The human struggled in my grip, trying to grab me by my face. The inkvine scar on his neck seemed to pulse as we strained, trying to force ourselves apart. As I stared into his eyes, I saw the rage in his face. It meant only one thing: that he could not be stopped peacefully. I drew upon my powers. A feeling like that of electricity rushed through me, and my hands glowed purple. The Mentat gave a shocked gasp, then went stiff, his muscles paralyzed temporarily. I pushed him off of me and stood up. The room was a wreck. Tables, papers, even a large mahogany chair were strewn across the floor like confetti in a sandstorm.
I knelt and pressed my hands against certain places on his neck. He went limp quickly, unconscious for a while. I lifted him across my shoulder, and leaped through the open window, falling down through darkness, into a waiting truck. Mission accomplished. Now, back to the freighter…
This was fun. The way you structured the narrative really tightens up the world and keeps it in that little room, in that moment. Makes it feel more personal, like I’m actually experiencing the event, not just watching it from the omniscient point of view.
Thank you for the feedback, @Wekua ! This is the first time I’ve tried writing in the first person. I’m glad it worked well!
The truck is dark. The human across from me turns on a medical scanner, a modified poison snooper. She scans the Mentat, the scanner’s light making his face appear pale, as though dead.
“He isn’t responding,” she says.
I am confused.
“I didn’t hit him that hard,” I say.
She places her hand on his forehead. A green glow begins to illuminate the cab.
“Oh no… no, not that,” she mutters. The glow fades.
“He has some sort of poison in his system,” she says, looking up. “We need to put him in stasis. Otherwise, he’ll be dead by the time the delivery is coming.”
I glance at the screen on my armor. It says that we have about six hours remaining.
“Let me see, he may have something for this on him.”
I search his pockets. They contain several weapons, small knives, a dart launcher, and a box. The box contains a bit of powder, and a note. The note reads, “They are giving you this in the food. It is what keeps you from dying.”
It is unsigned.
I look at my companion.
“I think I found our time.”
He looked around. All was darkness. Black. Void. As though he was blotted from existence. He laughed at that.
“Me? Not existing? But where would others get their excitement?”
He continued forward, towards the portal that he knew existed. It would be nice to see again…
There was a jolt. A fist ineffectively struck at him, its owner cursing in an unknown language. He found himself stuck in the windshield of a vehicle, the operator, a person wearing a gray and white armored outfit, shouting at him. He struggled backwards, glass cracking around him. He felt his cape tear, becoming even more ripped than before.
“What’s going on here?”
A claw grabbed him and dragged him up. He stared into the face of a Makuta. The glowing eyes bored into his, driving deep into his mind.
“Hey, er, put me down! I didn’t – aaagh! Stop! Wait!”
He was thrown onto a crate, denting the lid.
“Who sent you, smiley guy? I want to know! Was it the Harkonnens?!”
He grinned, then pulled his lips back in a snarl.
“Who? Answer me this, Makuta… where are the others? Your… Brotherhood.”
The Makuta stared back, his expression one of surprise.
“Others? There are more? Why didn’t – how?”
A purple Toa walked over.
“We’ve secured Hawat, Lord Fenring. Who’s this?”
Fenring looked down at the person on the crate in front of him. It, or maybe he, had a mouth stuck in a permanent grin, with metal teeth that glistened in the light.
“Tell us your name,” he said to it.
“Ah, glad you asked. My name’s Vezon, hero of The Order, greatest of the Dark Hunters… How do you not know me?”
Fenring laughed.
“You come smashing through a window, get smashed into a crate, and all you ask is how we don’t know you? It’s the greatest joke I’ve ever heard!”
Vezon looked puzzled. He glanced at the two in front of him, and then his expression went blank. He seemed to be focusing on something, but it wasn’t visible. He began struggling to say something, and made a noise that sounded like gears grinding. Then he coughed and seemed to wake up.
“No… I can’t… go back? The Olmak… it won’t…”
He grasped at his face, pulling at it strangely. A purple light flickered over him, then flared in a shape that hovered over him: a purple Star, a strange cloud of gas surrounding it. Branches and copies of it began spreading, and Vezon let out a scream of pain. A voice on the Guild freighter’s intercom said, “Takeoff in 20 minutes.”
Vezon slumped back. The lights faded.
“What in the name of Karzahni and the Shadowed One was that,” he asked. He shook his head. Voriki glanced at him. She could feel an incredible source of energy within him, something that should not exist… it was like the spice, potent, terrifying, mysterious.
It couldn’t be related to the lights, could it?