"So this is where he ended up, huh?" Ren topped the mountainside at long last. They'd spent the last two hours straight following the path that led up to this place. Surely the staff had some sort of portal to avoid a trip like that… Ren was somewhat appreciative for the exercise, though. His teammates not so much.
"My legs are meant for kneeling at an altar, not this," Drask moaned.
"You're making me miss the academia," Savra added.
Parsh stepped up to Ren's side, trying to keep a straight face. Ren knew better than anyone that Parsh would've loved to knock him out here and now. A more important task was at hand.
The diamond mine where that white haired boy had allegedly ended up, according to the slaver in town who made the original purchase.
"It looks abandoned," Parsh noted. "Emptier than your bedroom, Ren."
"Emptier than your heart, more like," Ren mumbled.
"Let's take this seriously," Savra said, stepping to the front of the group. "Weapons ready. No attributes. Last thing we need is Belleram Medeara showing up to stop us."
Ren drew his pistol. An undignified weapon, but it would do for the repscallions on Dragonsfold. The people here were humans like any other, except for the ones that weren't. As well, Ren had heard that some of the scariest people in its history didn't wield any kind of powers at all. These were not the things he should've been thinking as he pulled out his gun. Ren, like many drinkers and drug abusers, had a penchant for paranoia and thinking way too far into things.
In wielding a gun, Ren found a dense intimacy that far surpassed what he'd ever felt with any human being. During his time with the special forces from when he turned twenty, Ren considered himself in the upper echelon of individuals with this specific skill. Kicking doors, and shooting anything that moved. This was a form of cruelty that Ren excelled at. He was almost as good at it as he was at drinking.
But he was forced to acknowledge that those times were gone as he pointed his weapon at the mine. It was nothing more than a shabby wooden brace holding up the entrance into the side of the mountain. It even had a sign that said "The Killers", a name which couldn't have described this place more aptly if it tried. Waiting inside was likely heavy resistance and a boy who held the secrets to the very universe.
No pressure.
"I'll take the lead, old man," Ren said insistently. "Trust me just this once. It's… Something I'm good at."
Savra looked skeptical, but didn't have the patience, energy, or wit to argue. He nodded with a grunt. Meanwhile the nervous Drask and Parsh formed up behind Ren wordlessly. They became a line, like a snake with four separate joints. This wasn't an effective formation, but rather an excuse for the other three to use Ren as a meatshield if push came to shove.
"I sense the remnants of a distortion," Drask said. "Strong. Can't be more than a few days, but probably less." His senses for that kind of thing were far more acute and focused than those of anyone else in the group. They'd all come to rely on the young man for warning in advance. For now, he gave none.
Chatter could be heard down the hallway. Ren held his breath and moved slowly. His teammates did not match his grace, clobbering the ground with their feet and moving with all the grace of a two-legged cow. The only one who seemed to try at all was Parsh, who was of course trained in the arts of thievery and could steal your eyeball from your skull if you stopped looking for a moment. Even with the two of them doing their best, Ren knew in his heart that they'd be dead-meat on a true mission.
Instead, they happened upon the least dangerous bit of scenery Ren had ever seen. Some sort of lunch room filled with about twenty men drinking themselves silly. Their faces were covered in foam that caught to their beards and messy hair. Some of them were dressed in the rags of slaves, while others had gear and rifles. Even so, they were celebrating together. Ren wasn't taking any chances regardless.
"Hands up!" He yelled.
One of the men drew a pistol. Ren put a bullet straight through the receiver. The thing clattered to the table and knocked over a mug of beer. The rest of the men went completely silent after that, throwing their hands up and trying desperately to not be the next one shot at. Ren kept a careful eye on the most dangerous looking ones, specifically the hulking giant with four arms.
"Who the hell are you?" One of the men with a more important looking outfit of black with crimson highlights stepped in front of the group to shield them.
Savra shot the man in the foot. It was a surprisingly precise shot. The man yelped and then hopped on his remaining foot. "Sit down," Savra said. And the man obeyed as if he had a choice in the matter. The gunshot could still be heard ringing through the distant corridors of the mine.
"We're looking for a boy with white hair. Kind looking eyes. Probably about my height," Ren said. "He was sold here a little while ago."
The men at the table consulted each other briefly. Voices overlapped until they all went silent again. The four-armed man pressed a mug to his lips, gulped it down, and then spoke. "He is not here."
"There was no one with white hair here," one of the geared men – probably a guard of some sort – spoke. "One slave escaped a few days back when the Master died. We haven't seen 'im since."
"The distortion," Drask whispered, feeling vindicated. "If he escaped by way of Void, then these people won't know anything that would matter."
Ren was frustrated to admit that Drask was probably right. If that white-haired bastard escaped under the guise of a distortion, then those memories would've been entirely overwritten for the men before him. Their recollection of the event would fit this world's new narrative. It was of no use. Who was the man that escaped? Could it have been the white-haired boy in disguise?
"And you are?" The guard asked after listening to them whisper amongst themselves. "If you're looking for a bounty, there ain't nothing to be seen here. This place is running just as it should be. That right, boys?"
"Aye," the men said.
Ren thought about that for a moment. If the Master had died, then a place like this had surely fallen into disarray. Judging by the state they'd been found in, enjoying each other's company, an agreement seemed to have been struck among its remaining occupants. This was no longer a slave mine. Belleram would be happy.
"Not a bounty hunter. Just an interested party," Ren said. "Tell me the name of the man that escaped, and we'll be on our way."
As he said this, the rest of the guys had spread out around the table to cover every angle and loom over their shoulders. A classic intimidation tactic. The threat of a gun at the back of your head usually made you more compelled to spill the beans. Ren was happy that his allies did this without prompting. They, too, were experienced in bullying people.
"He said his name was–"
Just as someone was about to give up the goods, the four-armed man slammed all of his appendages on the table with enough aggression to snap the board at the base of the impact. The man who'd been speaking was saying a name, but the sound of this successfully drowned it out.
"We would not be free if not for him," the big man said. "Before acting, consider the debt you owe to him." He turned his head down to look at the broken bit of the table in regret. This was the least of his problems after an act of defiance like that.
"As the holder of the gun, I say you owe us a little respect," Parsh said. "Consider your next words carefully. If it's anything other than a name–"
"It's as my ill-mannered friend says." Ren stepped up to the foot of the table. "Unless you want to get acquainted with some hot lead, cough it up."
"His name–" Another one started.
"Did you forget!" The big man boomed again. "The lives we have. The names we have. Are because of him! Think twice before you speak, or you live as coward!"
Ren lifted his pistol and emptied half of the clip into the big man's chest. He convulsed violently as the bullets pelted him, struggling to get into his unnaturally large body that was several times the size of a regular human. He roared, standing up and flipping the massive table before Ren put two more bullets right between his eyes. He hit the floor like a bag of concrete, leaking blood into the muddy floor of the interior.
"Live as a coward, or die as an idiot?" Ren asked. "Not a particularly difficult choice… If you ask me at least." He placed the barrel of his gun firmly upon the forehead of the man closest to him, whose whole body seemed to convulse with fear. If they hadn't felt the threat before, the murder that just occured before their eyes had forced it to set in.
"Klein Shivan." The man closed his eyes in the face of the barrel. "The man who escaped was called Klein Shivan."
"Klein Shivan," Ren repeated. "Hm." He pulled the gun away, flicked the safety, and then placed it firmly in the holster at his hip. The man let out a sigh of relief. Ren stepped away to confer briefly with Drask while the other two kept an eye on the group.
"Klein Shivan," Drask said excitedly. "Is that our guy? Eternity knows it can't be that easy."
Ren shook his head. He'd been sober for a day or so, and his deduction skills were better than usual. "Our guy was probably from Earth. If he caused a distortion here to escape, it might've written him out of the normie narrative. This Klein on the other hand… No. He could be the guy. There's too many variables at hand."
Drask held the idol of Eternity tight, seeking guidance. "If Klein isn't our man, he probably knows our man."
"You're right," Ren admitted. "This hasn't been for nothing… Yet."
"And what will you do with these people?" Drask asked this question, terrified of the answer. A man of religion. Well… He was in the wrong place.
Ren gave him a knowing look, and waved his hand to the other two. "Kill them. We're done here."
And the gunfire began.