Black Scars Read Online Free PDF Page B

Both of the men were blonde; one was an older man with thinning hair and a number of scars, while the other was younger and athletic, bearded and tattooed. The third prisoner, the woman, was lithe and the color of a ghost, with long blonde hair and a number of tattoos – dragons and blades, pyramids and skulls – that matched those of the bearded prisoner.
    The prisoners were shepherded by a woman that Cross momentarily mistook for Ilfesa Warfield, a seductive black marketer and witch in Thornn whom he’d lusted after for the past several years. This woman was taller than Warfield, more toned, and impossibly more voluptuous, clearly displayed by the tightness of her form-fitting armor. Her waist was waif-thin, and her legs seemed to go on forever. She was clearly in excellent physical condition. Her deep red hair was perfectly straight and fell just past her shoulders, and her cheeks were sharp, angular and angry. Her eyes shone sapphire blue.
    The witch wore black leather armor that matched that of her partner, Vos. In one hand she held a Colt Python revolver. Her other hand was encased in an arcane gauntlet, and she gripped a small ball of smoldering flame.
    “ You’re Revengers,” Dillon said. He didn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice.
    “ Yes,” the woman said. “And you’re a dumbass. Now drop your weapons.”
    “ Wait…is there suddenly bad blood between the Revengers and the Southern Claw?” Cross asked. He holstered his HK. His spirit hovered in the space between them, an invisible wall of fire. He felt the witch’s spirit, along with all of its harsh male destructive potential and raw primal energy. They were evenly matched.
    “ You’re not dressed as Claw,” the witch said. She was right – Cross and Dillon both wore earth-colored fatigues and armored coats with no insignias.
    “ Who in the hell else would we be with, lady?” Dillon groaned.
    “ There are lots of questionable characters roaming the wilderness these days,” Vos smiled.
    “ Tell me about it,” Dillon said.
    Vos motioned for the prisoners to drop down to their knees, which they did, though the bearded man did so reluctantly. He shook his head sadly at Cross, and smiled wryly, as if he was the only one in on some great joke.
    Cross knew all too well that the Revengers were to be taken seriously. They were a mercenary outfit, not a part of the Southern Claw. They maintained autonomy because they controlled the massive facility called Black Scar, a vast and secure prison complex located in the wilderness far to the east of the Reach. The Revengers charged inordinate fees to the Southern Claw for use of this facility, but the Claw did so, as there was no better place to hide away dangerous citizens or captured creatures that for whatever reason needed to be kept alive. Relations between the Claw and the Revengers had always been tenuous, in no small part because of the rumors that inmates at Black Scar were subjected to brutal treatment and horrific living environments. Then there was the Revenger’s excessively mercenary nature: anyone could be incarcerated into Black Scar if the price was right. Worse, anyone – or anything – could also be set free, so long as there was ample cash involved.
    “ I don’t care if you’re Southern Claw or Wile E. Coyote,” the Revenger woman said. “You just destroyed two of my prisoners. Destroyed prisoners are no good to me.”
    “ Yeah, that’s a bitch,” the bearded prisoner laughed. “Of course, you don’t mind them roughed up a little bit, do you Hot Pants?”
    Vos cracked the prisoner in the back of the head with the butt of the MP5. The bearded man fell forward, and he nearly dragged the others prisoners down with him.
    “ Nice move, kid,” the other blonde man smiled. He seemed distant, and woozy.
    The female prisoner didn’t speak, but she cast Vos a baleful look. Cross noticed the scar that ran lengthwise across her throat.
    “ Kane,” Vos said to the prisoner.