The story I have for you today is called Cast Asunder, and it is the result of a close collaboration between myself and fellow writer Alphaeus. This is to say that some of the writing here is mine, and some of it is his.
There are a few things you should know about Cast Asunder before reading it. As I mentioned, it is a collab- but it's a certain type of collab; it's perspective-based. This is to say it is written in 1st person, with each of us writing for our own protagonist. I wrote from the perspective of Dante Rockwell, and Alphaeus wrote from the perspective of a character going by the title of "The Fixer". As you should be able to guess by this character's title- the characters are faced with a "problem" in need of solving, and as you should also be able to guess (from a story titled Cast Asunder) the "problem" in question is ultimately left unresolved, and things go horribly wrong.
This brings us to our next point. Horrible. This story is pretty fucked up, and that's half the point. Don't read if you're not okay with:
-Mildly vivid allusions to killing, rape, child abuse, hate crimes, and so forth by the villain of the story.
-Somewhat extreme and arguably excessive language. (Kind of a given from me, but still...)
And finally- on something of a lighter note, this story can be considered "vaguely canonical," which is to say that it fits in with the timeline for my other stories (preluding most of them, in fact) barring any later revisions, and falls on the timeline at some point in between my part for the Secret Santa II event, and New Beginarinos. It is the lead-in to Altaer's transformation into the Lord of The Abyss, and the basis for Dante's eventual recruitment to Alphaeus' clan, The Coils of Nehushtan. I'm still working out the full timeline, but the next year or so after this story is starting to fall into place finally. If anyone has questions or concerns regarding the timeline, contact me and I'll let you know where I stand. Note that these events may be alluded to in the upcoming Nehushtan v. Night Creatures wRHG Clan War, so if you're particularly invested in Dante and/or Altaer's storyline, you may want to get your reading in now before they set up the poll! ;]
But yeah, uh... sorry this one's so dark. I made the decision to cut it a bit short, because while I think it is an important part of the story, it's not really the best story to dwell on. I wanted everything to culminate into the last few questions from Dante, and I think I've managed to do that. One of the goals for the rest of Dante's arc in particular will center around answering those sorts of questions- so if you're interested in that, plus a bit of craziness woven in, you may be in for a bit of a treat. So take it easy, sit back, and enjoy the story for what it is, which is... a tad worrying, and actually pretty awful if you think about it. Love you Alph~ <3
[spoiler=Cast Asunder]Dante: I recall for a moment when I first called upon Altaer, or The Fixer as I knew him then.
It started on one long night, preceded by a week full of nights no shorter. I had been keeping tabs on Nexcorp’s lead shareholders, as I did at that time, when one of them caught my eye: Mr. Ziloban Orecho.
There was something off about him that I couldn’t quite place. In every photo, like, every folder- something was always, quite visibly, off. It took a lot of digging, but eventually I found what I was looking for. The man was evil- evil even for Nexcorp, with hardly a profit motive to boot. Where other shareholders used the money they received from Nexcorp to acquire, well, more money- this man had his coin in all the wrong pockets. I’m talking mafia, triad, a string of biker gangs, the damned KKK- he was making people hurt. Lots of people, all over the world.
I want to say it troubled me. But I can’t- it absolutely disgusted me. Nexcorp, as I eventually discovered, was all about acquiring profit by any means necessary, which is to say… often cruel means, in order to benefit its constituents. While I could empathize on some level with those reaping Nexcorp’s profits for personal, even philanthropic means, sometimes unknowingly, what really bothered me about this man was that he not only, assuredly, knew where the easy money and cheap tech was coming from, the manner in which he utilized those resources was nothing short of repugnant.
It often bothered me how little I could do to help. It’s part of why I eventually stopped digging up dirt on Nexcorp; the more I looked at it, the more I began to realize just how much of a pain it would be to clean it. So I’d drink.
I’d felt the hangover coming on at around 4am, at which point I decided it was time to shift my focus. I started looking up assassins.
Come to think of it, I can’t remember how exactly I started thinking about assassins. Whether I’d gone from looking at the mafia gangsters that bastard was spending his money on, or if it was his eyes- the way he smiled, that made me want to put a bullet in him. I suppose it could’ve been a bit of both.
But there I was, following up on famous assassins, when I found him. The Fixer.
The word assassin was present in the article- that was what had pinged the search browser, but the headline had painted him as a sort of vigilante… some type of urban legend- a cult hero even.
Color me intrigued.
I hit the sack at 7 in the morning, and when I woke up, I focused my attentions on this one, single man. I tracked down what little info I could on him, which wasn’t much, but all accounts painted him as a hitman out to shoot the bad guy; sometimes without pay, though with a bit of theft involved. Respectable, by my standards.
And so I devoted myself to finding him. Tracking him down- and making sure he knew that there was a problem in need of fixing.
---
The Fixer: People knew where to find me, generally. Well, that is as long as I was at “home” in D.C. There was a pool hall on one of the back streets near Germantown. A decent enough place, if you knew how to handle the crowd, and certainly a lot of fun. Sure, I’d tried some of those fancy nightclubs, but they never really did anything for me.
It was one of those balmy spring days that only D.C. and northern Virginia can have -- the cherry trees were blooming, and it might have even been during the Cherry Blossom Festival, come to think of it -- when an interesting looking fellow approached me in the middle of a billiards game.
I was just in the middle of setting up the cue ball so that my opponent would have to scratch on the eight-ball when he touched my shoulder, nearly making me miss my shot. Needless to say, I was not in the most pleasant of moods when I turned to face him.
“What the hell, dude? Don’t you know what focus looks like? You’d better be glad I didn’t miss that.” With a sigh, I recomposed myself and assumed a more professional air...not the easiest thing in the world for me, since I set little store by conventional “professionalism.”
“So, how may I be of assistance, since I can safely assume you are here in a business capacity, yes?”
---
Dante: I nodded loosely and handed the man a set of files. “Business is one way of looking at it. Me, I’m just here to tip you off.”
“His name is Mr. Orecho, and… pardon my language, but... he’s a cunt. A cheeky one, too- with lots of money and nothing good to spend it on. He hasn’t done anything to screw with me personally, but I reckon a lot of people around here would be happy to see him gone, myself included.”
“From what I hear, you’re not exactly a typical hitman. You, you give a shit- at least enough of a shit to give a shit about what people actually give a shit about, if that makes sense. Does that make sense? I can’t ever tell. It’s been awhile since I’ve slept, and I’m all out of liquor,” I grumbled.
“Sorry for messing up your shot, by the way. Please don’t kill me.”
---
The Fixer: I stretched, cracked my neck leisurely, and took the proffered files. For a moment, a dark cloud of emotion passed over my face. That name was still a bit too fresh in my memory for my control over my feelings to be as complete as I would have liked. Still, it was only a brief failure of my self-mastery, and I was back to normal in a moment.
“Ah...don’t worry about me killing you. I don’t do that in places like this. Besides, if I was going to kill you, you would already be picking your head up off the floor. Now, funny thing is, I think I have heard of this Orecho fellow. Works for Nexcorp or whatever it’s called. You hear a lot of things when you’re in my line of business...meet a lot of people. Anyhow, yeah, you’re right that I’m not typical. I...I have seen more hell than most people who think they have actually do. So, I have my own reasons for exterminating evil. Besides, it’s what I’m good at doing. Well, what I’m best at doing.”
I folded the files and stuffed them into the back pocket of my slacks and gave him a backslap, steering him towards the bar as my opponent in billiards cussed a blue streak about scratching on the eight-ball. I called over my shoulder to the angry man.
“Don’t forget my money. Isaac owns this joint, and he’ll make sure you give it to him if I’m not here.”
Returning my attention to the matters at hand, I chuckled and took a seat at the counter. “Hey, I can certainly tell that you have been running low on drinks and sleep. Now, while I cannot fix the sleep issue, I certainly would love to fix the drinking issue.”
I slapped my hand on the counter, and Isaac wandered languidly over, his huge scarred hands rubbing a tall glass with a white dishtowel. His gravelly voice rumbled out a greeting, then asked the question of his trade. “What’ll it be, boys?”
I ordered a couple of shots of Jackie Dan’s, and looked over at my companion. “I’m paying, bud, so get whatever you want, as much as you want.”
Dante grinned like the devil. “Amarone della Valpolicella Classico.” he pursed his lips. “And we’ll start with a glass.”
I nodded at the choice. “A wine guy. Always loved ‘em, but never really had any use for them beyond formal occasions. Well, anyhow, the reason I brought you over here is not just because I am such a generous and kind-hearted fellow. I’ll -- “
Our drinks came at this point, my shot glass accompanied with the bottle. I pause to drown the amber liquid, and then refill the glass.
“Okay, now, I’ll read that file you gave me, but I want more info out of your own mouth. Let me get the personal take on this. When I work, I always like to get a real feel for whomever I’m going to be taking out. That’s why I’m ‘The Fixer’....I fix problems. Assassinations often happen to be a big part of that, but what I do is far more thorough. I take out a person who is the root of a problem, but then I want to go through and annihilate every last ounce of that problem so that it will never come back -- at least not in the same form. So…shoot. Oh, and also, you can just call me Fixer at this point like most people -- well, you’ll hear one of my aliases being used now and then, but that aside -- and what shall I be calling you? So, two parts to this question. Who are you, and what is your personal take on this ‘problem’ I am to fix?”
---
Dante: After taking a sip of my drink, I began by introducing myself. “You can call me Dante,” I affirmed, “Dante Rockwell. And to understand my relation to this… particular problem, you’re going to need to understand my relation to the company feeding him cash- that’d be Nexcorp, if you’re following. I use to work for them. When I was a child I dreamed of working for them. And when they opened up a trade school near where I used to live, it seemed too good to be true. As it turned out, it was; they helped me get a degree where I wouldn’t have otherwise- in biomedical engineering, no less, but once they helped me with that…” I paused for a moment to take another sip.
“I owed them. And suddenly, I wasn’t building… prosthetic arms for people who needed them, I was turning people into weapons. Weapons that lived, breathed, and died. I turned people into products, mate. Soldiers, bodyguards, gladiators- and they sold like crazy. Of course I wasn’t down with it, and I tried to put a stop to it, we all did- but in doing so, we turned ourselves into liabilities, and-” I coughed for a moment, clearly experiencing some sort of bizarre emotional reaction, and downed about ¾ of the glass.
With that out of the way, I raised my right hand. Clearly, it was not a human hand, which became all-the-more evident when it began to hum rhythmically. “I got vibrators for hands, mate. They killed off half my family, my friends, hell, all of my co-workers and I got vibrators for hands.”
Realizing this wasn’t really helping my case, I snapped back in tune. “There was a lot of blood, I’m pretty sure I’ve killed at least twelve people, and- I joke about it, but it… it was bad, y’know? It was, it was honestly- it was awful. Now, nobody crosses me- not like they use to, and when the RHG got a hold of what they were doing, they helped me out, made sure I helped them back. Killed one or two more people, but… I’m getting better. Or I was.”
“But then one day, when you’re watching your own back, trying to make things just that little bit better, you hear about cunts like this. Fucking… what was it, mafia, KKK, child pornography, right? And he’s rich too? It makes it hard, damn hard, to move on. Look- I’m not saying kill him, or... maybe I am, though I'm not... I'm not asking- I just feel like- I dunno- we can’t put up with a shit like that. We can’t live in a world like that, pretend like it isn’t happening.” Having now emptied my glass, I awaited another.
“People expect me just to sit here… look pretty, and practice martial arts while this cunt screws another child, or... burns someone at the stake, fucking lynches them for Christ’s sake, and I- have a problem with... that,” I concluded.
---
The Fixer: I watched Dante closely during this...tirade. Though I did sympathize with him somewhat about his past, the fact that he was so shaken up by it did meet with a bit of scorn on my part. I had gone through far more than he had -- aside from physical mutilation -- and had managed to wrestled the trauma into submission. Still, the more logical side of me recognized that my mental strength was somewhat unique, and that this poor fellow was probably doing the best he could. I kept my face blank while he spoke, contemplating how I should best move this situation forward. Since he could potentially be a valuable ally -- something hard to come by these days -- I decided to give him a bit a “teaser” of my past to form a tentative bond. If this moved forward, I would consider doing more.
After having Isaac bring the whole bottle for my associate, I began speaking. “I like your standpoint on this. Because of that, I’m going to keep you on the inside track here, which is something I rarely do with people. Let’s just say that I have a bit of history with Ziloban. Don’t be surprised that I know his first name. I know more about him first hand than anyone would want to wish for. Let’s also just say that my personal grievances with him make yours pale in comparison.”
I poured myself another shot and downed it. “The problem with that is the fact that he knows me. He knows everything about me. So if we are going to do this right, I’ll need someone on the inside to work as an extension of myself in places that my history prevents me from going without blowing the deal. And that’s going to be you. Long and short of it, you’re going to need to get nice and chummy with our friend Mr. Cuddles, and do all the inside prep work I would normally do myself. Understand?”