Kane

“I’m looking for Grotto.”

“Who’s asking?” the bartender sneers. “Grotto doesn’t have time for beggars.”

I take off my hood, exposing my silver skin to the Gyx bartender. His green face turns pale, and the glass he was polishing smashes to bits on the floor.

“Th-there,” he stammers, pointing one of his four arms at a door at the back.

I make my way through the casino, one hand on my hip, my weapon at the ready in case any of Grotto’s cronies have any stupid ideas. Like trying to stop me, for example.

That would be… foolish.

The entire room falls silent as every patron turns to me, their mouths hanging open, their eyes watering, all of their minds thinking the same thing.

Is he coming for me?

No, you pathetic losers. I’m not coming for you.

Yet.

Today, my target is Grotto. The Kingpin of the Vagreon underworld. Ruthless slaver, extortionist, dope peddler and murderer. All around worthless being, and soon to be dead.

When I pass the gambler’s tables I can hear their sighs of relief. They instantly cash out their chips and make a break for it. Everyone knows when they see me that it’s bad news.

Not too many seven foot tall Zoran vigilantes around these parts.

In fact, I’m the only one. Killing is my business.

And business is good.

No one tries to stop me. Grotto’s men fear me more than they do him.

Smart choice

I kick the door down.

“What what what?!” Grotto blubbers, his massive jowls shaking. He’s an Ouuls, a massive sack of grey flesh and fat. The moment his bug-eyes land on me, his gray flesh turns white.

“You,” he squeaks. “I-I paid my dues! I gave them what they wanted!”

The two slave-girls at his side recoil and look at me, their eyes big with fear. I nod at the door and they take the hint, scampering off.

I remove my gun from its holster.

“Apparently it wasn’t enough,” I say as I raise the gun.

“Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it! I’ll triple it! Please!” he begs.

His table is filled with golden coins, diamonds and jewels. Stolen artwork adorns the walls of his sleazy office, and priceless antiques are being used to store all sorts of alien drugs. I have no doubt Grotto could make me one of the richest men on Vagreon, but it’s not money I’m after: It’s my memories.

I pull the trigger.

His lifeless body falls on the table, the walls stained with his thick, oozy, dark-green blood. I yank his chain from his neck as proof of my kill. It’s a diamond encrusted, golden chain of his own stupid face. Proof that money doesn’t buy taste.

I exit his office. The entire casino has cleared out, with not a soul left but the Gyx bartender. Two of his six eyes are looking at Grotto’s hideout. No doubt he’s after some of that wealth Grotto promised me.

One man’s death is another man’s payday.

I pull my hood up and step outside, another hit accomplished. I don’t enjoy killing, but I’m damn good at it. And when it’s someone as deserving as Grotto — okay, yeah, I enjoy it a little.

I slip into the crowd and head for the sewers; time to meet Ragh.

* * *

“It’s done.”

I throw Grotto’s gaudy chain down on Ragh’s desk. It’s still covered in green ooze, which stains the papers strewn all over his desk.

“Ah, fuck, Kane?! Couldn’t you have washed the fucking thing first?!”

He furiously tries to scrub his desk clean, but only spreads the ooze further. Ouulsish blood is a bitch to clean up.

“I did what you wanted me to do. Now tell me what you’ve promised me.”

Ragh ignores me. Instead, he picks up the chain and admires it. “Real gold, huh? Shame about the ugly mug, though.” He opens a drawer and slides the gold chain into his desk.

I don’t have time for these games.

With a mighty crash I slam my fists down on his table. “Answer me!”

“Kane, Kane, relax,” Ragh says. “Please. Don’t blow a fuse. It’s not a good look on you. Take a seat. Here, have some Tzak.”

I swat the cup away, the purple liquid staining the wall. Ragh throws up his hands in frustration.

“You’re making a mess of my pristine office, man.”

I stifle a laugh. Ragh’s ‘office’ is only reachable by the sewers. It’s a shithole. Alien bugs crawl on the walls, and the penetrating scent of raw sewage is inescapable here.

Damn good place for a hideout though.

Ragh doesn’t mind. Sahr can’t smell, and what other species consider garbage, they consider food. This is why his kind thrives in this sector of space, for it’s a big pile of waste.

“I’m done playing games, Ragh.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not done at all, Kane. Not by a long shot. You still have to repay your debt to me, and to the clan.”

“I’ve repaid you a thousand times over already,” I growl.

“You’ve made installments, yes, but repaid… no.”

“What will it take?! A thousand more bodies?!”

“Something like that, yes.”

My fingers itch to smash his ratty face in — but I can’t. Ragh is the only link I have to my past. The only one who can tell me who I really am.

I storm out. If I stay a second longer, I’ll do something I regret.

“Come back when you’ve cooled your jets,” Ragh calls out to me. “I have another job for you!”

I wrap my cloak tightly around my frame as I trudge through the sewers. Try as I might, I can’t escape the stink. It clings to you and seeps into every pore. Luckily, there’s no one around when I exit the cesspool. I throw my cloak off and breathe, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

Of course, you’re more likely to find a virgin in one of Grotto’s brothels than a breath of fresh air here. Vagreon is covered in perpetual darkness, thick black clouds of pollution forever blocking out the sun. I cough and head on home.

‘Home’.

A small, dingy apartment above a Kmuok bar is all I have. I’ve done this dance numerous times before. I storm out of Ragh’s office, look at myself in the mirror, and end up crawling back. I need to know who I am. If that involves cleaning the streets of Vagreon of some filth… so be it.

I hide my silver face in a hood and scarf and continue my walk home. Being the scourge of this planet’s underworld comes at a price.

65,000 credits for my head was the last one I heard, but it rises every day. I stopped checking a while ago.

* * *

“Busy day at the office?”

Auv is tending bar at Kmuok’s Delight. The place is deserted.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I answer as I sit down on a stool.

Auv places a mug of Kmuok beer in front of me.

“You can take that stupid scarf off. No one’s here. And you’re not fooling anybody, by the way — you’re as tall as a giant!”

I remove the cloth and take a sip of the frothy drink. That’s the good stuff.

“Then why has no one collected the bounty on my head?” I say as I wipe the foam from my lips.

“Because,” Auv laughs, “you’re Silver!”

“Sixty-five thousand credits is a fortune.”

“It’s up to eighty-five now, actually.”

“Even more.”

“A fortune, sure, but what good is a fortune when you’re dead?”

“I’m not invincible, Auv.”

“You might as well be. You’ve taken out damn near every crime lord in the city! Lens, Aster, Vee’zod, Ouxxet, Yiscag, Chorlik… Only Grotto remains.”

“Not anymore, actually.”

I finish my glass and plunk some credits down on the bar.

“Thank you, Auv. Have a good night”

He pushes the credits back my way. “You drink for free!”

“No,” I say. “I insist.”

* * *

The shower is scalding hot. It has two settings: Scalding hot or freezing cold.

I prefer scalding.

Try as I might, I can’t scrub the stench of this world away. It lingers all around me.

I inspect my features in the mirror, even though I can barely see my own tall frame in it. My skin is silver, my eyes a deep purple. Black tattoos cover my shoulders — their meaning is unknown to me.

Who are you?

Six months of work and I’m still not one step closer to the truth. All I have is a dog tag that reads Kane.

That’s the only clue I have.

I awoke six months ago, my body battered, bruised and broken. Ragh pulled me out of a burning wreckage. He saved my life, and I’ve been working for him since. He’s helping me find out my past — or at least, that’s what he claims.

He insists I have a debt to pay to him, and to the Sahr clan. He wants to scrub Vagreon clean, get rid of all the slavers and slumlords, and free the oppressed. And I’m the tool he needs for that.

I’ll do anything it if means finding my past. All I have now are these dreams.

Every night when I close my eyes, they haunt me. Horrible visions. Terrible nightmares.

Blood. On my hands, running down the street, covering the bodies.

The human bodies.

There’s so many of them. And all I feel is rage, a deep, overpowering rage that scares me to my very core. From the corners of my eyes I see other figures like me — green flashes — but then it ends.

I wake up, covered in sweat.

Every night.

Ragh showed me the way. He gave me a purpose. He promised that he’d bring me redemption. I’ve yet to find it.

A loud bang on my door rouses me from my thoughts.

“Open up, Silver! We know you’re in there!”

Ah.

It seems someone has come to claim their prize.

Best of luck to them. They’ll need it.

I quickly slip on some clothes before opening the door. Instantly two Gyx pour into my room. To my dismay, they throw Auv on the floor. His face is bloodied.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, blood running down his chin.

No. This is my fault. More innocents suffer because of me…

A dark, twisting rage snakes around my heart. My vision turns red, and everything that happens next is pure instinct. I punch the Gyx on the left so hard his skull cracks wide open. I turn to the alien on my right, and before he manages to raise his gun, I grab his neck and twist it roughly to the side.

A sickening crunch later and he crumples on the floor.

Dead.

Auv’s eyes are wide with shock.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” I say as I hand him a credit stick. “There’s about ten thousand credits on there. I suggest you get out of town. I must have been spotted, and if someone thinks you know me, trouble will only follow you.”

I slip on my coat and head out the door. Auv was the only friend I had here on this godforsaken rock. I head to the only place I can go.

Ragh’s.

* * *

“Ah, you’re back,” he says, rubbing his bony hands together. “Good good good.”

I sit down across from him. I’m tired. Tired of all the killing. Of being on my guard. Of everything.

“What are we doing here, Ragh? What are we really accomplishing? It seems that for every slumlord I take out, another one pops up. What if this world is just doomed?”

“Nonsense,” he says. “That doesn’t sound like the Zoran I know. The Zoran I saved.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m tired of it, Ragh. You need to tell me what you know. Now.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll leave. Find my fortune elsewhere.”

“You won’t find the truth out there.”

“I’m sure as fuck not finding it here, am I?” I growl.

The rat-man’s eyes narrow. He’s always presented himself as my ally, but more and more I’m beginning to suspect that he may not have my best interests at heart.

“You’re not ready for the truth,” he hisses. “Not ready! It will destroy you!”

“I’m already destroying myself! For you! And what does it get me? Nothing!”

“For the clan!” he says. “We’ve so close to saving Vagreon and you want to stop now?!”

“Vagreon is beyond saving. I saw that today.”

“Fine!” he snaps. “One final mission. Then you’re done. I will tell you everything that I, that the clan, knows about you. Deal?”

“Deal,” I growl.

“I need you to retrieve a… package, for the clan. I’ve just received some reports that the Ganon have done something rather ballsy. They attacked a Federation ship and scored the mother of all loads: An entire pen of human females. Virgin human females. Deliver them to the clan. Their power will help us overthrow the crime lords of Vagreon once and for all!”