Birth of the Dragon
Winged Hussar came crashing to the ground, cracked asphalt and dirt being thrown into the air. Orion gripped the cold, smooth copper beneath him. It had made for a hell of an uncomfortable moonlit ride. The three of them, Orion, Thomas, and his stand were all sat too closely on this metal horse. The flight over Lake Michigan hadn't been fun to say the least. But now they were finally here. Van Lundholm's manor had once been a country club set in a park in Michigan City. Now it was a proud, lone building looking over the desolate town.
Orion stepped quickly past the two guards outside. They said nothing, having gotten used to seeing the colonel. Brodén was at his side, Winged Hussar having vanished. This would be the major's first time meeting directly with Lundholm. "Colonel, I… I think I need to ask, really. Who exactly is this van Lundholm? I mean… You seem so sure that he can win us Chicago. Why?"
Who was Lundholm? Orion had an answer for that. A monster. A horrid, detestable being without a heart and a devious, scheming mind. But he was a useful monster. The Enclave could benefit from his help, no doubt. But he wouldn't say that out loud. "Lundholm is a powerful man, and the reason you and I have our powers. This -" He waved the parcel containing the stone mask. "- will only serve to make him stronger. We keep him happy, give him this? He'll decimate the Brotherhood."
Before they reached the central chamber, Orion threw a hand out in front of Thomas. In the open pine doorway was a fluttering white veil. He sighed. "Is that how you plan to welcome your friends, LaBrie?"
The veil vanished, and Jordan slipped out from behind the door. He smirked, but ushered the two of them inside. "Oh, come now Orion. How are we beings of power meant to entertain ourselves? No more than a harmless jest, honest."
If van Lundholm and his ilk were strange creatures, Jordan LaBrie was stranger still. He was smartly and cleanly dressed, and spoke in a refined, intelligent way. He probably rivaled the Enclave and Brotherhood's brightest mentally. Despite this, he spent his life surrounding himself with people lacking his own charisma. His stand, however, fit in perfectly well with his company.
Orion glanced around the dark room. It seemed somehow more dreary and abandoned than the rest of the manor. "Where is our benefactor then? I'm sure Lundholm wants this fast."
LaBrie nodded, eyeing the parcel in hardly masked delight. "Oh yes, most certainly. Unfortunately, he's out at the moment. He promised to be back this morning, and with him travelling on Marvin's stand, I'm sure he'll be back -"
"Just in time." A lilting voice filled the room, the warm songlike sound almost contradictory to the cold chill Orion felt down his spine. The air rushed by as a green blur entered the room, before quickly vanishing. Marvin Hall rolled to a stop, kneeling before the steps climbing to Lundholm's throne. Lundholm himself landed lightly on his feet, some way up the stairs.
Eccentric. There was another good description. Lundholm was an eccentric monster. His bright red jacket made him pop, made him the center of attention in the dim, grey room. His long blond hair fell to his shoulders, cradling his smiling face in golden waves. The bright green of his eyes seemed to glow in this darkness. He pointed to Orion as he walked his way backward up the stairs. "Colonel! My lovely little Chicagoan, come to bring me my newest accessory! Come, here here. To me, Ingram." He beckoned as he slouched into the worn armchair that was his throne.
As much as Orion didn't trust the man in the slightest, he figured he'd come this far without being murdered in treachery. So he walked briskly past the beaming Marvin Hall, and his stupid multi-color tie, right up to van Lundholm. He placed the parcel in his outstretched hand, before giving a curt nod in way of a bow.
Lundholm seemed like he couldn't care less, though. He tore the packaging away and held up the mask, eyes wide in ecstasy. "Oh… Oh, GOD yes! HAHA! This, my friends, is why I do love the Enclave. So capable, so mission oriented. Colonel, your rewards will be great, I swear it!" He kissed the mask, and shot from his throne. "Well now… For the moment that will define our lives, gentlemen."
"Ahem." Orion turned to look behind him, up at the balcony overlooking the room. There stood a small woman in worn road wear and leathers, black hair catching the moonlight.
Lundholm chuckled. "Of course. Blah blah blah define our lives, lady and gentlemen. Forgive me, 'Ponine. Alright now… Who's blood to use? Perhaps my own? To achieve near godhood by my own hand… It does seem quite fitting, no?"
Orion, knowing only some of what they were speaking of, felt he could finally make some grand gesture. One way or another, Lundholm would have found the mask. But allowing Orion to show his loyalty entirely... "Use mine, sir. Let us bind your words with blood. Make it my signature to your contract, if you will."
Lundholm smiled. "Oh? I do love me some poetic symbolism… Alright, you've won the honors, Colonel. At least for my transformation. But you're sure you still don't want to…?"
"No. The Enclave values our humanity, in its purest form. I can't give that up, not even for what you promise."
Though Lundholm's smile faltered somewhat, he nodded, laying a hand on Orion's shoulder. "Very well. If nothing else I respect your adherence to these values, misguided as they are. You see, I am unshackled by such purist views. I can look beyond, and reject this prison of my humanity. And I will only be the first of many."
Lundholm's hand never lifted, but ran from Orion's shoulder, up his neck, and cradled his cheek. No matter how used to Lundholm Orion thought he was, the man could still unsettle him, no question. "But to use your blood, colonel… I consider you in every sense one of us. Thank you." With that he clawed at Orion's face, leaving three bleeding gashes on his cheek. Though he winced, Orion never recoiled. He was too transfixed.
Lundholm pressed the mask into his face, his eyes obscured by the shadows cast by the narrow slits. He shuddered as he ran his bloody fingers over the stone, breathing rushed. Suddenly, numerous spines shot out from the sides of the mask, which dug into the sides and top of his head. Lundholm recoiled and shrieked, but kept himself standing. The mask began to burn with a bright blue-white light, joined by a blinding red from the eyes. Orion watched in horrified fascination.
It felt like a full minute passed before the spines retracted. Before the mask could hit the floor, Lundholm grabbed it. The room was silent as they watched him. As he raised himself back to standing, he took several deep breaths. He used his free hand to fix his hair, which he had thrown about in his movements. His eyes opened, a red light within them yielding back to the green. His wide, ecstatic smile was now joined by four fangs.
He stepped slowly down the stairs, eyes traveling from one of his disciples to the next. Without a word, he looked to Eponine on her balcony above him. He seemed to simply rise to her. Though her breath caught, she leaned back into his arm as he embraced her. He placed the mask on her, whispering something the colonel couldn't make out as he again pressed Orion's blood onto the stone. Orion and Thomas left through the doors to the sound of her scream.
Disconcertingly, Lundholm met them outside the building. He definitely couldn't have done that before. "My friends, so soon back to the front? Is there some urgent mission that calls you home?"
Thomas watched Orion, neither entirely comfortable with where this might be going. "No, but the general will eventually tire of our excursions. It's best we return. Besides, we'll need the Enclave ready for when you dismantle the Brotherhood."
Orion watched Lundholm as he sighed, and stepped closer to him. "I think you misunderstand, colonel. Is there something you've forgotten? An order? A mission? Something I explicitly gave you in regards to finding my prize?" He grabbed Orion's shirt, lifting him from the ground to stare him more directly in the eyes. "I said to wipe them out! OBLITERATE THEM! And what do I find when Mr. Hall takes me to see your progress? That the perpetual thorn in my side may have been trimmed, only to be replaced by another further down the rose!" He tossed Orion to the ground, and quickly disarmed Thomas, who had made to shoot him.
Gasping for breath, Orion threw a hand up. "Wait! Please! Thomas, don't! He's right, I shouldn't have left things unresolved. But I left the young Vice to the major's brother, and his Panzerkampf should be more than able to handle him!"
Lundholm's cold gaze went back and forth from Orion and Thomas, before he finally returned Thomas his pistol. "I should hope he's dead then. Return to me when you've confirmed as much. You won't like what happens otherwise. I'd hurry as well. Six days, eighteen hours, twenty-three minutes."
Orion looked at him, confused. He had demonstrated the effect of his stand before, delightedly having counted down to the death of one of Orion's rival officers. "... Who? Who's timer is that?"
Lundholm smiled. "I've found with military men, threatening their lives can be largely fruitless. I mean, you come see me regularly. You clearly don't fear dying. But colonel…" He feigned a pitious look, shaking his head. "How unwise to leave poor Evangeline all alone. Such a sweet girl."
For the first time in a long while, Orion drew his gun without thinking, pointing it right to van Lundholm's smug face. "What. The hell. Did you do to her?!"
"My good Ingram! I feel attacked! What exactly are you insinuating? Ah, perhaps just the fear of a loving father. Though, don't misunderstand, I was very tempted to tear away that uniform of her's. I do have a thing for uniforms. An even bigger one for terrified girls. But relax. I do have some control over those more base desires. I only punched a hole through her chest instead."
He very nearly pulled the trigger as Lundholm described his sick fantasy for Evangeline. Instead the gun fell from his grip as he took in what this meant. If Lundholm was telling the truth, that meant she had only a week to live, his stand delaying her death. He had also seen full well that Lundholm could reverse this kill strike, as he had with Eponine. Chances were Evangeline could even live and function normally, though she was probably terrified and confused.
Orion could see that even Thomas looked mortified, gripping the pillar behind him to keep from falling. He had to step up now. He picked up and holstered his gun as he stood. There was curiosity more than anything else in van Lundholm's eyes. "You… Will have Jonathan Vice's body before next Sunday. Swear to me you'll undo what you did."
Again, Lundholm set a hand on his shoulder, taking a reassuring tone. "But of course, my good colonel. Just as soon as you bring me his body. Best hurry though. I've promised a few others some choice rewards should they bring me the Vice boy's head. Competition breeds success after all."
Orion spun Thomas to face away from van Lundholm, pushing him down the walk way. "Come on major. We need to fly."
"I… Bu…" He gulped. "W-where to, colonel?" Winged Hussar formed, pegasus kicking and screaming, mounted figure glaring toward the vampire on the manor's doorstep.
"The Vice manor. God forgive me Evangeline, but there's no time to check on her. We find the body, or if Chris hasn't reduced him to one we deal with him, then work together and take down Vice. Now hurry!"
Paul rose from the dusty ground of the balcony coughing. It was quiet now, the sounds of the battle passed. A crackling of fire was the only noise still daring disturb the silence. As he stood, Livia rushed from the room and grabbed him in a hug. "God Paul, I - You're alright! Is it gone?"
Paul turned to overlook the yard, difficult as he had to wrestle in Livia's embrace. There was a blasted crater where Panzerkampf had been, and the stand user was thrown onto the ground, his body broken and blackened. He turned away quickly. "Yeah. We got him Livia." Awkwardly, he returned the embrace.
From inside, he heard Eago shouting. "Master Jonathan! Oh, I cannot say how good it is to see you… Mostly unharmed."
"Jim? Holy shit, you're alive! Oh… Oh, holy shit… Did… Did you do this?"
Paul and Livia reentered the bloodstained room, pieces of Enclave soldiers here and there. Oh. Right. Paul managed to get free of Livia, and nodded to their new friend. "He has a stand too. Buncha shadows, tore right through these guys and their power armor. They also pulled the triggers on Da Vinci's rocket launcher. So he saved all of us."
Despite the worried look on the man's face, Jonathan playfully slugged him in the shoulder. "Well hell, good work Jim. Been too long since I've seen those guys. Or maybe not long enough. Still can't control them?"
Jim shook his head, eyes on the floor. "Ah well. Don't beat yourself up over it." Done consoling Jim, Jonathan's joy fell away, replaced with visible worry. "Shit, right. The vault."
He took off down the stairs Paul and Livia had been led up. Jim was slow to follow. "I overheard them. Just before you arrived, master Jonathan. They have it." Jonathan didn't listen. Instead, he strode quickly toward the main chamber.
The group followed him through the decorated main hall, a broken and warped steel door, and a cold staircase falling into the dark basement. An old automatic turret swiveled at their approach, quickly ripped from the ceiling by Commander Cosmo. He scanned the room, Paul trying to do the same. This whole place seemed weird and alien. It was clean, most of all. But on the far end of the room from the steps, Paul spotted something different.
"Jon, that case. Was that…?"
Jonathan rushed across the room, toward the glass case with the shattered front. Black iron props held nothing up but air, and he cursed as he kicked the case to the floor. "Damn it! Fuck! I couldn't… He took… GOD! It's been up to me for all of a day and I FUCK IT UP!"
He went to his knees, and before he really recognized what he was doing Paul had rushed up to his side. Jonathan turned to him, and for the first time that cool, in charge look had melted, and Paul realized how serious this was. Jonathan Vice was crying.
