Cruel Fates

Julia Stormson woke up from some kind of nightmare she almost couldn't escape. She knew it was vividly real and she strained to remember it but she simply could not recall what it was about. Looking over at the other side of the bed she saw it empty as it normally was on any given day. Her man woke up early whether it was a weekend or not.

It had been nearly two years since they first met. Two years since her life was turned upside down and then neatly placed back right side up as if nothing had happened. It had taken her years but she could walk down the city streets and a majority of the time not worry about demons leaping from the shadows at her. Such was the everlasting effects of visiting that sleepy town where so much of her life had been decided.

It began innocently with a strange letter that showed the orphan girl, now all grown up, her birth parents in a long lost newspaper clipping decades old. To this day she still didn't know who sent it to her but it changed her life forever. It led her to Silent Hill and a strange guardian angel of a man that called himself Nobody. After enduring horrors beyond imagining she faced the person who killed her parents and struck him down. In her wildest dreams she would not have suspected the culprit to be her own long lost brother.

Leaving Silent Hill and Nobody, who revealed his name to be Victor Rosencrantz, she almost immediately decided to return. If her story was surreal Victor's was simply horrific. After losing his mother in a fire he returned to Silent Hill to find the town changed into its wavering reality. A mere youth he decided to stay and for years he lived alone in a place most people wouldn't visit twice for a million dollars. He had saved her life multiple times and she could not just leave him there. Besides, he was cute in a dark and brooding way.

After smoothing out things back in the real world she entered a harsh martial arts program that focused on real combat experience. She was almost always shorter and lighter than her opponents which had its strengths and weaknesses. Thankfully her body was somewhat prepared for the rigors of fighting due to near daily trips to the gym. It didn't prepare her for the bruises and soreness but Silent Hill had prepared her for much worse. After months of rigorous training she gained a decent skill set and enough knowledge to choke unconscious a 250 pound man. Along with regular trips to the range she felt confident in a return trip.

Getting Victor to leave was no easy task. He had been living there for nearly a decade by himself and had adjusted to his hermit lifestyle. Though it took much argument, cajoling, promising and threatening he reluctantly agreed to leave his home and, in her mind, prison. Since she had made him come back to the real world Victor's physical appearance gradually changed. His thin face and somewhat sunken features had filled out to a healthy amount. The pale skin that only added to his unusual looks had been replaced by a much more pleasing fleshy tone. He was still somewhat awkwardly skinny and was socially inept but coming along nicely.

The largest change of all however has been his reintroduction to human necessities. During his long stay in Silent Hill, Victor had shed the need for food and barely slept to no ill effect. A few months after leaving with her those needs slowly came back to him. The first few weeks of were the worst for the both of them. Like a caged animal he would be restless but unable to rest. Food tasted strange to him and most of the time would vomit it up a couple of hours after eating. The parallels to recovering from drug addiction were uncanny and at one point she had to physically stop him from returning to Silent Hill.

Eventually they were able to overcome the obstacles and have a relatively normal life. It was difficult getting him to open up about his thoughts and even more difficult to explain how she was romantically attracted to him. In some ways he was very much like a boy that had to be shown what to do with a woman. It had led to many a sweet, endearing experience and Julia considered herself lucky despite all the awful things that had happened to her.

Sitting on the couch she channel flipped and generally wasted time sipping coffee. Life was good, simple and other than her continued training uneventful. How strange it would be that this was pleasant for her. She thought of this now as she heard keys jingle and Victor came through the door.

He had a large bouquet of flowers in his hand. There wasn't a special occasion today that she knew of and Victor wasn't the spontaneous flowers type. "Good day." he said with a smile.

"Hello, hello. Roses?"

"Aye, picked them up on the way home. What do you think?"

"Roses are nice. Very classy." she said happily. "Is there a reason?"

"You know, no. I saw them and for some reason I just wanted to get them for you."

"How thoughtful! I'll have to arrange them. I always liked the way roses look as decorations."

"Yeah, especially in a wreath."

For some reason that triggered a memory. The dream! The roses that lined her casket and that strange conversation with the speaker. "Yeah…" she trailed off as the details of that unusually vivid dream came tumbling back to her.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, you just reminded me a of a dream I had last night."

"Ah. I have weird ones sometimes too. Last night I had an odd one." Victor said as he put down his things.

The TV continued to babble about nothing particularly important and Julia was half listening. She was still trying to recall the exact details of her dream which was more strange the more she remembered. "Mine was pretty trippy. I was at this funeral that turned out to be for us. Which didn't make any sense because I was standing right there while I was being mourned but anyway there was this weirdo priest that was babbling on like a lunatic. I can't even think of what he was saying but I just know it didn't make any sense."

"Was he wearing a collar?" Victor asked.

"What?"

"The priest. Did he have a collar?"

"Uh…no I don't think so." she said after recalling the fuzzy memory.

"Ah. Sorry, continue."

"Well that was about it. He kept saying weird stuff and making me repeat it."

"Like what?"

"You know, I don't remember. It was an address or something." she said after digging into the memory.

"665 Witchduck Road?"

"Uh-"

"Barrington, New Hampshire?"

"Wha-"

"03825?"

"How…yeah. That was it. How did you know?"

"I had the exact same dream, I think. Only I was walking around with a woman that wasn't you."

"And I was with a man that wasn't you." she breathed.

A minute or so passed before she realized the TV was still blaming numbers for something. Julia slowly walked over and shut it off before turning back to Victor. She was half expecting him to yell 'surprise!' and show her where the camera was. He didn't.

"What is it supposed to mean?" She asked.

"I think…he wants us to do him a favor." Victor said hesitantly.

"Who?"

"The priest with no collar."

"I'm sure you're going to say something that makes that statement less crazy." she huffed.

"The man in the dream is real. I've encountered him a few times…in that 'place' we first met…" A cold pit settled into Julia's stomach at the hint of where this conversation was going.

"I'm still waiting on that not so crazy explanation." she managed.

"It wasn't a dream Jewel." he called her the pet name he only did when he was in trouble or trying to not get into trouble. "It was a summons. It wasn't meant for you. It was meant for me."

The knot in her stomach tightened but she refused to say the name out loud. "That 'place'…does it ever end Victor?"

He thought a bit before speaking which never a good sign. "I've read that people in New Mexico have a saying. It only applies to a certain mountain there that is unlike anywhere else. It goes 'those who were born under the mountain eventually return to the mountain.'"

"Are you trying to say that…town…is our mountain?"

"The first breath of air we ever tasted had the smell of the trees and Lake Toluca on it. Like it or not it's a part of us." he said dramatically.

"You've thought about this before." she snapped.

"I have." he admitted. "But not the way you think. Part of me belongs there Julia. It always will. This isn't something we can just toss away and hope that it doesn't come back."

"So you're going? Just like that?"

"A dream could be a simple dream. I have a feeling that if the priest with no collar doesn't get what he wants he'll send a more tangible message."

"What? You telling me that guy was real?"

"Was, is, isn't, wasn't." Victor said cryptically. "Let's just say we don't want anything to do with him. I can only hope he would not or could not reach us out here. So far from...that place."

Hours passed while they drove on in silence. The bald guy was at the wheel while the two other agents sat in the passenger and rear passenger seats. There was little conversation and it was hushed between the two on the right. They probably thought baldy was creepy just like Chuck did. It was quiet now since he gave up trying to tell them what a colossal mistake this was. There was nothing he could do from his cage and glumly he watched the dull scenery go by.

They were on the highway for a while but turned off onto a few single lane country roads before long. The ride had been at least four hours long as best he could tell when they stopped for gas and refreshments. No one offered him a drink even though it was fairly hot in the van. Byrd didn't move at all since sitting down in the driver's seat and frequently checked the mirrors.

Back on the road it was more of the same. The sound of a popping tire suddenly broke the monotony and silence. Chuck was alert as Byrd was forced to pull over onto the side of the dusty, single lane highway.

"We got a spare?" the man in the backseat asked.

"Nope, took it out when installing the cage back there." said the agent in the passenger seat.

"Call base?" The man in rear suggested.

"No." Byrd said with a clear tone of command. "Let's see the damage first."

The bald man climbed out of the van and the agents shared a look before doing the same. Chuck knew he was right about something going on between the three agents that wasn't normal. He couldn't tell much else while they huddled around the rear left tire. The two agents hunched down to inspect the flat while Byrd stood passively behind them. His face was stony as he looked down both stretches of the deserted highway. Chuck did the same for some reason and he saw nothing coming in either direction for miles. Movement pulled his gaze back to the window as Byrd pulled something shiny out of his jacket.

The sound hit his ears first. It was the unmistakable blam! of a silenced gun shot. The sound was almost as loud as a normal shot only from a distance it would not be heard as easily. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Chuck's eyes focused on the silvery gun glinting in the sunlight. Before the sound of the first shot left Chuck's ears there was another. Something fell against the van and Byrd quickly scanned the highway again. With nothing in sight the bald killer fired downward another four times in rapid succession before putting his gun away.

Chuck backed up to the other side of the van as if somehow this would help. His heart was pounding loud in his ears and he realized that he was completely at the mercy of this murderer. He watch partially frozen in horror as Byrd methodically cleaned up the evidence of what had just happened. Bending down past the window Byrd presumably pulled the remains of the agents around to the other side of the van. He opened the rear passenger door and hauled the bloody bodies of the two other agents onto the van's floor. There was no emotion or hesitation in his actions that Chuck could see. There was only a businesslike behavior identical to someone taking out the trash or vacuuming an office. Chuck was fairly certain he would be joining the dead agents as soon as Byrd finished getting them covered up with blankets.

Once the corpses were hidden to his satisfaction Byrd produced a spray bottle and rag from somewhere in the back seat. He cleaned the outside and inside of the van with the rag until all spots of blood were gone that his prisoner could see. Seemingly done with the task for now the killer agent shifted his attention to Chuck. Those passionless eyes locked in on him and didn't let go as Byrd moved to the back of the van. Chuck squirmed against the mesh barrier between him and the rear seat. He always thought his death would somehow be more grand than this as Byrd opened the rear doors.

"You must be thirsty." Byrd said calmly. He was holding a bottle of water in his hand that Chuck didn't notice until now.

"Are you going to kill me?" Chuck quivered.

The bald man tossed the bottle into the space between them and it rolled to a stop at the former inmate's feet. "Drink up." Byrd said casually but it felt like an order. Not wanting to anger his captor in the slightest Chuck picked up the bottle. The seal was still on it so at least he knew that it wouldn't be death by poison. Taking off the cap with shaking hands he drank as much as he could on one breath.

Byrd wordlessly shut the doors again and returned to the driver's seat. They turned around and were heading the way they came when Chuck began to feel dizzy. It might have been the heat finally getting to him or the stress but for whatever reason the feeling grew stronger. His eye lids began to fall down on their own accord and he slumped to the bottom of his cage. Trying to arrange himself comfortably on the hard floor Chuck wearily tucked his arm into a pillow as best he could. Drifting in and out of consciousness the steady hum of the van's engine lulled him into a deep slumber.

Victor Rosencrantz left his real sword tucked carefully away in a closet. It was, like most thing he owned or used, not especially beautiful or even downright ugly. Although he could appreciate aesthetic qualities in objects he never looked for it in his possessions. The only thing that mattered was functionality when it came to his tools, weapons or armor.

This was especially true of swords. Many were unfit for the rigors of actual combat and merely for show or to enhance the owner's ego. Elegant, flawless blades might be works of art but rarely were they anything more. There were of course ones both pleasing to the eye and deadly to an opponent but these were not easy to find. The search to find such a weapon was the reason Victor found himself facing a squat, powerful opponent trying to hit him with a piece of wood.

Sensei Mori Ujio took his craft as seriously as any of his ancestors. Victor often thought that if his instructor been born in a different century that instead of teaching kendo he'd be splitting skulls. The older Japanese man's weathered and wise looking visage was hidden underneath the traditional face mask that made them both as featureless as mannequins. It was a thought that Victor had trouble shaking at first.

The sensei's shinai or wooden practice sword was a flurry of action one moment and still as a statue the next. Although Victor couldn't see his teacher's face he knew that it was a walk in the park for the older man. His student on the other hand was struggling just to keep his own shinai in his hands. The sword master often thought it was funny to disarm his pupil mid-fight which abruptly ended the bout.

Long years living in Silent Hill gave Victor plenty of experience with the sword but none facing an intelligent and skilled human opponent. He had spent the better part of ten years with his home made sword as his main weapon against the monsters there. Fortunately the weren't exactly bright or even fast most of the time. As a result his reflexes and killer instinct were finely honed but his sense of strategy was lacking.

Easily batting away Victor's shinai the sensei struck quickly across his chest. It was a common attack and Victor dodged the blow by quickly side stepping. Apparently his teacher was expecting this and followed with a blinding strike to Victor's slightly off center abdomen. Even though he tried desperately to parry the attack was too fast and soundly struck him in the ribs.

The lesson was over then and Victor returned to his spot facing the sensei. The bowed to each other and once more to leave the training area. Retreating to the back of the room they removed their gear and assembled it neatly into piles.

"Victor! Slowly but surely you're improving!" Mori boomed.

"It doesn't feel like it sensei." he said with his ribs still tingling.

"Don't measure your progress with bruises. Measure it with the bruises you don't have." Victor nodded absently while his mind drifted off into a memory of his first few months in Silent Hill.

"Do you know why I accepted you as my student?" Mori suddenly asked. The direct question snapped him out of reverie and caught him more off guard than the blow that made his ribs ache.

"I uh…no." Victor said truthfully. "When I first met you it was merely to track down a quality sword. When I asked about lessons and you told me your fees I thought it was about money."

"And now?"

"I don't think you care about the money. I think you want to pass your art on more than anything. But I don't see myself as someone that could do that. I still don't have a clue why you would accept me over someone else."

"When you first came here I got the feeling that you were lost." Mori explained. "No aims, no goals, no reasons to improve yourself. What most people don't realize is that martial prowess is a side effect of training. The true benefit lies in the heart and not the speed of your hands. I accepted you because you needed it, Victor." The Silent Hill native didn't know what to say to that so he could only nod dumbly.

"You have a big cloud hanging above your head." Mori continued. "I don't know what it is but its obvious to anyone that cares to look. Your mind is preoccupied with it and your training suffers. You have to take care of it if you want to move forward with your lessons."

"Are you kicking me out sensei?" Victor said, shocked.

"No, far from it. Think of it as a homework assignment. You are always welcome in my dōjō. But you'll never be able to focus with whatever it is that keeps you day dreaming in the middle of lessons."

"What if I can't?" Victor asked glumly.

"You will. That or die trying." he smiled.

Victor did not want to think of just how accurate that statement might have been.

"Did you tell him what was wrong?" Julia asked incredulously.

"Not exactly." Victor said as he sipped the hot chocolate from the overpriced coffee cup. They were sitting under an umbrella in front of a local beverage dealer. It was a typical gray afternoon with a warm breeze and smell of rain on the air. This spot happened to be Julia's favorite and he could never figure out why. He never liked the taste of coffee but apparently that was all people of the city drank. It seemed acceptable to get a chocolate milk instead although somehow if it was heated it was no longer a child's beverage.

"He said I have to unburden myself with the cloud over my head or something to that effect. I just said my hometown kept trying to get me to go back."

"Yeah, I bet he had no idea you meant that literally."

They sipped their drinks while Victor tried to think of something to change the subject. Julia had the slightly vexed look on her face that indicated he should not attempt to prod her further without incurring her wrath. He was about to say something when a woman walked up to their table.

She was dressed in tight but nonrestrictive clothes with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dressed all in black and curiously wearing leather gloves she was decently attractive and well muscled. There was something about the look in her eyes that he didn't like. There was a dullness or sadness that made her stare hollow.

"Can I help you?" Julia asked politely.

"You both have been summoned." she said in a almost phone sex operator voice. It didn't match her dispassionate stare at all and Victor had a bad feeling about her.

"Excuse me?" Julia said quizzically.

The mystery woman pulled a bulging envelope out of her pocket and with a gloved hand slammed it down on the table. She looked directly at Victor and said, "Summoned by you know who." Without another word she walked away from them down the sidewalk and out of sight.

"What in the nine hells was that all about?"

"I don't know." Victor said but he had an idea. On the envelope was a seal that he had not seen in years.

"What's this all about?" Julia said and reached for the small package. Her curious face turned surprised as she pulled a thick stack of hundred dollar bills out. They were crisp, new and probably sequential. Flipping through the stack her eyes rapidly flicked back and forth.

"There's like, five grand here." she said in disbelief.

"Anything else?"

"Oh. Yeah." Julia pulled out a small, ornate business card. He could see printing on one side of the card before she held it up to her face. Suddenly her tone sharpened dramatically and she looked up at him with a deadly serious glance.

"I think its for you." she said flatly and handed him the card.

The print was very fine and the card material expensive. It had the address from their shared dream printed on the side he was holding. Flipping it over it read simply, "You owe me, Victor Rosencrantz."

"Tell me that isn't what I think it is, Vic. Tell me if it is that you're not going. Tell me you're not going." Julia said in a rush.

"We…have to talk." he said with a sigh.