2001, 20th May
Seattle, The United States of America
“Michael, what is going on? You’ve been unfocussed all day.”
Michael shook his head, clearing out the metaphorical clouds.
“I’m not that distracted, mom. Go pester dad, why don’t you?”
“Why don’t you make yourself useful like your friend Magnus here? Such a good kid, helping out with the luggage without even being asked.” His mother looked at him with a slight frown. “Unlike some.”
“Please. Better to put those unnatural muscles to some good use.”
He snapped his fingers at Magnus as he was passing by, suitcases laden under each arm. “Does that even weigh anything to you, big guy?”
Magnus merely clacked his tongue bemusedly.
“Shame that Lucia girl didn’t show up. You did tell her you were going to leave today?”
“She knows.”
“So-”
“We’ll talk about it later, mom. Could you give Magnus and I a moment before we leave?”
“Alright, Mike. I’ll be waiting by the car.”
When the woman had left, Magnus turned to Michael, dropping the luggage by his side.
“You know why she didn’t come, right?”
“Of course I know. I also know why you think she didn’t come. You’re wrong.”
“Hmm.”
“She’ll get over it. You both will.”
“Oh?”
“Seattle is too small for either of you. Neither of you are going to be here long.”
“Think we’ll be alright, mighty fortune teller?”
“Of course you’ll be alright.” Michael turned to the car, a slight frown creasing his brow.
“We’ll all be alright. I’m sure of it.”
Magnus offered his hand for a shake, then pulled it back with a wince.
“Static electricity. Sorry, that’s been happening around me a lot lately.”
“Ah, no matter.” Magnus pulled Michael into a rough embrace, then let go.
“Good luck in LA, Mike.”
“Yeah. Be well, Magnus.”
And so the family departed, luggage piled into the back of their Ford.
“So, Mike, did you pack all the toiletries like I asked you to?”
“Yeah, dad, I remembered.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to have to sort them into the luggage bags at the airport. I- ouch!”
The man winced, pulling his hand off the wheel.
“What’s the matter, dear?”
“Static shock, don’t worry about it.”
“Hmm. It’s been happening quite often today.”
Michael frowned as he watched the scenery rush by the window.
His parents were discussing something about the apartment they had rented- a costly affair, apparently- but Michael was distracted- had been distracted since the morning- by nothing in particular.
The sky had grown overcast and droplets had begun to slide down the window panes. Thunder rumbled overhead. Michael idly wondered at the fact that he could hear it so clearly over the noise of the engine running, or his parents discussing their arrangements for the shift.
“Michael, are you even listening to me?”
“There’s no need to get worked up, mom. We’ll discuss the details on the flight over.”
“You know I worry- sss- Seriously, what is up with this static? It’s not even very dry today.”
“We’ll be fine, mom. We always are.”
It was then that a bolt of lightning crashed onto the road in front of them, raining a spray of gravel and dust over the windshield.
The brakes screeched and the heavy vehicle veered out of control.
His mother screamed his name.
Metal scraped against gravel.
The glass of the window panes shattered and pierced the side of his face.
He remembered nothing else after that moment.
2001, 21st May
Unknown location
Michael woke to a lot less pain than he would have thought, for someone who had just gone through an accident. Unless it was all some sort of lucid daydream.
He woke in a well lit room- white and sterile.
He would have guessed it was a hospital ward, if not for the conspicuous lack of equipment around them.
“So you’re finally awake.”
Michael blinked away some moisture from his eyes, then turned to find a young blonde woman in a leather jacket sitting in a revolving chair by the side of his bed.
“Where are we?”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Where are we?”
“Kid, I need you to calm down-”
“I’m perfectly calm.” Michael told her in an even tone. “Where are we?”
“You were in an accident-”
“I don’t feel like I was in an accident.” Michael subconsciously ran his fingers along the spot beside his eye, where he had felt the piercing glass. “And this is no hospital.”
“God, kid, you really cannot shut up for a second, can you? You were healed.”
“Healed.” The boy raised an eyebrow.
“You got lucky. Your parents were not so lucky.”
The air grew thick with a tense silence. The boy’s expression never changed, besides a tightening around the jaw. But he did not speak.
“I know this is a lot to take in, kid, but-”
“Where are we?” Michael’s voice never wavered.
The woman sighed, running a hand over her face. “This is Apotheosis.”
Michael remained silent for a moment, making a concerted effort to give nothing away.
“Where are my parents?”
“I told you kid. You’re the only one we were able to save.”
“Why?”
“Your latent abilities erupted. It happens to a lot of younger individuals first coming into their own. Not all are lucky to survive.”
Michael’s nostrils flared. With some effort to keep his voice even, he said, “Nothing you just said made any sense to me.”
“Kid, it’ll take a while for you to get used to this. Just-”
“Can I have some water?
The woman blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Water. You do have some here?”
“Of course. Let me just-”
As soon as she turned about, rising from the seat, Michael darted from the bed he was sat on, and shot out of the door.
She sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked out behind him. He wasn’t going to get very far.
Michael ran across the corridor, shoes thudding over the carpeted floor.
He threw open various doors as he ran. Some of them occupied. He couldn’t see his parents anywhere. The occupants would look at him with blank expressions on their faces. He did not wait around to gauge their reactions.
He reached the end of the corridor, and the door slid aside in front of him to let him through. He was greeted by a massive lobby, a marble sculpture of a man atop a horse in the centre, embossed with gold lettering at the base.
Towering windows offered a view of pitch darkness.
Michael drew closer to the windows, and his breath caught in his throat.
A blue white sphere hung in the sky outside alongside the stars.
Michael took several steps backward, and did not notice a man approach behind him, clad in a grey uniform.
But he did notice when that man bent down on one knee in front of him.
“My Lord.”
“What?”
Michael nearly tripped over his feet as he retreated from the kneeling form.
“That’s your birthright there, boy.” A rough voice boomed.
A tall, bald man with dark skin and a beard that drooped over his chest approached, clad in an ensemble Michael failed to recognize.
“Whether you are worthy of such adulation, though, remains to be seen.”
“What are you talking about? What birthright? And where are we?”
“You talk when you should listen boy! I-”
“Who decided that?” Michael stood unyielding.
The older man pursed his lips and frowned, not necessarily in anger.
“Hmph. More than courage than sense..” But the edge of the stranger’s lips curved upward anyway. Then he adopted a more somber tone.
“You were born to a higher calling than many of the Hollows down there.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the window, seemingly gesturing to the planet at large.
“You were born better than them. It is only natural they kneel before you.”
Michael’s eyes flickered to the still kneeling form of the man in the grey uniform, expression flickering between confusion and revulsion.
A crowd had started gathering around them. He noticed most of them had the same uniform on. Without fail, each of them failed to meet his eyes.
“But that doesn’t mean you have earned the right to hold yourself with any sort of pride.” The bearded man continued. “You have no control over yourself, and your lack of control led to two deaths at your hand already. I believe you know what I speak of.”
Michael’s expression went entirely opaque. He turned his back to the man, facing the windows once more.
“You were brought here to learn control, and grasp your destiny. Or be crushed under it, as the case may be.” The stranger continued pitilessly.
Michael blinked rapidly a few times, keeping his expression rigid the entire time.
“Yeah. I understand. So where do we get started?”
2006, 10th January,
Space Station, Apotheosis
Aaron Sterling was an unhappy man.
Recalled to his least favourite spot this side of the solar system, the Irishman wasn’t particularly looking forward to meeting his teammates either, and they were really the only two people he could stand to be around in this satellite.
Ciara was vain and plain irritating to be around.
Pierre was… well, Pierre.
The only point of commonality between them was that they were all Irish. Well, that and the fact that their families were… in the same line of work.
Despite all it’s pretensions at being an enlightened community, Apotheosis certainly liked placing individuals within surprisingly narrow boxes.
He reached the bar. Well, one of several, where they had arranged to meet.
He could feel the bass thump and rattle his teeth. He wished they had picked a library or something.
He entered the booth where he found Pierre, lounging beside the installed fireplace.
He looked up at Aaron and smiled, a smile that made something uncoil within his gut.
“You’re finally here.”
Aaron placed himself in a seat opposite the other man.
“Ciara is late as ever, I see.”
“Don’t worry about Ciara.” Pierre sank ever so slightly deeper into his own couch. “Tell me, where have you been?”
Aaron shook his head to clear his thoughts. Pierre was beautiful; distractingly so.
He was also exceedingly dangerous.
Aaron knew full well what Pierre’s position within his family's organisation was.
Despite the Lords of Apotheosis looking down their noses at them for their less than developed magical talents, Pierre was exceedingly dangerous in a very real-world way.
Aaron sighed. He had never been able to get rid of his attraction to things that he should leave well enough alone.
"You know, same old, same old. I was surprised when Apotheosis called. I thought they'd have washed their hands of us by now."
“Apotheosis doesn’t waste resources. Even, according to them, subpar ones. Besides, they’re assigning us a new overseer. That should be fun.”
Right then, the door slammed open and Ciara stormed in, the air growing thick with perfume around her.
Aaron frowned, and refrained from an urge to pinch his nostrils shut.
Ciara whirled around to look at the man, and her marble grey eyes narrowed faintly in contempt.
“Ah, Aaron. Decided to stop trawling around in the gutter and grace us with your presence at last, have you?”
“Well, Ciara, when the scent of the gutters was such a pleasant change, I might have felt a bit tempted not to return.”
“Children, children.” Pierre raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t forget why we’re here in the first place.”
“Yes, quite.” Ciara sniffed. “What do you know about our new overseer then?”
“One Michael Kane. American, so I hear.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Disgusting country.” Ciara sniffed.
Aaron rubbed his brow. He could feel a headache brewing.
“Outreach Division as usual. That’s where all the overseers are assigned from.” Pierre continued.
“Another politician. How tiresome.” Aaron sighed.
“Can I get two sentences out without interruptions? Yes? Thanks. So the most important thing.”
Pierre paused for a breath, then continued.
“He’s been involved in 5 missions so far. 100 percent success rate. And, he’s 21 years old.”
Both Aaron and Ciara sat up slightly straighter.
“He must be very powerful…” Ciara said.
“Not necessarily.” Aaron disagreed. “He’s not even a Sword. He’s in Outreach, which means most of his work is from behind a desk or a podium. And he’s too young to have advanced his skills very far without field work. So his magical ability can’t be that far ahead of ours.”
“But his work rate-”
Pierre interrupted. “It means he’s capable without leaning on his magic, or creative enough to make his limited abilities work for him. Or both."
At this, Aaron stared straight at Pierre. “It means he’s dangerous. In a real-world way.”
Pierre sat back in his own seat. “It means I should pay him a visit. See what he’s all about.”
Ciara gathered the shawl she had been wearing around herself, and rose to leave.
“Well, Pierre, be a dear and call ahead when you do that. I’d hate to have to waste my time meeting the man if he turns out to be a boor.”
And she stormed out of the booth.
Aaron slumped back in his own seat now, keenly aware of the fact that him and Pierre were… isolated now.
Pierre seemed to have reached similar conclusions, if the predatory smile stretching across his features was any indication.
He lazily pulled a golden lock of hair behind his ear. Aaron swallowed, his throat suddenly seeming very dry.
“So, Aaron. We haven’t seen each other in a very long time…”
Aaron did not reply.
“I think the circumstances allow for a little celebration, don’t you?”
Pierre rose to his feet and made his way to Aaron’s back, and placing his fingers on the other man’s shoulders, he whispered next to his ear.
“Such a heavy trench coat, positively soaked with sweat. Let’s get rid of that, shall we?”
“I like my trench coat…” Aaron mumbled mutinously.
“It fits your style too. Drab, rough on the exterior… but right now, I need that off. Preferably without protest.”
“Preferably?”
“You know me, I get what I want…” The trenchcoat slipped off Aaron’s shoulders to the floor. “...One way or another.”
“And what is that you want?”
“You. Over this table. Now.”
“Not even a please?”
“I don’t beg. And you need this as much as me. Now..” Fingers smelling of the Bourbon Pierre had been sampling now wrapped around his lips.
Aaron bit down on those fingers. Hard.
With a muffled curse, Pierre pulled back.
“What the hell is wrong with-”
Aaron whirled around and grabbed the other man by the collar, then slammed him against the wall.Then he pressed his lips hungrily against the other man’s mouth
When they broke apart for breath, Pierre gasped, “If that’s what an apology from you is like, I’m looking forward to finding out what a ‘thanks’ is like.”
“Who’s apologising?” Aaron growled, before kissing him once more.
Ciara had retreated to the main bar, where a bunch of bartenders were serving up their patrons with the remarkable efficiency that was signature to artificial humans.
She ordered her own drink while avoiding looking her server in the eye.
The distinct lack of humanity always unnerved her.
A man pulled up a seat right next to her, noisily dragging it across the floor, and relaxed into it.
He was reasonably tall and well built, if not muscular, clad in a bespoke black suit over a plain white shirt.
Ciara supposed she wouldn’t have minded a man like that buy her a drink; but mages did not need to pay for their drinks at Apotheosis.
Also, when a lot of men you met around you could likely kill you with a flick of their wrist, that somewhat dampened her desire to date them.
She sighed audibly. This caught the man’s attention, and he turned his seat ever so slightly to face her.
“Hard day at work?”
“I just got back here. Apparently, we’re getting a new overseer.”
“Ah. Change. Always so inconvenient. And still, so necessary.”
Ciara brought her glass to her lips and had a sip.
“Doesn’t seem all that necessary to me.”
The man drained his own glass in short order. “You should worry about that problem as it comes up.”
“Wow. You can really drink.”
“I don’t drink at all actually. That was non alcoholic. Besides-” He leaned forward in his seat. “Why muddle my sense in such beautiful company.”
“Hah! Has that line ever worked?”
The man’s grin widened. “What can I say- I usually let my good looks do the heavy lifting for me.”
Ciara shook her head, amused, then finished off her own drink.
What the hell. It had been a while. She could afford some reprieve before jumping back into work.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s get off this station, for starters. The world below our feet is vastly more interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
He offered Ciara an arm, and she took it and rose.
She did not offer him her name, and he did not offer her his.
The space station’s chief spatial portal opened to Dubai. The only place where Apotheosis had bothered to make any significant foothold on the planet Earth.
Ciara had always appreciated the beauty of the city, artificial though it was.
Currently, they were walking aimlessly down the street, making small talk, stopping wherever their whims took them.
Ciara felt in the mood to show off. A simple mind control spell ensured no doors were ever closed to them, and nothing was out of their price range.
They were in their nightclub, and Ciara had knocked back yet another drink, while her date refrained.
Her magic could have ensured she did not get drunk, but she honestly wanted the buzz, that sensation of ever so slightly losing herself.
She could deal with Apotheosis and all it’s stupid machinations tomorrow. Tonight, she let herself go.
The speakers were playing something decidedly more modern than whatever was booming over in the space station.
The flickering lights of various colours only served to add to her ever so slightly pleasant sense of disorientation.
She was aware of being crowded between several bodies as they gyrated erratically to the music booming overhead, the man’s arms wrapped around her waist.
She felt his lips, rough and hot against her own.
She felt the cool air when they stepped outside.
The motion in the taxi they hired discomforted her, and she nearly reached for her magic, wanting it to go away.
But then the vehicle stopped. They had arrived wherever they were meant to arrive.
Going through the portal again, she wracked her brains to recall where exactly her assigned room was. After all, the place was a maze, and she hadn’t been here for nearly a year.
But her date, it seemed, had other ideas.
“Spend this night with me. Your problems can wait for tomorrow.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
The man laughed.
His warm breath tickled her ear.
“So what?”
Ciara chuckled. “So what, huh? Fair enough.”
Minutes later, the door slammed shut behind the two of them.
Ciara pulled the man close, pulling his coat off his shoulders.
Honestly, what was she doing here?
Perhaps she was more intoxicated than she had guessed.
Perhaps she did not care.
Her clothing caught on some furniture, and she began to stumble, before the man caught her.
“Whoops… got a bit more tipsy than I thought.”
“Hmm. Perhaps you should sleep it off.”
“No, no, I’ll fix that right now. Wait…”
She felt the magic lowering the alcohol in her blood.
She left some behind, not wanting to get rid of the sensation entirely.
“Done. Now where were we?”
She pulled the man into another kiss, felt herself falling, right onto the bed, with him on top of her.
“Right here.”
Hours later, Ciara blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight pouring in through the window.
For a moment, disorientation took hold, before she realised it must be artificial sunlight, projected by the window panes themselves.
The one good thing about lodging at the space station was; if the view did not suit your tastes, you could always change it.
She turned to pick her dress up off the floor, and saw a vase with jasmines in it on the bedside table.
She was sure that hadn’t been there before.
She heard rustling from around the corner in the adjoining room, and pulling on her clothes, she got up off the bed and walked to the adjoining room.
The stranger was bent over a skillet, frying some eggs. He looked up to see her approach, and smiled.
“Have a good night?”
“Lovely. I noticed the flowers. They weren’t there before, were they?”
“No. I thought you’d like them.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Your perfume. It’s the scent of a Jasmine, is it not?”
Ciara chuckled. “You already got me in bed. There’s no need to keep the charm turned on, is there.”
“On the contrary, this part is far more important to me. Coffee?”
“Sure.”
The man poured her a mug from the pot he had prepared.
“Don’t we have the androids for this shit?”
“I don’t like relying on things like that. And I like cooking for myself sometimes.”
“This coffee is nice.”
“Try the eggs.”
The two of them ate in companionable silence, before the man spoke once more, offering her his hand.
“The name’s Michael.”
Ciara tentatively took his hand.
“Michael… Kane?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re our new overseer.”
Michael said nothing.
“Did you know who I was before you approached me?”
“I did.”
“That’s… I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“Ciara, I would have wanted to know you even had I not been your overseer.”
“Oh?”
“You have a lot of potential. Potential you haven’t realised yet.”
“Potential to do… what exactly?”
“Whatever you want. Isn’t that the whole point of this place?”
“Could have fooled me.”
Michael finished his own coffee.
“You haven’t been provided enough of a chance. But tell me this- after you gained control over your magic, why did you choose to continue working for Apotheosis instead of striking out on your own like a good percentage of us do?”
Ciara thought of the home she had finally been freed from when Apotheosis first spirited her away.
She thought of her mother, a vulgar, dangerous, feared woman.
She thought of the string of vile men who came to deal with her, with that look in their eyes that would so often make her stomach turn.
She had seen first hand what the Mage Lords of Apotheosis were capable of, revelled in the fact that she finally had powerful friends capable of protecting her.
But to them she was a disappointment. A waste of the magic that burned through her soul. And they never wasted a chance to remind her of the fact.
She was saddled with others who were deemed similarly… undesirable.
The constraints of her missions grew increasingly tighter.
The sneers of her supposed peers colder.
But she could not return home.
For her, there was no going back.
“What’s wrong?”
Ciara shook her head, back to the present.
“Nowhere else to go, I’m afraid."
Michael slowly leaned back, then nodded.
After a pause, he said, “I saw the first case you took on.”
“Oh?”
“Hunting a Fae. What made you… overreach so far? On your first assignment, no less.”
“I was trying to get ahead of the curve, I guess.”
“My first assignment was artifact retrieval from a public site. My second was securing an asset. I did not hunt Fae until my fourth assignment.”
“Fascinating. Why tell me all this.”
“You overreached on your first assignment, and you failed to complete it. The slack you were given kept decreasing. Your subsequent assignments kept getting harder simply because of that."
“Is there a point to all these obvious statements?”
“First impressions last, Ciara. You start behind, it’s nearly impossible to get back to the front. That’s why it’s called a first impression. That’s where I come in.”
“Unless you’re a master of mind magic, Michael, you can’t erase memories.”
“I’m the face of your group now. I speak for you. I get the resources you need and the time you need to complete assignments. Do you understand what that means?”
“I get it. We’re riding off your reputation.”
“Do you really get it? This works both ways. Your failures reflect on me as well.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Michael.”
“I am confident. I am confident your initial mistakes aren’t reflective of your skills.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“Well, confident in your skills, at least. I still don’t know the other two in this group of ours.”
“Oh? And why are you so confident in my skills then?”
“You displayed Mind control and Body control yesterday, when you weren’t completely sober. That makes you an apprentice in at least two fields of magic.”
“And I can’t read your mind, which means you know mind shielding magic. Which makes you an apprentice of that field as well.”
“Not necessarily. It could also be an all purpose anti magic shield, which would happen if I were an apprentice of the metamagic field. Keep your thoughts flexible. It’ll serve you well.”
“Well… now what happens?”
“Now,” Michael pulled his suit on, “I have a meeting to attend with the second member of this group of ours.”
Pierre had scheduled a meeting with his new would-be overseer, and had some preparations to make on that front.
“You’re not really cleared to have this with your current credit in this organisation, Mr. Pierre.”
He flashed a crooked smile at the shorter man who had arrived with his package.
“It’s not illegal either, Abdul. I’ll take it from here.”
The installation procedures were complex, and the margin for error low.
But it was insurance against a potentially more powerful mage.
For any negotiation, it was essential.
When it was installed to his satisfaction, he finally set off to meet this Michael Kane.
The glass doors of Michael’s office slid aside to let him in.
The man himself was sitting on his chair at the head of the room, the window behind him opening to the void of space outside.
Pierre barged in without giving the man a second to react, making himself comfortable on the couch placed at the edge of the room.
Michael did not visibly react to this intrusion.
“When I heard the new overseer was going to be American, I thought it’d be a white man. Although I suppose your skin must allow you to blend easier around here.”
Michael made no attempt to acknowledge this statement.
“So, is this where we begin our negotiations?”
At this, the other man gave him a curious look.
“And what exactly is there to negotiate?”
“Come on. We’re negotiating your place with us, and how much you’ll be involving yourself in our work.”
“And neither of these things are negotiable. Why not get to the point of why you really sought me out today?”
“Everything’s negotiable, Mike.” Pierre adopted a familiar nickname and flashed his teeth at him.
Michael stitched his fingers together in front of him, resting his elbows on the table.
“Let’s hear your terms then.”
“Well, I know overseers are required to update Apotheosis with regular logs on our assignments. Letting us go over those reports and maybe tweak them a bit would be a good start.”
Michael had the faintest beginnings of a smile playing on his lips.
Pierre was used to being underestimated. It had served him well many times, and he was content to keep it that way.
“Secondly, I heard from Anisha how you’re used to certain… accommodations from Apotheosis on your assignments. Obviously, we’ll be expecting that as well. Why not make all our lives easier after all.”
Pierre was able to discern no change in Michael’s bearing. He had name dropped Anisha, one of Michael’s more frequent Hollow born associates, intentionally.
Most Magi cared little for the well being of Hollows, but a rare few grew attached. Telling Michael he knew of Anisha’s location would be as explicit a threat as he could get away with.
Judging from the reaction he had failed to provoke, Michael cared nothing for the Hollows around him. Or he masked his reactions very well.
Pierre defaulted to the former explanation, and continued.
“We get to choose the assignments we’re sent on. You don’t pick them out for us. And you stay out of our way when we’re working.”
“And why do you think I would agree to even one of these demands, let alone all of them.”
“You’ve looked into me, Mike. I know you have. That’s how all you Outreach slugs operate. So you know me. You know what lengths I’ll go to to get what I want.”
Pierre opened the front of his shirt, revealing a network of bulbous, purple, swollen blood vessels trailing over his chest, encircling a digital watch embedded in his flesh. Counting down with 7 minutes remaining.
“You know what this is.”
Michael remained impassive.
Pierre had to marvel at the man’s self control, but far greater mages than he had been brought to their knees by the device ticking away over his heart.
“You shouldn’t have been able to get your hands on that.” Michael finally spoke. “Perhaps you’re more resourceful than I gave you credit for.”
“If you know what this is, you also know how it works.”
The pulse bomb strapped to Pierre’s chest would detect any magical or physical anomaly within him, and send the count hurtling to zero in case he came to harm or was otherwise entrapped with a spell and trigger the power of his soul outward in a raw, unshaped storm of chaos. No magical defence would hold up to it.
For all intents and purposes, it was a perfect weapon.
“Sit still,” said Michael.
And so Pierre’s muscles rebelled against him, and sit still he did.
And the counter on his chest began to hurtle downwards.
Pierre strained against the compulsion.
“What… ngh… are you doing? I thought you knew how this thing works.”
Michael rose from his seat and sat right across Pierre, folding one leg over the other.
“I do know how it works. And that clock is ticking down pretty quickly too. Fascinating.”
Pierre clenched his teeth and strained some more.
“Strong arming me with a mind control spell won’t work here. The pulse bomb will tick down faster with the power of your spell. You won’t live to enjoy your victory.”
“And I don’t plan to force anything on you. All I require from you right now is to sit. Still.”
The counter ticked down even faster.
Four minutes left.
“You know this isn’t the first negotiation of it’s kind I’ve sat at. And I know what you’re really angling for.” Michael continued conversationally.
Pierre still strained against the spell holding him down.
“Is that.. right?”
“Of course. You ask for a hundred, but really, you’ll be satisfied with anything above zero, won’t you?”
Michael uncrossed his legs, and leaned in.
“I’m not the guy who expects his team to work with zero anyway, so this whole thing was pointless. But since you’re here already, it’s time for a much more important lesson.”
Two minutes left.
“You will work with me. You will work under my hand, or you will work under my heel. But you will work, and you will actually earn the things you’ve asked for today.”
Then he stood and walked back to his desk.
Pierre’s muscles slackened and his body was his own once again.
He looked down at the counter. It had stopped with 13 seconds left.
“Now, anything else? Or were you leaving?”
“You’re insane. What do you think would have happened if this timer had gone off?”
“It’s impossible to guess. That is the point of an explosion of unstructured magic. We could have been disintegrated, erased from time and space or been turned into a flock of butterflies.”
“And still you-”
“Is that your preferred weapon for every negotiation? I would suggest arming yourself better in the future. It’s true a magical shield won’t exactly hold up to a pulse bomb, but our powers are infinite in their applications. And there are far too many ways to defeat even that weapon.”
Pierre said nothing as he rose to leave. Michael continued to speak.
“The fact that this is your first and last resort displays nothing but a lack of imagination. And for someone working with me, that isn’t acceptable. But that will change soon.”
Pierre wordlessly stormed out and the glass door slid shut behind him.
The communicator on Michael’s table flashed. He brought it to his ear.
“What did you think of the man, sir?”
“He has no great skill in magic, but he was able to procure gear he shouldn’t have access to at his current clearance. Obviously his talents lie elsewhere. We’ll have to see how that works out for us.”
“He’s a short tempered man. I’m sure he doesn’t take the idea of being commanded well.”
“I welcome his challenge, if he believes he’s more fit to lead than me. And if it helps him hone himself, all the better.”
“Would you like me to set up a meeting with the third one, sir?”
“Aaron? No. I don’t anticipate any real problems with him. It’s time for me to address them as a whole. And I already have their next assignment ready. It’s time to get to work.”