The Wielder of Death Magic

“Who are you?” asked one of the people from Phantom.

“None ya business,” said the man in white-suit, “-I wanna speak to the leader of your little group.”

“No can do,” sighed the guard to face away.

“DON’T IGNORE US,” screamed a typhoon of henchmen dressed similarly with only the colors varying. The weapons; sub-machine guns with silencers. Each one of them looked menacing. The definition of what one could expect roaming in back-alleys, killing, stealing, and other more. The noise kept on growing, “-qui fait tout ce bruit?” 1

“What’s the matter, Kendy?” asked Thempa as the duo stood on the opened roof.

“Look down over there,” replied he in a foreign language, “-they’re making trouble,” pointed he. The squared face, bushy brows, big ears, a dark skin complexion, and the body of a well-trained soldier, tis was Kendy – the leader of the SBGA-05. Acronym for the Subjugation Platoon – they were tantamount to Special forces of another country’s army. In Phantom’s case, the soldiers were recruited from the multiple training facilities around Hidros. Some with the potential to be recruited into Phantom were hand-picked. As a whole, Phantom was an arm’s trading company that had more than a few fights with the Underworld. Them being a part of it never made it to the public. Secrets were worth more than lives. The few unfortunate enough to have any condemning information were assassinated. The SBGA-05 was only implemented after the war. Trained and battle-hardened, each member of the Platoon was sent to Iqeavea to help in the constant in-fighting. A test or initiation to enter the program. Those weak, killed, and the strong, given a life of well-compensated hard work. The curious knew to stay quiet and the wise never asked question.

.....

“Should we intervene?” asked Thempa knelt with a rifle lying beside him. The leader of the Black Unit. No good militia would be worth its money without a hidden unit. The BU was mostly tasked with under-cover jobs, hidden, and well-informed. The majority of the fighters came from the Dark-Guild; exiled from the organization due to the culling of traitors. Similar to the Subjugation Platoon, despite the low numbers, the Black Unit was one to be feared. The worth and talent were tried and tested – the most notable achievement being the elimination of a lonesome outpost on borders nearing Elendor. The mission lasted three days; with almost no supplies and no back-up, Thempa made sure he and his men returned victoriously.

“Sir Thempa, Sir Kendy,” saluted a soldier, “-the Boss has requested your presence.”

“Let’s go,” said Thempa grabbing the gun.

“Allons-y,”1 added Kendy.

Down the stairs and to the farthest corner of the mansion – Staxius sat in a primitive base of operation. The room was filled with carton boxes filled with logistical appliances. The engineer, a member of GateSix, would come on the second trip. Only a table and three chairs were in place. The hallway leading to the room crawled with fighters carrying the many boxes.

“You called for us, boss?” asked Thempa sharply.

“Yes,” turned he after unrolling a map over the table, “-quite archaic to be using this,” a comment to self.

“Monsieur?”1 voiced he seeing the less than attentive boss.

“Thempa, Kendy, glad to see thee are here. I’m sure the noise outside is getting a little out of hand,” *click,* just as those words were spoken, Thempa loaded the rifle.

“Bring the leader of that group to me,” ordered Staxius.

“What of the others?” asked Kendy in his foreign tongue.

“Open fire if need be, I’ll trust thy judgment.”

“Oui, monsieur.”1

“If you don’t let us in, I think I’m gonna order my boys to start shooting,” smirked the white-suit man.

“Tell ’em boss, ain’t nobody gonna lay their hands on our soil.”

Irritated by the pointless teasing, the guards were a hair away from pulling the trigger. Before the last straw was drawn; two imposing figures emerged from the mansion. Rifle in hand wearing a bullet-proof vest; those around stopped to salute.

“Are you the leader of the group?” asked Thempa deeply.

“Who asks?” smirked the recipient.

“Our Leader,” interjected Kendy, “-Dogs barking is far tamer than you animals screaming.”

“We have no business talking to someone who comes from Easel Run Guard. You and your dumbass pronunciations, go back to that piss poor country.”

“Crétin!” 1

“Chill,” gestured Thempa, “-getting provoked isn’t going to change anything.”

“What happen?” laughed the henchmen, “-does the dog only bark, not bite?”

*BANG,* immediate and without time to react; “-don’t test my patience,” gritted Thempa. Outside the gate, they who laughed came to a stop – one of their members was shot in cold-blood.

“RASCALS, HOW DARE YOU,” yelled the leader, “-GET ‘EM BOYS.”

The cacophony of guns being fired cut across the tranquil night. The smell of the powder of death. Screams of those in agony – windows breaking, metal being pierced.

“What happened to being calm?” asked Kendy mockingly.

“Shut up...” The visitors were annihilated, bodies laid over the cars. Some tried to escape to only end up in a ditch not so far away.

*Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik, tok,* silence prevailed. Only the clock counted away the passing seconds. Staxius sat with elbows on the table. Thempa and Kendy brought over the leader who was allowed to live. No questions were asked, not a word spoken, the ones inside kept quiet. ‘Who are these people?’ thought he anxiously tied to a chair. ‘Bullets did not affect them, my men were killed without a shred of remorse. The boss is going to be angry.’

“Care to speak of the reason of thy visit?” the silence broke.

“...”

“Parle!,” 1heavy boot stomped onto the man’s leg, “-AHHH.”

“Kendy...”

“Sorry Boss,” the head lowered to catch a glimpse of the captured.

“Speak, else my comrades may get a little excited,” said Staxius smugly. Reference was made to Thempa who stood in the corner. He cracked his knuckles slowly and painfully.

Cold sweat flashed across the captured’s face – the heartlessness had shivers down the back. The aura around the room changed the moment the leader spoke. Dauntingly cold for the night, “-I came per orders from my boss.”

“Interesting,” said Staxius with his fingers touching one another, “-what else can you tell me about said boss?”

“We’re a small faction in Tale allied to some people I cannot reveal the name of. After the AN-U’s intervention, we thought we could occupy the house and kill any remainders. It backfired since new occupants came.”

“Why did you shoot then?” asked Staxius.

“We had too,” he slowly glanced over to Thempa, “-you were the ones who opened fire first.”

“Is that true?” he glanced seeking answers.

“Yes, boss.”

“I did give the order to shoot if necessary. So, Mr?”

“Winey, Winey ‘Lock’ Gafro.”

“Mr. Lock,” stood Staxius, “-I do apologize for the less than inviting welcome. Blood was shed needlessly. I wish to only be amiable; return to thy leader, tell them Phantom has occupied the mansion. Tis but a warning, for tonight forth, the area around this mansion will be kill-on-sight. Relay it to the people of the town; if anyone dares to cross into our property, then, a bullet is what they shall see last.”

“Y-yes.”

“Let him go.” The once-spotless white suit had splatters of blood turned into a reddish-brown color.

*Click,* the door shut, “-Thempa,” called the Boss.

“Y-yes?”

“Good job,” smiled he walking to the window, “-a very good impression.” Lights from Winey’s car dashed to the center of town. “They know we’re not going to sit and follow their lead.”

“What are your orders, sir?”

“Kendy, I want you to take command of the other soldiers who are to come tomorrow. Coordinate them to have a safe perimeter, I want the buildings closest to us cleared. Be peaceful – if resistance is met, kill them.”

“Yes, sir,” saluted he.

“Thempa, I want the Black Unit to infiltrate the common folks. We need intel, do what thee know best. Contact headquarters for any requests for supply, weapons, or manpower.”

“Yes, sir.”

‘Winey...’ laid fully onto the chair, the two broad figures disappeared into the long hallway. ‘He was nothing more than bait. The factions are suspicious. The gunfight earlier should have them think twice before starting anything. We need more information on the town and the allied factions. Someone is pulling the strings and I need to know who.’

“Master.”

“éclair?”

“It’s concerning the AN-U. The group isn’t being disbanded. The fake-evidence was thrown aside.”

“What of the media?”

“They rejected the scoop; said they didn’t want to get involved into matters not concerning them.”

“What of operation Malk?”

“News of Hero Luna and the Jester are the most searched terms for the past few months.”

“Status on the AHA, did you find any links yet?”

“No, still searching sir. The data is locked behind tight encryption. Either I get physical access to the servers or we have to wait a while longer.”

“Physical access,” he paused, “-care to elaborate?”

“The servers at the AHA headquarters. Any means inside their network will suffice. I’m sure I can break into their darkest secret that way.”

Upon those words, a memory came, an interview with a representative of the AHA which happened a few weeks after Jester’s second appearance. Many questions were asked. One sentence, in particular, stood out, ‘-the AHA will do anything to have Hero Luna. We’re willing to work our hardest to meet her needs. The veil of her identity has us on edge just as much as the populous. Her arrival was a godsend, we truly thank her for the voluntary service. A true hero who helps without care for his own. She only needs to visit the headquarters. Hero Luna, if you’re watching this, the AHA will be grateful to have someone of your caliber to combat crime. Public safety agrees so.’ The representative later went on to elaborate on how being in touch will help to save countless other innocent lives.

‘That’s it,’ *Ancient Magic: Teleportation.*

“Intherna, Gophy, heed my voice for I call on thee.”

“It’s about time,” said a lady materializing with a burst of flame.

“I shudder to think of why thee have called,” said another followed by dark mist.

.....

“Hero Luna and Jester,” smiled he, “-you’ve done well.”

“Well,” *Snap,* the outfits changed to match those on newspapers and television, “-we have a job to do,” said Gophy, “-why though?”

“Operation Malk was set in place to skyrock Meldorino’s fame. To have the infamous Hero Luna unconsciously endorse our brand. It worked but not as much. My butler stayed over the Arcanum and filled forums with conspiracy theories. The only link to Luna’s identity was our brand. People love a good mystery, and we gave them one. That purpose has been served. Color me impressed, Intherna, you did amazingly well to sell the Jester. The bombs, New Year Wrecker – a villain who has a good ideology. You went after the AHA, the fake heroes – people who the populous are starting to question. A charismatic crazed man. You even have a Fanclub, imagine, someone who’s killed to be taken seriously.”

“Operation Malk was fun,” said Intherna leaned over the kitchen counter.

“Yeah,” replied Gophy pouring whiskey for three. “Why did you call on us?”

“Time has come to put an end to the Jester and Luna,” smiled he.

“Already?” said Gophy slightly disappointed, “-wasn’t the point of Luna to take down the AHA and those within?”

“That she will,” he laughed, “-the last act will be at Arkta, a final send-off.”

“Is this in preparations for the coming underworld conflict?”

“Yes,” said he adding ice, “-Cleopatra’s mission is nearly completed.”

“Oh her...” Gophy’s eyes rolled.

“Yeah, her.” Following cheers; the duo began to brainstorm the last act.

‘Time to end the many schemes around Alphia. There’s too much on the plate. Luna and Jester served their purpose. I need to know if the Patek’s are involved with Cimier – the only link is the AHA. Worry not, Son-in-law, I’ll make sure this idyllic continent remains so.’