ZETA

Following Hera into the nights of Aspic seemed like a dream, or maybe a nightmare, Zeta wasn’t sure. All he knew is that he was being towed along without a clue of the destination nor the purpose of their venture.

“Come on, come on! Please still be open, you old gas bag,” Hera muttered to herself.

“Care to let me know who or what you’re talking about?” asked Zeta.

They rounded another corner. Hera froze in her tracks and called out, “Hey! No! Phil, don’t you dare flip that sign!”

“Sorry, Hera, it’s closing time. No more customers,” a shopkeep responded.

“You close when I say you close! Or do I have to bring this up with the Lion?”

“No…no, you don’t need to do that. I'll stay open, but not too long, you hear?”

Zeta analyzed the store she was harassing. A family shop passed along generations, nothing outstandingly special. It was the only remaining lit store on this street, and the air inside burst with a fragrance of customer accommodation. It had the roundish diamond symbol with an ambiguous core commonly associated with sigma. Truly a quaint shop.

“Hera, why are we here?”

She pulled out a sack of Nibbles. “Because you are, as I shall ordain, sigma-incompetent. At zero score, you don’t even have the standard set. So we’re going to buy it before we even think about upsetting the industry.”

“Wait, you're buying the standard set? Praise God, I didn’t think anyone would buy it ever again! The damn set is too common,” commented Phil. “I’ll be right back! I’ll pull it out of storage.” He darted into the inners of his store.

“Even if Phil’s happy, I’m embarrassed to be buying this once more. Nobody buys this set anymore, which is why I have none on hand, to begin with.”

Zeta shook his head. “Whoa, whoa. You’re buying me the set?”

“Yes. The standard set is so basic that it’s a requisite for any prospective sigma user. Anyone, even the farmer who gave you that basic sigma.”

“Come to think of it, you never returned th–”

“Zeta, standard sigmas are the very powers that allow you to read what a sigma does in the first place. Grades, Types, Conditions. I think that’s kind of important.”

“Hera, hold on,” Zeta said. “I can’t accept a handout, even if it is a necessity, as you claim. I’m not against buying sigmas, but if I do, it’s going to be with my money and my hard work.”

“Well, idiot, your 'work' will kill you if you don’t have the standard set, so enough with the pride.” She started funneling through her bag for the money as they heard Phil coming up the stairs.

Zeta grabbed her wrist. “Hera, don’t underestimate me. You said we came out here tonight to test me anyway, right?”

She scowled, but then considered it for a moment. “Fine, you don’t have to accept them, but at least let me buy them, so we have it on hand, okay? After each successful takedown, I’ll reward you with a sigma.”

Zeta smiled. “I only accept payments in sigma anyway.”

“Yeah, no wonder you’ll always be poor. Maybe if you found a sigma that spawned a gold mine…”

Phil came sprinting back to the shop floor, clutching a box of ten sigmas, each with a grey core to represent the Standard grade. “Holy shit, these were a pain to find. It’s hard to believe I can still sell a copy. Ten years ago they used to give these away for free, can you believe it?”

“Oh, I believe it,” Hera groaned. “I remember.”

She paid him, ripped open her Pocket Inventory and tossed all ten sigmas inside. On a side note, apparently, Pocket Inventory itself was one of the standard set. How convenient.

“Now for the next agenda on the list,” Hera said.

“Right. Do you have a target?” asked Zeta.

She grimaced. “Not definitively, but I know where to start. We need to stalk the Den.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“It’s Rex’s hangout. It would be suicide to do anything in the vicinity, but we can track a suitable target as they leave. Follow me.”

She bolted down the street in the dead of night. Although not physically connected, Zeta felt the strange sensation of being caught on a fish hook. Reeled along by an undetermined source of willpower.

Behind a building, Hera started scaling a ladder. Zeta believed that to be an obsolete and disadvantageous feat, so with his reasonable judgment, he climbed the building’s face instead.

In his mind, he thanked Sir Kagan for teaching him how to climb, even if his dear master forgot a safety net more often than not. In reflection, was that intentional?

After he pushed himself to the roof, Hera joined him soon after, scowling at his boastful display. She crawled to the other edge of the roof and gazed down. Amid the taller buildings of Aspic’s skyline, a small crevice sat between them with a short, crumbling stone stairway to a poorly lit set of doors. The Den, apparently.

A stakeout. How Boring! Although, Zeta figured it was necessary when in context. Men and women alike stumbled in and out of the Den, utilizing a password that neither of them could hear. He suspected Hera probably knew it. For about an hour, they waited, until finally, three triplets left the Den drunk.

“Them! The Lilick Brothers. They’ll be easy,” Hera said. “I think I know where to isolate them. Come!”

Another tight leash as they jumped between the building roofs for another half an hour, the targets never out of sight where they moved. Zeta imagined himself a predator, yet applying that title to himself made him queasy.

Silently, like a masterful tactician, Hera made the gestures to get into position. The Lilick Brothers entered an alley, a shortcut on their way home. At an equal distance from the escapes, Zeta and Hera pounced.

“Wha–what is this?” one brother mumbled.

“Hey! It’s you. The Larpy or whatever.”

“No, dimwit, she’s a fairy. Come to take my teeth, fairy?”

They all started laughing. Seeing the brothers in their drunken stupor made Zeta eerie of assaulting them. His right hand, holding Black Meridian, shivered.

Hera noticed his worry, so she called out to him, “It’s alright, Zeta. Give them a moment, you’ll see.”

The third target looked at his two comrades. “Eh, is someone taulkin? Let’s see who she really is, shall we? Y’all remember the coooooddddeeee word?”

“I…I think so,” a brother burped.

“Me too.”

“Okay, then one, two, three.”

“Liver Cleanse!” they all said in unison.

They raised their arms, and a strange, green, gaseous aura cloaked them. Afterward, they all gripped their heads and stomachs and struggled to regain their footing.

Once the headaches passed, they looked around with more clarity, completely sober.

“Oh, it’s Hera. Idiots, you said ‘Larpy’! You meant Harpy,” one said.

“Yeah, yeah, my mistake. Harpy, what are you doing here?”

Hera adopted an entirely new personality. Even across the alley, Zeta could see the menace in her eyes. “An examination for my new associate. Care to be questions one, two, and three?”

Confused, the trio glanced at each other. “Oi! What is this? Hera. You’re acting strangely.”

“Yeah! Whose questions?”

“Back there,” the third brother said, pointing at Zeta. “Who are you? I don’t recognize your face in Aspic.”

Usually, Zeta prepared a retort, yet a dim feeling obstructed any rational response.

Hera laughed, each beat concealing underlying disdain. Zeta shivered, her interactions between friend and foe differed like the flick of a switch. It reminded him of his own back-alley encounter. “He’s the silent type, Jolt, or is it Colt? I can’t tell the difference between you three. Oh, whatever. You triplets shared a womb, now you’ll share a grave.”

It took a moment to breach their thick skulls, but the brothers finally understood. “Oh, I get it, you’re trying to make a move on our turf. You stupid witch, the Lion won’t let you get away with this.

“Don’t fool yourself, Jolt. Accidents happen,” Hera said with a smirk. “All it takes is a finger pointed in another direction, and no one in Aspic will bat an eye. Least of all for you degenerates. Oh, and I’m not making a move on anything. This whole city is my turf.”

Jolt growled. “Err! Bolt, Colt, get her!”

She winked. “Watch out behind you!”

“Right, my cue,” he whispered. A note of displeasure hung in his voice. He charged them from the other end of the alley.

The one named Bolt turned around. “I’ll get the swordsman! He looks easy.”

“Yeah, he wants a test, give him a failing grade!” his brother called.

Bolt and Colt raised their palms and curled their fingers. “Charge Shots!” Rings of electricity connected each digit.

Bolt faced Zeta and pointed one palm at him. In a flash, the lightning concentrated in the center of the hand before shooting a projectile towards Zeta nearly at the speed of light. Nearly. The bolt was fast, yet the owner telegraphed his aim too much.

Bolt gargled with rage. He fired four more successive shots, each one immediately after the last and adjusting to Zeta’s sidestepping. For the bolts that Zeta didn’t dodge, he absorbed with his sword, insulated at the hilt.

Five shots, then all the electricity, on the one hand, was gone, so Bolt quickly switched arms and used his other palm. Five more shots, none of them landed. He cried with rage and crunched all his fingers, and the rings of electricity were all restored. Oh, the marvel of sigmas, Zeta thought.

Bolt started shooting from both hands at once. Double the suppression, double the fun. Zeta raised Black Meridian to his face, absorbed the hits, leaped and landed on Bolt, planting the pommel in his forehead, so he stumbled. Finally, Zeta twirled and slashed at the torso to stun and down him.

He ensured he avoided the vitals.

On the other end, Hera had made short work of Colt with a series of Neural Flashes followed by Neural Fighter. She seemed to take great pleasure in its effectiveness. Maybe the fact that Zeta had adapted discouraged her.

Jolt, alone and entrapped between them, was torn with rage and the sight of his defeated brothers. He raised both hands, full of Charge Shots, and aimed one at each assailant.

He tore his gaze to Zeta and said, “Read!” When he was done, he added, “A sigma score of 0? What the hell! Who are you!”

“Don’t answer him,” Hera said, “Mystery makes a stronger man.”

Hearing that, Zeta lowered his sword. Jolt fired the Charged Shots pointed his direction. Panicked aim. Zeta leaned his head, and they all missed.

“Hold on, Hera. This isn’t right.”

She looked at him and processed what he said. Her reaction was a mixture of confusion and contempt. “No…Zeta, don’t be getting second thoughts now of all times.”

“It’s eating at me, viciously. Hera, look at him,” Zeta said, gesturing to Jolt. “Look at his brothers. They’re down and out, and this fight did no harm to anyone else. I have a feeling of what you’re planning to do, and I can’t accept that.”

“Damn it! No! Remember what I told you? These guys are scum! They’re the real killers in Rex’s organization. They’re not like me! If you suggest mercy–”

Zeta pointed his sword at Jolt, who panicked immediately and accidentally sent a bolt flying at Hera.

“You there, how many have you killed during your career?” Zeta asked.

“Wha–what?”

“Don’t be stupid, he’s not going to tell you the truth,” said Hera.

“No, no, I will! I swear, just, please spare my brothers,” Jolt said.

Zeta continued. “I want details. Everything. How your operations run, how many you’ve killed. Don’t skip a single detail.”

He blabbed like water flowing out of a broken dam. They retrieved their stock from off the island, had it delivered outside the city, and brought it inside.

“Tell me, what is the cost of this operation?” Zeta asked, sticking the point of Black Meridian beneath Jolt’s jawline. “Not in money, but in lives. How many do you kill?”

Jolt started hyperventilating. “No–no one. Not a soul.”

“Absolute bull! Don’t listen to him. I meant it when I said I’m the only pure soul in Rex’s organization. He and his brothers used to boast about their first kill all the time!”

“It was to look good, I swear. We didn’t actually mean it.”

Zeta increased pressure. “You’re lying. Lying isn’t favorable.”

Tears started rolling from Jolt’s eyes. His words came amid sobs. “If I tell you, do I live?”

“If he cries any louder, all of Aspic will know what’s going on. End this!” Hera said, her teeth clenched into a bloodthirsty grill.

“It all depends on the bet you’re willing to take, Jolt,” said Zeta. “The default option for no answer is death.”

“THERE WAS ONE!” he cried, then braced to die. It never came, Zeta eased the pressure. Jolt lowered his voice and continued. “Colt didn’t mean to do it. The buyer was a frail old man. Buyer’s remorse. He tried to bail on us, and we confronted him. Colt had only recently employed his copy of Charge Shots then, using it to scare the man into a purchase. He didn’t know how to use it. A bolt went off…” Jolt gulped in his reminiscence, “…right in the man’s eye.”

Zeta lowered his sword. “An accident? And that’s your only kill?”

“Accident or no, it doesn’t excuse their actions! I’m telling you, he’s softening the story to win you over.” Hera reached into her clothes and retrieved a knife. “If you don’t do it, I will!”

Black Meridian cut through the air. The flat of the blade perfectly blocked the point of her knife, sparing it inches from Jolt’s throat. He quivered in fear. Hera was horrified at Zeta’s reflexes.

“Jolt, for your crime, I give you and your brothers a life sentence. There is no prison for me to hold you, but you shall be condemned not by the stroke of an executioner’s blade, but by your own commitment to your will to live.

“Jolt Lilick, Bolt Lilick, Colt Lilick. All three of you shall eject every sigma in your possession and leave the city of Aspic. What you do then is up to you.”

“Zeta, this is foolish!” She dropped his name, no longer regarding his identity. “They will go straight to Balder!”

“Hera, if we resort to the same sick and twisted sense of killing as a means of justice, without at least giving the perpetrator an option otherwise, how are we better? Ponder on your role in the world when you have to start at the very bottom. Absolutely no sigmas. Just like me.”

Jolt was terrified, abhorred by the prospect of losing it all. From what Zeta understood, sigmas were a complicated tool to use, yet everyone used them. Lifetimes were spent in their pursuit. Men like Rog in Greenwich were offered a chance to avoid succumbing to their own dark deeds, yet they failed to catch the second chance before them.

Jolt was different, and Zeta’s precedent still stood. “Eject! Eject! Eject! Eject!” Jolt said as he placed two fingers upon his chest. Four sigmas popped out, a mixture of Elementary and Basic grade.

Zeta took them to the shore, where the other brothers woke up. They were loaded onto the very boat that used to drop off their supply. Bolt and Colt also relinquished their sigmas, although reluctantly. Wordless, Zeta pushed them off to sea, and the triplets sunk into pondering despair. At least they had their lives.

Hera stood nearby, yet Zeta could almost feel the heat of her resentment. “Tonight was a test, I know that, and I’m sure by now I’ve received failed marks,” Zeta said. “Just know that when I saw the way you treated your foes, your fellow humans, like utter dirt, I refused to let them die. Don’t ever behave that way again, or our partnership has a short lifespan.”

He expected her to explode at his threats, but Hera stayed at the same seething temperature. “How arrogant. Who gave an outcast like you the right to define justice? It’s utterly pathetic, and I’ll wager it’s bound to get you killed.”

Hera packed in the Lilick Brother’s sigmas into her Pocket Inventory, then she stormed home. Zeta didn't rush to follow. He sat on the question she proposed, staring into the water, watching the Lilick Brothers sail away in their small ship. Somehow, he only saw Sir Kagan’s face in the reflection. His teacher was shaking his head.

Charge Shots - Lightning: Rings of electricity connect the user’s five fingers on each hand. The user can fire five small electric shocks like pellets from each hand at a target, which adds up to ten shots total. (175).

(A) Curl fingers over palm so that a circular ring of electricity can connect all five digits of the hand. Jab one finger forward to fire any of the five shots. Each shot is approximately 0.01 mA. Just enough to be registered as pain, but not enough to cripple a target.