War Gods - Triumvirate
What? Are you saying you are at war with GOD?
Yes…but I will win.
Part 1 – Ready the Props
“You damn punks, do you even know what you are getting into? The second the other agencies hear about this, you can tell your organization bye. They won’t just exclude you! They will hunt you down for breaking the truce. Your own agents will friggin’ murder you, scum.”
The trader’s words could be barely heard due to bloodied lips and a significant lack of teeth in his gaping mouth. His face was covered in horrid purple marks and brown dots of cigarette burns. It looked quite strange from a distance, but up-close, it was plain ugly and repulsing. The big white t-shirt enwrapped around his humongous belly was now covered in patches of snot and blood. Basically, he looked like shit.
Nyx felt a pressing urge to help him up and start the healing process straight away but was stopped dead in her tracks by Chezu’s cold stare. His gray icy eyes bore into the green of her pupils and warned her not to interfere. Nyx sighed and slowly stepped back. What else could she do? These guys were out of this world.
Rex, a freshly lit cigarette sticking through the hole in his gas mask, casually kneeled down besides the old trader. The spikes in his tomahawk haircut aimed viciously at the man’s fat face as if to stab him.
“Listen here Edgar, no one wants to carry this on except me and even I realize that we are running out of time. I told you already that the matters at hand are very urgent and we have to borrow your buggy.” He paused for a second to inhale and carried on after letting out a few narrow streams of smoke. “Now, it’s understandable that you might object to this but you can complain to the agencies all you want. No one will admit that we belong to them. Like you said, that would be a loss of reputation no agency can afford.” His voice sounded almost sympathetic, soothing the man he just tortured. “Be a good boy and hand over the keys or I’m gonna have to burn the other half of your face and trust me, I’d rather smoke these. Wild Sevens were always my favourite brand. So, what do you say?”
The fierce battle between pride and survival instinct was clearly visible on the poor trader’s face. Heavy sweat covered his forehead and spilt onto his eyebrows. Edgar’s eyes were darting nervously from one person to another, as if asking them for help or advice. Rex was too busy enjoying the cigarette, Chezu just stared back with his usual detached acceptance and Nyx tried to look away, embarrassed.
It shouldn’t be like this! We are supposed to be the good guys, preventing the construction of the M4X Mech. So why did we end up like this? Torturing this pitiful man and stealing his possessions? Continue Reading