Fawlk’s blood was slowly coming down from a boiling to a sizzling temperature as he walked slowly across the vast concrete floor of the warehouse. Paying special attention towards avoiding the cracks, craters and holes that scattered across the expanse, he made his way towards his target across the room. He stepped gingerly over the first body, who lay face down in a pool of blood that had just stopped growing. The arm had very clearly been grotesquely broken during the struggle and the neck bore a fresh laceration which had been fueling the pool just a minute before; the mass became a lifeless heap of plated white armor and flesh only seconds later. Just beyond was what Fawlk was looking for: a second body on its back. The body looked like it had been pressed into the concrete slightly, cracks crawled outwards like a spider web from the origin of impact. Fawlk stopped at the body and squat down on his haunches next to it, grabbing the wrist closest to him and checking for a pulse for several seconds. Dropping the arm he looked over his shoulder and called back into the dim vastness.
“This one’s still alive.”
“The masta’?” Zack’s voice called back. Fawlk looked back at the man, noticing the chest barely rising and falling under his white hoodie. More accurately, the formerly white hoodie; it was covered in splashes of blood and torn in several places.
“Yes.”
“Oh ‘onderful!” Zack trotted over next to Fawlk, who remained squatting. “Wake ‘im up.” Zack ordered. There was a sharp pinch in the back of Fawlk’s neck and he reached down to lightly slap the man’s cheeks. He started to come to, his one eye struggling to open while the other remained closed. Zack squatted down next to the man’s head, the bottom of his trench coat sprawling out across the floor.
“Can you ‘ear me?” Zack started, cocking his head to the side with the question. The broken body stayed motionless, but the man opened his lips to respond. A generous helping of thick red froth dribbled out the corner of his lips before he could speak.
“No.” He managed, a weak smile flashing across his mouth. Fawlk cringed, instantly knowing how Zack would react to such a defiant answer.
“Listen closely to me,” Zack sneered, not amused in the slightest, “there’s s’pposed to be two o’ you ‘ere. There’re two cars ou’side, and you’re the only one I find ‘n this buildin’? Things don’ quite add up t’ me. Tell me where your friend is hidin’ an’ maybe I won’ make your las’ nigh’ alive so agonizin’.”
The man’s one eyed gaze looked over at Fawlk briefly, then rolled back to Zack. “Gone.”
Without warning, Zack’s arm shot out and he wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, squeezing gently. “Listen ‘ere you little shit.” He spat, “You lost! It’s over! Tell me where ‘e wen’ before I tear you apar’!”
The man’s one eye widened as he struggled to breathe. Zack loosened his grip a little to let him speak. More bloody foam leaked out from between his lips as he replied.
“Okay” Was all he could manage, barely audible. Zack leaned in closer to hear. “I just,” started the man on the ground, “forgot.” He made a sick, hiccup noise from his attempt at laughing afterwards. A small amount of blood sprayed from his mouth and his body contorted in a twisted way as it tried to gather enough air to manage laughter. The expression that worked its way across his face told Fawlk the whole experience was far from pleasant. Zack stood up slowly, visibly holding in his rage. He looked long and hard down at the man, then shot a glance over at Fawlk.
“Kill ‘im.” Was all Zack said. Fawlk felt a pinch in the back of his neck that ran down his spine. He looked at the man, and his vision started to blur as he tried to stop his body from moving. His muscles flexed and spasmed and the pain persisted. The man, no older than twenty-two, closed his one good eye as he resigned himself to his fate.
“No, no, no.” Fawlk muttered to himself under his breath as he fought his own body.
“Fawlk!” Zack snapped. “Kill ‘im.” He repeated the command, and a fresh wave of pain shot down Fawlk’s spine. He moved closer to the man’s head and dropped to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he kept his arms from raising to the man’s throat. He heard Zack’s huff of impatience behind him.
“Magistra’e Fawlk,” Zack started slowly. Before he could go any further, Fawlk reached out and grabbed the man’s head with both hands, snapping it quickly to the side so he heard an audible pop. The pain in his body instantly vanished and he dropped the limp head thudding back onto the concrete floor. He stayed on his knees, panting and staring at the lifeless body.
When he managed to catch his breath, he stood up and turned around to face Zack, who was looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face. Fawlk barely noticed that Ted and Sayloote were watching near the warehouse door, far off on the other side of the building.
“I’m hungry!” Ted yelled across the room. “Let’s go get some food!” Zack stared for a couple seconds longer before he turned to answer.
“It’s two in the mornin’, Ted.”
“So?” Ted whined, “I’m hungry, and there’s a twenty-four hour diner just down the street.”
Zack looked back at Fawlk with the same quizzical look on his face.
“C’mon,” Zack said quietly to Fawlk, nodding back towards the warehouse exit. Fawlk could not bring his eyes to meet Zack’s, so instead he just made an awkward motion to straighten his jacket, nodded quickly then followed the black trench coat to the door.
It did not take long for the four of them to reach the diner. When they did arrive, Fawlk was not surprised to find that there were no other customers. He suspected the time of day played a part in the lack of patronage, but the outdated, dirty look of the establishment likely didn’t help to attract revenue either. Zack and Ted were the first two through the door, Sayloote and Fawlk followed behind them silently.
“Will a booth be fine?” The hostess asked with a sad excuse for a smile. There was a pause before Zack answered.
“Two separa’e booths, if tha’s possible.”
“Course, ain’t a problem.” She said and led them to their seats. As soon as they sat down several booths away, Ted and Zack engaged in a heated discussion. Sayloote sat back in his booth bench and looked at Fawlk. The scar that ran across his friend’s cheek and down to his boxy jawline intimidated Fawlk a little, but then Sayloote said the same thing about Fawlk’s scar that ran half of his neck, horizontally like someone had tried to saw his head off. Sayloote’s hair was messy and long, the blonde locks covered his ears and often got in the way of his eyes. Which Fawlk didn’t quite understand, not only were Sayloote’s icy blue eyes an interrogation tool in themselves, but the hair had to get annoying if he was fighting. The waiter placed two glasses of water down in front of the both of them, then walked away.
“What’s gotten into you?” Sayloote asked cautiously. If it were Zack asking, like he had on the drive over, Fawlk would have just shrugged the question off, but Sayloote and Fawlk spent a lot of time together. He was, by far, the only person that Fawlk could really consider a friend. Sayloote’s soft tone also told Fawlk that he genuinely cared; he was worried.
“How long have we been doing this, ‘Loot?” Fawlk started, making sure his voice was hushed enough to not be overheard by Ted and Zack.
“Well shit, I don’t know. Thirty years? Forty? It all kind of blends together now.” Sayloote chuckled a little, obviously caught off guard by the question.
“Doesn’t it get old for you? This life. Doesn’t it get to your head?”
There was a pause. “Is this a rhetorical question or are you really asking me?”
“I’m serious, ‘Loot. Honestly, you don’t get tired of it?”
“Get tired of which part, Fawlk?” Sayloote was visibly flustered by the question. “The late nights? The limitless power? The having a bigger purpose?” He started to raise his voice, but lowered it, realizing it was a sensitive subject.
“I know that we were meant to be who we are. I don’t mean that. I mean, do you ever feel like you’re on the wrong side?”
Again, a pause, made longer by the waiter dropping off their two coffees that Fawlk didn’t remember ordering. “Oh...” Sayloote whistled quietly. “That’s a whole ‘nother talk.”
“Don’t just blow me off, ‘Loot. You’re the only person in this entire messed up world that I can talk to. What the hell are we doing? Why did those two in the warehouse have to die? The paladins fight in self-defense or to try and help people. I don’t even know what our purpose is anymore.” Fawlk paused to breathe, he realized he was talking incredibly fast. Sayloote stared at him, bobbing his head up and down as he listened.
“We don’t have a choice, Fawlk.” Sayloote was talking very slow, picking his words carefully. “You know that—”
“That’s not the point!” Fawlk cut in, his voice turning menacing. “If I would’ve known I was going to be used to kill people in cold blood I would’ve…I don’t know…” Fawlk shook his head in exasperation. His eyes turned to his friend: “And I know you aren’t happy that all Ted uses you for is to massacre the weak.” Fawlk jabbed a finger at Sayloote, accusing him.
“Listen, if there was a way to get out of this, I’d be right there with you. You know how much I hate Ted. The guy sucks.” Sayloote chuckled again, trying to calm Fawlk down.
“You want to break away from him because he’s reckless and stupid; that’s completely irrelevant! We need to find a way out of this so we can stop being monsters.”
“Fawlk. Listen. Bud.” Sayloote signaled with his hands to keep Fawlk quiet. “We were chosen by…something…a long time ago, and we can’t change that. We have to live with it. Maybe you can find solace in your little inner revolution, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“I’m not sure I can take this helplessness much more, ‘Loot. How can I just sit back and let myself kill the helpless. I have to do something.”
“Where is this coming from anyway?” Sayloote cut in, his concern was growing. In a world where having a friend was almost unheard of, he was likely desperate to talk some sense back into his. “We’ve been doing this for years and you’ve never seemed to have a problem before. Hell, you’ve lead the charge most of the time.”
Fawlk shook his head, “I’ve always had a problem, ‘Loot. It’s one thing to kill during the fight, but executing them after? Every time it gets harder and harder. Tonight, before I did it, I saw a guy that maybe under different circumstances, I could have been friends with. What archon would ever let himself get killed to save another?” As Fawlk talked, Sayloote eyes dropped to his coffee. The truth Fawlk was saying was something Sayloote did not want to hear. “Even his servant. It was one adjudicator, ‘Loot. One. And he stood against two magistrates and didn’t back down. His master didn’t utter a single command during the entire fight. He wanted to be there. He believed in what he was doing!” Fawlk pounded a fist into the table, close to knocking both cups of water over. Zack and Ted paused their conversation to look over at the commotion, but returned to their own talk just seconds later.
“Fawlk. I don’t know what to say.” Sayloote truly was at loss for words. Fawlk’s argument, after he had time to process it, might start making his friend think differently about what they had been doing. “I think you just need to rest. Maybe...not think about it so much?”
“I want what that adjudicator had, ‘Loot. Conviction. Dedication. Loyalty.” Fawlk slumped, exhausted from the outburst.
“Seriously, bud. Just go rest for a little while. We can talk about this later.”
Exasperated, Fawlk sighed and dropped his head to look at his lap. There was still dried blood crusted on his palms and fingers. He grabbed his coffee and threw it back in two deep gulps. Sayloote was right, he knew he was trapped. Thinking about it just made things worse. He couldn’t help but think what his life would have been like if he were on the other side.
When he first met his master he imagined being the helper, the underdog overcoming the odds and amazing everyone. He imagined all the other servants from both sides looking up to him, aspiring to be like him. His naïve dreams were crushed shortly after joining with Zack. His first act with his new handler had been in Alberta, sometime during the tail end of winter. He remembered the difficulty they had tracking down the paladin until they eventually found him and his servant hiding in a motel, just off the side of a highway with nothing but a gas station in sight. Fawlk had fought with a tenacity that he hadn’t felt in decades. He had believed he had a purpose, that somehow he could still have become what he wanted to be. The fight that ensued had leveled the motel and reduced the gas station to rubble. He remembered Zack’s beaming face at the conclusion: their first victory.
A set of keys dropped onto the table. Zack and Ted stood next to Fawlk’s booth, waiting for him to snap out of his daydream.
“We’re not ‘ungry anymore
Fawlk’s blood was slowly coming down from a boiling to a sizzling temperature as he walked slowly across the vast concrete floor of the warehouse. Paying special attention towards avoiding the cracks, craters and holes that scattered across the expanse, he made his way towards his target across the room. He stepped gingerly over the first body, who lay face down in a pool of blood that had just stopped growing. The arm had very clearly been grotesquely broken during the struggle and the neck bore a fresh laceration which had been fueling the pool just a minute before; the mass became a lifeless heap of plated white armor and flesh only seconds later. Just beyond was what Fawlk was looking for: a second body on its back. The body looked like it had been pressed into the concrete slightly, cracks crawled outwards like a spider web from the origin of impact. Fawlk stopped at the body and squat down on his haunches next to it, grabbing the wrist closest to him and checking for a pulse for several seconds. Dropping the arm he looked over his shoulder and called back into the dim vastness.
“This one’s still alive.”
“The masta’?” Zack’s voice called back. Fawlk looked back at the man, noticing the chest barely rising and falling under his white hoodie. More accurately, the formerly white hoodie; it was covered in splashes of blood and torn in several places.
“Yes.”
“Oh ‘onderful!” Zack trotted over next to Fawlk, who remained squatting. “Wake ‘im up.” Zack ordered. There was a sharp pinch in the back of Fawlk’s neck and he reached down to lightly slap the man’s cheeks. He started to come to, his one eye struggling to open while the other remained closed. Zack squatted down next to the man’s head, the bottom of his trench coat sprawling out across the floor.
“Can you ‘ear me?” Zack started, cocking his head to the side with the question. The broken body stayed motionless, but the man opened his lips to respond. A generous helping of thick red froth dribbled out the corner of his lips before he could speak.
“No.” He managed, a weak smile flashing across his mouth. Fawlk cringed, instantly knowing how Zack would react to such a defiant answer.
“Listen closely to me,” Zack sneered, not amused in the slightest, “there’s s’pposed to be two o’ you ‘ere. There’re two cars ou’side, and you’re the only one I find ‘n this buildin’? Things don’ quite add up t’ me. Tell me where your friend is hidin’ an’ maybe I won’ make your las’ nigh’ alive so agonizin’.”
The man’s one eyed gaze looked over at Fawlk briefly, then rolled back to Zack. “Gone.”
Without warning, Zack’s arm shot out and he wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, squeezing gently. “Listen ‘ere you little shit.” He spat, “You lost! It’s over! Tell me where ‘e wen’ before I tear you apar’!”
The man’s one eye widened as he struggled to breathe. Zack loosened his grip a little to let him speak. More bloody foam leaked out from between his lips as he replied.
“Okay” Was all he could manage, barely audible. Zack leaned in closer to hear. “I just,” started the man on the ground, “forgot.” He made a sick, hiccup noise from his attempt at laughing afterwards. A small amount of blood sprayed from his mouth and his body contorted in a twisted way as it tried to gather enough air to manage laughter. The expression that worked its way across his face told Fawlk the whole experience was far from pleasant. Zack stood up slowly, visibly holding in his rage. He looked long and hard down at the man, then shot a glance over at Fawlk.
“Kill ‘im.” Was all Zack said. Fawlk felt a pinch in the back of his neck that ran down his spine. He looked at the man, and his vision started to blur as he tried to stop his body from moving. His muscles flexed and spasmed and the pain persisted. The man, no older than twenty-two, closed his one good eye as he resigned himself to his fate.
“No, no, no.” Fawlk muttered to himself under his breath as he fought his own body.
“Fawlk!” Zack snapped. “Kill ‘im.” He repeated the command, and a fresh wave of pain shot down Fawlk’s spine. He moved closer to the man’s head and dropped to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he kept his arms from raising to the man’s throat. He heard Zack’s huff of impatience behind him.
“Magistra’e Fawlk,” Zack started slowly. Before he could go any further, Fawlk reached out and grabbed the man’s head with both hands, snapping it quickly to the side so he heard an audible pop. The pain in his body instantly vanished and he dropped the limp head thudding back onto the concrete floor. He stayed on his knees, panting and staring at the lifeless body.
When he managed to catch his breath, he stood up and turned around to face Zack, who was looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face. Fawlk barely noticed that Ted and Sayloote were watching near the warehouse door, far off on the other side of the building.
“I’m hungry!” Ted yelled across the room. “Let’s go get some food!” Zack stared for a couple seconds longer before he turned to answer.
“It’s two in the mornin’, Ted.”
“So?” Ted whined, “I’m hungry, and there’s a twenty-four hour diner just down the street.”
Zack looked back at Fawlk with the same quizzical look on his face.
“C’mon,” Zack said quietly to Fawlk, nodding back towards the warehouse exit. Fawlk could not bring his eyes to meet Zack’s, so instead he just made an awkward motion to straighten his jacket, nodded quickly then followed the black trench coat to the door.
It did not take long for the four of them to reach the diner. When they did arrive, Fawlk was not surprised to find that there were no other customers. He suspected the time of day played a part in the lack of patronage, but the outdated, dirty look of the establishment likely didn’t help to attract revenue either. Zack and Ted were the first two through the door, Sayloote and Fawlk followed behind them silently.
“Will a booth be fine?” The hostess asked with a sad excuse for a smile. There was a pause before Zack answered.
“Two separa’e booths, if tha’s possible.”
“Course, ain’t a problem.” She said and led them to their seats. As soon as they sat down several booths away, Ted and Zack engaged in a heated discussion. Sayloote sat back in his booth bench and looked at Fawlk. The scar that ran across his friend’s cheek and down to his boxy jawline intimidated Fawlk a little, but then Sayloote said the same thing about Fawlk’s scar that ran half of his neck, horizontally like someone had tried to saw his head off. Sayloote’s hair was messy and long, the blonde locks covered his ears and often got in the way of his eyes. Which Fawlk didn’t quite understand, not only were Sayloote’s icy blue eyes an interrogation tool in themselves, but the hair had to get annoying if he was fighting. The waiter placed two glasses of water down in front of the both of them, then walked away.
“What’s gotten into you?” Sayloote asked cautiously. If it were Zack asking, like he had on the drive over, Fawlk would have just shrugged the question off, but Sayloote and Fawlk spent a lot of time together. He was, by far, the only person that Fawlk could really consider a friend. Sayloote’s soft tone also told Fawlk that he genuinely cared; he was worried.
“How long have we been doing this, ‘Loot?” Fawlk started, making sure his voice was hushed enough to not be overheard by Ted and Zack.
“Well shit, I don’t know. Thirty years? Forty? It all kind of blends together now.” Sayloote chuckled a little, obviously caught off guard by the question.
“Doesn’t it get old for you? This life. Doesn’t it get to your head?”
There was a pause. “Is this a rhetorical question or are you really asking me?”
“I’m serious, ‘Loot. Honestly, you don’t get tired of it?”
“Get tired of which part, Fawlk?” Sayloote was visibly flustered by the question. “The late nights? The limitless power? The having a bigger purpose?” He started to raise his voice, but lowered it, realizing it was a sensitive subject.
“I know that we were meant to be who we are. I don’t mean that. I mean, do you ever feel like you’re on the wrong side?”
Again, a pause, made longer by the waiter dropping off their two coffees that Fawlk didn’t remember ordering. “Oh...” Sayloote whistled quietly. “That’s a whole ‘nother talk.”
“Don’t just blow me off, ‘Loot. You’re the only person in this entire messed up world that I can talk to. What the hell are we doing? Why did those two in the warehouse have to die? The paladins fight in self-defense or to try and help people. I don’t even know what our purpose is anymore.” Fawlk paused to breathe, he realized he was talking incredibly fast. Sayloote stared at him, bobbing his head up and down as he listened.
“We don’t have a choice, Fawlk.” Sayloote was talking very slow, picking his words carefully. “You know that—”
“That’s not the point!” Fawlk cut in, his voice turning menacing. “If I would’ve known I was going to be used to kill people in cold blood I would’ve…I don’t know…” Fawlk shook his head in exasperation. His eyes turned to his friend: “And I know you aren’t happy that all Ted uses you for is to massacre the weak.” Fawlk jabbed a finger at Sayloote, accusing him.
“Listen, if there was a way to get out of this, I’d be right there with you. You know how much I hate Ted. The guy sucks.” Sayloote chuckled again, trying to calm Fawlk down.
“You want to break away from him because he’s reckless and stupid; that’s completely irrelevant! We need to find a way out of this so we can stop being monsters.”
“Fawlk. Listen. Bud.” Sayloote signaled with his hands to keep Fawlk quiet. “We were chosen by…something…a long time ago, and we can’t change that. We have to live with it. Maybe you can find solace in your little inner revolution, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“I’m not sure I can take this helplessness much more, ‘Loot. How can I just sit back and let myself kill the helpless. I have to do something.”
“Where is this coming from anyway?” Sayloote cut in, his concern was growing. In a world where having a friend was almost unheard of, he was likely desperate to talk some sense back into his. “We’ve been doing this for years and you’ve never seemed to have a problem before. Hell, you’ve lead the charge most of the time.”
Fawlk shook his head, “I’ve always had a problem, ‘Loot. It’s one thing to kill during the fight, but executing them after? Every time it gets harder and harder. Tonight, before I did it, I saw a guy that maybe under different circumstances, I could have been friends with. What archon would ever let himself get killed to save another?” As Fawlk talked, Sayloote eyes dropped to his coffee. The truth Fawlk was saying was something Sayloote did not want to hear. “Even his servant. It was one adjudicator, ‘Loot. One. And he stood against two magistrates and didn’t back down. His master didn’t utter a single command during the entire fight. He wanted to be there. He believed in what he was doing!” Fawlk pounded a fist into the table, close to knocking both cups of water over. Zack and Ted paused their conversation to look over at the commotion, but returned to their own talk just seconds later.
“Fawlk. I don’t know what to say.” Sayloote truly was at loss for words. Fawlk’s argument, after he had time to process it, might start making his friend think differently about what they had been doing. “I think you just need to rest. Maybe...not think about it so much?”
“I want what that adjudicator had, ‘Loot. Conviction. Dedication. Loyalty.” Fawlk slumped, exhausted from the outburst.
“Seriously, bud. Just go rest for a little while. We can talk about this later.”
Exasperated, Fawlk sighed and dropped his head to look at his lap. There was still dried blood crusted on his palms and fingers. He grabbed his coffee and threw it back in two deep gulps. Sayloote was right, he knew he was trapped. Thinking about it just made things worse. He couldn’t help but think what his life would have been like if he were on the other side.
When he first met his master he imagined being the helper, the underdog overcoming the odds and amazing everyone. He imagined all the other servants from both sides looking up to him, aspiring to be like him. His naïve dreams were crushed shortly after joining with Zack. His first act with his new handler had been in Alberta, sometime during the tail end of winter. He remembered the difficulty they had tracking down the paladin until they eventually found him and his servant hiding in a motel, just off the side of a highway with nothing but a gas station in sight. Fawlk had fought with a tenacity that he hadn’t felt in decades. He had believed he had a purpose, that somehow he could still have become what he wanted to be. The fight that ensued had leveled the motel and reduced the gas station to rubble. He remembered Zack’s beaming face at the conclusion: their first victory.
A set of keys dropped onto the table. Zack and Ted stood next to Fawlk’s booth, waiting for him to snap out of his daydream.
“We’re not ‘ungry anymore,” Zack said, “Ted and I are goin’ to the bar. You two take the ZR-1.” Fawlk nodded in acknowledgment.
“It’s going to take a little while to find where that other bastard went.” Ted continued. “Zack and I are going to try and find out where they ran.” The bored look on Sayloote’s face was almost comical. The amount he didn’t care what his master said baffled Fawlk. One second he was tuning out every word, the next he was perfectly synced, obeying every command before it was even issued.
“There’s other shit to be done, is wha’ dipshit is tryin’ to say,” Zack cut in. “Both the cars need cleaned and ‘uned up. Both of your armor is lookin’ pretty damn dirty too. So clean up, fix up, and we’ll see ya both in a few days.”
Sayloote snorted in thinly veiled derision, “got it.” he replied, grabbing the keys. “You know where to find us.”
,” Zack said, “Ted and I are goin’ to the bar. You two take the ZR-1.” Fawlk nodded in acknowledgment.
“It’s going to take a little while to find where that other bastard went.” Ted continued. “Zack and I are going to try and find out where they ran.” The bored look on Sayloote’s face was almost comical. The amount he didn’t care what his master said baffled Fawlk. One second he was tuning out every word, the next he was perfectly synced, obeying every command before it was even issued.
“There’s other shit to be done, is wha’ dipshit is tryin’ to say,” Zack cut in. “Both the cars need cleaned and ‘uned up. Both of your armor is lookin’ pretty damn dirty too. So clean up, fix up, and we’ll see ya both in a few days.”
Sayloote snorted in thinly veiled derision, “got it.” he replied, grabbing the keys. “You know where to find us.”