11.
WEAR
THOSE GLOVES
Nixion
frowned at the filthy underside of the car outside the front of his house and
feeling as calm as he ever could be. Admittedly,
this was not very calm at all, but it was calm none the less and at least it
was better than he had been a few hours previously, back in the Sanctuary. It
was something, and something would have to do. No one would be bothering him
for a few more hours either. That was something else, another thing that would
have to do.
His brow
was furrowed and Nixion frowned at the underside, scanning the pipe that ran
from one end to the other. He needed to do something that did not involve any of
his usual life; nothing that involved magic or fighting or vampires or
Necromancers or Sanctuaries and definitely nothing that involved Mist. And
seeing as the only thing Nixion knew how to do other than fight in his free
time was fix cars that was what he had decided to do. Fighting was too
familiar. Deciding that the problem was not underneath, despite the oddly
different design of it that had been puzzling Nixion for twenty minutes now, he
rolled sideways and stood up and got a burst of sunlight in his eyes.
Grumbling
darkly, Nixion shielded his eyes with a raised arm and made his way over to the
front of the car where he pushed the bonnet up. Nixion surveyed the contents of
the front for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes and reached down into the
engine and pulled something out, something that was obviously not meant to be
there. It was a rust old knife, jammed in-between two important looking parts
of the car that Nixion did not precisely know the names of. Shrugging, he slid
the knife into his belt and went back to surveying the insides for any further problems
that may be there.
This was
what Nixion had once done in his spare time other than demolish punching bag
after punching bag; fix cars. He did not run an official business, nor was he
actually employed by anyone; people simply came to him and requested he fix
their car problems. He did not know how they had managed to find their way to
his house, but he didn’t ask either. He fixed the cars and got a few bucks for
his trouble. In recent years, however, Nixion had not had many ‘customers’ and
his lifestyle ended up revolving even more about vicious attacks with his fists
and machete.
Nixion had
been lucky; a man had walked up to him the moment he returned from the
Sanctuary the previous day. He figured this was a good thing, because training
against his punching bag again was going to be all too familiar to recent
events. This was going to mean that he would have to think about things again. Nixion
did not want to have to think. Nixion was sick of having to think. He was sick
of life too, at the moment, but he wasn’t going to let life win this time. So
he kept going with that. Thinking,
however, was going to be taking a break for a while. Sure, fixing the car had
required thinking, but at least it was thinking that he could figure things out
with. The car was a distraction, and a distraction warmly welcomed by Nixion at
that. Fighting was another thing that would be taking a break for he did not
know how long. He was sick of fighting too. Thinking, fighting, life. None of
these things were particularly good things to Nixion right now.
This
surprised him, though. There was once a time when fighting was all he wanted to
do, was his only care in the world, even with his regular tasks of fixing cars
here and there. He did fix the cars, but fighting was still the only thing on
his mind. There was a time when fighting was all he wanted to do.
Nixion
shook his head at the car, having found no more problems with the engine and
strode around to the driver door. He opened it, turned the key and felt the
engine growl, coming to life. Satisfied, he turned the key again, turning it
off, and shut the door.
Done for
the day, he sat down and examined the knife in an effort to block the tide of
bad thoughts that were threatening to swarm back into his head. He had hoped,
after a nights rest, he might be back to normal. But no, he had woken up
confused, disorientated and thoroughly sick of absolutely everything. He wanted
to be left alone. And yes, he was alone,
but he that was not going to remain the same way for long; Stavan would be
arriving in a few hours.
He cursed
and forced the knife into the grass beside him, muttering darkly again. Now
that he had thought about Stavan, more thoughts of his usual life that would
resume all to soon were swarming back to him again. He thought about Mist for
the first time since the previous night, and the anger that Nixion had had with
him for so many years now blossomed inside of him, yearning to get out, and
Nixion welcomed the familiar sensation, to hate, to loathe, to want to rage, to
kill someone, something.
How could
Mist betray him? He was the closest thing he had to a friend. He had even come
to regard him as a friend in the past
few days, Nixion was not even sure how many of them had passed since Mist,
Kali, Mahogany and Thomas had appeared on his doorstep. His fist clenched
tightly around the hilt of the rust knife as his thoughts redirected to Thomas
who was now dead.
Thomas had
been killed by Keeve, yes, but had it in fact been Mist who had sold him, them,
out? Was it he who had really killed
Thomas? Had he sold everyone out? Or was it someone else after all? The Grand
Mage could be entirely wrong…and yet he could have been entirely correct. He
didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know much of anything
anymore. All Nixion did knww was
that he could only trust one person: Stavan.
While
Nixion had been in his forced state of insanity, he had trusted absolutely no
one (this may have had something to do with the fact that he was insane) and no one had trusted him in
return. Even if the person in question did not mind the killing he did, or in
fact were killers themselves, they did not trust him. If there was one thing he
had learnt, it was you had to trust at least one person. He did not
particularly know why, but he felt better when he trusted someone. It meant he
was not alone. Even if this sense of security was indeed false, it was a nice
sense all the same and one he had become quite accustomed to over the years. That
one person whom he trusted had once been Mist. Now it was Stavan, because
Nixion simply was not able to trust Mist any longer. Stavan was the one he was
relying on now.
“Yo, short
stuff!” a familiarly cocky voice called from behind him.
Think of
the Devil…
Nixion
looked up from the ground to see Stavan walking towards him, smirking his cocky
smirk. His world lit up. Just a little. And he grinned.
They were
in Nixion’s backyard, where the grass was unkempt and tire marks ran across
everything from the lawn to the dead flowers. There was a lone car there, with
fading yellow paint and the bonnet open. It was the car Nixion had been building
himself for the past three. There was also a drive-around lawn mower near the mouldy
fence.
“Nice
place,” Stavan grinned, kicking an empty soft drink can that was lying on the
ground.
Nixion
ignored him but grinned to himself again as he turned away from Stavan.
“You
should get a dog.” He said unexpectedly, making Nixion look up in surprise.
“You look like you’d like a dog.”
“I like
dogs,” Nixion said and smiled. “Problem is, dogs don’t like me.”
“Ah, you
gotta show it who’s boss,” Stavan explained as if he was explaining why elephants
were unable to fly to an overly-emotional three year old. “You gotta command it.”
“Yeah,
sure.” Nixion looked down at his boots, still smiling.
“I think a
Chiwawa.” Stavan decided, the laugh hidden in his voice. “It’d suit you both.
You’d hate it and it’d hate you. You’d make such a pair, little yappy things
that look even stupider than the-”
“Shut up,”
Nixion laughed, and aimed a kick and Stavan’s shin.
To his
astonishment, Stavan leg blurred, came up towards Nixion, hooked his upped leg,
twisted and Nixion somehow ended up on the ground.
“Gotta be
quicker, little killer,” He smirked again.
Nixion
panted for a second, wondering how he had managed to do that. Then he used his
hands to push himself up faster than most could blink, and punched Stavan’s face.
At least, that was what he had tried to do, only his face was not there anymore
and Nixion’s fist met thin air instead. Stavan had twisted, spun and had ended
up on Nixion’s left. He hooked his left arm with both hands in a lock, and
pushed down hard.
Nixion
gasped, the pain sending him to his knees. His arm was still being held, but
Nixion fought to ignore the pain that was now beginning to eat at him and
rolled forwards, loosening the grip on his arms and sent a kick into Stavan’s
knee.
Stavan let
go of Nixion, but not for long. The leg Nixion had not managed to attack came
soaring forwards and sunk into Nixion’s stomach which caused him to moan in
agony and folded into a ball.
“You
should make sure you can follow through if you attack someone like that kiddo.”
Stavan said, his voice having not changed the slightest bit.
Nixion
opened his eyes and Stavan was standing beside him, not a care in the world.
Nixion
muttered something that could have been ‘hate you’…
“Yeah,
right,” Stavan said and flashed him a smirk. “I bet my big toe you can stand
worse that that. That was nothing, I
guarantee. I also bet you can do better, that was terrible.”
Nixion
rolled over, closed his eyes and flipped himself up onto his feet.
He had taken
worse. Much worse in fact, but Nixion was hoping to take Stavan by surprise. He
flashed and moved in, his right hand going to a hook, but he changed half way
through and spun in the air, bringing his right hand right around for a
back-fist to Stavan’s face, but Stavan had not fallen for it and pushed
Nixion’s fist away before he knew what was happening and moved under it, going
for a jab to his ribs. Nixion folded into the attack, sideways now, and rolled
around it again, fighting back the pain, and rammed into Stavan. He evidently
had not been expecting something so rash as a shoulder-barge and Stavan did not
have time to raise a guard against the powerful ram, despite his Cleaver
abilities. Stavan was forced backwards and Nixion did not stop. Instead, he
piled on the speed, hoping to trip Stavan, and brought his free hand upwards at
the same time, going for an attack to the gut. However, Stavan pushed his fist
away again with ease and somehow managed to execute a summersault over the
still-charging Nixion and landed perfectly behind him.
Nixion
spun, his guard already flying up, but he had been too late. Stavan was already
striking, one powerful kick to his knee and a strong fist to his face sent
Nixion half stumbling backwards, half collapsing to the ground, then end result
of which looked something like a deformed sprawl. He wasted no time for nursing
injuries, though, and flipped himself over, avoiding another fist to the face
that sunk deep into the ground and sent bits of dirt flying everywhere. Nixion
leapt to his feet while Stavan pulled his fist out of the ground and charged
forwards again, hoping to push him off balance, but Stavan seemed to have
learnt from the last time and stepped sideways. He swept and Nixion fell to the
ground again. Another roll sent Nixion facing upwards and a moment later he had
sent a kick into Stavan’s chest and he jumped to his feet again.
Nixion
tried to punch Stavan, but he moved below it, grabbed Nixion’s wrist, dragged
him forward so he stumbled and used his other arm to elbow Nixion in the chest.
Nixion got
all the wind knocked out of him, and he staggered backwards. Stavan just shook
his head disappointedly. Nixion felt anger rise up in him, and he lunged
forward, trying to tackle Stavan to the ground.
Stavan
moved fast. He crouched down under Nixion, sent his hands up, hitting Nixion in
the chest and stomach in a way so he was holding Nixion above him, like a sort
of wrestler. He threw Nixion across the backyard and he hit the grass.
“Your
anger makes you predicable and stupid,” Stavan was saying while Nixion stared
up at the sky, having no idea how he got there or why he was hurting so much more
than he was a few seconds ago. “Strong, yes, but if you fight only with
strength you’re going tp lose at least once. And all it takes is one defeat and
you’re dead.”
The pain
hit Nixion hard and he gasped.
“You’re
not bad little man, but you’re not terribly good either.”
Nixion
staggered to his feet.
“Don’t
even think about attacking me again, or this time I’ll break your arm.”
Nixion
nodded feebly and stumbled inside, collapsing into a chair. He stared at the
wall for a moment as Stavan walked inside behind him, and then forced himself
to his feet again, striding over to the sink to get a drink.
Compared
to the front and backyard’s of Nixion’s property he did not actually officially
own, his actual house was very nice. Very tidy, very clean. Even, polished
wooden boards lined the floor and walls and nice furniture were arranged neatly
in the next room. Nixion had not done this to the place himself, the old owners
had before they had ‘unexpectedly been killed’ a day before Nixion attacked the
Sanctuary.
He grabbed
a glass and filled it with water before walking weirdly back to Stavan. His
rose the glass to his lips before pausing for a fraction of a second. He saw
Stavan’s eyes narrow in that fraction of a second and Nixion acted fast, the
glass flying from his hand and towards Stavan. The ex-Cleaver sent an open arm
flying sideways, smashing the glass of water into a million small pieces
effortlessly. He leapt forwards and went for a tackle at Nixion and his first
impulse was to kick Stavan, but a split second before he attacked, a second
option came into Nixion’s mind, and in the split second, he went with that
second option. As Stavan reached him, Nixion brought his elbows down on
Stavan’s back. Stavan roared, and instead of the tackle, Stavan just flew into
Nixion and they went tumbling. Nixion’s arms were forced to go over his head
when Stavan rolled over him. Stavan jumped up and forward, spinning around in
case Nixion got up.
Nixion
just stayed on the ground. His shoulders were aching, his chest had been hit
more than once and he was having trouble getting his breath back. He hadn’t
given up; he was just resting… and would probably do so until he didn’t have
the chance to fight Stavan again. Coincidence.
“I thought
for sure you would kick me,” Stavan said. Nixion looked at him and had a flash
of satisfaction as he saw him rubbing his back, face screwed up in pain. “You
didn’t. I didn’t expect that. Well done,” there was a pause where he continued
to rub his back. “You hit be right in the joints…” he muttered.
“Anytime,”
Nixion moaned. He hurt everywhere. Stavan knew exactly where to hit him and did
so.
“That was
better. Let’s call it a draw, huh? I’m thirsty,” he said. His smirk was nowhere
to be seen now.
Nixion
laughed feebly and rolled over onto his back and caught sight of the floor that
was now scattered with small shards of glass. “Whatever you say…” he gasped.
Stavan
bent over and offered a hand to Nixion, a hand which he took and was pulled to
his feet.
“Where are
we meant to sit?” Stavan asked, looking around the kitchen and kicking away
some of the glass into the backyard beyond.
“Come on”
Nixion said, walking out and not bothering with drinks. Stavan followed him
downstairs, to the basement, which Nixion had converted to a large training
area. Yes, Nixion generally did his simple, easy training (the destruction of
many punching bags) upstairs in the living room, but the basement was used
whenever he was feeling like a larger challenge.
“Not bad,”
Stavan said as he walked past a large case of various sized machete’s that was
hanging on the wall.
Nixion had
not been down here in a week now, but it was still the tidiest place in the
house, even if it didn’t have much light. He flicked a switch on the wall and
the lights he installed himself flickered to life, illuminating the place.
Stavan walked to the seven chairs and table in the corner at once and Nixion
joined him a few seconds after.
They sat
down, in silence for a while, then Nixion got bored again.
“So… what
do you do now?” he asked.
“I’m a
bounty hunter now,” Stavan replied lazily.
“Oh,
really?” Nixion did not know this. “So do you usually have to kill people or
just hurt them?”
“Normally
I just hurt them,” Stavan shrugged. “People don’t take much convincing to come
along after they’re hurt, you know?”
“I know,”
Nixion nodded. “But what else do you do?”
“You mean
like you?” he asked. “Training, fighting and fixing cars?”
Nixion
paused. Was that all he did with his life? Didn’t he have anything outside
that?
“I do
other stuff,” Nixion muttered, completely lying.
“Yeah, I
forgot, you have a side hobby of cleaning houses.” Stavan was grinning.
“But do you do anything else?”
“I fight,”
Stavan shrugged. “I might not be a Cleaver anymore, but I still care about
people, so I fight anyone that deserves it.”
“Unless
they’ve got a price on their head?” Nixion asked sceptically, a smirk now
raising his lips.
And then
they got into a long conversation about fights, Nixion mentioning some of his
favourites, while Stavan talked about ones so farfetched that Nixion wondered
if he had made some of them up. It was rather interesting, Nixion thought, and
it was nice, just to talk. He didn’t get to talk to people as a friend much
anymore.
And then
there was a loud scraping at the entrance to the basement and Nixion leaped to
his feet, one hand reaching for his machete, the other to the rusty knife he
had taken from the car. But it was only Mist, climbing down the stars into the
basement, having found and opened the door already, a bag in one hand and a
frown on his face.
“Yes,
please come in,” Nixion said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, returning to
his seat.
“Nice to
see you too, Nix,” Mist grinned and Nixion’s insides squirmed for a moment. Mist
walked forwards and joined the two at the table, placing the bag on top of it
before taking a small, wrapped package out of it.
“I got you
an early birthday present,” Mist said to Nix, tossing him the package. Though
Nixion though Mist may have been teasing him, he detected no trace of amusement
in his tone or in his expression.
“You’re
birthday’s coming up?” Stavan asked Nixion and he nodded stiffly. Nixion did
not like birthdays. They reminded him of home. He did not like thinking about
home. It reminded him of his kidnapping. He did not like thinking about his
kidnapping. It reminded him of the torture. He did not like torture…
The
package was wrapped entirely in a smooth, black wrapping. sMist nodded at him
and Nixion ripped open the package carefully and a pair of black gloves fell
onto his lap. Nixion’s brow furrowed in confusion as he examined the gloves
properly. They were of material he could not identify properly, like the
wrapping, like Mist’s clothing. This must have cost Mist a fortune, Nixion
couldn’t really believe he had spent so much money on him. He slid them on and
they fitted Nixion’s hands perfectly, he barely could tell they were there.
They made him feel warm…
“They’re
probably the most expensive gloves you’ll find anywhere,” he said to Nixion. “They’re
protective material as well. You could punch your way through a brick wall and
not even get a bruise.”
Nixion
stared at the gloves for a second longer, then stared at Mist before nodding
his thanks, having temporarily lost his words. Mist nodded back to him and then
got down to business.
“So,” Mist
began. “We need a plan.”
“You mean
we’ve been going on a whim until now?” Stavan asked with a frown. “Oh, that’s
brilliant, that is.”
Mist
clenched his jaw, but otherwise ignored Stavan. Nixion realised he took that as
an accusation about how Mist’s plans had been going wrong, about Thomas’s
death. Nixion found himself wondering if it was Mist’s fault once again.
“I think
you should know something,” Mist said to Stavan. “We have a traitor.”
Stavan
raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And who is it?” He asked.
“We don’t
know,” Mist admitted, giving Nixion a glance. “So I think we should make some
estimated guesses based on what we already know.”
“Hang on,”
Stavan said, sitting up. “I’m assuming that you two trust each other already?”
he asked, pointing to Nixion and Mist. Mist nodded and Nixion made a
half-hearted grunt, not sure of the answer to that question at all anymore. “So
how do you know you can trust me if
you already know there’s a traitor?”
“We
don’t,” Mist said. “But I’ve looked at your track record with the Sanctuary.
You were fired, yeah, but I’ve also read everything you’ve done since you were
on your own. As far as I can see, you’re still working for a little thing I
like to call the ‘Good Side’.”
“Ah,”
Stavan said and settled back into his previous position of relaxation. “That’s fair
enough I suppose. Continue.”
Mist
pulled out something from the bag and dumped it on the table, putting the rest
of the bag on the ground beside him.
“The
files,” he said. “Of everyone in our little group.”
So they
started, going through everyone’s profiles, adding bits of information they
knew personally about the person. Their histories, their personalities, the
people they knew, the people they know, they’re criminal record, they’re
occupation, absolutely everything. They started with the least likely, the ones
that Nixion, Stavan and Mist thought they could trust most and worked their way
up to the least likely.
They
managed to cancel out a few people who they could assume was not the traitor, but not necessarily trust completely.
This short list was made of Kali Nole and Neon Dark. When Stavan had asked
about Mahogany as well, Mist had simply said that she did not seem at all the
type to betray the group to The Remaining and therefor was also one of the ones
that would most likely be the traitor. Stavan agreed to this after hearing his
explanation, but Nixion did not particularly understand Mist’s logic in that. Nixion
had not agreed with the addition of the Necromancer to the list, but Zathract
and, to the surprise of Mist and much as Nixion, Stavan were particularly
persistent on the matter. In the end, Zathract promised to go and see Vai Melt
soon and get as much information about Dark from her and any other Necromancer
willing to help as he could. Finally, Nixion agreed to this, grudgingly and
unwillingly, but agreed none the less, and so they moved on to the next list.
The people
they discussed next were on the list of people that were beings they could
trust most definitely and completely outright.
They
managed to come up with a list of people they could trust without a doubt. Nixion
and Stavan both agreed that there should be absolutely no one on that list, but
were both surprised when Mist suggested Lyra Blue.
“What?”
Stavan asked, brow furrowed. “I suppose it’s reasonable that you may want to
trust someone other than us two, but Lyra?”
Mist
nodded, unfazed and firm on the matter.
A long
conversation arose on the matter of Lyra Blue and it was a conversation that
Nixion did not join in in. Mist remained as firm on her inclusion as ever and
Stavan persisted stubbornly against it.
“She can
be trusted,” Mist said, leaning forwards as the voices of him and Stavan rose
steadily louder. “She’s never going to do anything that doesn’t have a large
advantage in it for her! The Remaining can’t offer her an amount of money that would tempt her, she’s
practically rich already with all the weapons she sells and when we asked her
to join us she even went as far to say that she’d deal with the matter
herself!”
“But
that’s exactly it!” Stavan yelled, slamming a fist onto the table. “If she
thought she could deal with the thing herself, then she obviously knew what was
going on! In fact, it’s probably her that’s
the traitor!”
Nixion
rubbed his eyes and decided to speak up.
“If I had
to choose one person outside of us three to trust,” he said, “It would be Lyra. I’d say we should put her
on this list.”
“You said
that no one should be going on here,” Stavan reminded him.
“I changed
my mind,” he said. “I think we can trust Lyra.”
“Thank
you.” Mist nodded at him and Nixion was not sure what to do. Stavan pinched the
bridge of his nose, then looked up.
“Yes,” he
said finally. “Okay, Lyra Blue then. We’ll tell her everything, I assume?”
“Yes,”
Mist nodded, already scanning the rest of the group. “Okay, I say that everyone
else we keep a close eye on and make sure we track they’re every move.”
“Everyone
else?” Stavan asked, surveying the remaining people in their group.
“Mahogany
Reen,” Mist started, reading them out, “Jake Hunter and Gabriel Cobalt.”
Nixion
raised his eyebrows. “Gabriel? I thought he said he wasn’t helping…”
“He did,”
Mist said. “And I still think he’s going to end up doing it anyway.”
“Gabriel
Cobalt?” Stavan asked. “Isn’t the guy who…?” he took a look at Cobalt’s picture
in his profile. “Ugh. He tried to kill me once…”
“He’s
tried to kill me seven times now,” Mist said, waving a careless, gloved hand at
Stavan. “And I’m just a few years
younger than you.”
“Whatever,”
Stavan said. “Is that it then?”
“One last
thing,” Mist said, pulling out one last profile. “Slayn Redeem. She’s an old
friend of mine, powerful, strong and bloody impatient. Lyra would like her. You
too,” he nodded to Nix.
“Another
person…?” Nixion had his doubts.
“Can she
be trusted?” Stavan asked slowly.
“Completely,”
Mist said.
“Well, I
suppose that’s okay then…” Stavan muttered.
“She’s
going on the list with Lyra and us three, then?” Nixion asked, deciding to let
it go.
“She is,”
Mist nodded.
“Okay
then…” Nix muttered. “Is that it then?”
“That’s
all of them…” Mist muttered, surveying the profiles once again.
“Wonderful,”
Stavan sat back in his chair. “Now what?”
Mist
leaned back in his chair as well.
“Okay,” he
said, after a moment’s thought. “Can we all agree that we’re basically
screwed?”
Nixion and
Stavan nodded.
“So, this
is where we form the plan,” Mist continued. “From now on, every time we go out
to fight someone or look for clues or something, we’re going to divide
ourselves into four pairs. I’ll go with Neon Dark, Stavan, you go with Kali,
Nixion with Mahogany and Lyra can taker Hunter.”
“Uh…”
Stavan muttered. “No…I’d rather go with someone else, to be honest.”
So they
had dated then, Nixion thought to himself, confirming the matter that had first
arose when Stavan had first been brought into the Sanctuary with Kali, Thomas
and Mahogany.
Mist
paused, but only for a moment. “Right,” he said. “Alright then: Stavan, you can
go along with Hunter and Lyra can take Kali.”
Stavan
nodded and fell silent again. Nixion fought another smirk.
“So,” Mist
continued, “This will mean that each of us, the people we trust, will each have
one individual to focus on for as long as this goes on for. We’ll all meet in
private, us three and Lyra I mean, and report how each of the people have been
acting. If there’s anything suspicious they’ve been doing, anything different
or weird, whatever. The point is, from now on we’re going to need to know what
everyone is doing. Every move.”
Stavan
nodded, but then frowned.
“Hang on,”
he said. “Yeah, okay, we’re all trusting each other, us three and Lyra, yeah?
But what if one of us is actually the traitor? I mean, no offense of course,
but for all we know, you could be havin’ secret meetings with The Remaining
every night.”
“I could
be, yes,” Mist said. “And yet so could you, maybe Nix is as well and Lyra could
be the head of The Remaining operation. Yes, we don’t know anything for sure,
but if we don’t do something along
the lines of what I’ve just said, we’re going to be a lot worse off. None of us
will have anything to work off and we will
be completely screwed.”
There was
silence.
“That is,”
Nixion said slowly, “Without a doubt, the most illogical thing I’ve heard you
say. A thousand things could go wrong. Any of us could report everything we’re
doing to The Remaining, organize an ambush from the inside, compromise
everything we do, take hold of the Sanctuary with our own plans used against us and basically anything else they could
think of.”
“And yet,
you’re agreeing with me?” Mist asked him.
“I am,”
Nixion said. “Someone had to.”
“Wouldn’t
it be better if we kept everyone together?” Stavan asked. “I’m sure that
everyone could overpower any one person, whoever the traitor is, when we find
out.”
Mist shook
his head.
“If they
really are organized, then they’re
most likely going to be able to predict everything we do. They could have any
number of powers we don’t know about hidden from us and strength that we didn’t
know about. If we report on everyone then we’ll have time to plan against a
suspect and organize ourselves for an attack.
“If we
don’t, we’ll be putting everyone in danger. We keep in groups of two and with
any luck, the traitor will slip up”
“So we’re
going off pure luck?” Stavan asked incredulously.
“Luck’s
gotten me a long way over the years,” Mist shrugged.
“All the
same,” Stavan persisted. “It’s still to unsure of anything to be a good plan.”
“What do
you suggest then?” Mist asked him.
There was
another short pause.
“Fine…”
Stavan muttered. “But it’s still a stupid plan.”
“It’s
still a stupid plan,” Nixion agreed.
“It’s
still a stupid plan,” Mist nodded. “But it’s the only one we have.
“So we’re
going to have to make do with it?” Stavan asked.
“Yup.”
“I was
afraid you’d say that…” Stavan muttered.
“So what
are we doing next?” Nixion asked. “Any leads? Any plans? Where are we going?”
Mist
smiled and stood up. “I think I may have an idea,” he said. “And you’re not
going to like it.”
“That
sounds suspiciously bad,” Nixion said, and then nodded.
“I don’t
like it.”
