Might Makes Wright
chapter 1
There was almost complete darkness in the room, darkness and silence. Then, as it always happened, a shuffling noise became apparent in the distance. As it came closer, something in the room began to stir... a formless mass in the middle of the room began to move atop it's raised platform. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a half-sighed word; "Shit...". Immediately, the shuffling reached its climax, and a brilliant blade of light pierced into the gloom.
"Good morning! this is your eight-thirty AM wake-up call, madam, enjoy your day" exclaimed the figure who was silhouetted against the halo of brilliant light behind him. The formless mass, which was actually a bed cover, fell away to reveal Marla Wright, a young woman of no more than twenty years of age. She had scraggy black hair, and her facial features were recessed and flat, a direct contrast to the pouting lips and thick eyelashes of more 'attractive' women. Her skin was a pallid, almost grey tone, which incorrectly hinted at poor health, and her dark blue eyes had a piercing quality that gave the impression she was looking into your soul. Currently, having only just been roused from her slumber, her hair was particularly scraggy, and she was clad in nothing more than a short white night-dress... she waved away the silhouette of the hotel staff, relieving him of his little-appreciated duty.
Marla was staying in the Knight's Arms hotel due to the fact she was a journalist, and she was following a story involving a supposed Pokémon-worshipping cult named the Sentries. The plea for coverage of this story had pretty much fallen upon deaf ears, as Marla did not even believe the cult existed, let alone was operating in England, a country so far away from the island chain commonly known as the Pokémon trainer capitol of the world. Still, she got paid a good deal of money for work like this, even if the articles she wrote were nothing more than a 50-word long dismissal of anything unusual or interesting.
She sifted through her surprisingly short array of clothing, only to remember halfway through that she was required to wear uniform on 'working holidays', and so she donned her suit and pin-stripe skirt, if a little reluctantly. It was still dark outside, and a thick pall of fog had drifted in since the last evening, restricting detailed vision to no more than sixty meters... still, this wouldn't stand between her and her task... after all, the earlier she finished, the more time she could spend at least trying to enjoy herself. With another sigh, that would be her catch phrase, were it a proper word, she headed out the room and down stairs. As she rounded the corner into the dining area, she actually smiled; this room was perhaps her favourite... she shared a certain empathy with all things edible, which was probably the reason why she was overweight. Marla sat down and grabbed up the menu, reading it in reverse order so she could see the cheapest items first before making her decision. The room itself was rather unimpressive, despite its cavernous size; the walls were peeling in places, the tables were made of a fake mahogany that had been scratched and marked by years of incompetent children, and all the window hinges had been painted with little care, and as a result, were impossible to open. Still, this was Marla's favourite room. She was visibly started as a voice chimed in behind her "hey, Pig-Pig". Leon Rothchild, Marla's partner in the business, sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders and reading the menu. Leon was, in a physical sense, Marla's opposite... he was tall, had a relatively well toned physique, short blond hair, and pronounced facial features, and usually dressed in biker's leathers, with an open jacket revealing his "Mulltown Fest '07" T-shirt. 'Pig-Pig' was his pet name for her, and despite its unflattering nature, Marla had became so used to it, all traces of insult had long since passed.
"How are you then, big man?" she said, not taking her eyes off the yellow-stained laminated menu.
"Tsh... freakin' perfect. So then, going to go for the Bacon-Egg Double Special this time?" he said, managing to put a surprisingly sincere sound on a sarcastic question. Marla shrugged, still looking over the menu... though she didn't mention it, she was actually looking it over with great care, seeing if the mythical 'Bacon-Egg Double Special' really existed.
One of the waiting staff, a young man with a shiny bald head, walked over and leant down "May I take your orders? we're doing a discount for couples"
At the word couple, Leon let out a giggle-snort, and Marla simply shook her head. She then, with a slight blush on her otherwise monochrome cheeks, asked "Hey... is it true you do a Bacon-Egg Double Special here?" immediately, Leon burst into fits of laughter, which were swiftly silenced by a vicious jab from Marla's elbow into his midriff. After being informed the option did not exist, Marla re-chose her order, and the waiter hurried off. "Aren't you going to order anything, asshole?" Marla uttered.
Leon smirked "I had a fruit salad before you got up... and I'm not an asshole, more of a class-hole... a classy asshole" Marla grunted, smiling a little at his play on words. As they sat waiting, a figure entered the room to their left, he was a local, the fact made obvious by his more rustic clothing and un-trimmed beard. The Knight's Arms was based in the small village of Reepford, in a rural area of the 'West Country'. Reepford was so named because of the large herds of Mareep farmed in the general vicinity. The local man approached the journalism duo, and cleared his throat before speaking in a West Country drawl.
"Are you two the ones warken' far that big news-paper company?" he asked, folding his burly arms...
Leon stole the words from Marla's mouth and stated "That's us alright, what's the issue, my good man?"
The local looked beyond them and out the window, pointing vaguely "y'see that there hill? tha one with tha water-tower on it?... that's tha Sentinel's meetin' place, real hush-hush"... they both looked out to the vague silhouette of a hill against the slightly lighter grey sky.
Leon's eyes widened... this was the break they had both been waiting for, but Marla was more sceptical. "Why have you guys been so tight-lipped until now?" the local paused for a moment, then stated "I... uh... I used to be a member, an' then they stole some of ma spouse's jewellery, so I quit" and with that, he left.
Leon put on a silly expression, trying to mimic the man's face. Marla got up from her chair "well... you heard the man, we should go down there..." Leon shook his head, still with the ridiculous face, Marla protested "why not? I want to get this over with"
"Maybe so, but did you really trust that guy? he was obviously lying... they'll probably try to rob us if we do go there" Marla slumped back down in silence, a little disappointed that she had to wait longer. Leon smiled "we'll go tonight, make sure to bring a torch as well as a camera" and with that, he got up, leaving her grinning eagerly to herself. After she had eaten, Marla made her way to the local convenience store and bought the cheapest hand-held torch she could find; a small, yellow-rubber affair with a handle that you twist to turn it on... it had an approximate battery life of five hours, easily enough. With nothing to do for the next eight or so hours, Marla decided she'd make her way to the village hall... there was no cinema in Reepford, but the village hall played host to showing of movies every Sunday. As she walked towards the front entrance, she gazed over the cork-board that had the movies showing listed. Firstly, there was an action film entitled 'The Guns of Kanto', but from what she had been told, it was full of ham acting and unrealistic explosions. Next up was the historic documentary 'Lucario and the Mystery of Mew', which she would have seen if it weren't for the fact she once had to write an entire chapter of a book about the event, and so she was bored to death of hearing about it. Finally, she saw what she wanted: 'Might Makes Right'; a fantasy film about a young boy who becomes a barbarian and saves his childhood friend, or something like that, and it was showing right now. She paid the teenage ticket vendor, telling him to keep the change when he spent about three minutes trying to work out how much money he had to give back.
Inside the hall-come-cinema, she sat down on the middle row just in time to catch the end of the first scene. The room was dark, almost to the same degree as her hotel room that very morning, but this was merely an illusion created by the bright light of the overhead projector. About three-quarters way through the film, a particular scene caught Marla's eye. The main character had just travelled across a desert, sweating and showing off his rippling muscles, and was now talking to some kind of wizened hermit character... however, their dialogue was particularly familiar:
"What is it I must do to become stronger?" the 'barbarian' character said in his needlessly macho voice.
The old man responded in an almost comically bad northern accent "You see those hills, there? the ones baring the shrine? that is the meeting place of Furies, and they shall grant you the strength you need"
The barbarian asked "why have you only told me this now?" then, the conversation, which was nigh identical to the one Marla and Leon had had with the local only two hours ago, suddenly changed.
"You have travelled a long way, thus proving your devotion... and only with hard work may you beco-" suddenly, the film was cut short as the overhead projector overheated and switched itself off... a sigh of disappointment rose from the audience, and one by one they got up to leave. Marla, however, stayed there for a few minutes, thinking about what she had just heard. Was it possible that the local had on purposely copied the conversation from that film? and if so, why? Her chain of thought was interrupted as she was ushered out by the village mayor's right hand man. She headed back to the hotel room and tried to forget about it, passing it off as a mix of coincidence, and a strangely obsessed villager. As the day wore on, Marla opened up her laptop and created a backup report... she always did this when she was made to report on something 'supernatural'; she would write a report stating that the entire thing was untrue, which most often proved right, and saved her creating the report later on. Cutting it off at about half the normal word limit, she saved the file, backed it up, and logged off... job done, or so she thought.
As the sun began to set over the hills, and Marla was just finishing her evening meal, Leon once again jumped her and slumped down beside "hey there, barbarian girl!"
Marla looked at him oddly "how do you know I watched that film?"
He simply laughed "duh, I was in the seat behind you!... which begs the question; why did you just sit there staring into space after the film broke?" Marla paused, then looked away... she didn't want to sound like a fool, but at the same time, Leon could always detect when she was lying, according to him, her legs twitched when she lied.
"Leon... the film... it was just like what that villager was saying, do you think he was impersonating the film?" Leon stroked his chin and nodded his head slowly, silently agreeing with her. "Never mind, even if he is madly obsessed, we've still got a potential source, and one we need to exploit"
Leon patted her back "well then, you pay, and we'll head off!"