Ch. 2- Divination
In the calm night, he stirs silently aware that his brother was next to him. As he sits up, he notices his brother is not there. He gets up and looks out of the make-shift tent made from tattered cloth and animal hides. It made for shelter, but wasn't at all comfortable for either of them. No luxuries had been awarded to either of them since they had been isolated from the world for a number of years and came back with nothing but what they already had, which was also nothing. When he peered out into the moonlit darkness, he saw his brother standing there looking up at the sky. His face portrayed a kind of sadness that would eventually become lesser once his thoughts had been collected.
As he stood up and walked over to his brother he asked to him, "You had the dream again didn't you? That's the third time this week isn't it?"
His brother smirked and looked up still without turning around, "Yes, I did. But this time, I wasn't afraid to see it through."
He looked at him somewhat surprised, "Really now? So you saw all of it? What all did you perceive?"
The brother turned around and shrugged, "Just bits and pieces as usual, but it was interesting in any case."
He chuckled and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Understandable, I too shared in that feeling of disappointment when I delved into my dreams. Though unlike you, I can never seem to wake up when I want to."
The two looked at each other and laughed in the dim lit darkness as both of them crawled into their tent and rested for the day to come.
Before either of them went to bed, the brother turned to the other and said, "Tomorrow, we'll head to the town just past the foothills."
The other replied, "Yes, maybe there we can get somewhere." With that, the two drift off to sleep readily awaiting the coming day.
As the dusted wind blew through the doors of the broken down buildings and squalid alleys, two cloaked figures, with their coats shredded but still covering, moved through the rising smoke. The people of this shattered and begrudged land crouched helplessly in the corners of patios huddling together with what little they had. Children did not play in these dirt ridden streets, they stayed far from site, waiting for an unsuspecting visitor to drop their wallet bags and eat for another day or two. No animals crossed either, the only things were horses and the occasional disease infested dogs who stayed tied to the water trough awaiting their master's call.
Two cloaked figures, one wearing black and one wearing grey, made their way into a nearby saloon where much raucous was ensuing. As they entered, men were gathered at a table yelling and gesticulating at each other, each had a hand of cards. Some were pulling cards from their sleeves, others looked at an adjacent player who had tilted their cards too much. The women were more or less the same, yet they had their dignity. As they teased the men about them, their slight of hand gave them more than a month's worth of victuals or in some cases, enough to put away and buy themselves free of their iconoclastic lifestyle. One woman in particular was not dolled up and sleuthing men of their wallets. Rather, she stood and swept the floor silently monitoring the saloon.
She had a soft, golden glow about her finely curved body, something all the other girls lacked; a kind of purity or righteousness. She had a normal, coarse-fiber dress and a small cross on her necklace hidden inside the dress. Her eyes glancing side to side slowly but her gaze was constantly on a table with a young man and his group of hard-knuckled delinquents. Every time his gaze met hers, her face would contort into a malicious scowl as her blonde hair covered it slightly, which would make the young man smile innocently and gesture a kiss in order to spite her. Then, he would continue his game with the brutish bunch who would also hound the women walking by. He seemed to have a kind of intellect that would manipulate those around him, truly scum. Yes, this place had many similarities to a once proud sanctum.
The two, now could be distinguished as, men sat down on stools and folded their hands in front of them in a polite manner.
The bartender came to them and asked in a rugged voice, "What'll it be you two?"
One looked to the other and they answered simultaneously without any falter in tone, "Anything."
The bartender shrugged and dusted off an old bottle with the triple "X" on its label. He poured two glasses and slid them on the grease-stained, splintered table to the mens' hands with precision. Both of them took alternating drinks, one after the other, as they sat silently as if to listen in on what was going on around them.
From out of nowhere, a gunshot rang out followed by a gasp, a scream, then silence. "Now who's the lyin' cheater ya good fer nothin' bastard?!" said the groggy voice of a man with obviously too much to drink.
The young man next to him laughed and laid his hand on the drunk's shoulder, "Careful now, we already made quota with the homeless bunch in the alleyways, though I guess another grave never hurt anyone."
After a few seconds the jeering continued as the dead man's body laid bleeding leaving a pool of blood to serve as his tombstone. The young woman stood there and gripped her broom so hard blood seeped between her fingers, but still, she kept sweeping, silently praying and weeping for the man whose life had ended so violently. A funeral fit for an animal, was now an open invite for those who opposed the word of the young man. Yet, no one did nothing, only joined in the murderous laughter of the young man with the seal of the Governor on his collar, sleeves, and pistol.
Through the laughter and yelling, a low chuckle came across and filled the air; this laugh was hollow and melancholy causing everyone to feel a chilling sting and turn to see where it came from. It was the gray-cloaked man, bent down cackling to himself as his companion sat motionless. The drunkard also turned and, being under such influences, came to the conclusion that the cloaked man was laughing at him. The drunk stood up and went behind the gray-cloaked man and shouted at the top of his lungs, "And what is so damn funny you little prick?!" It was then the gray-cloaked man swung around to face the intoxicated man but with his face still shadowed by his cloak, only his semi-sadistic grin could be seen.
The smiling man replied in a carefree tone, "What's funny is that whenever you people get angry, you have to wind up killing one another; you people are so hilarious."
The gray-cloaked man laughed again and only made the besotted tippler angrier. He snatched up the collar of the gray-cloaked man's coat and yelled into his face, "You think your better than me?! I'll show you!"
The drunk swung at the gray-cloaked man's face but before his punch would connect, a gasp for air would escape his lips as a fist laid embedded into his stomach. The man flew back across the saloon hitting table after table until the wall stopped him. On lookers stared in awe as it was the gray-cloaked man, who was no longer cloaked, that struck this punch.
His neck-length, dark brown, almost cedar colored, hair bounced as he slowly stood up straight to show his entire attire. He wore a black colored long-sleeve with accenting white collar and tiny black cross on the left lapel, along with black pants that flowed into his black shoes. Everything on him looked absolutely clean and fresh, almost brand new. He brushed back his rather long bangs back to show his strangely colored eyes. They were a bright green that became darkened voids toward the center and if his gaze was ever met, they would flicker ever so slightly with a violet gleam.
He dusted off his shoulder and chuckled to himself, "Man, big words from a guy who can't take a punch. Oh well, can't expect much from a booze hound like him."
As he turned to face his companion, a large friend of the drunk was about to collide a piece of sturdy wood into the back of his head. Before the uncloaked man could turn, his companion stood by him with his forearm holding back the piece of wood with little effort.
"You shouldn't let your guard down like that little brother, even if its from a worthless piece of filth like this." he said to his brother in a stern and denigrating voice.
With that, the black-cloaked man threw back his arm and sent the attacker rolling across the ground.
He stood up and took off his cloak to show his true self as well. He had dark blue hair, no longer than to his shoulder all around except for in the front, and a black trench coat, with a small white cross on the right lapel, that went down and widened as it reached his shoes. It covered his leather-tight, black long-sleeve, his black cover that had once been on his face, and matching black pants. All of this, of course, was pristine in condition as well.
His blue bangs brushed across his sharp, dark yellow eyes as he smirked to his brother, "Looks like we've chosen the perfect location to begin our journey."
His younger brother looked back and stood ready, "Couldn't have said it better myself, bro."
Right then, five men approached them, guns drawn, and boards ready. At the back of the group was the young man from the table, he wore a confident grin as he spoke to the brothers, "Hey you two, I don't know who you think you are, but this is my town, I make the rules, and I think its time to issue some of my justice." He spun his pistol in his hand and cocked the hammer slowly while raising his other hand.
With a snap of his fingers, his four brash cohorts leapt for the brothers with guns, straps, boards, and fists eager. Within seconds of the attack, both brothers sprung apart and split the group of men evenly.
The first two was followed by the dark brown brother who proceeded to somersault across the saloon into a wider area. The first attacker swung a board at his head but was too slow. He ducked with ease and delivered a sweep kick tripping the attacker. As he fell, the dark brown haired brother kept spinning lower and gave another kick of greater magnitude and sent the attacker into the opposite wall. The second attacker aimed his pistol right at him but lost his bearing as soon as he found it. In a blinding speed, the dark brown haired brother had already reached him and planted a knee into his solar-plexus launching the attacker up against a rafter before falling to the ground unconscious.
On the other side of the saloon, the blue haired brother had stood in place some yards away letting his attackers pursue him. The brother raised only one hand and grabbed the attacker's board fracturing it in two with one grip. The attackers looked at each other in horror as both suddenly caught the blue haired brother's foot in their faces, putting them both unconscious and sprawled on the floor. He smirked to himself while brushing back his bangs and looked to his brother who had finished his attackers off as well.
The final man, the young man stood there with his pistol drawn but dropped them and coward before the two mighty brothers. He begged to them, "Please let me go! I'm the Governor's son! I need to live! I promise to leave this town and its people alone forever!" The brothers looked at him and then to each other. They gave a slight nod and jerked their chins in a dismissive manner. The young man stumbled over broken furniture and battered bodies as he fled.
A young woman approached them with a sauntering swagger as she held her broom firmly to avoid breaking her composure. She had blonde hair and had seemed like a woman who had seen enough troubles for two lifetimes, though this did not take away from her beauty, than the others. It was the same woman from before, only instead of a frown, she wore a gleaming smile as she approached the brothers.
She said to them, "You know, that was the Governor's son and his goons you just trashed. They tyrannized this town because he was the Governor's son, but now that you've put them in their place. Maybe we can finally start being a normal town again. Also, as you witnessed earlier, that man was gunned down by one of them; thank you for giving him the revenge he deserves." Her last words echoed in their minds, it made the hairs on their bodies stand on end for moments that seemed like hours. They quickly regained their train of thought as one of them stepped forward.
"It was no problem for us Miss. We did it all for you and your wonderful town which showed us such hospitality." said the younger brother clasping the young woman's hand in his. His voice was sincere but she could hear its blatant irony.
The older brother smiled and said, "It was no problem of course, we were glad to help. Come now brother, its time to go."
His brother looked at him with almost innocent eyes, the kind of look that made the implication that they should enjoy this place a bit longer, "But we haven't been properly thanked, and I think we've deserved it after-"
The older brother looked at him with a stern look, "No. We've overstayed our welcome, its time to continue forward, isn't that what we agreed on?"
The younger brother sighed and nodded, he released the young woman's hand slowly as the two reached the door. He nudged his brother slightly to express his bit of disappointment, but the older brother merely chuckled at his brother's annoyance.
The young woman, who had been caught up in the unexpected gesture by the younger brother, uttered out a few words as they were about to leave, "W-wait, I never did catch your names."
The two looked at each other then looked back at the woman, the one who answered first was the younger brother. "My name's Markus." he said as he pointed to himself with his thumb.
The older brother smiled kindly with a calm expression, "And I'm Alastor. Formally, we're known as Alastor and Markus Dominik. It is a pleasure to meet you."
The young woman felt a slow growing heat in her cheeks and looked down, no one had been this polite to her or anyone for many, many years. As soon as she looked up, the brothers were gone. After a moment of bewilderment, she regained her composure and picked up her broom while clutching a tiny cross which had been placed in her hand without her knowing. "Hmm, Alastor and Markus, The Dominik Brothers. Quite an odd pair they are but I guess that is what makes them so great."
She lowered her head slightly and closed her eyes. "Thank you, and may He hold you in His Grace through your journey." she said to herself with a silent prayer as she returned to her normal tasks with a hopeful smile evident on her face, her eyes becoming moistened as the wind blew.
The brothers made their way across the barren border of the town and into the desert.
Markus looked at Alastor and asked him, "Hey bro, even when we don't try, we're always doing good for others. I think its because people think we're so approachable."
Alastor chuckled and smiled at Markus, "I know brother, and its more than likely you who is the cause of such things. You can never keep to yourself."
"Its not my fault that people are too ignorant to overlook such trivial matters like money. Its one thing that truly makes me question our journey." He replied.
His brother looked down, "But nonetheless, it is our purpose. To spread good unto others, to atone for our own misgivings and seek out our true goal, the decimation of that which destroyed us."
The two brothers disappeared into the flurry of flying sand, leaving no trace of their existence in that town. Through the swirling dust, a man walked from nowhere as they left. He wore dark glasses, gloves, and a white coat that, even in the sand, remained pristine. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he breathed in deep and exhaled slowly looking into the town. Through the darkened lenses, a deep maroon light began emanating from the buildings.
He grinned and turned to the town, "Looks like this place is ripe for the picking, its stench is almost unbearable. I should thank those two for taking care of that nuisance, now it can finally begin."
