Kummer/Crossing Paths pt1
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
The Vahzilok Abomination swung a meaty fist at Kummer’s head. The man-wolf ducked quickly underneath, then scooped up a knot of kinetic energy, rolling it about in his paw-like hands. He shoved it outward, away from him. The yellow-white blast of energy exploded against the Abomination’s chest. Bright light flashed, and the monster was flung back into a wall - which collapsed under the creature’s weight. Silence settled down like a thin blanket falling through the air; dust drifted down like tiny stars in the twilight. The animated corpse lay still, and when it did not try and get up again, Kummer let out a long breath. He hated those walking dead things, they smelled and were just in general horrific.
It was again more ‘free time’ or ‘exercise time’ that he was supposed to be taking. He suspected some of it was being used to show him off to the world for whatever perverse reason the Company had for it. The official term he had heard was ‘advertisement’. Which meant while he was out if anyone saw him, and managed to recognize him as ‘another fine Infinity Inc. product’, they could contact Sales from the Company and inquire how much to ‘rent’ or ‘lease’ Kummer for a given project. If that was how it actually worked, Kummer was not really sure.
Overall, it wasn’t as if he really wanted to. He had been trying to hide in the large expanded cage that most of the Alphas - the human-animal hybrids that belonged to Infinity Incorporated - considered a home.
Not that his attempt to hide mattered any, Fehral, the oldest and most erratic of all the hybrids, still wound up dragging Kummer out by the ear to make him leave his usual corner of the Alpha cage. Although, since he obviously had to be out, Kummer made up his mind to make the best of it. He would try and do something to improve some tiny part of the Rogue Isles: repair a busted shed someone could use, chase off the bad element from a run down building … just something to ease the general air of oppression, if only for a little while.
Contrary to popular belief, there really were some decent people living in the Rogue Isles. The hundreds of super villains who dashed around with flashy powers and mad laughter tended to get more attention. Kummer kept a working theory that if he could improve the lives of even a few of those decent folk hiding here and there, it could be called a good day, anyway. At least it kept Kummer from throwing himself in front of a moving truck … barely.
The white and gray-furred man-wolf hybrid checked for any holes in his leather bodysuit. Satisfied everything was still intact, he stretched out his right arm. It was healed, or nearly enough to no longer bother him. The hyenas had not commenced with their usual beatings, something which Kummer was very grateful for. However he noticed when they skipped a day, they tried to make up for it on the next, which would be tomorrow.
Which was Thursday, he slowly deduced. He shook his head, he never did get the hang of Thursdays.
Kummer picked his way across the debris, heading for the door, when an ugly cracking noise echoed through the room. It was a chilling sound and in a building such as this - an old four story brownstone that had barely survived countless bombings, firefights and at least two invasions of the island - that meant nothing good. Especially since Kummer was currently standing on the third floor of said building.
One crack became two, then became twenty and so on. The man-wolf dashed headlong for the stairs instinctively. He nearly made it, but the stairs collapsed under their own weight first. He quickly backed off, claws tapping on the bare floor, looking for another way out. Almost immediately, his eyes fell on a window. He rushed over, the cracks now a roar as the building was collapsing around him. Gripping the window with his paw-hands, he yanked. At first it was stuck, but a panic-fueled blast of raw kinetic energy exploded the window outward, leaving a lovely hole.
Kummer scrambled through, then leaped through open space towards the rooftop of the smaller building across the alley. He landed in a roll, came up in a crouch, then yelped when the roof caved under his weight. Everything was then a blur, and the air was choked with wood dust, parts of roofing tiles, and assorted debris.
The man-wolf landed hard with a grunt on solid floor. He blinked, blowing sawdust and the smell of rotten paper away from his already abused muzzle. Suddenly, there was a dull, ominous click. Kummer slowly turned his head to see the all-to-large business end of a mini-gun pointed at him. At the other end of the weapon was a dark haired woman, dressed in the red and white bodysuit of Longbow. Her Sergeant rank gleamed dully off her uniform through the dusty air.
“Hold it right there!” She snarled in a low voice. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Kummer was having a bad day, it just got worse. He slowly, so very slowly, adjusted his position into a more comfortable crouch. The long, dark haired Longbow Sergeant stared hard at him with gray-blue eyes, her bronze-tan skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat. Kummer - while he was still far from an expert on how his disjointed animal-human parts he called a body really worked - could smell what his instincts said were anger and a touch of fear.
He had smelled some of that before. Kummer had helped with taking down a few small Longbow outposts recently. Though ‘help’ is stretching it, since it was more that he was ‘ordered’ to by a Delta. It really didn’t matter if he wanted to or not. He tried not to think too much about it, if he did he cried - which prompted a beating from the hyenas. However, he could still smell the fear from those Longbow troops, or hear their shouts and screams in his memories. Honestly, he had never been this close to any of them when either he - or they - were not trying to take the other apart. It was a very odd feeling.
“No … no hurt,” Kummer replied in his best attempt at speech. He was still trying to get used to the snout and ruined speech center that had been put in his body. He had secretly practiced, so he had regained some ability to speak ‘normally’, but it was still an effort. He held his hands out in front of him, fingers spread wide in what he hoped would be understood as ‘truce’ or ‘peace’ or something. “Hunt Vahzi. Try make Vahzi go ‘way. Make place safe.” Kummer’s ears fell, trying to look apologetic, however possible that was with a wolf-like face complete with muzzle, “not mean break building.”
The Longbow Sergeant looked quizzically at him, though she kept the mini-gun at the ready. “You were taking out Vahzilok Abominations? Alone? What are you, some kind of hero or something?”
Kummer barked a soft laugh. “No hero,” he replied bitterly.
Her eyes narrowed, “so you’re a villain?”
He shook his head slightly. The man-wolf had no idea until now how narrow a worldview the Longbow people had. Part of him understood, they fought Arachnos or Preatorians or whomever almost daily. Most probably hardly ever saw shades of gray, they couldn’t afford to. “No villain. Just … just Kummer,” he replied in a flat, almost tired tone.
The reply obviously stumped her. She adjusted her grip, frowning while she searched her memories for something. “Kummer … Kummer … German for ‘grief’.”
I … I didn’t know that, Kummer thought to himself, kind of fitting. But, I also don’t speak German. Whatever sick jerk who did this to me obviously has a sense of humor to match.
Her eyes turned hard. “It is also the name of one of the persons of interest wanted for questioning for the destruction of a Longbow Outpost a week or so ago,” she explained firmly.
Damn, he thought with a long sigh, blinking slowly with a sad resignation. I just want to be left alone. Why can’t I just be left alone?
Then a sound reached his ears. An odd scratching sound, like something with too many legs. Ignoring the Longbow sergeant, he glanced around in a panic. He knew of one thing with that sound, and they should *not* be here on Mercy Island.
“What?” the sergeant asked brusquely, slightly unnerved by his sudden movements.
Kummer waved his hands excitedly in a ‘shush’ motion, his ears cocked and listening.
A moment later he heard it again, only louder this time. Loud enough that the Longbow sergeant heard it too. Her head snapped around one way then the other, her attention divided between Kummer at her feet, and the sounds now all around them.
The man-wolf shivered when he saw a nightmarish shape move across an open doorway. It walked on two legs, had a head and a human-like torso, but the comparison to a ‘normal’ person stopped there. Six limbs - or maybe eight, Kummer didn’t care to count accurately - protruded out of the ribcage of the beast. The head was dotted with multiple eyes, the mouth - such as it was - protruded slightly with the awful look of mandibles. It was an Arachnoid, a lab-grown species made by the Arachnos organization and abandoned to grow and multiply for whatever reason on the Isles. Right now, it was also not alone, not by a small margin.
The Longbow sergeant saw them too. She instinctively checked her ammunition, then quickly looked to windows and corners of the room.
Oh crap, the man-wolf thought, she’s going to try and shoot her way out!
Before she could twitch a finger, Kummer lunged at her in a blur of white and gray fur. He rammed a finger into the trigger guard, blocking her ability to fire; his other hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes burned with a mix of alarm, anger and terror. Since she was close to his own size, yet thinner, he was barely able to use his momentum to sweep her up, then jerk her out of the middle of the room. Immediately, he drug his squirming captive and her weapon into an adjacent room that was near-pitch dark and filled with shapeless junk.
Pulling her into the darkest corner he could find, he quietly positioned them so that an old water heater was blocking any view of them from the doorway. Carefully, he pulled her down among the piles there, burying them in a nest. The Longbow sergeant started to speak, but Kummer quickly hugged her a little more firmly. He leaned his head against hers so he could whisper directly into her ear.
“No speak,” he whispered quickly, “please, no be stupid, no speak. Bad, bad things here. Arachnoids. Many Arachnoids. No sound. They go by. No eat. We live. Kummer might want die, not as spider food.”
The sergeant’s eyes widened briefly at the mention of the word ‘Arachnoids’. Slowly, she moved until she was laying in a more comfortable position against Kummer. Then, she relaxed her death grip on the mini-gun’s trigger, much to Kummer’s relief which allowed him in turn to free his abused finger.
Good, the man-wolf thought, she knows them, and maybe understands how much trouble we are in. He sighed wearily. Fehral would beat me about my ears for even saving this Longbow lady. Trouble is, I don’t even know why I did it. I’m probably already in trouble for it I’ve just not been punished for it yet.
The pair lay concealed in the darkness while the monstrous spider creatures moved through the hallway outside. Quickly, they scurried along, converging on the room Kummer and the Longbow sergeant had been only moments ago. Kummer glanced around in the darkness at their current surroundings.
Seconds crept by, in silence. Kummer adjusted a leg that tried to go to sleep, the sergeant shifted an arm, laying it gently alongside the man-wolf which came as a welcome relief since her fist had been digging into his ribcage. Calling the utility closet ‘cramped’ was being generous, calling it ‘cozy’ was downright laughable. It was probably close to ten feet long, and only four to five foot wide - when empty, which right now it was not.
Besides the old hot water heater which was angled across the broken door to the room - which itself hung haphazardly off its hinges - the remainder of the items in the closet were, quite honestly, junk.
However, it was the most welcome junk Kummer had ever encountered.
Given the pieces and parts were ‘junk’ meant not even Freakshow would give it a passing glance. Parts of old radiators, six boxes of broken rolling chair wheels, two misshapen filing cabinets, a portion of an old office desk, and countless collections of forgotten newspapers - some of which served as a makeshift cot or nest at the moment for Kummer and the sergeant - stacked from a handful of issues to columns seven foot tall, all filled the room. In its own right, it was almost a cage.
Wryly, Kummer felt safer here than in the cage at the Company holding pens.
A mutter of voices, some raspy, some not, floated dimly through the air and were caught by Kummer’s ears. He glanced at the Longbow sergeant, she heard it too. She cut her eyes towards the doorway, then leaned against Kummer to press her lips against one of his ears.
“How many?” she asked nearly silently into his ear, “can you tell?”
Kummer successfully fought down an overwhelming tremor that threatened to make him shudder. He closed his eyes a moment to concentrate.
God my ears are sensitive, he thought, his mind starting to wander randomly. She’s worn some perfume recently, he mused, sandlewood? Wow, that’s nice. Abruptly, the man-wolf frowned, angry at himself. Stop that! Focus, goddamnit! Focus!
Kummer took a deep breath and listened, letting his more animal nature sift the sounds, the smell, any details to categorize the threats outside the room.
“Many Arachnoids. Two dozen?” he whispered into the sergeant’s ear. “Hear machines, smell old death. Meat doctor. Vahzi here. Talk plan.”
He felt the woman tense against him. “Plan what?” she whispered again.
Kummer repressed another shudder and nearly failed at the attempt. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Words drifted in from the other room, disconnected, without context. The man-wolf rolled them over in his mind, rearranging them until they made sense.
“Plan attack ship, steal cargo,” Kummer repeated into the sergeant’s ear. “Vahzi want bodies. Monsters get cargo.”
“When?” she breathed in his ear.
This time he missed suppressing his shudder by half a second. He tried to cover it by shifting his position slightly, which only aggravated things. He felt a hot stirring below the pit of his stomach. Wide-eyed with shock, he desperately tried to ignore the feeling. Slowly, he felt that part of himself reluctantly relax. He blinked.
Maybe she didn’t notice, he thought, risking a brief glance in the near darkness at the sergeant.
His eyes met her heated stare which was a mix of surprise, shock and intense anger. He gave her an embarrassed, withering smile. She frowned.
Yeah, he thought glumly, she noticed. I hate my life. I really, really hate my life. Especially today.
Feeling his skin blushing hot along his cheeks, he closed his eyes to listen again. More mindless conversation, each side negotiating and not getting far in the process. Finally, a date was mentioned.
“Big fight. Two days,” Kummer breathed silently into the Longbow sergeant’s ear.
The sergeant relaxed slightly, almost resigned to the information. “Ok, thanks,” she breathed back.
Again, the shudders vibrated through him, and again he tensed, a part of him growing firm quite rapidly. Gritting his teeth, Kummer quickly thought about the medical lab - or torture chamber really - and then the beating from the hyenas where they tried to smash his head into the electrified cage bars. Once again, his body relaxed. He silently blew out a sigh. Kummer felt the sergeant move underneath him. He looked down.
The Longbow sergeant was again glaring at him in the dark gloom.
“Would you *stop that*!” she hissed near-silently in his ear, which did nothing to help his fragmented sense of control. “I will beat you if you try *anything*!”
“Jerk! Ears *sensitive*!” he hissed back. “Can’t help! And you per ... perfume you had,” he hesitated, very embarrassed. “Scent nice. Stupid wear on Isles. Scent still nice.”
For a moment, he thought he saw the hint of a smile … or even a brief smirk … cross her face and mingle with her indignation.
Women. Kummer thought irritably. No get.
“Shut up,” he hissed in her ear. “Talk too much. Wait till gone. Beat Kummer later.”
