A Faceless Visage Pt. 2

Content warning!

This article contains graphic violence.

<< Part 1
The slums of Luna weren't built with easy navigation in mind. Despite having been raised in them, even Lace often found himself in a dark, dirty alleyway he didn't wish to be in. One would think that dark, dirty alleyways you don't wish to be in were one of Luna's cultural touchstones simply by their sheer number. They were, rather, a natural consequence of the nigh-lawlessness that the Free Orbit Clans who settled the dreary rock preferred. It was in just one such dark, dirty alleyway that Lace then found himself at gunpoint.
"Please, we can talk about— " His hands signed desperately.
The woman raised her gun, the yellow lights on its side flashing deliriously. "That food was for my kid."
Lace was glad, briefly, for his lack of a face. If he still had his eyes, he would have had to turn them away from the gun's bright lights— which could all too easily be taken as reason enough to shoot.
"Well?!" The woman demanded. "Where is it?!"
"I already ate it." Signed Lace. This wasn't true, Nix had eaten it— Lace had felt a distinct lack of hunger since he'd found himself transformed. This was both a blessing and a curse; he wouldn't starve to death due to his lack of a mouth, but he couldn't enjoy any of the food and drink that he used to, either.
"I'm going to blow that stupid mask right off your— " The woman slumped over, hitting the ground with a thud. The lights on her gun went quiet alongside her.
Nix smiled at Lace, and threw the stone she'd just hit the woman upside the head with to the side. "Don't worry, she stole it from someone else's child, who probably stole it from yet another party." She leaned over to investigate the woman's gun, it was a cheap, boxy thing with a series of lights fastened to its sides— a trick many budget manufacturers utilized to make their armaments feel more powerful than they actually were. She sighed, and kicked it deeper into the alley.
Lace stepped quickly aside to avoid the tumbling tool, and turned to face Nix. "Would you be more careful?"
Nix laughed. "Says the one who stole food from a clearly armed woman."
"It was your plan, remember?" He signed.
Nix walked closer, holding out an expectant hand.
Lace sighed, or at least mimed the act of sighing— as he had no mouth with which to sigh— and handed over a small, slightly dented metal box.
Nix leaned against a wall as she undid the latch at its front, smiling as it popped open— inviting her to partake of its cargo. "Well, at least she had good taste— moon curry, baby!" Moon curry was the nickname given to a wide group of dishes on Luna, cobbled together from whatever one happened to have around, or found growing in the myriad unclean nooks and crannies of the slums. Many of these dishes were not actually curry, but took the appearance of it. One particularly bright, forgotten mind discovered that by simply adding whatever sauces they had in the back of their pantry— they could manage to make just about any unsavory gruel bearable. The particular mixture Nix was now gleefully devouring appeared to be made from some sort of dry cereal, rice, and barbecue sauce.
Lace shook his head and walked to the entry of the alley, checking to ensure that they'd be safe enough to rest a moment. He wasn't sure who, but someone was following them. He'd seen shadows where there shouldn't be, faces in windows overlooking their travels, and felt eyes on his back.
"It's fine, Lace, we got out of there well before they could've showed up— there's no way they know where we are now." Nix spoke between bites of her meal, the words coming out slightly muffled.
But Lace couldn't shake the feeling, no matter how unwarranted it may have seemed. He scanned the rooftops and, for a fleeting moment, thought he caught someone ducking out of sight.
Grule swore under her breath. Stop getting greedy! She thought to herself, smacking the side of her head. It had been three days, now, that she'd followed the pair. She was sick of it— she was an assassin, not a watchdog! Every single one of those scrappers had to be killed— and every day that went by gave them the chance to escape. Thankfully, it seemed one or more of them had already been dealt with— judging by the state of the apartment where she watched Nix and the masked stranger leave days prior. But, there was no way of knowing until she could personally ensure they were dead.
Usually, she'd have painted the walls with the two she'd found, and gone after the rest immediately. Her enigmatic employer, however, had other ideas once they heard of the masked stranger. It was important enough to them that they offered to triple Grule's pay if she would simply watch, and report back. How could she say no? Despite the promise of a better pay, however, Grule's pride gnawed at her. Was the money worth it if it meant she had to botch the job on purpose? Her finger reached for the rifle's trigger, rubbing it, teasing it— here they were, alone, in an alley. The unconscious woman and her own gun would serve as the perfect scapegoat, no one would suspect a thing.
All Grule had to do was pull the trigger.
A strange sound whistled through the alley, it was akin to high-pitched thunder, if that thunder were heard underwater. It was high-pitched, but not loud— Nix barely heard it, while Lace didn't seem to notice it at all. It was much easier to see it— the thin purple light that trailed towards Lace. In an instant, Nix swept out a foot, knocking Lace over. The laser, aimed for his heart, went through his neck instead. He stumbled back, reaching a hand to the new hole, the edges of which still glowed from the heat. But he didn't fall over. He didn't struggle to breathe. And, most surprisingly, he didn't die.
"Lace?!" Nix shouted, reaching to pull away the arm that now covered the hole.
"I'm...fine?" He signed with his free hand, lowering the other.
Nix stared at the ground through the hole, which went cleanly through his neck.
"I don't even...hurt?" Lace stood up— just as another shot whistled through his left shoulder.
"On the roof." Nix growled, pulling Lace against a wall directly below the sniper's perch. Above them sat some nondescript metal box, neither could tell if it was an air conditioning unit, storage locker, bed— maybe someone left it there precisely for them to avoid gunfire. It didn't matter as long as it provided them with protection, for now. "We'll have a moment to think before they reposition, why didn't you tell me you were invincible, Lace?!"
Lace shrugged. "I...didn't know I was. I don't know if I really am— what if my heart is still there?" He placed a hand over his chest, feeling the frenzied beat of...something, he wasn't sure whether it was the heart he knew, or something stranger.
"We'll try not to test it." said Nix, looking down the connecting street. Before she could step into it, however, another shot whistled past her— leaving a scorch mark on the ground in front of her. "Well, not that way." She grumbled, stepping back.
"Do you think it's the other two?"
"I don't recall either of them being a good shot, I doubt it."
"Maybe they hired an assassin?"
A small, silver sphere dropped between them. Frantic, red lights began to pulse in and out, faster and faster before—
Lace kicked the object without a second thought, sending it careening into the alleyway— which was shortly thereafter engulfed in brilliant yellow light that quickly expanded, before being sucked back in to the sphere. The unconscious woman was now gone, an eerie shadow of her form now scorched onto the ground.
The pair stared in shock, while Lace had almost died at her hands— neither of them actually intended to kill the stranger.
Nix looked up, as if she could see through the mysterious metal object, catching a glance of her attacker. She couldn't. "I...don't think they're repositioning." The worry was clear in her voice.
Now, you're mine. Thought Grule. Sure, she'd missed twice, but now her targets were pinned! Eventually, they'd have to move— and then she'd have them. And if they didn't? She could just move, herself. Thinking she was still above them, they'd be too terrified to move until it was too late. She grinned. This job was going to be done right, regardless of what her employer asked. She was sure after they saw the results, they'd forgive her change of plans.
An odd, warm feeling passed through her ears, as if someone had just blown through them. She felt a strange pressure building inside her head, easy to ignore at first, but the feeling steadily began to become more and more painful. Dropping her gun, she gripped her head, hoping to relieve the pain.
"That won't help you." A whisper said from somewhere behind her.
Grule turned shakily to face her attacker, gritting her teeth to bear the pain. A figure wearing a black robe accented with bright green lights stood over her, they wore a featureless mask, akin to that of the stranger below them. She grunted, and tried to speak— but found the pain growing even worse as she opened her mouth to do so. Instead, she grit her teeth again and merely groaned.
"You decided that my instructions were too easy for someone as skilled as yourself," the voice was strangely clear, as if unimpeded by the mask "effectively tearing our contract apart."
The pressure only continued to build, as Grule heard a dull, cracking sound. Was that her skull? She reached out for the figure, her eyes pleading for the pain to end.
"Isn't it only fitting that I'm now tearing you apart?" A faint, sparkling green light emanated from the figure's hands.
The pressure began to build throughout Grule's entire body, it was too much to even scream as the pain reached an unbearable crescendo, her head finally splitting into jagged pieces that shot outward, and clattered over the roof like bloody hail.
With a sickening thud, Grule's body hit the ground before Nix and Lace, who stepped back in surprise. Her rifle followed shortly, in pieces.
"Who the hell is that?!" Nix shouted.
Lace, spotting the figure's head— or lack of one— turned away to vomit. Only, he was unable to do so, and merely mimed the act— as if doing so would offer the same relief. It didn't.
Nix leaned in to investigate, noting the rifle beside the body. "I...think someone did us a favor." Testing this, she took a cautious step out of cover— nothing happened. She stepped back and placed a hand on Lace's shoulder. "We need to leave."
"Who could have..." He signed, before shaking his head— he wasn't sure he wanted to meet their savior.
Nix shook her head, she didn't want to know, either. Dragging Lace by the arm, she lead him out of the alley, and back into the street. A few moments later they had entered the market again, receiving strange looks from vendors and shoppers alike. Nix looked down, realizing she'd been spattered with blood, as had Lace. This wasn't an uncommon sight on Luna, though anyone with a sense of self-preservation made sure to avoid blood-painted individuals.
Lace made an attempt to clean up some of the blood by wiping it off with his burnt poncho, though this only managed to stain the poncho further, and smear the stuff on his skin. He gave up, and quietly walked alongside Nix— looking for a bath as they went. Neither wanted to draw unnecessary attention, after all. "Do you think we're still being followed?" He signed.
Nix looked behind them, through the crowd, it was hard to tell. "I...don't know. We need to get far, far away from here."
"Do you still have a ship?" Lace asked.
Nix sighed. "If someone's looking for us, that's the first place they'd look." Her brow furrowed. "Maybe they've got a tracker on it by now, too."
"Or a bomb." Lace added.
"Or a bomb..." Nix sighed. "It's not safe, we'll have to get a ship through...other means."
Lace ducked under a metal pipe that protruded from a stall selling some sort of unappetizing grey paste. The pipe was expelling an equally unappetizing plume of smoke, and as Nix plugged her nose, Lace was glad he could no longer smell. There were no baths on offer, it seemed— but Lace did notice something else of interest. A diminutive stall, with a bold holographic sign that read "Narstar's Lunar Tours!" with an cartoonish image of a ship beside it. He tapped Nix on the shoulder, and pointed towards the stall. "This might be it."
"Yeah...take a tour, get rid of the guide, and steal the ship— that could work." She smiled and clapped Lace on the back. "Let's see, shall we?"
A tall, lanky man with a bulky metal helmet over his head greeted them. "You look like the type who want to get away— why not see what Luna has to offer?"
Lace couldn't tell where the man was looking, or how— his helmet covered his eyes, and there were no obvious cameras or apertures in its smooth surface. He wasn't sure if the man would be able to read his signs— but he figured he may as well try. "How much?"
"That'll be 500 upfront." The man grinned.
Nix stepped forward. "I can't help but notice that we're in a tiny stall, and you have no ship." She stared at the man. "Why would I pay upfront when I don't even know if your tour actually exists?"
The man laughed. "Fair, fair— tell you what, we can go over to the ship, and once you've seen it, you can pay me there. Sound good?" He bowed lightly, for a moment it seemed as if the weight of his helmet would cause him to topple over, but he managed to pull himself back up in time. It seemed clear to both of them that the man had grown accustomed to moving with the unwieldy headgear strapped to his head.
Nix turned to Lace. "Well?"
"500 is a lot..." He signed, careful not to let on that there was no money between the two of them. They wouldn't have been stealing food, otherwise.
"I'm sure we'll see the value once we've seen the ship, won't we?" Nix said, smiling at the vendor, who bowed in response— nearly toppling over again.
"Alright, we'll go." Lace reached out a hand to shake the man's own.
The man took it, and shook it a little too vigorously. "The name's Narstar, and yes, my parents really did have the unfortunate lack of good taste to grant me such a name." Walking out of the stall, the man guided the pair through the market, an array of dizzying streets, and up various flights of stairs, before finally reaching their destination. Tucked in a shed to the side of a junkyard, was the Narstar's Lunar Tours office.
Lace noticed a distinct lack of a landing pad— and worried that they might be leaving and landing through the roof, judging by its patchwork appearance. "Is the ship in there?" He asked.
The man nodded. "Yes, yes! It's quite a small thing— but it works for our customers." He stopped and turned back towards the pair. "You won't mind sharing a seat, will you?"
Nix shrugged. Good thing we only need two seats. She glanced at Lace, wishing she could read his eyes for a signal— but there were none. They'd have to figure something out, soon.
The man ushered them in through a rusty door, then bowed. "You'll see our grand tour ship to the right— it may not be luxury, but it offers a luxurious view from above." The ship appeared to have been cobbled together from the carcasses of myriad others, some pieces were smooth silver, others rusted and boxy. It was asymmetrical, too— on one side appeared to be a trianglar wing— on the other, a square thruster.
Nix winced, her own ship had been similar— but she certainly took better care of it. That, and, she wouldn't dare make it asymmetrical.
Narstar appeared beside her, grinning— his teeth seemed to be similarly cobbled together. "A beaut, isn't it?"
Nix smiled politely. "I'm sure it's just as gorgeous inside, could we see?"
The man clapped his hands together excitedly. "Of course!" With that, he approached the ship's entry— requiring an iris scan to unlock— and then welcomed the pair inside.
Lace punched Nix in the shoulder, it was the best thing he could think of as a signal. She would probably make him pay for it later, he was sure.
Still smiling, Nix approached Narstar, then, quickly grabbed his helmet, and threw him to the ground headfirst.
The weight of the helmet proved too much to pick up, now, leaving the man's limbs flailing in the air. "Thieves! Thieves! You won't get away with my beautiful ship!" He flailed for the gun holstered at his side, but found it difficult to orient himself with his head upside-down.
Lace stepped forward and took the gun from him, and looked it over. Its solid black frame appeared to be covered with a series of shiny blue tubes, coverging on a silver barrel. From the looks of it, it was probably the most expensive thing Narstar owned— and well kept as a result. He tucked it into the poncho— after all, if he was being hunted, he'd need to protect himself.
"Give! It! Back!" Narstar shouted, desperately reaching into the air with each word.
Nix kicked him in the stomach, hoping to keep him down for longer, before joining Lace inside the ship. The interior was just as inconsistent as the exterior, with patches of various materials making up the whole. Its singular hall shifted directions abruptly, rather than moving straight towards the cockpit— which was also awkwardly shaped. Round on the left, and angular on the right— even the control panel within appeared to be cobbled together from two separate ships. Nix took the captain's chair, a comfortably padded black thing, leaving Lace to stew in the cold aluminum of the passenger's seat.
"Where to?" She asked.
"Anywhere but here." Lace signed.
Moments later, they were gone, leaving Narstar flailing on the ground of his now roofless shed.
To be continued...