Hello all. I'm an aspiring writer and I've started this tale about my character The Human Miracle (for a full bio and background please check here at Virtue Verse:http://www.virtueverse.com/index.php/Human_Miracle). This is an ongoing project and your comments as well as CONSTRUCTIVE crticism are much appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy it!
for the previous story, please look for The War of the Eye (Prologue) in the RP Forums
-------------
Chapter 1: The Second Coming
Opening the sliding glass door to his penthouse on the upper levels of the famous club, The Lions Den, John Blake strode from the balcony into his living room. He had taken the long way home from the bust in the warehouse; needing time to think on what had happened with the Eyes Eyes men. It was not the first time he had encountered them, at least not in this timeline. That was troubling him the most. After time had rewound the events of the horrific War of the Eye, he had begun to experience a sort of déjà vu of certain events that had already happened to him. They had not happened exactly as they had before, especially since his father and the Exile, Donald Jones III, and the other members of the Brotherhood remembered the events of the war as well.
This being the case, he had been trying his hardest to stop the previous events from occurring again. Trying to prevent the future from happening was the most tasking job he had ever encountered and quite frankly, he was exhausted. The sky outside had grown darker with twilight, and the internal lights of the penthouse turned on at his presence. Merlin was obviously aware of him now and his personal settings for the house were being uploaded.
Welcome home, sir. I did as you instructed and informed your wife you would be late tonight. She expressed heightened levels of agitation, as usual. Shall I see what is on the television for you, sir? The omnipresent computerized voice sounded all around him as he stepped to the lower level of the living room, which had a couch, coffee tables, a fire-pit in the middle, and a flat screen T.V. on the wall to the north of the elevator doors. Plopping on his couch, still in his Nautilus armor, he put his feet up on a coffee table in front of him and exhaled loudly.
No thank you Merlin. He looked around the richly furnished room and sighed appreciatively. It had been refurnished since he got married and there were numerous paintings now, and some selected sculptures around the large room. It had to be somewhere between 120 meters by 150 meters, it was an entire level of an apartment complex with all the walls knocked out after all. A grand piano sat in one corner of the room where he often played, while his wife cooked in the open kitchen a few feet away. The two traded nights to cook and clean which meant he always got a healthy dose of real food when he didnt cook pasta each night it was his turn.
Glancing to his right, he saw a large decanter of whiskey that he had begun to favor as of late and took the stopper off. Finding a glass from the set on the table the whiskey resided on, he poured. Eyeing the amber liquid with a slight grin, he sipped it in appreciation. Leaning his head back, he rubbed his eyes with his gloved hand.
Rough day at the office, sir? Merlins voice chirped from the ceiling above him, as to not be overwhelming. His behavioral studies program must have become accustomed to John finally, knowing how to approach him when he was in certain states.
Howd you guess?
Your elevated stress levels tend to shift your preference of drink from wines to Irish whiskey. The program was working indeed. His stress levels were very elevated. Chuckling, John rose from the couch and strode to a large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf next to the elevator doors which lead down to the club. Even from the door he could hear the music of the Members Only section and he smiled to himself at his successful hobby.
Perusing the bookshelf, he ran his fingers along the spines of various tomes and albums. Finally resting his finger on a black leather-bound book, he slid it out carefully. It was his diary that the Brotherhood had given to him as a wedding present. The book had an unlimited amount of pages within its small physical form, similar to the one his father possessed which gathered dust on the podium in the Brotherhood headquarters now.
Settling back down on the couch, he began to flip through the pages. He had filled several pages out, some about work, others about the marriage and the wedding. Finally he reached the section marked with old bookmarks at the beginning and end. The large heading read The War of the Eye, and he sipped from the glass again as he began to read
November 31, 2008
2 Years Pre War
I cant remember a time when we had it easy. I mean, we never had it easy, being who we were. In retrospect though, the enemies have never been so much fun and the problems so straightforward. Burn enough of them to stop them from winning, and keep enough gas around so you dont stop. General Sgt. Carlin, Third Debriefing to Global Alliance Forces after the Battle of Tokyo
John strode through the Members Only section at a brisk pace to the elevator leading to his penthouse. Calling an abrupt end to the staff meeting he had been attending for the last three hours, he was not too broken up about leaving, knowing that his boys could handle anything to do with the club with Emi there. But it was not the fact that he was leaving that was bothering him. Indeed he left often for hero duties and Rikti invasion forces. It was the burning red glow from the mark of the Brotherhood on his left hand that unnerved him. He had not scheduled a meeting today, which meant that this was an emergency.
As the elevator slowed to a halt, he strode through the doors as they opened and walked to the nearest door. A closet, some ten feet away from the elevator caught his attention and he marched in its direction. The only way to get to the inner sanctum of the Brotherhood was to open a door, any door really, and call upon the magic within the mark to open a hidden portal. Grasping the handle firmly, he swung the portal open to reveal not a closet full of coats and jackets, but one of the most sought after wonders of the world.
As his eyes adjusted to the perpetual morning sunlight within the Library of the Eye that flooded from the windows, he approached the podium some fifty feet in front of him. The Library had many names. Some called it the Library of Alexandria, which was a common misconception. Others referred to it as the Birthplace of Knowledge, or The Enclave. John had always referred to it as the Library of the Eye, which was the more familiar term to those within the Brotherhood. In reality, that was what it was, an enormous library with seemingly no end to the eastern and western branches. If one looked in either direction, books would stretch on for miles, with hundreds of sub-branches and sections within sections. A copy of every book ever made sat on shelves in every language imaginable, providing reading for anyone of any nationality.
John ascended the three stairs to the podium where his fathers journal sat, untouched for the last few years. The light that illuminated the Library came from stained glass windows, enchanted of course, which were versions of the most famous stained glass windows the world over. The closest one to the ground floor was the Rose Window in Notre Dame. If one looked through the window, he could see into the cathedral or church that it resided in reality. Closing his eyes he could focus and hear various animal noises such as birds, primates, and the occasional lion. This was where he was at peace. This was his domain which he ruled.
He knew they had arrived because he felt their presence before he saw them. Raphiel Gambino, his cousin, was the first to show himself. The self-proclaimed King of Port Oakes sauntered into the clearing littered with tables and chair which expanded before the altar. Nodding to his only blood relative in the Brotherhood, John registered three more figures in the shadows. Alejandro, the large wolf-man hunter of Arachnos, Thierry the sonic demolisher able to mimic any sound 10 times its normal volume, and Joseph who controlled flame and ice from within his own body. The three had joined Arachnos to try and destabilize it from within, but had not produced any results so far. They had paid for their mission in the form of horrific experiments, which gave them their fantastic powers, to convince Arachnos they were truly loyal.
George slunk from the shadows next, plopping in a plush arm chair and propping his feet up. The lone-wolf tracker tipping his hat in acknowledgement to his leader. John grinned at him and turned his head at the sound of metallic feet stomping through the carpeted floor of the Library. Harold Album, the brilliant scientist cyborg, clumsily maneuvered with his large metallic body. Giving a half bow to the others, he stood stoically in the rear of the assembly. The last, and most unsurprisingly so, was Ivan Medvedev. Living the voluntary life of a transient in Kings Row had made him hard, harder than his life in the Russian army for the Romanovs. Dragging his feet to a table, he sat on its edge and waited for the meeting to start.
Since I didnt call this, Ill let whoever did start us off. Johns voice rang out to the group of men, his Latin a little rusty. His opening statement obviously discomforted his Brothers since they knew now the meeting was of more importance than they had previously thought.
Thank you Primoris Frater. Raphiel spoke unexpectedly and the group turned to face him. Speaking swiftly in Italian, he explained his reasons for the emergency meeting. Ive had reports from my soldiers and several capos that the Exile has been moving in on some warehouses in Port Oakes. I investigated with a few men and saw that he had several artifacts in his possession that I feel we should have. He puffed on his cigar, seeming to prepare himself for what was next. He had The Book. At first it didnt register what he had meant, but the realization of what he had just said struck several of the members.
The Book, as they referred to it, was Count Blakes personal book of magics. It had hidden things in it that had driven men mad at the mere scanning of it. Supposedly possessing magical properties itself, the book could only be held and used by those whom it deemed worthy. It was indeed something that Donald Jones had come into possession of the book, especially since he had not had contact with dark magic since his expulsion from the Brotherhood all those decades ago for attempting to sell their secrets.
You give the Exile too much credit. Joseph said, scoffing in German. I do not think that he could find it, let alone be counted worthy by that wretched thing. Raphiel nodded, as well as a few other Brothers.
What makes ya so sure its The Book? George inquired from his seat, catching a few off their guards. Raphiel looked at his feet and threw down the cigar, extinguishing it with his feet.
One of the men I had with me said he experienced a waking nightmare. A hush fell over the assembly, and the animal noises of the Library could be heard in the distance. That was the only symptom that could identify the book. If the book found someone who was not worthy in its presence, it would assault their mind with horrific images, driving them mad. After a few minutes, the Brothers looked to John, wondering what action they should take.
We go. Now. Johns reply was simple, but filled with dreadful purpose.
The problem we face is that we have an enemy vast in number and vast in intelligence. The combination alone makes a lesser man shudder. But those who are like me find this a unique opportunity to test ourselves in the most trying of times.
-Lord Recluse, Personal Memoirs
This is George. Theyve got several men patrolling the parameter, all armed ta the teeth. It looks like the Exiles business is very lucrative. The mental strategies they had been working on during their journey were already in motion. George had finished scouting the area, and Ivan was already moving in to take out the guards at the front entrance. Joseph, Alejandro, and Thierry were positioned on the roof and prepared to make the attack look like an Arachnos raid if the occasion called for it. John, Raphiel, and Harold stood on a rooftop across the street and surveyed the action.
Ivan played his part well, begging for change from the guards at the gate and smashing their heads in with his incalculable strength. With their deaths, the rest of the group was free to move in as George eliminated the rest of the guards on the parameter. John, blasting the doors of the warehouse open, took the men behind it by surprise and crushed them under the heavy weight. Harold strode through the hail of bullets that greeted them. His metal body shielded his oh so precious brain as he released the radiation held within in his figure, disintegrating some of the men with the levels of concentrated radiation.
The men they fought were all garbed in the semi-military uniforms of the Jones Enterprises soldiers. They had considerable training in combat and firearms, but it was not enough to fight the wave of experience that assaulted them. Their foes were smarter, faster, more powerful, and most importantly: immortal.
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Men were slain left and right by all members of the Brotherhood. The military grade weapons did not harm them due to the magic of the Fountain of Youth that gave them their longevity and invincibility. John had not killed in a long time, but the feeling was good. It was familiar to him and made him feel as if it were the old days, the bad days. A dark feeling welled up inside as Giovanni and the Fiend hungered for more blood in his mind.
The team finally cut a swathe through the men of Jones Enterprises to reach their leader. Donald stood before a ring of men all clothed in robes, chanting in Latin. Holding a large staff above his head, he began to thrust it down into a small red circle on the floor before him. He did indeed have the dreaded Book of the Count in his opposite hand, and was not surprised to see the other Brothers.
He was a tall man of Scottish descent. Fire-red hair cropped in a Princeton hair-cut served as more evidence of his nationality. The starburst mark above his left eye, The Mark of the Highlands, glowed a light blue, showing that he was protecting himself with his own magic. He had no special abilities like the others, but had knowledge of magics and combat that the others did. He also had his own personal rent-an-army business.
Ah see tha welcome wagon has arrived. His accent, hard to understand to some, gave him a sound that was permanently angry. I knew tha Raphi wouldn keep this ta himsel. S a shame that none of ya shared ma dream, we coulda done well togetha Lowering the staff somewhat, he turned to face the attacking force. Ahm a little disappointed that you chose to blast yer way in here. I paid a lot for those men ya killed. Itll take me months ta replace them.
You shame us with your possession of that book Exile. Johns voice was that of disappointed resignation and exhaustion. The killing wore him out, and his armor was covered with blood. Donald cringed at the word Exile and his face twisted to one of absolute anger.
Ah have ah name ya git! The staff was now lowered all the way in his anger. The men in the circle began to slowly disperse, reaching for weapons within their robes. John noticed that the men who made up the circle all wore long black robes, with the symbol of the Brotherhood of the Sightless Eye above their breast. Disgust welled inside of John, and it must have showed on his face as Donald grinned.
Alejandro, circle around them to flank them from the rear. George, well cause a distraction for you to get in the rafters to fire from above. We do not want to kill Donald. Just disrupt the ceremony.
You have no name to us Exile. John raised a fist and shot a bolt of energy into the crowd of men. Donald roared in rage and picked up a nearby Uzi and fired a few rounds in futility at his former Brothers. Alejandro, however, had already darted behind the men and was in the process of maiming a few. George had teleported using the Mantle of the Nightstalker to reach the rafters. Knocking several arrows, he let them fly and hit a collection of the men protecting Donald.
Complete tha ritual! We must succeed! Donald grabbed the men he knew would sacrifice themselves for him and thrust them into a circle again. Beginning the chant anew, the circle began to flare with internal red fire.
We gotta stopim! Raphial shouted as he fired his duel magnums at the men trying to fend off the Brothers. John knew what had to be done and flew straight for Donald. Roaring with rage and determination, he raised a fist to slam it into Donalds jaw. He could feel the magic welling up inside the warehouse, thick like a fog. The smell was intoxicating and brought memories of the old days again.
But just as suddenly as it had arisen, it died. John hesitated for a moment as his senses registered the drastic change in the atmosphere. His ears told him that the sounds of battle had died away. It was then that John realized he was floating in mid-air before Donald, who was smiling wickedly. Wondering what caused such a change in his opponents demeanor, he investigated why he was not flying under his own power.
A cold bolt of fear ran through his spine as his vision traveled down his own body, to the hand that gripped him tightly by the ankle. The man who held him was clothed in a black trench coat with a suit underneath. The symbol of the Brotherhood was above his breast as well, and the full moon glasses on his face rested on the bridge of his nose. He had a wry smile on his lips as he surveyed the look on his sons face that was one of pure terror.
Hello, son.
I have learned to live by one rule my entire life. No matter how big you are or how much power you have, you will always get scared by something. Justin Manticore Sinclair, Of Heroism and Riches, Personal Memoirs
John finished the decanter of whiskey as he read the passage of the fateful day his father returned. Rubbing his tired eyes, he placed his glass down with a slight clatter. His hand shook as he placed it on the top of the book, his nerves needing a little more than just whiskey to settle them.
Hon? The voice was like a small birds chirp after the clamor of a storm, innocent and pure. Emi had entered the penthouse from the elevator and spotted her husband. When did you get home? And youre still in your work clothes? She looked concerned, her eyes displaying the affection of a lover and companion.
Only a little while ago. The clock on the wall read 12:30 A.M. and he hoped she wouldnt ask Merlin later for the truth. Needed to unwind so I decided to read something. He threw the book onto the couch and walked over to his loving wife. He put his arms around her and drew her close.
You decided to unwind with THAT thing? she asked skeptically. She knew all about the war as John had allowed her to read the journal. She didnt think it was good for him to read it because it put him into such a state of unrest that affected her as well.
I was just browsing through it. Kissing her forehead he returned to the couch and picked up the book. Taking it back to the bookcase, he put it back in its proper place. Finishing this, he gestured to the journal and said, See, back on the shelf where it belongs. Kissing her forehead once more, he looked into her eyes. I need to go to my lab to put the suit back ok? Ill be back.
Watching him leave, Emi waited until the elevator doors closed behind him. Turning to the bookcase, she retrieved the hated book and looked to see where John had marked his place. Reading a few lines, she frowned and returned it back to its position, a cloud of unease over her mind.
Hello all. I'm an aspiring writer and I've started this tale about my character The Human Miracle (for a full bio and background please check here at Virtue Verse:http://www.virtueverse.com/index.php/Human_Miracle). This is an ongoing project and your comments as well as CONSTRUCTIVE crticism are much appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy it!
for the previous story, please look for The War of the Eye (Prologue) in the RP Forums
-------------
Chapter 1: The Second Coming
Opening the sliding glass door to his penthouse on the upper levels of the famous club, The Lions Den, John Blake strode from the balcony into his living room. He had taken the long way home from the bust in the warehouse; needing time to think on what had happened with the Eyes Eyes men. It was not the first time he had encountered them, at least not in this timeline. That was troubling him the most. After time had rewound the events of the horrific War of the Eye, he had begun to experience a sort of déjà vu of certain events that had already happened to him. They had not happened exactly as they had before, especially since his father and the Exile, Donald Jones III, and the other members of the Brotherhood remembered the events of the war as well.
This being the case, he had been trying his hardest to stop the previous events from occurring again. Trying to prevent the future from happening was the most tasking job he had ever encountered and quite frankly, he was exhausted. The sky outside had grown darker with twilight, and the internal lights of the penthouse turned on at his presence. Merlin was obviously aware of him now and his personal settings for the house were being uploaded.
Welcome home, sir. I did as you instructed and informed your wife you would be late tonight. She expressed heightened levels of agitation, as usual. Shall I see what is on the television for you, sir? The omnipresent computerized voice sounded all around him as he stepped to the lower level of the living room, which had a couch, coffee tables, a fire-pit in the middle, and a flat screen T.V. on the wall to the north of the elevator doors. Plopping on his couch, still in his Nautilus armor, he put his feet up on a coffee table in front of him and exhaled loudly.
No thank you Merlin. He looked around the richly furnished room and sighed appreciatively. It had been refurnished since he got married and there were numerous paintings now, and some selected sculptures around the large room. It had to be somewhere between 120 meters by 150 meters, it was an entire level of an apartment complex with all the walls knocked out after all. A grand piano sat in one corner of the room where he often played, while his wife cooked in the open kitchen a few feet away. The two traded nights to cook and clean which meant he always got a healthy dose of real food when he didnt cook pasta each night it was his turn.
Glancing to his right, he saw a large decanter of whiskey that he had begun to favor as of late and took the stopper off. Finding a glass from the set on the table the whiskey resided on, he poured. Eyeing the amber liquid with a slight grin, he sipped it in appreciation. Leaning his head back, he rubbed his eyes with his gloved hand.
Rough day at the office, sir? Merlins voice chirped from the ceiling above him, as to not be overwhelming. His behavioral studies program must have become accustomed to John finally, knowing how to approach him when he was in certain states.
Howd you guess?
Your elevated stress levels tend to shift your preference of drink from wines to Irish whiskey. The program was working indeed. His stress levels were very elevated. Chuckling, John rose from the couch and strode to a large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf next to the elevator doors which lead down to the club. Even from the door he could hear the music of the Members Only section and he smiled to himself at his successful hobby.
Perusing the bookshelf, he ran his fingers along the spines of various tomes and albums. Finally resting his finger on a black leather-bound book, he slid it out carefully. It was his diary that the Brotherhood had given to him as a wedding present. The book had an unlimited amount of pages within its small physical form, similar to the one his father possessed which gathered dust on the podium in the Brotherhood headquarters now.
Settling back down on the couch, he began to flip through the pages. He had filled several pages out, some about work, others about the marriage and the wedding. Finally he reached the section marked with old bookmarks at the beginning and end. The large heading read The War of the Eye, and he sipped from the glass again as he began to read
November 31, 2008
2 Years Pre War
I cant remember a time when we had it easy. I mean, we never had it easy, being who we were. In retrospect though, the enemies have never been so much fun and the problems so straightforward. Burn enough of them to stop them from winning, and keep enough gas around so you dont stop. General Sgt. Carlin, Third Debriefing to Global Alliance Forces after the Battle of Tokyo
John strode through the Members Only section at a brisk pace to the elevator leading to his penthouse. Calling an abrupt end to the staff meeting he had been attending for the last three hours, he was not too broken up about leaving, knowing that his boys could handle anything to do with the club with Emi there. But it was not the fact that he was leaving that was bothering him. Indeed he left often for hero duties and Rikti invasion forces. It was the burning red glow from the mark of the Brotherhood on his left hand that unnerved him. He had not scheduled a meeting today, which meant that this was an emergency.
As the elevator slowed to a halt, he strode through the doors as they opened and walked to the nearest door. A closet, some ten feet away from the elevator caught his attention and he marched in its direction. The only way to get to the inner sanctum of the Brotherhood was to open a door, any door really, and call upon the magic within the mark to open a hidden portal. Grasping the handle firmly, he swung the portal open to reveal not a closet full of coats and jackets, but one of the most sought after wonders of the world.
As his eyes adjusted to the perpetual morning sunlight within the Library of the Eye that flooded from the windows, he approached the podium some fifty feet in front of him. The Library had many names. Some called it the Library of Alexandria, which was a common misconception. Others referred to it as the Birthplace of Knowledge, or The Enclave. John had always referred to it as the Library of the Eye, which was the more familiar term to those within the Brotherhood. In reality, that was what it was, an enormous library with seemingly no end to the eastern and western branches. If one looked in either direction, books would stretch on for miles, with hundreds of sub-branches and sections within sections. A copy of every book ever made sat on shelves in every language imaginable, providing reading for anyone of any nationality.
John ascended the three stairs to the podium where his fathers journal sat, untouched for the last few years. The light that illuminated the Library came from stained glass windows, enchanted of course, which were versions of the most famous stained glass windows the world over. The closest one to the ground floor was the Rose Window in Notre Dame. If one looked through the window, he could see into the cathedral or church that it resided in reality. Closing his eyes he could focus and hear various animal noises such as birds, primates, and the occasional lion. This was where he was at peace. This was his domain which he ruled.
He knew they had arrived because he felt their presence before he saw them. Raphiel Gambino, his cousin, was the first to show himself. The self-proclaimed King of Port Oakes sauntered into the clearing littered with tables and chair which expanded before the altar. Nodding to his only blood relative in the Brotherhood, John registered three more figures in the shadows. Alejandro, the large wolf-man hunter of Arachnos, Thierry the sonic demolisher able to mimic any sound 10 times its normal volume, and Joseph who controlled flame and ice from within his own body. The three had joined Arachnos to try and destabilize it from within, but had not produced any results so far. They had paid for their mission in the form of horrific experiments, which gave them their fantastic powers, to convince Arachnos they were truly loyal.
George slunk from the shadows next, plopping in a plush arm chair and propping his feet up. The lone-wolf tracker tipping his hat in acknowledgement to his leader. John grinned at him and turned his head at the sound of metallic feet stomping through the carpeted floor of the Library. Harold Album, the brilliant scientist cyborg, clumsily maneuvered with his large metallic body. Giving a half bow to the others, he stood stoically in the rear of the assembly. The last, and most unsurprisingly so, was Ivan Medvedev. Living the voluntary life of a transient in Kings Row had made him hard, harder than his life in the Russian army for the Romanovs. Dragging his feet to a table, he sat on its edge and waited for the meeting to start.
Since I didnt call this, Ill let whoever did start us off. Johns voice rang out to the group of men, his Latin a little rusty. His opening statement obviously discomforted his Brothers since they knew now the meeting was of more importance than they had previously thought.
Thank you Primoris Frater. Raphiel spoke unexpectedly and the group turned to face him. Speaking swiftly in Italian, he explained his reasons for the emergency meeting. Ive had reports from my soldiers and several capos that the Exile has been moving in on some warehouses in Port Oakes. I investigated with a few men and saw that he had several artifacts in his possession that I feel we should have. He puffed on his cigar, seeming to prepare himself for what was next. He had The Book. At first it didnt register what he had meant, but the realization of what he had just said struck several of the members.
The Book, as they referred to it, was Count Blakes personal book of magics. It had hidden things in it that had driven men mad at the mere scanning of it. Supposedly possessing magical properties itself, the book could only be held and used by those whom it deemed worthy. It was indeed something that Donald Jones had come into possession of the book, especially since he had not had contact with dark magic since his expulsion from the Brotherhood all those decades ago for attempting to sell their secrets.
You give the Exile too much credit. Joseph said, scoffing in German. I do not think that he could find it, let alone be counted worthy by that wretched thing. Raphiel nodded, as well as a few other Brothers.
What makes ya so sure its The Book? George inquired from his seat, catching a few off their guards. Raphiel looked at his feet and threw down the cigar, extinguishing it with his feet.
One of the men I had with me said he experienced a waking nightmare. A hush fell over the assembly, and the animal noises of the Library could be heard in the distance. That was the only symptom that could identify the book. If the book found someone who was not worthy in its presence, it would assault their mind with horrific images, driving them mad. After a few minutes, the Brothers looked to John, wondering what action they should take.
We go. Now. Johns reply was simple, but filled with dreadful purpose.
The problem we face is that we have an enemy vast in number and vast in intelligence. The combination alone makes a lesser man shudder. But those who are like me find this a unique opportunity to test ourselves in the most trying of times.
-Lord Recluse, Personal Memoirs
This is George. Theyve got several men patrolling the parameter, all armed ta the teeth. It looks like the Exiles business is very lucrative. The mental strategies they had been working on during their journey were already in motion. George had finished scouting the area, and Ivan was already moving in to take out the guards at the front entrance. Joseph, Alejandro, and Thierry were positioned on the roof and prepared to make the attack look like an Arachnos raid if the occasion called for it. John, Raphiel, and Harold stood on a rooftop across the street and surveyed the action.
Ivan played his part well, begging for change from the guards at the gate and smashing their heads in with his incalculable strength. With their deaths, the rest of the group was free to move in as George eliminated the rest of the guards on the parameter. John, blasting the doors of the warehouse open, took the men behind it by surprise and crushed them under the heavy weight. Harold strode through the hail of bullets that greeted them. His metal body shielded his oh so precious brain as he released the radiation held within in his figure, disintegrating some of the men with the levels of concentrated radiation.
The men they fought were all garbed in the semi-military uniforms of the Jones Enterprises soldiers. They had considerable training in combat and firearms, but it was not enough to fight the wave of experience that assaulted them. Their foes were smarter, faster, more powerful, and most importantly: immortal.
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Men were slain left and right by all members of the Brotherhood. The military grade weapons did not harm them due to the magic of the Fountain of Youth that gave them their longevity and invincibility. John had not killed in a long time, but the feeling was good. It was familiar to him and made him feel as if it were the old days, the bad days. A dark feeling welled up inside as Giovanni and the Fiend hungered for more blood in his mind.
The team finally cut a swathe through the men of Jones Enterprises to reach their leader. Donald stood before a ring of men all clothed in robes, chanting in Latin. Holding a large staff above his head, he began to thrust it down into a small red circle on the floor before him. He did indeed have the dreaded Book of the Count in his opposite hand, and was not surprised to see the other Brothers.
He was a tall man of Scottish descent. Fire-red hair cropped in a Princeton hair-cut served as more evidence of his nationality. The starburst mark above his left eye, The Mark of the Highlands, glowed a light blue, showing that he was protecting himself with his own magic. He had no special abilities like the others, but had knowledge of magics and combat that the others did. He also had his own personal rent-an-army business.
Ah see tha welcome wagon has arrived. His accent, hard to understand to some, gave him a sound that was permanently angry. I knew tha Raphi wouldn keep this ta himsel. S a shame that none of ya shared ma dream, we coulda done well togetha Lowering the staff somewhat, he turned to face the attacking force. Ahm a little disappointed that you chose to blast yer way in here. I paid a lot for those men ya killed. Itll take me months ta replace them.
You shame us with your possession of that book Exile. Johns voice was that of disappointed resignation and exhaustion. The killing wore him out, and his armor was covered with blood. Donald cringed at the word Exile and his face twisted to one of absolute anger.
Ah have ah name ya git! The staff was now lowered all the way in his anger. The men in the circle began to slowly disperse, reaching for weapons within their robes. John noticed that the men who made up the circle all wore long black robes, with the symbol of the Brotherhood of the Sightless Eye above their breast. Disgust welled inside of John, and it must have showed on his face as Donald grinned.
Alejandro, circle around them to flank them from the rear. George, well cause a distraction for you to get in the rafters to fire from above. We do not want to kill Donald. Just disrupt the ceremony.
You have no name to us Exile. John raised a fist and shot a bolt of energy into the crowd of men. Donald roared in rage and picked up a nearby Uzi and fired a few rounds in futility at his former Brothers. Alejandro, however, had already darted behind the men and was in the process of maiming a few. George had teleported using the Mantle of the Nightstalker to reach the rafters. Knocking several arrows, he let them fly and hit a collection of the men protecting Donald.
Complete tha ritual! We must succeed! Donald grabbed the men he knew would sacrifice themselves for him and thrust them into a circle again. Beginning the chant anew, the circle began to flare with internal red fire.
We gotta stopim! Raphial shouted as he fired his duel magnums at the men trying to fend off the Brothers. John knew what had to be done and flew straight for Donald. Roaring with rage and determination, he raised a fist to slam it into Donalds jaw. He could feel the magic welling up inside the warehouse, thick like a fog. The smell was intoxicating and brought memories of the old days again.
But just as suddenly as it had arisen, it died. John hesitated for a moment as his senses registered the drastic change in the atmosphere. His ears told him that the sounds of battle had died away. It was then that John realized he was floating in mid-air before Donald, who was smiling wickedly. Wondering what caused such a change in his opponents demeanor, he investigated why he was not flying under his own power.
A cold bolt of fear ran through his spine as his vision traveled down his own body, to the hand that gripped him tightly by the ankle. The man who held him was clothed in a black trench coat with a suit underneath. The symbol of the Brotherhood was above his breast as well, and the full moon glasses on his face rested on the bridge of his nose. He had a wry smile on his lips as he surveyed the look on his sons face that was one of pure terror.
Hello, son.
I have learned to live by one rule my entire life. No matter how big you are or how much power you have, you will always get scared by something. Justin Manticore Sinclair, Of Heroism and Riches, Personal Memoirs
John finished the decanter of whiskey as he read the passage of the fateful day his father returned. Rubbing his tired eyes, he placed his glass down with a slight clatter. His hand shook as he placed it on the top of the book, his nerves needing a little more than just whiskey to settle them.
Hon? The voice was like a small birds chirp after the clamor of a storm, innocent and pure. Emi had entered the penthouse from the elevator and spotted her husband. When did you get home? And youre still in your work clothes? She looked concerned, her eyes displaying the affection of a lover and companion.
Only a little while ago. The clock on the wall read 12:30 A.M. and he hoped she wouldnt ask Merlin later for the truth. Needed to unwind so I decided to read something. He threw the book onto the couch and walked over to his loving wife. He put his arms around her and drew her close.
You decided to unwind with THAT thing? she asked skeptically. She knew all about the war as John had allowed her to read the journal. She didnt think it was good for him to read it because it put him into such a state of unrest that affected her as well.
I was just browsing through it. Kissing her forehead he returned to the couch and picked up the book. Taking it back to the bookcase, he put it back in its proper place. Finishing this, he gestured to the journal and said, See, back on the shelf where it belongs. Kissing her forehead once more, he looked into her eyes. I need to go to my lab to put the suit back ok? Ill be back.
Watching him leave, Emi waited until the elevator doors closed behind him. Turning to the bookcase, she retrieved the hated book and looked to see where John had marked his place. Reading a few lines, she frowned and returned it back to its position, a cloud of unease over her mind.