Knives & Levels - Chapter 72

The next couple of days after returning from their destruction of the former restaurant, their days were filled with a buzz of activity. Diplomatic missions every day—most of their effort was spent weaving the groups who felt sympathetic about their plan tighter and tighter. Their web of alliances were growing stronger by the day; it was an unfamiliar feeling to Colt as he increasingly pressed upon these new alliances and worked on their foundation. His mother had taught him the power of lies, yet here there were no lies.

In all, about six groups wanted to help. Some, though, were conditional. Four of them insisted that they would only fight if and only if the Minotaur theory proved true and Colt and his group could subdue the beasts.

There was Harry and his father’s group—the Cops, as they referred to them. A group of former ‘hippies’ as Nate called them, lived in an open park with tents and were a little less peace-loving than expected. Another was made up of construction company workers. One, who had been an office drone in a big corporation, now turned savage—and lastly, a group of random folks, half of which had been homeless even before the end of the world. 

The other two hesitated over Nate and Colt's plan—they were not eager to take the bait and put themselves at risk if something went wrong.

Colt tried his best to get some on board with the plan, but planned for the worst. He spent many nights tearing through buildings and checking basements for tunnels.

He didn’t find a thing; it was like trying to find needles in a haystack.

In the end, it was a group of cops, their largest alliance, who decided to take the last step forward and join them in the first step. All it took was Nate and two days of convincing and planning with the cop group to make it work. Out of all of them, they responded to him the most.

Though due to Colt’s hell-bent attitude toward killing and the results of his monster slaughters, they felt confident enough to agree.

They would agree to be bait, provided they had Colt in the midst, when they were attacked—and at least another group in the wings to tackle the Bull. This part was easier. Harry and a couple of members of his group offered to join in the wings for the attack. Along with the entirety of Colt’s team… They had a lot of firepower to work with.

So it was that about ten days after they set out from New Nashville, Colt found himself on a rooftop, hidden away near some garbage bags with his black coat on while a group of cops and eight other folks from their large group sat around a fire, toasting deer meat.

“It’s been hours.” The cop with grey hair complained, shaking his head as he paced near the fire. Tom, Colt thought his name was. “I don’t know why we agreed to this.”

“Hush. They already saw the bait.” The cop with blond hair said—Finn, Colt thought.

The two were the de facto leaders of the group, with the man with black hair and another voice at the table from whom they took advisement. As Colt hid among the trash, not too dissimilar from the Kobold he’d started his new life killing, he couldn’t help but sigh. The black cloak and night made this such an easy place to blend into, but it reeked.

His cloak didn’t get stained—some repellent property of it being magic, he supposed, but lingering in the trash for hours wasn’t exactly his idea of a heroic operation.

“We don’t know that was a New Nashville scout. I’ll be damned if we wasted all of our time here, spitting on the graves of our friends for a shit-show operation.” Tom kept going.

“Really then, who could it be, this close to the city? Go on and tell me, Tom.”

“Scavenger? Don’t have to be part of their city.”

Finn rolled his eyes, “You’re just getting antsy. You’d think after all the years of stakeouts, you’d have a better handle on patience.”

“I have a handle on stakeouts just fine. This isn’t a stakeout; this is life and death. And I don’t exactly have a gun to work with here.”

“Club’s suited you just fine—here, take it easy. It’s starting to get dark. You heard what they said: if it happens, it’ll happen at night. Nobody showing up, in this case, is a good thing.” Finn kept going, setting a hand on the older guy’s shoulder.

Colt nestled into the trash more; though the group strained to look relaxed out there on the rooftop of the apartment, they were anything but. Twitching, nervous eyes, occasionally someone pacing around to relieve the stress.

Colt shifted among the trash, his hand periodically checking the Skyheart Steel Dagger that Nate had forged for him. The weapon seemed to pulse against his palm—almost eager for the confrontation ahead.

This place had one of those flat roofs—with some abandoned gardens up here left from the time before.

Another hour passed, with Tom occasionally complaining. It was his thing to complain again and again, but Nate had confided that out of them all, Tom was the one who pushed for this the most.

As the guy roamed near the roof’s edge with his eyes out toward the night, Colt felt like he got a sense of his motivations.

Tom glared at the dark.

Tom constantly walked with a curled fist.

And most importantly, he kept bringing up their lost friends, commemorating them. The fellow cops and people that they had under their watch when Denny had attacked and had never forgiven him for that.

This was, in a way, revenge for the older cop, and it tracked why he pushed for this, despite the complaining. Colt thought if he hadn’t complained, the rest of his comrades might have felt the tension, an odd group dynamic, but by him being a crudgemuffiny voice in the night, it set the rest of his allies at ease.

As the night wore on, anxiety bubbled in Colt’s gut.

What if there wasn’t an ambush? What if their guesses about the Minotaur were wrong—could Denny be keeping his key piece in reserve, waiting until he spotted Colt and could take care of him before once more putting such a valuable tool on the board? Had he predicted their plan?

The thoughts swirled darkly inside of him, fuming with the same rotten maleficence as the rotting muck he was surrounded by.

About two hours after the moon reached its apex in the sky, he heard a noise out in the dark streets—a stomp.

Colt braced, weapon in hand, as he waited, and there was another—the cops went silent at their fire, exchanging looks, and then moving the rest of the volunteers from their group further away from the edge, using themselves as barriers. Colt knew his allies—Nate, Sarah, Julia, and the four guys from Harry’s group—would also be preparing somewhere in the surrounding buildings. Getting ready.

Each step was like a miniature tremor in the building beneath his feet, and with those steps came the telltale feel to the air of the Minotaur’s Edicts.

He felt brutality to the night, and when it swelled to a crescendo when it spoke of primal breath and destruction, Colt felt a certainty.

There was one step. A quake. Then a crash.

 A half-man, half-bull arrived on the rooftop. Its black hair ruffled; its snout puffed out in bursts of air as its chest swelled. The glow that sat on its chest, the golden crown, brightened, wrapping around and strengthening the entirety of this monster being. Its horns were pointed spikes of death, as its unfurled hate and killing intent became palpable in the air, a slick and promised vow to end and crush everything beneath its evil hooves and wicked claws.

Colt did an Inspect—It had stayed the same, not yet gaining a single level. Where it was, Colt imagined, it must be tough to pile on more levels, even if Denny was sending it out in the depths of the night to do his dirty work to the more troublesome groups that remained in Nashville.

“Holy shit, it’s real,” Finn exclaimed, stepping back.

“Bastard!” Tom screamed, gripping his club with white knuckles, he saw it then, the flurry of anger and rage on his face as Tom let go. He wasn’t afraid, or maybe he was, but it didn’t matter in the light of this enemy.

And then, Tom broke his orders—the group was supposed to retreat into the building at the appearance of the enemy. Yet he didn’t. He ran at the Minotaur, seething with his own anger.

The Minotaur was ready for him, lowering its head with a blood-curdling roar; in a second, it would charge forward, pierce Tom with its horns, and end his life as if he were nothing at all.

Colt activated Movement in a second, flashing forward and throwing himself right between the Minotaur and the man; the blade in his hand beat as time slowed; he wrapped Cut thick as the Minotaur barreled forward, moving as if in slow motion, those pointed horns of it manifesting their own thick edict.

Before, with his bad dagger, Colt hadn’t been able to cut the monster.

That didn’t mean it left many openings, as its horns pointed down and swirled with strong Gore Edicts, a large part of it made for a poor target. It was still moving fast, even in slowed time. So Colt went with the best place he could cut, especially since the plan was to capture, not kill.

He aimed low—letting out a scream as he ducked and slid down, his heart hammering, channeling everything he could into his attack. He slipped around the charging Minotaur and cut right through its ankle, right at the tension with everything his might had.

The blade Cut right through the heel—time snapped back into place.

The Minotaur man lost control of its footing, its pure momentum carrying it forward as it collapsed, horns pointing forward as it fell toward the ground. There was a crash as it went through the roof of the building and through it, pierced by the Edicts manifested on its most prized weapons.

Colt heard it shuffle down below and felt the swell of the Savage Edict—a power he didn’t respond well to, as it tried to crush and dominate reality in an overwhelming way. Colt glared at Tom, who was still fuming; Finn had come and grabbed him, holding him back.

“Don’t pull anything risky—this is going to be dangerous as is. We don’t need to lose anyone, especially since we’ll need all the people we can get when facing down Denny.”

It was true. Personal power was one thing, but unless it utterly eclipsed everything else, then you had to rely on others. If anything, that’s what he’d learned the most in this new world. His mother would’ve hated that lesson, but when you survived, you could only get by so far just thinking about yourself.

Well, unless you were willing to abandon all of your humanity and become a monster yourself.

“You need help with that thing,” argued Tom.

There was a burst of movement below—more crashed as the monster hit the ground. Colt could sense it. His cut had severed a tendon, but somehow, he felt like it wasn’t enough.

Colt rolled his shoulders and moved to the edge of the building. “Help me in a smart way which doesn’t get you killed. Watch my allies if you need ideas—I’m going to go down there and get personal with the Bull. Do your best to weaken it in a safe way, don’t get consumed by rage and die. That does none of us favors.”

With that, Colt prepared to subdue the strongest monster he’d ever seen. A monster that had once been a man.