Chapter 8: Meeting
Again, a big thanks to Vumanchu
"Lots of people it would seem." Remarked a man from right behind the watchers. The two groups turned around, startled by the sudden appearance of the two individuals before them.
One leaned against the wall whilst the other stands, hands behind his back and feet slightly apart, at ease. The first young man, most likely within his early twenties, pushed himself off of the wall. He had slightly tanned skin and dirty blond hair. It looked extremely bedraggled as if he had just rolled out of bed, which wasn't too far from to truth. He wasn't skinny but he wasn't muscular either. He wore a dark green long sleeved shirt; dark brown, almost black, pants; a leather chest piece; and a single black glove with a picture of a howling wolf messily stitched into it. On his belt hung a sheathed short sword.
The second man, older than the first, was sickly pale and thin in stature. He wore a khaki service, wear and tear evidently seen by the dirt, mud, and dust it had collected. The more perceptive of them would have spied the dried blood plastered like paint on the canvas of his uniform. The once pristine brown boots were scuffed and in need of a good shining. His helmet had long since lost its green paint, leaving only a dusty tan in its wake. The chin strap was nowhere to be seen. Strapped to his 1908 Pattern Webbing with all off the associated pouches and tools to fight the Great War. What shocked the two groups the most were his eyes and face, or rather, lack of thereof. Soot replaced where his eyes should have been and half of his face was covered by chemical burns.
"Who the hell are you?" Mick growled, reaching for his heat gun that was never there.
"That's right. I may have confiscated your weapons." The first says, itching the back of his head. Everyone in possession of a weapon checked only to find them missing.
"You never answered Mr. Rory's question. Who exactly are you?" Doctor Stein demanded, still awaiting his answer.
The first man cheered, "Right you are Professor! I'm Wulfstan."
"And your friend?" Rip inquired, pointing out the man in uniform.
Said individual grumbled, "Corporal Jason. Canadian Expeditionary Force, 3rd Division." He blankly bit his lip, reluctantly adding, "Formerly."
Zed wondered, "Formerly?"
"I'm supposed to be dead." Deadpanned Jason, eyes narrowing at them.
Ray stated, quite plainly, "But you're not."
"Brilliant observation. Pure genius." Wulfstan broke in with slow clapping.
"If you don't mind me asking, why the hell are we here? Some of us got some important things to do, yeah?" Constantine continued as if the man had not spoken.
"I actually have the exact same question." Jason looked over at Wulfstan, a little annoyed that he found himself a part of his antics.
"So, what do you want to know first?" Wulfstan asked, ignoring both the soldier and the Warlock, happily taking a seat. Both groups quickly gathered together before coming to a conclusion of what needs to be said.
"Who, or what in this case, are you exactly? Even the Time Master's don't have this type of power." Rip asked, chosen to be the front man seeing as Constantine was obviously ill-suited and Ray was too 'timid'.
"Well, we aren't exactly the same but I can try to explain. I'll admit, even I don't completely understand the whole thing but here's the best explanation I can give." Wulfstan began. He said this slowly as if trying to find the best way to tell. "We're sort of like omnipresent beings. You see, I used to be a hunter. That is, until an untimely death at the hands of a rival. Quite unfortunate if you ask me. Let's just say that I got my revenge later. There's not much about me. I can alter certain things in people's lives. One could consider me a minor protection deity."
Wulfstan looked over to Jason. "You want to do the honors of explaining your own past?" Jason's eye twitched, almost ready to throttle the other. Wulfstan shrugged and quietly encouraged him to speak up.
Jason grumbled, "Fine. Officially, I died on November 7, 1917 at Passchendaele. Artillery got a beat on our position and blew us to kingdom come they did. Funny thing about me, whatever the reason why, my soul didn't quite get to Heaven. Actually, I'm stuck on Earth and I can feel everything. The factories of war creating new guns irritate my eyes. My face stings because some bastard keeps using chemical weapons on innocents. My body aches in pain, sorrow, pity, and sadness every time some kid comes across and finds his family dead. I feel all the Horrors of War and I can't do anything but watch."
"So, that's why you look like that?" asked Constantine rather nonchalantly.
Jason's eyes twitched. Out of nowhere, the old SMLE Mk III* rifle was in his hands and ready to fire.
Wulfstan pushed the rifle down and held Jason back with a slightly nervous chuckle, "He's just joking!"
"No, I wasn't" Constantine corrected. Wulfstan made a flurry of small motions that screamed 'cut-do-not-continue-this-chain-of-conversation'. Thankfully, the point was understood.
"Moving on." Rip interrupted, bringing the conversation back to its original purpose. "Why are we here and what do you want?"
Wulfstan rubbed his hands together after relinquishing the grasp he had on his companion. "Simple, to watch you respective shows."
"That can't be the only reason." Constantine broke in once more.
"It's, for a greater purpose..."
Jason remembered the day that he had been dragged into this situation Wulfstan had created. The way he said that seemed suspicious. Of course, that went along with how the two met. He had in fact said there was a greater purpose to doing this.
"Excuse me, yeah, you." A young man came jogging up to him. Jason examined him.
"Who exactly are you and what do you want?"
"Wulfstan for the first question. As for the second question, I'm offering you the chance to help save the world and timeline." The man looked expectedly at the soldier.
It wasn't like he had anything else to do except watch the death of millions. "Okay then. What do we need to do?"
"Great. Here's the plan…"
Jason brought himself back to the conversation taking place.
"That's your reasoning? It's for a greater purpose? Care to expand that?"
"It'll save the timeline. Or rip it to shreds… Besides, trust between companions is important. You don't want to team up with someone who could stab you in the back right?" Rip paled at the thought of the timeline being shredded. Wulfstan sent him a 'comforting' grin. It certainly didn't do what it was meant to.
Jason looked at his companion.
Various members of the audience continued to ask a few more questions and Wulfstan answered.
Rip, who had managed to shake himself out of his paralyzed state. He still looked slightly pale at time being shredded. He did see the logic in the plan the man had made. Of course, capturing them all and depositing them in an unknown location probably wasn't the best way to go about it. Just the act of having them all meet before time dictated it be so was most likely to wreak havoc of its own now that he thought about it. His thoughts were interrupted as the TV started up again and started to play.
End Chapter
A/N: I once again thank Vumanchu for helping write this as well as allowing the use of the OC Jason.