Chapter 4. And So He Was Born…

 Sandy, quiet plains that seem to go on forever. A small disturbance ruptured the underground roots and the sand above began to shudder. Into an Oblivion the man proceeded, the gates of hell opened quick as the bursting of a bubble.

            His pink hair grew soft, rust fell from his clothing and his butchered skin turned to milk as he emerged from the sandy gates and into the bleak, desolate desert. Long, elegant, spiderlike fingers neatly clawed their way out of the dungeon. Eight inches of heel hit the ground with a crunch. Dusting off his coat, he looked to the east. With a smirk and determined eyes, the man began his walk.

            Eight hours of walking, yet still nothing. Nothing lay beyond except a barren wasteland. Heat waves entangling themselves in the air, the man smiled and narrowed his eyes. He was here.

            He gazed forward unto the sandy plains. His eyes teared. He blinked. Before him lay a lush green forest. Birds and creatures flitted about, some observed the man, but none dared to ever cross the border of grass and sand. The forest border went on as far as the eye could see, but so did the sand. An endless battle raged between the two. The sand had once buried the forest; but the trees were tall and strong, and the roots were persistent. The forest had pushed the mossy floor above the sand until they dominated a vast amount of the desert. To this day they still battle, it was impossible to predict who would win, but for the moment they are level.

            Silence, nothing but silence. A shudder. A shudder that moved the gains of sand to meet the brink of the forest. Stretching like leather, vines reached and snapped. The machine clattered and clanked as it burst through the sand. Standing eighteen feet high, the massive steel tank looked unstable with the large diamond cut drill protruding eight feet from the front of the machine. The demonic man gazed up at the contraption. The roar of the motor died down, and stream burst from various holes. The machine sank into the sand a few inches. Steam blew from the cracks that created a metallic door. It lowered and hit the ground with a thunderous BANG. The inside was much more clean then the rustic outside. The floors were like tinted blue mirrors, and the walls were circular slabs of marble. There were two seats at the head, cut off from the rest of the room by a holographic screen, showing every district currently containing Liouxctawes. There were odd objects laying around here and there, a small pile of rusted bracelets laid in a matted nest on a nearby table.  The Demon approached the vehicle, his shoes clicked lightly on the metal barred platform. He stopped and pursed his lips, look the rugged man up and down with distain.

            “Refej,” the man acknowledged the Demon. “Carrier” the Demon acknowledged the man. The platform raised and snapped shut. An ambient yellow light increased in brightness, and then decreased with a light hum; on and on the light continued in the same pattern. “It’s nice to see you again,” Carrier motioned to a nearby seat. Carrier’s voice was thick and rugged, it had a gentle yet violent crack to it. Refej took his seat and crossed his legs. The machine hummed and steam blew once more from various parts. The drill began to spin and the wheels began to clatter. It sank into the sand prepared for a lopsided nose-dive. Down into the sand and into hard rock the tank sped, smashing, crunching and rocking from side to side as it dug itself deeper. “You look awful,” Refej petted his bubble-gum pink hair, while his eyes scrutinized the dirty man before him. If one had to choose which one came from the depths of hell, and the other from a rich family with a military background, one would never choose correctly. Carrier Armont sat slumped over with his legs outstretched and arms making good use of the armrests on the chair. Green-blue eyes, burnt tan skin, messy black hair and a rugged beard; a perfect match for his flat, downturned mouth. He was covered in scars and dirt, while his black shirt, chain vest, baggy brown jacket and loose black pants were also covered in dirt, rips, and patches. He glared into the immortal demon soul who sat across from him. “No really, you are looking awful, when was the last time you washed? Or slept?” Refej’s voice was high pitched and smooth. Carrier rubbed his face, feeling the large bags under his eyes. “Sleep doesn’t matter, my job is the only thing that matters right now.” He replied. “Oh please, we all know it’s not that. No other commanding officer has ever spent so much time searching every inch of the districts, hours sifting and analyzing to the very last detail on the Prima bracelets. Your job means almost nothing to you,” Refej smiled sweetly as he spoke; he meant no harm. Carrier glared at the demon, his hatred for the creature building with every word he spoke. Refej was an odd character. True, one would expect a demon from hell to be odd, but if one hadn’t known, he would just be another street freak. Refej was quite the opposite of Carrier, Refej had styled, bubble-gum pink hair with orange streaks here and there. He sat straight up in his seat, legs crossed and hands folded daintily over the knees. Tight, black leather pants, heeled boots, a jeweled blood-splattered top, and a black studded leather jacket. He was a bisexual demon from hell.

            There was only one thing that was similar in Refej’s and Carrier’s personalities; they were two of the most conniving, merciless, blood thirsty beings in the deserts and forests of Quebec. “Anyways,” Carrier changed the subject. “Why are you here?” Carrier was getting bored with talking already; he had a lot of work to do. “It was so boring down there, I thought it might be nice to come up here for a little visit,” Refej replied cheerfully. “A visit huh?” Carrier was suspicious. “Yes, just a little pop in! What’s going on with you humans, your war, you technology, your food,” Refej paused. “Your mutations,” Carrier narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You know, your little human mutation project,”

“They are not humans,”

“Humans, Liouxctawes, black, white, blue, all the same to me,”

“How did you know about that? The public only recently found out,”

“I have my sources,”

“You mean demon slaves,”

“Demon Slaves, black, white, blue-as I said before, they are all the same to me,”

Carrier breathed slowly. What was he supposed to do? Refej liked to play games so he wouldn’t tell anyone outside of Quebec what was happening, but what if he threatened to? He couldn’t kill Refej, couldn’t kill him even if he wanted to.  “So then, what about them?” he asked sitting up a little straighter. “I want to help,” Refej replied. “Uh-” Carrier was startled. “Let me talk to Slave, he understands me so much better then anyone else,” Refej pouted and widened his eyes, as if it would have an effect on Carrier’s decision. Carrier leaned over and pressed a small oval button. “Yes sir?” a young voice replied. “Take us back to Kcommahx,” he removed his finger from the button. “Right away sir” the voice replied once more. The machine sped up, then jolted into a variety of directions while throwing the passengers inside slightly. “Fantastic,” Refej said cheerfully.

            “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Carrier said roughly. “That’s offensive, I always know what I’m doing, whether I’ve done it yet, or not,” Refej winked and straightened his jacket. Carrier shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t going to work out.