The Courier

AUTHOR NOTE: This story contains adult language, sexual content, and violence.

The courier stopped their motorcycle several hundred yards from the fortress and activated the binocular feature on their helmet. The heavy rucksack on their back dug into their shoulders, but they ignored it; they would soon be free of it.

The guard towers were manned with heavy machine guns, easily capable of piercing the courier’s helmet and riding leathers. The ground surrounding the fortress was littered with ruined vehicles, preventing any sort of straight-on approach except for a narrow lane leading up to the front gate.

In the old times, the fortress had been something else. Part of its original appearance remained in the form of giant letters—AL ART. Little was known about the time before The Troubles; even the clan’s historians had been children then. 

The courier activated its radio and said, “Courier TK-421 has arrived at its destination.”

“Acknowledged,” replied a radio operator back at the clan’s dojo.

TK-421 approached the fortress slowly so as not to get shot. It reached the front gate and called out, “I am a Courier. I have business with your lord.”

The gate opened.

*****

Six armed guards stood waiting. 

A door opened, and two men stepped in.

One of them had a submachine gun slung over his shoulder, a knife on his belt, and held a dog by a leash.  Another had a holstered pistol and smoked a cigarette.

The smoker, presumably the leader, said, “About time. Prepare to be scanned.”

He pulled a short rod from his pocket and ran it over the courier as well as the large rucksack.

He said, “I’m not getting anything from your pack. What’s in it?”

“Something your lord wants.”

He chuckled and said,  “The Couriers sent a woman?” Open it, bitch.”

“No.”

He drew his gun. The other guards also raised their weapons.

She said, “This bag is equipped with a device that will destroy the contents in the event of my death or anyone other than me attempting to open it.”

He snarled, “Let’s go. The boss wants his package.”

As he led her inside, she took off one of her gloves and offered it to the dog. He sniffed it and then licked her palm.

*****

The courier was led deep into the fortress. There were soldiers everywhere, doing what all soldiers did when not on duty: eating, sleeping, drinking, or playing games of chance. She even saw some making futile attempts at discreet self-pleasure.

Whatever the fortress had been before, there were few clues. Most of its original innards were gone, except for some empty shelves and shattered display cases.

She wondered if Al-Art had been another clan’s dojo before The Troubles, but pushed such thinking aside. She had a mission.

*****

They reached their destination, the bedroom of the lord. It was guarded by two men in body armor carrying light machine guns. The gilded door was ajar, allowing sounds of carnal pleasure to spill out.

One of the door guards pounded on the door.

The carnal sounds continued, and the courier could tell more than two people were involved. They reached their inevitable climax, and then a languid voice purred, “Enter.”

*****

The room was filled with ostentatious opulence–paintings, sculptures, and the like–and on the bed were two voluptuous women who made no effort to conceal their naked bodies.

The lord stood facing away, pulling on a robe. He turned to them, revealing a plain face. But power had a way of making even average people more attractive.

“You’re late,” he said as he strode over to a liquor cabinet.

“I had some trouble,” she said.

The escort leader said, “Bitch, you will address him as Lord Alart!”

Alart leered at her. His robe, not fully secured, flapped open, revealing his manhood. 

“That was most unfortunate. Tell me where you were accosted and I’ll send some men to deal with them.”

“Don’t bother.”

He smiled as he sipped his drink.

“I’ve heard Couriers are capable of taking care of themselves. Drink?”

She shook her head.

“How about when our business is done?”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s your name?”

She looked around the room.

“You do have a name, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He waited for several seconds.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“That wasn’t part of the contract. I am to deliver this package, receive a package, and then deliver it.”

“So, if part of the contract was for you to tell me your name, you would?”

“Yes.”

“The starting rate for a contract is fifty thousand, yes?”

“I do not know. That is not my field.”

He stepped over to another cabinet and opened it, revealing large bundles of cash. He pulled out one and tossed it to her feet.

“That’s fifty thousand.”

He pulled out another bundle and tossed it to her.

“There’s one hundred thousand. Do we have a contract?”

“No.”

Impatience flashed across his eyes.

“Why not?” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

“Clan law forbids us from taking multiple contracts at once. Also, we are forbidden from accepting them personally.”

She cocked her head and said, “Is there anything else? Or can we conduct our transaction?”

He strode over to the bed. 

Both women got up on all fours and looked up at him. He studied them for a moment and then slapped one of them. She fell back with a cry, but got right back up and cried, “Again, Master!”

“No, me!” cried the other.

“Far be it from me to deny a lady,” he said, and slapped the other woman.

She fell back, but got up, and they begged in unison, “Thank you Master, more please!”

“No, I have business to attend to.”

They sighed with disappointment.

“You may amuse yourselves…but not too much.”

They fell back on the bed, kissing passionately, oblivious to their surroundings.

“Bring in what the lady came for,” he said, and her escorts hurried out, quickly returning with what she came for: a man. He had a receding hairline, wore a lab coat, and had a pair of glasses with a cracked lens.

She stepped towards it, and the escorts pointed their guns at her.

She said, “The contract you agreed to specified I could examine the package prior to giving you the payment.”

Alart waved them off and she began her examination.

The package was thin and pale, but with no picture of it prior to the acquisition, she didn’t know if it had been that way or if it had been mishandled. There were no injuries aside from some minor burns on its scalp. Its eyes were unfocused, and its lips moved without making sounds.

“Its condition is acceptable,” she said, then removed her rucksack and opened it. “Feel free to verify the payment.”

“I’m sure it’s all there. If you can’t trust the word of a Courier, who can you trust?”

She nodded, then stepped over to the package, took its arm, and said, “Time to go.”

It didn’t respond. It just stared and mumbled. 

She took its hand and steered it toward the door.

Alart said, “On second thought, this payment isn’t enough. The package is worth another payment of equal value.”

She turned toward him and said, “The transaction is complete. I am now in possession of the package. If you wanted to negotiate further, you should have done so before the exchange.”

“True, you have the package. But leaving with it…” he shrugged.

“You’re making a mistake. You may kill me, but when I fail to return, the clan will punish you severely.”

He pointed at his concubines.

“Those two were assassins. Now look at them. I’ve heard Couriers take a vow of celibacy. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to be with someone, to know every detail of them, to be wrapped in their loving embrace. You would be my most favored.”

“Even if you turn me, your victory will be short-lived. The last time someone broke a contract, we punished him for a month. During the last week, he begged us to kill him.”

“Looks like one of us is going to be disappointed.”

She clenched her fists.

“Take her.”

Her escorts raised their guns. 

She darted behind the dog handler and wrapped her arm around his throat. He grasped at her arm, letting go of the leash, and the dog, now free, charged Alart. She reached for his gun, but then stopped; gunfire would draw attention.

She grabbed his knife and threw it at the escort leader, catching him in the throat, cutting off any cry of alarm, then snapped the dog handler’s neck. She yanked the knife from the dead escort leader and darted to the doorway in anticipation of backup. She didn’t have to wait long.

The door guards charged in, eager to protect their master.

In a straight-on firefight, their armor and weapons would make them difficult to kill, but their weight and size would slow them. It would only amount to a second or two, but for her, that was an eternity.

She attacked the nearest one, lifting up his near arm and stabbing him three times in his armpit. It wouldn’t kill him right away, but he was never leaving the room alive.

The second one had his back turned, still searching for the threat. He heard the sound of her attack and was turning toward her when she struck. She did not attack him up high, where he could use his gun as a shield; instead, she went low, slashing at the unprotected back of his knee. By the time he realized he had been attacked, he was already falling, the muscles and tendons in his leg having been severed. She pounced on him and stabbed him in the throat three times, finishing him, then returned her attention to the first one.

She saw he was in his final moments, so there was no need to do anything else, and turned towards Alart.

He had just finished bashing in the skull of the dog with a long metal club. He looked up and fled with a squeal of terror.

She started after him, but stopped; killing him was not within her mission parameters.

She scanned the room for any further threats, but there were none, just the concubines and the package. They did not appear to have even noticed the struggle. The package hadn’t moved, and the concubines continued to enjoy themselves.

She stepped to the bed, yanked a sheet from under the oblivious women, and draped it over the dog’s body.

She then looked back at the package. While Alart was wrong to renege the deal, he was right that it would be difficult to leave, given the package’s condition.

Turn liabilities into assets, her sensei had said.

She looked at the bodies of the fallen.

*****

She made her way to the motor pool. She encountered some other soldiers a few times, but with her and the package now wearing the fallen soldiers’ uniforms, she bluffed her way past, telling them she was taking the package to the infirmary.  One of them said he had a problem in his pants she needed to see. She drew her knife and told him she would have to amputate, and he ran off.

She chose a small truck to make her escape. She secured the package, and then the night disappeared, banished by four searchlights.

She heard numerous weapons being cocked, and she prepared herself for her end.

Alart stepped through the assembled throng, full dressed, carrying a sword and smirking.

“You are clever, I give you that. Most would try to fight their way through, but I figured with the package you stole from me, you would try to use stealth...like the rat you are. You are now mine.”

“No.”

“The alternative is death.”

“So be it.”

“On second thought, it would be a shame to kill someone almost as clever as me. Run back to your client and tell them the price has now tripled.”

“No.”

“You know, the strongest trees aren’t the ones that stand firm against the storm. They’re the first ones to get uprooted. The strongest ones are the ones that bend. Once the storm ends, they are the only ones left standing.”

She studied the soldiers arrayed against her.

He said, “You’re a fool, you do know that, right? Only a fool dies for a code.”

“Following a code only when it is easy renders it meaningless.”

“Such foolishness must be purged,” he said, drawing his sword.

She shot him.

It was from the hip, so aiming for the chest or head was difficult; therefore, she settled for his stomach. But her aim was off, and she hit him in his groin.

He let out a high-pitched wail, grabbing at his wounded privates, and fell to the ground.

She looked at the other soldiers.

“Anyone else?”

The soldiers looked at each other.

She went back to the truck, got in, pulled on her helmet, and activated her radio.

She said, “This is Courier TK-421. Assignment complete, returning to base.”