Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

about the face, or perhaps rather the scars on the face… Hazel suddenly remembered where she'd seen this Blood Runner before, and a cold hand gripped her heart like a fist.
    "Scour …"
    "That's right, Hazel d'Ark. I came for you once before, in the old Standing of the Deathstalker, but you eluded me."
    "You're dead! Owen killed you! I saw you die!"
    "Blood Runners don't stay dead," said Scour, his face and voice calm and unmoved. "We've moved beyond that. We've lived for centuries, and death has no
    power over us anymore. We're an old culture, Hazel; older than your Empire. It's been a long time since we saw anything new. Anything like you… dear Hazel. We're going to learn so much from you."
    Hazel glared at him. "I don't have a damned thing to say to you, Blood Runner. I don't care what kind of a deal my old Captain made with you people when I served on the Shard, I don't owe you anything!"
    Scour shrugged easily. His voice remained a bare whisper, untroubled by the naked hate in Hazel's voice and eyes. "Everyone talks eventually. Let me show you the previous occupant of this chamber. He was so sure of himself when he first came here; so delightfully full of defiance, just like you. Swore, he'd die before he broke. But we wouldn't allow him that option."
    Scour took hold of the end of the trolley with his large white hands. The fingers were long and slender, like a surgeon's or an artist's. The trolley spun sharply around, briefly disturbing Hazel's stomach, and when it stopped, Hazel was facing the other end of the chamber. Scour moved unhurriedly around to stand beside her, and then gently lifted her head so that she could see. And there, pinned to the gray stone wall by great brass staples in his hands and arms, hung what remained of a man. His face was untouched, dominated by wild staring eyes.
    But beneath that he'd been gutted from chin to groin, cut open in a perfectly straight line, the skin pulled back and pinned to the wall in wide pink flaps.
    His internal organs were gone. Instead, lengths of transparent tubing plunged into the great crimson cavity where his guts had been. Some of them twined between and around his exposed ribs like obscene ivy, feeding him slow-moving liquids, and draining off others. They pulsed slowly, and the man's whole body shook gently in time to that ghastly rhythm. His genitals were gone, the gap
    plugged with a simple metal plate. Blood had run down his dangling legs from the terrible wounds, long ago, and had never been cleaned off.
    "He was so very brave," said Scour. "But bravery isn't enough, here. All that matters now is how useful you can be to us. And this specimen's use is at an end."
    He let Hazel's head fall back onto the trolley with a painful thud, and strolled over to the hanging man. Hazel forced her head up again just in time to see Scour grab a handful of the transparent tubing and rip it out. The man's whole body convulsed, and a long shuddering wail issued from the man's throat. Fluids ran from the ends of the tubing, and pooled on the floor. The scream broke off abruptly as blood and something else gushed from the man's mouth, and then the life went out of his eyes, and his head fell forward. The arms and legs still twitched, but he was obviously dead. Scour let the tubing drop carelessly to the floor.
    "Is that supposed to impress me?" said Hazel, quietly pleased that her voice still sounded calm and steady.
    "No," said Scour, walking unhurriedly back to stand over her again. "It's supposed to scare you. Fear is your friend here. It will help you make the inevitable transition from living legend to laboratory specimen. Defiance means only pain. Stubbornness means only unnecessary suffering. You will break, eventually. Everyone does. Better to get it over with quickly, while most of your sanity remains. Ah, Hazel; the things we shall learn from you, as we become intimate with your flesh and blood and bone, your every depth of body and mind."
    "Tell you what," said Hazel, thinking Anything to buy time, time for my powers to return, "Let's make it an exchange. You tell me all about yourself, about the Blood Runners, and I'll tell you all about me. The things I can do, that you
    don't know about. A trade; and no one needs to get hurt."
    Scour looked down at her for a long moment. "It's been a very long time since I could speak of our origins with anyone who could hope to understand and appreciate them. After all, dear Hazel, you're no more human than we