Author's Note: this is the first story I've published. I've spent a lot of time working out details, characters, and a whole host of other things. This first chapter will be a 'pilot' chapter. If you guys like it, I'll be sure to post more in the future. If not, give me suggestions on how to rework it, or other stories you want me to write. Now with that out of the way, I present the first chapter on Equestria's Human Guardian.
Chapter 1
"Here's your order, have a nice day." I walked away from the counter with my favorite meal from Wendy's; a Baconator with fries and an Orange Fanta. I don't get these very often, usually whenever I'm celebrating something, which is actually very rare. This was a special occasion, however, because I had finally mastered my sword. After several years of training with my grandpa, and then his friends after his untimely death, I finally mastered it.
My grandpa's friends had taken me before their resident sword grandmaster, and she made it official. This was also another great occasion, because it was actually my birthday. I finally hit twenty years of age today, and it feels amazing. Now, my birthday wasn't exactly a reason to celebrate, actually. I hadn't seen it as a momentous occasion, ever since my grandpa died. My grandpa's four friends had only come up to the house in Oregon a few months ago, and it was great living with them. They told me stories, helped to train me, advise me, and get me through college. I graduated with a Masters degree in engineering two months ago.
I walked outside, and was greeted by the cold of winter. I mounted my motorcycle, and sped on back to home. I love my motorcycle. I built it myself, and it's a sport bike,with upgraded speed (it can hit a top speed of 115 miles per hour), modified shocks, and a very strong frame. It was tricky to construct, but I finally did it, after a year and a half of working on it. I missed my grandpa. He was an incredible man and teacher. He was the kind of person who would go out and do random acts of service all day long, and still want to do more. He taught me Tae Kwon Do, Karate, and Jiu Jitsu, and helped me master all of them. He was the person who taught me how to properly use my sword, and introduced me to fighting with Tonfa, Kunai and chains, and daggers.
I arrived at my house, and was confronted with absolute silence. I say it's my house, when it's really my Grandpa's, but he left it to me in his will, along with a great many other things. For starters, it's situated outside of town, in a secluded area in the woods that surround the town's edge. The house is HUGE. It's got an enormous Dojo filled to the brim with everything needed to train in martial arts. My grandpa loved reading, and because of that, he added a library to the house. It's not gigantic, but it's a decent size, and it contains a vast myriad of books. About half the books in the library are books on martial arts and weapons. These books are translated from the original texts, and they contain the history, usage, technique, and other such things about whatever they were written for. Those books got me interested in several other martial arts, and weapons combat. Some of my fondest memories of me and my grandpa happened in the library, when he would sit down with me, find us a good book to read, and we'd read together, usually after a good day of training.
I was on my guard when I heard nothing coming from my house. Usually, my grandpa's friends are going nuts in the Dojo, or arguing about something stupid. These arguments can get pretty intense, and they usually lead to trading blows. I've gotten used to opening the door and deflecting either a knife, sword, shield, and the occasional smoke bomb. When I'm greeted with silence, it's not exactly the most comforting thing in the world.
I unlocked the front door, Tonfa in hand, and cautiously entered. It was midnight black inside, and quiet enough to hear a feather touch the floor. After deducing that it was safe to move on past the entry hall, I silently stepped into the kitchen.
The lights clicked on as my grandpa's friends jumped out of hiding.
"Surprise!" I staggered back, shocked that this happened. I should probably introduce you to these guys. First up, there's Steven Francis, nicknamed Improv. Improv is 38 years old, and has the wildest head of hair in existence. It looks like it's made of pure silver, and it's always sticking up in massive cartoonish mad scientist type tufts. He has the craziest look in his electric blue eyes, which are roving over everything they can see. Improv was given his nickname, because he leaps into a fight coming up with a plan on the fly. He's great at improvising when things get sticky, or so I've been told. Improv wears a bright red jacket with a black shirt, jeans and neon pink high tops. He has pockets EVERYWHERE in his clothes, where he keeps enough odds and ends to satisfy a junk dealer's dreams. When I asked him about this, he grinned and told me you never know when you might need something random.
Next up is Jason Drake, nicknamed Sneakers. Sneakers is the stealthiest, sneakiest, most quiet person you'll ever meet. This guy is a master ninja, and a samurai to boot, and has done some espionage missions for various governments. He retired when his back popped during an assassination mission. Long story short, a new nation formed after two years of unspeakable carnage, and Sneakers is now hailed as its national hero. Sneakers was 63 during that mission, and now he's 79, and he still hasn't lost his touch. Sneakers is descended from Japanese and Scottish warriors, which is a bit of an odd heritage, but it does make him pretty cool. Sneakers never raises his voice above a loud whisper, period. I've only heard him shout one time, when I was 13. I'm still terrified at the memory of witnessing his temper.
Tristan Clearwarn is the third person to come to the house. He's of Native American descendance, which is probably why he nicknamed himself Chief. Chief is big, burly, and incredibly swift. Chief is 38 years old, and a master of the tomahawk, bow, blowgun, pretty much any weapon connected to his heritage, despite the fact he has absolutely no idea which Native American tribe he's from. He wears normal clothing, and has chocolate brown eyes with rich obsidian black hair. Chief has the face of a stereotypical Native American chief, and is very well tanned. Chief is always level-headed, calm, cool, and collected, which also makes him nearly impossible beat in poker.
The last person is Chief's wife, Lily Clearwarn, nicknamed Spitfire. She's the complete opposite of Chief, hotheaded, fiery, and is always eager to prove herself, in almost any way, shape, or form. Lily looks like she came straight out of an anime. Her hair is bright red, and it comes down to her waist. She usually wears tight clothing, typically in bright colors, and it's apparently impossibly expensive. Spitfire has an hourglass figure, some of the longest legs I've ever seen, and an enormous chest size. She's the most stubborn person I've ever met, aside from my mother. Spitfire is of Irish and Nordic descent, which should explain why. Spitfire is the sword grandmaster I was talking about earlier. Apparently she's so fierce in battle, that even Chief is terrified of her.
Most of the time these four are training, fighting, or trying to stop Spitfire from killing somebody. I've never seen them get together and agree to do something, until they popped out and surprised me.
I was shocked to say the least, even more so when Spitfire enveloped me in a massive hug.
"Happy Birthday sweetie." Spitfire purred.
"Umm… thanks?" I tried to respond, but she had shoved my head in her large bust, muffling every sound I tried to make. I could barely breathe, until my savior came in the form of an ex-assassin.
"Let him breathe, Spitfire. Stop smothering him." Sneakers said in his soft voice, as he pulled us apart. My lungs sang the hallelujah chorus as fresh air hit them.
"Thanks Sneakers." I said between gasps. Sneakers smiled at me, then turned to Spitfire.
"Why?" Sneakers asked. Spitfire gave him a look that could make diamonds spontaneously combust.
"It wasn't on purpose!" She snapped. Spitfire is one of the few people who can successfully stare Sneakers down.
"Alright Lily." Chief chuckled in his deep baritone. "We get it was an accident, there's no need to bite our heads off." Chief is the only person who could calm Spitfire down. Heck, Chief could calm anything simply by speaking. His voice was a deep tissue massage of words. If I ever needed to calm down, or was tense, I just went over and had a conversation with Chief. I remember once, when I was on vacation with my grandpa and his friends, I had accidentally got in between a mother grizzly bear and her cubs. I was certain I was going to die, when Chief simply walked up to the she-bear, and spoke. Instantly she calmed down, gathered her cubs and walked away.
"I don't know, Chief. It could've been on purpose, it could've been an accident, or it could've been a shotgun, ya never know for certain with miss Firemouth." I mentally groaned. Sneakers facepalmed. Out of everybody Spitfire knows, Improv gets on her nerves the most. It's like living with Murdock and B.A Baracus from "The A-Team". When those two get going at it, not even Chief can stop them. Apparently, it had been nearly two years since their last major argument. The last one had an aftermath of a body cast, a half demolished city block, SWAT team involvement, and twelve restraining orders.
Spitfire's face turned about eight different shades of purple, but when she tried to retaliate, Chief stepped between them, his face a mask of disapproval.
"Both if you, stop." Chief said sharply "I cannot believe you two would go at each other on today of all days. This is Raxtus' birthday, and there will be no senseless brawling on this property today. Do I make myself clear?" Spitfire nodded, her face deflating, and Improv meekly affirmed as well.
Yeah, my name is Raxtus. Raxtus Aurelius Williams. My dad wanted a name that stood out from all the rest, that still sounded cool. He agreed to the name Raxtus after my mom suggested it, and my grandpa decided that my middle name should be Aurelius, after the name Marcus Aurelius, who, in my grandpa's opinion, was the greatest Roman emperor of all time. I'm five foot four and Caucasian with a pretty nice tan. My eyes look like they were made of pure silver, and my hair looks like it's made from the milkiest chocolate. Yes, it's that shade of brown, and that lustrous. My mom says I got my looks and physique from my dad, all except for my eyes. Nobody knows why they're that color. The doctors are still baffled to this day.
After Chief restored order, the party began. There wasn't too much that happened, aside from Spitfire eating three Carolina Reaper Peppers in rapid succession, Improv attempting to swallow a shotgun, and Sneakers somehow stealing my socks, while I still had my shoes on. No, he didn't cut into my shoes to get to them. Things finally calmed down after Chief brought out the cake. I never thought it was possible for a human being to breathe fire, until Spitfire lit the candles that way. Some things are better off unexplained, I guess.
I almost ate the entire cake on my own. It was a three tiered red velvet cake, with a Carmel and Bavarian cream filling, and covered in Chief's signature fondant. I have a massive sweet tooth, and any dessert that contains any of those three things is never safe once I spot it. My taste buds sang out in ecstasy. I think I ate about a third of the cake, before moving on to presents.
I got The Art of War by Sun Tzu, Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, Ready Player One, both the book and movie, a new dagger, an extendable and retractable Bo staff, and a new pair of kunai and chains, before moving on to the final gift. Chief handed me a small box, carefully wrapped. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw who it was from; Jacob Williams, my grandfather.
"Your grandfather left a hidden message in his will, which told us about this box, and the contents inside. Jacob's message instructed us to give you this when you hit twenty years of age. Apparently, that was the right time." Chief explained, as I opened up the card. It was written in my grandpa's swooping, elegant cursive.
Raxtus,
How are you doing kiddo? I hope you're doing well, because if you're not, your mother's spirit is going to kill me again. This gift is special in more ways than one. Its uses will reveal themselves in time, and even though it doesn't look very useful, it will save your life, when the time comes. If it was intended for me, I would probably still be here, but it was built specifically for you. I hope you like what I helped create. I love you Raxtus, more than I could ever truly express.
Your loving grandfather,
Jacob
I wanted to laugh and cry my eyes out. It was exactly like my grandpa to leave a note like this. Not too long, not too short, with a few jokes and plenty of vagueness. I opened the wrapping with trembling hands. My presents from grandpa were never secured with tape, only the ribbon tied around it. Inside a cushioned box lay a beautiful pendant, small enough to fit inside the palm of my hand
It was a triangle made of sapphire, with a Septagon made of white crystal inscribed inside the triangle, and a nonagon made of ruby inscribed inside the septagon, with a miniature sword in its scabbard inside of the nonagon. The scabbard was made of onyx and silver, and the sword's hilt was made of gold, with miniature jewels inserted. Symbols made of emerald lined the outside of each shape. A minuscule silver chain was attached to the top of the pendant.
I stared at it, examining every inch of it.
"Well, are you going to put it on, or put it back in the box." Improv's voice cut through my train of thought. I flushed slightly, as I finally put it on. I don't know what it was, but wearing it felt so… right, like I had finally found the missing part of myself I didn't know I was missing.
After presents, we all went into the dojo to help break in my new weapons. Things started well, but it escalated quickly, ending with Improv somehow creating a fully functional mini P.E.K.K.A from Clash Royale to try and stop both Spitfire and Sneakers from killing him (donut even ask what he did, it has something to do with Albuquerque). Chief was somehow able to restore order, but only after he had me destroy the mini P.E.K.K.A. I went to bed exhausted, but smiling.
I felt like I had only slept for a second when Chief shook me awake.
"Rax, Rax. Raxtus Aurelius, wake up!" Chief never spoke like that, period. I shot out of bed, almost colliding with Chief"s face.
"What's going on?" I asked around a yawn. Chief turned from gathering my things. The sight chilled me to the bone. Chief wore an expression I had never seen on his face; absolute terror.
"Get dressed, there's not much time." Chief hurled a bundle of clothes at me. I scrambled to get them on. My outfit consisted of black jeans, a plain black t-shirt, my red shoes, my favorite black and red spider jacket, and my new pendant. I went into the kitchen and ducked to avoid some sparking wires. The scene before my eyes made my blood run cold.
Improv was working overtime on about seventeen different things at once, an intense look of concentration on his face. Spitfire had raided the dojo, gathering every lethal weapon she could find. Sneakers and Chief stood over something on the table, apparently having a silent argument about whatever. The scene would've been normal, but there was one difference; everybody was in full battle armor. Improv's was a giant mismatch of spare parts. It looked like he covered himself in glue, and walked through a dump, but I knew from personal experience that Improv carefully crafted his armor to intentionally look like that. It had more weapons in it that Iron Man's mark 50 armor. Spitfire's armor was, with lack of a better word, fiery. It looked like it was made of fire. Honestly, her armor is too awesome to even attempt to describe. Sneakers embraced his Japanese heritage, and was in his crimson samurai armor. I don't think there's any description needed. Chief didn't wear any armor, but he did have every weapon he mastered strapped to his person.
The reason my blood ran cold, was because they wear their armor for one reason; and battle. Not sparring, not conflict, but full on, no holds barred battle. That, and everybody had either fear, or grim determination in their expressions, even Chief, who, up until this point, I had thought had no fear.
"How long until they're ready, Improv?" Chief asked. Improv looked up from his work.
"Give me another two minutes, three if the bulkheads will hold." Improv said.
"We only have a minute left until it's breached." Sneakers said softly. Chief looked at the table, and then back at Sneakers.
"What schematic are you looking at. The bulkheads will hold for another three minutes." Chief said, incredulousity creeping into his voice.
"Tristan, Jason's right. They have him." Spitfire said fearfully. Chief almost broke his neck turning to look at her.
"Lily. Are you sure it's him?" Lily nodded, terror creeping into her face. Chief's eyes enlarged to the size of dinner plates, his breath quickening slightly. Chief turned away from everybody. I saw his shoulders trembling, just for a moment. Then, he turned back around. Chief walked over to me, shaking slightly.
"Improv, I need the gloves." Improv tossed them over. They were black fingerless gloves, with red lines running along the seams that pulsed slightly. Chief softly grabbed my hands, and put the gloves on them.
"Keep them on." Chief stood, grabbed my backpack, and turned to the other three.
"How much time do we have?" Chief asked.
"The traps and defenses should hold them back for another three minutes at maximum. After that, it's just us." Improv said.
"Then we'll hold them back." Spitfire proclaimed, grim determination in her tone. Sneakers nodded, and drew his katana in affirmation.
"We'll hold them just long enough for Raxtus to escape." Improv said determinedly. That caught my attention. My head snapped up to look at Improv.
"What do you mean, 'long enough for me to escape.'?" I asked. Chief and Sneakers shared an uneasy glance.
"Raxtus, they're here for you." Chief said uneasily.
"Why me? I'm nothing special." I said, hoping this was a joke. Chief looked at me stonily.
"The reason why they came for you, is because of your father." I cringed at the mere mention of that asshole who ruined my childhood. The only good thing he gave me was my name.
"It isn't his fault he was turned into that monster." Chief said. I paused at the new information. It wasn't his fault? What does that mean? I turned to Chief questioningly.
"These are the same evil, twisted men that tortured your father to insanity." Chief said gravely. I almost fell over.
"I know you have a million questions, but you need to go. Follow me." Chief opened the hall closet, pushed aside several coats to reveal a keypad. Chief typed in a code, and a section of the wall opened up, revealing a winding staircase.
"Down here, quickly." Chief said urgently. We slid on the handrails, to cut down on time, and finally ended up inside a small concrete garage, with my motorcycle in it. Chief handed me my backpack.
"This is the most discreet way out that the house has, ever since Improv broke the teleporter. Follow the path, and don't look back. Don't come back here, period. Once the path ends, head into the woods. Your pendant will help shield you from their sight. Don't let them catch you. We'll buy you as much time as we can." Chief finished speaking, as I mounted my cycle.
"Oh yes, one more thing." Chief strapped something else to my back. "Your grandfather's sword." Chief gave me one last hug, then opened the door in front of me. I revved my cycle and sped off into the night.
I was so glad that I added the dirt bike features to this cycle. Without them, I would be left sprinting along the tops of the cliffs overlooking the stormy Pacific Ocean. I sped along the rocky path at 78 miles per hour, making impossible jumps and turns along the way. I was silently praying the new shocks would last the journey. Racing along the path helped take my mind off of the questions that crowded my head. Namely about who were those men who attacked the house, why did they torture my father, and why were the after me? Of all people, why me? As far as I knew I wasn't very special. Aside from my fighting and engineering skills, I was drawing a blank.
My train of thought was interrupted by a massive explosion. I stopped and looked at the mushroom cloud. My heart lodged in my throat. That was where the house used to be. I was about to turn around and head back, when I remembered what Chief said.
Follow the path, and don't look back. Don't come back to the house, period. As much as I wanted to go back, I had to trust Chief, and get away. I got back on my bike and sped off down the path.
A few more minutes into my journey, I was knocked off my bike. Pain exploded inside my head, and I nearly fell off the cliffs. I stood back up, after a moment, but instantly wished I had just fallen into the sea.
Standing before me was a man. The guy was immaculately dressed in a black three piece business suit, which immediately set me on edge. A person doesn't just pop out of the woods looking perfect. He had jet black hair, black stereotypical C.I.A agent sunglasses, and a cruel, cold, thin smile.
"You know, most people wear a helmet when they go out." The man said, striding towards me. Shakily, I stood back up, trying my best to ignore the pain in my skull.
"Who the hell are you?" I asked in what I hoped was a brave voice. The man chuckled, as rain began to fall in thick sheets.
"Straight to the point, just like your father. He never beat around the bush in a conversation either, just went right to the heart of a matter." My heart stopped dead when I heard that. This must be the 'him' that Chief and Spitfire mentioned.
"My name is Tenebris." Dread instantly filled my heart. Tenebris is the plural of Tenebra, which means darkness, gloom, and despair. I stared at him with wide eyes.
"Y-you're the one that… tortured him?" I almost couldn't say it. I know I said my dad was an asshole earlier, but I was feeling pretty guilty about that. My mom told me about his better years, which ended about a year after I was born. He was kind, caring, protective, strong, handsome, gentle, basically everything a father should be. Tenebris must have tortured him enough to pulverize his sanity. Especially since he had a will that made diamonds seem like the softest pillows, according to my mother. That torture must've been the worst to make my dad's qualities do a 180.
"Yes, I did it. Even I was surprised at how resilient he was. Not even our most extreme devices couldn't break him. He only gave in when we threatened to kill your mother. Then he readily gave up the information we needed." I figured I couldn't be shocked anymore, but that last thing he said proved me wrong.
"Had we known she was carrying you, we would've done it in a heartbeat." The shock transformed into an urge to put this monster underneath a herd of stampeding elephants equipped with cleats.
"If you already have the information, why are you after me?" I asked, as I made my way to my backpack. Tenebris's face twisted with rage. "You are a loose end, and my master hates loose ends. You weren't meant to exist at all. When my master found out he had a son…" Tenebris simply shuddered at the memory. "It got even worse when your bastard grandfather and the four retarded wombats he calls friends staged a jailbreak, and took your father." Tenebris spat, rage lacing every word. He would've said more, but his mouth was then filled with my fist. I delivered two swift kicks to his chest, and punched him hard enough to send him sprawling back to the woods. Nobody gets away with saying that about my family. The rain was really coming down now, soaking our clothes, and the rocky cliff we were on.
Tenebris stood back up, smiling cruelly. There was no words spoken between us, just a single look. The battle began. Tenebris came at me, faster than I could see, and it was only my instincts that saved me from his first few blows. I countered with a powerful hammer fist to the back, and a sharp knife hand to the neck. Tenebris was dazed, so I took the opportunity to whip out my dagger. He lost one of his hands before he could react quickly enough. Tenebris hit a pressure point on my wrist, rendering my hand useless for the time being. My dagger fell to the ground, as I jumped back to avoid Tenebris's blows, now enhanced with spiked knuckle dusters.
I went on the defensive, whipping my new bo staff out of my backpack. The bo staff gave me a longer each than Tenebris, allowing me to hold him back, until I regained command of my hand. My plan sort of worked. Tenebris found an opening, and hit the left side of my torso. I heard, and felt, sharp snapping. I staggered back, nearly blacking out. My body reacted on its own, and then it was Tenebris's to cry out in agony. By the time the dust cleared, Tenebris's… anatomy was lying on the ground and his jaw was broken on both hinges. Yes, I hit him that hard with my axe kick.
Now that I had control over my hand again, I broke out the tonfa. Just so you know, Tonfa were built for getting in up close and personal in battle, allowing you to overpower your enemy, while you remain mostly unscathed. That's what I did. I charged Tenebris, hit him with a powerful Chuck Norris style roundhouse (it wasn't nearly as powerful as Chuck's, but I wish it was), then hit Tenebris with a flurry of blows. Then, things got even more insane.
Somehow, Tenebris managed to catch my arms. He was in terrible shape, I'm not going to go into any detail. I'll just say, there was blood everywhere. Except his was this black tar-like substance. He stared at me, and I felt terror take over. The glasses finally fell off, revealing red energy where his eyes should be. Tenebris broke both my arms, slammed me into the ground, and began to choke me. My breath left me by the score. I flailed and thrashed about, trying in vain to push Tenebris off of me.
I was about to let go of life, when I could suddenly breathe again. Tenebris was ripped off of me, with the force of a hurricane. I rolled over, and saw the impossible; a very pissed off Chief. Chief had somehow survived the explosion, as shown by the various burns and cauterized wounds on his body. He only had his right arm remaining, his left arm ending at the shoulder in a cauterized stump. Chief's body was a horror show of slashes, bruises, and burns, but he was still alive, and able to fight, but I was also terrified, because Chief's face betrayed an emotion I had never seen on him before; rage. Pure, unbridled, primal rage.
Tenebris took one look at Chief, and his eyes widened, fear, revulsion, and horror in his gaze. Chief let loose a bone chilling Apache war cry, and attacked Tenebris. I never saw Chief in his 'battle frenzy' until now. Tenebris vainly tried to stop Chief, but to no avail. Chief hit him so hard, Tenebris's jaw flew off his face, and one of his eyes exploded. Chief slammed Tenebris into the rock, stomped on his face, and finally took the sword he had on his back and stabbed it into Tenebris so hard, it sank into the rock, like a hot knife through butter. Only the hilt remained sticking out of Tenebris's body.
Chief stood there, staring at his handiwork for a few seconds, then came over to me. I was both awestruck and horrified at what Chief had done. Chief picked me up, almost effortlessly, draped me over my motorcycle, and grabbed my backpack. He was beginning to wheel the bike out, when Tenebris's body began to hum and glow. Chief and I looked at Tenebris's body, watching purple flashes it was emitting.
The body was in front of us, our backs to the edge of the cliff. Tenebris's body exploded, severing the cliff from it's anchor points. Hundreds of tons of rock, and us, fell towards the raging ocean. Chief anchored my backpack to my bike, and tapped on my pendant. A multicolored light sprung from it, growing larger, until it encompassed me, and my possessions. I looked and saw Chief falling towards the waves, smiling. He looked at me, and I somehow heard his last words through the chaos: "Now it's your turn to be a hero." Chief closed his eyes, and kept his smile as he was swallowed by the hungry sea.
I let loose an inhuman cry of pure pain and anguish, as the bubble around me pulled me up. I remember it going faster and faster. I saw things, things too great to describe now, before I blacked out.
Author's Note: once again, I hope you liked this first chapter, let me know if you did, or didn't, but please no flames, or salty comments. I do like constructive criticism, but do not let it turn into a hate comment. I'll hopefully see you guys later. This is Imagineer379 signing off.