Ch. 4
To Sandford and The Mansion, Mike and Moon oh my
"Where do I begin? This story is rather complex, for I still don't really know how it all came to. But answering your question Ron, I met Luna about a week ago at a hamlet called Sandford. I was told to look for her there by the ministry. She was searching for strange creatures as always and I was accompanied by three other muggles during my investigations. They were approved by the ministry of course, and were government agents from what I was told."
Jacob Warner walked ahead of the group into Sandford local pub of Smiling Ale. He was the youngest of the four; being only twenty he wore a pair of thick glasses, and had a sharp nose and chin that signaled his bookish nature. It was his first field assignment, and being out of his jailed office added excitement and a bit of nervousness that he couldn't quite shake off. The other was Johnson a man about late forty, with a growing grey beard to match his piercing eyes followed in behind Jacob. He was the senior of the group, and in his younger days played the role of the brute due to his size and stature. Age did little to his still tall and muscular stature.
Behind him were Kathrine Diego, and Neivelle, both were talking about how nice the weather of the town of Sandford seem to be. Kathrine was older than Jacob by a few years but not even close to the age of Johnson. She had tan skin, and dark brown eyes that matched the color of her hair. She had a husky but understanding voice, which made her easier to talk to, introduced herself to Neivelle first since the group left London. She wore a grey jacket, and jean pants. In fact by the looks of the four no one would've noticed that all of them were law enforcers on an assignment. Jacob especially sold the group as tourists when they came into town, and questioned by the constable, by having a rough American accent. Cleveland was where he was from originally.
"Me and my chaps along with me Dad are visiting the countryside. I was told Sandford was the village of the year last year. I hope to see that for myself before we get back to London, Dad here misses the countryside."
Neivelle didn't think that they be questioned immediately once they got to Sandford. The officer tag read Angel in bold letters across his uniform. The reflection of a smiling Jacob, on his dual mirror sockets of sunglasses, while the officer seemed incapable of making a smile as he kept scribbling on his little note pad in front of the talking Jacob. Who kept his jovial façade, talking about where the dad in his story used to live, and how him and his chaps whom were played by Neville and Kathrine; lives in college which he kept brief enough to garner Angel's interest of respect.
Angel then walks away towards his car, after he tells the group to have a safe time in Sandford. His word: safe was armored with like a cautionary tale when Jacob finally drove off. Neville and Kathrine breathe a common sigh of relief, while Johnson didn't seem to care much of the outcome either way, he was just a bit peeved that he played the part of Jacob's pretend father.
When they came to a bar in the afternoon called "The Crown," below the big letters were best place in town. Jacob was the first to order in a cup of dark cold beer.
"A little early don't you think?" said Kathrine.
"You mean, late?" Jacob slyly corrected.
"She's right, don't you think you should ease up? I mean we are on an assignment." Neville said sheepishly. He being the new comer to the group felt a little out of place, when voice his opinion. "Hey we're tourists, lets act the part for a little while work is constant, good ale on the other hand is not," Jacob countered. "Besides it feels like ages since I had one of these, they don't quite make it like these in the city, just one won't hurt" he looked deliciously at the drink in front of him. Kathrine didn't feel like arguing, since Johnson was already drinking his beer adding to her disdain.
"Care to join Mr. Longbottom?" Jacob asked happily.
"No thank you," Neville replied graciously. Kathrine smiled at his decision; at least someone here had some professionalism. "
If you'll excuse me," Kathrine said. "I'll be finding the washroom," she said out loud looking around as she spotted a sign that said bathroom near back exit scribbled in permanent marker on a white board posted beside a stuffed attacking brown bear. To which She wisped herself away immediately at moments notice.
The ringing of a phone from the counter caused the bar tender a middle age man who still retained his brown burly hair to come out from behind the cave of the back store. Behind a woman, his wife who Neville assumed was not nearly as old wearing a stripped red shirt followed through with a bottle in between her hands. "Pardon me," Neville asked as he came up to the counter. "Do you happen to know where I can find Black Rose Manor?" Neville handed her a photograph with a large beautiful house, which was white marble on the outside, and had freshly red-painted roofs that painted elegance. She sat the wine bottle on the counter, and looked closer at the picture-taking it into the sunlight. "Neil," she cried. Her voice stout like her build, and rough unlike the hamlet of the town surprised Neville.
"Neil," she cried again, "Can't you see I'm on the phone, Sheri. I'll talk when I'm done." The man went back on talking on his phone. "He's a bit busy at the moment dearie, might I fancy you with a drink while you wait?" Seeing that there was no rush at the moment a good drink would be nice, non-alcoholic that is.
"That would be fine. A cup of orange juice will do me good." The old woman smiled and a moment later came back with a clear cup of orange juice.
"There you go dear," she left the cup of bright orange on the table, and went to the back kitchen carrying a tray of dishes stacked up eqaully on each side. Neivelle took a small sip of the orange juice, it cool and quenching in the warm, but dreary atmosphere of the bar. The entire tavern was empty with only the owner couple and his friends, who were starting to begin on their second mug. The place had a large fireplace to the far right end from the entrance. All to the sides were booths, and in each booth had a mounted stuffed animal head. Usually either deer or goats sat above the booths. The bar, like the wooden chairs of children's decoration, that Neville was sitting on was crusted with carved names, dates and smut words written beneath the fingertips of its patrons.
Jacob sat back in his booth, his empty mug at his side with Johnson reading over a magazine he picked up. "So John, what do think of this guy? What kind of specialist is he?" Jacob said. Johnson didn't look up at him as he said. "He seems rather friendly. I don't think he'll be a problem. But as far as a specialist, even I'm not too sure. I never heard of his kind of specialist. Occult dealings, if you ask me that's a bunch hooey."
"Not a believer?" Jacob joked.
"No, more skeptical, but from what I've learned over the years, bullets be the only things that are real in our field."
Jacob thought of the guns in the back of the trunk. He fired many times before, in the targeting ranges back at head quarters, but never in real life.
"But trust me when I say this Jacob, they are the last thing I want to see in this world." Johnson turned the page of his magazine, looking for something of interest. He wanted new furniture; his daughter had pestered him earlier today about it before he left.
"That's bollocks Johnson. We've Captain Britain who flies around daily, and don't get me started on other superheroes. From mutants, flying supermen, to giant green men, who can leap in single bounds and still keep his shorts, I can barley keep my pants on when getting out of bed. Then we got those men in black at SHIELD, keeping secrets that only god knows. Flying around on their multi-billion dollar invested air ship, while more than half the world lives in relative poverty. Defense they say, a load of rubbish is what it is. Which I find more unbelievable, than fairy dust." Johnson put down his magazine.
"I'm not saying I don't believe, I'm skeptical about magic."
When bartender finally finished his talk Neville had finished half of his orange juice. A burly and tall man, who had done a fair share of heavy lifting in his life, and brown mustache that looked like a newly opened broom. He sat down a case of dark St. Pewter's ale. His long forearms exposed over his rolled up sleeves, he took the picture that Neville showed to his wife in hand, and puts on his glasses over his bushy eyebrows.
"Black Rose Manor, quite the beauty is she?" his voice soft, but carried the air of his heavy bar.
"Yes it is," Neville agreed. "Do you know where I can find it?' He handed the photo back to Neville.
"Sorry lad, I've never been there myself. The place's been closed down since the eighties. But I can point you in the right direction. The Manor is not to far from here, if you head back outside of town and take the intersection of 34. It takes you towards the woods of Northshire."
"Woods of Northshire?" Neville asked.
"Yes, from there you can see the mansion on top of a hill. I don't know if you can take a road to the place, I've never been there myself. Only catch glimpse of it when I take the intersection." Neville thanked the man for the information.
He found his other companions reunited together at a booth above a grey goat. He took a seat beside Jacob who had finished his second mug. Johnson was reading a magazine with one already on the table. Kathrine had returned, and was looking over messages on her screen phone.
"I located the place and its address on my GPS. We should be able to get there soon if we don't waste any more time." Johnson nodded in agreement. "The sooner the better, won't you agree Jacob?" Jacob wasn't paying attention. He was drinking away and seemed a moment late too dazed to answer Johnson.
"Can't we go tomorrow morning? Do we have to go tonight?" said Jacob. Neville thought it true too. There was no telling what this black rose manor could have in store for them. It's been closed for over twenty years according to Muggles, but to wizards it was a different story.
"I second that," Neville blurted. "Going tomorrow seems best besides there's no immediate rush."
Kathrine didn't expect Neville to agree with Jacob.
"It is getting late," Johnson added as he looks at the wooden hour hands of the large owl shaped clock hinged onto back of the wall.
"We have to move now. This job has a time limit, and we can't waste it, drinking."
"Now hold on a second." Jacob defended. "First off, we have no clue what we are getting into. Second off I don't see haste being in the mission statement. Thirdly…-"
"Trust me Kathrine, I think its better we rest and gather ourselves first. Its been a rather long drive from London. And going in at night may not be too wise since we don't know the land," Neville said calmingly finishing Jacob sentence.
"I don't know what we might face. If I'm right which I hope I'm not. It will be better with some clear thinking about this manor before we move any further."
Johnson nodded.
"He's right, when we received the mission we didn't get any info about the mansion other than a few historical purchases." Kathrine knew that. She had read all the documents and the buyers herself. But what she didn't know was why Neville. An occult specialist was brought in. Granted many of the past owners she now recalls magically disappeared, or simply went missing in red letters when she reviewed the files. Further added to the mystery but it didn't doubt her on her mission. The mansion was built since before World War two. At one point it was used as a shelter during air raids. No one has made any purchases since the late seventies, by then it had completely been abandoned.
"Alright," she said. "It's late in the afternoon, but we leave first thing in the morning."
"Agreed," said Jacob. "It'll give me time to make some adjustments to our equipment while we're here."
Mike Chan woke up in the middle of the night sweating and heart panting as his fist clutched onto the burning of the scars like a fireball in his hands. The feeling of punch into another man's flesh still fresh in his fingers, as he poured cold water over his knuckles. Sleeping in his bed did not help. Though he tried to forget yesterday's incident, the sight of Luna in his dreams did little to assuage his building anxiety. Her hair became white as falling snow, and eyes pearl like in his dream. But the pain of his fire knuckles growing, and the uneasy feeling in his body since he got home had not ceased. Maybe there was something about magic healing that was causing his body to react in such a manner.
Mike then vomit again onto the toilet of the bathroom. It was his second since he started sleeping. This time he felt a slight moment of relief, as he flushed the yellow chunks away. Washing his face and drying again he laid down on his bed. Thinking about what Doyle had said. The entire building was yellow taped all around when he left there yesterday. He showed his identification to one of the officers to allow him entry. The rubble as he took each step closer to what was his desk. Eve was nowhere in sight. In fact no one he knew was there except the chief who called to him from behind a burnt door. Mike found him standing alone in a blackened room, with ash of papers all on the floor, and tore tiles of the walls. The back of a light colored trench coat, and tip of brown hair was all Mike could see of him.
"Reporting for duty chief." Mike saluted.
The chief didn't look back. Alone they were in the tattered room he said in a low and solemn voice. "Mike, right? You're Eve's assistant."
"Yes chief," said Mike. The correct term was accountant but Mike didn't want to infer.
"Well, like I told everyone yesterday, you're all on indefinite leave until further notice."
"And when will that be?" Mike asked. The chief turned around and stared straight into Mike's eyes, as he said. "I don't know."
And here was Mike, alone in his apartment. Out of a job, and expectations, except for cleaning his floor of bile. He thought about what Doyle said, about what the chief said. Then he thought about the fire, to Luna, and magic. Unbelievable maybe he spent the day in some kind of tourist area, where everyone was paid to stay in character, like some kind festival.
He heard the TV next door. It was the Perrys, they were laughing. Mrs. Perry usually had a very goose like sound, while Mr. Perry seems like he inhaled before every laugh. Thumping upstairs by the couple James, and Carrie. College students from Belgium, they usually stayed up late drinking with their friend Mordi. It seems like he's there tonight, talking about the next test or drinking before sex most likely. The next test, Mike thought about it too. What was he going to do? Maybe Doyle will forget. Maybe Mike could get in touch with the Chief. He'll know what to do. Right?
"No, you have to find out the truth yourself," Startled Mike tried to find out where the voice came from. It seemed as if it echoed into his mind.
"Who's there!" Mike demanded startled, he rushed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen area trying to find a weapon. Terrifyingly scavenging all he found in hand was a frying pan.
Neville sat alone in the abbey, quiet and wondering about what to expect next. It was two hours ago that he left the others, after the decision. Kathrine and him then went and got rooms at the inn across the street, while Jacob went back to car and Johnson made a few calls. It was still early in the afternoon, and a much-needed rest wasn't on Neville's mind. He was waiting on a friend. The ministry had said Luna would be in the area of Sandford, investigating the local plant called spirit fire.
"Neville!" she cried. Neville looked back and saw Luna by standing by the door. She wore a green scarf, and grey coat, with boots that were clearly too large for her. Neville stood up from his seat, as she ran towards him and gave him a warming brace. "Oh my god, Luna, look at you." Neville smiled at the sight of his old friend.
"I haven't seen you since graduation party."
Luna laughed in delight; "You mean since you left with you know whom that night?" she smiled devilishly.
"What do mean?" Neville blushed.
"Well, you know who. I'm not saying any names Longbotton, but I must say old boy good job."
"Christ, we're in a church." Luna giggled at the thought.
"I know exciting isn't? Come on I'll show you to a nice place where we can chat." Luna led the way with Neville following.
"Why did we meet here anyways Luna?" Neville said trying to catch up with her.
"Because its at the center of the town. You're bad with directions remember."
Luna had found a nice coffee shop near the chapel about two blocks away, from where the pub Neville had been earlier. The coffee shop was called Allie's corner. Homely and quiet, it was only Neville and Luna who sat together in a round table in the center of the store. With the young girl Allie, who was a year or two younger than Luna behind her counter speaking to an older woman about the town's coming village festival, and where to get the best flowers, since the old one had closed down.
"So what brings you all the way out here?" Luna asked as she sipped her coffee.
"Ministry business, I was hoping you could help me out." Neville said getting right down to business.
"Ministry business? Not everyday I get a visit from an auror?" Luan said sarcastically.
"So will you help me?"
"What of course, what are friends for?" she smiled.
There was red stain on the floor of Kathrine noticed when she walked into her room. It had rested there for about a day, from what Kathrine deduced. Wine stain, and the damp air of the room had done nothing but help its stay. The sheets were once green and light blue, with white pillows. One TV, a mere one third of the size of the one she owned. The room was just small enough for her comfort, and the bathroom was besides the bed making walking easy. She locked her door, and took a glimpse outside of her blinds. Neville was walking towards the direction of the center of town, while Jacob had the trunk opened of their jeep checking supply hopefully. Johnson was nowhere to be seen, maybe back at the bar Kathrine thought.
She turned on the shower in the bathroom. It almost as small as a closet, having a toilet and an old sink that looked rusty from over the years. She wipes away the fog of the mirror with her naked chest, and brown unkempt hair at her sides. She looked at herself every time in the mirror before a dangerous assignment. Her dark brown eyes, once light skin that over the years had thickened, and the beating heard of her heart as the show ran and steam eloped her into a fog of memory.
Jacob checked his items making sure they were all there once the team set out. A small bag containing a assortment of first aide, two standard issue nine millimeter P22 firearms with a capacity of ten shots per firearm, a telecommunicate outlet to ensure contact from anywhere in the world, digital camera, and a bag belonging to Neville. Jacob at first didn't bother to see what was in the bag. The higher ups informed him not to interfere with the specialist. Being in a secret organization already Jacob was getting more nervous at the premise of having more secrets especially on a field mission. He never had to do this kind of stuff when he was in weapons development. He closed the back of the jeep and saw Neville walking down the street.
He didn't quite know what to think of him. An occult specialist was what they called him. He looked like any other plain fellow. Mid twenties, clean cut dark brown hair, and well kept clothes that made him looked more normal rather than some bearded, elderly fellow who had sociopathic and eccentric tenacities. He looked back at the bag in the car. It was a gym bag containing what might be a real clue to what this Neville was. He looked around and wondered where Johnson was. Maybe back at the bar?
He kept staring at the bag, then without thinking he opened the back door trunk. Between a thousand dollar communicator device, and a carton of ammo was Neville's bag. His hands slowly crept towards it contents. Keep to the mission he heard himself say. There are secrets for a reason something he learned at the naval academy, when he was just a young man. His hand felt the plastic zipper, and all he needed was to pull it all down. Kathrine told him to check the equipment, he remembered. And that's what he is doing. Checking all the equipment, right?
"Maybe? If the files are even there you mean?" Johnson said. "There's no way of knowing, where to even look once we're in the mansion. The place you said is over a hundred years old."
"What do you mean?"
"Um huh… un huh, yes I think I'll know where to look then… I'll be sure to notify them of what you said sir."
"Yes, Kathrine doesn't know yet, so does Jacob. As far as a good candidate, I don't know just yet. But we'll see after the mission."
Johnson put his phone away. A ring of the door and Jacob had just finished his inspections. He was walking in carrying a gym bag.
"Everything alright?" Johnson asked. Jacob was quite until he sat down. "Nothing, we're ready to go at a moment's notice," he said.
"It seems the alcohol has gotten to me, just gotta go freshen up. A change clothes and nice rest will do."
"Strange creature you say?" Neville asked rather confused.
"It can't be any stranger than what you usually do, what's the difference now?"
Luna nodded in agreement, but weary of what she saw. "I've been looking at my notes for some time now, and I can't find anything that matches its description. This could be an entirely new species," She said excitedly.
"Yay?" Neville managed to say with a smile.
"I've been compiling notes from the locals, and I've never seen anything like it before."
"Really now," Neville sipped his tea, a bit uninterested.
"But what's worst is some of the locals won't even help, guide me to where it supposedly lives."
"Where does it live?"
"Why near the forests of the old manor, I would go myself but I hear the creature only comes out at night. I'm afraid to admit I'm a bit of a coward. But I've managed to convince one of the police officers to come with me tomorrow."
"Really now?"
"Yes, I believe after constant bother and little bit of femine charm I finally got someone who was willing. Just one glimpse of the creature before I make my way back to London would surely cast my doubts aside." she said happily.
"Why this hamlet of all place? I always thought you head to America, Egypt or someplace less tamed, if you mind my speaking." Luna took a sip of her coffee, and mused at the thought.
"I always did wanted to leave, don't get me wrong… But England is my home. I'm just starting to realize it now. As a child I spent summers with dad in the exotic places like you've said, from Africa to even the Far East, and seen so many things and wonderful creatures. But I can never forget my time here. It's been everything to me."
"I can second that," Neville added. "You remember our times in the mess hall at Hogwarts?"
"Who can forget?"
"You remember what they use to call you?" Neville asked. Luna thought for a minute. And then they both said it all at once coming back to them.
"Looney Luna!" they both said outload together. Neville laughed a bit at the thought of the once crazy girl who read magazines upside down. "You never really cared though."
"No I'm afraid not. Became a badge of honor as I remember… It's been so long. Since Hogwarts and everything that's happened. Oh I do miss Hogwarts, those were the days. The halls during study time and Christmas in the dinning area truly a fainted memory now."
Neville agreed silently.
"I might go back one day. Maybe I can teach?"
"What will you teach?" Luna asked.
"Potions," he laughed.
"And I can be defense of the dark arts," she laughed.
It was late when Neville made it back to the pub. Jacob was at the entrance of the doors, smoking cigarette in hand. He changed clothing with warmer attire for the night. A brown coat jacket, and dark cargo pants. He didn't say anything at first until Neville past by him.
"Hello Mr. Longbotton how you tonight? Care for a smoke?" he asked politely.
"No thanks, I don't smoke." Neville opened the door before being stopped again.
"Wait Neville," Jacob said. "I want to know. Who are you? Really?"
Neville thought for a long moment at Jacob's declaration, he didn't know if he should be surprised. He had in fact been expecting an explanation to this team. Trust cannot be obtained if everyone wasn't honest, even if it were only for this limited time.
"This is my first field mission, did I tell you that? I'm usually stuck to a desk back at headquarters. Crunching, and grinding numbers for the supervisors and other things like testing projects to looking over order recalls."
Now he was dancing around Neville's conscience, weakling it for an opening.
"I don't really know why they chose me." He finished talking for long moment. "But I know I must get the mission done, in the most effective manner… What I'm trying to say is Neville. As much as I don't understand why I was chosen, what disturbs me even more what your role is."
Mike scanned the room of his apartment. He turns his lights on, and nothing. There was no one, couch sat by its lonesome facing the TV, a slouching lamp at its side on the used coffee table. Nothing on the outside of the living room, Mike slowly makes his way to his room. Slowly pushed the door opened and flipped the switch, and nothing not even a fly in his bedroom, the tan walls had a few creaks and stains, while the bed was un made, sheets on the ground and pillows at the center instead of the head, exactly like how Mike had left it when he rushed out of it.
He walked slowly into the room that he had often just leapt into. Fork in hand; he reached for the cabinet at the foot of his bed. The first drawer he remembered was where he left one of three daggers. He slowly pulled the drawer opened. Beneath a layer of folded underwear boxers he felt the hilt of the switchblade. Then the lights turn off from a hand that wasn't Mike's. The falling of the alarm clock followed and a gust of wind swirled through the room, as Mike's closet flung opened and all of his clothing began to dance in a small tornado on top of his bed, with his bed sheets at the center.
Mike stayed calm and rushed out of his room then closed it behind him, with the switchblade in hand. Breathing erupted like lave in his chest. Three thoughts had become twenty-three in a matter of seconds and Mike was losing speed fast. Then he felt the ground beneath his bare feet to be solid and not the carpet of his apartment. A light shined on him from far above a massive arch of a ceiling, from a large bright crystal like none had ever seen before but acting like a grander substitute of chandelier. And he looked around to find that he was not in his apartment anymore. This must be a dream but he felt the cold on his bare feet, and in his hands he still had the switchblade while the fork was dropped without his noticed when he fled his room. Before was a large circular floor that could've hosted an entire celebration of hundreds, with window doors that led to a greater courtyard. Mike felt the towering sensation when he was taken on a tour as a child through the national space museum returning to him.
To far front of him was a large staircase that seems to split off on the second floor to both sides, all marbled in white stone, and covered with blue carpet. Then he felt a small cold chill within him as he noticed he had nothing on but a pair of sleeping trousers and a simple t-shirt. And he realized that this world was playing a great job at being real. He reached back for the door but struggled as it was locked, and with enough force opened it only to find an empty small room that resemble a closet, and then Mike knew he was trapped.
Then Mike heard a sound like dancing shoes tiptoeing of piano and the window doors of the sides slowly opened itself in quiet sync, and no wind blew as he heard heavy footsteps ascend from outside. From the widow doors came what it seem to be shadows with black faces, wearing strange dresses. Some wore dark armor resembling some medieval cause but still shining within the light of the crystal chandelier and others what Mike could only start assuming to be females dressed in white gowns that seems to never touch the floor as the tiptoes of the piano raged on. The gowns sparkled as it moved above the stone white floor, each like polka doted star lights sheets in the white room. Mike could not find where that music was coming from, but he braced himself to the wall and tried to conceal himself.
They poured into the open floor, all of them black spirit form shaping the human body in clunky armor and flowing dresses, and unseen faces. And for a moment Mike thought he heard laughter within the gathering, then voices joined the fray. Voices that spoke made words Mike could not understand, sounding nothing but like gibberish, squabble almost exotic. Then the piano stops, and a row of men descend from both sides of the staircase. They wore white uniforms that Mike knew nothing of except they were alien to him. Long white scarfs covered their fronts and white straight-laced coats with decorated with a line of blue by their sleeves revealing their lifelines. They're faces covered by the metal helmets that was the cross between an American football's face shield and a mascaraed carnival mask exposing only the dark eyes, and had to its sides what it seems like wings for ears. They lined up perfectly on each edge of staircase like a stack of white dominos, and in the center of the second floor nexus where the staircase leaves on opposite side was a figure of what Mike could believe a woman.
Mike didn't know how to respond to such display of ghostly grandeur. The sight of the figure resembled a crystal figurine between the tall guards with their spears at their right vexed the completions of some ethereal painting displayed at overly crowded museum with too many bystanders for Mike to see what's being shown, but with irony he is now the first person to see clearly like his is in the front of crowd just behind the no cross line.
From the eyes of Mike the figure had a gender and it was a young woman. A bright white large gown covered her from head to toe as she walked down on what appears to be silver coated heels as she took each step down, escorted by her loyal lifeless guards. Unlike her entire court her face had flesh to it, and her feet made sounds when they hit the ground instead floating. She had long white hair that she had tied behind her, and a oval blue gem came from the back of her head to a fore brow like another blue eye watching from her forehead. Her face was young and round, and her chin sharp like the bottom of a diamond as she stood emotionless.
It was her that took notice of Mike when he saw her deep ocean blue eyes locked on to his from across the room. Mike felt discomfort at the discovery and started to back away when iron hands latched onto his arms cuffing him on each side, he saw the two large armored like the ones near the stair had taken him easily by surprise, and it he was helpless as he struggled and the switchblade fell from his hand.
They threw him on the ground before her, and he felt the cold marble. He slowly picked himself up to face her. She stood on a step or two higher and looked on down at him. Her face was now even more apparent than ever. Perfectly symmetrical as her bright eyes looked at him in little disregard.
"Where am I?" Mike said in a low voice but in enough demand for her to answer truthfully.
"There is no need to worry Mike Chan for you are safe," she said. He voice was strong and husk with little to no emotion.
"Well a moment ago I was just in my apartment, how do you know my name and where the hell am I? I want some answers," a sense of déjà vu struck Mike as he uttered those words.
"Allow me to introduce myself I am Queen Selena the fourth, ruler of the first race and you are in what remains of my realm; this is Blue Moon Kingdom Nova. Once located above Midgard or as you say Earth. What you see now is a shadow of its former self."
"I don't understand why I'm here," Mike managed to say.
"I've been watching you for a long time now Mike Chan, and I've come to you in the most dire of need. For your eyes alone could see what others cannot, and you have the possibility of saving your world."
Mike could not say another word. Confusion clouded him more than ever, if not more now than yesterday.
"You gotta be kidding me?" Mike pinched his cheek for another sign of reality.
"This has to be some kind of dream. I'm going to stop drinking from now on before bedtime." But somewhere deep in Mike's heart he knew that this was no mere illusion. He felt the cold floor beneath his toes, and the gaze of the faceless women in sheets and men in metal surrounding him.
The girl in front of him in her lifeless aura, which hid a sad demeanor he did not want to admit when he first saw her. The lifeless blue eyes that once must've held some vibrancy, and the snow-white hair on her young face. The walls of her kingdom seemed timeless as if nothing touched it since the gates were opened to its first ruler.
"What do you want from me?" Mike asked.
"Mike Chan I come to you bearing you the worst of truths… Midgard is coming to an end. The time of man will be tested, and if they fail Midgard will enter into a new age that humans will not survive."
"I don't believe any of this. You can't be real."
"Believe what you will, for the truth lies in my Kingdom's ruin. Long ago we were prosperous and at the height of our world. Here from the Moon we ruled Midgard and civilizations flourish. Then like how all-good things came to an end, my father King Darian of Midgard died in his war against our enemies that came from the outer belts. They called themselves the Dynasty, but we called them conquerors."
"Dynasty? You're kidding right. I'm just one man out of billions and you tell me that Earth will be destroyed? Impossible how can I believe you."
"Though its true you are but of one Mike Chan. You are to decide your destiny from here on with this knowledge. For a long time I've witness the end of my life and the end of my people, but I've waited for yours to begin. I don't know how your tale will play but I come to you for help. Deep inside you know that to be true. Search your feelings Mike, think about what you hear every day, and see."
Mike thought for a long moment at what she meant. Then it came to him during the mornings that he had been leaving for work at the train station. He kept hearing about a platform that didn't exist from people all around him. Platform nine and three-quarters they said but he stood there on his platform at nine one morning and there was nothing in between nine and ten. Then late in the afternoon he came back one day and saw a man alone at platform ten as if waiting for a train. Both the trains already left when he got off that night.
The ground began shaking and Mike felt the palace trembled.
"What's going on," said Mike trying to regain ground.
"Our time is up, I will come to you again," said Selena. The solid stone ground to which Mike stood on cracked like glass under his feet, until a crater broke opened catching him as he started to fall. Mike cried out, but it was useless as he felt his body light in the air like a feather, then like falling stone.
The last thing he saw was Selene's bright blue eyes and in her hands was a cardboard box and a simple smile that griped him with fear before the ceiling collapse and the great crystal in the center momentous in size fell engulfing his sight into darkness. When Mike awoke he found himself sitting on his couch back at his apartment, from a very real dream. He was alone now and the light of his bathroom still turned on. Shaking and sweating he sat curled up at his couch telling himself he didn't just experience what had happened.
There was a pecking at his window like the one before in the last morning. He immediately got up and ripped up the blinds and saw a pigeon fly away. The sight of the London Tower as it was touched by the morning sun, ringing bells down stair by the door as people left for their work, and finally the thought of home back in America. Like the world Mike reset himself again by putting on his blue tie, and this time a coat jacket he wore not for work but better suited in the streets of London. It was smaller but a lot more comfortable and hand many pockets to store things in. He looked for one of his dagger, to which he could defend himself if it came to it. He had lost basically all of his knives in a span of three days. His third one he left during an investigation in the lower London side about a month ago. Before he gave up hope, he saw that the switchblade was stabbed onto the top of his coffee table like it waited for him to get dress.