The Road to "The Sorcerer"
By: Tellemicus Sundance
#02: Deadly Dursley
New York City, USA
October 1997
The shrieking screams of artillery rockets pierced the deafening clicking of machinegun fire, momentary bursts of thrown grenades, and the shouts of soldiers and monsters. In the split second that the shrieking occurred, every soldier, monster, and warrior present on the impromptu battlefield stopped as they looked skywards, spotting the incoming missiles very quickly. Seeing that the deadly devices were arcing rapidly towards them, all of the combatants instantly ceased whatever 'disagreements' they'd had to seek out cover. But it was too little too late. The trio of mortars slammed into the midst of the area, blowing out fiery, shrapnel, and debris in all directions from the powerful concussive forces they unleashed. There were no survivors.
Following this brutal attack, a deafening silence rang heavy over the area. Civilians and bystanders, who'd been unfortunate to have been caught up in the area when the battle started, began cautiously peeking out of wherever they were hiding, most were holding either small pistols, knives, or just pieces of debris for defense. They surveyed the battlefield with a mixture of fear and awe at the devastation that had been wrought in less than five minutes of fighting. Off in the distance, sirens could be heard as police, firefighters, and ambulances were scrambled and rushing to the scene.
A faint crumbling and shifting sound drew their attentions as a portion of a shattered wall was kicked over. Climbing out of the hole he'd formed and dropping lightly down out of the destroyed second floor window he'd been in, an armored figure came into view. Rather than land on the unsteady rubble below him, a soft roar kicked up as small boosters flared to life from the jetpack he wore on his back. Hovering for a moment in the air, the figure quickly swooped off to the side and set down next to one of the bodies of the fallen defenders.
This person was clearly male, given the physique that was visible, though his face was hidden under a metallic mask that had a small antenna poking out above the right ear. In one hand, he carried one of the new but very expensive blaster rifles that had only recently started being sold on the American civilian market. There was a sword, of all things, clamped into place on his jetpack and a satchel that hung at his waist from his shoulder, bulging with hidden contents. His armor itself was colored blue with minor white and red highlights. It looked reasonably basic in appearance, clearly meant more for mobility than actual defense. Yet there were little details on it that hinted at the person's origin as being foreign from America, namely the British flag insignia that was visible on the person's right shoulder and was painted quite boldly upon the smooth top and back of the mask itself.
Quickly shaking the corpse and looking around at the others, the figure reached up and tapped a small button on the side of the mask and started softly speaking. "This is Dursley, calling MagiTech Security. Anyone there?" After a moment of silence, Dursley turned slightly to look up at the ruins of the once large factory as a slight reverberation started shaking the ground. "I copy that. My team is down, confirmed dead. Grab what you can and evacuate. I'll cover you. You've got three minutes."
A loud roar of jet engines and a large shadow passing overhead drew everyone's attentions. It was some kind of monstrously large robotic machine that was vaguely shaped like a scorpion on steroids while wearing a jetpack. Thanks to the massive machine settling into a hover overhead, everyone could clearly see the large and proud blood-red logo of a howling wolf's head painted upon the machine in various locations, revealing its allegiance and origins of the multinational technology company of WolfTech Industries. Quite abruptly, the hovering jet died out, sending the scorpion into a freefall but landed with surprising grace on its ten legs. As it straightened itself up, apertures opened and several types of machineguns and rocket launchers were revealed along its body length. At the end of its massive tail, an ominously glowing tip flared to life with a dangerous energy buildup.
"Correction: make that five minutes," the armored figured said nonchalantly before shutting off its radio. The utter calmness in the young man's voice was enough to easily cause several of the bystanders to gawk at him. How could he be so relaxed when he was literally in the crosshairs of a machine that was clearly meant to level entire cities?!
That was when a series of hissing and moving gears attracted their attentions towards the front of the machine. A number of panels and windows slid aside, allowing a hugely-muscled beast of a man in a blood-stained business suit to waltz out, chewing on a chunk of raw meat from large bone he had in one hand. After swallowing the meat, the man paused in his walk to look down at the unmoving armored man below, as if just noticing his presence. "Well, well, well. Little Dudley Dursley, here for the festivities I see."
"Greyback!" The sheer, potent hatred that Dursley was able to bark out in that one word was quite telling to what the man thought of the machine's pilot. "Impressive little toy you've got there. But you shouldn't have come here."
The newly-named Greyback chuckled arrogantly as he took another small bite of meat. "And why's that…? So you can try to kill me? Idiot! You're not ending me or my plans, just expanding them."
"What are you talking about?" Dursley demanded, raising his rifle and aiming towards Greyback's black heart.
"Air Force One is coming back to the States," Greyback announced loudly. "The whole world is already up in arms, calling for blood!"
The frown on Dursley's face was obvious, even with the mask blocking his face. Reluctantly setting the rifle aside, Dursley tapped a few button on the gauntlet he wore and a series of holographic images appeared around him, showing various newscasts and images. After only a few moments of contemplation, he shut down the holograms and returned his attention to his hated enemy. "So, you're gonna spark a literal corporate war over this?!"
Laughing out loudly, Greyback sneered, "Of course, little boy. You, a boy with no remarkable talent or power to your name, don't understand the value of what has been built these last few years! We Werewolves have long been persecuted, oppressed, and outright hunted down to near-extinction. If not for the work of the Cleanser, we'd have all be dead by this point! Now, with what he's started for us, our power is strong, our influence is rising, our numbers skyrocketing again! Soon, we'll be back on top of the food chain LIKE WE WERE ALWAYS MEANT TO BE!"
"And the costs of living this paradisiac life of yours?" Dursley countered, his tone angry and dismissive at the same time. "Killing hundreds of thousands of innocents to feed your Pack? Hunting down any Lycan strong-willed enough to resist your Alpha Dominance? Turning the world into a constant warzone with no one truly safe or trusting of one another again? Is that what you hope to accomplish by 'uniting' the Packs of the world?!"
"Heh, you make it sound like I'm the only one with plans of that nature, Dursley," Greyback barked back conceitedly, taking one final bite of meat from the bone. "But, yes! And what a paradise it'll be!" Even as Dursley raised his rifle to shoot the monster of a man, Greyback had already disappeared back inside the cockpit of the war-machine as the panels slid back into place.
Dursley wasted no time waiting for the machine to power itself back up. He rocketed upwards with his jetpack, grabbing and throwing several grenades from his satchel. The magnetized bombs stuck to the places they hit on the machine, mostly around the joints and apertures as he flew up towards the plasma cannon in its tail. Several explosions quickly rocked the scorpion with fiery shrapnel or electrical discharges. The electricity jumbled the machinery, freezing the joints as disjointed signals mixed and confused the machine. The fiery detentions along the weapons bays were significantly stronger since they were able to pierce the armor and detonate several of the stored explosives inside, tearing out large holes in the machine's frame.
"Impressive, Dursley," Greyback called over the intercom of the machine. "Very impressive. But how will you handle this?!" As he spoke, the plasma cannon on the tail fired, the tail itself whipping about as the scorpion started moving and thrashing about. A blazing line of plasma tore out huge gashes out of the concrete of the street, shattered the glass of windows of the nearby buildings, and incinerated more than a few unlucky souls who got caught in the open or behind poor cover.
Finally reaching the tail, Dursley hung his rifle over his shoulder as he reached back and grabbed his bastard sword Judgment, one of two parting gifts from his cousin before they went their separate ways. Grabbing Judgment's hilt with both hands, he dropped down upon the back of the armored tail and stabbed the magic-imbued blade into the steel. The Judgment was a dangerous weapon when used against common steel and iron because it's Charmed blade was able to cut and puncture the regular metals with only minimal effort. As this was no less the case as more than half the blade was able to sink into the mechanical innards of the cannon. Twisting and rocking the blade back and forth in a purposeful manner to deal out as much damage as he could, as well as to maintain his weak hold on the tail as it flailed about, Dursley watched as the steel armor casing rapidly began changing color, becoming increasingly redder. Knowing what was about to happen, he yanked Judgment out of the tail as he ignited his jetpack and kicked off, a trail of flaming plasma following after him. A split second later, the entire upper portion of the tail exploded in a violent but spectacular manner.
"HARGH! NOW YOU'RE STARTING TO GET ME MAD, DURSLEY!" Greyback shouted as he spun the scorpion around, its massive building-sized pincer blades swinging about in an attempt to hit or cleave him in two.
"Pfft," Dursley snorted, easily dodging around the pincers as he brought his sword up in a high guard. "I'm just getting started!"
Zipping through the air, he jabbed Judgment into the exposed joint of the back leg, cutting into and through it easily, dismembering the massive limb with an almost mocking ease and strength that seemed superhuman to the witnesses. Without stopping, he continued flying and hovering underneath the scorpion, slashing and cutting at the legs as fast as he could. As the fourth leg fell free, six more apertures opened on the underside of the vehicle, machineguns mounted on turrets popped out and swung towards, opening fire immediately. Three of the guns managed to land glancing hits on his armor. Both the actual armor and the bodysuit underneath were made of Mithril, which was stronger steel and more flexible than cotton. So, while the bullet impacts still hurt, they didn't penetrate and kill him like they should've. But where his armor was strong and protected, his jetpack was not. A pair of lucky shots struck the jetpack, causing it to die and send Dursley crashing to the ground down below, dropping Judgment in the process.
Too bad for the scorpion, this retaliation came too late. The loss of nearly half of its support struts pushed all of the scorpion's weight on the remaining six. Combined with the awkward distribution of weight, this was too much for the remaining legs to carry and they soon buckled under the behemoth's own weight. Seeing the descending ceiling of tons of metal, Dursley rolled to his feet and leapt for safety, just barely managing to escape being crushed to death.
Heaving for breath, Dursley pushed himself back to his feet as an eerie silence fell over the nearby city. Moving around the wrecked machine, Dursley grabbed his rifle again as he walked in front of the cockpit. He couldn't see inside of it due to the thick black smoke that was filling its interior, but he could vaguely make out movement from within. A sudden clawed hand smacked into the window, rapidly growing in size as hair and massive claws began to take form. The hand withdrew momentarily, before a large hairy fist swung back and shattered the cockpit window in one blow. The black smoke quickly started billowing out as a large, gray and black haired creature tumbled out from within.
Keeping his weapon up and ready, Dursley started cautiously sliding forward towards where the thing had collapsed on the ground, not seemingly moving. When he was only a few paces away, the Werewolf suddenly jerked to life, roaring as it reached towards him, seeking to tear him limb from limb. But Dursley was quicker, shooting three bolts straight into the transformed Greyback's chest within less than a second. The Werewolf froze in pain and shock before following to its knees, rapidly shifting back into its original human form as it stared down in incomprehension at its chest. Looking back up at Dursley, the now-human Greyback had a slight snarl on his face as he heaved weakly for breath.
"It's a…shame you…aren't a…Werewolf, Dud…ley Dursley," he gasped out weakly. "Your strength…ferocity… ruthlessness … You'd have been…unmatched…as a Were…" He fell over to the side, his eyes glazed over as death finally claimed the monster in human form.
Finally lowering his rifle, Dursley scoffed derisively at the thought. He was quite content and very proud of just being a simple human. He had no need to be transformed into some monster like Greyback, or possess unlimited power like his cousin. He had already many so-called Purebloods and more than a few Dark Lords in the past few months. So, in his opinion, he was doing just fine without any direct magic of his own.
A series of flashes caught Dursley's attention and he quickly spun to the side as he raised his rifle defensively. But it turned out to be unnecessary, it was just the bystanders and a news-crew that were taking pictures and filming of the scene. Lowering his rifle, he turned and headed back towards where he'd dropped Judgment. As he did so, he failed to notice that a leaking trail of oil was quickly nearing a burning spot on the ground. Dursley had just managed to grab his sword when the oil combusted. By the time the smoke had cleared, he was long gone.
Unknown to Dursley at the time, the news crew had been able to faintly pick up on Greyback's last words. And though they couldn't properly ID him at the time, the legend of the 'Deadly Dursley' had begun in an absolutely explosive manner.
(Author's Note) I wonder if anyone can guess where I was inspired for this whole battle scene? Here's a hint: it's from a fairly recent game. Also, while I'm sure a lot of you won't notice it, I left a LOT of clues as to what's happening in the world in this small scene. Stuff like WolfTech vs. MagiTech, what's happening with the Werewolves, hints to what happened back when Sirius died, and even what the political/industrial atmosphere is like in the Muggle World. With all these clues, I wonder just how many of you can figure it out...and how many will demand I just TELL them flat out what's happening.