Easternport Vol. 1, First Edition

House of Cards - Part 3

Cory

The rain started again as we walked back across the bridge to the limo. It was nice and cool and cleansing. The dirt I had collected in the tunnel turned into a thin, watery mud and dripped off of every part of me. It stung the wounds where the brute grabbed my shoulders, but I was glad to know I could still feel my tissue.

I kept looking up at Mikkel as we walked. It was my last chance to see his bruised face in the light and try to read this new expression of his. It was contemplative, yet shocked or... perhaps genuinely hurt. It was hard to tell. I tried holding his hand to get a better feel for what was going on inside of him. He let me hold it, but blocked me from his nerves.

Neither of us said a thing.

By the time we made it back to the limo, the world was shrouded in darkness. One street lamp a block away was the only light and it was dim at best. But it was just enough to illuminate the shapes of several people near the car.

"We really need to get another car," Mikkel mumbled. "This thing is getting us way too much attention."

But as we approached, we saw that they weren't interested in the limo. The group of men were crowded around something else on the ground. They yelled at it and kicked at it and called it a whore. But it wasn't until we made our way around the tail of the car that we could see the shape of the woman on the ground.

Mikkel passed me a dark feeling and then let go of my hand. He didn't stop walking or change his pace at all as he walked up to the group of men. The five of them didn't bother looking up until he was close enough to grab them.

"What the hell is your problem?" one said as Mikkel shoved him to the ground.

"You really want to mess with Jaggars?" another said, pulling out a knife, "We don't play nice."

"I just killed six of you schloch," Mikkel said in a tone of voice that I hadn't heard before. He pulled out my shortblade sword and tilted it until it caught the light from the lamp and shone all the way down the blade. "If you want to make it eleven, then bring it on."

I walked calmly over to the group and bent down to help the woman up. She took my hand gratefully, but standing up was clearly painful for her. They had been beating on her for a while. I helped her limp away from the soon-to-be fray and let her sit down with her back against the limo tire.

"Nice sword," one of the Jaggars said, "But gun beats sword." He pulled a gun from his belt.

"Drop it," I said, pulling out my own gun. "I've only killed one Jaggar today, but it wasn't for lack of aim." To prove a point, I shot the man in his shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun. He let out a cry and grabbed his shoulder, slumping to the ground.

"God, Cory, just shoot him in the head, already. This müll isn't worth keeping alive." Mikkel was sounding increasingly annoyed. "Nevermind," He said, "I'll do it," and took a long, strong stroke up the middle of the man on the ground, cutting him up just as he'd done to the brutes. Then he took a step toward the other men and slashed at the one on his right.

The other three started to scatter. I could just make out the outline of their heads in the light. Taking three quick shots, I took them all down. It was easier to take deadly shots when I didn't have to see their faces. And in this darkness, I didn't even have to see the blood that undoubtedly sprayed all over Mikkel.

When he turned around, the darkness covered his face, but the feeling he was eminating was something so dark and terrifying-as if he had lost control, but was in control of the scene. "Where can we drop you off?" he asked the woman slumped on the ground next to me.