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The Warrior The Dragon The Keep The King

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The Warrior

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A wise man once told me, whilst we shared a bottle Schatzsucher, "Fear is what they want. It is what they crave more than the blood that allows them to continue existing." When his eyes warily rested on my stare, he expressed with a solemn and honest tone, "Don't give into their desires." I know these words may come not as wisdom, rather foolishness - advice on how to enrage the Masters and to be made an example of.
These words have been the wisest ones taken to heart, even though it's led to a life evading the government's thugs.

 

For all that it's worth, I have no regrets. I just wish he was still here, to enjoy another glass of the honeyed whiskey with me.

 

"Another round, Edwin?" A voice sweet as honey inquires.

 

The question broke me away from the thoughts, and I look to see the bartender. Ms. Ashton has always looked out for me, keeping reserves of a few of my favorite poisons, listened to be incessant bitterness over the squalor that all of Tenth District is. We're nestled between Hellrise Heights and Evergreen, the great commercial and trading capitols of the world, and yet smack between them, there's half a million people live in like caged animals.

 

I shake my head, both to answer her question, and keep from another bout of brooding - God knows I drink more when upset, and my liver already can't afford that.

 

"No. Thank you, Ms. Ashton."

 

"Thought I asked ya to not call me that. Just Jez." She shrugs and leans over the bar, looking square at my eyes. "I see you're lost in those thoughts again, Ed. what's on your mind this time?"

 

"I'm sure you know by now what's on my mind." I look back to her, appreciating the gentle concern in her hazel eyes. It's hard to ignore the eccentric hair hanging down her shoulders, blue streaks brighten her presence amidst the overall black hair.

 

"The 'overlords', then." She chuckles and steps away, picking a clipboard as she turns to look at the alcohols on display.

 

"As always, Jez. It's been seven months since their last culling." I look down, playing with a signet ring with my jaw clenching.

 

"So? They have went longer since descending on Tenth before - a year, in fact."

 

"So, that means that can change any moment."

 

"What 'ave ya to worry about? They snatch the hopeless and the most promising, no one in between." After marking a few numbers, she tosses the clipboard to the side of the top and looks back to me, "And they shouldn't have anything more than suspicion on ya."

 

"True enough, there. They'll be watching closely." I lean closer and ruffle through my jacket, revealing a silver coin and grab her hand, laying it gently in and curling her fingers around it, "Which is why I want you to have this. I won't be around much for the foreseeable time."

 

Jezebel chuckles with a soft smile, "A softy beyond the callouses as always, Ed. I get it. You've got business coming up with this. We'll be in touch if something comes up on either end as always... right?"

 

I give a feeble nod. "Yeah... hopefully."

 

"Right?!"

 

Standing on my feet, I pat Jez's hands and give a firm nod. "Yes. I promise. You know I can't let you or Seven Siren's regulars go without at least having something to work with to help stay safe."

 

"Thank you..." Jez sighs with relief and pulls away. "Be safe, Ed."

 

"I can only try. Take care."

 

Making my way out of the bar, I return under the somber blue hues of neon lights along Tenth's Rhine Street. The atrocious concrete monoliths that serve to be pens for the vampires' favorite "farm animals" fit well with invoking the desired depression upon humanity. What beauty this place would look to be if it were all leveled into a heap of destroyed slabs of concrete and steel.

 

Æon City cannot last another age if humanity is to ever find hope in undoing the chains.

 

Stirring me back to my surrounding, my NavCom rings once into my ear, "Agent Sixteen is en route to the rendezvous."

 

TransPhix. The new meet up for Sentinels and our supporting associates. It's become a dump, and was actually the site of a massive raid by the Directory that took 254 people. Ten of them were Sentinels, and that's what the Directory was after.

 

This was 11 years ago, to this day, and although I was only four, it's been taught to everyone that joins the resistance - that subtlety is lost by our overlords.

 

Making my way by foot, I look up to the high rises that block the surrounding districts and leave only the sight of a darkened sky.

 

With a narrow sight of the greater world, humans trapped in our own form of a chicken coup for the coyotes to come and go as they may to pick away from us, it leaves little hope to see. What hope there is remains just enough to continue through and do my part to make some change.

 

What wonders lay beyond? I always wonder if there will come a day where we may find freedom.

 

As I arrive at TransPhix, I look about to take in the surroundings, any people or surveillance that may log my presence. Fortunately, there's only the typical folks going about their evenings and surveillance cameras fixated across the street.

 

Heading in, the dim lighting that casts through the charred, wooden planks that spread across the windows, leaves for an welcoming disturbance in the old club.

 

Where there was once the sleek, iridescent dance floor panels, there remains only the overgrowth of earth reclaiming land, leaving much in the room to be densely covered from view by shrubs and vines. At the bar, the shards of glass from bottles litter the the shelves and top, and the stools busted about are between me and my favorite seat here.

 

"It's been awhile, Seventeen." A reverberating, low voice speaks from above me.

 

Atop the balcony stands Sixteen, one of the few folks not a part of the movement that has deeply assisted with intel.

 

"Only a year, old friend!" I chide with a wry grin.

 

A chuckle escapes as he makes his way down, white hair draping his head. Sixteen seems to have lost his youth over just that time, elderly for only being thirty.

 

"Yeah, what wonders a year can do to an old soul though." he muses while pulling out a piece of gum.

 

"That certainly begs the question: What developments have been made since?" I walk over to my old stool.

 

"A lot. Code 17-20 is now green for commencement. Valkyries sing underground, too." he followed right behind and is leaning on the bar top while looking around before he focuses back onto me.

 

"Is it something?" I raise a brow, worried as he has always held a strong sense of sound.

 

"Nah. Nothing at all." he quickly dismisses.

 

"With 17-20 green and the Valkyries, what does this mean?"

 

"Op. Vidar will be underway." Sixteen leans close and pulls out a chip. "Your Navi will receive this and transmit the details when you plug it to your interface."

 

I sigh, feeling annoyance creep with hearing that I have to use that plug at all.

 

"It remains a necessary evil, Seventeen. You'll understand and begin your next task thereafter. Is that clear?" his brow is furrowed with his eyes showing that opposing would make me wonder if vampires tearing away would be so bad.

 

"Understood, Sixteen."

 

"Good. If everything goes as planned, we will see each other during this - if not, hopefully thereafter."

 

"Aye, take care brother." I turn away and look on to the shattered bar, more thoughts than I can process passing through now.

 

"Take care, Seventeen..." I hear him say as he turns and walks out.

 

We move ever closer to the greatest act of defiance seen since the War Against Subjugation. Sixteen and I, being Sons of Vengeance, both know very well what Vidar is referencing - Odin's son who will, or already had, avenge his death against Fenris Wolf in Ragnarok.

 

It's best to return to the apartment before anyone starts sniffing around here.
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