Fathomless Fortunes [slash]

Chapter 4 - The captain's papers

"And now to the verdict."

The room was empty except for a big screen and a couple of unused chairs in front of it. He was standing, fists balled, staring at the screen. It showed the live feed of an almost empty courtroom. There were just the judge, two uniformed guards and the convicted.

"Accused 7034, stand up," the judge ordered, all white wig and black robes like a ghost of the past. The man in question obeyed. His face was turned away and not visible on the screen.

"I hereby sentence you to a life-long penalty, without any possibility of probation, for the near-deadly assault on victim FKLN1825. The sentence is equal to that of second-degree murder, because of the severity of the crime. Although the victim is technically still alive, FKLN1825 is in a coma with little to no chance of ever waking up again. We also took into account the fact that the shock of learning of FKLN1825's fate, her father, already ill, suffered a fatal heart attack. Accused 7034, although you were under the influence of drugs at the time of the crime and keep claiming that you don't remember anything, the fact remains that you are responsible for the end of two lives. This court is closed."

The hammer was slammed onto the wooden desk with a dull thud, and the guards stepped forward to escort the accused out of the courtroom. His face was visible on the screen for only a moment. Dark hair, blurred features.

He stared at that figure on the screen, burning its vague shape into memory for all times.

"I'll find you." A whisper, tense and hoarse. "I swear I'll find you. You can't hide from me."
The screen went dark, and a moment later, a door behind him was opened.

"Sir, it's over. Shall I take you home?" A familiar voice. It belonged to a tall man in a black suit, his imposing figure framed by the harsh light of the corridor beyond.

"I can't go home." He didn't turn around. "I don't think I can ever go home again."

Hesitation. "Sir, what about your father? The funeral..."

He kept his voice calm and cold, although he knew he was visibly shaking. "Father is gone. I can't do anything for him now except following and punishing that bastard. This is far from over."

"Follow him? Sir, you can't..."

"Don't tell me what to do!" He turned toward the door. "Take me to the lab. I need to make some preparations."

Without waiting for an answer, he took a few quick steps to leave the room.

The man standing in the door frame obediently gave way. "As you wish, sir."

Another whisper, a promise. "There's no way he can escape. Sooner or later, I'll get to him. And she will help me."

The door to the empty room closed behind him with a sound of finality, like the lid of a coffin.

* * *

Alastair sat up in bed, gasping for air. The room was only dimly lit by the light of the gutterin street lanterns streaming through the cracks of the wooden shutters. A small room, smelling slightly of dust, with no real comfort except for the narrow bed. It had been rather astonishing that the old furniture had withstood the activities of the last hours and afterwards accommodated two and not exactly small men.

Alastair took a few deep breaths. It had only been a nightmare, and certainly not his worst one. And he was still here, in a room above the Undead Sailor Inn in Llanos, waiting for the innkeeper to finally get the mysterious message to him. Of course Crazy Jack hadn't been able to pass any secret note in public, so renting a room had been a perfect opportunity. Sharing it with someone hadn't been exactly Alastair's plan in the first place, but as he had said, he had wanted to get at least some enjoyment out of the evening.