Tale of Ziggurat Hive

Chapter 1:

My name is Malek.

I'm one of the leaders of the largest organized mercenary organization in the known systems…but I prefer to go solo.

I'm not immortal…but I don't age, having rocked my ripped, rock-star hell-trooper form for as long as I can remember.

I'm not invincible…but nothing's come close to killing me yet.

I'm unmatched, unequaled, unchallenged.

I'm also bent out of shape.

And with good reason.

Alden, a buddy of mine who lives back on Hades, the hive-world our group operates off of, brought something to the Hive from Terra. When he brought returned it to the human world, a rival decided to step in and take it for himself.

Alden turned to me for help.

Which is why I'm here, on Terra, a primitive-tech planet, around the outskirts of a laughably small city called "L.A.", in a tiny ass park, about to run my prey to ground when I could be elsewhere.

Elsewhere meaning somewhere remotely interesting.

To avoid human contact, I've used an implanted cybernetic organ called "the ward" to send a psychic wave around the park. Any native humans in the vicinity will feel "unwelcome", and their social nature will do the rest, making them go elsewhere.

And giving me plenty of space.

I'm impatiently waiting for another five minutes before the target shows up.

He comes swaggering along the walkway, confident that he'll get what he came for, without a struggle.

His name is Sickles. A newer recruit from the void region, the nocturne world Viln, if I recall correctly.

Part werewolf, and proud of the fact, he saunters down the path like the Alpha he thinks he is. He's been causing problems since he joined the Redumani, but nothing was done about it till now.

And after this, he won't be causing anymore problems.

The arrogant pup.

He tenses as he, presumably, catches my scent (ashes and desire, or so I've been told). His hand goes behind his head to his back sheath; like so many of the newer grunts, he carries his weapons in the most stylish and utterly useless ways possible.

Fast as he is, I'm far faster. Before he has time to pull the rifle off his back, my hell-gun is out of its holster and firing. All three shots are dead on, the twelve point seven millimeter rounds punching into him and disabling his weapons and killing the power to his armor systems.

He hits the ground hard, barely managing to roll over by the time I'm standing over him. My iron shod boot stomps down on his wrist, shattering the bones with a sharp crack and sending the knife he'd grabbed flying.

He tries to swing at me with his free arm, but I've anticipated the move; a shot near his shoulder blasts the necessary muscles and tendons to pulp, and his arm collapses limp on the pavement. Already the pathway is stained with oily, black blood, and it's pathetic how easy this was.

His wails of pain have morphed into a cowed whimpering that stutters as he tries to say something through the agony.

I catch part of a name, and realize what he's trying to say. I raise the pistol, snarling back into his half-blind eyes.

"You'll stay away from Stella, if I let you go?"

He fights to nod slightly, whimpering an affirmative.

But this is his third strike. And when the second strike was attempted rape, I've no mercy for his filth.

I start to pull the trigger.

"Like hell you will."

The shot blasts his skull to pieces, and I straighten, punching a key on the side of my hell-gun and switching to an incinerator. I snap my fingers, opening a Gate to the trash world, Asher, in front of me. The shimmering portal glows red-orange, and I kick Sickles' carcass through. A quick blast from my incinerator vaporizes the remaining blood stains, and I shut it off and holster my weapon.

I close the Asher Gate, and-

Behind where the portal was. There's a human staring at me.

She's sitting on a bench, with a notebook on her lap and a half-open backpack beside her. She's looking directly at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

She's younger, probably nineteen or twenty. She's short, has on a fur collared winter coat, and heavy jeans. Long blonde-brunette hair hangs down her back as she makes eye contact with me. She looks like she's a student from a nearby university, but I have no clue why she's here.

Nor do I care.

I snap open a Gate to my hive, breaking eye contact with her and turning away, stepping through without a look back.