Free Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) by Rien Reigns Page A

for me. Just one more thing we had in common.
    Don’t flub this up bub, I told myself.
    I’d spent the last few minutes chiseling away at Paxton’s defenses, but if I wasn’t careful, he’d catch on and begin repairs. Knock down a man’s wall, screw him over, and he’ll rebuild it ten times stronger. Men could be stupid, except when it came to building walls.
    As I was about to apologize and change the subject by asking more about Van Horne, the pip jerked violently like it’d been in a collision. I was thrown forward from my chair into the table, and then fell to the floor. I caught sight of Paxton flying backwards, slamming into the wall.

 
    6: Don’t Let This Man Vomit on Me
     
    Grabbing hold of the table and pulling myself up I said, “Kali, display vehicle diagnostics.”
    The surface of the table came to life and showed various schematics of the pip. Everything was working within their finely tuned parameters, but sensors indicated there was some external damage to the rear of the vehicle.
    “Kali, what in Tartarus just happened?”
    ‹ It would appear that the pip was in a minor collision with another vehicle . ›
    “What do you mean, appears? Was it, or was it not?”
    ‹ I believe that it was, sir . ›
    “What the fuck do you mean, believe? I want facts. Were we, or were we not, just struck by another vehicle?”
    ‹ I cannot say with 100% certainty at the moment, sir . ›
    I reached out and seized the spinning light, ending the sickening tornado of luminescence and shadow. “Why the hell not?”
    ‹ Because I wasn’t actively monitoring the vehicle at the time of impact . ›
    “Kali!”
    ‹ Yes, master ? ›
    I clenched my jaw, and felt my nostrils flare. I wanted to strangle something and was beginning to not care what that something might be.
    Keep a level head, I told myself. Count to ten. Breath.
    I pulled my necklace out from underneath my shirt, closed my eyes, and began rubbing one of the beads which looked like a miniature skull in between my thumb and middle finger, all in an attempt to calm my nerves.
    I was interrupted by Thrass laughing.
    “Something funny?” I asked, opening my eyes to give him a look of, ‘it fucking better be, otherwise your ass is like an appetizer at a cannibal convention.’
    He used the wall as support and rose to his feet. “You think you understand her? I can only smile. You think that you can truly know her? I can only laugh! There is a reason people call me mad! But let them. I do not care; I cannot stop murmuring your name over and over: Kali, Kali, Kali.”
    I didn’t realize initially that he’d been quoting a poem paying homage to Kali. At the time I looked at him with questionable eyes, beginning to fear I’d made the mistake of locking myself in close quarters with a mad man. He paid me no attention. Instead, he was searching the room looking at the floor. Most likely looking for his knife.
    Just then I felt a fiery itch in the back of my mind, like I’d been forced to listen to a sermon for hours. It was an irritating itch I couldn’t scratch, and it infuriated me to no end. I wanted to end it. At any cost.
    I started searching for the knife as well.
    “You should hear yourself sometime,” Thrass continued. “Arguing aloud with your CerA. Not very professional. You should probably learn to internalize that.”
    He found where his blade had landed and made a move for it, but I’d found it as well and moved more quickly, blocking his path.
    We stood frozen with our eyes locked. There was fear in his, but intelligence and cunning as well, along with something more I couldn’t determine. It was like I was staring into Thrass’s soul, and it was an enigma.
    How is he just a sanitation worker? And how did he become a tool of Van Horne’s? I wondered.
    I kept staring at him until suddenly I was looking at a reflection of myself in his eyes.
    “Forget it,” I said, turning away, heading back to the table with his knife in my hand.