"Eye of the Hunter"
"Eye of the Hunter"
Chapter 1
It had been four months since the incident with the Black Dragon in the Mudika Village. Magar still shuddered to remember the dragon’s glowing silver eyes and the feeling to be alone and helpless as she held him in the palm of her hand, then tossed him into the woods with no way of returning home. Magar had been stumbling around for those past four months in the forests of the Northern Wild Lands. During that time, he learned to gather food, build shelter, and know something that he had never felt before: freedom. It was an incredible feeling, knowing that he was his own master and could decide what he was going to do that day. He would have stayed in that forest forever if it hadn’t been for a rival group of bounty hunters lead by Lanar, Magar’s rival, finding him one night. Knowing he would be persecuted to the fullest extent if he admitted to wanting to remain free, Magar pretended to be lost and ungratefully returned to the Magog Cartel. Now he was sitting in his quarters, gently pushing a lint ball around with the claw of his index finger. His quarters had remained the same: a small metal room lit by fluorescent lights that were in the ceiling, and a poster of the current Glukkon General facing the opposite wall of his steel bed. He sighed and thought dreamily of being outside in the forest again, with only the boughs of the trees shielding him from the elements. There was a harsh knock on the steel door of the room and a stern voice barking, “I need ter talk to ya, Magar!” “Yes, sir,” Magar replied, silently mumbling something to himself as he opened the door and walked out. He looked down to see that the owner of the voice was none other than the very Glukkon on his poster: General Nakkar. “Come wit’ me, Magar,” the General ordered, chomping on his cigar. Magar sighed and reluctantly followed. He despised Glukkons, especially this one. He had liked things much better before General Dripik was killed, when he was his right-hand soldier and had all of the best missions. But those days were long gone, as he was now taking orders from the third General in a row. The Black Dragon had killed the last one after he tried to control her. Thinking about this, Magar realized he knew how she must have felt. The General marched both of them into his quarters, which was an enormous metal room, decorated with picture and statues of him, as well as having all of the best luxuries that money could buy. Magar sneered at a large portrait of General Nakkar as he walked by it. Nakkar turned his back to Magar for a few moments, sending up puffs of smoke from his cigar, before turning around and walking up to him. Magar had to bend over to be eye-level with him, something he had always considered a bit of an advantage over Glukkons. “Magar,” he said in his gruffy voice, “You an’ I need ter have a lil’ bit of a talk. I’ been getting’ da feelin’ dat you ain’t puttin’ as much effort inta yer work as yer used ta.” Magar straightened up. It was true, he had been rather lax in his work ethic lately, but he didn’t think it would come to this. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll try harder in the future,” he said, trying not to let his fear show in his voice. “No, Magar, I think I know what really happened back dere in the Mudokon camp. You failed to capture da dragon ‘cause it was too much fer yer ta handle. Den yer got lost in da woods and had ter fend fer yerself, and you began to like da taste of freedom. Yer wanted ta stay in da woods, but when Lanar found yer, yer was afraid da Cartel would find out and come after yer, so ya came back. Ya see, Magar, when workers get dat taste, dey never ferget it and dey begin ta long fer it. Once dat happens, their productivity steadily begins ter drop and den dat’s it, dey become of no use ter us.” the General said, staring Magar right in the eyes. “No, no sir, I swear, I’ll try harder from now on, I promise!” Magar stammered, but the damage had already been done. “Ah ha, I knew it, dat was da true story! Sorry Magar, that fool Dripik mighta seen potential in yer, but I just see yer as an obstacle. Take ‘im away, boys,” the General smirked. Two large BBS’s, one of them being Lanar, clamped chains on Magar’s hands and around his neck. Then Lanar yanked fiercely on the chain, causing Magar to choke until he followed them.
They led him into a room where he received a dishonorable discharge. In the Cartel, that meant you were stripped of not only your medals, but also your armor, gun, facemask, and pants. Now reduced to nothing more than the status of a lab animal, Magar was dragged down to the train station. There they loaded him onto it, still chained, and accompanied him. It was the worst ride he had ever experienced in his life. Lanar kept insulting him in vulgar language while the other Slig occasionally beat him with the butt of his gun or tugged hard on the chain attached to his neck. On one occasion, Magar had snarled like an animal and snapped with his jaws. “Ooh, look out Hetak,” Lanar said sarcastically, “Magar the hunter’s gonna rip yer head off!” After what seemed like an eternity through hell, the train finally came to a halt and Lanar and Hetak were dragging him off. They walked down a dark metal corridor and came out into a small room. In there, a voice said “New specimen?” Magar lifted his head, which had been hanging sadly before. “Specimen? What der ya mean by that?!” he shouted in terror, but they ignored him. “Yep, been doin’ poorly at his work, so the General canned ‘im,” Lanar responded. The strange voice tut-tutted, “Such a shame, heard he was the best in the business once. Oh well, I have his punishment se up.” If things were bad before, they had gotten worse as the owner of the voice stepped into the dim light in the room revealing itself as a Vykker scientist. Magar growled lowly as the Vykker walked around him, occasionally muttering something to himself. The Vykker reached out a spindly arm to touch him, but Magar snapped at him then tried to break free of his bindings. “Yes, he’s perfect,” the scientist muttered evilly, a sly smile crossing his face, “Bring him to the kennels. The experiment will take place tomorrow at dawn.” Hunter roared and struggled all the way to the kennels. There, they chained him inside a large barred cell and locked him in. He threw his weight against the metal bars and roared after the backs of Lanar and Hetak “You bastards will pay for this!! You hear me?! YOU WILL PAY!”
Chapter 2
Magar got only about an hour of sleep that night. He despised this place with all his might. From farther down the rows of cells, he heard the howls and cries of mutilated creatures all night. They sent chills down his spine and sent awful images through his brain. What’re they gonna do ter me? He thought as he lay on the cold steel floor. It seemed he had just fallen into a restless sleep when he was being woken by a gruff voice growling, “Get up, yer pathetic piece of flesh.” Three large BigBros were standing in the door of the cell, armed with guns, chains, and a whip. Magar stared at them for a few seconds thinking Yesterday mornin’, they wouldn’ a’ dared ter say that ter me. He snapped at them as they unchained him from the cell and attached a muzzle around his mouth. Magar couldn’t believe what was happening. Yesterday he had been the most honored bounty hunter in the Cartel, now he was bound and chained like an animal. They dragged him to a large room. The whole place glowed with an eerie purplish-blue light. On one side of the room was a large, odd machine, while the other was a large computer screen that showed in large green letters the word “Ready”. The thing that really made Magar cringe was what was in the middle of the room. A long, flat metal table was there with all kinds of sharp instruments hanging from the ceiling in robotic arms. Once again Magar struggled against the chains, but this time he received a sharp smack from a whip.
After a few minutes waiting, a door on the far side of the room opened and four Vykkers entered the room, dressed like surgeons. Magar felt panic shoot through his body like a torpedo. One of them nodded and the group of Sligs led Magar towards the table. He threw all his weight back in an attempt to stay put, but he was severely beaten until he complied. They strapped him so tightly to the steel table that he could feel the circulation starting to cut off in his wrists. Terror seized his mind as he looked around wildly. The sneering Sligs, the examining eyes of the Vykkers, the weird light, the flashing computer screen all wrestled each other in his brain. Before he knew what he was doing, he asked a question that had been bugging him ever since the General has discharged him, “What’re ya going ter do to me?” The Vykker who was now taking measurements of him replied quietly, “You’ll see when you wake up.” Magar didn’t like the sound of that. After taking countless blood samples and running them through the computer, the Vykkers began to talk to each other excitedly. He picked up words such as “Slog” and something he had never heard of that was code-named “DNA #759.” Now he was even more scared. He knew that anything involving DNA with the Vykkers meant trouble. When they were done jabbering, the one that had been taking measurements before walked up to him with a vile. “You will be put to sleep for a few hours and when you wake up, we’ll explain everything to you.” Magar felt a small pinch in his right arm before feeling very drowsy and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
[ August 17, 2001: Message edited by: Black Dragon ]
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-Black Dragon
http://dragonaura.deviantart.com
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