CrystalGuardians: GODS Among US.
The Magic Assassin Arc.
Prologue: Part 1: Danger That Comes to Our Door. Prelude 2: War-ENTRY LOG
Sunday, May 31st, 2009
Several lightning strikes broke it above NEO New York City in the early morning sky.
A city of 8.2 million people.
A city that was closed off to the world—well, not entirely closed off.
There are twenty-six heavily guarded highways, with seven leading in and out of the city; fourteen of those roads are reserved for cargo deliveries. Outside the large city walls in front of a large tunnel at one of the far-right end toll booths was a semi-trailer truck.
“All right, everything seems to be in order." The young man in the elevated booth passed the identification card of the diver on the truck through the window. “You should be good to go now. Sorry for the inconvenience. There was a really bad lightning storm a couple of days ago, so a couple of devices have been frizzy.”
The driver looked at the sky through the front windshield.
There was not a cloud in sight, but-
Lightning scattered across the dark sky.
The driver sat back in his seat.
"There must have been some storm." The driver mumbled his breath.
He watched as the stop barrier was lifted.
After the barrier was lifted, the truck slowly drove through the tunnel without any problems.
It wasn’t even a few minutes into the tunnel before two of the three back left wheels were blown out. That unexpected action caused the end of the semi-trailer to lean left. Sparks trailed behind the semi-truck.
"SHIT!" the driver shouted out as the left-side truck slammed and slid across the wall.
“Back left wheels not operational, back left wheels not operational, back left whe-” the driver cut off the overhead announcement by pushing a button above him. He pushed another button, which released the elevated wheels, letting them fall to the ground.
As the truck bounced off the wall into the middle of the road, the driver pushed down on the breaks hard, and after several seconds, the vehicle came to a complete stop.
There was beeping in the truck as it rested there.
After that ordeal, the driver plopped himself back into the seat and exhaled.
After what felt like several minutes, he grabbed his radio. Pressing the button on the side, he spoke.
“This is truck number 26 to dispatch reporting a 10-42; repeat reporting a 10-42.”
There were a few seconds of silence.
[10-4 What is your ’20 currently, and do you need any emergency services?]
“I am currently in the St. Gabriel Tunnel leading into the city; emergency services will probably have to be called. According to the HUD, the truck is in no condition to drive.”
[10-4 Stand by for just a second]
The driver's side door opened as the cold air hit him. He climbed down using a ladder attached to the truck.
Now on the ground, the driver began checking the damage to the vehicle.
The left side of the truck was damaged as the wall container was scrapped open, though he was relieved that the contents did not spill out onto the road. Turning his attention away from the container, he began walking towards the back of the truck.
(Back left wheel), he thought as his eyes drifted downward to the wheels.
The back-left wheels were gone completely, leaving the rear drive axles.
(Well, this is a fine mess, the man thought as he lightly kicked the axles.
As he kneeled to glance at the lowered wheels, he could hear a footstep quickly approaching him. He looked up to see the toll booth attendant running towards him.
[Command to truck 26: Come in]
“This is truck number 26 here; go with your message.”
[We have someone on route 65 minutes out who can tow the truck and cargo off the road; emergence services should be there soon.]
"Copy, I’ll stand by for now,” the truck driver said.
As he kneeled to check the lowered wheels, he could hear a footstep quickly approaching him. He looked up to see the toll booth attendant running towards him.
“Are you okay?” he shouted.
The driver sighed and stood up. “Yeah, my back tires are blown out." He looked up at the container. “As of right now, this truck is in no condition to move. I have notified my dispatch to have this vehicle picked up; until then, this lane and the next will probably have to be closed for the time being.”
"Copy,” the worker said as he unclipped his black radio from his belt. “This is post seven; a truck crashed and broke down in two of the lanes, requesting barricades and the shutdown of several lanes.”
There was no reply from the radio.
The man spoke into the radio again.
“This is post seven to command, reporting a truck crash in the tunnel, requesting emergency services at this time, post seven to command.”
There was faint static coming from the small radio in his hands.
Observing this, the truck driver said, “You think the random lightning strike could be affecting everything?”
“…….orry”
The two men heard a weak voice that echoed in the tunnel, followed by the sound of footsteps.
“I’m……sorry” A raspy voice whined out.
Both men turned around to see an elderly man walking towards them down the entrance.
“What the..." the toll booth worker said.
As the elderly man continued walking, they were able to make out his features.
His skin was ghostly white and wrinkly; the top of his head was bald, with hair behind his ears and the back of his head. He was wearing a black long-sleeve button-down shirt that was tucked into his black dress pants. Over that shirt was a gray V-neck sleeveless vest.
The toll booth could see a small object in the right hand that was shining from the overhead lights in the tunnel. He stepped forward and placed his hand on his taser on his belt.
"Sir, I have to ask you to stop right there; this is not a pedestrian walkway.”
There was no reply from the elderly man as he continued walking towards them.
“I’m so….sorry” The old man spoke weakly as he raised his head, revealing his sunken eyes.
In a quick motion, from behind the man, a black mass began traveling across the tunnel walls and ceiling covering it. Suddenly, the tunnel walls were pitch black, frightening the two men and causing them to take a step back.
“……So very…..sorry”
With that statement, several eyes opened against the black walls, revealing eyes with red pupils of various sizes. The pupils were quickly moving around, scanning the dark tunnel.
The toll worker and truck driver froze in fear as all the eyes glanced at them.
“I am so sorry….so please forgive me.”
There were multiple groaning sounds coming from the dark tunnel walls as dark black arms began to protrude out. The arms began to use the walls to push the rest of their bodies out.
The bodies plopped out of the wall and fell to the ground with several loud thuds. The two men watched as the black bodies were crouched over on all fours like an animal on the floor. The bodies surrounded the two men.
Slowly, the bodies began to stand up, the bones cracking along the way. They had no defining traits, though males in appearance were completely emaciated. There was no hair or genitalia on them; their eyes were a ghostly pale white with black teeth; and there was a pitch-black liquid dripping from their bodies onto the floor.
Suddenly, there was a shriek from the bodies as they began converging on the two men. There was a lone yell that quickly became muffled as the black bodies began to pile on their targets.
Through the muffled yelling, there was a squelching that echoed out in the tunnel, followed by a soft footstep as the elderly man walked past the piling black bodies.
“I am so sorry.”
The elderly man said as he unfolded his hands to his side.
“So very sorry.”
The muffled screaming began to die out to the sound of violent gnawing and tearing of flesh.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. So very sorry, so...
The ceiling and tunnel walls started to become brighter as the black mass began sliding onto the ground. Soon, the black bodies began to slowly sink into the ground. The elderly man paid no attention to the sinking bodies as he continued walking down the tunnel that led into the city.
“Please forgive me; you two were not the targets I had been sent here for.”
The black mass on the ground began to shrink rapidly to a circle on the ground, with the elderly man at the center following as he walked.
A sword hilt slowly emerged from the black circle on the ground.
“Go to sleep on time, pray before every meal, and carefully read your books." The elderly man spoke in a high-pitched tone in his voice, as if he were imitating a female speaking. “And slaughter sinners wherever they are.” His voice got raspy as he said that last part.
The elderly man had kneeled to grab the hilt.
“I only kill sinners, so please forgive me. This job is so hard, so very hard.”
The back circle under him shrank as he pulled the hilt out; there was no blade on the hilt. The circle disappeared as he stood up.
“It is a hard job because everyone is a sinner," the elderly man said as he began walking down the road into the city, hilt by his side.
——————————————————————————————————
Inside a black four-door SUV were two people riding inside. A young male in his early 30s is behind the wheel. He had short black hair with a light stubble on his face. His brown eyes looked forward at the road before him. His outfit consisted of a dark blue tactical long-sleeve jacket with a bullet-proof vest over it, dark blue cargo pants with multiple pockets with diagonal black stripes over the thighs, and dark black steel toe boots.
His brown eyes looked forward, and as he could see several orange cones in front of the entrance to a large tunnel, he started to slow the vehicle down.
“Hey, we’re here; look alive,” the man said to the passenger in the back.
A red-headed female was laid out across the seats. Even though she was wearing the same outfit as her male counterpart now, her bulletproof vest was lying on the car floor. She had her jacket half-zipped, revealing her gray tank top.
"Ugh, finally,” she said as she scratched under her chin. As the SUV pulled over to the left, she sat up and zipped her jacket up just under her neck.
With the vehicle coming to a complete stop, the man sighed before putting the vehicle in park and taking the key out. The man exited the SUV and began walking toward the trunk of the vehicle.
The female exited, putting on her bulletproof vest, and began walking towards the back of the SUV as the man opened the trunk. Inside the trunk were several tactical gears and weapons.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The two began to load up on serval flash bangs, pepper spray, bear spray, and tasers. After strapping on his helmet, the man passed the woman with her helmet. As she grabbed her helmet, the man pushed a button on the side of the trunk, which caused a locked compartment to rise from the floor of the trunk.
The man put in a six-digit code, followed by a light beep. He opened the safe to reveal two black AR-15 rifles. They had grabbed their respective weapons off the gun rack. Both stood there, examining the riffles. The female pointed the gun away from the man to look through the scope.
“I am all good,” the female said as she lowered the gun to attach it to a strap on her jacket.
“Me too,” the man said as he placed the magazine back into the gun after checking the bullets. He then, too, attached the gun to the straps of his jacket.
Closing the trunk off the car, both began walking towards the cones in the road. A police officer approached them.
The male and female pulled out their badges.
“Tactical Response Agent, Kazuhiro Matsumoto’’ The man said,.
“Tactical Response Agent, Maria Holm,” the female said, following suit.
Quickly checking their badges, the officer moved the two of the cones out of the way, allowing both to pass through.
Maria smirked and turned around to the officer.
“Stay sharp; I don’t want anyone to assume you’re slacking off,” she said, pointing at the officer.
“Look who is talking,” Kazuhiro said under his breath.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Maria said, pouting.
"Nothing, just remain focused, will you” Kazuhiro said to her.
Both entered the tunnel, which caused all the sounds they made to echo.
“But all work and now fun make Maria a dull girl.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do about it?” he replied as he saw several officers examining the toll booth as they walked past.
“Speaking of fun, how is your family?” Maria's question caused him to tense up.
“Oh, about them. They are doing great, last I heard,” he said nervously.
A devilish grin appeared on her face, leaning in closely behind him.
“I know they are doing fine.”
She then placed her index finger on her chin.
“Probably unrelated, there was a call a few days ago that came up about an armed robbery of a corner store. What stood out to me was not the crime itself, but that someone saved them.”
“S-saved them,” Kazuhiro said.
“Although that individual had left, they managed to give a description of him.”
Kazuhiro gulped.
“Height five-foot ten”
(It is not enough to go on.)
“Black and red-colored clothes”
(I mean, two random colors don’t mean anything.)
“Blue eyes and black hair”
(Those traits could belong to anyone; they are not rare…..)
“With the left side of his hair sticking out in a wild manner,”
(That little shit.)
“Soooo…” Maria trailed.
He knew where she was about to go with this, so he was trying to prepare for it.
“How is the little hellraiser that is your nephew?”
Kazuhiro sighed and groaned.
“Where do I begin? From the calls I get from Reiko, Haruko seems to be brash, outspoken, and somehow always finds himself in the middle of conflicts.”
“Funny, that sounds like somebody I know.”
“What was that?” Kazuhiro said.
"Oops, nothing, nothing.”
The two kept waking up in the tunnel to see several people circling various spots around a semi-truck in the middle of the road. The pair walked up to a brown-haired man wearing a tan trench coat.
“Commissioner Callahan”
The man turned around at the sound of Kazuhiro’s voice and stared at the two.
"It's just you two from the T.R.T. (Tactical Response Team)”
“We have several more squads coming; it's just that we were the closest unit available.”
“I see, I guess I can’t complain; this incident just sprang up, which is why I requested a joint operation between the N.N.Y.C.P.D. (NEO New York City Police Department), the City Bureau, and the Counter Terrorism Taskforce.”
“To have all those agencies in a joint operation, there must be something serious.”
Callahan placed his hand in his trench coat pockets.
“Follow me, would you? When I was notified of what happened and saw what occurred with my own eyes, I decided that this was the best course of action. I’ll bring you up to speed,” he said as he walked off. Both Kazuhiro and Maria glanced at each other before following him, walking along the side of the truck.
“What we know so far is that 71 minutes ago, a N.N.Y.C.P.D. operator received two emergency calls, one from the dispatch of a trucking company saying a vehicle broke down and the other from the overnight supervisor after they had discovered the mutilated limbs of a toll operator and, what we are assuming at this time, the truck driver.
That last part of the statement caught Kazuhiro's attention. “Limbs, not the full body itself,” he asked.
"That is right, but that is not the only part; it gets weirder from there.”
The trio approached a large white tent near the front of the truck; the tent was sprawled out across three of the five lanes in the road. As they entered the tent, on the floor were multiple evidence markers.
In one section of the road, there was a forearm in the street. His eyes drifted to another section to see the head and shoulder of a male. There were several fingers on the floor. There was a clothed midsection a little far off. Legs, arms, and internal organs were just lying on the floor as if they were ripped apart by a large animal.
It was the perfect gory scene in a horror movie, or it would have been—despite the brutality before them, the thing that stood out to Kazuhiro and Mario was the lack of blood.
The walls and the road were clear of blood—any blood.
“This road leads into the main hub of the city, Manhattan. I had several squad cars go down that road and set up checkpoints at the exit of this tunnel, but based on this crime scene and the time we got here, we have to assume that this individual or individuals that did this are probably well within the city.”
"How far is gathering evidence coming along?” Maria asked.
“We’re pulling entry logs and camera footage and conducting interviews with the employees, trying to get an accurate timeline of events. We are already behind, and it is most likely these attacks will not stop here, so we need to gather what we can and coordinate our efforts going forward.”
Kazuhiro looked to see a dismembered hand on the ground that was still holding on to a black radio. Like all the other limbs on the floor, there was no blood near them.
(What the hell is about to happen?)
——————————————————————————————————
Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009
“Anatoli Azarov”
A single name was spoken.
“That is the name of the individual that entered your city. Russian national. Alias, the Black Death. Wanted in four countries on charges ranging from breaking and entering to mass murder. His current age is unknown, but we have reports of his crimes dating back to the Cold War.”
A female voice rang out in the large white room, coming from a monitor hanging on the wall, regarding this.
"Sorry, I wasn’t able to get this information to you earlier; we had some issues on our side that had to take precedence.”
Standing in front of that monitor was Raziel, the founder of NEO New York City.
Now, he was staring at a large screen on the wall.“I see. Very well. If that is all the information you have reported, then I believe that we can end this-”
"Wait, you didn’t let me finish. Three weeks ago, he arrived in London and began a wave of small murders over the course of two weeks, with thirty-one victims in total, including several families. The thing that stood out to us was that all of his victims were completely random—race, nationality, sex, age, if they were magicians or not.”
“Isn’t that how all mass murders are?”
“To him, he is judging them by some unseen metric," the female voice replied. “On the 26th of May, he committed the final wave of his murders when he entered an occupied train car and killed the people inside between that stop and the next. One survivor at the time, a little girl, said that Anatoli, while murdering the passengers, kept shouting out 'sinners' before succumbing to her wounds in the hospital hours later.”
“Sinners against what?”
“Based on his victims, no one knows. After that, the magic association and several of my elite forces manage to track them in an abandoned building."
“And they haven’t been able to capture him, haven’t they?"
“I’m afraid that is correct; they lost track of him.”
There was silence as Raziel took her words in.
“Lost track of him, you say; either you are lying or the magic association is more incompetent than I thought.”
Now it was her turn to take his words in through the silence.
"Shoot, you caught me." The female voice said with a sarcastic tone, “It wasn’t that they lost track of him, but rather they couldn’t track him after a certain point.”
There was a single beep as a picture popped up on the screen.
The picture was of a green sword hilt and a gold guard.
Nothing came to his mind regarding the object in the picture.
“Ooh, even though I can’t see your face, I can tell that you are frustrated. You, who prides himself on calculating dozens of plans if he has a slither of information, but when an unknown variable comes in that even you are not aware of, you’re as lost as a deer in headlights; it's actually quite amusing.”
“What is this?” Raziel said, not taking his eyes off the picture on the screen.
“The group that the magic association sent consisted of twenty-seven, including four of my own guards. Nine of those that went with the group excelled at tracking individuals. If one person using their magic lost him, that would not raise concern…”
“I am assuming that there were users of different types of magic in this group that was sent out.”
There was no reply from the female.
Taking her no response as a yes, he continued.
“And all of the tracker magicians lost him?”
“Yes, this hilt is a remnant of the first magic war 500 hundred years ago; it was a weapon that served as an antithesis to another weapon of the same type left behind by The First. This hilt was too dangerous to be left unchecked, so it was sealed by the magic association. Yesterday, it was told to me that the hilt was no longer in their possession. We are trying to see if the group that attempted to target me and the group that took the weapon are related. If the hilt is not here, then he most likely has it.”
"But there is no proof, only speculation.”
"Hmmm, that is odd; I would have never guessed those words would have come out of your mouth. I can tell you’re calculating how to deal with a magical item you have little to no information about, and you are right to do so. You should be cautious about this item because the true ability of the hilt is-”