

A half hour passed before their daughter had fallen asleep and Syn placed her gently in her crib.​

“You coming to bed baby?” Michone asked from the doorway. 

“Can’t. The High Lords have a new project they want me to start on, some sort of high powered rifle with specialty rounds.” 

“Don’t they understand you just had a baby, she’s only a week old? You need to have more than just a couple of hours to yourself and your family. You’ve slept maybe two hours per night cycle.” 

“They only care about their results.” 

“Fuck their results. They keep you working like this they’ll burn you out.”

“I love you babe,” he said as he kissed her fiercely.

“Don’t forget your pistol,” she reminded as headed for the door of the small dwelling. 

“I never cared for the damn things. The knife will be good enough,” he told her as he affixed the eight inch blade to his belt. 

“Just be careful, Liwin swore he was going to kill you after last week’s meeting.” 

“I will babe,” he told her as he closed the door behind him. The lights of the station were dimmed to reflect the night cycle of the planet below, he preferred it this way. During the day cycles the lights were harsh and made his tired eyes hurt. Thirty minutes of walking led him to his office, with two men standing at attention. 

“Evening Gren, Vik. Have we received the design specs they promised?” 

“The documents were delivered an hour ago, sir,” Gren informed his employer. “Are they on my desk?” 

“Of course sir.”

Syn descended a short flight of stairs that led to his private lab; beakers lined the wall to his left, various chemicals in several sealed bottles. Case of bullets and various electronic components sat to his right and in the center of the room was a large drawing table where a large envelope rested. The specifications within called for a large assault rifle capable of firing pure plasmic energy, something that his rival designers had been fighting over. The failed designs within told the story of nine years of failure, each version resulting in fires, deaths and melted equipment. He laughed at some of the names he had seen that attempted to make the designs work, knowing that they weren’t nearly talented enough to handle the task at hand. 

Removing a small tablet from a drawer at his desk, he began sketching four barrels and the attached mechanism that allowed them to rotate around each other with fine point rubberized stylus. He connected a cable to the small handheld device and within seconds a three dimensional replica of his drawer floated before his eyes. He rotated the image and toyed with the gears. The problem with the designs that had failed was the energy overheated the barrels after two shots, it seemed almost a simple solution; increase the number of barrels to allow the barrel time to cool between shots. He quickly drew a latching mechanism that sealed the feeding tubes he had just completed drawing.​