The Rising Sun: Episode 3 Page 3

“So did you get through with Grando’s job?”

  Lying slumped on the wooden chair lazily, Ion turned to the person who had asked the question. Monaz sat on the half broken cot across the small hut they were in, leaning against the wall behind him.

  “Yeah.” he answered with a snort. “It was a bit too easy. What about you?”

  Monaz frowned. “My assassination almost got goofed up.”

  “What do you mean ‘almost’?” asked Alcrox, a short Iveling boy sitting in another rugged wooden chair at the corner of the small hut.

  “Cops?” asked Ion.

  Monaz nodded, and then smiled suddenly. “Oh, I showed them why they shouldn’t have messed with me.”

  “Of course you did,” said Ion. “If you didn’t you wouldn’t be a mystic.” He turned to Alcrox. “What about you, Al? Did you kill the target Crooger gave you?”

  “Oh, I had a hurdle or two along the way,” said Alcrox. “But I got him at the end. Little squib almost wet himself when he found out it was no ordinary bounty hunter comin after him.”

  The three of them laughed cruelly.

  They sat idle for some time, and a bored silence fell over the hut.

  Bounty hunters were common. And so were bounty hunters who lived together in groups. But bounty hunter groups who were all mystics … Now there was something unusual. And terrifying.

  Ion was living with four other young mystic boys his age. And the five of them, together, were successfully spreading fear far and wide across the spectrum. The five of them worked as bounty hunters and assassins, helping to hunt down targets for various illegal organisations across the spectrum. Crime lords, terrorists, and plenty of other members of the criminal underworld hired them for tracking down people they wanted, and for killing them. And the fact that they were mystics, contrary to scaring normal people away, attracted crime bosses and terrorists to them. They flocked to them for services such as hunting and killing, having realised the true value of their supernatural powers.

  To the rest of the world, they were nothing but a menace, a class of different creatures who were meant feared and kept away from. To the rest of the world, they had no value … but Ion and his friends found their value here. In the criminal world of thugs, crime lords and terrorists. In this world, they and their powers were supremely valued. And they were generously paid for as well. Countless illegal employers made use of their mystic powers to help have their targets hunted down, or assassinated. This was where they belonged, and where they always would.

  The world had shunned them, for being different. For being mystics. They had been cast out, condemned, prosecuted … and they had suffered for the sole reason that the rest of the world could not accept what they were. They had no place in that world, which hated and feared them. But the group of them had found their true place and their purpose here. In casting terror back into the hearts of those in that world that had condemned them. This was their message to the rest of the world. This was their way of repaying the treatment they had received from the rest of mankind. They saw no reason to show mercy to anyone living out there … and they would enjoy every drop of blood they shed amongst the people of that cruel, cold world.

  Ion felt a twitch rise to his face.

  He shook off the heavy whirl of thoughts, and brought his attention back to the present. They were waiting for the last two members of their gang, who were out with their hunts and assassinations.

  “Your brother should have finished his assassination by now.” Ion said, turning to Alcrox. “Why isn’t he back yet?”

  Alcrox gave a grunt of laughter. “He probably took off on another hunt. Try calling him.”

  Ion drew out his z-com and dialed. The call was answered, and a holographic screen came to life over his z-com, staring out of which was a thin face.

  “You done yet?” asked Ion. “we’re waiting for you.”

  “Yeah, I’m almost at the hut now.” he responded, nodding. “I’ll be there in less than a minute.” The line disconnected, letting the holographic screen fade back to nothingness.

  Alcrox’s brother and Ion were the unofficial leaders of this group … and the greatest of friends as well. The bond of friendship between them was deeper than any other.

  Less than a minute later, the flimsy wooden door of the hut they had built swung over, and a young Iveling strode in.

  “Talk about a long day.” commented Vonayz, chuckling.

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