Pride will destroy all those ignorant enough to let it rule them. For who is the stronger man... he who feels that he needs to do everything by himself? Or he who knows his own limitations and accepts that he will require help from friends at some point? Only he who learns this lesson will truly live a life worthy of pride. -Thoraxe357
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Diagon Alley. Pinnacle of culture within the borders of British wizarding civilization. Usually, the alley always had a constant stream of people. The shops that lined the main road completed with their brazen displays and advertisements, doing their best to attract more potential business than the shop next door. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes flashed with signs and small explosions as a flood of children raided its contents, trying to emulate the owners. Flourish and Blott's stood proud as the premier bookstore in wizarding England. At the head of the alley stood the always strong, if a little ominous, structure of the goblin-run magical bank, Gringotts. Yes... Diagon Alley... truly a marvel of society.
These days, however, only the triple W showed any signs of life. Many shops had closed and left. The once suffocating stream of people had dwindled to a pathetic trickle of desperate shoppers. The line of the street only boasted the proprietors of Hogwarts school supplies lately. Beside WWW, only Flortescue's ice cream parlor remained the non school-related shop open. Florean was adamant that the populace needed something to make them happy, so he steadfastly refused to close just because of Lord Voldemort.
There was the rub. Voldemort, aka Tom Marvollo Riddle (though few actually knew that aspect) had wizard Britain shitting themselves in fear. The people were afraid to sleep... to leave their homes... hell, afraid to say his fucking name! Riddle had already won the current war. He had just about everyone too afraid to do anything but quiver. If average Joe and Jane wizard had even half a spine or brain, they would all just grow a pair and stand up, Tommy-boy would fall.
"Fuckin' pathetic..." spat one of the few figures sitting at the ice cream parlor, partaking of a cup of vanilla ice cream. This man was an oddity, even among wizards. He wore a long dark blue duster over a black tactical vest and and black steel-toe work boots. His eyes were covered by solid blue wrap-around sunglasses, the reflective lenses covering the cold black eyes underneath. Across his chest were strapped what looked to be five miniature rifles of varying models and makes. Unseen to anyone, two modified 9mm H&Ks were strapped to his hips.
Putting down his empty ice cream cup he began to fiddle with two metal rings attached to the wrists of his fingerless gloves. The areas over his knuckles looked to have extra padding, but was really plates of solid steel, made incredibly flexible by his magic. Yes, for no matter how out of place Jaxom Trantic appeared to be, he was indeed a wizard.
As the eighteen year old gestured to Flortescue, he spared a thought for the people staring at him warily. These people were the living embodiment of baser human instincts. If something wasn't familiar, fear it. Jaxom, or Jax for short, shook his head in an exasperated way as Flortescue approached.
"How was it, Jax?" Flortescue was very fond of this young man. Almost everyday for the last two years, he had showed up to the parlor for a few cups of vanilla ice cream. After the first few months, he had given up trying to sell Jaxom any of his more fanciful concoctions and was happy to provide the strange young man with his vanilla fix. Seriously, the guy was absolutely obsessed with vanilla Ice cream.
"Delicious as always, oh master of frozen cream."
"Seeing as that was only your first cup, I thought you might want another." stated The ice cream maker, setting another cup and vanishing the empty one with his wand. However, just as Jaxom was about to take the first heavenly bite, an explosion rocked the alley followed closely by cacophony of screams. Looking up, both men saw a cloud of black smoke surrounded a glowing green skull like some tainted halo.
"Chongo-longo..." muttered Jaxom, recalling one of his favorite cartoons, "ruttin' pieces of shit just couldn't wait 'til I finished my ice cream. Keep this chilled for me, would ya Florean?"
"Of course..." replied the confused man.
Nodding, Jaxom rose from his seat and ran to the wall of the shop. He sprung up onto a table and, without missing a beat, launched himself to the roof. Without pause, Jaxom began leaping from roof to roof towards the other end of the street. Once he got to the wall that divided the wizard and muggle worlds. Dropping to one knee, he pulled a black bolt-action .308 rifle from his vest and enlarged it to the correct size.
"Renth, can you give me a visual?"
Twenty feet above the alley, what looked like a miniature dragon circled. This little creature was Renth, a fire lizard. Much was not known about these beings. It couldn't be found out if the predated their larger counterparts or vice versa. Some even speculated that they came from a distant planet, though that theory was generally ridiculed. Generally, fire lizards are though extinct these days. They're obviously not. They actually resided in deep forests to escape the people who would use them.
"What exactly are you looking for, Jax?"
"The leader."
Antonin Dolohov was a happy man. Come on, he was ordered to do what he loved. Sure, he was tortured by some snake-faced asshole who was clearly compensating for something but... whatever. He was constantly sent out into the world to instill fear by any means necessary. For Antonin, that meant the deaths and torture of innocents.
He was usually sent as a follower, not that he really cared as got to satiate his sadistic appetite. This time, however, the Dark Lord had granted him leadership of this raiding party. He was calling the shots during this attack on Diagon Alley. The pathetic little ants fled from the sheer veracity of the attacking Death Eaters under his sadistically gleaming eyes.
'Life is good.' was his last thought as his head exploded.
The silencing charm did its job on the .308's thick barrel as the hollow point fled the rifle and took refuge in the lead Death Eater's head. As chunks of skull and brain matter covered the other attackers, Jaxom stood and took off. He ran down one side of the alley along the roof line, every so often stopping and dropping DE's with well placed rounds. As he neared, he shrunk and stowed his rifle and pulled his pistols. Landing on the shop nearest to the crowd of killers, he surveyed the landing point on the ground that provided the best entrance.
Acquiring his target, Jaxom sped forward and leaped from the edge of the two story building. He landed tall on the street before the confused group. As soon as his feet touched the ground, rounds flew forth and embedded themselves within five members of the twenty-strong party. The remaining members stared in wonder between their dead comrades and the strange devices this brazen fool held. Finally, one DE stepped forward.
"Fool! Lay down your weapons!" He stared smugly through his mask, waiting for this impudent piece of filth to comply. His head jerked back, adorned with a new hole in between his eyes.
"Death Eaters..." growled the stranger, sinking into a combative crouch, "come and get them."
Suddenly, everyone erupted into motion. AKs flew left and right, splashing over an invisible barrier before they hit any innocents. Jaxom dove over the first rank of DEs and into their midst. He landed and rolled under a barrage of curses that struck more of the black-cloaked killers. He rolled up into a standing position and began squeezing the triggers. He reared back under a streak of green light leading to it strike a flanking Death Eater. He spun his head to spot the original caster. A quick shot ended him as Jaxom spun to the right of cruciartus, putting rounds in more Death Eaters. Soon, all that remained was Jaxom and one rookie muncher. Jax holstered his pistols and began to slowly advance on the terrified youth.
Ryan Tarmine stood horrified as senior Death Eaters fell around him. It just wasn't possible! How was one man causing as much damage to their ranks? Ryan's indecision and inaction lead to him being the only surviving Death Eater. As soon as he realized this he spun on his heels... only to realize that he couldn't apparate out! He glanced at the taller man and saw an evil smile on a shaking head. Ryan grasped the pendant turned emergency portkey around his neck while tightly closing his eyes. A second ticked by before he realized that he wasn't feeling the usual hook behind his navel. Trembling, he slowly opened his eyes to see that the stranger had stopped five feet from himself.
"What's wrong, bud? Can't skedaddle? Did you actually think I'd let you escape?" asked the man with a chastising smile. Ryan reached for his wand only to see the man raise a hand and snap his fingers. Every single DE's wand shot from their bodies and landed on the ground before the warrior. However, he plucked Ryan's out from the air as it approached.
Falling to his knees, Ryan began sobbing hysterically.
"Please! Please don't kill me! I'm sorry! I was just marked yesterday! This is my first mission! Please don't kill me!"
"Tut, tut. You really are a greenhorn, ain't ya? What's your name, guy?"
"Ryan T-tarm-mine, sir." Ryan sobbed.
"Hmm... alright kid, if I let you live and remove your mark, will you accept your punishment, straighten up, and fly right?"
"Yes."
Nodding, Jaxom closed the distance between them and rolled up Ryan's sleeve. He placed his hand on the dark mark and closed his eyes.
"Try anything funny, Ryan, and you will die before you can so much as think 'oh shit!' Understand?"
receiving an acknowledgment, Jaxom relaxed his fingers and let his magic flow. It traveled through his hand and into the mark. It searched for the element of the spell that bound the mark to the recipient. As soon as it located that essential element, Jaxom's magic struck, dissolving the bonds of the mark. Pain shot straight to Ryan's brain, robbing him of consciousness. Jaxom caught the young man as he fell and gently lowered him the ground. As the bystanders watched the strange interactions, they saw the mark flow off Ryan's arm like so much ink.
Jaxom rose unsteadily to his feet. It took quite a bit of energy for him to use that much control and it took about thirty seconds for him to regain his composure. After he had rested a bit, he casually gestured to the pile of pilfered wands causing them to erupt into flames. He turned to leave, already thinking about his delicious ice cream when an intense cold flooded the alley. Jaxom turned to the sky to see twenty wraith-like figures flying towards him.
"Oh, gorram it!" muttered an increasingly annoyed Jaxom.
He sunk into a defensive crouch, easily holding off the effects of the dementors. Gathering his best memories, Jaxom began to build energy for his patronus. He had to charge because his patronus, or yogi as Jax affectionately called it, actually destroyed dementors instead of just repelling them. Even the strongest minds, however, can be overcome with enough numbers. For just as he was about to release the patronus, another twenty of the vile creatures appeared. With the latest waves of dementor energy, Jaxom was forced to his knees with hands clasped to his head. Screams erupted inside his mind as they closed in. Over the screams, however, came a heart wrenching argument.
"I gotta say, you piece of shit, you got farther any other guy in a good long while. Yeah... you definitely have patience." a pink haired woman was screaming, clutching a sheet around her nude form. Jaxom was on his knees near the door from the bedroom with an expression of pure heartbreak strewn across his face.
"B-but Dora... you don't understand! I was only asking..."
"No! I don't give a fuck about your pathetic excuses! Get out!"
"Please... I didn't mean to hurt you! I love you... I told you last night. Please don't do this."
"Please don't do this" was all any conscious bystander that remained could hear from the once confidant man as he knelt sobbing in the street while dementors closed in. One approached the apparently broken man and grasped his chin.
