The Rising Sun: Episode 3

The Rising Sun

Clocks

BOOK ONE

J HAWK

Copyright
© 2014 J Hawk

EPISODE 3

Two years ago

The rough crackling of the fire was the only
sound heard through the silence. Dyano leaned with his pillow
against the wall behind his bamboo cot. Going days without bathing
could prove bad for a Blackling: he felt a mild itching sensation
in the short black fur all over his body. Dyano rounded his
thoughts back to his current situation, reminding himself that his
black fur was hardly what mattered now.

He gazed at the small fire he had built a
few feet to the side of his cot. The fire was meant not only to
keep him warm, but also to keep away unwanted beasts that might
happen to come prowling nearby. He was now at the far edge of the
village, and a jungle like, part wilderly region was opening up at
the end of the expanse he was now amidst. Behind him, at the other
end of the sand strewn expanse, the faint outlines of the first
huts of the village could be seen. The village was one of the
numerous cluttered all over the planet of Gornos. This happened to
be one of the few planets in the outer spectrum which had a non
negligible inhabitance of men, and the reason being it came at the
first layer of the outer spectrum … far away from the more barbaric
section that came in the deeper layers.

Dyano reached to the ground beside his cot,
and felt his hand land on a clutter of firewood - the stock he had
kept gathered for keeping the fire on through the night. Scooping
up one of the unused branches, he twirled it absent mindedly, his
eyes now carrying overhead, to the star sprayed chasm above. The
night had wrapped across the planet like a dark blanket, immersing
the world in another quiet slumber…

If given the choice, Dyano would not have
chosen this type of life, but he knew better than to grumble over
things that couldn’t be changed. His attitude was what had kept him
up against the tough pace of the world around him. Any other man
would have withered in the intensity of the glare that life had put
him under through his years. The challenges of his day were far
beyond ordinary ones … But Dyano had been moulded with a strong
spirit, which had helped him keep up. He would not allow his will
to bend when facing life’s hindrances. No matter how impossible, or
momentous they were.

He threw his hands back in a wide, muscle
flexing stretch, yawning sleepily. As his head sank into his
pillow, he felt a familiar cozy sensation tugged at him…

Well, so long to another day…

He spent a moment to focus on the fire
seething a few feet away. The warm glow of the fire seemed to melt
right through his bones. He considered the twig in his hand, then
looked at the pile of branches lying gathered beside him. The
sleepy side of him wanted to forget about the fire and just go to
sleep. But reason kicked in, reminding him that he was now in the
middle of a half grown forest, and that the fire was his only
solace in safety.

As he usually did, Dyano submitted to the
greater side of him. Fighting off the sleepiness spreading through
him, he slowly drew himself up. Then, gathering the pile of
firewood with both hands, he slowly trotted over and dropped them
one by one onto the fire, giving a moment’s gap between two of
them.

When all the wood had been swallowed by the
fire, it was now almost twice the size it had been before. Now
capable of enduring through the entire night. Spreading his hands
in another yawn, Dyano turned and walked back to the cot. Now able
to peacefully surrender to the drowsiness, he prepared to fling
himself over his cot.

But there was someone else on it.

“Hello there,” said the red haired boy with
burning orange eyes, staring at Dyano with a creepy, twisted smile.
“Have a seat, won’t you?” He beckoned to the other side of the
cot.

Dyano had frozen to the spot, attempting to
free his mind from the shock clutching it. After the stretch of a
few long moments, he said, “Who are you?

“A messenger.” the boy replied.

Dyano stood just as still, watching the boy
unblinkingly. “A messenger?”

“Yes,” said the boy, cocking his head
mildly. “You’ve made enemies all over the spectrum, Dyano … a lot
of enemies. And you’ve been hiding from them for quite long now.
But not anymore. Your time’s come to an end.” His smile widened.
“That’s why I’m here.”

Dyano’s mind had raced halfway ahead of the
entire situation. “So you’re one of them … my enemies?”

The boy sat straighter on the cot. “Like I
said … I’m just a messenger.”

Dyano steadied himself, knowing that he had
just wandered into one of those situations that needed all his
presence of mind … and all his courage.

“You’re making a mistake, kid.” he hissed,
trying to infuse as much menace into his voice as possible.

The boy continued to sit stand there, his
molten coloured eyes searing into Dyano. Something seemed to churn
within them, a wrath powerful as it was deadly. Dyano felt a
prickly tingling of his intuition, warning him … telling him to
back off. Suppressing the feeling, he stood in front of the
messenger of his enemies, feeling the bravery of his old days gush
back to him.

“I don’t make mistakes.” The boy’s smile
stretched longer, and something within his orange eyes seemed to
burn brighter. “But when I do, I make them real big.”

Dyano knew the moment had come … and his
mind jolted into high speed.

He whipped out the small, slightly blunted
knife from his back pocket and flung it at his opponent, who lay
sprawled on the cot. As though without the meanest care in the
world.

The boy’s eyes fell to focus over the knife,
watching in elaborate slow motion as it slowly came gliding towards
him. And then, an inch from his chest, the knife fell dead in
motion - it stopped in mid air, and stayed frozen just before his
chest.

Dyano’s mouth fell open.
It’s a
mystic…

The mystic slowly took hold of the knife
frozen in the air an inch from his chest. Rising from the cot, he
strode upto Dyano who stood there, senseless with dread and
panic.

“It can’t be…” breathed Dyano, as the boy
slowly walked before him.

“I once thought so too.” The boy said,
nodding.

And the boy sent his fist flying into
Dyano’s face … and with a shudder, Dyano felt the entire world go
blank.

__________

A large room, with a rare collection of
furniture and items spread within. The windows raised over the
walls were majestic and large, allowing thick beams of shining,
silver moonlight to glide through and fill the insides. A lonesome
figure stood at the end of the large room, seemingly absorbed in
thought. He was adorned in an elegant brown suit. He stood opposite
to the door of the room, which lay sealed shut behind him. The
silence in the large, palace like room was absolute. The man in the
brown suit stood on the spot in his thought absorbed state for a
while.

Then, the room door behind him slid open. A
boy in his mid teens with unkempt crimson hair walked though,
carrying what looked like a body over his shoulders. Ion stopped
halfway inside the large room, heaved the body of Dyano off his
back and threw it to the ground heavily. The body rolled once,
coming to a stop a few feet before the man in the brown suit.

“It’s done.” Ion announced, dusting his
hands.

The man in the brown suit slowly turned, his
eyes falling on the body on the floor. Grando stared at the
unconscious body for a few long seconds, before slowly raising his
gaze to Ion with a smile.

“Of course it is,” he said, nodding. “That
would have been decided the very day I met you.”

“It wasn’t as hard as you said it was,” said
Ion, strolling forward casually. “The guy was hiding at the edge of
the outer spectrum. So what now?”

Grando walked upto the body of the
unconscious anti terrorist leader, and unleashed a flat kick to the
man’s belly. The limp body was thrown to the other side.

“Dear Dyano had founded a prominent special
forces squad,” explained Grando. “An anti terror group, which was
in close ties with the Naxim itself. He was threatening to bring
down not only my terrorist organisation, but almost every other in
this cluster, and several other criminal oganisations. He had
become a threat to countless illegal organisations across the
spectrum, and we needed to put a stop to him. Sensing danger for
himself, he fled, going into hiding. For a long time, he had
vanished. But I knew just the thing to have him found and brought
down.” He looked back up at Ion, smiling. “Just the thing … the one
unfailing method: I decide to pitch in a call to my very favourite
bounty hunter/assassin … and the best one there is. I get Ion on
the case, to track down and bring this man back. And what a
surprise,” He strolled over towards Ion, circling him slowly. “He
returns with the prize in less than a week.” He patted Ion on the
back gently. “This is the reason I just love mystics.”

“It was too bad you wanted him alive,” said
Ion, an inheld growl in his tone. “I would’ve enjoyed taking him
apart.”

“I know you would’ve,” laughed Grando. “So
would I. but unfortunately, I need Dyano alive. I’m going to hold
him ransom, against the other members of his squad. It’s the only
way we can stop them all.”

He gave Ion another friendly pat. “I’ve got
another one I could use your help in tracking down, by the
way.”

“Dead or alive?” asked Ion with a sense of
savage eagerness.

“Alive.” answered Grando, and Ion’s look of
eagerness slackened. But Grando gave a harsh chuckle. “Alive … but
only so we can torture him to death. And you can join in with
that.”

The savage fervour was re kindled in Ion’s
face. “All right, then.”

“This is a particular
vigilante
whose
been bothering me for some time now.” Grando explained. “He’s gonna
be rather hard to catch … But not for you, of course.”

Ion thought for a moment, and then nodded.
“Let me see his details.”

Grando stuffed his hand into his suit
pocket, and drew out a folded piece of paper. The details of the
new target, with everything the bounty hunter needed to know of it.
He unfolded it and saw the blurred picture of the vigilante, the
target who had been eluding them for so long now. The picture was
taken in another of their bases, and the man had been captured in a
speedy sprint. Grando handed the paper to Ion. The boy’s brow
contracted in a slight frown as he ran through the paper.

“We think he’s a member of the Special
Forces, working behind a mask.” explained Grando. “But we aren’t
too sure. We know that he works alone, and that he uses an array of
powerful, fancy gizmos to do what he does: fight down terrorists.
No non mystic has given us this much of a threat. He’s too
dangerous. I’ve gotta get rid of him. I’m willing to pay a grand
price of three thousand for him.”

Ion lowered the paper, still frowning.
“Three thousand, huh?” He gave a second’s thought, and then nodded.
“Ok. I’ll do it. But I’ll start on this one in a day or two.” He
folded the paper and pocketed it.

Grando nodded. “Of course, a good hunter/
assassin needs his rest, doesn’t he?”

“Who needs rest?” laughed Ion, turning and
strolling back towards the door. “You’re forgetting that I’ve got
tons other jobs from tons other mafias and terrorists.” His lips
twitched in an unpleasant smile. “And most of them don’t need me to
bring the prize back alive … and that’s just the part I love, about
what I do.”

He turned and strode back out the door, the
brown suited Redling staring after him with a faint grin.

__________

“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.