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Rhyme of Death

Summary: After the titans, humanity's strongest soldier has his hands full with Macavity,
large-scale migrant killing and Chryseis, who has been offered a mandatory choice of
availing herself to military's hospitality. And with the strange suspect, damned clues, Levi
finds himself in a peculiar set of circumstances.
Chapter 1: Rock-a-bye baby
Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down willcome baby, cradle and all
The normal is the good smile in a child's eye. It is also the dead stare in a million adults.
Normalcy sustains. Abnormality kills. It was this very abnormality that appeared in the first
few seconds of a normal video that played on television sets across the whole country. It
was the hint of deviant behavior of a helicopter that arrested the attention of the entire
nation, it was the launch of its first missile that had made the districts gasp and cry all at
once. It was the sight of the broken wing of an airplane that had widened a million pairs of
eyes. It was the fact that the plane was nose diving into the ground that many people had
begun to pray. It was the abject horror of watching the plane crash that lead to a mass
breakdown. And when the chopper had gracefully completed its terror, not many could
watch the second explosion that occurred midair. The wisp of the smoked letters lingered in
the skies and faded. But not before humanity's strongest soldier had noted them with
disgust.
"Macavity." Levi muttered. His blue eyes became hard as he recalled the body count in the
unfortunate accident one hundred twenty-seven.
Levi looked at the clock 2:03 pm. It had been exactly thirty-two hours since the demise
had happened. He knew the crash would come to light but to think that Macavity would be
as crude as to film the incident in all its glory and send it to the new stations. Levi pressed
the mute button and shut off the annoying background tune of Rock-a-bye baby that
accompanied the video. He glanced at the papers arranged on his desk.
He had, at first, assumed that Macavity was the usual everyday psychopath with a thing for
nursery rhymes. He had been wrong of course. But in even in his wildest suppositions, Levi
would not have assumed that last week's three murders would escalate into such terror
propaganda.
"The bastard."
Levi leafed through the reports. He had read, re-read, briefed, noted, added new
developments and mind mapped the reports. And the only clue he had was Macavity had
something against migrants.
"Typical." Levi said to himself. He wondered what the public reaction would be to the news
and realized that they would not be pleased with least, so he left the subject altogether. He
proceeded to put the reports back into his drawer.

That done, Levi turned on the sound and skimmed through channels when a video clip of
the blond haired defense minister caught his eye. He read the headline: All incoming and
outgoing transport banned, sine die.
"Smooth." The captain turned off the TV
Ring.
Within the first ring, Levi picked up the phone and listened for a while when suddenly, he
started out of his seat. "THERE'S A SHIP OUT THERE? CARRYING MIGRANTS?"
"Yes." It was the defense minister Erwin on the other side.
So much for unnecessary causalities. Levi thought and sat down.
"What do we do?"
"Try and bring them back." He doubted if it was even worth the effort. If Macavity had
detected the ship Bankur then even the fastest boat and best soldiers would not be able to
save it. And that was assuming the ship was not blasted already.
"When would the rescue team be leaving then?"
Levi picked up his smartphone, unlocked it and pressed the virtual red button.
"Now." He cut off the call and rose from his chair. He had to go to the harbor. His team
would be waiting.
Meanwhile, the said ship was out by miles, having departed two days ago and everybody
was enjoying the pilgrimage so far, except for a little boy who leaned across a railing,
solitarily. He heard a faint sickening scream that pitched over the sea. The boy shuddered.
"Don't worry, laddie." A sailor patted his back. "We'll be around the land anytime soon."
The boy took no notice of him and simply shook his head. "We won't be around soon."
Children recognize the cry of banshees when they hear it.
Chapter 2: Row, row, row your Boat
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
If you consider an individual by himself, then you see of man just as much as you see of
moon. Only man with man provides a full image. And Chryseis was no exception. If one

were to see her as an individual, she would come across as a loony, complacent kind of girl.
But if you were to see her with Wyse, she revealed many undiscovered facets of her life.
One of her many hidden talents was to sing even the simplest of rhymes, out of tune. Yes,
even nursery rhymes. And it was this astonishing ability that she displayed in front of her
boon companion, as he rowed the steam boat across the vast sea. She had been making an
ass of herself for quite a while when finally Wyse took mercy at his own ears and asked her
to stop.
At his point, she remarked "There's no poetry about you, Wyse."
"I am glad there isn't. For one thing, I wouldn't like to have it sung that way."
The young man said and stopped rowing momentarily. He huffed, wiped his brow,
complained about the idiocy of the girl of not having the sense to even read the map
correctly and then began rowing again. In the past few hours, (i.e. ever since the rowing
began.) Wyse had complained every once in a while but had never given way to violent
language.
Chryseis kept silent for most of the time next. Except when she was overcome with and
murmured to herself, "What is this life, if full of care, we don't have time to stand and
stare."(Wyse forbid her to sing anymore. Precisely, he said that if she should sing she would
be chucked out of the boat.) And so, it was thirty minutes of such silence, murmuring, and
rowing that got this duo to the harbor. They had been expected two days ago. Nevertheless,
they were still expected. (Chryseis noted this when she saw a young blond boy waving at
them from beyond the barricades.)
"I seem to be out of luck today." Wyse said suddenly and Chryseis looked at the direction in
which his head was turned.
"An Ebola outbreak?"
"Dunno. Whatever it is, we have to go through all those checks." He said and handed the
girl the last of their luggage from the boat.
Both of them walked to the series of counters and then got their luggage checked. After
ascertaining that they were not carrying anything unusual, the security let them pass to the
next counter. Here they were patted down and a metal detector run over them. Chryseis
had a little problem when the detector bleeped near the pocket of her hideously bright
waistcoat and she had to produce the golden pocket watch. It was returned to her after it
was deemed harmless. However, Wyse faced a severe problem when the detector sounded
on his heavily gloved hands.
Before he could offer any explanation, Chryseis said, "The dude's got prosthetic hands. Got
chopped off in an accident you see." The guards still took off the gloves, saw the truth in the
claim, apologized and let them go.
"Must you always spout rubbish?" Wyse said when they neared the barrier and were out of
earshot of anybody.
"They WERE chopped off, though."

Wyse, sensing more nonsense, ended the discussion and both of them crossed the barrier.
As soon as they were out of it, they were greeted by the blond boy.
"Armin! Have you been well?" Chryseis shook hands with the boy and then introduced Wyse.
"This is my companion, Wyse Aztec. He rowed us from the middle of the ocean."
Armin shook hands with the tall man in blue and then said, "I am afraid I was under the
impression that you were coming here by a steamboat."
"You were under the correct impression," Wyse said. "Only she read the map wrong and we
ran out of fuel."
"Yes, it was Wyse foresight that saved us. He brought the oars." Chryseis collected her bags
and walked to the parking lot. "At first, I thought it was silly to bring oars in a steamboat,
but Wyse said to me with me around crisis is never far off." Then she gave a hearty laugh
at her own poor joke and Armin smiled politely as he opened the trunk of his black car.
Wyse helped Armin put the luggage in the trunk.
"So, what id all this security about?" Chryseis asked when they were all inside the car and a
good way off from the harbor.
"Frankly, I don't know much of the matter myself." Armin said and examined the read
mirror. "But, the government has banned all incoming and outgoing transport."
"How long ago was that?" came Wyse's voice from the back seat.
"Six hours probably." He turned around the corner. "The outgoing transport was stopped
immediately and all the ships in the radius of four nautical miles were to come in or called
back."
"Weren't we lucky to be in that zone, Wyse?" Chryseis peeped back and smiled at him.
"Why did they do that?" Wyse was always a reasonable person.
"I reckon it's something to do with the last night migrant airplane crash." Armin stopped the
car.
"Surely, that can't be a reason for a ban." Chryseis freed herself from the seat belts.
"It is." The trio came out of the car and took out the luggage. "Something to do with mass
migrant killing by Macavity."
"Who is Macavity?" Chryseis was already on the porch with the luggage.
"Rather what is Macavity?" Armin said and opened the door to his house. "People says he's
a psychopathic killer. But I think it's an organization with a hatred for migrants. "
"Your theory sounds more sensible." Wyse carried the luggage inside with the help of Armin.

"Let's not talk about such unpleasant things now." The girl said and hung her knit beret
beanie. Because her hat was so bright (being orange and green stripped) it looked more
outlandish on the coat rack than her head. She looked around the cozy hallway. "Nice."
"Thank you." Armin said and proceeded to lead the way and show them their room.
The room was rather large and extremely clean. Chryseis stepped in to find the bed already
made. She walked over to the window as Wyse and Armin brought in the luggage. The girl
opened it and saw that the plants on the verandah were watered. "As expected of a tribunal
judge." She said to herself as caressed the edge of an Aloe Vera leaf.
"I will set the dinner, then" Armin turned to leave. "Please rest yourselves."
"We will," Chryseis said. "Thank you for having us."
"It's all my pleasure." And Armin exited the room and left the duo to themselves.
"Good boy, that." Wyse remarked as he put the suitcase on the bed.
"Indeed." The girl agreed and brought out the pen and notepad. She looked at Wyse while
he unpacked. "Why don't you go and get ready for dinner while I write down the names?
They have been swimming around my head for quite some time now."
"Too many?" he pulled out his towel.
"Plenty. And one of them is quite ghastly." She pulled the chair to the window.
"I assume nothing can be done now?" Wyse unpinned his mustached smiley from his short
plain indigo kaftan to reveal a black neck-length shirt.
"Unfortunately, yes." Chryseis swung her legs from beneath her and put her feet on the
window sill. Wyse was in the bathroom when her mauve eyes darkened. She stared at the
blank paper and sighed. "It is too late now."
Chapter 3: Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater
Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well
The fact that Artlert's guests liked to be fashionably late was entirely fiction. They were, on
the contrary, rather punctual. Save for their delayed arrival into the exciting walled country.
Armin, however, was not surprised. He knew them to be punctual and prepared himself
accordingly. And it was only his knowledge of their habits (that he had acquired due to his
three-month stay with them during his training as an apprentice judge in Aidin.) that made
him ask Chryseis if she would like to watch the TV during their dinner.

To this she replied, "Yes, thank you." And took the remote. She surfed through the news
channel before stopping at one that flashed the headline "Macavity the macabre devil."
The three pairs of eyes watched the electric blue haired anchor as he spoke "Welcome to
Attack on the news and I am your reporter Ernald Warmheart." Chryseis closely surveyed
the Youngman on screen. He had his left eye well hidden beneath the long bangs. She
noticed that his hair was tied into a tiny ponytail at the back.
"Nice style." Wyse commented and then proceeded to help Armin, who was serving the
dishes.
"Today, we will have a recap of the Macavity mystery."
"That'd be helpful." Chryseis stuffed a piece of potato into her mouth and continued to stare
at the screen.
"It all began on 22nd September, Monday. The body of Camille Corringham was found inside
a pumpkin in her own backyard."
"Yeesh. Must be one hell of a pumpkin."
The picture of a beautiful pumpkin yard popped up beside the anchor.
"The body was so badly hacked that if the defense and welfare legion hadn't found the head
in another pumpkin, nobody could have recognized the victim on the spot. The peculiar
thing about this crime is not only its atrocity but also the rhyme that accompanied it." The
image of a note on a misshapen pumpkin came up accompanied by a background song of Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater. "The neighbors swear that there wasn't a sound of any such
violence and they didn't see anybody come in the yard either." At this point, a blurred image
of came up. It was a very faded, but one could still tell that it was a picture of hacked limbs
placed in carved pumpkins.
And before the anchor could delve into the innumerable possibilities and details of the
murder. Wyse switched off the TV. Chryseis looked at Wyse.
"I believe those are rather improper things to look at while eating dinner. They aren't going
to help our digestion, you know. " Wyse said and began eating. Chryseis did the same and
Armin found that the images had indeed ruined his appetite

The dinner finished faster than anybody expected. It was either that everybody ate quicker
than usual or that everybody ate less than usual. Armin agreed with the latter as he packed
the leftovers and stuffed them in the fridge. He glanced at Chryseis and saw her cleaning
the dishes. Her expression and tuneless humming suggested nothing of a person who ought
to be upset after watching the news. The boy turned to look at Wyse and found him in a
chair with his phone in his hand. As Armin speculated further, he heard Chryseis declare,
"I'm done."
She came over to Wyse and wiped her hands on her skirt. (She never cared much for
aprons.) Chryseis peeked over his shoulder and read. "Bodies charred to death in Macavity
plane crash."

"Painful undoubtedly." Wyse said and skimmed through the article


"Did they find anything new from the black box?"
"Not really."
"No survivors?"
"None."
"What happened to ship Bankur?" Armin asked this.
Wyse pulled up another article, skimmed through it and replied, "They saved it, alright."
"The passengers are safe in their houses then?"
"Yes."
"You ought to have some rest," Chryseis said suddenly.
"Me?"
"Aye."
"I will," Armin got up. "As soon as I've locked the doors."
"Of course," Chryseis followed Armin into the hallway. "Only close it after us."
"Pardon?" the boy watched her go to the door in front of him.
"Lock the door after we have gone out." He heard Wyse say and immediately stepped aside
to let the tall man pass. He noticed he had pinned his drape and was carrying a radio with
him. Perhaps he had gone to his room and came back. "We have got business to deal with."
"At nine in the night?"
"Rather inconvenient, isn't it?" the girl pulled on her orange and green striped waistcoat and
took the radio from Wyse's hands. "Don't stay up."
"When will you be back?" he watched her put on her loud cap.
"Soon." Chryseis said and was out the house with Wyse.
Only she didn't realize that she won't be back. At least, not anytime soon.

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