Part 5

There was a slight groan that broke out.

The snowy road was slightly bumpy, which made it difficult for the child to sleep as a bus drove along in the early morning hours.

Nervousness.

The bus was taking the occupants that were inside somewhere.

“This seems to be the place." The headmaster said he leaned forward in his seat in the first row, looking out the front window.

The sun was staring to rise in the sky off in the distance.

Large grass hedges seemed to stretch on as a coach bus drove by down a narrow road.

There wasn’t a feeling that the young child could put into words to explain how he was feeling right now as he stared out the window of a bus on his way to his new home.

A boarding school—or what was supposed to be a boarding school.

Joy.

Sadness.

Dread.

Happiness.

Regret.

Fear.

Calmness.

A mix of emotions.

Maybe fear of the unknown of what was about to happen.

Since this was the start of his new life, he was supposed to feel something, but-

There was a feeling in the back of his mind.

The child looked down before closing his eyes.

["Would you like to prevent this from happening again?”

The child stared at the headmaster.

“Wha-what do you mean by that?”

“Would you like to prevent this from happening again?”

It was a simple question, but the child who was asked did not know how to answer.

“How could I do that? How would that even be possible?”

The headmaster looked at the child.

“The Soviet Union and most of the world are reeling from the effects of the Second World War. The issue that has come up is how to progress forward in a rebuilding world."

The headmaster walked up to the large window to gaze outside.

After a few seconds of silence between the pair, the headmaster spoke.

“With the rising emergence of magicians and supernatural abilities across the world, a few are being gathered with the belief that they can be useful in the future so they can master their abilities. The idea is in its planning stage, so it is being thought up as it moves along; there is nothing concrete yet, but...”

The headmaster trailed.

“If you choose to accept the offer, you will be in the direct care of the country going forward.]

The bus pulled into a large parking lot before slowing down, causing a child to grip the luggage duffle bag on his knees tighter.

A new life.

Everything felt surreal as the bus came to a stop and the child looked out the window.

Outside, there was a large white building with black rooftops that looked like a cathedral.

There was a large metal wall that surrounded the perimeter of the building like a fence.

Stone steps lined the entrance of the building that led to two large brown closed doors.

Standing on the steps was a man wearing a large gray fur trench coat, a fur hat, and thick black boots walking down the steps.

“Alright, everybody, grab up all your belongings; I believe this is the place." The headmaster said this as he stood up from his seat.

There was a shuffling noise and talking as all the children on the bus began to move around.

The bus doors open, followed by the children stepping off, trying to find their balance, and stepping into the white snow.

As the child stepped off the bus, the cold air hit his face, causing him to tighten the fur collar of his jacket around the bottom portion of his face.

His breath was in the cold air. seeped through his fingers.

At the touch of a hand on his shoulder, the child stopped fidgeting and turned his head.

“Are you okay?” The headmaster asked with a soft tone in his voice.

“Yeah, just a little cold,” the child said before looking away.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"That is understandable, but on the bright side, we are finally here; this is the place where you guys will be staying.”

At that statement, the child looked at the building.

Now that the child was outside, the building looked even larger, almost overwhelming to the child.

"Ah, I see everyone made it here with no problems, I assume,” the man said.

“It was a long trip, but yes, no problems.”

The thick-bearded man looked at the group of children before turning his attention to the headmaster.

“Very well; we will talk later. The breakfast hour is starting soon. Follow me inside, warm up, and we'll get something to eat,” the man said as he turned to the stairs.

The children followed behind, carrying their baggage.

“After all, today will be the start of a new day for everyone here.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Everything was black in his mind.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re wasting time.”

“Right now, you are failing them.”

“Help us”

“You’re letting us die.”

Several faint whispers broke out that soon became louder, almost deafening.

“WERE DYING”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD SAVE US.”

“IT HURTS”

The voices started to drown out each other, becoming unbearable and ringing out.

“Sir, is everything alright?”

A female voice spoke out., which caused the elderly man to turn and stare at the woman with his mouth slightly open and a blank, lost look on his face.

“I…I” The elderly man started to speak before looking around.

It was as if he had just woken up from a short nap.

He was lost in confusion as he looked around. In the back of his mind, he felt as if he were being watched by everyone.

Paranoia.

Anxiety.

The elderly man sat in a retro restaurant.

Checkered tiles of black and white lined the floor; red and white diner booths and furniture filled the room; and several ceiling fans were on the walls in rows of two.

Music was playing from a jukebox off in the corner.

Do... do you see them?" The old man weakly asked.

Around the store were several dark figures draped in tattered black cloaks floating around the dinner.

Except for bright red circles for eyes, the faces were covered by a large hood with horns sticking out of them.

“Can you see them? They are all around us.”

The waitress looked around the dinner.

Besides a few patrons at different sections of the dinner, the place was almost empty.

She turned back to face the now visibly shaken elderly man.

“Are you alright?” The waitress asked.

The old man.

The mage-killer.

The boogeyman of Russia.

Anatoli Azarov.

The old man did not reply to the question.

Slowly, he glanced down at the table.

On the table was a glass plate covered with the remnants of a cheeseburger and fries.

Next to the plate was a folded map of NEO New York City.

The old man looked forward as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Where am I?” the old man asked with a look of confusion on his face as he turned to the woman. “Where am I right now?”

Lost.

Confused.

“Heritage Dinner,” the waitress said as she closed her eyes, followed by a weak smile that crept on her face. “The best retro dinner in the Bronx" is trying to say that sentence without suffering from embarrassment.

There was silence between the two.

“……The Bronx,” the old man mumbled through his lips.

The figures turned to the man, staring at him.

The old man weakly grabbed the map off the table, staring at it.

Slightly opening it revealed red scribbles, which included writings and symbols on several locations that connected to other symbols across the vast city.

On paper, the five boroughs and Hudson and Bergen County made up the closed-off metropolis of NEO New York City.

The map of the city was covered in scribbles.

All except one location.

The Bronx.

That portion of the map remained free of any scribbles.

His final location.

His mission.

“The Bronx…..”

Through his confusion, a thought came to him.

This dinner was not where he was supposed to be right now.

His job.

The figures began to slowly move towards the old man.

He needed to finish his job.

The old man folded the map close and stuck it inside his vest before grabbing his suitcase, which was seated next to him on the floor.

Placing his other palm on the dinner table, he pushed himself off the seat.

“I’m sorry, I have to leave." The old man said, stepping out of the booth quickly, nearly shoulder-checking the young waitress. “I have to go and finish my job.”

With that statement, the old man made his way to the entrance door to leave, rushing out the door as if something were chasing him.

Leaving the waitress in confusion.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bright lights shone in the white-walled cafeteria.

Several nuns were serving and handing out plates of food.

The children were in a cafeteria, eating and chatting away with each other.

Watching everything unfold was the headmaster and program director.

The program director slightly turned to the headmaster.

“Come with me; we can discuss this further in my office.”

The program director exited the cafeteria, though two opened doors with the headmaster following behind.

The sound of the heavy footstep against the wooden floors filled the area.

The headmaster and director walked down an empty hallway of white walls and dark brown floors.

As the headmaster walked down the halls, he took a glance inside one of the classrooms passing by.

Propaganda.

Indoctrination.

The headmaster knew what this was.

[This program is supposed to be a possible solution to the rising conflict between muggles and mages.]

A door opens to a large room with brown walls.

A tan carpet covered most of the floor in the room.

A large desk is near the back of the room.

A large bookshelf is on the left side of the room.

The program director walked to the desk and sat in his chair.

“The number of children is less than what I was fully expecting, but perhaps that works for us to keep all of this secretive.” The program director said.

“Child soldiers," the headmaster said. “Is that really the best course of action?”

There was a long silence in the office room as both men entered the room.

The door closed to a loud silence.

“I appreciate your concern, but they will not be children should we decide to utilize them out in the field. As of right now, they are just simple children receiving an education, a place to stay, some combat and firearms training, and benefits not awarded to regular magicians—a privileged life going forward.”

The headmaster looked at the man.

“All that with conditions.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Nothing in this world is gained without sacrifice; that is the rule of the world, even this superficial peace we are living in, until the next conflict shatters all this completely.”

“The hypothetical conflict on the horizon that you are so fixated on.”

“Of course,” the man said with a grin.

“It is pretty extreme to believe that the conflict would get that far.”

Sitting at his desk, the program director leaned back in his chair, staring at the plain ceiling above him.

“Conflict, magic, it turns out has been around longer than we assume, but we are becoming aware of it now, and it is far beyond our understanding.”

The headmaster watched on.

“And with the way things are going, we won’t fully grasp it. Should conflict arise, knowledge of what magic can do will be limited. I am sure you can understand what that means.”

The program director leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and folding his hands together.

“My superiors paid no heed to my warning as I brought it up; they believed I was delusional, going senile in my old age. That is why this program exists outside the jurisdiction of both the military and the country.”

The program director raised his left arm and lifted up his index and middle fingers.

“There are only two options that can arise from this: One, perhaps I am overthinking things, and maybe nothing arises beyond a few squabbles. The children will finish their education here, and everyone will move on with their lives or….”

He lowered his middle finger, leaving his index finger up.

“..Two: I am correct about what is to come in the future, pure destruction; maybe it is speculation, but if there is a possibility that I am right, then it is best to be prepared for it, using magic against magic. Because of rising tensions, magicians can be a great asset to the stability and future of this country.”

“And how would that happen?” the headmaster asked while the program director lowered his arm.

A wide grin appeared on his face.

"It's really simple; we end conflict before it begins.”