Mafiascum.net

~Colony 9~
During Mumkhar’s ill-fated attack

The road to recovery had been a long one for Dunban.

Ever since the battle of Sword Valley over a month ago, Dunban had to learn to cope with living with a single functional arm. It hadn’t been easy for him, but Dunban wasn’t the type of man to mope around.

Instead, he’d attempted to rehabilitate the best he could. He started physical therapy, and once the doctors were satisfied that he was able to function on his own, they allowed him to continue -- in a limited capacity -- his swordplay.

Dunban’s fighting style lent itself better than most to the handicap of a single arm. Not one to rely on his bulk like Reyn, or to supplement with his ether skills like some others he knew, Dunban instead relied on being faster than his enemy. And if anything, having one less arm to deal with simplified matters, once he got past the shift in balance he had to compensate for.

He stretched the one good arm as he rose from his chair in the house he shared with his sister, and walked outside. It was mid-autumn, but the weather was still holding up. He decided he’d go for a stroll. He hit the merchant district first, grabbing a biscuit from one of the vendors, and proceeded into the residential district.

No one was really around -- it was still early in the day, and a lot of the civilian population wasn’t awake yet. He thought he saw a flicker of movement by the side gate, but it was gone before he could discern what it was.

“Morning Dunban!”

“Desiree!” he greeted warmly, before remembering what had recently happened to her father, a man who had not been as lucky as Dunban during Sword Valley. His smile just barely faltered, but continued anyway. “It’s been too long. How have you been getting along lately?”

“Oh, keeping busy. I’ve been thinking of joining the army.”

Dunban didn’t know what to say to that. He tried the diplomatic approach. “Desiree, are you sure?”

She waved him off. “Oh, you know Dad wouldn’t have expected anything else. Besides, we don’t get much business this time of year anyway.”

This time the smile was easier to maintain. “You’re as hard-headed as Xord was.”

“Oh, I’m much moreso, I assure you,” she giggled. “Do you remember that time I was training for the Ironman, and it must’ve been, what, three in the morning when your patrol spotted me in the park, and the look on their faces when they found out I was--”

An alarmingly loud

sounded, not far off. Dunban whirled around. There was no doubt of the source.

“The main gate. Mechon.” Dunban spoke without thinking. “Desiree, get inside -- no, better yet -- make a pass through the residential district and get

inside, then get inside yourself.”

“What do you plan to do Dunban? Let me help!”

Dunban put his hand to his temple and shook his head. “You’re untrained, Desiree, and this isn’t going to involve any miles of swimming.”

“And you’re missing a bloody arm!”

“Yes, well, I don’t plan to use the Monado again, do I?” he snapped. Immediately he softened -- he didn’t want her running off in some sort of misguided defiance. “Desiree, please do this for me. Do it for your father; give yourself a fighting chance

and not before.”

She began to reply, but Dunban could see her heart wasn’t in it. “You always know how to get people to see things your way, don’t you?”

Dunban flashed a smile. “If I can get Reyn to admit he’s wrong, what chance did you think you had?”

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Through some miracle Dunban didn’t want to jinx, whatever was happening outside of the city was staying there, and so Dunban raced home to grab his sword. He checked under the bed, it’s normal storage spot, when he remembered that he’d planned on training today when he left. Had he brought it with him?

He must have dropped it while talking to Desiree. Running back to the residential district, Dunban was relieved to see both that the sword had been propped up in plain sight, Desiree knowing Dunban would be looking for it, and Desiree herself nowhere to be found. This was good -- she was hopefully in her home, as safe as she was going to be for the moment.

Then he saw it: a flash of movement, on the eastern edge of the city, which was naturally protected by a cliff wall. That same silvery blur he’d seen before was moving briskly at a breakneck pace.

And it was moving

the city, toward the military district.

His course of action was clear. He followed at a distance. Whatever, or whoever this was seemed to be hovering along the ground, not terribly concerned about stealth, but instead with speed. Even so, there was no one here to stop it -- the entire force had been occupied with whatever was going on outside; the army would not be expecting an intruder at a time like this.

Dunban reached the top of the stairs to the military district just in time to see the figure duck into the weapon’s development lab. He frowned. There was only one thing being kept there right now, but...

He followed, breaking into a sprint. There was no way he was allowing the colony to lose the most advanced weapon against the mechon they ever had, even though he, nor anyone else they knew, was able to wield it on a long term basis.

Coming into the room where the Monado was stored, he could see the backside of an obviously female figure.

“Turn around,” Dunban ordered.

The woman complied, and Dunban knew that he’d failed to hide his shock. The woman was around his height, with silvery gray hair, but other than her face she barely resembled a homs at all. Her torso and abdomen were obviously mechanical in construction, and the daggers she carried in her sheaths were a design he’d never seen.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I’ve come for the Monado,” she replied in a timbre that chilled him. The voice was at least partially modified by machination, but there was definitely an intelligent inflection mixed in.

“That’s not something we’re willing to part with at the moment,” Dunban countered evenly.

“It is no longer of any use to you,” said the stranger.

“Oh, really?” Dunban asked.

The woman nodded. “Yes. Its progenitor is dead. There is no need to continue this fight.”
“What fight?” Dunban inquired, not sure where this was going.

“The war with the mechon, of course,” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Dunban drew his sword and slashed into the wall with one fluid motion. The woman did not move.

“There is no need, for

to continue this fight?! Against an enemy who attacked

with no provocation?!”

He gestured wildly with his sword. “Who are you with? Is this some naive peace movement? Do you have any idea what they’ve been doing to us?”

The woman waited for him to calm, and then nodded slowly. “Yes. And I am sorry.”

Dunban looked aghast at her. “You’re sorry? For what?”

She shook her head. “It would take too long to explain. I am Meyneth, and I have come here to destroy this wretched artifact.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Dunban, training his sword on her.

“Please, you must understand,” she implored. “I wish for this conflict to end. I have called off the main force.”

“You’re telling me that

control the mechon?”

Meyneth nodded again. “Yes, along with a few others. The mechon outside the city right now is among the strongest.”

“And you sent it here?”

Meyneth waved her hand dismissively. “As I said, I have called off the main force. He is alone -- a distraction. I imagine your forces have taken care of him by now.”

Dunban’s eyes widened as he realized the true nature of what had just transpired. “You sent a patsy here so you could sneak in and destroy the Monado?”

She smiled in response.

“I won’t allow it,” he decided after an instant. Dunban didn’t know this woman’s game, but the Monado was non-negotiable.

“Your desires are immaterial. I have long awaited this day. You will not be harmed, and you will not hear from the mechon again.”

Not knowing what else to do, Dunban threw his weight into the mechanical woman. Taken off balance, the two dropped to the floor.

But instead of going for her, Dunban did the one thing he promised he’d never do again. He got to his feet, staggered over to the Monado, and grabbed it. Immediately he felt the pain course through his arm, just as it had the other arm back when he still had it. He could still control it.

Meyneth was on her feet. “You have wielded the Monado before.” It was not a question.

“Yes...” Dunban panted. “Sword Valley...I slew hundreds.”

“You will not need to slay another mechon again if you simply give me the sword!”

“...Never.” He advanced on her.

“Please!” She took a step back. “It must be destroyed if we’re ever to live together!”

Dunban laughed, which quickly degenerated into coughs. “Us and the mechon, together? Madness.”

“It has happened before! It can happen again!” Meyneth was against the wall now.

“No...I...see what this is really...about,” Dunban stammered. The sword was draining him by the second. “This is the only weapon...that can harm you...or your race.”

Meyneth closed her eyes, as if resigned. “If I die, I cannot guarantee the mechon will ever relent. Do you expect to keep fighting forever?”

With a final surge of strength, Dunban plunged the Monado into the woman’s chest. “No...I expect...you all to...die.”

Dunban dropped the sword, and slumped to the ground.

Meyneth grasped at her chest, but knew the damage had been done. The Monado, the only weapon that could truly destroy her, had done just that. But she was the only one that could have destroyed it, too.

She’d gambled, and she’d lost. Perhaps, in her absence, the mechon would triumph, and her people would be safe. Perhaps not. These homs were clearly too far gone for this conflict to end any other way than total destruction of one side or the other, and although she knew who was intiially to blame, it was her and her mechon that had escalated the conflict beyond repair.

In her final moments, she allowed herself the possibility that Zanza had the right idea with scrapping the whole damn thing.

Votecount 4.0