They sat in the back of a makeshift van with five other men wearing black robes and elastic masks covering the bottom half of their faces.

The vehicle was made from scrap parts. Just the kind of disguise you need when visiting a place like this.

As the gang rattled along a desolate wasteland road the city walls grew closer.

“Check your radiation levels' ' shouts the captain from the driver's seat.

The determined men check their spell watches. These are watches that combined both the cutting edge of technology with magic - something unheard of until the recent decade. The combination of magic with modern technology was still forbidden due to global social tensions. The ministry of magic’s defense apartment kept the technology locked away and created private products for their sorcerers and agents to help bring justice to those abusing magic.

This was one of the many quirks of being an MIA (magic intelligence agency) agent - they always got the latest gadgets and had access to deep forbidden knowledge that no one else could in the name of global security. The group of agents in the car had been named the “Wide Eyed Five” by the academy. “Wi5” for short. A title earned for their thoroughness and good eye for justice, each agent had their own specialised power allowing them to go where others cannot. Nine men commended on dead-set on stopping magic terrorism as far as the eyes could see.

The land was laid barren and dying from world war three. Humans had discovered magic from studying their ancient pasts and global fronts developed to try and take control of this new powerful technology. One that combined modern tech with spirit science and magic as the whole globe finally embraced the existence of the mystic world.

It was the MIA’s job to stop the misuse of magic. Something that had torn the world apart and created divided micronations across the barren waste lands created from world war 3. A fight for the righteous use of magic that combined bombs with the dark arts and leveled entire cities. Humanity was still rebuilding.

The current mission came to them from a tip-off in the city.

Reports of a number of witch hunts causing unrulyness within the streets.

Witch hunts could only mean one thing. There was someone playing with powerful magic.

As the group drew closer to the post-war metropolis, the stench of chemicals filled the air.

“Ahhh. Enjoy it boys. The smell of crime, degradation and dirty sins.” says a Zyak, a colleague sitting across from the new special agent, Yan.

“It’s your first time here I presume?” Zyak presses

He was correct. This was Yan’s first mission since being recruited and going through painstaking training and endless checks. He wasn’t prepared to look like a noob on his first day.

“Yes, yes. The Rats Nest. The city of shambles. The country’s hotbed for illegal chemical alchemy.” The man, an experienced special agent known as Zyak reels back in a deep sigh.

Yan shudders as his lips show through his enchanted face mask.

The Rats Nest had become the most feared settlement all across the land post world war three. Once known for their mighty name in the steel construction industry - the seductive taste for power magic rose. As the whole earth divided into walled off settlements - it was MIA’s job to regulate the use of magic far and wide, as well as put an end to the wars humans were currently facing. There were the identity wars that tore apart peaceful settlements and every family around the world into small, often militant identity groups. Then there was the magic rites war. An ongoing conflict as to who gets the rites to powerful magic. With the combination of technology and magic entering a secret renaissance, it was easy to say that they had their hands full. Wi5 was the specialist unit that the world needed right now. With each members far reaching powers supercharging the feds mission towards the war on black magic.

—--

As Yan, Zyak and the other gang of special agents reach the city gates Yan’s stomach drops as he notices a militant group of men wearing cyberpunk-like masks.

Marauders. 

One of them approaches the makeshift van, wearing homemade iron armor and holding a hand crafted weapon. Since the advent of 3D printing anyone and everyone could get a gun. Authorities were trying to stop this trade but there was so much interest involved, it seemed futile.

He taps the end of his gun on the windows of the van.

Yan’s stomach dropped. No amount of training could prepare him to being around people as vicious as this. hey killed people for resources such as oil and essentially ruled the underground of society's trade system with their own currencies.

“Roll down the window now”. Of course they were blacked out.

Another marauder emerges from the distance.

“Come on man. This van has' Government pundit' written all over it.”

“Lock and load boys. We’re going in!!”

The captain leaps out of the van and grabs the marauders gun before drawing a transmutation circle in the air.

Suddenly water pours out of the gun. It’s completely useless now.

“I’ll kill you right here you fucking leeches.” shouts another marauder pointing a gun at the captain's head, his hand steady on the trigger.

A deathly silence cuts through the atmosphere.

“Stand down! Demands the marauder who had just been disarmed.

“They’ve probably got bombs in the back - damn radical alchemists. We share a sweet hate and love relationship, don't you know.” 

Damit it worked! We knew that we could trust the tech guys in building the perfect disguise. The enemy believe we are radical alchemists - these were extremists on the outside of society just like the marauders.

The other man strolls up to our vehicle before letting out a comical “sniff sniff”.

“What are you cooking for these boys? Anything good?”

The disarmed marauder chuckles.

“We get it. You can’t tell us why you're here and neither can we.”

He calmly walks over to a flag pole before tapping it with his foot.

“You're going to have to tell us everything if you want to get in here. The people have accepted our rules as law. We’ll be royalty here by this time next year.” 

The captain lets out a sarcastic sigh.

“Name me one person who doesn't have a price. I can confirm that our activities here will benefit you. They are of the occult.”

He removes a pouch of rare coins from his belt. 

Just as discussed at headquarters, play into their greed.

The third marauder now approaches, a DIY ak47 in his hands.

“Now we're talking baby. What sweet, sweet have you guys been cooking up.”

Before the captain has a chance to explain he snatches them from him.

“JACKPOT!! Their coins earned from the spirit world! Everyone's been talking about them since that warlord created an army of poltergeists.”

The disarmed marauder snatches them from him.

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“I told you these alchemists were boosting more than us!.

The crime these men were about to commit was one strictly forbidden since World War Three. The crime of “Boosterism”, illicitly boosting your power levels through cheating and hacks.

Luckily we anticipated this.

“LOOK!!! You can summon the spirits of demons with them”.

He puts a coin between both hands before hubbing them together and using his will to summon.

“THERE! I’ve got it” yells the marauder as a flurry of ancient pentagram symbols holograph around him.

“NO WAY! Let me have a go” yells the other one as the seconds pushes him out of the way to grab a coin.

Their greed was palpable. Boosters were all the same. Mindless power seekers who have radicalized themselves out of society. Outlaws essentially.

Soon all three have dropped their weapons and are summoning with the coins.

That’s when the curse that the group put on the counterfeit coins was transmuted.

An insanity spell. One that fills the victims mind with an overdose of grotesque cosmic knowledge such as the destruction of an entire nebula. In an amount that the human mind cannot comprehend - so it puts them in a stupor of insanity.

As all three marauders roll on the floor or pace screaming.

“MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!”

They make their way through the city gates.

“Now that’s what I call a justicegasm” says the captain, holding his hand out for high fives to everyone in the back of the van.

Yan’s first day fear and anxiety stops as he form a crooked grin.

“Insanity from too much knowledge. The perfect punishment for a booster”.

Zyak smiles softly at Yan “Welcome to the rodeo”.

—-

Upon entering the city it became very clear why they called it the rats nest. Nobody knew the true name of the city anymore - a spell that had plunged a once thriving civilisation into poverty.

Dark alleyways deals are at every corner, half built houses and barred up abandoned buildings. A true hell hole - I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of here.

The sky was blood red and the moon only showed a small dot. 

Yan remembered learning how to read lunar cycles from training. The skies and moon suggested a demonic presence in the town.

“beep beep!”

 A message appears on the gangs spell watches as a holographic pseudonym for a tip-off rises.

“You need to get to the address I posted immediately, the whole city has gone awol”.

As we reach the city, we know exactly what she means.

There’s people running around punching themselves in the head.

“GET IT OUT!! GET IT OUT!!” ONE OF THE CIVILIANS SCREAMS WHILST SMASHING HIS HEAD AGAINST A WALL.

We drive through the center of the rats nest, they just assume we’re marauders and  ignore us out of fear.

A woman is tied to a crucifix in the hay gathered around it as a menacing DIY executioner holds his deadly fire torch.

“WE KNOW IT’S YOU!!! YOUR THE ONLY SINGER HERE!!. IT MUST HAVE BEEN YOU THAT PUT THIS TORTUROUS LOOP IN OUR MINDS!”

It was obvious now. Someone was messing with dark magic and had angered demons. 

“WHY!!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS. THE SAME 10 SECOND SONG HAS BEEN LOOPING IN OUR MINDS FOR OVER A MONTH NOW. THIS IS TORTURE”.

“IT WASN’T ME!! SCREAMS THE WOMAN.

But it was too late. The witch hunts had already begun. A sense of hopelessness over not being able to stop this innocent woman's death shrouded over the agents as they divert into an alleyway to meet the tip-off. Nobody deserved to go out like that. But when you enter a place like this you are forced to operate under mob rule.

—-------

The agents unload the base of the back of the van to get to their weapons. Magic weapons to be precise. The kind that could send you into a stupor with one “shot”. It was policy not to kill, only to disarm. Then again who knows what's needed when dealing with booster warlords.

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK”

“MIA!!! OPEN UP!!”

A woman reveals herself as she snoops out of the window of her dilapidated house.

The desperate sound of unlocking a handle and the door opens to reveal a mature looking woman in white wedding-dress like robes.

“DOWN ON THE GROUND!!!” the captain screams, pointing his assault rifle at her head.

You couldn’t be too careful when dealing with strangers in a city like this. They were sure she was clean but needed to be sure.

—-------

The captain throws the woman onto a chair under the kitchen's dinner table, his black robes hovering around him. The walls were moldy and rotting, as if someone had been practicing chemical potions.

“Let me guess. You're a hellenist.”

“Yes. An ancient form of paganism. I help maintain social order by gatekeeping peoples paths with spells.” She responds confidently.

“Listen here. We’re on your side. We need to know how you got this information or you may end up like that lovely singer lady did outside.”

The woman let out a forlorn sigh.

Yes it’s true. I’ve been listening to the winds of change. However just this month there was disruption.

Have you seen the sky and the moon? Someone is playing with demons.”

“Yes. They’ve cursed your land have they not?”

“It appears that everyone in the city has the same short song looping in their minds over and over again in the most excruciating tone possible. It’s created collective insanity. Which is why the witch hunts have started. It’s a means of dividing the people to gain power and absorb the city's spirit to bring forth more powerful magic”.

One of the men shifts to the front of the group.

“I’m the team's psychic. We’ll find out where these fuckers are hiding.”

 Did you get the items we requested?” one of the team chirps to the spellcaster.

“Yes. Just a moment.” she ushers before revealing a box from the bottom drawer in her rotting kitchen.

“Great. You get the clocks as well?”

“Sure did. I must be on several government watch lists for that one”.

Time dilation was a common occurrence with cursed towns. Right now each day felt literally like a year and it was driving the citizens insane.

The insider placed a number of ancient clocks on the table from the city's heritage.

“You won’t believe what I had to do to get these.”

“Good work. Maybe you’ll get witness protection when this things over - unless you're a booster”.

“Your’e not a booster with a guilt conscious are you? Is that what drew you to contacting the MIA.” the captain sings under his breath edging closer to her.

The woman sits there in shock.

“Damn ministry of magic drones. You’d have thought I’d get a break considering I’m about to help you locate the booster.”

“You know you shouldn’t be practicing magic without a license. We might just lock your ass up after we’re done here.”

The team psychic takes a seat in front of her and chuckles.

“Cosy fit don’t you think. Being on our radar”

The woman huffs and puffs. “I was scared of being burnt at the stake. I didn’t know who else to contact.

The team stops the probing as a heavenly silence soothes through the room.

“Let me begin the ritual.”

The purpose of the clocks was to figure out which timeline the booster was operating on. Our psychic was very skilled in “remote viewing”, the ability to observe something from a remote location with psychic abilities.

Holding his hands in front of the clocks his eyes turn a neon blue as the clock spokes begin stuttering. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he shakes and the clocks spin faster and faster.

“I’m tuning into their time frequency. Give me a minute.”

A concerned look is plastered on his face as the clock spokes start to slow down.

“This is a frequency only a kid could be on. What the hell is going on!”

—---

The church hall was barren. Many of the seats were destroyed. The first step to conquering a civilisation was to take away their hope. So it seemed that the church was under warlord ownership. 

But who?

At the front of an organ piano is a small figure covered with blankets. They are playing the same series of notes over and over again and judging from the timeline, he’d been at this for months.

We’re all armed. The psychic with a transmutation circle drawn on his hand to fire projectiles.

“The jig is up! Reveal yourself. Do you really think you can hide behind a child's time frequency?

The atmosphere drops dead as a voice emerges from the blankets.

“I don’t want you to see me, I’ve become so ugly” he cries in a clear cut child’s voice.

At this point they were scared. What the hell was this? A person. Or a demon that had been summoned here.

“DOWN ON THE GROUND!!!” The agent at the front orders.

“I can’t move from this spot mister I’m sorry.” he responds in yet again a soft child's tone.

Suddenly a deep demonic voice echoes through the church.

“Show yourself little one. Let them see the scourge of humanity at its finest. The reason why we leave humans in the dark ages to suffer”.

“I can’t stop. It is forbidden” cries the child.

An urge to roar in and reveal the blanket overwhelmed Yan. 

“FUCK THIS! I’M GOING IN!” he screams as he launches towards the figure laying the organ piano and tears off his blankets.

His last shred of faith in humanity dropped as I saw something no man should ever see.

The kid had become a mutated, human demon hybrid. His arm had become engulfed in oozing demonic parts. Eyes, hands, demonic nostrils - his body was slowly being consumed by demons.

The poor kid had been sacrificed to demons. He was essentially a hostage.

“I am here to play this song for eternity; those were the deals of the sacrifice and I must obey them or I will face permanent death.

“DEMON! EXPOSE YOURSELF! YELLS THE PSYCHIC”.

A deep hysterical demonic laughter fires through the cathedral.

“This was the work of man, not demon. The only option is to put the little one out of his suffering.”

That’s when footsteps echo from the back of the church.

A man in black tarnished robes reveals himself.

It seems he’d been sacrificing himself too as the light shines on his face. He has but one eye the rest is demon architecture - like bloody red muscles.

“MIA!!! GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!!”

One of the agents screams, pointing an enchanted machine gun at him.

“Very well.” he replies arrogantly in a nasally tone before putting his hands on his head and getting on his knees.

“WHERE’S THE ALCHEMY LAB. TELL US NOW OR GOD SO HELP ME WE’LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT”.

The booster chuckles…

“You're looking at it boys. The deals have been made with the demon deities. The boys soul is the only option left”

Being Yan’s first mission, he wasn’t ready for the amount of disgust he would feel seeing the true nature of boosters. This fucker had taken a child hostage and put him in an endless neverending tortuous puzzle loop for his own benefit.

The captain is holding back his tears.

“The SICK fuckers. That child is never going to get his arm back. The demons are already devouring it.”

“WHAT WAS IT ALL FOR YOU SICK PIECE OF SHIT!?”

“Power. and the rites of passage to a better next life. You kill me now the boy will be sent into a torturous next life (hell) and I will go to paradise.”

“What’s it gonna be ministry of magic goons”.

He holds a knife to his own throat. 

“STOP HIM!! SOMEBODY SHOOT THE KNIFE FROM HIS HANDS, WE CAN’T LOSE HIMI!!!.

“I’ll see you fuckers in the next life from my million dollar mansion” he snarls before slitting his own throat and collapsing on the floor.

The wide eyed five rush over desperately as time starters to slow down.

It was too late. He was already dead.

Authors note: Let me know if you want more and I’ll keep posting.  Lots of lore and history and world building ahead if you're interested in joining me on this journey.