Waking - Chapter 10
"That was good," Arturia said, relishing the taste of the sushi. They had left the restaurant, and were wandering the streets again. The sidewalks were strangely deserted, with only a few pedestrians and cars on the road.
"What do you want to do next?" Shirou asked. He was having a lot of fun the date, and didn't want it to end just yet.
"Hmmm... Shopping. Perhaps a new shirt? You need a new shirt, Shirou," Arturia chimed. "Let me buy you a new shirt."
"I like this shirt," Shirou protested. He liked the blue and white. "How about..." he started, but stopped as Arturia brutally grabbed his arm.
"Shirou..." she began, as four people began to approach them. She had a bad feeling.
They were four of them, all tall and wearing dark business suits and sunglasses. They were Caucasian and Shirou wondered if they were lost tourists or on a business trip or something. They stopped suddenly, in front of the teens, bl"ocking their way. "Can I help you?" Shirou asked politely and hesitantly. He repeated the question in his awkward English, just to be sure.
"This way, lets go," one of the foreigners replied, as the four of them began to crowd around the two. They began to push, lightly forcing the two teens off the sidewalk and towards one of the buildings.
"Hey! What are you doing!" Shirou demanded. He didn't want to fight, but he didn't like where this was going. The four men ignored the question, and continued to crowd them, forcing them back from the side walk and herding them towards the mouth of an alley a little ways away.
"Come with us, Sir, Madam!" one said in Japanese. Shirou could barely understand him with his poor accent. They continued to crowd the two teenagers, simply becoming a moving wall that kept moving forward. It wasn't long before they had forced the two into an alley, outside of the view of the rest of society.
"Let us go!" Arturia growled, shoving one of as hard as she could. It was fruitless, as the man was much taller man simply advanced forwards, causing her to push herself deeper into the alley. She, stumbled, and spun backwards before falling on her knees. She lifted herself up, and couldn't happen to notice a woman standing at the back of the alley. Like her and the four men, she was Caucasian and obviously not Japanese. She was dressed simply and professionally in a navy business suit, and was very beautiful with long golden hair. She was watching the scene calmly and made no move to interfere. She appeared to be... waiting?
"Apprehend them," the strange woman ordered, so sharp and direct Shirou and Arturia flinched. The four men in suits formed up on the teens, one of them grabbing Shirou by the shoulder. Shirou growled, and punched the offender in mouth. The foreigner grinned, calmly wiped his cheek, and rewarded the boy with a kick to the chest.
"Shirou!" Arturia cried out, as the boy was driven back to the course alley wall. She hurled her hand bag at the attacker's face, and it bounced off of him harmlessly. She used the momentary distraction to reach behind her and draw her... her... she was looking for... something! Something to fight with! A sword! Realizing she had none, she suddenly felt both foolish and naked.
She clutched Shirou's arm tighter as the attacking man took another step forward. The attacker grinned, and stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, producing a gun. Arturia bit her lip fearfully, and Shirou's eyes widened. He had let this go too far.
"Trace..." Shirou began, whispering through his own clenched teeth. He removed himself from Arturia's embrace, and held out his hand's as if he was holding an imaginary sword. "...on!"
As he said those words, a sheeny steel katana shimmered to life in his hands, and in but an instant, the blade flashed through the air. Blood streaked and sparks flew, the severed barrel of the pistol fell to ground, coated with flecks of blood.
"ARGH!" the man cried pitifully, falling to his knees and clutching himself. A long scarlet wound traveled from the top of his shoulder down to his breast, with blood staining through the jacket of his suit. He dropped the severed pistol, and clutched his wounded side. "You little punk!" he howled in English.
The other three men recoiled as their comrade was struck, reaching into their jackets for what Shirou assumed were their own weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman behind him simply sigh in exasperation, looking bored. "Enough of this," she said. She only took a steps forward before Shirou was on her like lightning. He whirled around, the katana singing through the air once more and poised to lop off her head.
It struck.
It shattered.
The sorcery holding the sword together was snuffed out, and fell like pieces of glass from Shirou's hands before dissolving into nothing. His target, the terrible golden-haired beauty, didn't even flinch. She was unmarred, with her eerie confident smile shaking him to the core.
He was unarmed now, his weapon gone. The three men had their guns out now all trained him, and he didn't think he'd have another chance to make a new blade before they opened fire.
"Hold, My Good Captains, stow your weapons" the woman ordered, motioning them to stop. "We are not savages; diplomacy is not above us."
" But my lady..." one of the gunmen began, stuttering in defiance.
"Silence," she demanded, causing the gunman to cringe. They obeyed, and replaced their weapons from their hands to their jackets. She turned back to Shirou. "Mageling. We did not come for you. This is not your battle, and you may walk away." When Shirou said nothing, moved no muscle, and simply glared at her flippantly, her harsh gaze moved past him to Arturia instead. "Arthur Pendragon. We have been looking for your soul for centuries. To find you here and now, living in the flesh and blood, and the Isles of Japan, of all places... This is disconcerting. You were not, and will never be, authorized for reincarnation."
"What?" Arturia asked, not quite understanding. The dream in the forest echoed back to her, the one where she had met... Merlin. She thought back harder, shades of memories dancing in her head. They had gone somewhere after that, she and Merlin... And they had done something, as well. She couldn't remember anymore than that.
Whatever they did, is that why she was back here, living life again? "I don't understand."
"The King of Knights is too important to be allowed free reign in the realm of the living," the woman imperiously declared. "By your actions, you have broken the natural order of things, violated the Throne of Heroes, and endangered the Ragnarok Protocols! By the authority granted to me, I am placing you under arrest. Your soul shall return to Avalon with me immediately."
"No!" Arturia growled (almost screamed), instantly repulsed by the last of the woman's words. She refused to return to that desolated waste... It was only a dream to her now, a barely remembered shade of a memory, but she remembered enough to know she would never go back to Avalon willingly.
She would resist. She needed a sword. A blade, any blade. Her body certainly wished to hold one right now, so maybe it would remember how to swing one.
"Arturia..." Shirou breathed softly, baffled and angry. He placed himself between the two woman. After so long, he was not about to lose Saber a second time.
"Arthur, come peacefully," the strange woman pleaded, looking past Shirou. "If not for me, do it for your friend here. I will kill him as well as you, if forced."
"Kill her?!" Shirou roared in outrage. He barely registered the woman's threat on his own life. "I won't let you!"
The strange woman laughed boisterously. "And how else do you propose I leave with her soul? There is only one option here, boy."
"You won't," Shirou repeated, defiant. No. He wouldn't allow her to leave, not again when she was finally back. Whoever or whatever this person was, he'd resist it with all the power and sorceries he had at his disposal.
"Think about it," she said, coldly looking past Shirou and speaking to Arturia once more. "I WILL kill you. Whether the boy dies as well is up to you."
Arturia looked down to the pavement, unsure. She felt the question was being asked to Saber, the girl from before, and couldn't really answer. He life was in the present, and she couldn't turn her back on it. Her gaze turned to Shirou, who was glaring defiantly at the witch before them. She couldn't turn her back on him, either.
Could she resist this stranger? Shirou's blade had shattered easily against this witch, and as much as she hated to admit it, she had no way of fighting back. She had no sword, and any blade that Shirou could make, could not be swung by any hand but his own.
She had no mana of her own to wield, either. She remembered what she did during the War of the Grail, but she didn't remember how. And she couldn't forget the men with guns behind them, either.
Being a regular mortal girl was not looking as good now as it did when she woke up in the morning.
She looked to Shirou, feeling ashamed and selfish for wishing to stay. Unable to battle, Shirou would have to fight for her. And what if he lost? She could not bear the thought, the guilt...
"Don't you dare think that way," Shirou growled, reading her expression. He placed his hand tight into her own. "We've faced much worse then this. Don't we deserve to be happy for once?"
She looked up to him hesitantly, their gazes meeting. Oh how she wanted to...
"Don't worry," he smiled, winking at her. "I've gotten a lot stronger since then."
That confident wink pushed her over the edge. She had to have faith in him, or what they had wasn't worth anything. Her eyes hardened, and she returned his squeeze with one of her own, nodding in acknowledgment. "Yes."
"You are making a mistake, Arthur," the woman warned as she watched their exchange.
"My name is not Arthur!" Arturia roared. "It never was! Not then, and not now!"
"It's Arturia!" She took a step forward, so her and Shirou were side by side, their hands linked. "And I'm not going with you! Not ever!"
"That's good," Shirou agreed, "because I wasn't going to let you anyway." He took a quick glance at the gunman, noting that they still had their guns stowed back into their jackets, giving him a small window of opportunity.
He channeled all the mana he could muster to his free hand. With one hand gripping on to Arturia's hand tight, he slammed the other to the ground in front of him. "Trace on!" Almost instantly, six, plain broad swords shimmered into existence in a circle around them both. They stood with their tips jutting into the pavement, crackling with mana and vibrating intensely. "Six Shattered Stars," he announced.
The gunman, spooked by this display, were quickly drawing their guns again. Almost causally, Shirou shot his arm in their direction and gave his fingers a simple snap. The closest sword exploded, red light filling the alley with a loud bang. The gunmen tumbled to the ground, stunned and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.
"That was a just a little one," Shirou threatened. " A warning shot. If anyone tries anything stupid... BOOM!" He flinged his arms wide to demonstrate. The red glow around the five remaining blades crackled, and the swords continued to shake and vibrate unstably. He glared at the woman as he addressed her. "I don't know what you are, or what's going on, but you will not lay a finger on Arturia. Ever."
"A bold claim," the stranger stated, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. "I'm afraid you are mistaken in believing that these toys, these Broken Phantasm, could ever harm me."
"Maybe," Shirou grinned. "But I don't think the same can be said for your men," he jabbed his thumb at men sprawled on the ground, scrambling to pull themselves to their feet. "They seem to bleed quite well. I'll turn them to goo if you don't walk away right now."
"They do bleed well, don't they?" she growled, irritated. "Why do this, boy? You will die."
"I love her," he said as he smiled the most honest smile he had worn in over a year. "I am not letting anyone take her away again. Walk Away."
Arturia was left speechless at his words. The familiar joy of the situation was overwhelming. Staring down the face of danger, with the one she loved by her side. She only wished Excalibur was in her hands.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, mageling" the beauty sighed, closing her eyes. "Prepare yourself."
The strange woman slowly lifted her hand, stretching it out and opened her palm as if she was offering something. Slowly, a pale white light began to pulse inside her palm. The light began to brighten and thicken, until, suddenly, the faint spark burst forth and illuminated the alley with a brilliant white light. Shirou and Arturia, almost instantly blinded, shielded their faces with their arms, hiding from the intense glow.
That light continued to grow stronger, growing warmer and warmer like a hot summer day. In a few moments, everything and anything around the teens was engulfed.
"What?" Shirou mumbled, clearing his eyes as his sight began to return. It was still very bright out, but not blindingly so.
"Where are we?" Arturia asked. She pulled herself and Shirou from the ground, noting they were no longer lying on the hard alley pavement, but on terrain that was sandy and course. The world above them was immensely bright, and it was hard to see the blue of the sky past it.
The gunmen were gone, and they were still surrounded (and protected, she hoped) by Shirou's circle of swords. The empty alley was gone, too... Heck, all of Fuyuki was gone. In it's place, they were surrounded by polished, white marble pillars, and high towering walls that all sparkled in the warm and bright light. Ascending rows of empty, white-marble benches towered upwards around them.
Arturia was reminded of pictures she'd seen drawn of the Coliseum of ancient Rome. It was an arena, they both realized.
"What the hell?" Shirou growled, looking to the sky. Arturia looked too, and they both saw her. The women, the stranger from before, was hovering twenty feet in the air above him.
She no longer looked human, however. Immense rainbow-colored wings were erupting from her back, shimmering like polished steel, occasionally tensing and flapping lightly. She was wearing strange armor, with long metal chains hanging off of her and rattling in the light breeze like wind chimes. She was basking in the intense light, an expression of pure bliss graced on her face.
"Where are we?" Shirou demanded loudy, his eyes blinking rapidly in the bright light.
"Judicium Caelestis," the angelic one proclaimed, smiling serenely."This is your judgment, mortals."
"Have to hurry!" he growled, as he pulled himself up the stair's of the roof. He had played it too cautious, hung back too far... Gave too much room for the Alliance of the Three Heavens to act. And now his King would pay that price.
He wiped the sweat from his pasty white brow and continued to climb until he reached the roof.
Everything about him was white. His clothes consisted of a white sports jacket, a white button-up shirt, and a pair of white slacks. Obviously a foreigner to Japan, his skin was pale and pasty and his long, shoulder-length hair was so blond that it was almost as white as the rest of him. He was slender, and almost feminine in his demeanor.
The Man-in-White leaned over the edge of the roof, and glanced downward. Only seven stories below, four Alliance henchmen stood in the alley. All dressed in black, all armed (handguns, he surmised), and protecting the mouth of the alley. One of the agents was injured, nursing a hastily bandaged shoulder wound. From his vantage, the damage looked like it could have been done with a blade. Could Arthur, have done that? Or was it her... companion (he could not bear to think of Shirou as anything else)? Her friend was supposed to possess some strange talent with swords.
And past the agents, towards the back of the alley, lay a bright shimmering mist. It was barely noticeable, just a shimmer of colors in the air, like a list mist of rain refracting the light on a warm, spring day. He knew he was only observing it from the outside, though, and that something deeper and more terrible existed within. He had watched from his binoculars, three roof tops away on the other side of the street, watched as that damnable Witch had trapped Arthur and her friend inside. He knew what it was that bitch had used.
A Reality Marble.
He turned away from the ledge and began to pace impatiently and angrily. Where was his back up? Five minutes had passed since the Marble went up and Will, Leon, and Jack were nowhere to be seen. It took all his willpower to not just start shooting from here.
He sighed. Even if the agents didn't kill him, he still had no way of entering the Reality Marble. Will was supposed to have some skill in that, but he was nowhere to be found. Leon and Jack were only arriving in Japan today, and that left him and Will as the only agents currently living in the country. If the fool lived here, too, where was he?
"Hey, Betty," a voice whispered behind him in English, advancing towards White from behind. "I'm here,"
The Man-in-White whirled around to face the voice behind him, reaching into his jacket and gripped his 9mm. Sense intervened as he turned, recognizing the newcomer's face from the photograph he was given. He wisely left his firearm where it lay in his holster, and brought his hand out in an offered hand shake instead. 'Sneaky son-of-a-bitch,' he thought to himself.
The newcomer strode forward confidently with a wolfish grin emblazoned on his face as he gripped the Man-in-White's hand and returned the hand shake. Also foreign to Japan in his appearance, the newcomer stood taller and bulkier then the Man-in-White. He wore a pair of navy-blue sweat pants, a simple white t-shirt, some worn, old running shoes. A light leather jacket betrayed the rest of his casual fashion. He was well groomed, with short well-trimmed brown hair. His long sideburns traveled down his strong, square jawline to meet under the chin, giving him a beard that resembled a chinstrap of a helmet. Like the Man-in-White, he appeared to be young, perhaps in his mid-twenties.
"Will! Finally! What took you? Do you know where Leon and Jack are?" the Man-in-White growled impatiently, as he shook the Will's hand. The isles of Britain highlighted his accent. As an after thought, he viciously added "and don't call me Betty!"
"Then don't call me Will. I haven't used that name in forever," the newcomer sneered, his accent more western and Americanized then the Man-in-White's.
'Betty' looked taken aback for a moment, and then nodded. "My apologies. I had forgotten, these are new lives and times for both of us. If not Will, what shall I call you?" he asked, seeming to have forgotten the newcomer had called him 'Betty' first.
The other man looked thoughtful a moment, scratching the scruff of his chin before responding. "Call me Wisp. It'll do for now."
"Very well, Wisp it is," agreed the White gentlemen with a nod. His face hardened, his glower growing more serious. "Where are Jack and Leon?"
Wisp crossed his arms and growled. "Leon is wrapped up in customs still," he began. He took a deep breath before "and Jack, that son of a bitch, has ignored the summons. I'm the only backup you're getting."
"He has..." the Man-in-White began, his words dissolving into a low hiss. He wanted to scream, but stifled the desire. "Damn your brother. He spits on the Gift."
"He stopped being a brother to me a long time ago," Wisp replied harshly. He glanced down below to the alley. "Forget 'im. Gimme' a sitrep."
"Very well," the white man growled, putting his displeasure aside before turning to the business below. "I followed Arthur and her... friend here. They were being followed, and unfortunately I acted too late. They had an encounter with a Divine Spirit".
Wisp winced at those last two words, but remained silent.
The white man gestured down at to the armed guards below. "The meeting turned violent, and one of the guards was injured. Do you see that shimmering at the back?" White asked. He left Wisp no chance to respond, and continued immediately. "A Reality Marble. It swallowed the three of them whole: the Spirit, Arthur, and her companion."
"Not a Reality Marble," Wisp disagreed, shaking his head thoughtfully, as he examined the shimmering below them. "That's a mage thing. A Divine Spirit would use a Marble Phantasm..." He grinned wolfishly, before continuing. "Same idea, basically, but I'm told there's a difference."
"Hmm," the man-in-white mumbled. "Well, regardless, I believe they're still inside. I'm also told you are the able to deal with such things."
Wisp nodded. "I have something that we can try... But..." he began to say, before trailing off. "I've never put it into practice."
"Never?" White glowered.
"Never had the opportunity," Wisp shrugged. "It should work... In theory."
"We have no other options," the Man-in-White replied thoughtfully, scratching his smooth chin. "In any case, we need to take care of the Spirit's human agents, first," White explained. He gestured down to the gunmen watching the alley below. "They're fools. The agents seem to be more concerned at keeping the mundane out, and are simply intimidating passersby away from the alley. It has not occurred to them to look up"
Wisp's wolfish grin widened, becoming predatory. "Mortal men, guarding the gates to Olympus, then?"
The Man-in-White nodded, quickly pulling his 9mm pistol from his jacket. He spent a moment looking over it, before screwing a long, black tube into the barrel. A silencer, Wisp realized.
"Are you armed?" the Man-in-White asked. Wisp had produced no weapon of his own, and just stood idly watching the Man-in-White ready his. He was not about to head down there with just one gun between them both. "Are you armed?" the White clad man repeated.
"I have two of them, don't I?" Wisp chuckled, holding up his fists. The Man-in-White's eyes narrowed, gazing at the other man like he was crazy.
"You're joking?" the Man-in-White asked, incredulous.
"No," Wisp frowned. "I'm not."
"You're being ridiculous," the Man-in-White scoffed. "I do not have time for foolishness, and I need to rescue my King. Do you have a gun or not?"
Wisp's eyes narrowed, and he glared hard at the Man-in-White. The Man-in-White felt his skin prickle, like he was gazing into the maw of a hungry wolf. The White One stood silent, not quite sure what to say. Wisp broke his glare, flashed a fang-like grin, and turned to the ledge. Then, almost casually, he stepped off the roof and dropped into the alley seven stories below.
"Hey, wait!" the Man-in-White called rushing forward to stop him. It was too late, however, and he couldn't help but watch Wisp plummet.
The Man-in-White scrambled down the fire escape almost tripping on his face as he chased after his supposed 'backup.' That stupid fool, is he trying to commit suicide? He'd have to hurry now, he would only have a few moments of surprise, and the very best he could hope from Wisp now was for the fool to land on the gunmen as he plummeted to his death.
He looked down, hoping to find Wisp's corpse had crashed three of them.
It was much to the Man-in-White's dismay, Wisp was NOT falling to his death. Rather, he was... treading down the wall, kicking his feet against it every half-dozen feet to slow his momentum. He was only half way down to the street!
"HEY!" one of the guards below gasped. One of the agents had spotted the strange sight, and had pulled his gun. He waved it wildly at Wisp, and began to fire.
TWIT. TWIT. TWIT. 9mm, silenced shots, just like he was carrying, the Man-in-White realized.
Wisp was no longer where the gunman was shooting, however. Instants before the gunman had even started firing, Wisp had kicked off of the wall he was treading down. The shots missed, and the dark-haired acrobat sailed clear across the alley towards the opposite wall. He dropped another six feet, producing a loud crash as he struck the fire escape, his hands gripping the outside of the railing. An instant later, he swung himself over the railing below him and back inside to the fire escape.
All the agents were alerted to his presence now, all training their guns on him. Not anxious to stay in one spot and be shot at, the dark haired acrobat dove from the fire escape and sailed down another dozen feet to the alley below. He met the street rolling, using the momentum to carry him to cover, nestled safely behind the heavy steel of a garbage dumpster.
The agents immediately opened fire, pummeling the steel box with their silenced bullets.
PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING!
The bullets bounced loudly off the heavy metal, and ricocheted throughout the alley. The Man-in-White grit his teeth, as one whizzed past his ear. "Bloody fools..." he mumbled. With any luck they'd kill themselves with their own shots.
"Stop firing! Stop firing!" one of the agents yelled, common sense prevailing. "You'll get us too!"
There was a few moments of silence. The Man-in-White had stopped scaling the noisy fire escape, afraid to move lest he be noticed and become a target. The gunman were more concerned with Wisp, and from his vantage he could see the henchmen with their pistols facing down the dumpster in a bizarre Mexican stand off.
The silence didn't last long, as the dumpster exploded forwards, leaping forward in to the air like it was kicked by a giant. The empty dumpster somersaulted impossibly, scattering the terrified agents as it descended. One of the gunmen, the one with the injured shoulder, stumbled backwards to terror, crying out fearfully as the giant green coffin landed atop him with a loud metal...
CLANG!
'Did Wisp... Did Wisp throw that?' the Man-in-White wondered incredulously. He pushed aside his disbelief, and began making his way down to the street level again, while the gunmen were distracted.
Wisp was on the remaining agents like a wild fire. The first one to meet him was kicked brutally and decisively in the stomach, instantly launching him back six feet. The agent fell on his back, before curling into the fetal position, clutching his injured gutt. Wisp expertly followed up with a third agent, striking the dark suited man in the jaw with his palm, producing a sickening crack as it shattered. He gripped the same man by the head, and clonked the man's skull swiftly into the steel side of the dumpster. The man crumpled in Wisp's grip, before being dropped to the pavement.
"Three down!" Wisp counted aloud. He whirled around to deal with the last of the Alliance gunman...
...Only to find a pistol trained inches away from his head.
"You're... You're not the Dawn..." the dark-suited henchmen whispered, gazing hard and fearfully at Wisp. The man was shaking. Wisp kept his silence, his eyes steely and cold, simply glaring at the agent. The Man-in-White watched horrified from his vantage. The shaking began to subside as the gunman found his courage, and his finger began to tighten around the trigger...
This was it, the Man-in-White realized. From this angle he could, maybe... He had no choice, it was now or never. He leaned out from the fire escape, steadied the aim of his gun, and pulled the trigger.
TWIT!
The agent's pistol flew from his hand, smashing against the cold pavement, and the Man-in-White could barely contain his grin. He continued down the last flight of the fire escape, happy to have one obstacle out of the way.
The agent stared at his empty hand in abject terror. Wisp grinned, and casually smacked him in the jaw, crumpling him like paper.
"Hey!" a muffled and metallic voice cowered, causing the the Man-in-White to flinch as he hopped off the fire escape. It was then he realized the gunman struck by the dumpster wasn't crushed; the metal coffin had overturned in the air and struck the agent with the open top rather then the metal bottom, trapping him inside. "Let me out!"
Wisp simply responded by pounding the side of the dumpster a sharp punch. A loud, reverberating metal hum was heard, followed by squeal of pain from the occupant inside. "My ears!"
Wisp struck it again, with similar results. Two large dents were left in the dumpsters side. "Be thankful it's empty!" the bare-handed warrior growled.
"That was... That was..." the Man-in-White began, approaching Wisp, unable to find any words. He was angry, impressed, and overjoyed, all at the same time.
"You saved my ass," Wisp smiled genuinely. "Thanks!"
The smaller man ignored the compliment, searching for his words. "What was that?" he managed, finally. He'd seen such feats ages ago, but never barehanded, and never in this day and age.
"That's a few lifetimes worth of training," Wisp replied casually, patting off the dust off his leather jacket.
"Lifetimes?" the Man-in-White asked, incredulously.
Wisp crossed his arms, and sighed heavily."Me and Jack... we've... I've..." he began, before stopping himself short. "I've been at this sort of thing for a lot longer then the rest of you. It's a a the tale to tell some other time."
The Man-in-White nodded solemnly before responding, "I may take you up on that tale. The Old Man had hinted..."
"The Old Man talks too much," Wisp cut him off. He dropped down to his knee, taking a moment to retie his shoe. "Some other time. I don't tell tales so well, and you'd get a better sense of mine by watching bad Highlander re-runs and playing Street Fighter for an hour."
The Man-in-White quipped an eyebrow at that, unsure how to respond. Silence reigned, and the two began to drag the unconscious bodies of the gunman behind the over turned dumpster, depositing them out of sight of passersby.
"Yes, perhaps some other time," the Man-in-White whispered, dropping the last guard on to their pile. They both stood before it now, the shimmering aura of colors, shining like a spring mist refracting the noon-hour sun. "There is work to be done."
The Marble Phantasm awaited them.
"How do we get in?" the Man-in-White growled impatiently, hovering over Wisp's shoulder as the Phantasm was examined. It had been fifteen minutes since Arthur went in...
Wisp silently continued his examination, ignoring the other man. "It's a pocket realm," Wisp mumbled, speaking to himself. He looked unhappy. He closed his eyes, and continued to mumble, his tone so low that his counterpart could barely hear him. "Their aura's are inside. Three ki's... two of them very weak... and one very strong. Lots of refined ki. Too refined... Mana, of course, the kid's a mage..." What the other man was seeing or sensing, the Man-in-White could only imagine.
Wisp slowly reached his hand out to touch the sparkling light, a curious blue glow surrounding it. Suddenly, a bright white flashed and he retched his hand away. "Ouch!" he gasped, flinching his hand almost as if it had been burned. Despite the pain, his dour expression had vanished. "There is an entrance, alright," he grinned, "but it only opens and closes only to the wielder of the Phantasm."
"So we can't get in?" the Man-in-White asked, dejected.
"No. 'I am the wanderer, all paths are open to me,'" he recited, almost like a chant. "I will enter, and you will guard our exit."
"You are not so powerful as to take on a Divine Spirit by yourself," the Man-in-White scoffed.
"I couldn't take a Spirit with you either," Wisp argued, shaking his head. "If I have to come out running with my tail between my legs, I'm going to be very disappointed if their are more gunmen waiting for me."
"I suppose..." he pondered, uncertain. "You would take it on bare handed?"
Wisp nodded. "Yes. But I have more tricks up my sleeve then just punching and kicking."
"Are you certain?"
"No worries!" Wisp replied with a toothful grin. That smile was quickly beginning to drive him mad. "I have a plan."
After Wisp's jump from the roof, those words did not inspire much in the Man-in-White. Still, what choice did he have?
"Paved in Blood and Dust..." Wisp began, his eyes closed, his elbows level, and his palms pressed together as if in strange prayer. The air suddenly felt as if it was beginning to stir, and the alley became a little darker. "A road of infinite when and wheres... And a curse to wander it forever."
"Denied the sweet release of death, I wandered eternally in-between," he continued to chant, slowly and evenly. Beads of sweat began to dot his brow, and dull shadowy glow surrounded him like a thick outline.
He opened his eyes again, the black, misty glow outlining his outstretched hand. "Reforged in the fires of rebirth, I embrace this cursed path as it embraces me. I make it my greatest weapon!"
"I am the Wanderer," he breathed, his voice becoming hoarse. The black glow had enveloped the whole alley now, drinking and devouring all light. "and all paths are open to me!"
"Accursed Journey!"
The light shimmering glow of the Marble Phantasm became engulfed with a pitch black mist. Then, a jagged black tear appeared in the center, like a blinking eye opening in the air. Another tear opened, and another, until a black gaping wound was left floating in the alley. The shimmering rainbow light was all but gone, now but an outline on the edges of the black portal, like the rainbow shimmer of an oil slick.
Light slowly began to return the alley, the sickly glow around Wisp began to dissipate. Wisp dropped to his knees in front of the pitch black hole, gasping for air. "I've projected my curse on to it. The door's been opened," he announced between breaths, "and a seed planted. We shall see whether it takes root or not."
The Man-in-White was silent, taking this all in as the best as he could. He watched Wisp pull himself from the ground and walk towards to the portal he had opened. "Good luck!" he added, awkwardly.
"Yeah, Yeah!" Wisp saluted, not bothering to look back. "See you on the way out, Bedivere," he said, leaping into the misty black door and the new realm that awaited him.
To be continued...
Author's notes:
Despite the name choices of Will and Jack... No, this is not Pirates of the Caribbean crossover. Drawing from some different sources, which some knowledgeable readers may be able to guess at. Creating a cast is fun, and Nasuverse makes it so easy.
The temptation to cut this chapter in two was great, but I resisted. It was a doozy.
Thank you to gmsephiroth for betaing the story. :)