Chapter 184: (Dorknyss) (2/2)
”Send in...” he started to say.
The doors clicked as the security bolts were withdrawn.
Every Lanaktallan turned and looked at the doors as they began to push inward.
When the gap was barely two inches wide the leading edge of a rubber edged solid wheel poked through the gap. The wheel slid further and further into the room until there was a thump of something hitting the door as nearly a foot of tire poked through the door.
The lights went out. Mo'oshint's men drew their pistols or knives. Mo'oshint himself put all four hands on his desk, intending on having the intruder held down and slowly killed.
A circle of light came on, shining on the wheel.
The door pushed open further, allowing pedals to enter the room. Black boots polished to a high sheen were on the pedals, the legs covered in smooth black pants as the legs pedaled furiously to make the wheel move further in.
The Night Terran, clad in all black, its cape streaming and snapping behind him as if it was in a fierce wind, pedaled furiously as it slowly entered the room. The thing it sat upon had a two foot wide wheel at the front, a reclining seat at the back, a steering bar with handles that had tassels on each end, and two smaller wheels. As soon as the Night Terran cleared the doors they slowly shut and the security bolts clacked into place.
It was pedaling as if it was going much faster than the slow entry it made, the cape trailing behind it. Mo'oshint stared as he realized that its tongue had lolled from its mouth and was streaming behind it like a five foot long ribbon, the end fluttering and flipping saliva everywhere.
It stopped in the middle of the room, all of the Lanaktallan staring as they tried to get their brains to wrap around what they were seeing. The Night Terran's tongue suddenly rolled up into its mouth and made a flapping noise as it rotated several times, the end of the tongue spraying saliva every time it went by.
”Abra-Kapocus,” the Night Terran said, his voice deep.
The lights went out.
When the came on, bright, the room was empty except for Mo'oshint and his guards, all of whom were staring at one another. There was nobody in the room but them.
The lights flickered and dimmed, filling the room with shadows.
”What...” Fo'okumo'o started to say as mist began to rise from the floor.
”How about a blah bleh blah magic trick?” the Night Terran asked, his voice slightly higher, tenser, more full of something that Mo'oshint didn't understand.
They all turned and looked at Tulumo'ot who went rigid, his eyes rolling in his head, as the Night Terran stepped out of the shadows behind Tulumo'ot. His cape was streaming behind him and he took two steps and suddenly stopped as his cape hung up on something inside the shadows.
The Lanaktallan found themselves unable to do anything but stare as the Night Terran turned around, frowning, and grabbed his cape. He pulled on it, pulled harder, wrapped both hands in the cape, and began yanking on it. The Night Terran shifted his feet several times until he had his feet planted on thin air, hanging horizontally to the floor, yanking on the cape.
It came loose and the Night Terran fell to the floor, his cape streaming out to cover him. Before any of the Lanaktallan could say anything the Night Terran suddenly stood up, his cape puddled around his feet.
The Night Terran took two steps, tripped on his cape, managed to recover, and came to a stop in front of Shalamo'ot. He held up a thin wooden dowel, red rubber on one end, the other sharpened to a black tip. The Night Terran moved his other hand as if he was showing off something amazing, placed it on the table in front of the Lanaktallan, who was sitting in a comfortable chain.
Mo'oshint felt slightly impressed that the little dowel was standing on the red rubber end.
”ABRA-CADABRA!” the Night Terran shouted.
He grabbed the back of Shalamo'ot's head and slammed it down on the table then yanked the Lanaktallan's head up before throwing the mobster to the side.
The table was empty as the Night Terran held his hands out as if to showcase something.
”Ta-dah, it's goooooone,” the Night Terran said.
Before anyone could do anything the lights went out again.
Someone fired a neural pistol.
”STOP SHOOTING!” Mo'oshint yelled, ducking.
The lights came on, revealing Shalamo'ot laying on the carpet, one hoof kicking spasmodically. The mist had risen so that the dead Lanaktallan was only half visible, laying on his side.
”Where did he go?” Callimo'oin asked, looking around wildly.
The lights flickered and dimmed.
”Where is he?” Dullmo'ok asked.
”Shall we dance?” the Night Terran asked, suddenly standing up from the mist.
Before Dullmo'ok could react the Night Terran grabbed his upper right hand, put his other hand on Dullmo'ok's hips, a yanked his upper torso off.
The lights all went off, except for that bright white circular light, that followed the Night Terran as he began to twirl, spin, and stutter step about the room, holding onto Dullmo'ok's upper torso.
Shots rang out as Mo'oshint's panicked and began firing at the horrific apparition in front of them. The Night Terran gave a swirl and the shot aimed at him hit Falmo'onin in the chest, blowing a hole clear through the male Lanaktallan and spraying blood on the wall.
It wasn't till the third Lanaktallan in his office was killed by another's shooting that Mo'oshint realized what was happening.
”STOP SHOOTING!” he yelled, raising his slug thower to point at the cieling.
The lights went off and there was a thump in the darkness.
Mo'oshint could hear his remaining five men breathing heavy.
A small circle of light clicked on, revealing Shu'ulmo'o's face.
”No, no, not me,” Shu'ulmo'o whined.
Before anyone could react Shu'ulmo'o lifted his own slug thrower, pressed it against his temple, and pulled the trigger.
Instead of a bullet a stick suddenly protruded from the other side of the Lanaktallan's head. A flag dropped from it.
BANG!
Shu'ulmo'o trembled and closed all his eyes, pulling the pistol away.
The stick fell to the ground.
The light went off.
Someone screamed in the dark.
The lights came on and Mo'oshint realized that Kulkamo'o was missing. A potted plant wearing his vest and flank covering sitting in his place.
Shu'ulmo'o screamed and whirled in place, kicking out, grabbing the handles of the double door and yanking them open.
The Night Terran stood there, in profile. One arm lifted, elbow behind his head and hand over his head, the other arm extended out with a hand-mirror held in his had. He wore his cape, his slacks, his boots, but was shirtless, exposing a lean torso rippling with pale muscles. His white skin glittered as if he was covered in diamond dust.
Shu'ulmo'o screamed and shat on the floor, the patty disappearing into the knee deep mist.
The Night Terran looked at Mo'oshint and smiled, exposing long needle-sharp fangs.
”Don't hate me because I'm blah bleh-blah, beautiful,” the Night Terran said in a deep cultured voice.
The doors slammed shut.
The five surviving Lanaktallan galloped into the middle of the room, clustering together, facing one another with all six eyes open, their flanks tensed. Shu'ulmo'o kicked out behind him at empty air as his anxiety peaked.
The lights went out.
A single circle of white light came one, focused on the Night Terran, who was standing in the center of their circle, a peaked leather cap secured with a chinstrap on his head, a white shirt smeared with mud with the blue number 58 on the back.
”It's fourth and ten, boys, let's do it for the Gipper,” the Night Terran said, his voice high pitched and nasally.
All of the Lanaktallan but Mo'oshint pointed their weapons at the Night Terran and pulled the trigger.
The Night Terran puffed into black mist.
The bullets struck the Lanaktallan opposite. They all stood there for a moment, wavering. They all collapsed, leaving Mo'oshint standing there, his front illuminated by the light that slowly contracted and crawled up his body to focus on his face.
Mo'oshint blinked at the harsh light.
From the darkness came a white hand, long fingers, black pointed nails, the wrist extended from a light drinking black colored sleeve. One finger extended out and touched Mo'oshint's nose.
”I see you,” the Night Terran whispered. ”You cannot hide from my eyes.”
The lights suddenly came on, leaving Mo'oshint standing in the middle of the room. He held a vibroknife in one hand, blood dripping on the carpet, and the severed heads of three of his men in his other hands.
The double-doors burst open, revealing a quartet of LawSec Hight Threat Response Officers, all of them in full armor, all of them leveling neural rifles at Mo'oshint.
”DON'T MOVE!” One shouted.
”COUNCIL LAW-SEC!” another shouted.
”YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!” a third shouted.
The fourth, as Mo'oshint watched, had his face-shield flip up.
The Night Terran's face was on the Lanaktallan LawSec's officer's head.
”ABRACADABRA!” the Night Terran shouted.
The face shield went down.
All four Lanaktallan officers fired at once. Pulling the trigger rapidly until Mo'oshint fell dead to the floor.
-------------------
Lnosvumo'o sat at his desk in his office, all three of his stomachs clenching, his eyes covered by his upper two hands, his lower left hand pressed against his upper stomach, a narcobrew in his lower right hand. He'd gone through two narcobrews since he had gotten home. The news was all over headquarters.
Officers responding to the computer reporting illegal weaponry discharges at the estate of Mo'oshint had been forced to kill the gangster when he had charged them, holding a vibroblade in one hand and the heads of three of his men in the other.
Lnosvumo'o swallowed thickly as the lights dimmed.
A cold hand touching his shoulder.
”Call for blah bleh-blah street justice,” the cold hiss sounded out from behind him.
Lnosvumo'o shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
”Why should parents blah bleh-blah cry?” the Night Terran whispered.
Lnosvumo'o swallowed thickly.
”Call for blah bleh-blah street justice,” the Night Terran repeated, his voice low, sibilant.
”How many have to blah bleh-blah die?” the Night Terran asked.
The smart window squealed and Lnosvumo'o stared at it with his rear two eyes, uncaring that he couldn't see the Night Terran who's cold hand was on his shoulder. The smart window flickered and began showing more of the worst criminal of the Council Capital City.
”Call for blah bleh blah street justice,” the Night Terran hissed.
Gangsters. Rapists. Murderers. The worst of the worst appeared in the window, their images superimposed over their paperwork.
”When slime blah bleh-blah escapes the law,” the Night Terran said. The hand slid off his shoulder and the cold chill moved away.
Unsolved crimes. Serial crimes. Ones that made him sick to even think of the case files.
”Call for street blah bleh-blah justice,” the Night Terran said from in front of Lnosvumo'o.
He opened his eyes and saw the Night Terran standing in the darkness of Lnosvumo'o's office, his cape wrapped around him so only his head was visible, the high collar pinched into a row of spikes over his head.
”Karmo'osek,” Lnosvumo'o whispered in the chilly darkness. He saw each letter of the criminal's name float from his mouth, each letter popping one after another only inches from his mouth.
”We'll even up the blah bleh-blah score,” the Night Terran whispered.
And vanished in a puff of black mist.
This time Lnosvumo'o didn't weep. He merely trotted in a half-circle and moved to the smart window to stare at the fog and storm wracked city.
”Show them what evil brings,” he said softly. ”Let none escape the law.”