Caine Black Knife

“It’s really there? It’s not just a legend?”

Kollberg sighs. “It’s really there.”

“Cool. You can drop me in right on top of it-how’s that for dramatic? Semiconscious, I’ve crawled in and passed out right next to the legendary treasure that we’ve given our lives to find?”

Kollberg’s lower lip sucks in between his teeth. “It’s. . not bad. .”

“So there I am among the bones, next to the Tear of Panchasell. . maybe with a hot-shit magick weapon, or something else to give me an edge, huh? I can move okay, even wounded, but if I can get close to Marade, I can get Healed too. Or drop some Healing shit in among the bones-whatever you’ve got on hand; I don’t care. I’ll make it work. All I need is hard intel on where everybody is and how to creep their positions-you can do that through their POVs-and Winston scans can get me the layout of the camp, with guards and whatever. I need to know where the top bitches are, and I want to know who’s got the fucking bladewand, and we can work out the rest of the details as we go along. Whatever else I need, you can just kinda slip in there, where I can be conveniently surprised to find it. . just exactly when I need it most. .”

Kollberg’s nodding along with you, his gaze directed inward, at visions of monitors lit with an imaginary Adventure. “Audience,” he mutters. “Audience. We can sell cubes, but you should really have first-handers for this-”

“That’s why I want you to call Marc Vilo for me.”

Kollberg’s eyes narrow to fleshy slits. “Eh?”

“Businessman Vilo knows people, Administrator. Lots of people. People with what you call exotic tastes.”

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“You’ve heard of him, right? You know how he makes his living?”

“Well-Vilo Intercontinental-”

“Is a front for organized motherfucking crime, Administrator. He can probably fill your first-hander booths just out of his own top boys.”

“Really?” Again, the light in Kollberg’s eyes fades to a frown. “Well-this will be exciting, to be sure, but I hardly think a rescue, even single-handed, can be called exotic-”

“Rescue?” Your laugh is dark as night on the cross. “Fuck rescue. Those people died when they passed their Boards.”

“Michaelson, really-” Kollberg tries to hold onto a disapproving frown while a smile fights for control of his mouth. “I mean, even Marade? Your promise-”

“Guys say lots of shit when their dicks get hard.”

Kollberg’s mouth opens. Then it closes again.

“I learned a lot about myself out there. I learned I’m not who I thought I was. I’m not who I wanted to be.”

Lips peel off your teeth. “Who I am is better.”

Kollberg blinks. “Michaelson-”

“This is the question, Administrator. You don’t have to answer. Don’t answer. Just think about it. What was the part that made you decide to pull me? To take this chance on me? What got your dick hard?”

Kollberg’s lips vanish altogether, and his eyes nearly do the same.

“I bet I can tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t when I was making that speech about being legends. It wasn’t when I sold everybody on the die fighting crap. It wasn’t even when I went out alone and fought Spearboy. None of that hero shit.”

“Heroes sell, Michaelson-”

“Sure they do. Hell, I like ’em too. What’s not to like? You can’t piss without splashing a hero in this business.” More of your teeth appear. “But you weren’t out pimping Marade’s clips, were you?”

Kollberg looks thoughtful.

“I’m not one of the good guys, Administrator. I am what I am.”

“This-” Kollberg still looks thoughtful. “-is not necessarily a problem.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“I believe,” Kollberg murmurs, “that I am beginning to understand.”

“That’s what’s wrong with the whole escape-and-rescue thing. Getting your friends out, saving lives, all that shit. That’s good-guy crap.”

“And you. .”

“I don’t care if they live through it. I don’t care if I live through it.”

Kollberg gives you a half-believing smile. “What do you care about?”

“I care about story.” The heat in your chest boils into your throat, but your voice stays low and hard.

Because now it’s your voice. Not Hari Michaelson’s.

“Remember what I said about story? I’m gonna teach those shit-rotten rat cunts a fundamental principle of real story.”

“Ah?”

“When you fuck with the bad guy-” Your true grin unfolds like a butterfly knife. “- the bad guy fucks you back.”

And I, as I did, as I do, as I will forever, say-

Yes, My Love. Yes.

Fuck.

RETREAT FROM THE BOEDECKEN (partial)

You are CAINE (featured Actor: Pfnl. Hari Michaelson)

MASTER: NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION, UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.

© 2187 Adventures Unlimited Inc. All rights reserved.

I take my time unwrapping the wire from the dagger’s hilt, smoothing each kink, stroking it long and straight. It’s good wire, flexible, copper maybe, eight feet or so; I double it, slip the dagger through the loop, and wrap off the ends to the dagger’s naked tang just below the guard. And that’s it.

Time to go.

I unfold myself from the Warrior’s Seat. Undoubling my legs brings a red snarl from the crusted spike-holes in my ankles. It makes me smile.

The blue sparkle has faded from the mud, and it has dried now, and I scrape it from my arms and chest and back with the dagger’s blade, shaving with it fear, and doubt, and the memory of pain.

I have no need to check the belts, or the gear I have taken from these ancient bones. Each piece is in its place, as I am in mine.

The mud falls away, and the blade touches scars I bear.

This is the axe from Kor.

This is the arrow from the Teranese floodplain.

This is the spike from the cross, and this the burn from Crowmane’s god.

This is the alley knife from home, and this the brick, and this my father’s fist. There are scars the blade cannot touch, but I don’t need them. The ones on the outside are enough to tell me who I am.

I am strong. I am relentless. I am invincible.

I bend now and lift from among the dusty armored bones the spikes I pulled from wrist and ankle. Dirt has caked my blood upon them. In the rose-pale glow cast by Panchasell’s Tear, I weigh them in my hand. Then I stick them behind my belt.

I grin at the runecut rose diamond the size of my head on its pedestal of gold, and the vast shadows of the cavern echo my black chuckle. “Think you’re the biggest tear ever shed?”

I thread the dagger through its doubled loop of wire. “That’ll change.”

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