Los Angeles
The Front Lines
December 21, 2012
9:19 PM Pacific Standard Time
Edmond Campeggio was a man who valued his appearance. He knew it was often the key to one's very first impression; which was essential in any sort of social situation. As such, he did his best to groom himself despite the emergency. He had borrowed an electric shaver and had a quick wipe down with moist towelettes. There was nothing he could do at the moment about his hair except a quick wash in a sink and a less than satisfactory drying with paper towels. This was followed by a simple comb pulled through his hair without the aid of his normal products. He had changed from his suit, that was now hopelessly smoke damaged and singed in several places, to a clean EMT jumpsuit. He found himself lying on a cot in a tent trying to sleep. He had been up for roughly forty hours now, yet he still couldn't rest. Perhaps it was the sick feeling he had from running on too much caffeine and snack foods.
He looked at his circlemates with slight envy. Marshall was already asleep. He hadn't even bothered with a cot. He had just sat on a blanket with his shoulders resting against the side of some crates to keep his torso partly propped up in a sitting position. He had his hat tilted down to shade his eyes. He'd fallen asleep almost instantly. He claimed that as a field researcher he'd slept in literal war zones and been fine.
Agam was sitting across from Marshall in a meditative pose. The Sikh looked almost peaceful. Throughout the day he had been an eye of calm in the storm of chaos. He was perhaps the least ruffled out of the three of them. He had taken breaks to catch a quick nap or meditate throughout the day to relax himself when a spare moment presented itself.
Attempting to create a working truce between the city's first responders and the emerging elementals had been a great deal of work. Once the initial group of fire spirits had been mollified, they had offered to aid the city in its struggles against the undead. After that the hours had become a blur of rushing from one emergency to another. Spirits were coming out of the woodwork. Some of these beings were helpful while others had been a nuisance. As he had been the one that had successfully negotiated for humanity initially, Campeggio found his group called upon to deal with anything that was too weird for mundane first responders to deal with.
He had managed thus far to avoid spending enough essence to make his anima flash. He was not sure how long that would last. He wanted to maintain his secret, however, he was not willing to let people die to do so.
His last task had involved quashing an argument between two disparate groups of spirits who were supposedly working together to defend the city. A group of tree spirits in the shape of little stick men armed as knights had been sent by Kai to reinforce a squad of police officers and firemen that, unknown to the Austrian, had already been sent support from the fire elementals. The innate hostility between the mutually antagonistic groups of spirits had almost been too much to prevent them from coming to blows.
Once that was resolved peacefully the fire chief had asked Campeggio to get some sleep. According to the chief he looked like he was about to crash.
Campeggio was sure he looked it, hence his quick grooming session. While he knew he was physically tired and could feel his body scream for sleep, his mind refused to slow down as it jumped erratically through every thought and experience of the day. He dared not take a sedative fearing he would be needed again soon.
So much had happened and so much was at stake, but he couldn't seem to get it organized so his mind kept spinning in circles refusing to stop until the job was through. To combat this, he started to visualise the thoughts coming to him as physical work; papers on a case being brought to him helter skelter by panicked legal clerks. He calmly filed each away promising himself he would look at them later once they were organised. Slowly his mind began to declutter and the whirlwind of his subconscious, with no debris to toss about, lost energy and blew itself out. The darkness of sleep claimed him.
"Mr. Campeggio?"
Campeggio slowly regained consciousness. His brain felt mired in a tarry morass of exhaustion. His entire frame rebelled at the very idea of stirring. His body felt as if it was covered with deep bruises and aches that penetrated to the bone. He had thought he was in shape but so many hours of physical activity among the first responders had proved him wrong. His shape was so far removed from these men, he might as well have been a circle amongst rectangles. It was as if he didn't even remember how to move and was having to force every muscle. He felt as if he'd slept a year and gone into atrophy. Yet, at the same time, he felt like it wasn't enough; like he'd barely replenished an ounce of energy. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the man in front of him.
"Wha-?"
It was a young volunteer; a reservist firefighter. He was one of the people who knew enough emergency procedure not to get in the way, that made him useful support personnel for running supplies, messages and reports.
"How long was I out?" the lawyer asked as he slowly found his way to a sitting position on the cot.
"Maybe two hours, sir. A being- not human- is here. He's asking for you by name, sir. He said if you could not be roused quickly he'd come for you himself. He says his matter is an emergency beyond what we are facing here. You know, sir, I saw those others oddball spirit things. Most of them looked like muppets really, but they didn't creep me the hell out the way he does. He's powerful. I don't know how, but everyone can feel it. Powerful and creepy as all hell. It makes your arm hair stand up. I mean literally. It feels like a current in the air or something."
Marshall rose, pushing his hat back to its normal rest. "Right, we'll take it from here, kid. Go tell 'Mr. Creepy' we're on our way."
The messenger seemed reluctant to return to the spirit's presence but did as he was told. Campeggio pressed his palms into his eyes and then ran his fingers through his hair.
"Damn. Don't you feel like, shit?" Campeggio asked Marshall. "I know I do. And here I thought I was in pretty good shape."
"You're not out of shape, but you're used to a softer life. Happened to me after I started a teaching gig at Barnett College," Marshal explained. He then inhaled deeply and stretched his arms. "I ran some and did a few workouts with weights in the gym but when I headed back into the field after a year of teaching and lecture, I felt like I was going to die," Marshall explained.
"Does it get better?"
Marshall nodded. "Yeah, I mean, most things do if you don't die first. Come on, Ed, keep it together now."
"Where's Singh?" Campeggio inquired looking around as he rose to his feet.
"Getting us something to eat," the Sikh said as he came through the tent flap. "It is simple food but hot and nourishing. We have pushed our bodies too far on energy bars and sugary drinks. This is a simple beef broth but it is warm and energizing. To go with it I have a wholesome bread. It was baked this morning by a nice lady who has been bringing what she makes to feed those fighting for the city," Agam explained.
After drinking a large pull of the broth from the thermos and chewing on a bite of bread Campeggio seemed much more awake. "Are you sure you didn't use magic on this?" he quipped.
"The only magic about it is the care of those who made it. You are a man who drives himself hard, Edmond Campeggio. You must learn self care. If you give everything to your causes there will be nothing left of you to fight later. A young man must learn these lessons or else he burns out. Life is not a sprint, but a marathon," Agam admonished him.
"Well I can't argue with him on that. You make it past thirty and you know that truth. Come on guys. We better make for the front before this spirt comes for us and scares someone into doing something stupid," Marshall suggested.
The three circle mates exited the tent and made their way through the crowd. It was not hard to find the right way. They merely followed the trail of unnerved first responders to a small building. Upon entering, they found themselves staring at the enormous back of Kai Silbern.
"Why can you not share with me the purpose of your visit?" Kai was asking the figure before him. He was dressed in his tactical battle armor with his massive hammer held in his right hand. He had it in a relaxed grip, with its head pointing toward the earth.
Edmond rounded the enormous Austrian to see the massive black spirit. It was like someone had cut a hole into a deep starless night sky. A sky like the one that currently ruled the night. The spirit was in the shape of a four armed man. Lithe but by no means weak. It leaned on the haft of a spear. It had a horn and laurel at its belt and shield across its back.
"I mean you no disrespect. I have a checkered history with you kind, Dragon Blooded. Your ancestors long ago washed away the stains that besmirched the Blood of the Dragons with glorious sacrifice in defense of the world. However, there is naught you can do to aid me and little I can do at this time to aid you. Perhaps next year I might have time to spare. Perhaps a visitation to the Princes of the Earth will become a new tradition and continue to displace my custom of old," the spirit said.
"What stains?" Kai asked, his face falling into a displeased glower.
"They are long rendered irrelevant by the passage of time." The spirit turned to Campeggio. "Here is the one I would speak to. So long as Mr. Campeggio is willing others might listen. Fear not being overheard by the mortals. I have rendered this place private. Our words will not be overheard. I am sure you have many questions, but I ask you to keep them simple. Time is of the essence and we must get started. I am Five Days Darkness. I am the lord of this inauspicious time, this Calibration."
"Calibration? Inauspicious?" Agam asked.
"Yes, the machinery of the universe is in need of maintenance and has been idled to facilitate these repairs. As such, the fabric of reality wavers slightly, causing the veil between the living and the dead to part and ushering in all manner of inauspicious events. It is supposed to be an annual event, however, the interim period in which the world has languished for thousands of years has seen no Calibration. So few of its systems were even functioning that calibrating the mechanisms would be quite pointless. One does not stop rebuilding a car engine to rotate the tires to use an analogy you might comprehend."
"Can you not do this another time? This is very inconvenient," Kai asked, still thinking somewhat stubbornly of his now ruined Christmas plans.
"No. Calibration is a fixed event. It cannot be moved. It is a process that, by its very nature, causes inconvenience."
"So, you are the god of this event but have no control over it?" Kai asked again, dubious of the claim.
"The self proclaimed god. As Calibration is a process that need not have a caretaker watching over it, I am nearly unique; a god with no true purpose. I came into being by accident. I was born of the very implications of the Unconquered Sun's existence. He is the light of perfection. I am the shadow cast by that perfection in an imperfect world."
"Are you then the perfect imperfection or the imperfect perfection?" Campeggio asked.
"Both. Now, please, many of your questions will be answered in time, and I will speak to you more of who I am and who your patron, the Unconquered Sun, is after I deal with the reason for why I have come to you.
The mortals nodded and stood quiet as Five Days Darkness began to explain. "In the time before your recorded history, before your world even became what it is now, the Exalted sacrificed themselves to protect Creation. It took eons for it to heal to this state. By custom it is permissible for mortal beings to enter heaven and associate with the gods during Calibration. As such, I have waited all that time for both Calibration and the Exalted to return."
"While usually only those Exalts of a sufficient spiritual enlightenment are permitted into heaven outside of Calibration, those of the Eclipse Caste are able to enter heaven and directly petition the gods in their role as mediators when they so choose no matter their power. They and those in their company are likewise given a certain amount of protection. To once again use terms you are familiar with, it is similar to your diplomatic immunity."
"We are going to heaven?" Agam asked, almost stunned by the idea.
"Yes, should Edmond Campeggio wish you to accompany him. There is business to attend to there. The god known as Parad will impart a great deal of knowledge to you and grant aid to your defense of the world. You may take some time to prepare but I am unable to exist in the light of day even in this cursed time. I will summon the gateway to heaven but I must do so before the first light of day."
"Then there's not much time. What will we need?" Campeggio asked, thrilled at the prospect of finally being clued into the Exalted's true purpose.
"You will need to look impressive. I have magic that could refresh you all, but it would take too long. Return to your tower of glass and steel. You will find small spirits there in the shape of winged sprites. Offer them this crystal in exchange for providing you a night's worth of rest in an hour. Clean yourselves and dress to look presentable. I will meet you there and open the way to heaven. While I trust Parad to impart knowledge to you, there are things I know that should be known to others beyond you three. I will tell you now so that the word will pass to others through Kai Silbern."
Kai snorted. He did not feel that robbing Los Angeles of three mighty defenders was a good idea. "Obviously I will not be going. I have a city to defend. If this can happen at no other time then I suppose it must happen. But I find your timing to be frustrating."
"You have a soldier's courage and a soldier's conviction, Kai Silbern, but this is beyond you," Five Days Darkness said dispassionately.
Kai narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He then turned to Campeggio. "Before you ascend to Heaven, you should know that I was contacted by Dan with troublesome news. He, Bree, and Natalia are here in the city and wish to join us in its defense. They have found the reason for the assault on the city and wanted your help in dealing with the core of the issue."
"Bree hates me and Dan isn't too keen on me either. Why would they want my help?"
"I am told the heart of the matter revolves around the sister of your circle's Dawn Caste. He is apparently being less than helpful. The words Dan used were, and I quote; 'we need Campeggio to come talk to this guy and get him to stop acting like a little bitch.'' Apparently he is young and quite petulant," Kai said.
"Jesus Christ can nothing be easy?" Campeggio swore.
"You might want to watch the blasphemy, Ed, we are going to heaven ya know," Marshall admonished him with a smile.
"Is it blasphemy? Is Jesus Christ holy?" Agam asked.
Five Days Darkness intervened. "A very complicated question, Zenith. One I have not the time to answer. As for your Dawn Caste, I have already considered his case. He is best left out of this affair. He would be a distraction if he were to go with you. His mind would be elsewhere. It is just as well. His sister would not be allowed entry into heaven and she has need of his protection at this time. He has great martial puissance, but little else to offer. His gifts would not give you any advantage with this mission. There are members of the Guardians of Creation who are here in the city that can aid the Dragon Blooded. They too are more martial than yourselves and, as such, would also contribute little to your mission in heaven. You three are the optimal group to send of those Exalts that are currently available."
"So we are to leave him be? If he is as formidable as you say, I could use one of such power against the undead," Kai said.
"I did not say you need to leave him be," the shadowy spirit said as he faced down the Austrian. "But know that already he is arming warriors and sending them to aid you. You are a Prince of the Earth, Kai Silbern, and while once I only grudgingly acknowledged the Dragon Blooded to hold such a title, you are one of those designated to rule the world by the Supreme God. Take what action you see fit. Calibration throws fate off its axis but he is in the middle of a tangled web of schemes and plots. His current equilibrium cannot last. The repercussions of what might happen next will be far reaching and I cannot say if intervention at this point will be for good or ill. I council to use your best judgement."
Kai was used to giving orders, not taking them. This unknown figure had appeared a few minutes ago and had been what could best be described as cold and dismissive of him. This last statement had been just as cold as the rest, but it had also been a deferral to the Austrian's judgement. It had taken until now for Kai to understand. This being was not being deliberately glib with him. Instead, this god's focus and attention were just elsewhere, trusting him and his to take care of what he perceived as a peripheral matter even if it was of vital importance to the most in the area at the time. Finally understanding the dynamic he was dealing with, Kai's demeanor softened. "I will take no rash action but will keep this in mind. Perhaps I should confer with Dan again," Kai said.
"Good. Now, if immediate needs are met, I need to begin my long delayed story. It is a much shortened; a concise version of the tale which leaves out much for the sake of brevity yet imparts the basics."
The four armed figure paused to ensure he had the attention of the gathered Exalted before continuing. "Unlike most modern mythos, the Most High did not make the world of Creation in which you live. The Primordial beings, those who were born into chaos but which tired of its impermanence, forged Creation when they realized the truth of the Wyld's existence. They realized that without consequence there is no meaning and consequence is born of permanence."
"Creation was made to be permanent. To do so time had to be unidirectional. What was done could not be undone. If events could be undone they had no consequence and thus never were and thus not permanent. In forging Creation this way, the Primordials created many things by implication. You will find this a repeating occurrence with their works. To that end, the Primordials might be seen as both geniuses and fools. Geniuses for being able to contemplate such sweeping changes to existence and fools for not being able to fathom what those changes would truly mean. However, one must temper this view with understanding. The Primordials, from both a human and godly point of view, are alien to the point of being almost incomprehensible. They are just as alien to us gods as we gods are to you humans."
"But, I digress," The figure said with a slight shake of his spear still butted against the ground. "Creation gave the universe definitive, objective time. Time gave definitive scale and measurement. The subjectivity of chaos was imposed upon. This drove those beings at home in such formless madness, the raksha, into a fury. By Creation's very existence they could feel it imposing objectivity upon their whole subjective world. They were not free anymore."
"Could they not simply ignore it and continue on as they wished?" Agam asked.
"They certainly claim that was impossible, for as long as Creation existed at some point their work had the potential to be compared with it and rendered completely meaningless by the iron certainly of its existence."
"The early days of Creation were spent largely in its defense. The force of fate, one of the fundamental underpinnings of this new Primordial wrought reality, sought to write all things of Creation harmoniously into its design. However, those things not of Creation were corrosive to fate. This required the Primordials to personally toss these beings back out of Creation and repair whatever damage they inflicted," the god explained.
"This was not the goal of the Primordials. They wished for more leisure time. Creation was intended to be their sanctuary, not a place of toil. However, the King of the Primordial Beings had another far more reaching idea. It was he who noticed that the definitive measurements invoked by Creation's existence gave rise to a potential so powerful that, had it not been dependent on Creation to come into existence in the first place, it might have spawned a Primordial already. If things have length then somewhere, at some time, will exist the longest object ever, the longest lasting object ever, the sharpest blade ever, the best defender ever. As such, to defend the Primordial's sanctuary he decided to create-"
"-the most perfect being ever," Campeggio interrupted, seeing where the implication was headed.
"Just so," the four armed god said with a nod. "And as such He ordered his fellows to help him form such a being, and they did so with no regard for the paradox it created. The god they forged, the Unconquered Sun, was simultaneously all extremes regardless of contradiction. This paradox was something the concept of fate had trouble reconciling and, as such, nearly prevented its catalyst. The very moment of the Unconquered Sun's genesis could have crashed Creation and undone the Primordial's masterwork, winking it out of existence. However, by creating a perfect being, they created a perfect answer to this problem: choice."
"The Unconquered Sun chose not to always embody perfection. He would choose what perfections he would embody and when. If, paradoxically, it was not the best choice to be perfect, he would be less than such. He gave this willingness to be self sacrificing, to give of oneself and to aid and protect others a name. Thus, the concept of what was 'Holy' was inscribed into the universe."
"By implication then all the choices he forsook exist too; a shadow to his light. That is your genesis, then." Marshall deduced. "The proverbial road not taken."
"Yes. I must exist so that he may be what he is, however, unlike most gods, I do not seek to expand my own godly influence, but this doesn't mean I wish to be idle. So, as I was born with no purview and preside over a time that truly needs no divine tending, I find other tasks to busy myself. Such tasks are often dirty work."
"However, this is not the end of my story. By the implications of his choice, another concept arose: adaptability. The Primordials managed to create another Incarna out of that concept: Luna the Ever Changing Moon. In turn, the existence of these two mighty and nearly equal divinities turned the shadows of Fate into quite real beings; giving birth to the Five Maidens of Fate out of the tapestry of destiny."
"And so, the Unconquered Sun, Luna and the Five Maidens set about maintaining and guarding Creation while the Primordials retired. In time, however, the Unconquered Sun realized the source of a deep dissatisfaction within Creation. The world was suffering and he could not mend its ills. It was then that he realized why; to the Primordials, Creation, and the lives within it were not objects to be cared for, they were toys. Easily replaced if broken."
"This cruelty was the foundation of the rebellion. For the good of the world, those who created it had to be overthrown, yet this was not so easy. It was indelibly written into Creation that no god might assault a Primordial. It was then that the Unconquered Sun turned to those tiny lives the Primordials, in their careless cruelty, had so often snuffed out. Humans, seen as powerless, were not geased in the same fashion as the gods. The Primordials had leashed the Lion out of respect for its power, but the mice ran free. Thus, the Lion taught the mice to form an army. The Unconquered Sun shared his power with a select number of humans. These became the generals and champions who would lead humanity: the Solar Exalted."
"The Unconquered Sun, in his role as chief instigator of rebellion, also planned for the world's future following the fall of the Primordials. To prevent a similar and rebellion against the gods, he gave the Exalted his mandate to rule. Those who were once human would rule the world of humanity. The alien perspective of gods would keep up the workings of Creation and when necessary, the diplomats of the Solar Exalted, the Eclipse Caste, were tasked with ensuring acceptable compromises between the needs of the gods and the needs of man."
"This is what is needed now? A compromise between men and gods? I have to negotiate with heaven for the future of humanity?" Campeggio asked, his mind reeling with the consequences of such a momentous task.
"More or less. Parad will aid you further. I do not go to heaven. Its light is adverse to my darkness. Go prepare. I will meet with you again shortly. There are other tasks I have to be about, for I have tarried too long already." With that, the Shadow of the Sun vanished from sight.
"Go to heaven! Even if one tallied together all of the holy men of every religion, that is a rarity to be so chosen," Agam exclaimed.
"And that's assuming everything he told us is true. It might be an even rarer honor than that. Sounds like we're about to have a lot of work slopped on our plate. You up for it, Ed?" Marshall asked.
"I don't know. The bastard winked out before I could pin down what exactly it is I'm supposed to do!" the young lawyer fumed. "I'm supposed to negotiate with beings that, by their own admission, are alien to us. What exactly does a god want? What is it they can do for us? Will I be snuffed out of existence if I anger them? Hell, are they even angered by a lowball or high offer? Do they like to haggle or be flattered?"
I don't think we have much of a choice, my friend, "Agam interceded. "It sounds as if the world is quite literally dependent on it."
"The shadow man seems to have given you a contact within the realm of the gods, Campeggio. Contacts, as he alluded to, are used for knowledge and aid. I do not think you will need to negotiate with the one he named as Parad. Instead," the hulking earth blooded surmised, "he will be the one to point the way in which to go. If this shadowy form is to be believed you should go ready yourselves. I will not hold you here. The stakes are too high. Secure our future while I protect the world we have," Kai said, hefting his hammer over his shoulder.
"I swear I'll return as soon as possible and with whatever aid I can get us," Campeggio said.
Kai nodded gravely and turned to find his fellow Dragon Blooded. The three Solar Exalts also exited and prepared for an almost unfathomable challenge.
Baldwin County
South Alabama
December 22, 2012
6:28 AM Central Standard Time
Mike looked over at Axe. The laconic werewolf gave him a nod and walked away while Mike in turn made his way over to the fridge. He turned his head back toward the kitchen table where Cheryl and Talia sat. Each had a leg chained to the nearest table leg. The chains were more of a reminder than an actual threat. The bandages on their arms and legs were another reminder of what their captor would do if they sought to escape.
"You want something to eat? You can play at being unmoving rocks but I've worked with the real thing so you don't fool me," Mike asked as he opened the fridge.
"No, thank you," Talia said.
"I'll take some of those unopened chips and a beer," Cheryl replied. She wasn't about to trust anything that came from the toxic waste dump her captors called a fridge.
"Yeah, sure, the beer's Axe's piss water and the chips are a weird flavor I got on sale. I wasn't sure grilled cheese flavored chips would be good but two for a dollar is hard to pass up when you're on a budget," he explained, while pulling a soda out for himself.
He added a bottle of beer, grabbed the chips off the top of the fridge and then opened the cabinets and pulled a different bag out of the cabinet. It was then that Cheryl saw something within that made her speak up.
"Can you get the Poptarts? Talia will eat them."
Mike grabbed them while raising an eyebrow as he walked over.
"They're made with vegetable oil so the unfrosted ones are halal," Talia explained.
Mike snorted. "You've been stapled to the floor today and you still think Allah has your back?"
"Don't. Just leave her alone. She believes what she believes," Cheryl snapped.
Mike set the food down. He also produced an orange soda. "Here, drink this. It's not haram either."
"Oh, thank you," Talia said, puzzled at the unexpected gesture.
Mike smiled while opening his own bag of snacks now that he was closer she could see they were pork rinds. "You're welcome," he replied with an evil grin.
Talia gave her captor a withering stare. Cheryl however spoke up. "I like those too."
"Wouldn't they make you haram? Doesn't she still eat you?" Mike asked
"First of all those things that are completely transformed or absorbed by other things even if haram may not degrade a halal substance if it is overwhelmed and it's offensive properties can no longer be clearly measured. Second, our sex life is none of your damn business," Talia shot back.
Mike smirked. "Cheryl, you can have some pork rinds if Talia eats some. If not, you're stuck with the cheap chips. I've been saving these for a special occasion."
"Why the fuck do you care what she eats? Also, you have hundreds of millions in the bank that feed out to you and the wolf at something like four million a year! Why are you worried about the expense of some damn snack food?!" Cheryl spat..
"I find it amusing that anyone lets imaginary characters in works of fiction tell them how to act. The Celestial Chorus can look for universal truth all they want. They can claim there is some divine wisdom in every religion but in the end even if there IS some divine truth, which I highly doubt mind you, it's so diluted by the bullshit as to make up less than one percent of every religion on Earth. So I'm not buying what they're selling. They can all take a flying leap up a wild hog's ass as the locals say," Mike said before stuffing a few crispy fried pig skins in his mouth and chewing.
"There's at least one thing you believe in, because, despite your cynicism, you won't insult those you work with when money is on the line. You poke at me because I'm in your power rather than you being in mine. You do believe in a universal truth. You believe the strong prey on the weak. You believe the weak are justified to cheat to get back at those who have power over them," Talia said.
"Close. I don't believe there is such a thing as cheating. The rules don't matter most of the time anyhow. They're put in place by those with power to keep those without power from getting any," Mike replied while sipping on his soda.
"You're avoiding the question. You're about to ransom us back to Pentex for a few million dollars. Why does a man who, in addition to that, gets four million a year give a damn about some three dollar pork rinds?" Cheryl asked again.
Mike crunched on his snack for a few seconds, lost in thought. "I used to think family was important. I had my family wiped out by Pentex. They wanted our land you see. The D'Angelos had a long history of fighting monsters to protect the sleepers out there. You know the morons who make up the base clay of this shit heap world we live in. They had a chantry they had built on an unholy site to ward and keep evil at bay. Pentex wanted access to that shit, so they had them whacked. They didn't know months before this I had ascended. My magic and meeting Axe got me out alive but I have a problem. How much do you know about mages? Probably diddly shit I'd wager?"
Cheryl and Talia did not respond.
"I thought so. You see, I have what's called 'arcane' pretty bad. What that means is, in addition to some other fun side effects, I tend to vanish from records. Paper, computer, it doesn't matter. It's a property of magic or some shit, but it's not the same for everyone. So, all the money is in Axe's fake ID and a numbered account that you just have to have the passcode to get into. It also means when everyone else died no records of a 'Mike D'Angelo' existed so the property and inheritance passed to my little brother, Gabe, who'd run off to Europe to become a musician. He wanted to be a violinist.
With my lack of official existence, Gabe became the guy they had to pressure into selling. He was a half trained hedge mage. They didn't even figure they'd have to kill guy in charge of this operation was a Tzimisce vampire with ties to the Sabbat. Pentex seems to have friends everywhere. Or at least they did. So, I ran around the world stopping Pentex plots or being a merc for the cash. I needed the dough so I could try to stay ahead of their games and protect the little shithead; you know, draw the heat away from him. Did a damn good job too. I have a talent for being a pain in the ass if you hadn't noticed."
"I would never have guessed," Cheryl said in a deadpan tone.
"Yeah, well, after a few years of this Mr. Big Shot Tzimisce decided he'd had enough of chasing us and called his sire in the old country to help. He switched up his tactics. Instead of an assault, threats or bribes, he sent a honey pot after Gabe. No idea what she looked like before, but she'd been flesh sculpted into a real work of art. Not those grotesque mockeries the fleshwarpers normally do either."
"So, they scuplted a sex doll?" Talia asked in disdain.
"Oh, no, not even close. The devil came in the form of an angel of light. Spun sugar made to look as pure as snow. Sweet, innocent; an angel sent to Earth to spread compassion and kindness. She knew her part and perfected it over God knows how long. All anyone saw was the lush ruby skin of the apple. There wasn't a single hint of the poison at its core."
Both Dragon Blooded has been drawn into the story they listed as Mike adjusted his chair then continued his narrative.
"She lead him right into the trap. She claimed some BS about being recently turned and that she had to kill her sire and grandsire to be free of the curse and return to humanity. He ate it up with a spoon and set out on her 'quest' like a white knight from an idiotic kid's cartoon. Soon he was in the belly of the beast. A nearly thousand year old fortress in the Carpathian mountains. She even made him think he had failed her and got them caught.
"Even after all the shit we'd pulled and lived there was no doubt in my mind that this was beyond Axe and me. We scraped together everything we had and hired the most lethal merc I could find: ol' pre-manifestation Kai Silbern. This was before he let that Indonesian fertility goddess rot his brain. Even as a mortal, he was a legend. An unstoppable killing machine who lived for the thrill of a challenge.
"He was the ace in the hole. They were waiting on Axe and me, so we walked on into an obvious trap in the middle of the day. We fought like lions, but we knew the elder was old school and couldn't resist having his goons hold us for a bit 'til he could wake up and mock us soundly before he killed us. Which he did of course. While he was monologuing, Kai, who hadn't even been on his radar he was so fucking good, shot his ass with an anti tank missile. Couldn't have been more spot on. Only thing I didn't count on in my plan was his goons beating my legs to jelly with a bat first.
"One of the vampires who had been standing over me had the good grace to have had an arm ripped off by some of the shrapnel however. He was bleeding all over and it pooled up near me. I knew you could use vitae to heal. I had also heard it was addictive. Not being too fond of the idea of dying I crawled over and laped that sticky red shit up. I'd take addiction over death. I discovered another thing about it that pretty much only applies to a mage. Vampire blood is raw power. Liquid Tass. Pure magical energy on tap. Even as my legs were healing, I blasted my recovering blood donor's head off and took the rest of his supply.
"I was high as a kite and beyond giving a damn. Nothing was fogged, however. I remember every moment of the battle. The elation at every kill. Every surge of adrenaline. The surprise on the faces that had lived centuries only to be melted in my flames.
"I can still see the horror on Gabe's face when he saw his sweet angel go up like cotton candy in a bonfire. She had raced to him. She was going to use him as a shield against me. I tossed her away like a ragdoll and called up the very fires of hell to melt her fake face. Gabe still didn't see the poison at her core. He thinks I murdered his soul mate."
"That's horrible! That poor man," Talia gasped.
"Well don't feel too sorry for him. He turned the pain into artistic inspiration and writes heartbreaking violin pieces that have made him all the rage among the classical crowd. He's got his fortune and fame," Mike said with a shake of his head.
"And you sank into addiction and debt?" Cheryl guessed.
"Like a fucking rock. Straight down. I learned after a bit you didn't have to drink vitae to use it's power, but it still could heal you. Great for emergencies and no one could see it inside you. Another nice surprise. On and on came the excuses. Soon, I was so deep in debt even Axe and me together couldn't keep ahead of the headsman for long. I had to start crawling upwards if we were going to live. I knew someone who could help, but she'd want a favor. Better that than money I thought at the time. I went to Nikki Sparks of Sparks Labs and she used her magic to exercise my addiction.
"I did some work for her and the so called 'Seven.' Got kicked out a few times though. I'd made a big score and they robbed it from me then, saying I just kept wasting the money they'd paid me in the past. They put my big score in a bank to be doled out to me like an allowance. Like I was five. Even a quarter of that load would see me free and clear. As it is, the dribble they give is enough to keep the creditors at bay so I can stay in one place. My sanctum sanctorum ladies. Behold the wonders," Mike said as he gestured around the old shack.
"Why didn't you tell them why your money kept vanishing? Why didn't you tell them about your debts?" Talia asked.
"You think I wanted to hear a lecture from those sanctimonious assholes? No way. Killed a few supernatural creditors who wouldn't take a payment reschedule and convinced the rest the benefit to risk ratio was on the side of waiting. I've kept chipping away at it. The money I've been making helped me pay off a few at a time. I'm actually paying more than the interest now. A little over twenty million and I'm free and clear, so the four million for you two will be a big shot in the arm."
"If you wouldn't tell them, why tell us?" Cheryl asked.
"Well, first, 'cause you two were stupid enough to get stappled to the floor, so I don't give a damn about your judgment or lack thereof. You want to lecture me I'll just laugh in your face. Second, I needed a lengthy story to give Axe time to sneak up on the eavesdropper we have outside that wall," Mike said, whirling to wave at the indicated wall.
As when he wished to move the chair earlier, the wall peeled out of the way to reveal Axe standing outside illuminated by the very first rays of dawn. He was holding a rake. Draped over the tool was a leather jacket. Mike stared at the jacket in puzzlement.
He turned to find a new figure sitting at the table between Talia and Cheryl. He had a gun casually pointed at Mike's head.
"Don't try me. Unlike these two, I know mages. No matter how fast you are with your magic, I'm faster and I came here knowing you're a mage. Your magic will not deflect these if I shoot you. I don't need to kill you, however, not now that I know what's going on here," the rather plain looking man stated.
"Who in the fuck are you?" Mike asked.
"If you really want to know you're not going to try to kill me and we can talk. That's good because you'll learn some things you need to know. Have the werewolf bring my jacket back in would you? Oh, and close the wall after him. It's letting in a draft."
Mike frowned but waved to Axe to come inside. The wall slid shut after the werewolf. The stranger stood up and put his gun away. He took his jacket back and put it on. He then walked over to Mike's counter and turned on the single cup coffee maker. While it heated he readied a pod and pulled a cup out of Mike's cabinet. He examined it and rewashed it in the sink wiping it off with a cloth he pulled from inside his coat. He then dispensed a cup of coffee and finally turned to the waiting audience of two Dragon Blooded, a mage and a werewolf.
"I am working for the New Orleans Council. Those you call the Seven. I am eliminating the leadership behind the Seventh Son's attack on the city of New Orleans and killing anyone who might be helping those twisted cultists be it materially or with intelligence."
"What does that have to do with us?" Mike asked.
"Nothing, really. But, I thought you should know you won't be getting any money from Pentex. The group they sent here is dead. I killed them," the man said conversationally as if he was talking about the weather.
"What do I have to do to get you to give me the money they had on them?" Mike asked
"Nothing. They had no money. No wallets. No loose change. Only men with guns, explosives and anti magical wards," the man explained.
"Son of a bitch," Mike swore, his hands balling into fists.
Cheryl snorted. "They were never planning to pay you."
"Don't be smug. They were not planning to rescue you either. As soon as the mission was complete they were going to murder you both and lay the blame on these two. You have two failures now and that makes you a liability in Pentex's eyes," the stranger informed them.
"Those rat bastards. Those lying scumbags. They try to put one over on me! How dare they try to kill what I've rightfully been trying to ransom?" Mike ranted.
"It's dizzying the way your mind works," Talia marveled at him.
"I've still got to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with you two," Mike said, scowling.
"Let them go. The story they have to share will hurt Pentex more than anything you could do. No one else is going to pay you for them and with no pay off killing or hurting them would be a cost with no benefit," the stranger said.
"No. I don't think so. You two are going free but you owe me and some day I'm going to call that debt in and you're going to pay it," Mike said darkly.
"Or what? You'll kill us?" Cheryl sneered.
"No. I'll tell everyone how you leapt in here like morons and got stapled to the floor. I'll tell everyone how you begged for mercy and spilled every Pentex secret you could think of like kids at a sleepover just to stop the pain. You're going to pay your god damn debts like everyone else does for the same reason everyone does because if you don't your rep isn't going to be worth SHIT. You'll never work or get respect again and then you can go begging for work from MSI or some other place that will sneer down at you like the losers you are and you'll take it because with no rep and no Pentex you have NOTHING," Mike shouted as the chains fell away and the front door opened.
Both women raised up and limped their way out the doorless doorway.
"I'd go collect all of your belongings from Pentex right now. Treat it like escaping an abuser. Get everything you must have as quickly as you can and write off the rest. Only the shock of your survival will stay their hand while they try to think up a cover story," the stranger advised, calling after them as they disappeared.
Mike turned back to his new guest. "Now what?"
The stranger shrugged. "I go back to work killing the Seventh Sons and Pentex members who support the attack on New Orleans. You do whatever you want to do. I doubt we'll get in each other's way."
"Well, I'm not going to New Orleans. Maybe the Prince of Mobile needs some help," Mike said looking at Axe. The werewolf shrugged.
The Night Caste Jon Cole put his cup in the sink, ran water into it and started out the door. "Kai Silbern finds you contemptible, but I don't get along with him either. If I ever need two loud morons as a distraction, I know your number... but don't hold your breath."