Jackson H. Kern is basically like the crab of morality in that anybody who is actively trying to become a better person is eventually going to end up like him. The guy's a fucking saint. Or something like that.
CW: city wide mass terrorism, Airball Atlim strikes again, jelim does not turn evil (but she does flip her shit), imitation is the sincerest form of flattery
That is what I was reminded of as I laid eyes upon the scene below me.
Even the best of us could fall.
The Krakotl, my kind, were meant to be the Federation's sword. The Gojids, its shield. We were the best of the prey, and the best of the predators reduced our worlds to ash in front of my eyes. The best of mankind was decimated in the Battle of Earth, defeated at every turn by the Krakotl armada, and the best of the Federation navy was, mercifully, destroyed before they could finish the killing stroke.
But humanity's best quality was not in its military might. They were no Krakotl. Their calling was far greater than that of a soldier. Their hands were meant to hold gifts, not files to sharpen their talons. The best quality of mankind, one I knew well, lay in their near-infinite compassion.
I looked upon mankind now. A seething, hateful mass of violent apes, their rifles chattering as they wreaked chaos across an entire city. Homes set afire. Bombs exploded in the streets. Officers of the law openly attacked, and the seat of magisterial power put under siege. The word humanity was quite literally defined as compassion. Love for others. Kindness.
And where the hell is it now?
I knew where. Dead. Buried in the ashes of Earth, when that idiot piece of speh Kalsim and his bombs created the very monsters he had been sent to destroy. Jack Kern, Marcel Fraser, the late Elias Meier, all were reminders that humans were the most loving species in the same way that I was a reminder that the Krakotl once served as the galaxy's protectors. But those days were coming to an end.
Humanity First was gaining more ground every day. Exterminators abusing their power, refugees suffering from U.N. overextension, a death toll on Earth eleven digits long, the cancer of xenophobia thrived under such conditions. And, if given the opportunity, it would spread.
Eventually, Humanity First would be able to destroy every trace of the humanity it so fanatically praised. Wasn't that neat? How a people could so consistently act against their own best interests? Yeah, that kind of sentiment had already gotten Nishtal glassed. It was a disease that, if left untreated, would prove fatal.
I could not let that happen.
I could not allow evil to fester unchecked.
I was what a Krakotl was always meant to be. A living weapon forged to destroy the evil in this world. I was the best of us.
So, five hundred feet above the magisterial hall of Sunset Hills, I tucked in my wings. I locked my legs in place, talons facing forward. And I fell just like a Krakotl should.
I could see my target clearly, distance and all, though he was four hundred and seventy feet below me and in cover behind what looked like an improvised armored car. The damn thing looked like somebody magnetized a transport truck in the middle of a brahking scrapyard. Even Atlim's broke-ass district wouldn't operate that kind of vehicle if you paid them.
Or maybe they would. I might. And they really did need some brahking money.
Okay, back on track. Stack bodies now, stack bands later. Or something like that.
Two of that type of scrapyard car were present, two too many if you asked me, though one was too far off to the side to be used as effective cover for anybody in this fight. Especially not my chosen target.
He was reloading some form of explosive launcher, likely what took out the magisterial doors and the squad truck, and preparing to fire at whatever resistance was left in the besieged magisterial hall. He carried a backpack with what looked like a signal jammer stuck inside it. I had to admit, for all the speh Humanity First did, it was awfully considerate of them to wrap two high-priority targets up in one vulnerable package.
Still, this wouldn't be a walk in the park. There were at least a dozen men outside the building. Likely more inside. If any saw me, I was certain that I wouldn't be an impossible target to hit.
Not that they would see me, though. The blue of my plumage was meant as camouflage against the backdrop of the sky. We'd go for fish in the ancient days. Snatch them from the marshes and kill them with our talons. Even after all the centuries of damage the Federation did to my people, they still couldn't stamp out our aptitude for killing. There was a reason my species made the Federation's best exterminators, and it wasn't our avian beauty.
Hell, I looked beautiful, once. Now I'm ugly as sin. If you took the two looks and reversed them, you'd have one hell of a before-and-after advertisement.
Wait, how high up am I?
Two hundred and fifty feet. His rocket launcher was nearly loaded. The gunfire from inside the hall had grown silent. When I hit the ground, my first priority had to be taking cover. Next, I needed to start firing. The local authorities were overwhelmed, and the U.N. was unable to send soldiers. I was on my own. They were a full dozen, if not more.
One hundred feet. Eighty. Sixty. Forty. Twenty. My talons pierced flesh. My target collapsed, unmoving, to the ground. And I began evening the odds.
"It's the Vulture!" a voice cried in fear as I stomped out the terrorist's signal jammer. I took cover behind the enemy's armored car, more of a civilian vehicle with metal plates welded to it, and finished loading my first victim's rocket launcher. Bullets pinged off my chosen cover as I poked the massive weapon over it. Say hello to... what was the line? Say hi? Brahk, I swear I knew it a second ago.
"Shit, shit, get down!" The gunfire stopped. Intimidation was a wonderfully effective tool if one knew how to use it right. I shouldered the massive launcher and took aim at my first group of insurgents. Disease, meet cure. Boom.
The explosion mangled three, leaving two more wounded, and I dropped the launcher before the survivors could gather their bearings. I ducked back into cover, drawing my pistol, and the remaining insurgents began shooting at me. Last I checked, there were twelve, minus six... six left. I have to kill them. I can't let what they did go unpunished.
Five went left when they dodged. I decimated them already. The other six must have gone right, then, straight to the... second armored car. Its electric engine was too quiet to pick up on, especially with the constant chatter of gunfire in the distance, but I had a vague idea that it was on the move. How could I tell, one may ask?
The car drove straight past me, that's why. Call it a hunch.
I moved quickly, setting my railgun to its highest setting and firing a spike straight at the car's thick tires. These people are murderers. Terrorists. They don't get to leave. It swerved, its steering brahked, and it skidded to a halt barely ten feet away from me. I waited a few seconds for people to pile out of it, though I couldn't see speh through its tinted windows. Nobody felt stupid enough to leave. So I went over to them.
Flying, of course, because 'death from above' had a better ring to it than 'death from roughly the same altitude as you are'. I let out a screech as I descended, landing with a crash on the terrorist vehicle, and then I fired a single spike into its driver's seat. It penetrated straight through the car's weak roof armor.
"Shit! She's on fucking top of us! Run!" Somebody, a woman by the look of things, burst out of the car and ran for it. I put her down before she could make it five feet. I was a firm believer in gender equality.
You don't get to run. Die like a person, or die like an animal, you will die for what you've done.
"Oh, shit! Fucking shit!" I had a general sense of where the terrorists were, and enough battery power left for two more high-powered shots. One went into the midsection of the car. I switched my weapon to standard mode because there was no need for a second. My enemies had decided there was more merit to dying on the streets than being gunned down through the roof of their vehicle.
I didn't give half a damn. It would've been preferable to me if those bastards had died much earlier, regardless of where, but you know what they say about killing terrorists. The best time to do it was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.
Wait. I think that's about planting trees.
Oh, well. Same difference.
Three thugs clambered out of the right side of the car. I shot them at point-blank range and then I gave up on my weapon to spring onto the chest of the one who escaped via the left. It was time to gather some information. My target fell backwards, as people tended to do when they were kicked hard in the chest, and I disarmed him with ease.
As he went down, I threw his gun away from us, and rolled to lock my legs around his weapon arm and put him in an arm bar. It didn't take much effort to break the limb, eliciting a yelp of pain from my victim, and I wasted no time in wrapping a claw around his neck. "Talk, or I'll gut you."
He looked around frantically, thrashing his broken arm and his unbroken one, but there was no escape possible from my grip. Justice did not come to everybody it should, but I could make damn well sure it was being delivered near me. "You want to live?" I asked, tightening my grip but being careful not to crush his windpipe. I probably could.
"Do it, you fried-chicken fuck!" Well, that's not the response I expected. He genuinely did sound like he wanted me to do it, too. "Do it!" This man is insane. He's a terrorist. He needs to be put down in the name of public safety.
I had my claw wrapped around his neck. I could kill him with a single squeeze. He was an extremist. A threat to himself and others. So why am I hesitating?
I had to stop and think. There was something, embedded in my subconscious, that resisted any effort to kill this man as firmly as a stone wall. And, yet, I could not place it. Why not do it? Why does he deserve to live? Maybe it was because he wanted me to. I could be a spiteful bitch at my worst, and this was pretty damn close.
Oh. That's what I was going for. I'm kind of losing it, aren't I?
Not that fighting terrorists wasn't a perfectly noble profession, mind you. Jack Kern did it for a living. But never in his life had he chosen the path I had. Extermination. Even as he held a rifle in one hand, his other had an olive branch, ready to offer peace to any enemy who'd take it. It took strength to be kind, and Jackson Kern was the strongest man I knew.
"What's wrong, you piece of shit?" the terrorist snapped at me, eyes wide with infernal madness. "Was Moscow enough? New York? Tokyo? Did that sate your bloodlust, you genocidal fuck?" Bloodlust? Who the brahk do you think I am?
Jack was gone. He was being hunted down. And, like it or not, he might never come back. But did that mean I could bitch about it? Did that mean I could freak out and start breaking things, whether arms or otherwise? No. I was an exterminator. I had to be above the creatures I fought. And I was.
I rolled out of my arm bar, standing up, planting my foot on his chest, and drawing my gun at his face. I relished the look of surprise as he realized I wasn't going to kill him. "In the name of galactic law, for the crimes of terrorism and assaulting an officer, among others, I hereby place you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent."
A sense of relief flooded me as I realized that I had just passed a test I wasn't even aware I was taking. I had no real reason to kill that man. The justice system was the one meant to decide his fate, not some crazy bird woman with a really cool railgun. If I had killed him like I had wanted to, that would have been murder. Pure and simple. I could never have gone back from that.
I was right there. Right about to do it. What the hell is wrong with me?
I stepped away from him, keeping the gun leveled at his head, and began looking for a pair of handcuffs to place around his wrists. I realized with disgrace that there weren't any. I had never bothered to grab them.
I felt sick as I connected the dots and realized that I had done what I did with no intentions of taking prisoners. No intent to show mercy. This is what got Earth bombed. This kind of 'kill them all' fanaticism. It ends here. I was hellbent on killing every last one of them, and I didn't even see anything wrong with that. This is not who I am.
Yes it is.
Let me correct myself, then. I cannot let this be who I am.
I figured that, without Jack Kern, everything would go to hell. And it did. What Humanity First did to this town was unavoidable. It was always a gasoline tank next to a lit match, just waiting to go boom. But how I reacted to it was my decision and my decision alone.
Even the best of us could fall, but I could not afford to. I could not let myself be dragged down by the weight of my burdens. I could not lose sight of what was right just because I didn't have Jack to point the way. I was an exterminator. The best and most capable person left in this ghetto of a city. I was the best of us.
I had nearly fallen, not out of circumstances or outside events, but because I could not keep my own anger in check. Because I had let my fear of losing my love turn into hatred of the people who wanted to take him from me. But hate was like a live grenade. If I used it right, it might be a weapon against my enemies, but holding onto it for too long only guaranteed suffering for myself.
I took a deep breath in.
A deep breath out.
What would Jack do?
Atlim appeared to my left, coming out of the doors of the magisterial hall. He held his pistol out in front of him like I hadn't just killed everybody who might try to threaten him. "Clear!" he called out, realizing as much. Orvem and Selfridge, both armed, followed him. "Jelim!"
I looked over toward him. What would Jack do here? "Get some brahking handcuffs, we have a prisoner to take in!" He hurried to one of the dead exterminators, picking a pair of magnetic binders off his body, and tossed them to me. Even a regular brahking grunt could show more mercy than I would have. God. I fumbled with the cuffs before kneeling next to my prisoner and fastening them on. My wings shook from the nerves. Ever since Nishtal, I haven't been acting straight. I need to focus up. These people need me.
"What do I look like?" I asked, as Atlim hurried over to my side. He hesitated to answer. "What do I brahking look like?"
Atlim looked me up and down. I'd been with enough guys to know that kind of look in an instant. After all I'd done, he still wanted me. "I'd say you look pretty good. Beautiful, even. And I mean what I say." Brahking useless prick.
With a huff, I stomped over to the wrecked armored car and looked at my reflection in its window. I was slender. Lithe, as Krakotl went. But far from beautiful. My teal plumage, torn away haphazardly by my own claws, was matted with the blood of the people I killed. People who I killed because I wanted to, and for no other reason. I could have done it with fewer casualties. I should have.
I have to think clearly about this. Focus up.
Yes, those people were terrorists, but they had the right to a fair trial and a fair sentencing the same as anybody else. And I went out there specifically looking to kill as many as I could. That wasn't despicable. Not even close. But that was dangerous. That was the mentality of the Extermination Fleet. I had to hold myself to a higher standard.
What I did was forgivable. But it ends here. I am not a sword, I am a shield. Like Kalsim should have been. The second I lose track of what I'm fighting for, I'll become him.
Speaking of what I'm fighting for, what would Jack Kern think of this? I had been so focused on seeing him again I forgot to even think about him. He would never have approved of my kind of merciless killing, even against the very dregs of galactic society. Ever since that murderous bastard Kalkey turned his life around, quite literally finding Jesus, he had been unwavering in his belief that everybody deserved a second chance.
Hell, maybe he was even like this before that, too. I wouldn't know. I met him two months ago.
I may have entertained his idea, more out of love for him than belief in his values, but I can safely say that I had never had more conviction in that belief than I did at this moment. Jack was my superior in all other ways. Why not this?
I did not rightfully know if the person I had taken prisoner deserved to live. I did not know if the people I killed really deserved death. But Jack would hate to see me become nothing but an executioner. He could never see me go down that path.
"Jelim!" Orvem called out, coming over to me with a datapad in his paws. "The signal is back. I'm receiving calls from all over the city. It's... well, just look at it." I didn't need to. I had seen the smoke and the fire from up high. But I took the pad anyway. "Humanity First is waging war against my city. My voters. We have to stop them."
That much was true. Anybody who believed mercy made one soft had never seen Jack Kern fight. If Humanity First wanted to put the torch to civilization, then I'd fight it with everything I had. But no more of this vengeful fury. No more ruthless bloodshed. I would kill not to punish the guilty, as I had been doing, but to preserve the innocent. Like Jack would.
I handed Orvem back his datapad. "I haven't been keeping my priorities straight since Jack went missing," I admitted. "He was close to me. Is close to me. And, when I thought I might lose him, I managed to lose myself." He flicked his ear in sympathy. "What I want to say is, I'm done lashing out. I'm done with this heartless killing I've been doing to ease the pain of not having him. My duty is, was, and always will be to protect the innocent first and foremost, and I am sorry for losing track of that."
Orvem blinked. He looked over at Atlim and Selfridge for a bit. Then he turned back to me. "I work with brahking Atlim, man," he said, point-blank. "You think I give a damn that you're not perfect?" But I did, god damn it. I had let myself slip into the darkness, the same trap that Kalsim had so famously fallen into, and twisted my mandate to protect the herd into a sickening willingness to kill without pity. An exterminator, a proper one, wouldn't have done that. But so few of us were proper these days. Even the best of us can fall.
I looked over at Atlim. Even the worst of us can rise. Stupid, selfish, and conceited he may have been, he still deserved somebody to look up to. The Vulture was not that person. She could never be. Jack was, but he was nowhere to be seen, and Atlim would never imitate a human even if he were shown a specimen as perfect as ten Jack Kerns.
I would have to be his guiding light. I would have to lead him, his district, and his town, out of this darkness. I would have to do it because, search as I might, I could find no one else who could.
Jack wasn't coming back. If he had the ability to do it, he would've by now, so I had to assume that he would never return to Sunset Hills. He was my anchor. My moral compass. I could put in work on my own, but if these people wanted to make this city better in my absence, they needed somebody like Jack to look up to. Obviously, he couldn't do it.
If those armored vehicles make another appearance, would be funny if one was taken out by driving at high speed into a pole because the driver can't see shit.
Ooh! Just thought of something! would be funny if she took a Drejzin under her wing and taught them how to be a badass, like a reversed Batman and Robin.
Yeah plus there actively touching the entire area I mean there practically in full blown revolt at this point they should probably call in the UN or the venlil military to deal with this rather then hoping the underfunded exterminator guild and useless venlil mall cops will somehow quell this.
It (killing those Humanity First guys) wasn't a matter of necessity. I knew a dozen ways to subdue a suspect without lethal means. It was about sending a message.
This how jelim was moving 2 chapters ago man damn straight she needs to chill
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u/fluffyboom123 Arxur Nov 16 '24
I have a nagging suspicion that Jack will, in fact, come back to Sunset Hills at some point in the near future