R2 SE6: Silence and Shadows
The room was dark despite the bright morning that shone just outside the covered windows. The one source of light, a laptop with an attached webcam, cast an eerie glow over the spartan furnishings.
On the screen, Overseer Gregory IX nodded. "I see...so things are just as we predicted they would be."
"Yes, Your Holiness. The city is engulfed in the chaos of the tournament, on top of the ongoing battles between the vampires and the Templars...The IFPE is scrambling to keep things under wraps, with only limited success. After all, one cannot keep the collapse of a well-known bridge and the explosion in the middle of Old Town Square secret for long," said the priest sitting in front of the computer.
The Overseer smirked. "Micheal, what kind of excuses did they come up with? I'm curious."
"'Structural instability' for the bridge and 'a schedualed demolition' for the other."
A chuckle echoed through the computer's speakers. "Really now? That's the best Prewitt could come up with?...He's such a child. Thinks like a teenager, and becomes petulant when things don't go his way. Speaking of that, have you and Anton found out anything about his plans? His true purpose for this tournament?"
Priest Micheal shook his head. "Just rumors, nothing substantial. As far as we can determine, he truly intends to confer the title of 'Slayer' to the winner, no matter who...There is one thing, though. He's been making several calls to various scientists and labs all over the world. We did a little research on some of the names. They're all experts in either monster or human genetics, with one exception, that one specializing in pharmacueticals."
There was a silence, the world's religious leader seeming to be lost in thought. Suddenly it was broken by laughter.
"Oh, Prewitt, so THAT'S what you've got up your sleeve! I underestimated you, boy...You're more ambitious, have much greater foresight than I gave you credit for! So much so, in fact, that it's going to be your downfall..."
"Sir?"
"I believe I know what the High Slayer has in mind. If I'm right, his plans won't come to fruition for at least a century, unless he has access to some technology we don't know about. He doesn't, does he?"
"No, sir."
"Then we have nothing to worry about. It's intricate, really...But futile. In the time it takes him to get his ducks in a row, we'll have finished our own project and implemented it."
The priest bit his lower lip. "...Your Holiness, if I may speak freely..."
"I know, Micheal. This whole affair makes you uncomfortable."
The balding man bowed his head in shame. "Forgive me."
"There is nothing to be forgiven. You are old-school, as I once was. But times are changing, and so must we. If we are to save our world from the vile monsters that crawl upon it, we must be willing to get our hands dirty."
"Still...Maybe it would be best for all involved if I were to...If I was the one to take your camera to the matches and judges meetings, and leave the rest to Anton. He's younger and has more energy...And he's very eager to do the things you ask of him."
"...Perhaps you're right, my son. Anton is very willing, and craves approval...So be it. You will be more useful when you are sure of yourself and your purpose, after all. Now go get some rest, and let none of these ugly matters trouble you any longer."
The priest nodded his head respectfully and rose to go. "Shall I fetch Anton, so your Holiness can bring him up to date?"
"Please do.
- - -
Only a few minutes after Micheal left, a much younger man came bounding into the room. He wasted no time in getting in front of the screen. "Yes, Your Holiness? You summoned me?"
Gregory IX couldn't help but grin. Yes, Anton would work nicely. He was barely a man, and was very eager to please his superiors. What's more, he was willing to go against 'tradition' if it meant completing his orders.
"Yes, I did. It seems Micheal cannot find it in his heart to continue the workd I had the two of you doing, and has volunteered to be the sole bearer of my com[uter while you will be my Prague informant. Can you do this?"
"Of course I can, Your Holiness! I relish the oppertunity to prove myself faithful to the Church and to you!"
He was sure the boy meant every word...But would he be capable? Micheal may have questioned him, but the elder priest had the skills to complete the tasks he was given. Anton, he wasn't so sure of. An idea crossed his mind.
"I'm sure you do, son. How would you like to prove yourself...today?"
"You already have a job for me, sir?"
"Indeed I do. I was going to have Micheal take care of it, but since you are so willing...The Silent One will be there in an hour with a package. Your task is to dispose of it. I'd have the Silent One take care of it directly, but people are beginning to notice him, and the IFPE may have eyes on him. A fresh face would help our objectives greatly."
Anton bowed his head in gratitude and respect. "I will not fail you, Your Holiness."
"For your sake, I hope not."
- - -
Exactly fifty-eight minutes after the Overseer had signed off, the door opened and a man in his mid-to-late fifties entered the room. He wore white robes that had been decorated in the fashion of the IFPE Officer's suit. Despite his age, he hefted a 'package' his own size over his shoulder without any effort as he turned to close the door.
The two nodded their respects to one another. "Brother, allow me to help you with that..." The young priest offered.
However, the older man shook his head. He gently lay his burden down onto the floor.
A sudden realization dawned on Anton; now that he could see it clearly, this 'package' was clearly a modified body bag. The young man was slightly horrified.
"...Silent One, if I may ask...What on Earth is this?"
The monk lived up to his moniker. After a few moments, Anton assumed that he was meant to find out on his own. But as he knelt to unzip the bag, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at his elder, who motioned for him to stand.
Anton did so. The Silent One was, after all, the Overseer's inside man deep within the IFPE. Even though it was obvious that he belonged with the Church, the Slayers often said things in front of him without realizing he was there, giving him intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the organization. He was often given missions of questionable morality by both the Church and the IFPE, and perhaps this 'package' pertained to one of them...Perhaps the man standing before him had been the one to fill it. Disobeying such a man was out of the question.
The monk locked eyes with the priest, and the latter felt as if he was falling forward into the former, like he was being sucked into those eyes.
Being an aid to the Overseer, Anton had heard the rumors. He'd heard the whisperings of magic, the tales of Runes and forbidden Elvish arts. He's listened to the stories about the man who grew up in the Himalayas, and learned from the pagan monks their ways of battle, both physical and mental. Apparently, at least some of them were true, as he was getting the chance to see the Silent One's abilities for himself.
It felt odd, to have his mind merged with the monk's...He searched for a comparison, and the Silent One found one for him; Anton saw the image of a man watching a televison screen while inside a sensory deprivation tank.
'Yeah, it does seem a bit like that...' the priest thought.
The image vanished, and for a moment there was naught but black emptiness. Without warning, he felt as if he was lurching forward into light.
It took him a moment to figure out that he was seeing a memory, through the monk's eyes. He was in a white room with low lighting save for the large screen on the wall that Anton recognized as a screenphone. Currently on it was the Overseer, and he looked livid. The poor doctors/scientists {all the priest knew is that they wore white lab coats, and the monk didn't exactly provide him with any clarifying details} cowered in fear as His Holiness screamed at them.
"What do you mean, someone got in here?! Where was this fail-proof security you swore would be active at all times!?" blasted the head of the Church
"I-I'm sorry, sir, we don't know how he got so far without being spotted--" began a woman.
"I don't want your pathetic excuses," interrupted Gregory IX, "I want results! Did you capture the intruder?"
"...For a moment, sir, but-but it wasn't human, sir! It was...we think it was a kind of werepire...it overpowered us and security and escaped!"
"What did it see?"
The woman seemed perplexed by the question. "Sir?"
The Overseer almost snarled, his eyes {Anton had a detached sense of realization that he'd never noticed their color--dark gray, and somehow familiar--before now} burning with rage. "I asked you, what did this damned monster see?! Exactly how far did it get before it was caught?!"
There was no response. Gregory IX looked past the woman to the Silent One. "Force this moron to answer me," he ordered.
The monk nodded and rolled up his sleeves. His arms were covered in Runic tattoos that constantly shifted, moved, and changed. The Silent One looked at his palms, and two identical Runes formed there.
Though aging, the monk moved with lightning speed and seized the doctor/scientist by the upper arm and back of the neck. The poor woman screamed and writhed in pain, the Runes burning her skin as the Silent One forced his will ('Speak your answer') into her thoughts. He held fast even as she tried to escape, making it clear that her only salvation was to give the Overseer the answer that he wanted.
Images flickered in the corners of his eyes. 'This must be how he reads memories,' Anton thought absently, very glad that he was not in the woman's place.
"He--he saw--the monster--it saw--it was in the Garden--That's where--It was there that we--that security caught up with it!!!"
She finally wriggled free from the Silent One's grasp, running to hide behind he colleagues as she sobbed.
Now the Overseer sat in silence for a moment. When he spoke, it was again to the monk. "I'm sure you saw her memory of the beast...Find it. If it was as strong as these imbeciles imply, bring it back to the Garden. If not, take it down the hall from here. Either way we will get use out of it. If the creature has spoken of what it has seen to anyone...You know what to do. We cannot have it spread."
It was as if a great hand had pressed the fast-forward button on this 'movie'. Everything rushed by in a blur for about a day's worth of images. When things righted themselves, the Silent One was perched on a rooftop. He was watching a man down below in an alley. This individual had dark skin and white hair, and was currently pacing to and fro as he spoke into a cellcom.
"As soon as it is possible. Can you meet me tonight?" asked the man, speaking in an accent neither the Silent One or Anton could identify.
He felt recognition--this was indeed his target. 'Why is this memory more...connected? Why is he letting me feel his emotions and think this thoughts this time?' Anton wondered.
"Seven o'clock it shall be. The roof of the church called St. Vitus." Here the man ended the call. He leaned against the wall and sighed.
The monk observed his surroundings. In the distance, various creatures chased one another, looking to take jeweled crystals from one another for reasons unknown. Having a hunch that it somehow involved the tournament and doubting that it was sanctioned by Prewitt, the Silent One had confiscated a great number of them, putting the collection in a small bag. Nearby, a monster of lightning and stone pursued an axe-weilding mass of living roots. They would be upon his target in moments. He needed to act now.
But what if they were curious? What if they decided to follow? He looked again at the small pouch full of crystals. Perhaps this bag would serve as an appropriate diversion, give him a chance to return to the rooftops and lose them.
Plan in mind, he rolled up his sleeves again. He searched his memory for the Runes that could take down powerful beasts like this half-werecreature, but not kill it. The proper symbols appeared on his palms, while Runes of protection and warding formed on his arms. Fully prepared, he pounced.
His target was caught competely by surprise, allowing him to get a firm grip on one of the creature's arms. The man-beast growled, his free arm with claws extended swatting at him in an effort to force the Silent One to let go. The monk had to duck to avoid injury to his head, but his shoulder wasn't so fortunate. Pain seared through his blood, but he gritted his teeth and held fast. Seconds later, the half-vampire went limp, unconscious and unable to fight. The Silent One slung him over his unwounded shoulder and, after making sure to 'accidentally' drop the bag full of jewels, leapt back to the roof.
Here the connection was roughly broken, and Anton was suddenly himself again. The young priest stumbled backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit. He felt winded and ill, but he chalked that up to a possible side effect of being thrown back into his own body and mind. Once he was sure he wasn't going to lose his lunch, Anton looked again at the bag. "...The werepire?"
The monk nodded.
"And your shoulder?" Anton asked out of concern.
Here the Silent One waved his hand, a classic gesture for 'it's nothing, don't worry.'
The young priest looked back at the body bag. "So...His Holiness wants me to...'dispose' of it, as a test of my faith?"
Again the monk nodded. Anton sighed and stood, moving to once again kneel next to the bag. Something seemed...off. He thought about it for a moment, then reached out and unzipped the top part of the bag.
A pair of red-orange eyes with slit pupils stared at nothing, looking hollow and blank. And then they blinked. Anton cried out in suprise and stumbled backwards again, this time landing on his bottom. "It-it's alive?!" he asked his companion.
However, the room was empty. The monk had already taken his leave.
For a minute, he just sat there in shock. Once he was certain that his legs would support him, he stood and began to pace nervously. Every so often, he'd look down to the man on the floor, causing an even greater sense of indecision to gnaw at him. He rushed to the hotel room's bathroom and turned the cold water faucet to 'on.'
After splashing his face for a moment, he looked at himself in the mirror. Even now, with his dark brown bangs soaked and clinging to the skin of his face, a faint glow was visable from the center of his forehead. He sighed heavily, using his wet fingers to brush these bangs behind his ears.
'One who knows the true nature of God,' the Elvish Rune stated, 'and follows the teachings of peace and love.'
A little over a year ago, that would have seemed to him like a contradiction--a Mark of the 'false creator' speaking of God. He knew better now, but look where it had gotten him, this situation where he was trapped.
His Mark spoke his true feelings...that he, unlike most of the priests and followers of this so-called 'Church', believed in and followed the real teachings of God: All life is sacred; All living things, while they contain the potential for great evil, also contain a spark of the Divine; In the eyes of God, all are equal and all are loved; the path to salvation lay not in carrying out orders blindly, but in doing what was good, just, and most of all, right; Actions in life had consequences in the Afterlife, and those said actions and consequences were determined by God and not by an unholy man who claimed to be His mouthpiece while ordering robbery, murder, and even genocide.
He had become a Disciple of Valdesh not long after becoming a priest. Seeing the corruption of everything he loved and held sacred had compelled him to look for answers elsewhere. A chance encounter with a Valdeshian monk had led him toward the elf and his Disciples.
Valdesh's words matched his beliefs...and the elf even said that he didn't care how his Disciples viewed him. He did not ask to be worshipped, and in fact encouraged each of them to find their own spiritual answers. Anton could be both a Christian and a Disciple, as being a Disciple meant only that he agreed that the interspecies violence and hatred had to end if the world was to survive.
His Mark had granted him contacts and friends the world over, and the ability it granted him to communicate with other Disciples had proved invaluable to him time and again. He'd used his contacts and communications to climb up the Church heirarchy fairly quickly, and was now a personal aid to the Overseer. He only stayed within the corrupt organization in the hopes of changing it from the inside...But aside from spreading an unedited copy of the Bible from before World War III, he had no real plan.
And now he was really in a pickle. He should have gotten out months ago, but here he was, caught between proving his 'loyalty' to this false Church and its leader, and his own principles and beliefs.
Any true follower of the Church and its warped teachings to the Church would kill the monster without a second thought, and dispose of the body in a way to make it look like another monster had done the deed. However, what kind of 'monster' would that make him, to act so coldly and callously toward another, a man whose most heinous crime was probably being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
He exited the bathroom and returned to the werepire's side. Anton fully unzipped the bag, and immediately wished he hadn't. The man was more of a pile of flesh, bone, and blood than an actual man...His half-breed nature is what likely kept him alive. But even a vampire wouldn't survive injuries and wounds these severe for long.
Anton needed to make a decision, and soon. He either killed this man through action or inaction, or risked his cover and his life to save him. The priest did the one thing he could think to do: he knelt and prayed to God for guidance.
- * - * -
In another dark room, the only source of light was a giant glowing chessboard, the black and white tiles eminating enough light to illuminate the lifesized pieces standing upon them.
Lounging in the Black Queen's throne was a woman, smiling as she sipped at a wine glass full of an unidentifiable reddish liquid. Her free arm hung lazily off the side of the throne, and she was running her long-nailed fingers along the spine of a shadowy creature that constantly shapeshited. The creature cooed happily at the attention, the sound somewhere between a cat's low growl and a ghostly moan.
"Isn't it wonderful, my sweet?" the woman said to her pet. "All the pieces are falling into place, at long last..."
The chess pieces, which had once been generic and plain aside from the thrones, became amorphous. It was as if they were waiting for her words to give them shape.
"It was so easy, wasn't it Shadow? Barely any effort on my part...They did most of the work themselves." The woman giggled. "For example, that silly vampire girl and her master. How do they think they survived that encounter with the Slayers that month or two ago?"
Two of the black pawns solidified. One of them took the shape of a woman wearing a scarf weilding two handguns, and the other a man in sunglasses and a hat.
"Of course, it was a bit of a miracle of timing, getting my followers to help them out at the last moment. But again, making miracles isn't all that hard, what with having no real restrictions. That incident provided the shortage of Slayers I needed. It didn't take much to get the brat running the IFPE on board to the idea of a tournament, and even less to get that dried-up old fool that runs the Church involved."
Now the two black bishops solidified. The one to her left became an old man wearing the garb and holding the scepter of the Overseer, and the one on her right became a man in the IFPE General's customary suit.
"The Chuch...Now that's my kind of a can of worms. I can't wait to see how well their little plot turns out. Speaking of plots, don't you think that it's delicious that both the Slayers and the clergy have ulterior motives invested in this tournament, and until earlier today, neither of them knew the other's plans?"
The shadowy creature chuckled a little, causing her smile to widen.
"That's why I love you so much, dear; we share a sense of humor. Get this for funny--I've stolen one of enemy's knights and made it my own. The poor soul just doesn't realize how much he's helping me."
A black knight solidified. There was a hole through the piece's chest, covered only partially by a trenchcoat.
"At the same time, my precious little scientist friend continues his work. Oh, imagine the other knight's reaction if he knew!"
As she giggled, the other black knight solidified into a man with a cruel smile and a stained labcoat.
"And meanwhile, we can't forget our rooks. Neither of them are in Prague, but they're moving forward toward their destinies...Those destinies tailor-made to assist me, naturally. That was the hard part, tracking down everyone involved to get those two to turn out just right. It'll be worth the effort, though, you'll see."
The black rooks assumed their shapes. One was a humaniod robot, the other a short, bespecled man in an oversized labcoat.
"In the city, we have the Templars running around, waging holy war whereever they can..."
Another black pawn became the image of a holy knight, wearing priestly vestiments while weilding a crusader's sword and sheild.
"And the Sweepers trying so desperately to keep the peace as they try, in vain, to find out what everyone else is up to."
Still another black pawn formed into a tall man with a mop of hair that accented his dissheveled suit and slouched stance.
"While we're speaking of the Sweepers, one of their own is out on a rampage, keeping them confused and keeping the citizenry frightened."
Again a black pawn took form. The piece bore a manical smile, holding a gun in one hand and a sword in the other.
"There's also that pet of one of my enemy's pawns...Its inner demons awakening, going berserk. So much fun, those two. I'm glad they listened to my suggestion to make them fight this round."
A black pawn became a teenaged cyborg that bore some catlike qualities, such as the ears.
"And my final two pawns are some friends of the silly vampire girl...Namely, her loudest, most destructive ones."
The last black pawns solidified, becoming a cloaked and masked figure and a humanoid lizard wearing a gas mask.
She looked next to her at the piece that was meant to be the Black King. In the throne, a knight formed, heavy of armor and with a large battleaxe in his lap. She sighed. "If only you could be here...I know you would enjoy it. I know you're watching me, though, growing ever stronger as my plans come to fruition." She laughed, the cruel sound echoing off the unseen walls of the room. "Even my enemy's every move benefits me!"
She turned her attention to the white pieces. The White King became the very picture of nobility and solidarity, arms crossed and staring straight at her. The woman stuck her tongue out at the chess piece.
"Feh. You may see me, but you'll never stop me. Your time draws near. You can deny it all you want, you're not even a threat to me. You are merely the last hurdle I must jump before I reach the finish line."
The white rooks solidified, one being a long-haired woman and the other being a man smoking a cigar.
"And you two...So pitiful. Even as you have your personal drama, your conflict blinds you both. Especially you, my sweet chain-smoking engineer. You've come close to me several times, but your mind is always occupied with thoughts of your red-haired lady-friend here."
The white bishops took shape now. One was a winged woman holding a book, and the other was a priest holding a cross-shaped staff.
"You've been getting in the way of my plans for my dhamphir, fallen. That, and getting close to realizing that something bigger is afoot in Prague. In the end, though, your final 'fall' will help me in reach my goals. As for you, young Templar...My enemy is grooming you to become one of his in some way. If you keeping being so nice, I may have to arrange an inner-Templar 'disagreement' and take care of you. But for now, you're too fun to watch, with your inner struggles and doubts."
The white knights formed into a young woman in a dress and a young man with a mechanical arm and leg.
"Little girl, little girl, you've been trying to take my knight away from me. I can't have that...Hopefully, my other knight will take good care of you. Your tragic demise will, in turn, ruin my enemy's plan for his knight-to-be. That tin can may be the student of your former knight, o enemy of mine, but he's clearly not knight material. I have to thank you for that, I suppose...It's so easy to fluster him, to stir up negativity from him."
The white pawns all began to take shape and solidify as she spoke. "The young priest who pays lip service to the Overseer, creating conflict...The good-two-shoes little girl Shadow had to scare, with trouble following her wherever she goes...The wanna-be vampire killer you're trying soooo hard to convert even as he rails against his fate...The magic teacher from Poland who cut out on you when you needed him most...The owner of my little demonic pawn, unable to control that which he himself created...The recent addition from Hell, whose powers bring destruction...The kind little mage girl, a frequent participant in my 'shotgun rounds'...And that ridiculously-huge-gun toting vampiress...All of them, in their own way, are working for me even as they work directly or indirectly for you!"
She finally turned her gaze to the White Queen, her hated enemy, her rival. The peace took the familiar form of a man in robes with long hair and a sweet smile. The woman glared at this model of he who stood in her way, the moron who preached love and peace even as his creations worked so hard to spill one another's blood.
"He's coming here, you know," she said to her shadowy pet. "He's walking right into my clutches, my dear Shadow! And some of our wildcards are here waiting for him..." She bit her lower lip until it bled, relishing in both the taste of blood and the pain. "...I'm going to ruin him. I'm going to make him suffer. From the moment he arrives in Prague, I won't just be annoying him and pestering him anymore. I'll be genuinely hurting him. By the time I'm through with him, whether that's next week or centuries from now, I want him begging me to take his life! I want him on his knees groveling before I finally destroy him!"
The Shadow slithered into his mistress's lap, cooing again and snuggling into her. She put down her now empty glass and wrapped her arms around the creature, still stroking its spine.
"Yes, my Shadow...I've turned this Universe of his into a powder keg. Once I light the fuse, it's going to be one hell of a show for you and me!"
