The door to the room opened, light flooding the darkened room, the glowing marks on the meditating person’s body vanish as his concentration focuses on the visitor. “Good to see you Monty, only you tend to come here and not knock.”
The large burly man at the doorway, wearing clothing one would take to an African safari smirks as his red beard fluttering lightly. “Ey’ figger’ you’d sense me when I pulled up in me Jeep laddy.”
The person meditating stands, with the room no longer darkened as much we can see he isn’t human, but still cannot determine his species. “I suspect you sensed them as well?”
”Not so much as sensed as I figger the body count rising worldwide with yer kin’s MO was a sure sign; all th’ killin’ be in areas where there be damn heat waves goin’ about.” The big Irishman spoke. “Although I don’t get what the appeal of the heat is, I mean you even got AC in yer place, plus there was that artic thing in’ all.”
The person walked over to the far wall and pulled on a light fixture, which revealed to be a level; opening a hidden doorway in the wall. “The purebred of my kind distaste the cold, I on the other hand can handle it better but I am still not overly fond of it.”
Monty walked into the room, ducking his head as he went through the doorway; following his friend into a tunnel going into the ground. “So, did you sense anythin’ bout the hunt this time?”
”It seems so far that the hunting party is split into several areas of globe, and it seems there was a mass-tagging of potential hunts for a later time.”
”Tagging for later hunts?”
As they reached a dead end, the person twisted a rock and another door opened; “when suitable prey that show great potential are found but are too young to hunt are simply tagged and later when they are of the proper age will a hunting party come for them.”
A snarl seemed to form on Monty’s lips; “Ye’ mean they be taggin’ little tykes?”
The person nodded solemnly; “sadly so.”
“Bah, bloody bastards…eh no offense Tusk.”
“I take no offense old friend; I know I am not like them even if we’re the same species.” Tusk chuckled as he steps into a large room with weapons and armor of alien design, a work table, alien blacksmith shop, and a ‘trophy’ room with various mementos of a more deadly sort.
Monty looks at the trophy room and shakes his head, “I know you ain’t like them but why do ye’ ave’ a trophy case like that Tusk?”
“I can’t ignore all of the concepts and innate way-of-thinking my kind has, but at least those are the skulls or weapons of the innocent. My hunts aren’t for sport; but to protect and save.” Tusk walks over to a locker and opens it, pulling out a few things.
“Point made’ but I kin’ wager they ain’t as durable as you, nor as open minded.”
”The clan mentality sadly is of a one-track mind.” Tusk sighs as he slips on a mesh-netting over his scarred chest, before putting on a shirt made of a material stronger than Kevlar.
“Aye’ they don’t be saving POW’s from a enemy camp, nor savin’ wee tykes from a pedophile in an warehouse…nay they kill for fun.”
Buckling a utility belt around his waist, Tusk begins to muse. “I doubt none other of my kind has bothered to see past the thrill of the hunt, to see how we hurt others by our selfish hunts. Like you Monty I am old but I don’t physically feel or look it, and at my age even my kind starts to feel rusty.” He then pads to a work bench and begins selecting some tools, folding them up and putting them in pouches in his belt.
”Yer’ special Tusk and I don’t mean jus’ yer healing factor’ them alien gizmos in yer body, or all yer special abilities.” The red breaded man patted his friend’s shoulder. “Nay, yer special because you turned yer back on the hunting people and other sentient life for sport while risking a death mark from yer own kin. Yee helped me dozens of times and ye even helped out folks in those other realms…what were they called again?”
”Jade and the Retreat,” Tusk answered as he began to fasten his arm gauntlets around his forearms; testing the blade on his right one.
“Right; and ye stand p to yer kind when they show up; that what make ya’ special,” Monty smiled.
Tusk turned his head and smiled back, or at least what could be considered one by his kind. He set back to task, attaching his razor disc to his right hip and another on his left. He then took out a duel holster and put it on and then holstered two plasma pistols. He went back to his locker and took out a special long trench coat; special as it had several pockets of holding woven into the inside to allow him to carry more weapons than his bulk could carry and not be slowed down; as well as a few other enchantments.
He turned to get his sword off the rack, but found it being held out to him by Monty, to whom he relieved it from. “Thank you Monty.” With the sword and sheathe fastened around his back, he took his shoulder castor and attached it, properly plugging it into a battery pack. At last he took out his helmet and slipped it on, attached a nozzle and a wire for the castor. “I’m all set.” Tusk said, his voice now synthesized as he couldn’t really move his mandibles while wearing the helmet, and had to use a device built in that allowed him to speak normally.
“So where ye’ be going first?”
”America; two locations there where tagged heavily, and then to Japan and China.” Tusk said.
”I’d like to join ye’ but I know you like to work alone like this; plus me’in got a meeting with the Explorer’s Society to attend too.” Monty said he blinked and noticed his friend was already gone and a note was left on the work bench.
Monty, make sure the weapons room is properly locked up and turn on my security system before you go; help yourself to any food in the fridge and there’s a bottle of ol’ Jack Daniels in the cabinet.
Monty chuckled as he put the note down; “After knowing him for ages he still can sneak away without me knowin’ it.”
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(Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2004 00:43)
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