Lost in the Light Ch. 02

"You haven't even introduced yourself." Mero called out as he ducked a wild haymaker swing. It caused her to step back with her fists poised to strike again. She looked at him oddly as she stood panting from the exertion. She glared at him as she backed away, utterly frustrated. She lowered her fists and stood up poised and defiant. Her chest heaved up and down, her bare breasts rising and falling, slick with rain and her nipples hard from the chill air. Her wet hair hung in faded blue clumps to her shoulders. Water even dribbled down her long ears to irritate her ear canals, causing her to shake her head violently from time to time. Despite all those inconveniences, what bothered her most was the look on Mero's face. There she stood naked before him - wet, aroused, and panting from their exchange -- she should be a very enticing vision to any male. But this Mero character looked at her with un-lusting eyes... and that pissed her off. She walked up to him until her face was within a few inches, and glared angrily with her hands on her hips. He didn't move, just met her gaze with a smug expression. "I am The Mischievous." She said calmly...right before thrusting her knee into his crotch and making very solid contact. The elusive Mero crumpled to the rooftop in agony, his spear clattered to the shingles.

"I'm surprised." She admitted as he groaned. "I apologize, I wasn't expecting there to be anything of value there."

Something moved in the distance, and she saw their rooftop dance had attracted spectators below. More soldiers carrying spears and looking just as imposing as Mero were looking up at her from the courtyard beyond. Luckily there was no one within range, but the moment she saw them leap right up onto the roofs and make their way speedily towards her, she knew her escape opportunity was quickly disappearing.

"I'm not done here yet." She said as she looked over her shoulder at the wall that was just within jumping distance. "Time for some payback." Mero had gotten to his feet, still struggling to overcome the pain in his loins. But The Mischievous had already disappeared below.

By the time night fell, the intruder hadn't been recaptured. The alarm was still in effect but no sign had been seen of her. This news distressed the priest as he knelt in prayer before the altar of his chapel. Pews lined the hall behind him all the way to a set of large double doors. He was an elderly man, with long grey hair streaked back with oils, and a wrinkled face with hollow cheeks. His nose was long and hawk like, to match his shrewd gaze whenever he opened his eyes. His robe was plain and light brown with just a rope belt to keep it secure. He was the spiritual leader of this place, and so knelt in privacy in this chapel while he prayed.

To The Mischievous he looked to be the best place to start for information.

She fell off the rafters above with grace and floated down to the ground aided by a little magic she knew. Her feet landed quietly and she walked with a silent sashay to her hips; she was enjoying stalking this prey, old men easily fell for her charms. In the time she was in hiding she had gotten her hands on some snug pants and one of those elite vests. It covered her chest well enough, but left nothing to the imagination the way she wore it open in the front. She had even captured a kitchen knife as long as her forearm, and carried it tucked behind her arm.

"I knew you would come, child" The priest said aloud. The Mischievous froze in her tracks. "I know you are there behind me, hmm, and I know you are armed. You want answers? Simply come and ask, but do not take me for a fool. Hmmph!" He said, but didn't turn around. He kept to his prayers as The Mischievous silently circled around to face him.

"Very well." She said as she came to squat before the old man. "Who are you?"

"I am the Father. I am in charge here." He stated sternly.

"What is this place?"

"A Monastery." He scoffed at her. "But we also train special soldiers here."

"What kind of soldiers?" she humored him.

"The same kind that snuck into your Zek stronghold and freed you." He snapped at her. That surprised her. The Mischievous was distracted as her mind went back to that moment in the Majestic's cells. She had thought he was just another slave come to collect her, but when this human undid her shackles he put some kind of vest on her and said a word. She woke up in a room on the surface -- here -- and had been held for interrogation ever since.

"Freed me??" She laughed. "You call that pathetic attempt at imprisonment, freedom?"

"You liked it didn't you?" He shot back, perturbed. "Hmph, you could have left at any time you wanted, but you Zeks let your sick lusts control you. You just couldn't leave until you... scratched that itch?" The Mischievous took a step back, horrified.

"You can read minds!?"

"Faugh!" the old man grunted disgusted. "No. Why would I want to see inside your depraved mind?" He gave her a sideways, disgusted look, before it melted a bit into begrudged acceptance. "You're predictable child. That's just the truth of it. But there is hope for you. You can be unpredictable when you want to. Maybe that's what he saw in you."

"Who?"

"The one that sent you here." The Father grumbled. "Not too bright though." He sighed. "We don't take prisoners child. We take students." The Mischievous crossed her arms over her partially exposed chest. One blue dyed eyebrow arched in a mix of confusion and intrigue.

"Why would I want to be one of your soldiers?"

"Same reason all the others do." He scoffed.

"Power." But she wasn't convinced. "But those kind of people never survive the training. Along the way you have to find a truth to it before you meet your end. That's the only advice I'm ever going to give."The Mischievous still wasn't satisfied, and she let it show on her face.

"There are worse things in this world than monsters that eat children. There are people powerful enough to ruin it for all of us." He looked up at her with a dark look - a dangerous look. For the first time she felt she was seeing the real "Father". But he wouldn't say any more, he just glared at her.

"Your special soldiers kill those people, don't they?"

"You aren't so dumb after all," He muttered, and snorted. The Mischievous looked down to the floor with a scowl, her brain was running at high speed digesting all of this and trying to figure out why they sent one of their men to Zecair. These kind of soldiers weren't soldiers at all, they were just plain assassins.

"So you train assassins?" She pried.

"Fugh." The old man griped. "Assassins are murderers for hire. Sinful lot, those types. We... we are soldiers of God. We start wars between nations, or we end them. Depends on who's in favor. We're called Disruptors."

"Who was the target in Zecair?" She pressed. But the old man didn't answer. "What if I don't want to be a... Disruptor."

"We don't take prisoners. Only students." He repeated, as if to answer her question. The Mischievous walked up to stand before him and brought the knife up to her side

"Who's to stop me from slitting your throat?" She dared him, and brought the blade to within inches of his face.

"Trust this girl." He gave her a stern look. "No one leaves here alive that I don't give permission to. The boys you played with outside are just trainees. The real danger here is me" He reached up, grabbed her knife with his bare hand, and with a quick flick of his wrist snapped the blade off the handle. The Mischievous reeled back, taken by surprise by the strength of this old geezer. She didn't notice him move until the sharp pain of all five inches of sharp steel pierced her thigh and split her thigh bone.

She didn't scream. Her Zecairin training gave her that. But she did crumple to the ground clutching her leg. Her whole body trembled from the pain, her hands could barely hold her leg and pinch off the blood as it flowed.

"Use your magic girl." The Father sternly said as he stood up. "You'll need that leg for your training tomorrow." He left her there alone in the chapel and opened the doors to the rain outside. The old man left into the night. Had he looked back he would have seen the bloody knife blade meant for his back fall short and clatter to the stone floor. It had taken all her strength to pull the damn thing out, she didn't have any left to clear the distance with the throw.

There she stayed for the night, alone with her pain and her humiliation. Alone to consider what the morning would bring.