2 - Corra

2 - Corra

Everything hurt. Not only was the smell of the sulphur drenched air clogging my lungs, but the stab wound on my side didn't help either. Slowly I brought myself to stand, brushing my short brown hair back with my sooty hands. They had found me. Mother and Father had said that we were safe and that the poachers and thieves would never take me away from them, but I guess they were wrong.

I scanned my surroundings, I appeared to be trapped inside some sort of carriage, I could feel the steel wheels spitting up gravel as the various bumps and hills bounced me up and down like a rubber ball. I ran my palm over the acacia and metal doors to my right, they were locked shut and just the tiniest bit of light was seeping through the small crack where they swung open.

I tried to call for help, but was only greeted with a throbbing pain, it felt like my throat was coated with wool. I sobbed a silent tear, the thought of what these men were to do to a mixed creatara like myself was truly horrifying. I had missed my shot and now, I was going to pay the price. As a mixed creatara, it seemed as if the moment I was born a target was placed onto my back. My kind are exceptionally rare, considering a human would never willingly love a creatara, mixed breeds are often hunted for sport, being captured and enslaved like some sort of feral beast.

I slumped against the wall, the steel and wood's cool feel pressing into my tired back. Not only was a painful fire shooting through every bone in my body, but the shame I felt was overwhelming. As the sunlight coming from the crack in the door pierced through my dark pupils, I glanced to the wooden and metal floor to the carriage underneath me. The floorboards and strips of steel had been hammered together so roughly that sharp bits and pieces were jutting out of the floor.

This very moment was when everything changed, it was as if some primal instinct inside of me that had once been peacefully slumbering had been awakened. My hand inherently moved towards one of the metal floorboards as I felt the pain surging through my body focus itself singley on my palm that was placed on the cool steel. I closed my eyes, crumpling to the ground, it felt like my hand was going to explode. My fingers vibrated faster and faster, bits and pieces of the metal sheet peeling off like the skin of a potato.

I opened my eyes, the cold wind from the outside world now nipping at my face from the massive hole in the carriage floor I had created. I felt my stomach jump into my throat, I had practically destroyed a twelve inch steel sheet with my bare hands. My first instinct was of course to jump out, but where would I go when I inevitably jumped? I don't have any relatives, friends, I had nobody. I was just… Corra.

When in doubt Corra, trust your gut. It'll get you a lot farther than you think.

The words of my father rang through the air like the chime of a bell. "What is my gut telling me to do?" I whispered the words to myself, the sound of my quiet voice tickling my ear like the melody to an ancient song. I nodded, hastily sliding through the hole in the floor and coming to a roll as I hit the dirt at top speed. I laid motionless for what seemed like hours. I wanted to stand but pain was holding me down like iron restraints.

"Greetings young one."

I whirled to see a rather stout man dressed in a very odd purple and red blazer, the silver goggles on his dark top hat seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. The strange man played with his curly black moustache, kneeling down so he was level with my battered and motionless frame.

"It appears you've taken quite the beating child. It's not wise for a mixed creatara like yourself to be out here alone."

"W-Who are you?" The words barely squeaked out of my mouth.

The stout man gave out a hearty laugh, "It is I, Hirano Awgamaul! Perhaps you have heard of me from the Circus of Dawn?"

I shook my head, still dazed and confused, "A-Are you here for my powers?" My lip quivered as I uttered the words.

"Perhaps." He crouched down even lower, brushing the tip of my bloody chin with his rough fingers, "But it is not your power that I seek within you, Corra Okinji."

How the hell does he know my name?

"T-Then what is it that you seek if not my power?"

"Your speed, and your heritage."

The sound of doors slamming open and the smell of damp fur woke me suddenly. Rico had barreled into the room at top speed, with Ray soon leisurely following behind, adjusting the crimson scarf that swayed around his neck as he hung up his light brown trench coat. Had I dozed off? No, I'd never do that, I would never sleep on the job.

"I assume it didn't go well." I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, taking a sip of my now cold coffee.

Rico was extremely hyper as always, "He's out for blood Corra! He-"

Ray swiftly shut him up by smacking him upside the head, "It appears our client spread some misinformation about the target."

"So I'd assume that he had a morte?"

"Correct, although it wasn't one that I recognised, considering every known morte has been documented."

We rebounded ideas back and forth before settling on hanging up the conversation for the night. I promised to keep watch while everyone was sleeping in case somebody dared to pick a fight with us, but I wasn't counting on it. The next morning was a strange one, I had been up for so long that my eyes were more red than white. I was sitting at the big table we have at the front of the bar, sipping my fifth coffee when I heard the thumping of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Brace for impact." I muttered to myself.

Rico blasted down the stairs like a rocket ready for launch, "Hey Corra!" he yelled, "When's breakfast?"

Rico has a tendency for breaking eardrums and gets awfully energetic sometimes for no reason at all. I've learned to get used to his spontaneous yelling and screaming. Come to think of it, I've gotten used to just about everything about Rico. Whether it was him smelling of old stale tobacco or his obsession with guns and explosives.

Before he had the chance to continue, I cut him off. "You can make breakfast yourself."

"But I-"

"And, is Ray up?"

"Not sure, he hasn't left his room."

I sighed and trudged up the creaky wooden stairs at the back of the bar area. I turned to my right and opened the door that had a big "R" on it, Ray's room. He was sitting on his bed sharpening one of his many leather knives and fully dressed in his usual outfit: a leather jacket and his signature red scarf. His eyes were bloodshot and there were papers filled with notes scattered all over the room.

"You didn't sleep did you?" I leaned against the doorframe, brushing my silky tail from between my legs.

He didn't even make eye contact, it was as if the only thing he cared about was sharpening his blade, "Whatever gave you that idea?" His raspy voice gave off just a hint of sarcasm.

I glanced to the parchment scattered around the room, "You've... been writing?"

Ray sighed, "What else? I'm not going to just let someone humiliate me like that and get away with it."

"Yes, but being excessive about it has never helped anyone."

"Well once I explain my theory to you, you'll sing a different tune."

"Fine then, explain away."

"So, I've been researching merchants in the area and while looking I couldn't find any information on this character whatsoever. I went over to the bar late last night and asked around and I got a few answers. The bartender, Abbott said that he showed up recently and just sort of, asserted himself. He said that the other side has been sending over lots of spies and whatnot. So, what if he's a spy from the other side? He could be trying to take control of some of them. Or what if-"

"I'm just going to stop you right there Ray." I held up my hand, I didn't want to be rude as Ray wouldn't take it lightly, but I wasn't in the mood for crackpot conspiracy theories at the moment. "Let's discuss this matter with Rico. I'm sure he'll want to hear all about it. That is, if he won't stop annoying me."

"But I'm not finished."

"I know but it'll be no use to tell me more, I'm already bored to death."

We headed down the stairs to the bar where Rico was sitting, he was on one of the stools in the room, cleaning his rifle with tender care like it was his own child. He immediately perked up when we walked down the stairs, like a dog seeing his master come home from work.

"Took you long enough, I'm starving."

"We had some matters to take care of." I glanced back at Ray, "And… some things we need to discuss with you."

"Don't tell me this is about last night? I don't want to remember."

"You're just going to have to suck it up Rico." I chimed, "We think we've got some info on you know who."

"Alright, just make it quick. I'm starting to get really hungry."

We told Rico all about what Ray had come up with. The only part that he seemed to be remotely interested was the part about the bar. Whether it was the fact that he was intrigued by the fact that Abbott knew so much about this person or it was just the thought of going to a bar filled with women. Come to think of it, it was probably the second one.

"That's strange", Rico muttered, "But what about that really sketchy pale guy?"

"Like I said, he could be his adversary or someone he was doing business with." Ray huffed.

"I agree with Ray." I said, laying with my brown hair and brushing some lint off of the fennec fox ears that poked out the top of my head. "And plus, we should just focus on the task at hand, we can discuss the other guy after this is all solved and dealt with."

Ray grumbled, walking over to the cork bulletin board that hung to the right of the stairs, he was just about to read off the morning's missions when a loud knock came from behind us.

He held up his hand, "Hold it, I'll handle this one."

He slinked up to the oak door, drawing one of his revolvers from his belt. I know pulling out a firearm wasn't the most hospitable thing to do to a guest, but we had to take precautions. That's why most of our requests came by mail.

Ray cracked the door open just enough so that he could see through, "Ray Mejia here, owner and founder of the Marauders. How can we be of service?" His voice lacked the usual enthusiasm he had with clients.

"Yes, I was wondering if I could request an audience with you and the rest of your squad."

"Of course. Please step inside."

The door opened as a rather short man walked inside. He smelt of fresh pine and lemon and he wore only the most posh of clothing, a purple blazer and a purple fedora. Odd taste of colour, but I guess I'm not one to judge.

Ray led him to the bar and sat him down with Rico and I, "Greetings! My name is Cornelius Hoffman!" He took a minute to take off his coat and such, but soon enough he began to speak. The gentleman leaned in close and whispered, "I've been told that you lot had a little…. accident last night, am I correct?"

We all stared at each other, beads of sweat began to form on our faces. Had Ray let it slip at the bar? Had Rico gotten drunk again and told someone?

Ray leaned in close, his eyes radiated with pure malice. "How do you know about that? Who told you?"

"That is not for me to tell," the old man whispered, "But I have a request. It's about the merchant that you tried to assassinate."

"What is your request?" I asked him.

"Come, let's head over to your mailbox." He told us.

As we headed over to the mailbox, he said to us, "I want you to look very carefully at some of those missions, alright?"

As we flipped through some of the letters we had received, we noticed one recurring theme, they all wanted one man dead…

"They're all asking for Fatso!" Rico exclaimed.

"If that's what you guys are calling him then, yes. They all are asking for his death, but I assure you I can pay you vastly more than all of the others are willing to pay."

"It's a deal." Ray said solemnly.

"Ray!" I blurted, "We can't just immediately accept the offer! How do we know he actually intends to pay us?"

"This time is different Corra." he said angrily, "I'm not in it for the money anymore. Whoever that guy is he humiliated me, we've lost half of our clients because of that one misstep and I intend to get some payback. We've been made the laughing stock of the town, nothing but street rats, filthy creatara." his paws clenched into a fist, the veins popping in his knuckles, "That's why I won't turn this offer down Corra, that's why we won't turn this offer down."

Rico and I locked eyes and he nodded. The thing was, I wasn't sure if I trusted this strange purple clad man. There was just something about him I didn't trust. Whether it was his unnatural smile or his thick accent, something about this guy seemed off.

Oh gods, don't do it Corra. Don't trust him.

"Fine, we'll do it." I said, the word escaping from my mouth, "We'll take your offer, but no tricks."

"Alright," the man said, "I guess if we're going to be working together for quite some time, I'd better introduce myself! The name's Cornelius, Cornelius Hoffman."

"Alright Cornelius," Ray said, "Let's head into the living quarters and we'll discuss business."