The Mile High Gun Club was one of Denver's most popular shooting ranges, known for its state-of-the-art facilities and family-friendly atmosphere. The range had a unique policy that allowed children older than 10 to enter for free on weekends when accompanied by an adult, but with strict rules for minors under 14. These rules included constant adult supervision, mandatory safety training, and restrictions on the types of firearms they could handle.
However, for Carlos Cornejo, these rules were of little concern when it came to his youngest son. At just 11 years old, Matthias was such a natural. His detective father sometimes felt that it was a waste of time trying to teach him anything. Likewise, his elder siblings, who accompanied their father to the range along with Matt, wondered how their younger brother managed to blaze past them in shooting despite only just coming to the range earlier this year.
The twins, along with their father, watched somewhat bewilderingly as Matthias lined up his shots with precision and nailing the target with ease. They, along with the others at the range who would sometimes pause their own shooting to gawk at the eleven-year-old's marksmanship, had noticed that Matthias no longer missed the targets, including the moving ones. His shots didn't always land in the bullseye, but the targets themselves he always hit.
"Is that your boy?" asked a grizzled man with a salt-and-pepper beard, gesturing towards Matthias.
Carlos nodded. "Yeah, he's my youngest."
"Never seen a kid his age shoot like that before," the man said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You must be one hell of an instructor."
Carlos ought to have felt more pride, but he truly felt he hadn't done much. Unlike like with his older children, Matthias hadn't needed much instruction. As usual, once he was given the tools and rudimentary lessons, he figured the rest out on his own.
"Y'know, Dad. Sometimes, it feels like Matt's actually older than we are," Jonny joked with his father.
Carlos knew he was jesting, but there were times when the detective felt the same.
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As the Cornejos packed away their firearms, preparing to head home, snippets of a conversation between a man and woman caught their attention.
"But, man, it's just wild," a man said. "ARES really lost a head-on fight with some syndicate Rogues the other day. They used to take on all of Denver's gangs at once, no problem, so how the hell does something like that even happen."
"Sure, but what's really crazy is that they killed Void Knight," the woman he spoke to said.
"You mean that Hoplite from Britain? Wasn't he 'sposed to be invincible or something? How'd he get killed?"
"Yeah, and his CL was A4! I just don't know how ARES is going to take these guys out. They even broke into the citadel and got away with it!"
The conversation continued as the Cornejos silently made their way to the car.
As they drove home, Gabriella spoke up from the passenger seat. "Things have been getting kind of crazy. I mean, they were crazy before. Mom and Joey got kidnapped right before summer and all that. But man, a Hoplite getting killed in broad daylight is just…"
"I've never heard people talk about ARES like that either," Jonathan added from the backseat. "Usually, everyone treats Hoplites like they're superheroes who can't be beat, or whatever. Kinda lame how many people are dogging them just because some Rogues got the jump on them once. It's not like these guys were normal either. Syndicate Rogues are supposed to be way tougher than normal ones, aren't they, Dad?"
Carlos nodded. "Yeah. An ARES psytechnician I used to know said comparing ordinary Rogues to syndicate Rogues is like comparing regular army infantry to Rangers or Green Berets. They're in completely different leagues to the guys who join gangs."
"Are they as strong as Denver's Hoplites?" Gabby asked.
"Hard to say, considering nobody except the people involved in the fight the other day knows any details about these guys. From what's been said in the news, that mysterious masked man definitely is. He's the one who killed Void Knight."
Matthias gazed out the window on his side of the backseat as his family discussed recent events with each other. He was a bit burned out on the subject at the moment and would rather not have to think about it when not actively doing research or investigating. There was one snippet that did catch the boy's ear however.
"How do those syndicate guys manage to slip away like they did, Dad? I heard the masked dude could turn invisible, but how'd the others get away when the sun was out and everything?" Jonny asked. "Were they teleporters?"
"No. I don't think it had anything to do with psychic powers at all," Carlos said. "It's actually a whole lot simpler than that.
"It's not just about their powers," Carlos explained. "Syndicates have connections everywhere. They've got people in local businesses, restaurants, hotels - you name it. These places help them hide in plain sight. When I was a young detective in San Francisco — this is before any of you were born, by the way — I was part of a case involving a Triad syndicate operating throughout the Bay Area. We were tracking a group of their enforcers, but they kept slipping away. Turned out, they were using a network of small Chinese-owned businesses to move around undetected."
Matthias, his interest piqued, posed a question. "So, they were smuggling these guys into the back during a chase or when cops were snooping around?"
"More than that. They had what they called 'escape experts.' These are guys who do things like teleport, transform, or turn invisible the syndicate member in question. These syndicate-affiliated establishments always keep at least one escape expert on hand in case a syndicate member needs to 'vanish' real quick. It was probably one of those that helped those syndicate guys suddenly disappear without a trace. There's probably a whole network these Emerald guys have built up in Denver already that we can't even see yet."
Gabriella frowned. "So, even if ARES takes out those Rogues, this syndicate will still have this pseudo-Underground Railroad thing in place?"
"Exactly," Carlos said. "That's why it's so important for law enforcement and ARES to work together. It's also why my job and Donald's are both a whole lot easier when we're dealing with regular street gangs."
None of his family noticed it, but Matthias's eyes had begun to widen as they rarely did. A sudden realization was dawning on him. The pieces of a puzzle were starting to fall into place.
He smiled as he muttered, "Finding my next lead just got a whole lot simpler…"
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"Phineas, Craig, they're talking about you two and Uncle Tom in the news," Dorothy said merrily.
The syndicate boss reclined in her plush chair as the humanoid female-like cosmology droid shuffled around her head, expertly styling her hair while humming some tune she knew Dorothy liked. The luxury home she had discreetly purchased in Denver served as the perfect hideout for the Emerald Syndicate's boss. Murdock lounged on a nearby couch, his legs dangling over the armrest as he listened to his boss drone on. Sitting opposite of him in an armchair was Doyle, engrossed in a book with his legs crossed.
The news played on a large holographic screen, a reporter's voice filling the room with the latest updates on the recent battle between ARES and the 'notorious' Emerald Syndicate. Dorothy listened with a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"You three really shook up the city the other day. It made international news, and it's trending on social media," the syndicate boss says.
"It's not surprising considering that not only was a Hoplite killed, one of the most elite Hoplites from Europe — who was literally considered invincible — was killed," Doyle said without lifting his eyes from his book. "And in a pretty brutal fashion on top of that."
"Looks like you really weren't exaggerating about that old man's skills, Dorothy. He's a real savage, after all," Murdock said, his shoeless feet rocking slightly on the edge of the couch. "He would have been a dangerous guy for us to fight back at his house. Might of dusted one of us."
"Oh, one of us definitely would have died even if we all fought Uncle Tom together. Probably Phineas. No offense."
"None taken. I was in his kill zone the moment I was in the same house as him," Doyle admitted. "Doubt my neurojacker would have worked that well on him either; that's if I could even get the chance to use it against him."
"Hey, Dorothy. Aren't you playing me and Doyle down a lil' much here? That old man's dangerous, but we're still your enforcers for a reason."
"I'm just being realistic here, Craig. Uncle Tom's gotten grayer, but he's still sharp. If he was in his prime, he'd probably kill you both before I got the chance to take him out."
Murdock snorted, annoyed with the plainness she could state such a thing. Regardless of how he felt, he recognized that the man the Emerald Syndicate had roped into working for them was a valuable asset indeed. Whatever Dorothy was doing in exchange for his services was definitely going to be worth it.
"Is it really okay for us to have this many eyes on what we're doing in Denver, though?" Murdock asked.
"The only people who are a threat to our operation, ARES and the DPD, already had plenty of eyes on us," Doyle said. "So, it doesn't matter if we get in the news for a little fight with some Hoplites. No footage was taken before we got away, so our identities are still anonymous."
"Right. I like to keep our activities discreet mainly for the element of surprise, if anything," Dorothy added. "Honestly, it's in our favor that ARES and the cops are on high alert now. They were making a few too many strides toward us before. I don't know where that momentum came from, but with both Joseph and Denver's strongest Hoplite both dead, their current plans and their sense of security both died along with them. There's a lot we'll be able to get done while they're still in this type of confusion."
The drone finished styling Dorothy's hair, blowing it down to a sleek, shining finish.
"Aaaand, done! You look absolutely fabulous, Dorothy! As usual, of course."
Dorothy stood, running her fingers through her locks while she smiled at the rotating 3D depiction of her head that was projected before her.
"You've got something on the agenda, boss?" Murdock asked.
"Yes, actually. I need to pay our favorite old couple a visit."
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The house was located on the outskirts of Denver, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. Dorothy exited the car first, followed by her two enforcers. All of them were dressed casually, as they usually were when walking the town. As they approached the front door, an elderly couple who were sitting together on the porch greeted them.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Oh, it's little Dory! Say, how's your day been?" the amiable older man asked as the trio approached.
"It's been going great, Mr. Hardy. I just got my hair done, so I'm finally kind of fresh at the moment."
"We can see," Mrs. Hardy said, delighted by the delightfulness in Dorothy's voice. "You plan on staying for lunch? I can cook extra for you and the boys."
"Offer's appreciated, but the boss already decided what she's going to eat."
"Oh, goodness… Dory, don't tell me you're eating some junky fast food meal again?"
Murdock and Doyle both snickered at the accurate comment, earning them sour looks from their boss. Though Dorothy was quick to confess to having an insatiable sweet tooth, she still disliked having her palette mocked. It was one of the very few insecurities which she could not tolerate. She would not be shamed for enjoying Orion's Big Bang Burgers and Milky Way Milkshakes.
"So, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, how's that guest I left in your hands? Have you been showing her hospitality like I asked?"
"Dory, who do you take us for. You really think we would show that young lady anything less?" Mr. Hardy asked. "You forget that my wife and I have been in this game since you were in diapers."
Dorothy giggled. "How could I forget? It's why I always call on your services first before anyone else's."
"She's taking a much-needed nap downstairs, Dory. The door is already unlocked."
Dorothy shot one more sweet smile to the couple before she and her enforcers headed inside. They descended downstairs into the dimly lit basement. When they entered, they found sitting in the center of the room was the former leader of the Acolytes — Angel. She was strapped to a chair, her wrists and ankles bound by thick leather restraints along with a limiter that kept her PEC in check. Her eyes, bloodshot and half-lidded, stared vacantly ahead. Her body was covered in a patchwork of cuts, bruises, and burn marks below her neck. Several of her fingers were bent at unnatural angles, and some of her fingernails and toenails were outright missing.
The once fierce psychokinetic Rogue was now a frail and emaciated woman. Dorothy approached the captive Rogue, her heels clicking against the bloodstained concrete floor. She knew that most of these stains were not from Angel. They were from previous 'guests' to the Hardy household.
"Oh, did they really leave that gorgeous face of yours alone? How sweet of them..." Dorothy said as she stood over Angel.
Angel's gaze slowly shifted to meet Dorothy's. Obviously starved for days, her voice was weak and trembling as she spoke, "I already... t-told you everything... I know… So, please… let me go... Please!"
Tears began to stream down Angel's face as her body shook with sobs. The two enforcers watched impassively from the sidelines, Murdock yawning while Doyle busily checked something on his phone. Dorothy, showing more compassion, reached into her pocket and produced a handkerchief. She gently wiped the tears from Angel's cheeks before enveloping the broken woman in a hug.
"Shh, it's okay, Angie," she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. "You've been so brave. I know this hasn't been easy for you Mr. and Mrs. Hardy won't be bullying any more info out of you, okay?"
Angel blinked, shocked at how quick the syndicate leader was to show sympathy. "Y-you'll… let me go?"
Dorothy snorted, her expression shifting from one of comfort to cruel amusement. "Oh, no. You've got the wrong idea. I just meant the 'interrogation' part was over. There's still one more use I have for you."
With a snap of her fingers, Murdock came over and pulled a syringe filled with a gleaming concoction from his pocket. Angel's eyes widened in recognition. She squirmed against her restraints with renewed energy fueled by fear.
"N-no… Don't!" she cried, her voice cracking. "I'm n-not like King! I… c-can't handle that stuff!"
Dorothy's smile widened as she took the syringe from Murdock and twiddled it about her hand. "Oh, but you can, Angie. I know for a fact that you're just talented enough to be a pretty little guinea pig for the newest version of my Witch Venom recipe. You'll be able to survive a jab… For the first few times, at least. So, are you ready for booster number one?"
Tears streamed down Angel's face as she pleaded for mercy, her cries echoing off the basement walls. Unfortunately, the Hardys had designed it to be completely soundproof. The couple enjoyed some casual conversation on their front porch with not so much of a reverb of what was transpiring downstairs reaching them.
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"Hey, Franky. What's your brother like?"
"You mean Ferdinand?"
It wasn't unknown for Josephine to ask such abrupt questions before that campfire at night. Still, her companions, especially Francesca, were more caught off guard by tonight's inquiry than usual. The brilliant young spellcaster wore a perplexed expression and paused, analyzing the magic tome in her lap the moment the question registered for her.
"No," Josephine replied while she petted the archwolf, Kal, who was napping beside her near the fireplace. "I mean the one Ferdinand's always talking about taking Zarland's crown back from. The Overlord one… Matthiaz, I think his name was?"
The young mage's brow furrowed. "Why do you want to know about him all of a sudden?"
"Because I've heard so many rumors here and there about the guy while we traveled. Stuff about him being some iron-fisted tyrant who crushes anyone who opposes him. About him being a strategic mastermind who plays other people like pawns. About him being some evil overlord Hellsbent on conquest."
Francesca hummed as she adjusted her spectacles. "I'd say… about 85% of the rumors are true. Maybe a little more."
"Seriously?! That high?"
"Matthiaz is no ordinary man, Joey. He overthrew Ferdinand only a year into his reign while he was only 16."
"I'm not sure that's as impressive a feat as you're trying to make it sound," Ephreet commented from the nearby tree he was strumming his lyre. "Ferdinand never strikes me as the type that would be particularly hard to coup."
Francesca shot an annoyed look at the half-elf bard, who just snorted back.
"Ferdinand, despite his arrogance and… 'eccentricity' is actually surprisingly competent. He wouldn't be that much worse than recent Kornelian monarchs of Zarland. The fact Matthiaz overthrew him so easily and has kept him on the run essentially as a form of amusement is both a great proof of of craftiness and a somewhat smaller one of his sadism. Granted, Ferdinand, when we were younger, was still far crueler to Matthiaz than Matthiaz is to Ferdinand now."
"Your younger brother got tortured by Ferdinand? Is that why he hates him so much?" Josephine asked.
"Saying that Matthiaz hates Ferdinand is a little much. Matthiaz doesn't view Ferdinand in high enough esteem to truly hate him. Hatred's a very personal and intimate emotion. From Matthiaz's perspective, hating Ferdinand would be like hating a poorly trained dog that bit him once. You wouldn't like the dog after and definitely wouldn't want it around, but you can't truly hate a poorly trained animal for doing what poorly trained animals are want to do."
The Chosen One blinked. "That's, uh… kind of a crazy analogy, Franky."
"I'm just speaking from Matthiaz's point of view. When we were younger, he told me he stopped 'hating' Ferdinand and our siblings a while ago. He just wanted them out of his way. I guess he ended up getting his goal."
"Sounds like you know Matthiaz pretty well."
"Is that such a surprise, Chosen One?" Batthis asked from over where he was polishing his axe. He flashed an intimidating smile at the grizzled and scarred man in its reflection. "I mean, Francesca did grow up with the Overlord, after all."
"Sure, but so did Ferdinand. He didn't seem to 'get' him at all. He talks about the Overlord like he's some demon from the Low Hell rather than his younger brother."
"I'm probably the only member of my family who ever somewhat understood Matthiaz, and even I can only comprehend so much," Francesca continued. "I never saw his usurpation of the throne under Ferdinand's nose as a possibility. I always thought he would go into voluntary exile instead and wander Ein doing whatever he wanted."
"But isn't the Overlord a power-hungry maniac?" Vonet asked, examining one of her soul shards with the light of the fire while her raven familiar sat perched on her shoulder. "He doesn't strike me as the type to turn away a chance for taking the throne."
"He's not so much power-hungry as he is an opportunist with a penchant for taking risks. What he cares the most about is having the freedom to do as he pleases without any restrictions put on him by others. Matthiaz is the type that, if he were a slave, he would kill his master even if he knew he wouldn't be able to escape with his life after. He's a bit of a problem child that way."
"Sounds like he's got a lot more problems than that, Franky," Ruthelle said while she continuously flipped a new gold coin none of her companions were fully convinced she had obtained through honest and legitimate means. "Sounds like that Overlord brother of yours is a real piece of work. Figured you'd have more of a grudge considering he ran you out the country like he did."
"Matthiaz didn't run me out of anywhere. I left of my own volition," Francesca corrected.. "After Matthiaz obtained the throne, he started systematically sweeping the capital free of his biggest potential enemies with a plan for a broader purge throughout the rest of Zarland. Even though I was left completely alone, I still chose to leave Zarland altogether. I wanted no part of that, either on Matthiaz's side or any of his opposition. To be honest, the path Zarland was going under my father's rule, and his father before him, and his mother before her, the kingdom has been a bad place for a while. It really doesn't matter who's on the throne at this point."
"You don't think Zarland's neighbors at least would be better off with a boy-king who keeps annexing more of their territory every year, Francesca?" Cyrian asked, leaning back against the trunk of the same tree Ephreet was perched up high in with his holy dragon spear leaning beside him. He chewed on his giant salamander meat as he said, "I feel, for all the problems a guy like Ferdinand might cause, he would at least come with the perk of being too incompetent to be a good conqueror."
The young wizard shrugged. "I guess. I washed my hands off it all already. I'm done with all Kornelian Dynastic drama. It's why, whenever we've encountered Ferdinand, I've never humored his plans about 'putting that treasonous bastard brother of ours in his place' or whatever line he wanted to use for the occasion. If my family wants to feud over who can ruin Zarland the quickest, that's between them."
Josephine hummed while she processed all of this. "It's funny how different you are from the rest of your family, Franky. You don't act like any of them at all. Besides looks, I would never think you and Ferdinand were twins."
"I think I was just lucky to be magically gifted enough for my father to ship me off to apprentice under a Great Magus in a foreign land. That time learning abroad gave me a lot of experience and perspective that the rest of my siblings, especially Ferdinand and Matthiaz, don't seem to have. Matthiaz definitely would have benefited from that sort of thing. He's got the talent for it, but father would never have allowed him to have that sort of privilege when Ferdinand didn't get it."
"Sounds like a pain to have your life controlled like that. While your brother sounds like an asshole, I think I get where a lot of his issues might come from."
Ephreet laughed. "You're really sympathizing with a tyrant, Joey? For all you know, this man could be the tyrant you're fated to kill one day."
"I'm not saying he's a nice guy or anything, Eph. It's just… I feel like if my destiny was as controlled as his, I'd go a little crazy and demented too."
"Isn't your destiny already controlled by the Thread, Joey?" Francesca asked, perplexed by her friend's words. "You're the Chosen One, you know."
"Meh. Everyone talks about the 'Thread of Destiny' this or 'the Hand of Fate' that, but, to be honest with you guys… I've been doing pretty much whatever I wanted this whole time. If there's a Thread tugging me along, great. But I've never felt like I was compelled to do anything I wouldn't have wanted to do without some cosmic power giving me the go-ahead. I just ignore whatever the prophecy says most of the time."
Francesca and all of Joey's other companions blinked at her.
Almost in unison, they burst into laughter at Josephine's words. Francesca buried her face in her tome while she giggled. Cyrian nearly choked on the giant salamander meat he was eating from chortling mid-swallow while Ephreet almost fell from his branch from laughing so much. Batthis guffawing echoed throughout the woods, making Ruthelle's snickers hard to hear. Even the reserved Vonet put a hand to her face to hide the uncharacteristic grin stretching across her face. Only Kal did not join in the joyous chorus. Briefly stirred by the noise, he yawned before resuming his sleep.
"Come on, guys!" Josephine protested, her cheeks reddening. "It wasn't that funny!"
"Sorry, Joey," Francesca said between giggles, "but the idea of the Chosen One not even acknowledging the prophecy that guides her? It's just…"
"Well, I'm just being honest. If Fate is going to do what it wants to regardless, why should I bother worrying about it. I'll just keep doing my own thing and let Destiny worth itself out."
It was that sort of straightforwardness that endeared Josephine to the others. It was also what made them occasionally poke and chuckle at her expense.
"You guys really don't have to laugh so…
Josephine stopped as a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her head. She gasped, clutching her temples as the world around her began to spin.
"Joey?" Francesca asked in concern. "Are you alright?"
For some reason, her friend's voice sounded distant and distorted. Josephine tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The campfire flickered and faded along with the faces of her companions, which began blurring into shadows. Even the camp and the woods themselves started to fade as the Chosen One found herself sitting in a void.
Jo… Josephine…
"What's... happening...?"
Josephine… You must… listen… to me… Josephine… Listen!"
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Joey jolted awake in her bed, groaning as she clutched her throbbing head. Another vivid dream set in that strange fantasy world, and once again, Matthias had been there. Why did he keep appearing in these dreams? What was the connection?
Rubbing her temples, she stumbled to her window and peeked through the curtains, curious if Matthias was still late up working like usual. Instead of seeing Matthias burning the midnight oil as usual, she spotted him climbing out his window and gradually descending to the ground floor. When Matthias glanced up at her window, Joey reflexively ducked. After she felt his eyes were no longer focused on her curtains, she resumed her peeking and watched as he retrieved his bike from the side of the house and pedaled off quietly into the night.
"He's sneaking out again? I thought that last time was just because his mom got kidnapped, but does he actually do this sort of thing all the time?"
Josephine shook her head at the idea and soon regretted it afterward as it only made the throbbing worse. The implications of this revelation swirled in her mind. Just what was Matthias up to?