//------------------------------// // 7x: Karma // Story: Chaotic Emergence // by Gambit Prawn //------------------------------// Alain limped out the sliding door, dejected. The new convenience store was just about the only change to the rustic village, and it had already seen fit to reject him as well. It had only been a week, and already the horrible memories had started to flood back in. Frankly, he was surprised his aunt had even extended her hospitality at all. Although her now ex-husband was now gone, the fact remained that he had turned his back on her as well by running away as a young teen. It was the last place he wanted to be, but between the spiked abomination and a lightning-wielding pegasus, he had had all the reason in the world to get as far away as possible. The barren road paved a solitary stripe of civilization through the endless fields. With nothing else to occupy his mind, he was left with only ruminations of dread—he would be out on his ass in no time if he didn’t get a job quick. He supposed it was no less than he deserved, though. As his actions had already proven, he was a coward through and through. He had briefly hoped to delude himself into thinking he had made the correct snap-decision given the circumstances, but the damning fact remained that he hadn’t even spared a thought to his comrades before fleeing alone in the truck. Now, Itzal and Harkaitz were dead, and it was his fault. Their enterprise in livestock poaching had scarcely lasted two months, but they deserved more loyalty than he had shown to them. Itzal had struggled a lot because of his learning disability, but he was a harder worker than anyone. Harkaitz, on the other hand, was a bigoted asshole; nevertheless, he had been a fantastic drinking buddy and had treated him better than most. His felt like his chest throbbing from remembered pain mixed with stinging guilt. The pegasus had probably broken a couple ribs with his strike, and if that weren’t bad enough, Alain’s tailbone was still numb from the awkward fall he took. Sighing, he pressed onward, cursing his inability to even afford gas. Still it was better than asking his reluctant host for gas money. He had always loathed charity; after all, he had chosen to start an—albeit incredibly ineffective—life of crime rather than accept government aid. His heartbeat quickened as he realized that he may soon have no choice. I’d rather die, he thought, mindlessly scratching an itch on his rear. After twenty minutes of circular thinking and uneventful walking he reached, to his dismay, the heart of the disjointed farming community. In theory, these were his people; however, despite the rural lifestyle thoroughly etched onto his soul, even here, he couldn’t fit in. Alain Bidarte—perhaps even his name itself had branded him with such a life. Passing the community schoolhouse, he shuddered, remembering his inability to shake a sour first impression as the foreign dunce. His mother’s death had thrust him into France with no knowledge of the tongue, yet long after mastering it, he was still the Basque, or the Spaniard. Ironically, when he had returned south, the deterioration of his Basque language skills made him unacceptable there as well. To the French I’m Basque, and to the Basque I’m a French Maketo. Fuck, I can’t win. He gritted his teeth in remembrance of the red pony’s recent slur and it compelled him to stop and slam a fist down on the dirt before he could continue. Although he had done much worse to her, the unicorn’s comment still incensed him over a week later. With a sigh, he picked himself up and finally entered the town square. At this time of night it was sparsely lit, only the town grocer, the courthouse and the local pub discernible. The first had no use for him, and he had even tried the second in a fit of desperation. Now, only the latter remained. Fuck. I didn’t want to try here. I can’t afford to spend all my money on booze again, but dammit what do I have left… I’ll bus tables, I don’t care. Maybe if the owner’s tipsy enough, he’ll actually take me. His footsteps slowed of their own accord, and all his instincts screamed at him to retreat. Nevertheless, he pushed open the chipped wooden door beneath the neon “open” sign. Business was thinning out in the simple establishment, but judging by the red-eared intoxication of the patrons, it had been a lucrative night. Five customers remained, including a middle-aged man passed out at the bar. Alain made eye-contact with the bartender and received a heartfelt smile. Simply dressed, the man was balding with thin white hair confined to his temples. He had a grandfatherly aura to him that made Alain want to instantly open up and tell him everything. He knew it—this was the place. Straightening out his whole body, he strode confidently inside. He smiled and breathed in to deliver his most personable greeting, but before it left his lips, a crushing, one-handed bear hug enveloped him as the other hand surreptitiously shushed him. “Alain! How’ve you been ol’ chum!” a tobacco-stenched voice boomed. The speaker kept his back to the bartender, ensuring he would suspect nothing. “Keep the change,” a different, familiar voice said as a hundred euro note was slapped onto the nearest table. “We’ve got so much to catch up on!” the first voice said with oversold enthusiasm, carrying out the bewildered job-seeker while the assailant’s companion blocked the remaining bar-goers’ view. With the door shut behind them, the duo no longer put on any pretense. The abductor tightened his already impressive grip on him as the pair dragged him further up the road, where they had parked the truck. Harkaitz slammed Alain into the side of the attached trailer, pressing his red-tinged face into the younger man’s. “You thought you would steal my truck, did you? And leave us to die!?” He literally spat last words of the accusation. “Scream and you’re dead,” Itzal said in a calculated tone that sharply clashed with the teen boy’s outward baby-faced naivete. Harkaitz peeled through Alain’s skin with a glare of inhuman hate, relaxing his hushing hand as if daring Alain to defend himself. “You thought a dead man wouldn’t miss his stuff, did you?” He laughed. “Bullshit! I’m not dying at the hand of some horse faggot!” Alain said nothing; there were no words. “Did you think nobody would think to look for you here, or were you simply hoping we had died?” “And you didn’t even think to ditch the trailer,” Itzal chided. “It’s a rather distinctive model.” “Can you be any more stupid?!  I’m not one to question the boss, but I doubt you’re even smart enough to know what you’ve seen. Fuck, intel breach or not, the divine one’s touch is wasted on scum like you.”   Pain lanced through Alain’s entire body as the pressure tightened further. His former associate’s words barely registered as he mustered all his willpower to keep from shrieking in pain. “You don’t have anything to say, you piece of shit? I ain’t giving you the right to remain silent or any of that bullshit.” “Go on, say you’re sorry,” said Itzal. “S...sorry…” he choked out, his voice filled with pain and guilt. With a single barbaric blow, Harkaitz shattered Alain’s jaw.Fragments of teeth spilled in every direction as blood gushed from his mouth. “Looks like the old lady was right to worry for you. It’s almost a shame you won’t be coming home. After all, she was gracious enough to let her nephew’s best friends borrow his truck.” Itzal’s expression turned on a dime from playful to callous. “Tie him up in the back.” “I know what to do! Just because you’re all smart and shit now doesn’t make you the boss.” Nonetheless, Harkaitz obeyed, slamming the trailer door on Alain after one last, scathing regard. Trapped, he had no way of gauging how long the journey truly was. The pain was immeasurable, so much so that he practically felt guilty for complaining about the pegasus’s attack. Though he could barely see his hand in front of him, he could nonetheless feel the warmth of his own blood trickling down his body. Such an injury was doubtlessly fatal. Why didn’t they just kill me right there? he thought, weeping. This was karma; he deserved all of it. He had tried to deny the gravity of his sin, but he supposed this was how it worked: you only had to do evil once. The fact remained that he had kidnapped two sentient creatures to sell them into slavery. It didn’t matter if he told himself he was doing it to survive; he was just a reprehensible thief and couldn’t complain if evil were turned on him. Alain didn’t understand half of what Harkaitz and Itzal were saying, but they had plenty of motive. Whatever they wanted from him, he just hoped they would take it and end things quickly. After what felt like days to him, they finally stopped. He didn’t resist as Itzal untied him and dragged him out of the trailer. They were nowhere he could recognize, but he was greeted by a familiar face—the “wealthy rancher.” Though he now wore fancy clothes that belied the monster he was, Alain knew lay within. “Did you do this?” The man asked Harkaitz. “All you told us was not to kill him,” Itzal responded. Their former client just shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. This shouldn’t take long.” Alain felt dizzy from blood loss. His head felt on the verge of exploding, and his whole body was numb. He braced himself. Preparing to accept his end, he shut his eyes. After a tense moment of silence, something slimy was pressed to his face, but quickly retracted. “What the fuck are you doing here!?” shouted the abomination. “It is the overseer’s bidding that you ‘refrain from leaving about your rubbish about.’” An unfamiliar male voice said. “He then instructed me to ‘go to my impotent master’s side,’ and I obeyed.” “Bastard....” “Sorry, sir.” “No, not you! Look, just stay out of the way for now.” Alain could feel his heart rate beginning to overclock. His remaining blood fled to his extremities, ready to fight in vain against the horrendous force he felt from this man. The world stopped.   “Again?! It can’t be!”   With a single, mighty tug, the evil being shredded Alain’s jeans. The man’s hand then perversely its way into his prey’s briefs, and Alain felt a small tug—an utterly insignificant addition to his current pain. “I’ll be damned...” the man said as he pulled down the undergarments. “Well no wonder you wouldn’t shut up about being nice to the horsies. You were one of the fuckers too,” Hainkartz said with a deep chuckle. “Rather.... garish,” Itzal noted. “And small.” “Fuck! Don’t stand around doing nothing! Do something! Diego, tend to his injuries!” Alain pried opened his locked eyes. Amidst the frenzy, he saw the stub of a yellow and green tail wag into view.