Homicidal By Design [Hector Escaton]

Chapter 22

The morning sun was warm and shone brightly against the buck's brown coat as he grazed on prairie grass. The northern breeze was a welcomed reprieve from the desert heat, but despite the air of serenity in the valley, the buck remained on alert. One ear was pointed toward the tree line, and his eye never left the doe who hid there. Little did he know that three gods watched from the cliffside, concealed among the foliage; they held his fate in their hands as blithely as they held their hunting rifles. When the small stone struck his flank, it startled him to attention, seemingly having come from nowhere. With only a cursory scan of the area and a warning snort, he bounded toward the cover of the forest.

Synchronously, a shot rang out. The bullet struck the ground, a cloud of dust and dirt chunks the only evidence of thwarted carnage.

"Shit man! You fucking kidding me? What happened this time?!"

"Damn Marcus, you really suck at this! They're not even real animals, shit!"

"I dunno, man. It's like they know I'm about to take a shot, for real."

"Get the fuck outta here, man. You just a bad shot."

Unbeknownst to the guests, their complaints echoed down the cliffs to the source of their frustrations—the third god— who was comfortably sunning herself on a boulder nearby. With a chuckle, Izzy smoothed another rock in her palm. Her decent aim had denied the guests two bucks, a mountain lion, and an antelope already, and it was still early. She packed a lunch, there was no way the hunters would outlast her. Truthfully, it wasn't that she didn't like Marcus and Deiondre, on the contrary, the two were rather decent guys compared to many she had run into at Westworld. They were visiting the park for Deiondre's bachelor party, and were happy to just soak up all that the park had to offer. It took little more than a charming smile and an off-handed comment about her single status to rope them into her scheme to break Hector out of prison.

During which time, she may have overstated her knowledge of the narrative in her pursuit of suitably-manageable humans. In a moment of irony not lost on her, Izzy wished Len was there to help her find the beginning of the storyline; all she had to go off of was the fact that she had to find "Ojal Prison", as the hosts called it, and hope they ran into one of the Join a Gang narrative markers at some point.

That didn't mean that she wanted Marcus and Deiondre to get everything they wanted, however. And Izzy felt a small prick of satisfaction as the buck, followed by his doe, disappeared into the forest. Maybe it was because, deep down, all the hosts—human and animal—were an extension of Hector, and she couldn't bear to sit by and permit their blood sacrifices on the altar of entertainment. So, to any who chose to enjoy the sunshine in the valley that morning, she was Artemis, goddess of the hunt, and she would grant mercy to all under her watchful eye.

Speaking of Hector, Izzy hadn't the foggiest idea of how to bridge the gap between them. When she had broken him out of jail, he had been curious and had no time to quarrel, but it was apparent he didn't recognize her. Not only did he not recognize her, but he was wary of her. At that point, Len's words came floating into her mind about how emotionally unavailable Hector usually was; he was a nightmare to get truly close to.

Without asking any further questions, Hector had picked her out as the leader of the group as soon as they made their way back to camp, referring all questions and decision-making to her. But even now, a few days into her "Join a Gang" narrative, he had hardly spoken outside of what must have been necessary to keep them on the storyline, opting instead to leave much of the planning and cavorting to Armistice and Tenderloin. Izzy's original plan, to just ingratiate herself and bide her time until the night before the saloon heist, would not suffice.