“Welcome back I suppose,” Graham states, being the first to greet the Other as the floor descends. “How was your visit to Hell?”
“Enlightening vacation. It seems memories run a bit deeper there than here, and I was reminded of things that I had deemed unimportant all those years ago,” is his reply.
“Speaking of reminders,” Graham says, remaining in place as the floor stops. “Would you like an update on the Black situation?”
“I thought that would have been resolved by now? Since I left, how long, exactly, has it been?” the Other asks as he begins to stalk off towards the depths.
“Twenty years, two months, and five days. The misplaced soul has three children now. And no children born since you left have experienced loss or death…”
“What?” he replies, stopping entirely and looking at Graham, who hasn’t moved.
“It would be best to see the war room,” Graham replies, pointing down a different corridor.
“Anything else I should be aware of?” the Other asks as he turns down the new hallway.
“Sydney, Madilyn, and Sia were all involved in the raid that finally uncovered and destroyed Black’s phylactery. However, they were unable to make it to Black’s final resting place before what we have taken to call the Betrayal. Under the guise of lawful punishment, Black was taken into custody by the Ucene Republic and underwent trial by a league of nations as it were.”
“And they found the loophole I wasn’t planning on needing to fix… They imprisoned Black then? Did they have a solution to make sure she didn’t, or doesn’t, run wild?”
“Somewhat stupid but ingenious of them, but a mana draining material mixed into concrete, and since she does not require sustenance they entombed her entirely, under a mountain, heavily guarded. Not enough mana to do much with besides stay alive by all appearances.”
“Appearances you say?” the Other asks, opening the door marked “The War Room.”
“She is slowly escaping. In another six months or so…” Graham explains before being interrupted.
“197 days, 4 hours, and 38 minutes,” declares one of the relatively ‘young’ golems, hunched over a table containing thirty clipboards.
“Such as it were,” Graham continues, unabated. “Admittedly, we are irritated that they have grasped functional immortality that hinges upon a single point of failure, the conservative consequences of which we believe will see approximately 5% of persons under age 20 would perish within hours should Black herself unexpectedly die. Our estimates put this number astronomically higher across the entire population, at 15-20%.”
“The first group forgot to include there hasn’t been a need for the potion industry for twenty years, didn’t they?”
“And most doctors and healers have taken up other professions.”
“There’s still 2-3 generations above them that would fall back on instinct though,” the Other muses while looking around the room.
“Alright you lot, let’s see how buggered this situation is.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
“Hey mom, look! It’s that guy from the wanted posted you hung in the living room,” shouts a small boy while tugging on Madilyn’s sleeve.
Looking over at the storefront window, she sees twenty of the latest model tele-visions projecting the floating form of the Other, arms crossed as he is bombarded with bombs, bullets, and munitions.
“This was the scene just hours ago at the Stonewell Deep Incarceration Facility when the terrorist from the Winter Pharmaceutical disaster made his appearance after spending the last twenty years in the shadows,” an elderly reporter wearing an armband and helmet says while looking at the viewers. “The bombardment of both physical and magical origin lasted for approximately an hour after we arrived. In the lull, we were able to speak with a spokesperson from the League’s military office about the intruder.
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“‘While we cannot comment on certain events, we would make it known that several warnings were given to him regarding his trespass onto restricted land, and the escalation of hostilities should he continue to defy them. We proceeded to use non-lethal forms of submission as protocol dictates. We shall give him time to reconsider his transgressions prior to moving towards more historically violent means of suppression.’
“This time of armistice shall be ending shortly, and we have been instructed to relocate prior to re-escalation of hostilities and… hold on, it appears that the hostile is finally moving after all this time and…”
The reporter stops speaking as the Other waves his right hand downward and across the space in front of him, as a small window through space opens up between himself and the reporter. Perhaps, even surprising himself, the reporter recovers shortly and asks several questions in a row.
“Sir! Why are you doing this? What is your motivation? Do you have any demands? Is there a reason behind the terrorist attacks?”
“I commend your enthusiasm young one,” the Other replies to the old reporter. “Though I shall correct you on several things before you must leave, that while I have returned from the Realms of Hell and have been called Evil before, I have not attacked anyone. I am here today on behalf of all sentient beings on this planet, as those you deem rich and powerful have deluded themselves into believing they reign supreme over their own mortality by failing in their duties to eliminate a source of profound depravity. Their hubris is on display before you, this pillar of Black.
“My demands are this, that time still remains to simply and easily do what ought to have been done twenty years ago, but was hampered at the end by a surprisingly thin veil of deceit. These thirty-two individuals,” the Other continues, pointing off to the side of the reporter when flashes of light explode around them, “have been reported missing or dead, but have been buried alive in the rubble under the mountain before you these last fifteen years as tunnels were intentionally collapsed to prevent them from reaching Nora Black.
- - - - -
“So that’s where he’s been for the last five years…” Madilyn harumphs.
“Wasn’t Dad supposed to go to the grocery store?” the boy asks, confused.
- - - - -
“To those with authority, I say this. You have six hours to repent from your sins. After which time, as was done to Thul Winters shall be done unto those who’s value exceeds 500 platinum, one of whom shall fall from the sky at random intervals until the pillar of Black disappears from existence. The penalty shall be increased to twenty-five percent. And, if you believe you can hide your wealth, I should tell you this, Thul Winters had his wealth split between fifty-two banks in ten countries, with a dozen illusionary companies besides.
A flash of light surrounds the incapacitated people surrounding the reporter, after which they have disappeared.
“And you, young man, take your people with you now. As an act of benevolence, unlike the callous warning you were given earlier, this portal shall take you to the minimum safe distance for what is to come, an observation point on a nearby mountain. Quickly now, you can almost hear it in the air.”
With that, the small window closes and a large doorway opens behind the reporting crew. As the reporter begins to open his mouth to continue, sirens begin to blare throughout the mountainside. Instincts kick in, and the reporter waves at the rest of the crew while pushing the cameraman through the portal of suspicious origin.
To the cameraman’s credit, despite the rough handling of the camera he continues to record. While he is unable to catch the large, vertical black disk materializing at the edge of the vantage point on camera, he does note that is the correct direction to point his device. Quickly approaching the edge of both the mountain and disk, he points the camera towards the mountain they were just standing on. Moments after their vehicle makes it through the portal, it closes and is quickly followed by distant explosions.
The cameraman shouts to the crew to get out the ultra-long distance camera and set it up while he continues to record. Unbeknownst to him however, an area behind the disk clears itself of debris and a glowing triangle makes itself known upon the ground, pointing towards the disk with the words “Blast Shield”emblazoned upon it. Seemingly out of character for a reporter, that is if you disregard his long history of covering violent events, he does not continue his commentary but assists in setting up the camera and tripod upon the triangle, which fades as if it never existed.
Explosions blanket the distant mountainside, occurring in waves that sweep towards one point in particular. Mists envelop the surrounding, milky white, before it suddenly combusts with gratuitous violence, the shockwave large and visible. After a quarter hour of near constant bombardment, a lull appears for a moment as the dust and smoke are blown off the mountain by the wind. A heavy feeling of inevitability envelopes all but the cameraman, who only manages to see the battlefield at large. As he is about to shout again for the better camera, a black dot passes their own mountain, followed by sounds of the air being torn apart.
sssSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRAAAKKKKKKKAAaaaaaaa….
One of the larger crew members was about to hand over another tripod to the cameraman when the reporter shouts, “Grab him and get behind the barrier!”
Grasping his collar firmly, knowing this cameraman in particular would do anything to both protect his camera and maintain focus, pulls him backward and sideways with quickly increasing speed until they are behind the black disk.
A bright light drops from the dot and seems to float slowly down towards the mountains. As it drops below the mountain’s peak, the light begins to emit a veritable corona and halo. Continuing it’s slow decent, now visible through the black disk, two opposing jets of light spew forth from the apex, as well as the base, directly above the Other. Yet hardly a moment later, so short a time that one could easily miss it should they blink, the light explodes, bathing the world around it in such brilliance that only those shielded by the black disk could see the sphere of destruction spreading at an obscene pace. Dust scatters widely and rises into the air, even as the shockwave manages to turn over the reporter’s vehicle.
A full fifteen minutes later, the illumination from the explosion becomes subtle, while the dust and atmospheric disturbances take that amount of time again to settle entirely.A glassy sheen is seen upon the slope of the mountain, trees flattened entirely for miles around, and a small stream of water, vaporized initially, begins to fill back up and meander off in a new direction.
The blinding light having receded minutes prior, the cameraman swiftly maneuvers the more powerful camera into position to aim it back at the scene, unobstructed by the black disk. Eventually, the camera is trained on the Other, who remains floating imperiously above the mountainside with his arms crossed. Several minutes of exposition by the reporter pass, when the Other can be seen taking out a metallic plate and writing on it with a brush of sorts. The reporter, standing in front of the original camera, does not notice when the small portal opens above his shoulder and the plate is shoved through and left to float in the air.
A severely damaged panel with a plate emblazoned upon it is seen on camera, containing two distinct writings. The number that quite apparently is the serial number, as well as two words written in soot.
“Naughty children.”