Sovereign Fate, Let's Not Mince Words He's An Assassin

(( from sovfate pages elsewhere ))

While the stadium wasn't entirely packed, it was more than a small crowd. It was certainly bigger than the little chump dives that Bhargol would have had them playing a month ago. Offworld was so much better than on the old homeworld! It was a brilliant tour, and people from everywhere around would come to these interstellar venues to see the next big thing.

It would only be a matter of time before Sovereign Fate was "it".

That is, if they survived.

In the darkness below the stage, an even darker shape moved around. Softly padded feet gave him an edge he always exploited. Reflective eyes made him able to catch the slightest movement. His black ears pushed back, while his whiskers twitched and he had to force a sneeze back. There was still a certain level of dust everywhere - but then again he was a clean freak and his allergies could only help him in the end.

Or so he thought. Sovereign Fate, the assassin, crept below the stage while his namesake pranced about up there. It was a more tribal/primative sound they brought from the homeworld, but with the added riffs from the laser keys and the little trilling flute notes, it sounded like a mix of dance trends from several centuries all together.

It wasn't actually half bad. The panther assassin leaned against a storage box, and listened in for a while. Perhaps he wouldn't take their name as a threat. As long as he wasn't associated with them...

No... Wait. He sniffed the air, and listened as the strange clicking of claws went past the doorway to the understage. A chittering and private laugh escaped someone as they passed by the dark rooms, and carried with it a smell - the crisp scent of money.

And if there was one thing that bands were known for, it wasn't money - it was their managers stealing their money. Fate slid out from the trap-door area of the stage, and followed Bhargol to the dressing rooms.

Quietly listening in, Fate figured the otter to be carrying about ten to twelve thousand kee, easily. It was a small band, a small fee, it wasn't like they were on some victory tour - they were unknowns.

But it was cash. And if there was one thing Fate had a weakness for it was cash. Not like Bhargol, who liked to roll in it and smell it and wad it up and make things with it, but Fate liked to spend it. He had a wardrobe, he had cars and even his own private starjet. He had three penthouses filled with fine art - that he hadn't stolen, and one warehouse filled with that which he had.

This would pay for another fountain, or a plated statue. Or even some body armor? Hmn... There was a thought.

Fate moved into the dressing room hallway and softly opened the door. Bhargol didn't look up, he was too busy counting cash.

"Three thousand fifty, three thousand sixty, eighty, heeeee..." He tittered again. Fate almost lost his lunch. He'd been known to be greedy, but this was ridiculous.

The big black paw hand which came down on Bhargol's shoulder startled the otter into a stiff half-shocked state. All the otters fur stood out, but it wasn't going to help make him look any bigger to the cat, who was nearly twice his mass.

"You've got yourself a nice little setup here," purred Fate. "Now, if only you'd found an original name..."

Bhargol gulped, his heart starting again and his breathing was quick. "Ah - ah, um, I can explain that. I can. I think."

"Don't bother," Fate said, sliding himself down next to the otter on another chair. "No need. Now, your little half hooved band out there is doing fine." He leveled his glossy black eyes at the yellow ones of the otter. "I want a cut. You're letting them use my name, it's not something you have much choice in. If you want them to continue -- safely -- you'll send half of your cut to me. Call it... licensing."

"..." The otter sat there, unable to form words. Finally, he closed his mouth, and nodded. "All right, then... Um, you've got a card? An address where I can send it?"

Fate smirked, "of course I do. But you don't get to use it. Send it ..." he thought a moment, and then wrote something on a napkin nearby. "Here. I'll be checking that box at least twice a month. I know it won't be filled to the brim, but it had best be something more than 'nothing'. Got it?"

Bhargol nodded, and Fate disappeared into the shadows again. The otter slumped back into his seat, and then noticed that the big black cat had stolen at least half of the take already - while he was unable to breathe?

***

On stage, the cheering half-furry fans went wild at the sax solo that Prax did. She was always happy with that one, it was second only to singing, which she did very well indeed. Kmarks slapped the leather and wood of the drums, behind her, working a rhythm which sent the mosh pit into hysterics. They could keep up, if they tried. Or, if they had the slightest African animal or blood in their history. Very primal, that beat.

Enoi kept pace with it easily, swaying slightly and basking in the warm spotlight. His fur was coming off in clumps, he was after all from a much colder climate than the others in the group. But he always loved to feel sunlight, lamplight, whatever it was that made his long fur heated. He dipped his head with the beat, but did no antics like some groups bassists would.

Leevi swished her hands before her, in the air above the laser keyboard. The little coded lights on it flickered off when she passed her hand between the beams, and she grooved out to the beat. She could do this with her eyes closed, she loved this song. She heard Prax begin to sing, and threw her head back with the backup vocal.

An eighty minute show, plus two encores later, and the band took their bows. Enoi's fluffy white fur was simply everywhere, and fangirls vainly attempted to get some of it from the stage. He was the cute one after all.

When the lights in the stadium went up, and the huge humming in everyone's ears would not go away, it signalled the end of the show for sure. The group greeted their roadies as they started to disassemble the stage lighting, and pack their instruments away. Holding on to one another in exhaustion and happiness, they made their way to the backstage stairs.

Where Sovereign Fate himself stood with his arms crossed over his big black chest. His dark tail swished behind him, but stopped when they realized who he was. He was blocking the door. Kmarks eyed the assassin, decided that stuffing his drum sticks up the panther's hind end would be difficult but not impossible.

"Good show, children," the panther said. The group could barely hear him. "Now, continue to do well. that is all I ask. I demand perfection from myself, so why should I get anything less from you?"

"Now just a minute--" Prax started, getting defensive. Her head went down a little, she was a pronghorn after all and those horns were pretty sharp. "We didn't know you were--"

"I realize that little girl," Fate said, striking out his dark hand - no claws out - and pressing Prax's velvety nose with one outstretched finger. "I know that. Now you do. So do as I say, and you will not - get - hurt."

"We weren't hurting anyone," Enoi said, "you're the one who does that."

"For a living, yes," Fate said, eyes narrow and voice low. It sent shivers up Prax and Leevi's spines - they were the herbivores of the group and couldn't help it. Old habits and instincts die hard. "And I will not do it to you unless I must."

"We could just change the group's name," Leevi said, her big doe eyes shining with worry. "I mean, it's not like many people have heard of us."

"But lots of people have heard of you," Kmarks said. He ran his paw hand through the big dark mane on his head, and let the assassin see his white claws.

"Don't think you can upstage me, drummer boy," Fate hissed, angry. "I am telling you to go your way and do well. The least you could do is thank me for the use of my name, and pray that I do not have to find you to punish you for abusing it."

He pressed his finger into Prax's nose again, "you're the sensible one, from what I can tell." He said. She nodded, his finger going along with her nod. "Then keep them in line. Sing songs and dance. The outworlds need you. And I will be going." He vanished like that, only Enoi had the slightest hint of which way he'd gone, a vague scent on the breeze after he'd gone.

"Wow..." Leevi said, shaking. "That was weird."

"No kidding," Prax announced, straightening her legs and standing tall. "Well, let's go. We've got to get ready for our trip, and Danach is our next destination. Anyone heard of it?"

"Oooh! Me!" Leevi cheerfully said, trying to get the chill from her mind. "It's neat, don't know how much we'll be taking in, but I've heard they have dragons! Maybe we could see them, while we're there? Our next stop won't be for a ways, right?"

"It's pretty out of the way, yeah," Kmarks agreed, as they packed away into the dressing room...
**

It was while they were scampering through the mess of people that a couple of the members of the band noticed the distinct black shape of Soverign Fate himself, nestled among the shadows.

"Great," Prax muttered to Kmarks, "look who's here..."

The lion glanced over the pronghorn's head, easily done, and grunted. "As long as he keeps to himself, I don't see a problem. He's on our side, remember?"

Prax was silent. Then, the eggs began to hatch! One green hatchling swayed out of her egg and ambled somewhat drunkenly toward a candidate, and the first bonding was made. A lovely pink dragon hatched, then a blue-green one. Then, abruptly, two eggs came open and they began to snarl and spit at one another - just like Soverign Fate was doing with the other black-panther looking male at the sands. They were stopped by a pair of adult dragons, but Soverign Fate seemed quite pleased with the results.

He approached the dragon which had amazing gold-and-black hide, and announced, "Assassinezth, it seems we'll get along nicely." He stroked the dragon's neck, with his claws covered, as the dragon responded, If your tastes suit mine, and it seems they do.

Shocked, Bhargol managed to recover from his little bout with gravity as he saw his blackmailer the hired assassin on the sands. He'd not managed to get off a payment quite yet - he wondered if he would have to hand it over in cash or what..

**

The band didn't really have to perform. They were exhausted enough with the whole amazing event. Their dragons were content to gorge themselves this one time, and fall almost immediately asleep upon their bond's laps or across each other.

Bhargol's worry about what Sovereign Fate was going to do continued: the panther had not left. But then, what could he do? They were now being told that it would be a while before the dragons were going to be able to travel, they would need training and proper care if they were to grow up able to fly and perform any other duties.

So on Danach, at the Utopian Cathair, they would remain. Even Fate seemed to like this idea a bit - he wanted a vacation and here he would have one. How long would they be able to keep from his bad side? How much money could Bhargol make off his band now?

Wait to see what happens when the dragons grow up a bit!