Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 2; Chapter 1 & 2

New Adventures in the Jungle

Jimmy Loong

1^st July 2018

Savage Love

Prelude

Down the latitude of the geographical lines, the single figure crouched on the large branch with his sight on the prey below. The prey was passing below the branch. The figure on the top leaped down but the one targeted had jumped aside with a body twist and the left hook impacted on the predator. The later went down but the right leg went out in a swing to bring down the target.

Both went down but soon rolled apart.

“Jane, you are too aggressive.” Tarzan looked at his lover. “You are too tense.”

(Extract from Heroes III)

Book 1

1.

“Get off me.” Lord Greystokes pushed himself off her when he heard the refusal. He looked at his lover, Jane Maureen Clayton; the Lady Greystokes of Greystokes Estate in the African continent. She was once the daughter of an explorer and then found her love in the jungle with the untamed man who was raised by the apes. She had then tamed the man to be the gentleman and from there to be the inheritor of the Greystokes name and land stretching from the isle of Empire to the continent. Riches and glamour was not for the couple who had decided to stay with the locals at the African continent, adopting its culture and lifestyle where the snubs and nuts could never understand.

Jane stepped off the soft bedding and walked to the wash area. Her blonde hair displaced from the sweaty sessions trailed below her back just above the double moons shape of the rear. Her strides were without rush for her long legs gave her advantage in the strides. Her soft steps drew the hearing of her lover who had then sat up on the bedding. The bedding was of the soft wood and with fine sewing of the tender vines it formed a relaxing place to lay on. The lover having sat up with his knees bent towards his chest looked at the lady with his arousal tenting up. He could not suppress his arousal while he saw the lady turned towards the water trough. Her body bent from the waist was bewitching to him and then she turned her body sideways to pour the content of the small bucket of water over her body. The water gushed down the lady’ body from the head to the toes, trailing droplets down her spine and her chest like the cascading waterfall. She heaved in the sigh of relief on the coldness of the water that had cooled down her body temperature but to him, the sight of the droplets trailing down the lady’s body was beyond the need of words. He trailed his sight from her perky breasts towards the bent left leg that covered the oasis of his lust and then when she turned her back to scoop the water once more, he found himself riveted onto her back and then it travelled down the spine towards the rounded buttocks that he got see the red imprints of his fingers. He reached down to his own arousal and then voiced to his desire.

“Jane…”

“Drop it, John. I am not in the mood.” Lady Greystokes or Jane to her friends and lover took the robe to cover herself. “Find your own bitch for it.”

The lady had then marched out of the bedroom of theirs. That low line snapped at the man who lying on the bedding. He was a fine specimen for a male, with the masculine build and the long limbs that gave him reach that many could not find. He sat up and watched the lady then in her robe have existed the personal chamber of theirs. He strode over to the wash area and doused himself with the cold water that was available in the tub. It helped in a way to quell his desire. He then took up the loin cloth that he was used to wearing then in the hot climate but decided he will settle for the full clothing of the gentleman. He has lessons to learn on being a gentleman and it was never the occasion or place that he needed to do so but the company he was to share with. He selected a white shirt with the short sleeves and dark pants along with the dark leather shoes.

Lord Greystokes then heard the laugh of the baboon that was perched on the lime tree outside the bedroom window. He was to throw the dark shoe at the creature but decided that he will be pretend to ignore that creature who does not appreciate the finer dressing of Man. The creature drew on another laughter and that caused the Lord to forego his manners and the left side of the dark shoe was the impacting point. The baboon missed by the shoe had decided to retreat but after it displayed its pink shades rear end to the Lord.

The dignified Lord of the Greystokes estate had to quell his animal instincts and proceeded to walk out of the personal chamber. The sounds of the familiar cranks and gears after the thundering roar came to his hearing. He rushed out and saw the flume of smokes marking the departure of his lover.

“Balando” The one that Lord Greystokes was that of his friend and a fellow warrior from the Waziri clan. Balando had taken on the role as personal guard for the Greystokes after their return from the East. He heard from rumours that Lady Jane had lost her unborn child there. He was a father of five children, but he knew the pain of losing even one. His own second son was killed by a lion and it took him a week to track the lion to kill it.

Balando oversees the house staffs and also was the leader of the ten warriors assigned to guard the house.

“Mamie Jane left just now.” Balando reported back. “She took the hard horse.”

The hard horse was the 350cc Douglas two-wheeler with the engine in-line mounted high in the frame, with the belt final drive and with mechanically operated valves. The 350cc with the 60.5mm bore and 60mm stroke with maximum speed of fifty miles. Jane had it mounted with the experimental brake disc brought in from London. The two-wheeler was a noisy brute in the tranquil jungle there, but it also marked her arrival, and most of the predators left her alone.

“Mamie Jane took her noise sticks.” That was bad. Besides her daredevil skills on the two-wheeler, she was also an expert on the Mauser 98 rifle with its near fifty inches length and the 7.92x57mm cartridge. With the effective range of over five hundred yards without optics, she was able to reload the five rounds clips in second. If that failed, she held the Henry’s with the .44 calibre complete with fifteen rounds magazine slung over her chest. For close fights, she has the Webley and the dagger that Tarzan had give her. The dagger was crafted from the buffalo horn.

Lord Greystokes could sense trouble from his trained instinct. He rushed back to the house and changed into his familiar jungle attire; the loin cloth made from the dead lion he killed some years back and then he reached for his own weapons.

The buffalo horn blade that he spent over weeks on shaping and sharpening it with the lion skin wrapped on the top to be its hilt was tucked into his waist string that wrapped his loin cloth there. He then grabbed the quiver with the twenty odd arrows with the wooden tips covered with the toxins from the black widow species. He then slung the bow of his made from the flexible wood that allowed it to bend and yet not broken, with the long spear of the Waziri clan.

Lord Greystokes have regressed into the background while a new ego surfaced named Tarzan of the Apes.

“Tarzan, I will come with you.” Balando turned to run towards his house next to the huge one that the palace for the Tarzan of the Apes. The estate was huge spanning over five acres with the so named palace being the biggest structure followed by the staff quarters, the warriors’ homes and then stables cum workshop.

“No, Balando. I need to do this alone. Take care of home.” Tarzan told his friend.

“Be careful, Tarzan. I heard of the soldiers are there. They are not friendly.” Tarzan heeded the other’s caution. Balando was right; the foreign countries have deployed their troops at the ports and cities citing the need to protect their own people. The same countries have also hired mercenaries to explore the interiors. The truth of the matter was they sought hidden treasures.

2.

A distance away nearer to the coastal area, a group of men were seated on the veranda of their hose ‘summer retreat’ discussing their economic interests. The group of four gentlemen dressed in the so named safari attire’ of white shirt and brown knee length pants with the tall socks tucked into the leather wear. They were drinking Irish whisky offered by their kind host from London.

“I say, old chaps, are we to get concerned on our investment here?” The three gentlemen all turned their sights towards the Britisher who had raised the pertinent question that was their call for meet that afternoon.

“Oui, I have some.” The French were always suspicious of the English. “How far with our expeditions?”

“Herr Clement, there are three expeditions out there. They have made some remarkable headways…” The German was an academic with a doctorate in Astrological Studies. He was a tall figure in the white jacket and matching pants with the pressed shirt. He saw crossed legs with the length and his feet were in the polished white shoes.

“I am fully briefed by your aides, Doctor Schmidt or shall I call you Otto?” The British does have their humours to names.

“And salutations to them on the detail. Perhaps my French counterpart would have that assurance of trustworthy on you than to rely on the figment of imagination of the French’s informers he employed They are known to be like mine; dubious in nature but we have never been trusting neighbours to visit the other backyard.” The British gentleman replied. “Am I not right, Monsieur Clement?”

The British was built from around his wide girth putting to shame Humpty, and his neck hidden beneath the flesh that covered the jaws but the eyes were his to look at every event with more details than other. The hair piece of his was accentuated by the thick side burns and walrus moustache. He had on his other affinity in life besides afternoon tea was the thick cigar. His dressing was however immaculate with the hand sewn extraordinaire tailors that only relationship could acquire the invitation.

“Mr. Cargill, you have hit the nail on the …. Casket?” The Frenchman smiled. “Padrone me. I am not eloquent in the phrases spoken by your learned ones.”

The Frenchman was a squat figure with a flamboyant dressing of the white striped three piece and the dark shoes. He was seated there on the wicker chair with the glass of cognac that he served only himself.

“A finer refinement to the expression, my dear Monsieur.” The British figure replied. “But generosity was never your valour so I won’t cheer you on to change the English phrases. You might hurt the academics there.”

“Gentleman, please. We are acting like children now.” The host voiced out. He was a stout figure with the tanned look clothed in the khaki brown two-piece safari suit and knee-high boots. The figure had on a beard on his chin and with the deep sunken eyes plus the ruffled hair on the head, he looked more like the pirate captain then.

“Yes, Hans. Do excused our behaviours. We will endeavour to make good on our behaviour.”

“And I will speak. The expeditions are doing well. They have made inroad from different directions but they are driven by the clues.” Hans Pieter explained it. “They are well equipped but the fear of theirs is not of the Empire that spanned the continents, the Emperor who held the same aspirations nor of the dark warriors in the continent. They feared the unknown; the rumour of the Queen that ruled the jungle there. She is also known as the Queen of the Congo.”

“The Queen? I heard of her from the officers who had been there in the French Congo.” The Frenchman added in. The Congo basin was carved by several states; the Congo Free State, the French Congo, and the Portuguese Congo.

“In name, Herr Clement.” Doctor Schmidt smiled. “Where there is a Queen, there will be a King. There is one known as Tarzan. He is the Lord that ruled the Apes. He who is the Lord is akin to be the King and warrior held the land that we are to venture in. His name is Tarzan.”

“A child’s tale. I heard of those names.” The British national voiced out. “But the name Tarzan, we knew him well. He is a Lord by ancestral lines. He is Lord Greystokes or his name is John Clayton. I knew his father. All too well for he was left stranded there by me.”

 “Lord Greystokes? I heard of that name. He was …. what was the word…. a savage.” Monsieur Clement cut in. “Bete… We called them that.”

“Sauvage, Monsieur Clement. They are all the savages. We are not like them. He was an outcast.” Cargill explained the meaning.

“Whatever or whoever he is, he can be killed. We must then have him removed.” Doctor Schmidt voiced his diagnosis. “If he is not, he will infect the expeditions and then us. I vote for him to die.”

“Then he will be.” Hans Pieter voiced out. “He will be mounted on the wall like the others.”

“Did anyone forget the Queen?”

The walls inside the mansion built by the Pieter family for over three generations held not the great estate ground with the mansion perched on the hillside facing the huge lake, it also housed the mini zoo with the exotic creatures, its unknown prison for the family enemies which could house fifty in-house. And finally the barracks that housed a hundred mercenaries. There were the mounted trophies; the ones in the mansion were the rare creatures where the heads were kept as trophies. Those were the guests allowed specimens; there were a dozen others in similar mountings but they were displayed in the prison.

Jane was not keen to be mounted on the wall or the deep cliffs. She had taken the two wheeler on a noisy trail. She stopped at the train depot where the other needed supplies are brought in. She saw the train there; doing the stopover before moving back to the main lines. The diversion in the tracks were the works of the Clayton influence. She was joined by the elderly Waziri warrior.

“Mumbe, please do as I requested.”

A short time later, she was on horseback riding into the jungle. She had changed into a new set of clothes that reeked of hyenas’ urine. It was her way to avoid her lover. She needed to be alone for this task.

“I will kill Sheena.”

It’s not her will but inducted into her.

“Sheena killed my father.”

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 21 Finale

The showdown

21.

Sushila saw the descending figure on the rope. He was familiar to her despite his change of attire. He had changed to the uniform, but the look was distinct; the beard and the clumsiness which he descent. He was armed from where she could make out, the pistol on the waist belt. She wanted to reach for the rifle and take aim but hesitated. She saw then a ledge on the climb and moved there. She wanted to wait for him.

“Huh!” The Mullah reached for the pistol but he fumbled and then scrambled for the rope. He looked at her standing there on the ledge which was sufficient to hold more than two of them. He swung over and perched on the ledge before he spoke to her.

“You are from the Guild. I remember you.”

“I am Sushila from the Guild. I was given the task to kill you but was told to hold back while I was with the one named Duncan.” Sushila spoke in her native tongue with the rifle levelled at the Mullah. “I did not know why but that periods of time, I was to be taken in by the man. I fell in with my enemy.”

“Is he here? This Duncan?” The Mullah asked.

“He is dead. He died on my dagger.”

“You are well trained, Assassin of the Guild. Your master will be proud of you.” The Mullah complimented her. “Tell me what motivate you so much? The killing or the love?”

“Both. I love to kill. I also kill for love.” Sushila replied to the Mullah. “One of your slaves was my sister. They are all my sisters. Not of blood but of care. And by ….. country. They died by your deceit.”

“Your sister?  How would I know? I had many of them shipped out or slaved there. I know not their names. They are whores.” The Mullah snapped back. “Just like the ones that died on the hills, they are unknown.”

Sushila was to pull the trigger when the dagger struck at her chest. She staggered on the impact and then looked below. She saw the dagger there at where the heart was located. She was near death, and then she knew she had to do it. It was her task.

Sushila pulled the trigger but the second dagger impacted on her left fingers holding the rifle wooden stock beneath the barrel. She dropped the rifle and then gave one look at her fingers. She had lost two fingers; one severed and the other dangling by the knuckle. She fell to her knees and then her right hand held her left hand at the bloodied ends. It was her weapon, the hands that could kill with a single jab or fist, the hands that held the dagger to strike at the heart or the eyes, the same hands that she intertwined into Duncan’s when they smiled.

“Sushila!” The lady felt herself lifted to lay back against the soft warm flesh. It was not Duncan but the Doctor. He was the one who did this and then held her to comfort.

“I will …” Sushila looked into the eyes of the doctor; and was the man who was to end her life there. “I could not let you kill.” 

‘We are not…. Killer’s. We are …. Murderer’s.” Sushila spoke the truth. Duncan would had wanted it to be told then.

“Thank God you stopped her.” The Mullah still holding onto the rope sighed out in relief. “She was a killer.”

Doctor Watson looked at the Mullah. The other was standing there undecided; to escape or return to the castle. He was the cause of the dead there.

“Who are you, my good man?” The Mullah asked.

“The devil in disguise.” Doctor Watson replied while he reached for the dagger on Sushila’ belt. He tossed the dagger at the Mullah. The dagger struck at the throat and caused the Mullah to drop to his knees. He was trying to speak but the Doctor was past listening. Doctor Watson lowered the lady to the ground when he heard the shouts from above. He then stood up and grabbed the rope. He was leaving the place.

A week later in London, the mathematician lecturer tossed the crumbs towards the pigeons in the park. His companion dressed in the dark grey suit leaned back with the walking stick leaned on his lap.

“I got the update that the Mullah died in the highlands. He was killed by a foreigner. The Regiment investigated the case and the Hidden Ones are disbanded. The Colonel Fleming was transferred to the Intelligence Section; a new one minted by the Empire to counter such threats. They are exclusive and given the orders to kill if needed.”

“More killers, Colonel. I much prefer the simple culling to avoid the contagion. Tell me, Colonel. What happened to the Doctor?”

“I heard he returned to London. He is looking for a new place to stay. He is avoiding the …killing scene.” The Colonel replied. “He may be looking to start a new practice perhaps; healing.”

“A brand new start. Jolly good. I am hoping he won’t get into my issues.” The mathematician smiled. “I heard there is an upcoming chemist by name of Holmes who likes to partake in criminal investigations. Perhaps they shall not meet. Chemistry and Medicine could result in explosive relationship.”

“In my analogy, it’s the brain matters that explode.” The Colonel replied with his right hand fingers mimicking firing the trigger.

“True, but the mathematical probability is … slim but possible with your skills.”

Down at Devon Port, Doctor Watson stood at the pier and looked at the ships. He wanted to get on board and return to the Frontier where he had lived for the last few years. Maybe it was a mistake to come back to London. He was happier at the Frontier.

He was well respected as the healer and the killer.

A complete balance to his ego.

“Sir, did you leave your bag at the bar?” A young boy in the blue sailor suit handed him the leather case he owned. He thanked the boy and took back his case. He looked inside and saw the holster with the daggers sheathed there. He smiled.

A doctor needed his scalpel just as the killer needed his daggers.  Doctor Watson needed both for his renewed ego.

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 19 & 20

Descent into Hell

19.

The locals call the weather most times, grey and gloomy or ‘dreich’. It was also raining which the highlands were deemed one of the wettest in that region. Due to the mountainous terrain, the warm, wet air forced upwards may caused clouds near to the hills.  It was cold and wet unlike the Frontier, it was hot and dry but the path there were treacherous slippery paths. Watson could see the trail left by the lady who did something more; she broke branches for him to descend. It was not far when he reached the bottom.

“You are a mad man to follow me.” Sushila was seen standing there with parts of her clothing torn and her limbs with cuts. She still held onto the hook with the cloth around the handle to hold a firmer lock.

“You are a crazy lady to climb down but you left me a trail I could follow. Without breaking my bones.” Watson sat on the green foliage there. His limping leg hurt more than his pride. He was not as fit when he was back at the Frontier. He thought the last few days would have made him fitter, but it was the reversed; he was exhausted.

“I have to complete my task. I am of the Guild. We are never to fail.”

“For love too?” Watson heaved the reply.

“For love? There is no place for love in my life. I am an assassin.” Sushila replied. “We are all orphans of love.”

“Then you won’t be missed.” The voice came from another person. Watson looked over to the right and saw the soldier there. He was holding the rifle aimed at Sushila.

“Never thought I will meet one of you here.” The rifleman voiced out while he sized Sushila. “You are ugly.”

“Corporal, you will stand down. She is not your enemy.” Watson drew rank.

“Clam it, Doctor. We were briefed.” The Corporal looked at the doctor. “You are not on my side. Don’t make me do it. I kill easily. I am a sniper.”

Doctor Watson looked at the sniper. He knew what killing was all about. He had seen how it was done, when his healing skills failed to prevent it. He had done it with the pistol. He had done it with his daggers. He had killed more than once with his hands.

They all died before him.

“You don’t know what killing is about.” Doctor Watson looked at the Corporal. “She does.”

The hook came like a dagger; an oversized one. The blunt side of the hook slammed into the Corporal’s left hand holding the barrel. The rifle fell downwards, and it was then Watson did what he had trained for.

The dagger tossed by the Doctor impacted into the throat.

Corporal Wallace died clutching his throat.

“We move on. The faster we do this, the less life we will take.” Sushila within herself stepped forward to pick up the hook. She looked at the dagger and then reached to pull it out. She handed it to the Doctor.

“I will keep the rifle.”

Corporal Smith reported to the Major. He reported that Corporal Wallace was in pursuit.

“She must be crazy to attempt that. Your mates’ survival was four out of five climbers. The last one will never walk.” Major Turnbull made his statement. “I want the men on that cliff. They are crazy and expect the worse.”

“Major, I am back in full strength.” That was a Corporal Leighton giving the update then. “We are back to nine recruits and one officer. I am missing Corporal Wallace.”

“Wallace is in the ravine. He is in pursuit of the enemies.” Major Turnbull told the Corporal. “I want you to guard the Mullah. If he is compromised, shoot him.”

With that, Major Turnbull turned to the issue on his mind. He signalled Corporal Smith over.

“I can’t wait. You are one of the better ones. You done the descend more than once. You saved …”

“I will go. Wallace is my mate.” Corporal Smith ran off to fetch the ropes and hooks. He was going down to help his mate. That made the Hidden Ones tougher than others.

In the ravine, Sushila looked up the cliff. She knew the descent was easier than the climb. She studied the terrains and paced up and down the place. Watson was still recovering from his ordeal of the descent. She then approached the Doctor.

“The men trained here. They know the terrain. If they do, they will know the easy way up or down. They had to for they need to pull those injured out. No one trained unprepared.” Sushila looked to the dead soldier. “He found us quick.”

Watson was still listening when Sushila took off down the ravine bottom. She was back trailing from where the soldier had emerged from. The path was not any safer or treacherous for a hiking walk, but the lady was used to the rough terrain. She looked for signs and broken trail. She saw then the descending soldier. He was rappelling by the rope line.

So, there was a safe path.

Sushila was there to wait.

It did not take long. Or time did not matter when you are anxious.

“I am not going to wait here.” Mullah of Sartor was agitated. The soldier assigned to him looked old enough to know the drills, but he was more experienced than them. He had gone dark on the tasks for over twenty years; he was becoming the best. His real name was Desmond Bradley; his mother was Persian. He became a soldier and then went into dark tasks. He built his cover five years ago from a dead religious officer. He became Saidullah Ibrahim, then to Saidullah the Sartor, or the Mullah of Mastun. He was called the Mad Fakir by the Empire; the same masters he served. They nicknamed him that to build his image, and it worked. He gotten the attention of the other rebel leaders. He managed to get them into the gun sight or the isolated cells. Or the unmarked graves or fed to the crows.

Either way, the Mullah was untraceable.

Until the Guild found out. He was then hunted, and he ran for home.

London was home, but he was followed there.

Then he was set to be imprisoned in the castle.

“Mullah, we are safe here.” The other man heard the soldier. He felt safer in the Frontier. If only he had never agreed to the human slavery cell. It was damned greed and it retributed back to him.

It was God’s retribution.

20.

Corporal Smith lowered the rifle he unslung from his chest. He then pulled off the gloves he used to rappel down. He then looked to the lady standing there with the rifle levelled at him. He knew the score.

“Who are you?” Corporal Smith asked. He was brief that there were three killers on the pursuit for the Mullah. He was also told that one was a lady. A foreigner. He had seen them before. He was in the Frontier for over a year before he was posted to the Southern Continent and then back to London. He had been around, but he was never prepared for the death threats. They are intimidating.

“I know you have a code of conduct. A code which I can asked for.” Corporal Smith dropped the belt holding the Webley and dagger. “I want the fight. I am a soldier.”

Sushila lowered the rifle. She heard the soldier. She knew the code and the need to go down fighting. It was all on them from training to the killing fields; you go on killing or be killed. She took out the Webley and dagger to lowered it to the ground.

“We fight bare.” Corporal Smith talked to her. “Like in the Frontier. No submission. Only one walks away.”

Corporal Smith learned his pugilistic skills since he was nine when he knocked out the bully’s front tooth. He lost two more tooth, but it was a victory of sort. He went on to learn how not to lose more tooth. He learned the street fight moves, the Savate, the unrefined then art named the Defendu which was later to deployed as basic hands to hands fighting for British soldiers. It was a derived from the eastern martial skill and focus on the attack instead of defence. It was also known as the Gutter Fighting or the Fairbairn System.

The art of bare knuckle fighting was to get into it dirty and bloodied.

“I am no gentleman in a fist fight.” Corporal Smith rushed forth with his arms levelled to the chest. He swung out with the right fist at the lady which she deflected with a right arm block, and saw the left fist aimed at her midriff. She stepped back and blocked that with the right arm. The Corporal turned his body and went with the left arm swinging in for the outside right forearm. The impact numbed her right forearm and she stepped back. The Corporal went with the left leg for her right knee but missed it. Sushila retreated a few steps to give her space to move on her attack. She then lunged in with a right leg swinging at the Corporal which he blocked but he missed the left hand jabbed into his right side of the ribs. The pain jarred him to lower his arms and the lady went in with the rebound right kick at the face.

“You fight well, bitch.” Corporal Smith picked himself up from the ground. “I am not a gentleman.”

Corporal Smith charged at her with the body slam and they went down on the ground with him raining punches onto her. She could not stop the punches but did her own in retaliation. She got one fist into the throat and caused the Corporal to roll off her. The lady rolled to the other end, and then laid there heaving her breath. She was hit on the face and chest, with the pains screaming to shear her soul out. She felt the tears welled up in her eye’ but she was not giving in to it.

Sushila will fight on. She sat up and looked at her adversary. He was also seated up and like her, feeling out his pain. He met her stare and then stood up with his hands levelled up.

“Shall we?” The Corporal gave out the invitation. The lady rushed at the Corporal and they both went down again. It was not a fight, but a wrestling bout then. Sushila felt the fist into her left shoulder and caused her to fall back. They have been exchanging blows a few rounds and her right eye was swollen. The soldier packed a solid left paw and he was limping from the bad right knee courtesy of her among other bruises. She clenched her right fist and waited.

“I could kill you.” The soldier told her. “You won’t be the first lady I killed.”

Sushila bit her lower lip and then rushed in. She went for his extended left arm to block her approach, but she was prepared for it. Her right fist went at the elbow joint and broke the bones. The soldier reeled backwards and the lady went forward with the fist at the chest; fist clenched and then the fingers extended to the knuckles and the jab went in for the heart. Corporal Smith went down and then rolled over. Sushila went in on the kill. She went down hard on the right knee onto the left thigh of the soldier before she chopped down with the right hand on the throat. It was what they taught her at the Guild.

And only one walks away.

“Must you do that?” Watson stepped out. “I mean you could had stopped and still win.”

The lady ignored the Doctor and retrieved her belt and rifle. She was past listening. The Doctor crouched to look at the soldier. He knew the signs were there; the soldier was dead. He saw her walking to the ravine side. He saw then the rope. She was climbing.

So was himself.

“Corporal Leighton, I want a Webley.” The Mullah looked to the soldier. “I can shoot.”

“Sir, there are no orders for you to be armed.” Corporal Leighton looked at the one he was assigned to guard. He heard of the Mullah. A bad assed which was supposed to be on dark tasks. He was acceptable with that but he had a pondering question.

“Why…No, what were those ladies doing there?”

“Ladies? Oh, you meant those …. whores? They are. I am not the one who brought them. I sell them.” It was then the fist came. The Mullah went down on the flooring.

“They are ladies, guynor.” The Corporal lashed out. “When have we became …managing them? Don’t you have a mother or a sister?”

“I am an officer by rank. I hold the rank of Lieutenant. I do not know my mother; I was dumped into the services.” The Mullah explained. “I was named Desmond Bradley after the guardian there. We were all named after him. I joined the Army and worked my way up. I have no other life. Or other care.”

Corporal Leighton reached his right hand out and it was then the Mullah pushed the hand away to reach for the Webley on the Corporal’s belt. It came loose and then the Mullah had it in his left hand. He fired the pistol into the Corporal groin. He fired once more into the chest.

Death surround all of them.

It was not them.

It was their namesake.

The Mullah then picked himself up and changed into the soldier’s uniform. He then raced to the doorway. He was headed for the escape doorway that will lead him to the cliff where he was shown the rope to climb down. He had survived many attempts on his life based on his own instinct. He will do so that time and escape.

He was the survivor among killers.

So was the doctor. He was a few feet behind the lady. He paced himself behind her and not looking down. He was going to complete the task.

He was going to finish the last task as the killer.

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 17 & 18

The Hunt turned Uglier.

17.

Colonel Fleming was in his full uniform with his left on the holster of the Webley at the waist belt. He was getting annoyed at the situation which have gone south; the General dead, Duncan still on the loose and his men are all raring to kill. It was made worse with Scotland Yard making enquiries into the Mullah courtesy of a Doctor Watson who have triggered an investigation. He was standing on the castle palisades looking to the only path to there. The castle held only one entrance; the main gate with the draw bridge over the deep moat. The castle held three towers on its four sides; the only side unattended was facing a high cliff which climbing was arduous to even the experienced. The main walls of the castle were high for climbers and climbing was only possible with ropes and hooks. The inner castle held the main building with three levels that consists of the officer’s chambers and barracks with the dining hall and kitchen. The armoury was in the building next to the main one on the right and on the left of it was the stables. The yard was half a field with areas for the obstacles course where the men trained daily. The castle held ten recruits and three officers. And one unreported guests; the Mullah.

“I want the sentries doubled. Assign all the recruits. I want the guest in the room with no access to outside. He is our prisoner until I say otherwise.” Colonel Fleming gave the orders. “I want all recruits on full complement and orders are to shoot anyone that is not already registered here. Start with the foreigners in the dungeons. They are unwanted.”

Colonel Fleming then looked at the officer in charge there.

“Major Turnbull. You have your orders. I will leave it to you to carry it out. Fail me and you will fail your Regiment.” With that Colonel Fleming turned to leave the walls. He was soon on his way back to London. His records there will be erased. His link to the Hidden Ones will be removed. He will be on his way to do other services for the Empire.

M will need him.

“How are you feeling, Duncan?” Doctor Watson asked on his patient. They have travelled over two days and nights to the Highlands. They are within sight of the castle. They have gotten themselves into a small inn nearby. They got the room on the upper level facing the garden. Duncan was not fully fit to travel but he was able to move on his own. Sushila had not spoken a word on their trip and only responded when Duncan called. It was a cold trip and nothing to do with the weather.

Watson saw the lady stepped out of the room. He followed her and met her on the garden behind the Inn. She was looking at the sunflowers.

“Beautiful flowers.” Watson kicked off the conversation. Sushila nodded, and then looked to the castle that was seen at the distance.

“How soon before we get there? I want to finish this.”

“Soon but we need to plan. I won’t …” Watson was cut off.

“Why are you with us, Doctor? You are not a …”

“I don’t know. Since I met your …. Duncan, or the person who say he was Duncan. I guess I am into it now. And its for the Regiment.” Watson defended his choice.

“You were the White Healer?”

“That was the past. I am past it all. The killings.” Watson sighed. “Don’t…”

“I was trained from young to be a killer. I have no other skills. I have no family … never needed one until I met Duncan.” Sushila looked back to the inn. “I am not sure now.”

“It hurts sometimes to know the truth. You are not here by choice. You came here for the Mullah. It was your task. You did not climb into that ship for Duncan. He was just an excuse. You are still the killer on the task.” Doctor Watson conclude for her. “I was one like you. I killed some people and then I stopped. I became the healer but in my follow up tasks, I do kill. By my mistake or by choice to ease their pain. We are all killers. We tasted it and won’t let go.”

“Doctor, when did you become so ….. knowledgeable? I am here for Duncan.” Sushila retracted her earlier word.

“Sushila, I saw in you the killer look. You are not here for him. You tortured the lady to find the Mullah. You burnt the house after you found out the Mullah was not there.”

“How…”

“I saw the torture. I saw the killing of the men. I sensed the fury in you. You set the fire on the house. That was not needed.” Watson looked at the lady. “If we go in there and find the Mullah not there, would you torture all of them? Burnt the castle? Or worse? Stop your task, Sushila. Then you may just win. And get them off your trail to kill you and Duncan.”

“Or you for I am not even sure of Duncan anymore.” Watson corrected himself.

Sushila looked away back to the flower. She then stooped to pick it up.

“We plucked them up and give us some comfort but what about them. They will wither and then we do the same thing again.” Sushila replied. “By themselves they will wither too. And die. What’s the difference if they die at my hands and not at their own? What about him? He may be the avenue to get at the Mullah.”

“Sushila, you …have not changed after all. We will do it by your way. Let us get the Mullah and then continue with your life and me on my own. I am already regretting joining in with you and Duncan.”

It was then they heard Duncan voice.

“They are here, They found us.” Duncan howled from the upper window. He was waving to them and then attempted to climb out. He was pulled back then. Sushila moved first; herself still in her wrap around clothes but she moved fast. Watson was following her and then he detoured to the front. He ran around the inn and saw the two men pushing Duncan out. He was right on his observation.

Duncan was with them.

“Doctor?” Duncan was stunned for a moment. He then lashed out at the two men. “They came for me.”

The man in front of Duncan drew a Webley and fired the weapon. He missed but Watson was ready then. He had his daggers out and with a twist of the left hand, he tossed the dagger at the shooter. The dagger plunged into the throat and the man went down screaming inside his lungs. The second man took out his Webley pistol from under his jacket holster, but Duncan went for him. Duncan punched the other in the face and grabbed the Webley dropped by the other. He shot the second man in the face. He then turned towards Doctor Watson with the pistol lowered.

“They grab me. I had no chance. I had to follow.”

Watson looked to the two dead men. It was then Sushila stepped out to meet them.

“I think their intel are good. They seem to know where we are most times. I wondered if we are telling them where we are.” Watson voiced out. “I am tired of the hunt. I say we meet them faced on.”

“Are you mad, Doctor? They will kill all of us.” Duncan voiced his objection.

“Stop it, Duncan. He knows.” Sushila voiced out. “He found out.”

“I don’t understand.” Duncan feigned ignorance.

“Don’t be anymore Duncan. You were into me from the start. You wanted the Mullah too but for a different reason. He was to be an asset to you but when he was here and me too, you were trying to stop me. You did not find me, but I found you. The baffling part was why were you injured. Who was hunting you?”

“I don’t know….” Duncan sounded confused.

“There is nothing to explain. We have to leave.” Doctor Watson looked to the duo.

18.

Major Turnbull rode his favourite mount to Inn when he was informed on the attack. He brought four of the recruits there. He left Lieutenant Mason in charge; doing the dirty task of eliminating the foreigners. It was a less trickier of a task than the one he was to do.

“Toss the bodies off the walls down the cliff. The weather will take care of the bodies.” The Major had done it before. He was brave but the images of the dead climbing back up and heading for his chamber. It was eerie then and he resolved by killing more. He reckoned more of them will speed up the killing of him.

The Major looked to the two men of the Hidden Ones was loaded onto the wagon. He knew them from the previous batch of recruits. The question on his mind who send them here.

“Major, do we conduct the search?” The recruit was Corporal Sleight. He was a stocky figure and was on sentry duty the night before.

“Yes, do it. Start from here towards the castle.” Major Turnbull gave the order. He then turned to the Inn Keeper. The other was named Bakers, Ian Bakers; a former chef at the castle.

“Chef Bakers, tell me more.” Major Turnbull looked at the inn keeper.

“They were here waiting. They had a room next door. It was all arranged, and the trio turned up. It then for the them to act. They went for the guy when he was alone. But it all went down so fast.” The Inn Keeper sighed. “I was… could had help…”

“Easy, Chef. You are retired, Stay that way.” Major Turnbull looked to the castle.

The path to the castle was easier by the path that was carved out of the cliff and to the plateau. The other alternative was none unless you chose to climb there.

“Sushila, we can’t climb there. Duncan is not fit to climb, and I am no climber.” Doctor Watson looked at the castle. They had escaped the Inn and hijacked a wagon to ride part of the way. They were unfamiliar with the place and used the castle as a visual guide. They went over the available paths and finally they came to a deep ravine. Across ravine was a possible path to the castle.

“Both of you stay here.” Sushila looked across ravine. She had armed herself with a dagger retrieved from one of the dead men. It was more like a bayonet but smaller. Watson recognized the dagger; it was a stiletto, Sicilian design. She had changed to the loose pants and blouse with a thick jacket on. She had also equipped herself with some ropes and a make shift hook. She was ready to climb.

“Sushila, we …” Duncan was stopped there by the slap across the face. “What…”

“I am going ahead. I will stop that Mullah. And you will not stop me.” Sushila then glared at Watson. “I will do it myself. Don’t you try.”

“I have to.” It was Duncan holding the Webley aimed at Sushila. “I have to for I swore to obey the orders given. I am to protect the Mullah from you. Or anyone attempting to kill him.”

“Tell me, Duncan. Why?” Watson asked. “Why all the charade and why me? Who am I in this deceit of yours?”

“It was McLeod who saw you first. He wanted to get you in. He told me you were the killer that rivalled the Guild trained ones. I have lived with one, but things went twisted. I was no match for her when its comes to the killing, but I managed to be ahead of her in locating the Mullah.”

“McLeod? I do not know him. I met you before but never him.” Watson replied. “Stop your games, Duncan.”

“I am not, Doctor Watson. McLeod was not any private; he was a Captain but in the Hidden Ones, we have officers in the ranks with us without disclosing theirs. That why’s we are also named the Hidden Ranks.” Duncan glared at Sushila. “I can see you. And shoot you.”

“Tell me, Duncan.” Watson was agitated.

“McLeod saw you and recruited you.”

“Why? Because I was a killer.”

“Right. We are dealing with killers. He needed murderer to counter murderers.”

“Your unit members are cold blooded killers too.” Doctor Watson hit it back.

“No, we are soldiers. It our task to kill but not murder.” Duncan explained. He saw then Sushila twitched her hands at the waist where she had tucked the stiletto. “Don’t force me.”

“Idiot!” Sushila remarked in the native tongue. Watson pushed the subject that matter to him.

“You … McLeod called for me because I am a killer. God! Why …. No! What have I done?” Watson felt remorse then. “You could have told me.”

Duncan was distracted, and it was all Sushila needed then. She showed her right hand and tossed the dagger. It went into the heart, passed the chest flesh and ribs to pierce the heart. Duncan dropped the Webley and reached for the dagger.

“Don’t pull it. You will cause a major bleed.” Watson caution was ignored. Duncan held the dagger in his left hand while his right hand clenched his wound.

“Take back your dagger, Sushila. You will need it.” Duncan called out in the native tongue of the other and then collapsed. Watson reached for the man but from experience he knew that Duncan had died.

Sushila knew too.

Sushila grabbed the dagger and Webley before she climbed down the ravine.

“Damn!” Watson cursed out. He looked at the castle and knew his options.

It was not the best, but he had to do what he was expected. He just had to make do with what he has; faith and lots of courage.

And be the murderer he was.

The two recruits stumbled on the dead body of their fellow unit member. The first one that stumbled on the body told the other to report.

“Wallace, you follow the trail and take down the bitch.”

Wallace was a stock figure with the goatee. He nodded and then descended the ravine. He was armed with the Webley, bayonet and the Enfield rifle slung across his chest.

He was the best and ranked the top sniper.