And so it Begins:
It was a dreary night in April. Icy, clammy fog clung around the streetlights, drifting from the alleys, plunging past layers of clothes to chill the various denizens of the street.
The weather matched the mood of Officer Adam Gordon perfectly.
Sipping a paper cup of coffee long since cold, Adam grimaced and brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his face. He hated having Squad Car 47, (it smelled like cat piss), he hated getting stuck with the graveyard shift, and more than anything, he hated having a patrol circuit in Necropolis.
Necropolis. City of the Dead. A fitting title for a such a festering sinkhole of suffering, rage, and despair. It was here that magic stalked in the shadows, mage gangs battled their never-ending turf wars, and dark messiahs led demonic followers through the streets. Necropolis was a nightmare come true, where fallen angels and demons played their games with the mere mortals below. A Darwinian society gone mad: consuming the weak and helpless. Pompous politicians loved to point out Necropolis as everything that was wrong with magic.
Necropolis, the ultimate perversion of the beautiful borough it had once been. Manhattan had gotten hit hard during the war. Here was the result.
A loud sigh brought him back to the present. His partner was sitting in the driver's seat, rubbing her tired eyes in a way that seemed so damn sexy.
Alice Starr, his partner. The Royal Dowager Empress of the Ice-Queens. Toughest cop in Precinct 111. The black-haired, blue-eyed witch who walked like a dancer and could nail you with a lightening bolt from a hundred feet away.
The woman Adam had loved since he'd first laid eyes on her.
Adam was no romantic, and would probably feed you your own fingers should you even suggest it. But icy, sarcastic Alice Starr somehow managed to fire up every nerve in his body with her mere presence.
She turned to meet his stare, blue gaze boring into his grey eyes. "What are you looking at, Gordon?" she growled, fists clenched tight around the wheel as they cruised down one of the narrow streets. Most of the incandescents in the street lamps had burned out long ago, leaving scattered islands of light in the gloom. Alice pulled over at the curb and set the engine to idle.
"There's been reports of gang activity in the this area." said Alice, grabbing Adam's coffee and draining it. She wiped her mouth, and continued. "Apparently, headquarters thinks one squad car on patrol will solve all the problems." If sarcasm was electricity, Alice Starr would be a power station.
"No shit there's gang activity here," grumbled Adam, his bad mood returning, "There's gang activity everywhere. Mages, druggies, what is it this time?"
"Mages, I think. Turf war. More chimaera to worry about. How wonderful." Alice lapsed into silence once more.
"There was a drug bust in Queens this morning." Adam remarked casually, trying to keep the conversation going. "We seized over a ton of pure flight."
"Great. Deprive the druggies, so they get violent. Another mess for us to clean up." Alice wasn't exactly known for her amazing social skills, so Adam felt encouraged that she'd even answered him.
"Any new leads on the subway kidnappings?"
"No," answered Alice reluctantly. "It's insane. Nine women from every possible ethnic and economic background, disappearing in the last few months, every crime scene marked with a ring of blood. The Seers keep pestering us with theories, each one more stupid than the last." Alice sighed, rubbing her eyes again. "Sometimes, I really hate magic."
"Bit rich coming from you, the most powerful witch in the precinct!" Adam countered, and was rewarded by Alice's tight little smirk, the closest she ever got to a smile. Suddenly, she froze, her blue eyes widening. "Quiet." she mouthed, and Adam tensed, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye.
An impossibly huge form materialized across the street, vanishing into the shadows of an alley. Alice held her tense pose for a few moments longer, then exhaled.
"What was it?" asked Adam, his heart rate slowly returning to normal.
"Chimaera." she answered grimly. "A big one. Hunting."
Chimaera, the name for a breed of magically-created monsters. "Too big for two cops to handle." agreed Adam. "Send out a warning, anyway."
As Alice busied herself with the radio, sending out a chimaera warning to all the local newsscreens, Adam fiddled with his empty coffee cup, mustering his courage. "Do you remember what this place was like before the war?" he asked, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. Alice despised discussing her past, even indirectly, and Adam was afraid that she'd fireball him if he didn't tread carefully.
To his surprise, Alice seemed to consider the question. "Manhattan?" Pursing her lips, she answered thoughtfully. "A little bit. The orphanage director took us skating in Central Park once. It was a sunny day in February, and the rink was covered with skaters..." she trailed off, losing herself in one of her few happy memories. For a moment, you could almost see a bright-eyed little girl, red-cheeked from the cold, laughing as she danced over the ice. Then the walls slammed up again, and Alice Starr was once more the hardened witch-cop. She glanced at Adam. "What about you?"
"Me?" He paused for a moment, sifting through memories. "I never saw Manhattan. My parents died when I was ten, and I lived with my dad's friend in Paris until after the war. Then I came here."
"Paris?" asked Alice, raising one eyebrow. She shook her head. "That's not what they call it anymore."
"Yeah, now it's the 'White City'. Only the French could make a nuclear winter sound romantic."
"Do you still talk to him? Your parents' friend, I mean."
Adam shook his head ruefully. "No, I kind of burned that bridge. He wanted me to take my place in my father's company, but I had other plans. So, as soon as they got the airlines up and running after the war, I took the first flight out. That was ten years ago."
Ten years ago. The thought echoed around his head, buried in regrets and lost hope. Twenty-one years old, running away from Darryl and Barry and the corporation. Running away from the life that had killed his parents.
Ten years ago, and here he was, thirty-one years old, still running.
"And who would have ever thought this was where you'd end up?" Alice broke into his thoughts. She gave a bitter little laugh. "Trying to stop the eternal gang wars of a magic-infested city in a squad car that smells like cat piss." She smirked again. "Maybe you should have stayed in Paris, Gordon."
Adam wanted to answer, tell her that he'd leave Paris a million times over if it meant that he'd meet her, but he didn't. He held back.
During the events which followed, Adam had many opportunities to wish he'd told Alice that he loved her that night. Threads of destiny were starting to interweave, setting in motion a chain of events which were cataclysmic in proportion.
But Adam Gordon didn't know this. All he knew was it was foggy outside, his coffee was gone, and he was in love with his partner...
...and then several destinies collided with a resounding smack.
"Gordon, look." Alice 'directed' Adam's line of sight with the help of a knock in the head.
"Ow! Crap, that's gonna leave a bruise..."
"Crybaby."
Adam glanced up from rubbing his head, and saw something that was indeed out of the ordinary. A pedestrian. In Necropolis. Alone. After dark.
"Do you think he's brave, stupid, or suicidal?" asked Alice, her tone wry.
"Does he have to choose?" said Adam, still watching the figure, who had paused to stand under the yellow light of a streetlamp, no more than twenty feet away. A young man wearing a long black leather duster, damp from the clinging fog. His skin was pale, glowing slightly in the cold light. Long blond hair pooled over his shoulders, knotted back under a forest green bandana. As the young man turned away onto the street, Adam could see a black tattoo glowing starkly against the pale skin of his neck.
"Mage killer," commented Adam, "See his tattoo?"
"Good-looking kid." said Alice, raising an eyebrow. "What's he doing out alone at night? He doesn't look like the run-of-the-mill street denizen..."
"Runaway, maybe?"
"Running to Necropolis?" Alice looked sceptical. "I doubt it. We should let him crash in the back seat, Gordon. No way is it safe to be wandering the streets alone."
Adam was about to reply when the screech of tires on wet pavement interrupted him. "What the hell-" he began.
Both cops felt their eyes widen in horror as an old black car careened around the corner, bouncing over the curb. The kid tried to dodge, but he didn't have a chance. The black car clipped him, sending him flying through the air, slamming into the sidewalk in a tangle of black leather and golden hair.
"Shit!" screamed Alice. She slammed on the sirens. "Gordon! Help the kid! I'll send the medics!" Adam leapt out of the car, slamming the door as Alice narrowly avoided flattening him. The squad car roared off, sirens flashing, chasing the black car into the gloom.
The kid was lying in a spreading pool of blood, eyes fluttering, limbs crumpled and splayed at odd angles. Adam swore and felt his throat for a pulse.
Nothing.
Adam swore again, leaned over the young man's face, and blew two quick breaths between his parted lips. Moving to his chest, the cop fell back on his training as he started CPR, ribs popping out of place with a disgusting snap.
Fifteen reps, two more breaths, fifteen more reps. Despite the chill, sweat streamed down Adam's face, and he strained his ears for the wail of medsirens.
Halfway through the second set of reps, almost dazed from the strain, Adam nearly screamed as the young man's eyes flew open, and he sucked a deep breath, his fingers locking around Adam's wrists in a death grip.
The cop stumbled backwards, watching in disbelief as the blond man sucked several deep breaths, snapping his shoulders back and his spine forward, arching upwards, rolling into a crouch in one fluid motion.
Adam's mind had gone numb. 'This cannot be happening. This is not possible.'
The young blond paused to brush the dirt from his coat. "Goddammit." he grimaced. "Bloodstains. I'm going to have to get this cleaned." He reached up and adjusted his bandana, tugging it more securely over his head.
Adam was trying to force his vocal cords into action, but his brain was still in shock. The young man patted his shoulder reassuringly and grinned at him. "It's okay, I'm fine. Thanks, Officer."
The blond man started away, his gait barely slowed, leaving Adam crouched over a pool of drying blood. He threw a cheery grin over his shoulder at the dumbstruck cop, and vanished into the shadows, singing softly to himself.
Adam sat on the curb and rubbed his eyes, hearing the wail of approaching med-sirens, and wondering what the hell he was going to tell them. Your dead kid just got up and walked away. Bloody nuisance, isn't it?
No one had noticed the figure crouched in a doorway of an abandoned building across the street, watching the scene with wide blue eyes.