Dry Mist (part 4 of 4)

The King sits on his throne with an amber tiger tooth around his neck. “I look forward to your performance tomorrow very much.”

“There will be no theatrics involved, Your Highness,” says the Diplomat. “I’m as tired of those gutterpunks as you are. If it wasn’t for this one agent they would have been eliminated months ago. I just don’t understand him. Hard to kill what you can’t comprehend.”

“I’ll take care of Kaph. I have to admit I didn’t want to touch him at first – the kid leaves spirits on the ground in a puddle. But I got it figured out. It just took me a while to learn how to deconstruct an aura, that’s all.” Kaph walks in silent and transparent. “Honestly, in all my years in power I never understood rebellions like these. What’s the purpose of it? What do they want? We mind our own business. Sure we’ve killed their men but only the ones trying to start conflict in our territory. They don’t even live on our land, for Christ’s sake; the fuckers come from Penumbra! What do they want?”

“A fine question, Your Highness. And one that will be put to rest with the extermination of their kind tomorrow.”

“I anticipate its slumber. I suppose any strong nation will have its opposition but we really must work to suppress that of mere terrorism.”

“Amen,” says the Diplomat, toasting the King on his elevated chair. As they plunge into their drinks Kaph moves in for the kill. So they think they’re wiping us out tomorrow? he thinks. Watch what happens as I infest the King’s faculties and deprogram this Diplomat down to neutrality. Start sliding in my own men, eat through the Vide apple from the inside-out…

Then Kaph hesitates – but what is our purpose? The Vides never interfered with us until we started trying to spring a leak in them – and isn’t it men trying to control other men’s lives the thing we’ve based this whole conflict on? – and with every soul I extinguish, what does that make me? – but he shakes his head, remembering his objective, and approaches the King.

Kaph stands face to face with Montée and breathes deep. Here goes, he thinks.

– I can see you –

Kaph stands rigid. He heard the voice as if it came from inside his own head, but it sounded exactly like the King.

– Don’t fool yourself, Mr. Martin. We’ve known about you since you dodged execution. You’re getting way too cocky for your own good. Goodbye –

Kaph turns and starts to dissipate. An orange beam shoots out of the tiger claw around the King’s neck and hits Kaph in the back; the whole room lights up like a fire and all Kaph can see through his eyes are kaleidoscope interpretations of the once lucid scenery. He sways down to the ground like a leaf and incinerates upon contact with the floor. His aura sits in a dense puddle waiting to evaporate.