Dark Sanity

Hunting the Hunter

Flint and the others managed to reach the central bridge of Titan, the only area that wasn’t about to fall apart. Upon reaching safety, Flint explained to Sarah and his friends from Desonas what had happened when he traveled to the Outlands of Australia, as well as his experience in Soalace, and his revolution against the tribunal. They could hardly believe his tales, but it was evident that they were true.

After six hours passed, the mothership approached the planet. Soalace had a haze of smog enveloping it in the void of space. The interstellar steamship looked as if it were a mountainous metropolis blanketed by a glittery blackish-blue nebula drifting through the cosmos. The vessel majestically descended into Halvon’s atmosphere. It was perfect timing because more military vessels were approaching. By now, the steamwalkers aboard Soalace had become masters of dimensional technology and blasted the military vessels. Once they were destroyed, Soalace docked. A ramp lowered shortly after, allowing Flint and his comrades to enter. The survivors then gathered in one of the many chambers inside Soalace to recuperate.

“Flint,” called out one of the rebels, “is it true that you can’t remember anything?”

He gave a sad nod and replied, “I can barely even recall the war. Only bits and pieces have returned. Other than that, I just can’t seem to remember much. Please forgive me for not remembering any of you.”

“I understand, as I’m sure the others do,” said the rebel, patting Flint on the back. “It’s just so wonderful to see you again.”

“We thought you were dead,” said another rebel.

“I can assure you that I wasn’t far from death,” said Flint. “Now, I know this may seem impulsive, but I feel that it’s time we launch a final assault. If anyone knows where the tribunal is located, I need to know.”

“It’s not that simple,” said a young man with a brown beard.

Flint curiously glared at him. “You’re one of the few who look too young to have been in the war with me before. If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name?”

“Michael,” he said. “Michael Browder.”

“Browder!” cried out Flint, overwhelmed with joy. He approached Michael and shook his hand. “I am proud to say that I remember your father; he saved my life once.”

“My father?” said Michael anxiously. “Do you know where he is?”

Flint hesitated to answer but eventually replied, “I’m sorry.” The expression on his face told Michael all he needed to know, causing him to slouch and cry. Flint held him and continued, “I’ve suffered terrible losses as well, Michael. But right now we need to be stronger than ever. If there is anything you know, it will help us defeat the tribunal.”

“As I said, it’s not so simple,” said Michael, wiping away a tear. “The tribunal lives on a special planet at the heart of Vorilian IV.” He sighed and went on, “The planet’s called Parronus, and it has a unique force field that only Judgment is able to fly through.”

“What is Judgment?” asked Flint.

“It’s the Commandant’s starship,” said Michael. “It’s the only vessel capable of entering the planet’s shield with full clearance.”

“Then we need to get aboard Judgment,” said Flint.

“That’s nearly impossible,” said Michael. “Even if we got the Commandant’s attention, it would be impossible to hijack his vessel. One dimensional beam alone can kill us.”

“Then we’ll need an advantage,” said Flint, looking through a window and gazing at one of the military starship’s docked on a ruptured platform. “Gunthrel, have the engineers put that ship in the docking bay.” The moment Gunthrel nodded at him, Flint added, “All of you have been through more than enough. When the time comes, we’ll strike. Until then, I want you all to rest.”

Before he could leave, Sarah called out, “Dad, where are you going?”

“To the flight deck,” replied Flint. “We need to get out of here as soon as that military ship is aboard.”

“Can we come?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Flint, smiling. He guided Jake and his daughter to the cockpit, letting them sit beside him. While he showed them the controls, Gunthrel entered the room in a new power suit, joining him. “Nice armor,” he said. “Is the ship docked in our bay yet?”

“Thanks, and yes,” said Gunthrel.

“Then it’s time for us to leave,” said Flint, operating Soalace’s interface. “I’m setting a course to Rutica.”

“What?” said Gunthrel. “Why?”

“After what the military did, it’s the last place they would think we’d go to,” said Flint. Even though Gunthrel wore a helmet, Flint had a feeling that he had a crazed look. “I know it sounds absurd, but trust me. Besides, we have a friend to pick up.”

“Clarienus can wait,” said Gunthrel.

“She’s not the only reason why we’re returning,” said Flint. “We need to hide for a little while, especially for my plan to work.”

“And what plan is that?” asked Gunthrel, slightly irked.

“You’ve never been a hunter, have you?” said Flint. “There is a lot more to the hunt than simply searching for your prey. One must first have bait to play the game.”

That was all Flint had to say. No one understood his motive, especially Gunthrel, but they trusted him since he’d managed to free them from prison. Flint wore a wicked grin on his face while he ascended Soalace into space, ready to begin hunting the hunter.

In the meantime, on the green planet of Parronus, Joey entered the tribunal’s atrium-like chamber in a burgundy uniform. The tribunal sat above on a large balcony. Laskov and Kuralan were hooked up to life-support machines. Tarak was the only one of the three who still didn’t need a machine to keep him alive, but he looked as though he were on the verge of needing one. Joey approached and kneeled before the tribunal.

“I received your transmission and came as fast as I could,” said Joey. “How may I be of service?”

“You know very well why we contacted you,” said Laskov, breathing heavily.

“Rise up, Commandant,” said Tarak in a croaking tone.

Joey got to his feet and asked, “Is this in regard to that rebel scum?”

“So, you’re not as dimwitted as we thought you were,” responded Kuralan, also breathing heavily through his life-support machine. “Your bounty hunters and subordinates of our glorious military have failed to hunt down Ethan.”

“One of my captains captured him,” said Joey. “But he somehow escaped.”

“Obviously,” said Laskov, displaying an image of the ruined penitentiary of Titan. “The symbol of Flint Cross has become even more powerful than we’ve ever imagined.”

“You’re the idiots who made him this way,” mumbled Joey.

“What did you say?” snapped Kuralan.

“I said it’s surprising he has managed to live for so long,” replied Joey. “To be honest, at his age, I’m surprised he hasn’t died of a heart attack. Rest assured, I’ll personally deal with this problem.”

“You had better,” said Tarak. “Or else this will be the last time you leave Parronus with the name Cain Sullivan.”

Joey bowed, trying to hide his gulp, and left the chamber to hunt down Flint.

Meanwhile, on the amber-tinged planet known as Rutica, Soalace had just landed on top of the sunken starship. Its substructure’s cylinder-shaped pipes attached to those of the smaller steamship’s roof, becoming one vessel. Clarienus was jubilant to see Flint and Gunthrel again. And though Flint had told his daughter and fellow rebels about her, they were still distraught by her appearance. They nevertheless managed to accept her since she looked so happy, innocently hopping around Gunthrel.

Shortly after the reunion, the mothership ascended and flew over to where the rebel base was located. Flint still remembered the coordinates. And just as he feared, the entire region had been destroyed. Not only was the base in ruins, but the entire jungle that had once surrounded it was burnt to ashes.

Upon landing the vessel, Flint exited it and stepped onto the smoldered terrain. No longer able to smell fresh air, he crumbled to the ground, crying. So many innocent people were brutally murdered simply because they had embraced their imperfect nature—their humanity.

He thought, perhaps Anissa was right; she would have been better off continuing to sell her body in Maveron. Then he thought of Dale and shook his head.

“Rest well in Neverland,” he said, desperately trying to embrace the few good memories he had. Despite his greatest efforts to think positive, he remained on the rubble. Thousands of innocent people were dead because of him. Even the rebel troops had been killed; they had died without even being able to defend themselves. This wasn’t a war; it was a mindless slaughter. Gazing at the ruins, he feebly muttered, “I can’t believe they’re all gone.”

“They will live in our hearts,” said Michael Browder, approaching. He placed a hand on Flint’s shoulder. “Remember what you told me? We need to be stronger now more than ever in order to win this war.”

Flint agreed, standing up with a frail countenance. “You’re right, Browder,” he said. He finally turned, looking at him with a stern face. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re as strong as your father.” His comment made Michael smile. “Let’s go,” continued Flint. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Over the next few days, Flint and his army dismantled the military starship they’d taken and incorporated its ST-8 stunning technology into Soalace.

Gunthrel occasionally checked the ship’s sensors to see if any military ships were nearby. Fortunately nothing showed up. Flint’s plan, at least for now, seemed to be working out; though, Gunthrel and the others still weren’t quite sure what Flint had in mind other than wanting to gain control of Judgment, the only ship known to freely enter Parronus. Although the ST-8 stunning weapon may do the trick, thought Gunthrel, it’d be impossible to get close since Judgment had superior range and firepower. A single dimensional beam from Judgment could cause their force field to malfunction and disintegrate their interstellar steamship. The rebels continued to worry. Nevertheless, they decided to keep trusting their leader.

After a week had passed, Michael Browder checked the sensors with Gunthrel and saw something pulse on his screen.

“Ethan!” he shouted.

Flint strode over to Michael and asked, “What is it?” He anxiously checked the scanner and saw a dreadnaught vessel entering the star cluster where Rutica was located. “What do you think that is?”

“I checked the ship’s code,” said Michael with poise. “You may not believe it, but it’s Judgment.”

“Oh, I believe it,” said Flint. He sat in the pilot seat, opening a communication’s channel that was linked to the entire steamship. “This is Flint Cross speaking. We have spotted Judgment entering our star cluster. Even though it’s still a great distance away, we must leave before the Commander-in-Chief has a chance to get the initiative. Be ready for anything.”

The soldiers in the steam-powered starship ran to the armory. Within minutes they were loading weapons and suiting up in thick armor. There were so many armors available that the steamwalkers allowed the rebels to use their power suits. Among them were Brock and Bas. This time they were literally titan-steel brothers.

“Ready to blow off some steam, brother?” asked Brock.

“And then some,” said Bas, loading his pump-action shotgun.

Shortly after the crew was ready, Flint departed from the amber planet and observed his scanner. According to what it showed him, not too far seemed to be a large nebula. He increased the steamship’s speed, flying toward it. As it turned out, there were actually a few nebulas. Most of them were purplish and blue. Although the scanner scrambled with all the energy surrounding Soalace, this made Flint smirk with a maniacal expression.

“Are you ready for the hunt, Joey?” he said, gazing out into the dark, hazy space.

Meanwhile, an ensign aboard Judgment observed his scanners and saw something pulse away from Rutica, flying toward a group of nebulae. He confirmed that it didn’t have a military code, anxiously turning around.

“Commandant,” he called out. “I have spotted an unidentified spacecraft flying toward the Hypo Nebulae.”

“Engage that ship immediately,” commanded Joey. He rose from his chair and walked over to the front of his starship, gazing out into the silent space. “Let’s make a bet, Flint. I’m willing to bet all the coins on Earth that you’ll be dead within the next hour, just in time for me to sit down and have lunch.”

After a half hour passed, Judgment entered a nebula. The scanners scrambled. Yet the pilot continued to fly forward. Joey drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair, squinting at the colorful, hazy nebulae.

“So, you’ve taken my bet seriously,” said Joey, scowling. “Very good, I was afraid you’d be deaf and senile at the age of sixty-five. I’ll enjoy ridding you from space once and for all.”A few soldiers glanced at him with concerned expressions on their faces while he spoke to himself, but they quickly looked back at their screens when Joey tilted his head. “Ensign, take us into that purple nebula.”

The ensign complied, flying the ship over to the large purple cloud that was amid indigo and violet nebulae. The scanners were still jammed, and no communication channels functioned. Even the pane at the front was faintly showing signs of haziness as the vessel flew through the interstellar cloud that looked like a gateway to a dimension of paradise. Shortly after entering, however, Joey spotted a ship ahead.

“I’ve found you!” he exclaimed. “Fire at will!”

The dimensional cannons along the wings of Judgment charged and released thick beams at the drifting steamship, disintegrating it. Joey laughed, looking at the particles and dust of what remained of the mountainous vessel.

“What a disappointment,” he said, sighing. “I was hoping to at least be a little engaged with our bet. Oh well, too bad all the coins on Earth are worthless.”

A spherical beam suddenly shot out from a blue nebula from the side, blasting the vast starship. Electrical energy flowed through Judgment, and within seconds the entire spacecraft was stunned.

“What is the meaning of this?” said Joey fretfully.

“In almost every hunt, one must use bait to entice his prey,” said Flint. He stood by the front windowpane of his dimensional mothership, which no longer had the other ship attached. Grinning wildly, he went on, “You were my prey, and you fell for my bait like a mindless fish. Now it’s time to die like a man, Joey.” He faced his crew and shouted, “Prepare for battle!”

Joey roared with so much anger for falling right into Flint’s trap that he slammed his fists against the thick windowpane, nearly cracking it.

In the meantime, Soalace advanced and attached itself to Judgment; this was something Flint had learned after his experience with the Hewlett. Flint and his rebels charged over to the hatchway. Gunthrel and Omicron squadron were already there, waiting for their leader.

“This is it, men,” said Flint. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. Aim well and avoid destroying the ship at all costs.”

He gave the signal, and Gunthrel blasted Judgment’s hatch open. The rebels stepped onto the iron grating of Judgment and immediately fired at the military soldiers inside. Flint, as usual, pulled out his magnums and fired his soal bullets at them. Within seconds, it was an all-out war aboard Judgment.

Countless beams pulsed back and forth in the chamber. Dozens of military soldiers and rebels disintegrated. The steamwalkers of Omicron squadron pressed on, flanking most of their enemies. The remaining military forces started to flee and take cover. Flint and his army charged forth, relentlessly firing at the soldiers. Reinforcements soon came from the upper decks of the vessel and joined the onslaught. Flint only took cover when he needed to reload. Otherwise, he was at the frontlines blowing soldiers away with his magnums.

Flint’s militia eventually split into two groups. Omicron squadron handled enemies who attempted to flank them while Flint and his rebels pressed onward. Every time Flint took cover, reloading his magnums, he’d witness someone in his army disintegrate. It shook him up to see people who’d followed him for decades die so rapidly. He grimaced, continuing to blast every enemy in his sight.

After an hour of warfare and charging through Judgment, Flint finally found steps that led to the pilot chamber. With the exception of Gunthrel, Omicron squadron stayed on the lower levels, battling against the remaining military soldiers. Though the majority of Flint’s army had been decimated, Sarah, Jake, Michael, and the Panzo brothers were still with him. This at least made him feel a bit relieved.

They took cover by the entrance of the pilot chamber. Flint peeked out and then charged into the room, ready to kill the remaining cadre of infantrymen.

“Where are you, you back-stabbing son of a bitch,” he said, not seeing anyone.

A violet beam suddenly projected toward him from behind, missing him by an inch. Flint took cover, as did his comrades. Joey, meanwhile, stood on an upper deck. He continuously fired weak beams from his dimensional gun, hoping to kill Flint while trying not to destroy his vessel. One of his beams shot through Gunthrel, disintegrating him.

“Gunthrel!” cried out Flint.

“Hunting a bear is easy prey,” said Joey, scowling. “But hunting a human is another story.” He shot once more and then withdrew to a corridor behind him. “Hunt me down if you dare, old man.”

Flint held the remnants of Gunthrel’s ashes, crushing them into his palm with tears in his eyes. When his comrades approached him, he held out his other hand, halting them.

“This asshole is mine.”

No one dared question him after seeing the demented look on his face. They left the pilot chamber and joined Omicron squadron to finish off the remaining military soldiers. Flint, in the meantime, went up the staircase and stepped onto the upper deck. He approached the tunnel Joey had gone through, cautiously peeking out. Ahead of him stood another staircase. He made sure his magnums were fully loaded and then charged forward. When he reached the stairs, Joey tried to zap him. Flint hastily took cover.

“How does it feel committing mass genocide?” shouted Joey, continuing to shoot. “Your insanity has killed millions of healthy, sane people who wanted to transcend!”

“Murdering innocent civilians who embrace their humanity and want to stay the way they are is hardly sane, Joey!” yelled Flint, firing back from a corner.

“My name isn’t even Joey!” he bellowed, launching a beam that split the stairs.

“In that case, I’ll start calling you maggot!” retorted Flint, aiming sharply and blasting Joey’s left hand off.

Joey screamed in agony, blood pouring out of his wrist. He dropped his dimensional gun in shock and ran into his personal quarters while holding his bloody wrist with his right hand. He saw another gun by the delicate stained-glass window that stood near his bed and reached for it. That instant, Flint shot it away. Joey flinched and stepped back, frailly leaning against the glass as he groaned and bled profusely.

“Okay,” said Joey, feebly chuckling. “You win, Flint.” He breathed heavily, beginning to hunch. “Looks like you never needed to retire after all—you still got a few years left in ya. How about we team up like the old days and fight the tribunal together. How about it, partner?”

“Worth’s the name of the game,” replied Flint, cocking his magnums. “And right now, you’re worth nothing.”

Joey stared at Flint’s demented face and screamed at the top of his lungs while charging to choke him with his remaining hand. Without feeling any emotion, Flint pulled the triggers of his magnums and put six bullets into Joey who flew back, crashing into the glass. His furious scream turned into a screeching croak when he fell down several flights, slamming against the first floor’s cold, metal grating.

Flint approached the shattered glass and gazed down, staring at Joey’s crippled body. He menacingly stared at the corpse of a man whom he once thought was his best friend—a man who ended up killing his true best friend, as well as his son. He felt empty staring at the corpse, and it was because he no longer cared about the sweet satisfaction of revenge; he simply wanted to see Joey dead. After a long hard look, he turned away, never looking back.