Nefarious Good, Page 4

  Chapter 2

  “Bigger Trouble”

  The voice of a human male shouted, “Nefarious Good!” A little man in a gray business suit was followed by robed Malicious Virtue and a robed Delver. The human waved and smiled as he approached. He stood right in front of the towering Nefarious Good and stared up at him, asking, “What are you, ninety kilograms at two-point-two meters?”

  “It is as you guess.”

  The human nodded. He blurted, “You’re a big boy!”

  Nefarious corrected, “My stature is the average of the Great Races. My mass is somewhat less.”

  The human shrugged. He told the Delver mercenary Spark Prime, “Our friend here said your people are too short to be a Great Race.” The human reminded Nefarious Good, “He’s bigger than you by weight.”

  “Mr. Fink, I presume?” The human nodded. “Mr. Fink, I am well versed in the physiological particulars of the Great Races. Would you appreciate my tutoring?”

  The little man laughed. He pointed at Nefarious, playfully accusing, “You, my friend, are a smart aleck. We’re going to get along just fine.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Mr. Good, I size people up before I do business with them. I’ve been sizing you up since I heard about you.” Fink turned to Malicious Virtue, “You told me he’s a war hero.” Mr. Virtue nodded. “Did he ever fight Delvers?” Fink asked Nefarious, “Did you ever fight Delvers?”

  “I have not, though I am trained in how to deal with them.”

  “Really? My security officer Spark Prime has practical experience killing your people.” Fink asked the Delver mercenary, “Sparky, how many of Mr. Good’s comrades did you kill?”

  The gruff voice of the burly Delver answered, “Two hundred fifty-four.”

  “Wow! That’s a lot!” The human asked Nefarious, “Do you think you’d best Mr. Spark in a fight? We can find out.” Spark Prime grinned.

  Nefarious Good stared down at little Simon Fink, telling him, “In our early wars with your people, you laughed as we approached with swords drawn. You blazed away with your guns but to no avail. Those who laughed wailed as we cut them down.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Mr. Fink, my people have destroyed cultures. We have exterminated entire races. Never did we threaten our hapless victims. I shall abide by our custom.” The human chuckled. The Mystic asked him, “Mr. Fink, why did you rob Miss Yellow?”

  “Who says I did?”

  “Mr. Fink, let us not squander our moment.”

  The human laughed. He explained, “Concubine technology is Golgothite technology, the most advanced human artifice in the galaxy. The clones looted it from the civilization that developed it. I just robbed the thieves.”

  “Mr. Fink, I am old enough to remember the Golgothites in their full glory. They converted to a dark religion and rotted from within. They consumed themselves upon their own lusts. The Concubines were their slaves. It is only fitting that the selfless clones should supplant their selfish masters.”

  Fink glared up at Nefarious, telling him, “The loot is already off-world so don’t bother trying to get it back. I want my truck and I want everything that was on it.”

  “Return Miss Yellow’s property and I shall oblige you.”

  “I’m not negotiating, you stupid lefty!” Malicious Virtue was stung hearing his human associate blurt “lefty.” Most Mystics were left handed thus “lefty” was coined by humans as a derogatory term.

  Nefarious grinned, unoffended. He taunted, “Perhaps your digger thug shall teach me a lesson.” Spark Prime growled upon hearing the smug Mystic use the racist human word “digger.”

  “Seriously?” Fink disbelieved. “Are you begging me to snap my fingers?”

  “Do as you will.”

  Simon Fink raised his hand, as if to snap his fingers. Nefarious went for his sword! The human jumped back, cringing! The Mystic swordsman refrained from drawing his blade but remained poised to strike. He snarled, “My last breath shall avenge me.”

  “Peace!” Malicious Virtue cried. “Peace. Let us maintain our parley.”

  Nefarious kept his left hand on the hilt of the sword on his right hip. The guardsmen kept their guns raised and pointing. The gruff voice of Spark Prime asked, “Mr. Fink?”

  The human ducked behind the fully armored Delver, answering, “Not yet.”

  “Peace,” Malicious Virtue approached Nefarious Good. “Hero of our people, I shall vouch for you.”

  “Merchant of our people, your human friend is ruthless and dishonorable.”

  “Yes, but he has made himself a blessing upon our people.” Nefarious arched an eyebrow. The merchant told him, “Every war you ever fought was in our service.”

  “I served our Confederacy.”

  “Yes. We are a prosperous people. By fighting the wars of merchants and bankers you have enriched us.”

  “We are an honorable people.”

  “Veteran of our wars, for what noble cause did you slaughter so many? My brother, we are a ruthless people.”

  Nefarious remembered the voice of Aloof Amity telling him, “You shall do what is best.” Mr. Good told Mr. Virtue, “I shall honor my covenant with Miss Yellow.”

  “You owe her nothing.”

  “She is wronged. I shall avenge her.”

  “Why?”

  “My brother, our people shall rot within should I forsake her.”

  Malicious Virtue arched an eyebrow. He told Nefarious, as if accusing him, “You are but one. You cannot decide the fate of our people.”

  “I am but one.”

  Mr. Virtue turned around and said unto Mr. Fink, “We should discuss our situation in private.” The human nodded. Malicious Virtue gestured for the robed Delver to follow them out.

  As the three bosses were leaving, Simon Fink turned around just long enough to tell Nefarious Good, “You scared the piss out of me! I like you better already.” He told Spark Prime, “Be good.”

  Nefarious was left alone with the two Delver mercenaries and two dozen human guardsmen. The Mystic’s hand remained on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Fingers remained on the triggers of the aiming guns. Spark Prime growled and fidgeted. This situation was bad and getting worse.

  Nefarious released the hilt of his sword and straightened his posture. He waved a hand over his face… and disappeared! “Where’d he go?!” a human wondered, unnoticing as the Mystic darted past him. Nefarious Good was neither invisible nor silent yet the gunmen could neither see nor hear him. Spark Prime roared!

  Simon Fink, Malicious Virtue and the Delver merchant Lord Clang were together outside the warehouse. The human asked the Mystic, “Are you sure about this? I don’t want your administrator making trouble for mine.”

  “Mr. Fink, the death of Nefarious Good makes it easier for my magistrate to libel him.”

  “He won’t be around to argue.” Malicious Virtue nodded. Fink urged, “Let’s not be here when I give the order.” The three bosses got into Mr. Fink’s awaiting limousine. As the vehicle sped off, Fink touched the communicator he wore in his left ear. He ordered, “Kill him.”

  “Sir!” the gruff voice of Spark Prime responded. “He disappeared!”

  “Disappeared? He was right in front of you! Find him and kill him!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fink hailed his head of security, “Joe, the Mystic is loose on the grounds. Don’t let him escape. Find him and kill him with extreme prejudice.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve already spotted him and are converging on his location.”

  “I love you, Joe.”

  Malicious Virtue remarked, “Nefarious Good knew his situation was dire. I believe he sensed we were about to strike. He may have slain your guardsmen had Mr. Spark not given him pause.”

  “He’s afraid of Sparky?”

  “He is uncertain of his chances against him.”

  Lord Clang rumbled a chuckl
e, telling Malicious Virtue, “Your war hero is wise.”

 

  Nefarious ran, his long, Mystic legs giving him a stride no human could match. Rifles cracked but Mr. Good was wearing a greater talisman: no bullet fired from beyond forty paces could touch him. Nefarious glimpsed a jeep speeding towards him; one with a manned machinegun mounted in the back. The vehicle was swiftly closing the gap. The weapon was nigh in range.

  Nefarious darted in among parked trucks and hurried in among stacked crates. He hid upon hearing the steps and chatter of approaching guardsmen. They found him. The towering Mystic gazed upon the five humans brandishing firearms. “Kill him!” a man blurted. Nefarious raised his right hand just as the guns blazed away. He lunged, the keen, curved edge of his broadsword slashing through flesh and bone as he whirled with swift, nimble grace. The last of the five dropped his empty carbine and cringed, “No!” The broad, curved blade swiped but did not strike. Nefarious was fond of killing but not of needless killing. He kicked the man to the ground and fled the scene.

  Nefarious Good escaped the compound of Simon Fink but had not escaped danger. The fleeing Mystic kept to the alleys and shantytowns of For Now City, hoping not to be spotted by eyes that might recognize him. He made his way to the enclave of the Piddlings, a servitor race of the Penumbrans. Neither the Piddlings nor their masters were known to do business with the Arcane Artisans Guild. Hopefully they had no friendly relationship with Simon Fink either.

  Piddlings were shorter than most humans and had small trunks and long, slender limbs and extremities. The creatures were either beige or brown, depending on what breed or mix of breed they