Planetwerk

In the midst of a howling night, a man in a black burly overcoat stood silent amongst the desecrated pillars of the long deceased.

“Ms.Davis is taking her sweet time, it seems”, he said, eyeing his chrome-clad wristwatch.

Soon after, as if to meet expectations, he heard sloshing footsteps approaching from his rear. He turned to see a young brown-haired woman rushing toward him in a hooded cloak.

“I’m… sorry, Mr. Luster!” she said, coming to a stop in front of him, gasping to catch her breath. “I… I know I’m late.”

“Indeed, you are, Ms. Davis. I’m aware this is your first day as my assistant, but please do try to be on time. Some peculiar nasty instances of squalor may likely be time-sensitive in the near future, and it is imperative you are here on second one. Am I clear?”

“Of course, sir! I understand. And please… just call me Angela, erm... sir. Fewer words to get my attention. More focus on the task at hand.”

“A noble precedent. Though I suppose the amount is syllables remains the same. I will honor your sincerity, as I happen to agree anyhow, Angela. Likewise, you may simply call me Simon."

Angela bowed to him. “Thank you, sir…I…I mean Simon.”

“Good. Now for the reason we're here: Walk with me.”

The two began walking through the forlorn cemetery before them. Tempest above continued its raging decree without a hint of halting.

“Are you sufficiently briefed on the incident that occurred in front of the Graal Spaceport on the day of the Migration Festival?”

Angela nodded. “Yes. I committed the visuals of the scene and the notes you wrote about it to memory.”

She rolled her cloak back to reveal a small device with an optic screen on her wrist. “It is all here on my PDA.”

“Excellent. Then this next explanation can be somewhat brief.”

Simon cleared his throat.

“I had my personal AI, Creed, cross reference every shot fired, every power cell discarded, and every person involved at the scene of the genocide. As referenced in the notes, the rest of the station, myself included, believe this to be the handiwork of the Voiceless due to the sheer number of bodies drained of all fluidity at the scene.”

Angela nodded, the leather hood on her cloak draping over her youthful face.

“Yes, I also came to that conclusion upon researching the notes. But, why are we walking through the Markral Gravehull? The incident happened at the heart of the city, right? So, I would think the perpetrator’s hideout would be somewhere within the impoverished lower district. Shouldn’t we be investigating the sewer system there?”

“A good observation, but one built of misconstrued facts.”, Simon said, as he stepped over a pile of bones. “It is true that the Voiceless strike without warning from the labyrinth under Markral, and then return there once their crude deeds have been done on the surface. However, what we’re searching for is not their hideout, but their target instead.”

“Target…?” Angela asked, looking at him in surprise.

“Indeed. As rare as their attacks are, the Voiceless tend to favor lesser guarded locations to lash out at. Yet, this time they picked a highly populated locale, on a well-known festival, renown by the Grand Imperial Army itself. It doesn’t add up, or make sense until you factor in the distant possibility of a mastermind behind the rabble.”

Angela put her hand to her chin in contemplation. “I suppose that is a possibility. But, the odds…? The Voiceless are mindless beasts… monstrosities created by a hungering lack of ambition. How or why would they have a mastermind, let alone a consciously-selected target?”

“It seems our query will have to wait,” Simon said, placing his arm in front of Angela, prompting her to stop.

In the near distance, shrouded by the dark haze of the indigent night, two bright white circular beams of light struck through. A spectral low-pitched growl pierced through the storm from the direction of the ominous eyes.

“A Voiceless, here?” Angela asked, unfazed by the terrifying sight.

“So, it seems. My hunch was correct.”

“Hunch? I’m not certain I follow.”

“An explanation in due time, assistant. For now, I believe this is an ample opportunity to observe how you fare against the acute supernatural. Tell me: Are you up to the task, Angela?”

Angela looked at Simon with a beaming gleam of delight.

“Of course!” she said stepping forward in front of him “I didn’t come here just to be a damsel in distress!”

Angela folded her cloak back off her right arm and splayed her hand toward the Voiceless.

“Be purged, foul creature!”

A hail of bullets burst forth from the tips of her hand, sending the Voiceless into a tyrannical frenzy as it leaped through the darkness in evasion. Angela followed its every motion, holding her arm steady as she poured lead downrange.

“Try not to further desecrate the graves, if you can help it!” Simon said, standing back with arms crossed, casually observing the carnage.

“HAHAHAHA!” she yelled, her face twisted with a sudden hysteria, “This hellhound’s got some fucking teeth!”

Her onslaught continued until the beast lunged at her from the shadows, unveiling its gruesome form: a nine-foot-tall black mass of horrid tendrils forming the shape of a scorned hound with a grisly misconfigured mouth full of serrated teeth. An abominable sight indeed.

Angela lep backward, avoiding the beast’s noxious claw, letting loose again upon regaining her footing. Its hellish screech bellowed as it charged her hailstorm head-on.

“That’s it…” Angela said, uncovering her other arm in preparation. “Just a little closer…”

The Voiceless, unrelenting, leap at her again, this time expanding its ghastly mouth to match its own size. Angela smirked with ecstasy. Unveiling a massive scythe from the nape of her arm, she cut through the Voiceless like a sheering knife. It flopped to the floor in two distant halves, dead silent, gleaming white eyes forever extinguished.

Simon began clapping. “Not bad… Crude, but not bad. You seem rather… unhinged… when you’re labored with marital conflict. Nevertheless, we’ll work on that irregularity in due time. I’m sure your body is still adjusting to the mutagens Planetwerk provides after all.”

Angela, trying to catch her breath, sheathed her arm scythe. “Yes sir! Thank you, sir…erm… Simon!” She smiled.” I hope to be of further use to you in the future!”

“Indeed. Now, about that explanation…”