Chapter 21
Kirvan
Kirvan grinned as he tracked the barrel of his gun over the tops of the run down, dilapidated buildings of Rik-Vane.
It was funny. They were completely at his mercy.
They would live and die by his whim. And it really was just his whim.
He didn't have to shoot this old-style blaster.
He didn't have to rain down fiery death above him.
But all the scorch marks, the holes, the damage showed where he had done so before. And he was going to do so again. Because it was funny. Like kicking a nest of insects and watching them scramble for their pathetic, meaningless little lives.
Sure, it also had the added benefit of making sure everyone down there feared the Unclean. That’s what they called him. Kirvan the Unclean. He kind of liked it. Really had a nice connotation. Like he was so filthy, it had to be represented in his very name. Suitable for him.
Kirvan the Unclean was a feared name in this void cursed station. Which was the only way to survive on Rik-Vane. You either became someone powerful enough to be feared, or you became the slave of someone powerful enough to be feared.
Kirvan had done both.
First by endearing himself to Lusitania, the Dark Bitch they called her.
A name she reveled in as she destroyed everyone in her path.
She was one of the few females on Rik-Vane, and even more deranged and dangerous than the males because of it.
She had never let herself become slave to another. Or, at least, she didn't think she had.
Kirvan had been so young when he showed up here, it had been almost certain that he would die if left on his own.
He’d killed before, sure, but not the way these people had killed.
Not the way that they tortured and destroyed for fun and profit.
It was a whole different game here, and one he was in no way equipped to play.
But there was one thing he was good at. A skill he demonstrated on Lusitania.
One that earned him a spot as her slave.
She’d been his protector. His mentor, really.
She’d taken pleasure at his hands and tongue and trained him as a loyal soldier.
Thinking that because she had him in her bed, she had some control over him.
All males were controlled through their cocks, she’d say.
Kirvan was not so easily led.
When he was grown, when he was trained, when he was ready, he’d turned on her.
Killed her with a single shot through her skull, right through her left eye.
He’d killed a few others that really were loyal to her, for good measure, then he’d stolen what he could, gone off on his own, and now he was the one who people feared.
Rik-Vane was an old station. Probably one of the older space stations still in use.
Honestly, Kirvan wasn’t sure how it still functioned, but he didn't care. If the engines suddenly died one day, if the hull wore through and tore open, if they all died in a fiery explosion of neglected machinery, then that was all the better. He bet the fire would stink to high heaven, but he’d welcome the burn of death.
Since it was so old, it was also very simple in design. From the outside, it was shaped like a rectangle, with square shaped divots in the surface. Places where, maybe once in more peaceful times, ships would come to dock. Long before the invention of docking tunnels.
They were almost all closed off now. Only a few still functioned, and of those few, only a selection actually ever saw a ship.
Those docks were owned by gangs that kept very strict control over what was, really, Rik-Vane’s only source of new supplies.
It made them powerful, but also volatile.
Those gangs were constantly changing hands and the members dying by each other’s treason.
It was all so stupid. Maybe that was hypocritical of him, considering he also betrayed the person he’d allied himself with, but he had only been using her. She’d never actually had his loyalty. And once he got what he needed from her, he dealt with her before she became a problem.
Then, he climbed up. Up was good. People were very bad at dealing with up. Height gave him an advantage. It also gave him distance.
This old blaster gun was probably once put on the outside of a starship for defense. Kirvan had no idea how it ended up here, but it was busted and broken when Lusitania got ahold of it. She’d put it away, waiting for someone who could fix it. Unaware that person was Kirvan.
After he killed her, he stole the blaster he’d been secretly working on, dragged it all the way up here, then made his home. Like a bird in its nest.
And the section of Rik-Vane spread below him was just a platform of victims. People he terrorized because he could. Because it made them fear him. Because if they feared him, no one would dare to come against him, and the few that tried it were easily dealt with.
It was a boring sort of existence. And lonely. He barely slept for the screams in his sleep. The nightmares that never ceased to plague him. It was getting to the point that he was antagonizing people with the hope that they might come up here and do something about it.
What was he even living for anyway? Why was he trying so hard to survive? There was no point to any of this, so why even bother to keep living? If he jumped off the top of this ledge right now, no one would care. They’d notice, but only because they’d want to harvest his body.
Meat was a preciously rare resource around here and, really, it wasn’t technically cannibalism if they weren’t the same species.
A yawn split his face as he used one hand to lazily turn the blaster.
Counting building tops. Wondering when he’d pull the trigger.
He could watch them run. From up here, if they were loud enough, he could even hear them scream.
It might drown out the screams already in his head if the blaster and their horror worked together…
“You seem bored.”
Kirvan was up, pistol off his belt, aiming into the shadows, before he even finished identifying the words that had been spoken to him.
“Who are you?” He asked, gaze darting around. But he saw nothing. No one was there. Who-
One of the shadows shifted, and a pair of deep, gleaming red eyes flashed. Jewel bright, like a poisonous beast, threatening him with their shine.
“You…” Kirvan breathed. He knew those eyes. Not because he’d ever seen them before, but because everyone whispered of the Bloody Shadow that stalked the station. A person you never saw until they were already killing you.
And here he was.
Well, Kirvan supposed he was just thinking about dying anyway.
Still, that indomitable will, that refusal to die, took over and he shot.
The eyes flashed and were gone before his finger finished pulling.
He heard the hard ‘ting’ of his bullets hitting metal.
He didn't have proper laser or plasma fire here, just old-fashioned projectiles.
Deadly enough, but not if they didn't actually hit anything.
“Easy, Kirvan. I’m not here to kill you.”
“Sure,” Kirvan laughed. “I suppose you also have a starship to sell me as well.”
“Actually…”
He turned, aiming, trying to follow the voice. There wasn’t much space up here, there weren’t many places he could be. So how-
The Bloody Shadow moved so fast, Kirvan didn't even see him coming. One moment, Kirvan was aiming towards the darkness, the next his arm was caught in a vice grip. But it wasn’t the Bloody Shadow.
It was a broad shouldered lvtl male he’d never seen before with dark brown skin and a hard scowl on his face.
He easily held Kirvan’s arm up, weapon pointed away.
When Kirvan went to grab his backup weapon, he stilled when a pair of sharp, metallic claws were suddenly pressed against his neck. And to his other side, there was a farasie male with blue feathers. Both males held him still.
And Kirvan grinned at the coming death.
“Go ahead and do it then,” he said, almost happily. This didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like relief.
One of the shadows melted out of the others. An intimidating figure that almost seemed to materialize out of nothing.
The Bloody Shadow was a s’skree male, all gray skinned with a head of quills sticking straight up, sharp and dangerous. His expression was stoic and unmoving. Uncaring.
“So it’s to be torture first then?” Kirvan asked, unconcerned. “Do your worst.”
The Shadow tilted his head. “You’re awfully eager for death.”
“I’m certainly not going to miss this life,” Kirvan chuckled.
“What if I could give you more to live for?” He offered his hand. “I need a weapon’s expert. Someone I can trust not to point them at my back.”
Kirvan snorted. “And you came to me? Bold choice, friend. I’ve betrayed everyone I’ve ever worked with.”
“That’s because they didn’t have your loyalty. That’s what I want.”
Kirvan just grinned. Because they both knew he could swear his loyalty to him right now and it would be about as meaningful as the shit filled streets down below.
“What if I promised that no one would ever again touch you without your permission?” He asked. “If I promised that your body is your own, no one else’s, and that anyone who violated that would meet their deaths by my hands?”
Kirvan made a sound of understanding. “Ah. I see what this is. Look, I’m flattered, but I’m a females only kind of male. There’s nothing I could do for you. Wouldn’t know how to stroke a cock if you put one in my hands and gave instructions.”
“I don’t want you. They don’t want you either.” He gestured with his head at the others. “I need your expertise. No one else could have built that blaster, or those weapons on your hips. It’s your skills I require. Your weapon skills.”
Kirvan stared at him then, surprised. “My weapon…? That’s not really anything worth… What?”
“You’re good. No, you’re more than good. You’re incredible. I want that. Not you. Your skills. I’m willing to pay you for them. And as it happens, I do have a ship to sell you.”