A Scripta

 

Word came down the pipes that there was a new big man in town, who was looking for fresh blood for plunder, murder and mayhem.  Promises of money, women, guns, all surrounded his name.

Some said he had been a hero and was disgraced. Some said he had been in the Zig and broke out.  Some said he killed another hero and had to hide out here.  It didn't matter why he was here - the fact that he was here and looking for people was important enough for Bally.

 

Bally had nothing left but a sister turning tricks in St. Martial.  He wanted the villa and the girls the Marcones had; this Master had that and more.  The Master would show up on one of the islands and announce he was looking for "assistants."  He'd give two hours, while he would wine and dine whoever showed up.  Then he would come down from his makeshift dais, begin his selection, and the night would begin.  Guys who went with him often came back battered, bruised, but rich!  Some didn't come back at all, but that was the risk you took.

 

Disembarking in Mercy, Bally headed straight for the Runners' safehouse, which was more like abandoned ruins in the northeast section of Mercy-Before-The-Walls.  When he rounded the entrance, he heard roars of people and gunshots in the air.  He looked to see about three dozen thugs, all from different gangs from all over.  Then he saw him, sitting nonchalantly on a pair of boxes.

 

The Master looked impressive to him - large, hulking, wearing spikes that made him look even more dangerous.  He wore brown and yellow, which on someone else wouldn't look right.  But on him, it looked as if he was made of the earth and indestructable.  The Master was watching some kids paw through boxes: Booze. Cigarettes. Guns.  Bally went over to the guns and was disappointed that only ammo was left in it.

 

One kid had his arms folded across his chest and turned away disgustedly.  "He ain' all that," he spat.

 

Then the Master jumped down off the box, and the crowd grew quiet.  He walked through the crowd, speaking to some, chosing two.   He looked at the kid Bally had heard speak.  The kid met the Master's eyes defiantly.

 

The Master smiled at him, pulled out his pistol and held it by the barrel.  He looked contemplatively at it, then slapped the kid across the face with it, so hard Bally heard bones crack.  The kid collapsed.  The Master put one foot on the unconscious kid's face and leaned forward close to Bally.

 

"Scared?"

 

Bally blinked.  The Master leaned back for a moment and stomped hard.  Then he stepped forward again, so that he was almost chest to chest with Bally.

 

"Scared?" he asked again.

 

Bally swallowed.  He fought the urge to look down, instead staring at the Master's dark blue eyes.  He didn't realize he nodded.

 

"You should be," the Master said, stepping back.  "Come with me."  The Master walked over the body and headed toward Mercy's door.