text: Argu had never been overly fond of public taverns. They were crowded, noisy things that made him anxious; he felt spying eyes were always watching him from hidden corners. Strangers came and went in places like these, some eating, others drinking and a few unconscious with their heads to the tables in front of them. Argu shuddered and looked down at his drink, hands cupped around the mug of steaming Yerith brew. Yerith soothed his stomach but always came out piping hot, leaving Argu to stare at it as the steam slowly receded into the cup. He had only finished his first sip when a man, lanky and draped in red capes, approached his booth, and sat in the seat across him. “Argu,” the man said with a voice thinner than his physique. It took him a moment to sit down, adjusting his long legs to the interior underneath the table. “Gurnik,” Argu said, extending a six fingered hand to the thin man. They shook and Argu sipped his drink, the steam stinging his eyes. “How are things?” “Fine, I suppose,” said Gurnik. He blinked with those sunken beetle-like eyes, eyelids almost invisible. “Busy as always. I’ve barely any time for myself anymore. And you?” “They’re okay,” said Argu with a shrug. He glanced around the tavern, stared at a fat blue creature with four legs as it passed them by, then hunched over his drink again, hood covering his craned neck. “Why’d you choose to meet here? I thought officers like you don’t leave your sacred temples?” He admired Gurnik’s attire; officer vest with the signature red cape of the High Consular pinned to his shoulder with a golden brooch. Could get a few peppits for that Argu thought. “With the right words and a handful of silver, you’d be surprised how far you can get.” Argu grunted and stirred his drink with his finger, licking the green liquid with a tongue so purple, it looked as if it were bleeding. Gurnik had met plenty of people who belonged to the Ptesh race, most of them hailing from kingdoms forged in magic and castles constructed of darker things. Argu had been deemed an outcast, born a hunchback in a society that considered stature and height to be a quality of royalty. Being the shortest of his race, standing at 5’ even, Argu hadn’t stood a chance in his royal family. Gurnik knew his story and pitied the man only a little. Since then, Argu had taken to the streets of Pallamo Market, making the ten-mile long trading center his own. The outsider was now a proud and wealthy dealer; a snake in the trade and manufacturing of amphetamines. “Run out of your supply, ‘ave you?” Argu said with his scrunched face and thick voice. Gurnik’s beetles blinked and he nodded. “Yes,” he said, locking his bony hands together. “I’ve come for more.” “Powerful stuff, ain’t it?” Argu chuckled. “More than ya bargained for?” “Nevermind that. Name your price.” Argu smiled as he reached into the knapsack slung around his shoulder. ___________________________________________ The streets of Pallamo Market were as crowded as they were every day. Thousands of patrons shuffled along in the streets; trading, smoking and dragging along animals of foreign nature. On a good day, it was almost impossible to hear your own thoughts, let alone what someone would say when speaking to you. Delivery drones hovered overhead, bronze-colored things with five legs whirring as they picked up baskets and shipped them across the market. Pungent was the scent of fried meat and sour clothing; it stuck to everything. Within the waves of strangers is where the ranger walked. Not a ranger; more so a figment that passed through the crowd quieter the blink of an eye. Shrouded in deep citrine hood and cloak, he stepped lightly, almost floated through the street. He didn’t speak, head bowed like the monks from the eastern lands of Hoo’jed. Here he drew no extra attention; no suspicion. Here, he was safe. ___________________________________________ “What do your people call this again?” Gurnik questioned. He held a clear container in his hand, no bigger than a peppit of silver. Within the transparent circle sat a collection of small turquoise crystals, jutting in all directions as they stacked atop one another. Even in the low light of the tavern, they glimmered with an unwavering luminescence. “My people?” Argu questioned with a cocked brow and a tang of viciousness. Gurnik recalled the banishment and acted quickly. “I meant what do you call it in your native tongue?” “I call it Eckogili morthillious .” “The Butterfly?” Gurnik questioned, clearing his throat. Something in the tavern’s air made his throat tickle. Maybe it’s the withdrawal, he thought. “The Velvet Butterfly,” Argu corrected. “And that’s twenty peppits from ya.” Gurnik nodded and drew out a handful of silver coins from his pocket. Counting them silently, he organized them into two stacks of ten and slid them across the table. Argu smiled and grabbed the coins a stack at a time, his purple tongue streaking across his lips as he tossed them into his bag. ___________________________________________ The man in the cloak focused his glare on the Reju Tavern to his left. A plume of smoke came from each of the three chimneys on its roof, the shafts dented and fading in color. Patrons came and went, entering with smiles and stumbling out with drool-covered lips. The man closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of air, stroking the weapon strapped to his hip with his thumb. He walked silently to the bar, shoving two Turgish folk out of the way. With one swift kick, the door came clean off the hinges and clattered to the floor. The entire bar fell silent, even the music coming to a halt. All eyes peered to him, but he didn’t mind. He glared as his vision shifted from his left to the right. There. In the corner closest to the music stand. He stepped over the door and paced slowly down the walk. As he passed other booths by, those who sat inside them began to breathe easier, speaking in hushed voices. “Argu Porosh,” the man said in a low voice. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the hunchback sitting in the booth, a tall and much more skinny man sitting across from him. Argu had a look of villainy upon his face. Gurnik watched him reach for his belt, as if grasping for some weapon invisible to their sight. “I think it’s time you and I had a talk.” “We’ll talk later,” Argu said with a lick of his purple tongue. “I’m with a customer right now.” “Exactly the reason we must talk.” “I’m busy, dammit. Come back later, laiugna .” The man grasped Argu’s shoulder harder and leaned in closer. Gurnik could see part of his face; stern mouth and a faint beard on his lower jaw. “Now...” the man said with a threaten somewhere in his voice. Argu snarled and swung his left arm behind his head. The man grabbed it by the wrist and yanked him out of the booth. “Hold your breath,” the man said as he scooped Argu up by the neck, holding him tightly. Pulling out a small metal device, the cloaked man shot Gurnik one final glare before clicking a button and vanishing in a cloud of violet smoke. Those eyes... bright hazel flecked with green. Beautiful eyes but the irises reflected something... evil. ___________________________________________ About three miles on the outskirts of Pallamo Market, just over the crest of the tallest southern dune, a lone spacecraft idled in the silence around it. Humming gently, it rocked back and forth, like an anchored ship floating in a harbor. The gusts of air coming from the lower ventilation chambers kicked sand into small coils before sending them in all kinds of directions. The cockpit consisted of two seats and a large glass dome protecting it from above. Its dark red and bronze paintjob glimmered in the sunlight, sending reflective beams into the sand a foot below the vehicle’s underbelly. The spacecraft began to whir, a high beeping sound coming from its control board. As it did, a cloud of purple smoke appeared and with it, the man and Argu Porosh struggling for breath. The man let Argu go, tossing him to the warm sand below their feet. “You have some talking to do, Porosh,” the hooded man said. Argu choked and coughed, taking in deep swallows of air. His hood had come off, revealing his balding scalp and horned forehead. “I don’t even know who you are, ranger!” Argu said, sitting up with his hands to the sky, trying to block the sun from his vision. Silence befell the two before the man threw his hood back onto his shoulders. He seemed a soldier, some mercenary that had long since betrayed his commands and fled his post without resignation. Gauntlets covered his arms; the one on his left glowing with multi-colored lights and switches, wires running up his arm and vanishing under his cloak. The one on his right was crafted of tight brown leather and black stitching. A heavy belt filled with canisters and makeshift gadgetry hung tightly around his waist, suspending his faded pants, putting his dark boots on display. A pair of goggles rested in his sand-dusted hair. “Marlet Goddard?” Argu wondered before giving a small chuckle. “Of all people, Marlet Goddard dares to abduct me? State your business, peasant-son.” “Just Goddard, thank you,” said Goddard. He winced and licked his dry lips. “You’ve been off the grid for a while, Argu. Took me long enough to find you.” “Then how’d you do it?” “There are those who are willing to pay if not take a beating for information. Either way, I received what I needed.” Argu grunted and kicked at the sand. “Why the sudden interest if you were capable of tracking me down before?” “When the greed board calls, someone’s got to answer.” “What business has a greed board tracking me, Goddard?” “It’s about the Velvet Butterfly.” Argu rolled his eyes and laughed. Goddard’s face never shifted. “And what problem have you with my product?” “It’s not just the product. It’s you as well. The prize on your head is bountiful. I don’t think you realize how much you’ve impacted Lekmek with your... operation . I must say, you’ve made quite a name for yourself here at Pallamo. How does she treat you?” “Like a whore on a Klibday at the end of shift, mug of Yerith in hand whilst behind her.” Goddard laughed at this. “Whatever the case, you’re to come with me. That prize is mine to fetch.” “That so?” Argu questioned. Out of his cloak, he unsheathed a long sword from its scabbard, curved at the end with a polished bronze handle. “Those are Common Lance colors you’re sporting on that craft of yours. How would they feel about one of their own picking up bounties from a greed board?” “It’s not mine. I... borrowed it.” Goddard looked at the vehicle with detest then back to Argu, the hunchback laughing from his gut. “Like I’ve never ‘eard that one before. Even for the theft of a Common Lance speeder, there must be a high price on your head by now, too. You’ve got a lot at risk coming here, Goddard.” “I like to think that Lady Fortune’s on my side. At when she’s looking for a mount for the night.” “Will this be one of those nights?” Argu wondered, eyeing the sword on Goddard’s hip. “We’ll have to let her decide,” Goddard said. He drew his sword, a wicked long thing that became thin at the end, almost invisible to naked eye. The crossguard was forged of twisted steel, like barbs in a berry thicket. His gloved hands gripped the golden handle with tight fists. “So be it,” Argu said, laughing with his purple tongue out as he lunged forward. Goddard stepped back, extending his sword. The blades collided, sending shocks down both of their arms. Argu growled and lashed out again, poking at Goddard in violent juts. Goddard was faster, deflecting Argu’s moves almost as soon as they were made. Quickly, Goddard stepped back as Argu took another swing, but instead of parrying, he swung his sword downward, the end of his blade cleaving through Argu’s tough and fleshy wrist. The hunchback cried and grasped his arm at the stump as his bleeding hand fell to the sand, the granules soaking up the blood like sponges, turning it a sickly black color. Argu grunted and stood up, cursing in odd tongues as he found his footing. Goddard glared when the alien charged after him horns first. As the sharp points came closer, Goddard dropped to one knee and threw his sword from right to left, digging it into Argu’s leg. Screaming, the alien went tumbling to the ground, falling face first into the sand with a hard thud. Rolling over, he clutched where his hip met his leg, or rather where it used to. A dark blue river of blood came out of the wound that left his leg hanging to his hip by only a thread of tendons and skin, his fingers dark and shaking. Argu’s eyes were welded shut as he cursed obscenities into the dirt. Goddard sheathed his sword and walked to him, slowly leaving deep imprints in the sand. “You bastard!” Argu said with a cough. “How am I to walk again?” “You won’t,” Goddard said. “You won’t be doing too much after I’m through here.” Argu had a look of despair on his face, certainly, but that wasn’t all. Some sort of understanding lingered in his eyes. “Circle of life, I guess,” said Argu. “I can understand ‘at.” Goddard nodded and reached past his cloak, down to his right thigh. What came out made Argu’s pink eyes grow wide. “Where did you get that, Goddard?” Argu wondered with dying curiosity. Within Goddard’s right hand balanced a pistol, large and forged from bronze metals. Two wicked pieces of steel were welded to the front by the barrel, the curved pieces extending an extra half foot past the weapon. The handle was wrapped in tight leather, the entirety of the gun seeming to accustom to Goddard’s grip perfectly with its curved handle and dark shading. Argu couldn’t help but stare down the three dark barrels as they stared back. “It’s been centuries...” “I’m aware,” Goddard said, pulling back the hammer with his thumb. It made a satisfying click, leaving Goddard to refrain from smiling. “Gods, when did you get it back?” Goddard cocked his head, a little bit of the smile creeping into the corner of his mouth. “What makes you think I ever got it taken from me?” Goddard questioned. He fired a shot and Argu knew no more. The laser beam, red and glowing, went directly through Argu’s forehead, piercing through his skull and exiting through the back, embedding itself in the sand. Goddard let out a breath. Looting the body was easy but getting it to the ship was harder; for what Argu lacked in brains, he made up for in weight. He took a swig of water from his flagon and sat in the sand, watching the corpse lay in the hot sun. When he got up to haul it into the passenger seat, a twitch came from the body. Goddard jumped back as Argu began to convulse. The hole in his head began to bleed, dark blue liquid flowing out of the wound as a long cord came slinking out of it. Goddard stared in admiration as the cord slithered down Argu’s nose and past his mouth. The dark liquid simmered in the sun and left Goddard staring at a red snake. Another twitch from the body and with it, another snake came sliding out of Argu’s skull, this one a light shade of blue. The serpents slid down Argu’s face and towards his neck. Noticing each other, they stared for a moment. Goddard watched as the red struck at the blue, biting it a few inches below its jaw. The blue coiled back around and bit the red snake on its tail. They fumbled about, tangled in each other’s grasp. Once they were free, they stared at each other for a long time, eyes unblinking and heads craned. Kill him Goddard thought, unsure of who he was cheering on, though he seemed to favor the red snake more. Suddenly, the snakes embraced, nudging their faces against the other’s neck. They coiled together, wrapping around each other until they looked to make one giant serpent. Together, they slid from Argu’s body and dove headfirst into the sand. Goddard watched silently as their tails disappeared into the ground. “Curious thing,” Goddard said with a shrug. He stood and threw Argu’s body into the cockpit and sealed it shut. With a final look at the ground outside, Goddard lifted the ship into the air and rocketed through the mountainous cascades of the desert planet known as Lekmek, the frightened behind him and the dead by his side.