A hood rat.
A prince.
A devastating past.
A plan for a war to end all wars.
Fane Anson, ammo tech and a legendary shot, has a problem: a preening peacock interested in him. Ishan Orlov, stated preening peacock, is a prince sent to Eand to pick up a new training instructor to his men. He just didn’t expect the firecracker of a redhead to put the fear of god in him, or his response to that realization.
Chapter 1: The rattling of the window panes in their frames existed as a dull frequency to grate at his nerves enough to tell him he should be up and out of there. The darkened room sat illuminated by the lifted rail line lights and a burning pink neon sign outside, blinking away Hotel Morrison…
Chapter 2: Of the pair of automatic doors at the clinic entrance, one opened part way and the other twitched, stuck in it’s slide. Zephyr let out a sigh, shoulders sagging. “I swear, we need that funding soon.”…
Chapter 3: Blinking, the white room came into focus. His head throbbed, and the abnormally bright florescent lights were not making the black rings in his eyes better. He raised his hands to his head, pressing against his temples. “Where am I?” Fane asked the room. It was rather a useless question, the padded cell vacant except for him…
Chapter 4: Faded off white plastic. Rubbing alcohol. Scratchy fabric. “Sergeant Anson?” a female voice crackled over the speaker, pulling him into reality. Fane woke to the inside of a scanning bed, his head strapped into a white cage…
Chapter 5: Click. The door to the waiting room unlocked. Fane looked up from his fifth round of counting the white speckle dots on the faded, black tile next to his left foot. To his relief, Zephyr popped his head in. “How you holdin’ up, kid?” The man slithered through the door crack and eased into a seat next to Fane…
Chapter 6: The taxi pulled up to Crystal. A shaft of fear drove straight through Fane’s core. I’m intruding. This isn’t my place and way out of my league. Those thoughts ran around him as he held the taxi door for Orlov with a slight bow, putting himself between the Prince and curious onlookers. Orlov’s gleaming amber eyes slid over him approvingly. “Maybe I should hire you as a bodyguard,” the Prince whispered in Fane’s ear as he clapped him on the shoulder…
Chapter 7: Fane sat in a darkened, freezing corridor at the end of the armoury. The metal bench designated the waiting area for the testing room. The heavy door was the only separation between him and heaven. On the other side lay his set-up, his paradise. It was the one place that he truly felt like the world didn’t matter.
Chapter 8: The door clicked shut behind Fane. Zephyr, after regaining his startled senses, looked down at the blade in his hand. Ornate in nature, it was a high-end piece that could only have come from the Prince. He mused for a second before observing the man. Orlov stood unphased after the encounter. Zephyr approached the royal…
Chapter 9: The hell? What’s the Prince’s deal? Fane threw a flat rock with all his might against the satin-smooth surface of the lake. The stone skipped a good ten or eleven spots before sinking near the other side. This was his little area. Well, he had to share it with another passerby. It was the base’s recreational lake, after all…
Chapter 10: Stepping out of the sliding doors, a blast of dry heat swamped Fane. The glaring sun sparkled on the cityscape. He shielded his eyes, waiting for them to adjust. A line of hover-cabs sat idling in the loop. The roar of engines signaled another plane’s departure.
Chapter 11: Shelly left Fane at his room after their evening meal, promising to show up the next day. She had reserved several hours with a local wise man who supposedly had some old scrolls she was chomping at the bit to see and was unsure when she would come to him.
Chapter 12: He woke the following day to a glaring light slipping in through his window and his gut twisting in painful knots. A cold sweat broke out across his body as he dashed for the bathroom.
Chapter 13: A light rapping at his door woke him. Thankfully he had slept through the rest of the night, and dreams had taken a hiatus, to his relief. “One minute!” he called as he scrambled to get up. The door opened to reveal the giant bodyguard, Ajay, peering in cautiously. Fane froze, halfway untangled from his sheets and the nest of a mosquito net that surrounded him. Ajay’s face softened when he saw Fane up. He walked in, his hands up playacting, like a man trying to calm a wild tiger.
Chapter 14: The guns were laid out on the side table, along with about half his stash of knives. Ajay had insisted that he respect his employer enough not to come to the lunch table completely clothed in metal. He had half met the request, reiterating that he was a trainer and temporary bodyguard, not a companion. If he was to protect the Prince, then it would have to be that way. Shelly was relieved when the guns were down on the table near the door. The cold aura flowing off Fane dissipated when they were no longer a part of his outfit.
Chapter 15: “Come on! We need to get going!” Shelly popped into the room unannounced. The instructor and Fane flinched, glancing up from a children’s workbook. “What’s wrong?” Fane rose, his hands clearing every vest and pocket in succession as he subconsciously checked for his armaments. Shelly grabbed him, pulling him towards the library door. “You’re supposed to be meeting with Their Majesties in fifteen minutes. I got distracted and forgot to come get you half an hour ago. I’m so sorry!” She pushed him from the room.
Chapter 16: Slime. Sludge. A black inky depth loomed beneath him. Grey tentacles reached out from the infinite oblivion, grasping for him. A hideous odour of rotting fish and fermented fruit permeated his senses. Screeching, like that of thousands of people dying in fire, grated at his ears. An air raid siren pierced through the terror. It rattled around in his brain. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Chapter 17: Having returned to Ishan’s offices, Fane was at a loss regarding what he was supposed to do. He was no bodyguard. He was neither certified nor trained as one. He was an ammo tech and dive instructor. He monitored the armoury. He cleaned and accounted for everything. He taught people how to not drown when in a simulated helicopter water crash.
Chapter 18: Fane shifted, his skin prickling at the heavy embroidery rubbing along his scars. He still wasn’t keen on the new clothes, though he was getting used to them. He studied himself in the mirror hung on the inside of his wardrobe. Black kurta, black churidar, black leather jutti. He had to admit, it all moved nicely and fit comfortably, but it didn’t have all the hiding places his gear afforded him.
Chapter 19: “Miss Griyashi!” Fane called to the prince’s amanuensis upon approaching her desk the next morning. A meeting with the other bodyguards was slotted on his personal calendar and he needed to coordinate Orlov’s schedule.
Chapter 20: Fane and Ajay stood in the hallway with Zahar, Chaitan and the other bodyguards for the royal family. The King, having answered to Chaitan’s knock and noting the congregation of men waiting on their charges, closed the door in their faces, telling them that it was private business amongst the family.
Chapter 21: Fane stood inside a massive wood-panelled hall with a high elf, an orc, and a mouse person. Tables crowded with a variety of beast people, elves, and other species sprawled across the big room. A few waved and called out to Ishan and the team.
Chapter 22: “You want me to believe this djinn newb has never played in a gear before? At that level?” A built half-orc woman looked the party up and down.
“He works out on the regular. You run a gym, Marjorta. You know how this goes for Black Parrot patrons.” Ishan pulled a tankard of ail out of his inventory and set it in front of the woman.
Chapter 23: “Is this what you do in the evenings when I leave you here?” Fane leaned against Prince Orlov’s doorframe to watch the man hacking and slashing at the air in his Nurvo Gear.
Chapter 24: “Hey, Fane!” Shelly barely knocked on the door before opening it with a crash.
Fane flinched at the woman’s blunt intrusion during his meditation time. “Good evening to you too, Shelly.”
Chapter 25: “You got a glitch?” Marjorta grabbed Fane by the shoulders to steady him.
Ishan muttered, “Nope, might be a bit tipsy, though.”
Chapter 26: Fane woke to a throbbing headache. The last thing he remembered was walking into a dance club with Shelly, Ajay, and the prince. The sky shifted to a soft grey in the window, jasmine dancing against the pane. He scrambled to sit up. “Oh, crap! I’m going to be late.”
Chapter 27: There had not been as much improvement with the regiment in the past month as Fane had hoped. Running speed and shot accuracy had improved; however, many social and cultural traditions impeded progress at every turn.
Chapter 28: Ishan Orlov lay awake in his bed. He was numb and hollow. He had cried himself empty until his eyes were puffy and raw. His room and the palace had been cleared for some time. The first rays of dawn were colouring the sky pink and gold. He had not been informed since Fane had disappeared five hours earlier. How long could the man be gone?
Chapter 29: A gaping maw yawned at his feet. He tripped back from the gravesite as the white coffin descended the black hole. Dirt broke away from the sidewall. He slid, crashing into slimy sludge. A hollow scream of death threatened to burst his eardrums as he fought to get out of the mire. Something in the dark grabbed his boot and pulled him under. He tried to yell out, but the oily murk promised to drown him.
Chapter 30: “The fuck you mean the reactor’s off the charts?” the general screamed into his phone. Alarms echoed against the concrete tunnels in a deafening roar. The structure shook, and dust scuttled through the ceiling tiles. A low moan of steel giving and a loud crack reverberated through his very bones. It had been months since Subject 15 had left. The programs had been plotting an even graph with very few minor spikes to be worth mentioning. Predictive analysis he had been handed not one week ago estimated the cross-over closer to the end of the year. They had containment being set up for that time, not immediately.
Chapel Orahamm 