A portal opened in the grand courtyard of marble and stone; General Matrx swiftly emerged through, dressed in his leather and metal armor, accompanied by Shayds he guaranteed he could trust. Marching, in fast strides, passing by large, monstrous beasts that remained oblivious to his presence until commanded, his heavy boots echoed. Discussing the information they gathered among themselves, dragging prisoners in the opposite direction across the courtyard, Matrx wasn’t a man you to wanted to come across.
“Where’s my brother?!” his voice barked in a light French accent, demanding answers from passing soldiers under his leadership and militia.
“Pacing the rooftop of Victoria’s Tower, General.” one of the men answered, “We just left, alerting him of your return. Sir, have you made any progress, have you found anything new about the trains’ whereabouts?”
Feeling disgruntled, not liking having his motives questioned by someone beneath him in rank, Matrx swiftly removed his Katana that hung off his belt, slicing clean through the man’s neck. He didn’t even wipe, or flick the blood off the blade, as he sheathed the weapon, continuing in powerful strides.
“Get him out of here, feed whatever is left of his flesh and blood to the newly turned Nightwalkers!” he ordered over his shoulder before he turning down one of the many halls of the House of Parliament, with two Shayds trailing behind him. Arriving at the door, leading to the staircase ascending upward, he turned to the Shayds behind him, ordering them to open a portal that would take him to the rooftop, “I’m not in the mood for stairs today, open it.” he pointed.
“Yes, General.” one of the men nodded, stepping forward. As he placed his hands on the door, muttering soft words under his breath, then reaching for the knob quickly swinging open the door, a portal was in place of the natural entrance, “After you, General.” the Shayd gestured forward.
Matrx said nothing as he stepped through, appearing atop the tall tower. Glancing behind him, the two Shayds stood by the portal that closed. Frowning, Matrx turned his attention toward his brother, Lord Drakuul, who stood near the ledge, overlooking the destruction that he’s created.
Sensing presences behind him, viewing in all directions, the corners of his mouth grew into a faint grin, feeling content as he watched the streets below, flashing violently with colors of magic between the Shayds and Demons of his militia and that of the residents that were trapped within the Great City. The attacks were a nightly rebellion that were attempting to rise against him and his rule, but knowing he owned the city as far as his dark eyes could see, he raised his gaze upward at the darkened sky. Lifting his arms, releasing blasts of green and black Electrokinetic energy, it broke through the clouded, and gloomy blanket, disturbing Shadow Ones, Harpies and the slithering mass within, to scatter but remained concealed.
“Drakuul.” Matrx announced loudly.
Lowering his arms, continuing to overlook the city, he spoke.
“Look at this, brother…look around. All of this…” his hands gestured at the city, “all of this is mine, and Marxus has done nothing to stop me.” he lowered his hands once more.
“Yes, it’s fabulous.” Matrx groaned.
“What’s the matter with you? You should relish in this glory, you of all people I thought would.”
“Excuse me if I’m not as enthused as you are.”
Turning to Matrx, Drakuul leered at him.
“It’s because of Marxus, that you and I spent years in prison, suffering without magic and if it weren’t for his death, we’d be there still.”
“You don’t know for sure that he is.” Matrx argued, carefully placing his hands on the hilts of his long, and short, Katanas.
“That may be true, but how else can you explain the return of my magic?” Drakuul gloated, raising his hands that glowed in a bright green magic that swirled with black wisps and sigils, “I suppose, from someone who isn’t magically inclined, you wouldn’t understand.” he lowered his hands, turning away, “I’ll stop at nothing until I find him, taking everything that he holds dear and crushing it in front of him, making him feel what it is like to be helpless and lost.”
Matrx sighed, rolling his eyes, hearing all of this before, and repeatedly.
“So you’ve said.” he mocked, “And yet, you still haven’t found him, have you?”
Turning to Matrx, Drakuul raised an eyebrow.
“Have you?” he returned the mocking tone.
“What do you think I’ve been out there doing, hmm?” Matrx argued, gesturing out toward the streets, “I’ve been out there, working my a** off turning over every stone and pebble to find him, but he’s nowhere to be found.” he huffed, “It’s as if he just vanished. Now, you can either stand up here all god damn day, and night, or you could step away from the ledge and speak to the prisoner that my men found.”
“Prisoner?” Drakuul raised another eyebrow, “Another one?”
“Yes, another one, but this one was caught among those that fled the city at the train station. Stubborn old fool really, he gave us a difficult time too.”
“An old man gave YOU a difficult time?” the Lord mocked.
“He’s a level three Demon, and the son-of-a-b*tch killed some of the Shayds under the unit that discovered him and others he kept hidden away beneath the floor boards of his home.” Matrx shifted his weight, “But he won’t be doing much magic, or fighting, anytime soon.”
“Is that right?”
“I cut off his hands, what’s a Demon without his hands? The Shayds threw him in the cells with the others, and yes, he was bound in iron chains with a mask to keep him from muttering fancy words and all that.”
“Hmm.” Drakuul seemed intrigued, “Bring him to me, I want to speak to him.” he walked past his brother, and General.
Matrx nodded, then turned to the two Shayds by one of the tall metal beams atop the rooftop. Snapping loudly, he gave an order to have the man brought to the roof.
“Yes, General.” one of the men nodded, then quickly turned, disappearing in a swirling blue flame. Appearing in the cells beneath the Parliament building, passing rooms where loud, eerie hisses and screams echoed, he continued down the hall, approaching one of the prison cells, “Open the door.” he gave the order to one of the soldiers posted outside. Stepping back, watching as they removed a set of keys from his belt, loudly rattling them against the iron door and lock, the door swung open, revealing a dark room that had no light, “Him!” he took his right, pointing it across the room toward the man chained to the wall.
One of the soldiers entered the room, quickly rushing toward the man in question. Unlocking the chains bound around his stumped, bleeding limbs, he grabbed the man by the back of his stained, dirty shirt, dragging him across the room, and out into the hall, throwing him to the Shayds’ feet. Locking the door behind him, he returned to station, watching as the Shayd pulled the man to his feet, dragging him down the hall.
The man groaned, trying to speak but the iron mask kept his words from clearly being heard, they were nothing more than just grunts and moans.
The Shayd stopped, pushing the man against the wall.
“Make one more sound, and I swear I’ll gut you here and now, is that understood?” he warned. Receiving a fearful nod as the mans’ reply, the Shayd grunted, “Good, now move it old man!” he pulled the man away from the wall, pushing him forward. Reaching the end of the hall, approaching another door where another portal waited, swirling around, buzzing loudly, the two men stepped through, appearing atop Victoria’s Tower. The Shayd tossed the man to the ground, at his General’s feet.
Grunting, and moaning, feeling the painful stings of severed hands, the man pushed himself onto his knees, slowly raising his gaze toward the two men in front of him, one was the tall, menacing General and the other was the Lord of the city that he had never laid eyes upon before, until this very moment.
Matrx walked over, pulling the man to his feet, then removed the iron mask and mouth piece that kept him from speaking.
“Please…please, let me go, I swear I haven’t done anything!” the man pleaded with a dry throat, “Please…I have a family.”
“Yes, I know. We have them too.” Matrx barked.
“Enough!” Drakuul announced, stepping forward.
The man, Sean his name was, gazed upon the Lord up close.
Drakuul was a man in his late 40s, Japanese-American, with his shoulder length sleek black hair, with misplaced strands hanging in his face. A scraggly, but trimmed, goatee framed his chin and mouth. His features were handsome and sharp, but his dark, soulless eyes, pierced in an eerie gaze. Standing tall, 6 feet in height, his black steampunk uniform hugged his muscular, but slender build, with an unusual triangular-like shaped pendant hanging around his neck over the buttons of his uniform jacket. With his hands clasped behind his back, he was a man that commanded a presence that Sean couldn’t, in any way, explain. And even though Drakuul possessed some of his handsome looks, having been locked in prison with no magic to preserve his appearance for a little over one hundred years, he had lost his youthful age, something he had been a bit vain about. Now, he looked worn and tired. Leering down at Sean with a cold expression, sending chills down the man’s spine, he commanded in a low voice, stalking toward the man.
“What is your name?”
“S-Sean, my Lord.” he stuttered, lowering his head.
“Do you know why you’re here, Sean?” Drakuul taunted.
“I-I think so b-but…I’m not sure.” he was afraid.
“You’re afraid.” Drakuul observed.
“Yes, my Lord.” Sean bowed upon Drakuul’s closer approach.
“That’s good. Now, it’s been brought to my attention that you have information I seek, is that true?” he walked around Sean in slow, menacing steps.
“Y-yes.” Sean glanced over his shoulder, watching the man, “I could be useful to you, I could.”
“Can you now?” Drakuul’s voice seemed intrigued by Sean’s coy, manipulating tone, “How so?” he walked around the man, standing directly in front of him. Clasping his hands in front of him, rings graced every finger.
“I, uh…” Sean looked around nervously, “I lived in the town you’re searching through, Whitehaven I believe yes, and if you let me go, I can help you find who you’re looking for, I…” he shuffled his feet, wincing from the stabbing pains from the severed, bleeding wounds, “I can find them for you, if I can be set free.”
“If you can be set free, you say?” Drakuul played along, “Mm.” he nodded then glanced at Matrx, “Would you like to know what I think about this?” he looked back at Sean, who nodded, “I think you’re the type of man that would say anything, just to survive, that’s what I think.” he pointed at Sean mockingly, “And I admire that, believe it or not, you’re a survivor but I’m not in the mood, so tell me what makes you any more special than the Enforcers and Hunters under my banner, hmm?”
“Be-because I know people in Whitehaven, several people!” Sean pleaded, feeling the Lord’s patience growing thin, “And if I contact them, I swear I’ll have something for you, please!” he fell to Drakuul’s feet, feeling his knees weaken from the loss of blood, “There’s someone in Whitehaven that arranges transportation to various places around the United Kingdom, but I don’t know their names and if you give me time, I swear I can find them for you. Please, my Lord, I can be useful, you have my word. Please, just…let my family go.”
“No.” Drakuul moaned, kneeling front of the man, “Because I just realized that you would say, and do, just about anything to save your own skin, even if that means snitching out those that you know, and…” he stood, “shows me that you can’t be trusted.” he turned, snapping his fingers toward Matrx.
The General stepped forward, pulling the man to his feet.
“No, no please!” Sean pleaded, “I can help you, please! You’re looking for a man, yes? His name is Marcus or something like that, yes?”
Drakuul stood with his back facing Sean, then glanced over his shoulder muttering bluntly,
“How did you come by this name?”
“I told you, I know things!” Sean pleaded loudly.
Squinting, clenching his fists, knowing the man meant to say another name he hasn’t spoken in a long time, he turned, and stepped toward Sean.
“What do you know about this Marcus?” he played along.
“He, uh…he runs a school or something like that outside the city, but where I don’t know because no one can seem to find it on many maps, but like I said, there’s someone in Whitehaven that transports people to other areas, but where they go from there, I don’t know!”
“Interesting. Thank you for that. Now, I’m sure you want payment, is that it? So payment you shall receive. Kill him, drain his blood for all the new Nightwalkers, and then stick his head outside with all of the others who brought me useless information as a warning to anyone else who dares to start another rebellion.” his left hand dismissed the man.
“But I told you everything I knew!” Sean yelled, “Please, how could you?! I could be useful to you!”
“And you were.” Drakuul returned to the ledge of the tower.
“Noooo!” Sean pleaded then grunted, feeling Matrx placing the iron mask on his face. Grunting deeply, trying to break free from the General’s strong, firm grip, he was roughly and powerfully turned around, being pushed back toward the two Shayds standing nearby. He continued moaning loudly before he disappeared through a portal that had opened, taking him to the BLOOD CELLS where they kept all of the newly made Nightwalkers that were waiting for fresh blood.
The Shayds removed the iron mask, and just before the door opened, one of the soldiers unwrapped the bandages from Sean’s wounds, allowing the fresh scent of blood to fill the air, enticing the starving, blood thirsty creatures. Once the door was opened, the Shayds pushed the man inside, then slammed it closed.
Sean turned, pounding on the door, then paused, hearing low eerie hisses and shuffling among the darkness around him. His blue eyes couldn’t see too well but as they grew closer, a series of shapes came toward him before hands lunged toward him, tossing him to the ground. He screamed loudly as nails and teeth shredded him apart but his screams didn’t last long.
Opening the small window that allowed them to veer inside, shining their flashlights, they watched as men and women lunged forward, ripping the man apart, drinking his blood. Looking away, the Shayds turned off their flashlights. It was only after five minutes when the screams ceased and opening the door, the Nightwalkers attempted lunging toward them but they shone UV flashlights against their sensitive skin, causing the monsters to withdraw into the corners of the room. Once Sean’s head was collected, leaving his limbs and torso behind, the door was closed and locked once more.
“What do you think?” Drakuul questioned over his shoulder.
“I don’t know.” Matrx answered, taking steps forward, “It’s worth looking into, I haven’t heard word back from Quintin.”
“Do you think they were killed?”
“Quintin and his men are tough, it’ll take a lot to kill ’em but I don’t know, I’ll try making contact with them, and see if I get a response.” Matrx frowned, “But there’s more.”
“More?” Drakuul turned to him.
“If Marxus is still alive, what makes you think he won’t come after you, once he discovers that you’re responsible for all of this?” Matrx gestured out toward the city, “If he hasn’t done anything now, what makes you think he ever will?”
“There is one thing I know about that man, Matrx. He is not the type that leaves loose ends untied, and it’s just a matter of time before he resurfaces and when the time comes, he’ll see that I have learned much since our first encounter and then he will also come to regret binding my magics, but what I’ve planned for him and that…treacherous Jinn and dragon, will not be swift.” he grinned, “Now leave me.”
Matrx sighed with a frown, then turned.
Drakuul listened as his brother’s boots faded behind him. He continued gazing out upon the city below where the horrific events escalated in grand proportions since the evacuation. A martial law had fully been activated and anyone roaming the streets after 8:00pm were arrested, bound in chains, or killed on sight being fed on by the Nightwalkers, or even torn apart by hellish beasts. Sometimes, they were eaten whole, having their bones heard being crushed by the monstrous teeth. Most, if not all, were Enforcers, both recently made Wraiths that didn’t possess the ability to walk during daylight hours, and Lycynian-hybrid mutations, while others were creatures conjured out of Hell and other dimensions.
Trolls stomped up and down the streets, over turning cars with their massive maces or hands, while tall lizard-like creatures trialed behind, spewing their acidic saliva, whipping their tails around in powerful movements. The black, eerie and wisp-like Shadowed Ones swarmed among the black sky among the Harpies that looked like bats from Hell, and all of that didn’t include the ominous mass slithering in the dark sky.
The people of the Great City feared the Lord, General and militia, dressed in steampunk military uniforms, protecting all of the Nightwalkers from the daylight, with gas masks worn on their faces. Armed with guns, pistols of various sizes, and some bladed weapons, the Shayds and Demons among them, would destroy and overturn vehicles parked in the streets, or even homes for the sake of making their point of destruction. Their arcane magic was released day and night, as some had encounters with the rebellion that knew the city through and through, better than the Lord and his General so they also had that annoyance, but the people would sit in their homes listening as steam-powered tanks and trucks chugged down the abandoned streets; black steam spat from vents and pipes.
The Enforcers searched for stragglers, continuing an attempt to flee, hiding in between buildings, alleyways, or quietly in the shadows, using high-beam flood lights and the thermal technology, locating body heat temperaments and heartbeats, while the Nightwalkers used their supernatural sense of smell and hearing. It wasn’t such a great city anymore, for from the distance, you could see the dark smoke looming above, as the chaos and evil, spewed destruction.
Growing a pleased grin, Drakuul felt dominant and proud; he was regaining his full magical capabilities and although he was an Immortal, he wanted more than he had, even if that meant destroying anyone, or anything in his path to get it. It was a moment of reflection for the Immortal Necromancer, as he remembered how he reclaimed his status in grand, and bold proportions. Joining the secret organization known as the ILLUMINATI, he learned their tricks and manipulations, which was exactly what they wanted. Having nothing to lose, but everything to gain, the Order didn’t realize how cunning he really was, becoming more powerful than they expected. One by one, he eliminated the highest officials until he had eventually made his way into Parliament, being appointed to the House of Lords. Being assigned the high position of Lord Commissioner of the British Navy, it gave him the perfect opportunity to appoint his brother Lord Commander before later on, naming him General, giving him complete control of the Great City’s Scotland Yard. The entire division had been replaced with Matrx’s soldiers or began transitioning all of them into the Enforcers. Changing the rules, and with the lack of proper law enforcement, there were robberies, most of all murders, and chaos beginning to plant its seeds of havoc. Drakuul’s plans were in motion, making him most content as he slowly spun in place, stretching out his arms with a large smile on his face. Facing the city once more, he chuckled with sinister motives.
“Soon, Marxus…soon I will find you and that book, and then it’ll be mine!” he declared, “But first, where are you?” his eyes scanned the city below, then toward the outer towns.
It was hours later, Matrx was pacing the control room in the Command Center of Scotland Yard’s military building, trying to make contact with Quintin and his companions but he was receiving no reply.
“So they haven’t made contact at all?” he demanded one of the technicians that worked the computers, knowing every part of the system and how it operated.
“No, General. Not a word.” one of the women answered. She raised her gaze, looking at the tall General who stared at all of the screens, watching the militia patrolling nearby.
“There, where’s that?!” he pointed at one of the screens, watching as a skirmish was taking place between the Shayds in his militia and rebels. He lowered his gaze, watching as she tapped and swiped the screen, then typed and clicked several times on the keyboard, until the GPS location of the incident appeared on the screen with a flashing red dot.
“That’s in the lower sect of the city.” she answered.
Matrx nodded, then turned and just before he reached the door, he called out to the men and women working at their stations, demanding to be alerted if they received word from the Hunters under Quintin’s leadership. Receiving nods in reply, he stormed out and down the halls.
“Yep. They’re dead.” the woman looked at her teammates.
“Totally.” one of the men answered, shaking his head.
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