Home of the Devils

xXx

Somewhere in Northern Florida:

A tall, burly, man strode in through the doors of a bar. He planted himself in a booth where the light was most dim. He dug through his blue jean jacket pockets until he found a small piece of cardstock. He placed it on the table.

"Damn," he swore under his breath.

The man took out his phone and hastily sent a text. The text simply read:

It happened.

He waited for no longer than thirty seconds before his phone received a text.

Again?! Damnit! We can't have many more of these! I'll tell theMaster, meet us back at the pier.

The man walked out of the bar and pulled out his keys to his car. Unlocking the door, he got in the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He drove fast down the road to the old pier. He skidded to a stop.

He got out of the car and quickly walked to the pile of boxes stacked near an open window. He began running towards the boxes and jumped on them before taking two steps of a wall run before pulling himself into the open window. He landed quietly on his feet. He had landed on the second floor. He looked down at the first and noticed the all of the crates, boxes, and forklifts scattered everywhere, abandoned.

The man walked into the darkest corner of the floor and placed his hand on the cold, metal wall. He moved his hand until he found the warmest spot. He then tore open the double plated wall and took out a small black box.

Retreating to the first floor he sat on a crate and opened the box and took out a silver key. The key was very shiny and was rimmed with gold. He planted the key in the ground and twisted it to the right. Instantly he was standing in an old hallway shrouded in dark robes. The hallway was endless to the back of him and was littered with bright torches.

He opened the ancient wooden door and found himself in a living room. There three other men there as well. The first man had his hood down and was checking the boy on the floors pulse. His name was Horatio. He was the one who texted him. He had long, dark hair and brown eyes. He had grown a small beard since the last time he'd seen him.

The other man, whose name was not known to Horatio and the man, had his hood up and a skeleton plate mask on. He was rumored to be a vampire like Horatio but no one could ever be sure because he always kept that mask on. Everyone called him Black because it was rumored to be his last name.

The next man, as well, had his hood on but no mask. He had fair skin and a clean, shaven face. A pale, pink scar was visible on the right side of his lips. He was the Master. He was their leader. He was the leader of a hidden order lost for ages.

Until now.

The year 2012 was prophesized to be the end of the world. The end of a civilization. It was true, but not as what was intended. The Elders of the order held great power and when they passed away they left their power in a stronghold. A human. Completely underdeveloped. Useless.

The power spikes began weeks ago and today it happened. This boy, Austin Harper, contracted three supernatural powers in measly ten seconds. It was preposterous, but it was what they were waiting for.

These men, the Draxdon, were waiting for this. This day brought them happiness, early happiness. The prophesized end of the world was set early, in truth, they expected 2015. They were wrong.

The Elders set the date correctly, to give them time, to help them train themselves.

While 2012 may not be the end of the world, it is the end for the boy name Austin Harper.

Horatio stood with a sigh.

"One more exposure and he'll have been developed. It's too early, master." Horatio said to the Master.

The Master walked to Austin.

He was on the ground. He had dark brown hair that almost looked black and dark green eyes. His skin looked smooth and untouched by the world.

The Master kneeled next to Austin and placed his finger on his temple. He was looking at the boy's future. It ended shorter than usual. If the man had to make a guess the length of his future had an extension of a year and a half at most. In a way he almost felt sorry for him, but he couldn't wait to kill him.

He felt sorry for him for a reason he could not connect with, but he knew it existed. He almost felt related to the boy, he knew not why, but he did. It made him fearful, which is why he wanted him to die. He wanted him to be rid from his life. But what would be left then? Joy or guilt? Who really was in control at this point? The man, or the beast?

He shook the fit away and helped the men transport Austin back to his home, erasing his memory in the process.

That night the man delves deeper into his mind wanting to put his feelings of knowing that boy aside. He hadn't had peace since the day that boy came into contact with their radars. It almost scared him. But it didn't, because it terrified him. He felt weaker than the others because he felt that Austin could be a part of him.

That he was missing and he needed to find him. Today more than ever the connection raged on in his mind. But he had to forget. Because today the man took over.