The Mantis Synchronicity - Book Five - 5. Chapter 5 - Abernathy

A contingent of alchemist leadership of Demifae was assembled to receive the report from their assault team. None of their soldiers had returned, and a scout had been sent out to try and figure out what happened.

“What do you mean?” one of the commanders growled.

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” the scout replied in a shaky voice. “The attack was a total failure, sir. All your men are dead.”

“All of them?”

“Sir, there were drag queens cleaning up…” the scout hesitated as his guts lurched at the thought, but he did not vomit in front of his superiors. He brought a hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry, sir. Out in front of the target, there was a… a mess, sir.”

One of the sergeants leaned toward the officer conducting the interrogation. “Abernathy, I told you we should have used my crew instead. Your men’s methods are so…” he paused and smirked, “obsequious, barging in there with minimal preparation and surveillance. Your men did not know what they were walking into.”

Abernathy glared at his fellow commander as he pressed the scout further. “What do you mean mess? Tell me exactly what became of my men. What did you see?”

The scout swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat and managed to stutter, “Th-th-they were all d-d-dead, sir.”

“What happened?!”

“The men, sir, they were all cut up.”

Abernathy scowled at the scout. “Their bodies were slashed?”

“N-n-n-no sir, their bodies were all cut into pieces, like small pieces. Something hacked the men to bits. I could see their weapons and uniforms among the… chunks, sir.” His guts threatened to empty. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir. Everyone is dead.”

“Abernathy,” the commander’s fellow leader sneered, “with no crew, over whom are you a commander? Why don’t you join my men? I’ll show you what you did wrong.”

Abernathy snarled at him, but he was even more infuriated when several other sergeants made little comments of agreement with the man who was berating him.

Then the scout lost control and his churning stomach emptied all over the table where the alchemists were having the meeting.

“Argh!” Abernathy cried, jumping up and back from his chair. “Get out!” He turned to the other leaders, who were now also standing, and then focused on the man challenging him. “I do not accept a demotion to membership in your crew, Gilnik.”

“That’s Officer Gilnik, to you.”

“Shut your bloody mouth!”

“I agree,” one of the others added. “Why don’t you join Gilnik’s men, Abernathy?”

Abernathy was furious at the implication.

“Can we get out of this foul room?” another asked, waving at the vomit. “And send someone in here to deal with this mess!”

Abernathy stormed out and left his fellow Demifae leaders. He heard Gilnik saying, “Let him go,” and Abernathy gritted his teeth in rage as he left their base of operations.

Out in the dark city streets, the disgraced commander turned toward his apothecary. Abernathy’s anger only increased when he arrived. Paint was smeared over the letters of his sign, and he let fly a string of curses at the sight of it. He pulled open the door.

“Bloody Shifts!” the woman behind the counter said to him as he walked up to her.

“Do you know who did it this time?”

“Not a clue. So, how’d it go?”

Abernathy replied to her in a flat voice. “All my soldiers are dead.”

“What, all nine of them?! Did they get any mantis glands?”

Abernathy huffed. “What do you think?”

“All dead?” his assistant whispered to herself.

Abernathy turned and headed to the stairs that led up to his private chambers.

“Do you want your supper?” the woman called after him. “It’s ready!”

Abernathy turned back to her. “I have no appetite.” He climbed the stairs and locked himself in his small library room. He owned over two-hundred books, and he had read them all. He turned to the room’s mantle. The fireplace below it was cold, but he was not interested in fire; he was interested in firepower. He picked up a small piece of parchment with a single line written on it, folded the paper, and slipped it into his pocket. He began pacing, and his mind spun with thoughts about his team’s failure and his probable demotion. He spent the night seated in a large leather chair, and he did not sleep at all.

Eventually the sunrise began glaring off the surface of the ocean, and Abernathy squinted at the shine coming in his windows. After a mug of cold leftover coffee from the previous morning, he unlocked his apartment and returned to his shop below. It was dark, and his assistant was not there yet for the day’s work. Abernathy headed out front and locked the door.

He spent almost all of his time in the Spritehood those days, where most other Demifae also lived and practiced their spellcraft, but Abernathy preferred his days hunting down Shifts, back when the Messiahs ran Teshon City.

It’s been a year and a half, maybe two, since I’ve slaughtered one of those filth in the streets. Is this really how Teshon is going to be from now on, a cesspool of Shifts and Shift-lovers?

Abernathy turned onto a street that led to a part of the city he never entered anymore, and as he approached the entrance of Gate Town, he spat a large glob of saliva onto the ground. He walked a few blocks to an area where several shops were located, pulled the paper out of his pocket, and confirmed his location. He stepped up to the door and opened it. A bell rang as he entered, and a woman smoking a joint greeted him.

“Welcome to the First Organic Mechanic of Teshon City. I’m Olona. How can I help you this morning?”★