A/N: I was listening to music the other day and this story was inspired completely by a song that I heard. The song is 'Always' by Killswitch Engage.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, this idea has been in my head for quite some time and I've been trying to find the time to post it.
I just had my son three weeks ago, so the only time I can work on this is when he's asleep. I've been jotting down ideas here and there whenever he naps. I'm going to try to update as often as I can because I'm determined to finish this story but I'll be returning to work soon on April 16th and then be balancing that (which with the Summer coming up, I may be working up to ten hours a day for seven days a week) with raising a baby, so sometimes I may be too tired to update. With this knowledge, I hope that you can find it in yourselves to be patient with me as I work on this story. Thank you. AUTHOR'S WARNING: So this story will contain strong language, mature content, and violence. Don't report me because you had fair warning and my account has been suspended on here once already. There will ALWAYS be warnings at the top of the chapters.
WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Violence and language.
Police tape was stretched and entangled along the stacks of derelict cars that filled the vacant junkyard. The tape danced, undulating to a macabre rhythm, floating on the nocturnal winds.
The glare of headlights filled the darkness as a semi truck plowed through the chain-link fence, shattering it like so much glass, almost as if it had never been there to begin with.
The junkyard was a veritable maze of old, rusted cars, piled up helter skelter, frozen in time. Broken glass, mangled engine parts, garbage and litter... along with hundreds of spent shell casings, were scattered in the dirt. A caravan of Utility vehicles roared in behind the semi, the convoy making a bead for the center of the yard. Picking up the rear is a black Rolls-Royce Phantom II. As they turned the last corner, the first thing they saw was "unearthly" flares. Dozens of them, bright as hell, lighting up the middle of the graveyard. The cars came skidding to a stop, making dust swirl.
The rear door of the Rolls-Royce opened and Cyrus Kriticos stepped out. Cyrus was in his 50's and wealthy. Immaculately dressed with not a hair out of place, his hand rested on a shiny, silver-headed cane. He surveyed the flares and shook his head.
"Their little crusade is wearing thin."
Another man stepped out of the car behind him, dressed in orange from head to toe. He had short brown hair and vivid green-blue eyes. Dennis Rafkin was only 22 but his deep eyes revealed the misery life had inflicted on him. Despite being 6'3" with a lean, muscular build, he was jittery, already picking up on the strong waves of energy flowing through the junkyard.
A picture flashed quickly before Dennis's eyes, pain like a white hot poker going through his head. He grasped the back of it and went to his knees, trying to recover quickly. But his movement and sound of pain had already drawn Cyrus's attention.
"Is it bad tonight?"
"Oh, bad," Dennis used his usual sarcasm, rubbing the back of his head. "That's one way to describe it. Uh, insane seems a little more appropriate. It feels like he's breathing down my neck, man."
Cyrus bent down, his dark eyes surveying Dennis intensely.
"It is my professional opinion that we should get the hell out of here," Dennis stated, staring squarely back at Cyrus. "Now."
Cyrus nodded, not even taking it into consideration.
"Noted," he turned to one of his men that had approached. "Clean this mess up and then locate our guests."
The man nodded before scampering off. Cyrus turned to Dennis just in time to see him popping the top off of a pill bottle. Rage burned through him and he struck the bottle out of Dennis's hand with his cane, white pills raining down on the man crouched on the ground. After a moment, he looked up at Cyrus with a mix of anger and desperation.
"I just need to take the edge off."
Cyrus scowled at the young psychic.
"You know the routine," the older man snapped. "I need you clear-headed. First things first."
Cyrus gripped Dennis by his arm - with alarming strength for a man his age, he might add - and dragged him to the front of the car, throwing him down on the ground and holding out a picture, an aerial view of the entire junkyard. Dennis sighed and pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth.
"Now, where is he?" Cyrus demanded, Dennis taking the picture with his hand that was still covered with a glove, his bare one hovering over the ground. "Show me where he's hiding!"
Dennis braced himself, hesitating briefly, before he pressed his hand to the Earth beneath him. A huge spark arced between Dennis and the ground, his entire body jerked, a scream escaping him as pain rattled through his head, images of brutal murder flashing before his eyes. After a moment, he yanked his hand away from the Earth, trying to catch his breath.
"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, still not quite able to breathe. "You said he only killed nine people, there's forty victims here!"
"Nine when he was alive, he's added a few since then," he could tell from Cyrus's tone that he was losing patience. "Now, where is he, Dennis?"
Dennis let the picture escape his gloved hand, the breeze carrying it off behind him before pointing at a spot deep within the auto graveyard.
"All teams go to alpha," Cyrus commanded into the headset he'd taken from an assistant that had appeared at his elbow. "Bring in the cube!"
Teams of men piled out of the vehicles, rushing around. They'd done this many times before. It was like riding a bicycle at this point. The back of one of the vans was opened, revealing racks of remote-operated amplifiers. A crane lowered an inch-thick, eight-foot-square sheets of glass, rimmed with aluminum pipe, and inscribed with ancient text. The glass sheets were assembled to form a large cube. Arrays of flood lamps illuminated the canyons of the wrecking yard in stark white.
Dennis walked up behind Cyrus and followed him as he moved.
"So, how did this guy get the name 'The Breaker,'" Dennis asked as he clipped his own headset onto his ear. "What is he, a truck driver?"
"Simple folklore," Cyrus explained. "The local color exorcising it's demons."
After a dramatic pause, he continued, ignoring the sound of metal from above them. A howl echoes through the junkyard, sending chills down Dennis's spine.
"Or maybe it's because he broke his victims into as many pieces as possible -"
A shrill cacophony of metal and glass erupted from the maze of the graveyard. A large, dense object flew out of the darkness and crashed down in front of them in a cloud of dust, making Dennis jump back with a shout of fright, looking at the smashed car.
Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut in irritation. "I hate being rushed."
"This one isn't like the others," Dennis said. He glanced at the team members. "Do they know what we're up against?"
"These men are all well paid," he replied, unconcerned. "That's all they need to know."
"But this is suicide."
"Then I'll match their price," Cyrus shrugged. "And yours."
"You don't have that kind of money."
"After tonight, you'll be surprised," Cyrus turned to look at him. "Now get to work."
Suspicion mounting, Dennis lifted one of his hands and gripped Cyrus's shoulder. Flashes went before his eyes but none made sense. Money. Big metal gears -
Cyrus's cane came up, pushing Dennis away by the chest.
"Careful Dennis," he warned. "Don't get too curious."
"Son of a bitch!"
They both turned to see four team members dragging a man and woman, Damon Quinteros and Kalina Oretzia, over to Cyrus. Damon was a handsome chap with a righteous fire in his eyes. Kalina, his lover, was equally fiery, in her late 20s, tough and sexy. Around her body was a messenger bag.
"How can you possibly justify what you're doing, Cyrus?" Damon demanded. "It's out and out slavery!"
"I'll say this for you, Damon, you are persistent," Cyrus turned to Kalina then. "And what about you, Kalina? Still carrying around those ridiculous quicksilver flares? Still have that quaint little magical book?"
He poked her bag with his cane as if to prove his point.
"These aren't animals you're capturing!" Kalina exclaimed, struggling against her captor's. "They're human beings!"
"They are dead human beings," Dennis said, tugging his gloves back on. "Maybe you should join Greenpeace. Throw blood on old women's furs."
Cyrus chuckled but his smirk was wiped off when Kalina spit at his feet.
"Who are you to play God?!"
Cyrus stepped closer to her.
"Playing's for children."
"You'll never pull it off," Damon spoke, drawing Cyrus's attention to him again. "Not without the right spells. That and the thirteenth ghost."
Dennis did not like the sound of that. He was not going through another night of this shit.
"Thirteenth ghost?"
"Get them out of my sight!" Cyrus snarled. "We've wasted too much time already."
Cyrus climbed a wall of cars to get a better view of his battlefield. An enraged Dennis looked up at him.
"Why did he say thirteenth?"
"Move the cube into position!"
"What's he talking about thirteen ghosts?" Dennis demanded from the ground. "You contracted me for twelve ghosts. The Breaker is twelve! I'm done after tonight, Cyrus!"
"Yes, twelve and then one more," this was the happiest Dennis had ever seen Cyrus. He was practically hopping with glee, his coat whipping in the wind. "I thought you were psychic."
"That's not how it works and you know it!"
"There's no time to argue," Cyrus said with a smile. "Release the bait!"
"What bait?" Dennis demanded into his mic. "We never needed bait before!"
"Insurance," Cyrus answered. "I can't afford to lose this one."
Dennis turns when he hears an engine fire up and a semi comes around the corner. Huge streams of blood gush out on either side, splashing the cars and as it came to a stop, flooding the area around the cube.
"A truck full of blood," Dennis's jaw dropped. "You gotta be shittin' me!"
Cyrus slid on a clear pair of glasses, everyone else following his example.
"Now," he spoke. "Power up the cube."
Somewhere a switch was thrown and the cube lit up, the doors sliding open.
"Start transmitting."
"But we haven't recalled the teams yet," Dennis objected. This definitely was NOT like the eleven times they'd done this before. "They'll be stuck out there with - "
"Just start the transmission!"
"You heard the man," a tech said. "Start broadcasting the spells!"
Another tech flipped a switch and the sound of repetitive chanting filled the junkyard. Latin spells being recited over and over again.
Deep inside the junkyard, at the sound of the chanting, another ungodly howl echoed, angrier than before.
Along the perimeter, placing the amplifiers, shock instantly registered with the teams when they realized the chanting had begun, leaving them exposed.
Somewhere near Cyrus, an angry howl echoed. He turned and looked out over the auto graveyard, a smile on his face.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are."
"We've got movement, Cyrus," the team two leader spoke into the headset. "Heading south - "
A crash of metal echoed and on the headset, a confusion of screams was heard.
The screams of the men filled the air.
"Christ, Cyrus," Dennis said. "What have you done?"
In another part of the junkyard another team raced down an alley. They turned a corner and one of them slipped on something wet. He got up and realized he'd slipped in the unravelled remains of one of Team Two.
"Oh shit -"
"Mother of - "
His partner turned as a great shape loomed.
Abruptly, something reached down and snatched a team member up. His partner glanced back and saw his friend yanked up a wall of cars, then into the wreckage.
An explosion of blood spattered from inside the broken windshield. A hand struggled against the glass. Someone died a horrific death.
As hideous screams filled the air, the Team Member turned and started climbing the other side. Dennis rounded a turn, and saw the Team Member climbing up the wall of cars. The Team Member looked back as he approached.
"Run!" he shouted. "It's right behind me -"
Suddenly, a squeal of metal echoed as something invisible reached through the grill of the car and grabbed the Team Member by the waist. He screamed as he was folded over, backwards, and yanked into the grill of the car. Dennis rushed toward him. He could hear bones breaking as the Team Member screamed. The Breaker, unseen on the far side of the heap of cars, yanked on his victim, over and over, smashing the Team Member's chin against the grill, trying to pull him through. Dennis did the best he could to pull the man free, but it seemed hopeless. The man screamed and screamed. Abruptly, Dennis's efforts seemed, at last, to work. With a mighty tug, he tumbled back and fell to the ground. He looked down and saw that he held only the man's foot.
The wall of cars began to move before Dennis. He leapt just as the wall came crashing down. Dennis scrambled and ran full speed back the way he came. He looked back and spoke into his mike:
"Cyrus, the spells aren't working!" he was frantic. "He's tearing this place apart!"
"Calm down."
"You calm down! The son of a bitch is throwing cars at me!"
"History has no time for cowards, Mr. Rafkin."
"History's all we're gonna be in about two seconds!"
Dennis turned a corner and ran past two team members heading in the opposite direction.
"Hey, goddamnit, you're running the wrong way!"
They didn't slow down.
"Amateurs."
Dennis turned a corner and realized why the team members were running that way. A car at the end of this alley was tipped up on its bumper, its undercarriage facing them, and was moving toward them, fast. Dennis and another team member, deeper in the alley, heard the howl of the Breaker behind the floating car.
"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaimed. "Run!"
Dennis ran, but the team member didn't. Stunned by the sight, he remained frozen. Suddenly the car stopped and lifted straight up into the air over him.
The Breaker came into clear view for a fraction of a second. He was huge, seven feet tall, acromegalic, the bones beneath the skin swollen and distorted.
He stared with burning eyes above a huge distended jaw. He wore, prosaically, a filthy tattered garage uniform, his name stitched above the pocket. His face, chest and arms were pockmarked with bullet holes dating from his untimely death. He took the car that he held overhead and slammed it down. The team member dodged out of the way, but the Breaker picked up the car again and slammed it down again, squashing him. And then, again. And then, for good measure, once again.
Dennis tore down the alleyway. He turned a corner just as the wall behind him collapsed. He looked down a passage filled with team members, with the cube serving as its plug: a dead end. It seems the Breaker had everyone trapped, instead of vice versa. Everyone ran toward the cube, splashing through pools of blood.
The team members and Dennis scattered before the Breaker. Men climbed up the walls of wreckage as the invisible Breaker plowed through, sending men flying high into the air. Dennis slammed hard against the wall, dropping to the ground.
A team member ran and looked over his shoulder at the pursuing Breaker. He didn't see where he was going and ran straight against a blood-splashed glass wall. He'd run right into the glass cube. In an instant, the Breaker was inside with him. His entry tripped an unseen switch, the glass doors sliding closed, sealing the cube. As they did, the howling, and the team member's screams, dropped to silence. Inside the cube, the Breaker picks up the team member and starts slamming him into the walls of the cube.
Dennis regained his senses and scrambled toward the cube.
"No!" he hit the glass. "Hey, put him down!"
Inside the cube, the Breaker turned and realized he'd been trapped. He launched himself at the bloody sheet of glass, and pressed his face to it, howling. Dennis recoiled as the Breaker pounded at the glass. With each ghostly blow, the symbols glowed red, but the glass seemed to have the power to contain the force: it held.
"Oh, that piss you off, does it?" he asked. "You know what pisses me off? A dead guy throwing Buicks at me!"
Dennis eyed the horror, removing the glasses, the Breaker disappearing from his sight as he collapsed against the cube in exhaustion.
"Hey, Cyrus," he spoke into the headset. "I hope you're happy. You've got your twelve now."
"Help me!" Kalina's voice echoed in the sudden silence. "He's dying!"
Dennis rounded the corner to see Kalina holding a dying Damon in her arms. His throat had been slit and Kalina was holding her hands over the gash, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
But it was no use. Dennis watched the life leave Damon's body as Kalina sobbed.
The psychic turned nervously away, shame and pity tearing at him.
He needed the money, sure. But was all this death and destruction really worth it?
That's when he saw it. Cyrus's assistant, lying dead, bloody and broken. And beyond him, lay Cyrus himself.
Cyrus's neck had been pierced with a long, metal shard. His eyes stared, cold and dead. Dennis brought his hands to his head, despair coursing through him.
"Oh, Cyrus."
The strangest thing was, right at that moment, he swore he could've felt someone brush his mind. It wasn't painful. In fact, it almost felt like a caress, a reassurance that everything was going to be okay.
Dennis tentatively reached out with his own mind, trying to use his ability to find out who was comforting him, but it was no use. Whoever they were, they were gone. But Dennis could tell from the energy they left behind that they were female and they were powerful.
Whoever she was, she was something he had never come across before. But even as he thought that, he felt that familiar tingling he got whenever he was around a certain breed of human.
Witch.
Her mind felt familiar. As if he had shared it with her before. Dennis had always fought his ability if he could help it. While he knew, like any psychic, that he had the capability to extend his psychic energy and invade someone's mind, he had never felt the urge. He didn't really care enough about people to pry into their heads to see their innermost thoughts.
Until now.
He knew the risk of seizures was high, but he was okay with that.
As long as he got to know her.
ENDING NOTE: Whoo! Lord have mercy that was a long chapter. Probably the longest one I've ever done. This story is a mix of the original script and the actual movie.
I hope you enjoyed it. Things are going to start making sense in the next chapter, I promise. But feel free to give me your theories in a review.