Starburst 2: The Second Mercy
Beneath Inferno’s ever-burning red sun, the air shimmered with heat rising from the vast magma fields. The light cast unnatural shadows across the jagged obsidian landscape, painting the sky and rocks in hues of fire and blood. The group stood tense at the edge of the corridor leading into the facility, their nerves frayed, senses sharp. The silence was broken by the metallic clank of heavy boots.
The captain stepped into view.
Her towering frame was clad in reinforced armour, the weight of her authority and firepower impossible to ignore. She hefted a minigun slung to her shoulder, the hum of its power pack growing into a whine that promised destruction. Without a word, she opened fire.
Bullets screamed down the corridor in a thunderous storm. Rabbit, instinctively raising his arm, activated his personal shield. The translucent barrier shimmered as the rounds struck, each impact glowing like molten sparks before vanishing. The shield held. Rabbit’s lips curled in a low growl as he braced and spun up his own minigun, the weapon roaring to life with mechanical fury.
Otto’s gaze darted frantically along the corridor’s edges, scanning for options. A slim doorway, nearly flush with the wall, caught his eye. He bolted toward it, swiping his clearance card in one fluid motion. The door hissed open, and Otto ducked inside, motioning desperately for the others.
“Get behind the door—now!” Rabbit barked, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. He laid down covering fire, each burst forcing the captain to take cover. Her armour sparked under the onslaught, but she held her ground with grim determination.
In response, she raised her left hand and tapped a series of commands into a sleek controller integrated into her glove. With a chorus of hydraulic whines, two doors snapped open on either side of the corridor. Heavily armed guards burst through, weapons drawn and aimed. Above, ceiling panels slid open with a hiss, and automated defence turrets descended, whirring to life.
H-34lr reacted in an instant. He aimed his stun gun directly at the captain’s glove and fired. The bolt hit home, shorting out her controller with a cascade of blue sparks. The system’s targeting uplink failed—but it was too late. The turrets, now autonomous, began their attack.
Red tracer rounds lit the corridor. The team scrambled for cover. Otto ducked low behind a support beam, Cordelia twisted to avoid a barrage, but too late. A round clipped her shoulder. H’s stun gun was struck directly—exploding in a burst of electricity that knocked him to the ground.
Cordelia, now bleeding and disoriented, staggered to her feet and locked eyes with one of the advancing guards. She lunged forward, aiming a precise strike at his neck while triggering the aggression booster she’d prepped. But something in the servo failed—there was a sharp pop, and instead of injecting the guard, the injector misfired directly into her own system. A hiss followed, then a rush of burning energy as the serum flooded her veins. Her pupils dilated instantly. Breathing ragged, she trembled with the onset of chemical rage and spun, eyes blazing.
Her eyes locked on Ordo.
Ordo stood perfectly still, then moved with practiced precision. He reached up and pulled down the hood of his robe, revealing alabaster-white skin and a stark black sun tattoo burned into the centre of his forehead. Without hesitation, he grasped the belt at his waist and gave it a smooth magnetic yank—yoink—and the entire outer robe dropped in a whisper, pooling at his feet.
Underneath, his body was lean and wiry, scarred and sinewy, his torso marked by discipline and violence alike. Scarred muscle rippled as he moved, revealing a hardened, ascetic strength honed by suffering. The belt—already in motion—snapped in his grip, transforming with a subtle flick into a crackling electro-whip that hissed with energy.
Cordelia, behind him in her haze of fury, was forgotten in that moment. Ordo’s attention was fixed solely on the captain and her minions. He stepped into a smooth pivot, raising the whip high, and brought it down with a fluid, deadly arc. The lash coiled with unerring precision around the glowing core of the captain’s weapon.
One pull. One spark. The power cell was ripped free and clattered to the floor.
Ordo’s voice rang out, calm and cold. “You mock the Inquisition with every breath. Surrender or be turned to ash.”
The captain stumbled back, her expression unreadable. She barked an order to the guards. “Open fire!”
The guards hesitated—then obeyed. Bullets screamed again, but Ordo moved like smoke through fire, each shot missing by inches.
“The night flare will consume your hearts,” Ordo declared, voice rising into something darker, almost otherworldly.
The words struck something primal. The guards faltered. Fear overtook loyalty. One by one, they dropped their weapons and fled down the side halls, their footsteps fading fast.
“Cowards!” the captain shouted, furious. But the corridor was no longer hers to command. She took one last glance at the burning wreckage around her, then turned and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Otto’s fingers flew across his compad in a blur, each keystroke accompanied by a sharp breath and a rising sense of urgency. The overhead turrets, menacing and alert, had already begun to rotate in perfect sync, their targeting systems locking onto him with an eerie precision. His first hack triggered a cascade of red warnings across his interface. The moment his code failed, all four turrets swivelled in unison and aimed directly at him, barrels whirring to full power.
“Not good, not good,” Otto muttered under his breath, sweat beading along his brow. He dove into a second attempt, fingers trembling slightly as he bypassed subroutines and threaded through firewall loops, barely avoiding an auto-wipe that would have rendered his tools useless.
Just as the hum of the turrets reached a terrifying crescendo, the screen blinked green. The turret lights dimmed. One by one, their barrels drooped and returned to standby. Otto exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping with relief.
Meanwhile, Cordelia was still caught in the grip of the aggression serum coursing through her veins, muscles twitching, eyes unfocused with rage. H-34lr rushed to her, cutting through the tension like a scalpel. He grabbed her shoulder with practiced force and activated the subcutaneous taser embedded in his wrist.
Electricity surged through Cordelia’s system. Her back arched involuntarily, a strangled cry escaping her lips before her body stiffened, then slackened. The fury in her eyes dimmed, clarity slowly seeping back as her system rebooted.
Rabbit’s voice, low and steady, cut through the moment. “Get behind the door.”
H glanced at him with dry sarcasm. “You don’t have to tell us four times, Rabbit” He slung Cordelia’s arm over his shoulder and helped her toward the open maintenance hatch Otto had revealed moments before.
Without a word, Rabbit stepped forward and gently took Cordelia into his arms. She barely stirred, her expression dulled by exhaustion and the fading chemical haze. Cradling her carefully, Rabbit moved toward the safe zone.
As they regrouped in the tight corridor behind the reinforced door, Ordo stepped forward, eyes cool and unreadable.
“To Otto,” he said, “You do well for someone without divine purpose. Perhaps the stars guide your fingers.”
Then to Rabbit, his tone almost reverent, “You fight like Geryon’s fury. Brutal. Inelegant. Effective. The Mother approves.”
They pressed onward, reaching the elevator doors at the far end of the maintenance hall. Otto scanned the pad with their clearance cards—access granted—but the control panel buzzed lifelessly. The lift refused to move.
Cordelia, stirring weakly in Rabbit’s arms, pulled a bent security card from her coat. “Try this.”
Rabbit swiped the card. The lift rumbled uncertainly, then shuddered into motion. The doors sealed behind them, and the elevator began its long descent into the lower levels.
The interior was dim and claustrophobic, the silence thick with tension. The only sounds were the groaning of the lift’s cables and the distant echo of systems struggling to keep power.
Eventually, Rabbit broke the silence.
“This isn’t a recovery mission,” he said, voice low and certain. “This is an assassination.”
He glanced at Cordelia. “Tell them about the bomb on the ship. The pay-out, the crappy shuttle—it all stinks.”
Cordelia nodded faintly, her voice low but steady. “When I found the self-destruct module, I thought it might’ve been a leftover system or some kind of fail-safe. I didn’t want to believe it was deliberate. But the more I look at the patterns… the design, the transmitter frequency, the route they chose for us—none of it’s accidental.”
Otto folded his arms. “They sent us in blind, on a relic craft that could be remotely vaporized. They planned for us to disappear if it went sideways.”
Rabbit growled. “The Church isn’t just watching. They’re managing this from behind the curtain.”
Everyone slowly turned to Ordo.
Ordo’s brow furrowed as he processed the growing doubt and suspicion. “You believe the Temple is using you?”
Otto shot him a look. “They’re using all of us.”
Ordo shook his head slowly, almost mournfully. “I… I cannot believe the Cardinal would allow such a thing. She gave me my eyes when mine were burned away. She restored me. That was a kindness. Not a leash.”
Ordo’s eyes narrowed. “The Cardinal gave me my eyes,” he repeated with a strange conviction. “They are holy.”
Rabbit studied him. “You didn’t know about the bomb?”
Ordo paused. “I did not.”
The others stared at him.
“It would be foolishness,” he continued, more to himself than the others. “Why would Cardinal Ancona spend decades honing me, feeding me, rebuilding me—just to blow me apart? That is not her way. I suspect another.”
“Who?” Rabbit asked.
“A Cardinal by the name of Theofilus. A puffed-up fool with ambition and no restraint. If sabotage exists within the clergy… it reeks of his hand.”
Cordelia, still pale but alert, narrowed her eyes. “May I?” she asked Ordo quietly. “I’d like to verify something.”
Ordo met her gaze for a moment, then gave a solemn nod. “You may.”
Cordelia leaned in, releasing a cloud of investigative nanites from her palm. The swarm surrounded Ordo’s face, scanning with gentle pulses of blue light. One nanite slipped into his ocular node, prompting a sharp flicker in his left eye.
“Remote access detected,” she said flatly. “They’re not broadcasting, but they could be. And it’s the same transmitter signature as the bomb.”
Ordo didn’t hesitate. “Break the link. I do not fear death—but I fear being blind to the Mother’s light.”
Cordelia severed the transmitter with a single mental command. A whisper of light drifted from Ordo’s skin like smoke. He swayed slightly.
“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “When your soul returns to the void, I will carry its echo.”
The elevator slowed and stopped at another security checkpoint. This one was older, corrupted by dust and time. Otto and Cordelia worked in tandem—he rerouting power, she rewiring controls. Sparks danced. A groan, then the lift resumed its descent.
The further down they travelled, the more unstable the shaft became. Lights flickered out completely. The only illumination came from Rabbit’s glowing ear-tips and Otto’s compad. The shaft creaked. Metal strained. Then—
A deep, distant rumble.
“Explosion,” Otto said tightly.
The lift swayed as a shockwave rippled upward. Still it descended, slower now, groaning with strain.
When the doors finally opened, the hallway beyond was crumbling. Dust hung in the air. The floor was uneven, and makeshift metal braces jutted from every wall, holding up what remained of the ceiling. Pipes leaked steam in rhythmic hisses. The air stank of burning plastic and ozone.
As they stepped out cautiously, another blast rocked the earth. The platform groaned—and then the cable above them snapped with a violent metallic shriek. The elevator plummeted into the dark.
It hit bottom with a deafening, echoing crash, far below. The sound lingered in their ears long after silence returned.
They had arrived. And now there was no way back.
Rabbit flicked his ears, the tips glowing softly like ghostly beacons, illuminating the oppressive darkness of the corridor. The group pressed forward, nerves frayed from the chaos behind them, when suddenly a burst of manic laughter shattered the tense silence ahead.
Another tremor rumbled through the ground, shaking loose a few small rocks from the tunnel ceiling. Just as the vibrations faded, an elderly man rounded the corner ahead. His eyes were wide and gleaming with unhinged delight, and he wore a tattered brown coat bristling with explosives strapped haphazardly across his chest.
Flanking him were two other figures—both bandaged, bruised, and clearly worse for wear. They moved with a strange, loose-limbed sway, as if they’d stood too close to one blast too many and never quite found their balance again. Still, they walked alongside him with an eerie casualness, unbothered by their condition. The old man paused, beaming at the group with unsettling glee.
“Ooh, new visitors,” he cooed, stepping closer.
Rabbit tensed immediately, weapon humming in readiness, but Ordo raised a calming hand and stepped forward.
“I have fasted three days,” Ordo began serenely. “My bones burn from within. Would you hear the light of the Mothers?”
The old man’s eyes sparkled dangerously as he drew a knife from his coat, approaching eagerly. “Burning bones? Can I see?”
Cordelia intervened hastily, stepping forward and lifting her arm to reveal a series of intricate glowing circuits beneath her skin. “Wanna see my cool circuitry?” she asked with a smirk, her tone playful but calculated.
The old man’s eyes widened with fascination, his knife lowering slightly as he stared. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and gently took hold of Cordelia’s arm, turning it this way and that to examine the circuitry with childlike awe. He ran a finger along one of the glowing veins, muttering to himself with fascination. The group tensed, but he made no move to harm her—only to admire.
“Marvellous,” he breathed.
Otto cleared his throat, drawing the old man’s attention. “Okay… and who exactly are you supposed to be?”
The old man straightened proudly, releasing Cordelia’s arm and spreading his arms theatrically. “I am The Emblastor!” he declared with gusto, as though expecting applause. “But there are those who call me Tim.”
Otto blinked. “Right. Tim. We’re actually looking for, uh… whoever’s in charge down here. Your boss, maybe?”
Tim giggled enthusiastically. “Brutus? Follow me, follow me!”
He led them at a brisk and erratic pace through winding tunnels, occasionally stumbling dangerously. At one heart-stopping moment, Tim tripped; everyone froze, but thankfully no explosions followed.
Eventually, they emerged onto a cliff edge overlooking an immense, dark shaft, the heavy stench of decay assaulting their senses. Undeterred, Tim led them onwards into a cavern filled with fifteen hardened men, their armor cobbled together from scavenged materials. Silence fell as a towering figure emerged from the shadows—Brutus, massive and imposing.
“Who are you?” Brutus demanded, voice echoing through the chamber.
Rabbit hesitated, glancing uncertainly at his companions. “We are the…” He turned to the others mid-sentence, eyes wide with the realization they still hadn’t picked one. “…What’s our group name again?”
Otto sighed. “Still on the to-do list.”
Ordo stepped forward confidently. “Mother’s Mercies.”
Rabbit quickly explained their mission: they had been sent to recover a man named Beckett.
Brutus’s face darkened at the name.
“Beckett betrayed me,” Brutus growled, his deep voice carrying bitter anger. “Joined the faction controlling the lower warrens. Tim has obliterated all known paths below.”
“We must reach those lower levels,” Rabbit insisted. “Our mission’s to retrieve Beckett, but things aren’t adding up. We also believe our employer might want him dead, so… we could take care of that for you?”
Brutus considered them carefully, then nodded decisively. “I let you get down into the warrens, you can take Beckett—but I want their leader’s head.”
The group exchanged tense glances, silently weighing their options. Cordelia discreetly scavenged materials, fashioning a makeshift runner to ensure at least her own potential escape.
“We’ll help you,” Rabbit finally agreed, glancing around the chamber. “But we need to know how we’re getting back out. This place isn’t exactly welcoming.”
Otto added cautiously, “And if there’s a way up for us… why are you still down here?”
Brutus laughed, crossing his formidable arms. “You think I’m trapped down here?”
“How do we get down there?” Otto questioned carefully.
Brutus gestured toward the gaping shaft. “A crane lift is rigged at the edge. It will hold—probably.”
Uneasily, they approached the jury-rigged contraption. Rabbit climbed aboard first, his weight making it creak ominously. The others followed cautiously, gripping tightly as the lift began its shaky descent.
Halfway down, a sudden quake jolted the shaft. Tim, who had been standing precariously close to the edge with his arms outstretched like a performer awaiting applause, lost his footing. He wobbled once, then toppled forward into the abyss. As he fell, his manic laughter echoed up the shaft—”Wheeee!”—cutting sharply through the rising panic.
The group collectively froze in horror, watching his descent in stunned silence. H and Rabbit, driven by instinct or disbelief, both activated the capture functions on their visors, snapping visual records of the moment. Tim spiralled downward, the glint of his explosive-laden coat catching in the scattered lights like a comet in freefall.
Then, with a flash and an echoing roar, he hit the bottom. The resulting explosion lit up the cavern in a surge of red and orange, and a churning wall of flame erupted, rising like a vengeful spirit up the shaft toward the party.
