Carvedinstone's Saga - 9 / 02 / 2120, cont'd

Carvedinstone's Saga
9 / 02 / 2120, cont'd

Once the files were downloaded, I cleared my tracks. To anyone who looked, it would appear that Quillian Daleman had logged on, checked a few cold case files, and then logged out. No one would see my true search parameters, the reports that involved a very discreet megacorporate shipment through the Morgul Vale eight months ago, on its way towards Barad-dûr, where the electronic trail had gone cold.

However, whoever was behind that convoy been sufficiently concerned about potential delay that they had arranged for an official police escort through the city. That is how I learned that it was Drake Industries that was responsible for the abduction of my beloved.

After logging out, I instinctively switched my connection back to one of my camera setups—and froze. Outside of Daleman's apartment, several Orcs had gathered. Not smaller Goblins either, these were nearly six feet tall, with wide shoulders and long wiry limbs. Mirrorshades and leather jackets studded with steel spikes were their costume, and on their faces or bodies was marked a white handprint. The way they moved set off warning signals into my brain.

As they entered, I swiftly switched the other camera, in Daleman's hallway. With a sinking sensation in my heart, I saw them head toward Daleman's door. It was a heavy door, and for a moment I thought the locks and traps might give them a problem...until I saw the leader mark a spot on the wall in red chalk. Then they pulled out tools...sledgehammers cut down, sawed-off shotguns, small-caliber pistols with their trigger guards removed and handles cover in tape.

"Fuck," I muttered as I swiftly switched back to the Matrix. I had seconds to hack Daleman's phone. Less concerned about the Beorning than I was about Vanessë. My brain buzzed as I ripped past his security protocols and accessed the speaker directly.

"DALEMAN. THERE'S A DOZEN ORC GANGBANGERS AT YOUR DOOR RIGHT NOW. THEY'RE ARMED AND COMING THROUGH THE WALL."

A part of me wished I was in the room to see Daleman's response as I swiftly covered my tracks and logged out, to switch back to the hallway scene. My heart thundered like the hammers in the deep as precious seconds ticked by. The Orcs were smashing at the wall, the cheap plaster giving way beneath their hammers. The camera shook with the reverberation of their blows.

I watched as the door opened suddenly. A huge brown shape launched itself through the doorway. The Orcs by the door didn't even see their deaths as claws sheared through skin, muscle, and bone with inhuman strength. I couldn't hear the growl, but I saw the sudden wet spreading stains on the trousers of some of the orcs as the bear fully entered the hallway, on two legs. Her head brushed the ceiling.

The bravest Orcs leveled their weapons and fired. Tiny red spots appeared on the Beorning's torso—but those were the parts of Daleman reinforced with subdermal armor. The impact must have hurt like a bitch though, because when the bear launched itself forward, it was angry.

There wasn't room in the corridor to maneuver. If they had spears, or high-powered firearms, maybe they'd have stood a chance. As it was, I watched with a sick feeling growing in my guts as Daleman swiftly and methodically tore through them like a terrier clearing a nest of rats. Her claws spilled guts and then she trampled the dying Orcs beneath her heavy paws as she made a gory progress through the Orcs.

As I watched, I made another call.

Vanessë answered on the third ring.

"Hello? Lilja?" The Elfkin's voice was weirdly sedate.

"You need to leave. Now," I said. "You can go out the window, take the fire escape."

"But...Quillian promised me a muzzle job," Vanessë said, her voice plaintive.

My nose crinkled.

"You know she can't actually lick your cervix to orgasm, right? That's just a Matrix myth."

"I know, but we were talking, and she was interested in my language studies...this might be my way to get an 'in' with the police department! I could get official translation work. It would be nice to have a fallback if escorting doesn't work out...oh, and she was asking me about the Broken Ring, and I was telling her I don't, like, really know them but..."

"Vanessë, all cops are bastards! Even big furry lesbian cops that promise to jam their gigantic soft tongues in your pussy and lick you until you cum uncontrollably!" I was half-yelling, forgetting where my meat body was at the moment. I felt like my own mother lecturing me about what a sorry mess my life was. "Just get the fuck out of there!"

It was too late. I watched on the hallway camera as the great furry bear, back on all fours, ambled back into her apartment. The door closed. Daleman must have gone back to human shape, because the bolts were thrown. I heard heavy breathing through the phone's speaker, and Vanessë gave a little squeal of horror at the gore-stained mountain of a woman that wandered into the room, a length of Orc guts still wrapped around one ankle.

I heard a rustle, then Daleman's voice through the phone line.

"Sorry, Vanessë's busy. For the rest of the night. She'll call you back tomorrow," the Beorning said.

The line went dead, and I sank back against the wall in my coffin hotel room. My mind raced.

White Hands. What the fuck had Daleman done to piss them off? I frowned, palms itchy. Not sure if it was my problem or not.