Hate And Heresy

The cigarette smoke was thick in the outlaw bar Daezel sat in. The muscular silver-haired woman of black armor didn't seem completely out of place, but there were no other female patrons. Other than herself, there were only the veteran waitresses among the tables of loud intimidating outlaws. Criminals of all sorts sat and drank and laughed and fought. It was a typical night, except for the presence of a beauty at the bar counter in well-worn black armor.

"Well, hello there, dark beauty," a giant of a man said as he sat in the stool next to Daezel. "Haven't seen you around here before. What kind of troubles do you get into?"

The brave man was a bulging mass of muscle and stink. He smelled like he hadn't bathed in quite a while and it bothered Daezel. The cigarette smoke was fine, as she would also have lit some wrapped herb eventually, but the man's close distance was filling her nose with oniony sweat.

"Hey, no need to be shy," the man said with lean towards Daezel. "We're all comrades here. I'll show you a good time."

The bartender finished mixing the armored woman's drink and sat it in front of her.

"Please leave," Daezel calmly said. "I'm trying to relax after a tough job."

"So am I," the man replied. "Want to get out of here and unwind together? Guarantee you'll enjoy yourself. I'll do all the work."

Daezel gave a glance at the man and found his yellow smile. He was a disgusting brute who probably wouldn't take a full rejection lightly.

Thankfully, a double beep sounded at Daezel's hip. She retrieved a small electronic device with a little screen and looked at the dim screen. Refusing to ever wear gloves or gauntlets, it was easy to use.

"Boyfriend calling you?" the man questioned. "I'm good at keeping secrets."

Daezel scrolled through the message quickly before putting the device away. She had been called to serve the queen. In swift fashion Daezel consumed her drink in a few gulps and sat the cup upside down on the bar top.

"Ready?" the man asked her.

"Ready," she replied.

Drawing a black dagger, the armored woman dug the blade into the wood of the bar through the man's hand with a heavy stab. The giant yelled in agony as he was anchored but fell silent with a following strike. Daezel had extended the blade on her right arm from its hidden sheath in the armor and cut through the man's neck with a flick. As the loose head rolled away, the establishment fell silent and many criminal patrons gestured towards their weapons.

Daezel turned around to the many trained eyes and itching trigger fingers. She frowned deep at how many there were. Maybe she could talk them down. 

"I don't think many of us cared too much for Big Bruce there, but we have an unspoken rule here against violence," a man sitting at a far table called out. "But seeing is you're a woman, I'm sure we could work something out. Right, fellas?"

The bar filled with the sickening laughter of hungry men. Daezel decided not to talk.

The long and narrow build to the bar was a benefit. Daezel put her left arm across her c.h.e.s.t in a wind up before swinging it across the crowd before her. Through bone and flesh the armored woman cut. Nothing stood against the swipe. No innocent piece of furniture spared. Like an unstoppable hot blade, every patron before Daezel was cut through clean and open wounds were instantly cauterized. Newly-freed sections of body fell to the floor in a orc.h.e.s.tra of dead and dying plops upon hardwood. The bartender could hardly believe his eyes. He couldn't tell how the armored patron had accomplished her slaughter.

Daezel let out a sigh as she retracted her blade back into its arm sheath. The bartender, who had not moved an inch out of experienced caution, looked to his dead clientele with a frown.

"Just who are you, lady?" he asked the murderous woman in black armor.

So far from home and her job in the region already completed, she didn't mind telling.

"I am Executor Daezel," she answered, looking upon the waste of life spent before her. "How much do I owe you for the mess?

Out in front of the shop, Meek and Moya sat upon the hood of the car and watched their new comrades put on a display. Meek was dumbfounded. As she took another drink of hard alcohol straight from the bottle, she watched Adella, Cain, and Suizu argue. Meek knew too well the importance of rank and the honor and pride associated with it. Such things were a cornerstone of the Ordan people's will to exist, but Meek didn't expect it to be a point of contention for her new following.

"Is this normal?" Moya questioned her master, taking the bottle to drink.

"This kind of behavior wouldn't be allowed among my people, but the feelings they're expressing are expected," Meek replied. "Maybe being allowed to act casual is bringing out their true nature or something. And here I thought we were in a hurry. I already called in a favor and greased some palms so we could leave and they're arguing in the f.u.c.k.i.n.g driveway!"

"Well, we're still waiting for Jake to give them a ride," Moya pointed out. "Might as well enjoy the bickering."

"I was already here!" Adella argued. "I am Meek's right hand! You have no claim to it!"

"Our lady needs a real guard to keep her safe at all times!" Cain argued back. "I am the best suited to stand in such a position!"

"You two don't get to decide this!" Suizu yelled. "I have just as much right as any!"

"How the f.u.c.k did this happen, Moya?" Meek questioned. "I'm not even that good-looking. Why are all of you throwing yourselves at me?"

"Please, stop questioning this over and over," Moya replied. "Just accept your devoted playthings."

"This is ridiculous," Meek said, snatching the bottle back.

"My lady, you must make this decision," Cain said to Meek. "Let me stand by you."

"Why the f.u.c.k are you calling me that?" Meek replied, to the fearful flinching of Cain.

"You need to put this debate to rest before they kill each other," Moya said.

"Look, I don't know what the hell has gotten into you three in the last couple of hours, but put this idea of rank behind you," Meek said in a commanding tone. "You all either ask how high when I tell you to jump, or leave and go find lives of your own to live. Moya and I will figure this shit out on our own if we have to."

There was a very brief moment of pause while the three Ordan warriors looked defeated.

"Okay but… what are we to you then?" Suizu asked.

"Is this a f.u.c.k.i.n.g joke?" Meek questioned. "Are you three high? Do I give off some special pheromone? Why are you guys acting like this?"

"They're warrior ladies who lived a hard life with strict rules," Moya said. "You gave them leadership without tyranny and comradeship without robbing them of who they are. Don't be such an a.s.s. I understand their attraction to you."

"You don't understand your attraction to me," Meek pointed out.

"Right back at you," Moya cheekily said.

Suizu had her hands deep in her given jeans and looked at Meek with watery eyes. With her casual clothes and a yellow clip in her red hair, she was quite the cutie. The Ordan medical bays were exceptional, and had completely undone the damage done by Meek.

"My gods," Meek sighed.

The frustrated blonde walked over to her new teary follower and pulled her into a hug. Meek held Suizu's head to her shoulder and rubbed her hair.

"Don't cry," Meek attempted to comfort her. "You're making me feel bad."

"Sorry," Suizu apologize with a sniffle.

"Hands," Meek said, with a much flatter tone than before.

"Sorry," Suizu repeated, quickly taking her soft grip away from Meek's bottom.