"The light of past discovery draws me forward. Its shining light guides me to the glory of exploration."
― Francis Drake
It's a bitter, rainy night in London. A brisk chill ran down my spine as I roamed the streets with Nate an Sully. Despite the cold, the city was filled with locals and tourists visiting shops and enjoying London's attractions. A pang of jealousy enveloped me, wishing my partners and I were visiting on a different occasion.
We hurried to a local pub where an important client was waiting for us. After spotting the pub's entrance a few blocks down, my nerves tightened and my hands become clammy. I was to play a key role tonight and even though we rehearsed all possible outcomes, my insecurities rattled my nerves. I fixed my shirt cuffs nervously.
"Dad?" I called to my partner before he touched the door knob.
"Yes, Lil?"
"What if they catch my bluff? I'm a terrible liar; you know this better than anyone."
"You practiced your lines a hundred times, they won't suspect a thing," he replied confidently.
"I suppose we're lucky they haven't met me yet," I rebutled.
"Exactly. You're going to be fine Lil, I promise," he assured.
"Just remember what we taught you," said Sully sternly.
"We believe in you. You got this," Nate smiled.
My partners' encouraging words were enough to motivate me. I took a deep breath as Nate twisted the knob. The stench of alcohol and tobacco wafted from the pub entrance. Angry eyes panned to us as the door announced our arrival, like our presence interrupted their peaceful night. A warm glow illuminated the room, creating a perfect ambience for the meeting.
The boys and I strode to the left of the pub where a door lead to a private room. I could feel hateful, piercing eyes as I lowered my head.
Our room was hazy and poorly-kept. The walls were covered in picture frames, sports memorabilia and trophies, and vertically-striped green wallpaper, all of which were coated in a thick grime from years of exposure to cigarettes. In the middle of the room was a well-worn billiards table, the balls scattered about its corners. In the middle sat a shimmering silver cash box with combination locks on either side of its rugged handle. Standing just behind the box was a slim man dressed in a finely-pressed black suit with a red tie wrapped around his collar. His head, covered with slicked-back, raven-colored hair, was quite wide. His visage, neatly arranged down the middle of his head, featured two squinty eyes, a pursed mouth, and a long pointed nose, all of which was cupped by a sharp jaw. The way he glared at the world reminded me all too much of a certain pretty boy…
Standing next to him was a bald, stocky man whose features filled his face far more than his counterpart. He was wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and a green jumper shirt.
"So I'm guessing you're Talbot?" Sully asked the slim, grinning man.
"Mr. Sullivan, and… Mr. Drake," he responded in a smooth British accent.
"That's right," Nate affirmed.
"Do you have it?" Talbot questioned.
"... let's see the money first," Sully suggested.
"Cutter," Talbot said as he motioned for the bald man to open the case. Inside sat several stacks of £50 notes.
"It's all there," he assured. "Now let's see it, I'll need to authenticate it."
Nate took off the necklace holding his ring and handed it over. Talbot took out a jeweler's eyeglass and began examining the keepsake. Nate grabbed a stack of cash and started flipping through the bills.
"Silver… sixteenth century… Elizabethan design, inscribed with Sir Francis Drake's motto… well, it appears to be genuine."
"Well, of course it's genuine," Sully scoffed.
"If I may ask, how did you three come into this?" Talbot inquired.
"Does it matter?" Sully joked.
"My client will be very pleased," he said as he prepared to stash it into a protective satchel. I took every moment as an opportunity to learn and watched Nate rubbed his finger over the frail paper. With a sudden jolt, he brought the roll close to his face and my eyes narrowed.
"Hold on a minute… Sully, this is fake," Nate announced as he waved the money to Sully, who picked up Talbot's eyeglass and examined it.
"Woah, woah, you are right. This is phony as a three dollar bill! What the hell are you tryin' to pull here?"
"Perhaps I should be asking you," Talbot responded with a scowl.
"This is bullshit," Nate said bitterly as he slammed the case closed and shoved it toward Talbot. Both men rushed their hands to the ring with Nate's reaching there just before Talbot's landed on top.
"Deal's off, pal," growled Nate as he pulled his hand from the table.
"And you," barked Sully as he pointed at Talbot, "You can tell your 'client' you blew it. Come on guys, let's get the hell outta here." I followed Nate and Sully as they turned to leave.
Talbot took a few steps toward us before we got out the door. "You're not really in a position to negotiate. Now give me the ring, take the case, and walk out of here like gentlemen… while you still can. Try to set a good example for this nice young lady."
"I appreciate your concern, pretty boy, but I think my partners are correct. We know a thief when we see one," I scoffed.
"Well, that's ironic," he bantered.
Cutter walked in front of Talbot, his fists clenched. "Just do as the man says so we can all go home clean."
After a momentary silence, Nate grabbed a pool cue and smashed it against Cutter's shiny dome. I quickly followed after and did the same to Talbot.
We rushed into the bar, which was now filled with patrons who were all glaring daggers at us. The bartender stomped from behind the counter and lifted Sully by the collar and threw him into a group of tables. The rest of the bar goers started closing in on us, many of whom were wielding broken glass bottles. Before he could strike again, Nate punched the bartender in the gut, causing him to double over. Nate took the opened bar gate and slammed it down on the man's head, swiftly knocking him out.
A drunken man stumbled at us, his bottle ready to stab at the closest target. I preempted his strike and kicked him, sending him flying back into his associates and shattering several tables.
"Come on, we can escape through the back!" shouted Nate as he knocked out another booze-addled man.
We ran through the kitchen, taking care of anyone trying to stop us. As we ran out the back door, Cutter appeared and tackled Nate and Sully into a pile of trash, then brandished a pistol and pointed it at me.
"You blokes aren't goin' anywhere," he said in a smooth Cockney accent. A shiny black car with tinted windows rolled into the alleyway. A tall, slim woman donned in a shadowy black cloak glided out of the car. Her short blonde hair shown under the dim light that illuminated the alley. Talbot, who exited the car with her, handed her a large black umbrella.
The woman's piercing eyes observed Nate with disgust before panning to me. I froze as she glared at me. I recognized her as Kate Marlowe, a client who has a personal history with Nate and Sully. Although this was our first encounter, I was a bit confused by the resentment reflected in her gaze.
"Victor," said Marlowe as she approached him.
"Kate," Sully huffed.
"Still wallowing in the gutter with your protege, I see. Oh, and you found yourself another stray," she scoffed, once more glancing at me. Marlowe's attitude indicated she already knew something about me.
"I should've known you were behind this," Nate winced as he struggled to reposition himself. Marlowe's wrinkles increased as she smiled deviously while folding her umbrella.
"Careful, wouldn't want you to melt," Nate joked.
"Same cocky little shit," Marlowe chuckled humorlessly. "You're so fearless."
She reached for the handle of her umbrella to retrieve a hidden blade, where she pressed the tip under Nate's chin. My hands trembled as a drop of blood trickled down from the pressure of the blade.
"I wonder what you're really afraid of?" she questioned as she positioned herself inches from his face.
"It's not guns or bullets, because you get off on all of this, don't you?"
Nate dared not to meet her gaze as she threatened him. I gripped the edge of my shirt as Nate flashed a glance at me and Marlowe menacingly followed.
"I see you found your own street rat?" she said condescendingly.
"Leave her alone," Nate demanded. Marlowe only smiled as she tucked the blade under Nate's shirt to acquire the necklace.
"Kate, whatever problem you have with me, leave them out of it," Sully pleaded.
"Mr. Sullivan, I won't harm your precious boy… or his shadow," she finished with a hateful tone. Marlowe cut the necklace with one swipe as she stood, clutching the ring in her hand.
"I merely want what's mine."
As Marlowe returned to the car, Nate began to throw himself at her.
"Give that back!" he ordered.
Following a loud pop, Nate pressed his hand against his stomach as he collapsed back onto the trash pile.
"Dad!" I shrieked as I ran to my partner. He reached for my hand, which shook under my cold grip as his eyes drifted close.
"Oh God, Nate!" Sully cried. Another pop echoed behind me, causing my ears to ring. I covered my mouth as Sully's shirt became saturated with a deep crimson.
"Sully!" I called as his body went limp.
"Cutter!" Marlowe spat.
"Oh, you're bloody welcome your majesty," Cutter retorted.
My body went numb as the rain drizzled around me. My stiff fingers clung to Nate's hand as I prepared for my turn to meet a bullet.
"No matter. If we're doing this, we're doing it right," Marlowe schemed as she strode toward me, drawing the knife from her umbrella.
"I want to see the last of this little posse's life drain from her eyes." As she pointed the knife at me, I backed up to the soggy brick wall behind me.
"Any last words?" she hissed, pressing the knife to my throat. As I felt its icy edge press into my skin, my mind raced for something that might save me. Forcing my way through my nerves, I began to speak.
"I can be more useful to you than you realize, Marlowe," I replied with a smirk. "I was merely using them to stay alive. They've helped me find my own way, but I've always kept my eye on number one. Take me with you and I can help you achieve anything."
She lowered the knife; my words must have gotten through to her.
"Show me," she demanded.
I held out my hands, my right palm facing up and my left ready to snap my fingers. As I snapped, a bright blue flame appeared in my hand.
"I'm stronger than I look. I can protect you from anything as long as you show me how to be more like yourself."
"Interesting. I'd read no one was able to control the power of the Cintamani Stone, but I suppose they hadn't tried children," she noted, eyeing me up and down. "Fine, come along. Cutter, you can walk."
"Ah, come on, they were a right pair of assholes!" he shouted as we entered the car. I flashed him a wink before closing the door behind me.
With Talbot at the wheel, we sped through the streets of London, the rain pounding against the windshield. Eventually, we turned down an alleyway leading to a large green garage door. With the press of a button on the dashboard, the door retracted into the building. After slowly rolling inside, he pressed the button once more, shutting the gate behind us. We found ourselves in a dark, dilapidated room. Boxes and loading pallets were strewn about the dusty stone tile floor which was wet from the leaky ceiling. As I surveyed the room, I felt the car begin slowly moving toward the other side of the room. Just before hitting the moldy brick wall, we stopped on sections of floor that were raised above the rest. They sank into the floor, revealing two light sensors on the wall ahead. They were an identical height to the car's headlights, causing me to wonder just what kind of group I found myself with.
After a few seconds, the sensors activated, raising the brick wall and revealing a tunnel reminiscent of a mine shaft. As we slunk down the corridor the wall dropped shut behind us. The dirt kicked up a cloud of dust just thick enough to make it hard to see where we were going. Eventually the ground flattened out and the car stopped. As the dust settled, I looked out the window, seeing an abandoned train station which looked to have been from the early nineteen-hundreds. Chandeliers containing large light bulbs hung from the ceiling, dusty and lifeless. Wooden boards were laid across sections sunken tracks while the remaining train cars sat in partially-collapsed tunnels.
"Get out and follow us," commanded Marlowe.
"You got it," I responded.
We made a quiet journey through the abandoned station, eventually reaching a small hallway leading to a balcony which overlooked a library situated in a stone brick room. Wide staircases sloped from either side of the balcony. The room was lined by bookcases filled with dusty, frail books. In the middle of the room sat a wooden table on which resided several open books and unrolled papers, all of which looked quite old. I followed Marlowe and Talbot down the stairs and over to the table. My eye quickly jumped to the only artifact on the table. It was a circular golden device approximately seven inches in diameter. Circular rows of several languages' alphabets lined the item, each line getting smaller as it approached the middle. Below the circles laid gears of varying sizes. In the middle was a small hole fashioned to be the exact size of Nate's ring. This decoder is what I was sent to retrieve.
Marlowe reached into her pocket and produced the ring, deviously grinning at it. Slipping the leather necklace from it, she began attempting to insert it into the decoder. However, it was barely too large for the hole as it refused to be inserted.
"It's a forgery!" she screeched as she shoved the contents of the table to the floor.
"What?! Impossible! I checked it myself! I saw him put it around his neck!" Talbot insisted.
Marlowe closely inspected the ring then rolled it into her hand, giving the illusion of it disappearing.
"I'm afraid we had a traitor during your little exchange," Marlowe realized.
"Cutter…" Talbot cursed. With one furious swipe, Marlowe shoved a pile of papers off the table.
"They're likely on their way now." said Marlowe as she turned to her guards.
"Keep a close watch for Drake," she ordered. "We need to make sure everything else is secure. I want this cleaned up by the time we get back, girl," she ordered. The two of them stomped off deeper into the library. As the echoes of the footsteps faded, I began cleaning up the files scattered across the floor. As I cleaned, I saw the name "John Owens" flash before me on one of the papers. I snapped it from the pile and stared at it. My father… Marlowe knew him. I pored through the words, learning as much about him as possible.
Born January 6th, 1976, he had been arrested twenty-eight times before 1983, the year he had joined Marlowe's organization. He had assisted in attempting to find the Cintamani Stone and the Fountain of Youth, along with several other mythical locations and artifacts. However, he had never succeeded at finding any. It's recorded he'd had several arguments with Marlowe on how the organization should be run and what its goals should be, which led to him eventually quitting to form his own group in 1993… the same year I was born. The footnotes read he had said several times the organization should be working toward global dominance in order to make the world safer for the general populace and often spoke in defense of his wife when ordered to cut ties with her.
Suddenly I heard gunshots echoing from the entrance. I assumed it was Nate and the rest of our group, but I wanted to be sure. I took cover behind a bookshelf until the shooting stopped.
The noise continued for a matter of minutes. Then, silence fell. I heard a gruff voice coming from the entrance.
"Kid, you've really gotta work on your stealth. We wouldn't wind up in these messes if you were quieter."
I peered around the corner and noticed my group running down the stairs, with Nate leading the way. I felt a grin form around my mouth, however I needed to stay hidden as to continue my ruse against Marlowe.
Nate walked up to the table and picked up a small book laying next to the astrolabe. Thumbing through it, he proclaimed "Hey… this book belonged to T.E lawrence!"
As he continued flipping through the pages, a small envelope slipped from the book. Picking it up, Nate read "May 13th, 1935… hey, wasn't that the day he died in that motorcycle accident?"
"Witnesses did say there were people in suits giving thumbs ups to the biker kids who cut him off."
"So you guys think this group is responsible for that too?" questioned Cutter.
"I don't see why not," responded Nate.
He produced a small piece of paper from his bag. On it was written ancient Enochian script. Entering the symbols into the astrolabe, he wrote the translation under the old symbols.
"So what does it say?" asked Charlie, breaking the silence.
"Long hidden…" Nate read.
"Well of course the clue would be long hidden," Charlie said as he breathed a sigh of annoyance.
"Hold on, there's gotta be something more to it," Nate hushed as he rushed across his journal trying to figure out what the message could mean. Landing on the desired page, he thumped his journal on the table and once more began scribbling on the paper.
"The golden hind," Nate whispered. "Wait, Lawrence's ship had a golden hind on the front of his ship, just like Francis Drake's. That means if we find that hind, we find what he was hiding!" Nate announced.
"You mean like… that one?" Sully said as he pointed to the column behind Nate. Mounted there was a shimmering gold statue of a deer head.
"Y-yeah. Good eye, Sully." Nate climbed around bookcases and handholds on the stone support beam. Reaching the hind, he inspected it for any switches or pockets Pressing down on the top with his right hand, his left one slipped, leaving him hanging from the ornament.
"Nate, you alright?!" Sully called to him.
"Yeah, just a little embarrassed!" he said as he clung to the slippery surface.
Without notice, the artifact came loose from the wall, crashing to the floor, Nate falling along with it. As it slammed against the ground, a brown, brittle piece of folded paper came skittering out from the bottom of its neck. Nate groaned as he stood up and staggered over to the paper. Before he could unfold it, he heard the shout of an older woman echo from the library.
"Drake!"
I looked in front of me and saw Marlowe and Talbot marching toward them, guards in tow.
"Don't. Move," she ordered.
"Hey, Marlowe, nice place you've got here!"
"Shut it, you mongrel; and Lillian, what were you doing just hiding here, you should have stopped them!"
"What did you expect me to do, fight all three of them? I'd get torn apart!"
"You know… I still have yet to see your loyalty to me," she said, slowly walking around me. "Prove yourself… kill Drake," she ordered, her voice dripping with malice. Handing me an antique Colt revolver, she gently moved my hands toward my dad. "Do it," she whispered harshly.
I took a deep, slow breath. For a moment, a look of fear crossed Nate's face.
"Lily…" he spoke.
I felt a drop of anger splash into my core, all of which was directed at this woman for making Nate feel fear. For a moment, the world flashed blue.
"I'll never hurt him, you witch!" I tore my hands from Marlowe's grasp and struck her face with the gun, sending her to the ground.
"Run!" I shouted as bullets began whizzing passed my head. Grabbing the paper and astrolabe, Nate lead everyone else from the library. As I crossed the table, I grabbed the file containing the only details I'll ever have of my father. Running up the stairs and into the tunnels, we began our getaway.
Sprinting through the old train station, we encountered wave after wave of supression. Men in suits fired at us from around every turn. Luckily, the train station was filled with debris from years of disuse, offering us cover. Dipping into our years worth of experience allowed us to quickly tear through any challenge offered. Shortly after dispatching the forces ahead, I glanced back and saw even more goons armed with AK47s chasing after us, headed by Talbot. With an opening in front of us, we dashed through the train tunnels toward the exit, fighting our way through several more waves of enemies.
"Chloe, we're almost out, get ready!" Nate called on his earpiece.
Reaching a steep, dimly-lit set of staircases, we rushed toward the doorway. Outside I heard the screeching of tires coming to a halt accompanied by the hum of a large van engine. Bursting through the door, we were met by a white panel van driven by Chloe. Cutter and Sully rushed to the door and tore them open while I jumped inside. Nate turned around and returned fire on the guards still chasing after us.
"Go, I'll catch up!" he called.
"Ugh, he really is an idiot sometimes," Chloe sighed as she stomped on the accelerator. As the wheels screeched on the pavement, Nate began running toward us while firing at our foes behind us. Hearing the familiar click of an empty pistol clip, he dropped it and dove toward the van, his fingertips barely catching the rear. Sully and I grabbed his forearms and hoisted him inside, slamming the doors behind him.
"Whew, that was a close one!" he smiled.
"Kid, you really need to stop doin' this kinda stuff. I'm gonna have a heart attack one of these days," Sully scoffed.
As we rested, the van sped off into the quiet streets of London.