Millennium *HF*
By Daemon
~~Prologue~~
11 Days to Millennium
The forest was quiet. A chilly northern breeze whistled through the barren branches of the trees. A light carpet of snow covered the ground above which the mysterious man floated, his legs folded into a lotus position. Despite the frigid winter weather of Westchester County, New York, the mage known as Rune wore only a pair of pants, letting his cloak rest to the side. His meditations these past few months have been dedicated to achieving a new level in his mystical training. The air crackled around him as he summoned on the elemental abilities he has thus far achieved with a continuous hum of mumbled spells. His bare arms displayed a line of symbols that seemed to glow in response to his chanting. Each mystical tattoo of characters from an ancient language represented a form of magic he had mastered. This day, Rune aspired to add eihwaz, or the power of precognition, to his array of abilities. With closed eyes, Rune cleared his mind and looked into the depths of the very fabric of space and time.
Beneath closed lids, Rune's eyes danced back and forth. He could feel the vision, but he still could not see it. It was as though there was a single point of light eluding him within the blackness of his inner space. Rune's brow furrowed as he concentrated even deeper. He had now fully projected himself into his inner space where he watched the tiny point ricochet back and forth off of invisible walls. His astral form snatched at the light several times as it passed , unable to bring it to a halt. With one final exertion of shear will, Rune caught the point in an extended fist.
Suddenly the light began to expand outwards, beams of its radiance pouring through the spaces between his fingers. Rune struggled to hold it, but an explosion of light and warmth engulfed him and changed the very landscape of this surreal environment. When Rune's astral self looked again, he was standing in what seemed like Hell. The walls of the cave-like room were jagged and rocky, illuminated by the dancing red glow of the numerous fiery geysers that punched through the floor. The smell of burning flesh and sulfur assaulted him, though Rune was not quite sure if such a sensory invasion was the norm for a vision such as this. That was when he noticed the faint sounds that almost blended into the crackling of the fires - they were screams, unearthly screams of agony.
A stir of motion in a molten pool behind him caught Rune's attention. He turned and approached the edge with caution. Bubbles gurgled to the surface of the lava with increasing frequency. Then he saw them rising from beneath the boiling matter - the tips of horns. Rune's eyes grew wider as he stared, the horns slowly revealing themselves. Then came the gray, reptilian skin of a head and a pair of eyes so filled with bloodlust. What was he seeing? When finally the creature's mouth emerged from the pool, he began to laugh. The very sound of it hurt Rune's ears and he covered them for the pain. At last, the creature spoke in a voice that would surely bring chills to even the bravest heart.
"I...AM....FREE!!!!"
Rune opened his eyes in the real world gasping a single breath, realizing that his true form had not breathed for the entire vision. Placing his feet back on the ground, he draped his cloak around him and walked back towards his modest home just outside the BHC compound. His mind raced with questions. Who was that creature? Was it a demon as it appeared to be, or is that only symbolic? I must continue my studies...
So involved with his own thoughts was Rune, that he didn't notice the circle of scorched earth he had left in his wake.
***
The lobby of Strong Towers was filled with beautiful music as a young pianist tickled the keys of the grand piano. Onlookers had begun to crowd in a circle around the black Steinway. Though there were often classical and jazz groups who frequently provided the pleasant background music of this upscale apartment's entrance, none had played with so much passion and energy before. It was intoxicating to listen to as was evident by the numerous residents and passers-by that simply had to stop and listen if but for a moment.
The pianist's hands moved deftly over the keys. With eyes closed, the dark-skinned man appeared to be in a trance as he effortlessly wove each note and chord into a tapestry of musical expression, a tangible narration of emotional experience. He could feel the music in a strange sort of way, even before he played the notes. It was one of his favorite songs, his greatest personal musical achievement - Sergei Prokofiev's Piano Sonata No. 7 - Op. 83. He remembered his first tentative notes on his instructor's piano. He remembered the hours he would practice alone, doing scales and memorizing simple songs. He remembered his first recital, and the look of pride on his mother's face. He remembered when his instructor placed this very piece in front of him for the first time, how difficult it looked. And he remembered the triumphant day when he had mastered it.
When he had finished, his eyes snapped open to the cheering of the crowd. He hadn't even noticed them come in. With a curt nod of thanks, the young man rose from the piano bench and walked to the elevator, a scowl churning on his face. You see, Daemon had never learned to play the piano. There WILL be a reckoning, Khalid, the Pharaohan said to himself as the elevator doors closed.
***
"What?!"
Jack Silver Jr. gripped his telephone tightly with frustration and anger. He loosened his necktie as he paced back and forth in his office at the BHC mansion. This was the third call bringing bad news in two hours and the Black King was justly upset.
"Apothegen stock has plummeted 12 points," Jack's stock broker repeated, though Silver's surprised question was more likely a rhetorical one. "Apparently we've been brought up on charges of industrial espionage by one of our smaller rival companies. When word hit the market, there was a flood of sales. For right now, at least, investors are going to treat us like we have the plague."
"Industrial espionage? That's absurd! What company filed these charges?"
"Cherub Pharmaceuticals. They claim Apothegen employees were caught stealing a patented formula for a blood coagulant. You might want to get a hold of your law team for details. In the meantime, we need to do something to stabilize this situation. Our major stockholders want your head on a pike right now."
Silver took a deep breath with his eyes closed and a hand at his temple. What else could possibly go wrong? The first call he received when he came to the office this morning reported a computer virus at one of the BHC's credit card companies that essentially wiped their entire customer database clean, leaving only the archived hard records to go on. While the information to continue service was still available, the time consumed by manually searching records made it impossible to maintain the volume of business it was used to. In addition, the cost of replacing the computer system throughout the company's nationwide offices could double their losses. The second call was no better. An unexplained fire broke out at one of the technology divisions, consuming two thirds of the building. This both halted further manufacturing and set back years of research and development in one felled swoop.
"I'll see what I can do," Jack said finally. "Thanks, Tim."
He hung up the phone solemnly and grabbed his suit jacket. Pushing passed the doors to his office, Jack marched passed his secretary and towards the exit.
"Are you taking an early lunch, sir," Mandy asked, looking up from her computer.
"Hold all of my calls and cancel all of my meetings for the next few days," Silver responded without turning around or breaking his stride. Today's events seemed planned. Three, almost simultaneous catastrophes apparently aimed at BHC held businesses rang too much of a conspiracy to a man as experienced as Jack Silver, Jr. Someone's out to destroy us, he thought to himself, and I'm going to find out who.
~~End Prologue~~
~~Chapter 1~~
10 Days to Millennium
Silver sat impatiently in the waiting room of the Cherub Pharmaceuticals executive office in Manhattan. He had appeared out of the blue, talking his way passed every middle manager he encountered on the way until he reached the reception desk of the corporation's president and CEO. The young woman behind the desk had been the friendliest face he had seen all day. She had greeted him with a smile as he approached her, despite his disgusted scowl.
"I want to speak to the President now," Silver had demanded, making the receptionist's nameplate jump on her desk with the pounding of his angry fist.
"Just a minute, sir," she had answered cordially as she picked up her phone. "Mr. Cherub," she said into the phone after a few seconds, "Mr. Jack Silver, Jr. is here to see you....Yes, sir.....Very good, sir."
Silver stared at her with an intense gaze. She was quite pretty if Jack had taken the time to notice, but more pressing business was taking all of his concentration. In fact, Silver was probably blind to several things his usually perceptive eyes would have caught if not for his terrible state of mind. For one, it was extremely dark for an office building in the middle of the day. While the fluorescent lights provided fairly adequate illumination for reading, there were no windows uncovered to let in the supplemental light of the sun. Then there was the eerie quiet of a supposedly highly successful business. Where was the hustle and bustle of a busy office? Where was the soft hum of conversations between co-workers and clients? Not even the sound of a copy machine or a computer printer pierced the silence.
"Mr. Cherub is busy at the moment," the receptionist finally had said to Silver, "But as soon as he's available, I'll contact you."
"I'll wait," Silver had said, almost interrupting her as he sat.
"But it could be hours, sir."
"I will wait," he asserted through clenched teeth.
That was over an hour ago.
The receptionist looked up from her computer to Silver and eyed his form discretely. He was a man of immense strength and vitality from what she could see. His tailored business suit only accentuated his well-muscled body. She bit her lower lip as her breathing became heavier. Licking her lips slowly, she closed her eyes to gain her composure and turned back to her computer. It had been so long for her... She barely noticed Silver leap from his seat and stride towards the office door.
"Sir, you can't go in there," she exclaimed as she too jumped up from her seat. "Please wait."
But Silver ignored her and burst into the office unceremoniously. "I won't be put off all day," Silver shouted into the room, but there seemed to be no one there. It was dark in there as well, darker than even the rest of the building. While the entire back wall was apparently a window with a fabulous view, no doubt, it was sealed almost completely against the light of the outside. The large leather chair at the polished desk was turned backwards. "Mr. Cherub?"
A small boy rounded the desk with hands behind his back. The young boy's plump cheeks perked up as he smiled, revealing pearl white teeth that seemed to match his pale skin. "My Daddy isn't here right now, mister," the child said.
Silver stood in the doorway confusedly as the receptionist finally caught up with him, an unspoken apology already on her lips. Silver simply nodded and turned to leave. "Let me walk you out," the receptionist said, gripping Jack's arm tightly. As they reached the door to the waiting area, she released him waving good-bye pleasantly as she returned to her desk. As she sat, her intercom buzzed from the office inside.
The boy in the office leaned against the leather chair as he stared at the body of a young woman lying on the floor behind the desk, slowly bleeding to death. "Theresa I'm finished with my meal for the afternoon. Please dispose of the remains. And feel free to snack, I know how long it's been since your last."
"Thank you, Mr. Cherub. I am grateful, Master."
***
Santa Monica, California - 10 Days to Millennium
The apartment building was very nondescript and blended into the rows of brownstones well. Its inconspicuous look was a trait the tenants of this particular building found quite useful. Their crop of customers every night desired anonymity, and they made it their business to meet their customer's needs. Inside, the two-bedroom living space was clean and well-kept. Classic furnishings gave it a very cozy feel. Most wouldn't think in a million years that this was a crack house. Despite popular belief and the portrayals given by the media, a decisive majority of illegal drug sales and usage occur in middle-class, suburban areas just like this one.
In one of the bedrooms, a pair of young women provided two men with their nightly fix of so-called angel dust. They all laughed heartily, rubbing at their reddened noses. Like all of the ladies' customers, these men were particularly faithful and punctual as well. They came every evening at 6:00pm, still dressed in their business suits. What they did exactly was unimportant, but it apparently was enough to handle the hundreds of dollars worth of narcotics they consumed every week. Recently, however, they had been coming more often and using almost twice as much dust as normal. As one of the men reached across to the table to sniff another line, the girls gave each other a knowing look. These two were ready.
"Hey guys," one of them began, still giggling from her high, "I think we should play a game."
The man who had taken another line wiped at his nose and spoke up. "What kind of game?"
The other girl reached under the bed they were leaning against and pulled out a box of bondage devices. "These kind of games," she said with a seductive smile.
The guys looked at each other quickly in disbelief and returned their gaze back to the women, nodding vigorously.
"Get on the bed," the other ordered as she pulled out two pairs of handcuffs.
The men obliged eagerly, stumbling onto the bed that seemed to dance around the room in their drug-induced vision.
With their arms bound to the bedpost by the handcuffs, the girls straddled each one, beginning to remove their shirts. It was not until the men were bare-chested and horny did the women reveal their enlarged canines. The men screamed as the vampires moved in towards their next meal, but a man crashing through the bedroom window interrupted them.
"Sorry about the window," Justin Mills said. "Damn thing just jumped out of NOWHERE. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
The vampires turned to him with bloodlust in their eyes and hissed at him aggressively.
Darkwolf looked over at the men tied to the bed, their once boisterous voices silent with fear. "Ooh....that looks NAUGHTY. Have you ever tried using a spatula to..."
They were upon him before he could finish, swatting at him with vampiric finger claws and inhuman strength. But Darkwolf was of even greater strength and possessed of nigh-invulnerable skin. He kicked one in the gut as she hung in midair and backhanded the other as he drew his weapon, the Sword of Haresh. "How did you find us, slayer?" one of them asked after resetting her dislocated jaw.
Darkwolf shrugged. "Well, I was just tracking some werewolves I heard were terrorizing the area and I got a whiff of YOU two. You might want to get something for that, by the way. I hear Masengil will keep you fresh for DAYS."
The other vampire reached below the bed and pulled out another box, this one containing weapons. Swiftly, she withdrew a short sword for herself and threw a warhammer to her comrade. "You will pay for your insolence, slayer."
Darkwolf struck a defensive stance. "Do ALL of you vamps talk like that, because you sound like you're straight out of a bad horror flick? 'Thou shalt feel my wrath upon thee!' It sounds so CORNY in real life."
The one with the sword came at him first. He easily blocked her strike, but was unable to anticipate the speed of the other, who slammed him in the back with her hammer. While Justin Mills' skin was tough to penetrate, his bones were only slightly more robust than that of a normal human. So taking any more hits like that could prove deadly. He punched her in the stomach and then in the face, forcing her back as he dealt with the other one, delivering a vicious slash to the midsection. Both of the vampire's wounds began to heal immediately.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I can find those werewolves I was talking about before, would you? I tried a dog whistle but that only managed to get both my legs humped by these little wiener dogs. Hehe...wiener dogs..."
The one with the hammer again attacked, swinging wildly at his head. "You will NOT interfere with their sacred mission."
"Whoa. Wait a minute. Who said anything about a 'sacred mission'? Are they on a mission from God to get the band back together or something?"
The short sword sliced through his jacket and slid across his invulnerable skin, the enchanted blade actually causing a small cut to open up. The one with the hammer also charged, noticing Darkwolf's surprise at being hurt. But Darkwolf saw her coming out of the corner of his eye. Dropping to the floor and spinning swiftly, he took her legs out from under her with a perfect sweep while simultaneously blocking another sword strike.
"OK, ladies," he said as he brought his sword to bear, "It's been fun, but I've got more important things to get to."
Drawing a wooden stake from a leg holster, he threw it into the heart of the floored vampire. A split second later, he swung his mighty silver blade towards the other vampire. She brought her sword up to block the deathblow, but only managed to get her sword severed as well as her head. Blood gushed everywhere as the unearthly creatures died, their bodies finally self-combusting into ashes when they had passed. The two men lay wide-eyed on the bed as Darkwolf came towards them with his bloody sword, adjusting his grip on the jade handle. He glanced at the table of drugs and then back at the men, shaking his head disapprovingly. With two quick slashes, the handcuffs were cut and the men were free.
"And don't do drugs," he called after them as they ran away screaming. "Didn't even say thanks. Losers..."
Walking back over to where the vampire with the sword had died, Darkwolf investigated the remains, hoping to gain some clue as to the connection between the werewolves and these vampires. His gaze wandered to the hilt of the sword she had used, it's blade cut cleanly from the handle. Whoever had provided them with this weaponry was well versed in the mystic arts. While enchanted weapons seemed to come a dime a dozen, not many sorcerers can do it properly...or would be willing to give said weapons to vampires. The handle was of a fine polished wood, girded with steel rings - the modern metal being a sign that it was constructed fairly recently. Even more curious were the symbols on the crossbar that may have served as the vehicle for the spell that granted the sword it's power. But the most interesting symbol lay centered on the underside of the butt of the handle. It was a simple pyramid with an eye on it. Though he didn't know at all what it meant or stood for, Justin Mills couldn't help but shiver at the sight of it.
"Something tells me this can't be good," he said aloud to himself. "I think you gals just pulled me into something a whole lot worse than what I was expecting. I'm even talking to myself again. That CAN'T be a good sign...."
~~End Chapter 1~~
~~Chapter 2~~
9 Days to Millennium
Rune studied the text carefully, as he sat in his favorite armchair. His home was modest considering the wealth to which the Black Hellfire Court had given him access. A fire crackled in the fireplace, adding an eerie light to the room that seemed to compliment the subject on which Rune read - demons. Having only come in contact with a demon twice in his long life, Rune was quite inexperienced in the subject. Though he wished to continue his work towards adding the symbol eihwaz to the row of tattoos mystically engraved upon his arms and thus gain precognizance, the vision of the demon still haunted him.
With his curiosity peaked, Rune had found this book on some of the most prominent demons known within the labyrinth of volumes housed in Gomurr's library. Flipping through the pages slowly and deliberately, he ran across a picture that looked remarkably similar to the creature that had appeared in his vision. But before he could read anything about it, the page was consumed into ashes by an invisible flame, the old paper turning a charred black color as it crumpled into nothing.
"Do you want to know who I am?" that terrible voice said from out of thin air as the fireplace suddenly raged with tall flames.
Rune dropped the book and stood to his feet, the tattoos on his arms glowing as he readied his formidable elemental magics. "Show yourself, demon!"
The voice chuckled. "Why do you react with violence? It is YOU who sought ME. I have only obliged you."
Rune looked first to put down his guard, but thought better of it. Though his experience with demons was limited, the creatures' ability to twist the truth and toy with emotions was infamous. No, he would protect himself at all times. "Who are you? What do you want? Why did you appear in my vision?"
"So many questions, young mage. Are you so eager to know the name of your world's conqueror? Are you so willing to stare death in the face?"
"Then you have answered one of my questions - you want to conquer the world. A bold ambition for a being with no earthly form."
"Do NOT taunt me, worm!" the voice boomed. Suddenly, one of Rune's chairs became airborn and rocketed towards him. A gust of wind summoned by his elemental power pushed it aside and into a wall where it shattered to bits.
"You dare attack me in my home, demon?"
"When my centuries of planning come to fruition, worm, I will dare that and much, MUCH more.?"
"So tell me again how you plan to break the bonds of the prison I sense around you?"
"You need only know that my wrath will soon be upon you. With my return to the Earth Realm, the Ascension of the Illuminated shall begin at last, and there is NOTHING you or your master, Gomurr can do to stop me."
Rune recognized the word 'Ascension' and how it was used, especially in mentioning Gomurr. Could the demon be referring to the prophesied Ascended One whom Gomurr had sought after for so many millennia? But before Rune could say anything more, the demon lashed out, picking up more furniture and swirling them overhead in a cyclone of chairs, tables and other loose articles.
"You first asked me who I am. I am the point of light at the apex of the pyramid. I am the eye that watches over all. I am he who is born of blood and death. I am the light for those that belong, and the bringer of Great Darkness upon those that reject my way. You asked me why I appeared in your vision. You were seeking eihwaz, sorcerer. You were seeking the future. You found it."
And as the fire died back down, Rune noticed his armchair coming towards him. Too late to use his magic, he covered his head and braced for the impact...but it never came. When he opened his eyes, he was still seated in his chair, the demon book still in his hands. His eyes danced around the room, noting how everything was as it should be. It was all an illusion - all except for the page in his book that had burned away.
Rune took a deep breath as he closed the book, placing it onto the table in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and chanted softly, placing a protection spell on his home tailored to keep out demons. Why he had not done so earlier was beyond him. In any event, the demon's words may have been vague, but the message was clear enough. Gomurr would have to be told that he was not the only one after the Ascended.
***
Lyons Hill, North Carolina - 9 Days to Millennium
Khalid Hunter paced back and forth in the small parlor of his grandfather's home. While he usually appeared outwardly to be one of the most composed people even in the oddest situations, he was a wreck today. Having just recently learned of his grandfather's disappearance, or more appropriately, his abduction, Khalid was on the verge of madness. Family was everything to him, and to have someone so close to him stolen from under his very nose was bad enough without also realizing that he was powerless to do anything to help the situation.
He had already spoken with his Uncle Zeke a few hours ago, confirming that Cougar had last been seen several days ago, meaning that his abduction was fairly recent. The tracks would still be fresh...if there WERE tracks. Cougar had taught Khalid at an early age to be able to find almost anything, almost anywhere. But his skills seemed only useful when dealing with relatively normal situations, and anyone who could forcefully take Cougar anywhere he did not want to go was far from normal. There were no vehicle tracks, footprints or even the trace smells of fuel or weapons. There were no clothe fibers or hairs left behind. It was as though he had disappeared into thin air. Khalid was way over his head.
Khalid stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes. His fingers massaged his temples as he felt the familiar buzzing in the back of his head. He could feel the hairs on his arm begin to stand on end and his skin tingled with the sensation of his photon aura beginning to move outwards. Mufasa was there, in some dark corner of his mind struggling to push to the surface...again. Recently, this had been occurring more often, especially when Khalid found himself under massive amounts of stress. These days it seemed as though getting cut off in traffic was enough to bring a feral growl to his lips and a demonic timbre to his voice.
"Not now," Khalid whispered to himself.
Lightning struck outside, letting a brief pale blue light through the picture window into the room. The storm had come suddenly and was an unusual occurrence this late in the year. These types of abrupt thunderstorms were indeed a normal thing for North Carolina but more so in late summer. The sound of a steady downpour pounced on the house as the sheets of water spread across the hilly countryside which was already blanketed by the darkness of late evening. With his back to the window, Khalid did not notice the sudden appearance of a dark figure outside as lightning flashed again. The window burst inward with the force of a hurricane as Daemon expanded the forcefield that protected him from the rain.
"Khalid," Daemon shouted over the sound of falling glass shards and the thunder of the storm, "We have unfinished business."
Khalid turned around swiftly, a red photon aura erupting like fire around him and his eyes glowing with energy and rage. "You've got some nerve bringing your shit HERE."
"Did you know I was coming? Did you think you could escape? I tracked you here, Khalid. I found you in your little hiding place. Now we're going to deal with this."
"What the fuck are you talking about??"
With a burst of superspeed, Daemon was suddenly in front of Khalid, delivering a hard left punch to his jaw. "Don't play games with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Khalid flew backwards into a wall, denting the plaster and shaking the house with the impact. He reacted quickly with a flashburst that temporarily blinded Daemon, followed by a concentrated photon blast that knocked Daemon into an adjoining room. "Are ALL Pharaohans this stupid or is it just you? Don't you understand that I don't know what the hell you're talking about?"
Daemon was on his feet in an instant, ready for more. "The memories, Khalid," he answered with a sneer. "The shit in my head that doesn't belong there...the shit that's YOURS. I know you've experienced it too. I want it to stop."
"What do you want ME to do about it?"
Daemon pounced on him and slammed him into the floor, pinning him down with a knee in the small of his back. "Bastard it was YOUR fault this happened, and YOU are the one that's going to fix it."
"I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?!"
Khalid's aura flared suddenly, sending Daemon flying through the ceiling and onto the second floor. "I just CAN'T!"
Daemon broke through the ceiling behind Khalid and again caught him in a Pharaohan submission move, pinning his arms and putting pressure on his throat at the same time. "LIAR! Why are you torturing me?"
"Do you think I enjoy watching your battles through your eyes? Do you think it makes me feel good when I remember taking lives with my bare hands? And all the blood..."
Daemon's grip tightened, cutting off Khalid's air, an expression on his face almost akin to fear. "What do you know of blood?!"
With a flash of light and the sound of displaced air, Khalid teleported right out from Daemon's grasp. He reappeared just above and behind Daemon, delivering a powerful flying kick to the back of his head. "I don't have time for this, Daemon. Grandpop is missing."
Daemon rolled forward and turned quickly letting a volley of small plasma bursts fly as he righted himself. "Cougar can wait. This ends NOW."
Khalid leaped and dove to the floor, rolling to his feet again as the plasma bursts impacted in a line just behind him. "I told you I can't do anything for you! I barely understand what I did in the first place!"
Besides a shout of anger and frustration, there were no words in Daemon's reply as he rushed at Khalid with superspeed and tackled him through the side of the house and out into the pouring rain. Khalid caught Daemon in the chin with a photon-enhanced uppercut followed by a left to the stomach and an overhead right. Daemon countered with a spinning backhand that sent Khalid to one knee and finished with a two-handed blow to Khalid's spine just above his shoulder blades. The storm buffeted the pair as Daemon stood over Khalid as he slowly began to rise from being face down on the wet grass of the yard. A growl rumbled in his throat and he looked up at Daemon.
"Why can't you just leave me alone? My Grandpop has been kidnapped and I don't know how to find him. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you have a family?"
Daemon unclenched his fists and stood there for a few seconds, listening to the rain, feeling the distant static of another lightning strike. Gabriel Strong indeed had a family. One that he had neglected since leaving for the stars with the power of Ra so many years ago. When his younger brother took his place as avatar, he hadn't even contacted his parents to tell them that he was alive. He had assumed that Hashad would know from the inherited memories from Ra, or that they would eventually hear of his exploits as a mercenary. Khalid's question reminded Daemon of how truly important family was, and how he had been neglectful in showing them how much they meant to him. Maintaining his cold scowl, Daemon offered a hand to Khalid to help him to his feet.
Khalid only looked up into the alien warrior's dark eyes and smacked the extended hand away. He stood on his own as he continued to stare. They stood there for a moment, facing off as the rain soaked their clothes. Daemon could tell what Khalid wanted to say. Were it anyone else, he would simply make the offer, but Khalid was a different story. He wanted to hear him say it. He wanted to see this proud man humble himself. Say it Khalid, he thought to himself.
Khalid swallowed as the crease in his forehead deepened and his aura dissipated. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "Help me," he said softly. "Help me find my grandfather."
Daemon nodded. "Fine. We find Cougar first. But we're going to deal with this thing between us one way or another. We begin tomorrow."
"Where do you want to meet?"
Daemon turned away from Khalid, facing north as he spoke. "I'll find you," he said curtly. And with the next flash of lightning, he was gone.
Khalid stood in the rain looking back at the semi-demolished house and the darkness surrounding him. He had never felt so alone before. But that would soon change if he had anything to do with it, and God help anyone who stood in his way.
~~End Chapter 2~~
~~Chapter 3~~
8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
The sweet aroma of the fresh cup of coffee wafted by Khalid's nose as he sniffed at the savory brew. He wrapped his fingers around the paper cup and took in its warmth. He hadn't slept well the night before having barely been able to find a place in his grandfather's house that was still dry. The previous night's brawl with the enigmatic alien known as Daemon had left the poor structure pocked with battle damage. The rain and cold breeze that permeated the house all night would make for restless conditions.
His corner of this small roadside diner was a lonely one. At this time in the morning, in this underpopulated corner of North Carolina, it was a wonder there was anyone around at all. This made Daemon's sudden appearance all the more startling.
"Khalid."
"Jesus!" the tired mutant musician cried. "Do you HAVE to sneak up on me all the time?"
Daemon only responded with an emotionless, "Let's go," and walked out the door.
Dropping a couple of dollars for his coffee, Khalid scurried to catch up, trying to balance his cup and put on his jacket at the same time.
"We have to go back to Cougar's place," Daemon said.
Khalid finally got his jacket on his other arm as he matched Daemon's stride. "I already checked there. I didn't find anything unusual."
"Well you must have missed something because what I saw last night was definitely unusual."
Walking among the trees that lined Cougar's multi-acre lot, Khalid sniffed at the air. "I told you. Nothing. There's nothing here."
Daemon stopped and pointed upwards towards the higher branches of the trees. "See that? Those branches don't arch downwards naturally. There was a hover-capable craft that came by here recently. Probably some kind of small, stealthy transport. There's no fuel exhaust remnants either that you could've picked up, but I detected trace energy from a fusion engine. Whoever, took your grandfather has access to some high-tech shit."
Khalid simply stood there, trying to take it all in. There was no way he could've known about the fusion engine, but he should've noticed the branches. At least on the inside, Khalid was kicking himself for not being more thorough. "So where does all this take us. I didn't pick up anything in the house either. Could they have gotten him out here?"
Daemon furrowed his brow in thought. "Doubtful. Knowing Cougar, he would've put up a nasty fight and left some tell-tale signs of a battle out here. Let's see what turns up in the house."
As the pair paced back and forth through each room, Daemon finally froze somewhere in the center of Cougar's bedroom floor. Khalid noticed the look on the Pharaohan's face and stopped as well. "Find something?"
"He teleported from here," Daemon said after a short silence. "He may have been with someone else, but they didn't leave much of anything to know for sure. Give me a sec and I can try and track the energy trail to the destination."
"You can do that?"
"I can do a LOT of things, Khalid."
Khalid smirked.
"I've got it."
Khalid's eyes widened with hope. "Where?"
"Pack your poker chips, son. We're going to Vegas."
***
Sandy Valley, Nevada - 8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
They were just ahead. He could feel it. Almost every heightened sense at his disposal pointed in this direction. So the Dark Slayer pursued his prey with renewed vigor. After the fiasco in Santa Monica, the trail of this group of werewolves had grown cold. It had taken him all this time to finally gain some sort of lead again. He had first heard of the werewolves' nightly city prowling by pure chance, running across a satellite news program detailing several unexplained deaths in San Francisco that had been unofficially ruled to be animal attacks while the investigation continued. Taking the initiative to investigate the killings personally, Darkwolf came to the realization that there was a group of at least six werewolves loose on the streets in Southern California. As more news of rabid dogs and wolf sightings spread south along the West Coast, Darkwolf followed, drawing nearer and nearer to the malicious beasts but still just a step behind. Now, with their scent growing stronger and the sounds of their snarling getting louder, the Slayer would at last get some answers and execute his duty with extreme prejudice.
Turning the corner on the alley just beyond a lively business district, Darkwolf saw them. They all seemed to be moving in on something or someone they had cornered by a tall wire fence that stretched from building to building. There were more of them than Darkwolf had anticipated - nine of them in fact. As they looked about to leap upon whatever poor soul they had herded into this trap, Darkwolf decided to make his presence known. Drawing his sidearm, he let loose three silver hollow point rounds. One of the werewolves fell and the others turned to face him.
"Slayer..." one of them growled, bearing two rows of terrible fangs.
"What is this, some kind of Buffy cast reunion?" Darkwolf quipped as he drew the Sword of Haresh. "And why does everyone know I'm a slayer now? Did someone tape a sign to my back or something?"
"Sarah Michelle Gellar you definitely are NOT," one of the werewolves retorted as they began to move in on him.
Darkwolf smiled. "Oh, THAT was original. A werewolf doing stand up while crouched on all fours. I know some vampire sluts in Santa Monica that would just LOVE to do lunch with YOU. No...wait...I killed them...yup...definitely killed those two... If you'd like I can use my dog whistle and..."
"Enough," one of them shouted as he finally broke the stalemate and attacked.
Darkwolf fired again, this time two bullets missing completely and one just grazed a werewolf's arm. His sword, however, was more accurate, drawing a line of torn flesh across one werewolf's abdomen. The creature doubled over in pain, the silver blade causing a wound that the beast's mystical empowerment could not heal. Another beast was able to circle behind and jump onto Darkwolf's back. The mutant mercenary threw his arm back, slamming the creature in the jaw with his elbow. As another went to grab his extended arm, he pulled his gun hand free and blew off its ear.
"Ooooh...you're gonna feel THAT when you change back in the morning," Darkwolf commented as he threw off another werewolf into a brick wall. "How exactly do you guys STAY all wolfy when there's no full moon, anyway?"
"The incantation that lets us remain in our transitional state is our business."
"Well you don't have to get all SNOTTY about it! You'd think you had a spatula up your ass or something." As the battle continued, Darkwolf noticed a boy clinging to the wire fence. Was that who they had cornered? "Don't just stand there, kid. RUN!"
One of the werewolves turned towards the boy, watching as he scurried up and over the fence. "The boy is getting away," the creature shouted to the others. The pack dropped back from Darkwolf as all attention went to the young man who rounded the corner behind a building on the other side of the fence and disappeared "Do not let him escape," another werewolf commanded them. "We MUST have the Parrin-Ya before the eve of the new year!"
And with the same suddenness that the monsters had attacked Darkwolf, they were on the path of the runaway boy, leaving their one injured and one dead behind. "Oh, NO you don't," Justin Mills said as he gave chase, sliding the Sword of Haresh into it's sheath so that he could reload his pistol. "Sit, Boo Boo, sit," he said as he ran by and fired upon the fallen werewolf, ensuring the beast's demise. "Good dog."
The boy had not been able to go far, and was still in the werewolves' line of sight. He seemed to be heading towards the more populace area of the small town, something the werewolves definitely wanted to avoid. Whether he would get there before they caught up to him was a different story. Sprinting on all fours, the werewolves were very fast. Darkwolf was even having trouble keeping up as they closed in on the young man.
Up ahead lay the back entrance to the local bus station. The boy's intentions were clear now and the werewolves increased their run to an even greater speed, the distance between the snarling pack and the boy grew smaller and smaller. Darkwolf would have none of it, however. Drawing the Sword of Haresh as he ran, he planted the silver blade into the pavement and used the enchanted weapon to vault over the pack, cutting them off from their prey.
"Ha!" he shouted triumphantly as the creatures slowed to engage him and the boy slipped into the building. But as the werewolves crowded him in a flurry of slashing claws and gnashing teeth, Darkwolf realized his acrobatic maneuver had left him without his prized blade. "Maybe I should've rethought that last move." He paused for a second as he leveled his pistol at one of the beasts' chest. "Aaahh, well..."
After that night, the pack had been reduced to four. But those four who survived their encounter with the newest slayer had managed to escape with the knowledge of the boy's destination. And at the train station not too far from where the scene of this supernatural battle had taken place, four disheveled men dressed in stolen clothes used a stolen credit card to purchase tickets.
"Four to Las Vegas, please," the battered man said, a beastly growl rumbling in his throat.
~~End Chapter 3~~
~~Chapter 4 ~~
8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
"'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, nothing was stirring - not even a...awww forget it," Impossible Man said, leaning on Sharon Stokes' shoulder. "There are just WAY too many mutants in this house."
The White Queen Blackfire smiled, looking over the assembled group of superhumans as they all expressed their holiday cheer. Some of them sang carols while others decorated the tree, and still more simply took advantage of the down time to just fraternize with their peers. Both Red and White courts had agreed to celebrate Christmas together in the White Court Mansion, and it warmed Sharon's heart to see the two groups put their petty differences to rest if only for the next few days. The Hellions, especially, caught her attention in this respect. While the Hellions Red and Hellions White had often found themselves at odds with each other, whether it be actual competitions staged by their leaders, or simply 'professional jealousy' as it were, it was refreshing to see how easily they let all those things fade to the background. It gave Sharon hope that no matter what may come between them, that all those associated with the Hellfire Clubs could find common ground.
From across the room, the young mutant known as Fahrenheit barely watched what he was doing as he reached to put another glass bulb on the tree from atop the ladder. Instead, Cort Webb's eyes were focused on the White Queen, who now talked with Cyclops and Supergrover near the doorway. Just below him on the ladder, Michael Stokes, also known as Iceblade, was barely able to grab the bulb before it hit the ground, the red ornament having slipped from Cort's hand.
"Hey watch it, you big doof," Michael said as he handed him back the bulb. "What the hell are you doing up there?"
"Dude, your sister is SO hot," Cort commented, still not watching what he was doing. "Do you think she's noticed me yet?"
"What the...? Ewww.... That's disgusting, man. That's my sister!" Iceblade said as he smacked Fahrenheit's leg.
"I know but..." Cort began just as he felt himself losing balance. "Gah!"
Trying to hold on for dear life, Fahrenheit pulled the ladder with him, bringing himself, Iceblade and a stream of garland and tree hangings crashing down with him. Iceblade landed squarely on top of Juggernaut who had been placing gifts under the tree while Fahrenheit and a majority of the decorations landed in the middle of Outburst's poker game with Butterfly, Luna, and Marvel Girl.
"Hello ladies," Cort said with a devilish smile as he lay on the floor in the center of their circle. "Now that I'm here, let's say we play some...different games..."
Marvel Girl covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to burst into raucous laughter. "You call that a line?"
"Nice entrance though," Luna added, also giggling under her breath.
Butterfly reached over and twirled a lock of Cort's jet-black hair. "Definitely gets points for style," she said, "but I think you've got about five seconds before you get a charged card shoved up your ass. The Cajun was winning and you just ruined her game."
Fahrenheit looked up, observing that his head was lying in Outburst's lap, and noticed her scowling down at him. "Umm...hi," he said nervously before leaping to his feet and running for dear life.
"Can you believe that guy?" Marvel Girl asked as they watched him run about the room, evading flying cards.
Luna smiled as she tucked her red hair behind her ear. "I don't know," she said idly, biting her lower lip. "I think he's kind of cute." Turning her eyes back towards Marvel Girl and Butterfly, she noticed them giving her an odd look. Luna cleared her throat. "...cute in an annoying sort of way..."
"Whatever. We know you got the hots for him," Butterfly said as she flicked what was left of her hand of cards at her. When Luna retaliated with a handful of cards herself, suddenly it was a fight, and the women laughed together like they had been friends their whole lives as playing cards flew everywhere.
Near the far side of the room, a man out of place in time leaned up against a mantle, watching idly as the festivities continued into the night. Robert Maxwell was uncomfortable to say the least. It had seemed like forever since he had experienced Christmas. Yes, the day had passed every year, sometimes not escaping totally unrecognized. But not since the war began in his future had Robert actually celebrated with family and friends.
But that was not what bothered the man known as the Harbinger tonight. It was something entirely different. The feeling he had inside was like the hands of death, touching his very soul. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end every time he looked at them - the Hellions gathered together like they were. Equally disturbing was the absence of the Red King. While the rest of the Red Inner Circle was present, Ryan Jensen was nowhere to be found. The Harbinger thought it odd that the proud Red King would not have taken this opportunity to stride into the White Court Mansion with Byron on his arm and deliver his thinly veiled threats through friendly greetings to the White Inner Circle. It was unlike him, not to lord himself over his court, even at something as non-confrontational as this event. What was the connection Robert Maxwell felt between that coldness and Jensen?
"You look like you could use the company of a woman," a husky seductive voice said from the shadows behind him.
As Maxwell turned, he saw Onyx's curvy form step through the shadows, the blackness sliding over her body like a thick liquid. Robert regarded her casually, noting how her black leather pants and purple baby-tee clung to her body so tightly. "Hello, Crystal."
"Why the long face?" she asked with a finger tracing his square jaw line. "Aren't you feeling the Christmas magic in the air? Brotherly love, peace on earth and all that."
"You used to work for Ryan, didn't you? Do you think there's a reason why he didn't come?"
Onyx smirked. "Jensen has a reason for EVERYTHING he does. Though it may not always make sense to most of us."
Both of them turned towards the tree as they noticed the lights dim. Byron waved her arms about in a magical gesture and ignited the top of the tree in a mystic fire that held the shape of a star. Sparks of the glowing object seemed to trickle down from the top of the tree and light it up in spectacular fashion. Everyone let out a collective "ooh" and broke into song with "Silent Night." Onyx regarded the tree lighting and began to laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" Maxwell asked.
"This all seems so good and normal, but here the tree was just lit by the Goddess of Hell. It just struck me as rather amusing."
"I suppose 'normal' is all relative, Crystal. But they live every day of their lives not knowing whether it will be their last. Let them have this. They deserve it."
***
Las Vegas, Nevada - 8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
While the surrounding desert expanses were plunged into darkness by the night's black embrace, the city of Las Vegas sparkled with a light that has made it famous throughout the world. With all the bells and whistles of a child's game, this city is to adults what amusement parks are to children - a hedonistic Disneyland decked out in neon opulence. Of the many pleasures afforded to those who frequent it's indulgent streets, prostitution was one that stood out, as it is legal here and only a few other places in the United States.
The alley was surprisingly clean, but poorly lit. Only the yellow incandescence of a single building's lamp shined down on the 'couple' that whispered to each other below. With the flick of a crisp fifty-dollar bill, the woman went to her knees in front of the man and began to undo his belt. The young fellow leaned against one of the brick buildings and let out a groan of pleasure as he received the services he had paid for. With his head thrown back against the wall and his eyes closed, the dark-skinned man took in every sensation. But just as he was beginning to reach the peak of his endurance, she stopped. The man opened his eyes and looked to see what was wrong. But instead of seeing the beautiful brunette, he was greeted by the face of an old acquaintance and the feel of cold metal suddenly thrust around his manhood.
"D-D-DAEMON!" he exclaimed as he looked about frantically. "Surprised to s-see YOU here."
"I bet," Daemon said dryly. "I see you still haven't figured out how to get some action you didn't have to PAY for."
"Uh...yeah...mmm...any p-particular reason why you're roaming th-these parts?" The man seemed almost ready to climb the brick wall behind him to get away. If not for his genitals being stuck in the barrel of Daemon's gun, he actually might have tried it.
"Where'd you get off to so quick?" Khalid said as he rounded the corner of the building into the alley. He quickly surveyed the situation and was caught a little off-guard. "Ummm...why is that man having sex with your gun?"
Daemon gave a little half-smile. "Khalid, this is an old friend of mine. His name is Samhotet on Pharaoh. But around here he's just good ol' Sammy. Sammy, this is Khalid. Say hello."
"H-hey, Khalid."
Khalid frowned as he approached. "Pharaoh? There are more of you on Earth? Like the world wasn't going to hell in a hand basket all by itself...."
"Watch it, Hunter."
"Why are you wasting your time with this guy anyway?"
"We've been running around in circles ever since we reached that dead-end at Cougar's teleport location. I was just taking some initiative," Daemon said before turning his attention back to his fellow Pharaohan. "Now Sammy, you've always seemed to have your finger on the pulse of the underworld. My friend here is missing his grandfather and we think some major-leaguers were involved. I mean advanced stealth capable, fusion powered bad guys here. Got any info that may prove useful to me?"
Sammy squirmed as he reached towards the gun to try and pry himself loose, but Daemon just slapped his hand away. "Come on, man. You know me. I don't like to stick my nose in other people's business."
Daemon flipped a switch on the side of the energy weapon, increasing the beam power setting by two levels. "I don't like to be lied to, Sammy."
"Well there WAS some buzzing around about something major going down on New Year's but that's all I know."
Another flip of the switch and the power setting was up three more levels. "You're disappointing me, Sammy. Who? Who is planing something for New Years? What is it? And why would they need a mystic demon-hunter?"
"Mystic demon-hunter?" Sammy looked at Khalid with a puzzled expression. "You're grandfather is a mystic demon-hunter?"
Daemon pressed his gun hard into Sammy's groin.
"OW! Take it easy! Rumor has it there's some underground group of magicians or wizards or something and they're setting up for some kind of really big spell."
"Who?!" Daemon prodded as his finger danced on the trigger.
"I don't know!" Sammy exclaimed, staring at the gun as more sweat beaded on his forehead. "I swear! All I know is that they supposedly meet sometimes at the Stewart Roadhouse just outside of town. That's everything I know, I swear!"
Daemon stared into Sammy's frightened eyes for a few seconds. He could smell the fear on him and hear the young man's heart racing in his chest. But these were not signs of a liar, but those of a man desperately wanting to survive the night. Daemon withdrew his weapon and took a step back. "Thanks, Sammy. Now zip up your pants and get out of here."
"Nice seeing you again, Daemon," Sammy said sarcastically as he watched Daemon and Khalid begin to leave.
As he returned his gun to it's holster beneath his leather coat, Daemon turned around once more. "One more thing, Sammy," he said with a rye smile, "that prostitute was a man."
Khalid followed Daemon back onto the street, cringing at the mental image while the sounds of Sammy vomiting could be heard from the alley.
"Merry Christmas, Sammy."
***
Elsewhere - 8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
His given name is unimportant, and has been for nearly 25 years. This is how it has been for almost the entire span of his career as a deep-cover agent for a government agency so secret that the president himself is unaware of their activities. In truth, this man who has gone by the name Peter Rowan for these last few years of his life, doesn't know the name of his employers nor any of his colleagues. But after serving for so long, he no longer questions their methods. He understands all too well how having too organized a system can result in infiltration. It is his job after all to do just that to OTHER bodies. So it is perfectly logical now that the organization he answers to is more like a loosely attached network of people, places and information. This has been, perhaps, their only saving grace from people just like him working for the other side.
The computer screen in front of him projected an eerie glow on the dark room. Peter sat at the terminal and fiddled with wires as he hooked it into his own laptop computer as well as two other smaller devices. His eyes darted back and forth swiftly as file names and directories scrolled through his encryption search program and onto the screen. At last, the flashing images on the screen stopped and a single file was left. Peter swallowed hard as he reached for the keyboard. It was like this for him almost every night now these past few years. Every time he cracked another code and peaked into the very heart of an organization's secrets, he wondered if it would be the one - that one missing link that would reveal the answers to so many questions.
Using the mouse, Peter opened the file icon and expanded the window to fill the screen. The moment he did so, both the laptop and the desktop terminal went crazy. Dozens of words, images and sounds blared through the interfaces all at once until finally settling on one word - MAJESTYTWELVE.
Christ almighty, Peter thought, It must have reacted to all the other files I had retrieved and unlocked this...this...whatever it is. My God, I've done it. This is it. This is the final block in the pyramid - the last piece in the puzzle!
Regaining his composure, Peter began to save the file onto his laptop's harddrive, even as a hidden program activated and began transmitting a signal along the computer's network connection.
***
On the surface, the building appeared to be like every other - a tall pillar of glass and steel designed to house the cubicle-bound working stiffs that bear the weight of America's white collar industries on their shoulders. For the most part, this is true. But beneath the gleaming smoked glass windows, deep in the bowels of the building, was something completely different. The walls here were of stone, seemingly carved with primitive tools centuries or even millennia before man had decided to record time. Torches held along the walls provided the gloomy, flickering light that danced through the narrow corridors. A man, wearing dark brown robes shuffled his sandal-clad feet over the dusty floor of the caves as he hurried along to a room just beyond the crossed blade staffs of two large guards, who raised their weapons in a brief salute as the man walked by.
"What is it, that I was to be roused from my sleep at such an hour," the man demanded as he entered the room.
In striking contrast to the setting, the room was filled to near overflowing with advanced machines and electronic equipment. A huge view screen dominated the room, as smaller ones peppered the area, hanging from the ceiling on mechanical arms. Over a dozen robed figures sat hooded in front of computer screens, typing away. All but one continued their work despite the other man's harsh inquiry.
"Sir, MAJESTYTWELVE has been compromised."
The man clutched at a large medallion he wore around his neck, the only thing denoting him as the head of this facility among all the other brown robes. "Have you confirmed identification of the computer?"
"It appears to be a low-grade PC at one of our smaller society houses."
"Than could it be one of our brothers?"
"I doubt it, sir. No one in that lodge is authorized for MAJESTYTWELVE. And those who are, know how to disable the warning system."
"Tag the system and any device the computer is hooked up to. I will authorize a retrieval team at once to dispose of whomever is foolish enough to tamper with our affairs. Be sure to mark any copies of MAJESTYTWELVE that are made."
"Yes, sir. It shall be done."
~~End Chapter 4~~
~~Chapter 5~~
8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
"YEEOUCH!" Peter Katz exclaimed as he tumbled forward into a butler and his tray of hors d'oeuvres.
"Way to go, Petey," Meltdown commented as she caught one of the flying shrimps from the tray and stuffed it in her mouth. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think falling over stuff was one of your mutant powers."
The young mutant known as Beast Charming stood up and dusted off his custom-made tuxedo. He had come to this joint DFC/BHC Christmas dinner party hoping to finally rid himself of the stigma his academy classmates had stuck him with so long ago. So far he wasn't having much luck. "It wasn't my fault," Peter tried to explain. "Mr. Iceberg over here just turned my butt into a popsicle."
"I told you not to touch that last cream puff," the former Mossad agent said as he picked up the last of the pastries from the buffet table.
"Give the guy a new codename and a title and suddenly he can do whatever he wants..." Peter complained under his breath, speaking of The Iceman's name change to Glacier as well as his promotion to Black Assassin.
"I see you guys are still getting into trouble even without me around," a voice said from behind them.
"You know us, Nate," Glacier said with a wry smile, as he took a bite of the cream puff, "never a dull moment."
"So how do you like the place?" the Dark Sentry asked of his new home in the Darkfire Castle. "Cool, no?"
"Gothic," Beast Charming said, "and medieval, but cool."
"Well, these big stone walls and all those weird statues everywhere give me the creeps," Meltdown said, holding her arms which were exposed by her strapless gown.
"That's not creepy," Nate said motioning for them to look across the room. "How anyone can look so good wearing a snake around her neck...now THAT'S creepy."
The others followed Nate's gaze towards the entrance to the parlor, as did many others in the room. The Dark Priestess strode in with Bertha about her neck; the snake's rattled tail coiled about one of Jon Tolliver's fingers as she caressed it. Her black shear evening dress hugged her like a second skin, the short hemline barely covering her. Black velvet designs raced along the translucent fabric, running over just enough of Nytshade's body to leave at least SOMETHING to the imagination. She stood there in the doorway for a moment, letting all those who would stare continue to do so. But as she looked over the small crowd of wide-eyed young men and envious young women, she noticed their gaze shift just a few feet over from her.
"Planning on working the corner again tonight, Jon?" a soft voice said from her left, just behind her.
The sorceress shot a venomous glance towards the young woman who had just come in on the arm of Jack Silver, Jr.. Though she looked nothing like Claudia Sandubal, Jon knew not only from firsthand knowledge but from the way she carried herself and the way she spoke, that this indeed was the rightful Black Queen, Nemesis. Others looked on in near disbelief. While most were well aware of the circumstances of Claudia's condition, only a handful had actually seen it with their own eyes.
"Judging by the number of men in this room who have slept in your bed, Claudia," Nytshade said with a raised eyebrow, " I'd think you would fit that role better than I."
As Nemesis reveled in the attention she received of her new body, clad in a long vinyl-looking dress with skin-bearing circles running down the sides, Bertha crawled down onto the floor and past Claudia's foot. She looked down at the coiling serpent and crinkled her nose. "Do you have to bring that vile creature with you everywhere you go?" Nemesis said as she nudged Bertha away with her platform heels.
"You leave Bertha alone, cow," Nytshade shot back, watching as her familiar went to hide under the buffet table.
Nemesis smiled, her white teeth a stark contrast to her dark skin. "I was talking to the snake." And with that, she tugged Silver along further into the room, to mingle and answer the myriad of questions that no-doubt would come.
Jon simply stood there, even while another powerful pair walked in - the Dark Lord Avalon and the Dark Lady Monet. As they paused in the doorway, Monet leaned slightly towards Nytshade. "I think you pulled your pantyhose up a little too far," she whispered, sounding almost sincere even as she stifled her own laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's your dress."
Jon opened her mouth to speak but received a silencing gesture from Avalon, who was about to address the room.
Avalon cleared his throat and spoke loudly over the soft hum of conversation in the room. "As hosts of this year's Christmas Eve Dinner Party, the Dark Lady and I welcome you to Darkfire Castle. For this weekend, our home, is your home." With a flick of an electron-charged finger, Avalon gestured towards the rear of the room, and the dark corner soon became filled with a thousand different colors as the huge Christmas tree that stood there was lit.
One floor below, a man walked the dark, stone corridors and listened to the muffled applause at the Christmas Tree lighting. While to most, this was a time of cheer and joy, to him it was a time of preparation. Lugging a large, black gym bag along with him, he placed small metallic devices along the edge of the corridor every few hundred feet. This was the last of them. There were dozens of them all over the castle, in strategic places. It had taken him several days to plant them without being noticed by one of the many Darkfire members wandering the halls.
It was a wonder none of his teammates in the BHC hadn't noticed his absence for all that time. But it wasn't surprising to him. For years he had played the Hellfire games, making sure to follow all the rules. Yet still he was but the lowly Black Prince, still an underling even to those who came into the fold so much later than he. He was one of the first, one of only a handful that would build the foundation for all the others to stand on, yet he was not recognized for it. They had their chance when the Darkfire Court was forming. Both Silver and Nemesis could have appointed him the Dark Lord easily. But instead they chose the young stripling from the Academy, Avalon. The outrage he felt was unparalleled. And this was only one item on a laundry list of offenses to his person. Their time was coming, though. They would pay dearly for their actions.
As he placed the last box at the corner of the entrance to the underground corridor, he drew a control device from the bag and hit the unit activation switch. Immediately, red lights on all the boxes flashed to life and blinked softly - on the units in the corridor, on the ones in the hanger, the ones in the sub-basement labs, the ones on support beams...everywhere.
"Enjoy your Christmas holiday," Jamie Madrox said as he returned the control unit to the bag. "The New Year will not be so happy a time."
***
8 Days to Millennium (Christmas Eve)
Something was wrong. He could tell the moment he pulled into his driveway. Granted, there were no immediate signs of forced entry into his home, nor any indication that there was a single soul awake in the neighborhood besides a few parents franticly wrapping gifts for the coming holiday morning. But he knew deep down that they were waiting for him. The man known as Peter Rowan had spent too much of his life perfecting his trade to afford NOT to trust his gut. So before he had reached the garage door, he put the car in reverse and backed out again, speeding off into the distance.
He didn't hear the gunshots, but the sudden circular holes in his windows and the high-pitched whine of a bullet by his ear was all he needed. Peter was surprised that they would open fire in the middle of a residential neighborhood. They were obviously professionals, though, from what he could tell from how well they hid near his home and by their hardware. They were chasing him from behind and above, he had determined, from the angle of the shots and the fact that he couldn't see them in the rear-view mirror. Hover sleds? They were perhaps more high-tech than he had anticipated from anyone he feared would come after him one day.
"I wonder what kind of secrets YOU can tell me," he said to himself as he grabbed his laptop computer from the passenger seat and held it with one arm while driving with the other.
Another bullet zipped past his face, striking his dashboard, even as he accelerated to his modest sedan's top speed. He had to think quickly. If their bullets continued to be so ineffective, Peter feared they would move on to more potent munitions. Veering sharply to his left, Peter knocked over the picket fence of one of his neighbors down the street, sliding in the thin layer of snow that had already accumulated on the ground. The car's engine growled angrily as it slipped and then found traction on the icy grass of the front lawn. Nearby dogs began barking excitedly at the commotion as Peter opened his door and prepared to jump. It was then he saw them. Looking up for a split second, he saw the two hover sleds gliding gracefully just 15 feet or so above the ground. There were two riders on each, one driving and one shooting, and as Peter had predicted, they were bringing out the big guns. Peter leaped and turned his body to protect the computer he desperately clutched to his chest even as the car jumped from over the edge of the side deck. With a fiery red streak from a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher, the car exploded in mid-air as it fell into the covered pool.
Though his body ached from the fall, Peter leaped to his feet and ran towards the back of the house. Gun fire accompanied his every stride, pelting the snow-covered patio furniture he so deftly weaved through. The hover sleds came around the house swiftly, hoping to catch him running in the open, but instead they found themselves peering through a line of trees sitting on a hill, a small brook separating it from thick woodlands just beyond. Peter hurdled over a bush as he pushed towards the trees, several bullets striking the trunks as he slipped by. Knowing he had only a few more seconds before they were on top of him, Peter slid down the hill and disappeared beyond the edge of the steep escarpment.
One of the men driving a hover sled, snorted angrily beneath his mask as he waved to the other sled to follow him to the brook's edge. As the sky ships landed, he removed his mask and walked towards the foot of the hill.
"Fuck," one of the shooters said as he removed his mask, frustration in his voice. "Where the hell did he go?"
"Lights," the first rider said simply. The headlamp from the other hover sled revealed a metal tunnel at the base of the hill, a man's shoe still at the entrance. "He went this way. Why don't we heat things up for him, huh?"
The other shooter smiled and nodded as he loaded an incendiary projectile into the rocket launcher and fired it into the pipe. The whole neighborhood, already awake and frightened, was rocked again by an explosion underground.
"One of you crawl in and make sure he's dead. I want a body. The rest of us will fly recon within a half-mile radius. That's a drainage pipe so he might've found his way back onto the street. But he couldn't have gone far. We regroup at the usual place at 0300."
With the men gone, only the sound of police, ambulance and firefighter sirens remained as this quiet neighborhood had their merry Christmas Eve taken from them in a flaming explosion. Across the brook, seemingly invisible among the fallen trees and bushes, lay a small wooden fort, built by industrious young boys. Peter silently thanked them for their labors as he tried to think of his next move. His ruse would not keep them off his track forever.
"You are a dangerous little thing to have aren't you," Peter said to his laptop as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.
~~End Chapter 5~~
~~Chapter 6~~
7 Days to Millennium (Christmas Day)
While the night before had seen quite a commotion from all the spirited activity associated with a Christmas Eve, it paled in comparison to the raucous laughter and boisterous excitement to this Christmas Day in the White Court Mansion. Dozens of the organizations superhumanly gifted members and associates clamoured through the house displaying their presents with gleeful grins.
New stereos boomed and video game sound effects blared from the entertainment room. A number of students struggled with wiring behind another of the TV sets, trying unsuccessdully to hook up a new DVD player. Some of the girls showed off their new wardrobes, trading shirts, skirts and pants every few minutes, squealing with delight at a successfully chic combination.
The White Queen Sharon Stokes walked into the room with a little yawn and a big smile as she tightened the belt on her silken robe. She could barely remember when last she had enjoyed the holidays like this. Home life when she was younger had much to be desired in the Stokes household. And there was no such thing as Christmas in that horrible house of torture that she so luckily escaped from. While she did see a few unopened presents still beneath the tree that may well have been hers, Sharon instead took the time just to revel in the spirit of it all. There was nothing but love in the air today - no suspicion or envy, no worry or doubtfulness, no fear, no fighting, not even the trademarked Hellfire competitiveness. None of that. Just love.
And and even as the White Queen bathed in the warmth of Christmas Day, a young man approached her, his head slightly low and a small box in his hand. "Sharon," he said reaching out with the box. "I... I got you a present."
Stirred from her thoughts, Sharon looked up to find her brother Michael on the other end of a silver-wrapped package, a red bow dominating the center. The smile that formed on her face seemed as though it was about to explode right off of her face. "Really?" she said as she accepted the box. "I would have never... I mean... you didn't have to do that."
The young mutant, stirred nervously. "Well, I know that, but... I just thought it'd be nice."
"Michael..."
"I mean, we were never really close or anything, ya know... and I always felt really bad about not coming for you at that...place..."
"It wasn't as though you knew where I was."
"I know, but... anyway, I just wanted you to have this."
Sharon opened the gift slowly, not sure what to expect. The reflective wrapping shimmered in the sunlight that filtered in through the open windows and fell gingerly to the white carpet. The top lifted easily to an envelope sitting on a bed of soft white packing tissue. Sharon glanced up at him as she set the box aside and opened the envelope. When at last she saw it, her jaw nearly dropped to the floor and her eyes began to blur with unshed tears. Reaching into the envelope with a trembling hand she pulled out a small simple necklace with a single, sparkling crystal on the end.
Watching as emotion overtook his sister, Michael couldn't help but feel a lumo in the back of his throat. He wouldn't cry though. He'd be damned if he let himself cry. "I know they took it from you, when you went there. They said it was too dangerous to let you keep. But all that's over now. You're free. And I wouldn't let them keep grandma's necklace away from you anymore."
Sharon virtually collapsed into her brother's arms, the tears flowing now as she clutched him tightly. It was true that they were never really close at all, with petty sibling differences keeping each one at arm's length from the other. But there were some things they shared as brother and sister, that no measly squabble or difference could dismiss. The crystal necklace was a symbol of all the things Sharon had lost to the Weismann Institute, a token of the innosence and freedom that was stripped from her the moment she set foot through that door. With it's return, Sharon felt a completeness that she didn't think was possible before.
"I would have come for you, Sharon," Michael said as he struggled to hold back his own sobs.
"I know," Sharon responded softly.
***
Just outside Las Vegas - 7 Days to Millennium (Christmas Day)
"You have GOT to be kidding me," Khalid said as he eyed the modest wooden-shingled building through the window of the car. "We came all this way to find...THIS?"
Daemon leaned deeper into his seat, looking quite perturbed at his travelling companion's commentary. "You haven't shut up for the WHOLE trip. Could you just give it a rest for five fucking minutes?"
"But would you just LOOK at that piece of crap? I'm supposed to believe there are a bunch of renegade, high-tech wizards camped out in there holding my grandfather hostage?"
Daemon gave him a quick glance. "Now you know damn well that looks can be deceiving, Khalid. So, keep your pie-hole shut about it."
Khalid scowled at Daemon, but he held his tongue. Having used the name of the establishment given to them by one of Daemon's informants just last night, they used the city's database on district businesses as well as an uplink to a spy camera satellite to pinpoint the location of the Stewart Roadhouse down to within 6 feet. Khalid knew without a doubt that, though it was several hours drive beyod being "just outside of town" like Sammy had said, this was indeed the place. But it's humble looks gave no outward indication of the dark secrets he was looking for. True enough, he knew better than to judge it this way, but over the course of the last few days, Khalid had grown increasingly worried about Cougar's well-being. With the stress of a missing family member and the frustration coupled with any attempts to rescue him, as well as the new knowledge of Mufasa's resurgence into his conscious mind at increasing intervals, Khalid had become even more unbalanced of late. Over the long drive from downtown Las Vegas to here in the middle of nowhere, Khalid had rambled on about nothing at all not for the sake of annoying Daemon, but in the hopes that keeping his mind occupied would keep Mufasa out.
In the meantime, all Khalid could do was watch the battered old building as it grew closer...and then farther away?? "Daemon you passed it."
"I know."
"But..."
"Khalid, it's a roadhouse. There won't be any real activity until later this evening. I don't want to give them a chance to get away by coming at them when no one else is around. Besides, I want to investigate the perimeter so there won't be any surprises coming on our blindside."
Khalid blinked at first. Despite how much he disliked Daemon, he had to respect how the man always seemed to know what he was doing. Satisfied for now, Khalid turned his attention away from Daemon and looked at the barren landscape beyond the road.
Daemon glanced over at Khalid, noticing his unusual silence and the solemn expression on his face. "We'll find him, Khalid," he said assuringly. Khalid only nodded.
With the howling of a distant coyote, night fell upon them. Daemon guided the car into a parking spot in the front of the roadhouse next to a row of Harley Davidsons on one side and a BMW sedan on the other. The contrast was striking and made both Daemon and Khalid quite curious as to what exactly they would find inside.
Just before they reached the door, Daemon stopped. "OK, Khalid. I'm sure you've watched enough of this stuff in the movies, so it shouldn't be hard to follow. Good cop," he pointed at Khalid, "bad cop," pointing to himself. "Follow my lead and we should be fine."
"Hey," Khalid said as Daemon began walking again towards the entrance. "Why do YOU get to be the bad cop?"
Daemon scowled at him.
"Oh yeah," Khalid responded. "Good point."
"Amateur," Daemon mumbled as he pulled on the thick wooden door.
The atmosphere was exactly what Daemon was expecting. Loud classic rock music blared from a jukebox in the corner while the raucous sound of a dozen men playing drinking games struggled to outdo the noise. A thick haze of tobacco smoke hung in the air like toxic fog, the odd smelling mixture of different cigarette brands and the acrid odor of sweat and hard liquor being prominent throughout the crowded place. The only thing that did not fit, however, was the table of well-dressed, well-groomed men seated in a shadowy corner. There were four of them there, still wearing their suit jackets, sipping on small glasses of something apparently more "sophisticated" than beer. What made them seem even more conspicuous was how they didn't speak to each other. If not for the occasional drink, none of them even seemed to move. Daemon tapped Khalid and motioned towards the group of men. Khalid nodded, and they both moved towards the bar.
The bartender looked like a kid. With smooth features, vivid red hair and freckles, the skinny young man looked quite out of place serving drinks to burly, leather-clad motorcycle gang members. Khalid thought it interesting how one could acquire a bartending license at 18, but couldn't enter the establishment until 21. Though by the look of the place, he figured the conundrum would be lost to these people who no doubt could care less about such regulations. Khalid and Daemon found a spot at the bar where they could get within earshot of the bartender without drawing too much attention from other patrons. Khalid leaned on the bar and found his elbow resting in a small pool of spilled, stale beer. Trying not to look upset at getting the smelly liquid soaked into one of his favorite shirts, he played it off and took a step back from the bar.
"What'll you have?" the bartender asked, his high-pitched voice making him seem even younger.
"Why don't you get your Daddy to come out and work the bar so you can go in the back and play with your blocks." Khalid blurted, feeling as though Mufasa may have influenced that particular crack.
Daemon gave him a look that screamed, "What are you doing?!"
"Hey, buddy, I'm gonna be 18 in three months. Are you gonna have anything or what?"
"Just a few answers," Daemon responded calmly. "I was just wondering who those gentlemen in the corner are."
The young man looked up at the table of men in corner. If not for Daemon's keen senses, he wouldn't have noticed the slight gleam in the bartender's eye as he made eye contact with one of the men. Though he didn't turn around to see the man nod in response to an unspoken message, he didn't have to. He could read it on the boy's face.
"Who?" the bartender responded.
Khalid smirked. "Those guys right over..." his voice faded as he looked to the table where the men had been seated and noticed them gone, "...there..."
"You must be seeing things, pal," the bartender said with a snide half-smile.
Well THAT was unexpected, Daemon thought. "OK, then...How about you tell me about your "special" patrons I hear come around every now and again...usually AFTER business hours."
"Look," he began, "if you're not going to buy something, I suggest you leave...now." With that, he turned away from them and disappeared into a back room.
Khalid looked to Daemon. "Our next move 'fearless leader'?"
"We follow the white rabbit and see if we can get to Wonderland."
"I hate when you say stuff like that."
Looking around the room to make sure they were not being watched, the two of them moved slowly and deliberately towards the door through which the bartender had gone. With all the noise and activity going on, it was simple enough to make it through unnoticed.
On the other side of the door was a short hallway with three doors along the walls, two on one side and one on the other. Nodding to each other, Khalid took the first door on the left and Daemon, the first door on the right. They both came up empty with one room being a bathroom and the other a storage closet. But with no backdoor this way, that left the bartender with only one room to be in. Trapped like a rat, Daemon smiled to himself. With supersensitive hearing, Daemon listened at the door and caught a portion of what sounded like a telephone conversation.
"Yeah, two of them," the bartender's voice said, pausing at times to listen. "Black guys, a big one and a short one. They don't look too dangerous, but the short one seemed like a pro..."
Who's he calling short? Daemon thought, annoyed to death of the constant comments about his height.
"What're we waiting for?" Khalid whispered.
Daemon raised a silencing hand with a short hushing noise. "He's on the phone."
"No, they're gone now. I warned them before anything could happen.... You really think you need to send so many to pick them up? They don't look so tough... I'm sorry, milord. No chances, of course. I'll await the retrieval team and keep tabs on the intruders..."
That was all Daemon needed to hear. Kicking the door down as he drew one of his field knives, Daemon slammed the boy to the floor and put a foot on his chest, cutting the phone chord as he did so. Surprised at how fast Daemon leaped into action, Khalid followed a moment later.
"Would you TELL me when you're going to do things like that?!"
Daemon ignored Khalid and focused on the boy. "Short, huh?" Daemon sneered. "I think we've got a few things to talk about."
Binding him to a chair, Daemon and Khalid circled him like vultures. The young man tugged at the ropes around him and looked up at his captors. Khalid started the questioning.
"So who WERE those guys in the suits? They must have been pretty important for you to have to hustle them out of here like that when we asked about them."
Silence.
"Are they friends of yours? Do you owe them money? Or maybe they work for the same organization of underground mystics that YOU do?"
The boy's head snapped up, his eyes wide, but he remained quiet.
Khalid smiled and stopped his pacing, moving in closer. "So THAT'S it. They're middle management checking up on you, aren't they? Gotta hate all that damn middle management. So does this organization have a name?"
"Why don't you get it through your damn thick skull that I'm not telling you fucking norms ANYTHING!"
Khalid felt a slight sting at the back of his mind at that. Mufasa was pushing to the surface again and he could barely hold him off this time. His eyes glowed as his aura grew slightly around him, a low rumble gurgling in his throat. "Who're you calling a norm?"
The boy's eyes widened again. He was relieved to see Daemon pull Khalid away. "I get it now. That was supposed to scare me," he said with false bravado. "Yeah, I see. You're playing good cop/bad cop on me. How nice. That was an aweful bad cop by the way."
Daemon backhanded him in the face, busting his lip open with a bloody spurt. "He was the GOOD cop."
~~End Chapter 6~~
~~Chapter 7~~
New York - 7 Days to Millennium (Christmas Day)
Hovering illumination globes lighted the field just beyond the rocky peak upon which the Darkfire Castle stood. The grassy expanse had been cleared only days before for the activities that dominated this night. Two dozen people faced off in straight lines near the center of the field, one lone figure screaming orders to his teammates. With a final guttural shout, they all seemed to scatter and all attention turned to an object that flew in a beautiful arch overhead.
Far above, looking over the game of midnight football from inside the Darkfire Castle's tower, Jon Tolliver pondered the coming new year. This was the second time in her long life that she stood on the cusp of a new century and her first time at the doorstep of a new millennium. She remembered the feeling of anticipation and expectation. She could still hear the frantic raving evangelists on street corners preaching redemption before the end of the world. She remembered the fatalists who had already begun taking their own lives rather than meet the horrible fiery fate they expected would befall the rest of the world. It was both comforting and disturbing the similarities between this time and that. The evangelists were better dressed and appeared on television now, preaching to a worldwide audience, but their message was the same. The catastrophe that would end the world as we knew it was called the Y2K Bug. And there were a thousand cults out there preparing for their ritual suicides at the stroke of midnight. All fools, Jon thought.
But there was something that seemed a little more truthful to the prospect of an apocalyptic future given birth by the new millennium's arrival. It was odd, but there appeared to be something authentic to the tragic predictions made by so many others as time in the 20th century grew short. It was like a tangible presence hidden by the horizon, one that required senses that reached beyond the physical limitations of humanity's hearing, smell, taste, touch and sight. It required a sight beyond sight, a perception that could pierce the veil of the corporeal world to the unseen forces beyond. And as sorceress of the highest caliber, Jon Tolliver was quite adept at such things.
And so it was with a bit of expectancy that Jon turned away from the window and to her scrying pool. With a sprinkle of enchanted dust and a brief stir with a magical wand, Jon chanted softly in Latin as she gazed into the cauldron. Almost before she could finish the incantation, the water erupted in a deluge of images. And in Jon's mind a thousand sounds and emotions surged. There was blood and fire, death and destruction, pain and suffering - all the ingredients for the devastating end that many believed was approaching. Nytshade dropped to her knees, screaming from the vision that overwhelmed her.
"My God," she gasped in a low voice. "The Era of Darkness is upon us."
***
Las Vegas - 7 Days to Millennium (Christmas Day)
"I won't talk," the bartender said, sounding as though he was trying to convince HIMSELF of that.
"Oh you'll talk," Daemon said as he used the knife he still wielded in his other hand to cut off the buttons on the young man's shirt one by one. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be talking about shit you don't even KNOW about."
"What the hell are you doing?"
"If you'd just tell me who you're working for, why they need Robert Cougar and where they've taken him, you won't have to worry about it."
The boy looked down at the knife, watching nervously as the sharp blade came so close to him. "I don't know anything," he said finally with a deep breath.
"That's too bad," Daemon said as he threw the boy's shirt open and extended a finger towards his chest that suddenly sparked to life with electricity. "I was saving this to light up my Christmas tree."
The boy screamed as a single pulse of electrical energy surged through his body. "You can't stop us now," he panted. "Even if I told you, it's too late. This world WILL be ours for the taking!"
Daemon shocked him again, this time using a larger charge. "You scream like a little girl. Tell me what I want to know and the pain stops."
"Go to hell."
"You first."
"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"
Khalid put a hand on Daemon's shoulder. He had regained himself within the last few minutes, driving Mufasa back into the dark corner of his brain. "Ease up," he whispered in Daemon's ear. "We don't want to kill him."
Daemon shook Khalid off. "I know what I'm doing."
The boy was babbling now, mumbling something. Khalid and Daemon both leaned in closer to hear him, though what they heard was nothing either could understand. Daemon, however, at least recognized the language. It was an ancient, and more importantly, exclusive tongue reserved for those of a specific order. It was unmistakable and, to Daemon, somewhat frightening. With an urgency Khalid had rarely seen, Daemon snatched at the boy's shirt, tearing off what remained of the cloth from the boy's body as though searching for something.
"What the hell...?"
"Where is it?" Daemon muttered as he leaned the boy forward and looked at his back from over his shoulder. Then he stopped and stared as he found what he was searching for.
"What is it?" Khalid said excitedly, unaware of the relevance of Daemon's find.
"It's a brand," he answered, anger growing in his eyes. "A pyramid with an eye."
"Remember that symbol," the young man said weakly, "because soon you will ALL bear the mark, or will perish at our hands."
"Khalid," Daemon said as he broke the boy's chair and dragged him by his bindings, "Go and fill that bathroom tub with water...and make it cold."
With his powerful hands, Daemon lifted the boy by the throat and dunked him into the freezing tub, submerging his head for several seconds. "Tell me what you're planning!"
"All I know is that some of the top people were here for the Winter Solstice Feast and there was a guy I didn't recognize with them."
"Where did they go?"
The boy paused and then replied, "I don't know."
"Liar!" Daemon shouted at him as he pulled a beretta from his jacket and put it in the young man's face.
"They'll kill me if I tell you any more!"
Daemon dunked him again. "You've got three seconds before I give you a lead filling."
"Beleshma caratu...."
"One..."
"...khalact rahsmi-dai..."
"Two..."
"...shadal meiha lau pwemsi..."
"Thr..."
"WAIT!"
Daemon lowered his weapon and simply stared. "Start talking."
"He who prepares the Purified for his role in the Spell must be empowered to do so by the Winter Solstice. This is Hallowed Ground and served that purpose four days ago. Only a few know exactly what the Spell is and what purpose the Purified plays, but I'm not one of them. All I know is, by New Year's Day, everything will be ready for us to rise to power again."
Khalid stood silently in the corner, his mind racing. The symbol, the "Purified", underground mystics - can the Illuminati be trying something new already?
"So where did they take him after they left here?" Daemon continued questioning.
"To where ever the Spell is going to be performed. And I don't know where that is either. It could be any one of the hundreds of mystical centers we have all over the world. Either way, you won't be able to do a damn thing about it. If the retrieval squad doesn't take you out, you still won't know where to find your friend or how to stop the Spell. Face it, this world is OURS and there's NOTHING you can do about it!"
Daemon's face was stone cold and completely expressionless by now. "Oh, I WILL stop this thing, whatever it is. But in any case, you won't be around to see which one of us is right." And before the young man could say another word, and before Khalid could move to stop him, Daemon dunked him back under water and put one bullet into his brain.
~~End Chapter 7~~
~~Chapter 8~~
Las Vegas, Nevada - 7 Days to Millennium (Christmas Day)
Khalid stood dumbfounded, staring at the body of the young bartender as it half-floated in the frigid, bloody water, bubbles of what was the young man's last breath rising to the surface. Daemon still remained expressionless as he scanned the room, running his hands along the seams in the walls. At last, when he had pushed back the bile beginning to rise in his throat, Khalid reacted.
"Murderer!" Khalid screamed as he rammed into Daemon to no effect.
"What?" Daemon answered idly as though jogged from deep thought. With a light extension of his arm, he pushed the much larger Khalid back into the opposite wall with a crash.
Khalid's aura had begun to rise by this time, the golden light filling the small bathroom. "He was a goddamn kid, Daemon! And you just shot him down like a dog!"
"Wait a minute..." Daemon began defensively, but was cut off as Khalid charged at him again - this time with a photon spear aimed at his midsection.
As Daemon easily slipped by the attack, Khalid only managed to run the blade of solid light through Daemon's jacket and into the wall behind him. Daemon's fist crashed down upon the weapon and broke it in half, letting the particles of light dissipate into nothingness as he snatched Khalid by the scruff of his shirt. "Now you listen to me. That kid was Illuminati. I just saved the lives of the countless people he would have eventually destroyed."
"But you didn't even give him a choice!"
"Once you're Illuminati there ARE no more choices. Their loyalty is unparalleled. And even if by some slim chance he decided on his own to leave the organization, they would've had MUCH worse in store for him than what I did. If anything, I just released him from a prison he didn't even realize he was in."
Khalid stared into Daemon's eyes, his aura just beginning to fade as his anger did the same. Ever since being introduced to Daemon, Khalid knew there was a killer in there. He knew it by virtue of his reputation as a mercenary, by the way the young alien carried himself and by Daemon's own admission. All that abstract knowledge, however, paled in comparison to seeing it first hand. Even Daemon's own memories of his exploits, which sometimes insinuated themselves into Khalid's consciousness, couldn't truly show the mercilessness of it all. And the most frightening thing was that he showed no outward sign of remorse. Khalid wondered then if the next dead body floating in a cold tub would be his.
Daemon released Khalid's shirt and went back to scanning the walls. "The kid said this was 'Hallowed Ground', which means there's probably some kind of underground complex where they hold their rituals...." Holding his gaze at the floor, Daemon took to one knee. "...And here's the entrance." With a swift punch, he broke through the secret door under the tiles, revealing a stone staircase descending into a fire-lit corridor.
"I hope you don't think I'm going down there," Khalid said as he looked over the Pharaohans shoulder.
"Stand back," was Daemon's reply as he drew the large energy weapon he had brandished the night before, as well as a small silver orb. Clicking the round device into place onto the end of the gun's barrel, Daemon fired the projectile into the hole.
"What was that?"
"A Seeker grenade with a surprise. Seekers fly until they find a bio-signature to lock onto and destroy. The surprise is, that particular grenade is loaded down with Berrilian incendiaries - makes napalm look like jello."
The muffled sound of an explosion rumbled from beneath the building, shaking it to its foundation. And a small burst of flames erupted from the hole.
"Let's go," Daemon said, drawing a small automatic assault weapon from yet another holster.
"How many guns do you HAVE in there?" Khalid asked, staring at Daemon's leathers.
Emerging from the back room into the suddenly quiet main area of the roadhouse, Daemon said simply, "Get out," and fired half a clip of bullets into the air. Khalid and Daemon followed calmly behind the scrambling mob as they swiftly jumped onto their motorcycles and screamed off into the distant blackness of the Nevada desert. When everyone had gone, Daemon pulled the energy weapon from his jacket, set it to maximum level and destroyed the building.
Khalid sighed at all the mayhem and destruction he had been a part of. "You certainly know how to make an exit," he commented. "Now what?"
Daemon stopped and sniffed the air. "Now," he began as his gaze turned towards the horizon behind Khalid, "we try and handle THEM."
Khalid turned around to see the sky filled with leathery-winged vampire creatures, each carrying a werewolf. "Do you have a spare gun in there for me?"
***
It is a world like no other, a universe unto itself that exists beyond and separate from the multiverse that we mortals share. It is a place of beauty and mystery, one whose very existence has been hypothesized and debated over since the very beginnings of man's civilization. Billions of cultures all across the multiverse have their own myth to its origins, its 'natural' laws and stories of the beings that inhabit it. All of them are right and all of them are wrong, for this place is far more complex than it is given credit for. It is a place that is truly beyond complete comprehension by mere mortals. While it has many names in many languages, for all intents and purposes, it is known as Heaven.
But the angels of myth do not dwell the golden streets of that glorious City of Light. Though it is their duty to protect its gates at all costs, no angel, nor their Elohim cousins may go there. Their place is just below, in the Celestial City where the angelic hosts wait in complete readiness at the call of the One Above All. It is from here that the greatest of the Elohim govern as the Heaven Realm's Parliament of All.
"There is a situation in the Earth Realm that concerns me," the Elohim called Gabriel declared to the assembled Parliament, what little there was left of the original seven.
Sariel turned to their leader with a questioning gaze. "If it is of Earth Realm than shouldn't it be a concern for the Earth Realm Parliament?"
"This is true and I have contacted them accordingly," Gabriel conceded, "but it is more complicated than that. You see, a group of Earthers are attempting to bring about the release of one of our fallen brethren, Estophalum."
The group let out a collective gasp of worry at the mention of that name. Of the one third of their number that rebelled against the Creator, Estophalum was among the worst and the most powerful. Azriel stood from her seat at the circular table and raised a powerful fist, her other hand poised on her fiery sword at her hip. "We cannot allow Estophalum's return. It is our duty as his brethren to protect the mortal plane from his evil and go to war if need be with any that stand in our way."
"Please Azriel," Gabriel said, waving for her to be seated again. "Indeed there is a tremendous danger if Estophalum were to gain corporeal form in the Earth Realm with full access to his powers. But as I said, I've discussed this issue with the Earth Realm Parliament. The Time and Mind Elementals combined their talents to peer into the events through the folds of their space/time and are convinced there are mortals that can prevent Estophalum's rise to power."
"How can they be truly sure with the many factors of probability and the multitude of timelines that can result?"
"They admit to the existence of timelines in which Estophalum returns, but they are confident in the mortals."
"Can we trust their judgment? What mortals are these that we should entrust such an important duty to them?"
"I too know of these mortals and I trust their capabilities. And the Earth Realm Parliament on many occasions has left the fate of entire worlds to their care with much success. In fact, they have already stopped a first attempt at summoning the demon. I propose only that we simply hope for the best and prepare for the worst."
Azriel crossed her arms and nodded. As the greatest of the Parliament's warriors, it would be her that leads any charge against Estophalum and his minions. "Then it is settled. We will watch and wait on the mortals. But rest assured that if any situation arises that involves the Fallen or their mortal servants, I will not hesitate to order their destruction."
"Very well," Gabriel announced officially. "We watch and see."
***
Las Vegas, Nevada - 7 Days to Millennium (Christmas Day)
Daemon and Khalid moved back to back as the creatures came closer, Khalid's powers lighting the night sky in yellow brilliance. With the flash of extradimensional energy, the alien sword Anubis appeared in Daemon's hand. Adjusting his grip over and over on the decorated handle of the blade, Daemon appeared unusually anxious as the time for battle approached.
"What's with you?" Khalid asked, "Mr. Big Shot Galactic Mercenary getting the heebie-jeebies from the bad old monsters?"
"Well if you haven't figured it out by now, K, I'm vulnerable to magic. Mystical creatures can inflict the same damage to me as they can to you - more so on occasion. And I've never faced this many mystical opponents at once before."
"Wow. Never thought I'd ever see you so antsy before a fight."
"Just shut up and take this," Daemon said, handing him the energy weapon. "It may not kill them, but it'll at least slow them down. And for the record, I am NOT nervous or scared or anything else you want to call it. Say something like that about me again and I'll cut out your tongue and make you swallow it."
Khalid took the gun while glaring at Daemon. "I don't even know how to use this thing."
"Well you're going to have to learn fast because here they come."
With that, a dozen vampires swooped down on bat-like wings, dropping their werewolf companions as they attacked. Khalid raised the Pharaohan weapon with two hands and closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger. Wide energy beams erupted from the gun's barrel, ripping sizzling holes through everything in its path. Several vampires fell out of the sky and landed hard near him.
"I got 'em!"
Daemon turned towards the celebrating mutant hacking at the vampires as they flew by. "Wake up, spike. They heal fast."
Before Khalid could protest at being called a "spike", the vampires that he had shot were up and coming after him. "Shit..."
Daemon wielded his powerful blade with a skill that defied belief, spinning and kicking and slashing with the grace of a dancer and the lethal prowess of a ninja. With three quick swipes of his sword, three vampire bodies fell headless to the ground and disintegrated into dust. "I can't watch your back the whole fight, Khalid. Cut their fucking heads off already."
Khalid stumbled over some underbrush as two werewolves closed in on him, with still more approaching from all directions. Focusing his mutant energies into a photon sword, he righted himself just a split second too late. One of the werewolves was inches from slitting Khalid's exposed jugular when a silver blade burst through the werewolf's stomach and cleaved the creature in half from navel to forehead.
"Well spank me with a spatula," the Dark Slayer Darkwolf said as he cut off the head of another werewolf with the Sword of Haresh, "if it isn't my dear friend Khalid and his faithful pet Pharaohan, Daemon."
"I heard that," Daemon shouted from within a large group of swarming vampires that were suddenly pushed back by a circular kinetic force bolt.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm sure glad to see YOU," Khalid said as he ducked under an attacking vampire that caught Darkwolf's sword through his throat.
"Yeah well, I have that affect on people," Darkwolf responded as he backhanded an approaching vampire, flipped it over his shoulder to his feet and severed it's head with his sword. "What the hell are you guys doing out here anyway? It's 10:00 o'clock. Do you know where your mutants are?"
"We're looking for Cougar," Daemon shouted again from across the field as he fought off a number of creatures. "Now less chatter and more decapitation!"
Both Khalid and Darkwolf glared at Daemon who seemed to be drawing more attention from the mystic creatures than the others. "You know, I never liked that guy," Darkwolf said. "Too uptight."
"Tell me about it," Khalid said, finally getting into the action and slicing at a werewolf with his photon blade. Blood spurted out onto his clothes and the young musician fought to keep from vomiting all over himself.
"Neat sword," Darkwolf commented, also dispatching an attacking villain. "Can you make ultraviolet light too?"
"Ultravi..." Khalid's voice trailed off as he thought. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? Concentrating deeply as he reached inward to the very center of his mutant powers, Khalid forced the ultraviolet energy in his photon aura to increase. When at last, he had saturated his aura with ultraviolet radiation, he stretched his arms out suddenly, releasing a huge burst of bright photons in all directions, every particle of light carrying three times as much ultraviolet light as the sun's rays. The wave of light flew outwards in all directions, illuminating the desert with the briefest of what appeared to be daylight. As the light touched each vampire, the creatures screamed loudly, their bodies bursting into flames, almost immediately being reduced to smoldering ashes.
With over half of the "retrieval team" eliminated in one felled swoop by the resourceful mutant musician, what few werewolves that were left, fled towards the horizon. Daemon was holding down a werewolf with Anubis at the creature's throat, when the photon burst hit and the rest of the force had begun to run away. He looked up to see the backs of the werewolves as they limped off into the night. "It must be your lucky day," he whispered to his captive werewolf, impaling the creature through the gut with his sword. Lifting the werewolf into the air on the end of Anubis like a skewered shrimp on the end of a toothpick, Daemon walked towards Darkwolf and Khalid. Khalid heaved at the sight of all the blood and entrails covering the Pharaohan warrior as he came near, finally losing control over his stomach.
"Eeeeeeewwwwwwwww!" Darkwolf cried, pointing at Khalid. "You had pork and beans for dinner didn't you?"
Daemon rolled his eyes as he dropped his captive. "Get a grip, K. And good thinking on the UV burst. About time you did something RIGHT for a change. Now..." Daemon said as he yanked his sword out of the creature and slammed his boot on the wound, "Who wants to interrogate the prisoner?"
The werewolf looked up from the ground to see the three men look at each other and then smile down at him. It was going to be a long night.
~~End Chapter 8~~~
~~Chapter 9~~
Farmington, Connecticut - 6 Days to Millennium
He was being watched and he could feel it. In fact, he had felt that he was being followed all the way from the credit card office in Delaware he had visited a day earlier. From what he could surmise of the first two of the three recent business disasters, there was definitely a pattern behind it. He had no doubt that the agents of this unseen adversary were all around him, reporting his every move and possibly poised to strike out at him. Jack Silver ignored it for the time being as he walked among the ruins of what had once been one of the most productive technology plants for the BHC on the eastern seaboard. The thick cement walls still stood, though they were blackened by smoke from the fire that had devoured everything that could burn. As the reigning King of the Black Hellfire Court, the responsibility of the financial loss sustained here fell upon him. The crown was beginning to weigh down on his head these days - especially recently since an apparent underhanded attack on the BHC's financial stability by an unknown assailant. This was the true reason he had come here to investigate the devastation first hand. Perhaps he could find something that the fire department missed...or were paid to miss. The possible depth of the conspiracy was still anyone's guess.
The sound of motion caught his attention and he turned to see who was there. Though he fancied himself quite the threat on the battlefield, Silver suddenly realized how being out here alone in the middle of nowhere could be potentially fatal. His eyes narrowed as he pushed back the sleeves of his shirt to reveal metal gauntlets. Whoever had come looking for a fight would surely get one.
"Are you lost?" a man said as he stepped from behind a toppled support beam. "You're a little ways from home, aren't you?"
Two other men seemingly appeared out of nowhere to come and stand next to the first. "Yeah, Westchester's THAT way," one of them intoned, pointing in a westerly direction.
Silver looked them all over quickly. The first man to speak had jet black hair, slicked back with enough grease to fry all the wings at KFC. By his posture and body language towards the others, he seemed to be the man in charge - at least in the field. The second man was huge. He had to be at least 6' 10" and close to 300lbs. The third man was somewhat smaller but for some reason made Silver more nervous than the other two. Perhaps it was the psychotic look in his eyes. Their uniforms were odd-looking, as though they were updated warrior togs of some lost Dark Age empire. They bore no markings, however, and this lent even more ambiguity to the already mysterious situation. It only served to make Silver more frustrated.
"I don't suppose one of you will tell me who you're working for and why you're out to get me, so I suppose I'll just have to BEAT it out of you."
The leader smiled and glanced at his two comrades. "I like him. But the Boss says he's been snooping around too much. Sorry. Orders are orders. Coldstone...Rex...kill him."
Immediately, the smaller man's body erupted into thick greenish-black scales and a long, powerful tail burst from beneath the folds of his uniform. He growled audibly, displaying two solid rows of predator's teeth. Silver was barely able to dodge the reptilian metamorph's first attack with his razor-sharp claws. The large man's transformation was equally striking, his skin turning a dull gray as his body became like solid marble. His first attack was much slower, but when he struck, it seemed as though the whole building rumbled with the impact.
Silver struck a defensive battle stance and raised his arms in front of him. Commanding the very molecules of his metal gauntlets, they covered his fist in solid spheres turning each arm into a deadly mace. Rex lunged again with claws at the ready, missing Silver by an even slimmer margin than before. Unfazed, Jack landed a blow to the back of the lizard-man's head. Coldstone followed up with another powerful punch, but still came up empty as Silver deftly bobbed his head out of harm's way. He countered with two blows to Coldstone's stomach but was met with a sly grin as the tower of a man kicked Silver across the room. Spitting blood, Silver staggered to his feet. The sharp pain in his side felt like an injured rib - bruised at least, but more likely broken.
Coldstone stood still with arms crossed as Rex shook off the pain from Silver's attack. "Is that all the fight you have?" he taunted.
Silver sneered and wiped the blood from his mouth. Again he brought his hands in front of him and manipulated his gauntlets - this time creating deadly wrist blades. "I'm just getting warmed up."
This time, Coldstone was the first to attack, slamming both fists into the ground that sent a shockwave rocketing towards Silver. With an acrobatic move, Silver avoided the rippling floor and landed near enough to Rex to slash him across his scaly face. Rolling away from the screaming mutant, Silver landed near Coldstone's feet and took a small chunk out of one of his legs with a few quick swipes with his blades. An over hand right came down from the rock giant, forcing Silver to backpedal right into the Rex's waiting hands. His powerful tail smacked Silver across virtually his whole body, knocking him to the ground where Rex pounced upon him and bit down hard on Silver's leg. Screaming in agony, Silver did all he could do and struck back with his wrist blades. Coldstone came in again with several mighty blows that missed by the slimmest of margins as Silver rolled away.
"This is taking too long," the leader said as he began to power up.
"Rex," Coldstone called, "Incoming."
But before Rex could get away, Silver was upon him. With one swift motion, the Black King impaled Rex's tail, pinning him to the ground, and swung the reptile's body in front of his. "Where do you think you're going?" he said as Rex struggled in his grasp.
"Calibre, wait," Rex cried, but by the time he realized that Rex was still in the line of fire, it was too late. Taking the full brunt of the blast, Rex's body was flung like a rag doll into a pile of the building's charred remains, his body still sizzling. He was alive, but barely.
"Shit," Calibre said as he began firing franticly at his target.
Silver surprised even himself with the speed at which he found himself able to move in spite of the injuries to his leg and ribs. Beams of plasma energy pocked the ground around him as he danced and flipped.
But while Silver was doing an excellent job keeping from getting shot, he was actually being maneuvered into Coldstone's striking distance. As Silver somersaulted away from another blast, Coldstone caught him in mid-air, pressing their bodies together in a deadly bear hug.
"Gotcha," he announced triumphantly as he began to squeeze.
With one arm pinned, Silver was all but helpless, literally caught between a rock (Coldstone's chest) and a hard place (Coldstone's arms). He cried out in pain as the pressure slowly began to build. With his one free arm, he slashed at Coldstone's face with his wrist blades to limited success. Feeling the pop of another rib, he morphed his gauntlet into a cube around his fist with a flat, spiked face that he rammed into Coldstone a number of times. But Coldstone just gave another squeeze and cracked Silver's pinned arm. Just as Silver was thinking he was virtually finished, he noticed a small metal bracelet around one of Coldstone's arms. With what little concentration he could muster as the shock of his injuries began to affect him, Silver reached towards the bracelet with an open palm, transforming the metal into a circle of razor-edged adamantium. Coldstone, in the zeal of the coming victory over his first superhuman opponent, he realized what had been done too late. Turning to look at his transformed bracelet, he bore witness as Silver closed his fist and forced the circle to converge into a solid disk, straight through Coldstone's wrist. It was not until his stone hand fell to the ground and reverted back to flesh that Coldstone cried out, the human bone in the center of his severed stone arm squirting a little blood.
"So you're not ALL stone after all," Silver commented weakly after falling to the ground as well.
Coldstone couldn't hear him over the sounds of his own screaming, however. And he backed away holding his stump. Calibre retaliated almost immediately, but his blast was deflected back to him by a well-timed backhand against Silver's gauntlet. Standing again, his battered body two steps from the grave, Silver morphed the gauntlet on his one good arm into a thin, sharp whip-like line that he swatted at Calibre. Imagine the young mutant's expression as he felt the blood trickle from a gash across his face, having realized just how outclassed he was. This man, who had taken out two of his men in a full-on battle, could now turn his full attention to him with his other adversaries incapacitated. Though he was still considered new at the business of field leadership, he had enough faculties to make the informed decision to retreat.
Angrily reaching into his pocket, Calibre pulled out a small device. "We'll see you again, Silver. And more than likely, you'll already be dead." And with the press of a button on his device, the three were teleported away to parts unknown.
Silver coughed up flecks of blood as he finally allowed himself to collapse on the ground. Though he could've put up another good fight, he surely doubted he would have survived another round. Especially if Coldstone somehow found a way to push back his pain and return to the fray. His gauntlet morphed again, revealing a wrist communicator hidden beneath. "BHC emergency code JS-alpha-1. Need immediate evac and medical." Satisfied that either human or automated help was on the way, Silver lay down to rest and to ponder his mysterious enemy.
***
6 Days to Millennium
Despite the hustle and bustle of the many BHC members, Academy students and staff during the busy holiday season, Gomurr's library remained a silent sanctuary. Many an Academy student or a member of the Inner Circle itself had found themselves a moment of repose within this cathedral-like repository of knowledge. This day, however, it was Gomurr himself who had taken a moment from his often busy day to study the ancient texts. Before him, etched in golden pages by immortal hands, the words that lay the foundation for the focus of his many lives. Bound with woven silver threads and encrusted with a number of precious stones, while probably the most valuable book in the world in terms of money, the Book of Ascension was, in fact, one of the most important books in all of human existence. Written in a language older than civilization itself, the book described a person, a being of great potential, who would come to earth every age; either to lead it into a Golden Era of peace and prosperity, or to the darkest of Dark Eras in which man would suffer a thousand tortures and the earth would cry out for the pain of its denizens.
In every one of his incarnations, Gomurr the Ancient had searched for this Ascended One - charged by powers even greater than he to find and train this young ruler to fulfill his or her destiny as a force for good and not evil. But while every thousand years has known the hunt for the Ascended, at no time has Gomurr found the One. Luckily for the planet, the Ascended did not land in the hands of anyone that would put him or her on the path to destruction, but neither was the Ascended schooled in the way of the light. This time would be different, Gomurr had promised himself. This time, through the avenues afforded him by his affiliation to the Hellfire Clubs, he would find the Ascended and fulfill his own destiny.
With the dawn of a new millennium on the horizon, Gomurr sought for the knowledge of the Book of Ascension for inspiration. Though he had read it in its entirety over a hundred times, the ancient mage thought perhaps that his previous failures were because of some oversight - some detail he missed or misconstrued.
"Born into knowledge," Gomurr read aloud, translating it as he spoke, "born into power, the Ascended will come." The ancient mage closed his eyes as his head hung low. But WHEN will you come, young one? And WHERE?
As he opened his eyes, he suddenly realized there was nothing there. No shelves, no books, no walls and no floor. His gaze darted back and forth for some sign to indicate up or down but there was only darkness. Gomurr rose to his feet, even though he had no idea on what he stood, and reached for his staff. But even as he groped in the emptiness of this ebony void, a line of marching torches appeared at either side. As the light seemed to expand outward, they revealed a stone corridor and the cloaked monks who held the fire-bearing rods. By the Lords of Order, Gomurr exclaimed to himself. Can this be the same monastery where I was raised so many millennia past?
Indeed, this was where the young man, then called Yortan, was taught in the mystic arts and remembered his predestined duty to find and teach the Ascended One. As Gomurr watched, he saw himself as a young boy, dressed in the traditional robes following the other monks along with his brothers - the other young boys being instructed on the path of white magic. And as he looked, one of the boys turned and faced him. The boy's face seemed to glow with an intense light and his eyes flashed with untold power. Gomurr froze because it was then he realized that Rukeb, his best friend and fellow student WAS the Ascended and he didn't even know it. What hurt most of all in that moment was the memory of Rukeb's death at the hands of barbarian invaders. An entire Age was lost when that boy died in his arms and Gomurr had no idea.
The scene changed again, this time becoming the barren landscape of the Australian Outback. He was aboriginese then, a mystic of great power and greater influence. As he watched a familiar scene as a spectator this time, he recalled his tribe's chief Makuma at the mercy of a group of warriors belonging to one of the smaller, rival tribes. His head lay on a rock with one of the warrior's hand axes at his throat. Gomurr, who's name was Mandawuy in this life, was almost close enough to cast the protection spell he had prepared, but found himself too late as he watched the stone blade open a fatal gash in Makuma's neck. He remembered feeling responsible for the young man's death and for the civil war that divided his once mighty tribe. But he had barely thought of how great a leader the young man was and how he had been working towards unifying the tribes across the desert. He had forgotten the man's ideas to create something he called a "city" where they would all live together in the protection of each other's company, eating from herds of game they would raise in captivity. It was not until this moment that he remembered how truly inspirational and powerful a presence the man carried. He had been the Ascended One and was well on his way to beginning the Golden Age, but Gomurr could not see it then. How foolish I was!
A scene of each millennium of Gomurr's existence on the earth played out in much the same way. Each life had been one in search of something that lay just under his nose. Though sometimes there were too many obstacles for even Gomurr to surpass, there was always a time when he could have reached out and touched the Ascended. Whether it was a young beggar girl to whom he had given a shekel to buy an apple at the market place or the squire to Lancelot, he had seen them all, but he could not SEE them.
In the midst of this litany of his shortcomings, however, came a light of hope for the future - literally. Through the blackness of this vision came the light of a child - a boy who stood perched on a tenous ledge. He reached towards Gomurr, wanting his hand, WANTING to be saved from the abyss of the dark path.
"I am here, Master," the boy said as he strained for Gomurr's hand. "Help me. Teach me. Find me. I am here."
"Gomurr?" a voice called out from the distance. "Gomurr?"
When at last the sorcerer opened his eyes, he was face to face with his most recent apprentice, Rune. Gomurr blinked his eyes as they readjusted to this plane. His lower lip trembled as his mouth dangled open with unspoken joy. Tears welled within his dark eyes as the knowledge of what was about to occur struck him.
"What is it?" Rune asked curiously.
"The Ascended, young wizard. The Ascended One is near. And at last, I will greet him into a world that sorely needs his guidance."
While Rune could also feel the warmth of that good news, he couldn't help but remain wary. "That is excellent news," Rune began, his expression betraying his apprehension before he had voiced it, "but there are malevolent forces at work as well. I fear that another knows of the Ascended One's coming - a demon of immense power."
Gomurr's expression suddenly faded from delight to concern. "If that is so, then the Ascended One's presence may not prove to be as joyous an occasion as I thought. If we do not retrieve him first, than humanity is doomed for a thousand years. Come, tell me more of this demon."
~~End Chapter 9~~
~~Chapter 10~~
5 Days to Millennium
They had found him. God help the poor man, but they had at last found him. The man known as Peter Rowan ducked and rolled away from a hail of gunfire, taking refuge behind a dumpster as he drew his own weapon. During the last few days, the four men that attacked him on Christmas Eve had been hunting him. While Peter found that he had some freedoms to move about in very public places during the daytime, every night he would run for his life. In those hours of daylight, Peter was able to recover some weapons and equipment from a safe deposit box owned by his employers. Also in that time, he had tried to transmit the MAJESTYTWELVE file to anyone and everyone he could. But each time, the upload would be intercepted and at times, Peter would discover that the receiver had been killed. For now, the only copy he had was stored in the hard drive of his laptop, which he still carried with him. He dare not try to mail the entire laptop, as his stalkers would no-doubt destroy the package as well as the post office it resided in. Peter could neither bring that type of danger to civilians, nor let this apparently vital document slip from his grasp. But he also knew that he could not run forever. Though he would fight tooth and nail, he knew his time on this earth was coming to an end. Nevertheless, his legacy would be to bring to light the darkness hidden within the computer he held in his arms. The information was going to go somewhere...ANYWHERE...and it had to go soon.
Peter poked his head from behind the dumpster and fired at the hover sleds with his assault rifle, the depleted uranium bullets doing significant damage to the vehicles. His eyes widened as he saw the flame burst from a rocket launcher pointed in his direction. As he ran towards a parked car, he let loose a hand grenade into the air, the explosive device detonating near enough to one of the hover sleds to send it to the ground. In the confusion, Peter was able to break the window of the car and hotwire it before the men could regroup.
Driving at well over a hundred miles an hour now, Peter had afforded himself only a little more time before they would resume the chase. His eyes darting towards his rear-view mirror every few seconds, Peter's mind was racing. They had nearly caught him out in the open that time. If not for that well-placed grenade, he surely would have met his maker that time. But there were no more grenades and he was running low on ammunition for all three of his guns. If he didn't get rid of MAJESTYTWELVE tonight, than his lifetime of hard work would be lost, and the sacrifice he knew was coming would be for naught.
Suddenly, as he sped through the shopping district, one of the storefronts caught his attention. Slamming on the brakes, Peter leaped from the still rolling car and crashed through the front window of the store. Even as he did so, the black-hooded killers flew by on their hover sleds, still in pursuit of the car. With the sound of the sleek projectile cutting through the air, a rocket slammed into the vehicle and demolished it in the middle of the street. The hover sleds descended slowly towards the wreckage, looking for the charred body of their target.
Before they realized that the car had been empty, shots rang out from behind them. One of the shooters on the back of a sled caught three bullets through the back and began to tumble from his seat, even as the armor piercing shells detonated the fuel tank. The other rider jumped from his sled to the other just as the tank ruptured. Within seconds, gunfire rained down on Peter as he ran in the opposite direction. As a line of bullet wounds was drawn across his back, Peter finally fell, the laptop slipping from his grasp across the icy ground. The remaining hover sled came to rest near Peter's body, and the men walked towards their prey. The leader removed his mask as he used one foot to turn Peter onto his back. The agent still breathed, though shallowly, and he coughed up blood onto the white powdered street.
"You were a challenge, old man.," the leader said as he knelt beside Peter. "We haven't had a chase like that in...well...EVER. You even managed to nail one of us - definitely a first. You were a worthy adversary and I hate to see you go. But a job's a job."
Another of the men walked over brandishing a .45 caliber pistol. "Tell me, old man," he said as he leveled the weapon at Peter's forehead. "Was it worth it?"
Peter spasmed sporadically now, the shock of his injuries beginning to take effect. He turned his head slightly and looked towards the laptop lying on the ground not too far from him, two bullet holes clearly through the plastic casing. He turned back and smiled weakly up at his executioner. "Yes," he said simply, before letting his tired lids finally close.
A single shot rang out in the night a few seconds later, sounding the final fate of a man who did not exist.
***
5 Days to Millennium
The woman known as the Necromancer sat cross-legged upon a stone slab in the back room of her chambers staring down towards her small scrying pool. One of her armed guards stepped tentatively further into the room, just enough so that he could be seen, but not enough to overstep his privileges. He regarded her for a moment, caught in the magical glow of her beauty. He blinked a few times to reestablish a proper demeanor. While his Queen liked to be admired, ogling her could sometimes be a crime punishable by a slow, painful, lingering death.
"My Queen," the guard saluted. "Sector General McGovern has arrived as you requested."
The Necromancer looked up at him, her penetrating eyes made even more disturbing by the eerie light of the pool. "Bring him to me," she commanded in her deceptively meek voice.
The guard nodded and left the room, returning a few seconds later with her guest. James McGovern took three steps into the room and bent to one knee letting his head hang towards the floor, a traditional greeting that the Queen enjoyed. "My Queen," he addressed her respectfully, "What is thy bidding?"
"Rise and come here," she said, staring down into her pool once again.
He did as he was told and stood no more than two feet from his Queen. Never before had he been permitted to be this close to ANYONE of the royalty. It was both exciting and frightening at the same time. "You summoned me for something, mistress?" he asked nervously, anxious to know the purpose of his requested presence.
"At this moment," she said, still not looking up from the pool, "I am looking through the eyes of one of your troops - a werewolf, through my scrying pool. Right now, he is on his way to follow your orders to kill a pair of black men and a young Slayer out near Las Vegas, Nevada."
"Y-yes, mistress," General McGovern said defensively. "The black men were snooping around one of our Sacred Grounds near Las Vegas. And the Slayer joined them along the way. I thought it prudent to get rid of the lot of them swiftly."
"You thought it prudent..."
McGovern swallowed hard. "I sent a retrieval team after them once already and they managed to kill every last one of them. In fact, the report I got this morning insisted it was them who destroyed the underground temple and the safehouse above it as well. They are very dangerous men."
"They ARE very dangerous indeed. The Slayer's hazard to our organization is obvious. And the fact that he holds the Sword of Haresh makes him an even more formidable enemy. The smaller of the black men is a former avatar of the celestial elemental known as Ra - the same entity that nearly destroyed us three millennia ago. The possibility that he could reclaim Ra and attempt to finish what his ancestor started is great. So his death would be MOST desirable. However, the third man..." The Necromancer stood somewhat unexpectedly, sending General McGovern flinching as he took several steps backward. "Here, come and look into the pool."
McGovern shuffled towards the pool, sweat now beading on his forehead. "I...I see nothing, mistress."
"Get closer," she said, almost a whisper, with a hand on his shoulder, helping him towards the circular basin. "Don't you see it?"
"No, mistress. I don't."
Suddenly the Necromancer's other hand was at McGovern's throat and the hand on his shoulder was forcing his head under water. "Of course you don't see anything, fool!" she screamed at him even as he struggled in her grasp. "You're too much of a simpleton to realize that you nearly killed the PURIFIED! If not for the incompetence of your forces, we would be without a Vessel for the Ceremony!"
The Necromancer gritted her teeth as she continued to drown her subject beneath the mystical waters of her scrying pool. It had been so long since she had killed anyone with her bare hands. The feeling was like nothing else - how the victim grappled with her, trying to pry loose from her deadly grip; how she could feel the water slide through his windpipe and into his lungs as he struggled to breath underwater; how he became slowly weaker, beginning to lose consciousness. If not for her seething anger at the man for nearly costing the Illuminati centuries of planning, she would be near orgasm now.
At last, McGovern stopped splashing, the water in his lungs and the deprivation of oxygen finally overcoming him. The Necromancer lifted his face out of the water and brought his lips to her own. Her hand slid down from his throat and came to rest on his chest where she could feel his heart begin to slow its beating. But this was no amorous embrace. As she kissed his wet lips, she began to draw his life-force into herself before it could slip off into oblivion. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth as she drank of his very essence. When every last bit of energy had been spent, and McGovern's heart pumped for the last time, the Necromancer let the cold, lifeless husk of a body fall to the floor.
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and spit viscously at the unmoving corpse. "Guard!"
Immediately, her guard was in her presence with his magical bladed staff at the ready. "Mistress?"
"Remove this...this...GARBAGE from my chambers at once. And inform the Southwest Sector that they are in need of a new General."
When the guard had gone, dragging the body of former General McGovern behind him, the Necromancer picked up her cell phone. "Mobilize our Special Forces," she said when someone finally answered the other line. "I've finally found what they've been unable to locate. The Purified is in Las Vegas."
~~End Chapter 10~~
~~Chapter 11~~
Las Vegas, Nevada - 4 Days to Millennium
His legs burned and his heart was pounding in his chest as though it were about to burst. His stomach growled from being empty for the last two days and his head ached from sleep deprivation. The young boy, whose true name is a mystery even to himself, could run no longer - yet he continued. They were right on his heels as usual. With their bear-trap jaws and razor-edged claws, the beasts that hunted him were fearsome creatures. He didn't know why they chased him, but they did. So he ran.
While the chase had once been restricted to back alleys and deserted towns late at night, it had finally spilled over into the realm of the general public. But here on the main strip of Sin City, no one really noticed. Everything was all part of the show as far as bystanders were concerned. The boy would scream for help, clutching at whomever he would pass on the street. He pleaded with them as much as he could before the beasts would once again grow too close for comfort. But no one listened. They all just smiled and nodded, thoroughly entertained by the amazing young actor and the superbly costumed men following him from block to block.
The boy finally began to slow down, his legs beginning to feel like lead weights, numb from over-exertion. His once boisterously loud cries were turning into soft squeaks from a dry, worn out throat. What little stored energy reserves his body had been running on began to dwindle, with no food in his belly to restore his strength. The last bits of moisture in his dehydrated body slipped away in fearful tears streaming down his face. At last, he collapsed, crumpling in a heap to the ground. With his head turned towards his would-be killers, he let his heavy eyelids begin to fall. But before he slipped finally into unconsciousness, he saw three men step between him and the coming of Death.
"I would stop right there if I were you," Daemon said in even tones, barely seeming to look in the werewolves' direction through his black shades.
The werewolves slowed to a stop a few feet from the fallen boy, the three men standing in their path. "The boy is the key to the Parrin-Ya. Our masters shall have him."
"Sorry, fleabag, but the kid is coming with US," Khalid intoned, trying to look as badass as he could.
"If you wish to bring death to yourself and your comrades, than so be it," one of the werewolves said as he inched closer with claws at the ready.
"Look, fuzzy," Darkwolf finally said, drawing the Sword of Haresh, "we've already put a good two dozen of your fellow mutts to sleep. Now, I'm not a bettin', man...well...actually I AM, but...either way, if I were to bet on this fight, I'd say double or nothin' on US beatin' the SNOT out of YOU guys in no more than 2 minutes.... Well maybe I'd put some insurance money on us to win in 3 minutes and double down on the 2 minute bet... But then again..."
"AHEM!" Daemon and Khalid cleared their throats at the same time, giving odd looks at Darkwolf.
Darkwolf blinked. "OH! Umm...the POINT is, we're about to abuse you worse than a spatula at an S & M party, so I'd just leave if I were you."
"Well said," Khalid mumbled sarcastically as he formed a photon sword. "You heard him."
"Fuck what those two have to say," Daemon said as his extradimensional sword Anubis appeared in his hand. "I'm gonna kill you all anyway."
With that, Daemon leapt into action. As he landed in the center of the pack, he brought his sword down on one of them, cleaving the creature in half. Two of the remaining three attacked at once from opposite directions. Daemon ducked beneath a swipe of the claws and came up underneath the creature's arm, elbowing him in the neck and crushing his larynx. As the werewolf bent forward, gasping for air and the other continued to charge forward, Daemon spun with his sword and cut both werewolves' heads with a single pass of the blade. The last was backing away when Daemon spun again, slicing the air at the beast's throat level. The werewolf stood there, motionless for a moment as he watched Daemon let the tip of Anubis rest on the ground.
"You missed," the werewolf said.
Daemon simply shook his head and motioned towards his throat. As the werewolf reached for his own neck, the monster's head toppled to the ground and his body soon along with it. The crowd of onlookers that had gathered around them applauded at the display, still believing the fight to be part of some sort of street performance show. Daemon gave a half smile towards Darkwolf and Khalid, before taking a bow before the crowd.
"Show off, " Darkwolf sulked.
Khalid picked up the young boy, feeling for a pulse at his wrist. "He seems ok. But I think we should get him some medical attention."
"Actually," an arrogant male voice addressed them from above, "It is YOU all that will need medical attention when this night is over."
The three heroes looked up from the boy and saw six figures descend from the sky as though out of thin air, each buoyed by a small energy disk platform. "You..." Khalid sneered as his aura slowly began to change color from yellow to red.
"I'm glad you remember me, Purified," the mutant known as Tendril said with a smile as his teammates began to close in.
***
Westchester, New York - 4 Days to Millennium
Jack Silver Jr. sat up on the medical table in the BHC infirmary, clutching his side as a bolt of pain shot through his body. "So will I live?" he asked facetiously.
Dr. Dei Lu Zhang tapped her pen on her clipboard as she perused over her King's medical chart. "I wouldn't be so casual about your injuries if I were you, Mr. Silver. The broken bone in your arm had been pushed so far out of place I was surprised that none of your tendons or muscles were severed. Your two broken ribs were dangerously close to puncturing your lungs and I'm not even going to tell you about the possible diseases you could've contracted through that bite on your leg."
"So I AM going to live."
Dr. Zhang shook her head and sighed. "You're impossible. Yes, you're going to live. But if you keep trying to take on multiple super-powered opponents by yourself, it'll be a short existence. The only reason you feel as good as you do is because I kept you sedated for the last few days."
"But I'm so close. There's definitely a connection between the three incidents with those businesses and the presence of those three guys in Connecticut proved it. I just need to put all the pieces together."
"Keep pushing yourself like you have been lately and I'm going to be the one putting pieces together...yours. Why don't you just take a trip to Master Gomurr's nice quiet library and brood over your business troubles there? I'm sure a few hours there will help you illuminate the source of your problem."
Silver froze for a moment and then looked up at Dr. Zhang slowly. "What did you just say?"
Dr. Zhang was surprised at Silver's sudden intensity. "Umm...I said you should take a trip to Master Gomurr's library."
"No, no. After that."
"Uh...You'll find the source of your problem there?"
"What were your exact words?"
Dr. Zhang thought back for a few seconds. "I think I said, 'I'm sure a few hours in Gomurr's library will help you illuminate the source of your problem.'"
Silver pondered the word illuminate, changing it slightly in his mind by replacing the 'e' with an 'i'. The Illuminati. Could all this have been caused by that ancient sect of deviants? Silver thought back to the fight in Connecticut. The three men certainly looked the part of Illuminati hitmen in their modernized dark age fighting tunics. He also barely recalled seeing a tattoo on the lizard-man, Rex. He couldn't remember exactly what it looked like, but the image he had in his mind was close enough to the eye and pyramid. Silver thought back further to the credit card office in Delaware. If he recalled correctly, the virus that had devastated their systems was called the Enlightenment virus. Most striking of all in the mountain of evidence, however, was the very first thing he investigated, and the Black King scolded himself for not seeing it earlier. Cherub Pharmaceuticals had been the company that filed charges against Apothegen, sending its stock plummeting. Though he had only the most fleeting of glimpses of the small vampire and only knew the name through Maul's account of the battle, Silver connected it all back to boy he found in the President's office - in that dark, sunless office. That was indeed the child vampire, Cherub. They had tangled with the Illuminati only a few months ago, thwarting their attempt to bring a demon to earth. It should stand to reason that they would be seeking revenge and especially now while the holiday season added more confusion to the situation. He suddenly jumped off the table and grabbed Dr. Zhang in an excited embrace. "That's it! You're a genius!" he exclaimed as he planted a kiss on her cheek and ran off.
Dr. Zhang placed a hand on her cheek and laughed. "I should give him advice like that more often."
~~End Chapter 11~~
~~Chapter 12~~
Las Vegas, Nevada - 4 Days to Millennium
"I'm going to choke you with your own intestines," Khalid said his, aura now a deep crimson lion form surrounding his body. Mufasa was in charge now, most definitely.
"Good one!" Darkwolf commented on the well-stated violent threat. "Let me try. Umm...I'm gonna gouge out your eyes with a spoon and put your hands in bowl of jello and tell you it's a bowl of snot...yeah..."
Daemon and Khalid looked at Darkwolf again.
"What?"
"Enough games," Tendril said as his team settled to the ground. "Surrender the boy and the Purified."
"Why is it bad guys always tell the good guys to surrender something?" Darkwolf asked in annoyance. "You KNOW we're just gonna end up fighting, so just cut to the freakin' chase already."
"Have it your way," Tendril said as he grabbed Darkwolf with his ectoplasmic tentacles and slammed him into the neon sign of a nearby club. At this point, the people on the street had realized that this was no show and began to run panicked in all directions, adding to an already chaotic scene.
The mutant called Calibre stepped in as well, letting a volley of plasma bursts fly. Daemon moved to duck and cover but then realized that the true targets were the buildings behind them. Glass and concrete rained from the sky, causing the frantic crowds to grow even more panicked. Daemon covered the boy as debris showered on them from above and Khalid jumped into battle with all six of their adversaries.
"Shit," he cursed to himself as he analyzed the situation. Their team had no intention of taking on all three of them at once in a full-on battle. So they caused enough collateral damage to endanger bystanders and keep them busy with multiple tasks. And being aware of Khalid's unbalanced mental state with his other, more reckless half, Mufasa, taking over in high-stress situations, they knew he would come to THEM.
"Well that hurt," Darkwolf said to Daemon as he returned from the crumbling buildings behind them.
Daemon turned away from the battle between Khalid and all six of the Illuminati strike force. He was holding his own for now, using strikingly familiar fighting tactics that made Daemon wonder... But that had to wait. "Justin, we have to get the kid and Khalid out of here. Take the boy and go. Find a Red Court safehouse and camp out there until we can rendezvous later. I'm going to get Khalid out of here."
"Gotcha," Darkwolf said as he hefted the boy over his shoulder. "Give 'em hell."
Daemon gripped Anubis in one hand and drew a gun from a hip holster. "I'll give 'em more than that."
Khalid used a photon enhanced backhand to smack Calibre into one of his teammates, a young woman he had never seen before. "You've got balls to try and take me out again," Khalid said to Tendril as he used a photon bo staff to smack the mutant called Daydream in the head.
"You killed half of my original strike force once, Purified, but I have studied that encounter well. It will not happen again."
"Your people are sloppy," Khalid said as he lifted Void into the air with a photon lion paw and slammed him into the concrete. "Do you really think they can handle me?"
"They're just following orders to distract you," Tendril responded with a half-smile as a dozen ectoplasmic tentacles wrapped around Khalid's aura and began to squeeze. "You're so confident that no one can touch you inside your aura of solid light. But you never stopped to think what would happen if someone decided to attack your aura directly."
Khalid felt the pressure from the tendrils build, his own photon aura beginning to collapse in on him like a soda can being crumpled in someone's hand. He swiped at Tendril with the tail of his photon lion, but he was too far away. When he tried to teleport, he realized how difficult it was becoming to concentrate. He was having too much trouble maintaining the structural integrity of his aura. Were he to let that down now, Tendril's tentacles themselves would cave in on him.
Suddenly, a blade came down on the tentacles, and severed their connection to their master with explosively painful results. Tendril was launched backwards into a parked car, denting the aluminum fender with the impact. And Khalid fell to the ground on the verge of passing out, his aura flickering on and off like a damaged light bulb. Daemon threw Khalid over his shoulder and fired a full clip from his assault weapon at the Illuminati spread out over the street, forcing them to take cover. But before he could make good his escape, the young sorceress known as Hex fired a mystical blast into Daemon's back. The green globule of raw arcane energies surged throughout Daemon's body in a wave of pain. Daemon dropped to his knees, struggling to stay conscious, but ultimately losing that battle.
Tendril shook his head, feeling a dull buzz of pain left from being cut off from his tentacles for a short time. He walked over to where Daemon lay with Khalid lying on top of him, over his shoulders, and let his tentacles lift Khalid into the air. Calibre came over and placed a power-dampening collar around Khalid's neck as well as specially designed manacles for his legs and feet.
"Daydream," Tendril called to another of his teammates. The petite red-head stepped forward to her commander. "See if you can find where the other fled to with the boy."
Nodding, the woman knelt over Daemon's unconscious body and touched her finger to his forehead. Using her mutant powers to telepathically make three-dimensional images from another's memories, Daydream called upon the recent conversation between Daemon and Darkwolf, in which young Justin Mills was instructed to take the boy to a Red Court safehouse.
Tendril laughed out loud upon seeing the memory played back. "Our work is done here than. Time grows short and the Houses are becoming nervous. Void, take us home."
Lifting his arms into the air, the mutant called Void opened a doorway through the very fabric of reality.
"What of the Pharaohan?" Hex asked as her team moved towards the portal. "Shouldn't we kill him?"
Tendril snickered. "Let him live. The Ascension is at hand and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Let him watch as his adopted planet falls beneath the feet of the Illuminati." And with that, they marched through the portal, leaving Daemon lying in the rubble.
***
Just outside Las Vegas - 4 Days to Millennium
He had been driving for what seemed like hours in a stolen truck with this nameless boy sleeping in the passenger seat. Keeping the headlights off and avoiding the roads, Justin Mills used his enhanced vision to guide the pilfered vehicle over the dry expanses of the Nevada desert. As he neared the Red Court safehouse his personal GPS had directed him to, he looked over at the boy. He was a scrawny kid with smooth chocolate skin and a short mat of tightly curled black hairs on his head. Judging from his size and voice alone, Darkwolf thought him to be no more than 13 or 14 years old. What could the Illuminati possibly want with such a harmless looking child?
Within a few minutes the small gated mansion belonging to the Red King himself came into view. With the exception of a few lights in the windows of the upper levels, the compound was extremely dark. There weren't even the usual compliment of armed guards walking the grounds. It was all a bit unsettling, but Darkwolf had no other place to go. Using a wrist-mounted mini-computer, Darkwolf punched in an authorization code and sent it to the main computer at the mansion. This would disable the automatic defenses and allow them passage through the gate. The large pick-up truck came to rest near the front door just behind the fountain at the center of the circular driveway. Justin carried the boy up the stairs and into the foyer just beyond the large wooden double doors.
"Hello?" Darkwolf called into the large (and seemingly empty) building. "Anyone home?"
Only his muted echo answered him.
A motion detector turned on more lights in the house as Darkwolf moved into a nearby sitting room. Laying the boy on a soft couch, Justin looked up again. "If no one says they're here, I'm going to raid the fridge...and put my feet on the coffee table...and make long distance phone calls to Istanbul...and do odd things with a spatula..."
Still no answer, but Darkwolf did hear something. Drawing the Sword of Haresh, he stood near the couch and slowly approached the entrance to the room. He listened intently now and sniffed the air periodically. There was definitely someone here, but they were very good. Somehow, their scent was nearly identical to the surroundings, and they were being extremely quiet, barely breathing audibly.
Suddenly, Darkwolf turned and let the Sword of Haresh fly. The gleaming silver blade cut across the room like a huge enchanted dart making a loud thunk as it caught the meaty shoulder of an invisible enemy. The man flickered from virtual invisibility and fell backwards onto the thick carpet, the Sword of Haresh having buried itself halfway through his body.
"There you are," Darkwolf said with a smile, but before he could get to him, even more flickering bodies appeared all around the room. "Damn..."
"You did your best, Veil," one of the men said as he stepped forward from the wall.
Darkwolf pulled out his two sidearms and leveled them in both directions, moving slowly closer towards the boy on the couch. "I don't know who you are and I don't much care, but you better have a damn good reason for trying to ambush me and the kid here."
The man who had spoken earlier motioned towards some of the others to help the mutant called Veil. "We are...associates of the Red King and guests here."
"I bet," Darkwolf sneered. "So why the hell were you hiding in here? And why the hell was that guy sneaking up on the kid?"
The man laughed silently, his shoulders shaking slightly as he bowed his head for a moment. His face made him look to be in his mid or late forties although his physique beneath an oddly antiquated uniform tunic was that of a much younger man. He finally looked up and tossed his shoulder-length white hair out of his face. "We were only being cautious. Your approach put us all on edge as there has been increased superhuman activity in the area of late. Veil over there used his mutant powers to provide us each a screen against most forms of detection, though apparently your awareness goes beyond his capabilities to counteract. As far as 'sneaking up on' the child on the couch, I'm sure he was only concerned for the boy's condition. He seems quite exhausted."
Darkwolf still held his defensive position near the boy, his one gun leveled at the group near the mutant called Veil and one aimed for their apparent leader's forehead. He didn't trust these guys any further than he would the Red King himself. He needed to get out of here now. "Yeah, the kid's a mess, ain't he? So you know what? We're going to take off to get him some Gatorade or something and leave you guys to do...well...whatever you were doing before we got here."
The white-haired man stood motionless with his hands behind his back and gave a glance towards the men near Veil. "The boy seems very important to you. Any particular reason?"
Darkwolf sneered, and glanced towards Veil. "I'd like my sword back."
"Return him his sword please," the man ordered, and one of the other strangely dressed men handed over the silver blade.
Darkwolf returned the bloodied Sword of Haresh to its sheath on his back with one hand while still holding the gun on the white-haired man. When the weapon was secure he began to reach towards the boy.
"Wait," the man said moving forward a bit.
Darkwolf flinched and re-aimed his pistol, this time clicking on the laser sight so a red dot appeared right between the man's eyes.
The man raised his hands in seeming surrender. "Wouldn't you at least like to know my name before you go?"
"No," Justin said succinctly before reaching again towards the boy.
The man moved again, drawing Darkwolf's attention once again. "Please. I'm sure you're curious."
Darkwolf breathed angrily. "Well if you're gonna keep bugging me about it...sure. What the hell is your dumbass name?"
The man's answer was far more than Darkwolf was expecting. When he opened his mouth, a shrill scream erupted from his vocal chords, piercing Darkwolf's sensitive ears. Only a millisecond later, a vibrating expansive wall of sound hit him full force in the chest, sending him flying backwards through several walls of the house. "The name is Shriek, by the way," the man said to the crumbling hole in the wall. "Come. Bring the boy to the craft. The Houses await the Parrin-Ya."
Out on the second floor balcony, Darkwolf moved slowly to get to his feet. His ears were still ringing, so loudly, in fact, that all he could hear was a continuous whining hiss. A shaky hand reached to one of his ears and found a stream of blood flowing down the side of his face. He didn't hear the craft take-off more than he felt the vibrations in the ground and in the very air caused by the fusion powered engines of the advanced transport. It rose high into the air over the house and then turned so that it faced the front door. Despite whatever had happened to Darkwolf's ears, he still retained the training and years of experience as a mercenary, a BHC Academy student and the newest slayer. So every fiber of his being knew what was coming. Just as the four high-explosive warheads were launched, Justin Mills leaped from the balcony towards the in-ground pool below. And the building lit up the night in a ball of red flame as Darkwolf made contact with the water.
Eventually, he reached the edge of the pool and lay down on the cold wet concrete, his hearing slowly returning as fiery pieces of debris rained from above. Despite the pain in his arm, he pulled his wrist computer up to his face and started speaking through the communicator. "Daemon," he said through shallow breaths, "They got the kid. The Red King is working with the Illuminati." Darkwolf listened for a moment, but only heard static. "Hello? Daemon? Daemon, come in.... Shit... This is most definitely not good."
~~End Chapter 12~~
~~Chapter 13~~
3 Days to Millennium
"My Lady?" the guard at the front gate called through the intercom system.
Monet looked up from her book as she leaned back in the soft leather chair in her office at the Darkfire Castle. "Yes," the Dark Lady answered into the air, the imbedded systems responding to her voice.
"There's a man out here claiming to have something that belongs to you. He says he was instructed to give it to you personally."
The young woman's forehead crinkled as she thought. While she was wary to let a stranger enter her newly established base and home with a strange package, the state-of-the-art scanners at the gate would have alerted her already if there was some hidden danger. Then there was the fact that most of their enemies prefer not to use the front door. She took a quick glance at the man, his image appearing on her monitor from the gate camera.
He was a short man, overweight and balding. The deep lines in his face told a story of a long life. As she watched him fidget with the box in his hands, he looked up at the camera and gave a thin smile. Monet thought again for a few seconds before responding, "Bring him here," to the guards.
Within minutes, the man was standing before her in her office. Two house guards flanking him on either side, their weapons at the ready. Their presence was obviously unnerving for the elderly gentleman. He continued to fidget with the box and couldn't seem to focus his gaze anywhere in particular. Either he was quite unused to the type of world Monet has lived in for so long, or he was a SUPERB actor.
"Dismissed," she said to the guards, who saluted and left the room immediately. The Dark Lady let her elbows rest on her desk and made a bridge with her hands on which to perch her chin. "Please, have a seat," she said cordially with a smile, trying to reassure the man of his safety.
"Th-thank you, miss," the man said as he let himself sink into the plush chair across from Monet's desk.
"Would you like something?" she asked politely. "A drink perhaps, Mister..."
"Uh...Townsend. Fred Townsend. And...uh...no...thank you."
Monet nodded and sat back again. "So I see you have something for me. Would you care to explain what it is and who it's from?"
"Well...it was Christmas Eve and there was this huge ruckus in the streets out in front of my store."
"You own a business?"
"Yeah. I sell lots of electronics things. And I live in the apartment above it with my wife. Anyway, after I get my robe on and go down to check it out, I see that my store's been broken into. The whole front window is smashed in. So I check the whole store from top to bottom and find that there's only one thing missing - a laptop computer. And that's not even the weird part. Inside the stolen laptop's box, there's this older version of the same model. It's all scratched up and dirty and it's got a note on it." From his pocket, he pulled out a tattered piece of paper. Unfolding it, he looked down at the note and squinted his eyes. "I don't have my glasses so I'll just let you read it," he said as he slipped it across the desk to Monet.
The young mutant examined it carefully. The note was written in hastily scribbled script on the back of what appeared to be a lost and found flyer. She read it aloud. "Urgent. Make sure this computer gets to the person on the card. Very important information here." Monet looked up from the note. "Card?"
"Oh yeah," Mr. Townsend said as he reached once again into his pocket. He handed Monet one of her own business cards - the type specifically dealt to people being nominated for membership in the general body. "He also left a whole wad of hundred dollar bills, enough to fix the window, pay for the computer and THEN some. So I figured I'd make good on the deal and get you this." He pulled out the laptop and set it on her desk.
Monet's mind was racing to assimilate it all. A person whom she had approached to join the Darkfire Court was trying to get this particular laptop computer into her hands for reasons unknown. The mystery of it all was quite intriguing. "Thank you Mr. Townsend," she said as she stood and took his hand in a firm handshake. "Is there anything else you can tell me about all of this to help me make sense of it?"
Mr. Townsend shook his head. "Nope. Sorry, miss, but all this is just as strange to me as it is to you. I just figured if he went through all that trouble to get the thing to me, I might as well make the trip up here to get it to you."
With that, Mr. Townsend was escorted back to his car and Monet was left to consider the situation. She eyed the battered black device on her desk suspiciously as a ponderous hand rested over her mouth. I wonder what kind of secrets YOU can tell me.
***
3 Days to Millennium
The temple hidden in the thick jungles of the Congo had been built centuries ago to honor the serpent, the Anaconza - the Great Spirit of the Jungle. Slavery and disease had long-since annihilated the tribes that once worshipped at the foot of the pyramid-shaped structure and had gone to war to protect it. Undisturbed for over a hundred years, it remained hidden within the green, leafy folds of the living forest - that is, until the one for whom the pyramid had been built arrived weeks ago to meditate.
The mage known as Rahsas sat upon a rock slab at the summit of the structure, his legs folded and his staff floating just over his head, riding mystic energies. Rahsas felt the familiar pull of his home dimension. It had started some time ago, not too long after his adventure with Gomurr and the three young mystics, Rita, Jam, and Bux. It seemed as though the world he had left there needed his presence, like it was dying without him. Something had to be done, but he didn't know what. It was for this reason Rahsas had come here, to find out what he could do for his distraught homeland.
In his mind's eye, he saw a boy running through the tall grasses like those of his home dimension, as it was when he was young. It was him, or at least how he was at that age. There was a girl there, about his age that came into view running alongside him - the young version of the woman that would come to betray him. And finally he saw the man that was his mentor and as much of a father to him as anyone could have been. The pair of children ran to him, their laughter echoing in Rahsas' mind. He was very still, contemplative as he stared out over an escarpment that looked down upon white waves lapping against the rocks below. He had his back to them, but he turned as they approached, shushing their boisterous voices with an index finger over his lips. And as Rahsas looked closer to the vision, he saw a tiny child, a dark-skinned baby boy supported in his mentor's arms.
As the mage's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the child, there was an intrusion upon his vision. A huge claw ripped a fiery tear across the sky, rending the scene away like it was no more than a painted canvass in Rahsas' mind. And just beyond the tear, a pair of demonic eyes bore holes into his mind, the laughter of the creature causing him actual pain to his ears.
"Nooooooooo!" he screamed into the jungle air, as he noticed his Anaconza staff spinning wildly above him, spitting fire in every direction.
Rahsas waved an enchanted hand and caused the staff to fall to the ground in front of him, the shaft still sizzling. His lips trembled as he stared into nothingness, the vision having shaken him to the core. "I don't believe it," he said to himself. "I have a brother...and he's in danger."
The last thing that the ancient temple witnessed that day was Rahsas teleporting away to find help from his Master Gomurr and his fellow apprentice Rune.
~~End Chapter 13~~
~~Chapter 14~~
Somewhere in the Himalayas - 2 Days to Millennium
The cave was huge even now while the full extent of the cavernous base had not been carved out yet. Silvery metal support structures and catwalks lined the inside of the cave, built into the grey and brown stone of the walls. The floor of the structure was now poured concrete, with computer work stations dotting the facility. Flourescent lights shined down from huge mounts along the walls, making the installation look less like the dank innards of a gutted mountain and more like a huge hangar. And while vehicles could be seen in odd places around the cave, they were all dwarfed by the colossal machine around which everything seemed to be centered. Hundreds of workers in red uniforms moved about the facility, working hard to complete the massive structure within the allotted time frame. Their fervor in their work could mostly be attributed to the fact that their employer had come to oversee construction.
Ryan Jensen, the man known as the Red King walked along a yellow line painted on the floor circling the huge device at the center of the facility. The technicians who had been assigned to prepare the device were considered the best in the world in their fields. Yet still, they checked and double-checked their work for fear that their one misplaced microchip or decimal point would cost them their lives at the hands of their King. Jensen gave an almost imperceptible smile at the way his subjects scrambled to look busy in his presence - how they averted their eyes from his gaze. His aids, who walked with him as he toured the area, walked at a respectable distance behind and to the side of their master.
"Are we on schedule?" Jensen asked to no one in particular.
One of his aids stepped towards him as to be heard over the noise of construction. "Yes, sire. All systems are at or above the expected level of completion for this time period. Although there have been delays in the retractable ceiling."
Jensen stopped walking and turned to look at the aid, who immediately cast his eyes downward and backed away slightly. "What?"
"There have been...problems with safety, in cutting through the entire mountainside at the level of precision required, sire. Several workers have been killed or injured in rockslides. Wouldn't it be easier to blast a hole through the mountain side and use pre-made doors?"
The Red King's eyes narrowed as he stared at his aid. The man suddenly clutched his chest in pain, unable to breathe. "Your job is to do as you are told. My orders to use the mountainside as the door still stands. Questioning me like that has proven fatal for many an individual. Do not make that mistake again."
Releasing his hold on the man's lungs through the Red, Jensen dismissed the rest of his entourage and proceeded to his personal chambers. When he had reached his private corridor, he heard the familiar clap of hoofed feet on smooth concrete.
"He is right, you know," he said without even turning around or slowing his stride.
The Hellgoat matched the Red King's steps and came to walk beside him, his taloned hands clasped behind his back. "About?"
"I know you were listening. There is no need to try and make retractable doors out of the very mountainside when we have the resources available to build our own. I would rather not lose any more workers. The skilled ones are hard to find."
"Is that a hint of human concern I hear in your voice Jensen, or the ruthless businessman wanting to minimize his losses?"
The Red King did not answer.
Hellgoat continued. "I need the mountain as I have outlined in the plans. NOTHING is to deviate from the construction order I gave you. The Gathering approaches and everything must be PERFECT."
Jensen stopped , finally, and turned to face the devil with whom he has made many a deal. "Every time we have met these last few months you have mentioned the Gathering. You will tell me what it is or we can proceed no further with the construction."
Hellgoat's odd-shaped mouth opened up to reveal rows of sharp teeth, clenched together in what apparently passed for a smile. "Are you threatening me, Jensen?"
Again, the Red King had no answer.
"You already know what the Gathering is. You are a Flesh Elemental after all."
"Am I to believe that all the fairytales of the meeting of Earth Realm's elementals is true?"
There was a brief silence, and then the two began walking again.
"I have become aware of your involvement with the Illuminati," Hellgoat stated matter-of-factly, changing the subject. "Have your loyalties changed from your peers in the Hellfire Clubs?"
"I have no PEERS in the Hellfire Clubs - only tools, or enemies. Those who can get me to where I want to be are my tools. All those who have no use to my cause are my enemies. My...arrangements with the Illuminati are no different. My loyalties are to MYSELF and ONLY to myself."
"Then you believe that you are using the Illuminati as...tools then?"
Jensen smiled. "Just as they believe they are using ME. They came to me speaking of some type of Ascension to godhood prophesied in their texts. It was all garbage, but what intrigued me, was their need for the White King's son. They promised me many things in return for delivering the boy, much of which I have put to good use acquiring more wealth for my organization. But it was the need for the boy that swayed my decision. Once it has been made known that it was the Illuminati that have taken the child, Supergrover and his lot will no doubt declare war. With the Illuminati as powerful as I know them to be, he will eventually require the aid of the Black and Darkfire Courts as well whom the Illuminati have already faced in open combat. The war will take its toll on both sides, rendering all organizations involved defenseless against me. From the ashes, I will acquire whoever or whatever is left and build the Red Hellfire Court into the true world power I always meant it to be."
Now Hellgoat smiled. "A fine plan, Jensen. You are indeed as crafty as I made you to be."
The Red King turned sharply on the Hellgoat as he reached the door of his chambers, his eyes burning. "You did not make me. I am a power of my OWN creation. I am what I am because I willed it. I am above anything you could have ever hoped to have shaped with your own hands."
Hellgoat's grin remained as he stared back at Ryan Jensen with an eerie intensity. "Of course you are," Hellgoat said as Ryan slammed his chamber door in the monster's face. "You are EXACTLY as I made you to be."
***
2 Days to Millennium
The fire was bright as the red and gold flames reached out from the shallow pit full of wood and dry leaves. Tall pine trees wearing a thin coat of glistening snow encircled the small clearing like nature's silent guardians, standing watch over this night's occult activities. Near the fire, three robed figures chanted into the chilly air, their hands reaching towards the stars as though pleading for their divine assistance. Standing on three mystical marks at the point of a triangle drawn in the snow around the fire, the three Hellfire mages chanted louder in a tongue few have ever heard before. The fire began to rise, as did the volume and speed at which the mages spoke. As the spell reached its peak and dropped into immediate silence, the ten-foot high flames distorted into a hovering mystical circle, a window into the fiery depths of a supernatural prison dimension. And through that portal, two burning eyes appeared - the only portion of the face of a demon whose true visage was too much for mortal eyes to even gaze upon without dire consequences.
"Who has summoned me?" the demon said, the very ground trembling at its voice.
Gomurr stared into the fire, locking his eyes with the creature's. The orbs of flaming brilliance swirled in upon themselves in a continuous fluid motion as though there were a vortex at the center. They pulsed slightly brighter at each vocal inflection. It was both hypnotic and terrifying to watch. "I am Gomurr the Ancient and I want answers," he demanded.
The voice laughed loudly, making the snow and ice trickle down from the treetops as the air reverberated at the sound. "You are a bold little man. What answers could one such as you seek from me? Am I not simply a demon sentenced to an eternal prison?"
"Don't try to throw us off with your trickery, demon," Rune said. "I know who you are now. I know all about you."
"Then what is my name?"
Rahsas smirked and crossed his arms, his Anaconza staff hovering just next to him. "We know better than to utter your name while a door to your prison stands wide open, monster. You think we would knowingly give you the power to harm us?"
"All three of you are pathetic," the voice rumbled angrily. "You are looking for answers to questions you cannot truly fathom. Face the reality that you know to be true. You cannot stop me. Soon my prison will fall away and I will once again walk the mortal plane with my powers at their fullest. The Ascended One will be mine and with him, I will shape the destiny of this world. The Ascension is at hand. Prepare yourselves for the end of the world as you know it
The ground shook then, a constant trembling that made the snow and ice fall heavily this time from the trees. The heat from the fire began to grow more intense, melting the drifts before they reached the ground. The three wizards prepared protective spells about themselves, making symbols in the air and chanting, but it was too little, too late. As the window into the prison dimension collapsed in on itself in a fiery implosion of mystic forces, a wide band of energy burst outwards and threw the mages almost fifteen feet backwards.
"Dammit!" Rune cursed, striking the ground with an angry fist.
Gomurr used his staff to pull himself to his feet, holding his back that was sore from the fall. He paused for a moment as he regarded the scorched earth where the mystic fire-voice once was. "Is everyone OK?"
Rahsas leaned against the tree he had impacted after being thrown, not having been affected much because of his flexible mutant body. "I am unhurt. A more important question, however, is what are we going to do about Estophalum and the Illuminati?"
"We are going to stop them," Gomurr declared, his expression hardened by this night's revelations. "And we are going to claim the Ascended One to the Light no matter what the cost."
~~End Chapter 14~~
~~Chapter 15~~
11 Hours to Millennium
"This is fucking stupid," Daemon said, crossing his arms.
The Black Queen Nemesis sighed as she directed a worker in the placement of decorations in Daemon's apartment. "I know there are so many more important things that we can be doing right now..."
"Yeah," Daemon interrupted, "like looking for Cougar, or Khalid, or that kid the Illuminati were after, or even Supergrover's son? Darkwolf and I could've been killed back in Vegas for Christ's sake."
The beautiful young woman stared down at her feet, obviously as upset about the situation as Daemon. "Believe me Daemon, there is nothing greater on my mind than the White Court's recent losses, and our operatives all over the world are looking for them. But this inter-court New Year's Party has become a major event by virtue of our more publicly known general body members. The absence of any one of us would arouse suspicion."
"Whatever..." Daemon muttered.
"Don't worry," Sharon Stokes said as she wrapped her arms around Daemon. "We'll get them all back."
"Well you certainly seem calm enough about so many members from your court going missing," Byron commented to Sharon from the kitchen where she perused the hors d'ouvres in the refrigerator.
Sharon frowned at the Queen of both the Red Court and of Hell. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"
Byron shrugged off the White Queen's scornful look and continued. "Well just look at your King. He must be a mess with a grandfather, his cousin and his own son being among those that have gone missing. Yet you are the picture of composure."
"If that's an accusation, Byron, you've crossed the line," Daemon said angrily, clenching his fists, "Especially since YOUR King seems to be working with the Illuminati of all people."
Sharon put up a calming hand to him and took a step in Byron's direction. "As Queen of my court, I have a responsibility to set an example of composure. If we all went ballistic just now, we would look extremely suspicious in front of our guests tonight. As a Queen yourself, I would THINK you knew that already."
Byron simply stared, a sour expression on her face.
"As for Grover," Sharon continued, "he's too close to the situation to keep much optimism right now, but we can only be supportive. Misery really doesn't need company."
There was a hard silence between the three Queens and Daemon that made the servants that shuffled around very nervous.
"Claws back in, ladies," Daemon finally said. "Let's try and remain civil until it's really time to kick someone's ass, particularly the bad guys'."
The women silently agreed and the preparation for that night's celebrations continued.
***
Elsewhere - 7 Hours to Millennium
The sorceress known as the Necromancer strode the dank hallway of the dungeon, a smile flowing from ear-to-ear plastered on her face. She couldn't have planned it better - the Purified and the Parrin-Ya being in the same place, at the same time. She had all the players now and the game was only hours from being completed. She glanced to one cell as she continued to walk. The mystic known as Cougar was silent, frozen in suspended animation with a spell even he could not counteract. Of them all, he was the most apparent threat, despite the fact that he came so willingly - so he would not be allowed the luxury of being conscious until his part in the ceremony came. The next cell appeared empty, the dark-skinned lad inside seemingly invisible in shadow. The Necromancer stopped and tapped lightly on the bars.
"Are you awake, little one?" she cooed.
The boy simply stared, the white of his eyes the only visible feature on his face. The eyes disappeared a moment as he blinked away his tears, rubbing his face with his arm. "Why are you doing this? I never did anything to anyone."
She chuckled. "Why no, you didn't. But you will. You will help me destroy the world." Her grin returned, sending chills down the boy's spine. She proceeded to the next cell, noticing how the occupant still slept. At a small hand gesture, a loose stone was pulled form the wall and slammed into the bars with a loud clang, and Khalid Hunter fell off his cot and onto the floor.
"How are you doing, Purified?"
Khalid punched at the ground angrily before standing. The his chains rattled, knocking against each other and the thick manacles covering his legs from the knee down and his arms from the elbow down to cover his hands. The yellow mutant power dampener at his neck hummed softly, a red light at it's center just under his chin flashing periodically. "I swear, when I get out of here, you're the first one I'm coming after."
"You are just as feisty as Tendril described you. No wonder you destroyed half of the original hunting party I sent after you."
"What are you talking about?" Khalid asked quizzically.
"Oh!" the Necromancer exclaimed. "You don't even remember that do you? I suppose you wouldn't. I believe your OTHER self was in residence at the time."
"You filthy..." he began, but was cut short as the sorceress flung him into the wall with a magic bolt.
"Sleep, Purified," she said, weaving a sleep spell over him. "You are going to have a very, VERY long night." With Khalid fast asleep, she moved on to the next cell where a beautiful young child sat in the furthest corner. He rocked back and forth with his knees at his chest, silent as the dead. She tapped lightly on the bars.
"Hello? Hello, there?"
There was no answer, only a brief glance over his shoulder. So many bad people here. He could feel the evil in every fiber of his body. The stench of it infected every stone, every piece of cloth, every particle of dirt on the floor. It hurt to be here. He only wanted his Mommy and Daddy now. Where were they? Why wouldn't they come?
"Not talkative tonight, eh? I can understand why. You've lost everything these past few days. And I must say we have been to blame for it all, dear, sweet child. But it is we who will give you the world as well."
Christian gulped hard as he listened to the words this bad woman spoke to him. She was telling him the truth, but it was still evil. Evil even in truth. It hurt him to think of it. And it hurt him to think of what would transpire this night. "I want my Daddy," he mumbled softly, burying his face in his hands.
***
The Hellions Compound - 5 Hours to Millennium
"This is lame," Darkwolf said, crossing his arms angrily.
"Very lame," Nate agreed.
"Totally lame," Meltdown said.
"Infinitely lame," Glacier added finally.
"We GOT it already," Puma said, irritated by the repetitive complaining. "Nobody likes it that we have to share our New Year's with the general body members' spoiled brats, but that's the way it is, so deal."
"That's not the only problem either," Darkwolf intoned. "There are people missing, the Illuminati are up to something and Ryan's in with them. So why the hell are we not DOING anything about it, dogspammit?!"
"Because the big wigs need to schmooze with the general body and you guys have to keep their kids busy," Jaime Madrox said as he and two duplicates walked by carrying boxes of little plastic cups. "Don't worry, kid. We'll go take them down right after the party."
"Still don't like it," Darkwolf mumbled. "Say, are we gonna have those little cocktail weenies?"
Jaime stopped and stared for a moment, slightly confused at the Dark Slayer's sudden change in subject. "Uh, they'd be in freezer storage in the basement. Why don't you help bring them up for the catering staff."
"Gotcha."
Iceblade walked by as the Jaimes disappeared into the kitchen, on his way to the center of the main hall. "You wanna get this over with?" he asked of Glacier, not too happy to be there.
Glacier smirked. "Hey, kid, this was your idea."
Michael Stokes smirked. "Not really. It was my sister's. And you know how it is with her."
Now it was Glacier's turn to smirk. "No I don't, actually."
Iceblade ignored the comment and moved on. "So what exactly are we making an ice sculpture of anyway?"
"I've got a couple of ideas," Glacier said with a smile.
Two levels down, Darkwolf wandered the unfamiliar corridors of the sub-basement. He hadn't anticipated that the hallways would all look the same with none of the many doors being marked with even a room number. Darkwolf turned yet another corner and looked around the bend, wondering if he'd ever escape this labyrinth...or at least find the cocktail wieners.
"What are you doing here?" a voice behind him said, obviously aggravated by his presence.
Darkwolf turned with a confused look. "Wha...? But you TOLD me to..."
"Never mind that," Jamie Madrox said. "You're not supposed to be down here."
"My ears may be a little damaged right now, but I KNOW I heard YOU tell me to..."
"And I'm telling you now to go away."
"Well sheesh. If you're going to get all defensive of your wieners... Hey. What's that you got there?"
Madrox glanced down at the black duffel he carried. "None of your goddamn business. Now go away!"
Darkwolf sniffed the air, catching the pungency of aggression in the air. It was definitely Jamie Madrox...or one of his dupes, though they tended to at least resemble the original's personality. This one seemed far too angry. "Alrighty, then. Just show me the way out and I'll leave you alone, ya big grumpy monkey."
Madrox gave him a harsh thumb in the opposite direction. "Second left is the elevator. Go back to the main level and get lost up there."
"Yeah, yeah," Darkwolf huffed. "Happy New Year to you too."
And as Darkwolf made his way down the corridor, Madrox sneered and said softly, "Dead man walking..."
~~End Chapter 15~~
~~Chapter 16~~
2 Hours to Millennium
The party was, "simply smashing," as one of the many general body members had told him on more than one occasion, but you wouldn't know it by his expression. There was far too much on Supergrover's mind for him to enjoy the festivities. In fact, he wanted to be anywhere but this place right now. His son was missing - taken from the boy's happy home, his adoptive father killed, possibly right in front of him. The White King's crown was weighing heavy upon him now, with his duties in that post requiring his presence here, rather than giving him the freedom to look for his lost child.
Grover meandered through the crowd, his eyes staring more towards the floor than anywhere else. He idly greeted those that made it a point to call out to him as he passed, not wanting to seem too rude. Glancing up for the first time tonight, he saw in the distance the famous ball in Time's Square waiting atop its post to drop during the last seconds of the old year and he simply stopped and stared.
"Magnificent view isn't it?" Darque Feonix said, standing just next to him.
"Yeah. Daemon's got some place, doesn't he?" the White King commented dryly.
Feonix just shook his head. "Look at you man, you haven't even taken off your coat. Here," he said as he removed the White King's coat. "I'm going to put this in the coat room and when I come back, you better be at least pretending to have some fun. It's going to work out, Grover. It always does. We're the good guys. We always win."
Pressing through the drunken crowd that had accumulated in this portion of the Strong Towers penthouse, Darque Feonix finally made his way to Daemon's bedroom, which for the night was serving as the coat room. Laying Grover's coat on the bed, Feonix winced at a sharp pain in his head. Though the feeling was all too familiar, he sorely hoped it was just the alcohol getting to him. He was proven wrong, of course, as the sudden vision of the future invaded his mind. Despite how long his precognitive powers had been in this condition, coming only in painful, uncontrollable and often incoherent pieces, Feonix doubted he would ever get used to it. Holding his head in his hands, he felt a warm, thick liquid begin to slide over his fingers. Bringing his hands down to look, he saw that they were now covered in blood. He turned to the bed where he had just placed Grover's coat, and saw that it too was saturated with it. He turned again at the walls and the floor - the blood was everywhere, seeping through the cracks. He felt it raining from above and looked up to see the ceiling, dripping with it. The world was bleeding and he felt so much pain and anger and sadness. And then it suddenly stopped.
Feonix blinked many times, trying to let his eyes comprehend what had just happened, looking around at the room that seemed perfectly normal now. What did all that mean? So much tragedy. Is this what the new year will bring?
***
1 Hour to Millennium
"Where ARE they?!" the Necromancer fumed as she paced nervously across the ceremonial chamber. Her voiced reverberated off the ancient stone walls in the dome-shaped cavern and echoed back at her as she reached the edge of the circular area which would be used for the Spell.
Adonis, normally one of the most even-tempered of the Illuminati's four Great Houses, stood facing a wall near his spot in the ceremonial circle. "You worry too much, Malia. They will be here." His gaze looked into nothingness and his hands were clenched at his sides with unusual intensity. He had been this way ever since their last meeting with the Black Hellfire Court. The battle and the ensuing destruction of one of their spellcasting temples at Stone Henge left him scarred in the face. There were mystic residues about him as well, most likely from the magical backlash when the original spell had been abruptly stopped, that made it impossible for any of the magicians to heal him. Even the powers of those he had absorbed since that day had been unable to undo the damage. The King of Pentacles, Cherub, and the King of Cups, Deacon Faust found the irony in such a wound quite laughable. And Adonis seemed as though he would boil himself from the inside out with anger.
"I'm sure the King and Queen of Pentacles would not miss this for the world," Obsydian intoned, flexing his black hands into different bladed weapons and then back again. "Everyone else is accounted for. Relax. We're on the verge of becoming the Lords of the Earth."
Malia Trent, known as the Necromancer and the Queen of Wands of the Illuminati spun roughly on her heels. "I will relax," she said through clenched teeth, "when we have achieved our goals and not one moment before. They thwarted us before. Do not underestimate them again."
At that moment, the Knight of Pentacles walked into the chamber. "I just wanted to tell you that our forces are set and prepared to strike. Our mole has given us the green light for the stroke of midnight."
The Necromancer finally smiled. "Thank you, Shriek. Now have the guards bring in our guests. We must prepare."
***
1 Hour to Millennium
"No way I even have a chance," the White Hellion known as Wild Child said, shaking his head.
"Come on man," his fellow teammate High Voltage prodded. "She's been checking you out all night."
"It's really nice what you guys are doing, but no girls EVER look at me. Even with this stupid image inducer."
It was Fahrenheit's turn now to help spur on the shy mutant. "I swear to God she's been making eyes at you since you got here."
"Dude," Iceblade said, "the least you should do is try."
"Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to kiss when the new year comes in?" Juggernaut asked as he dropped a heavy hand on Wild Child's shoulder.
The young feral mutant looked over at the group of general body member girls that had collected on the opposite side of the room. He sighed as he caught sight of her again. She was gorgeous. Soft brown hair woven into some intricate style so that it exposed the smooth, pale skin of her neck and shoulders. Her dress was very formal, anachronistically so, but it fit her. She looked just like a 19th century glass doll, flawless and beautiful.
"She'd never go for a guy like..."
"Dude! She's looking at you again."
Wild Child looked up again and this time caught her eyes. They were a pale blue, almost completely white and she smiled when she met his gaze but turned away giggling the next second.
"Oh man..." Wild Child said through excited breaths.
"You gotta go!"
Summoning all his strength of will, the Hellion nodded and began the long walk across the hall.
Further away, the whole scene was being watched from afar by a boy, a small child with plump dimpled cheeks and the heavenly features of a little angel. He sipped on a cup of punch and snacked on a New Year's cookie, attempting in vain to tide himself over until the feast that would begin soon. Only a little while now.
~~End Chapter 16~~
~~Chapter 17~~
48 Minutes to Millennium
Robert Maxwell walked through the hallway of the White Court Mansion, listening to the silence, ignoring his duties as White Pawn to be at the New Year's party at Daemon's apartment. There was so much he felt the Hellfire Clubs could be doing this instant instead of entertaining snooty rich people. There was still so much left that was wrong with this era that had to be set right so to ensure the successes of the future. Though often, even that motivation was one that had begun to wane for him. There were times when letting two people die in this time would save a million in the future, but still kill thousands today. Suppose then that he did let those two die and in turn condemn a few thousand. He had just saved a million in the future, right? Possibly is the only answer, as there are innumerable things that could still happen to bring that death toll up, down are simply move it further into the future or bring it sooner to the present. It was a dangerous and impossible game he was playing, trying to re-write his own history despite the fact that he was writing a billion branch histories as he did so. Was he really doing any good? Was his presence ever going to make a real difference?
Suddenly, the Harbinger was rocked from his musings by a burst of temporal energy in front of him that put him on his back. He rose to one knee, a weapon already in his hand only to find that his assailant was simply a hologram - or more appropriately a hologram being transmitted from another time, and a hologram of himself.
"Robert," the flickering image of himself said staring straight ahead. "This...yourself approx...ly twelve years ...om now... ...am sending you this ...ansmiss... because a situa... of dire imp...nce is about ... unfold ... you must prevent."
"Not this shit again," Harbinger spat as he holstered his gun and stood. "What is it this time, an earthquake I have to stop, or maybe a volcano I have to save some islanders from."
The image didn't listen, nor did it respond to the sarcastic comments. It was a one-way communiqué and it was breaking up badly. Interesting. "Go ... Hellions...C...pound...."
The damaged hologram finally faded, as did the glowing temporal field that had allowed Robert to see it in this time. The message was anything but coherent and the Harbinger was never one to go into a situation completely blind if he could avoid it. But sometimes a man cannot avoid his own destiny, no matter how many time periods he jumps through. All Robert could do was shake his head at himself and wonder what he was doing as he pulled the hovercraft out of the hangar and sped off towards the Hellions Compound.
***
24 Minutes to Millennium
"Hi," Wild Child said with a nervous smile.
The young lady smiled and averted her gaze intermittently. "Hi," she responded in a silky voice.
"Would you like to dance?"
"I'd love to."
Across the hall a thunderous shout could be heard from the group of boys even over the pounding rhythm of the dance music that dominated the hall. Wild Child gave a brief thumbs up as he turned to them for a second as the young lady had her back turned walking towards the dance floor. They all gave each other high fives and probably would have whooped and hollered for a few more minutes except for the sudden presence of the Headmistress of the BHC Academy, Catana.
"Excuse me, Michael and Glacier," she said with her arms crossed. "What exactly is going on with your ice sculpture?"
Iceblade and Glacier suddenly became quite serious (or at least attempted to) and stood almost at attention. "Whatever do you mean?" Glacier responded formally. "It's just Michaelangelo's David."
"Is there a problem with nudity in art around here or something?" Iceblade asked almost bursting into laughter.
"No, Michael," Catana said in an exasperated voice. "In fact, I thought the sculpture was quite beautiful, but it has been...changing through out the night." The other young men who were trying to look inconspicuous behind the pair of ice artists giggled under their breath and turned further away from Catana's gaze. "It seems," she continued, "that certain...parts of its....anatomy are...growing as the night goes on."
Glacier and Iceblade looked at each other with false confused looks on their face, the smile just behind it trying desperately to break free. "I don't get it," Glacier said. "What's getting bigger?"
Catana's patience was wearing thin and she wanted nothing more than to leave their presence at this point, so she concluded the conversation curtly. "Just stop it. You know what you're doing so just stop. If any of the other kids notice and it gets back to their parents we could have some real issues. I'm serious you guys. Now enjoy the party and try not to get into too much trouble, OK?"
As soon as she had gone, the entire group burst into laughter and started into the inevitable jokes about male endowment. They had barely noticed that Wild Child and the mystery girl had left the dance floor and were now outside on the balcony talking. Their conversation seemed as though it would go all night, but the small boyish figure that watched them from the doorway knew better and was only biding his time until the moment he and his brethren would strike.
***
3 Minutes to Millennium
He couldn't understand it. The Harbinger had been up and down every corridor of every level in the Hellions compound and could find nothing out of the ordinary. While this would be a good thing under a routine check, he had reason to believe that something sinister was afoot. After all, it wasn't everyday that he received a message from himself in the future. Returning to the security station where he had begun his patrol of the sub-basement, he stopped at one of the terminals. The screen was turned off even though the CPU was still running. Flipping a switch, the darkened screen soon revealed a timer, counting down until midnight. Still not quite a cause for emergency just yet. It could very well have been a Y2K Bug monitor program. The Harbinger squinted at the tiny commands still present from the last user's interface and his jaw dropped.
"Shit," he said out loud as he drew his weapon and dashed to the stairs. Who ever had been here last had set the automated security system throughout the entire compound to shut down at exactly midnight. This meant two things, 1) that there was a traitor among them with access to the compound and security clearance high enough to change computerized settings, and 2) someone was about to crash the party.
***
2 Minutes to Millennium
"Wake up, Purified," the soft voice said in the darkness. "It's time you opened your eyes to reality." A sharp crack echoed off of the stone walls as the Necromancer smacked Khalid Hunter into full consciousness once again. "The Illuminati are Ascending."
The young mutant found himself staring straight up into Malia Trent's ferociously beautiful eyes as she leaned over him, his hands and feet chained to the stone slab on which he lay. He tried in vain to activate his powers before realizing that he still wore the mutant power dampening collar.
"Poor little baby," the Necromancer cooed. "Do you miss your little lion aura? Well it will not matter in a short while because you will no longer inhabit this body. Estophalum will."
"You evil bi..." Khalid began, but stopped as Malia moved away to reveal what was dangling above him. "My God," was all he could say for a few moments of total surprise. Above him, shackled to a metallic table of sorts was Supergrover's son, his nephew, young Christian.
"I'm scared," the little boy said, bravely fighting back tears. "I want my Daddy."
"Why is he here?" Khalid finally demanded, enraged at the inhumanity of his captors. He was surprised again by who gave him the answer.
"Because only the blood of the Ascended One can prepare the Purified for his transformation," came the voice of Robert Cougar.
"Grandpop?! Ascended One? What's going on? I don't understand."
The Necromancer laughed loudly at the display. "Quite the family reunion here, isn't it. Poor clueless Purified. You are an essential part of a centuries old plan and you have not the slightest idea what is what. You see, the child Christian is the Ascended One - the key by which Estophalum will bring this world to its knees. You are the vessel for Estophalum as promised in a deal made long before your birth. And Cougar here, is going to negate your protection tattoos so that all this is possible. It's very simple."
Khalid turned his head to see Cougar standing there, seemingly of his own free will - no chains, no magical spell holding him, no telepathic persuasion, not even any apparent brainwashing. Had his own grandfather been a part of the Illuminati all along? Cougar came and knelt at the end of the stone slab near Khalid's head, a bag of enchanted dust in one hand.
"Tell me you're not really going to go through with this," Khalid whispered pleadingly to his grandfather.
Cougar sighed heavily as he began to untie the bag. "I have no choice."
"Bullshit, you have no choice. What ever they are holding over your head couldn't possibly be worse than this. We're talking about the Ascension here. And what makes you think they won't just do whatever they said they were going to do whether you cooperate or not?"
Laying the open bag near him on the ground, Cougar rubbed his hands together with a soft chant before answering. "There are things going on that you couldn't possibly understand right now, Khalid. Just be sure that I do this because I believe it to be the only way."
~~End Chapter 17~~
~~Chapter 18~~
18 Seconds to Millennium
Harbinger was caught in the crowd of excited young people as they all pressed near the giant screen upon which the countdown could be seen. He had only a few seconds now to get the word out to anyone he could about the security breach, but the going was slow and he dare not do anything that would cause the humans to panic. A frenzied stampede of frightened teenagers was the last thing he wanted to add to the unknown events coming just over the horizon. But if he couldn't somehow get them to safety, it may be a moot point.
He tried to yell across to a group of Hellions he spied on the other side of the room, but there was too much noise. The final countdown of the last 10 seconds of the new year had begun already, the screen showing bright flashing numbers, and everyone was shouting the numbers as they appeared. It was clear that there was no stopping whatever was going to happen at midnight, and Robert Maxwell was the only one who knew about it.
***
5...
The guards at the front gate were dead, as were the guards at all of the check points on the compound's perimeter. They had all fallen victim to an army of one, known to most as Jamie Madrox. When the last dupe had re-assimilated into the original, Jamie drew a small remote control from the black duffel bag that hadn't left his side for the last few days and smiled.
***
4...
The Necromancer drew a twisted dagger from the folds of her robe and swiftly drew a single cut across Christian's chest. The boy screamed as he felt the cold steel pass through his skin and he began to cry loudly in his pain. His blood dripped down onto Khalid's chest just below him.
"Begin," she commanded coldly.
Putting his hands into the stream of blood that flowed from Christian, Cougar rubbed the crimson substance over his fingers as though he were washing himself. He then began to chant as he traced Khalid's tattoos with a bloody finger, a light beginning to emanate from the drawings on Khalid's skin. The very touch of the blood burned him like a fire charring his flesh from the inside, and he writhed in pain.
***
3...
The small boy stood back away from the crowd of excited youth, rubbing his hands together at the site of the virtual feast in front of him. Unconsciously, his canines began to extend to their full length and his finger nails grew into razor-edged claws. The hunger was overtaking him. But the evil creature known as Cherub would not have to wait long before it could be satiated.
***
2...
Justin Mills held Rhiannon LeBeau close as the final two seconds of the year passed. But even as he waited in sweet anticipation for his New Year's kiss, he caught the faint smell of something supernatural...something evil. There were dozens of other scents from different perfumes and colognes to the smell of finger foods and spiked punch that made it difficult to be sure it was the pungent stench of night stalkers, but it seemed so genuine. As Rhiannon turned to him smiling happily, his senses instead suddenly turned towards her pheromones and the young Slayer forgot all about the faint smell of vampires that had wafted by his nose.
***
1...
They had been staring into each other's eyes during the whole countdown, neither of them bothering to look at the screen. And as the final seconds ticked away, they both leaned towards each other with hungry lips. It would have been the perfect beginning for Wild Child's new year. But the hunger the young mutant felt in the girl's lips wasn't for the touch of his, but for the taste of his blood and she plunged her fangs into his jugular just as the crowd shouted, "Happy New Year!"
~~End Chapter 18~~
~~Chapter 19~~
Millennium
It was odd at first how the bright circular flash of light that appeared in front of the screen did nothing except excite the crowd even more. It seemed they were so busy cheering and kissing as the new year began that they didn't take notice of the strangely dressed people who descended into their midst out of the circle of light. It wasn't until the mutant called Calibre destroyed the giant screen with a plasma bolt and the building shook from explosions in the underground facility courtesy of Madrox's remote bombs that everyone realized what was going on.
The chaos could not have been more complete. Ear-piercing screams joined the music that still blared and the crackling of severed electronics in the cacophony of sounds that filled the air. Flaming bits of debris from the shattered screen rained down on everyone like a fiery Biblical plague. With the sight of the lighted exit signs obscured by the turmoil, the stampeding crowd ran in all directions, slamming into each other as they tried to get out.
The Harbinger, though nearly pushed backwards with the force of the crowd, managed to plow his way past them and was the first to fire on the intruders, catching the young female sorceress, Hex, in the shoulder with a bloody spurt. At that moment, the Hellions, sprung into action following the Harbinger's lead. The Marauders and Upstarts joined in as well, realizing that their anonymity was the least of their worries now. But as the human crowd began to recede and the combined mutant strike force of the Hellfire Clubs converged, they realized that that was exactly what the intruders intended to happen.
"Begin the Harvest," Tendril commanded, sending the dozens of mutants, magicians, and heavily armed foot soldiers into action.
Energy weapons fire filled the air with bursts of concentrated protons and Calibre was adding his own formidable plasma projection powers to the fray. Luna felt her skin sizzling as a hot proton charge singed her shoulder, the impact sending her to the floor. High Voltage came to stand over her and laid down covering fire with a barrage of electrical blasts while she recovered. FX took to the air and rained down a telekinetic assault on the soldiers, as did Nate. But being the only two in the air, they made themselves targets and began to draw much of the enemy fire. Puma and Catana acted together as they often did, attacking the lizard-man Rex waging a war of tooth and claw. Juggernaut joined the battle in dramatic fashion, using his indestructible body like a battering ram and running down a line of soldiers, finally meeting a rocky fist as Coldstone came to match his muscle. Meltdown fired her plasma bombs indiscriminately into a group of robed mages, knocking them out of the enchanted circle they had begun to form. But she didn't see their leader, Hex, moving in behind her with the Spell of a Thousand Needles that made young Tabitha feel as though she had been caught in a spray of white hot daggers.
While the battle raged on, the Harbinger had backed away trying to use his telepathy to calm the humans and get them out safely, even as energy beams and stray mutant power projections flew. It was all he could do to keep a telekinetic shield up over the masses that had spread out across the hall. The fact that he was concentrating so hard on these tasks would explain how he was surprised so easily by Tendril. The ectoplasmic tentacles wrapped around the Harbinger with ease as he had neglected to protect himself with a TK shield. Caught off-guard, his telepathic suggestions to the crowd ceased as did the shield, leaving the teenagers panicky and exposed. Robert Maxwell cried out in pain as Tendril began to pull him bodily in several directions.
"Let's see how much of you is human, and how much is mechanical," the Illuminati commander sneered as he felt one of the Harbinger's metallic attachments begin to buckle.
With his weapon still in his hand, the Harbinger fired a dozen rounds in Tendril's direction, but couldn't manage to move his arm against the ectoplasmic tentacles to get a good shot. And his ability to concentrate on his powers was waning the more Tendril pulled. He was lucky Demona was there to save him. Brimming with absorbed psionic energy from the countless extreme emotions she had felt throughout the night, Demona let loose a wide beam of telekinetic force that slammed Tendril across the room and into the DJ booth where electrical sparks and small explosions followed the mutant's graceless fall. The Harbinger fell to the floor, his cybernetics virtually torn completely from his body and barely functional. He would have thanked Demona for coming to his aid, but by the time he looked up in her direction, she had taken three proton blasts through the chest. She would not be the last to die this night.
Nate swooped over, buoyed on his powerful telekinesis having seen Demona fall, screaming at the loss of a friend and teammate, but he would have no time to grieve. By the time he got anywhere near her, he was smashed by a huge descending fist and sent into the floor with a crash, breaking some of the floor boards with the impact. Though his TK field had protected him from the brunt of the attack, he could feel the damage done to his spine as he tried to get up. He barely saw the foot of the now twenty foot tall megamorph known as Maximus before it came down on top of him. The shield he was able to get up would not have held much longer, but luckily FX came to deliver a powerful blow that knocked the giant back.
Wild Child struggled beneath the vampire's inhumanly strong grasp, fighting the blood loss as she drank from his punctured throat. With a swipe of a feral claw, he managed to cut her and push her away at the same time. He stumbled backwards for a second, his vision becoming blurred. She had taken so much blood so quickly that it had already begun to disorient him.
"So I see you've met my new Queen," Cherub said from behind him. "She's quite a catch isn't she?"
Waisting no time to allow the young mutant's enhanced metabolism to help him recover, Cherub pounced, sinking his teeth into the other side of the boy's throat. Wild Child thrashed for quite sometime, before there wasn't enough blood left in him for his heart to pump. Cherub lifted his head as Wild Child's heart stopped, the female vampire licking the blood from around his mouth. He smiled as he plunged his hand into the mutant's neck just below his chin and ripped off his head, ensuring that he would never turn into a vampire and return for vengeance.
Catana and Puma were holding their own against Rex. He was bigger and stronger than perhaps both of them combined, but their speed and teamwork was overcoming those obstacles. Catana attacked low, latching onto Rex's dangerous tail and tearing at the wound that Silver had inflicted only a few days ago. Puma went high, dodging his bear-trap jaws to scrape at the slash on his face, also a gift from Silver. Puma was going in for the kill when a huge arm caught her in mid-air. She looked up to see the face of a large, powerful Madrox dupe staring back at her with a sinister grin. She didn't even have the time to be shocked as the super strong dupe ripped off both of her arms. The original Jamie looked on from afar, watching as his dupes began to turn the tide even more in favor of his Illuminati allies. His face was recognizable and trustworthy, making it easy to take them by surprise. Setting the Hellfire forces up for an Illuminati soldier to finish them off, or delivering the deathblow themselves, Jamie's dupes would be the determining factor in this battle.
Meanwhile, Glacier and Iceblade fought side-by-side against a mage using mystical fire blasts. They had been holding each other at bay for almost the entire duration of the battle, but one of Calibre's plasma bursts managed to clip Glacier's side while in his ice form, virtually melting away half of his abdomen. He fell to the floor in pain, unable to continue helping Iceblade hold off the fire. The flames singed Iceblade's clothes and pushed him back with the force of the burst, but the damage done to Glacier was far greater. The mystical fire had actually melted even more of his body away from his leg, his arms, his face... Iceblade thought he could help by turning his powers on his comrade to help rebuilding his body, but the trauma was so great that Glacier reverted back to his human form, taking his injuries as well. The sight was gruesome as blood and pieces that were once ice turned to pulpy flesh. In a fit of rage, Iceblade attacked the mage, becoming true to his name and forming a sword of ice that he plunged into the robed figure's stomach up to the hilt of the blade. Hearing someone approaching behind him, he turned swiftly with the sword and drew a deep gash across Tendril's chest. The mutant retaliated faster than Iceblade expected, snatching him up in a pair of ectoplasmic tentacles and then slamming him to the floor. The ice sword shattered as it struck the ground and Iceblade found his arms pinned to his sides by another pair of tentacles. Tendril slammed him into the floor again and again, each impact accentuated by the smacking sound of flesh and bone against the solid wood. Blood covered the young man's battered face, and one arm hung limply at his side, the bones crushed. At last Tendril tossed him aside like a rag doll. Flying over the battle, Michael Stokes could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, the pain of his injuries having been so loud only moments ago now fading into a dull white noise of numbness all over his body. He barely felt his impact on a steel rail near the stage where the broken electronic equipment lay. And it was only the noise of his vertebrae crackling along the middle of his back that let him know what was happening. As he finally lost consciousness laying in a crumpled heap on the stage, Michael wondered if his sister was all right.
***
"Happy New Year!" everyone shouted gleefully as the lighted ball finally settled into the year 2000.
Supergrover stared blankly out the window, as he had been for quite some time. Even during what posed as friendly party conversation with the many guests who wanted to speak with him, Grover had maintained his stoic appearance. In the sea of cheering, half-drunken men and women, Grover seemed an island of silent desperation. Not even the wild antics of Jamie Madrox could cheer him up. He wanted so badly to go find his son, to comfort the most likely frightened little boy. He wanted to cradle him in his arms and wipe away his tears, but his obligations as White King dictated that he be here at least for this one night. He wondered then if he was truly cut out for this type of thing. How could he ignore a matter so urgent for something so trivial as saving face for a group of supposedly powerful and influential people? Was his appearance to the public as a dutiful King more important than his actions in private as a dutiful father? It was then that he noticed that he had crushed his glass of champagne in his hand and the glass had cut him. Pushing past the merry party-goers, Grover went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.
"What's wrong," Daemon said into Sharon Stoke's ear. Though his super senses could have told him that her heart was racing and that her neurokinetic activity in a certain part of her brain was spiking, he knew something was amiss simply by the way she sagged in his arms as he held her.
The White Queen shook her head and buried her face in Daemon's chest as she embraced him. "I'm just really worried about what's been going on...and about Grover. He must be in so much pain right now."
"We're all pretty tense around here. And I'm sure Grover's getting the worst end of this deal right now. I know what it's like to have so much power, but finding yourself in a position where it means nothing. It hurts. It hurts like nothing else I've ever felt."
"We have to do something. This is just wrong. I don't care about these people. I don't care about the year 2000 or any of that garbage. We need to do what's right and the rest be damned."
Daemon looked down at her, staring into her beautiful eyes and seeing the fiery heroic spirit he fell in love with. "So, what are your orders, Queen Blackfire?"
"I say we assemble a search party out of the Inner Circles and go tonight. The rest of us can stay and keep these rich bastards occupied."
"Now you're talking. I'll assemble a team and you send a message to the Hellions Compound to let them know what's going on. If any of them want in, tell them we rendezvous at Darkfire Castle in one hour."
With a quick kiss, they separated to their tasks, not knowing how different their plans would be by the night's end.
~~End Chapter 19~~
~~Chapter 20~~
Millennium
Tendril used his tentacles to snatch Slider from his fight with two mages and threw him across the room as he surveyed the battle. So far, he had lost several mages and foot soldiers, but his main force of mutants remained intact if not unscathed. The opposing side was dwindling fast, with a decent number already dead and several fighting for their lives with severe injuries. He laughed to himself at the sight of the slaughter. He had studied each and every one of their files down to the last detail and had planned the attack accordingly. He knew how they fought, their patterns of defensive and offensive fighting. He knew the extent of their hand-to-hand capabilities, their use of weapons and their proficiency with their powers. He knew all about their teachers, even having acquired the hard-to-find data files from across the galaxy about the alien called Daemon. They were excellent combatants for the most part. They were each capable fighters individually and even more dangerous as a team. They had fought many a campaign against multiple enemies. In fact, their reputation preceded them when it came to beating overwhelming numbers. But the superhuman strike team of each of the three Hellfire Courts were used to being outnumbered, not outclassed. Tendril was pleased at how efficiently his team carried out the battle plan that had been drawn up so far in advance and rehearsed over and over in the simulators. They were everything he had thought they could be. But now was not the time for pride. Now was the time to get what they truly came here for.
"Release the insects," he commanded over the din of combat.
Upon his words, the Illuminati soldiers pulled slimy, egg-like sacks from their utility packs and tossed them into the air. As if on command, the sacks burst open and released huge mosquito-like creatures with slender, almost translucent bodies and syringe-like beaks. In an instant, the air was black with the disgusting creatures, each about the size of a dog. The sound of their large wings beating thousands of times a second was like that of a dozen propeller planes circling the inside of the hall.
They descended as quickly as they hatched, streaking along at insane speeds, diving at the young mutants on the ground. Those who had already been killed or hurt were the first to feel the insects' sharp beaks. Plunging their hollow snouts into their flesh, the insects began to draw blood into their bodies, the dark red blood expanding the cylindrical translucent pouches into bulbous containers of crimson fluid. Those still at full strength found themselves now having to fight off the swarm as well as the soldiers, mages and mutants. Even those with supposedly impenetrable skin found themselves vulnerable to the enchanted creatures.
The Juggernaut picked up a number of Illuminati soldiers and hurled them at the insects trying to knock them out of the sky. Of all his comrades, he was the only one the insects could not touch as his strength also came through powerful magics. He made his way around the hall, helping to fight off insects and offering his body as a shield against enemy fire as his teammates tried to regroup, but he could only do so much. He was only one man, trying desperately to protect a dozen others in the midst of this pure carnage. He didn't even see the telepath that invaded his mind. Falling to the ground in intense pain, he found that as powerful as he was, he had little defense. On the astral plane he battled as hard as he could, erecting walls and using logic traps and odd mental conundrums to impede and confuse his adversary as he had been taught. But the Illuminati telepath was powerful and skilled, breaking every barrier and cutting through every mental defense. It wasn't long until Juggernaut had no mind left to fight her, and his powerful body lay motionless on the floor amidst the other bodies.
Beast Charming flipped and spun around as much as he could to avoid the insects and the weapons fire. He had only managed to take out a few soldiers, picking up a proton rifle along the way, as his powers seemed useless against he endless numbers of Illuminati. He fired his weapon as he back-flipped again, frying two insects and blowing the head off of a mage that had seemed to gain the upperhand on Storm!. It seemed his dumb luck had kept him alive this long, and he wondered how much longer that would last. Psishot layed a spray of psychic daggers across a line of soldiers and used the proton rifle he had acquired to keep several insects from attacking. But one of the many bodies laying on the ground wasn't quite dead yet and caught a hold of his leg, tripping him up and sending him to the blood-covered floor. He leveled his rifle on the soldier and fired into the man's obscured face, but not fast enough to react to the insect swooping down upon him. He dropped the gun as the creature's beak rammed into his upper chest and began to suck away his blood.
Fahrenheit managed to keep the air around him superheated to keep away the insects while he fought through the soldiers and mutants. Coldstone was practically impervious to the mutant's fiery aura however, and simply reached in with a rocky hand and grabbed him around the throat. With only a few seconds of air left and maybe even less time if Coldstone decided to break his neck instead, Cort Webb let loose a concentrated beam of heat energy that burned right through Coldstone's chest. Though he punctured one of the stone mutant's lungs, his shot was just wide of his heart. Coldstone gasped for air as he suddenly found himself with only one functioning lung, but he was still strong enough to finish his job. Raising his right hand, a cybernetic attachment that replaced his original, he smashed Fahrenheit's face into a bloody mess. Holding his chest, Coldstone let the limp body fall to the floor and went off to find another mutant to kill as insects swarmed the fallen body.
Maximus and FX had been going at it for some time now, neither man gaining the upper hand in this contest of pure strength. But the swarm of insects disturbed FX just enough for Maximus to find an opening. Grabbing the powerful mutant with both of his enormous hands, the giant grew even taller and slammed him into the ceiling, shaking the building and sending bits of debris from the roof flying in all directions. Maximus then threw the dazed FX to the floor, creating a crater in the wood. Though stunned, FX retaliated with extreme prejudice, firing a potent beam of nuclear energy at Maximus that blasted his arm right off of his shoulder. As Maximus reeled from the pain and held the sizzling stump on his shoulder, the huge limb fell atop Butterfly as she backed away from a line of Calibre's plasma bursts, pinning her to the floor long enough for an insect to impale her through the back.
In the meantime, a mage, bearing a spear of concentrated arcane energies, shoved the weapon straight through FX's lower back. Looking down to see his own intestines pushed through his abdomen, FX barely found enough power and concentration to incinerate the mage before going into shock as a pair of insects moved in. Maximus returned to see FX being sucked dry by the insects and his arm laying on a girl who was struggling to free herself. He removed his arm and placed it to the side in the hopes that Illuminati surgeons could possibly reattach it and stared at Butterfly. Such a waist, he thought as he crushed her underneath a huge foot when the insect had had its fill.
The Harbinger moved slowly along the wall, leaning on it for support as he used a TK shield to repel attacking insects. He had managed to get the human children outside onto the lawn where he telepathically sedated them into a fugue state, conscious but not truly aware of what was going on. Now he hovered on the outskirts of the battle, trying to think of a way to call for help. All of the communications equipment in the compound had been destroyed by the explosions courtesy of their traitor. And his own cybernetics were too damaged to even find a signal. Not even his telepathy could reach beyond the borders of the compound. There seemed to be at least three Illuminati telepaths maintaining enough general psionic static to limit the range of capabilities of even the most skilled psi. An ectoplasmic tentacle took him from his thoughts as it hit his TK shield and moved him bodily across the floor.
"Enjoying the show?" Tendril asked as he continued to pummel the Harbinger's TK shield.
Robert only groaned as he strained to keep his shield up. But his injuries had taken their toll.
Tendril gave a half-smile as he broke through and ensnared him in his tentacles. He held him in the air, his hands behind his back and the bloody battle continuing behind him. "You Hellfire Clubs have always been too proud for your own good. So confident that yours was the most powerful collection of mutants on Earth. So sure of your superiority over "lesser" groups such as ours. So positive that you were safe behind your guards and your automatic defenses. It's a wonder you have survived this long."
"If you're just going to stand there and lecture me, I'd rather you killed me now."
A smile grew on Tendril's face. "Defiant to the last, as is the norm for you "heroic" types. It's no matter. We have already won."
"I've heard that many times before."
"I'm sure you have. But I'm sure it was never in a place where the floor was covered in the blood of your allies."
The Harbinger remained silent.
Tossing him aside, Tendril began to walk towards the battle, again surveying the progress. He didn't notice the button-sized tracking device the Harbinger had thrown onto his uniform. "Void," he said flatly into his wrist communicator. And a white portal opened near him. "Collect the insects. We're finished here."
At his command, what few soldiers and mages there were left, went about the hall picking up the gorged insects and making their way into the portal. Calibre continued to lay down covering fire as the rest of the strike force departed. The Madrox dupes had already begun to merge with the original and had now completed the process as the insane mutant traitor also passed through the portal. Tendril was the last to go, smiling at the death and destruction he had left in his wake and giving a final nod towards the Harbinger, who was beginning to go into shock. With the silent implosion of the bright circular doorway through the fabric of space, the massacre that had begun only 42 minutes ago came to an end.
With the Illuminati telepaths gone, at last the psionic interference was gone. And the mutant known as Psishot, pained by broken bones and a dozen burns and cuts cried out across the astral plane with all his might.
***
The sudden feeling of agony and tragic despair threatened to overwhelm Claudia Sandubal and her knees buckled beneath her. Havok, who happened to be standing next to her when she caught the psychic flash, was the only thing holding her up for a split second as she struggled to tone down the shouting in her mind.
"Are you feeling alright, Ms. Sandubal," one of the guests she had been speaking to asked, concerned at her near collapse.
"Do you need to lie down or something?" Havok asked.
After adjusting to the telepathic call, Claudia was finally able to stand on her own. Only moments ago, she had been trying to explain her recent physical changes away as some kind of new cosmetic surgery procedure that her company was perfecting. Now, as she labored to sort out all the new emotions she was receiving, she had to find something to tell them to excuse herself.
"Must be the champagne. Goes straight to my head," she said, adding a little laughter to drive it home. "I think I will have to lie down. Michael, could you please help me?"
Michael Breslin caught Claudia's expression and knew immediately that her request for his assistance was not as an escort to the couch. They had gone only a few steps when Daemon came up to them asking if they wanted to be a part of a search party.
"We have to get to the Hellions Compound," Nemesis said abruptly. "I... It... We just have to go, now." She was obviously extremely upset by something that she couldn't even find the words to describe.
"All of us?"
Nemesis nodded.
Just then, Sharon rushed up to Daemon with a concerned expression. "There's no answer from the Compound. It's like they don't even have any lines of communications open at all."
"Then that confirms it," Silver said, having noticed the gathering and come to listen. "We leave now."
"What about the general body members?" Havok asked.
"I'll take care of them," Daemon said, devising a plan even as he spoke. "Give me three minutes. Collect the rest of the Inner Circles and meet me near the west balcony. I have an emergency transport that should fit us all."
After Daemon had programmed his training room to project fully tactile, interactive holograms of the Inner Circle members at the party, he met up with everyone aboard his alien craft. It wasn't long before they were speeding off into the night towards the Hellions Compound, no one sure of what they would find except for the Black Queen Nemesis, who quietly sobbed in the back of the transport.
~~End Chapter 20~~
~~Chapter 21~~
Millennium
The scene was overwhelmingly horrific to say the least. The stench of exposed entrails and burned flesh turned everyone's stomach as they entered the hall. Bodies and various body parts lay everywhere among discarded weapons and other debris. Fires still blazed in odd corners of the room, adding to the pungent smells and the smoky atmosphere that surrounded them. Those who were at least still mobile were attending to those with severe wounds, trying desperately to save their lives. The shear weight of the scene fell upon all of the Inner Circle members as they walked among the fallen, their shoes sticking to the particularly bloody parts of the floor. But the paralyzing effect only lasted a few seconds before each one tended to the dubious task of damage control.
The Dark Priestess strode through the hall, looking for a single person. Her face was stone, but the way she frantically looked at those getting medical treatment and under the white sheets covering the dead told of her true concern. Each time she lifted a sheet her heart skipped a beat and she hoped, no matter how cold it seemed, that it would be someone else. When at last she came upon a sheet covering a body that obviously had no arms - the blood soaking the fabric through at each shoulder, she could feel it. She knew who was underneath the cotton covering. But she looked just the same, catching her breath as she caught the face of her daughter, Puma. Jon Tolliver collapsed to her knees in despair, showing more emotion in this one outburst more than she probably had ever during her time as a part of the world of Hellfire. She slammed her fist against the floor over and over, splashing her white party dress with blood at each blow. At last composing herself, she stood once again to her feet, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. She stared at her one fist that was now covered in blood and clasped over it with the other hand, beginning to chant. Her hands began to glow and the blood disappeared, absorbed into her skin. Her steely gaze finally fell back upon her fallen child, the sheet now back over her face.
"Now you are a part of me," she said to the body in even tones. "And I will avenge you, blood for blood."
"Oh God, no," Sharon Stokes said as she noticed the body lying oddly on the stage among broken sound equipment.
Running up to him, she bent down to check if he was alive. Her hand trembled as she reached to feel for his pulse at his throat. And just before making contact, she withdrew, rubbing at her fingers trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking. Her face was already wet with tears, having walked through the gore, having seen friends and comrades torn to pieces or sucked dry of their blood. She wondered briefly how she would react if Michael was indeed dead. Did she even have any more tears to shed? Finally, she felt at Iceblade's neck feeling a soft thump as blood still ran in his veins. And Sharon cried even more than she thought she could, laying her head on her brother, thankful that he was alive.
The Harbinger lay in a circular pool of blood and mechanical fluids, still against the furthest wall where Tendril had left him. His breathing was shallow, and the cybernetic device that regulated what was left of his organic heart was beginning to lose power. His human arm had several fractures, one of them causing a bone to break through his skin on the forearm, and his cybernetic arm lay in disarrayed hunks of bent metal at his side. Numerous burns were all over his body and he could no longer feel either one of his legs. But through all this, he was still conscious. Claudia bent down to the floor and placed Robert's head on her lap, stroking his hair as she used her powers to dull his pain and soothe his thoughts.
"You...really should be trying to help the others," he choked out, noticing the Black Queen's presence in his mind.
"Shhh..." Claudia responded, fighting back more tears that had begun to well up in her eyes. There had been so much loss today, so many deaths. To add to that list a man that she could honestly say she once loved would hurt her more than any physical wound.
"Did the human children make it out all right?"
Claudia nodded, finally speaking when she realized that the shock of his injuries had taken Robert's sight. "Yes. You did a great job getting them out. A few had some burns and bruises but they believe they evacuated the Compound because of a fire, so that should explain everything for their parents."
"I wish I could have saved them all," he said, referring to the Hellions and Academy students that fell to the Illuminati forces.
"I know."
There was a long silence as Robert slipped in and out of consciousness. But then he moved his broken arm, exposed bone and all, to pull something from a hip pocket.
"No, don't move..." Claudia urged, but he didn't listen, placing the blood-covered object in her hand.
"The leader, has a tracking device on him. You can still..." He exhaled audibly, blood from his punctured lungs gurgling in his throat. "So tired..."
"You have to rest," Claudia said, her tears falling freely now, her face contorted in grief. She could feel him slipping away. With her mind touching his, she could see the "white light" of oblivion opening up to him - inviting him to the afterlife.
"Claudia," he spoke almost in a whisper now. "I never... I should tell you..."
"You don't have to. I already know. Rest now. Rest."
"Yes... Rest..."
Claudia planted a kiss on Robert's forehead, just as he took his last breath.
Supergrover at last emerged, his face now a raging ocean of anger and hatred. This was the last straw. "All Inner Circle members, gather around." When everyone had come to stand in earshot, he spoke quickly and decisively. "What is the status of the wounded?"
"Most are stable for now," Shockwave spoke up. "But the entire sub-basement structure has been destroyed. We don't have a med facility or transportation to one."
"It's the same with the BHC mansion sub-basement," Silver said. "I just received word from surviving staff.
"Darkfire Castle is gone," Avalon said flatly. "Whatever took out the sub-basement destroyed major support structures as well. The entire building collapsed."
"Cyclops," Supergrover began, "What of our base?"
"Same scenario with the sub-basement, but we do have some above ground facilities that are intact. One transport though. Probably wouldn't hold everyone in one trip."
"Some of the wounded don't have time to spare," Monet interjected.
"Than use the transport to bring the medical equipment here. Set up a make-shift infirmary until we can regroup," Silver said at last.
Supergrover nodded in agreement. "Good. Now we have to consider a counterstrike. It's obvious there is something big happening in their sick little underworld and we MUST act."
"Indeed. And it involves Estophalum and the Ascended One. There is no doubt that they must be stopped," Gomurr added.
"How do we find them?" Havok asked. The survivors said they 'ported out of here. They could be anywhere in the world right now."
"We've got a tracking device on the leader," Nemesis said, the streaks on her face from her tears still evident. They're only a little ways upstate according to the receiver."
"What about transport?" Supergrover asked. "They took out all of our sub-basements for a reason - to cripple our ability to strike back."
"My ship's armed, armored and ready to fly when you are," Daemon said, his own anger threatening to overwhelm him.
"Excellent," the White King said. "Then we go in fast and hit them hard. They have three of our own, an innocent boy and the blood of a dozen brave souls. Our objective is to retrieve the prisoners and stop whatever scheme they are trying to pull, and if vengeance happens to be within reach, don't hesitate to take it. Suit up. We leave in 5 minutes."
***
The Temple of Mekis - Upstate New York
They marched into the temple with their heads held high, the triumph of their battle written on their faces. Tendril lead the way, making sure he was the first to greet the Queen of Wands, kneeling at her feet. The rest of the mages and troops scurried towards the empty circular pool at the center of the temple. With mystical blades, they cut through the insects' underbellies, spilling the stolen blood into the two foot deep basin.
"I assume the battle went well?" the Necromancer said, letting Tendril stand to his feet in her presence.
"I wouldn't call it a battle," Tendril boasted. "More like...a massacre. We have done as we were instructed and the Blood Harvest is complete. The blood of the Special Ones is yours for the Great Spell."
"Well done. Now go, seal the entrances and guard them with your lives. Nothing must disturb us."
With the pool filled, the soldiers, mystics and mutants did as they were told, leaving the Necromancer and the other eleven members of the Great Houses in the temple with Khalid, Cougar, Christian and the dark-skinned boy who was now chained to a platform just in front of the pool.
"Take your places," the Necromancer commanded of the rest of the Houses.
Each one nodded in compliance and moved to the furthest band of the circular floor, standing atop the carved symbols of their positions. All the while, Christian still cried at the cut in his chest. He was afraid now as time grew short. He couldn't possibly articulate what was happening. He couldn't tell you what he felt about the future, but he knew it was going to be bad. He knew people were going to die. He just wanted his Daddy to come for him.
Just beneath him, still chained to the stone slab, Khalid squirmed against his bonds. The pain he felt was unlike anything he had felt before. His skin was on fire and the very air around him seemed to fan the flames. The tattoos on his arms still glowed white hot, each black drawing traced over now completely with Christian's blood. Cougar finished the ritual with more chanting, reaching into his bag of enchanted dust. Stealthily, he reached down to the floor with his other hand and picked up regular dust from between the stones and mixed them together. Then, with the final words of the chant, he flung the collected dust over Khalid. The falling particles glistened in the air as they fell upon him, adding to the burning he already felt.
"What...have you done...to me?" Khalid struggled to say between stomach convulsions.
"Your protection tattoos are neutralized," Cougar responded coldly, turning to Malia Trent. "I've done my part."
The Necromancer grinned. "Good. Then now you can watch." With a hand gesture, Khalid was lifted into the air and out of his chains. He floated in the air above the pool of blood, where he found himself placed down upon a grated iron platform, connected to some sort of pulley system just above the pool. His bonds were quickly replaced and the Necromancer laughed. "Now...we truly begin."
~~End Chapter 21~~
~~Chapter 22~~
The flight to the location of the tracking beacon was terribly silent. This night had brought many emotions to the forefront with most everyone. From anticipation of the New Year, to the anguish of finding the massacre, the group had come finally to the fury that emanated from each uniformed superhuman in the transport. There had been talk before hand, though, mostly between the three mages - Gomurr, Rune and Rahsas. They were slowly putting all the pieces together, making a crude mosaic of what the Illuminati were up to. Daemon's investigations in Las Vegas had revealed that the Illuminati were preparing for some massive undertaking that required Robert Cougar's unique skills, empowered by a Winter Solstice ritual. Then there were the visions each of them had had in the last few weeks - one of them exposing the demon Estophalum as a major player in this, the second bringing in the Ascended One's presence and the third speaking not only of a long-lost brother but of a fiery demonic influence upon the face of the future. Then, of course, there were the details of the massacre they were able to glean from the survivors. The use of the insects to collect blood at the stroke of midnight smacked loudly of a Blood Ritual which could lead to any number of incantations. And then the fact that the Illuminati soldiers ignored the humans and instead went totally for the mutant students sent a strong message all its own. The consensus was that whatever was going on was of massive proportions and was happening at this very moment. They were racing against the clock and they didn't know how much time they had left.
Through the starboard side windows, they could see it - a circle of huge stones very much like what had been at Stone Henge across the ocean. The Illuminati were no-doubt deep beneath the ground in some sort of cathedral-like structure. Daemon was rather unceremonious in firing his craft's weapons on an area he had detected was the camouflaged entrance. The air rumbled with the explosions and a large patch of earth just outside the circle collapsed inwards to reveal the wide staircase leading deep into the ground.
"Do it!" Daemon shouted, the first one to leap from the opened bay doors on the still hovering craft. The strike team followed, each person finding themselves thirsty for battle.
***
Below - The Temple of Mekis
The ground shook and dust fell from the stone ceiling as the combined Hellfire team made its way deeper into the bowels of the underground facility. The Necromancer froze as she stood just in front of the young black boy they had captured in Las Vegas. She looked about the room at the suddenly worried faces of the rest of the Illuminati's Great Houses. She sneered as she drew a dagger once again from her robes and grabbed the boy just under the chin.
"Is that...fear I see...in your eyes?" Khalid said from his position over the pool of blood, his skin still burning and his stomach still cramping wildly.
"Silence!" The Necromancer commanded, then turning to address the Houses. "They may have found us, but they are too late. In a few moments, Estophalum will be with us again and we will be unstoppable. The guards will keep them busy long enough to complete the Spell, so don't you DARE show fear at their arrival or I will slit your throats myself." She emphasized her point, and continued the ritual at the same time as she drew an X across the boy's exposed chest with her dagger. The boy fell forward, clutching at his chest, screaming in pain.
"What do you want from me?" he screamed, scared and frustrated. "I don't even know what a Parrin-Ya is. I'm no use to you."
The Necromancer leaned down close to him. "Dear boy, you ARE the Parrin-Ya, you are the child of the darkness that will complete the power I am about to wield. But I see you are still confused. Don't worry, though. You'll see."
With a signal to the rest of the Houses, the Unifying of the Houses began. Pyre, the Knight of Cups, was the first to have the dagger and the Demon Chalice. Drawing a slice across his open palm, he let the blood run into the cup and passed both articles down the line, next to the Queen of Cups, Magdalene. Deacon Faust followed as did Shriek, the new vampire Queen of Pentacles, Victoria and her master, Cherub. When at last, the cup had reached Adonis, the blood was near spilling from the edge of the lip and it was passed full circle again. This time, each member took a drink from the collection of their mingled blood. All the while, the Necromancer chanted in an ancient language, "From the many, we are one. From one, the Twelve gain their Majesty."
***
The corridors of the complex were like a maze of narrow stone pathways leading to dead ends, booby traps and often an ambush of guards. But the Hellfire team was not to be deterred. They would have their vengeance if it meant blasting their way straight through the rocky walls and killing every being they found. The tracking device signal was weak down here, with the trace metals in the rock causing it to be deflected. But Daemon's senses had adjusted to the dusty, musky tunnels and he was beginning to pick up Tendril's scent.
"I've got him," Daemon cried as he sliced through another Illuminati soldier with his deadly blade, Anubis. "We need to get moving."
Silver used his metal gauntlets like twin warhammers, bashing Illuminati guards over the head or in the midsection, no doubt breaking their bones. "They're trying to pin us in this corner," he said as a guard charging from behind was suddenly slammed into the wall by Supergrover.
"Turn it up, people," the White King called to the strike force. "We have to push through."
Upon his command, Blackfire exploded into a ball of black flame and charged head-first into the rows of soldiers that were boxing them in, knocking them over like bowling pins. The rest of the group moved just behind her, finishing off those still burning and slashing their way further down the corridor. Daemon resumed the lead, Tendril's scent mingled with fresh blood in his nostrils driving him further into rage. It wouldn't be long now. They were close.
***
The Temple
When the last member of the Great Houses drank, he brought the Demon Chalice towards the Necromancer holding the cup in front of him reverently and carefully. Though Pyre was probably the most reluctant person in the Illuminati fold, he was still half-demon and he still felt a connection to what was going on this moment. One of his own was going to gain a body and reclaim his power in the Earth Realm. This was going to be a glorious day indeed. The Necromancer bent her head to the chalice and sipped of the blood herself, dipping a finger into the liquid and drawing a symbol on each cheek. When she had finished, Pyre took what was left in the cup and poured it into a circular groove in the floor surrounding the small platform on which she stood.
"The Circle is complete," she said nodding for Pyr, the arm grew back despite Obsydian's screams of pain and he came back ready for more. Havok slashed a guard across his throat and fired a photovoltaic blast at Tendril, loosening his grip on Onyx. Calibre fired back but was soon subdued by a bone-breaking swipe of Tangerine's powerful wings. Rex bit down hard on Jenskott's shoulder, ripping away significant flesh as he tossed her into a stone wall. Byron would have none of it though. Opening a channel to Hell, she accessed her full abilities as that realm's Goddess. A simple hellfire blast took Rex out of the fight, at least temporarily. She dare not delve completely into her power lest she destroy everyone in the corridor.
Though the battle was taking it's toll in injuries on both sides, the Hellfire team was continuing to move towards the entrance to the temple. If they were able to keep up this pace, it wouldn't be long before they reached their goal. Behind the huge iron double-doors of the Temple of Mekis, the Necromancer was beginning to worry. Feeling the tremors of the fighting grow closer even as she completed the incantation, she was beginning to wonder if she would have enough time.
The strange symbols that lined the walls of the dome-shaped temple began to glow as she called on the power encased there. Mekis had been a powerful master of demons, having enslaved lesser imps to his will and incorporated other's powers into his very being. But despite his prowess in the demonic arts, he was still a servant to Estophalum. As the wizard neared death, this temple was built and empowered with all the energy he had stolen and became home to all his imprisoned servant demons. The Necromancer chanted loudly and wildly, calling on this power to be released.
Christian and the boy that was only known as the Parrin-Ya both screamed in terror as the walls erupted with the presence of evil spirits that began to fly about the room. Christian was still hanging face down upon some iron cross, the blood from the cut in his chest collecting in an odd pattern on the dusty slab beneath him, mingled with his tears. Even while he cried, he looked into the swirls of tears and blood and saw a vision. "Hurry," he whispered to the people coming to the door.
The Parrin-Ya was more frightened than he had ever been in his short life, even more so than when he was being hunted by the werewolves. Truthfully, he didn't even remember much of his life at all, not even his own name. When he thought about it, his head hurt, like running into a wall in his own mind at full speed. He knew he had been an orphan for a very long time. There was a family that had taken him in as their own, but who disappeared one day without a trace. Then there was a huge blank spot. All he could glean were a few nonsensical visions: a place of life and beauty where the water was a gorgeous crystal blue, and the tall green grasses swayed in the breeze; then a place of death where the earth was dry and dusty, and the sky was dark; a calling into the darkness, total darkness; then he was running. It made no sense at all, but this was his reality. He reached to the bloody X on his chest but the chains on his arms wouldn't let him move that far. As the demonic spirits swooped overhead, he began to cry some more.
Khalid was faring no better. Whatever his grandfather had done to him, it was extremely painful. Looking down at his arms, he saw the blood of his young nephew, staining his tattoos - glowing with an odd light. The dust that had been sprinkled over him burned even more and was causing his every muscle to contract erratically. In addition, his senses were going out of control. He could feel the sting of magic all around him like the very air were on fire. He could hear the Necromancer's heart skip a beat every time the sound of an explosion from beyond the door rumbled into the room. He could taste the death and decay that stained this place with every breath, smelling the sweat of the Necromancer as she continued. Finally, when he craned his neck to see her, he saw her life aura burning bright around her with the light of all those life essences she had stolen. He saw Christian's aura burning the brightest of all. He was, after all, the Ascended One. Then there was the other boy, who's aura surrounded him with the same intensity as all the rest but burned black, exactly like another unusual soul Khalid had seen. At last, he felt his own aura as it, too writhed against the incantation that enshrouded it. Then he understood. It all made sense. His inherited abilities to view and manipulated auras combined with his protection tattoos made him all but impossible to possess spiritually. Though he could be taken in body with a minimal degree of difficulty, his soul was protected, PURIFIED against invasion by outside forces. But in negating his tattoos, Cougar had taken away part of that protection. And the energy the Necromancer was building in the temple to be infused into the pool of blood over which he dangled would finish the job, subduing his soul enough for Estophalum to take complete possession of Khalid in mind, body AND spirit. "This is very bad," he mumbled to himself.
***
Monet fell backwards with a guard on top of her trying to position his bladed staff at her throat. She looked up to see someone standing over her as she continued to struggle with the guard. "Madrox," she said. "About time you got here. Help me with this guy."
Jamie just stood there for a few seconds as a demented smile crossed his face. He raised a powered plasma fist over Monet's head and prepared to fire. But just as he did, someone from behind him raised the dupes fist just a few inches higher making him blast the guard before breaking the evil Jamie's neck. The man helped Monet to her feet, confusion written all over her face. "What was that all about?" she asked the apparently good Jamie.
"You know the evil twin thing?"
"Yeah."
"Well I've got about 50 of them running around here."
"How...?"
"Nevermind that. You guys just do what you have to do. Leave my depraved copies to me."
A stray blast split them up, cutting between the two of them. Monet dodged left while Madrox dodged right, continuing down a side corridor. They were down here. He could feel it.
***
The Necromancer was dripping with sweat from the exertion of performing this spell. The fact that the battle had reached the door of the temple didn't help either. Every few seconds, there was a slam against the door, rattling the hinges and denting the thick metal. Malia Trent closed her eyes as she weaved an intricate pattern in the air, continuing the ritual. She couldn't stop now. It was up to the rest to keep the Hellfire team from interfering.
Cougar, who had been standing away from everything, watched idly as the scene played out. Bound by a deal he had made with the Necromancer, he could not intercede. So he simply watched, careful to take measure of everything he saw.
Suddenly, the doors fell inwards against Daemon's mighty fists and the battle spilled out into the much wider area of the temple. Gomurr spun his enchanted staff and assumed an attack position as the man-bird Archiemedes approached. "I never would have thought our friendship would come to this," the mage said as red energy from the Crimson Dawn began to form a cloud of arcane power around him.
"Friend? You were no friend to me. A friend would have found a way to make me a man again. But you spurned that responsibility for hundreds of years," Archiemedes responded spitefully, a magical bo staff extending to its full length in his hand.
"I am sorry you feel that way. And I am sorry of what I am going to have to do to you for your role in all of this."
Gomurr attacked with a martial arts display few had ever seen. Using kung-fu techniques perfected over centuries of practice, some styles he had even authored himself, Gomurr slammed his staff into his former friend again and again. Archiemedes was not without his own resources, however, using his enhanced speed and strength to counterattack with just as much intensity.
The man known as Deacon Faust finally found himself face-to-face with Darque Feonix. They circled each other for a minute, one sizing up the other, before engaging on the astral plane. If one were able to peek into this realm to watch, they would see the two combatants in a pitched battle of wills represented as a clashing of psionic swords. Like telepathic knights, they wore armor and carried shields - the sound of their attacks ringing loud as bolts of energy spilled off. Faust was silent, disturbingly so, wanting to enjoy the moment he fulfilled his self-proclaimed destiny. But the more they fought, the more Feonix learned about his opponent. The more their psychic energies collided and intertwined, the more of an impression of the man Feonix gleaned. With their swords locked and the one pushing against the other, Feonix discovered something about Faust that was most disturbing.
Faust smiled as he saw the look of shock and surprise spread across Feonix's face. "Oh, yes...it IS true...father..." Taking the opportunity to exploit Feonix's lapse in concentration, Faust slammed his shoulder into Feonix and sent him to the ground. Feonix raised his shield reflexively, but Faust's sword cleaved it in two. "Now, at last, you die."
Suddenly a blast of fiery psionic energy impacted Faust in the chest, shattering both his sword and his armor. Marvel Girl had entered the fight, her Phoenix aura burning bright on the astral plane. This was her domain. And knowing this, Faust fled, wrapping himself in layer upon layer of psionic defenses that left him a virtual vegetable in the real world. His mind was trapped by his own psychic fortress. Marvel Girl contemplated destroying him for good, but the call of battle in the real world made her think twice about it. She was needed elsewhere. Giving some of her strength to replenish Darque Feonix, they both returned to the fray.
***
The corridor finally came to an end at a room nearly as cavernous as the Temple itself. At the center, however, the circle was not a platform for performing magical spells, but a deep pit that burned with an unearthly fire - probably for human sacrifice to demonic powers. Jamie Madrox entered this place tentatively, that odd feeling of the presence of himself in the room still lingering. "I know you're here," he called into the emptiness.
His echo returned to him.
"You have a lot to answer for," he continued. "I know it was you that made it possible for the attack at the Compound. It HAD to be."
Only his echo again.
"Dozens are dead because of you. And because you wear my face, that blood is on MY hands too!"
"You are so melodramatic," the reply finally came, the voice still as reminiscent as the echo but far more biting. "The Hellions were MY creation. Yet I was spurned again and again for a position of real power in the Hellfire Clubs. So I destroyed them - the Hellions and soon the Courts themselves."
"You had no right! You're nothing but a dupe. A fucking copy of a copy of a copy that went mad somewhere along the way. The Hellions weren't YOURS they were MINE. I am the original. I am the REAL Jamie Madrox."
Jamie's other walked out of the darkness and leaned against one of the four stone pillars that surrounded the fiery pit. He crossed his arms and smirked. "Are you really? Do you know that for sure?"
Madrox was taken aback at first, for a brief moment looking back across his life and wondering if he was indeed simply a duplicate as the other implied. But he quickly dismissed the notion. Of course he was the original. "Enough of this," he said boldly as he took an aggressive stance. "You know what's coming."
"Yes," the other said as more identical faces appeared from the darkness behind him, "I do."
~~End Chapter 23~~
~~Chapter 24~~
Freed of the confining spaces of the corridor, the megamorph, Maximus, grew to nearly 30 feet tall. He slammed down with one foot on top of Supergrover exerting painful force against his powerful aura. But fueled by his anger and hatred of the Illuminati, the White King found more than enough strength to throw the giant back all the way to the other side of the temple. In doing so, he saw something that built his rage higher than he could possibly fathom. Near the edge of the circular room, suspended face down from the ceiling on what looked like an iron crucifix was his young son, Christian, the soud of his cries drowned out by the noise of the battle.
"Christian!" he called as he took off towards his son.
But he was immediately shot down out of the sky by Calibre. "Protect the Ascended One," he told his teammates, who quickly converged to make a defensive wall against interference with the spell or their captives.
"This ends now," Byron said as she took to the air. Upon entering the area she had felt the hellish power in the atmosphere that was being summoned by the Necromancer, who still worked to complete the incantation. Opening a doorway to Hell once again, Byron siphoned power from the domain she ruled. "I can feel what you are trying to do here, but I will not allow it."
But before she could use her powers, a stream of energy was suddenly ripped from her and into the circle surrounding the Necromancer. "Allow it?" Malia chuckled. "Your power will make it possible!"
Noticing a familiarity in the set-up of the spell, Gomurr realized that Malia's words were indeed true. Maximus' impact on one of the walls damaged the power vessels that the mad sorcerer Mekis had provided for this very process. But when Byron opened the doorway to Hell, the Necromancer had access to all the power she required. Spinning his enchanted staff and chanting ancient words, Gomurr tried his best to sever the connection, but it was far too strong.
The Necromancer laughed as she began to glow the same fiery red as Byron, absorbing the energy into herself. When she had had her fill, she stretched out a hand directly in front of her and released the energy in a wide beam of crimson power. The beam struck the young black boy, the Parrin-Ya, and swirled in and around him. The bloody X across his chest seemed to glow in response and add to the beam, amplifying the power and blackening the beam with dark energy.
Rahsas looked on with wide eyes, the boy's features as familiar as looking into a mirror. The memories of the child in his vision struck him again and he remembered. The Parrin-Ya, was his younger brother - another child of the dark dimension, one he had thought lost long ago. "No!" he screamed as he threw a volley of arcane energy bolts at the line of Illuminati and rushed to save his brother, but a mystical wall erupted from the ground between them.
In the meantime, Byron fell from the sky, her connection to Hell severed as soon as the Necromancer was finished. Deadpool caught her and laid her down wondering what he could possibly do to stabilize her unusual condition. Everyone regrouped around their fallen teammate and wondered what their next move should be. They were bearing witness to the end of the world as they knew it and they didn't know what to do next.
***
Pulses of all different kinds of energies criss-crossed in the air and lit the darkened room with every blast. Humanoid creatures with everything from wings to multiple arms wrestled in every corner. Every pair of combatants were like darkened reflections of the other, one dupe from the good Madrox and the other from his crazed twin. And amidst this chaos, the two originators of this pitched battle fought hand-to-hand with the ferocity of wild animals.
The good Madrox blocked a flurry of punches and counterattacked with three kicks, landing a spinning roundhouse. The evil Madrox flipped to his feet as his double moved in and caught him in the temple with a backhand. They traded blows before getting tripped up over another pair of their fighting dupes and rolling on the ground, each trying to gain advantage over the other. Theirs would prove the greater battle, the one knowing almost exactly what the other was about to do.
"You can't believe you'll win this," the evil Jamie said, holding his twin down beneath him. "You can't truly kill me."
The good Jamie flipped him over to take the more powerful position on top, slamming a fist into his duplicate's face. "What are you talking about?"
"You may destroy this body, but I'll always be a part of you. Everything you've ever wanted, I've wanted. Everyone you've ever hated, I've hated. Everything you've ever thought, I've thought. I just don't have any qualms about acting on those thoughts. You can't deny me because I AM you."
"Shut up!"
A knee to the groin silenced him, but his words still rang angrily in Jamie's head. The evil Jamie flipped him back onto the ground and rolled away, giving each time to rest. Madrox stared angrily. He didn't know what was real and what wasn't anymore. He could easily dismiss these insane rantings from anyone else, but this man before him was, at least at some point, as much a part of him as his arm or leg. If his claims were true, how then could he go on knowing that he would always be capable of what this monster had done?
***
The air in the temple was beginning to swirl as the flood gates of demonic power began to open. The beam of power the Necromancer had transmitted to the Parrin-Ya had turned a deep ebony hue that seemed to absorb the light around it. The boy writhed in pain against his chains as the energy within him was finally released again, this time to the pool of blood below Khalid. There was an odd flash of light as the beam made contact with the circular basin but quickly subsided as the crimson blood began to boil with arcane energies.
Gomurr turned to his compatriots, his expression full of so many emotions. "The spell is almost complete. We cannot let Khalid be submerged in that pool."
"But how can we get through their shield?" Rahsas asked, his gaze still upon his brother.
Rune stepped into the circle that was forming, speaking in between labored breaths. "It's...very powerful. It would take the three of us a number of minutes to work out a counterspell."
"Damn it!" Supergrover exclaimed as he paced back and forth. "We don't have time for this shit."
Pulling an enchanted arrow out of his arm, Daemon approached. "I'll take care of the shield," he said, wiping the blood from Anubis on one sleeve. "When you see it weaken, hit it with everything you've got. We're gonna be swimming in Illuminati after that so we need to coordinate who's doing what."
"I'm going to get my son," Supergrover said.
"And I will take the other boy," Rahsas added.
"Khalid's mine," Blackfire said.
"Than it's settled," Silver agreed. "The rest of us will cover you."
Without another word, Daemon ran towards the shield, his sword beginning to glow. The Illuminati stood behind their wall of energy, ignoring the attack as the fruits of their labors were beginning to bloom before them. Leaping onto the greenish bubble, Daemon plunged his sword through. Though his own energies were fueling Anubis, it was the blade's ability to vibrate between dimensions that allowed it to interfere with the mystical shield's integrity.
"Now!" Avalon shouted as he saw a wave of disruptive force ripple over the bubble, and released a huge blast of electric flame.
The others joined him, using all the power at their disposal against the shield until at last, it crumbled to the floor like a thousand pieces of broken glass. The Illuminati were finally jostled from their hypnotic gaze at the approaching transformation of the Purified as their protection fell all around them and mutant power signatures attacked from behind. Rahsas teleported through the dark dimension to appear next to his brother. With the Anaconza staff, he made the boy's bonds disappear. Adonis was suddenly upon them, but Rahsas this time swung his staff like a bat, adding a mystical package of explosive energy at it's tip that launched Adonis across the room.
"I have you," he said.
The boy lifted his head as he felt Rahsas' arm supporting him, bringing him to his feet. Their eyes met and in that instant, he remembered. He was no more than 4 or 5 years old when Rahsas was swallowed by the darkness, transported away for what he had thought would be an eternity. Their sister had free reign then, imposing her evil upon the land until the lush green hills were turned to barren, dusty cliffs. He had fled, running deep into what once was forest, but what quickly became desert in a few month's time. When there was no other place to go, he too fell into the abyss. He landed here, on this world, young and frightened. "I know you," he said weakly.
Rahsas couldn't help but smile.
Supergrover took to the air immediately after the shield had fallen, rocketing towards Christian with Rune and Gomurr in tow. It was Pyre this time that shot him out of the sky, with a blast of hellfire. The White King landed hard on the stone floor but quickly recovered to his feet.
"I cannot allow you near the Ascended One," the half-demon announced, his mouth a sizzling furnace.
"Then I'm going to have to kill you," Supergrover said simply as he delivered a powerful blow to Pyre's head that put the Knight of Cups down so hard that he cracked the floor. Supergrover met the one robotic fist of Coldstone in the face, however, that stunned him long enough for Pyre to return to the fight. Rune appeared to help quickly though, causing a column of flame to surround Coldstone with a swift hand gesture. Gomurr had gotten the closest to the boy out of all of them when an ectoplasmic tentacle wrapped around one of his arms, lifted him into the air and slammed him to the floor. Though dazed, the small mage still thought to use a light burst spell to blind Tendril while he attacked with his staff. But just as he reached out to free Christian, Archiemedes in his transistional form as half-man/half-bird, snatched Gomurr into the air where they would battle for several minutes.
Blackfire blasted from across the temple, running as fast and hot as she could in order to minimize the likelihood of getting taken down before she reached her goal. It was a well thought out strategy, but as soon as she got near Khalid, Maximus backhanded her straight into a wall. Sharon fell to the floor, a gash on her head. It was only a temporary set back, as she released a handful of super-heated shuriken that burned into a line across the giant's chest. With the space between her and Khalid clear, she took off again. Seeing the unthinkable about to happen, the new Knight of Pentacles reacted, screaming at the top of his lungs, causing a powerful sonic shock wave to force everyone back clutching their ears.
Daemon, with superhuman hearing, probably had it the worst of all of them, but it was he that acted. Using a burst of super speed and his super strength to fight the force of the shock wave, Daemon came right up to Shriek's face. Anyone else's ears would have burst this close to the source of the noise, but Daemon was relying on his Elemental invulnerability. He covered Shriek's mouth before the mutant could stop screaming, catching the powerful sound in his voice box, and slit his throat with Anubis.
"Shh..." Daemon said, as what was left of Shriek's scream burst through the opening in his neck, splattering him with blood.
The rest of the Hellfire team scrambled again, this time with renewed vigor. But as they watched, Khalid's platform reached the surface of the pool and continued to descend, beginning to bathe the young mutant in the enchanted blood of people he once knew. If he were to become completely submerged, the fight would be over, because Estophalum would have a body and full access to his powers. Daemon slashed through one of Akasha's swords and kicked her in the chest, sending her skidding backwards on the floor. He looked up across the battlefield to see Khalid screaming in pain as the blood came in contact with his body, beginning to rise over his exposed torso. Without thinking, he rushed through the battlefield and leaped in to the pool, blood splashing everywhere. For an instant, memories came to mind of being bathed in the blood of innocents, women and children dying in front of his eyes, their blood everywhere, covering him. But he forced the fear and sadness he felt that day back into the hollow pit in his stomach, suppressed into the dark corner of his mind where they had come from. Four quick strikes cut the bonds at Khalid's arms and legs and a helping hand brought the White Rook upright upon the slatted metallic platform.
The Necromancer turned away from her battle with Shockwave for an instant to see the disruption in the spell, crying, "No!" as she fired a hate-filled blast of mystical energy.
Daemon had barely gotten Khalid over the lip of the pool and away from the damning enchanted blood when he felt the blast just in front of him. This fight had been particularly hard on Daemon, being terribly vulnerable to magic. Had he not expended so much of his power energizing Anubis, or using his super speed, he might have had enough left to move out of the way of the blast. But as it was, he was tired and could only watch as the blast struck him full on in the chest, knocking him out of the pool and into the wall, unconscious.
"Daemon!" Khalid cried, turning back to the Necromancer. Noticing that the power dampening color around his neck was damaged, he flared his aura, destroying it completely. "Now," he said with eyes burning yellow, "I made you a promise that you were the first one I was coming after when I got out. Well...I'm out.
Malia Trent screamed in anger and frustration as she fired indiscriminately in Khalid's general direction. Everything had gone fine up to only a few moments ago. But now, there was no body for Estophalum to inhabit, even as the door to his prison stood wide open at the bottom of the pool of blood. She couldn't be responsible for the loss of centuries of planning and plotting. She would rather die than have this failure on her hands - a prospect that may very well play itself out when the other members of the Illuminati learn of what occurred this night. Only if she could salvage the spell could she ensure her survival.
Khalid leaped at her with a feral growl in his throat, his lion aura reaching out with photon paws to claw at the Necromancer's face. Escaping the initial attack by only inches, the Necromancer crossed her arms and quickly recited the binding spell, pinning Khalid's arms to his sides with mystical bands. Khalid roared as he flexed against the trap, making the Necromancer strain to maintain the spell.
Near the edge of the battle, still watching, was Cougar. He let half a smile cross his face as he watched the events unfold. It was as if he knew the Hellfire Courts would make it in time. It was as if he knew a lot of things that he shouldn't. His gaze idly passed over to Khalid as he struggled against the Necromancer's spell. Glancing at his watch, he smiled again. "Three...two...one...," and as if on cue, Khalid's tattoos flared bright yellow for an instant as he burst through the Necromancer's bindings. With the protection spell back to full functionality, Cougar knew his job was finished and he disappeared with a teleportation spell.
Supergrover tore away the chains on his son's wrists and ankles, wincing at the raw flesh he saw underneath. He placed his hand over the cut on the boy's chest, using his aura to help stop the bleeding and seal the wound. As he met eyes with the child cradled in his arms, he wondered idly when he had learned how to do this.
Silver was holding his own against a number of temple guards who were beginning to pour through the broken doorway. They slashed at him with mystical blade staffs, not doing any damage but herding him into a corner where Obsydian was waiting. Leaping from a stone perch, the black-skinned mutant cut Silver across the back as he flipped over his head. A wave of his hand shooed away the guards to pursue the others. This fight, for Obsydian, had for some reason become personal. Obsydian spun and came down with a deadly overhand strike with a long ebony blade for a hand. Silver side-stepped and struck at his neck, but the flexible mutant bent backwards virtually to the floor just underneath the strike and attacked even more viciously. Silver was blocked and parried, but he was slowly being overtaken by the expert swordsman. But as Obsydian leaped to attack once again, an explosion behind him knocked him off balance in midair and Silver saw his opportunity. With Obsydian's arms flailing and exposing his body, Silver thrust with his right handed wrist-blade and burst straight through Obsydian's stomach, his arm buried up to his elbow. Time seemed to freeze for a second as they locked eyes, a shocked and pained expression on Obsydian's face. It soon turned to anger and rage, however, as he used the last of his strength to manipulate the flesh encircling his fatal wound to become a circular blade that collapsed around Silver's arm and cut it off. Silver screamed in horror as he withdrew a bloody stump at the end of his elbow from within Obsydian's black body. Both men collapsed as their injuries overtook them. Silver sat in shock, screaming, while Obsydian finally passed on.
The Black King looked up from the floor through fogged eyes to see the battle beginning to turn back to the Illuminati as their numbers steadily increased. He could feel himself beginning to slip into unconsciousness as he lost blood from his severed limb. His hearing was virtually gone, with the sounds of the fighting becoming a singular dull roar in his ears. He blinked and blinked again, his vision moving into fuzzy darkness. But amidst all these things happening to his body, his mind was perfectly clear. Struggling to push past the notions of his own limitations, Silver took control of the metal linings on the floor and in the wall with his powers. The reddened iron moved like metallic serpents towards him as he concentrated. When they had at last reached him, they latched onto what was left of his arm and clamped down on his flesh stopping the bleeding. The iron rods twirled and spun around each other in an intricate dance until they finally took the shape of an arm. With one last push with his mutant abilities, Silver changed the composition of the iron into an adamantium alloy, flexing his now silvery fingers. Something would have to be done about the injury underneath, he knew, but at least he had an arm.
With Khalid and the Necromancer caught in a pitched battle, Shockwave was free to check on Daemon who still lay unconscious. She blasted away with her powers at the guards who would try to take advantage of Daemon's condition. Kneeling down beside him, she lifted his head onto her lap and tried to revive him.
"Ouch," Daemon said as he slowly came to.
"Are you going to be OK?"
He ignored her question, scanning the battlefield when his vision readjusted. They appeared to have freed the captives and at least temporarily stopped the Illuminati's attempt to resurrect Estophalum, but they were trapped. With the remaining members of the Great Houses and their mutant strike force still fighting in addition to the guards and mages blocking their only way out and stacking the odds against them, something drastic would have to be done. "Bring down the ceiling."
"What? But won't that...?"
"Let Marvel Girl know to shield us when it happens. It should be enough to either give us a way out through the roof or scare off the people coming through the door."
"Not a bad plan, but I'm running on fumes as it is."
Daemon lifted a hand and tried to muster a spark of his own energy, but couldn't. "Absorb mine."
"Daemon, I'm not sure if..."
"Do it!"
Shockwave breathed deeply as she reached out to the energy she felt within Daemon. Once she tapped that tremendous force, the flood gates of his Elemental energy rushed through her whole body. She screamed not with pain but with surprise as she touched the power of a god and felt it coursing through her veins. With an outstretched hand, she fired a beam of energy into the very center of the ceiling, even as she shouted a mental warning to Marvel Girl.
Huge chunks of rock and dirt from above came crashing down. A boulder landed in between Khalid and the Necromancer, sending her to the floor. Feonix gave the telepathic order to retreat as he noticed the few humans blocking the doorway begin to fall back as well. Supergrover took to the air with his son, protecting them both from falling rock with his aura as he flew towards the night sky that had opened up above them. Several of those who could fly grabbed someone they could carry and followed, with the rest going back through the tunnels the way they had come. The Illuminati scattered as well, trying to dodge the tumbling debris and find their way out as well.
Amidst the confusion, the Necromancer saw the Ascension slipping through her fingers. This was to be her triumphant moment. She was to lead the Illuminati into their Age of Conquest. The victory was to be hers. Yet there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop its demise. She could almost hear Estophalum's screams from beyond this realm. The gates were open and the power had already been collected in the pool of blood. He needed only a body; one strong enough to house his fierce persona and his massive demonic power. The Purified would have been the perfect vessel, especially because of the deal made so long ago that linked Estophalum's ability to express his full power on earth to the family line of Khalid Hunter, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Even while her compatriots in ran for their lives, she scanned each of them, evaluating in her head how well they would fit the mold. Making her decision at last, she pulled Adonis off the ground with a mystical hand gesture. He struggled against her hold but to little effectiveness.
"The Master must have a body, my dear," she said over the noise. "Consider it a privilege that you have been chosen."
With those final words to her King, she slammed him to the bottom of the pool, submerging beneath the empowered blood. Bubbles rose to the surface as Adonis struggled to breath, to move. A fiery light began to shine from within, coloring everything in the collapsing room a dark red. Malia Trent was not expecting a boulder to come crashing down upon the pool.
"No!" she cried as the light was silenced at last. Before she could do anything else, she was lifted into the air by the man-bird Archiemedes.
"Come, Necromancer," he squaked. "We will have our revenge another time."
It would have come to no surprise to Archiemedes that the Necromancer was already plotting as she watched the crumbling remains of the Temple of Mekis grow smaller and smaller in the distance, her hated adversaries rocketing off in their ship in the other direction.
***
They were all dead; dead or dying. The replicas of the proud mutant Jamie Madrox and his duplicate had annihilated each other within only a few minutes. With each copy's powers appearing at random, there were hundred ways to die on this battefield. But even with all the bodies lying everywhere, the two authors of this massacre still remained entangled in combat.
A massive tremor rocked the entire complex as Madrox took another shot at his evil dupe and again came up empty. Small pieces of debris began to rain down on them like hail, the structure beginning to collapse in on itself. Madrox finally connected with a spinning roundhouse kick. Grabbing his stunned adversary, he slammed him into a wall and punched him several times in the face. Evil Madrox broke free and punched the other in the stomach two times before knocking him down with a sharp uppercut. More debris in larger chunks began to fall.
"Looks like the good guys are kicking ass," Jamie said as he got up and wiped the blood from his mouth.
"It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Haven't you been listening? I didn't do this because I'm one of them now. I did it because those bastards in the Hellfire Courts deserved it. All that I did for them, all the work I put into building the Hellions and they still saw me as an underling. But you know this. You were there. And you feel the same way that I do."
Madrox charged him angrily. "Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about."
Evil Jamie shook his head and laughed even after taking a hard flying knee to the midsection. "Still denying it - denying YOURSELF."
Jamie headbutted him and threw him to the ground, still seething. "Stop laughing!"
"It's just so funny. Don't you see it?" the evil Madrox asked as he got up. "We've just haven't been fighting here, today. We've been fighting each other in your head for years. We're two sides of the same coin, Madrox. One side cannot exist without the other." He paused for an instant as he glanced at his double's position relative to the firepit. "Let's test that statement."
Evil Jamie tackled the other and landed just where he was planning, near the edge of the firepit. The good Madrox struggled to hold his position, feeling the heat rising from pit while the other pressed just under his chin, trying to knock him over the edge.
"I'll let your friends know that you fought valiantly just before I kill them all."
Jamie's life flashed before his eyes in these final moments. As he felt his balance shifting more towards the pit, he knew his time was at hand. He knew how strong his enemy was after all. He knew his fate. But what he did next would determine the fate of so many others. What if what this dupe had told him was true? What if he really would always have the potential to be this way, to act upon his darker urges without conscience or remorse? And if not directly than why not indirectly through another dupe that could end up like this one, possessed solely of the anger and frustrations of the original?
"You're right," Jamie said as he latched onto his dupes shoulders and leaned backwards, "We're the same."
"Wha-what are you doing?!"
"So if I die, you die too."
They both tumbled over the edge of the pit. The fumes were horrendous, a noxious mix of sulfur and burning flesh - their flesh. The heat was overwhelming, charring them beyond recognition even before the flames caught hold of their clothes. And as the combination brought them ever closer to death as they fell, Jamie felt peace. He had reached out with his mind to touch the telepaths riding the transport that was even now zooming away. They would know that he was not a traitor, but a hero - a martyr. Though he would also be another name on a terribly long list of friends lost this first day of the year 2000.
~~End Chapter 24~~
~~Epilogue~~
BHC Mansion - Westchester County, New York
They had been fighting for hours now, locked in that conference room who's thick wooden doors could barely contain their shouting. Through a series of events, Gregor had risen to become the new Black King. It was a minimally contested promotion as most were still distracted by the terrible massacre that had occurred only a few days ago. But Avalon could not ignore Gregor's first act as King, being the dissmantling of the Darkfire Court. With Darkfire Castle now a pile of rubble and their ranks decimated by the New Year's disaster, Gregor saw it only prudent to combine their personel under the name of the Black Hellfire Court. The fact that he didn't consult neither Avalon or Monet on this was the major point of contention. Silver and Monet walked by as they made their way towards the front door. Silver wondered then if he shouldn't have at least stayed long enough to iron things out with the Darkfire Court.
"Are you sure?" Monet asked once again as they reached the threshold. A long black limousine pulled up and the driver stood holding open the door for Silver.
"That's the third time you've asked that Monet." He sighed as he took off the glove over his right hand and rolled up his sleeve. His new metallic limb glistened in the sunlight. It was an amazing instinctive reaction. But in using his powers to such an extent, Silver had unconsciously syphoned off a major portion of his mutant ability simply to maintain the limb. Manipulations beyond that, as were common for him before his injury, were now all but impossible. "Look at this and tell me it's not time for me to take a break."
Monet said nothing.
Silver sighed again. "I know there are a million little reasons I should stay. But I think just the couple of reasons I have for going are even more important. I hope you can understand." There was a brief silence and then, "So how are things with you?"
Monet shrugged. "We're all still pretty shaken up. So many things have changed in so short a time. And it's not just that the Darkfire Court is gone now and it's not just all the people missing that I've come to expect to see everyday...it's just... Things are just so different now."
Sliver embraced her one last time, wishing there was more he could do to alleviate her sorrow - all of the sorrow he saw in his friends. He kissed her gently on the forehead and took his seat in the rear of the limousine. Monet watched it drive off beyond the gate and up the lonely road.
When she had finally settled in her new quarters in the mansion (which were essentially her old quarters), she lay down on her bed and gazed at the ceiling. She wished idly that the Danger Room was back online so that she could at least busy herself with physical exertion rather than wallow in the deep sadness that seemed to be everywhere. Her eyes wondered to her desk next to her bed where that mysterious laptop sat. She was lucky to have left it in her car when she went to the New Year's party. Otherwise, it would have met it's end along with Darkfire Castle. She sat up and opened the battered machine and started searching for why exactly this little device was so important.
***
White Court Mansion
He looked so peaceful sleeping there on the huge bed, curled into a tight ball in the center. The White King sighed as he simply sat there at the side of the bed watching his son rest. He deserved a rest. He had been through so much for someone so young just like his father in certain ways. It was a tragic bond that Grover was convinced would draw them closer later in life.
Grover ran a gentle hand across his son's cheek, his aura rippling a bit as he made contact. For so long he had wished for the day when he and the young boy could live as true father and son, but not at the cost of everything and everyone the child knew. He was certain Jen Larue would want him back, but that was all but impossible. In the discovery that Christian was indeed the Ascended One, he had no choice but to keep him under the protection of the Hellfire Courts. Jen, though certainly a fit parent, was in no position to guard and teach the destined ruler of the world. Grover wondered whether he should let her know at all where he was. It hurt him to know how much pain she must have been in at that moment, wondering where her son was and if he was alright. But wouldn't it make her a target if he let her know any more than she does?
"How is he?" Gomurr asked as he stepped quietly through a shadow on the other side of the room.
The White King barely looked up from Christian. "He's been sleeping a lot. He only seems to wake up for meals and he doesn't say much of anything to anyone. Doesn't even play with his toys, though he's started to draw a bit in his little sketchpad."
"I think we should begin investing in security measures. Now that the Illuminati know of him and where he is, they will have ever mean and nasty super-powerd being coming out of the proverbial woodwork."
"You're right, of course. I'll see to it."
Gomurr fidgeted with his staff a bit as he thought of the words he should use next. "Then there is of course the matter of the Ascended One's training..."
Grover looked up and met eyes with Gomurr for only an instant before focusing again on Christian. "In a little while. We need to give him some time to get used to his new surroundings. I'll let you know when I think he's ready."
Gomurr nodded. "Fair enough. I await your message." He too placed a hand on the boy's head, a thin smile coming across his face. So many long lifetimes in search of the One, and at last he had found him. Gomurr's destiny was at hand. "Sleep well Ascended One."
"His name is Christian," Grover commented.
"Of course," Gomurr replied as he began sinking into a shadow. "Sleep well...Christian."
***
Lyons Hill, North Carolina
Khalid was livid. He paced back and forth in the semi-demolished living room, his aura threatening to explode outwards. Cougar sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a plate of food on his lap. The television was on and he was barely listening to a word his grandson was saying. This only managed to infuriate him more.
"Damn it will you turn that thing off?" Khalid shouted as his aura unconsciously flared at the entertainment center and fried all of the electronic equipment on the wooden shelves.
Cougar turned and glared at him.
"How could you DO this to me?!"
"Could you be a little more specific?"
Khalid counted off each thing on a different finger, his voice growing louder and louder. "Oh I don't know," he started sarcastically. "You disappeared with out telling anyone which made me worried as all hell. You cast a spell that negated my protection tattoos which could've gotten me possessed by a fucking demon as part of some deal with the Illuminati I might add. You sit idly by while a crucial battle for the future of the whole fucking planet is taking place. And you don't bother to explain yourself at all. What the fuck is all this shit about?!"
Cougar calmly took his legs down from the table and put his plate in their place. "Look, kid, there are a lot of things about this situation you just don't know. For one thing, when I negated your tattoos, I mixed regular dust with the enchanted dust that I sprinkled over you so it was only partially done. Even if you had made it into the pool, the spell would've fallen and your protection would be back in place before Estophalum could take hold. Then there was the fact that I had anticipated your friends making their grand entrance, so I wasn't all that worried. As for disappearing, I'm grown fucking man. I'll do what I want, when I want."
"That still doesn't explain why in God's name you were working with those...those...monsters."
"It was a necessary arrangement," Cougar replied as he took a few gulps from his beer. "Sometimes you have to do a favor here or there to get what you need. That's just the way it is."
"Shit, grandpop. You're still not giving me a straight fucking answer. What possible reason could you have for doing what you did?"
Cougar looked up again, pausing as he brought the can up to his lips again. "It's like I told you in the temple. There are just some things you couldn't possibly fathom. Not yet anyway," he added as he downed the rest of the beer.
Khalid could only wonder what he meant by that.
***
Beth Israel Medical Center, Manhattan
All she could do was sit and watch him. There was an I-V in one arm making sure he got enough fluid and chemical neutrients. His other arm was set in a cast, the shattered bones held together and strengthened by titanium rods. Both of his legs were in casts as well, suspended in slings above the bed. A specially designed brace held his back straight where the doctors hoped his spine would heal. Bandages covered most of his head and face in white gauze-like material, nearly soaked through with blood. The nurse would have to be called in to change them again. A tube at his nose and one down his throat ran across his chest and into a machine at his bedside that helped him breath. Wires from beneath his thin hospital gown dissappeared into the cluster of cords and electronics and entered the heart monitor that beeped rhythmically in time with the boy's heart.
Sharon Stokes couldn't cry anymore. She wanted to, but her tears had been used up these last few days. She had buried so many friends, lost so many people who were important to her. The Hellfire Courts were in a shambles as each struggled to recover from this deafening blow. Even Gabe, despite all his efforts to remain sheathed in his cold, battle-hardened exterior, had felt the same loss and they had barely talked since that terrible night.
"Sharon," Daemon said softly with a hand on her shoulder. He had entered almost silently while she simply sat there holding her brother's hand.
"Don't say it," she said abruptly, her voice cracking in her dry throat. "Don't tell me, 'It'll be alright,' or 'He'll pull through,' because that's all I've been hearing from everyone for days and it hasn't made me feel any better."
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her from behind her chair, Daemon simply leaned in close to rest his cheek on her soft hair. This was all he could do, it was all the comfort he could provide. He couldn't know what she was going through. There was no way for him to know the sort of pain she felt. Worst of all, he couldn't figure out how to tell her how he was feeling himself now that he had realized something was wrong with his powers. After so many years of being virtually indesctructable, how could he deal with being virtually helpless?
***
Just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada
"Be careful with that, you oaf," the Red King shouted at one of his uniformed workers. He watched carefully as the high-tech coffin-like pods were being moved from the transport and into one of his hidden bases scattered outside of Las Vegas. Bouyed on anti-grav sleds, the workers pushed the couple of dozen pods into a room where they could be attached to a stationary power source to feed the devices that were preserving their contents.
"So was this all you could salvage from your great plan?" a terribly familiar voice said from across the way, a whisper in the Red King's ear and an indistinguishable howl of the wind for anyone else.
Jensen waited until all of the workers had entered the building before answering. "You knew. You knew all along what would happen."
The Hellgoat stepped completely into this realm of existence and let himself finally be seen, the smile already plastered on his demonic face. "I...had a hunch." He laughed. "Truthfully, I warned you...in so many words."
"Why didn't you tell me? I hadn't counted on my own court members being present when this war broke out. I've lost as many valuable personel as any of the other Courts. And by all accounts, the Illuminati were on the verge of taking over the world. Worst of all, I...GAVE them the Ascended One. Damn it, I was almost the instrument of my own destruction!"
The Hellgoat laughed again, this time more heartily. "At least you still have what few members survived, yes?"
The Red King turned sharply with an angry look on his face and then sighed heavily, letting his shoulders droop a bit. "I'm lucky to have convinced them that my dealings with the Illuminati was purely of a business nature and I was unaware of any of their plots. But even now, I sense they are ready to leave."
"Do you plan to rebuild?"
"Of course. And the casualties of war I picked up in those pods will help me do just that."
"I thought you might make that particular find. Did you have much trouble collecting them?"
Jensen smiled. "None at all actually. The dupes were not as dead as Madrox's teammates might have thought."
"So in the end, you still have come out with more than you had in the beginning."
He seemed to think for a minute, starting out into the distance just over the south wall of the base. "I suppose so," he said with a smile.
Hellgoat smiled and disappeared, pleased that all was going as he had predicted.
***
BHC Mansion
Monet sighed as she tapped a few more keys on her console. The mysterious laptop, a gift from an even more mysterious benefactor, was attached to one of her personal computer terminals. The encryptian was simple and appeared to be created specifically for her to crack. A few more key punches and the one large file on the laptop opened up in a flurry of names, numbers and images, finally coming to rest at a single word in bold, closely packed capital letters - MAJESTYTWELVE.
As she explored the documents, she soon came to realize why this little piece of electronics was so important, and why it had found its way into her hands. As she perused the contents of the file, she came to know more and more about the Illuminati. Listed were the fraternities, sororities, guilds, social orders, covens and cults that existed all over the world as recruiting stations. There were companies on the list, huge global conglomerates that provided everything from oil to breakfast cereal which were under their control. There were thousands of people, some of the most influential people in history, who they had counted as members; leaders of nations, famous generals, assassins, scientists and revolutionaries. There were even events that had made the world what it is listed as Illuminati operations; the fall of Rome, the imperialist push to colonize the New World, the Industrial Revolution, both World Wars, the assassinations that defined the United States in the 1960's, the oil shortage of the 1970's, and thousand more moments in history. And just beyond the pages and pages of detailed plans that led to the shaping of human civilization as we know it, was the purpose of it all, the defining ultimate goal of the Illuminati under a name spelled out in closely-spaced, capital letters - MAJESTYTWELVE. Monet discovered that it would all begin with Estophalum, the demonic master of the Illuminati's druid founders, and the child Ascended One. With Estophalum as the child's teacher, the two would bring havoc and destruction upon all those that would oppose them. The demon, the all-seeing eye at the top of the pyramid, would rule with the Ascended One as his anit-christ figure over a culture built upon the world order being shaped and manipulated by all of their plots into the body of the pyramid. The underlings of this society, the slaves taken in the war of conquest, would make the base, the labor force. The middle would be populated by those found worthy to travel the way of the Illuminati, to give their souls to Estophalum that they may someday take part in the Great Houses. The four Houses; Cups, Swords, Pentacles and Wands, each with three figureheads; Kings, Queens and Knights, would make the ruling council of advisors just beneath Estophalum, the majestic twelve "apostles" of the anti-christ - MAJESTYTWELVE.
Monet sat up straight from where she slouched at the terminal, her eyes wide. This was what it all had been about, the massacre and the kidnappings that scarred the Hellfire Clubs just a few days ago. It would have heralded in this terrible age of the Illuminati on earth. Monet breathed a sigh of relief, fully grasping for the first time the victory that had been won in the first few hours of teh New Year. But as she continued to read, she saw contingency upon contingency, each leading to the same result. With this document, the Hellfire Courts could more fully understand their new foe. A few clicks of the mouse and the file was e-mailed through the secured network between Court computer systems. Monet was thankful for what this information meant to their cause and could only wonder at the identity of the person who had made sure it got to her. "Thank you, whoever you are," she whispered as she continued to read.
***
Upstate New York
The Temple of Mekis was in shambles. The stonehendge-like formation of enchanted rocks that had stood on the ground just above the subterranean temple now sat scattered about the deep pit where the ceiling of the domed structure had collapsed. Beneath the rubble were hundreds of bodies, mostly Illuminati that had not escaped in time and some of the few Madrox dupes that had not found their way into the Red King's clutches. Most notably, was the body of the former King of Wands, Adonis. The huge stone still sat atop the pool of blood beneath whose crimson liquid, he had died. But amid the silence of the dead, something stirred. At first it seemed to be only the gravel settling again until the entire stone slab began to move. A fiery light began to emanate as the blood boiled over onto the crumbling floor of the temple's ruins. The stone was soon easily tossed again as terrible laughter filled the air, the kind of maniacal cackling that struck deep to any who would hear it. And with a voice that could shatter the strongest armor, the creature that was once Adonis, spoke. "I...AM....FREE!!!!" And the Earth cried.
~~End~~