Chapter 1: The Awakening
Part 2: The Rescue
Gregor Richardson rolled his head from side to side the sensation of his neck popping soothed the growing tension. This paperwork was a pain in the ass.
Everything had to be filled out in triplicate, every "i" dotted and "t" crossed. He sighed, moving a sheet of paper to the out tray and grabbing the next. He studied the paperwork for a moment before setting it down on his desk, a detailed report regarding the movements of the Circle of Thorns. The circle had been a thorn in the side of Paragon City for as long as Gregor could remember. Some members of the city council had been convinced that was how their name came about. The truth of the matter was no one was quite sure how they came to their name, a hundred theories had produced a hundred inconclusive investigations, and of course the hero liaisons were blamed for every failure. Heroic liaison had sounded like such an interesting position within M.A.G.I. when he had been chosen for this promotion. Gregor swore silently moving onto the next sheet of paper.
Gregor had been with MAGI for many years, having been recruited shortly after he had left his homeland, arriving penniless and alone on the docks of Paragon City. Australia hadn't been comfortable with a government sanctioned magic association and America had seemed like a bright land of opportunity in his young man's mind.
Gregor hadn't been disappointed, with his new position, he quickly became well known for his aptitude with arcane arts. Few could match is skill in evocation, although, sadly, he never had the patience for divinations. Too many signs needed to be interrupted and too much guesswork had deterred him from that study. It was this ability or rather lack thereof that held him back from advancing within the guild the most. Apparently the ability to see and have others react was more valuable within the guild than the ability to react yourself. Especially in circumstances like the one he had just encountered
He held up a piece of paper and scoffed as he read. Why? A requisition order from the Atlas Park M.A.G.I office for a powerful artifact locked away in their vaults. Surely this was Azuria's doing, she was infamous for preapproving the use of dangerous relics by the city's heroes. With her blasé attitude toward these dangerous items, it was no wonder why so many mystical items went missing under her watch. If her powers of precognition hadn't been so strong she would have gotten a pink slip long ago, of that Gregor was sure.
Extending his hand, Gregor took a moment to settle his thoughts and focus, wrapping his mind around the telephone receiver, grasping it. The object obeyed, floating dutifully into his palm.
"This is Annie, how may I assist you?" A soft and sweet female voice drifted over the phone."Annie, connect me with the Atlas Office, please?" A low ringing answered him signifying Annie having done her job and eventually produced a soft feminine voice that answered him.
"Gregor," the woman said, "I wish I could say hearing from you is a pleasant surprise."
"Azuria, good to hear your voice. I'm shocked you haven't…"
"Called you back? I've told you before, that it was over. We are through. I knew our relationship wasn't going to go anywhere."
Gregor could feel his stomach clench around itself and the rising anger made his face burn. How would she know? She'd seen a single avenue of the future not the array of possibilities. How could she be so certain?
Gregor couldn't help but sneer at her words. Few things could surprise a woman who could tell the future from the entrails of a chicken. A romantic dinner of bird on the barbie had turned into an "us talk" because of a trail of chicken blood running down the sink's drain.
"Azuria, Darlin, c'mon, why don't we…"
" I've got plans that night," she interrupted, "besides I know how this all ends already. There's no sense in going through the motions, I'll end up getting hurt."
"You'll just be getting hurt?" The anger simmering under Gregor's skin finally reached its boiling point. "I guess, it's so much easier to do the hurting rather than be the…" This was the problem with loving an oracle.
"Gregor, shut up, before you really offend me." She interrupted "The answer is no and that's that. And grant that request to Big Ol' Hurt, he scouted out a possible lead into Orenabega and defeated Laramis's coven. He'll need the sands to help with a mission, the Phalanx asked him to look into."
The phone went dead with a final sounding click, Azuria not waiting for his reply.
Gregor leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his eyes and adding the conversation to his growing list of why office romances never work. Signing the dotted line on the requisition, Gregor added the last of the paperwork to his out bin and slammed the phone receiver back on to its base. Gently he ran his hand over his forehead, attempting to sooth the headache that was inevitably going to take hold of his concentration. Few long moments passed as he looked up to see his co-workers staring at him from their desks.
"I'm going to lunch." He spoke softly as he could feel his face begin to heat up. Slipping into his blue blazer, He walked out to the front lobby, pausing in front of the desk of the office's receptionist.
"Annie, can you get these to the right departments?" Gregor asked as he carefully slipped the paperwork into the young woman's tray.
Annie's confident, knowing, smile reassured Gregor that he could trust them to be filed with meticulous perfection in the morning. Annie had only been with the organization a few months and already he had come to depend on her greatly.
"Have a good lunch, Mr. Richards." She said flashing him a genuine smile. Gregor meekly returned the smile before leaving the office.
VvvV
The cold night air chilled Agent Jones to the very core. There was something wrong with this wind, it cut through his wool cloak and the kevlar armor he wore beneath it. Normal wind didn't do that…did it? The briefing hadn't mentioned anything about it being so damned windy here. Agent Jones pulled his hood a little tighter around his face. His cheeks were completely numb and he was certain his tears and snot were freezing into his beard. Furtively he wiped at his watering eyes, how fucking cold could it possibly get? It wasn't this cold in Paragon City. It never got cold in Paragon City.
"Alright, tighten up men. Our objective should just be over this hill." Jones rasped into his headset.
"Let's not forget why we're here. Numina briefed us that something of magical significance was supposed to happen here, so keep on your toes. Regardless of what she said, the Arachnos won't be far behind and the last thing we need is to make this operation complex."
Agent Jones surprised himself with his own tone. He hadn't been with the Longbow Organization very long and he had only been recently promoted to Warden. Leadership was overall a new experience for him, and one he was unsure if he enjoyed.
Coming over the crest of the snow laden hill their objective came into view and he gave a heavy sigh of relief as he studied the ruined stone castle, thoughtfully. The moon cast an eerie light bringing the gloom around the castle into stark contrast and making him shiver. This was that cold he had been feeling, a dark cold that chilled him to the very essence of his soul.
"Roberts, take Smith and Hernandez and search the lower floors. Rickford, watch my back, we're going up top." Each man shared a fortifying glance with each other before they separated, moving into the castle. So much could be said with a simple look and to Jones, this look said Goodbye.
Adjusting his goggles and bringing in a deep breath, Jones gingerly walked up the stairs of the castle. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the rush of blood dulling the other sounds around him. Grabbing his canteen, he took a long swig of the water. He held the water in his mouth for a moment letting the water rehydrate the desert that was slowly forming under his tongue.
The rough stonework provided little protection from the numbing cold, and the wind howled between the missing stones allowing his imagination to build a horror movie atmosphere in his mind. Carefully he reached to his back and unleashed a long recurve bow. Bringing it around, he affectionately ran his hand the length of the black steel, quickly ensuring that the sight embedded into the thin, wiry cord hadn't been disturbed during their hike. He knocked an arrow, letting it rest on the arrow bar. Preparing for a fight that he hoped would never come. Behind him, the reassuring click of Rickford's assault rifle helped calm his unraveling nerves somewhat.
They continued up the dark and still passageways of the castle. Carefully checking each room filled with grim decorations and furnishings. Jones' gloved hand ran the length of a particular sacrilegious statue hanging on the wall. He turned back to face Rickford getting his attention from a blood red painting with a simple finger snap.
"Let's get moving on to the next floor." Rickford nodded in response to his captain.
Passing clouds over the moon caused faint shadows to form on the walls, dancing and flickering. . Static echoed into his headset, drowning out the blood that continued to rush in Jones's ears.
"Rickford, how about one of those god-awful jokes of yours? This place is giving me the fucking creeps." Smith's voice came over the radio.
"Alright, did you know this place is where Dracula lived?" Rickford's voice was low, assuming the tone that all storytellers used when starting a particularly scary tale.
"Hey, esay, let's be serious, man, we don't need more damn things to imagine in this fuckin' place, everybody knows that guy never existed anyway." Hernandez scoffed, his bravado feebly hiding the fear in his voice.
"No man, he did," Rickford insisted, "I heard Mirror Spirit talking about it before briefing. She's that magic savant with W.I.S.D.O.M, those new Asian allies of the Phalanx. When we get back home ask Azuria about it."
"Enough, Rickford." Jones said, forcing authority into his tone. Rickford's ability to goad and torment was getting out of hand. They needed to keep sharp here, especially when the shadows seemed to writhe and seethe all around them.
Had to be a trick of light...right?
He looked back with a commanding look to show his tone hadn't been in jest. A dismissive shrug from Rickford sent Jones attention back to the stairwell. "So what about that joke Rickford?" he asked, searching for a momentary distraction away from the supernatural dread that lay thick within the walls
"Fine." Rickford conceded, "So this pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel around his Johnson and the bartender says..."
Suddenly a high-pitched piercing wail echoed through the stone hallways, followed by the heavy beat of wings on air. Letting out a surprised shouts Jones instinctively raised his bow, and loosed his prepared arrow, hearing Rickford yelling obscenities behind him.
The unearthly screech and the beating of wings were silenced by the sound of ripping flesh and then a sickening thud nearby
Jones adjusted the goggles and walked over to study his kill. A twitching bat lay impaled on the stone, sharp teeth bared and bloody.
"Jones? Jones! Are you okay?" Roberts' frantic voice came over the comlink startling Jones and his partner.
"We're fine, Roberts. It was just a fucking bat." Jones leaned his head back against the cold stone of the wall, willing his heart to return from the nook it had found in his throat.
"A fucking bat, Jesus fucking Christ." Rickford laughed, running a shaking hand through his hair.
"Lord's fucking name" A deep voice spoke from behind Rickford, jumping and quickly spuning to the voice, he met with the tell-tale design of a bane spider helmet. Jones stared in disbelief over Rickford's shoulder. Bane spiders were the most elite of the Arachnos assassins. The men wore dark gray plated armor that always seemed to shift and move with their environments. The many Longbow reports always detailed their ability to sneak up on anything and their ability to feign weakness.
The bane spider brought his bladed mace around, the weapon connecting solidly against Rickford's neck. A sickening crunch provided enough information for Jones to know that Rickford was dead before his body had the chance to crumple to the floor.
Jones and the bane spider shared a grim glance and a sadistic grin curved over the assassin's face. Sounds of gunfire filled Jones' earpiece and he stumbled back, willing his legs to move, to run, to do anything but stare at the grizzled death incarnate he faced. Finally his legs turned to run out a nearby door. He was met with the bright shining light of the moon; he turned his back to the balcony wall.
Trapped.
Why hadn't they been sent with fucking backup? The mission had been made to sound so easy, come to the castle, find the disturbance and get back. Never mind the fact that Arachnos had been there to thwart so many of Longbow's missions.
Agent Jones pulled a small metal box from his belt. He pressed a button and sent the box sailing into the air. Red lasers flashed and took survey of the area displaying the information it took across his goggles. Distance, wind speed, desired angle and trajectory filled his line of vision and he forced himself to focus on the doorway. He knew all the statistics by heart but the hard numbers helped sooth the inaccuracy away from his thoughts. Spinning a dial on an arrow to the correct setting he knocked his bow and launched the arrow into the doorway.
An explosion ripped through the silence. The goggles automatically adjusted to the influx of light the doorway collapse from the exploding arrow securely trapping the Arachnos inside the castle walls for the time being.
That'll buy me some time…
Why weren't the Arachnos following him? Why hadn't they chased him out? Jones felt like he was drowning in silence as he waited for something to happen.
"Sit rep! Roberts…? Hernandez? Smith? Someone talk to me." His only response was the static filling the earpiece.
Damn it.
Jones took a quick survey of his surroundings; a castle balcony, nothing but stone and rock and a deadly swan dive over the wall behind him.
How dare Longbow not send us any back-up. he thought, incensed, They knew damn well that Ghost Widow would sense the same disturbance as Numina, and Longbow knew the Arachnos would investigate as well.
Calm down Jones. A soft, nurturing voice filled his head, gently nudging his own chaotic thoughts out of the way. Now, stop sitting around like an idiot.
Okay, so maybe not so comforting.
Who the hell are you? What do you want me to do?
Sister Psyche, I'm the back up you were just complaining about. My partner Synapse and I have our hands full with the Arachnos leader and I'm leading Hernandez and Roberts out right now, their comlinks are down. Look carefully at the balcony just above you. I have an extraction team on the way, but you need to get up there, now!
Jones scowled, his fingers wrapped around an arrow with a thick wire coiling around its tip.
How thoroughly were these psychics briefed before Longbow sent them out? There would be hell to pay for sending his team in blind, for sending him with backup he couldn't call and for Rickford's death. Jones drew back the bowstring and released the arrow. It thudded dully against the balcony stone, dropping down a thin rope.
Grabbing the rope, Agent Jones' muscles strained as he pulled himself up to the upper balcony. Quickly he readjusted his goggles letting the drone's information fill his vision.
It detailed a body shaped pile of metal lying in the middle of the balcony, oddly undisturbed by time. Jones pulled the bow loose again, slowly moving over to the body. He gazed over the sapphire cross lying against the black metal. Standing over the body he finally noticed the black and charred bones.
So, this is what was so important? A corpse and a fancy cross?!
He turned to face the only entrance. His heart echoed in his ears. Slowly the bane spider came into view from the doorway.
"One shall stand, one shall fall." The bane spider's voice boomed over the natural acoustics of the castle balcony. With an unnatural burst of speed it surged at Jones. The Agent dropped back and quickly loosed an arrow, swearing heatedly. The arrow whistled through the air impacting into the hi-tech armor with a dull thud. The assassin didn't slow and the mace connected solidly with Jones' chest, agony swallowing him whole.
Sucking in a painful breath, Jones could taste the blood on his lips. Something was broken sending waves of agony throughout the soldier's body. The agony was amplified by another solid blow to his chin.
His neck popped unnaturally as it snapped back sending lightning bolts of pain coursing down his spine, he landed against the unforgiving stone in a crumpled heap. Jones felt something snap against his back and saw his quiver skitter across the floor, its contents scattering across the ground. Gasping for air, he turned to face the maniacal grin of the spider.
The bane spider's mouth moved, but the sound of his gasping breath and the rushing of blood in his ears drowned out what he expected was a droll monologue of victory. Flailing, Jones reached out and gripped a thick tipped arrow. This would hurt, but he could come out on top, he had to come out on top. Jones hurled the arrow toward the assassin and shielded his eyes.
The arrow connected with the spider's chest and a brilliant flash of light followed by an echoing boom resonated throughout over the balcony. A high-pitched ring filled Jones' ears. He slowly crawled to his feet looking over at the bane spider. Throwing his goggles to the ground he furiously rubbed at his eyes, trying to dispel the colorful afterimages the flash bang arrow had evoked. The goggles protected his senses from a majority of the blast but they couldn't adjust quite fast enough. Reaching down he pulled another arrow from the ground and aimed carefully with his bow. The arrow connected with the exposed portion of the man's flesh from under his helm and a small explosion rocked the armor against the upraised section of the balcony wall.
Kicking the bane spider's gory body, he slowly lowered himself onto the floor next to the charred remains, hissing as the motion jostled his wounds. Keeping a wary eye on the doorway, Jones carefully ran his hands over his chest, feeling for broken ribs as he took slow, shallow breaths, trying to ease the agony that breathing caused.
"Longbow Extraction… this is …Warden…Jones…LZ clear…" He forced out, grimacing
"Warden Jones, this is Chaser 1, extraction en route. Good Job Warden."