Simple Sin : Parts 1 and 2

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Simple Sin : Parts 1 and 2; Chapters 1-14
Topic Started: Mar 24 2009, 10:02 PM (1,223 Views)
Vaxis	Mar 24 2009, 10:02 PM Post #1
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	First, I'd like to thank Sakura (BlackLotus) for the amazing artwork she's done for this. She's drawn these amazing character portraits which serve as a great motivation to finish this project. Now I'm going to take this first post to talk about what this is. First, it's a story, inspired by the Mafia Game. The character names are inspired by the members here, and you can all count on having some role in the story, but that is all. Nothing is realistic beyond that point. Only the names are borrowed from here. The story was originally going to be smaller, a parallel to Waterfox's game story, but it's going to be bigger. Not huge, obviously, but like a mini-novel. I'll be putting chapters up frequently, maybe 2 a week if I can keep up. The story is set in the near future, but in a sort of alternate reality. Crime is not tolerated, and desperate measures are taken when order is broken. The 5 members of the Mafia are introduced quickly, but there are many characters that draw some inpiration from the game. Vaxis Lotus Toledo Q The Godfather Edited by Vaxis, May 2 2009, 09:01 PM.
	Γνώθι Σεαυτόν


Vaxis	Mar 24 2009, 10:04 PM Post #2
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	Simple Sin Part 1: The Mafia Game What do you value most in the world? What would you give your life for? Is it a person? You’re over-emotional. Is it an idea or belief? You complicate matters. Is it your country? You’re a fool. Is it yourself? You’re a true human being. I’m not going to pretend that the world revolves around people and their ways, but the passive idealism that we use to examine the mystery of life is just a pointless complexity. I hope you can familiarize yourself with death, because it simplifies everything infinitely. But know that this is an age unlike the one that people used to live in. Crime is everywhere, but not tolerated. Government is all-powerful, but useless. People that have suffered come back from the blood and darkness, and they are stronger; numb to pain, maybe. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. Well, I’ll just let you begin, if you want. I welcome you to the big city. I promise you, of the many people you will see in this story, you will find yourself, the one you want to be, and the one you will turn into. Chapter 1: No Questions Asked Some people ask us why we do what we do. We kill, we steal, we cheat. They ask us why. It's so easy to ignore them. You see? Life is easy. You either shape up and do what you must to survive, or you end up at the bottom. Simple. People ask? Don't give them answers. Don't send that cryptic life lesson crap their way. It's fuel, keep it to yourself, don't spill it all over the place. That's how I think, and look where it got me... sitting in a black limo, loading a semi-automatic, chasing down a random drunk... We need to show who runs this place, and this is how we do it. Madness with method. Life isn’t fair, but it sure as hell is fairer than death... Q shot out the guy's tires. He's a better shot that I thought. Maybe Lotus showed him a few tricks. Toledo pulls over behind him, and we get out. The air is crisp... nothing on this earth is better than crisp night air. The guy looks injured. We pull out our guns. All pretty standard. Lotus raises hers to the man's chest. This guy's a real piece of work... he's got a broken arm, looks like, he's being held at gunpoint, and he STILL rambles on drunkenly about beers in the back. Toledo raises his eyebrows. Guess I'm the designated driver on the way back, because Toledo puts that stuff away quick and God knows Q only touches the fine wines, and Lotus never drinks. Makes we wonder how she deals with all the killing… I barely even noticed that Lotus already shot the guy and belted him back in his seat. Toledo and Q grabbed the beers from his car. I walked over to the driver’s side of the limo. Fine by me, I get radio privileges. Toledo's going nuts in the backseat and Q starts talking about what the headlines will look like tomorrow. Lotus stares at her gun for a moment, and then pockets it. Just another night. Some people ask us why we do what we do. Well, I lied. I don't ignore them. I kill them. The world has enough questions already. I’ll give you an answer though. We are the mafia. Just bear with me for now. There are the 4 of us, and our leader. As you may have guessed, we call him The Godfather. You will see. I’m Vaxis. I’m quite aware it isn’t a real name. You’ll get used to the names in this world, I hope. I’m nothing very much worth telling, at least not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Toledo is our joyful little sociopath. Don’t let his good looks fool you, a more unpredictable man you will never meet. I suspect that Toledo was traumatized early in life, and also that the cause of trauma has had nightmares about Toledo ever since. Violence is unstoppable, when it happens. Otherwise, he’s just your average party animal. I’m not sure if it’s true insanity that causes him to beat people to death, maybe he just has that zest for life. You will soon learn that that wasn’t a sick joke. Lotus. What do I say about her without giving you the wrong impression? Well, the basics; White-haired beauty, cold assassin, mysterious past behind the bright eyes… Her kills are clean, and her life is shadow. And those are what I consider the basics. Simplicity is when you can kill without giving a second thought. There is no greater blessing. Don’t ask any more of me, because I have never asked more of her. And Q. Yeah, like Q from James Bond, but young. He’s got technical skill far above us, but he doesn’t flaunt it like most movie characters do. He’s the wisecracker of the group. We’d be lost without him, believe me. He’s cynical and sophisticated, although you would first notice the tattoos of circles and crescent moons around his left eye, which I must admit, does make him look very mysterious. He has the rare ability to live normally without the mafia, if he must. Probably the sanest of us all, even though sanity is of no consequence. Enough back story for now. We’re almost back home. I don’t know if I told you yet, but we are, ah… aspiring to take over this city. I do not need to tell you that fear is a powerful weapon, and that is a weapon we like to consider ourselves masterful with. For example, most people wouldn’t think a whole lot of the note we left in that drunk’s car, but this city is different. Someone else can explain it better, later. I notice it’s quieter in the back seat. Lotus watches Q and Toledo out of the corner of her eye. They seem to be going through that drunk’s wallet. “You took his wallet.” Lotus says. All movement in the car stops. Toledo shrugs after a moment. “It doesn’t make a difference, does it? He won’t be needing it, I think.” He pulls out the driver’s license, and skims it over before throwing it aside and moving onto credit cards. “It wasn’t part of the plan,” Lotus replies. “Why did you do it?” I feel like breaking in. It’s my role, sometimes. “They’ll know who the guy was soon enough anyways. Besides, he looked drunk enough to have left it somewhere on his own.” Lotus looks ahead again. Q makes his comment. “No money, no family pictures, no credit cards. Check out his name, though; Fox Waters.” Toledo raises an eyebrow. “Cool name, as far as real ones go.” “Yeah,” Q smirks. “in fact, it’s a bit of a sobering name for someone too drunk to see the gun pointed at them.” We’re back. The old warehouse up by the east flats. Okay, so it’s cliché, I don’t care. Toledo gets out and unlocks the door to let the limo in. We park inside while he locks it again behind us. We walk down the corridor, and into the locker room. All the lockers are digitally coded. Only one is worth breaking into. Locker 247 is in front of us now. Q punches in the code; 72437. The locker swings open. Not an empty closet. Instead, a staircase heading downwards, lit by a faint white light. We file in and close the door behind us. A few flights down, and the light hits us. We’re home. We call it the Chamber, for whatever reason. Maybe because the word has that tone of secrecy to it. It’s a wide, flat room. A normal room, when you think about it… tiles, fluorescent lights, a comfortable couch here and there, and a computer receiver system for satellite imagery, with an impressive database of most of the people in the city. That’s not to say it’s without it’s luxuries; the widescreen TV and mini-bar (not to mention a nice-looking gas fireplace) were pretty useful additions. Q wanted it to look a little more like Dr. No’s hideout from Dr. No, the first James Bond film (1962, if you wondering), so he installed a screen covering a good part of one wall, that simulates a giant aquarium. Did I say he was the sanest of us all? Hmm. Anyways, we leave our guns on the table near the munitions closet and all do our own thing for the night. Toledo, who’s gone through quite a bit of beer already, doesn’t seem phased at all as he flops down on the best couch and turns the TV on. Some UFC fight. I never pay attention to those, myself. Lotus takes a seat at one of the computers and opens some text file. Q takes out his Nintendo DS and lies down on another couch. I head towards the mini-bar. Only a few Bacardi’s left, fine by me. The Chamber is my home. There is no greater attachment to any other place for me, unless it be to the world itself. You’re wondering right now, I don’t doubt, about the whole idiocy of the situation. We live in an underground penthouse, coming up now and again to kill innocent people. Why, why, why? Well, this is only Chapter 1, remember? Maybe some other time. You know, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll tell you a little more about the aesthetic side of things. We wear black, with red stripes. Those are our colors, easy as that. Don’t get any ideas. Lotus. She is the embodiment of the phrase, “Actions speak louder than words”, considering her words are very few and many of her actions have involved blood in some way. No, you wouldn’t know it from looking at her. People think beauty is synonymous with innocence. She is beautiful, and in an odd way, she is innocent too. Don’t ask me to explain. Her hair is long and white, her eyes are ruby red. There is probably some legend about white and red as pertaining to angels and demons, but you’d have to have a death wish if you thought about going anywhere with that. A mystery. Toledo. What a guy. Open jacket and wild brown hair. I wonder if all the women who see him would continue to fawn over him if they had known how many lives he’s put to rest, sometimes for no real reason. Amber eyes, eyes that seem to glow almost orange. I may have told you before that he was a psychopathic killer with a friendly personality. That is mostly true, just don’t get him angry. One of the few things that scares me is the way his eyes move, when you watch closely. Every now and then, something about them seems downright evil. I think he suppresses emotion with the simple pleasures in life, if you know what I mean. A mystery. Q. There is much more to him than meets the eye, if perhaps a little too much that meets the ears. Actually, he does get very quiet at times. Maybe the killing? Anyways, he’s neat as can be, but he never makes a mess in the first place if he can help it. And he doesn’t always joke, sometimes he’s pretty insightful about things. His eyes are the slightest shade of color, grey, almost moonlike, and his hair is dark, mid-length. The tattoo around his left eye is actually tribal art of stars and the moon. Celestial Omen, I believe it’s called. Other than that, I’m surprised I don’t know more about him, especially with his easy-going personality. A mystery. I am no mystery, however. I’m just criminal. Again, I’m Vaxis. If you feel that you need to know more, feel free to ask another one of us, because I don’t describe myself. Maybe I’ll tell you a little tomorrow. For now, it’s almost time to sleep. We all have part-time jobs in the afternoon that we use as cover. And what do you know, the man just walked in who can explain it all to you. “Very good. Time for the briefing.” The Godfather. Chapter 2: Simple Plans The Godfather. All death is an expression of feeling, that we have a talent for, and the Godfather is the man who understands these talents and puts them to the best use. A very, very intelligent man, well-traveled and quite experienced for a guy who’s only in his early forties. However, he’s also a depressing man, even by our standards, practical and usually emotionless. His hair is slicked back and his green eyes shine from above a scar on his left cheek. A great man. True Mafia. “Well, the voting is going to begin. If I know this town, it’ll be chaotic.” The Godfather explains the process. Now you’re going to get a glimpse of this city’s true face. The Godfather continues. “This city’s been rife with crime from the start, but one gang got pretty bad about 20 years back. Things got bloody. Very bloody. People freaked, and ever since, the city council goes insane and reorganizes the whole municipal government if they get even a whiff of organized crime. You’ve seen what they said in the papers. If the note wasn’t there, the police would’ve just said it was some sort of suicide.” Q breaks in. “Shoots himself in the chest 3 times? Infallible logic, these police have. I guess this should be easy.” The Godfather continues. “Everybody goes crazy when they think mafia or something similar is around. They have this thing they do everyday… they call it “selective safety insurance”, but everyone knows it by it’s true name: lynching. That’s what half of this about. You know they hang someone every sunset, the person who all the citizens voted for most. True fear. No one is safe. They don’t know who to trust, and votes are cast everywhere. An unlucky person dies that day.” Toledo’s turn for a comment. “What a place, huh? They’d lynch the goddamn president if they didn’t like his tie.” The Godfather keeps talking. “Rarely do the real mafia get hanged in this way, but the city council is convinced that it’s ethical. Sickening, the way they think. Anyways, they’re doing things different now…” We sit up straight. It’s not good, we know that. “Well, doctors and policeman are no longer allowed to operate. During the time that organized crime is present and suspected. They’re all put on paid leave.” My first thought was that this was turning into some sort of game. “Why would they do that?” I ask, “They’re practically handing this place to us!” “Not exactly. City council has, due to a new by-law, one professional doctor experienced in all medicinal fields, and equipped with a government med unit, and one seasoned former police commissioner, with a full investigative and tech crew at his command. The city fears corruption in regular doctors and cops, so they allow only these government-issued units to operate. There is one of each of these crews with a leader in the city hall. It’d be nice if we knew who the two leaders of those units were… that would make them ideal night targets.” After this, he falls silent, and sits back in his chair. Lotus stands and heads upstairs (or rather, outside) for whatever reason, and ease settles in the room. Briefing over, for what it was worth. Routine. No questions. The Godfather goes to his room for rest. Q and Toledo fall into conversation about the drunk just a few hours ago. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep at the table. Have to wake up for the afternoon job later on. Routine. No answers. * I would just love to tell you about all the exciting stuff I do at the video rental store as my cover job, but I think it just might bore you. I’m not sure what Lotus does during the day. Like I said, routine, no questions, and no answers. Q’s an assistant at a radio station, better than what I got… and Toledo, the lucky bastard, doesn’t have to work. He’s here for legitimate psychiatric help. He doesn’t need it; he just likes the criminal life like we all do. People never understand that. I’m going to skip right to… The sunset hanging. We mafia stand far apart, a simple safety precaution. We shout and rave like all the other lunatics while the innocent and unlucky victim is killed. The horrible truth. Luck and chaos take complete control of this place. I guess our goal is to end it and run this place the way we see fit. Yep, Mafia. Well, this poor guy up here looks pretty scared. He’s a retired police chief, I heard someone say. There never actually is a real base of reason for whoever gets killed, it’s sort of… the ultimate bias. See, if someone has more votes early on, people just send their votes towards him as well. A terrible, terrible system, but intriguing. People are crowding up to the platform like beasts waiting to be fed.. I wonder why it happens. Actually, I don’t really wonder at all about it, I did all my wondering a long time ago. Maybe the fact that the man is hanged, and in front of the whole city, no less, is what surprises me. The actual raving is pretty reasonable. The Godfather has many connections and bribes tying him to powerful people, but he still cannot take the risk of coming out to see this, just in case. I can’t spot the other 3 though, from where I’m standing. Well, lynching time. It’s more of a traditional term, isn’t it? “Public execution based on suspicion” sounds only the smallest bit worse. The screaming intensifies, and some people are throwing junk at the victim while bodyguards try to keep them back. The city official who gets to do the job pulls the lever. The man falls. He dies. No need to describe it with metaphors or imagery or crap like that. The cheering doesn’t last very long. Everyone quiets down eventually leaves, including us. I can’t believe they thought that fool was part of the Mafia, it’s ridiculous, really. That reminds me, I have to describe myself today like I promised. Just give me 1 page or so, since we’re heading back to the Chamber by our own ways now. * Back home. “Frankly, I’d be pretty embarrassed if that fool was one of us.” Toledo flops down on the couch again, as alwyas. “Whatever though. What about tonight? Who won’t be waking up tomorrow?” Lotus speaks up. “Someone involved in the media would be ideal. They mentioned a newscaster at the bar I checked out before.” “What bar?” Q asks. “The one that that guy came out of last night? “Yes,” she answers back. “Some of his friends were there. They called him Waterfox. Turned out he had some connections. His friend’s the newscaster for channel 6 news. Like the rest of his crew, he’s been holed up in the broadcasting station since last night. Mostly everyone’s afraid to come out, and they’ve got security on the grounds.” “Why do we have to kill this newscaster anyways?” Toledo asks. The Godfather speaks up. “Other than creating fear by killing the most easily accessible important figure in the city that the people see daily? We’ll be disabling their radio transmission as well. Nothing fancy, explosives will do.” “So, it’s infiltration, then.” I say. “I don’t suppose we’ve got blueprints or anything?” The Godfather puts a couple of picture stills on the table. “We’ve got a keypad code for maintenance access. I’ve had one of the workers followed and we’ve seen him punch in the code, it’s 94514. Get in through that door, easy as that.” “All of us?” Q asks. “No,” The Godfather answers back. “Lotus will cover the area just outside. None of the guards will be killed, only sedated. Vaxis, you’re taking Toledo up to the studio on the second-floor. Don’t be seen. You’ll have tranquilizer guns as well; do not kill anyone but the target. Q will place a router feed into the security mainframe. I’ll be able to monitor the cameras from here afterwards, but we can’t replace the studio’s feed without a diversion in the security office, so you must not be seen by any cameras regardless. If you are, I can disable one of them for a few seconds, but I can only do it once before they get suspicious.” Toledo burst in. “I feel more like a freaking secret agent. Tomorrow night better be satisfying.” Lotus spoke up now. “After the guards outside are hidden, I’ll climb up to the upper studio’s emergency exit. I’ll cover that in case the target tries to get away.” Q nodded. “So after I reroute the camera footage, where do I plant these charges?” The Godfather sat back and thought for a moment. “The transmission cable for the antenna is usually found somewhere in the basement.” “Likely,” I began, “it’s the biggest cable, with all the signs saying not to screw around with it.” “Likely.” The Godfather responds. “It doesn’t really matter. If it doesn’t do much damage to the signal, it’ll at least do something to other equipment. Anyways, after the security and C4 charges are done with, head out of there and get close to the emergency exit where Lotus will be. Vaxis and Toledo, you’ll be heading up to the second-floor studio to get the target, because that’s where Lotus says he will be, as said by the man who was at the bar. Apparently, being a friend, he was going to go to the station to hide too.” “I know we’ll be seen trying to break into the upper studio. Me and Toledo will have masks, I take it? And we’ll sedate everyone else?” The Godfather got up. The briefing must be ending soon. “Yes. And then kill the target. Cover the entrance you came in through while Toledo takes the body down to the van. When the rest are there, you’ll get the signal and follow them.” Q brushed his hair out of his eyes. Infiltration is his game. He’s not just good with tech stuff, he can be stealthy if he needs to be. He plays too many video games. As for Toledo, I don’t know if we can trust him very much to leave everyone else alive. He’s like a damn vampire… but as long as he gets his way tomorrow night, he should be calm. A few hours until we head out. Lotus was back on the computer. Q was watching something on TV, and Toledo was emptying whatever was left in the mini-bar. I’ll have to refill it tomorrow. I find the book I was reading a few days ago. Hamlet. You know, usually Shakespeare is as boring as people say, but this one is pretty good. I think I’m subconsciously taking the stuff I write from Hamlet’s soliloquies. If you haven’t read this, you should. Hamlet’s problem was that he over-thought things. That’s why he couldn’t kill his enemy, and that’s why he ended up dead, along with everyone he loved. Complexity is useless. Chapter 3: Bystanders Fox Waters was lying down on the table, staring at the ceiling. Tom Harris was standing above Fox, staring at him. Fox was dead, and Tom was quite alive. Tom wondered exactly what happens to make people go bad, the way these killers do. For years and years, we struggle to overcome the turmoil of life, and only because we are afraid of the great unknown. Who’s to blame, really? “Detective Harris?” Tom Harris looks up. The doctor is back. Tom forces a smile, and shakes the man’s hand. Typical doctor, as far as they go. “Hi, I’m Dr. Flannigan. I’ve brought in the results of the preliminary examination for you…” The doctor trails off as he thumbs through the papers he’s holding. “Ah, here we are.” Tom takes the papers and looks them over. Close-ups of three entry wounds, and also of the bullets removed. “9 millimeter? I see. Looks pretty reasonable then… blood levels?” The doctor looked down at the man on the table. “.15%. This guy would’ve passed out if he had much more. I’m frankly surprised he stayed on the road as long as he did.” “The only reason he went off in the first place was because his tires were shot out. Also 9mm. Anyways, he was in good shape prior. No history of medical illnesses?” “No…” Dr. Flannigan answered. “Perfectly well.” Tom started pacing around the table. “Onto DNA then. Anything? On the note? Body?” The doctor went through his stack of papers again. “Nothing on the body, his clothes were too contaminated by his own blood to get anything else, and the note was clean.” Tom asked a question he already knew the answer to. “Did these people leave anything behind at all?” “Nothing obvious, and frankly, we didn’t expect to find anything.” “Well, that’s all I really needed to know. Forensics will be in again tomorrow.” Tom straightened his jacket and turned around to leave. He walked out of the lab and down the hall, stopping at the vending machine. Tom Harris was part of the government investigative unit brought in to deal with the Mafia threat. It only really sounds ridiculous at first. In these times, crime cannot be tolerated. The last few decades were the worst history has seen, and things are safer now. The only thing that blemishes the clean face of society is the hanging, a terrible decision, but by far the most powerful deterrent. Tom was hired personally by the unit commander, who was a former police commissioner. He’s almost always in his office, surrounded by every security innovation that man ever created. Tom met him only once, when he took the job 6 years ago. He was too young then to know what he was getting into, but with top marks and an actual sense of justice, there’s no better position to wind up in. Tom fumbled in his pocket for change. He was about 30, African American. His head was buzzed, and at the moment he looked pretty tired. He was dressed neatly under his jacket. Tom slid some coins into the machine and took his drink out a second later. When he was 16, he knew that he’d be doing this eventually. It was sort of predetermined. He even made home videos of being a detective back then, he and his friends. Even years later, his friends still talked about it, calling him the “Cop Show” guy. He knew he’d be doing this, just not during these times, not under this leadership. Mafia. How many? Where are they based? Why did they kill this man? Those are the questions he should be asking himself as a good detective, but as a good man he found himself asking quite simply, why kill? What pushes these people to the very extremes of immorality? It didn’t make sense. Tom left the building and walked down the lot. It’s getting late. He only spoke to one witness today, the groundskeeper of a hotel near the killing, who heard the shots as he was fixing a row of sprinklers. He saw the car wreck from the lawn and ran over immediately. He saw the body inside, and then the bullet holes. Tom and the rest of the unit were there within the hour. The groundskeeper didn’t hear any other vehicles, nor did he hear the crash, since he heard the shots just after leaving the building and reaching the back of the lawn. Nothing else. Tom got into his car. As much he didn’t want to admit to himself, there wasn’t anything that could help them much with this killing. They’re Mafia, they’ll strike again. The patrol in the city has increased, but whether or not it’ll help remains to be seen. Tom sighed. All in all, a boring day. * Broadcasting stations are busy places even without people running around like they were expecting a bomb to fall on their heads… A reserve medic was sad today. And not because he was assigned to so many people, that wasn’t that bad. Not much could really go wrong anyways… It was just how everyone was acting. Everyone in nice shirts and ties, simultaneously running the news and barricading themselves against a “Mafia threat”. He could see how a media center could be targeted, but you’d need a lot of people to get through here… The medic was given the smallest office in the building, set right beside the lower studio, which looked like a stock market, with people running all over the place chatting to every other person they met. The medic saddened further at his predicament. He wasn’t able to bring much, other than what was in his bag. Seeing as how he was to be stuck here day and night until the threat was gone, he tried to make it look like home. He taped up pictures of his parents on the wall, and had arranged his cat bobbleheads on the desk. That was basically it. Well, he had his diploma, too. Neko Kresmir, Ph D. Though he was usually proud of his Slavic heritage, he was always annoyed by his own name. In the reserve branch of the government med unit, he was infamous for his indecisiveness and his tendency to take his time, along with the fact that he seemed to be lost all the time, which often happened. These characteristics were almost comical when you notice them, because of the way they contrast with his look. Tall, stern, with short dark hair. But he was respected in his unit too, for being an overall great guy to everyone. Neko looked out his “office” window. People running around still, shouting from doorways and from halfway up the stairs, people who were practically power-walking in circles, holding clipboards with nothing on them… pandemonium. It was currently late at night, and when the last show went off the air, all these people would either head quickly home or stay up in the second-floor offices. These were the executives and broadcasters, the VIPs. No sad medics up there, where they might’ve actually appreciated the quiet atmosphere. No, Neko had to sit in this cell of an office and watch the mindless lunacy. Well, at least we get good TV out of it, right? Neko stared at the clock. Half past one. It was also 13 minutes to infiltration, if he had known it. * A person was watching a warehouse up on the East Flats. Watching, waiting. It’s been hours. People are expected to come out of the warehouse by now. The person is currently hiding in the bushes, completely camouflaged. A noise, like a garage door. Sure enough, 4 people file out into the lamp-light, one by one. A muscular man with an open jacket and wild brown hair, 20-25. A girl with white hair and a slim dark suit, 17-20. Another younger man, dark hair and a tattoo around the left eye, around 20. And a third man, also early twenties. Blue-grey hair. Must be the leader, his suit is different. It’s white and grey, with a gold chain fastened to one side. The four of them all walk over to a small garage just next to the warehouse. One opens the door, and the rest walk in. A vehicle is started, and soon drives out. Black van. It backs out onto the road and speeds off. The Tracker waits a moment and then takes out a phone. After a speed-dial, he speaks, with a raspy voice, well-suited to his surroundings. “They’ve left. I’ll be there about 3 minutes after them. I’ll report when in position.” The phone is closed and put away while the tracker crawls backwards into the trees with almost no noise. He stands, and immediately sprints off into the forest behind him. He soon reaches a path. He walks over to a patch of tall grass in the darkness. He lifts up the motorcycle hidden there and wheels it out onto the path. His helmet is on in seconds, and the bike starts. The Tracker is out of sight. * We were only a few minutes out when The Godfather called. I opened my phone, and he began right away. “Vaxis, watch out for everyone else while you’re out there. You’ve all got microphones stitched into your masks. Talk as quietly as you need, and I’ll still hear you clearly from here. Remember, don’t get far inside until Q’s got the cameras routed back to that Chamber. Keep a leash on Toledo, and be quick. Every minute more you spend in there makes everything much more dangerous. Kill the guy and bring him out to the van. Keep it simple.” “Got it.” I say. Simple? Not counting the explosives, maybe. “And Vaxis, make sure everyone gets out okay. No one gets captured. You know what to do if you’re seen. Kill anyone who gets a clue on any of you, and you know what the last resort is. You’re leader out there, stay calm.” Click. I put the phone away. I did forget to tell you, I’m sort of the unofficial squad leader. It’s not a title or anything; it’s purely for organizational purposes. The Godfather is the real mastermind, and he does it well. This is no time for a history lesson, but I’ll tell you this: He’s known us all since we were young, and he’s not just our leader or our coach. For myself, he’s like a father or a brother. I know next to nothing about him, but he’s a good man. He’s no criminal; he understands respect and honor above anyone else I know. He’s the reason we haven’t been killed after all we’ve done. The Chamber was a backup base he had set up years ago, when he last operated in this city. Since we first came into the picture, we’ve been like nomads. We’ve taken everything we could out of small towns and places like that, and with the funding we’ve come up with, we converted the Chamber into an HQ for our stay here. If you’re still wondering how 5 people are supposed to take over the city, it’s mostly the Godfather’s doing. We’re just the hitmen, we create the initial fear. Once this place is ready to really fall into hell, The Godfather puts his real plans into action, that being the manipulation of anyone too stupid to look after themselves. Surveillance in every important government facility, and a network of police and doctors we use as puppets, all of them thinking they’re working for the better good. The city will tear itself to shreds with fear and suspicion, and the Godfather, the future mayor of this fine city, will usher in a new age, as extreme compared to this age as this age was to the last. Crime will either be a very good or bad thing, depending on how the Godfather sees it. We, his future city council, will have the run of things. This? Sneaking into a TV station and running off with a dead newscaster? This all just an early draft. More of a concept chart. The Godfather’s had the whole thing planned from the beginning. This is our debut, our masterpiece, our symphony and our story. And at the time, I thought it might make a good book. We’ll see how it turns out. Channel 6 news is up ahead. Just the first paragraph in our early draft. Edited by Vaxis**, Jul 16 2009, 03:43 AM.
	Γνώθι Σεαυτόν


Vaxis	Mar 24 2009, 10:05 PM Post #3
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	Chapter 4: The First Job “What was the code again?” It’s always the smart guys that have the worse memory. I turn around towards Q. “94514. Stay calm.” He looks a little shaky, but he always keeps a cool head. He turns to watch out the window. I feel odd holding a tranquilizer gun… it’s no instrument of death, it’s a tool of manipulation. It may sound odd to you, but this dart gun could bring much more evil to someone. Death is easy to understand, it’s the simplest of all sin. But there are worse things… “Did you know,” Q begins, “That sometimes criminals will self-administer sedatives such as rohypnol before committing an offence?” Toledo smirked. “Why would someone want to put themselves half to sleep if they’re about to rob a place or something?” Whenever Q has one of his “Did you know…” moments, Toledo always asks about it. They get along well, for two completely opposite guys. Q answers. “Well, the drug is supposed to give them extra confidence in committing the offence, and the short-term amnesia makes it difficult for police to interrogate them if caught.” “You know Q,” Toledo says back, “Sometimes I think you just pull this stuff off of Wikipedia!” “Actually Toledo, I’ll have you know that I was the one who put it up there in the first place, among many other things.” Toledo smirks again and busies himself with his dart gun. He’s looking at it like it’s some sort of alien technology. “Works pretty much like any other gun, Toledo.” I say. “It’s fired by compressed gas, and a little ball on the back of the dart begins the injection upon impact.” Q smiles. I saw him posting that little bit on Wikipedia as well, one time. Lotus speaks up. “Anyone affected will be out for a few hours. We’ll have plenty of time. The only thing we have to worry about is detection, and as long as we hide the bodies, we’re good. Hopefully, there won’t have to be any bodies…” I quickly answer back. “Have we ever done a job that didn’t involve bodies?” Lotus flashes a rare smile. When she’s happy, it’s a great reassurance. We’ve reached the station. Lotus slows down and drives around the perimeter. She drives around to the far side and parks across the street in a small little backlot. The side door we’ll be going through is close. The security outside isn’t really much of a problem… I get out and walk to the edge of the road, Q and Toledo behind me. Behind us, Lotus is on top of the van, laying down. She’s assembling a sniper rifle designed to fire tranquilizer rounds. Her mask is already on, so we pull ours on. The three of us all space out around the side of the road, binoculars in hand. Stitched into our masks are the microphones and receivers. I can faintly hear the others breathing through it. I crouch down and pull the binoculars up. “We’re ready to start.” The Godfather’s voice sounds clear as possible in my ear. “Good. Take them out. Start at one side and sweep across.” “Got it.” I talk now to the others. “Start from Northwest, Lotus. Furthest one is by the fence, facing away.” I hear her rifle through he microphone, and I see the man sway and fall to the ground momentarily. Too easy. Toledo’s spotted the next one. “Next is having a smoke by his cart, about halfway from the last guy to the building.” After a few seconds, another shot is heard and another body hits the ground. So far, the night is going well. * The Watcher is on the roof of the station, as close to invisible as can be. His bike is well-hidden, and no one will know he’s there. He’s safe. He takes off his mask for the time being, and relaxes. He runs his hands through his hair. He hums to himself for a bit. He has time; the Mafia are still picking off guards. The Tracker saw them leave the warehouse. Since then, the Watcher has been waiting for them to get inside. No real rush, of course. The Tracker will be heading back by now. The Watcher will just monitor this situation. This is the first opening paragraph for the Mafia, and he is the editor. Any mistakes are to be fixed. * We’re at the maintenance door. Lotus is shifting silently through the grounds, hiding the sedated bodies of guards. Q has his rerouter thing for the cameras ready. Toledo and I have our guns. We’ve already punched in the code, and we’re about to go in. Q cracks his fingers. “You know, I remember playing a game containing a very similar situation to this…” “Save it.” I say. “This is Insane difficulty, and we only have one life. Better yet, it can’t be compared to a game at all. You all know what happens if we’re caught.” “That’s why we’ve got masks. Now let’s get in here already…” Toledo whispers very loudly. We nod to each other, and I kick down the door. I step quickly inside and scan the room. Supply room, door on South side. I motion for Q to head that way. Toledo and I head around a corner in front of us and up a short flight of stairs. The door at the top is slightly open. I look inside. It’s a huge garage for the TV vans. It’s big, but quiet inside. There’s only two people, standing at one side of the room near a breaker panel. Toledo and I move in silently, crouching. We’re soon behind them as they chat away. Two dart guns fire almost at the same time, and they collapse against the wall. “Can I just kick one of them in the face or something?” Toledo’s acting pretty edgy, he’s not exactly the sneaking type. “No. Leave no evidence behind.” Our guns and darts were stolen from a local vet clinic, so there’s no need to worry about leaving them. Q’s voice comes in on the microphone. “I’m in the mainframe closet. Just give me a minute to set this up…” Toledo and I are moving the two guards into a small cubicle in one corner. Afterwards we head up some steps to a catwalk, and towards a door. Through the window in it, we can see an empty hall. A sign on the wall next to us tells us that the rest of the premise behind this door is monitored. We wait for Q to finish. Barely a minute later, we hear two voices. Lotus comes in first. “The bodies are hidden. I’m by the emergency exit.” Q comes in after her. “Done.” Then we hear a low, monotone voice that can only belong to one man. “Alright, we’re in. Camera behind basement hall A1. It watches the East direction, don’t worry. Go in and straight ahead, and stay against the wall.” The Godfather is our guardian angel now. We move quickly and quietly to the door opposite. The Godfather speaks again. “Furnace room. Camera inside just above door. Tech crewman inside, facing away. Door on right side.” Q was right, it is like a game. Toledo and I crouch down below the windows and I knock loudly on the door. We wait a few seconds… the doors open, and a man stands above us. He looks down, but two darts are already sticking out of his neck. “I thought I was going to shoot him.” “I thought I was.” “I knocked on the door.” “Exactly.” “Whatever, two darts is better, I guess.” We head inside the room, and edge along the right wall towards the door. The Godfather is on the microphone again. “Basement stairwell 1. Head up to first floor main hall.” Q is heard again. “I’m in the conduit room. I think I know which one cable is for the transmission. I’m planting the charges.” Seems like it’s going to be a good night. * Tom Harris was asleep when the phone rang. What a terrible noise to hear after your first hours of sleep in two days… feeling like a zombie, Tom reached over for the phone and managed to find it and bring it to his ear. “Yeah…” “Harris, get up. We need you, now.” It was the low voice of the commissioner. Aside from the mayor, the most important man in the city. “There’s some sort of break-in at the channel 6 station. I’m sending a squad down there. Meet them at the bank opposite.” “… Huh? Wh.. what, now? Why…?” “Now, Harris, I want you down there. We have to catch these bastards before they cause too much damage. Let’s go, Mr. Cop Show.” He hangs up. Tom swears loudly a few times before getting out of bed. He stands there for a full minute before he remembers what’s happening. Mafia are attacking, now. His senses kick into full motion and reality hits him. He rushes over to his dresser. Clothes, gun, keys. Good to go. What a day… * Neko Kresmir, Ph. D. Lot of good that diploma did him, if he was meant make a career of sitting around staring at cat bobbleheads. A door slamming with huge force behind him somewhere scared him out of his wits. Leaping up, he saw a small group of people barricading the main doors to the studio. They’re the people staying for the night. Neko runs over towards them. “What’s happening? Hey, what’s going on?” A man he recognizes as one of the field cameramen answers him. “Something’s going down now… The police just told us there was some sort of situation and that we should remain calm.” The man pushes another desk against the doors. “They’re sending some people down, but they won’t tell us what’s happening.” Neko looks around him as if a monster might just crash through the walls at any moment. “You think… Mafia?” The cameraman shoves a TV under one desk. “I don’t want to think so, but I do. Look, you’re the doctor here, right?” “Ah, reserve field medic, yes… why? Is someone injured or incapacitated in any way here?” “Uh, no… we just need you to help us with these doors right now. Can you shove that cabinet over here?” Neko, a little disappointed, does as told, with much effort. “Thanks.” The group runs over to the other doors in en effort to shield themselves from the apparent bulldozer that they expect to come and get them. Neko remembers the executives on the floor above, where he’s supposed to be right now. He grabs his medical kit from his cubicle and runs over to the far hallway. Somewhere in the building, two masked men are taking the longer, open way to the second floor. Outside, another young man and a young woman are hiding under an emergency exit. On the roof, a Watcher puts his mask back on. Somewhere in the city, a Tracker turns his bike around. * The Godfather comes in loud and clear. “Vaxis, something’s happening. I intercepted a police call and someone’s headed in your direction. Were you seen at all?” “No. Only a few guards, and all were put out. We weren’t seen by any cameras either, we’re in the second floor West hall now. What’s happening?” “Something bad. Do what you need to, and get out of there. Leave no clues behind.” When the Godfather says it’s bad, it’s bad. “Q, get the van ready. Wait under the fire escape. Lotus, be ready, we’re breaching now.” We’re outside the upper studio. The door’s going to be locked. I pull a small charge out of my pocket, just big enough to blow the lock. I get a flash grenade ready too. I won’t know about the Watcher or the Tracker until later still… I blow the charges, open the door a few inches, and toss in the flash. I hear the bang, and we breach. There are 5 people. We recognize the target at the other end of the room. 4 people are blinded, in the middle of the room. We put them out quickly. The last guy hid quickly behind the back screen, thinking we didn’t notice. We walk towards him, but at that moment, a pain erupts in the back of my head and I fall forwards. I hold my hand to the back of my head, I was hit. Something blunt, hard. I try to see what’s happening as I shake the pain away as best I can. Toledo is releasing punches on a guard like bullets from a machinegun, which I’m very glad he doesn’t have right now. With one enormous hit landed right in the guard’s face. This guard must’ve come up behind us with a club or something… The man is sprawled on the ground. Toledo takes out his gun casually and lazily crouches down in front of the man’s face. “My friend…” He begins, “I have a handgun at my side right now. Now, I’m not allowed to shoot you…” He takes a spare dart from his pocket, and grasps the man’s head with one hand, holding it up to his face. “But no one told me I couldn’t shove this harmless little needle into your eyes.” I’ve heard enough. I shoot the man in the neck and he passes out immediately. “Tomorrow night, Toledo. Right now, this is important.” “I know….” Toledo stands up, and heads to the back of the room to take care of the target. My head feels like hell… I actually feel a little dizzy from that blow. I take off my mask for a moment and rub the back of my head. “Vaxis!” The emergency door is swing shut as Toledo chases the man that just ran through it. Then, a noise at the other door. Another guard runs in, sweating, with a medic at his side. I have no mask. As quick as I ever could’ve done, I grab my handgun and shoot the guard in the head. The medic is already gone down the hall. I run after him, putting my mask back on in a hurry. Toledo shouts my name again, but it must wait. I’ve been seen. I run out into the hall. He’s not within sight. I kick open every doorway, one by one. All of them open up into closets or small rooms with nowhere to hide. He’s run away, I have to kill him, he’s seen me. Noises explode on the microphone. I hear a scream that must’ve belonged to Q, Lotus yelling, a gunshot… and then, the Godfather: “Vaxis, get down there! Don’t worry about it, something’s happening!” “HE’S SEEN MY FACE!” He doesn’t seem to understand, this comprises the entire group, and it means the end of our lives if I don’t kill him! “Don’t worry! I’m telling you, get down to the van! The police are here, and we blow the charges within the minute!” I scream with rage, and then curse as I sprint back into the studio and out the emergency door. Outside, the night air is crisp. No time to enjoy it now. I leap down to the ground. My legs absorb the shock of landing quite badly, and I almost collapse again. Ahead, Lotus is exchanging kicks with somebody wearing what looks like a black covert ops suit. Q is starting the van off to one side. The target is on the ground, holding his leg, which was covered in blood. All of this is too complex, how should I make it simpler? I take out my gun again and put a bullet in the man’s chest. He falls back and blood soon covers the rest of him as I hoist his body. Q’s pulled back the van and he drives over to me, the side door opening as he does it. I hop into the van, carrying the body with me and dropping it into an empty seat. Toledo is already inside. I head to the back and throw open the hatch doors as Q races over to where Lotus is fighting the stranger. Lotus is a good fighter, better than any of us, but this man is blocking all her strikes like it was some sort of game they were playing. The man isn’t attacking, just defending. “LOTUS!” I scream. She promptly pulls of a backflip, putting herself out of reach, and she whips around and runs to the van. Q turns sharply, as Lotus grabs onto the roof and swings in. I close the doors behind us. We look back as Q races onto the street, and off into the night. The police are all on the other side of the building, preparing to head inside… search for us… interrogate witnesses… They’ll know me, they’ll find me. They’ll figure out I work at the video store, they’ll raid my cover place, they’ll scrub it down like goddamn C.S.I., And that man is gone. He was no cop. Lotus’ breathing slows down. “What the hell happened?” As if on cue, we hear a low, distant rumble as the charges go off. When I was young, I found it fun, sometimes, to laugh at such situations. Whenever I was in way over my head, or when I received bad news or saw something hopeless, I would laugh. I suppose it makes you seem a little weird, but that’s the point, to make your enemies pause. But this is no laughing matter. Well, it was apparently a laughing matter for Toledo. Q kept driving, although he seemed a little edgy. I sat back and held a hand to my forehead. Lotus just stares at us. “Anybody going to answer me?” Chapter 5: The Actor Vaxis doesn’t get it. Think about all the bad things in the world, all of them. Acknowledge that murder and rape are rampant, that exploitation and terrorism are routine, and that suicide and corruption are truth. Can you forget about it all if I told you to right now? Can you put it out of your mind? You lie if you say that you can. You CAN’T forget about it, you don’t WANT to. What the hell does that mean? Science is actually the simplest thing in the world. Going out with some friends contains truly infinite implications, because humanity is a game, and science is just a set of rules. I was taught this by my mentor. He is my director, but they call him The Godfather. I am his actor, but they call me Q. My name is Q, and my nickname is The Actor. See, I always wanted to be one, because I was bored of being myself. I wasn’t much. I’m still not worth a mention, even now. See, I’m not some deluded philosopher like Vaxis, and I don’t suffer from personality disorders like Toledo, and I haven’t been through anything like Lotus has. I kill, but I don’t like it. I kill because I can’t go back. I’m not sane or insane. I don’t see in surrealism like they do. It’s all reality, cruel and harsh. I killed once, and it all went downhill from there. Just like all the characters played by big-name actors in blockbuster movies. I’d play out a re-enactment for you, but it’s terrible. Terrible. I’d tell you, but that would make this a bad cliff-hanger. I’m Q now, I’ll be The Actor later. You’ve now forgotten about the bad things I mentioned, because I captured your attention with cryptic words. Is that sad? That’s acting. My mentor knows much. I like science because it is simple. I like information because it is helpful. I joke because I know what to say, and I’m silent because I don’t. I’m excited when opportunities are presented, and I keep killing because I’ve already started... You can’t shatter the same window twice, and you can’t fix it when the shards are this small. My tattoo is so that I can see the bright and dark side of things at the same time, so that I can understand both sides of the same situation. The glass is not half-empty, nor is it half-full. Fluid mechanics are predictable. Similarly, life is neither good nor bad, not when you know what the future holds. It’s all like playback. Everything becomes a movie. I’m the actor, and the director knows all. * The Godfather is rubbing his eyes, the first time I have ever seen him do so. I know it’s not because he’s tired. Vaxis is spinning his gun, staring into space. Lotus is staring intently at a laptop screen, and Toledo is playing with his hair. The Godfather is trying to piece together what happened tonight. “So, he jumped off the roof” Lotus nods. “He shot the target in the leg first, then he jumped.” “He shot him? Why? Why was he trying to kill him? “He wasn’t.” The Godfather looks up. “But he shot at him.” “Yes, in the leg.” “So, he missed.” Lotus shakes her head slightly while looking at the table. “Not him, not this guy. He could’ve shot him in the head if he’d ran twice as far, I know it. He was aiming to wound.” “That doesn’t make any sense.” Vaxis breaks in. “What made sense at all that night? He jumped off, ran PAST the target, and fought Lotus. No guns.” Lotus looks at her gun. “He could’ve killed any of us on the roof, but he didn’t. We don’t know who he is, and he’s not with the police. Private contractor.” “Ooh, someone doesn’t like us. Or do they?” Toledo laughs a little. Toledo understands that laughing in the face of danger isn’t stupid. It doesn’t affect anything at all. He’s not to be pushed around, but he knows what people are inside. “What, like an assassin?” I say. “He didn’t kill anyone, and he could’ve easily done it. He made things easier by bringing down the target.” Toledo rolls his eyes. “And when he fought Lotus? Was that supposed to help us too?” Vaxis is biting his lips. The Godfather notices this. ”You were seen by a doctor, correct? We have no way of knowing who it was, or where they are now. We can’t just go and kill every medic in the city, but we can’t let your face be all over the newspapers either…” “And I had my mask off only for a second. Perfect.” After we had driven off that night, nobody had said anything. We were all trying to put this perverse puzzle together in our own ways, unsuccessfully. Even The Godfather is confused, and this is the man who anticipated cons and frauds so grand in nature that people have accepted them as political or military necessities. “Well, I think we’ve had enough for one night.” Vaxis stands up and stretches. “I’m getting some sleep.” Typical, pretending like he doesn’t care. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy too, but he doesn’t look at things from the right angle. With him, you kill, kill, kill. He doesn’t go out of his way to do it, but his perspective of life is so warped that he doesn’t see the effects anymore. He’s been reading Hamlet lately, thinking it holds some great answers to death. Across the table, Lotus is typing. No one asks her what she does. Toledo and I were talking about her yesterday, when we were going to the lynching. No one knows what she does, and no one asks her why. It’s not because they respect her privacy, it’s because they don’t have the heart to ask. To be honest, she’s not really as mysterious as you’d think, and she is not at all cold. I can’t ask. I’m just an actor, I don’t write my own script. And Toledo? A real comedian. He always gets the last laugh. He is by no means a good person, and I know the kind of things he’s done. I wouldn’t be caught dead in some of the places he visits… but he understands. Life is short, and we have to get all we can out of it. That’s simplicity. I don’t do things his way because I can’t afford to. I’m too soft, I wouldn’t last long. I don’t kill if I can help it. He’s the other way around. Pure bloodlust. I know Vaxis hasn’t told you about himself yet, so I won’t either. I won’t be the first, at least. None of that stuff is important anyways. Sleep. Oddly, I’m actually tired tonight. * Unbelievable. He runs to the cops saying he saw one of the killers, and now he doesn’t remember. And it’s not even his fault. He seems to have suffered some short-term memory loss. We sent in a urine sample, and it should be back by now. He’s a medic that was assigned to the station. Neko Kresmir. Doesn’t look like a doctor, but whatever. These were the thoughts going through the mind of detective Tom Harris in the early morning. Police vans surrounded the station, and people were running in and out of the front doors. Tom was sitting in a small room, interrogating Dr. Kresmir. Neko was feeling a little uneasy, himself. He couldn’t even remember what he had seen hours ago. Something was itching at his neck, too. When he had seen the man with his mask off in the upper studio, instinct kicked in and he ran down the hall, practically leaping down the stairs. The guard that was with him didn’t make it. He also knew that the man was chasing him, but he didn’t find him. Neko ran back to the lower studio like he never ran before, but it was empty. He spent the next half-hour hiding under his desk in his little cubicle, and he didn’t come out until the police were in the room. Now, here he was, willing to help them with what he had seen, but not able. He couldn’t remember… The detective seemed a little frustrated, probably due to his chance of catching the Mafia slipping out of reach. Neko was unsure now if he had even run away, and was there even a guard with him at all? Police? His memory was a fog growing thicker. Tom didn’t know exactly what to do… this guy keeps insisting that he saw one of the men, but then he doesn’t remember what he looked like… Presently, someone walked into the room and handed Tom some papers. Test results….. Rohypnol, lightly concentrated. Mild sedative effects… and resulting memory loss. Why did he take this stuff? “Doctor…” He began, “Have you been taking any kind of medication, with or without prescription?” Neko was a little surprised. Wasn’t he the doctor around here? “No, nothing like that.” “Hmm. Well, your urine seems to contain traces of Rohypnol. I hope I don’t have to explain to you what that is, doctor.” Neko knew all about the effects, and it would explain his memory, but still… he wasn’t taking anything. “I… don’t really know what happened. I just can’t remember that well, really…” Tom was giving up. This is just stupid… This guy would have to be transferred until he could remember what even happened tonight. Neko was scratching at his neck again. Tom was going through every possible way that this guy could’ve been mildly sedated, and why didn’t the drug have any other effects on him? He still managed to hide from the killers… Tom sighed. “Has anyone given you a drink or anything? Have you been in any situation at all where someone could’ve given you this drug?” Tom knew the answer before Neko shook his head. This guy was clueless… If he was given this to make sure he had amnesia, he himself could be one of the killers, and he given himself this stuff so that we couldn’t get anything out of him. He doesn’t look the type, but who knows? Tom got up. “Doctor, wait in here for a minute, and someone will be in to get you.” He passed another officer on the way out and whispered to him. “Get a background check done on this guy. Until I say he can go, make sure he never leaves our sight.” The other witnesses should be coming back to their senses soon, for whatever they’re worth. * I work at a radio station, as a junior assistant. Pointless, and Toledo and I pool all our wages into alcohol anyways. We all live off of the Mafia’s main financial pot, the money that we’ve built up over the years. Most of it’s from this one bank we robbed last year. Well, I don’t mind my job. I get in, and I’m only there for a few hours before I get out. Vaxis has it worse, he works at a video rental store, the type of place where they don’t mind about hiring completely apathetic people. I was in there once, and I actually saw him arguing with a group of kids about how good Watchmen was. He’ll get fired soon, and he won’t care. The job is just for cover anyways, and since we’re all expecting to see the cops come looking for him soon, it doesn’t matter. Again, we don’t know where Lotus goes. I don’t even think the Godfather knows, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Toledo just visits this psychiatrist, and I know he’s laughing on the inside the whole time. They’re convinced he’ll be healthy enough to go back to normal living now, so he may have to find a job soon. That won’t work out. He worked at some sort of sporting goods store once, where his boss kept yelling at him. Well, let’s just say that they’ve stopped stocking lawn darts there. I’m running around with coffee right now, but my mind is elsewhere, on the lynching later today. Another poor fool will die, and for no reason. They die on our behalf. Vaxis says it’s for a greater cause, of course. He wants to take this city so that he can end all the “complexity”. Toledo doesn’t really care at all. In fact, he’s probably disappointed that he isn’t the executioner. Lotus doesn’t like it either, I can tell. I don’t know why she lives this life, but she’s good at it. Like I said, I do it because I can’t go back. And the people who are murdered based on false suspicion? I can’t do much about that. I want to see this city under the hands of the Godfather, not me. Whatever he does, it can’t be worse than the way things used to be. * The sun is setting, and the light around us turns slowly to blood red. Fitting. I can see Lotus off to one side, looking up at the gallows. I think I saw Vaxis earlier. Anyways, the man is being brought up to the noose now. His name is James Mace. He was tall, and looked quite strong. His hair was long and tied in a ponytail. His eyes were dark and sunken, and he wore a bright silver chain over his jet black coat. Hanging on the chain was a tiny, dangling red blade. Well, I could certainly see why people would suspect him, he does look the type. Oddly, he didn’t even seem very upset over the whole situation. The noose was brought over his head, but his sneer remained. The crowd, just like yesterday, intensified. They sounded pretty genuine this time, they must think they actually caught a criminal. Guards are trying to keep the crowds back as the executioner walks over to the lever. Well, that’s where the routine ended. Nobody saw this coming… A tiny sound of splitting metal, and the man broke his handcuffs with a quick twist of his wrist. He spun in place with lightning speed, sending the executioner off the platform with a clean kick. People stampeded the guards and climbed onto the platform like ants. I tried to keep in place with them. As swarms of crazed citizens clambered over the guards and onto the wide platform, The prisoner took two steps back, with the noose still around him, and drew from his coat a short curved blade, blood red in the sun. With two quick swipes, the rope around his neck fell to the ground in pieces. All the people stopped. Police were in view now, pushing their way up to the prisoner. They held up their guns, and one yelled, with some hesitance. “Put down your weapon, NOW!” The prisoner raised one eyebrow, and laughed. Not an evil laugh, a joyful one. “We WILL fire!” The prisoner looked all around him, and spoke with a voice that echoed with willpower and strength. “I am not James Mace, not anymore.” Time seemed to freeze. “I am Ares. Now, fight me, and make my day.” No one moved. People were starting to back away now. The police remained in place. They were all shaking, and they were the ones with the guns. The prisoner sighed after no one challenged him. “Very well then, I make my own end. To the underworld…” He held his sword in front of himself, point down, then, he brought it forwards. He plunged the red blade into his chest without so much as a gasp. He held it in place for a few seconds, and then he withdrew it, falling to his knees. He dropped the sword to the ground with a clang, and looked at his bloody hands. His coat was dripping blood, but wasn’t darker than it was before. The police lowered their guns and stepped forwards slowly. The prisoner laughed with joy again, and fell on his side, dead. Many minutes passed without event afterwards. The crowds started to filter away, chattering madly. Slowly, slowly, people went home while the ambulance arrived and put the man on a stretcher, for what good it did him. We watched a bit longer than everyone else, before we left. We didn’t know that the Tracker and the Watcher were there too, but we’ll find out eventually. Well, in the face of danger, a man took his life today, and made quite a show of it too. James Mace, “Ares”. Theatrical. A real actor, wasn’t he? I should aspire to be more like him. Maybe I should borrow Hamlet from Vaxis so that I can quote a few lines before I die. Hopefully, however, the director will never let me die. Chapter 6: Examine and Modify Two funerals were held hastily that same night. One was public, and attended as a memorial service. Presumably, the police still had the body, and it was being examined. Also, nobody seemed to have any pictures of the man. So, a bouquet and a couple candles were all that adorned the altar that night. A few people were there, people who were convinced they knew James Mace well enough to say their farewells. Fact is, James Mace said all his farewells years before. And that is why there was a second funeral. It was held somewhere secret, somewhere you wouldn’t ever go. The body was present, having been stolen to complete the event. The casket was already burning, and slowly, James “Ares” Mace was being transformed into smoke, into mystery. There were 11 seats in front of the casket. Only 5 of them were filled. * “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia. Nymph, in thy orisons, be all my sins remember’d.” With that last line of the Act 3, Scene 1 speech, I put Hamlet down. It’s getting late, and we need to go over tonight’s game plan. Shakespeare can wait until tomorrow morning, at least. Lotus and Toledo are already at the table, and The Godfather is going through a small stack of pictures. Q is getting up from the couch as well. We take our seats and routine ensues. “Got a fix on this guy…” The Godfather throws a couple photos onto the table. They’re side-angles of a young man with neat hair and a wide grin. “Writer for the local paper, and a real loudmouth. Does this column every day, news on crime and such. I noticed it two days ago, and I’ve had a contact follow him around for a bit. This guy considers himself an idealist, a moral hero. His column, while mostly speculation, is about whatever he thinks is not right.” The Godfather brushes back his sleek hair and continues in his tired, droning voice. “Naturally, he’s been focused on us since we started two nights ago. Thinks he’s an expert on organized crime now, and his column has been enlarged. It covers all of page 5 now, every day. He’s really just your average writer for the paper, he gets people to read and he gets paid for it. But, I think it would put a good scare into people if we take him out. We have no other ideas for a target yet, and this guy is no saint anyways.” Sounds pretty easy to me. Compared to last night though, anything should be simpler. “You had him followed, so we have his address, right? We get him while he’s sleeping?” “That’s the plan. Take the photo, his street and house number are on the back. Get to it. Finish it quick, and get back. Leave the body in plain sight, for someone to see it in the morning.” Easy as can be. We get up, grab our guns, and prepare to leave. We’ll be taking a smaller car for this, it’ll be quick and simple. Everyone heads up the stairs, and as I follow them, The Godfather calls me back. “Vaxis…” He looks s serious as ever. “We can’t afford for anything to go wrong this time. Last night was close. We won’t be lucky twice.” “No worries. It’s just a quiet break-in, and a clean murder. What’s there to mess up?” “Even so, be careful. Not one soul may see this and live. We’re in trouble enough with that doctor around.” I nod, and then turn to leave. A writer will die tonight. Toledo’s getting edgy. He’s going to mess this guy up bad. * There is a different Tracker tonight. The other one is taking his rest. Filling in for him tonight is a young woman, with hair dark as night. She is restless; she doesn’t usually like staying in one place for this long… oh well. A different Tracker will take over tonight, and the tracking won’t go on for much longer. Reasons and explanations will have to be given. There is a different Watcher as well, one who was the first Tracker. He is taking his turn again now, just as the young woman was the first Watcher, when a man was found dead in his own car two nights ago. 4 of them, out and about, in groups of 2 each day. Take a shift watching or tracking the Mafia, rest for one day, and then take a shift doing the other job. One follows the Mafia from their headquarters, and one waits for their arrival. Both act as editors. They examine and modify. It keeps everything in check, until the time comes to reveal the purpose. Unfortunately, the girl that is currently waiting does not like waiting in the least bit. She is strong-willed and independent. That is how she got her position, her alias. Mace had his alias too, and the others. Few remain. Maybe we should start filling seats soon. They’re coming out, in a black four-door car. They’re heading west. They’re supposed to be cutting through downtown tonight, and past the river. Their target is asleep. Time to go. She radios the Watcher and gets up to leave. * The Watcher tonight is a man, about 30 years old. He was, very suitably, the Tracker on the first night. The young girl was watching on that first night. Easy for her. Last night, the other two men were keeping guard. A younger man, about 25 and very carefree, was watching, and an older man in his 50’s, the last true original seat, was Tracking. They had a harder time. Things went down badly that night. The Watcher had to incapacitate the target and distract the girl with the white hair while the Tracker injected a witness with a mild sedative chemically altered to induce amnesia. The Tracker wasn’t seen, the Watcher was. But now, things will be easier tonight. The young woman will be in position soon, and the man that is here now is ready. Simple target, simple kill. No editing needed. Hopefully, this third night will be the last. It’s actually more likely than not… when The Godfather finally figures out who they are, he’ll leave. Then, we can make our introduction to his young disciples, those children of crime. * We’re already in. Q picked the lock to the side door, and Lotus and I go in to drag the man out. It doesn’t matter that he wakes up and sees us, he has no chance of survival… especially since Toledo is waiting for him outside. We gag the man to stop his screaming, and hold him in place. He won’t be going anywhere. Q is keeping watch on the road. Toledo is cracking his knuckles. “Don’t worry, friend. Your sacrifice will make the world a better place.” I notice in one tiny moment the glint in Toledo’s eye. Almost evil. Well, everyone has their fun in some way… The punches fly. Soon, the sounds of their impact are more fleshy, and crunching can be heard. Toledo goes for the gut a few times, the man gasping pathetically for breath. No need to hold him anymore. We let him drop to the ground. Toledo lands a few more vicious kicks on him. The man faces up now, looking hardly like a living man anymore. His eyes are purple and swollen, useless. His face is almost entirely bruised, and cut in several places. He is trying desperately to clutch at his stomach. He might as well be dead, but I don’t think Toledo is entirely satisfied. Several more bone-crunching noises later, playtime is over. Lotus brings out her small knife and slits the man’s throat. Compared to the man’s remainder of a face, the blood gushing from his neck is clean, smooth. We call Q back and carry the man over to the car. After dumping him in the truck, we drive off. Toledo has thought of a suitable resting place. Somewhere nearby, a Watcher is satisfied and returns home. The Tracker is not done yet. She has to follow the car and oversee the disposal. * Tom is having a hectic time. Even after a full day of recovery, Kresmir hasn’t been able to remember much of anything. Other evidence is all we have to go on. The bullets pulled from the newscaster’s chest and leg are 9mm. Same as two nights ago. We know they’re up to something tonight, but there’s no way of guessing. Police are stationed outside of every government building in town, but the Mafia would have to be stupid to go for someone important again. It would make more sense to start out with a bang and then begin to pick off lower people. No one that was sedated at the station has a clue about the attackers either. Most of the guards had blacked out before they knew what hit them. The cameras showed nothing. A few executives had seen two masked men in the upper studio in their last seconds of consciousness. One man wore white and grey (strange infiltration colors), and the other wore black with red. That one spoke in a very menacing voice, the other was calmer. A guard hit one in the head from behind, and, after being threatened, was put out. And then, Neko, the medic. He ran, and enjoyed freedom in hiding, but without memory. Someone had to have injected him. Of course, he wouldn’t remember if he was or not, or who did it, if he even would’ve noticed. Not much remains. The darts were identified to have belonged to a vet clinic downtown. They were stolen, along with all of the tranquilizer guns. The vet asked why they would’ve taken all the guns when they didn’t need them all. They did it to hide exactly how many people were in their group. At least 2, obviously, but it was probably somewhere between 3 to 6. Any more than that, and they could’ve done something about the doctor, who at least remembers being chased. Couldn’t have been just the two, too big a job. No signs of forced entry, they had to have taken a maintenance entrance, meaning they had a key code. Raises possibility of an inside job, so anyone with codes are being looked into now. Nothing else is left. No bootprints or supplies left behind, no fingerprints on any doorknobs, no hairs, nothing. No vehicle was found before or after the police went in. And then, the sabotage. Timed or remotely detonated. It put out the stations signal. They won’t be back on the air for a while. Our only hope is to give the doctor a bit more time, and hopefully that will be enough. A physical description would at least give us a little help. Detective Harris. Just a title, that’s not doing him any good. So far, he hasn’t been able to get a single clue. As much as he wants to catch these people, they’re slipping away, only to kill again every night. The commissioner is losing hope in investigative units. He’s turning toward complete armed force. He hasn’t received any word from the mayor or the council. Things are looking bad so early on… Tom wondered if these killers would fall for a trap. Maybe if it involved live bait… but that’s dangerous. It would have to be someone of at least some importance or they wouldn’t bother. And not too integral to the city, or they’ll know it’s a trap if it looks easy. Maybe, if they could find a volunteer, they could organize for a few details to slip, and the Mafia could work out the rest and choose the best course of action, one which the police would then be ready to intercept. It’s a possibility… and even if they weren’t caught, it would save someone else from dying that night… maybe. It would at least, in a weird way, be better than the daily executions. Why the city started those, no one knows. Everyone hates the idea, until they find someone they’re sure is Mafia scum. For example, the man that day… Everyone was sure of it. Mace had a clean record, but that doesn’t prove anything. But the guy had a goddamn sword in his coat… Nothing makes sense anymore. In times like this, nonsense becomes predictable, and easy to respond to. Logic must reign supreme. Tom got up from his desk and walked down a couple halls to the commissioner’s office. Maybe his idea would be worth something. A trap. * Easy, easy night. We took the chance to catch up on sleep, for once. It felt good to lie in bed while the sun was still down. I even woke up for the morning, it was a good chance to catch up on Hamlet. Things are getting intense in the end of Act 3. Q asked to read it after I put it down. For whatever reason, he’s become suddenly interested. But, sudden interest is his thing. Well, the paper was interesting. The man’s face was on the front page, along with whatever dramatic headline they chose for today. They call us murderous monsters, as always. How very unbiased of them. Well, he was found in the place we put him. Toledo’s choice was very classy. A butcher’s shop. He had broken in that night without trouble and hung him up with the rest of the meat. Toledo also took the opportunity to get in a bit of target practice before we left. Blood had soon pooled below the corpse’s feet. Toledo’s violent instincts should be satisfied for a while. Well, that was what the morning worker was lucky enough to see when he started work early that morning. Before the sun had even come up, the press found out and hastily reprinted the papers for that day, which now showed a gruesome scene… But there was something in the report that surprised us. A note was found on the body, the one we left. The strange thing was, there was a symbol on the back of it, that wasn’t there last night. After I called everyone else over, we read the article. Nothing unusual. Our note remained the same except for the other side, which bore a single letter, a Greek letter. We all recognized it. Ω, Omega. The Godfather stared long and hard at the pictures of the note in the newspaper. “And none of you did this?” He asked. I answered. “No. We only wrote another warning on the other side. I put the note there, I was the last one out. Someone must have done that after we left, and I doubt it was the guy who discovered the body.” The Godfather remained silent. Lotus spoke. “Omega. Pretty basic symbol, just a Greek letter. Does it mean anything to you?” His voice was still tired, but now shaky. “I don’t know. I have ideas, though. I can imagine certain people that would’ve done that… but still, to follow us and write this after we left? This is something else…” Q took the paper and read it through a second time. “Probably has something to do with the person that we saw last night. He’s some sort of third-party in this. Question is, is he alone, or in a group?” “What, like us?” Toledo replied. “If they were some other group, they’d have removed us by now, and they’ve apparently had plenty of chances to do it.” The Godfather seems lost in thought, which is not a good sign, or at least, not a common occurrence. “Toledo, not everybody operates on the principle of single survival. They could be working for us, even if we don’t know it.” He knows something, I can tell. I try to get an answer from him. “Do you know them? Why’d they leave a symbol? And why this symbol?” “I’m not sure, but like I said, I have ideas… I need to look into a few things. If my suspicions are correct, then it’s not entirely a bad thing, but it will complicate our situation, and possibly undermine our efforts.” “What are you saying, exactly?” Lotus asked. The Godfather got up and straightened his coat. His green eyes glinted sharply. “It means I need to figure this out on my own. I’m going out today. It’s about time I did some of my own recon work.” He’s never been like this. Even the subtlest differences in a man like this can foreshadow enormous changes. “You’re going out? Where?” He approaches the door, and stops for a moment with his back towards us. I can tell by the clicking sounds that he’s loading a gun. “Vaxis, you’re calling in sick for work today. Use your other cell phone. You will stay here, and you won’t go outside. It’s too risky. The rest of you must be cautious, if we’re being followed.” Q and Lotus didn’t move. Toledo walked over to the minibar, which I thankfully refilled yesterday. I’m quite in a state of confusion myself. Anger, more like, and I’m usually calm. “What are you trying to hide from me? You know what’s happening. You know you can trust us with it.” The Godfather turns around. “No. Trust is a ridiculous thing. Even if it’s true on both sides, it can break with the slightest twinge. I can’t tell you anything until I confirm my suspicions. I may not even be back for a few days. You will have to continue as usual every day and night until I get back. Be careful, always. Never trust.” He turns around and walks up the stairs, and none of us try to stop him. Partially, because something like this should’ve happened long ago. A man like this, emotionless and calculating always has something to hide. He’s telling the truth, though. He has ideas, and he’s going to confirm them. I will obey him gladly. No work for me today. Might as well finish Hamlet. Where was I? “…Be all my sins remember’d.” Edited by Vaxis**, Apr 10 2009, 03:31 PM.
	Γνώθι Σεαυτόν


Vaxis	Mar 24 2009, 10:06 PM Post #4
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	Chapter 7: The Musician Q doesn’t get it. He will talk about all the bad things in the world, and force you to accept the dark side of human nature, and then he’ll ramble on about how science is just the essence of simplicity, and how it controls everything else. He overthinks everything. Nobody else understands either… Whenever you try to make things better, they get worse, always. If you embrace bad things, you not only make them seem better, thus immunizing yourself against depression, but you don’t add to the flames like all the passive idealists do. This is the safe way of doing things. It’s a lesson I picked up from someone. He is a great producer, The Godfather. I am a musician, always with the next big hit in mind. I’m Toledo. My nickname happens to be The Musician. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. In music, it’s never about your fans, they don’t matter in the least. We don’t play for them, they’re just a side effect of talent. We play music to get the feelings out, to ease our minds. What I do, all the killing, that’s just a parallel of music. A parody, sort of. See, I’m not like the others. I don’t falsely place value on people or ideas, and I’m not devastated or entranced by the world like they are. I must focus on myself, because the rest of the world will focus on itself. I kill because it’s healthy for me, like music. When I reached boiling point, I began, and I see no reason to stop. It’s Vaxis, Lotus, and Q that have strange reasons for what they do. I understand simplicity, it lies within me. Mere instinct, the struggle for survival. Kill or be killed, it doesn’t get much simpler than that. The Godfather knows this better than I do, even. He has a lot of power in his way of thinking, and he controls it in a way I never can. I’m weak like that. I like violence because it removes anger. I like pleasure because it removes stress. I can still do what needs to be done. I’m as reliable as the next guy, as long as you don’t try to change my way of doing things. My methods void all that useless emotion. Every feeling of love or fear is a weakness, and indulgence is healing, with the bonus of being fun. I prefer not to look at the world, because I’m sickened by the way the world looks back at me. I wait still for someone else to act like I do, to get their feelings out at my expense. No one has tried yet. Just like music, it must be some sort of natural talent. * Vaxis didn’t seem too disappointed being told not to leave today. Even if he wanted to go, he wouldn’t go against The Godfather’s orders, none of us would. He’s done too much for us, we wouldn’t mess up his plans for this place. Q and Lotus are out there doing their own thing, and me? No therapy today. I’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of me before the lynching. An afternoon of enjoyment, I think. Still, The Godfather is out here somewhere, trying to make sense of the senseless. It isn’t right, I could be helping him…. We all can… But it’s beyond me. Today will be a day of relaxation. And so, I’m in a bar, within the hour. I’ve only had a few beers so far. No effect as of yet. Besides, I’m not a heavy drinker, just a quick one. Only a few other people in here… a few young guys in one corner, a couple cheap women in another, and a tired old man at a table off to the side. I ask the bartender for another beer. So far, the day is good. That psychiatrist that interviews me is an utter moron… he thinks I’m making progress. All he does is show me pictures and ask what I think of them. It’s as easy as saying something nice and bright, and I’ll be out of there soon. Just like the justice system, it’s broken and easy to manipulate. A shuffle and a scraping chair tell me that the tired old man is getting up. A louder shuffling tells me he is coming closer. A louder scraping tells me he has sat down beside me. Great. I’ll ignore him for now, and he better not try anything, or the bartender will be mopping up a small pool of blood… The man doesn’t look very old, actually. Maybe about… 50. Looks like he could’ve been a war vet, too, he’s wearing an eye patch over his right eye. He looks tired, but strong, anyways. He sighs, and then speaks to me with a raspy voice. No one else will hear him over the music. “A .45, I see. A classic too, not bad. Extended thumb safety and an original sight system, along with a customized trigger guard.” Well, I wasn’t expecting that from him… “What are you talking about?” I say. “Your gun,” He says back, in a sort of loud whisper. “You ought to think about hiding it in a place like this.” I quickly glance down at my right side, where I keep my gun. He’s right, my coat is caught behind the grip, leaving it I plain sight. I move my coat and hide it. “Sharp eye, old man.” “Good thing, because I’m the Watcher today.” I have an odd feeling that this guy isn’t talking nonsense. There is definitely some intent in his voice. “Watcher, huh? And what does that mean?” He chuckles as he stares forward at the wall, drinking his own beer. “It means I have to watch you. See, I was the Tracker two nights ago.” I have to admit, this guy knows how to hook an audience. I raise an eyebrow towards him, and he sees out of his the corner of his eye. He looks at me with his one eye, his black eye patch covering the other. “That means I was following you and your friends the night you went to the TV station.” Not good. An investigator, possibly. I wonder if a whole squad is waiting outside. He thinks he can take me quietly? I sit back, trying to hide my left hand, which is snaking towards my gun. “I’m not a cop, boy. I’m as bad as you, but at least I don’t kill at the slightest thought. I know you, and your friends, and your Godfather. I know your plan to take the city, and I’m just here to bring you back to the Chamber.” “The Chamber, huh?” This guy knows about us. This has a 75% chance of turning out really bad, and a 20% chance of only being slightly bad. “Please tell me that this is going to lie within the 5% chance of turning out good.” He chuckles again. “I think it will, to start out, at least. I’m with others, who know all about you. We may be able to help, but explanations will come first, as always. Might as well go back now.” Wow. An old guy with an eye patch knows all about me and the Mafia. Plus, he knows his guns. Pretty good day to not to go to a psychiatrist. I got up and followed him to his car. He talks again, his raspy voice a little clearer. “You can call me Stixx, for now. I hope the bar fridge is full, it’ll be a right party in there today. Besides, I have yet to drink to Mace’s health.” * Q was on break that day, sitting in the crew room watching the news. What a story… an earthquake in Italy kills 200 people… scientists predicted this last week… and they were ignored by authorities who said they were only causing panic… To think things like this really happen. Where did all the safety and innocence in this world go? What black hole of human conscience sucks all the morality out of us? Terrible… The TV clicked off. Q looked around the room and saw a man in the doorway holding a remote. “The news these days, eh?” He was about 30 years old, and quite slim. One eyebrow was lazily raised under his untidy hair. He looked and sounded quite bored, but strangely, he looked very familiar. “Are you new around here?” Q said. “I haven’t seen you before.” The man smiled. “Oh, you’ve seen me before… or at least, you saw someone that was supposed to be me. Would I look more familiar with 3 bullets in my chest?” … No, not possible… He continued. “My name is Waterfox.” He was smiling broadly now. He knew his introduction would be a surprise. Q didn’t have his gun with him, not at work… This man was supposed to be dead, Lotus shot him on that first night in the city, the night they announced their presence, it isn’t possible! He thought out his course of action carefully. “How? I saw you die!” Waterfox answered in his bored voice. “That’s what you were supposed to think. My, this is kind of like a movie, isn’t it?” Q stood up. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t shoot you now? Can you survive another bullet?” Waterfox walked halfway across the room, sighing. “First, I didn’t die. That was a fall guy, with a planted ID. I’ve been doing it for years, making other people me and making myself someone else. I followed you and your group that night while you murdered that fool. We planned everything.” “We?” “Yeah, we. I obviously didn’t do this alone. We’ve been keeping tabs on you, and The Godfather probably found out today. I was waiting at the writer’s house last night, as well. One of our people wrote that symbol on that note after you left. Q ran his hand through his hair. He was an actor, he should be able to respond to situations like these… maybe a few recited lines? Or maybe just a simple question or two? “Are you going to tell me what happened at the TV station, or how you know the Godfather, or what that symbol means?” Waterfox straightened his trench coat. "The symbol was Omega, I’m sure you know. It signifies the end, which is, in essence, the opposite of the symbol we usually use. I’ll tell you the rest later. I bet the Godfather told you to trust no one, but this is beyond truth and lies now.” He turned to leave. Q remained standing in place, trying to decide… but it seemed obvious. This man knew things, things that Q needed to know more than anyone. Still, what a ridiculous situation… Q rolled his eyes, and followed Waterfox * Lotus was walking in a field, wide and open. Her thoughts ventured everywhere. Just like the field, all was wide and open. Memories and time and dreams, so many concepts. Where do they all belong, and who controls them? It never matters. Concepts and science are emotionless, they can’t and won’t say anything that helps. Youth is a rare concept that thinks and knows. Her mind is hiding, but in plain sight. Locked, but open. Vague and fleeting images are mysteries even to her. In the field, Lotus is lost in these images. She keeps walking. Someone has been walking behind her, almost in step, but a little faster. Walking, walking. A few more minutes pass, in screaming silence. Lotus hasn’t yet looked behind her, but she knows someone’s there. Walking, walking. They stop when she stops, every time. Lotus was nearing the edge of the field, near a small forest. She stopped again. The other person didn’t stop in turn, she could tell. Time to initiate. She turned around abruptly, ready to fight. The person there was the last person she would ever want to fight. She simply stood there. Her hair was a little shorter, but similar. Her eyes were a little paler, but very alike. She wore the same kind of suit, but in a different color, white with red. Silent sadness flew between them like a wind. “Sakura, we have to go back to the Chamber now.” Lotus didn’t speak at first. A real wind then picked up, with no better timing. “Alex…” She hadn’t seen her sister in years. * Q likes to laugh at situations for sheer effect. He thinks other people will be put off by it, and think he’s more impressive. Well, I like to laugh at situations too, but because they’re actually kind of funny. Now, I’m not crazy, but this particular situation is hilarious; an old man who’s been spying on us takes me back to my own base, where I meet a confused Vaxis, along with two young people I don’t know. Then, Q comes in with another man, and then Lotus arrives with someone who looks like she could be her sister. Oh, and The Godfather hasn’t been seen yet, or sent for at all, I think. The bar fridge is full. I can’t stop laughing, and I don’t give a damn about the effect it must be causing. The woman with Lotus speaks up. “Everybody better grab a seat, this is going to be quite a story for you. I’m Alex. This is Stixx.” She motions towards him. His eye patch is probably the coolest thing ever. “This is Waterfox.” A slim, smiling man steps forward. Wait, he’s that drunk we killed… Alex continues. “Yes, you recognize him. I’ll get to that right away. This is Balore.” He looks about 20 years old. He seems pretty quiet, but nice. More normal than anyone else in the room, anyways… “I believe you met him already, outside the TV station.” Vaxis utters a low laugh. “You were that guy in the dark suit?” Balore scratched the back of his neck, smiling a little. “Yeah, I was the Watcher that night.” Alex spoke again. “I’ll explain that in a bit too.” She walks over to a young girl. “This is Zero Flare.” She also looks about 20 years old. She’s quite pretty, but something about her eyes seems mischievous. Q speaks up. “Why are you called Zero Flare?” She looks at him. “Because it’s the name I chose for myself. Why?” “Ah, just wondering.” “Anyways…” Alex goes on, “We’re here to explain exactly what’s been happening, and who we are.” Vaxis clears his throat, and everyone looks at him. “Where’s the Godfather?” Alex pauses for a second. “We knew where he’d look first, and we left a note there.” Vaxis still looks serious. “Where did he look, and what was on the note?” Alex looks serious as well. “The note had another letter on it. Alpha. The beginning. What we really symbolize. And he was going to city hall.” “Why?” “Well, I suspected that he thought he would be let in.” “No one gets in there. City council never leaves the building, even. Why would he get in?” “Because we are the city council. Besides, he wasn’t looking for us. I suspect that he was going to look for the mayor when he saw the Omega symbol. A note on the inside of the door had the letter Alpha on it, and that will send him back here. He knows more about any of this than all of us combined.” I laugh again. This is funny as hell. Q doesn’t laugh for effect this time, even he must be confused. Vaxis covered his face with his hand and sighed. No one talked. “I don’t understand any of this,” He began. “Who the hell are you people?” Alex looked surprised at the question. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re the Mafia.” Chapter 8: Legacy of the Olympians This is the point where I first began to consider writing a story about all this, maybe even to be released once this completely random occurrence had sorted itself out. I really had no idea at the time, but who did, right? Turns out, as usual, that only one person knew the whole scope of things. In any case, this is turning out just like some sort of crime novel… think about it: small group of killers; possibly misled? Their shadowy leader; mysterious past… investigative police, innocent doctor caught up in things… watchers and trackers? They turn out to be some sort of other group; real information? Sounds like it was scripted. I’d laugh, but I don’t laugh, since I don’t think effect and even humor are worth the people they enhance. Well, I’ll do a breakdown of this scene for you, so imagine it like a movie. Alex is standing up in front of us. She must be Lotus’s sister, and I heard her call Lotus Sakura at one point. They look so alike, it’s the only possibility. Stixx is older, but he looks powerful. Eyepatch. So there really are diehard veteran schemers like that. I think I should try and figure out more about him. The older people are in the con game, the better they are and the more they know, always. Waterfox. So, we didn’t kill him. Apparently, he’s survived nearly ten years of being hunted by playing other people into corners for him. He’s also quite the disguise master, so he says. I know about people like him, they’re paranoid, but they act like it’s all casual. He’ll breakdown eventually, unable to keep up his fake theatrical demeanor. Easy guy to predict, despite his so-called abilities. Balore. A mythological name, a name of power. He’s only 20 or so, but he looks younger. A little tired too. I find it hard to believe that it was him fighting Lotus, and holding her back. He looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless it hurt him first. Seems too normal to be a killer. This is one guy I’ll have to keep my eyes on… if he let emotions blind him, he could be very dangerous. Zero Flare, also about 20, is a conundrum. Looks thoroughly innocent, but she’s been watching us like the rest. Pretty, yes, but definitely looking for any opportunity for a fight. Not a ruthless killer, though. Looks pretty self-sufficient… still, I wonder how kids this young get involved in what we do. That makes me think of Lotus and Q, who aren’t much older than them. Even myself and Toledo are only, what, 5 years older than them? Same age as Alex, roughly. This is all confusing me, not a good state to be in. The Godfather has only to walk into the room, and I know things would be clear as day. Well, he won’t come in. Well, whatever. The rest of us are sitting by the TV. Explanation time. Every story has a story behind it, right? Alex begins. “It started the same way everything else does. With two very good friends.” That’s a good way to start, isn’t it? “It was 20 years ago. Age of crime. Things were bad, very bad. A local gang had built up power and brought in real leadership, and it was close to internal war. People were getting gunned down left and right. Two very good friends decided that the chaos was a perfect place to start, so they asked for the help of a third good friend, who was about 10 years older than them.” A history lesson, practically. Does it really go back 20 years ago? It must be the person I’m thinking of. “They formed what would later be called The Olympians. Simply, a group of people who planned for change, using the underground crime scene as a cover and a tool. They took the names of Greek gods, symbolically invincible. Besides their divine titles, they used pseudonyms they had when they were young, no real names. Alpha was quiet and grim, but knew nearly everything that was worth knowing. He took the title of Hades. Juggernaut was the strongest, and had the most connections. He took the title of Zeus. And Stixx, who was the oldest, and the one who provided the funding, was known as Hephaestus.” “So…” I butt in, “Stixx was part of this? And they took the names of the Olympians in Greek mythology? What is this, some sort of movie now?” Stixx, who was standing at one side with his arms crossed, sighed. “Maybe you should just listen to the story, alright?” We looked again towards Alex, who continued. “Stixx had already built up a fortune by playing the long con on local gangs. Basically, he loaned money off of them and promised to return it with interest. He did this to every gang he could reach, and he always brought it back with the interest, because he was loaning off of each gang with different rates of return. Eventually, they couldn’t give him enough money, because it always came back with more. At the same time, he was robbing them. Let’s just say these gangs don’t have the best security.” “So, he joined with Alpha and Juggernaut, and they formed this group. Well, this was different than the crime life. People with something to prove and spots in their minds to fill started to get interested. They attracted a lot of odd minds, and a lot of geniuses and intimidating people. Within a couple years, they had made a small bit of money off of operations like rigging casinos and stealing from museums. They were in with the black-market, foreign interests, anybody who wanted quick, clean money. At this time, the violence was quelled, and the paranoid idiot of a mayor brought in the noose.” This is getting to be more interesting that I thought. “Well, The Olympians didn’t care, they weren’t affected. They did have to retreat from normal life a little, but that’s about it. Well, things got shaky when great minds turned random. People left and joined constantly, and the original 3 couldn’t tell who was serious or not. Eventually, there was someone good and faithful enough to stay, but they wanted all 12 seats of Olympus to be filled with worthy people.” “About 10 years ago, even Alpha and Juggernaut had their arguments. Something had come up between them, but it quieted down in time. They had turned to bigger things, holding up banks, trafficking illegal substances and firearms for other groups… not to mention assassinations and protections. Around that time, the group shifted. It was less about a group, and more about 12 unique people. They got a reputation for the people they had on Olympus. The names and titles might’ve started all that…” “Well, we’re the remainder of what happened only 5 years ago. It was the first and last year that all seats would be filled, and council was called. The seats were as follows: Alpha, who was Hades. Juggernaut, who was Zeus. Stixx, who was Hephaestus. Me, as Aphrodite, I was one of the youngest, then. With the title of Hera was a woman named Alicia, who was also a good friend of the founders. Waterfox was Poseidon. Zero Flare was Athena, being the youngest, barely 16. Sedium was Hermes. Balore’s older brother was in too, who called himself Acolyte, he was Apollo. An older woman named Tracy had the title of Demeter. Mace was Ares. And Lulu, a friend of mine and Mace’s, was Artemis.” “Still with me?” she said, smiling grimly. Toledo sighed sarcastically, and Q was rubbing his forehead. Lotus was still watching Alex and I, I was just sitting there, staring at the ground. This is almost unbelievable. I just heard a lot of names, only a few of which I could place, and without any trust, at that. “What about Balore?” Q asked. “You didn’t mention him.” Balore looked up. “She’ll get to that.” He looked very serious. Alex started again. “Well, the group was changed by now. It was all about minds, not the things they thought up. People might as well have gladly offered themselves up to be used as tools, because they were now prolific in the underworld, something they wanted very much not to be. Well, this meeting was held, the only one where all 12 seats would be filled. A new method was to be discussed. A decision was going to have to be made on where The Olympians would take their ambition. That’s when the group shattered.” She stopped for a moment and looked down, and then continued. “Alpha wanted to keep the group low, in fact, to lower it into obscurity. He thought that if they were rumored to not exist anymore, they could do what they wanted with more freedom. Juggernaut thought they should bring it upwards, and take the city. It was, after all, the long-term goal, and he thought 15 years of preparation was good enough. He wanted to oust the city government and make them the city council. The rest of us were divided, predictably. Some, actually, were undecided, but some stood tall on either side.” “I knew Alpha was right, and that he knew the safest way to act, so I sided with him. Zero and Waterfox joined me. Lulu and Acolyte sided with Juggernaut. I’ll tell you about them in a bit. Tracy went with him also. It left 4 people in the middle, as Alpha and Juggernaut began their career as enemies. Sedium knew that this was going to be trouble, so he left the group. Mace sided with Juggernaut at first. After some fierce words, Stixx came with us. Hera wasn’t just undecided, she was emotionally distraught. She left as well.” “Olympus cracked and fell to pieces. Alpha set up a base for us, The Chamber. Juggernaut, meanwhile, did as he wanted to do. He had enough connections to change things, and he did. He took over the city with minimum noise and no publicity. When it was found out that the rules weren’t going to be changed much, Tracy and Mace left, to go to our side. Tracy was found dead that night. Demeter had fallen from Olympus. Mace survived whatever thugs were sent after him. Well, he didn’t just survive, he basically tore them up. A good fighter, he was. It was good to have him here, because he was a close friend. Lulu stayed, and I don’t know why. Acolyte did as well, and that’s where Balore comes in.” Balore spoke again, but didn’t look up. “He’s my older brother. I was 16 or so at the time, and I found out what was happening when I read the message he left. Alpha found out about me, and took me in.” Balore fell silent, and Alex went on. “Things got worse. Alpha and Juggernaut met to try and compromise. They were, at the same time, irreplaceable friends, and enemies. I don’t know how it ended up… Alicia was killed during that meeting. Hera fell from Olympus. I don’t know how or who did it, but both men were devastated. Juggernaut began looking for us in murderous rage, and Alpha became even quieter. He disbanded our group, and locked out the chamber against us. We’ve lived in whatever way we could since then, hiding from killers, and Alpha undoubtedly started planning something big. That’s where you 4 come in.” He was The Godfather, clearly. Alpha, Hades. Greek letters are starting to make a bit of sense to me now. Q clicked his tongue. “So, tell me if this is right… The note left on the body with the Omega, directed The Godfather to city hall because he thought it was Zeus, this Juggernaut guy? And you somehow left a note with an Alpha, telling him that it was you people?” Zero spoke up. “Basically. But we’ve been watching you too, covering your tracks. The Godfather brought in you 4 from wherever, probably to train you to eventually take over the city again, and exact revenge or something like that.” “Covering our tracks?” Toledo asked. “What for?” Stixx cleared his throat. “The Godfather, if you’re still going to call him that, isn’t who he was 5 years ago, when we had a real group. His idea of nightly murders were going to attract attention. We’ve been trying as hard as possible to make Juggernaut, the new mayor, think it was us trying to overthrow him.” “Yeah,” Toledo interrupted, “but still, why? Why try and take the blame?” Alex spoke quietly. “So that he would come for us. Simply put, we protected you. Don’t bother asking why, there are lots of reasons.” My turn for a question, I think. “Right. So, what happened with Mace and Waterfox?” Waterfox finally joined the conversation. “I wanted to fake my own death. Juggernaut would think Alpha had me killed for whatever reason. Basically, blame would be directed away from anyone important, and into somebody I got to take my place. Planted ID, similar appearance, mixed DNA results, and enough other clues might have been convincing enough. I’ve been trying to get some info on Lulu and Acolyte ever since. No word on them.” “As for Mace,” Alex continued, “it was a hoaxed lynching. Juggernaut had come across him at some point. Whatever happened, he found out about Mace, and rigged the votes in some way, to have him killed. It wasn’t made public right away, as it usually is, so the police overtook Mace before he knew what happened. He was doing recon work downtown, when he was taken.” No one spoke, because, if I’m right, we all know how that day ended. Ares fell from Olympus. Still a couple other things to clear up. I tried to keep it simple. “So, essentially, you were being hunted down, and you led The Godfather away for a bit to tell us what was happening, because, and correct me if I’m wrong, you need our help?” Alex answered back. “Essentially. The thing is, we don’t know how The Godfather will react, and, since he’ll be back soon, this all could have been meaningless. If he’s not almost here already, then it’s because he’s going to continue on his own and leave you to join us.” Q laughed. It was probably for effect, as always. “Okay,” he says, “So, what’s the plan? Who, what, where, why, when, and how? Are we like, the new Olympians, now?” Stixx spoke up loudly, his harsh voice seeming quite clear. “Boy, you have no idea what the last 20 years have held for any of us. You wouldn’t be here right now without us, and it’s up to you if that would’ve been better or worse. Just don’t make light of things you don’t comprehend.” Toledo stood up. “Hey, you’re coming in on our scene… I don’t give a damn about all this back-story crap, because we’ve been following a man who would have led us to city council within the month, with the plans he had. We could’ve fixed this place up, and now, we’re going to get ourselves lynched or murdered like the rest of your group!” “That’s enough.” Alex looked stern. “Arguments like this go nowhere, and I know that better than most of you. Here’s the plan. We leave, and do what we need to do. We meet here every now and then if we can, and you keep low. If the mayor finds out about you, he’ll kill you easily.” She motioned to the others, and they prepared to leave. “Watch yourselves, and if The Godfather gets back, tell him what we told you. But don’t think he’s in the dark about anything. I don’t think there’s a person involved in this mess that knows more about it than him. Try to keep him an ally, or you’re as good as dead.” And they filed out. We didn’t even try to stop them or call them back. Some weird pride, I guess. The situation is actually not quite as ridiculous as I thought. I look over at the rest; Lotus is still watching the door. She looks over at me for a second. “Yes, she’s my sister. I haven’t seen her since… a long time.” We understand, all of us. The 4 of us haven’t yet talked about we got into this, and I don’t think we will. It’s not worth reliving, I think. We all have our own different perspectives and views on life, and that’s what keeps us together. Now, however, I think we’re part of something we can no longer just ride through. I’ve become lazy lately. Killing is odd… I’ve written the word so many times, it doesn’t have a real meaning anymore. I’ve done it so many times, life seems worthless. Fragile… I stand up on impulse. “Well, I’m not staying, I can’t. Now that we actually have a vague idea what’s going on, they can’t expect us to sit it out.” Toledo jumps up, grinning. “Sounds good to me!” Lotus got up slowly, avoiding anyone’s gaze. “The Godfather should’ve been here, we should find him.” She straightened up and cricked her neck. “There’s no other person who can help us more.” Q was still sitting down, looking restless. “Didn’t you hear what they said about that Alicia person?” “Yes," I say back. "And it happened 5 years ago. Don’t worry about it. He’s been fine ever since. We do need him.” Q nods, and then stands up. Routine seems entirely new without The Godfather watching us. I’m ashamed to say it feels better. More exciting. We’re going out in daylight, for whatever reason, in full force. We really should be thinking this over… but no, Hamlet did that, and look where he ended up. I come close to tearing my hair out, and banging my fists upon the walls. I never really let excitement do things for me, but this is too much. Merely to walk among people under the noon sun… energy rises from some invisible well and fills every inch of me. Chapter 9: The Artist I do believe I understand. Not everything, or the grand scheme of life, but I understand this small part of it; “it isn’t all about understanding”. The others mean well, but they focus inwards. I try as best as I can to keep everyone in mind, but it’s hard for people like us. Toledo has found solace in himself and the things he does. Q may never find solace, and may always search for it. Vaxis may not even know what solace truly is, his understanding is vague. Yes, there are lots of bad things, but they don’t get the whole picture. I don’t either, but I can see more of it. A classic metaphor, that life is a painting. I have been trying to find the frames of it. A philosophy I adopted mainly from the Godfather. I am only one artist that contributes to the human gallery that he is a curator of. The name I use is Lotus, but I am also The Artist. I am told I am talented with art, but mainly, I see life as art. Try not to get the wrong idea about me, though... I have been through more than most people can imagine, but the effects on me are not typical. As for the killing... unlike any other killer I have encountered, I ask forgiveness for what I do. Not from God, because I don’t believe in God. From myself. I try to accept what I do and what happens as a result. You may already have an idea of what I will say... that life is a masterpiece and we can only see some parts of it... well, I don’t live too much by that idea. I will not tell you much about myself, it’s too early. You would certainly get the wrong idea of me. The Godfather understands. The others don’t know all of it, but they mean well. We are all friends, but we have to live by our own beliefs. For people like us, our beliefs keep us unique. What I think I understand is the value of people, above everything. Everybody values people, but usually only the ones they know and trust. I value everybody until I have a reason not to. I may not be alive today if I was less careful. There are signs you have to watch for, like subtle mistakes in a portrait that must be corrected, before it becomes a character you never wanted to create. People are important in art, above all things, because of expression. We don’t just like art that looks nice, we look for hidden meaning. If only we could do that with people... but then again, understanding isn’t everything. Maybe life is all we need. * The commissioner is almost never seen personally, and this is no exception... at least, not until the plan is decided on. The idea was suggested to the next highest level, and was probably sent further from there. Tom was running around in his own mind, trying to work out the problems and predict whatever strange possibilities might arise. He wanted to find that doctor, Neko Kresmir. If he was willing, he would make good bait. It’s a horrible thought, but there are few people the Mafia would go for more eagerly than the only man who had any evidence of memory about them. Come to think about it, they must be wondering about that same thing... they must have wondered how the last couple days have gone by without any mention of this doctor... maybe they thought we’d keep it quiet, and maybe we would’ve, if there really was any evidence... Well, the neuro-scans didn’t help much. We don’t know for sure if he will regain memory of what he saw, which makes using him as a false target dangerous. We can’t let anything happen to him, at all costs. The more Tom thought about this plan, the more sense it seemed to make. It was less about justice now, and more about possibility. He was trying to work out all the angles of every scenario he could think of, the trap could work, he told himself. It was all just psychology, it could be infinitely deep, but remain easy to execute. Heh, if his friends could see the Cop Show guy now, planning a big mob operation. Tom continues to race around in his mind, making sure everything is working fine, until he is interrupted. Tom looks up from his desk as the door opens and closes quickly. A man walks in, and this is one of those men that you take one hard look at, and look away confused. His pale green eyes sweeped the room with a strange look and fell to rest on Tom. His hair was what you noticed first. Strikingly blonde, but with thin white stripes running front to back, windswept. It fell carelessly over his ears and curved down and inwards. A look of toughness, accentuated by a pale white patch on his chin. But that was only the hair. The man looked generally… paranoid, but in a weird, fun sort of way. His age was hard to guess. Could very well be 20 or 40,but probably late 20’s. His hair and expression gave him the vague look of a crazy lion. He was seen around the offices sometimes. He didn’t work for the police force, but rather, directly for the commissioner and city council. He was known for his strange presence and the even stranger things he said. Completely, thoroughly unpredictable, but not dangerous as far as anyone could see. Simply random. His mysterious position of employment was something like that of an agent. What his skills were was a bit of a mystery. He was sometimes seen with a beautiful young woman, pale and dark-haired, who was known as Lulu. This man was known as Acolyte. Not his real name, of course, but some sort of pseudonym he went by. He was as classified as the things he did. And now, he was looking down at Tom. He curled his lips in concentration as he looked around the office, and then, shrugging quickly, he took a seat, put one leg on top of the other, and clasped his hands on them. Seeming to remember why he was there, he spoke with the tone of someone that was a little lost. “So, Harris, I heard about your plan.” Tom just stared at him. Whenever Acolyte spoke, it tended to be about something completely unrelated to anything. And here, he was, discussing a plan. He didn’t look like a guy who would plan something past the next hour. “Yeah…” he continued, his voice seemingly regaining a bit of purpose. “The boss told me about it. He thinks it could work. He’s meeting briefly with some other executive strategists, or whatever they are, trying to plan it out exactly.” He smiled a little, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair. “Off the record, I think it’s a good idea. A trap is the oldest but biggest trick in the book.” Tom found his words. “Well, thanks, but I don’t know exactly what you mean…” Acolyte looked upwards. Tom noticed that he was slimmer than he thought. Strong, but still slim. “Well, what I mean is that… well, think of it this way…” He leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees, his eyes beginning to spark with excitement. “See, the older and bigger the trick is, the more likely they will fall for it, ‘cause, well… they’ll think it can’t be that old or that big for so many people to have fallen for it. See?” He grinned with anticipation while Tom tried to run that through his mind. Acolyte sat back again, looking relaxed. “I don’t remember where I got that from, some sort of movie, maybe. Hey, you ever seen Lucky Number Slevin? I keep telling Lulu to watch that, but she keeps putting it off. Shame, it’s a terrific crime thriller. Great casting, and the dialogue is wonderful…” Tom tried and failed to find the right response, and he usually knew the right things to say. Acolyte spared him the trouble. “Anyways, this plan. The boss asked me for help in it. You too, obviously, he wants to survey the whole thing. He might be using some special forces squad as, like, a dummy force for the trap, or an ambush team or something. Lulu’s helping us out too, we’re there in a “support capacity”, the boss says. I don’t know what he expects us to do, but whatever.” Tom sat back. Now that the details of the plan were in discussion, he might be able to join in. He wondered exactly what this guy did do, after all. He must be pretty damn good at something, but what it is, exactly, eludes Tom. Tom found his voice. “So, I’m looking over this thing? When are we pulling it? The sooner, the better. People are beginning to turn up dead, and the hanging, it doesn’t do any good.” Acolyte laughed carelessly, and stood up. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, good to talk to you Harris, I have to get back now. I don’t know yet how this going to go down, but you’ll be kept posted. I’ll, uh, see you around then.” Acolyte opened the door and gave Tom some funny sort of salute, and then he was gone. Tom went back to running around in his mind, casual words confusing his path. * They had all picked some places to look around in, but none of them expected to find any clues. Toledo took the van, and Vaxis took the two cars, and I took one of the two bikes. We all made our rounds, stopping now and again for closer looks. We knew we would be recognized and signalled if he saw us, but, as expected, we didn’t pick up any sign of him. The Godfather did not want them to find him. As sunset approached, we had all parked in a lot a block away from the plaza where the hanging took place. We walked down there at different times, on slightly different paths. In the growing noise of the anxious crowd, we met up within view of the gallows. We moved away from the majority of the people and stood in a small huddle at one side. We all wore different coats, but we didn’t care so much about the wind. We had all shaken our heads, and we all knew at that point that our search was useless. Well, we didn’t talk right away. I took a moment to process the afternoon. We had just met the remnants of “The Olympians”. It was a day of utter surprise. Alex, my sister… I didn’t get much of a chance to find out how it all happened. She must have got involved in the same way I did… She took the title of Aphrodite not unlike the way I use the name Lotus. They are symbols of the fact that we are not ordinary people. My search was for her, as well. The way she had walked out of the Chamber suddenly made no sense… she must have anticipated meeting us again, maybe today, maybe for longer… And the others, I don’t quite know what to think about them. Stixx and Waterfox seem capable of the things they claim to have done, but the others, only a year or two younger than me, they seem innocent. Zero Flare has the look of a trouble-maker, but not a criminal. And Balore looks like the opposite of a killer. But me… I’m not thought of in the same way, I can’t be… I change the topic of my thoughts to the practical. The matter at hand. The Olympians… the origin story plays in my head, with Alex narrating. The Godfather, one of the founders and leaders of a group that ran the underground for 15 years… for what? A city? And here we are, with the same man leading us, trying to take it within a month? Something really must have changed him 5 years ago. Alpha and Juggernaut, Hades and Zeus… So, 4 of them followed The Godfather, and Balore came in at some point. 4 followed Juggernaut, the apparent mayor, and 2 tried to leave. 1 died, and the other died only a couple days ago. 2 more didn’t take sides… 1 left, and disappeared from knowledge. 1 couldn’t handle it, and was killed somehow. That must have started this, somehow. I know that the remainders don’t know the whole story, but they haven’t told us all that they do know. “We have to find out more.” I said aloud. The others look at me. Vaxis looks away again. “They’re like ghosts, probably.” He answers. “They would’ve had the sense, not to mention the resources, to hide their tracks.” Q shuffles. “Exactly,” he says, “Otherwise, we’d have known about them.” Toledo shrugs. “Considering one of their leaders has been with us for the past few years, we should’ve known about them anyways.” “Makes me wonder what else he hasn’t told us” Q said back. Toledo nodded. Vaxis looked off to the side again. “He must have had a good reason for not telling us.” I know he looks up to The Godfather, but still, he can’t possibly stand by him when he’s nowhere around. “In any case, we don’t know nearly enough. We must know less than anyone involved. If we can’t find Alex and the rest again, we have to find someone who knows, but is still objective.” “Like who?” Toledo crossed his arms. “I don’t even think the terms “ally” and “enemy” apply to the crap we got ourselves into. Who can we go to?” Q cut him off. “Well, she’s right. We don’t know nearly enough, and we can’t be expected to sit around and wait for things to sort themselves out. That doesn’t happen.” I decide to voice the idea I’ve been thinking about. “Well, there’s one person who could help, if we could find him.” They look towards me anxiously. “Alex mentioned that guy, Sedium. Said he was Hermes, I think, on the Olympian council. He left because he saw what was going to happen. We could find him, he might help us.” Vaxis is still looking off to the side. Toledo and Q look at each other. Toledo looks back at me, breathing out. “He’ll be tough to find. A guy like, him, running away from the trouble, he probably hid himself well, kind of like Waterfox.” Q nodded this time. “Still, it’s an idea. We could at least try to find him. Maybe he can help us or something. Worth a try.” “Vaxis” I say. He looks at me, his eyes seem distant. “What do you think?” I ask him. He looks at the ground, and then up again, turning around. “Maybe…” he says quietly. We keep watching him, and he turns towards us. “I guess we can try.” We all nod to each other. “Worth a try…” he finishes. I think we may actually be getting somewhere, but Vaxis seems to prefer not going anywhere in particular. He’s got something on his mind, but no time for it now. “So,” I say, with a rare finality in my voice. “Back to the Chamber?” Q nods, and then looks around at the crowds. They are starting to move towards the gallows now. Realization dawns as the noise of talking increases. Toledo laughs. “Well, we’re already here. Might as well stay for the lynching.” Edited by Vaxis, Jul 26 2009, 12:31 PM.
	Γνώθι Σεαυτόν


Vaxis	Mar 24 2009, 10:07 PM Post #5
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	Chapter 10: Complex Plans Perfect. Now he could tell the police, and they could find him, and that'd be one less criminal on the streets. No more people would have to die! This is what Neko was thinking immediately after he saw a man he knew he recognized in the plaza. Bluish-grey hair, mid-length. He wore a dark coat, but his white outfit showed at the neck, a reminder of a night of fear, of barricading a room and hiding under a desk... Neko usually avoided coming to the hangings, because they were just sick, extreme deterrants. But today, he needed a walk to clear his head. He didn't know it would actually do the trick, though. A woman was lynched. She looked very tired, almost worn down, as if she had been walking non-stop for a few days. Probably no one knew her, let alone had a reason to suspect her. Another useless death, and the mayor never listens. No matter what ideas you believe in, Neko thought with rare anger, no one can justify this. Someone has to do something about it. Well, Neko was thinking these things, until his eyes strayed over a man walking past him. He seemed worried, and wasn`t paying attention to much else. He didn`t see Neko, for one thing, and that was fortunate. See, Neko's memory was jarred, let loose like an overstuffed closet spilling it`s contents on the floor. This man was Mafia scum, the criminal in the TV station. Neko knew also that he couldn`t risk being seen, or he would be killed right then and there, being the only useful witness. As he prepared to call the police, he made sure the man was leaving sight, leaving the crowds. He dialled the unit number as he walked away from the dying noise. A couple recordings and hold messages later: “Yes, uh, Detective Harris`s office please.” * The place is a complete mystery, but it doesn’t seem that way. It’s small, but clean, and there are enough smaller rooms for most of them. The only person inside is Stixx, bending over a cramped desk. The lamp beside him is his greatest tool, as he sees the plans in the dark. Plans. Blueprints, diagrams, schematics... All those nice words just to describe the first stage. Is it the most or least important step, the first one? Either way, it’s all part of the plan. These blueprints diagram various customized handguns. Stixx is quite the enthusiast. Back when he was known as Hephaestus, his designs have influenced the arms industries in ways no one else knows. As he remembers the years of his life, he sees it as one big task. Everything just seemed like a chore, cheating gangs out of their money, robbing loose vaults, all the work done on the council... it makes this seem easy. But it can never be easy enough, can it? Alex is in her room, and the door is closed. Sleeping. She hasn’t slept in a long time. How does she manage to keep everyone together? Ever since she was on the council, she was always the person who tried to hold everything in place, Order for peace, justice for dissension. And then, the split, and things fell into place. Now, Stixx is being overwhelmed with memories... Tracy, maybe the wisest and most generous person ever, a noble woman, found dead after she did the right thing... Mace, a killer with honor, taking his life before the enemy’s eyes, he was a good friend to us... Sedium, always the happy cynic, ideas firm in mind, both mental and digital, now gone into the fog of society... Acolyte, just insane enough so that he wasn’t crazy, a reply for everything, the ultimate speaker... Lulu, always sad, but always hopeful, she understood so much... They all went their own ways, and look where they are now... dead, missing, or with the enemy. And to think of Juggernaut as an enemy, it wasn’t right. It was a pain in Stixx’s entire body, to know that his greatest friend would have to face justice someday. 20 years ago, Stixx had what he wanted in life. He earned all of what he had, his money and power, and his friends. Two great friends. They seemed so opposite, but so close. Alpha was mysterious only to the superficial. He was always interested in mythology, and that’s where The Olympians came from. And Juggernaut, we called him that because he was the strongest guy we knew, but he had talent, kindness, and intelligence beyond most people. All their plans, their blueprints and diagrams and schematics, all the first steps they took... the most or least important. Olympus, the summit of 12 people who were meant to infiltrate and influence every major part of the city’s infrastructure, and every sect of society. There was Zero Flare, only 16 back then, already in control of every high school in the city both through a proxy gang she had set up, and bribery of the administration. She was quite popular in school, and none of her friends knew that she could have any of them killed by writing the principal a letter. There was Waterfox, always tired and laughing, no one knew he was legally in possession of not only the identities but also the properties of half of the old city council, not to mention the dozen unknowing alibis he had set up. To him, appearances were just a fence to be jumped. It’s getting late, but Stixx’s memories don’t care for time. He thinks of Alex, who was rightly named after the goddess of beauty. She single-handedly planned out, at the same time, both the acquiring of every citizen’s DNA, as well as the lower side’s biker gang war diversion that ended up with half the police under Olympian control. And Balore... never an Olympian, but we took him in after he tried looking for his brother, Acolyte. He wasn’t like him, and that is probably a good thing. Balore, steady and stable. The only one who doesn’t think too little or too much. And a good fighter, he’s proven. He spends his weekends saving people from getting attacked downtown. He’s impacted local crime rates, it’s a good thing he didn’t follow his brother. 5 years ago, the 12 of us were the best planners there were. Planning, planning... we used everything, physical, mental, emotional... people and places were tools for us, but why? What for? The greater good? Freedom of rights? Did we really think we could end injustice by bending what little justice was left? Sedium practically owned half the internet, Lulu and Acolyte together ran downtown with ease. Tracy had the health care, Mace had the emergency services... Alpha, Juggernaut, and Alicia, between them, knew about every act of crime and every political plan that was ever thought up. All we did was plan it out, and things happened for us. Backup over backup, it was near infinite. Acolyte believed it truly was infinite, and Lulu thought it was almost nothing, near zero. We ruled this city, building it up for 20 years, and then, in that one instance 5 years ago, it had peaked. Everyone had gone above and beyond, the only question was whether we would go public or remain hidden. You know how it goes... division, and fighting. And then, Hera fell from Olympus. It devastated everyone, Alicia was the nicest of us all, by far. And Alpha and Juggernaut, they changed, they went to the extremes of whatever they already were. Alicia’s death was a mystery, and only two people know the truth. It’s saddening beyond anyone’s perception. We planned and planned, and things happened, both good and bad. But look where it is now, how we’ve ended up. Now, Alpha’s prodigy, his little Mafia, are just killers, brutal and unforgiving. Dark pasts and scarred lives. We never realized, back then, that we were going to make things so easy for them. 20 years ago, we should have realized... we were planning the end of society as we knew it, and planning a new, terrifying one. We were designing a death machine. A minute more of silent though, and then Stixx coughs and goes back to the weapons blueprints. Balore and Zero Flare were on the roof, training. No need to worry, the building was one of the highest downtown, they wouldn’t be seen. It was only a little cold today, even up there. Lucky weather, to be sure, probably the last warm day. Stixx and Alex were downstairs, and Waterfox was out somewhere, doing recon. And on the roof, they trained. Just light blows, nothing serious. It wasn’t a fight, after all, just two friends. They had unique styles, definitely, and they were beginning to notice it about each other. Balore’s blocks were solid, he was hard to get past with quick kicks, and Zero’s kicks were usually quick. Then, she started going stronger, with powerful roundhouses. Balore stumbled, once, then twice. Then, he lunged forwards with a few of his own, two jabs, both blocked, and two side kicks. The first was aimed for the gut, and was sidestepped. The second was an instant after, as his leg snapped upwards and to her new position, aimed for the head. She blocked it overhead while ducking, and then, she anticipated his next move. He would try to land one with his other leg, while twisting in the air. If it landed, he would follow-up with two more low jabs. She recognized his subtle movements now. So, as he tried to pull through and out of the block with a roundhouse, she stood up and blocked it with ease, and then twisted one arm around his leg and tripped up the other leg, which he just put on the ground. He fell as she let go, and landed hard on the mats. He took a moment or two to get his breath back, and then looked up at her, propping himself up on his elbows. “You knew!” She smiled and placed her hands on her hips. Her hair glowed red beautifully, from his angle. “Of course I knew, you landed it the last two times. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.” He cocked his head to one side and nodded, his eyes on a tiny cut on one hand. “Well, it was only because of my footing.” “Oh really?” Zero replied. Balore smiled as she went on. “Considering I tripped you, it is pretty safe to say that your footing was terrible.” “Yeah, but I planned it.” “What, falling down?” His expression became jokingly serious. “Yep. I needed the right angle. For example...” He trailed off, and without warning, his arm shot out, snake-like, grabbed her ankle, and tripped her. She fell similarly, right beside him on the mat. He laughed as she sat up. She looked shocked at first, but she stated to smile as he laughed harder. “You asshole!” she said. Balore stood up and helped her to her feet, they stood in the light wind only a few seconds more, and then walked towards the stairs. The fight reminded him of one he was in not too long ago. “You know,” he started, “You fight like her, that Lotus girl. “Really?” she said back. “Yeah. You both change out speed for power when you try to get past the cross-blocks. Except she was definitely stronger.” She smirked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Right. Well, she didn’t trip you. And don’t pull that “I was going easy on you” crap.” He laughed again. “Okay, I won’t say it. You can just be left wondering.” She laughed too, and the two of them walked down the empty hallway. No doors, nothing. Not until the end. Balore’s tone became more serious. “They’re different, those 4, aren’t they?” Zero didn’t speak right away. “Yeah, they are. They don’t seem to care about much. We’ve seen them on those nights, they just kill without thinking.” Balore sighed in response. “I know. And Alpha, “The Godfather”... it’s not right. I knew him less than anyone else, and it’s still weird.” The end of the hall approaches. One door, to the apartment where they were staying. It’s definitely no Chamber. Zero was quiet. “Can they really help us?” “I think they can, somehow. I just don’t know if they will." He opens the door and they head inside. Stixx is filing away some papers. He says nothing as they head to their rooms. “Alex is sleeping?” Zero said. Stixx nods. Balore closes the door to his room. Zero lingers at her room. “Is... she really her sister? What happened to them?” Stixx turned around and face her. He answered, his voice sounding older than it ever has. “Too much happened. Don’t worry about it.” Zero knew Stixx enough to know when the conversation ended. She went to bed, and Stixx was left alone with his thoughts and his plans, for what good they did. * And so we stand in the chamber, bathed in the semi-light of the aquarium wall. It would be so serene, if it weren’t for the radical ideas we were forming. Without The Godfather, we’re going haywire. Lotus has it firmly set the objective of tracking down Sedium, the only living Olympian member whose fate is unknown. And now we know that we’re up against more than just the police this time, we’re up against enemies, rivals. Killers with a purpose, that’s a dangerous combination. Q is quiet again. He ranted for a bit after that woman was hanged. He kept talking about the state of the world and stuff like that. Toledo has been acting differently lately. I asked him about it, but then he said I was doing the same thing. No, I’m not any different, I have only one reason to be and it doesn’t bother me much. I think we’ve all been affected severely by The Godfather’s disappearance, even if we don’t know it. I wonder how well the others knew him... we never enter each other’s personal lives, it messes everything up. Keep things simple. I just noticed that the others are talking. Lotus is on the computer, trying to find any leads on “The Lost Olympian”. It’ll be hard, considering all we know about him was that he used the name Sedium, and that his title on their council was Hermes. Not nearly enough to go on. Toledo is saying that we should find The Godfather, because he can help us from there. Q thinks we should find Alex her group. Lotus says we should keep looking for information. Me? I think everyone is getting a little too restless. We’ll hear from someone soon if we just wait, so why try to control matters? We have to obey our leader’s final order, to continue what he started. Night is coming, and someone has to die. “We can do more out there than in here!” Toledo’s voice was raised, but Lotus remained stationary. She never showed signs of backing down, or of stepping up, for that matter. Things really are changing. “We’re taking unnecessary risks, going out now when the police are in full force around every place The Godfather would possibly be. It’s pointless.” Her voice remained calm, but Toledo, almost shouting, went on. “What’s pointless is sitting here trying to find someone we can’t possibly get to! What are we supposed to do, just find him on Google or something? I have this funny feeling that The Olympians would have tried not to tell the world about themselves.” Q came in. “That is, until Juggernaut planned on going public. They had the resources and the force in arms to do it. He’s mayor now, right? He runs the place, there has to be links to him and the others.” Toledo looked shocked. “What, you too? You really think we can find someone who ran away from an underground society 5 years ago? Seriously guys, and I’m being logical for once!” Lotus was sitting still. “It’s a question of what’s safer, and we can’t get caught if we don’t do something foolish like walking outside looking for other criminals.” Q brushed his hair to one side. “Well, we can look for the others. Alex, Stixx, and them. They’ve kept safe all this time, and they know who Sedium is. If we find them, they can help us! I think you’ll agree that 9 people is better than 4.” Toledo fell back on the couch in exasperation. “The Godfather counts as 10 people on his own, and like Alex said. He knows more about this whole situation than anyone else. Vaxis, you agree, right? We can’t do anything without him!” I don’t know what answer he expects to get out of me... I just stare at him and the others for a moment. Should I bother thinking carefully about my response? “Maybe, maybe not.” I say. “Personally, we should lie low during the day. Answers prevent themselves when things quiet down. We need to make sure we’re not being watched or followed or something else. The mayor knows now that The remaining Olympians are around, we could get caught up in their mess.” Toledo just laughed at the ceiling, his hand on his forehead. Q sat back in his seat. Lotus spoke up this time. “We should lie low during the night too, there’s not much we can do. Alex said it was best if we waited, but why go killing again?” “The Godfather said we should keep doing what we have been doing.” I say back. “And it doesn’t bother you that the take-over was just his way of getting revenge on his enemy?” Lotus said. She’s staring at us all intently. A very unnerving stare. “Why should that matter? It’s not our problem, it’s theirs! Now we’re apparently supposed to quite everything we tried to accomplish. So why did we all get into this in the first place, then?” Lotus didn’t say anything. Q stood up and paced around the couch. “So it’s a question of trust and loyalty then. Our leader, or theirs.” Lotus stood up now, too. Her voice was louder. “Why should we have to choose between the two? The only way we can help them both without getting ourselves shot is by finding out more about this!” She’s rarely this involved in arguments. “We know someone who hasn’t picked sides, someone who can help us. Why not find him.” “How do we know he’s not dead, or helping the mayor?” Toledo asked. Lotus sat back down. It was true, we had no idea what had happened to him in the last 5 years. For all we knew, it could be a totally pointless search. But... I don’t think Sed would join someone who favoured open fighting to secrecy... “He’s not on their side, and I don’t think he’s dead either.” “How can you be sure?” Q asked. Unfortunately, my duty as narrator pushed something from my mind; I forgot to tell you that I knew him. “I knew Sedium, years ago. We were good friends.” Even Toledo’s not laughing. Hopefully, they realize that I’m telling the truth. Chapter 11: The Writer I try to understand, and I expect others to give some effort as well. I have spent the better part of my life trying to get inside the minds of others. It sounds so immoral, doesn’t it? No, I just want to know. I am attracted to sorrow and anger, obsessed with it. I have kept those feelings in check, so I want to know why everyone else is struggling. When I think of our little Mafia, nothing comes to mind. No emotions or anything. That is not to say, however, that I have no personality. I’m the same person I was years ago, but The Godfather, the publisher, has shaped my mind, to better see reality. I’m The Writer. Simply put, writing gets things done in ways that acting, music and art never can. You may feel something inside you when you see a certain movie, or listen to a certain song, or look at a certain painting or sculpture. Power and love, right? Unable to destroy or corrupt, right? Even when things make you feel sad, it feels good. Those are false emotions. Writing gets it done. When you read and agree, you follow. The author becomes your leader, your visionary commander. You play out the story, the way you want it, and it’s so simple, so simple. And it will become routine, the easiest thing in the world. Complexity is a waste, and change is hard to predict. So I write. I write this, and you feel something. You relate to yourself maybe, or you get an idea for a story of your own, or maybe you just wonder about why I’m writing all this. In either case, it gets things done. I try to understand, and now you are one step closer. I’m not saying I get it, because no one does, or ever will. I’m just saying that I try, and no one else seems to care. But at the very least, I have the Mafia. Q, Lotus, and Toledo, they mean everything to me, and The Godfather too. In a way, we do understand it all, everything, the world, life and death. We get it. We all have our own ways of looking at things, of making them simple and routine. And in that view, we are the overseers. We know what’s happening and why. It’s all about perspective, and in this room, even as we argue, 4 perspectives, 4 unique views and ideas, all clash together in an endless battle. It’s the Mafia game... no one can win, because the loser will not admit defeat. Oh yeah, Sedium. Well, I knew him, way back. I knew it was him when Alex mentioned his name. I decided I wouldn’t have to bring it up, since he’s disappeared, but now, we may have to find him. I haven’t seen him in years... and I never knew he would get into this sort of thing... He only would have been about 20 when Olympus splintered, but then, he’s done things with a computer that frankly confuses the hell out of me. So I tell the rest the same thing, and they think it might’ve been important to know earlier. When you think about it, it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference. Something is not right. Toledo is full of intent. His face seems strong and noble in the light... it must be an optical illusion. He wants to find The Godfather, and set things right. Q is pacing quickly, or stopping and staring at the floor. He’s nervous and restless, I know it. Not full of joy or sorrow anymore. He wants to find Alex and the rest. Lotus is hyperactive, whispering quickly to herself and scanning every lead on the internet that she knows. Her eyes are blazing wildly, from left to right and back again. She wants information, an answer to 20 years of blood. What do I want? What’s different about me? Not much, I think. I need to take care of the immediate problems, as always. Anyone who knows us that shouldn’t. I was told to stay quiet, but to continue the work. I have to follow both orders. I am going to look for balance tonight, and the rest can do what they want. Something is definitely not right. In fact, something is horribly wrong. As I continue to sit in this armchair, looking over my gun and waiting for things to grow silent, they get louder instead. Shouting from all sides... I realize that even I am shouting, but I don’t exactly know what or why. They don’t see things my way, but I understand their reasons. We’re arguing, I’m not listening. Something in everyone’s eyes tell me that the feeling is in everyone. We no longer care for the views of others, because no one survives by being so easily influenced. Toledo has taken out his gun and hidden it several times already. Something about his eyes reminds of Mace’s eyes, of what little I saw of them. Toledo slowly backed up to the door and turned around, his coat whipping around him perfectly. He is going out to search tonight. Oddly, I get the feeling that he means no harm to anybody. A distant rumble above us indicates that he has taken one of the bikes. Only a minute later, Q has gotten up too. He tells us he will keep in contact, but whether he wants to go solo or not is lost on me. His expression is strange to me, for once. He’s normally so neat, and he doesn’t seem to care anymore. He hasn’t even looked at his gun. He walked slowly up the stairs, only vaguely aware of what he was doing at all. Another rumbling engine... the van, I recognize it. And in her turn, Lotus is leaving. I watch as she gathers up all her equipment, loads her gun, and takes one last look at the room around. She looks sad, I think. The third to leave and search for someone, as full of intent as the two who are gone already. She runs up the stairs. A third rumble, and it is the smaller car. I don’t know why I’m still sitting in this chair, it’s uncomfortable. I’m thirsty, but I don’t feel like drinking anything. I know I have to kill someone tonight, but I don’t feel like even thinking about bullets for the rest of my lifetime. I can continue to read Hamlet... no, I started Act V, and I already know how it ends. What do I care about at the moment? Simplicity and routine, of course. Makes sense, it’s the easiest and most sensible thing. So, I get out of my chair and grab my gun, and a drink right after. Still no use thinking about Hamlet though. Maybe Q can start reading it now. And with that thought, I realize what just happened. They’re gone, going their own ways. I don’t know how long it will be before the 4 of us will be in the room again. A frightening thought. Now I’m feeling paranoid, like them. Now I’m thinking of searching, like them. Now I want to leave. Find or kill? Both. Who should I focus on? Alex said the medic doesn’t remember me thanks to Balore’s injection. Should I take the chance? If I can focus on someone more important, then yes. But it doesn’t matter much. Besides, how do you measure someone’s wealth. It will just have to be someone random tonight, that will less leave out any chance of interference. Only me and a corpse tonight. I’ll make it slightly loud, and a bit bloody. The city needs to remember again. There’s nothing funny about what happened today, and there’s no one to appreciate the effect, but I laugh anyways, my best laugh ever. * Waterfox was in a large mall when he answered the call on his cell phone. It was a good place to be, because there was a lot of people and noise, and, considering, this was his personal phone, the call would have to be important. “Hello?” He said. “You know, Poseidon was also the god of earthquakes.” The voice registered with Waterfox in about 3 second’s time. It was Acolyte. He got the number somehow... probably wasn’t that hard. “Yeah, and Apollo was the god of music and poetry too. “ Waterfox said back. “But people like us, we like elements. All the basics, right? Nothing like a little sea and sun.” Waterfox thought for a couple seconds. “I’ll keep out the fire if you keep out the moon.” Acolyte sounded happy. “Mmhmm. Just you and me. Speaking of, how is Stixx doing these days?” Waterfox knew how Acolyte was. “Good, good. I think he wants to kill you personally. How’s Lulu?” “Oh, she’s fine. Watching TV or something. There’s not a single person she wants to kill.” “Good to hear.” Waterfox was on the upper floor now. “They’re just like Hephaestus and Artemis then.” Acolyte spoke with the usual tone of being slightly busy. “Yep. So, since we won’t tell each other what our plans are, I figure we should get right to the intimidation. You can go first if you want.” Waterfox smiled. “Thanks. Well, at the moment, I’m following this guy around. It’s day 3 of it, and in one more, I think I’ll have his city hall access information.” “Ooh, nice.” “Well, I do try. Your turn.” “Well, at the moment, I’m currently talking to that same person on his phone as I talk to you, telling him how foolish you are to think you can get what you want within one day.” Waterfox paused. His target was, in fact, using his phone. “Well, that would indeed be intimidating, if it were true.” Acolyte’s tone remained the same. “Truth isn’t a viewpoint. Regardless, if you’re good at what you do, you’ll know tomorrow, right?” “I guess it would be stupid to ask you if you really set this guy up to waste my time, huh?” Waterfox sounded a little more tired. “No, but I’d be stupid if I told you only one answer. But think about this situation, and you’ll realize that there are 4 obvious and significant possibilities. Too may for you to guess correctly.” Waterfox paused again. His target was now sitting at a cafe. Waterfox took a seat at an empty bench nearby. “4? So, maybe you’re completely bluffing, and I’m doing the right thing. Or, you’re right, and it was all a set-up. Or, he’s in league with you, but doesn’t know that I’m following him. Or, you’re only observing the situation, and he still doesn’t know.” “Sounds about right.” Acolyte answered. Waterfox laughed quietly. “You should think more about what you claim. If I guess on what I should do tomorrow about him, I have a 75% chance of doing the right thing.” Acolyte was silent this time, and Waterfox waited patiently. “You know, I guess you’re right. The odds are in your favour. Well, trust to luck then. Unfortunately, I know the truth of it, and truth is not a viewpoint.” Waterfox was used to this kind of talk from him, from back on the council. Acolyte loved to confuse people like this. Acolyte continued. “You probably thought that my pausing during the conversation was a give-away. If you trust to luck, then you will think your odds improve further. You’re a good risk-taker.” “And you’re a good talker,” Waterfox said back, “But not too good a listener.” His voice sounded more hostile. “I won’t care so much about being fooled, because either way, I’m getting what I want out of this. I expect to see you tomorrow, somewhere. We’re enemies, after all.” Acolyte sighed on the other end. “Your problem, Fox, is that you’re theatrical, but without style. You talk without thinking the right amount. Go ahead and hide, knowing that it’s not just your time I’m wasting. Oh, and Lulu says hi.” He hung up after. Waterfox waited, just to make sure, and then put his phone away. He looked over at the target, who was still drinking his coffee. The man waved at him and smiled. Waterfox gave a lazy wave back and left the mall, swearing under his breath. * It wasn’t that far way when Acolyte had hung up. Acolyte was wondering if he should’ve said those things to Waterfox, because even though they were true, he didn’t really feel like saying them. All part of the plan, right? He looked at the mirror in the bathroom of the penthouse. His features were stern and his eyes were cautious. Those must have been acquired somehow, because he was never very stern or cautious. His hair, golden and striped with white made people unaware of what kind of person he really was, which was what he aimed for. In addition, his long, curling sideburns added a layer of toughness that no one else noticed at first view. Acolyte left the bathroom and walked back into the main living room. And quite the living room it was... the best penthouse in the city, courtesy of the mayor. Juggernaut wasn’t really a good name for him... Zeus sounded better, but that didn’t do it either. The room itself was wide and semi-circular. It was pure luxury, the wide curved window that stretched to the ceiling, the TV that sat in front of a large bit of it, the couches spread out everywhere, and a bar at either end, along with a kitchen that basically cooked it’s own food. Acolyte walked towards this kitchen and began preparing some pasta. Yeah. He cooked. Why not? After all, it’s very useful to know. Why not know it? The TV was on, and on the couch, directly in the middle, Lulu was sitting, looking relaxed. Lulu was 25 or so, a bit younger than Acolyte. She was very pretty, but she was one of those people you looked at and felt an urge to know and understand. Ironic, really. Her hair was dark, and short. Just long enough to hang in front of her wide, bright eyes. Her expression was almost constant, but impossible to analyze. She seemed to be able to see things others didn’t. She was what some people would call “zen”. Wiser than anyone could guess, and though she probably wouldn’t mind if the Earth decided to shatter itself around her, she would be the one who could predict it. A tribal mark on her arm was the next thing you would notice. Acolyte and Lulu. Like acid green and royal purple. Opposite in their similarities, and identical in their differences. So well did they compliment each other, that they would have made quite a couple, and they were, at least, great friends. Not many would suspect these two young people of being co-founders and enforcers of the new era. And Juggernaut, their captain. But this was beyond leader and followers. These three have transcended such boundaries... the common mantra of people who were labelled as enemies. The typical problem is that these boundaries and labels tend to be invisible from one side, sometimes both. Anyways, time to plan that trap that Tom Harris came up with. A real stroke of luck, because not only would it work, but it wasn’t something they had to risk revealing on their own. And the doctor would make good bait. At least no one would get hurt. * And now I stand outside of a small bar near the residential blocks by the south bridge. All just small businesses around here, and the only other places around are Chinese restaurants and mostly empty studio apartments. I have to kill someone tonight, but I must also make a good presentation. I already know that there’s only 3 people inside. The bartender, an older man talking drunkenly to himself, and a biker couple sharing some sort of moment. The bathrooms are empty, the streets are empty at this time. No need for a mask tonight, they won’t last long, and they won’t get away. My gun is loaded, and my conscience is clean, because guilt is something that can, in fact, be pushed away. Shame? No, but I am not shameful. Guilt, yes. And I am guilty, but it doesn’t bother me. That was the thought that I brought with me into the bar. No need for an overly complicated plan, it shouldn’t take more than half a minute, and then a bit of time afterwards to prepare an arrangement and ensure nothing leaves any clues. For some reason, Sedium pops into my head. I could’ve went with Lotus to find him... no, the work has to keep going, or we would be here for no reason. The doors shut behind me. The bartender looks up only for half a second, and then looks back down under the counter, his bald patch shining in the orange light. The couple in the corner look at me for a couple seconds longer, and then go back to their own little world, completely out of mood in leather jackets and crude tattoos. My hand grasps the .44 in my pocket. Loud enough for anyone outside too hear, but no one is walking outside. Only a car every minute or so. These people, their fates were sealed as soon as I walked inside. So, hiding my gun, I walk up to the bar. When the bartender realized that I wasn’t lost, he looked up again, his questioning expression asking what I wanted. I’ve always been amazed by people too lazy to just talk. “A Midnight Calling.” I say. He stares at me with a raised eyebrow. “Haven’t heard of it. What kind of drink is that supposed to be?” “I didn’t say it was a drink. Besides, it’s not for me, it’s for you.” Both his eyebrows raised this time, and for the last time. So, I take the gun out of my pocket and hold it a couple inches in front of my face. He only has half a second to step back in surprise before I put a bullet in his head... a Midnight Calling. Not too messy. Loud as expected, but less blood. Considering the range, only a small amount of blood splattered backwards from his face, and none got on me. He fell back against the shelves and slid to the floor. I think it’s some sort of killer’s convention; the bartender always gets one in the head. The old drunk is only vaguely aware that I even exist, so the couple is the next threat. They both stand up, and the man, shaved, but sporting quite a stylish goatee, I must say, reaches for a gun in his back pocket. Bad place to keep one. He gets two in the chest, and falls back in his seat, blood dripping onto his jacket, shining black now. I’m surprised; his girl doesn’t show utmost fear. Maybe she’s on drugs or something. Am I being judgemental? Don’t worry about it. She has only taken one step towards the door when I shoot her as well, twice. One would’ve done, she was quite close. Either way, she falls back a few feet and crashes to the floor. The old man at the opposite side is stirring now. I walk towards him. He’s stopped muttering to no one in particular, and he’s looking at me like I’m not holding a gun. Well, as you can probably guess, he’s dead now too. I told you it would be quick and easy. I’m not here to please you with action and gun fighting. Maybe next time. I am, after all, A writer. I’m here to educate, right? Well, there’s not much to clean up. I think I’ll just leave everyone slumped on the floor. I might as well have a small bit of whiskey before I go. Not that I’m a big whisky fan, but every now and then, you know? Well, time to go. I reload out of reflex, since the bar is now certified void of other life. I smash the windows in the door as well, just because. Maybe it’ll speed up the morning discovery when someone walks by. And no note either, not tonight. And not just because I now bear the knowledge that it’s completely expected, but the citizens have figured out by now what’s going on. My cell phone rang before I got back into the car. Edited by Vaxis**, Apr 22 2009, 09:06 PM.
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Vaxis	Apr 7 2009, 09:29 PM Post #6
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	Chapter 12: Game Time As Vaxis answered his phone and spoke with someone he had never met before, 3 people he knew quite well were out in the night, trying to find the people they were searching for. Another person that he knew, but not quite well, was also searching, and he would not accept failure. And so, this man stood in on the sidewalk, looking up at city hall and savouring his moment of rest after the 3-mile walk. After a few seconds of stillness, he kept walking, his eyes darting around at every possible angle. After the amount of time he’s spent in the underworld of humanity, you begin to watch for certain things. There are three things that should always be observed... what’s missing, what’s appeared, and what’s moved. The human eye tends not to notice change in case it actually witnesses the change happen. Therefore, in a foreign environment, one must take special care with observation. But this is no recon job, this is a search and interrogate in hostile territory. His eyes always look sinister, but this is a calm man. His hair was kept slicked back, always. A habit, maybe. The trenchcoat was more practical. The scar was just a reminder of an old mistake. In reality, that mistake wasn’t that long ago... it isn’t history, not yet. Quite a reminder. The Godfather reached the steps to the front door of city hall. If it’s anything like it used to be, he would’ve been noticed about 6 minutes before now, and that was with old security systems. Obviously, no one has tried to stop him yet. No, he has to go in, he has to give them reason, as if walking around in daylight wasn’t reason enough. He reaches for the doorknob, wearing gloves, of course. He pulls the door open, and steps in. His shoes are clean, no shoeprints. His gun is custom-made, ready in hand. But what does it all amount to? He doesn’t wear a mask, and the important people know he’s there. A grand hall inside, but no one is to be seen. It’s like a haunted castle... you know someone is hiding in wait. So, the Godfather steps onto the first decorative tile and stops. He takes out his weapon... but not an ordinary gun. No need to kill anyone, the underworld is full to the brim anyways. He should know, being Hades... His weapon looks a little odd, almost like an ordinary handgun, but the trigger is highly modernized, and the slide has been removed and replaced by a small, high-voltage battery. Also, the barrel has been entirely customized, short and wide, with tiny capacitors built in. The Godfather stands in the lobby of city hall, and no one comes to greet him. Half of the lights are on, and no alarm seems to be activated. Game time. He walks forward quickly, then breaks into a run. He runs across the hall, low and completely in form, with his coat flapping about him like broken bird wings. As he neared the stairs, two bodyguards flung themselves out of doors on either side, rolling into the center of the room. They lifted up into a crouch, holding their weapons with two hands. The Godfather slid across the floor towards them, firing at both of them with perfect accuracy. Two thin blue bolts of electricity snaked like lightning towards them, and both guards were hit in the chest. His weapon made a small whirring noise as it recharged, and both guards shook uncontrollably before hitting the ground unconscious. He got up swiftly and began leaping up the stairs, three steps at a time. Guards came out of doors bordering the upper level. One of them even lasted 3 seconds before the Godfather stunned him. He continued into the next hall. He kicked open the door, but waited beside it. After a few bullets passed through the door, vainly searching for him, The Godfather spun across, sending two more streams of current down the hall. Both found their mark, attracted by the oblivious human bodies. The guards coursed with energy and collapsed. The Godfather ran down the hall, rolling past doors on either side and stunning the bodyguards who stepped out of them. End of the hall. Elevator. He pushed the up button and held up his weapon to the steel doors. As soon as they slid open, he fired, sending a beam through the crack between the opening doors, hitting the head of the guard waiting inside. Third floor, please. The doors shut and The Godfather took the time to contemplate what he would do when they opened. Waiting out of sight when the doors open was clichéd, and easy to counter. Crouching and preparing to aim was still dangerous, and bursting out of the doors into a roll was suicide. Okay, he’ll just wait. After all, he must have been expected to get wherever he wanted. So, the doors opened and he stepped out, his hands in his pockets. The guards waiting for him didn’t fire. In fact, they all lowered their weapons. The one in the middle turned sideways and jerked his head in the other direction, motioning for him to follow. The Godfather strode calmly behind him. The guard opened a large set of double doors, and then he took his squad down the hall and out of sight. The Godfather stepped into the wide office and looked his best friend and his mortal enemy in the eyes. In this room, he was Alpha, he had to be. He had to defend against history with his own. He will make offence and defence the same. Juggernaut, the Omega, was built powerfully, but he looked serene with his hands clasped in front of him. He looked the figure of a president, his hair short and neatly trimmed, a hint of white just above his ears. Everything about him was stern. His suit was perfectly clean and tailored, emphasizing his shape. In reality, Alpha was only a little less muscular, and only a little shorter. Alpha went right up to one of the comfortable chairs in front of the desk and sat down, crossing his arms and looking around the room. Everything was perfect. The curtains, the rug, the couches and side tables, the cabinets and drawers... A perfect mayoral den. And so he found something to start the conversation with. “It’s a little bright in here, isn’t it?” Juggernaut sat back in place and looked around as well. “Either it’s bright or it’s dark. Doesn’t matter much to me.” Alpha nodded mockingly, and sighed. “So, have you been keeping up on the news in the last few days?” “Of course,” Juggernaut said, laughing. “I make the news.” “Not all of it.” Alpha said back. “I make a good share of it too. I thought I should tell you personally.” “I don’t suppose a phone call would’ve been good enough.” “Not really. It’s been almost 5 years, so I thought it’d make a good reunion anyways.” The room became instantly tense as two bleeding egos rose up to battle. If human emotion was visible, you’d be able to see two spirits fighting to the death upon that desk. Alpha spoke again. “So, why was I the only one that lost everything? And why did I lose it to you, after everything we’ve been through?” Juggernaut scowled at him. “Maybe you should tell me first; what makes you think you were the only one that lost?” Alpha shook his head. “You didn’t lose. You can’t lose what you never had. The things I had, you tried to take from me, and now, I’m here to figure out what we’re going to do about it.” “Do you feel like walking away from another meeting with a scar fresh on your face?” Their egos were clutching at their wounds. Alpha’s empty expression began to contort in anger. “We were friends, above everyone else. Me, you, and Stixx, and look at what you did.” Juggernaut sighed in exasperation as Alpha continued.“I was going to create a new age...” he said, “and you chewed it up and spat it out in front of me!” Juggernaut stood up. “You never accept the finality of it... that was our purpose! We spent 20 years working towards it, and you just wanted to keep it at the bottom of the barrel. Look where I am now!” Alpha laughed grimly, a very harsh noise. “Yes, look where you are, Mr. Mayor. Is that all you wanted? Just power? Then tell me why Alicia had to die.” Tense beyond any reasoning. The egos were dealt mortal blows. Juggernaut spoke very quietly. :”t wasn’t me, and it wasn’t you. It was both of us, you know that. The way of the world.” Alpha stood up, kicking his chair off to the side. His fists shaking, he wasn’t the calm and collected Godfather anymore. “How could it be both of us? You took her from me! What we had was something you could never understand, and you never will!” Juggernaut sat back down, looking oddly sad. “I’m not going to yell in your face that I did understand, but I did. And I still do. It was both of us, and you’re blind to it.” Alpha stood there still. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out. He sat down as well, as their egos retreated from battle. Alpha spoke up. “Try and pull out of this game, because you don’t have much time left.” Juggernaut didn’t look up from the papers on his desk. “I know about your trump card. I know about your little friends that run around every night doing your work for you.” Alpha nodded. “Just because you know about them doesn’t mean they won’t be a good trump card. Please try and watch yourself, I want to be the one to kill you, once you give me reason.” “Have you heard anything about the boy yet?” Juggernaut asked. “No. We don’t know whose he is.” “And I’m not sure I want to even find out.” “Well then, I guess I just won’t tell you when I eventually discover it.” Juggernaut looked up from his papers, and his expression became instantly serious. “It’s good that you came here anyways, I have some interesting news, and news that I didn’t make, or you.” Alpha was expressionless again. “Do tell.” “Krimtech is setting up shop here.” Alpha looked genuinely surprised. “... You think Cronus is going to get involved?” “Definitely. Something very good or very bad is going to happen soon... I have a feeling we might be meeting him this time, since the new Krimtech is also doubling as an executive office.” Alpha stood up. “Interesting news. Time for me to go now. Goodbye.” “That’s not all.” Juggernaut called after him. “Oh?” Alpha replied, still walking out into the hall. “Someone else going to pay a visit?” “Maybe, I only heard the name going around.” “Who is it?” “Jack Silver.” Alpha stopped and turned around, looking very confused and very shocked. “He’s... coming here? Why? Not because of us, we’re nothing to him!” Juggernaut looked very grave. “It’s only what I heard. You better tell your friends about him, or they won’t know what hit them.” Alpha walked out into the hall again, faster this time. “Cronus and J. Silver... what’s happening?” “It’s our new age, working like it should.” *** Q found Alex later that day. Well, Alex found him. He had parked at a restaurant for a burger and fries, and came out to see her leaning against his van. Someone like that, so pretty, and so clever, and so kind. What a combination. Q awkwardly wiped a bit of grease from the corner of his mouth. Moments like this were able to drive sorrow right out of his mind and into the air. He smiled, and then the van door opened and Zero Flare stepped out. Q’s heart leaped, to his great surprise. Something about the way she just appeared was so unexpected, but not unwelcome. Sorrow was blasted out of the air and into space. “Hi.” He started. “I mean, I don’t really know what to say. You people seem to be everywhere we think you won’t be.” “That means we’re good at what we do.” Alex said back, as Zero laughed. “Maybe if you think we’re nowhere, we’ll be everywhere.” “I’m not sure about that... anyways, I need your help.” “That’s right you do.” Zero said casually. Her hair was shining crimson in this light, very beautiful. “We saw The Godfather go into city hall and come out later. We don’t know what happened.” Q double-checked to make sure there was no grease anywhere near his mouth, and he felt himself go a little bit red. Regain pose, he thought to himself. At moments like this, he also often forgot the tattoo around his eye. Filled with new confidence and the shame of it, he spoke again. “Our group has split paths for the time being. Lotus is trying to find the Sedium person you mentioned, because he’s the best lead we have, she says. Then Vaxis says he knew the guy from before. Vaxis himself has no plan at all except for killing every night again. And Toledo’s gone after the Godfather. That’s right I need help.” Zero smiled, and Alex walked around to the driver’s side of the van. “You know, we always called him Alpha... a much better name. Anyways, hop in. If you’ve got a game plan, tell me on the way.” Q climbed into the van next to Zero. He had never really imagined himself in this situation before. Then, he reminded himself that imagination doesn’t ever do much good. Then, he reminded himself that maybe it does. Alex interrupted his thoughts. “The rest of us are watching the police carefully. They’re planning something, and we’re going to find out what. Maybe you’ll get to meet the sun and moon.” Zero noticed Q’s puzzled look at this statement and explained. “Apollo and Artemis, deities of the sun and moon. That would be Acolyte and Lulu.” “Oh...” Q said. “And they work for Juggernaut, right? So they’re sort of our enemies?” Alex made a turn onto a quiet street as she talked over her shoulder. “You could say that. They were always a little different, even by our standards. Acolyte was said to be hypomanic, which would explain his constant high, absorbed in grandeur and his own racing thoughts. And Lulu was rumoured to be dysthymic, which would explain her constant low, always quiet and passive.” Q ran these words through his head. He was up against people who were possibly mentally ill. Alex continued. “Don’t hold too much stock by all that, though. They were always good people, they just had... radical views. But it also meant that they were always right in what they did, in their own minds.” Q thought instantly of Vaxis when he heard this, and then of himself. Memories came back to him, memories of 4 years ago. Fleeting images of a brightly lit stage, a girl lying bruised in a hospital bed, a newspaper clipping stained with tears, an old hunting rifle, and through it’s sights he saw... No. You don’t dwell on it like that. Leave it. His mind was telling itself to block it out. You’re right, bad thoughts. Forget the circumstance, but remember the purpose. Q was reminding himself exactly who he was. You’re The Actor. You play out life, a parody. You know, it is very sad and very real. Acknowledge it, but work from it. Stay straight and do not stray from the path. His tattoo was supposed to be about seeing things from both ways. Had he ever really done that? * Acolyte and Lulu looked the same as ever, standing at the back of the room while Tom was running over the plan with Neko. A trap. Information was carefully leaked concerning the medic who was the only witness. The leaders behind the plan knew about The Olympians, and so, they had worked out the truth of the amnesiatic effects of the drug Neko was injected with. All the confusing facts aside, there was Neko, the reluctant bait, Detective Tom Harris, the unknowing pawn, and Acolyte and Lulu, partners in something bigger, way bigger. Too big. Both of them had come so close to giving everything away, and ruining their game. No one knew, but everyone cared, whilst they knew, but didn’t care. Not in the slightest. So, this plan was to be carried out. If it went right, whatever mafia scum would end up dead, along with the medic, and possibly the detective if he found out too much. Acolyte looked very grim, contrary to his personality. Lulu looked very cheerful, contrary to her personality. They were both thinking of the people they were supposed to be fighting. The Olympians, The Mafia... what are they? Groups of people, in which every members revolves around their own minds. They all have to link with each other, or they have no hope. They had recently heard from Juggernaut that Cronus and his false crooked company, Krimtech, were coming. Cronus was just another title... very well-chosen and a little ironic, and entirely fake. No one on Olympus had ever met him, except maybe for the three original members, but he was a well-known character, who had caused quite a bit of good and bad for them. He was only about 30 or so, but he was still going strong, despite his claim of retirement, or peace. He called himself Darkmar now. Supposedly eccentric as can be. And why would he be interested in the situation here? And then the other bit of news, the bit that surprised Lulu and Acolyte. Jack Silver. See, J. S. was like a fairy tale to Olympus, like a myth. No one had ever met him, but everyone seemed to know the most obvious thing about him... his belief. Jack Silver was almost more of a living idea then he was a functioning person. This game is going to get very complicated. Edited by Vaxis**, May 2 2009, 09:00 PM.
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Vaxis	Apr 7 2009, 09:30 PM Post #7
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	Part 2: Monuments of Delusion Chapter 13: No Answers Given Waterfox stepped out the side door of the restaurant, and into the alley. He pulled his collar up around his neck, as the rain pattered on the cement around him. Humid day. He walked down the alley, painfully aware of another figure following him out. He kept in stride, walking down the alley briskly, just another figure in the downtown rain. Walking home. After a bit of tailing. Whoever was walking behind him was steadily getting closer. Then, a voice behind him, struggling through the rain. “We caught one, Fox.” Waterfox stopped and turned around apprehensively. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he saw Acolyte coming up towards him, wearing a dark sport jacket, peppered by darker spots of rain. It contrasted with his bright, streaked hair, sleek and wet with rainwater. “The police have caught one of your little Mafia friends. The bait was a doctor who saw one of them. We had him in a police convoy, taking the long way around town by night, after we leaked his predicament in the paper. And we were followed to the safehouse. Quite a fight it was, but we had him in the end.” Waterfox had no idea what to say. His eyes panned the area in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder. Acolyte continued. “Fox, you and I were never really close. I think it was your ill-deserved arrogance. Not that I’m much better.” Fox shifted his feet. “You were always dangerous, never thinking of anyone’s safety. Every operation you pulled, it was a risk.” “And they always worked.” Acolyte said back, stepping forward and straightening his jacket. “Always. I was never crazy. I just knew the right way to get a job done. You, you waited until the right moments, the moments everyone had to make for you.” Fox ignored this. It didn’t mean much anyways, coming from Acolyte. “Who did you take? What happened?” “One of Alpha’s prodigies. A fiery one. Took everything we threw at him, and he laughed it off. Even scared me. He broke a cop’s ribs before he was subdued. I guess they’re taking him to city hall now. We’re closing in. We have him, now we have you. For a week, you think you’ve been following a potential undercover police lieutenant. A proxy to lure you in. To me.” Fox sighed, trying to keep cool. “Oh, right. So, after explaining everything to me, you kill me. One less man to worry about.” “Essentially.” “Why didn’t you just shoot me in the back?” Acolyte held up his hand and raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s the thing. You know the part of the movie where the villain always explains his plan to the hero before throwing him into a deathtrap? Well, I understand why they do it now. Otherwise, there is no satisfaction. I’ve wasted a lot of my theatrics on you already, I at least made the story short for you. Make no mistake, I intend to kill you. We decided it’s time your friends learned their place again. The nightly killings need to stop.” Fox shook slightly, remembering he had no gun with him at the moment. Could he talk his way out of this? Run away? He tried to keep Acolyte talking. “Nightly killings? Look, we don’t work with that Mafia, okay? They do things their own way, we just try to survive. I don’t know where any of them are, except that you claim to have captured one.” Acolyte nodded. “At least they have initiative. They’d have done well on Olympus, had they been around. Maybe in the future, things can start over. It’s more about your crew. None of you have purpose. You prefer to suffocate in your holes as we smoke you out. You choose not to substantiate, not to subsist. My young brother included. Yes, I know he’s with you. I can’t allow him any more mercy than I will allow you. Or anyone else. Only on Olympus were we allies. Now, it’s about ideals. You disagree with what I think. Many murders happen because of this.” Acolyte sighed sarcastically and pulled a small pistol with a suppresor out of his pocket. Waterfox turned to run, but not nearly fast enough. Acolyte shot him twice in the back. Fox crumpled into the puddles and pavement, twisted awkwardly. He struggled vainly to move, uselessly. Pain engulfing him, he wanted only peace. His vision darkened, and all sound disappeared. He lay still. Acolyte crouched over him. The rain was beginning to stop now. “The fact that I speak to you now in your death is no odder than having spoken to you knowing I’d kill you right after. Nothing personal. I mean, we were never really friends. But I intend to subsist and substantiate. I have far too much energy to do anything other than crime. You were driven by fear, and you tried to mask it. It’s over now, be at peace. Goodbye, Waterfox.” Acolyte stood and backed up a few steps. The rain started falling hard again now, more than before. The torrents came down and the neon signs of downtown in the distance glinted off of dark puddles. Light from shadow. Acolyte straightened his jacket again, smoothed his hair back into the stripes of gold and white, and he held his head up. He looked up into the rain. “Poseidon has fallen from Olympus.” He said. And he walked away. * 3 weeks gone by, and I’ve been able to think, focus on what I’m doing. I haven’t seen the rest in all this time, not yet. Toledo is supposedly cruising the streets by night, doing God knows what. Alex has seen him from time to time. He seems to be looking for something. Lotus is also supposed to be in the city somewhere, but no one knows where. Alex hasn’t heard from her. Vaxis is in the same situation, but the bodies that have turned up every morning are proof that he intends to carry out our message of fear. Whatever it means now. The reality is, everything we did was false. We were tools. The Godfather has been at strife with his former allies for 5 years, and we were brought in and conditioned to obey him, disrupting the city in a way that was vastly different from the Olympians before us. Well, maybe not so different. I’ll go over it again, for your understanding. Juggernaut took the city quickly and quietly, without much resistance. Nobody even noticed unless they were high up. Anybody with government standing was taken care of. He’s the mayor, with his lieutenants at his side, whoever they really are. Balore’s brother is supposed to be his right-hand man. The Godfather, or Alpha, or whatever you want to call him now, he took what remained of Olympus and used secrecy to fight this new order. Except it wasn’t so much a fight, it was hiding. Not for long though… he used us instead. We, Mafia, we’ve known him for a while too. We’re apparently his ace in the hole. Whereas the remainders of Olympus were like friends for him, people who had grown into the seats of the greatest underground crime ring of the time, people who knew what they were doing… he knew they would prefer to survive in hiding. But The Godfather wanted to fight back. So, in secret, he found us four. Four foolish kids with unlucky pasts. Kids who learned to kill way too early. Kids who were easy to order around. We grew into our own little seats… Mafia. Not like Olympus, not organized and diplomatic, not experts of executive infiltration and takeover. No, we are killers, through and through. I don’t know how I’ve settled with it. We’re his assassins, meant to take the city. The million dollar question. Why? Well, we all have our own weird reasons for it. Morality and ambition are hard to dissect. The simplest reason is revenge. The Godfather wanted to get back at Juggernaut. Because when Olympus cracked, they were no longer friends, they were instant enemies. So, 12 people split apart that day. We had The Godfather/Alpha, walking out with Alex and Waterfox, and Stixx and Zero Flare. Balore later ended up with them, abandoning home. They wanted to keep Olympus underground and rule from behind the scenes. The Godfather walked out with Acolyte and Lulu. Tracy and Mace were there, and as you have heard already, they’re dead. Killed. Their murders orchestrated as deterrants and insurance measures. They wanted to switch over, and it cost them. Left behind were Sedium and Alicia. The missing links. Sedium left, not wanting to take a side and risk trouble. Alicia left as well, but she turned out dead later too. Something between Alpha and Juggernaut. Looks like the motivation for their hatred. I’ve been trying to ask Stixx about this, but he doesn’t tell me much. He doesn’t tell anyone much, really. Bringing us to present day. This is Q now, if you didn’t already get that. It’s time I explained a bit more. Now that the history lesson is over, I can tell what you don’t know. I’ve used these 3 weeks to adapt to a new life. I’m part of the remains of Olympus now. Their base is a small series of apartments in an old complex at the edge of the city metro. No longer accessible by the public, the building is closed down and we use a tunnel leading in from a neighbouring building to get in. The tunnel is a service access in the boiler room. From there, we wind through a few rooms on the third floor, and on to the fire escape at the back, sheltered by the faces of more boarded up complexes. We go up to the roof, then down the stairs up there into the base. Possible to reach, I guess, but only if you thought anything was up there. I went back to the Chamber at one point, but it ‘s locked out. Possibly by The Godfather’s hand, the locker containing the hidden passage no longer opens. We had a lock-down measure that did this, and it seems to have been activated. Even if I got in, all the systems would be shut down as well. So, I stay with the Olympians, my only real choice at the moment. At least I don’t have to worry about a cover job anymore. I don’t know what I’ve been waiting for, these 3 weeks. I have no real option anymore, not without the Mafia. It was the only thing I knew, and it’s gone for now. Splintered. The Godfather has to do something at some point. All of them, what have they been doing during this time? Alex is sometimes here to sleep, otherwise, she’s outside doing what she can to keep us all going. Waterfox comes in and out, sometimes for days at a time. Right now, he’s tailing some official across town. Balore and Zero Flare are here too. They’re not experienced criminals, no, but they know their way around. They can fight, they can sneak around. Balore is pretty calm and relaxed most of the time. Zero is more daring and fiery. Stixx is always here, poring over maps and diagrams. He never seemed like the type to me, but he’s actually pretty absorbed in this stuff. It interests me too, technology. I guess that’s why he asked me to test out a few things for him. That was a few days ago. Stixx had finished the modifications on his newest weapon. His workshop was a room below the main room of the Olympus base, if you could call it a base. The stiar led down form his room. It was full of an assortment of tools and devices, covering the walls. Stacks of metal parts overflowed from a few bins in one corner. Various machines for metal-crafting were crammed into the relatively small workshop. Stixx most of the last 5 years in here, designing. He had to, he didn’t have anything else to do. He made all of the weapons the team carried. His proudest invention was the stun bolt gun that he made for Alpha years back. The gun he had finished right now looked very unique, for good reason. Q was there, as Stixx asked. He needed someone to use it. What good is a gun that isn’t ever fired? Besides, Q was apparently more suited to high-powered rifles. He’d appreciate this one. Q was there beside Stixx in his workshop, admiring the beautfiul weapon. Stixx smiled appreciativly at the look in Q’s eyes. He could tell, this young man knew a good weapon when he saw one. Q gaped at the sniper rifle lying on the table, taking in it’s subtleties as much as it’s shining features. “I call it the Eviscerate.” Stixx said proudly. It appeared to be a modified M-6 Tenchu semi-automatic sniper rifle, in jungle camoflage. That much was obvious to Q. This was the model intended to become the US military’s new standard sniping system within a few years. Naturally, Stixx had applied a few personal touches. There were some you’d notice after about 10 seconds of observation… the magazine size was larger than normal for that rifle, the scope was shorter, the stock held a chin pad. There was also a large suppresor attached. But one addition captured your eye even before you saw the rest of the gun. Held under the rifle, like a bayonet, was a katana. Q had to do a double-take on this. Yes, a genuine Japanese samurai sword. Stixx grinned broader at Q’s dumbstruck look. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Mace stole this from a museum during a robbery back when Olympus was complete. He kept it here and no one ever used it. So, when I decided I’d make a custom rifle, I thought I’d throw it in.” Stixx definitely seemed more energetic than usual. He rarely emiled, preferring instead his cold, stern, stare. But his eyes seemed elight with joy at his work being admired. Q couldn’t take his eyes of the incredible looking weapon, nor did he have a reason to. The sword attached to the underside was in prime condition, even after apparent years of storage. Mace had probably taken care of it, up until his death. He learned a lot about Mace during his stay here. The sword shone like white crystal. The steel edge was quite sharp. Forcing his eyes away form the blade, he looked over the rest of the rifle again. “Amazing…” It was all he could bring himself to say. Stixx reached into a metal box across the table and pulled out a single, large caliber round. “This the best part.” He said, holding the bullet in front of his face. “These were part of an experimental munitions system I worked on with Alpha and Juggernaut a long time ago.” Q saw nothing remarkable about the bullet. Stixx exlained. “Cryogenic. Designed to remain in the body after impact. The tip shatters and delivers a payload of liquid nitrogen. Highly toxic, and paralyzing. If you don’t kill your enemy, they’ll die soon anyways.” Q couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “And I get to use this?” “Might as well.” Stixx replied. “I hear you’re good with these rifles, and no one else really needs one like this. Not that we’re planning on killing anybody anytime soon, but you need something more than that little pistol of yours.” The Eviscerate. While Q continued to admire the weapon, Waterfox lay dead in an alley, puddles of rain growing and turning red around him. Chapter 14: Stalemates** They ask me why I’m called Lotus. Well, what does a name matter? How about the face behind it? Why bother staring at the curtains when the world outside the window is so much nicer? That’s just about focusing on the present. Trying to geth through the trials of life. That’s all it is. No point worrying about the future once you’re content with the present. No point crying over the past when the future looks good. No point fixing the present to try and bring back the past. Now, one would argue, if I focus more on the present, why bother with this monologue? Why not go and achieve something? Well, as I ride this motorcycle outside the city limits, this all runs through my mind. Women truly are better at multitasking. Now I can run some more thorugh… like an explanation. Well, Sedium wasn’t impossible to find. I’m going to exercise my multitasking ability to it’s fullest extent and run a little video playlist for you, and you can see what happened in three weeks. Well, Vaxis says he knows Sedium from his past. How odd. Vaxis doesn’t ever say anything without reason, so he’s either telling the truth, or he’s hiding something else. So, after I left the chamber, I really just waited outside the building, in a smaller shed. I waited one day in there… that’s another thing women have, better resistance to hunger and cold. You see why we make better assassins? I wait until the next night, when he does whatever he does. His killing. Well, I didn’t expect much of it. He hides his past as well as the rest of us. But no one usually pries. This time, I’ve had to follow him around. For 6 days, I watched him go out every night, performing random murders in random places. How he manages it without being caught, I don’t know. In any case, I’m confident he never found out I was always there. I learned nothing at first. The only thing surprising at all was just how apathetic he was about doing it… he seemed like he was bored, following The Godfather’s wishes. I got desperate, knowing that quick answers were needed. Focusing on the present, as always. Sedium is the only person who has info on Olympus that I can go to. I can’t go see Alex… not yet. If you’re still wondering about what this is about me and her, I already told you… no use worrying about the past or future or any of that. Let’s please stay on topic. I’m driving very fast here. Anyways, Sedium is apparently a master of technology. As you know, he left Olympus, and could be anywhere, doing anything. He might be dead for all I know. He may not want to help me at all. But I had to try, it was worth the horrible risk I took. This is where detective Harris comes in. He’s leading the Mafia investigation… without any luck. After more than a week of death, people are losing confidence in him. He’s as desperate to find someone as I am. I’m looking for a lead, so is he. When he couldn’t find any evidence on Mace, the city considered putting him on leave. In the meanwhile, hanging is stopped. Good, it was barbaric to begin with. At least when I kill people, I know what it’s for. It is never random. It is meant to cause an effect. Vaxis is killing just because it is killing. It is something he does for doing it. And the hanging was worse, it ruined families. Toledo and Q probably had their reasons… The Godfather as well, now I know a bit of it. So this Tom Harris… I send him an anonymous tip. Telling him to call the private number on it. He’s stooped to the level of taking these tips, he’s so low lately. So he calls the number, I answer. I tell him about Vaxis. I ask for his cell number to send him a picture of Vaxis that I took of him without him noticing, some time ago. Thankfully, my phone’s camera does not make that annoying loud noise that most do. I tell him to get that checked by the doctor who saw a Mafia member in the TV station (it seems so long ago). “Kresmir?” Harris asks me. Good. Now I know the doctor’s name. I was not expecting to ever find that out. Luckily, he didn’t seem to think he slipped up too much, by ruining the medic’s anonymity. “Yes” I say back. Forward one day. I have confirmation. Dr. Kresmir saw the man in the photo, and now, he remembers it. Harris knows that I also know who is in the Mafia. I tell him that I am close enough to give him a lot of info. So I tell him exactly what can help everyone… take a closer look at the mayor. Learn more about him. He’s not what he appears. And I told him that if he relays some info back to me about the mayor, I can supply some more in turn. We became partners via cell phone. Investigators with a mutual need. A lead. Apparently, he’s run into some luck, because he gets more excited every time he comes back for more info. I run out of real info to give him. So, I break off the conversations. No more. I only do one last thing. I ask for a way to contact the secretive mayor, in return for some useless fake clue that Harris might’ve thought useful. So, now we’re up to about a week ago. I had the mayoral office number. The system on the other hand asks for several other numbers as verification. Harris provided all of these. He didn’t seem interested in what I’d do with the mayor, he only only wanted some possible leads on the Mafia. He never even considered me, the person with whom he was dealing suspicious information. Anyways, the mayor picks up. I assume his system tells him who is calling beforehand, and he doesn’t know my number, so he is surprised. He answers. I am now speaking with Juggernaut. The man who was Zeus. Who used Olympus to take over the city. And I am speaking with him. Now, you will see how my plan worked… and how cruel and efficient it was. The words came as if from some other mind deep inside my own. “You are the mayor, correct?” “Yes.” “May I ask for proof?” “Who is this?” “I know about Olympus, everything about it. I know about how you and Alpha and Stixx started it, I know the members of it, I know what happened to tear it apart and why, and I am exactly what you think I must be. I will not continue until I know this line is secure, only you and me.” A silence. Very understandable. “Okay.” He says. “Fine. No one else is listening.” “You probably know what I am.” “You’re one of Alpha’s young Mafia.” He says. The fact that he has to know this is very ironicly crucial. “Yes I am.” I say. “I am one of his followers, basically conditioned to take you down. But in the following minutes of conversation, we need to work together. You can help me with something, and I can help you.” “How interesting.” He sounds quite toneless, almost like he’s busy. Like a… typical mayor. “You need to tell me everything you know about Sedium. Don’t bother asking why, I won’t tell you. But I need to know how to reach him. You must know something I can use. If you tell me, I will tell you about the person who can bring you down, and you can stop them.” Another understandable silence. “Like who? Who do you really think can expose my past? Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. It is just that. Past.” “I told everything I know about you to someone outside all of this business. Someone who believes me thoroughly, and has the power to make people doubt you, surprisingly. He is excited enough to expose you, and he has the tools to do so. He thinks I am helping him out of mutual gain, which is true, but it turns out I am about to stab him in the back by telling you about him. If you tell me about Sedium, that is.” “Explain more.” “I told this person that if I gave him info on you, a past Mafia, possibly present, then he could in return give me info on you I don’t already know. Nothing important, just some wheres and hows. Contact, mostly. He doesn’t know, or even care, what I am. He’s too drunk on information to worry about it. Anyways, he will try and expose you as Mafia once I “confirm it”. And he will succeed. The public doesn’t know about Alpha, or Olympus, or any of this. They don’t see factions and alliances. They just see criminals that kill by night. They will believe my contact, and they will all want you removed. There is nothing you can do to save yourself without using extreme force and drawing national attention. No more underground.” “I see.” Juggernaut is still toneless. “Now, I can tell you who this person is, and you can do something about it. Whatever you usually do with people who are too much trouble. Lock him up, kill him, whatever. I don’t like it, but for me to achieve my aims, it has to be done. You will be safe. I ask only that you tell me where to find Sedium first. And you must prove that he is still alive.” “Very clever of you. Forcing your enemy into a bargain. Alpha didn’t teach you anything like that, I’m sure. That’s always been more in my area. Then again, we learned it all from Stixx in the first place. Brilliant man, really. He never gets the credit he deserves in this life.” “Well? What do you say then?” “Hmm… I know full well that you’ll try and use Sedium to come back and undermine me soon anyways, but I find you less of a threat than your supposed contact, you being underground. The public has a power most criminals do not understand. That is why they get caught. You may now see why I am where I am. Unfortunately, we are at another stalemate. I can’t prove to you that Sedium is alive, truthfully, all I know is his old address. I can say that he probably still lives there, that is all. But why would you tell me your contact’s name afterwards?” My turn for a silence. I see what he’s getting at now… He continues. “If I tell you about Sedium, you may very well give me a fake name, and I may end up being ousted anyways. That also raises the question that if you could give me some other name, why would you need Sedium to oust me? That also raises the question that why would you call me at all? Why not just let your contact try and oust me? And that’s not even getting into your bizzare motives for trying to oust me at all.” Wow… and I thought I was good. “Well…” I say, “I say we just make the deal. The truth is that I probably don’t know what I’m doing and that you will most likely win in the long run. I’m preapared to take the risk of trying to win anyways. Doubtless, we both have secret weapons besides all this info.” “Maybe.” He says. “And maybe you’re not part of Alpha’s group at all. You may be with Alex and her Olympians. You may be somebody who just happened to find out the truth, like your contact. You may be somebody on the inside, possibly less than 8 rooms away from me, for all I know. Maybe you are any of the above, with or without an actual contact, with or without a real name to give, with or without a good reason for finding Sedium.” I get an idea at this point. “I am going to turn the stalemate on you. It’s Tom Harris. I gave him the info. That is the truth, believe it or not. Fact is, if you do something about him, you’ll find that no one will try to oust you. I have learned from this conversation that you have an amazing ability for analysis and assessment, and you have learned from this, hopefully, that I have some degree of adaptation and acute reaction to your abilities. I don’t know what else to say. Please just tell me how to get to Sedium. Maybe I don’t give a damn about trying to stop you.” “You’re a very convincing speaker. Well, if for no other reason, I’ll tell you so that I can skip this stalemate crap and get on to my lunch. Spicy Thai salad, not worth missing, even for a protection bargain with a Mafia killer.” “Fair enough.” “He lives just outside of the city, his place is at 45 Huntington. Look it up. That’s all I can do for you. You’ll find that he did live there at one point. Whether or not he’s still there is your problem. Hopefully, I’ll find that no one will try and stop me. Whether or not Tom Harris is worth stopping is my problem. Now, you should grab some healthy lunch as well. Someone as… adaptive as you, I’d recommend Tangy Caesar. Goodbye.” He hung up. I sat silent for three full minutes in the temporary apartment I was staying in, and then I smiled and got up to immediately go grab a salad from McDonalds, of all places to grab salads from. I spent 6 more days following Vaxis. I never did learn anything from watching him. And that was all a week ago, part of the three weeks since the Mafia seperated indefinitely. Now, it’s present day, and I’m driving a motorcycle down the highway, if you’ll remember. Huntington is the next right turn. *** Lulu does not like interrogations, but she realizes they are necessary. Her eyes sting. This man goes by the name Toledo. He was caught in a trap set up by the police, using the doctor and his sensitive memory of a killer’s face as bait. He was caught and subdued. Lulu saw it all, sadly. Now the man is chained to a metal chair. No devices of torture or anything like that. Just locked up, so he can’t get away. So that he must listen to his captors. Toledo looks fiercely at Lulu in the small dark room. Her chair is not metal, it’s wood. No chains, just very nice armrests. Padded, as if it matters. Normally, Acolyte would do this sort of thing, but he is about to finally take down Waterfox. Lulu remembers Waterfox from Olympus. She was Artemis, he was Poseidon. Waterfox was talented in many ways, but just another person. Acolyte is not just another person. That is why he will kill Waterfox. According to Acolyte, Lulu herself is also not just another person. That is why she will break Toledo. The duality works. It’s not a very nice interrogation room, but then again, interrogations are not very nice. It’s dimly lit, dirty, and it’s location is completely secret. Only the lack of physical reasons to let yourself be broken is distinct. Lulu likes this, at least. But she knows words can hurt a lot more. But hers aren’t usually meant to hurt. Acolyte can hurt in certain ways. Can Lulu really break this vicious man here? She decides to speak to him. “Hello.” She says, very calmly, quietly. He scowls. He is a little bruised from his fight. A little scarred. A little bloody. Very angry. “What do you want with me? Names? Places? Try it. I won’t give any. Not even to someone who thinks they can scare me, and look at you.” Lulu was sorry for this vicious man. “I think youll find that you will give me names and locations because I am not trying to scare me. Look at me, indeed.” Toledo saw sadness in her eyes. Edited by Vaxis, Jul 16 2009, 04:05 AM.
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Vaxis	Apr 7 2009, 09:30 PM Post #8
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	RESERVED
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Vaxis	Apr 7 2009, 09:31 PM Post #9
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	RESERVED
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Vaxis	Apr 7 2009, 09:31 PM Post #10
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	RESERVED
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Waterfox	Apr 7 2009, 09:37 PM Post #11
Lunboks. Posts: 2,575 Group: Water Sage Member #1 Joined: May 28, 2008 Premium Yes	Great story so far. Keep it up



Stixx	Apr 7 2009, 09:50 PM Post #12
Dies first. Posts: 1,818 Group: Fire Sage Member #9 Joined: Jun 7, 2008 Premium Yes	Hot damn I'm awesome.



Juggernaut	Apr 7 2009, 09:57 PM Post #13
Omnibus Locis Fit Caedes Posts: 1,591 Group: Members Member #29 Joined: Jul 28, 2008 Premium No	I love where this is going, like a freight train steaming toward a truck filled with awesome stuck on a railroad crossing. The beginning chapters were just the driver and passengers (also made of awesome) trying to escape from the train before it decimates the truck and covers everything within a 500 ft radius with awesome sauce.



Vaxis	Apr 10 2009, 10:52 PM Post #14
Cash Posts: 1,388 Group: Forest Sage Member #14 Joined: Jun 8, 2008 Premium No	8 is up. I would've made it longer, but I can' write until Monday. I'm making a topic for more portraits and descriptions and such.
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Darxidium	Apr 12 2009, 04:37 PM Post #15
Hero of Thyme Posts: 1,395 Group: Members Member #52 Joined: Mar 28, 2009 Premium No	I started reading it last night. So far, thumbs up! It has a unique style to it (from all the things I've read, at least), and it manages to keep my interest. I actually care about what happens in it, which is rare; I'm not just reading it to pass time.
	~Alex


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