The Marauder

by Tellemicus Sundance

The world has changed. Wizards rule Scotland, Voldemort works from the shadows, the Ministry is becoming increasingly corrupt, and dragons are running rampant across England. Only a small gathering of rebels and outlaws try to stop the injustice of the lands. And there's a new evil approaching on the horizon... 'The Outlaw' sequel. DISCONTINUED

2. A Marauder Emerges

The Marauder
By: Tellemicus Sundance
Chapter 2: A Marauder Emerges

November 26, 1998
Glasgow, Scotland (Green Zone)
Thursday, noon

The Cathedral was a very impressive and beautiful piece of architecture, even Draco had to admit that the ancient Muggles who'd constructed it really had done a splendid job on it. He knew that it was the traditional site of Muggle religious worship and spiritual guidance. That was the reason why it had been commandeered and converted into a Black Watch garrison and made into the wizarding outpost in the city. It was to give the Muggles a message: that their world was over and that no place could offer them protection or guidance unless they willingly submitted to their fates as the Wizards' playthings and slaves.

Draco could appreciate the irony and symbolism of it. Symbolism was a potent and powerful weapon if used properly, a lesson his father and Slytherin House had imparted unto him. If one looked carefully, there was a bit of symbolism everywhere in the Magical World, but Black Watch seemed to focus a majority of their public efforts on it. That seemed a little odd to the blonde pureblood prince, but he decided to reserve his opinion of the elite force until after he got to know it better.

Draco stood off to the side of the entrance, simply looking into the long, narrow building. Like most buildings he'd seen in recent times, the former cathedral was in the midst of new construction. When they chose it for their headquarters, Black Watch had decided that they'd make full use of all the interior space that was provided. As such, there was a second floor being built midway up and a special office for high-ranking officials up in the loft. If he was reading the ground plans and general design that was going into it correctly, the first floor of the cathedral would be used for official Ministry business while the second seemed reserved for 'special Black Watch operations'.

Turning around as he heard the approach of another, Draco spotted a bearded old man in Black Watch's black and silver-lined robes walking past him. Discreetly, Draco glared over at the man. It was him. Draco hadn't seen him in over a year but he'd recognize that neatly groomed brown and silver beard anywhere. In fact, it was entirely because of him that Draco found himself here in Glasgow as a member of the Watch. He had thrown himself into the Watch's torturous training regimen when he discovered the man's identity and he wouldn't stop until he'd finally gotten the man onto his knees before him. Before the man could notice his hateful expression, Draco's face carefully shifted back to a neutral calm.

Looking back out over the old Muggle city, Draco had to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the pungent scent of wood and oil smoke that was thick in the air. At this point in time, many of the old Muggle power stations had lost power and shut themselves down. Gasoline and oil had been carefully scavenged and hoarded from all over Scotland, the offshore gas mining operations, and the many abandoned automobiles, along with countless other items and trinkets that the people would likely not see again until they managed to get their factories up and running again. As a result, the survivors had found themselves reverting back to their ancestral roots.

"Watchman Malfoy," a tenor voice from nearby spoke up, catching Draco's attention instantly. "We're ready to receive you, follow me."

"Yes sir," Draco answered automatically as he turned to follow the black cloaked man into the cathedral. With just a casual display of their silver badges, the two men were allowed entry and moved through the spacious interior of the former church. Draco didn't bother trying to make small talk with his guide, he'd likely never see the man again, unless out on missions.

Despite the new construction that the magical construction crews were doing, much of the cathedral's former beauty remained untouched. It was a choice that Draco had to silently approve of. Seizing this building and perverting its purpose was insult enough after all. No need to add injury to insult by ruining its many outstanding works of art contained within.

Snapping his attention away from the architecture as they approached a small group of similarly black cloaked people, Draco eyed each of them with careful evaluation. There were five of them, three of them men, but all held themselves like highly-trained fighters and enchanters. The men were the typical standard of Black Watch's grunt men, large and imposing with a curiously large amount of muscle for a wizard. But there was a rather dangerous sleek beauty to the two women. Like how a dagger is beautiful, pretty to look at but dangerous to get close to.

"Squad 14, meet your new teammate," Draco's guide said to the group. "This is Mr. Draco Malfoy; fresh from Hogwarts and the Academy, scoring in the upper tier of his class and training." Turning back to Draco, his guide grinned slightly as he said, "This is your squad for the duration of your mission orders. Enjoy." Without even waiting for a word of farewell, the cloaked man walked off, leaving Draco to the mercies of his new teammates.

"Malfoy, eh?" one of the women said, drawing his attention. "Now this is a surprise. I'd have thought that the pampered whiny brat I knew back in my Seventh Year would've gone ran off in fright after the first day of Watchmen training."

Draco glared coldly at the woman but didn't respond. There was no point in getting into an argument with her or any of them. Besides, he didn't care what they thought of him, not anymore

"So, how much did your father have to pay for you get this commission?" the woman asked snidely.

"No one buys their way into the Watch, Halverson," one of the men stated in a blunt manner. "That is what separates us from the Aurors and politicians."

"Not this brat," Emily Halverson countered, not at all swayed by the man's argument. "He'd have his precious, super-rich family buy him the world, moon, and stars if they were for sale."

"This taunting is pointless and useless," Draco said, finally speaking in a calm and level tone. "I am here to do a job, as are you. Let's leave it at that." Turning the as yet unnamed members, he said, "You know me, but who are all of you?"

Emily just huffed, quite disappointed that the spoiled brat she'd known years ago seemed to have grown up and matured in the following years. Thankfully, she decided to let the subject down.

The man who'd spoken up inclined his head and said, "I am Daniel Paddington." Gesturing to the others in turn, he continued, "These are Joshua Smith, Rebecca Sullivan, and Tiberius LaMotte."

A new figure approached from the side, bearing a badge with the letter 'C' on the black cloak. "Breaking in the new guy, I see. Good, I hope we got all the Hogwarts grudges and rivalries taken care of because we just got a mission."

"What's the situation, sir?" one of the other men asked as all of them turned to face their team captain

"It seems that Arminger's forces over in Angus have been completely annihilated," the Captain said. "Normally, I don't give a bloody hell what that Muggle warlord is up to, but this matter concerns us because of how they were defeated." Holding out some sheets of paper, he said, "Here's the official report of our team who'd been assigned to that task force."

-Flashback-

RM Condor, Scotland (Green Zone)
Three hours earlier…

The battle was raging in a furious clash that was eerily reminiscent of times long past. It had started simple enough at RM Condor with surprise ambush attacks along the perimeter. Once the attackers had secured a section of that, they opened a hole and allowed the main attack force to drive through in hastily armored trucks and cars. They first targeted the ammunitions building, breaking in and making off with the British Army's weaponry. Then the real attack started as the attackers began ruthless mowing down the scrambling Marines. It was now almost an hour into the firefight and it was clear that the 45 Commando Royal Marines (one of the very few battalions not to be dragged down to England to fight the dragons) were on the verge of being overwhelmed.

The newly appointed Colonel Rodger Richburg was overseeing the battle from his seat in the command truck. The truck was simply an armored bus that was loaded with numerous types of radio and communications equipment that were being manned by a 10-man team to help coordinate the battle. The atmosphere, despite being somewhat warm due to the collected body heat and the electrical equipment, was abuzz with excitement and energy that usually comes from the anticipation of victory.

Colonel Richburg was smiling to himself as he watched the military base go up in smoke, listening to the distant crackle and pops of machine-gun fire and explosions of grenades. If he were honest with himself, Richburg would say that he was surprised that the battle was going so well, especially against a battalion of Royal Marines who reputed to be quite good at their jobs.

But he didn't allow himself to start feeling doubt. After all, this was his battle and he was already greatly anticipating his return to Edinburgh to deliver the news that King Arminger of the victory. The King wanted to seize Condor's military surplus, if there was any remaining anymore. If there was some, it would likely help in his march to control the Strathmore of Angus(1). Maybe Arminger would even appoint him to be his first Field Marshall? A tad premature, given his abundant lack of military experience of course, but that was Richburg's ambition nonetheless.

Yet if there was one thing he could've done without, it was the presence of the five black cloaked 'Watchmen' mages that had accompanied him on this assault. Richburg, like many in the aspiring kingdom, didn't know who they were, where they came from, or how they could do the impossible things they did. All he knew was that the mages had started appearing shortly after Arminger seized control of Edinburgh and were his elite commandos. They rarely took orders from anyone but themselves and seemed to look down on everyone else around them, even Arminger himself if the rumors were true.

As it were, the five of them were gathered outside the command truck watching the battle through binoculars. Occasionally, one or two would disappear for a few moments to do something, which was usually companied by explosions in the battlefield, before returning. All of them had their black hoods up to conceal their features, but it was obvious that all of them were battle-ready men.

"Colonel!" one of the radio operators called out. "We're getting reports of a white mage appearing on the battlefield!"

"What?!" he demanded, turning to face the speaker. He wasn't the only one. The five black mages also turned their attentions towards the speaker, somehow able to hear despite being outside. "Is it fighting for us or against?"

"Against, sir!" the operator reported. "The mage has already killed Delta Company and is now pushing Alpha Company back away from the barracks!"

Turning back to the battle, Richburg snatched up a pair of binoculars himself as a pair of the black mages teleported away with subtle cracks of displaced air. Quickly scanning through the battlefield, Richburg soon found what he was looking for. There was an intense close-quarters fight taking place in front of the barracks building as reported. And in the center of the melee was a white-clothed figure that was spinning and slashing about in a deadly dance, blood flying around him as the bodies of Richburg's troops dropped dead.

Much to his surprise, the pattern didn't change in the least when the two black Watchmen suddenly appeared nearby and started lobbing their magic lights at the fighter. In a burst of speed that seemed almost superhuman from his viewpoint, the white figure closed upon them and struck them down as well. He was somehow able to block or parry the magic lights as he approached them, sending them flying harmlessly into the air. Then, in fast cold strikes, the white mage brought the black mages down with bloody attacks to their torsos and throats.

Once the two black-clad mages were down, there was an audible rallying cry of victory from the defending Marines, invigorated by the success of their unexpected helper. The defenders began pouring out of barracks, most only partly dressed, and armed with what few weapons they'd managed to steak or recover from the bodies of the attacking army. In an almost careless disregard of the battle taking place around him, the white figure moved forward towards the line of parked vehicles, waving about its hands slightly in the air and miraculously repairing an otherwise demolished motorcycle.

At this point, Richburg was frantically issuing orders to his men to have all his soldiers target and destroy the white figure. It was an order made even more frantic when he heard the roar of the motorcycle's engine begin to grow increasingly louder. Returning his attention to the white attacker, he watched as the man raced out away from the battle that consumed the RM Condor and out directly towards the command truck.

"Order our artillery to fire on him!" Richburg yelled, more than loud enough for the line of twenty defending soldiers he'd kept in reserve to hear.

Richburg had three rocket-propelled mortars that quickly answered his call, sending their screaming payloads skyward. The first two missed their target by more than twenty meters to either side, and the rider continued his reckless attack, closing the distance to less than a hundred meters. Much to his satisfaction, the third one came down close enough to send the motorcycle and its dangerous rider flying through the air. But his relief was short-lived as the figure recovered quicker than he thought possible as began sprinting the remaining distance.

"Line up!" his sergeant yelled to the soldiers. The soldiers quickly formed a firing line, aiming at the unfaltering attacker. He was closing the distance fast, almost twenty meters from the firing line and fifty from the command truck. "Ready! FIRE!"

Twenty guns fired at the command, and not one bullet hit. The white figure held out his right arm and a translucent blue shield materialized in front of his palm, deflecting the bullets away from him. All of the soldiers couldn't help but gawk slightly at the surprise. At this moment, Richburg couldn't help but turn towards where the three remaining Watchmen were standing in hopes that they'd deal with this threat. A hope that was instantly dashed as he found that all three of them was missing. And it was this moment of untrained hesitance that allowed the white-clad man to reach their line before they were ready to fire again.

Jumping into the air as he neared them, the figure withdrew a hatchet. Dropping upon one soldier, the hatchet immediately struck, hacking through the man's shoulder and into his chest. Landing around the falling soldier as he pulled his hatchet free, the fighter's other hand flashed out, catching the barrel of the closest rifle and wrenching it to the side. The unexpected assault caused the soldier to reflexively pull the trigger, sending the bullet into the face of his fellows. Yanking the rifle from the startled man, the fighter spun around and used the machine gun as a club, smashing another soldier's temple and killing him. Grabbing the newly dead man, the fighter pulled him in front of him as a shield against a trio of soldiers who were about to fire upon him. Using his borrowed gun, the attacker fired and killed the three of them in quick succession.

Realizing that firearms weren't ideal in this situation, the remaining soldiers quickly withdrew their close combat weapons. Blocking one soldier's attacking battle-ax with his hatchet as he dropped the stolen gun, the figure snatched a dagger from his belt and jabbed it forward into the man's stomach. Spinning around, the fighter deflected a sword with his dagger while bringing his hatchet up and hacking into the attacker's chin, ripping his lower jaw completely out of his face as he yanked his weapon free. One of the soldiers tried slashing at his exposed back, only for the hatchet to come around over his shoulder and block it. A quick slash to the attacker's throat and jugular ended the man's life prematurely. Then, with a supernatural flash of light from his palm, the ten remaining soldiers were blown off their feet as the ground beneath them exploded into a deadly spray of shrapnel.

In the following lull of the battle, Richburg finally was able to see some defining features of the mystery man. The young man, for that's what he clearly was, was clothed in a white cloak with its hood up, hiding his face in shadow. He wore a white leather jacket underneath it with highlights of blue along the seams and edges. There was a satchel hanging snugly from his left shoulder to his right waist and a pair of belts that crisscrossed over his thighs. His pants, boots, and gloves seemed to be of black leather, a new type that he could now clearly and easily recognize as dragon hide. And dripping from his gloved hands, weapons, and staining random portions of his white outfit, was the red of fresh blood. Overall, it was a terrifying image since Richburg knew that the young man was after him.

"KILL HIM!" Richburg was shouting frantically, mostly to the men in the command truck, who weren't strictly soldiers. "KILL HIM NOW!" But they couldn't have done anything anyways as the hooded man held his glowing left palm up at the armored truck. A moment later, it erupted in a magical explosion and killed all inside.

-End of Flashback-

Glasgow, Scotland (Green Zone)

"Any idea who this guy was, Captain?" Emily asked, sounding quite concerned with the peculiar notes that the battle report held.

"Not a clue," the Captain answered immediately. "That's our task. To find this little marauder and stop him before he interferes more directly with our operations."

"Why didn't the three Watchmen who'd witnessed this battle try to stop him instead of fleeing?" Draco asked. It didn't make sense to him. As far as he knew, Black Watch consisted heavily of combat and investigation teams. Why would they run when confronted by this person? Why didn't they surround him and overwhelm him with long-distance spells?

"That particular team's assignment had already been accomplished during the battle," the Captain said stiffly, turning his shaded face towards Draco with a visible frown. "We do not share mission assignments and details with other squads, Watchman. That is what keeps leaks from forming in our force. Remember that or you'll find yourself quickly removed from service."

"Yes sir," Draco submissively, his face blank as he bowed his head in acceptance. Internally, he was grinding his teeth in anger and annoyance. If that was truly the standard policy, it just made his goal far more difficult to achieve. 'Difficult, but not impossible,' he reminded himself as he cooled his temper.

"What kind of magic was he using, sir?" Paddington asked, his gaze having never once wavered from the report he was reading. "I don't recognize this brand of magic. Was it some kind of spell or magical items he was using?"

Turning to Paddington, the Captain said, "All we know is that this marauder has high levels of combat skill and seems capable of utilizing wandless magic. I can only assume that he's using some kind of magical items to enhance his fighting abilities since wizards cannot use magic without them."

Speaking out a bit more loudly as he addressed the entire squad, he said, "This man is clearly a high level threat. If we manage to find him, we are to take him alive for interrogation and imprisonment. But be warned: if he resists us, do not engage him in combat alone unless there is absolutely no other choice. Clear? The crime scene is three hours and twenty minutes old and counting. Men, women, let's go hunting."

---

(Author's Note) Sorry about the short chapter. I originally wanted to add another 3,000+ words, but I just couldn't find the inspiration to do so. So, I decided to run with what I had. I hope you like it and I wonder how many people can find the 'movie' reference I used in here.

1) Strathmore is a strath in east central Scotland running from northeast to southwest between the Grampian Mountains and the Sidlaws. It is approximately 50 miles (90 km) long and 10 miles (16 km) wide. Strathmore is fertile and has some of Scotland's best arable farmland, producing soft fruits and cereals.