July 7th, 2486 - Planet Sanctuary, Sanctuary City - Koltura District - Pazzik’s Mechanics

They sat around the table, in the little kitchen and for a long time they said nothing. Finally, Pazzik broke the silence.

‘The Teqaku family are not the most dangerous criminal organisation in the Koltura District … but they are to be feared, because they are the only organisation who utilises the Mystik Arts’, Pazzik said, his tone pensive. ‘I used to work for them, long ago … I can imagine that the current Boss will be trying to sell Abiona on the black market … if you want to attempt a rescue, it has to be tonight.’

‘Is it … worth trying to save her?’ Angora asked.

It was a harsh question, but it was on everyone’s minds.

‘Isn’t she your friend?’ Chara asked. ‘I suppose there really is no honour among thieves.’

‘We’re in over our heads here’, Ichiro said with a sigh. ‘I can see why you’d say that Angora, and believe me, I’m not completely opposed to leaving her behind … but she’s my only chance of getting my life back.’

He stood up, and paced quietly to the door. Cautiously, he half-turned and said in a low, melancholic voice, ‘… and she’s not a bad person, even if she is selfish… I can think of worst people who could take the highest position of power in the galaxy.’

Angora’s eyes wandered down to his prosthetic hand, and he let out a deep breath.

‘Your potential in the Mystik Arts is quite high, young man’, Pazzik told Ichiro, smiling mischievously. ‘You have until nightfall … if you’re going to go, why not spend the time you have training?’

‘Alright, let’s do this!’ Ichiro said with a grin. ‘Are you with me, Angora?’

Angora clenched his prosthetic hand and stood up, brow furrowed and eyes serious.

‘I … was a soldier’, Angora began. ‘I tend to think strategy, over empathy … but I haven’t been a solider for a long, long time. I don’t know whether I’d call Abiona a friend … we only just met her, after all—but I don’t want to let a bad thing happen to someone who’s been good to me … one of the only people in a long, long time. I’m with you, Ichiro.’

‘Oh brother’, Chara groaned, slumping into her hands. ‘The workshop is going to stink of sweat—this is why I never got into the Mystik Arts.’

‘… but you’re a mechanic’, Angora pointed out.

‘The hell is that supposed to mean?!’

*

The mountains of waste gave way to a great, grey wall, that stretched for miles vertically and horizontally. Fog was thick in this area, and behind her, Chara could just about make out the lights of the city they had left behind. The mansions lay in ruins; relics of a bygone age of prosperity for gangsters. They walked along a footpath overgrown with plant life, Pazzik taking the lead, the two off-worlders giving every shadow cautious attention, as though an enemy might be lurking behind even the smallest fire hydrant. The Teqaku Family Mansion was perhaps in a better state than the others, but was nonetheless a sorry sight. Old, gothic Earth architecture, shattered windows and graffiti. Chara noticed that one line of graffiti was less crude than the others, and written in black, block capitals. It read:

THOSE WHO SUFFER; SURVIVE

‘What’s the plan?’ Ichiro asked, the overgrown lawn crunching under his feet.

‘We go in through the front door … we crush any and all resistance quickly, and then search the house’, Angora said, quiet and confident. ‘Pazzik, Chara—you stay outside. Thank you for bringing us this far.’

‘There should only be two members left, who are trained in Mystik’, Pazzik insisted. ‘There’s the one who taught them Mystik Arts, and the Boss … and the Boss would want to keep her family small. She is by no means trusting … you cannot sway her with words. You’ll have to beat her in a fight.’

Chara wondered for a minute just how much her grandfather had been keeping from her. She knew he had been connected to the family in his youth, but had never questioned him about it. Some stones were best left unturned, in her opinion. Besides, if he had wanted to tell her, he would have done so without any prompting. The once-elegant double doors swung open.

*

Angora coughed. A cloud of dust billowed out from the doors and filled the air, but settled quickly. Two large staircases wound up opposite sides of the entrance way, in the centre of which a chandelier lay splayed out across a cracked mosaic floor. Colado stood before them, arms crossed and tail jittering, eyes bright, his forked tongue flickering.

‘You spooked me before, but I’m ready for you now’, Colado said, hissing venomously. ‘You won’t take another step in my direction. You’ll turn around and leave, or you won’t live to regret it.’

‘Not a chance!’ Ichiro said, and stepped past Angora. ‘Leave him to me, Angora, I can handle this one.’

‘Wait, Ichiro alone you can’t—’ Angora began, but Ichiro cut him off with a glare.

‘I’ve survived by my own wits, and my own skill, my whole life’, Ichiro said. 'I’m not about to let that change now.’

For a moment, Angora’s mouth hung open, his prosthetic arm reached out to touch Ichiro’s shoulder … but he decided against it. If this was what the young man wanted, then so be it … although he was more than a little concerned that neither of them had managed to bring out their Mystik Art, even after a full day of training—although that consisted almost entirely of concentrated meditation. There was a very real chance that they were not ready for this fight. Ichiro’s red shirt was unbuttoned down to just below his pectorals, the white flash of bandages around his abdomen occasionally coming into view as he walked. He stopped. Ichiro and Colado stared each other down, Ichiro raising his fists into a guard position.

‘You’ll never see me coming’, Colado snickered nastily. ‘Guard me, Helm of Pluto!’

Colado disappeared. He simply was no longer there. Ichiro looked around frantically, his eyes darting this way and that.

‘My father taught me the Mystik Arts, and the cops murdered him when it suited their government’s agenda…’

Ichiro spun around; the voice had come from behind, but only Angora was there, and it was not Angora’s voice.

‘… and I have taken his lessons to heart, and taught this power to others…’

It came from the front now, but the space before Ichiro was empty too. Angora knew exactly what Ichiro’s body must be going through, disoriented by this invisible enemy; pressure mounting from all sides, his ears ringing and his heart thundering.

‘… When all is said and done, as a student of these mysterious powers for so many years… I am still the most proficient killer in this family!’

Ichiro never saw the attack coming, and by the time he had reacted, it was already too late.