Shattered Remnants of a Dream

Chapter 3: Assassins

Armond Morrison was a killer by choice. As a kid, he'd loved hearing stories about legendary outlaws and assassins for hire, men of the shadows who seemed untouchable, invincible...men who could evade entire police forces using nothing but their own intelligence and physical prowess. That was when he first heard about the Dark Zodiacs - the most infamous killers of them all. From that moment on, he'd wanted to become one of them.

He made a name for himself as a hired "gun," balking at no task. He killed women and children without hesitation. Then one day, he stooped down to inspect the body of his most recent target. The woman had the tattoo of a rooster on her ankle - their mark.

Soon, they came to him from the shadows. Beings of formidable power, asking him to join in their ranks. He had executed the old Rooster, so he was to become the new Rooster. He accepted the title with pride, invigorated by his sudden success.

But none of that really mattered anymore, because at the moment, Armond was not doing any sort of rising. Rather, he was falling - straight into the ground. This was of no concern to Armond as his jaw hit the pavement, because his brains had been blown out from the shotgun spray. At the age of 21, he, an attractive, charismatic, drug-addicted killer dying a fool's death in a dirty alleyway.

The mission wasn't supposed to turn out this way. He'd been searching for years, traveling from town to town. The Snake had given him specific instructions: a Caucasian teenage girl with a citrus psynergy aura. That third attribute was key, and also the biggest problem, as trying to sense psynergy on Earth always gave one a crippling headache. When things got boring, he would 'accidentally' target any girl who struck his fancy. He was also happy to fill an entire street full of bullets whenever he discovered a psynergy aura that wasn't citrus, which is exactly what he'd done a few minutes before he spotted his target. He never worried. After all, how could anyone ever incriminate him if he didn't carry a gun?

After months and months of searching, he'd found her - a petite teenager with an unmistakably citrus glow. But right before he could claim his prey, a hole had been blown through the back of his head, and now he was dying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

The teenager stood frozen against the wall as she stared past Armond's corpse to her savior. He was a broad-shouldered man who stood well over six feet tall, dressed in a tan, wide-brimmed hat, a long duster coat, and snakeskin boots.

The man slung a double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder, nudging his dirty-blond hair. An awkward smile crept onto his face. "Cliff Walden at your service, miss. Vice-Captain of the 4th division of the Dimensional Knights."

She stared up at the stranger, trying her hardest to settle down and speak. "You...what?"

Cliff studied her face. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

"N-no," she stuttered. "He just started chasing me! I don't know why!"

"A massive, unidentified psynergy reading erupted from this area a bit ago. That's why I'm here. As for him..." Cliff dug his steel-toed boot into Armond's lifeless back. "Guess we've got a puzzle on our hands. Not that it matters either way. I've got no mercy to spare for a man who'd attack an unarmed lady."

The first tears began to fall down her cheeks. "Who are you?"

Cliff bent down so that his eyes were at the same level as Armond's would-be victim. "I come from a place called Despair," he began. "It's a desert world. A great war turned it barren hundreds of years ago...we were one of the first to be saved."

"Wait..." she stammered. "What?"

"When I was a kid..." Cliff's eyes were lost, staring off into the darkness. "I loved to see it rain. It would happen every couple of months, for a few days at a time, and that would be the end of it. Everyone would rush out to collect as much as they could...whoa, I'm getting off track here, aren't I? Anyway, when I grew up, I became a Dimensional Knight. And that, miss, is who I am."

The momentary relief that had filled her eyes was quickly replaced by unease as she watched the 'Knight' slip into his nonsensical monologue. But Cliff seemed oblivious to her confusion, and went on to fish in the dead man's pocket for his car keys. As he did so, he noticed a small red tattoo of a Rooster on the man's wrist. His eyes went wide.

"A Zodiac..." he murmured. "I actually got a Zodiac? But wait...why are they here? Why are they after you?"

"Shouldn't we go to the police?" she asked warily.

"Come with me." He turned toward the Oldsmobile. "We'll have to use his car. I came here on foot, you know."

Shakily, she walked

*************

up to the large restaurant. The plastic 'Mark's Diner' sign signaled the end of Vance's journey for the night.

Unfortunately, he knew that nothing good awaited inside. And it had only been a little over an hour since his father dropped him off, so chances were that the 'business meeting' was still in session.

A jolt of pain seared through Vance's back, knocking him forward into the gutter. The clock flew from his hands and was quickly reclaimed by a dirty man who smelled like a terrible mixture between alcohol and corned beef. Vance coughed and pulled himself to his feet just in time to see the man escape into an alley on the other side of the street.

First I get shot at, now I'm getting mugged...maybe Daryl was right after all.

Go, a strange voice surfaced in Vance's mind. Don't let him take it.

Shut up, Vance quickly replied. Don't tell me what to do.

Upon reaching the other side of the street, Vance heard a soft creaking sound, and soon spotted a rusty metal door in an adjacent alley. He carefully made his way over to the crude portal, peeking into the depths of the vagrant's chosen hiding place. It appeared to be an old storage room. Medicine bottles littered the cluttered counter; the contents of ruined shelves covered the floor. Vance scanned the mess thoroughly until he came upon a metal shutter on the opposite wall. He managed to shove it open with a grunt, revealing a dark cement passage leading outside.

Vance continued, following the ghostly glow that seeped through cracks in the brick and cement. Grime covered each step, and sewage bubbled from various ruptured pipes along the slanted walls. As he turned a corner and entered another passage, Vance realized where he was going. Across the street from the diner, there was a parking garage.

What, is he gonna try and steal a car now?