Wild Tiger Chase - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

— Léon —
He narrowed his eyes. Léon knew that name, but he wasn't sure from where. He studied the man again, trying to find something that sparked his memory.
Count Cae wasn't strong, but he wasn't thin, either. Curly raven hair, brown skin, agreeable face; there was nothing special about him or his body, except for the slight curve in his right shin, probably a badly healed broken leg. Even his clothes—cargo pants and a white t-shirt—looked like a post office uniform.
The only exceptional detail about him was the speed with which his fingers moved, flipping an old silver coin around the joints in his fingers.
"Well, Cae, you realize that's not what I asked, right?" Léon looked around, trying to map his surroundings. They weren't on the dirt road anymore but in a round clearing circled by a dense wall of trees. A gap between them showed the possible path they had used to reach that place. Léon rested his eyes on Count Cae. "I asked you what you want from us."
Cae rested his elbow on the opened window of the NAV and turned around to face Léon. "And here I thought you were smart. I just said I want to punish you for trespassing."
Léon rested a hand on Bonee's neck, caressing her fur. "You didn't say that."
"But you could infer it based on what I said." Cae tried to reach out and touch the tigress, but she snapped her jaw closed on the air where his fingers once were, trying to bite him. He was faster.
"Considering the fact I'm still alive, I could also infer you are a decent bandit who is about to release me after telling me off." Léon tried on a smile. He glanced at the opened door at his right. One of the bandits had an animal control pole and was ready to use it, but Léon gripped it and threw it away.
Cae chuckled. "Now see—that's the problem with most men. They tend not to know the difference between inferring and assuming."
Léon shrugged. "What are you going to do, then? Are you going to kill me?"
When Cae stretched, the bones in his arms and back popped like firecrackers. "Maybe. First, tell me about your scar. Who gave it to you?"
They shared a gaze filled with suspicion.
Cae opened an easy smile and raised a hand. When Léon followed his gaze, he swallowed a thick gulp of fear. Cae had just stopped a bandit from piercing Bonee with a pike while she and Léon were distracted by the gang leader. Cae smirked. "C'mon, mate. I'm a curious man. And I'd have hurt you already if I wanted to."
He... was right.
A cold lump formed in his stomach when Léon understood the danger he was in. He was alone in the middle of a forest, Goddess-knows-where in Old Continent, with a man who had a dozen armed people at his disposal. And more than his own safety, he also feared for Bonee. She was more powerful than Lampee, sure, but without him there to lick her wounds, her healing rate was... weak.
That meant she could be killed. They both could.
Lowering his eyes, Léon sighed. "Some guy named Master of Knives. It was a long time ago. Years."
There was a short silence between them. When Léon glanced at Cae, he saw the inflated ego in the way he smirked, satisfied with Léon's submission. Cae cleared his throat. "Huh. Never heard of him." He fished his phone from his front pocket, swiped left and right, and showed the screen to Léon. "This guy?"
Léon narrowed his eyes and stared at the photo. He didn't recognize the face on the screen, but it was easy to feel the tension building on Cae's shoulders. The man on the mugshot seemed to be around twenty and had a striking resemblance to Cae himself—the only difference was that the man in the photo had a missing half in his lower lip.
Wait. This guy did remind him of someone, but... who?
"So?" Cae insisted.
"Hum." Léon stuck his lower lip out and moved his head in a negative. His head hurt too much for him to remember anything right now. "I've never seen Master of Knives without his ID concealer. Can't say if it's the same person." Léon straightened his back. "Friend of yours?"
Cae was silent for a moment, his index finger poking the dry skin of his lower lip.
"Nah. He owes me money," Cae mumbled with a sharp sigh. He turned around in the front seat and leaned back. "On to the next topic. I want to know about your powers."
Something cold swirled in Léon's stomach. He hadn't told Modraniht about his cosmic trace, and he certainly wouldn't tell Count Cae about it, whoever he was. Cosmic trace was the most powerful among all the 76 derelict traces—and although Léon's powers weren't in their prime, it'd be dangerous for him to let a fucking bandit know about them. So, Léon lied. "There's nothing to say about them. Again. It's just dust trace."
Cae eyed Léon again. There was a fine line of mistrust laced in his words when he said, "Really?"
"Yep. Just the good, old, very-common dust trace."
Cae scoffed. "The day a dust tiger moves about when its master is clocked is the day I'll become Old Continent's queen."
Dammit. Think, Léon. Fast!
Creatures made with the dust trace didn't have free will. They didn't think or talk, and they only moved if their owner commanded them. Léon needed another lie.
"Well, your majesty, a tinge of oneiric trace can do wonders to dust tigers. I just have to build the right dream for me, so I can still command my tiger when I sleep. It works for basic functions, anyway—like protect me from any bastard who attacks my friends." Léon fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Cae didn't seem to believe him. Léon gulped and added, "She... can fight, track things, claw, you know. Things that tigers do. Cause I studied tigers. A lot."
Cae scoffed. He seemed entertained. "Oneiric trace, huh?"
"Just a tinge. I can only use it in my dreams." Léon gulped. The lies came in buckets now. Léon wasn't very comfortable with that.
"Huh. I see." Cae took a cred stick from Phillip's wallet and tossed it aside. "I'll believe you. Which means you're perfectly safe here."
Cae smiled, but the sight didn't make Léon's heart beat any slower. The gang leader left the NAV. Once outside, he bent to look at Léon through the open door, his lips curling in a smirk. "C'mon. Send your dust-pet home and follow me. I'll take you to your friends."
Léon looked at Bonee. She shook her head no. The movement was small and discreet, but Cae's eyes narrowed like a bird of prey before his lunch.
Shit. That guy wasn't as regular as he seemed to be, was he?
"Any problem with your dust tiger?" Cae asked.
"None at all." Léon curled his fingers on Bonee's fur and pulled her close to pop an affectionate kiss on her forehead, trying to calm her. With a flourish of his hand, she dissolved into a dense cloud of purple fog and disappeared through the ethereal purple curtains at Léon's side.
"Fancy," Cae said. He smiled and stepped away, motioning Léon to follow.
When Léon left the NAV, the full weight of his situation hung on his shoulders. The bandits around him weren't only separating and checking Léon, Phillip, and Modraniht's luggage; they were also busy cataloging cargo that had already been there. Weapons, ammunition, boxes filled with stolen nutritional paste, cages with mutated animals, and huge crates filled to the brim with bottles of purple pills that looked like drugs—there were enough goods there to fill New Continent's entire underground smog-market.
More than that, each crate was marked with a bold B encased in a circle with two horn-likes spikes around it—the symbol of the Barbarians.
Shit.
Shit! They were in so much trouble that Léon couldn't even begin to fathom how much. Invidia's laws transgressions would look like a child's play if compared to the Barbarians' operations. And the man behind them was right in front of Léon, his hands clasped at his back as if without a care in the world.
Wasn't he worried Léon saw all that? Wouldn't that be dangerous for Cae?
That's when Léon realized: Cae had nothing to fear. He was one of the most dangerous and mighty figures in Old Continent.
"You know, kid. Normally I'd be pissed for being held back in my schedule thanks to your extended nap and your fucking dust tiger"—Cae's voice was calm and clear, but a shiver still crawled up Léon's spine—"but one of your friends was gentle enough to piss off half of my people, which kept them... entertained for the past hour. Because of that, I'm ready to forgive you."
Something cold swirled inside Léon's stomach. Phillip. He must be talking about Phillip. What the hell had they done to him?
"Where is he?" Léon's voice came out a lot harder than he had anticipated.
"You'll see." Cae took a right behind a particularly tall pile of plasmetallic crates and walked a beaten path among the trees that led them to a second, smaller clearing where a small crowd laughed and cheered.
After each step, Léon's heartbeat quickened as his mind wove the most terrible ideas his imagination could muster. Léon followed Cae, letting him drill their path among the small crowd—until a sharp cry of pain echoed in the clearing. Léon's eyes widened, and he rushed forward, pushing Cae and the others out of his way.
"Phillip!" he called once he broke through the crowd.
"Ouch! Hey, Leo. You're awake!"
Léon furrowed his brow. What the hell?
Phillip was pressed face-down on the floor, sweaty face covered in dust, while a black woman held him in a ruthless cloverleaf hold. Phillip cried in pain again when the woman pulled his leg backward—but that seemed almost like... sparring. Léon frowned. Phillip wasn't in danger.
"C'mon, Phil. You can't be this easy to beat after everything you just showed us," the woman said with a chuckle. "Fight... back... marshmallow!"
Marshmallow?
"I'm fucking tired, Nila!" Phillip barked. With a growl, he clawed the dirt. His eyes darted to Léon, and the blush on his cheeks spread to the tips of his ears. "Fuck it. I'm not losing this shit," he mumbled. Phillip's eyes lost their green color as shreds of darkness covered his body. With a quick movement, he thrust his body forward as his legs became a dense, dark fog. He slipped away from Nila's hold and became whole again, jumping to his feet.
Phillip dived into the dirt to catch his daggers, rolled forward, and stopped behind his opponent, his blades kissing the soft skin of Nila's neck. They were both panting, and for a moment, that was the only sound in the clearing. Then, a loud boom of cheers came from the crowd around them.
With a wide grin, Phillip got up and thrust his daggers into the dirt. He walked around Nila and offered her a hand. She accepted it, letting him haul her up. They gazed into each other's eyes for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then, the woman shoved him behind with a chuckle.
"I'm not losing the next one, marshmallow. You better beware." She gave him a hard smack on the arm, then walked away.
Phillip turned to Léon and smiled. "Saw that?"
Léon raised an eyebrow and nodded, looking around. The crowd was starting to clear out when Cae reached them.
"Shadow trace, Phillip? You didn't tell me you had that." Cae offered him a handshake.
Phillip stared at his hand, and something painful crossed his eyes. He was wary of him. Phillip Esposito was wary of someone.
Was this the real life?
"Well, you didn't ask, did you?" Phillip said. They shook hands, and Phillip reeled to Léon's side. He placed a protective hand on his shoulder and pulled him back to stand behind him. "Did you talk? Can we leave now?"
Cae's smile was gentle, but something violent shone in his eyes. He studied Phillip's hand, and his gaze flicked between Léon and him until they stopped on Phillip's green eyes. His smile widened. "We talked, yeah. But it's already too late to leave; the forest is dangerous at this hour. You're having dinner with us tonight; you can leave tomorrow."
Léon gulped. He didn't like it one bit. "Where's Modraniht? And where's Vanessa, our guide?"
Cae scoffed. There was a mix of pity and playfulness in his features. "The old man is waiting for you. And Vanessa... well... you'll see her soon enough. Come, let's eat something."
Venessa let out a dry sneer and slapped her thigh as if she had heard the worst joke humanity had to offer. "Shut up, Cae. You're not that old."
It was a shock at first, but Léon was starting to get used to the idea that Vanessa was somehow a part of Count Cae's barbarians. She had fooled them, then taken them to the lion's den, and it was still to be seen if they were going to be eaten or played like toys.
"I'm not old; I'm experienced." Cae chuckled and glanced at Léon, who averted his eyes downwards, focusing on the pack of nutritional paste in his hands.
This wasn't even the first time that it happened. Apparently, this was just one more of Count Cae's usual schemes.
"Tell me one thing you remember about how life was before they mushed everything into one single continent," Vanessa said.
They were all sitting on the floor, spread amongst expensive-looking cushions and on a wide Arabic rug. Vanessa and Cae sat close to each other, joking, laughing, and drinking cheap booze, while Phillip, Léon, and Modraniht ate in silence a small distance from them. Anxiety was thick around them.
"Let me see." Cae massaged his chin and got up, calling Vanessa with a gesture. "Things were already shitty back then, at least for me—but they got even worse when the fucking politicians sold the indigenous lands in my country a couple of decades ago."
That picked Léon's interest. He loved Old Continent's history, but NC barely had anything about it. It was almost as if The Mayor had tried to erase its existence from New Continentian's memories—which was probably the case.
He tried not to ask, but his curiosity was too great. Léon swallowed the grilled-chicken paste and stared at Cae. "Sold your country? What are you talking about?"
Cae's grin widened even more. Vanessa followed him, and they both sat way too close to Léon, Phillip, and Modraniht.
Cae scoffed. He reached for Léon's glass and, without saying a word, poured him the weird green liquid he and Vanessa were drinking. "I'd say you need to study, pretty boy, but I bet you can recite NC's entire history from top to bottom." He smirked.
Léon lowered his eyes, cheeks burning.
"The Mayor is to blame. I know," Cae said with a huff. "As for my country—when it still existed—one of our last presidents sold South-American indigenous territory to great corporations around the globe and pocketed the money afterward. It was a pretty shitty place to live, that time."
"My mom told me once that his place was utter trash some decades ago," Vanessa added. "In 2019, my father was beaten up and almost killed for being gay, and my aunt was put in a wheelchair by her human waste of a husband. The piece of shit kicked her 'till she passed out. Broke her spine."
"Holy shit," Léon whispered.
"And that happened in a fancy block downtown. Cae and I knew each other by then—even if I was too young to remember." Vanessa opened a wicked smile. "So Cae showed my uncle the same courtesy. Didn't you, Cae?"
Cae gave her a dismissive shrug. "I was only thirty-something. I thought violence was the only answer."
Vanessa scoffed. "As if you'd do anything differently right now."
"Course I would, Nessa." Cae smiled. "I'd offer him a choice. A full spine transplant sounds good to me, doesn't it? Your aunt would be walking, and he'd live the same way he is living today."
"Not that things are any better today," Modraniht said. "With the red market, the upper river piranhas, and the Barbarians." He looked right at Cae, not a drop of fear in his black eyes. Then, he sighed. "But the worst, as always, are the politicians."
"And the big mega-corp board members," Vanessa added.
"And the dirty deputies," Cae said.
"And rich-born people who have no idea how fucked up the world is," Phillip offered.
"And who end up making it even worse because they're just too caught up in their own heads," Léon mumbled.
Cae scoffed, and his lips curled in a sad smile. "Yeah. All that."
"What's the red market?" Léon asked.
Phillip, Modraniht, and Vanessa all grimaced and tried to convince Léon he didn't want to know, but Cae silenced them.
"It's a place to buy meat, Léon. Any kind of meat." He raised his eyebrows and let that sentence sit with him for a moment. "One leg and a forearm would make a good coin in there if you happen to need paying for a ransom," he said with a smirk. "The money would be even bigger if the person agreed to let them cook it while still attached."
Vanessa grimaced while Léon gazed at his plate of nutritional paste. He cleared his throat and placed his dinner down, pressing a hand against his lips.
"Goddess," Léon mumbled.
Old Continent was way worse than he remembered.
"This conversation got pretty wicked pretty fast," Modraniht murmured. "Can't we talk about... anything else?"
"Yeah, that's just... twisted," Phillip managed to say. "And disgusting. How do you even know something like that?" That low and insecure tone was unlike Phillip, but Léon could understand where it was coming from. There was nothing but danger in that camp, as friendly as Cae made it seem with the colorful sleeping tents, hookahs, and cushions.
"Soft dark web surfing," Cae answered with a cold smile and a shrug. "I might also know a deputy in OC who went through it to get enough creds for his village. I have nothing but respect—and a little worry—for the guy." He winked. "There are some crazy good people around here... wouldn't you agree, Nessa?"
Vanessa shook her head and smiled. "Whatever you say, Cae." She sipped her drink and shivered.
Here was the feeling again. There was something really wrong with Vanessa, wasn't it? She had... she had the sickness, perhaps? Léon's breathing caught in his throat. He didn't know much about it; the only thing he had gathered from the newscast he had watched was that it killed trees, animals, and people alike.
Before Vanessa's shivering, Cae's entire body tensed. "Are you cold, Nessa? Is it... time?"
She scoffed and shook her head no. "I'm fine, you old dog." She got up and leaned down to pop a kind kiss on his forehead. With that same smile, she patted his cheek. "Sleep well, all right?
Cae nodded. He schooled his expression and turned around with a smile. "That's enough, then. It's late, and our guests are tired." He got up and offered his arm to Vanessa, who accepted it with a chuckle.
"I bid you good night, kids. We'll talk more tomorrow." Cae tipped an imaginary hat and locked eyes with Léon. "I hope you've paid attention to how things work around here, kid. I'll ask a favor of you tomorrow... and I hope you'll give me the right answer."
Léon's words caught in his throat. He couldn't say anything.
If he had learned something today, it was that Count Cae was a ruthless and cruel man—the leader of an extensive underground operation and another figure of authority with a very distorted sense of justice. Whatever he wanted, Léon was sure it wouldn't be good, which posed as yet another reason to get the fuck out of there.