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Mercenary. Scrapper. Part 2
Damantha Makarova
Life collected from scraps brings many options, which can lead in so many ways. Serena and her crew embark on a path of a mercenary crew, offering their services and expertise for the right price.But what could a simple job bring? A meeting with someone from the past turns Serena to face the fact that there’s much more to her life than she thought. And the new information gained will take her deeper into the unknown…
Mercenary
Scrapper. Part 2
Damantha Makarova
Обложка выполнена с помощью нейросети Kandinsky
© Damantha Makarova, 2024
ISBN 978-5-0062-7071-8 (т. 2)
ISBN 978-5-0062-7070-1
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Part II. Mercenary
Chapter 1. Stranded
Serena forced her hover bike forward, accelerated to an extreme. She feared if she were to push it harder, the engines could burst. But she desperately needed the speed to get away.
The beginning sand storm was making it harder to fly through the canyon, trying to escape her pursuers, but she hoped that her twists and turns, which made her a harder target, would allow her to eventually shake the men off.
Her hopes were futile. An explosion sounded, and a burst of rocks sprayed her, forcing her to swerve aside. Only a moment passed and another missile hit the rock next to her, missing her by a split second. This time a piece of the rubble knocked her on the side, forcing her to swerve again.
Growling from pain, the woman continued her way, searching for any signs of her allies around. But the thick fog of bloody red sands that filled the air made it almost impossible to see any further than a few dozens of meters in front.
Time was running out. A little more and the sands will become even thicker.
Serena heard another missile flying, and darted away, but a little too late – the explosion hit the ground right under her, throwing the hover bike up and to the side. The hit was so strong, that Serena felt herself losing the grip of her flying device, flung into the air, and then she went tumbling – first on the sandy ground, and then off a cliff into the thick bloody sandstorm that rumbled below.
Her pursuers slowed down and stopped to examine the hover bike, then took a look around, glancing over the edge, but found no sign of the woman being there. Gesturing to each other, they quickly loaded the half-destroyed hover bike onto their small craft and disappeared into the sands.
Way below the cliff, in the rumble and tumble of the storm, the body of a woman hung caught in the dark, thick roots of the plants that grew from the rocky heights. Perhaps, it was for the best that she was knocked out during the fall, when the roots caught her, wrapping her legs in their thorny embrace.
Hanging upside down, Serena didn’t see the lonesome figure approaching. She didn’t see the tall, muscular man climbing up to her. She didn’t feel him ripping the thorns and vines off her body and feet.
The man, who was hiding his face from the storm by a thick scarf and goggles, threw her over his shoulder, like she weighed nothing, and climbed back down to the things he left there before ascending the rocky wall to get her. Picking up his stuff, he continued his way with a new trophy.
The man walked calmly, knowingly, turning in the twisted maze of the canyon, until he reached a small opening of a cave. Stepping inside, he followed the passage deeper into the dark, until he reached a split and took the left one.
Something growled from the other passage, but the man ignored the sound, seemingly used to hearing it. Walking through the corridor, he began to dust himself off and took off his scarf and goggles that protected his eyes from the sands. His eyes glowed in the dark – faint golden and lavender sparks appearing in his irises, allowing him to see the path without any sort of light.
He took another few turns in the maze of this underground labyrinth until he reached a wide cavern. Throwing the woman from his shoulder aside, he glanced out, taking a few moments to listen to the sounds of caves surrounding him, ignoring the trickle of water that flowed by one of the walls of the cavern, forming a small basin, and grabbed the boulder next to the entrance, moving it into place to close up the archway.
Finally, he grabbed one of the legs of his trophy and dragged her deeper into the cavern, leaving her at the far end. The man lit up some sconces and torches, illuminating the cavern, and kneeled next to the unconscious woman. A few seconds he studied her beautiful, though dirty, face, and then began patting her down to see what useful things she could have. He smirked at her utility belt, where he found a couple of weapons, then took off her bag and ruffled through the few possessions she had in it, and, finally, opened her jacket to see if there was anything else of worth. He froze, noticing the black rounded triangle of her nano armour on her chest and slowly straightened, gritting his teeth.
His – now black – eyes became hard and almost raging.
He looked aside and seemed to consider his options before rudely grabbing the woman by her clothes and dragging her to one of the big boulders in the corner, which had old blood stains and a couple of chains affixed to it. Working quickly and confidently, he clasped the cuffs onto the woman’s hands and feet, placing her sitting on the floor with her back to the boulder, her hands stretched out and her feet lying on the stone floor, too far apart to try and kick him when she wakes up.
After checking the woman’s bindings, the man walked over to what looked like a kitchen area and began to prepare his dinner, thinking of the woman no more.
Chapter 2. Renegade
Serena slowly felt her senses coming back to her. She first felt her head spinning, and then opened her eyes, trying to figure out how hard of a fall she experienced. Everything ached and she tried moving her head first, feeling dizzy. The smallest movement caused her pain, and she decided to give herself a bit more time before moving again. Closing her eyes, she submerged into the darkness, incapable to fight it.
When she woke up the next time, she found herself in the dark and her body still ached terribly. The strange dizziness didn’t pass, and she couldn’t stop herself from passing out again.
Finally, she managed to push through the thick darkness that surrounded her consciousness, and swam out of it, as if fighting out of a swamp. Her eyes, still blinded by the fog, started to slowly clear, and she suddenly saw herself sitting on a bloodied stone floor. The dim light, provided by a number of torches, helped her understand that the dark, unmoving snakes she was seeing were, in fact, heavy chains. It took her a few long moments to realise that those chains ran to her ankles, immobilising her feet.
Serena forced her head up and felt the hard stone at her back, which made it a little easier to look around by leaning on it. She saw her wrists hanging from another set of chains, and closed her eyes, coming to the realisation that her escape was futile – the band of renegade mercenaries she and her team were hired to get rid of, caught her instead.
“Fuck.” she exhaled, feeling worse than before.
She heard someone walking over and turned her head to see who it was, when she noticed a very tall, extremely muscular man approaching. He was shirtless, showing his chiselled muscles and intricate tattoos on his shoulders, and his face could be described as strict, handsome, but intimidating. Black eyes looked at Serena with a very dark promise in them, which made her think of a very dangerous animal she encountered once – the Sercludian bear, which could easily destroy a regiment of soldiers, like they were toys.
Serena watched the man walk up to her, his fists tight, his bald – or closely shaved – head glistening in the shimmering light of the torches.
“You’re not one of them…” Serena tried stretching her aching back, but the way she was strung up made it impossible.
The man tilted his head to the side with a deep frown, but said nothing.
“The fuck…” Serena gave up trying to change position. “The fuck you want with me?”
The man kneeled in front of her, grabbing her face and looking into her eyes very angrily:
“Where’s your ship? Your team?”
“I have no idea… they weren’t at the rendezvous point.” Serena felt his fingers tightening on her face, causing pain.
“Who sent you?”
“We’re mercenaries, you dick!” the woman tried to free herself from his grip, but he held her too strong.
“Bullshit!” the man let her go and stood, walking over to a few boxes that stood next to his kitchen corner. He picked up one of the boxes and threw it to Serena.
The box crashed, spilling dozens – if not hundreds – of very familiar rounded triangles of Veluthian nano armour. Serena felt shock taking over her, seeing the amount of these pins, which were impossible to remove, unless the wearer was dead. The only other time the pins were removed was when they were stored within special boxes that could open only to the person who wore the armour. This was achieved by imbuing the nanites of the armour with a DNA code of the only person allowed to wear it.
“I’ve killed more than enough of you to know when you come for me.” the man said, satisfied with the effect his collection had on Serena.
“I don’t even know who you are, man…” Serena slowly raised her eyes to him. “I was sent to take care of a local renegade mercenary gang, not you.”
The man stepped up to her, landing a hefty blow to her jaw. Serena winced, feeling blood bursting from her mouth.
“Fucking hell…” she groaned, not understanding the reason for this man to be certain she came for him, when she really had no idea who he was at all. “You hit like a Veluthian… Who the fuck are you?”
The man grabbed her hair, forcing her head up to make her look at him.
“I’m the one asking questions!” he said. “Who are you? Which family do you serve?”
“I serve no one.” Serena felt his fingers tightening his grip on her hair.
“Your name, bitch!”
“Serena…” she groaned. “Serena Dal Thara-Lyss…”
The man punched her again, drawing blood:
“Liar!” he hissed, forcing her to look at the pile of armour. “See that? Each and every single one belongs to your friends and comrades from the fucking traitors that massacred the Thara-Lyss!”
The man let her go and walked off.
“I…” Serena made an effort to spit the blood from her mouth. “I survived.”
“No one survived!” the man barked. “I know!”
“I survived…” the woman looked up, trying to concentrate on his face, but he hit her so hard that she soon gave up, hanging her head.
The man’s face contorted in pure hatred and he approached her again, grabbing her chin to look into her eyes, but the woman already lost consciousness. Irritated, the man rudely released her face from his tight grip and walked off.
It took Serena a couple of hours to wake up again – this time she saw the man kneeling in front of her, watching closely with a very dangerous expression on his face.
“Give me your name.” the man said, emphasising each word, his tone harsh and low.
“Serena Dal Thara-Lyss.” the woman breathed out.
She received a number of punches to her face, each one next stronger than the one before, and couldn’t hold her head straight any more, hanging it again.
“You’re not Serena.” the man grabbed her face, causing more pain. “She’s dead.”
“I’m alive…” struggling, Serena pushed out, feeling blood tricking from her mouth.
“Let’s stop this game! Tell me your name!” the man’s fingers shook her head.
“Serena…”
Another slap connected with her cheek, and the man stood.
“Fine then.” he said, pausing for a moment. “Then tell me this… When Serena was a child, her father gifted her a bodyguard. The girl had a pet name for the man. What was it?”
He watched her closely, as Serena stayed silent for a few long moments, then the man flinched his chin in irritation and turned to leave.
“Woo… fy…” he heard behind him and froze. “I called him Woofy.”
The man’s eyes grew wider, and his expression changed from that of anger to confusion. He turned to his prisoner and frowned, seeing the woman still – with her head hanging down, unmoving and silent. Though, she seemed to be breathing – pained, straining against her body.
“What did you say?” the man took a step towards her.
“Woofy.” Serena exhaled quietly. “I was too small to say his name… so I called him… Woofy.”
She fell silent for a bit, but then a faint smile appeared on her bloodied face:
“He taught me to climb and balance… and scolded me every time he had to get me from the tallest tree in the garden.” Serena took a pause, reminiscing on the past. “He called me his little Scorpi. He said I reminded him of a creature he admired… The Golden Veluthian Scorpifly… When I was seven, my father said I was getting too attached to the man… So when Woofy was transferred… I caught him the bug as a parting gift… and he scolded me for taking such a risk, because the bug is extremely poisonous…”
The man forced himself to walk up and slowly kneeled in front of the woman, studying her attentively with his eyes. He took her chin – this time relatively softly – and raised her head to look at her face.
“When he left…” the man’s voice sounded raspy. “He gave you something…”
The woman smiled:
“A bracelet. I wore it every day until…” she suddenly fell silent again.
“Until?”
“It was destroyed.”
The man’s eyes darted about her face, showing his shock and confusion. He couldn’t believe what he heard from this woman’s mouth – she recollected the things he knew no one else could have known.
“How was it destroyed?” the man felt his mind racing. “When?”
“On the day…” Serena couldn’t make herself take her eyes off his, seeing the deep pitch black. “When my family died… by the Bima-Liss traitors… Tekkern shot my left arm off, vaporising the bracelet with it.”
The man felt a wave of panic rising, and jolted back, looking at the woman with wide eyes.
“Scorpi?!” he whispered, fear crawling into his voice.
But the woman didn’t answer, falling prey to the darkness that took her mind away from the pain he had caused.
Chapter 3. Scorpifly
The man unpacked a little bundle, and leaned over the stone, looking at the bug, encased in clear resin. The golden chitin armour of the Veluthian Scorpifly glimmered in the dim fire of the torches around, its see-through wings shimmering with greens and blues, and its venomous tail suspended as if the bug was about to strike. He thought for a moment, then turned to the woman, who was still chained by the rock.
Realising that every bit of information the woman had said to him was impossible to be known by someone other than Serena, the man felt guilt crawling into his heart. He sighed, collecting himself, and walked over to the woman, beginning to unclasp the chains.
When her body, no longer held by the bindings, fell to the stone floor, the man froze for a few moments, reaching out to her face and putting her hair behind her ear to get a better look. Even though her skin was dirty from sands and blood, he saw that the bruises he left on her were already healing – her Veluthian body was recovering.
One fact bothered him, though – the way she was becoming unconscious for these few days meant there was something he never considered happening to her. The man carefully picked her up and carried her over to the sleeping corner, where a flat slab of rock, covered by some thick fur served him as a bed. He laid her down, slowly undoing her jacket and pulling up her shirt. When he saw her sides blackened by bruises, he thought that she must have gotten her ribs broken during her fall.
Gritting his teeth, the man walked off to the boxes he stored near the kitchen and took out a small hand-held scanner and a bag of medical supplies. He returned to the woman, putting the bag aside for a bit and scanning her from head to toe, his eyes becoming even darker with each injury the scanner registered.
After the scanning was complete, the man forced down an urge to throw the scanner into the wall, and quickly opened the bag, unravelling rows of empty compartments where capsules of medicine were usually kept. He grabbed the last two and shoved one into the automatic syringe, then stabbed the woman in her thigh, administering the liquid. When the empty capsule flew out, ejected by the syringe, he shoved the second one in and stabbed the unconscious woman in her neck.
After this was done, he threw the syringe onto the bag and took a few moments, taking in the severity of the whole situation. He knew very well that the woman’s regeneration was already working hard on fixing every bit of damage dealt by both – the fall and his beating – but the thought that he caused some of these injuries hit him hard.
