[END ACT II] Sierin Ikaixar - A Sprung Trap
Sierin Ikaixar
((Dim Office, The Redoubt, Vellum Pines — Planet Wherac-98))
Voices chittered with tones of static that dug under her skin, the sounds burrowing like beetles and birds that pecked at her rattling skull. Halos of buzzing lights had made her cringe at the very sight of them. Had they always been so bright? Sierin scrunched her sockets closed, then open again, hoping to blink away that gnawing feeling, but it did nothing to lessen the pressure that coated her scalp.
From her neck to forehead, it felt like a squeezing hand. Heat, tracing the lines where fingers might have been. The tightness continued, building until she felt like her eyes might shoot out of their sockets. Staticky afterimages flashed in the periphery as she tried to catch her bearings, forcing herself to stare through those bright lights, they were no longer in the van.
Here, rust coloured clay seemed to paint the walls. They seemed strokes of dry brush, streaking where exposed, greying stone peeked through like a fresh wound. She counted four figures, including herself, Gavrin, Jaran and Imril in plain sight but—
oO Where did Marni go? Oo
The thought of Eben entered Sierin’s mind, that strange ‘wall’ that wrapped the man’s thoughts. Opaque glass, as solid as it was smooth.
Man: Don’t be so modest. I think you clever fellows had another trick up your sleeve to get you where you needed to go. I think you did something to convince the troops to abandon the area. And I’m guessing the tools to do so came from here.
oO Tools? What was this flaming man talking about? Oo
The voice wasn’t one she recognized, unsurprisingly. But a monitor, one of several flashed on, footage of the Transmission Hut parking lot, a memory that was surprisingly foggy, despite how little time had passed since then. She watched as she and her small coterie stepped inside, as the feed froze a moment later. Only starting up again when police hover-vehicles filled the lot. She recognized Herris’ frame being moved onto a van, with two hover-bikes as backup.
Imril: Oh, So that’s where you got all the monitors. Is there an I Don’t Matter discount? ::Realizing that bit of snark was out loud:: Oh. Sorry. That was rude of me. Go on, please.
The air had ran thick with that iron-y scent of hostility.
Jira snorted. Gavrin’s hand hushed a second response. Sierin simply didn’t speak, trying her best to avoid looking lost or confused.
The man's eyes narrowed, a tightness took his features. His gaze was like that of a lion who had grown frustrated playing with his food. But a smile still stayed on the man’s features.
The smile itself was as hollow as his eyes.
Man: Whatever you did to send those troops packing, I’m providing you kind folks the opportunity to do it again. Don’t worry about where to send them. I’ll provide those details.
Imril: That was me. But there were extenuating circumstances. I can’t do it again, even if I wanted to.
The man’s smile simply vanished.
Man: Well, you’d better un-extenuate them, Deputy Imril. Because you’re all going to repay the losses that you’ve cost our war of liberation. Or Mama Bear and the cubs are going to remain my guests for a long time to come.
Jaran: You can't be serious. How can you twirl your moustache and say something so obviously villainous and still think your movement is in the right?
Tarsan: ::murmuring:: He said ‘remain his guests’, not kill them. Maybe… they’re safer here anyway.
Ikaixar: How can you even pretend to be on our side when you act like this?
The man rose from a flashing array of screens and control panels, revealing a short and stout figure, with a tie too large for his chest to be proportional. He walked to stand face-to-face with the four, oftentimes looking over an upturned nose to meet some gazes.
He had given up all command of the room the second he left that seat. Sierin in her attempt to look coherent simply tilted her head.
Man: I do what the Reds need done. They can be freedom fighters out there. But I am charged with something equally important: the things they will not claim. Even most of the ones who brought you here think you're just new recruits.
Jaran: I get it. So you get your hands dirty and the leaders of the organisation get to say they don't know about you. But didn't you say you were in charge?
Tarsan: Oh gods, you’re middle management.
Sierin stared impassively, eyes tracing his plump form from head to toe. She wanted him to feel every bit like an accessory in a store window.
Imril: If you could just let us all be our way, that would be great. Yeeeah.
Thinning her lips, Sierin’s eyes gave a softened squint of disapproval.
Ikaixar: You’re not very good at this, are you?
The man cackled, like burned leather crumbling.
Man: For you, I am the Reds. You don't need to concern yourself with anyone else.
Jaran probed, searching for more than the man wanted to share.
Jaran: Oh, I have some guesses. It would need to be someone who could rally people to them. You certainly don't have the charisma for that.
Imril: ::Pointing to the monitors:: I do like your sense of flair in decorating. It says ‘Volcano lair on a budget’.
Ikaixar: I think you could use a rug— too ‘industrial’ for my tastes.
The man turned his back to them, dropping his head into his hands.
Man: Oh this is exhausting. You're going to poke and poke and hope I give something up that you can use to your advantage. Well, you can't. It would do you no good, even when I send you out to do your job. ::turning back around and leaning in intensely:: Think about it. Who is the only person who could organise something like this without anyone noticing? Who has the resources, the cult of personality, and the time? You know who. I can see it on your face already.
Jaran: No... but she...
Who would ‘she’ be? Sierin glanced around the room, watching Jaran slowly come to some great revelation.
Man: You have it.
Jaran: ::looking up wide-eyed:: Mayor Meyers???
As Gavrin froze, Sierin’s mouth fell slightly agape.
Tarsan: How could she?! So many people have been hurt or killed!
Imril: What?! Why?! How!?
Her mouth shut with a setting of her jaw, careful to choose a rebuttal. Another probing question. As much as she was confused by the information, she wouldn’t let this man’s attempt at shocking information pull the rug out from under her feet.
Sierin chose her tone carefully, only barely able to contain a yell.
Ikaixar: What could she even have to gain from this?
Jaran: Response
Man: How could she? You’ve seen how the town responded. There’s a rot at the centre of Vellum Pines. How ready it was to turn on its own citizens.
oO Rot? Oo
The thing that confused Sierin most, is that Meyers had every opportunity to push for discreet change in her position. Sierin gnawed at something unseen, grinding her molars as if trying to crack a corn kernel. The issues that caused this ‘rot’ were issues she had lived through firsthand. Rising rent, pushes for stronger policing, they frogs in a pot that had lost the ability to feel heat. ‘Rot’ did not come from nowhere, and it was Meyers who had every chance to make the changes necessary.
However, that was entirely different to the booming voices in the sky and the sudden discoveries of long abandoned buildings. The world had lost all sense today, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the Mayor’s taste in drape colours had been the final straw that turned the world to hell.
Imril: Wait, are you saying she wanted Aesop to replace her? To let him institute this reign of terror so she could take advantage of it in some way?
Ikaixar: It’s a bloody dumb plan at that, all this fighting will do is raze the city to ash.
Her composure vanished again as outward anger flared onto her face.
Jaran: Response
The man waved a hand, dismissing their words, sneering really. Compressing his face into a wrinkly pinch.
Man: That’s none of your concern, and entirely irrelevant. You are going to do it, for the sake of your family, Mister Tarsan.
Sierin turned to Gavrin, expectantly. She couldn’t help but to scowl at the man in front of them.
Tarsan: No.
Man: What do you mean, ‘No’? I think I made myself clear, Mister Tarsan.
Tarsan: I mean no. oO Forgive me Marni. Four preserve you. Oo The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
Imril: If I were Vulcan, I believe my response would be “Go to Hell.”... If I were Vulcan.
Ikaixar: If you think we’re going to bend to you, I’d think you’re stupider than you look.
She gave a satisfied nod to the others, looking to Gav in particular.
Jaran: Response
The Man shook his head, returning to his seat.
Man: Wrong move.
He tapped on his little remote, eight monitors in total forming a single, giant image, bordered and traced by the greying outlines of the screens. A shot of Marni, and the kids. Sitting on a bed in some dingy hotel room, with carpet and blankets that seemed all too generic. Sierin felt her breath hitching in her throat— feeling for a second that they called his bluff too soon.
Ikaixar: I somehow don’t believe you have the stones for such an extreme measure. So what? What is this?
Jaran/Tarsan: Response
Man: Something to motivate a change in heart on your parts. ::Looking behind the foursome:: Take them somewhere where they can re-evaluate their choices.
Footsteps. Footsteps trailed behind Sierin, moving— no— rushing to close the distance. Sierin whipped around, just narrowly catching Imril’s form falling like a sack of rocks. She raised a hand herself, landing a full-sounding slap as her palm caught a handful of a clean-shaven cheek. With less than a moment to consider, that red mark on the assailants face hardly even growing red, her vision was filled with sparks.
Pain seared again, her body toppling without even knowing why. She fought, hands clawing, scratching as deeply as they could, kicking solid mass, to no avail.
Blackness took her.
Jaran/Tarsan: Response
TAG/TBC
—
Sierin Ikaixar
Tailor
Seta & Co. Adjustments
aka…
Lieutenant JG Sierin Ikaixar
Medical Officer
U.S.S. Artemis-A
G239409EK0