0022 - Red Forest

Firenze gunned the sidecar motorcycle, sending the crystalline desert dust up in droves behind her. Benjamin was quietly playing on his solar powered game-boy, he hadn’t spoken a word in a while.

They’d been on this path for a couple of hours now, and even Firenze, for all her training and preparation was starting to go crazy from staring at the unyielding landscape. She wondered how far grudges to go, to warrant going after some hermit that hadn’t been a part of society for the last 4 decades. But the job was the job.

“What level are you?” She asked.

There was a sound of failure-music. Benjamin didn’t seem to mind having lost, “I was level 100. It’s a rogue-like: Save the Earth. Do you know it?”

Firenze, despite herself, was glad for the conversation.

“I don’t play video games. You know that.”

“You’re forbidden to play video games, eat meat, drink alcohol, disobey direct orders and even make small-talk, doesn’t mean you can’t do them.” Benjamin said, restarting the game and tossing it over to Firenze.

Firenze snatched it out of the air with one hand and stared at the gameboy screen. It seemed to be a simple enough principle – strategically make civilization thrive before all the trees died.

She tossed it back to Benjamin, “There was never saving the Earth in the first place.”

Benjamin shrugged, “Games aren’t meant to be documentaries.”

They arrived, a week later at their destination, with Benjamins’ highscore being level 225. The settlement they saw was made up of cylindrical stone huts. There were people gathered already, bearing low-tech laser rifles and pistols.

Firenze pulled to a halt.

“Well, stealth wasn’t an option anyway. People can see for miles out here.” She hopped out of the motorcycle, as did Benjamin.

“LEAVE!” Shouted a young voice. It turned out to be a kid with a shotgun. He was very young, but determined, “The old man did nothing wrong! Leave him alone!”

“It’s OK, Isaac.” Said a voice. The crowd parted, and a man walked forward, followed by what could only be described as an angelic looking woman. Benjamin looked at her,

“She’s his sword bearer. Class SX. Careful.” He said.

“Is there any chance of diplomacy here, assassin Firenze Yol?” The old man said while stroking his chin.

“I’m not from a political organisation.”

“So you’d think. Liana.” The man held out his hand, and the angelic looking woman plunged a hand in her heart and brought out a white glowing heart that was almost blinding even despite the noon light.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m duelling you because I think holding a grudge is nonsensical.” Firenze said, holding out her hand. Similarly, Benjamin tore out his heart. His was a red pulsing heat, less brighter than the other, but with an overwhelming sticky heat emanating from it.

Firenze and the old man simultaneously swiped their hands over their hearts and they elongated and twisted into katanas of their respective colour. The sand beneath their feet pulsed away, and the onlookers stepped away. Benjamin and the woman stepped aside and watched as the two swordsmasters sized eachother up.

“I appreciate your concern. Shall we begin?”

Their swords slashed, and clashed, and 4,336 blows were exhanged within the small radius of their small confrontation, and at the last stroke the mans’ head went flying, and his partner coughed up blood and feel exactly as the mans’ body did. The deed was done.

“Assassination complete.” Firenze said, collapsing her blade back into a heart and tossing it over to Benjamin, who stuck it back in place.

“Why didn’t he run away?” Benjamin asked later as they drove.

Firenze didn’t have an answer to that. So she just drove on.