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originally posted in:The Black Garden
Edited by Hobbes92: 3/18/2014 2:03:16 AM
2

The Chronicles of Alec Blackwater Chapter 21: Surreptitious Enigma

Site B8-067; forty miles away from the Last City of Earth, once the site of a city under construction, its name is long forgotten by mankind. Once a metropolis in the making, the towering skyscrapers, apartment buildings, businesses, parks, streets, bus stops, etc., now sit silently and dark under grey skies. The streets are littered with the cities once many citizens’ belongings, such as purses and other bags, clothes, skeletons, trash, and the streets full of destroyed vehicles still baring their passengers. A calm, cold breeze hushes around the now quiet city, mixing the dust and ash that once law calm on the ground; papers glide through the air, “The End Has Come” headlines the old faded and torn paper. In the center of the city, among old and abandoned construction equipment that once was hard at work constructing a new structure of some sort; a meeting of mutual friends is taking place. Whisk leaned against a bus, lighting a hand rolled cigarette, awaiting an unknown business associate to arrive. After three hours and many cigarettes later, from the shadows between two decrepit buildings, his awaited employer approached slowly; dressed, in an old, torn brown cloak, Whisk couldn’t make out who the person may be. The figure had broad shoulders and was tall; his steps weren’t that heavy, in fact, he could barely hear his steps at all. “It’s been three hours,” Whisk said, taking a drag on his cigarette. “What kept you?” “Been busy,” The cloaked figure remarked. “You could say the same about yourself.” “Where’s my money,” Whisk demanded, flicking his cigarette away and approaching the cloaked figure. As Whisk grabbed the cloak and pulled it away, nothing was revealed to be underneath. A laugh echoed throughout the surrounding buildings. “Where are you?” Whisk yelled, looking around; his anger slowly building. “I’d also prefer to know who is my employer is exactly. “Now, now,” The voice continued. “Do you think I would reveal who I am to you just yet? Don’t be foolish and watch your temper; you will be paid in full when I say. Now, what do you have to report?” “Alec has regained all his memory,” Whisk began, still looking around, taking note of one particular building. “Still don’t know why you wanted him to test your little theory about the Delta Exos; anyone would have sufficed if you ask me. We do have an issue though…” “What is the problem?” The voice asked. “Ithamar is its name,” Whisk said. “Killing is the game,” The voice responded, unsatisfyingly. “I know the type unfortunately…” “Do you now?” Whisk asked. “How would-” “That is not of your concern.” The voice boomed, interrupting Whisk. “You are to keep track of the Exo’s progress and nothing more.” “Fine,” Whisk said. “I do have a request,” The voice hissed from among the buildings. “Please, stop acting like the savage, otherwise Alec may suspect you for not being Daniel and realize that you’re-” “Shut up!” Whisk yelled, sending a large pinkish hued fire ball in the direction he thought the voice was speaking from. The fireball struck the right side of a two story building two hundred yards away and a large blue flame was emitted. What looked like the silhouette of a man fell from the building shortly after the blast. Whisk ran to where he though his target might have landed. [b]Meanwhile, in the city at the FOTC building…[/b] Several FOTC members are tending a meeting with Elder Saril; only one is a commander, General Jonah Malieth. An older human looking to be in his fifties, Jonah has hair that is mostly grey now with hints of black here or there, he had only a few minor scars on his face (nothing major), his brown eyes were fierce, but faded. Jonah’s office overlooked the FOTC court yard 23 stories below, many citizens and Guardians alike went to and from about their business. His office was one of the larger of the FOTC commanders and was furnished with two couches, chairs, a large 20’ x 6’ ½” hard oak conference table; the office had modern art and antiques from mankind’s earlier years prior to the Golden Age (most notable a collection of swords, ranging from Calvary sabers of the American 7th Calvary, Samurai swords, a knights broad sword, etc.). Younger members of the FOTC sat around the office waiting for Saril to finish his business with Jonah so they could move on to more pressing matters. Jonah sat at his rough-cut stone desk, Saril sat several feet away on a chair with a file and notepad in his hands. “Elder Saril,” Jonah began. “You have questions that you wanted to ask the FOTC command, of which most are busy, leaving me to hear your questions; so please make this quick, I have much more urgent matters to attend to.” “Very well, General Jonah,” Saril began. “Allow me to begin with this question: How many Exos have you reconditioned into service in the last ten years?” “Around several thousand,” Jonah responded. “Why do you ask?” “Well,” Saril began, opening a file he had with him. “I’d like you to have a look at this file…” “Put it up on a hologram for us to see,” A young FOTC member recommended, paying close attention to Saril and Jonah’s conversation. “This information is classified,” Saril said, handing the file to Jonah. “So classified, that this file is the only evidence that I have on the Exo that I’d wish to discuss. All information regarding Exo 1TH4M4R-0300 has been swiped from our servers; all service records and details on said Exos’ existence seem to have disappeared. Have you ever had a problem with an Exo, Commander Jonah?” Jonah looked through the file, slowly examining the information it contained. “Yes,” Jonah began. “Sometimes they regain memory from connecting to old severs or downloading data from other Exos, machines, or computers that may contain information pertaining to their particular line of work. We typically send them to be decommissioned and recycled at the appropriate facilities. I seem to notice that this file is numbered for twenty-one pages and I noticed that it only has fourteen pages…” “Indeed,” Saril remarked. “I have another question: What do you know of an Awoken man named Whisk?” “Nothing,” Jonah stated. “Never heard of such a person. Why do you ask?” “Just curious,” Saril said, writing something down on his note pad. “I wonder Commander Jonah, what makes you think you’re in control?” Jonah looked at Saril with a bewildered expression. “What are you getting at, Elder Saril?” Jonah asked, irritated. “Just curious,” Saril said, shrugging his shoulders and muttering to himself as he continued to write down notes. “You still think you’re a member of the FOTC, don’t you?” Jonah toyed. “Don’t forget, you chose Eldership when you returned to the city after you last encounter with enemies of the city. You may be an Elder now, but you don’t have full authority over any actions taken by the FOTC. (Looking down at the file.) Without full agreement of the other Elders, anyway.” “Hmm,” Saril hummed to himself. “I’d also like to speak to Commander Tarn, thought that he’d be here for this meeting?” “He’s in his quarters and has requested not to be disturbed,” Jonah remarked quickly. “How unfortunate,” Saril wrote another note down. “Commander Jonah, do you know how many Guardians I’ve exposed and disposed of over the last year for treason?” “No,” Jonah said in response. “Seventy,” Saril stated. “Seventy Guardians, seventy of your soldiers; fifteen of which were captains or higher.” “What?” Jonah asked dumbfounded. “How did I not know this? (Looking around his office at the other members.).” “What I do know,” Saril began. “Is not of the FOTC’s concern; my office in this building is here to remind you all of one thing: The FOTC is not the ruling force in this city, but more of the sword of the city.” “You better choose your next words carefully,” Jonah said, scowling at Saril. [b]Continued below...[/b]

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  • Edited by Hobbes92: 3/18/2014 1:38:40 AM
    “I’m almost finished,” Saril said casually, unfazed by Jonah’s gaze. “I do have one other request; (looking up from his note pad to Jonah, clicking his pen closed) I’d like to speak to prisoner 103-W4, also known as So Fawn.” [b]Site B8-067, fifteen minutes after searching for where his target landed … [/b] “You idiot!” A man wearing dirty fatigues yelled, picking himself off the ground. “You could have killed me!” “No different than the FWC officers you’ve had me killing off the last few days to cover your tracks.” Whisk said, walking over the dust covered man. “You? (Stepping back from the man.)I thought you were dead!” “I’m a lot of things,” The man said standing up, looking like Simmons. “I’m a lot of people, but there is only one goal that I have in mind no matter the form of person I take…” Whisk wasn’t expecting this, not by a long shot. The man looked like Simmons, but his face and body seemed to change forms from a human to an Awoken man, then back to a human again. His body size rarely changed any, his skin tone and hair changed as well. “What are you?” Whisk asked, partially freighted by what he was witnessing. “I’m from a time where people like me are hunted for what we know too much of,” The formation of an awoken man, unknown to Whisk, took the place of Simmons. “I have something more to tell you-” Whisk threw an orange ball of energy at the creature, knocking it backwards and setting it ablaze. It howled and screamed at the immense pain it was feeling, rolling around on the ground and thrashing around like a mad animal caught in a trap. After the fire stopped burning; slowly, it picked itself up from the ground laughing as the creatures skin sowed itself back together and healing mysteriously. “Woo!” Exclaimed the strange man. “Haven’t been burned for a while, not since that titan saw me outside the city and set me ablaze. Crazy day…” Slowly but surely, the man healed right before Whisks’ eyes, taking the form of a young Awoken man. “Ahhh,” The man slowly inhaled. “That’s better; now, your payment.” The man vanished like a shadow into the darkness as Whisk began to draw more energy for another attack. “I have a proposal for you,” The voice continued. “It took two to get you into the city and now one has become a problem, learned too much he has. Now that the FWC officers who took the bribes have been disposed of, we can move onto the next issues at hand.” “And what would those ‘issue’s’ be?” Whisk asked, extinguishing the small yellow blaze in his left hand. “Before we continue, (holding up a small computer disk) here are the Exo specs you wanted, got them from Alec’s Exo when I had the chance; that petty mind control he was under couldn’t have lasted much longer. Who’s next on your list of people to disappear or be questioned?” “Saril,” The Awoken man said, looking down from the roof top of one of the buildings, his red eyes glowing dark. “He may be a problem…” [b]The Last City's prison, two hours from Saril’s meeting with Jonah.[/b] Carceris correction facility; not the cities foremost secure prison, but it did well to hold small time criminals or those waiting for their sentences’ to be made. The prison is mostly underground, constructed in the remains of an old subway and sewer system. One particular hallway housed prisoners with serious medical conditions; they had a glass wall in front of the cells, giving guards and other personnel full sight over the prisoners in their medical situations. Saril slowly walks down the dank hallway, his artificial feet making a distinctive clinking noise with every step. “I always wondered,” So Fawn voice spoke loudly. “When you would be arriving to speak to me. I do have to wonder though, what brings you to my cell block in this neck of the woods?” Saril stopped and turned to face the glass window to So Fawns cell. “Hello So Fawn,” Saril greeted. So Fawn was sitting in a chair facing away from the window and was working on something in front of him on a table that Saril couldn’t see. The cell was small; it was no bigger than a 10’ x 10’ room, with the bed on the left side of the room mounted on the wall, a book shelf above that with assorted books and personal effects; aside from a mirror above a sink, the walls had nothing but grey paint over them. His table had a picture of his daughter and three books on the top (that Saril could see) was centered against the wall at the back of the room,; a small sink and toilet was on the left side of the room. There were also some medical supplies in a small refrigerated unit on the left side of the desk. “How goes your recovery?” Saril Asked. “What recovery?” Saril asked, turning his head as if to look over his shoulder, and then continuing to work on what he was doing. “I’m healed for the most part, just awaiting my sentence from the Elders of Commerce.” “Why did you do it in the first place?” Saril asked out of the blue. “Money, power, security? Any of these strike your fancy?” So Fawn didn’t respond at first, but instead sat quietly, setting his hands out in front of him (palms down). “Sometimes,” So Fawn said, turning his head toward the picture of his daughter. “You do things for the bettering of your own and it back fires on you. (Reaching for the picture, but missing the first attempt to grasp it.) Sometimes, you meet those that scare you into doing things that you will regret for the rest of your life, make you have a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror.” “Who made you do these things?” Saril asked. So Fawn laughed, slowly getting up from his chair. “Now, now Saril,” So Fawn began. “That’s not how we do business. I’ll tell you what you want to know on one condition.” So Fawns face is overcast by a shadow as he approaches the window to face Saril. Reaching out with his hand, So Fawn feels for where the glass wall that separates him from Saril. “What do you want?” Saril asked stepping closer to the glass wall, the shadow over cast slowly being lifted from So Fawns face as he approaches. “My sight, Elder Saril,” So Fawn says, his face showing in the light, revealing his scarred eye sockets where once his eyes were set. “My...sight.” [b]Flashback continued from chapter 20….[/b] Eleanor, Alec, and Daniel ran until they had come to a busy market place crowded with people; hoping they weren’t pursued by the three Guardians that wanted to “speak” with Alec. “Why’d you do that?” Alec asked Daniel, irritated by his friend’s course of action. “Eh, I got bored.” Daniel said, looking behind to make sure they weren’t followed. “Besides, we’ve been in enough trouble today wouldn’t you say? Ha! I’m a poet and didn’t know it…” “Not really,” Eleanor said, looking around at the various vendors. “Anyone else hungry?” “Now that you mention it, yes,” Daniel said, noticing one vendor with a slightly attractive waitress. ‘I’m famished.” The market place they had stopped in was set like a square; half of it was food court while the other had vendors selling various items such as clothing, small birds, pirated music and movies, fake antiques, etc. At the center of the square were tables, chairs and benches for people to sit and recline on. The aroma of food filled the nostrils of the three young Guardians… “What do we all want?” Alec asked. “Food,” Eleanor said. “Obviously,” Daniel remarked, walking over to the one food vendor with the attractive waitress. “Whoa there,” Alec said, grabbing Daniels shoulder. “We’re in enough trouble as it is, last thing we need is you starting trouble with the locals.” “Fine,” Daniel said reluctantly. “I’ll save dessert for later.” [b]Continued below...[/b]

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    • Can you send me links to where I can find the previous chapters, namely from chpt 1

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