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The Portal Games

Tarin's Promo

Tarin was many things, though those in his life seldom knew more than one of his various facets. He maintained a careful separation of different acquaintances and comrades, keeping his allies and assets in the dark with everything that they didn't need to know so they couldn't expose it. It was safer that way, for both of them. He wanted to stay alive, and they were only useful so long as they didn't get ideas of how to make use of him in...different ways.

Of course, there were only so many ways that one could keep things separate. Those that hired him as a 'collector' knew he had to have more than mere thief skills to find the things he did, and those that procured his services as a 'bagger' knew that he funded himself in other illegal ways to finance his equipment. However, nobody knew the whole story, and that was the way that Tarin preferred it.

As he slid from the bed, slowly buttoning up the fresh shirt that he'd brought - the one he'd arrived in was quite stained, now, and the red would ask questions - the melanistic white-tailed deer made his way from the bed to the balcony. The hotel room overlooked the core of...wherever he happened to be this time. He hadn't asked; the Magelord that had sent him here was cagier than most of his clients, and his handler had insisted that it played better for the hapless tourist role to be more clueless of his surroundings. By noon, he would be taken home. Ostensibly.

In truth, he was well aware that his handler was looking to hand the 'Black Heart' name to another up-and-coming agent. Tarin could read between the lines with the increasing difficulty of his assignments and how much further afield they spread, and more, how they were targeting the Mage Lords greater frequency. Sooner or later, one of them would survive the first hit, or see through his disguise before he could land the blow. When that happened, the response would be deadly.

So, just in case, he began plotting his exit route. He continued slowly pulling buttoning up his white undershirt, the blood pool of the body on the bed behind him slowly spreading across the floor as the tiger Mage Lord bled to death. Someone would notice that, but by the time they did, he would be long gone.

From the balcony, he took in the city. The city center was buzzing with activity, from personal ornithopters and helicopters to larger airships to carry anywhere from ten to a hundred people flying about. There was no organization between them, despite the smoke lines rising from the vents through the city creating sky-lines and sky-lanes. Smaller craft zipped between them, and larger ones could not make the turns that the lines were meant to encourage.

Further down, the rusting steel and copper buildings eventually gave way to brickwork and red stone, all leading down to the streets that were littered and shared between man and machine. Half-sentient experiments of the Mage Lords wobbled along the cracked pathways and the common madness of the street scientists manifested themselves in machines meant to keep order but merely enforced their own sort of tyranny.

Science and science had both run amok, and neither responded to the pleas of the commons to rein them in once more. That was where people like him stepped in.

Or at least, that was where they were meant to. Of late, he had been sent out as Black Heart to take care of more and more Mage Lords, ignoring some of the rising threats of the madder scientists in the lower parts of society. Tarin wondered if someone above his handler - or his handler himself, he supposed - had chosen a side. If so -

Thump. Thump.

The white-tailed deer paused in the process of pulling his belt tight. Someone at the door. Unexpected. Unwanted, as well. He shook his head, pulling his vest and coat on.

Thump. Thump.

So, they were not going away. Tarin shook his head, checking his coat sleeves. The wrist-blade attached to his forearm was properly armed and ready, and the wind-up pistol at the small of his back was already armed. Provided it wasn't a crowd, this shouldn't be a problem.

"Coming," he called, letting his voice rise, going high and slightly tittering, like a young boy fresh from the bed of a lover. The same delight grew on his face, long practice and long years at this - too many years, for someone only twenty-six years old - bringing his disguise to bear with ease.

As he opened the door, four lions stared down at him, their manes pulled back in immaculate braids, their rust-red uniforms adorned with gold buttons and blue metals, with chains of copper running down each side to attached arms and supplies. No mere City Watch, this, but personal guards.

His smile froze, and his heart chilled. Someone had ratted him out.

"Black Heart - ulk!"

He cut without warning, the blade still retreating to his sleeve as he slammed the door shut. As the blood spatter hit the other side, he hooked the room's only loose chair and slammed it under the doorknob. The Mage Lord's guards would be through in less than a minute, but that was all he needed.

No point in hiding the body further, and no point in grabbing anything else. Tarin ran, his hooves carrying him with great speed to the balcony. One helicopter, one ornithopter, one helicopter -

Kick. Leap.

He was in the air, and then higher still as he grabbed the tail-end of the next ornithopter. He dangled from it, his weight carrying it down as the door crashed open behind him. The lions shouted for his blood, roaring at the top of their lungs, but he and the ornithopter pilot were already borne down by the weight of his body. It dragged them through smoke and gusts of wind, the pilot screaming for him to let go.

Tarin did not. He needed this ride, and he could survive the fall. Perhaps the pilot could, perhaps he couldn't. They would find out.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. A blue-black portal. It was not dissimilar from the portals that had called him home in the past, so perhaps his handler was not responsible for calling the guards. Perhaps it was bad luck.

Or perhaps it was a further trap. Such was always -

CRACK! CRACK!

The snap-crack of the guards' steam rifles echoed from above. He had no time to float to the ground. He'd have to hope for the best. Tarin flipped himself up and over the ornithopter, squeezing it between his legs for balance, and turned it into the portal.

If nothing else, his odds of survival were better on the other side than here.