Alpine Desert Rose

I went home, Montreal's not much in late november, when the white stuff hasn't decided to start falling yet, but you can smell it in the air. I had picked up some local flowers at the florist, crazy, I know, we had a depopulation event, maybe as many as one in ten people died, and people still tend flowers for guys who work too much and should know better, to give to their girlfriends as a lame apology.
I should say I tried to go home. I ran into this gang, they thought i was a member, and not being properly sociable. There was something though, their leader. A woman, had this massive tattoo around her neck, some necklace of thorns. Spoke some code I didn't catch. Told me to put my hands up. Only took them a look at Daisy to reconsider that notion. I don't normally pull her out of my duffel, but with eight of them to one of me, I didn't have much of a choice, not if I wanted to avoid bloodshed. Their blood. The bloodthorns, of course, that's what they were called.
Arrived at my place, the tower had seen better days, but then, most of them had. The indoor access from the airport and connection to what remained of the underground city was what sold me to the place. It was convenient, and secure. Ratu liked the airy light in the windows. The old hockey rink/concert hall across the street was derelict, no one sane wanted to be caught in there, the police barricade reminded everyone.
"Sayang saya di rumah!"
"Welcome, honey." We always greeted in different languages, if I reponded to her in the same language she spoke to me, and I didn't apologize, in a third language, she knew she was to leave the country, immediately, or as soon as could be arranged, because I had been kidnapped. She had protested, no one would go through this trouble for an Indonesian-born nurse, but I had persisted. My enemies, such as they were, had nothing but scorn to spare, her being innocent, would be no defence. It wasn't much, and we had twelve false-positives that needed an apology. It helped that we shared six languages, the two of us, and were working on a seventh and an eighth.

Message on bloodthorn's machine

I am Kindler Merrill, I only have some money, I have a nice place in downtown Montreal, what I do have, is a very special set of skills.
If you bother me, as the bloodthorns found out, I can make your life very painful, if you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone.
If you're thinking of bothering people I know... Don't.
If you bother the people I care about, the pieces of you that are left will know what it's like to be barbecued.
The smart one of you that thought cutting one of my girlfriend's rose was cute?
Prepare to die, motherfucker.
Bloodthorns or no bloodthorns, I don't let street trash mess with what's mine.

"Which one of you failed to recognize Kindler Merrill?"
"I, I..."
"Didn't I kindly provide training on recognizing threats, and dangerous individuals, at my own expense, and out of the kindness of my heart?"
"You... You did..."
"Didn't you follow this training, and benefit from my generosity, where I was trying to protect all my helpful teammates?"
"I.. I did..."
"The broadcast this morning you will find interesting..."

On Tannoy

Attention, attention, all bloodthorns.
This message was left on our answering service. As the principal believed to have left the message is considered a class V threat, Team Management would like to remind you that our risk insurance is not liable for 'acts of god' or 'Taunting a dragon'.

A different voice said:

One of you dipswitches has gone and truly fucked up, listen:

I am Kindler Merrill...
Bloodthorns or no bloodthorns, I don't let street trash mess with what's mine.

— Message left on Bloodthorns answering service

"Oh, fuck." Darrix said, while half the crew, never the most stable of individuals, all seemed to secure an evactuation posture.
"Yeah, I thought it was you, Darrix."
"Can't you hide me?"
"Hide you, from Kindler Merrill? Just how many astronomical units do you think that'll take, Darrix? The man is a legend, he finds. He finds. Hiding you is the problem. You wil say you're behaving, you'll say you're not giving him any hints."
"Of course."
"But he is Kindler Merrill, he has Odin's Eye. None may hide but that yet he may find."
"I'm so fucked."
"If I kill you right now, I'm doing you a favour. Rumour has it, Kindler Merrill is being recruted, for Presence^tm."
"That is just a boogeyman!"
"Kindler Merrill is the man you send, when the boogeyman is threatening you, and you have no choice. What Kindler Merrill cannot find, is probably not on earth. What crime Kindler Merrill cannot punish... Is probably beyond the justice of God. Could you buy God's Justice, Darrix?"
"Make... make it quick."

— Video recording dumped into Kindler Merril's answering service

The throat always made this godawful sound, but Tessia was used to it, ever since she had started the bloodthorns, someone had needed... course correction. Now she only hoped Kindler Merrill considered the matter closed. His legend didn't allow for the survival of the bloodthorns if he didn't.
He wasn't just the boogeyman. He was the effing, in-triplicate-with-expletives-boogeyman. Mara's mentor had told her how to deal with him: respect, first, but mostly, survival. He was a monster. He had killed gangs of augmented individuals, outnumbered ten-to-one. No one knew exactly how, but the Eye of Odin, whatever that was, was key to it. It allowed him to know what his enemies were planning. No one, absolutely no one, got the drop on Kindler Merrill. And that meant survival went in a singular direction for Mara: avoidance. No ambush could succeed on this legendary opponent, no amount of outnumbered would level his apparent knowledge of any foe. She just hoped he didn't take whatever it was... personally...
She took another two whiskeys, strong ones, and tried to get to sleep. Whatever happened, it would tax her thorns, but they were resilient, they'd probably outlive her...