The Red Queen

’Yeah, I know that guy...’ said the desk clerk of “The Highlander” when Maria described the monk to him. He was a short, spotty youth with small round spectacles on his small round nose and dressed in a neat uniform of blue mock-tartan with a name badge that read “Malcolm”, ‘...checked in a few weeks back... here, lemme check the book...’ he turned to grab a book from under a shelf behind him and thumbed through it.

‘Ah, here we are...’ he said, showing Maria the page, ‘...Konrad Turg- something or other...’ he finished, spinning the book around, pushing it in Maria’s direction and tapping on the name half-way down the page, ‘...quiet fellow; pays in cash...’. Maria looked at the signature. It definitely read “Konrad”, but she couldn’t quite decipher the last name. She could make out a “T”, “U”, “G”, an “N″, maybe and a couple of “E’s”. It looked like it had been written in an archaic form of Russian.

Or by a four-year-old.

According to the book, though, he’d only been here three weeks.

‘Is he a witness or summit...?’ asked Malcolm. Maria was about to reply when Malcolm suddenly looked beyond her to the door.

‘Mr Turg- erm...Konrad...’ he called to the person behind Maria, ‘...this police lady wants a word, sir...’ he finished, absently pointing to Maria. She half-turned to the man who had frozen where he stood as if he was playing “musical statues” and the music had stopped.

There was an awkward moment as the two of them locked eyes. Maria’s hand strayed to the handle of her gun as her eyes flicked down to the hilt of a sword poking out from beneath the cloak he was wearing. It resembled the head of a bird, a falcon, perhaps? His eyes flick down to see her stray towards her gun.

Suddenly, he bolts for the door as she fumbles with her gun. As she draws and aims, holding the gun with both hands to steady it, she sees that he has already fled through the door.

‘Shit...!’ she declares before turning to Malcolm, ‘...call the cops...’ she yells, replacing the gun into its holster, and heading for the door, ‘...that was the damned Head-hunter...!’

Outside, there’s no sign of him at first. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she spots him running down an alley across the road leading to a large structure. She knows that building. She hammers on the plexi-glass of the hotel where she can see Malcolm frantically stabbing numbers into the phone. He looks up as she gestures to the building down the alley. The spotty youth nods nervously. Quickly she fishes her own phone out of her pocket and jabs at the numbers.

‘Bo...?’ she yells down the phone, crossing the road, ‘...look, I’m sorry for earlier, but a guy called Konrad killed Bertyn and now he’s heading for the old Bryants factory. Meet me there in ten minutes and bring your sword... yeah...?’ She hangs up before Bo can protest on the other end and chases after Konrad to the abandoned Bryants factory.

The building is impressive, despite it being abandoned for many years. The windows are either broken or boarded up with chipboards that seem to have been used as a canvas for multiple “artists”.

Maria draws her Glock 17 and carefully walks into the abandoned factory.

Inside, it was vast and empty. Press machines stood in the dark like forgotten sentries overlooked by wide gantries that spanned the entire structure like some metallic web of a giant spider that had given up half-way through. Crates and drums were scattered across the floor; some covered in tarpaulin, others exposed and looted or used as fire-bins. Must’ve been fairly recently used, as they were still alight, albeit with dying flames deep within the drum itself. Debris, cans and bottles littered the floor and there were abandoned sleeping bags in some of the many alcoves.

Dust in the air; the smell of sweat, beer, smoke and piss; people had been here not long ago. It was probably a magnet for the homeless to sleep, or for teenagers to hang out, party or make-out; either was possible.

By the looks of things, no-one had been here in a very long time.

Perhaps even the homeless were too scared to be here tonight, mused Maria.

‘Konrad...’ she shouted, her voice echoing across the tarped crates and dusty air, ‘...I know you’re in here. We just need to talk...’.

A single deafening roar from a Browning punctuated her call like an exclamation point. Maria made a dive for cover behind some nearby metal bins covered in tarpaulin. A familiar, thin face came up from behind a crate in the western corner. Though the sound had startled her, Maria smiled as she locked eyes with the target.

‘There you are...’ she whispered to herself, ‘...step out from behind the crate...’ she shouted, ‘...don’t make this any worse for yourself’.

She tried her own exclamation point, but Konrad ducked back behind his cover by the time Maria had lifted her arm to fire. Her 9mm Glock sounded weak following a gun like that.

Another shot rang out.

Maria thought for a second she felt pain. She was sure it was just a stab in the gut from her nerves. Not, as she first imagined, a bullet.

A quick glance to her gut told her it was the former, rather than the latter.

She waited for Konrad’s head to surface as a flashbulb started to burst in her head.

The crate was wooden.

She could shoot through the thing.

She smiled again - this time at her own stupidity.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The three rounds sent splinters flying and polluted the factory air with even more dust. The Gunsmoke and sawdust irritated her lungs so badly she had to cough. The lack of a similar one from behind the crate indicated at least one of the rounds had found Konrad.

One step forward, then another.

Nothing but silence from the crate.

She’d done it; or at least she hoped she had. She remembered that he was probably Immortal, and she was ready to shoot again; planning to keep on shooting until Bo arrived to behead this son-of-a-bitch-

A final bang.

Maria was unaware of what had just happened until the second she hit the floor. The muzzle from Konrad’s Browning poking almost invisibly from one of the hole’s she’d shot through the crate, looked more like a smiling mouth to her than anything, even with the smoke coming out of it. She struggled to look down at herself; there was a smoking hole in her blouse, just above her left breast that was already bleeding badly. From behind the crate, Konrad makes a run for the steps leading to the upper gantry, when he suddenly stiffens as he takes two steps up, before racing up to the top.

Maria knows that look; another Immortal is nearby.

‘Maria...!’ screams Bo, suddenly crashing to the floor at her side, scooping up Maria in her arms, ‘...no, no, please god, no..!’ she stammers through her tears, ‘...don’t you dare die on me...!’.

Maria coughs and splutters, gasping for air as she coughs up blood.

‘Bo...’ she stammers between breaths, ‘...he’s gone up... kill the son-of-a-bitch for me...?’

‘Of course, my love...’ answers Bo tearfully, ‘...just hold on, yeah...?’

‘I’ll try...’ stammers Maria, ‘...who knows... I might be Immortal...’

‘Possibly...’ said Bo, ‘...god, I hope so...’

’Does it have to hurt so fucking much...?’ asked Maria, her breath becoming shallow and erratic.

‘You get used to it...’ says Bo. She knows it won’t be long until they find out whether Maria is Immortal or not. Maria winces in pain, breathing out one last time before her body goes limp. Bo simply pulls her closer and weeps.

‘Your girl died well...’ comes a voice from somewhere above her, ‘...it’s almost a shame she’s mortal...’

‘You fucking BASTARD...!’ cried Bo, the tears running unashamedly down her cheeks, to the gantry above, ‘...you’re gonna pay for that...!’

‘I accept your challenge, little girl...’ came the response, ‘...come face me when you’re ready...!’

’I’m going to get you, Konrad! I’m gonna destroy you...!’ she began, scanning the vast web-way of steel above her as she continued, not knowing where Konrad was, ‘...and when you start begging for me to end it, I’m gonna make you suffer...’ she paused to look down at Maria’s corpse. She looked so peaceful; almost as if she was merely asleep, ‘...forever more...’ she continued, her voice softening almost to a whisper.

Bo planted a kiss on her forehead, as Talos did to her, and her father before him, as she lay down to sleep before gently laying Maria down onto the floor.

She could feel the hatred sweep over her as she looked up at the gantry above her, and screamed, scooping up her sword and racing towards the gantry steps, eager to avenge Maria’s death. Forgetting everything Talos had taught her about controlling her temper, she raced up the metal steps, her head darting from side to side in her attempt to locate Konrad before deciding to dash to the left where she thought was the best place to start looking for the murderous monk.

From out of nowhere comes a metal pipe which slams into the bridge of Bo’s nose, the sudden shock of pain causing her to drop her sword and fall back.

She shakes the pain away and tastes blood. Konrad discarded the pipe, slipped to the side, and threw a series of jabs at her, which she blocked with her forearms, before replying with a very un-lady-like headbutt.

Konrad staggered but recovered quickly. He rushed forward again, but, as Bo threw her hands up again, he delivered a swift boot to her gut which doubled her over before he slammed his right fist into her left temple, and she went down hard.

Within seconds, Konrad grabs her head, his fingers digging into her scalp as his fingers curl around a clump of her flame-red hair, and lifts her up until she’s on her knees, wincing with pain and clutching at the man’s wrist in an attempt to dislodge him.

Konrad slams the bridge of his right foot into Bo’s ribs as she manages to wrench the man out of her hair. The pain ripples across her chest and is then intensified as the force of the kick sends her back to the floor of the platform.

‘Silly little girl...’ Konrad taunts. Bo is on her feet within moments, shaking her head in an attempt to shake off the pain and takes a “southpaw” boxing stance.

‘Oh...’ exclaims Konrad with sarcasm, ‘...the little girl wants to play, does she?’ Bo motions with her outstretched right hand for him to “bring it”.

Konrad smiles, drops into a boxing stance and advances on her.

The first punch glanced at Bo’s chin.

She noticed too late that it was a feint, though, when the second punch doubled her over and expelled the last bit of choked air from her belly.

It was a heck of a shot.

Outside of having the wind knocked from her, which she always hated, Bo noticed a fair amount of pain with the gut shot, which was something she wasn’t used to. A hit to the face, yes, or even the kidney...but a shot to the gut shouldn’t have been much more than discomfort, if that.

Fortunately, she was used to it.

A veteran of many fights in countless cities over the centuries, even being out of air was something Bo knew how to deal with.

Bo took a lurching step forward and swung with her left fist.

The blow felt too sluggish, and Bo knew the second she launched it. The spry, smirking Konrad effortlessly ducked under it. Before Bo could even register the dodge, however, another body shot, this one to her ribs, sent fresh ripples of pain through her torso. She didn’t fall - she made absolutely sure she did not fall - but it was a lot closer than she’d have liked.

Konrad went in for another shot. Bo ducked it and jabbed her left fist into Konrad’s throat. He staggered back a few paces clutching his throat. Hearing Konrad making coarse, rasping sounds told Bo that she had done damage.

This seemed to give her a second wind.

Covering the distance between them, she threw three more punches. Although all three connected, Konrad staggered, but didn’t fall.

It was unreal.

Between the pain in her guts and ribs and the general confusion (some would call it being “punch drunk”), the sight of Konrad on his feet after the left-right-left was not something she wanted to see. Anger got the better of her and she threw a haymaker with her left that Konrad ducked but didn’t parry, then another with her right that Konrad swung under again - and responded in turn with an uppercut.

The sound of Bo’s upper and lower rows of teeth making unplanned contact sickened her. She staggered back onto the guard rail, trying not to fall. Konrad quickly took two steps before slamming his right fist across her jaw, sending her spinning before she collided with the barrier. She tried to prevent herself from pitching forward over the barrier, but the momentum of the hit and her own weight unbalanced her, and she toppled over the edge. There was a brief moment of serenity as she fell through the air before it all went black as her body hit hard upon the concrete floor, kicking up a crater of dust.

‘Silly little girl...’ Konrad repeated, looking over the barrier at the broken body of Bo, his voice a little raspier than before.