Well, here we are, the final chapter of this Novella I've been writing for about 2 and a half months. I could have gotten it done a lot quicker had I written one part a day, but sometimes it's good to give a little breathing room between sections.
I'm going to complete this, then bring all of the individual parts into Google Docs, and see how it all lines up. There may be a few bridges that need gaps, but hopefully not many.
After my first edit pass of this, I'll find an editor online who I can hire to give it a final pass and then I can publish it. If anyone's interested or knows anyone who's interested in editing it, let me know rates and stuff.
The room came to him in a hazy dream. The voices; talking among themselves, almost oblivious of his presence. Many, asking the one questions. The one becoming frustrated with their probing. The thin voice behind it all made empty threats.
Andron was in a fog. One eye was almost entirely closed over. He could vaguely remember an onslaught.
"You made a big mistake!" One of them shouted, and while more words fell from his mouth, fists fell, connecting with his head, shoulders, and back, as he was held by his outstretched arms.
"I'm sorry!" Andron shouted. "I didn't know!" He couldn't be sure what he knew or didn't know at this stage. Pleads for mercy made him say anything he thought they'd want to hear; anything to make them stop.
There were four in total, or perhaps five. It was hard to count with the excitement of it all. The small was enough to make him black out. The damp street, the old urine and stale drink, the mist sticks, and chemicals. The taste of blood and stale smoke. He couldn't be sure what he'd done to warrant such an attack, and nothing he said seemed to make this dream fade.
Tight claws wrapped around his wrist released, and his arm flung back to him, pounding his chest, and then the other one. The one leading this assault, with the greasy long hair, and a light dusting of facial hair looked down at him for a moment and then unholstered his pistol. Andron stared down, and for a moment lost all recollection of where he was. Of who he was. Of what he was doing here on his knees on the damp street, and the slick feeling of blood streaming down his face. "If I'm going to die, you'll be coming with me." He muttered, which gave the High Flyer room for pause. A smile crept across his grimy face, and his flickering eyelids crept, momentarily covering his dead, bloodshot eyes.
His communicator stared up at him, and it was scuffed from the night he'd just had. Fingers lightly grazed the surface of the small device which was sticky to the touch. He pressed the one button he didn't want to hit. To speak with the one person he didn't want to talk to. This night was meant to be easy. Just a going away celebration, and a chance for him never to speak with M'Trada or Mari again. One night to forget about everything, and remember the past, then move into the future as fresh people. Concealing the previous couple of years was hard at first, but as the weeks and months dragged on it became far easier. It didn't take long for them to forget about him; out of sight, out of mind.
"0-TZ-518, requesting T-TEC," he said, with confidence. The confidence grew as he saw the face of the High Flyer shrink.
"0-TZ-518, what is your situation?" A voice on the other asked.
"W-19, loner. Shooting signals."
"Copy, dropships scrambled."
The High Flyers stood for a moment, dumbfounded by the quick conversation they just heard. The one who led the others could only stare with his mouth ajar.
"What do we do?" One of them asked.
"Kill him, and toss the communicator." Another replied, trying to keep their voice from breaking.
Andron laughed, and he couldn't help it. He was in pain, and it left his ribs aching. But, it felt good, just to watch the face of his potential killer. "You have the time to run. If I'm dead when they arrive they'll go nova and level this place." Words of ice left his mouth, and they seemed to wake the leader up.
"Get back into the club, we get Lotah, and move out. We'll be gone before they arrive." He finally said, in a still and steady tone. "You," he pointed at Andron. "You'll see what happens. Our organisation is growing, while yours is dwindling. Do you think we're a problem? Just wait."
"Hey!" A voice from behind startled them, and they all took off running. "What've they done to you?" A Doshan asked.
Andron looked up to see they were the security of the club, and he passed out almost instantly.
