Three Days Ago in a Virginia Suburb
“I think, with all the craziness going on, I need to arm myself. I just don’t feel safe anymore, even with you around.” You say reluctantly.
“I cannot blame you. I want you to feel safe. Normally, I would feel much more confident to protect you without need of such things. As a Warden, that I once was, protection was our true duty. Now, as a Questioner of Duty, I feel that an extra layer of defense on your person would be suitable.”
With both of you nodding and coming to agreement, you spend a good portion of the day figuring out just how you can acquire a concealable handgun. You determined that you can’t conceal it legally, but that hardly seems to matter now. You’ve already committed several crimes. You never thought you’d be down this road.
Now, you find yourself making a back room deal with no background check to get yourself a gun, off of the books.
The one you get is a bit larger than probably is best. A .45 Caliber semi-automatic pistol, and it looks to be brand new.
**
Washington, DC
You pull out the gun and set it on the seat next to you. You check the magazine and load a bullet into the chamber. You put the car into drive and you travel caring little for the traffic laws, but you keep enough sense to look out for possible police cars and to follow the rules while they are around.
Thirty minutes of frustrating traffic lights and slow cars on one lane roads later, you pull into an open parking space on the Potomac waterfront.
You see the old steamer that Harry described in the distance, heading out to the Chesapeake. You run down the docks and look around, trying to think of just how you could catch up to the ship. It’s too far to swim, a kayak is to slow, and you’ve got no cash left. You cringe to think that your only option left is a less than savory one. Your hand clutches around the grip of the hand gun in your deep coat pocket.
You see an older man untying from a pier in a speed boat. You walk up to him. He looks up to you with a pleasant and friendly smile on his face.
“Howdy there.” He addresses you jovially.
“I can’t...”
“Hhmm? They call me Captain Erikson.” His smile is a real winner and it breaks your resolve.
“This is going to sound crazy,” you start and the man half laughs, interrupting you, but then motioning for you to continue. “My friend is on that steamer out there and in danger. Could you please please please, give me a ride out there. The police would never believe me or get here in time. Please.” Your desperation leaks out and betrays your true and just intentions.
“Oh damn. Yeah, pile on board.”
You sigh with relief as you wipe away the cold sweat from your forehead. As Captain Erikson helps you on board, you do your best to conceal the fact that you are armed.
“The Nordur Leidang was born for a mission like this.” The Captain lets out a hearty snicker and barely gives you time to situate as the boat accelerates.
You are just still so glad that you didn’t have to threaten the pleasant old man with force to get him to take you. You’ve done enough that you wouldn’t normally do to get here. Could you just find out for sure what your past is about? You might not even want those memories back from what you’ve been learning. Holy Hell! Just run off with Mysticalis and carve out a new path for yourself.
You won’t have much time to compose yourself. The Nordur Leidang can really fly across the water.
“Woooooooo!” Captian Erikson hollers as the boat gyrates up and down over the choppy water. “We’ll be alongside in just a minute. Shall I yell for one of the ships mates?”
“No. Don’t freak out, but the crew is why my friend is in danger.”
“Oh so it’s like that? Quite well then, now if I just had a couple of hatchets and a battle axe. Woooooooo!” The Nordur Leidang comes to a sudden stop along the port rear side of the steamer.
“Off you go then! What a rush.”
“Shh...” you put your finger to your lips and with a hoist from the Captain, you are on board the deck level of the ship.
“Sorry.” Captain Erikson whispers.
You pull out the pistol and the Captain quirks an eyebrow and shrugs. He does not stay astride the steamer as the Nordur Leidang idles and floats there in the Potomac waters.
You start to make your way to the back of the steamer, where you can then climb the stairs to the other levels and try to find your friend.
Your heart pounds and your hand is sweaty around the grip of the gun, so much so that you secure it with your second hand. You hear footsteps around the corner, in the direction of the steps you seek. You get as flat as you can against the wall and wait to determine the destiny of whoever this person is and the amount of blood that will be on your hands.
From his functional clothes, you assume he must be a crew member. He walks past you to look out over the water. He seems to take a keen interest in the speed boat, Nordur Leidang. You try to move up quietly to put the heavy 45 caliber into his back. You manage to scuff the deck a bit too much in your attempt to move deliberately and quietly.
The man quickly turns and, seeing the pistol, moves at you with both hands open in a grabbing gesture. The gun is knocked from your hand to the ground by a misplaced arm grab. You reflexively look away and shove all of your body weight at the guy. He doesn’t seem to expect such a sudden motion. You smack heads with the guy and your momentum carries you both back so that he smashes against the wall separating this part of the boat from the boat wheel.
He teeters for a moment and looks nervous, losing his balance moment by moment. You reach out to grab him and he misunderstands your motion, trying to shove you away and forcing further momentum backwards.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
He falls over the low wall, backward, face first into the boat wheel. The boat lurches and you look away as blood splats up into the air and then down upon your face, shoulder, and hair.
You hear a gut wrenching squeal from the poor man, and with that, you also hear the speed boat engine rev up and head in that direction with a whooping and hollering captain.
You recover your sidearm wipe off the damp handle with your coat sleeve.
You lurk up the steps, leading to the next deck. Moon light shines into the windows ahead, illuminating the room like looking into a spectral realm. Strange that so few of the lights are on, you think.
You hear a hushed conversation, perhaps blocked by a set of doors from your current position. You thank the stars that the rest of the crew appears to be a couple decks up, working the ship.
The carpeting on this level keeps your footsteps completely silent, even to yourself. This adds to the spectral affect that the moonlight has provided. You zone out a little bit as you arrive at the partially open double door, leading to the front half of the deck.
You can hear voices in whispered discussion. You grow concerned that Mysticalis is somewhere else on the ship. You aren’t hearing any hostile conversation, interrogation, or torture. These are the things that you are expecting.
You push the door open ever so lightly with the finger tips on one hand while you lead with the gun in the other. The conversing stops as you open the door enough to see most of the well-furnished room. A couple of large, antique love seats flank each other around a deep red and gold antique rug. In the intimate lighting from the heavy shaded lamps, you see a heavy set man facing out a window to starboard, another figure in one love seat, and a familiar cowled form in the other.
Mysticalis sits, apparently comfortably, not tied up, and not bloody or under any other situation of duress. You can’t help but scowl after all you’ve been going through to get here, “What the hell is going on here?” You level the gun at the figure on the other love seat.
“Woah woah, hey. Watch where you point that thing.” The fat man by the window says as he turns from the window and takes a few steps toward you, his hands held out passively.
Mysticalis sits in silence and stares up at you. It says nothing, it shows no emotional response. You think that there’s something strange about it. Perhaps they’ve resorted to drugs or hypnotism or some other mumbo jumbo.
“There’s no need for guns here.” The man keeps walking slowly towards you and it is really making you nervous. You point the gun over at him, the sweat on the handle of the gun going cold and clammy.
The figure on the other love seat just nods in approval at the fat man’s action.
“Myst, what the hell is going on here? Why are you just sitting there? Are you okay?” Panic starts to creep into your voice and everyone in the room remains quiet and looks to Mysticalis.
Finally, after long moments where the only sound filling your ears is your breathing, it responds, “There is no need to worry, friend. I’ve been listening to what these beings have to say. I want to see their side, not just the side that has been opposing them.”
“Why? They kidnapped you.”
“You are one that has encouraged me to seek out my new place in the world. I am doing just that. I don’t understand your confusion.”
“No! It’s anger... you don’t know what I’ve had to do to get here.” You don’t know whether to cry or scream. “While you sit and think, I’ve had to hurt people, contemplate threatening gun violence, thinking the worst. So... I should have just walked away? Left you here?”
“Perhaps.”
“Shut it!”
Mysticalis stops speaking abruptly, following your outburst of an order. Silence again fills the air, and you shrug your shoulders. “No, not really shut it, you just aren’t saying what I’d hoped you would. I care about you, and it’s like you don’t care about me. Ah hell, this is not the place for this conversation.” You refocus on the sights of the handgun and now notice that the fat man has moved a bit closer to you.
“They aren’t all bad. They’ve showed me that. They’ve showed me that my people’s violent actions can have dire consequences and just ‘purging’ evil isn’t always the approach that will protect the most innocent lives.”
“They’ve poisoned you. Come on, let’s go.” You shake the handgun a bit, motioning the barrel toward the fat man. “If they’re so altruistic, they’ll let you leave with me. Won’t they?” You glare pointedly at each of the others in turn.
Mysticalis adjusts in the love seat into a somewhat awkward position that might just match its mood. It looks from one to the others in the room. “I don’t see why that wouldn’t be okay.”
“No. Nope. We can’t let you go. There’s still something that you’ll need to see. It’s time sensitive.” The man on the other love seat speaks up with an inhuman eloquence to his verbage.
“And who are you to dictate our lives such as this?”
“Ochin Preeyatna. I am Iggy. And I’m in charge of a good deal of the sons and daughters of Nagzaru Kezet on the North East Coast.”
“Well, Iggy, seems like you’re stalling for help more than some special event. We’re getting out of here.” You motion for Mysticalis and it stands gracefully and starts to glide across the room. Its loose fitting clothes in the dim light look like a ghost dancing across the room. It stands at your shoulder.
“Woah, hey wait.” Iggy stands up and is much taller than you would have expected. “Myst, doesn’t this commanding attitude seem a bit dark and oppressive? Isn’t this what you seek to fight against?”
Myst stops on a dime and its flowing outfit flows ahead of it for a moment from the quick motion and then settles back. You groan in frustration and wonder how you can stop this obvious manipulation from convincing your friend. Its more than friendship, though, you really don’t want to get into that here, in front of not only strangers but hostiles.
Just then, in your haze of thought, the fat man dives at you. You weren’t sure if you would have the bravery or stupidity to actually use pistol, but your reflexes make the decision for you, sending shot after shot into the midsection of the fat man. Once you are committed to shooting him, you find the anger and frustration inside you frightening you as you pull the trigger again and again.
The fat man falls against a near nook of the wall, away from the windows. He slides down, leaving a trail of bloody mess behind him. Your hands tremble uncontrollably and you drop the gun. What have you done?
Mysticalis looks terrified and grapples you in a half restraining, half comforting attempt. In a loud pleading voice, it speaks, “No. Don’t. No more. Please, Iggy, don’t harm us. We’ll stay. We’ll stay. Please. No.”
Iggy walks over to his man and checks for vital signs. From his crouching position, he bounces in place a bit and looks over to you. He shakes his head slowly with a level of hatred in his eyes. “Foolish human. That was pretty stupid of you.”
Iggy moves to you with brutality in his body language, grabbing you by the throat. You feel your air way compressing for only a moment. Mysticalis headbutts Iggy and you see a gaping hole in Iggy’s forehead from the unicorn’s horn, concealed under the veil.
You can breathe again and you lean over and start coughing uncontrollably.
Iggy rubs his forehead and barrels toward the both of you without any hesitation. Myst dives at him and Iggy rolls around the dive before Myst even carries through with the motion. Iggy rolls right along the edge of Mysticalis’s outstretched body. You notice Iggy’s slightly pointed ears right before his extended, beyond natural reason, jaw clamps down on your arm and takes a chunk of flesh and meat as you pull away.
You collapse to the ground violently and crumple into a pile of person. You immediately go into shock from the jolt of adrenaline and suffering, one arm grasping the now gushing arm.
There is a blur of motion before you that becomes difficult to track. Your vision goes from blurry to in focus and the sounds around you echo like they occur at the end of a long hallway from you. What you do know is that Iggy and Mysticalis are wrestling nimbly and that one of them has crashed down on a now broken in half, love seat.
After a couple of minutes of back and forth, Myst ends up walking away and Iggy is face planted into the ground in the remains of the couch with one broken wooden leg of the couch stabbed through his gut, pinned to the deck.
“Let’s go, before more damage is done.” Myst swings the door leading to the back of the boat and several of the crew members, armed, stand there grimly.
“You’re not going anywhere. You can’t take us all on.”
Your coat is off, wrapped tightly around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. You give up and slouch there.
Before the group files into the room around the both of you, before they can check on their boss, Iggy, or the fat man, there’s a loud crack like a thunder clap!