Beyond the ice and the fire

[Todd_McCloud]

Roughly 29 years ago

Will you be okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied half-heartedly. She looked up at the young man in front of her, smiling and watching him nod with probably the same amount of doubt as she carried. The tension in the small shack was larger than the space it enclosed. If ever there was a way to make such an emotion an entity, the walls would burst from their poorly-fastened rivets, screws, and nails, pushing the wood and sheet metal out in all directions, then the roof would cave in… faster than how it was caving in with the amount of snow still on it. But, at least for now, things remained relatively quiet. Relatively is such a tossed-around word though. It was uncomfortably quiet. A different kind of quiet, one that can make one’s own nerves twist across the bone in anticipation, scraping passed tendons and ligaments, bundle into the stomach and rest there, waiting, just waiting for the right moment to reach the heart, strangle it, then work toward the throat where it would remain, then ooze out in the form of tears. For this was not a normal time – this day had been much different.

“Is… um, she going to be okay?”

The younger vixen looked up at him. Her husband had to at least be six years older than her, and barely seemed to fit the clothes he wore. Loose pants were held up with suspenders that had hardened in some areas, the way leather always does when it was left to deteriorate over time. His shirt hinted at once being white, but was now a mixture of colors, from brown to black, especially the left side of his collar, which he used more for a napkin than decoration, it seemed. His shoes were partway gone – the leather worn to the point where it had cracked across the tops and exposed rags which had been used to pack up the holes to prevent frostbite from walking outside. His black hair was matted, messy, and greasy – no sign of proper bathing was apparent. He was disgusting, comical, poor, and probably smelled of something horrible. But that didn’t matter – to her, he was beautiful, the shy and heart-of-gold drifter she had come to know and love. But she couldn’t answer him, not now. She didn’t know how he’d take it if she tried to give the true answer – what she really felt like saying. She was quick with a readied lie. “I think so, Kirin. Just give it some time, I remember my mother told me sometimes it can take a while for them to wake up. At least she’s still breathing.”

Kirin nodded dumbly, fetching some hot water off their pot-belly stove and doused a towel in the warm liquid. He gave it to his wife, who nestled it in her lap, covered with blankets. “You’ll probably need more warmth.”

She smiled back at him. “I’ll be fine. Why don’t you read a story in the meantime? It will help to pass the time.”

He nodded again, picking up a chapter book that had been worn to just pages – the book cover itself was missing. He flipped to the page he last left off and began reading in his usual slow pace. “And when it comes to pass that the time of hardship sets like the red sun across the hills and streams bestowed upon us by the Almighty, the crops will bloom with freedom for our fallen brothers in Listonia. Their lands will re-unite with the vulpine home world under the cover of moonlight, and… just… justice will be had to those who once per-secuted them. Like a thief in the night, I, Max Venavle, will topple the o-pressive re…um, regimes and bring peace to the Land of Blood. I write this without fear or guile – this is my word, and my word is as good as a delayed action, only time separates it from truth. Almighty willing, those who call themselves Listonian will be Listonian no longer, but Vekaiyun, pure and immediately placed back into the vulpine… fold, the apparent hex of St. Aiya removed, the suffering of their impious deeds paid in full by the lives of millions before them. Their time is not now, but soon. But, like the coming of the next harvest moon, it should be an-ti-cipated. Wake up! For I have come to re-store what is right, and remove the evil that surrounds it. Set down your sickles and shovels, and arm you-“

The words were silenced by a soft cry. A long paused soon followed as the couple held their respective breaths; the husband watching as he softly put the book down.

“Is she okay?” he finally asked.

His wife nodded. “Yes,” she replied with a smile over the cries. She removed the blankets to reveal a small vulpine kit, apparently just born. “It was the words of Venavle which brought woke her up.”

Kirin grinned. “She likes those words.” They watched as the child opened her eyes.

“Crystal blue,” his wife replied, “like the stream.”

Pulling up a chair, Kirin maintained his grin as he watched the two. “You should name her.”

“I’m too exhausted to name her right now,” she replied.

He knew it took nearly the entire day to have their child, but it was all lost on him right now. Things looked like they were going to be okay – the moment couldn’t just end on a paused note. “Please? If you do, I will… look at those lessons you made for me.”

“Oh, alright,” she replied. “Read to yourself too, you’re getting better at it.” She paused, gazing into their child’s eyes. “Ile… llesira is her first name. She needs a name that reflects her eyes. The second one… Venavila, after Max, because of his words. Maybe he’ll give us a better to world to live in, and her middle name will be honorable to that.”

Kirin nodded. “Ilesira Venavila Evesuni. It fits her perfectly,” he said.

She yawned as Kirin helped cover them with blankets. “Thank you, Kirin Stapen Evesuni,” she replied with a smile.

“We’re going to address each other by all our names now?”

“No,” she laughed. “But you started it. It’s important she knows her father too before she sleeps again, though.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Six months later

The viciously cold winter gave way to a typical Listonian summer - warm days with cool nights, inviting even the most hesitant of farmers to enjoy the growing season and plan ahead months later for harvest. Although Listonia wasn’t a state at this point, most who were loyal to the idea of a Listonia referred to the lands as Listonia and not by their current state names, namely, Dveria and Sevropia. They were Listonians. And while it was illegal in most parts of Listonia to refer to one’s self as Listonian, most did so in spite of the consequences. For it was their land, after all. They just didn’t have the means to claim it.

Kirin smiled. “Look at how she holds her arms up in front of her face like that. She’s gonna be a fighter one day - look!” He placed a finger in her view and she was quick to grab it. “A freedom fighter in the making. Just like Max Venavle was saying!”

His wife nodded, but it wasn’t very enthusiastic and seemed born out of concern. “His books are nice. His words are important. And he keeps saying he’ll free Listonia.” She moved to a rickety chair at their table and slowly sat down. “But when?”

Evesuni brushed her concerns aside. “Well… well, it’s probably hard to organize all those armies and put a plan together, you know? Being a leader like that is probably very difficult.”

“Imagine if it were you,” she said with a pleasant smile.

“Well, if it were me… we’d live in a palace that would be cool in the summertime and warm in winter.” He picked up a stick leaning next to a tattered couch. “I’d order my troops to storm the cities and take them in the name of Listonians, in the name of Max Venavle! And our enemies would tremble at our presence. We’d tell them we’re going to lop their heads off-”

“Really, now?”

“No, we wouldn’t really do that. We’d just say that to scare them a little. We’d let them go back to their nations all scared and sobbing. And after that I would rule, yes, rule fairly.”

“You don’t look much like a ruler to me,” she added with a smirk.

He tugged at his suspenders. “Well, it would be nice to have nice clothes. Clothes that really belonged to me and not my father.” He would never admit it, but he hated speaking about his father. His father was a rather poor farmer who would spend the little money he made on alcohol, get drunk, then beat his mother or his son. Usually it was his son. When his mother died, Kirin grabbed a pair of his pants and a shirt (the clothes he had on at the time were rendered to rags) and left. He hopped trains in trainyards and quickly gathered his bearings, deciding early on that he would focus on traveling east. Nowhere in particular, just east. Far away from home.

“One day,” she replied. “When we have the money.” He gaze traveled forlornly to the stack of past due notices. Their electricity was turned off, and they were delinquent on their taxes, dangerously delinquent.

He walked up to her and gripped her by the shoulders after dropping his stick. “Don’t worry. Maybe… maybe Max is building an army right now and he’ll kick all the Dverians out so we won’t have to pay those taxes.”

She shook her head. “We owe a lot of money. And the letters appear more threatening.”

Kirin was too busy looking over his daughter. “What else can we do? The food I bring in is stolen. This shack was abandoned before we moved in it. I’m not good enough for a good job. I’m… not a smart man. Should we run away?” He put his hand on her shoulder when she joined him at his side.

“I don’t know.”

“We could perhaps try going back to your parents. Even if your dad still wants to kill me.”

She shook her head. “We can’t.” Without hesitation, she looked down at their child. She looked lovingly at her, specifically her eyes, which contained something innocent, something almost foreign. “I feel so guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“We brought her into a world like this. It’s a dark and scary world, this world is.”

He rocked on her shoulder for a momentary attempt at lightening the mood. “She will make it better. She is going to be so smart, so cunning and just.”

“Yeah,” she said with a warm smile. “Perhaps that’s why she was allowed to come in this world. To make it better. To fix it.” She turned to Kirin. “She’ll need an education one day. The best and only the best.”

“And we’ll do that,” Kirin replied with a beaming smile.

She frowned, remembering the stack of bills and what could happen to someone who didn’t pay them. “We need to move. We need to go to Vekaiyu.”

“But Listonia’s all I’ve ever known.”

“Vekaiyu is safer. It’s run by our kind. They would never shoot you for not paying bills. They’d understand. Max Venavle would understand.” She looked up at him. “Perhaps you’d be able to find a job there. There’s no preference for species over there. It’s all fair and good. The way it should be.” Her eyes moved toward their child. “Do it. Do it for her. Please.”

Kirin grimaced, then gave his head a shake. He’s heard speeches like this over the past month, and her arguments were getting harder to ignore. “I will miss Listonia. But you are right. We cannot live here much longer. We need to make it to Vekaiyu. Somehow.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Less than one week later

“They’re moving down the path!” his wife exclaimed as fear was thick in her voice. She quickly closed the tattered curtains and ran to her husband. “They’re moving down the path!” she screamed.

Kirin knew exactly who she was referring to. Dverian officers specifically tasked with collecting money from those who hadn’t paid their taxes for the year. They had a foreboding reputation but the more one heard about them the more difficult it became to separate fact from fiction. “We need to go. Now.”

“Where are we going to go? Oh my gosh what are we going to do!”

His wife was in near hysterics as she raced about the shack, looking for essentials to pack, accidentally knocking over wares on the table. “Leave it!” Kirin shouted. He grabbed her by the shoulders as she sobbed bitterly into his disgusting shirt. “We can always get more stuff. We need to run now!”

“Why did it have to be now? Why?”

“Grab some food. I will get Ilesira!” he stammered over to her box as his wife knocked over more pots in order to clear a better path to some of the food amidst more sobbing.

A knock at the door nearly rocked it on its hinges. “Open up!” a voice from the outside commanded.

“The back door!” Kirin whispered.

“Now!” the voice demanded.

“No, let me get some more food!”

“No, Aliana, we-”

A spray of bullets pierced through the tiny shack, harrowing across the front wall and working their way to the back wall, slicing through anything that was in their path. Kirin quickly hit the floor with a thud and turned his back to the fray, using his body to shield his child from the terrible projectiles as they continued to fly above his head.

After what seemed like an eternity, the guns stopped, leaving behind the sound of an aftershock and the strong smell of gunpowder in the air. Light from the holes poured into the shack, but Kirin kept his eyes shut, too afraid to open them. He remained where he was, clutching his child and hoping the hell would pass quickly. Even when he could hear footsteps moving away from the shack, he kept his body frozen. The longer he didn’t move, the more he felt farther away from the shack. And that was a good feeling.

=====*=

The night was the best time to move as far as Kirin was concerned. Things were harder to see at night, and more difficult to catch. So he moved during the night, moving eastward, guided by the stars in the sky.

His wife had perished in the fray, her body riddled with bullet holes and rendering her beautiful looks into something extremely difficult to look at. But she was still beautiful to him. Knowing they would return, he carried her body a few blocks from their shack and buried her in a shallow grave dug with his fingers and a rusted military helmet he found on the side of the road. A plank marked the location of the grave, and he crudely carved a cross into the wood to give the burial some indication. Hopefully the angels would find her, but he never really understood how any of that worked anyway. All he knew was to bury the remains.

He was hit twice, but both strikes were just grazes on his left leg - nothing to really worry about. He was numb anyway. Had it not been for their child, he was fairly certain he would have killed himself too. But she became the immediate focus, perhaps because he didn’t want to think of anything else. He had to get to Vekaiyu, and he had to keep running - there was no time to think, no time to worry, and no time to rest.

Rest. When he did rest, it was in daylight, be it on a train, in the middle of a field, or behind a barn. He was used to the life of a drifter, but he knew his child wasn’t. It would only be a matter of time before she would fall ill, and if that happened, well, it was best not to think about it. Just keep running. Just. Keep. Running.

[Todd_McCloud]

Flores, or present-day Evesunigrad

Flores was a town one could easily get lost in, as the various alleyways and darkened streets flowed like capillaries around the network of buildings. People - even some from nearby Vekaiyu, perhaps - moved about the city at a quick pace, moving much faster than individuals did in the country. He was intimidated by their looks, as they were often dressed in clean-looking suits and nice shoes. Even those who weren’t really dressed nice at least looked clean. And judging by the reception Kirin had received since entering the town, he figured he could probably use a bath.

But he wasn’t here for formalities or a makeover. He didn’t care for any of that. The Vekaiyun border was within sight, and he could almost smell the free air blowing in from the east, just passed the train station connecting Flores to Skendia, a rather large Vekaiyun town.

“See that? Vekaiyu!” he exclaimed to his child. “Just over those tracks and fence!” He kept walking toward the depot, walking up to the customs office and double-checking his pocket to make sure he had the money that was stolen during his travels.

“Immigration. To Vekaiyu.”

The officer glanced over at him, then glanced again to get a better look at the gross spectacle in front of him. “Papers, please.”

“I don’t have a paper. I just have myself and my child.”

He shook his head. “Then you won’t be coming over. You need the proper papers to get to Vekaiyu. They include a screening and a feasibility assessment to determine your eligibility and worth.”

“Oh.” Kirin looked to the ground.

“What do you think this is? You just walk up here and get to just cross the border and be done with it?”

“Well, yeah.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be frank with you. Vekaiyu is very careful with accepting Dverians these days. Judging by your looks alone, let me be frank, you don’t really stand much of a chance. What skills do you have to offer? What can you do?”

“I can work.”

The officer smiled. “Then there’s plenty of opportunities awaiting you in Dveria.”

“There’s… nothing here for me anymore,” he said with a sigh.

“That’s not my problem. People like you tend to be radicalized anyway. More often than not you’re a part of some resistance movement perpetrated by people who call themselves Listonians. We know this game. You come over to Vekaiyu, try to stir up trouble, and try to get people rallied behind your cause. Though I must say, it’s pretty shameful you’ve tried to bring a kid into this mess. And a rather sick one at that.”

Kirin looked down at Ilesira. “Don’t speak to my child like that,” he warned.

“Look, get out of the way - you’re holding up the line.”

Kirin looked over his shoulder, then back at the officer. He shuffled over to a nearby bench and sat down, producing a dejected sigh that took in all the misguided words of the officer. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “There’s nothing else I can do. I tried.”

His ears perked up when he noticed a commotion coming from a nearby train. He couldn’t quite make out what was going on, so he stood up and walked toward the moray. Families seemed to be holding up their children.

“Look, we only have a few spots left!” a man on the train exclaimed. “Once again, the Vekaiyun state has begun a program seeking young vulpine kits in search of a better life! They will be enrolled in a program designed to produce intelligent, loyal men and women capable of leading! Only the children - families are excluded from this program. Thank you!”

It was everything they always wanted for their child, Kirin mused. An education. Growing up safely in Vekaiyu. Learning from the best, perhaps even programs advocated by Max Venavle himself. But only her, not him. It was clear to Kirin that his path to Vekaiyu wouldn’t be that easy. But there was a resistance - he started to put the pieces together and understand just how prolific this resistance was: the posters, the explosions and fighting. Perhaps… perhaps while she was learning in Vekaiyu, he could stay behind and join their ranks, working to free Listonia so that one day perhaps the world will be better for her in Vekaiyu and Listonia.

He turned her to face him. Perhaps the officer was right, perhaps she was sick. He sighed and tried to work a smile across his face. “Where you go I cannot come. This is not the life for you. I’m going to have to do… terrible things to survive here. I’m going to be a terrible person. I’m already a terrible father.” He wiped his face with his shirt. “Don’t remember me. You’re going to be Vekaiyun, okay? You’re going to do good things. The Almighty will guide you to do great things. Just-”

“Two more spots left!”

He bit his lip, then with a nod, he ran up to the platform, holding his child as high as he could. “Here! She is very smart and knows a lot! So much! Please!”

The man on the train scanned the crowd. “Yes, this one!” he said, pointing to Ilesira.

“Please! Her name is Ilesira!”

“Ikrisia? What a common name. Hand her over!”

“Ilesira! Ilesira Venavila Evesuni!”

He forced himself toward the front of the crowd and gave her away. She began to cry, but Kirin didn’t flinch. He had already convinced himself that this was for the best. He ducked as someone practically tossed their child at the man on the train, and he luckily caught it rather than let it drop onto the train tracks below. He placed the child into the hands of another person as the commotion began to pick up again. Kirin, on the other hand, began to slip back out of the crowd, keeping his eyes fixated on his child. He didn’t want her to leave his sight.

=====*=

Time passed, and Kirin had moved to a nearby bench. The train had left hours ago. It was evening now, and the station was practically deserted aside from a collection of old newspapers. Kirin didn’t really notice, though. He was never one to cry. Even when his father beat him, he didn’t show emotions because he felt it wasn’t right to do so. Even so, he wouldn’t have afforded him the luxury of knowing he was getting to him. But, now that he was alone, truly alone, he inhaled and bowed his head as he began to sob. He covered his face with his dirty hands, then used them to wipe away any tears.

He shifted his position from sitting to lying down as he slowly brought his legs up and rested his head on the hard wooden bench. Sleep would not come. He was only kidding himself.

[Todd_McCloud]

Below the large banners spanning to the towering ceilings sat Max Venavle, a sharp contrast to the red and black images of his fascist Vekaiyun nation. Despite being a foreboding figure, one who was always pictured in the best of light with the purest of themes, he was a rather morose and petulant individual, often caught in his own webs spun from passive aggressive motives and petty grudges. Yet now he was the perfect picture of boredom. The hangnails on his thin hands were more engaging than any particular care or concern his nation or the surrounding regions proffered. Their rickety and wiry fingers drummed carelessly against his desk, polished by some servant, now tainted by his fingerprints.

“Daszo I am bored,” he finally admitted. He looked up at one of his inferiors, though with his good eye, as a farming accident when he was young caused his right eye to heal improperly and he could only manage a slit and a hazy gaze. “I don’t know. Dance or something.”

“I’m afraid to say I’m not a good dancer,” Daszo admitted. “But I could give you some lesser reports if you wish.”

Max sighed. “Eh. Fine.”

“Alright. Yesterday we began a small experimentation on a village in Soveri.”

“We did?”

“Yes, we did.”

“What was it? What did they do?”

“We tried to see what would happen if we injected self-healing polyurea into bones we had broken over the course of several weeks.”

“Did it work?”

“It did not work.”

“Oh, such a shame.”

“The catalyst used prohibited cellular respiration.”

“Can we weaponize that?”

“I don’t believe we can. It’s an amine catalyst, and while I’m no chemist, I doubt it could be aerosolized safely.”

“Mmn. So sad.”

“Quite.”

“How did they suffer?”

“It was weird, actually. They tore at their cheeks to try and force more air in.”

“How very selfish,” Max said with awe. “They already have enough, and yet they still want more, do they?”

“That’s not how it works unfortunately.”

“Pity we cannot aerosolize it. I would like to see that. Could we test it on those Listonian orphans we brought in?”

Daszo grimaced, but his face continued to form something almost out of disgust, though he was mindful to whom he was speaking to. One couldn’t be too careful, of course. “They are a part of that super soldier program you initiated. Project Uveshk, remember?”

He shrugged. “Could we take, perhaps, could we take just one train and subject them to that treatment. I mean, they’re Listonians. They’re worth about as much as a piece of paper. Well, maybe less than a piece of paper, because aren’t these things inventoried?”

“By the ream, sir.”

“So less than a ream of paper, then. Filthy peasants. Impure Vekaiyuns, really. Tell me, is their resistance actually worth following, or is it just another one of their pitchfork and sickle parties?”

“They’re growing in numbers.” Daszo sighed. “They’ll probably ask for help before too long.”

“Filthy, blood-sucking peasant shit farmers,” Max said with a sigh. “Worthless. But, as I said, Daszo, they’re less than a ream of paper. Continue the experiment with… say, thirty of them. Perhaps being younger and made of this impure Listonian blood they’ll do much better. As for the rest, well, put them in the program.” He stood from his seat with a smile. “See, Uveshk, or ‘Amen’, which means ‘may it be so’. They’ll pray to me, Daszo. Worship me like a god. I’m their true father now and I am able to do with them as I please, as their families abandoned them. They’re not Vekaiyun, so their deaths mean nothing if this project is fruitless. They’re free, and they’re practically handed over to me. Yes, my children will blindly follow their new father, or they will return to the filthy, stinking hell from which they came. And by the end of this project they’ll be so far gone they’d sooner die than see me, I don’t know, get a paper cut. And that’s not by the ream.”

“Naturally, sir.”

“So, divide them up. We’ll use half for experimentation. The others, super soldiers. We can always add more to their numbers. I heard some practically threw their children at these trains like a sack of molded Pax Fruites anyway.”

“As you wish, sir.”

“Yes, yes. It is as I wish, isn’t it? Never forget that, Daszo. And another thing…” he paused while he twirled his letter opener in his hand. “That Selvala McEva. The one who keeps giving me dirty looks in meetings. Demote her. I don’t care how gifted everyone makes her out to be. She is not loyal enough, and should spend more time… on the front lines. You understand what I am trying to say?”

“Mine field marches?”

“Exactly. If she survives, it is the will of the Almighty. If not, then we made the right decision. So be it. I order it. Do all of it now.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Months had passed since the fateful day Kirin had given up the last member of his small family for a better life. In order to keep his mind at bay, he moved away from Flores, finding some open cars in a train yard which took him eastward. Petty crimes littered his path, as he adjusted quickly to his old lifestyle of stealing for food, sneaking into buildings to keep the cold air out, the likes. Nothing particularly spectacular, but he slowly began to justify his actions as survival at this point. Still no prospect for a job, and now completely out of money, he landed in Ye’leli, the former capitol of the Listonian republic before it was partitioned off. Here he would begin his dream.

He became swept up in the notion of wanting to join the resistance. The resistance was more accepting of his kind. The resistance fought for those who called themselves Listonians. The resistance most likely was supported by Max Venavle. Evesuni read his literature when he could, and occasionally would find a pamphlet speaking of the resistance, though that was few and far between. It was probably collected and burned, he assumed. Then again, his reading was slow and at times unintelligible. So he made up the parts he couldn’t read in order to make sense of it.

When he arrived in the massive city, he immediately slipped into the darker underground in order to keep to his lifestyle and find this resistance. It proved to be more difficult than he expected, however, as Dverians were everywhere and everyone just seemed to go about their business, like it was just another ordinary day in their lives. They seemed to congregate around the larger building in the city center then, so he assumed the resistance would not be there. He worked his way southward in the city, slipping into alleyways and shadowy byways. Eventually, he managed to hear a conversation regarding the resistance, so he carefully and with enough deception in his intentions managed to convince the two to take them to this resistance. Finally, the fight for Listonia was on.

“Why are you here?” a vulpine male sitting in a intricately-carved chair asked. He was surrounded by other individuals, some battle-scarred, some relatively young, but all were haphazardly scattered about the confines of the lofty water collection room underground, tucked away just out of the reach of where many Dverians wanted to venture.

“I have come to join the resistance,” Kirin proclaimed. By now his left suspender had popped from its button and hung loosely in front of him. It happened when he jumped from a train, but he hadn’t had the time or resources to repair it.

The inquisitor chuckled. “Resistance? There is no resistance here, kid. We make our own laws here. We rule here. We own here. And we have freedom here.”

Kirin looked around at the shadowy figures scattered about the dark, dank room. “I have come to join the resistance,” he repeated.

A puzzled look suddenly vanished. “Oh, the resistance. You refer to how we fight against Dverians and rally people behind us and fight. That resistance, right?”

Kirin nodded.

“Tell me kid, what’s your name?”

He just couldn’t use his true name. Even though he wanted to, he realized it was stigmatized and was weighed down with painful memories like a chain round his neck. “Stapen… Stapen Venavaske.”

“Very good, Stapen. I am Eulo Sobikastre. And I own this place. Well, Stapen, welcome to the resistance - Free Listonia would be the name we go by. You may have heard of it.” He paused as some in the crowd laughed a little. “Well, we don’t just take everyone on. What makes you think you’ve got what it takes?”

Kirin swallowed hard and held up his fists. “I will fight with my own two hands if I have to. Please. I want to fight.”

Their leader smiled. “You want to fight?” He looked around to his subjects on his left and right. “Oh, I nearly forgot about initiation.” He jerked his head as he looked passed Stapen.

Before he could turn around, he was jumped by a collection of goons. They wasted no time kneading Stapen with their fists and while he managed to land a few blows (one to the cheek, and one to the chest, or was it the chest, it was all happening so fast), he didn’t stand much of a chance. A firm blow to the eye socket broke his concentration and before he could provide any sort of defense a thick arm slammed him to the ground. A volley of kicks and jabs rained down upon him, his body twisting and turning almost as if he was falling statically down a flight of stairs. He quickly accustomed himself to the smell of shoe polish blended with sewage water. He gave up completely and moved into a fetal position, covering his head and rolling up into a ball.

A snap to the fingers ceased the melee.

Stapen remained in his position, gasping as his ribs burned. Sharp pains pestered his chest as any sort of inhale felt like sharp nails digging into his body. Once he heard footsteps, he looked up to see Eulo standing in front of him. He flinched once he moved again, but he was only bending down, so Stapen tried to keep his resolve intact.

“Now you listen here, Stapen and you get this through your goddamned head. You don’t go chasing down members of Free Listonia looking for us. If we like you, we will find you. And we don’t like you. Plus you smell like shit.” He smiled as his congregation laughed in response. “Get out of here, shit peasant. Herul, Isto. Drag this guy to the surface. And if you ever come back here, boy, I’ll kill you. You listening to me? You’ll wish for another beating like this the next time I see you. Good?”

Two individuals grabbed Stapen by his arms as they dragged him from the underground, headed for the surface. He didn’t protest. Instead, his head hung low from exhaustion. When he reached the surface, he was tossed in the snow in the back of an alley and left to wallow in his own humiliation.

[Todd_McCloud]

It was about mid-January, based on what he could remember after reading the various calendars in the buildings he would try to get warm in. It had to be afternoon sometime. Even though it was overcast and Ye’leli was under a rather peaceful snowfall, there was enough light in day to call it an afternoon, and so he wandered.

Evesuni, who frankly hadn’t really used his name since the time he was roughed up, at least as far as he could remember, was in a better physical state than a few months ago. Luckily, the drifter was found by a waitress who had to go to the back dumpster to throw away scraps. An ambulance was called, and his wounds were tended to in the way the state prescribed it - a few bandages, some iodine, painkillers, and a chair to sit on while he waited to be discharged. A coat was given to him as a donation before he left. It was itchy, stiff, and woolen, but the fact that it was warm made it the best coat he’d ever had, and so he did his best to take care of it, even though his left sleeve was hardened from wiping the snot from his nose while he traversed in the cold.

He was getting tired of scrounging for scraps. The sting of his humiliation gave him some reflection. He hated the fact that he had to dig through garbage like some kind of animal. At first he was eating around the mold and bite marks, yet eventually he moved to being more indiscriminate. It was all going to the same place anyway, and if it was bad he would respond by getting sick, but he wanted new food. He wanted to wear nice clothes, to speak eloquently, to eat in a warm room in front of people and actually talk to people instead of the usual deep-sea dive sounds he made as he heaved in and out the cold air around him.

There were good times, though. He found he could sit and enjoy a cheap drink at the bar if he darted before anyone could catch up to him, but he could only do it once as people would remember his face. Cartons of cigarettes were surprisingly easy to steal and curbed his appetite. Plus the warm smoke felt good inside him. So, he was never without a pack of cigarettes in the front pocket of his coat, and it would only take asking 3-5 people for a light before he could borrow a lighter. Sometimes folks would just hand one to him in order to make him go away. And it worked, and he was happy for it.

This afternoon was particularly cold, and he was in search of another building to step inside. A business, perhaps a convenience store or gas station. The ones with the restrooms on the side were the best. After wiping his nose with the pasty left sleeve of his jacket, he turned the corner to walk down a less crowded street. When an odd sound crossed his path, his ears perked up to detect something most distasteful. An officer was working his way over a vulpine mother who happened to jaywalk across the street. The slap rang in his large ears as the cold had practically turned them into jagged icicles. The fact that she had dropped her child added insult to injury.

When he watched the officer toss her child across the pavement, something changed. He couldn’t place it, and for the rest of his life he would never pinpoint it, but he could still remember the cold, and the corner, and the hunger in his belly. It was just enough, enough to push him over from that of a petty criminal to someone motivated with the warm undertones of anger, injustice, and perhaps even hatred. He hated the fact that he had lost his wife to Dverian tax collectors. He hated the fact that he had to give up his daughter, someone he was prepared to die for over and over again. He hated the fact that he had bits of tendon in his teeth and smelly salad on his tongue. He hated how he was humiliated in front of those who he considered his own kind. And he hated seeing another vulpine child smattered across the pavement. He hated it all. And this build up of hatred, coupled with the warm feeling anger proffered, was enough for him to act. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was time for retribution.

Although his mind told him to hesitate, his heart propelled his feet, and as he crept behind the officer, he used the free end of his busted suspender to wrap around the officer’s neck. The fact that he sputtered and gasped warmed his heart. He smiled as he tightened the strap, getting a few cheap shots onto his head as the head bobbed from the strikes.

“Scream, dammit! I want to hear you scream!”

He was surprised at how gravely his voice was. He hadn’t heard himself speak in some time, but it sounded beautiful, and the action was just as spectacular. He tightened the strap so tight that he figured another half turn would pop his head clean off, but he relented when he heard a defeated sigh from his antagonist. Despite his clawing, despite his suffering, he gave way surprisingly quietly, merely reaching for his leather strap of a busted suspender as he closed his eyes and slouched over.

Stapen grabbed his gun and quickly shot the man between the eyes.

When another officer came to his aide (Dverians always traveled in pairs), Stapen made quick work of him as well, dropping him where he stood, right between the eyes in a near-perfect shot. His warm hands still gripped the gun as he pointed it at various targets, not sure what exactly to do.

“Run, dummy!”

He heard the command loud and clear as he felt for the other slain officer’s gun and tucked it in his shabby trousers hanging onto his frame by a thread. He didn’t pay any heed to those who slowly began to gather around the commotion as he slipped back into the dark alleyways, using his keen sense of direction to find the best hiding spots and slip away from any trouble.

[Todd_McCloud]

Several months later

“You’re the property of the State. Now you are under my control!”

Stapen Venavaske watched as what appeared to be a head guard walked around him, prodding him with a club. He sneered slightly. He knew too well of his kind. But it wasn’t like there was any chance of escape. He had been brought to a holding cell somewhere in a prison he funded a year ago, probably. Only two doors - one behind him and one in front of him - were visible, but with four guards against him, a Listonian like himself really stood no chance.

“Your ass belongs to me!” The club wielded by the head guard came down and struck Evesuni on the back, causing him to buckle his shoulder blades and wince.

While he had heard mutterings of someone who had a deadshot talent roaming Ye’leli, he wasn’t arrested on anything related to that. Instead, he was in jail for for grand robbery, attempting to leave with roughly 10,000 drachmas. His sentence was just one year, but he narrowly escaped a ten year sentence for homicide when his gun jammed. He would’ve gotten away with it if he killed the clerk - he did it before - but luck was not on his side this time. Still, he had a talent (finally, he figured) and he was confident in it.

“Anything to say, tough man?” He prodded him with his club in the cheek. “Huh?”

Even though he was in prison, he had to admit, so far it wasn’t so bad. He had a brand new orange jumpsuit - his clothes, not his father’s that he was wearing for years and years. No need for busted suspenders with a jumpsuit, and it smelled clean. He was clean, too. They hosed him down before stuffing him in the uniform. It was a giant leap from where he was on the streets.

“Answer me, vulpine trash!”

The guard seemed angry. Stapen didn’t even know what he was saying. He couldn’t speak Codexian to save his life.

The head guard sighed. He turned to the other guards around him. “Prisoner 471-091 to populace.”

Suddenly Stapen was lifted by his shoulders as two guards flanked him and dragged him into the next room, a hallway lined with cinder block walls painted a dull red, with the words “Ye’leli (something something) penitentiary”. He knew that word from reading Max Venavle’s book.

After being dragged into a larger room, he was dropped off in a cell where a younger vulpine male was also residing. Stapen didn’t even look up at him, even when the guards left and locked the door behind him.

“I wouldn’t sleep tonight if I was you.”

Stapen turned around to view him. He was well-built as far as a vulpine was considered, but all that mattered was if he could move well. Vulpines , by nature, favored agility over strength. The cellmate did seem pretty relaxed as he leaned against the wall, however. It reminded him of the fight he had in the sewer.

“Alright, sure. Why not?”

“Cause I’m being investigated for paranoid schizophrenia. And if I kill another cellmate I can get my own room in an institution.”

Stapen grimaced as he furrowed his brow. “Maybe you could also be killed.”

He shrugged. “Chance I’m willing to take. Here for life.” A smile crept onto his face. “Not like I’m going to be hurt by you anyway.”

The wiry Stapen stood up and approached the man until his chest touched his. He stared into his unwavering face. “You could be,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Hey!”

Both men turned toward the door. “Cut it out! I have my eye on you two!” The guard glared at the two cellmates, casually tapping his club against the bars almost as a coy way of displaying dominance. Then, after pacing around them a few moments, he walked on.

“Free for now,” the young vulpine said as he grinned. “We’re gonna have so much fun together, we are.”

=====*=

The wait up until lunchtime was excruciating - he could hardly wait for some food. Still, the promise of a meal every day was enough solace for him. Free meals. Free new clothes. Free hygene. Free living quarters, outside of the cold and heat from the sun. He could get used to this lifestyle.

For roughly two hours Stapen and his cellmate busied themselves and tried to pass time independently, occasionally exchanging glances between the two of them. When lunch came, the tension between them was pretty evident. Turning around to get in a glare while guards were siphoning inmates into a line for food, random shoving here and there (but nothing too drastic - that would start something, of course), grabbing food before the other person could.

When they sat next to each other, it was pretty clear to Stapen that either he was going to be killed or his cellmate would be killed. Some invisible barrier was crossed. Even if they were separated, they’d meet each other again during a meal or calisthenics, and with the cellmate being somewhat older than he was, and more built judging from what he could see, it would be stupid for him to not strike first. It was the same thing he had learned on the streets. Kill or be killed, and then move on.

The two glared at each other when one reached for the salt, encased in a flimsy plastic case. Impossible to kill a man with. Looking around him, there really wasn’t anything useful to use. The plates were flimsy. The food? Perhaps it could kill him, but it looked rather appetizing. Much better than dumpster food. Chicken… paste? Not even a bone. Green beans, fresh green beans? And paper cups for water. They thought of everything. There was a roll, however. It was thick enough where if it could be shoved down someone’s throat they could choke on it. But he’d need a distraction. At least he was sitting in the center of the room - guards lined the doorways and would take a while to reach him, he figured. He rolled the roll in his hand as he continued to think. He looked up and noticed his cellmate was watching him. A glare was not enough to keep him from ripping the roll out of his hand. There went that.

All that was left was the spoon… or was it a fork? It was kind of both. How wrong. How he hated those things. He picked it up, taking his gaze off his cellmate. Not too flimsy. Perhaps it would serve some use. He picked up some of the chicken paste with his free hand and, after sizing up his cellmate, threw it to his left. As soon as he turned his head to follow it, Stapen found his chance, grabbed the man by the back of his head, and jammed the handle-end into the man’s left eye. He screamed a fierce howl as he desperately reached for the tool jammed into his soft tissue. Pushing his head down, Stapen gained more leverage and removed the utensil, then shoved it in again. Didn’t break the orbit. How hard did one need to jab with this thing? One more time was met with a slight suction sound. He swirled the handle around until the eye turned to a slurry.

“Yeah! Yeah! You can’t kill me if you can’t see!” He smiled as his cellmate continued to howl and whine.

Rejuvenation. He wasn’t going to be pushed around anymore. He wasn’t going to let the world overcome him. He was Kirin Evesuni, no, Stapen Evesuni. Kirin would get pushed around and would let life walk all over him. Stapen Evesuni was never that. And he wasn’t a Venavaske either - he wanted to keep his Listonian name. He took what he needed and would do so with such creative force. He was a simple country boy from Listonia, fueled by anger and revenge, fighting for a dream shared by millions. He was, as far as he was concerned, the Listonian Max Venavle wrote of so fondly in his book.

He was so worked up in his recent toil he didn’t see that some of inmates had stood on their seats. Suddenly, he was tackled to the ground. Right. The guards.

“Everyone down now! Now!” One of the guards shouted.

The closest guard to Stapen readied his stun gun and fired at him. He then was joined by another guard who proceeded to strike him in the back with a club. Prison justice. A misplaced blow struck him in the back of his head, knocking the Listonian romanticized by Max Venavle out like a light.

[Todd_McCloud]

“So you’re the kid that stabbed Yeri’s eye out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Got yourself an extra four years for attempted homicide, did you?”

Evesuni sighed. “That is me, yes.”

His new cellmate chuckled. He was an older vulpine gentlemen, his hair slicked back and though he was old he looked like he’d give Stapen plenty of trouble if he decided to pick a fight with this guy. He just looked like he’d know his next moves. Plus, there was something off-putting about the swirling tattoo on his right cheek. Something weird. Something kind of dark, not street dark, dark dark. “That was very stupid, kid,” he said with a smirk. “You like being in here?” He watched as Evesuni nodded. “No you don’t. You don’t like any of this. You don’t like being picked on, being poor, being a nobody. You don’t like being behind these bars. You want to be free and you want to live your life free.”

Evesuni nodded very slightly as he furrowed his brow. “I think I would like that, yes.”

“But you’re running from something. You’ve got a past, kid, and I can smell it on you.”

Stapen felt a bit self conscious as he smelled himself. “Oh,” he replied. “You mean something different.”

“I do. And since you’re my cellmate, I want to know everything about you, kid. And if I trust you, I’ll even let you know a little bit about me. So… what’s your name, kid?”

“Stapen Evesuni,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh, another thing,” he said as he pointed a calloused digit at him. He started to wag it. “You better tell me the truth, kid. See, trust is like a circle. I trust you, you trust me, and around and around we go. One of us breaks that, and it’s no longer a ring. You get what I’m trying to say?”

“Yeah I get what you’re trying to say,” Stapen replied.

“Good. I’m Iveri Robikalesco. And I’m in here for money laundering. You?”

“Grand theft.”

“What did you try to steal?”

Stapen shrugged. “Money. If I had shot the clerk I wouldn’t be in here.”

“Why’d you need money?” He watched as Evesuni glared at him. “Circle of trust,” he added sternly.

“I’m… homeless. I don’t have a home and I needed money to buy stuff.”

“Like?”

“Food. Alcohol. Cigarettes.”

Iveri smiled. “You’re a bum. But you don’t just get the gumption to commit grand theft overnight. You worked up from it. Or down from it.” He paused. “I think I’ve heard of you. The deadshot kid, right?” He watched as Evesuni fell silent. “You can tell me. I’m not them. I’m not a Dverian. It’s a code among prisoners to not snitch anyway.”

Evesuni nodded.

Iveri smirked as he inhaled a sigh. “The kid. You know your nickname? The shit shooter. What - don’t get upset at me. It is what it is. You’re a deadshot and that’s admirable. That’s a talent. Be proud of it. And if you don’t like your name, do something to change it. And nothing ever changes if you don’t do anything uncomfortable. You see what I’m trying to say?”

Evesuni nodded again.

“But the question is… why are you a deadshot. You a military man?” He shook his head. “No… father taught you?”

“My father was a drunk who beat my mother to death. I do this to survive.”

“Ah. So your family wasn’t… wasn’t kosher, eh?”

Evesuni shrugged. “That family.”

“You have a second family, do you?”

He sighed and looked down. “You don’t want to know.” He flashed a look back at the guy and could tell immediately he was in for another ‘circle of trust’ lecture if he didn’t. “My wife was killed by tax collectors. I had to give my daughter away so she would survive.” He blinked away some wetness and bit his lip. “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about them. I miss them. A lot.”

Iveri nodded slowly. “There’s nothing wrong about that. That means you have a passion, kid. Now, what do you think they’d think of you to see you like this, in prison, wearing an orange jumpsuit, locked away like an animal?”

“I… well…” He started to snivel as he slumped down to the floor. He heaved in a quivered sigh. “I don’t know. But I would… I would give anything to… well… you know… I don’t care about myself I just wish they… had it better. But I couldn’t do that!” He put a hand to his head as she shook his head, his face populated by a long frown as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Now, now, come on,” Iveri said as he approached him and sat next to him. “You listen to me, alright? I’m in your corner, kid. You’ve got passion. You’ve got talent. You just need direction, alright? Listen to me and I’ll make sure you honor your family. Your family, not the family you came from. Did you ever beat your wife?”

“N-no.”

“Then you’re nothing like your father. He’s dead to you, alright? You’re Stapen Evesuni, the deadshot kid with passion, with fire. You fight for your real family. And I’m going to train you, I’m going to mold you, shape you, stretch you, and turn you into the man I know you can be.” He smiled a bit. “Stick with me, kid, and I’ll make sure you make those people proud. You’re going to make them proud, right?”

He nodded as he sniffed and wiped a few tears.

“Yeah you are. I’m here for you. And Leon, Leon’s here too. Right?”

“Sure am,” a voice from the other side of the cell wall called out. He sounded as if he gargled with razor blades each morning.

“That’s Leon, Leon Soleki. Smart kid, really. You’re going to stick with us, right, kid?”

“Y-yeah,” Evesuni replied.

“Good. I expect the best out of you. You know?” He pointed to the tattoo on his cheek. “You can’t lie to me, this seal says you can’t. Got it?”

“Seal?”

He smiled. “Voxian Catholic. And if you’re worthy enough, I can baptize you, kid. I can make that happen. You understand?”

Stapen nodded.

“Good. Stick with me, and you will go far. You will get out of this prison. And you will have respect.”

[Todd_McCloud]

As the months passed, Stapen Evesuni soaked up the sage-like advice of Iveri like a sponge, filling his brain with wisdom from the years he had spent on Urth. Evesuni learned how to speak with more confidence. Bided by Leon Soleki, a rather thin yet intelligent vulpine perhaps a few years older then he was, he felt different, and realized that perhaps there was more to life than living as a drifter or enjoying the odd comforts of a prison cell. His focus was diverted - instead of dwelling on the past, he used it as a motivation, as a way to honor his true family. One day he’d be out of prison. One day he’d be able to walk in street clothes and eat in front of people in restaurants and talk to people and they’d want to talk back to him. One day. But for now, he was growing. And he was focused on that.

He tried to read again. He hadn’t really attempted to learn to read since the death of his wife, but he was learning again, and he was expanding his vocabulary. He learned some simple phrases in Codexian too, learning the language of the Dverians. While he hated the tongue, he was reminded by Iveri that it was the language of the land and he needed to learn some of it in order to get anywhere. Iver expected much out of him. Stapen was to keep himself groomed and clean. He was to temper his anger and be more calculated, more planning. He was to be more patient, to listen first and then speak. He was to learn how to harness his emotions into powerful words and motivation. And he was to be more confident. Confidence, he learned, was key.

Evesuni peered down from the top bunk as Ivesi appeared to be murmuring to himself, tossing stones on the ground after drawing intricate patterns on the floor. He moved the stones with a slight of hand, and seemed memorized by their movements, flipping either white or black. They seemed to move into different sections of the etching.

“Don’t think of me as… crass, but what are you doing, old man?”

Iveri stopped what he was doing and looked up. “Kid I told you I was a Voxian Catholic.”

“And that’s… what they do?”

He nodded. "We get a bad name from the Vayan Catholics. They labeled us as heretics something like 1200 years ago, but it is more in tune with Listonian culture of mysticism and future reading. I did this the day I asked for you to be transferred over to my cell. He pointed to the etching. “You had many white stones in the truth sector, but several black stones in the aware sector, and an even split in purity. That means something, kid. That means you’re a born leader. You just need some of those aware stones to be flipped is all. Do that and you’re going to be powerful.” He motioned for him. “Come down here.”

Evesuni slipped off his bunk and sat next to Iveri, squatting and focused on the etchings. “Now, hold these stones and think about something. Anything. I’ll tell you what they mean and we’ll see if they match up, okay? Just be sure not to aim for anything. Throw them as if someone else is guiding your hand.”

Stapen did as he was instructed and held the stones tightly. He thought of his wife, buried in some unnamed field near their old shack. He thought of his child, wondering what she was learning, if she spoke her first words or was celebrating a birthday regularly. He thought of life, of death, and what it all meant.

He scattered the stones as they pattered against the stone floor.

“Okay, let’s see…” Iveri said as he scanned the floor. “Purity, with some on the line of hope, which means innocence. You see this line? It’s a crossroad and you’ve landed on it with a black stone. Whatever you were thinking of represents something dark in your life, and it changed you because of it. A dark stone on chaos here means it was something tragic, like a death or a separation. But the hope coupled with this is a future hope. Like a hope that toward the future.”

“I thought of my family,” Evesuni confessed.

“Of course you did.” Iveri smiled. “Look at the stones in hope again. Something will happen in the future, and it will be something good as it relates to your family. Perhaps it means your daughter will grow up well. Perhaps it means you will avenge your wife. I don’t know. But it’s a good thing, kid.”

Evesuni nodded. “I want to know more about this religion.” He looked up at Iveri. “It will tell me what I want to know?”

Iveri nodded. “If read correctly, it can. Just respect it and trust it. Do you believe it?”

“I do, yes.”

“Then we need to get started, we do. I’ll teach you this religion. And you will be baptized.”

=====*=

Evesuni winced as a very sharp nail was dug into his skin, scraping and tearing away. He felt the lines form on his right eye socket, unsure of what Iveri was doing or what sort of damage was being done to his skin. It felt strange, like a burning sensation that continued to sting and get worse with time.

“I am giving you the eye of truth,” Iveri said. “It’s a tattoo, kid, like the one on my cheek.” He gripped his head. “Hold still or it won’t look right. There, that’s it. Anyway, no tattoo is alike - yours is being formed by my hand, but your soul is guiding it. And it’s certainly looking like your personality, kid. Expressive but reserved. Bigger than yourself.”

He continued to scrap away. “I’m using iron filaments for this. It will look rather dark, but a true tattoo is carved seven days in a row. That way it will heal properly and will be raised slightly, kind of like a scar. But this way ensures that the tattoo is permanent, kid. Trust me. You’ll like it. It’s looking good.”

Time slowly marched forward with each pounding and scrape by the nail. “I’m kinda jealous, kid. This is looking like something spectacular. I was right about you, it seems.”

After what seemed like hours of painful burning, the nail stopped moving. He opened his eye slowly as the skin around it was tender and raw. He winced but his open left eye noticed Iveri moving a mirror into his view. He opened his left eye completely when he noticed his new feature. A bold, dynamic line circled his eye with jagged edges. The line was curved but had many straight lines and branched off above and below the bottom part of his eye, almost as if the line was cradling his eye on the bottom.

“My… goodness…”

“The eye of truth, kid. You have it. And it’s a seal.” He smiled. “It comes with a promise. With this eye, you will always be reminded of your wife. Her honesty becomes your honesty. Hence the eye of truth. But you see that swirl on the bottom? It is a reunion scroll. You will see your daughter before you die, kid. That’s what it means.”

Evesuni smiled slightly. “It does?”

“Yeah, kid. Think of it as a lens of truth. Trust your new eye and allow it to work for you. It will serve you well. But be careful to not let anyone know of its power.”

“Yes… yes, of course.”

“One final thing. I will work deep into your skin because as the story goes, you lose this thing, and you lose your life. The seal is broken, and it will break you. You understand, kid? Your life’s on that seal.”

“I don’t want to remove it. I like it.”

Iveri smiled. “Good. I knew you would - these stones do not lie.”

[Todd_McCloud]

The prison yard. One of the few times where prisoners were allowed maximum social interaction, though most of the time they simply lifted weights, traded favors, spoke about the outside, or had some kind of deal working things into the prison. Dverian prisons, as terrible of a reputation they had, weren’t so bad around here, most likely due to the increased vulpine presence and its proximity to Vekaiyu. This one in particular seemed a bit easy going. No reports of prisoners executed for causing a stir. No one really was mistreated inhumanely. Heck, guards weren’t even stationed in the prison yard to give inmates some kind of privacy. It was, for all intents and purposes, not that bad of a place, it seemed.

“Now listen here, kid,” Iveri huffed. “I’m due for parole in a few weeks, which means it’s going to be just you and Leon here, along with the others. Yamano. Tomasu. Teemto. Vabse. You know, the crowd we hang around. I’ve taught you almost all I can within these walls, but when I get out, and you better get out without any more time tacked on, I’ll be waiting for you. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Evesuni said as he scratched his neck. He sat up after lifting a barbell. Although he was wiry, he appeared much stronger than when he first entered the jail, adopting a more foreboding appearance. The tattoo around his eye - fully healed - added to his newfound look of intimidation.

“You’ve got one more lesson, then I turn you over to Leon. Are you ready?”

“Old man, I was born ready.”

He smiled. “That’s it. Anyway, you need to learn to speak with passion. Like, to many, many people. It’s not easy, but you have all the tools you need now. So, let’s see what you’ve got, kid. Talk about Listonians. Stand on this bench here and get their attention. Speak from the heart.”

“Here? Now?”

“Did I stutter? Look, if you can’t motivate a group of thieves, murderers, rapists, and con men, you’re not going to get anywhere out there. This is your chance, kid. Show us what you’re made of. Show us what you’ve learned.”

Evesuni nodded as the group around him backed away and seemed to take positions, moving toward the exit doors to stand in front of them. As he stood up, he was greeted by Leon, who ran his wiry fingers in his hair to try and make it look more combed.

“Speak from the heart,” he said in his usual gravely tone. “Don’t hold anything back. Channel Max Venavle if you must. It’s what your wife wanted, after all.”

He nodded, reminded by his wife and the words of the Vekaiyun dictator, his position - the Listonian peasant he wrote of so fondly, how he wanted to embody that image and show the world that a Listonian was finished with taking anymore shit. He would not disappoint. He certainly would not disappoint his wife.

He stood on the bench as some prisoners looked up. Leon beamed a great smile to him, grasping his hand with his and shaking it.

“Listonians!” Evesuni boomed. A few more looked up. “Listonians!” He started to become nervous until he looked down at Leon and Iveri egging him on. “Hey you sons of bitches! Open your ears! The trumpets are calling and you’re deaf in your ignorance!”

The prisoners in the yard began to congregate, appearing agitated. “There, that’s more like it. Today is the first day of your new life. Today I baptize you all as Listonians - people who have been enslaved, tortured, raped, and murdered by your captors. And who are your captors? Dverians. Sevropians. Rykkovaans. The apathetic. And the evil. They know that a divided people cannot rise up and take the cup of sweet freedom. They know if they beat down our culture, our language, our traditions, and our beliefs, that we will become numb to their chains.”

“Today, we are united, and we are all brothers and sisters. And, my brothers and sisters, the chains I have worn in my life are heavy. They groan and drag as I trudge through life, exhausted by the weight. A chain for my people, who are enslaved by these brutes. A chain for specism, where I am judged as a vulpine and not by the talents I possess or the content of my character. A chain… a chain for my lost family - the shackles have made my skin raw as I yearn for freedom. I admit, some chains I believe I will never be able to free myself from. But if you, brothers and sisters, yes, you, if you had the ability to break the chain with the Dverian or the Sevropian at the other end of the line, would you do it?”

“Now, we cannot break these chains alone, brothers and sisters. We can’t. Only together can we do that. And we must be organized, we must be patient and calculating. We must behave as an army of one. Only then can we truly be free. Only then can we earn our freedom as Listonians!”

He raised a fist in the air as some prisoners appeared captivated by his words. Many raised their firsts with him. Some even cheered.

“I envision a group that includes all Listonians, all who want to call themselves Listonian. No exclusion. Step forward and be baptized as free Listonians, Listonians who stand shoulder to shoulder for freedom. Any division will not be tolerated and will be blinded by the light of justice. I will leave no stone unturned. You want to do something with your lives? Wake up! For I have come to restore what is right, and remove the evil that surrounds it. Together we will purify the Land of Blood. Together we will free ourselves! Together we will free Listonia! Long live Listonia! Long live Listonia!”

Iveri stood on the bench next to Evesuni after the crowd finished their raucous cheering. He held up his right hand with his left. “All, I give you Stapen Evesuni. You know me, now know this, this man is going to change these lands. Listen to him, for he has my endorsement, and my trust!”

Evesuni looked out at the crowd of undesirables in front of him, surprised at his words, even more surprised that they came from him. He felt a bit pale as he tried to remember exactly what he spoke - it all just sort of poured out after years of not being able to really speak his mind on the matter. But it felt good to speak about it.

Tomasu pointed at Evesuni. “Evesuni, the Listonian son!”

“Remember his name,” Leon added. “Remember it well! The Almighty blessed him with a beautiful voice and it will tear Dverian orders to shreds!”

Stapen looked around at his friends, unsure of where he was supposed to go with this. But for the moment, he reveled in the accomplishment, and looked over at Iveri for approval. The old man smiled and shook their two hands, still clasped after raising them in the air.

[Todd_McCloud]

A few years had passed since then. While one may have expected Evesuni to give more speeches, the likes, rallying a prison was probably not the best tactic to follow if one sought to get out of prison in time. Plus, Iveri had been released for quite some time, and he just couldn’t disappoint him. So, he enjoyed this newfound quality: respect. No one messed with him and he didn’t mess with anyone else.

Well, except for this one time when a new tough guy entered the prison. This guy was one of the types who didn’t seem to like anyone and he made a habit of eyeing people down in the halls as they walked to and from their cells. It’s bad enough when a vulpine did that, but when a human did that, well, it was rather threatening. When he held Leon Soleki down and got in a few strikes after he gave him a stinkeye, Evesuni just couldn’t redeem him anymore.

So he offered to spot the guy while he was lifting weights. It wasn’t an unrealistic offer - Evesuni was thin and wiry, but had muscles where he needed them. And two of his cohorts stood by in case something went wrong. They assured him that if ‘the small guy’ couldn’t handle the load, they’d jump in and lift the barbell to help the guy up. So, Evesuni slipped the handle over the rests when the guy was distracted, and the bar landed squarely on his neck, crushing his windpipe with tremendous force.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry,” Evesuni said. “Here, hang on.”

He watched as his two comrades lifted the barbell again, only to drop the weights on his neck again from a higher distance.

“Oh man. I don’t know what to say, really,” Stapen said as he leaned in, the prisoner struggling for air. “Looks like you don’t know either. But I’m sure if you could say something, you’d apologize for laying a hand on my friend. Right, you stupid motherfucker?”

Prison life had given Stapen patience. He was now able to temper his anger - instead of lashing out like a kid, he could think before he acted. He could back away from a situation and plan with his mind instead of using physical force, which he was often outgunned. A few fights here. A few scuffles there. But each time he made sure he had plenty of support. When he walked into a room, people stood up. When he spoke, people listened. And when he needed time to himself to focus on meditation and the workings of his new religion, people backed off and gave him space.

“Thanks for that,” Leon said as he kept the wet cloth over his right eye, still damaged from the pummeling a few days prior.

“It’s what I do,” Stapen said as he extended a hand, pulling his friend up. Leon was an odd character. He sounded intimidating but his looks made him about as scary as lace on a pillow. He was sickly, thin, and had an odd cleft in his right hand - some kind of birth injury, Evesuni was told. Despite being older, he had a dopey kind of innocent face. It was his bright eyes and the fact that he smiled too much, especially when he was around Stapen. Evesuni brushed it off, figuring it was just how he was.

“You’re almost out of here yourself, right?” Leon asked. His voice was like someone throwing boulders down a cliff.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Still have two years left for you?”

“More or less. I’m told they’re moving my cell again.”

“Yeah, well same as before. Let me know if you don’t like the guy and we’ll find a way to separate the two of you.”

He scoffed. “Oh you don’t need to put your neck on the line for me.”

“Nah, really. You’re like a brother to me.” He cracked a grin.

“Brother, yeah,” Leon repeated. “Well, it’s like you said, when I’m out of here, you’re going to be a somebody. You’ll be made.”

Evesuni shrugged. “So long as I have a bed and meals, I’ll get by.”

Leon shook his head. “Listen to Iveri. I heard from the outside he’s doing pretty well these days. Just, you know, use your head.”

Evesuni grinned. “Hey. I was practically raised on these streets.”

“No it’s nothing like that. The underground can cut you down real quick. You were a bum before you knew us. Now you have a name and a reputation. Just watch your back. And stay away from anyone Iveri tells you to. You’re not ready to face that kind of life out there. Here you’ve got your own group and the concrete walls protect you. Out there, it’s tougher to read people. Because they say one thing but mean another. You know what I mean?”

“Right,” Stapen said as he grimaced. “Alright.”

“The fact that you take advice so well is what makes you a somebody,” Leon said with a grin.

“Eh, I’m not smart. I know that.”

“Maybe not book smarts. But you do have street smarts. Just like book smarts, you always need to be learning in order to keep getting better. Cause if you don’t grow, you grow stupid. But you’re not gonna be stupid out there. Just always think. Not like equations and stuff. But think about people. What they’re saying and what they mean. Read their emotions - people here are terrible at hiding them. Just, I don’t know-”

“Trust me,” Evesuni said.

Leon paused, and then nodded. “Sure.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Finally. Five years of being behind a prison wall made the prospect of adjusting back to real life a tough challenge, but for someone who had a difficult life outside of jail, it was decidedly less daunting. Indeed, Evesuni, now 24, stepped outside of the confines of concrete and into the cavernous reality of the open world in front of him. He didn’t look much like himself, and his clothes didn’t really fit his personality. Luckily they weren’t the clothes he walked in with. Instead, they gave him whatever would fit him from the donations pile - a t-shirt of some Vekaiyun baseball team, jeans that needed a belt to stay on his frame, and shoews that were two sizes too big.

Still, he was free, as free as a Listonian like himself could be at this point. He walked up to the polished black car in front of the prison exit and watched as someone got out to let him in the back. Inside the dimly-lit vehicle sat Iveri, who maintained a stoic expression behind sunglasses. He held up a carton of cigarettes as Evesuni stepped in.

“Come on, kid,” he began, “you look like an idiot. Driver, take us to Miluvesyu’s. You’re with me now, you understand? Just cause you’re out of that prison doesn’t mean you can do what you want, right? Now come on.” He held up a lit steel lighter with his initials engraved on the side.

Evesuni took a long draw. “Thank you. You don’t know how hard it was finding these things the last few months.”

“Now pay attention, kid. Now that you’re free, you’re going to really learn exactly what I do.” He moved his lighter back to himself and lit a cigarette as well. “I’m a crime boss. I’ve been made for longer than you’ve been alive, kid. Anything I want, it’s mine. I take what I need and give the rest out. Kind of like a Robin Hood, right? I’m an upper level suit in Iskolesi.” He smiled. “Never heard of it? That’s good. The best organizations are the ones never mentioned. You know, kind of like you used to be. Hiding in the shadows. Never seen. Never really known.”

“So what do I have to do with it?” Evesuni said as he tried to make his shoes fit better.

“Never mind the clothes. I’m sponsoring you, kid. You play your cards right, keep your nose clean, and do everything right and maybe you’ll be made like me. See, only Listonians can really move up in crime, and you fit the bill perfectly. You’ve got the voice, the deadshot, the street smarts, and the fearlessness. You just need the look.”

Evesuni shrugged as he looked outside, viewing the buildings lining the street as they began to re-enter Ye’leli. Traffic began to pick up, and the population density increased. He was back in the city he knew like the back of his hand, provided none of the roads changed over the past five years.

“Iskolesi, you know, it’s Unonian for something like stronger than blood.” He held up a finger. “This is what we do. We carry out hits, we run booking agencies, and we make transactions. As far as you’re concerned right now, it’s all on the level. Don’t go snooping around and don’t ask too many questions. Or you’ll be in for a bad time. Now you don’t want that do you?”

“Nope.”

Iveri smiled. “Of course you don’t. Like I said, do as I say and you’re going to go far in this business. You’re in crime now, kid. Do it right, and you’ll have anything you could ever want.”

=====*=

“Turn around.”

Evesuni stepped out of the dressing room and did an about-face. He’d never worn something like this before, and bit his tongue to keep from gushing over how wonderful it felt to actually look like someone. A well-fit and tailored black suit, made of the finest thread count (whatever that meant) and shoes so polished he could probably see himself in the reflection if he felt like it. A white shirt hung close to his frame, and comfortable suspenders held his pants up, pants which finally fit him. He had to catch himself a few times as he thought perhaps they’d fall down, but after a few awkward moments he made a conscious effort to ignore the fact that they fit so well, and it was their fit that allowed him to move around without worry.

He couldn’t get over how the suit jacket made his shoulders look as he viewed himself in the mirror. Stapen Evesuni. The deadshot crime thug. It rolled off the tongue.

“Sir?”

Evesuni turned to his right and noticed a salesman standing at his side. He nearly jumped, but remembered that the old life he had outside of bars was gone. He looked down and noticed the man had an array of different thick silk ribbons.

“Nah, he doesn’t want that. He’ll take a necktie.”

“What are these?”

“They are bowties, sir.”

Stapen paused. “Like what’s on the dummy there?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded. “I like the black one. I’ll take the black bowtie.” Evesuni reached for another cigarette.

“Oh, um, sir, the sign…”

Iveri put a hand on his shoulder. “The kid can smoke wherever he wants. How about the bill? And throw in one of those lighters you guys make. The ones with the initials. Oh, and a wallet. The kid needs a wallet. Get one that’s…” he looked at the human salesman. “Flesh-colored. Maybe with a mole right… there.” He poked him on the cheek. He laughed as the man went to fetch him the items he asked for. “Oh, and a pair of shades, you know!”

Evesuni couldn’t stop looking himself over in the mirror. “How much does this set me back?”

Iveri dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Like I said, kid. Do what I say and you’re set. You see that guy, the salesman? What you have on right now is worth more than his year’s salary. He’s a chump, he’s an idiot. Look at how he walks, all slouched over like. Like he’s someone’s bitch, you see what I’m saying?” He pulled out a wad of cash. “I can buy a year of that kid right here if I wanted to. And he’s like all these other people. Working their fingers to the bone, and for what? To go back to their shitty little apartments and eat their shitty dinners and sleep in their shitty beds. Then they get back up and start their shitty little lives all over again. You see this?” he shook the wad of cash. “This was made in a week. And I don’t give a shit about it. I’m my own boss, kid. And everyone who’s a somebody gets a cut. And how do you get to be a somebody?”

“Do everything you say?”

He gripped Evesuni by the cheek as he spoke through his teeth. “Look at you, so smart.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Clean sheets. A nice bed. Opulent food. A car. A chrome plated 9-mm with his initials on the butt of the gun. The top shelf alcohol. Expensive parties. The top cut of any drugs that rolled in. Lots of women.

Such was the life of a person of privilege in Iskolesi. Iskolesi, as Evesuni came to find out was the premier crime organization consisting of predominantly vulpine individuals outside of Vekaiyu. Perhaps it even rivaled the Vekaiyun Mafia - who knew. But it was a life most would envy, most could only dream of, and most would climb over their own grandmother just to taste.

There was one problem. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it. He didn’t care for bedsheets. And, if he did, he’d prefer to move them off the bed and sleep on the floor anyway - he couldn’t sleep on something soft. The opulent food was nothing like he was used to and it routinely made him sick. He couldn’t drive a car, so the whole point of having one was useless. The gun his was given (a gift from Iveri himself) he could barely use as it was heavier than the police-issued Dverian gun he was used to. Top shelf alcohol intimidated him, because most of the time he didn’t know what he was ordering and those he drank around really knew their way around a cocktail. Parties were noisy and made him lonely. He didn’t do drugs - only smoked, and even then, he’d rather smoke the cheap garbage cigarettes he was used to. And women? He wouldn’t even get near them. He was faithful to his wife, alive or dead.

And sometimes, when he would move to the tiled floor of his bedroom, the loud noises of parties still ringing in his ears, he would think about her. And miss her terribly. His daughter too. He wanted to know everything about her. He would often sit at the sill and open the window, the westward facing window, and try to imagine that perhaps she was doing the same, wherever she was, somewhere in Vekaiyu. Was she smart? Could she read now? Did she have any interests? If he could trade away all this stuff just to meet her, he would. He would go back to being a slimy bum if it meant he could see her and know she was okay.

He sighed, staring out at the expanses of Ye’leli in front of him. “Ilesira, where are you out there? Would you be proud of a father like me? Could you ever understand why I am who I am? Could you ever forgive me for what I did? I told you I’d become a terrible person, now do you understand?”

The doors to his bedchamber opened.

“Kid! Come here, there’s no time to waste. We’re going to initiate you! You hear that?”

Evesuni stood up. He was wearing an undershirt with pants held up by suspenders. He quickly put on his shoes and joined Iveri at the exit. He didn’t think to dress more properly than that, for he remembered the word ‘initiate’ before.

“It’s a happy day, kid!” Iveri exclaimed. “You’re alright, you know that? I knew you’d fit in our outfit. And now the bosses think so too. Do you know what this means?”

“Who do I need to fight?”

“What? Ah, a sense of humor, I like that about you. It means no one can touch you, kid. You’re on the accelerated path to being made. See, you’ve impressed ever since you joined our ranks. You don’t hang on women or get lost in drugs like most of the bums we take on. You’re focused, you’re poised, and you’ve got that deadshot everyone’s talking about. Remember that Asko Ubrisre you offed the other day? That businessman? It’s in the news and no one knows who did it!”

That was another thing. What about all that talk about freeing Listonia and freeing Listonians? As far as he could tell, things weren’t any better. He wasn’t helping anyone like he thought he was. He was just spending money on clothes he didn’t feel like he earned at this point. And businessmen? What about shooting more Dverian cops? Or fighting back when their authorities burned down a Vayan Catholic church in Ye’leli and the only excuse they had was ‘it wasn’t up to code’? Or the rumors of work camps - why didn’t anyone think to check those out? No, they were all mum on that. But when it came to finding more money, well, he was right there to be used, like a toy, for their devices.

He wasn’t free.

“What’s the matter with you, kid? You should be happy! It’s an honor!”

Evesuni nodded with a smirk. “Sorry. Just a bit tired is all. Long day.”

But he didn’t want to disappoint Iveri either. He would probably be laughed at for admitting it, but he found the gentlemen to be like a father to him. Maybe not the one he deserved, but one that he accepted nonetheless. He taught him how to behave. He taught him how to act and helped him understand Codexian. He baptized him into his religion. And he gave him the tattoo, the only thing about his new life that he actually liked anymore. Maybe he just needed to adjust to it was all. He spent eighteen years in poverty, maybe if he stuck around a little longer, he could slip away and leave completely. But he wasn’t as unknown anymore. It seemed the more people knew him, the more trapped he became. And that made him nervous.

The two made it into a large room complete with leather lounge chairs, decadent wall paneling, and stained glass lamps. The air was thick with smoke and ash. And everyone present had a glass of some fine alcohol in their hands.

“Between the Eyes Evesuni!” the oldest gentlemen exclaimed.

“Go up to him, kid. That’s Viktor Koblistroviyey, the head of the outfit!”

He pushed Evesuni up to him, and he stood by the man’s side.

“Stapen, I’ve heard so much about you. The deadshot. Come, have a seat. We’ll pour you a drink.”

Evesuni looked behind him and pulled up a chair. He smiled cordially at the bartender who had fixed him a drink he typically drank, but she had never met him before.

“So you’re the man who we picked up in prison, right? Iveri tagged you?”

“Yes sir, yes he did.”

“And the man who could rally prisoners?” He waited for Evesuni to nod. “The drifter?”

“I was a drifter, sir.”

Viktor Koblistroviyey looked him up and down, slowing scanning over the young vulpine male with his eyes. “Mmmmnn…” he put a hand to his muzzle as if he was in deep thought. “Tell me, young man, what makes all of this worthwhile to you? What do you like the most about this lifestyle?”

Evesuni paused, not entirely sure what to say. He bit his lip, not knowing if there was a right answer or not. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I like that my clothes fit me. I like being able to close a door and be in a room by myself. The bathrooms are nice. Oh, and the shoes don’t have holes in them.”

The old vulpine male smiled warmly. “And what about all of the expensive food? The cars? Fun parties? Your personalized weapon?”

Evesuni darted around nervously. He looked up at Iveri, who gave him a stern look almost as if he was analyzing him himself. He then looked back at the old man. “I mean, I think they’re all great, Kivo [Mr., married] Koblistroviyey. And I am grateful for them. Really, I am. No one’s… ever done that for me before.”

“But?”

He swallowed hard. “But… I, well, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I really appreciate it and all, but… I don’t think I need it. I would rather see it go to help my countrymen. I would rather plan to free them. I don’t need cars. I don’t want drugs or parties or women. I just… want to fight.”

He smiled. “No,” he said softly as he shook his head. “No, no. You’re not made for this life, young Stapen.”

“Kivo Koblistroviyey,” Ivere nearly interrupted, “he-he doesn’t know what he’s saying! He’s tired and was probably about to sleep when I woke him. Look, the kid doesn’t even have his suit jacket on.” He tried to lighten the mood. “I guess it’s true what they say - you can take the bum off the streets, but you can’t take the streets off the bum. You know? Sir?”

Koblistroviyey held up a hand. “I’ve decided. Thank you, Iveri. You have brought me an interesting man, but he’s just… just not cut out for it. His heart is elsewhere.”

“Please, Kivo Koblistroviyey. Please give him a chance.” He glared at Stapen as the young man looked back up at him, begging him to stop. “Let me talk to the kid.”

“Iveri, that will do. Come, have a drink.”

Iveri nodded as a drink was handed to him. His solemn expression turned to anger when he looked down at Evesuni. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping or something… kid?”

Evesuni looked over at Koblistroviyey, who nodded, allowing him to leave the room.

“Thank you, Kivo Koblistroviyey.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Run with him… like you’re talking about your day next to him… run with him…

Evesuni had his latest targets in his sight - a governmental worker on a jog. He sat reclined in his position, the gun he held pointed at its target, moving fluidly with his strides as he moved down the street below. Evesuni, who was positioned on the rooftop of a multistory building, had a perfect position and a great shot on the guy. He watched as he moved behind a tree, then emerged, Stapen not missing a beat, like he was right next to the guy.

He closed the lens to his scope.

Iveri sighed angrily. “Look, it’s simple, kid. You take the hit. You research a position. You point the gun at him. You kill him. This is the second time today you had a clear shot on a guy, and you didn’t take the bait. At this rate I’ll never convince the heads to give you another shot!”

Evesuni sighed. “I couldn’t square up the shot. I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“You’re doing this on purpose. Trying to ruin me, trying to make me look bad when here you are, acting a fool!” He stood up with an angry grunt, looking down at the young vulpine. “You’re a piece of work. I took you under my wing, I put my damn neck on the line for your ass, and how do you repay me? Acting a fool.”

Evesuni gritted his teeth. “Let’s just move to another target.”

“Why? So you can fuck that up too?” He picked him up by his suit jacket. “Do I have your attention now, shit head?” He shoved him back, nearly causing Stapen to careen over the edge of the building, but he caught himself before he could fall. He moved to more stable ground. “What did I tell you the first time we met? Circle of trust. Right? You trust me, I trust you, and around and around we go. You lied about your intentions. You lied to take advantage of me, take advantage of my good graces and my money and time. I outta drop you right now!”

“You never asked me!” Evesuni retorted. “You filled me with all that stuff about freeing Listonians and then you send me out to look like one of those fuckin’ rich pieces of crap I hated for most of my life! You used me! Used me to carry out hits like this. Made me into a poster boy. I didn’t want that!”

“Then what did you want?”

He flopped his hands at his side. “I don’t know. I want to help them, them down below on the streets. The people like me. Like where I came from.”

“And you could’ve! You just had to sit through it until you had the power!”

Evesuni shook his head. “I hate having expensive things. I hate how people are controlled by money. And I especially hate how you tried to control me with yours! I don’t want your stupid money! I don’t need it!”

“I should’ve known,” Iveri said as he cracked his knuckles. “Once a shit-smelling bum, always a shit-smelling bum. Too stupid for your own good. You know, if you would’ve just stayed on a little longer, you could’ve done anything with it! Even get back your daughter, you idiot!”

He shook his head. “I’m not her father when I’m like this. Leave her out of it!”

“No, you’re a nobody! You’ll never amount to anything. You came from shit, you are shit, and you’ll die as shit! No wonder you lost your w-”

Stapen’s eyes widened. “My what?”

“Nothing, forget it.” He looked a bit distraught. “Just forget it.”

“My what?!”

“Just calm down and quit letting your anger get the best of you!”

“I’ll kill you!”

Stapen lunged for Iveri, latching onto the old man and landing a collection of blows on him. He put his hands around his neck and slammed him against the roof blacktop. He knew how to kill a man with his bare hands, but he wasn’t about to do that - he just wanted to release frustration. The strikes only seemed to make Iveri more angry as he unleashed a roar and flipped the young vulpine male over, slamming the back of his head into the pavement. He provided a swift knee to the gut, crumpling Stapen’s body between the knee and pavement.

“Oh gosh…” he winced and gripped his stomach.

Iveri stood up and brushed himself off. He focused on his former young protege, shaking his head in disappointment. “You could’ve been a somebody, kid. You were like the son I never had, and I wanted to give you everything you’d ever need. You could’ve taken my place when I went. You could’ve ran the whole outfit. But I can’t fix stupid. And I can’t fix you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Take this and clean yourself up. But don’t come back - you’re through with us. I’ll leave you like I found you, broken and stupid.” He wiped some tears from his cheeks. “Now, get outta my face.”

Stapen continued to cough and wince in pain as he watched Iveri walk away and leave down the service stairs.

[Todd_McCloud]

Back on the streets. Alone, again. Evesuni walked passed a collection of businessmen and women as he strode down the chilled sidewalks of Ye’leli. He wasn’t as disheveled as one might expect, as he the money he had paid for some rudimentary needs. He took his suit off to sleep, save for his pants, in order to keep it looking good. And he purchased a month pas at a gym so he could bathe properly. It even served as his place of residence - the building had a pretty large boiler room that could be used to hide and keep the heat when he needed it.

Yet while he was managing on the outside, in the inside he was a different story. He was angry at being taken advantage of. He was angry at Iveri for giving up on him and trying to make him something he wasn’t. His emotions swirled around his head, toying with his thoughts and tugging at his conscience. His thoughts distracted him to the point where he bumped into another Dverian. They met shoulder to shoulder, but Evesuni kept walking on.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.

Stapen almost felt like paying the guy no attention, but he decided to turn around anyway. He hadn’t spoken to someone in weeks, aside from ordering drinks, buying food, or the likes.

“Hey you filthy animal! What the hell’s your problem?”

He was speaking Codexian again. Only this time he could make sense of it.

“Ah ayhm sooreh,” Stapen said, his Unonian peasant accent as thick as the air between the two men.

“I’m so tired of seeing you people around here,” he said as he poked Evesuni in the chest. “The whole lot of you. Disgusting animals you vulpines are. Why can’t you just crawl back to the forests from which you came?”

He felt like reeling back a punch, but realized the young Dverian wasn’t alone as two officers joined in the discussion.

“Is this creature giving you trouble, sir?” one of them asked.

“Yes! He totally ran into me, like some dumb animal!”

“Pahleesk eey meynt no hayrmn,” Stapen said. He hated their language, but he knew when he needed to speak it.

The second officer shoved him. “Step off him! Don’t they teach your kind manners where you come from? Are you too stupid to see where you are going?”

The old Evesuni would’ve shot all three of them. But he was in public, and simply stood his ground.

The officer pushed him again. “Come on, you dog! Speak!”

Stapen glared at him, but was shoved again by the first officer.

“Maybe he can’t speak. Perhaps he’ll bark at us next.”

“Ahm n-”

“You know,” a man about the same age as the guy he struck began, “can they even talk right? I mean, ever notice their mouths? And how did they go from paws to hands anyway?”

“Alright, alright,” the first officer proclaimed. “Apologize to the man you ran into, and get on with your lives!”

Evesuni nodded. “Ahm-”

“Louder, boy,” the second officer interrupted.

“Ahm-”

“An apology is better when you’re on your knees doing it.”

Stapen stood there for a moment, then sighed and got down on his knees. “Ahm veyry sooreh. Pahleeska cep mae ay-ahpologise.”

“I can’t even understand him,” the man he struck said.

“Ahm veyry sooreh,” Evesuni said again, his ears falling backwards. “Pa-leeshk 'cep may ayapologee.”

“Good boy,” the first officer said as he patted Evesuni on the head. “There, now was that so hard?”

“He’s pretty obedient,” the second officer said with a chuckle. “Kneels when asked, can speak, but can he roll over?”

Evesuni shook his head.

“Do it.”

He blinked a few times, then got on his back and shifted a bit from side to side as the crew laughed.

“Alright, that’s good enough. Now get out of here, this is a corporate environment. No vulpines!”

Stapen got up and darted down the road, far from the group. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened, but when they happened, he felt awful. He may not have been smart, but he wasn’t an animal. And why do the Dverians get to rule their land anyway? If they detested his kind so much, why did they want to live around them?

He took his suit jacket off and tried to brush off the scuff marks, using a nearby rain barrel if he required water to get off some of the dirt. “I am not an animal,” Evesuni muttered in Unonian. “And I’m not stupid either!” He threw his jacket down on the ground, entirely frustrated. “I need to do something. I must do something.” After catching his breath, he sat down next to the barrel and lit a cigarette to think and plan.

[Todd_McCloud]

Stapen hated feeling humiliated. He hated the sting of the words and the laughing faces when they spoke those words. But most of all, he hated the labels. Shit. Dog. Bum. Drifter. Dummy. Idiot. Animal. Boy. All were labels meant to degrade and humiliate. But no matter what he could do, he couldn’t seem to escape them.

The labels made him run, hide, and seek solitude. As he walked into the poorer districts of Ye’leli, he began to talk to himself. He didn’t care if anyone listened anymore. “I’m not gonna run anymore. If they think I am shit, then they will have shit hitting them in the face. If they call me a dog, I will bite their ears off. If they make me into an idiot, I will beat their head in until their brain swells.” He seemed to be walking closer to other voices. “And if they lay a hand on me, it will be their final mistake.”

He didn’t realize it, but he had walked right into the middle of a rather large gathering of vulpines, arranged in a circle and sitting on steps, almost as if they were waiting for a speaker to entertain them. He looked up and noticed he had walked right in the middle of a play. Actors stood in bewilderment as the downtrodden but still rather well-dressed (if not dirty and dusty) Evesuni nearly took center stage.

“Hey you, get off the stage!”

“Move back into the audience!”

Stapen kept his guard as some of the actors moved in. Before they could react, he pulled out his gun, which prompted several of them to scatter and run for cover. The audience didn’t really react - they didn’t know if this was part of the play or not.

He fired two shots in the air as audience members ducked for cover.

“Stop that!” Evesuni shouted. “That’s what they want you to do! Hide! Run! Scatter! They want you all divided and they want you all weak and stupid.” He turned to some of the actors. “It’s about to rain. Wouldn’t you rather do your play indoors? Oh, but you can’t, because the Ye’leli Grand Theater is downtown and that’s reserved for Dverian plays put on by Dverian people in their language! They didn’t build this city! So why do you let them take whatever they please?”

Anger bubbled inside him as he threw a prop to the ground. “They push you to the lowest jobs. They bar you from the better schools. They live in the better neighborhoods and better homes. And why? Are we lazy? Are we beneath them? No! Their laws and their fear of us do that! But every last one of you has accepted that. You accept it because you’re sitting here in this shitty amphitheater in the shitty part of town wearing your shitty clothes that were bought with the shitty money they allow you to have!”

He turned to the other side of the audience. “Some of you have children. What are you going to tell them twenty, thirty years from now when they push us further into the bad jobs and bad neighborhoods? What then? And don’t say it hasn’t happened because I know this city like the moles on my body! It has changed. What will you say to them? Well? That you sat around and watched plays and let them beat you, murder you, rape you, take your lands and your right to live? Will that make them proud? Will they look up to you then? I can’t be the only one who thinks about this! This land was ours! We can’t even go to the center of our old capitol without being harassed. And if it’s happened to me, it’s happened to you. They called you dogs, right? They harassed you and humiliated you, right? Right in front of your children, right? Well they’re not going to do that to me anymore! I’m through being attached to their chain, chained like some kind of animal, pinned down and relegated to the scraps of this nation. No! Not Dveria! Not Sevropia! Listonia!”

“Why can’t we get the same things Vekaiyu has? Why?” He turned around to address the crowd sitting behind him once again. “We’re not any less than they are. You all know Unonian. Why can’t it be the language of the state? You all know our history. Why can’t it be taught in schools? You’re all probably Vayan Catholics. Why can’t we practice our religion in our old cathedrals?”

“My whole life I’ve had people control me and force me, but only because I let them! No more!” He flung another prop to the floor as it skidded across the stage. “Is anyone like me? Is anyone tired of this life? Is anyone ready to fight for their people and their children? I know I am. Let them shoot me down, because I’m not running anymore! Long live Listonia! Long live Listonia! Come on, they can’t jail all of us! Long live Listonia!”

Over the course of his speech, the crowd murmured. Was this a rally cry or a soliloquy in a play? Whatever it was, it had a loud ring of truth in it. The murmurs grew into commotion, and commotion into standing, and with standing came cheering, and with cheering came chanting. Soon the entire amphitheater was chanting the forbidden chant, the battle cry of the natives - the Listonians.

“Long live Listonia! Long live Listonia!”

Evesuni stepped back as one of the actors grabbed him by the shoulder. “That was amazing! Did you have all that prepared?”

He shook his head. “I speak what I see.”

“Travel with us, will you?”

Stapen shook his head. “I’m no actor. I came here for a fight.” He stepped forward and joined the chanters, raising a fist in the air and pounding with each word.

After a while, the audience calmed down when they were waved off by the troupe of performers who tried to maintain order. The gentlemen who approached him a few minutes ago moved to the center.

“We would like to finish this play, but we are unable to do so at this time.” He turned to Stapen. “What’s your name, man?”

“Stapen Evesuni.”

“What do you do, Stapen?”

He shrugged. “I guess I speak.”

“Damn right you do. I’m Yamano Subrirari. My guild and I want you to come along with us and give speeches after every one of our plays. Would you do that for us, Stapen? Would you spread your message with us?”

Evesuni looked around as he wore an expression of concern. He really couldn’t say no, not with everyone watching him and wondering if he’d agree. It was a bit cornering, but ultimately he realized that this was exactly the opportunity he needed. “It… well, it would be an honor. Sure.”

The audience applauded.

“That’s great! Real great! Stapen Evesuni, everyone! Stapen the speaker!”

Stapen watched as the audience roared with acceptance, his message tugging at their heart strings and lighting fires within their bellies. He hadn’t spoken like that since he was in prison, and they had to listen to what he said. Now people wanted to hear what he had to say. And, of all the labels he had endured in his lifetime to this point, speaker was probably the one he liked the most. He didn’t mind that label.

[Todd_McCloud]

“Pass the islovium, would ya, Vik?”

Viktor Koblistroviyey puffed a stogie as he reached for the bottle at the other end of the table. The room was lit only by a naked light bulb which didn’t even reach most of the walls, either due to the poor wattage or the room being thick with smoke. It was a monthly occurrence for many of the organized crime leaders in Listonia to meet on a regular basis, but this was more of an informal meeting.

“Yeah well when you’re done with that, do a solid and hand over the kikale.”

A big bowl of vulpine staple food - noodles with sauces and spices teeming with vegetables - made its way around to Viktor Koblistroviyey.

It wasn’t a big table, just that there was a lot on the table. Alcohol, kikale, ashtrays for stogies, more bottles of alcohol, spices, silverware, plates, empty bottles, a dish of chicken and mushroom sauce, and beets - in salad, soup, and pickled form.

“Always taking the most from all of us, I see.”

The individual who just spoke was Yensey Layastrovyey, leader of Sipani. Sipani began as a family outfit, but quickly expanded in Cestinglavoiga, working its way down into Ye’leli, where it was met with fierce resistance from the already-established groups in and around the city. But they stuck on, and gained the respect of most who were there. In the end, one couldn’t even remember a time where Sipani wasn’t a big deal in Ye’leli. They ran their organization very well, and no one in the Layastrovyey family could really get to the top of the organization. Yensey was groomed to become the leader of the family business and, approaching his late 30’s, he was certainly ready to lead. He erred on the side of paranoia most of the time, but in this business, paranoia wasn’t a bad thing.

“Who cares about the food when there’s plenty of alcohol!”

That was Enlil Y’vnastroyu, the about-the-same-age, fiery leader of Lont. If there was a history written by crime lords, nearly all would agree that Lont was the oldest. It even had records dating back from the last century. Despite all of this, Lont never achieved dominance. It was leaky, confused by its own weight, and at times lacked direction. The reason? Too many cooks in the kitchen, and everyone who was a somebody knew it. To the rest of the outfit leaders, Lont was like a bucking horse, and if you pulled on the reigns hard enough, it would go where you wanted it to go. But there was always that fear of being found out, which meant a swift kick to the head. Enlil was known for his brown trench coat, which he wore even in the summertime, and his peculiar policies.

“You drink too much as it is,” Viktor remarked as he and Yensey laughed.

Enlil pointed his gun. “Hey just be sure to take this from me after my next drink, old man!”

Now everyone was laughing. But laughter subsided once the food made its rounds, cooked special from Yensey’s restaurant - Yves Ni Retalaturu, which in Codexian meant ‘No Worries No Problems’. Once the food was slowly depleted, everyone at the table knew it would be time to talk business.

“So, how about this guy going around and giving speeches during plays, eh?” Yensey asked. “Makes himself out to be some kind of big talker. He keeps talking about Listonia, and cops are getting involved in his speeches.”

“Mmn, yeah,” Viktor said with a nod. “I remember reading that. Wasn’t there a fight in the last speech he gave?”

“Yeah,” Enlil answered. “Nothing big. Course everyone is saying the Dverians started it.”

“That’s not what the papers said.”

“Ah the papers are written by Dverians anyway.” Enlil cut some chicken with a knife. “He’s your boy, isn’t he?” He looked at Viktor.

“Mine? Oh, no.”

“Cause I’m pretty sure… now correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure I saw him with Iveri a while back. Like six, maybe eight months ago. They were together looking at cars.”

“Here he goes, talking about cars again. St. Aiya protect us all!”

Viktor shook his head. “He didn’t work out. We brought him in, but he never made it to initiation. Too much fire. He’d never be able to handle it. He’d make us look bad. You know?”

Enlil nodded and finally swallowed his last bite. “Well, see, that’s the thing. People kind of have been putting two and two together. And I don’t mean anything by this, but his name’s come up a few times next to your outfit’s.”

“He’s not one of ours,” Viktor said sternly.

“So you wouldn’t mind if one of us put a hit out on the guy, then,” Yensey said after finishing a drink.

Viktor sloshed around his drink as he looked at the two. “Put a hit?”

“We’ve been talking. We think that if this guy keeps squawking like he does, the Dverians are going to come down on us. Hard. He’s rocking the boat, Viktor. We’ve got a really good thing going here and we don’t need a bum like him messing it all up.”

Viktor raised his eyebrows. “But what if he’s right? I don’t know, what if we listened to him and united?”

They all laughed.

“Oh man, oh man it’s such a relief that he’s not one of yours,” Enlil stammered, still laughing. “Alright, this is good as done then!”

“He’s a deadshot,” Viktor muttered.

The room fell silent until Yensey spoke up. “Deadshot? So he knows how to talk and shoot?” He watched as Viktor nodded. “So, eh. We’ll just get a better hit out on him then.”

Viktor smiled. “Have you seen this guy shoot? He can hit someone between the eyes with a 9-mm standing on a two story building. The kid’s a natural.”

Yensey looked over at Enlil. “Well, what if we each put in our best guys on this? They all do their best, and outnumber him.”

Viktor shrugged. “Might work.” He set his napkin down. “Might have three of our guys whacked.”

“Oh come on,” Enlil protested.

“He doesn’t even hold a gun right,” Viktor chortled. “Like he taught himself or something. You remember stories of the shit shooter? That’s him, just doesn’t smell as much like shit anymore.”

“Well, I’m in,” Yensey said. “I’ll have my best guy scope him out.”

Enlil nodded. “I’m in, too. Kid’s gotta stop this stuff.”

Viktor wiped his mouth after drinking some wine. “Well if you’re in and you’re in, then I guess I need to go in too.”

[Todd_McCloud]

Evesuni loved what he was doing for a change. The roars he received from the crowd were satisfying, but the fact that the Dverian police, most of whom had no idea what he was saying, had to stand there and maintain order, made it particularly fun. He’d egg them on, goad them at times, knowing that now they had the numbers and any sort of retaliatory attack would gain him instant charisma. Perhaps that’s what he wanted: a messy fight to push his cause over the edge. It was a question of when, not if, but when it did happen, he’d be ready.

The troupe he traveled with reaped in larger than usual sums as most would show just for Evesuni and arrive to an already-packed house. Pretty soon they realized that they could skip lines, sometimes even omit entire portions of an act, and the audience wouldn’t care. Whether they liked it or not, Stapen was the main attraction. No one talked as he did, and people couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

“Great work again, Stapen,” Yamano Subrirari said as he patted Evesuni on the back, a momentary respite from the rain coming down all around them. “My face is still on fire from feeling all those voices come at you like that!”

Evesuni grinned as he flicked a finished cigarette. “Come at us.” He went to light another.

Yamano shook his head. “Don’t humor me. We all know the true reason the attendees show. Much to our chagrin, but nevertheless, we cannot change the sentiments of the crowd. You have captured their imaginations and enthralled them with a sense of long-forgotten pride.” He looked up at him. “And it’s getting dangerous. Did you see the police presence today?”

“Oh yeah. It was great.”

“Great?” Yamano said, flashing a look at him.

He smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck, still walking down to their hotels for the night. Nothing fancy, just something to keep the rain out as they slept. “Yeah. Cause soon they’re gonna boil over.”

“It’s ‘because eventually they will clash like thunder in the heavens’!” He held a finger up as a sort of added oomph. “Bigger words, Stapen. Utilize the Unonian vocabulary so you appear intelligent.” He paused. “What did you mean by ‘boil over’?”

Evesuni put an arm around Yamano. “Forget it. Come on, I need a drink. It’s been a long day.”

“Ho! Remember several days prior you became so inebriated you could not even walk correctly! Stammering around like a lush!”

Evesuni laughed as the two men walked awkwardly down the alleyway together. The hotel was nearly there.

Suddenly, a rain of bullets struck the bricks next to the two. Had they not been acting out, a more clear shot may have been possible. Evesuni was quick to turn around and attempt to spot where the gunfire originated.

“Oh dear! Oh dear!”

“Sh- hush! Get down!” He pulled Yamano back behind the dumpster where he hid. “Are you listening?”

“Y-yes.”

“The building we have our backs to… has a basement storm guard large enough to get into, just down the ways a bit. Go there and be quick.”

“But…”

“Just do it. Don’t stop for anything.”

Yamano hesitated, but eventually worked up the courage to follow Evesuni’s instructions. As he ran, a spray of bullets followed his path. While he dove for the storm guard, Evesuni triangulated the position of the gunfire to a room just above and to his left. But had already ducked before he could get a clear shot."

“Shit,” he muttered to himself. He looked around, trying to get a better view, when he nearly knocked over several empty soup cans. Upon viewing the cans, Stapen plucked one of them from the ground and placed a rock in it. He threw it down the alleyway in the other direction, careful not to get into plain sight.

He took the bait. The moment the shooter revealed himself, Evesuni got him in his sights. He waited for him to duck back down and crane his neck toward him before firing his weapon right between the eyes of the assailant. He made a low, guttural noise as he slumped over outside of the window, his arms hanging out as he dropped his gun.

After lighting another cigarette, Evesuni looked at the gun, knowing that organized crime members usually held clues as to what organization they came from based on the model and any sort of personal identification on the gun. He stretched out his left hand, trying to stretch to reach it, but couldn’t quite grab it from behind the dumpster. He touched the tattoo on his eye for protection as he moved over to grab the gun.

A slug zinged right passed his head, missing its target, but striking his upper left arm. Evesuni winced but had already identified the gunman - he was standing right in front of him.

“The game is over, Evesuni!” he shouted. “You can’t get me. I’ll spot your movement and before you can shoot, I’ll take you out!”

He took a long draw from his cigarette. “What do you want?”

“I want my money! 100,000 drachmas!”

“I don’t owe you shit!”

“Not you. My employer.”

Evesuni tried to squint and spot who it was through the rain. “So, why don’t you shoot me? Go on and get it over with, you know?”

“That’s all you’re going to say? Not going to squirm a little?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Did she scream?”

“Who screamed?”

“Your wife. Did she scream when they shot her through your house? How many holes did you count in her? You have to know the number. How big was the stain on the floorboards when you dragged her out?”

“You filthy motherfucker!” Evesuni barked as he remained perfectly still.

“There! That’s all I wanted. Some emotion turned back on yourself. Mmmn. I’ll bet she looked fine. Did she look fine, Evesuni? Well?”

“Yes,” he said as a gritted his teeth.

“How did she look without clothes on? You know, without the bullet holes. Details!”

“Oh God dammit, just shoot me already you coward!”

“Come on! The hits make me horny, man! Do you think she’d go for someone like me? I mean, over you, of course. I’d have her screaming all night long!”

An errant bullet from… somewhere struck the side of the alleywall near the assailant. The slight distraction allowed Evesuni to quickly draw and fire a shot. But he missed. He shot him between the legs.

Evesuni glanced behind him to see where the third shooter was, but figured if he was aiming for him he would’ve been dead by now. He stood up as the gunman whimpered and writhed on the ground. He shot again. Then another. And another still. He continued to shoot the man as he approached him, now a bloody mess but still breathing, barely.

“Count with me.”

He looked down and unloaded on him. When he was finished, he slammed the empty clip on the ground and re-loaded, pelting his soft tissues with hardened tips as brass casings flew in the air.

“Eighteen! Eighteen holes you motherfucker!” He knelt down and began striking the head of the now-dead man with the butt of his gun, the handle at first causing the skin to bruise. A few more crashes caused the skin to bleed. A few more still and the skin began to tear from the skull. Now Evesuni began to grunt as he kept slamming his gun down on the man’s head: eyes crushed in and sunken, nose ripped clean off, skin on the forehead turned to slush. He focused his strikes on a collection of bullet holes spaced close together. A few more strikes cracked the skull, sounding like busting open a melon.

Stapen caught his breath as he knelt in front of the man. He launched a large wad of spit at the mutilated body as the rain continued to fall all around them.

“Hey.”

His ears perked up and he looked behind himself. “Leon?”

“The one, the only.” He shrugged, holding a gun.

Evesuni looked over at his gun, then himself. “You?”

“Yeah. You can kill someone, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Evesuni watched as the barrel of the gun moved down toward him. “Oh.”

The two stared at each other, locked in silence as the rain fell all around them. They’ve come a long way since their days in prison, back when everything was much more simple and everyone seemed to get along. It seemed inevitable that the two of them would meet again, but it would’ve been better if it was on friendlier terms.

“Can I… can I have a last smoke at least?”

“'Fraid not.”

Leon cocked the gun as Evesuni returned his gaze to the barrel. He paused, wavering a bit and not sure what to do.

“Leon, put the gun down. Leon. Put the gun down.”

He moved the barrel from Stapen’s head. “I can’t kill you. I never could’ve. You’re a brother, and I don’t care what’s changed in our lives.” He held out a hand.

Stapen still tried to catch his breath. “What the hell was all that about?”

“Your dangerous, Stap. The outfits want you gone. Look, do yourself a favor and nix the speeches. Don’t cause a stir. Say you’ve retired or something. Then get out of town.”

“You know I won’t do that.”

Leon nodded. “I know.” He scoffed. “Now I gotta tell my boss that I didn’t whack you.”

“Mmmn, yeah.”

Evesuni decked Leon in the face with his bony hand, the blow causing the gruff-voiced vulpine to spin and fall to the ground.

“There. Now you have a… what’s that called? An alibi. And if you ever point a gun at me again, I will end you where I see you. You understand what I’m trying to say?” He grabbed him by the hair and pistol-whipped him across the face. “You dumb bastard!”

Evesuni brushed himself off as water slid down his suit jacket. He was almost half-afraid to stand in one spot too long, but he still had a heartbeat, and if anyone else wanted to off him, it would’ve been done by now. As the adrenaline wore off, he winced and grabbed his shoulder, noticing he was bleeding from his right arm. He stammered back through the meat of the alleyway, careful to avoid the dripping blood from the dead assassin above him.

“I-is it safe?”

Evesuni turned around and walked toward the voice. “Yes, Yamano. Coast is clear. But I need a doctor.”

“I’ll hail a cab and follow you to the ends of the Urth and back!”

Stapen couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. He lit another cigarette and winced from the pain in his arm. “Thanks.”

[Todd_McCloud]

“How do you like that?” Enlil threw the back-end of a newspaper on the table and pointed at the story with a stubby (for a vulpine) digit. “The shit shooter pulled through. Only shot in the arm.” He looked up at Yensey. “If we’re not careful, we’ll turn this guy into a martyr. You know what I mean?” The toothpick he was chewing on was spit onto the floor. “All cause your guy didn’t pull through.”

“He whacked both of our guys,” Yensey reminded. “But I had someone watch the whole thing just in case things went south. He told me he was helped by one of Vik’s boys.”

“Really, now.”

“Yeah. Said he almost killed him. Had a clear shot.” He walked up to Yensey. “He was standing right there, like this, gun pointed right at his head. Didn’t pull the trigger. Just let Evesuni pistol-whip him.”

Enlil sighed, his voice trailing to almost a growl. “Think Vik lied to us?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Yensey replied. “But I’m pretty sure Evesuni’s not in Vik’s outfit. I mean, based on what I was told they said, nah, it doesn’t sound like it. But it doesn’t change anything about the plan.”

Enlil nodded as he sighed, reaching for another toothpick. “Yeah. I mean, you and I both know Iskolesi is top-heavy, ready to fall over. We just need an opportunity.”

Yensey held up a finger. “Here’s what I was thinking. Evesuni’s going to eventually cause a fight at one of his speeches. It’ll be a great distraction, cause you know Vik’s already on alert with this kid. We move in and take them out.”

Enlil shook his head. “I dunno. It’s a little risky. We’ll lose a lot of guys.”

“No we won’t. We’ll tip off the Dverian police and have them take the rest of them out. I don’t care if they lose guys.”

“Getting Dverians to take out vulpines?” Enlil sat down and rubbed his forehead. “Phew. I mean, I don’t know.”

“It’s the only way now.”

Enlil looked up at Yensey. “I wonder about you sometimes. You know what will happen if we drag Dverians into the underground!”

“It’ll take the group out completely. And don’t sell me short on this. You know this isn’t gonna be easy.” Yensey paused. “Unless you’d rather bomb their building. Won’t get rid of them completely, but take away their leadership and they’ll be easier to pick off.”

Enlil smiled. “And blame it on the civil unrest, right? Now I’m on board.”