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My name is Vergil Maurice. I was left on a doorstep between dimensions called the Nexus. The Nexus trained me and honed my latent magical talents. I excelled in shadow manipulation and summoning magic. 

The point of the Nexus is to keep the barriers between realities strong so they don’t merge together. Order is always their top priority, not the happiness some may find in worlds not their own.

I was ostracized because I found a child out in the coldness of space. An eldritch baby I cared for as my own. Even as part of a group, a supposed family, I was shunned and derided because of my compassion. 

It’s been almost three years since I left that group. With the help of another Nexus student, I was able to raise the child in safety from its cruel mother, and those who’d try to kill them. I miss my child deeply. I hope it’s safe, wherever it is out there in the wide vastness of space. 

Now, I wander, taking up odd jobs as an entertainer, medicine man, ect. Hitchhiking on spaceships to get from one place to another. 

Three years. How has it been that long? Or is it that short? 

Why am I still alone?

-Vergil Maurice, Year 770

1

Vergil Maurice walked into the furniture homestore in the Sylvius Galactic Mall. He always felt watched, observed, trapped by unseeing, unrelenting eyes. Whose eyes, he didn’t know, and he had long since stopped caring despite his age. 

He was twenty five years old by standard galactic measurements. He certainly didn’t feel like it. He felt wound up; his hands nervously wringing the staff within them. Once again, he felt telltale moisture on the back of his neck. He looked briefly at himself in a mirror displayed with an accompanying bed, chairs and coffee table. All beige. 

He looked tired; dark circles under his eyes. They’d be noticeable if his skin wasn’t dark brown. His  dark brown dreadlocks looked slightly rattier than usual with their white shock right down the middle of the tied-back dreads. 

“Mr. Guillermo.” A strange voice called from behind Vergil. 

He turned from the mirror, and saw three men in dark green suits staring intently at him from behind dark sunglasses. The leader in front of the other two regarded Vergil with ever so slight interest. 

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Who are you?” Vergil asked, recognizing his alias of Ignacio Guillermo. 

‘Good.’ He thought to himself, relaxing slightly. ‘They don’t know who I really am. But why are they here?’

“We just have a few questions to ask you, Mr. Guillermo, then you’ll be on your way.” The foremost man said. He gestured for Vergil to follow them, and he did so, the two agents behind taking up the rear, while Vergil and the speaking agent walked side by side. “An interesting ensemble you’re wearing, Mr. Guillermo.” The man said, taking note of Vergil’s red cape and black bodysuit with a large white v across his chest and abdomen. 

“Thank you.” Vergil said, nodding. “It’s part of the job as a traveling medicine man and entertainer.” 

“Ah.” The man said, nodding back. “I see. Tell me, Mr. Guillermo, have you had any…interactions with any persons of interest within the past…oh, let’s say half a year, or so? Any suspicious persons we, the Coalition of Planets security force, should know about.” The man’s emphasis on the ‘t’ in about made Vergil wince slightly. 

“Security Force?” Vergil said, confused. ‘The hell are security agents doing in a mall?’ He wondered. Then, it hit him. ‘Shit! The child!’

As if reading his mind, the agent’s mouth upturned at the corner slightly. Barely noticeable. “A…shall we say asset that the government is looking for has been missing for many years, now..” The man said, making Vergil even more uncomfortable and paranoid. “This asset is a powerful artifact from a forgotten age. The Coalition of Planets believes that this asset would…could pose a great threat to the stability and order of the galaxy. If, that is, it found its way into the wrong hands.”

Vergil realized they had walked into a remote back area of the store; patio furniture surrounding them, with not another soul besides the four men in sight. He took a deep breath before stopping, and turning to face the man. “I don’t know where the child is. I haven’t seen it in almost a decade. As far as I know, it’s out in the void, probably living peacefully, and not harming anyone, or anything. I raised it right.”

The man’s face, Vergil thought, seemed to display confusion, then acceptance all in a few moments. “Well then, Mr. Maurice.” He seemed to smile as he spoke the words and Vergil’s eyes, one green, the other brown, widened. The man continued, “It seems negotiations are over. Time for more extreme methods of interrogation.” He nodded to another agent, and the agent whipped out a gun with a silencer, and shot Vergil in the leg. 

Vergil grimaced at the pain. But, there had been only a small whizzing sound. He reached down, and pulled out a small capsule attached to a needle from his leg. He glared at the three agents, before collapsing on the ground; the sedative knocking him out cold.

The man, Agent Jones, swung Vergil’s body over his shoulder, and grabbed his staff from the ground. The agents then left the store, and began heading through it, towards one of the exits. 

The white tiles sent echoes through the large building as the men walked; passerby choosing to ignore them. Then, on a walkway above, four figures walked out into view; guns in their hands; all in long coats. 

“Take care of them.” Jones said, continuing to walk, as the agents ran in the direction of an elevator to engage the figures above them. Jones walked on as the figures disappeared back into the shadows to fight the agents. 

Jones found a bathroom, and went into the largest stall, dumping Vergil on the ground. He turned around as two figures walked in a few moments after him.

The woman wore a black leather bodysuit accented with red. A gun holster was on her hip, and a knife was in a sheath, strapped to her thigh. Her red hair was in a ponytail, and she glared at Jones. A red mask covered her mouth. 

The other person, a man, wore dark slacks, a gray hoodie, and a beanie over floppy ears and reddish orange hair. Without a word, the two shot at Jones repeatedly, until he hit the ground. 

The woman ran over, scooped up Vergil, and left the bathroom. “Don’t forget to grab his staff!” She said, as her friend followed her out the door. He ran back in, retrieved the staff, and followed her out of the mall; both of them wary that agents could spring out at them any time. 

They couldn’t check to see if the others at the walkway were okay. They had to leave. There was too great a risk none of them would make it offworld, and back to Torgen Base.

“We just need to get to an off-world transport.” The man said. 

The two of them quickly walked outside. They managed to get to a public offworld station, get on, and the transport soon left them far behind the planet, the agents, and Jones.