Over the next couple of days, Winselt kept stopping by the motel, dropping off some groceries and checking up on Demilan. Maileena noticed an improvement in Demilan's state. He was breathing much better and had more strength to walk. He still had his moments of weakness that required a short rest, but she knew that it would not be long before he would finally end his rehabilitation process.
One afternoon, while Winselt was not there, she sat on the bed alone and watched the recent news on the television. The news anchor spoke of a recent rise of a violent cult known as the Serath in Mexico and several states in the United States. Its followers, who are called Serathons, believe that the true world order should be much more archaic, which categorized them as anarchists. They claim that the current world leaders got their powerful position by either inheriting it or scheming and backstabbing their way to it, and most if not all of them abuse their power and care very little about their people. The Serathons like to mention the leaders of the countries of the Middle East as examples of this claim, as wars and death currently occupy that region of the world. They wish to bring the world to shambles and ruins, to create a perfect picture of chaos and anarchy wherever they are, for only then can the true leaders among the remaining people rise to power by proving themselves worthy in such a devastated world.
Later, as the anchor turned to local news, he mentioned a Justicars attack on one of Men of Midas' outposts, in Ravenwey Burrows. He then turned to talk about a serial killer called the Tri-Surgeon. Maileena, who had never before heard of him, wondered where such a name came from. The anchor said APD had announced that the killer's latest discovered victim turned out not to have been killed by the Tri-Surgeon, but rather by someone else. The victim was apparently a member of Lady Dread and was discovered at a demolition site in Morth City, Fallhalt.
Even though there was no mention of the soldier and teenager who were still on the run after murdering several people, she knew that no one in Men of Midas was going to forget about them anytime soon. At worst case for them, if they won't catch us for a long time, they'll simply hand over the chase back to APD. Even with so much risk involved, Maileena never regretted her actions. It was all worth it if it meant saving Vera.
Vera was very young, only 12 years old, so she never knew everything that was going on in the world. Stories like the ones Maileena just heard on the news usually never reached her sister. Maileena tried her best to keep her from harm's way and make sure that she doesn’t find out too much about the ugliness around, but at some point it was inevitable. Even though they never spoke about it much, Vera knew that Maileena was working in that sleazy club, but they never got into detail about what she did there. Deep inside, Maileena always felt like Vera knew a lot more then she seemed to, and a part of her always felt like even though she never quite told Vera about the things she had to do and endure in the Godly Succubi, her little sister already knew about them.
At times, Maileena wondered if there was ever any point in trying to protect Vera from the world. Sooner or later, everyone gets a taste of the bitter flavor of this country.
Maileena grabbed her revolver and looked at it, admirably. The metal barrel shone brightly as the sun rays hit it through the gaps in the closed window. By now, its weight felt much lighter, and the handle seemed much more comfortable in her mind. She had grown used to her tool of death. She remembered her latest use of it, against the member of Men of Midas who tried to kill her under the order of his lieutenant, Connor Griffiths. When she stood there, aiming her gun at him with a shivering hand and a racing heart, she felt fear. It was not fear for her life, but for her sister. With Maileena dead, there would be no one to save Vera, and she would be condemned to a life of misery and sadness under the iron fist of men like Kleon Hanford, who runs the Godly Succubi.
Maileena always hated Kleon. She thought of him as a wretch who deserves a slow, painful death, one that must make him feel the never-ending torment and suffering of the girls in the VIP section of his club. He used to get drunk many times at the club, and when he did, he would occasionally pick one of the girls in the club and take her to his office, where he would have sex with her and then throw her out of the door. Most of the times, he would pick one of the regular, older girls in the club, but on some occasions, he would feel in the mood for one of the little girls in his VIP section. Maileena could never forget the fright in her heart every time he did. She feared he would pick her every time, but fortunately for her, he never did. When I had to shoot that man who tried to kill me recently, I only hit him in the shoulder. When I'll be aiming my gun at Kleon, I'll put a bullet through his goddamn head.
She rose from the bed with the revolver in hand and aimed at the window. She imagined that everyone who had ever hurt her before stood there, whether if it were the members of Men of Midas who raped her when Demilan found her, the various filthy, lecherous men who had their way with her at the Godly Succubi, or Kleon Hanford himself. With no bullets loaded in the gun, she pulled the trigger. A small metallic click sound came from the weapon. She did it repeatedly, imagining it was a different person standing in front of her each time.
"You're not holding it right," Demilan woke from his bed at some point. His hair looked greasy and damp, as he had not taken a shower since the day before, and his stubble had grown much thicker by now. "I've told you before I'm going to have to teach you how to properly hold that gun." Making a small sound of ache, he came to his feet and stood behind Maileena. As she raised the gun forward, his hands wrapped around hers, stabling them and correctly positioning them, as only a trained soldier like him would know. His grip felt firm, despite the fact that he was not at his best. Demilan positioned Maileena's right-hand fingers much tighter around the handle and placed her left hand slightly lower for her to have a more stable hold and accurate aim.
"Try it like this," he said. Once she pulled the trigger again, Maileena felt much sharper. Her hands were much steadier and holding the gun felt easier. "Remember to take a deep breath before letting off a shot. Concentrate and block out everything that's not your target." She did exactly as he said. She took a deep breath before pulling the trigger again. "Good," he said. "Have you thought of a name for the gun yet?" he asked her.
"No. I tried, but… I couldn’t come up with a name that would fit it." she then remembered how Demilan once mentioned Sunyula Trife's named weapon. A double-bladed sword she named Scarlet Thorn. Stories about her sword said that even though she was highly trained with it, Sunyula would rarely use it. They say she saves it for special victims. One of the known occasions where she used it was when she executed the three lieutenants of Harley Nation some time ago. She stabbed them with it multiple times before cutting their heads off and leaving their bodies at Harley Nation's outpost in Hawksen, Brontspil.
"Think of something that defines you. That might help." Demilan suggested. "And in any case, you should keep practicing."
"I will," she promised him. She knew she had to, to become stronger, and that was all she ever wanted, to be strong enough to protect her loved ones. She could never save her parents. She could never protect them, but she was willing to practice for years if she had to, in order to able to protect Vera.
Every day since then, every couple of hours, Maileena would stand in the middle of the motel room and aim her empty revolver at the window. Every time, Demilan would note her about whatever she was doing wrong, whether if she forgot to take a breath before firing, or even wrongly positioning her feet on the ground. She took every piece of advice he gave her and embroidered it in her mind. With each pull of the trigger, Maileena felt her blood rushing. She took the shot again and again, feeling like the hammer of justice each time, as she pictured a different person getting the shot every single time. They never gave a fuck about me as they raped or beat me. I will act the same as they'll stand on the opposing side of this barrel.
One day, while Demilan rested on his bed, awake, and Maileena watched the view outside through the gaps in the window shutters, Winselt came knocking on the door. Maileena ran to the door, as always with her gun drawn. After peeking through the peephole and recognizing the scarred soldier, she let him in. To her surprise, Winselt did not actually have any groceries with him this time. "I'm afraid I've brought slightly too much this time," he explained himself. "I could barely carry them all the way here. I left the bags downstairs at the reception desk. I'm going to need someone to help me carry them up here."
"I'll go." Demilan volunteered.
"Stay in that bed," Maileena frowned at him. "Rest as much as you can. I'll go." Winselt chuckled at the face of the young girl's prowess.
Together, they went downstairs. "How is he?" Winselt asked her.
"He's getting much better. It won't be long before he's fully recovered." She replied. Demilan… recovered… will he ever be truly recovered? A man so mentally and physically scarred… will saving Telia truly be his redemption? Will it put an end to his sorrow and pain? The questions begged answers in her mind, but she couldn’t give them any.
As they reached the reception desk, she saw four plastic bags resting on the floor near the desk. She hurried to pick two of them up but as she was about to lift them off the floor, she raised her head and stopped. A man stood at the reception desk, talking to the motel manager, ordering a room to stay in. As she recognized his face, she felt a staggering pinch at her heart, and as he looked at hers, he recognized her as well. Suddenly her blood boiled and her memory sprang into action. She remembered him all too well. She remembered his round glasses, his snarky smile and most of all, the hits his rough hands inflicted on her at the Godly Succubi. She never knew his name, but she knew that he has been to the VIP section more than once, and each time he picked her, his favorite toy, to have his way with. His eyes met hers. There was no doubt that the two knew each other, but Maileena quickly turned back to cut off the eye contact as fast as possible.
Her first instinct told her to draw her revolver, load a bullet and shoot it through his skull, but a split-second later, it made room for logic. I can't just attack him like this. It would be stupid and would force us to leave this motel. I have to remain calm.
Maileena hasted up the stairs back to the room, still holding the two bags in hand. "See which room that man at the desk goes to," she whispered to Winselt as she passed by him. The man with the long scar did not respond. He remained calm instead, understanding that he was dealing with a delicate situation. She expected nothing less from such an experienced soldier.
Once she was back in the room, she dropped the bags on the floor and turned to Demilan. "We have a problem," she said to him. "I'm pretty sure someone just recognized me downstairs."
"What? Who?" Demilan rose to his feet with an appalled expression.
"There was this guy at the reception desk… he… he used to be a regular at the Godly Succubi." A sense of shame overcame her. "He liked to be violent with me… when he wasn’t sleeping with me." Demilan's hands clutched into fists. Maileena wondered if he was agitated because of his concern for her or because of the danger that the two of them were in now.
Winselt walked into the room with the other two bags in hand. "He went into the room at the end of the corridor," he said as he rested the bags on the floor.
"What do we do?" Maileena asked. "We can't just leave him alone. He knows me. He might report my location to Kleon."
"She's right," Winselt agreed. "If he just recognized her, it puts you in a dangerous spot."
Demilan covered his face with his hands as he thought to himself. He walked around the room for several seconds before speaking his mind. "We can't kill him," he said, decisively. Maileena felt crushed, as she hoped that it would be the only possible solution.
"Why not?" she begged. "We can't risk him—"
"We can't kill him." Demilan's voice rose at her. "If his body is found, APD will be crawling all over this motel, which is the last thing we need."
"He's right. You can't kill him," Winselt said. "At least not here."
"So… what do you suggest?" she asked.
Demilan turned to Maileena. He gave her a piercing gaze and laid his hand on one of her shoulders. "I know what you want," he said, looking sincere. "You want to hurt him as he hurt you." Deep down, Maileena knew that he truly did know what she felt. Perhaps he was the only one around her who could. Only a man like Demilan, who had the same desire as her to have his payback at the people who hurt him in the past, could understand her at that moment.
"Please…" her eyes almost teared up as she begged him. "Please let me do it. Let me kill him." She couldn’t remember the last time she had to beg for something like that. She felt a hint of shame at that moment, yet she pushed that feeling back. She didn’t care about it as long as she could get what she wanted.
"You can't kill him…" Demilan said, apologetically. "But you can do something else." A flicker of a smile wove into his lips.
The three discussed what they would do, and a few minutes later, they all walked out of the room and headed for the violent pervert's one. Demilan knocked on the door several times. He looked ready, though still slightly frail from weakness. Winselt stood fiercely. Looking stern and fearless, he stretched his hands. Maileena's body shook, her hand itching for the revolver in the back of her pants. She looked around to see if no one was looking. The hallway was vagrant as a deserted home and silent as a graveyard.
They could hear footsteps nearing to the door, slow and steady. Is he paranoid? Is he frightened to reach the door? He never seemed that way whenever he would hit me, perhaps he saw Winselt and it's him that he's scared of.
As the door creaked open just a bit, Winselt and Maileena both stepped aside to get out of sight, just as they discussed they would. Demilan, who was the only one that the violent pervert had not seen so far, appeared before him through the small gap. "Who are you?" the pervert asked in a low voice, hinted with dread.
"Hi, I checked out of this room a few hours ago and I think I may have left some things of mine in there," Demilan said to the man. "Would you mind if I come in just to take a quick look?" the man hesitated, it was clear. He looked around, yet he could not see anyone besides Demilan, who merely presented a charming smile and an innocent appearance. "It'll only take a few minutes, I promise," Demilan said.
With a long sigh, the man surrendered. "Alright, make it quick." He opened the door wide, only to learn a second later just how big of a mistake he had made. Maileena and Winselt charged into the room along with Demilan, who closed the door behind him. Winselt struck the man with a fast, yet hefty punch, sending the man to the floor with a shocked look on his face. Maileena felt as if someone had just strummed a string of joy in her heart.
Before long, the pervert man found himself shirtless, gagged with a pillowcase and tied to a chair using power cables taken from the television in the room. It was just like how Odis ended up, only, this time, Maileena would lead the torture.
"I'm going to show you something I've learned just recently. They call it Looking Back. The way it works is you either answer my questions or make it much worse for yourself." She held Demilan's knife in front of the man, stroking his face with the black, cold blade. As the sharp knife grazed against the man's bristles, his pupils dilated with terror. Wherever he showed panic and misery, Maileena only found joy and satisfaction. Winselt and Demilan stood behind her, not even daring to intervene. They knew this moment belonged to her and her alone.
"Do you remember me?" she leaned in front of him. The man looked frightened to the core, as hot sweat covered his face. He tried mumbling something through the rag, but it was too inaudible. In response, she slashed his upper left arm, seeing every spill of blood that came of it as the nectar of justice. The man screamed and cried beyond the muffling rag. "I asked you a question. Do you remember me?" this time the man nodded instead of trying to speak. Tears still ran down his face. "Do you remember what you used to do to me?" her voice rose and her eyes burned. Her free hand clutched around one of his. The man once again tried mumbling something but was met instead with another cut from the dark blade on his upper left arm, followed by another one to his right one. He writhed through the rag, his feet stomping at the ground like a wild animal. "See what I did there? Every time you fail to give me an answer, you get the same pain you got before, only more of it." Small drops of blood painted red lines down his arms. "Now, do you remember what you used to do to me?" the man nodded as before. Of course you remember, you sick fuck. I'll never forget that joyous face you had whenever you had your way with me. You were in such euphoria that I doubt you'll ever forget our moments together. "Are you going to tell anyone that you saw me here?" she asked. The man shook his head aside. "No one at all?" he shook it again. "Not anyone in Men of Midas?" he kept shaking his head. "Not Kleon Hanford?" this time the man tried speaking again through the rag, which both displeased and pleased Maileena at the same time. She gave him another set of slashes, another one at his upper left arm, another one at his upper right arm and one on his chest. "Are you going to tell Kleon Hanford?!" she asked again. The man went back to shaking his head, in between weeping and agonizing in immense pain. "Now listen to me," she grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look deep into her vicious eyes. "You're going to check out of this motel. Make up an excuse for the manager at the reception desk for all I care. Get the fuck out of here and remember what you just said. If I have to learn you said anything about me, my two friends behind me will track you down and kill you." His head shook in her hand. "Do you understand?" the man quietly wept. Maileena refused to take it for an answer and raised the knife once more, but this time a voice from behind stopped her.
"Maileena," Demilan interrupted her. "I think that's enough. We cannot have him go outside bleeding all over the place. Besides, he's going to lose too much blood at this rate." Maileena turned back to Demilan. As he saw her eyes, he was taken back a bit. The fire in them, her astounding thirst for blood and her sense of rapture at every spill of blood he gave. They all showed on her face, and while he seemed hesitant at first, he stood his ground. "Give me the knife." He extended his hand. Every inch of Maileena's body told her to refuse him and keep cutting the pervert man. It's justice. He deserves it. He needs to suffer like I did. A voice in her mind told her. She wanted to ignore Demilan and keep on torturing the pervert. She wanted to inflict as much pain on him as possible. She saw nothing wrong in her actions, and still a part of her knew that Demilan was right. In the end, her common sense beat her primal instincts, as she handed the knife over to Demilan. He looked relieved as she did.
Winselt and Demilan bandaged the man's wounds and cut him loose. A few minutes later, they saw him checking out of the motel downstairs. Once he left the motel, Demilan looked at Winselt and nodded at him. Without speaking a word, Winselt went downstairs and left the motel as well.
The next day, Winselt came to the motel at noon. When Maileena greeted him, he gave her a photo while a hint of a smile appeared on his face. When Maileena looked at the photo, she felt once more as if someone had strummed the strings of joy in her heart. Demilan was right, they couldn’t kill the man, at least not right there and then. That was why they had to force him out of the motel. Once he left and was far enough, it was much safer to kill him without making the police come to the motel.
As Maileena looked at the photo of the violent pervert's bloody corpse, she humbly thanked Winselt and embraced the photo into her chest. For the first time ever, she felt that justice had been done in Alataria.
