The Pinball of Misery

The path leading south was as narrow and uncertain as hope itself. For two days, they had walked, and the silence between them was more suffocating than the deep, humming life of the forest that surrounded them. Katrina moved with the locked-in focus of a predator, her steps sharp and efficient as if she were at war with the very ground beneath her feet. Every glance was a calculation. Hector followed a few paces behind, his tread heavier, more deliberate. His gaze swept not only the path but also the canopy above, the fissures in the rocks, every shadow that could conceal an ambush.

“We need to move faster,” Katrina said finally, her voice slicing through the quiet like a thrown blade, honed to a razor’s edge by her impatience. “Every minute we waste is another advantage we hand to Pazzo’s madness and Gein’s army.”

Hector pushed aside a thick, thorny vine that snaked across their way. “Speed is not the same as recklessness, Katrina. Lucas’s men could be anywhere. There’s no point in sprinting into a snare.”

“That is the logic of a coward,” she hissed, casting a contemptuous look back over her shoulder. “The reason I’ve survived for two years is because I’m fast, not because I’m afraid.”

“The reason I’ve survived is for my daughter,” Hector countered, his voice softening for a heartbeat before hardening again. “And that’s why I won’t take foolish risks. If we approach the City of Anomaly head-on, our eyes will give us away before we’re within a hundred paces of the gate. We’ll be easy sport for the guards.”

Katrina stopped and turned to face him fully, her hand resting on the hilt of a dagger. “Then what do you propose, veteran hunter? Shall we sit here and wait for Bruno to wander into our laps?”

Ignoring her sarcasm, Hector’s gaze went past her, not to the distant, smudged silhouette of the city, but to the lawless sprawl of woods that grew like a tumor at its edge. “Every city has a back door,” he said. “And that’s the one we’re going to use.”

The smuggler’s market at the city’s roots stank of the sweet rot of discarded vegetables, the acrid tang of rusted metal, and the sour funk of desperation. Beneath tattered awnings, men with faces shadowed by mistrust bartered in whispers, and stolen goods passed from hand to hand. With their hoods pulled low to completely obscure their eyes, Hector and Katrina moved like ghosts through the throng.

“If they realize what we are, they’ll skin us for sport,” Katrina murmured, her fingers tracing the outline of her blade.

“Hyenas don’t like noise,” Hector replied, his voice a low rumble. “They just want to conduct their business.”

They arrived at a darkened stall in a forgotten corner, its wares a mystery of shrouded lumps. Hector approached the scrawny man behind the counter, who was surveying the area with nervous, rodent-like eyes. “They say the wind blows hard from the north,” Hector said quietly.

The man’s eyes flicked to them, scanning them from head to toe. “I don’t know anything about the weather,” he replied with practiced disinterest. “I only know the quality of my goods.”

“We’re not here for goods,” Katrina cut in, her patience already worn thin. “We’re looking for information. About Fat Bruno.”

The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t use that name here. You’ll bring trouble down on yourselves. And I don’t know what kind of trouble you are.”

“We’re the kind that brings it,” Katrina hissed, taking a step forward. Hector’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Easy,” he whispered, before placing a small, tooled leather pouch on the counter. The metallic clink of its contents was a melody in the Hyena’s ears. “We just need to know where to find him. We already checked the tavern.”

The Hyena snatched the pouch and dropped it below the counter in a single, fluid motion, his eyes still darting around. “Of course he’s not at the tavern, you idiots,” he whispered conspiratorially. “The King’s dogs have been using the place as a barracks ever since that thylacine attack. They watch everyone who comes and goes. As much as Bruno loves that soup, he’s not a fool. He left the city weeks ago.”

“Where to?” Hector pressed.

The Hyena grinned, revealing rotten teeth. “That information is worth more than what’s in that pouch.”

Katrina tensed to step forward again, but Hector was faster. He drew his hunting knife, not to threaten, but to display the pommel. Set into the worn handle was a small, brilliant blue gem that seemed to pulse with its own inner light. “This came from the heart of a Blue Forest Stag. It’s rare.”

The Hyena’s eyes gleamed with avarice. He studied the stone for a moment, then nodded. “Deal,” he rasped. “I don’t have a precise location. But strange news has been coming from the southern canyons. A few hunters claim they saw a… ‘strange, round, bouncing, groaning monster’ in one of the ravines. They didn’t know what it was, but they said it was big enough to shake the stones loose from the cliffs. I don’t know if it’s Bruno’s work, but… he’s the only strange and fat thing I know.”

BOOM… BOOM… UHHHHH…

The sound was like distant thunder at first, but as they drew closer to the canyon, it became rhythmic, percussive, and undeniably miserable. When Hector and Katrina finally reached the canyon’s edge and peered down, they were met with the most absurd and pitiful sight of their lives.

Far below, trapped between the narrow canyon walls, was a massive, ten-meter sphere of disgruntled flesh. It was Bruno, bouncing helplessly from one cliff face to the other like a pinball of misery. With every impact, dust and small rocks rained down from the walls, and a low, mournful groan echoed through the valley. His power had spiraled out of his control, turning him into a living, bouncing prison.

For a moment, Katrina’s face was a mask of absolute disbelief. Then, an irrepressible, cynical smile spread across her lips. “You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered. “We came all this way… for that?”

“At least we know where he is,” Hector said, already assessing the situation with a practical eye. “The real question is… how do we get him down?”

“HELP ME, YOU IDIOTS!” a muffled voice boomed up from the giant, bouncing ball below. “STOP STARING AND DO SOMETHING! I’M GETTING SEASICK!”

Katrina laughed. It was a genuine, unrestrained laugh, the first one Hector had heard from her in a long time. Even he couldn’t suppress a slight smile.

“Alright,” Hector said, uncoiling a thick rope from his pack. “I suppose it’s time for a bit of hunting. But I can’t do it alone.”

Katrina’s smile faded, replaced by a look of challenge. “What do you need me to do?”

The plan was simple but exceedingly dangerous. While Hector fashioned a massive lasso, Katrina began to scale the sheer canyon wall like a spider, her goal to secure the end of the rope to a sturdy rock outcropping on the opposite side. Hector would then have to calculate Bruno’s bouncing trajectory and time his throw perfectly.

“Are you ready?” Katrina shouted, now a small figure a hundred meters above.

“Just hold the rope tight!” Hector yelled back.

On Bruno’s next ascent, Hector spun the massive lasso and let it fly. The rope snaked through the air, uncoiling perfectly before settling around the giant sphere.

“NOW!” Hector roared.

Together, they threw their entire weight against the rope. Trying to break Bruno’s momentum was like trying to stop a charging carriage with their bare hands. The rope burned their palms, and their muscles screamed in protest. But slowly, agonizingly, the massive sphere’s movement began to slow, until finally, it hung suspended between the two walls, ten meters off the ground.

“Lower me gently! GENTLY!” Bruno’s voice echoed, thick with nausea.

It took them half an hour to get him to the ground. The moment he touched the earth, he began to deflate with the sound of a great wineskin letting out its breath. Within minutes, he was back to his normal, fat, and exceptionally grumpy self.

“Finally,” he grumbled, fastidiously brushing dust from his clothes. “I am never getting that angry again. Ever.”

“You owe us a thank you,” Katrina said, her hands raw and bruised from the rope.

Bruno looked at them, his face a mask of weary annoyance rather than gratitude. “Yes, yes, I’m in your debt. What do you want? I have no gold.”

“We want information,” Hector said. “About another Zinox.”

Bruno sighed, the sound of a man who knew he couldn’t escape his fate. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll pay my debt, and then you will leave me alone forever. Deal?”

They both nodded.

“There’s one named Maris,” Bruno began. “Her power… it’s about growth. But not like mine. She grows the life around her. Plants. She hides in the Whispering Swamps nearby. But I’m warning you, don’t go there. She can’t control her power. When she’s scared or angry, the forest around her becomes a monster. She’s more afraid of herself than anyone else. She wants to be left alone.”

“We’ll find her,” Katrina said with determination.

“Suit yourselves,” Bruno said with a shrug. “My debt is paid.” He turned and began to limp away, dreaming of the nearest civilization and a hot bowl of soup. He had only taken a few steps before Hector’s shadow fell over him. Bruno paused and looked up to see an expression on Hector’s face that was anything but friendly.

“The deal isn’t over,” Hector said, his voice low and non-negotiable.

Bruno’s face fell. “What? But I told you where Maris is! I paid my debt!”

“That was just the first installment,” Hector replied. “You’re coming with us. You don’t have a choice.”

Bruno’s eyes widened in horror. “What?! I’m not a fighter! I’m just… fat and I like soup! What good would I be to you? I’ll just slow you down at the first sign of danger!”

“Either you come with us, or we leave you here as bait,” Katrina hissed, emerging from the shadows. “Make your choice.”

Trapped between the two Zinox, Bruno saw his options: a deadly adventure on one side, and a nearly certain, agonizing death on the other. He took a deep, mournful breath. “Damn it,” he grumbled. “Damn you all. But for the record, at the first sign of trouble, I’m turning into a ball and rolling away.”

Hector clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture almost friendly. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

With their reluctant new recruit in tow, the trio set off on their next perilous mission. As they turned their backs and headed toward the swamps, none of them noticed the figure watching from the crest of a hill hundreds of meters away, hidden in the shadow of a tree. The spotter held up a small, glowing stone. Miles away, in the King’s castle, its twin, resting in Lucas’s hand, pulsed with the same light.

The spotter whispered, as if his master could hear him across the distance. “I’ve found three Zinox. They are heading for the Whispering Swamps.”