Chapter Text
---***---
Kimura Home
Inglewood, California
December 20th, 2012
10:07 AM Pacific Standard Time
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Kashi Kimura sat on the sofa in his mother’s living room. He wore a sleeveless white t-shirt, his cowrie shell necklace and a pair of pale blue athletic shorts with the UCLA Bruins logo emblazoned in gold on the right leg. He was snarfing down his third bowl of cereal while his mother flitted about their apartment trying to get ready. Kashi, who seemed supremely unconcerned about his mother’s frenetic pace, had committed himself to enjoying his time off from school. UCLA’s Fall Quarter had ended on the fourteenth and he had relished the respite after a hectic week of cramming for finals.
Banyan looked over and barked at her son. “Kashi! Why are you still not ready? Your sister’s program begins in less than an hour!” She was wearing an elegant pant suit she had purchased for her new position as hotel manager. Kashi had quipped she looked like Hillary Clinton.
Kashi put the oversized bowl of cereal to his lips and greedily drained it of milk. Setting the bowl on the living room next to a depleted box of Pop-Tarts, he then pounded his muscular chest with his fist and belched loudly. “Probably ‘cause I’m not going.”
“Kashi! Your sister is one of the leads in the school’s Christmas program. You. Are. Going. March yourself back upstairs and put your suit on,” Banyan commanded.
“I’m not wearing a suit, I’m not getting ready and I’m not going to go back to high school to watch a stupid program I don’t care about. I never even went to the drama geek stuff when I went to that school.” This was a partial lie. Kashi had attended many such events. He just never remembered as he was hungrily ‘trolling for pussy’ as he would have described it in his own crude vernacular.
“Willow attended your graduation and she wasn’t enrolled there, we both went to your games.” Banyan said while looking for her purse.
"Willow never went to any of my games because she wanted to, she only went when you made her because she was too young to stay home alone," Kashi said.
“So, your argument is she only went because I made her. That’s fair. Now I’m making you go.” Banyan said with a triumphant smirk.
“No...that’s...that’s not what I’m saying!”
“Kashi, I took time off from the hotel to support your sister. I did this even though I have work to do as the new manager. You’ve been working with her for three weeks to build up her stamina so she could make it through this program. Do you really want to sit at home and do nothing but eat? Do you want to destroy all the progress you've made in that time in your relationship with your sister?"
“I wasn’t going to just eat. I’m going to go to the gym after this and then I have to get ready for my date with Sayuri,” he protested feebly.
Banyan glared at her son and folded her arms in front of her chest.
“I am not wearing a suit or a tie.”
“Well, you’re not wearing jeans.”
“Fine! Slacks and a button up, but that’s as far as I’m willing to go,” he countered.
“Buttoned up?”
“Well not all the way!”
“All but the top one, Kashi! You’re not in a cologne ad! Hurry up, will you? Nana’s riding with us, so you’ll have to sit in the back,” Banyan said.
Kashi sighed and stomped upstairs to get ready.
---***---
Virtual Adept Safe House
Inglewood, California
December 20th, 2012
10:15 AM Pacific Standard Time
---***---
Brad sniffed and a disgusted sneer crossed his face. He looked around and, seeing the sleeping form of Jesse, he knew immediately who had to be responsible for the foul smell in the air.
“Greg, I swear to God if you are cooking Brussels sprouts again, I will kick your ass.”
“You know, your mood would improve if you had a more balanced diet,” Greg shot back smugly from the apartment’s tiny kitchen.
“If guzzling spoiled tea, eating rotten cabbage and pickling everything you can think of is your idea of ‘balance’ you can shove it up your ass, pal. Your food stinks, your pomade stinks, and your fashion sense stinks,” Brad said angrily.
Kombucha and kimchi are good for you, and there’s nothing wrong with pickling things. It’s better that your food have a vingery bite instead of the artificial sweetness of the mass produced, Americanized crap that you shovel down.”
Jesse's leg suddenly moved. His boot met the back of Brad’s rolling chair, shoving him into the doorway into the kitchen where Greg was standing. Both men fell into a pile.
“How about you both shut it? The girl is going to ascend at midnight on New Year’s Day. We got less than two weeks to put up with each other,” Jesse said, his cowboy hat still covering his eyes.
Brad was the first to untangle himself and regain his feet. He turned to the sleeping cowboy and tilted his head to the side. “I've had a feeling gnawing at me in the pit of my stomach. Something's off. There are too many variables that have changed from our initial calculations. I mean the brother alone-"
“You know what hasn't changed? That she’s the granddaughter of the most powerful will worker still left on Earth,” Jesse snarled, interrupting as he sat up and adjusted his cowboy hat into place leveling a death stare at the other two.
“I thought that was Koschei the Deathless,” Greg said, finally regaining his own feet. He was looking down dusting off his hands and so missed the glare leveled at him by the elder mage.
Jesse eyed the younger man darkly. “Shut up, Greg. Look, we have one chance at this. An Awakening taking place more than once in a single family is extremely rare. I think the record is four over the course of a millennium So, the old man isn’t going to be looking for her. That’s our advantage. But, he keeps loose tabs on his descendants, so her Awakening won’t stay secret long. With that in mind, we have the best plan laid out. As soon as she Awakens, we snatch the girl and upload a copy of her mind into the clone in the basement and put it back in her place. In six months to a year, the dupe dies of a brain aneurysm; quick, painless, and unexpected. Everyone grieves then goes about their lives none the wiser, and we can finally get away from each other.”
“Actually, the record is six. The Hermetic D'Angelo bloodline: 1995, 1490, 1230, 514, 95, AD and 320 BC,” Greg added.
Jesse and Brad both turned and silently glared at him. This time he didn’t miss it and found the decency to balk a little.
Jesse internally counted to ten and then spoke. “Alright, I’m going to mark us down for taking some relief time today. We’ve been doing nothing but keeping watch on this girl, crunching numbers, and sleeping for weeks. Greg, from the smell, you burned your sprouts. Clean up the mess in the kitchen, take some funds from the cash drawer, we have plenty left. Go out, get something to eat and see a movie or something. Brad when he’s back you can go out. I’ll be the last one out when you get back.”
Greg nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Brad gave a quiet nod and turned back to his computer screen. He logged into Spark’s mainframe on the side and set it to crunching more numbers for him. He could not shake the feeling that something was off. While he was at it, he scrolled through the other projects in Spark’s lab to see which ones might be helpful in a pinch. Despite what Jesse said, he had a sinking feeling something was going to go badly wrong.
---***---
Rome, Italy
Vatican City
Papal Synod Hall
December 20th, 2012
7:30 PM Central European Time
10:30 AM Pacific Standard Time
---***---
Katerina tried to stifle her pride. In this most holy of places, she knew pride was a sin, but she could not help herself. Only a lifetime of practice projecting an outward aura of calm afforded her any success this day. The work of her lifetime was about to be fulfilled. In this very hall she had gathered representatives of the luminaries of Europe's elite.
Representatives of the twelve surviving ruling monarchies of Europe as well as representatives from twenty-one other formerly recognized royal families were in attendance. They had come to put the final touches on something Katerina had struggled to build.
Absolute monarchy in Europe had been all but destroyed in the inferno of the first World War; replaced with republics or a watered down 'constitutional' cousin of a pure monarchy. While a few, such as the Prince of Liechtenstein, still held power in their respective countries, the majority of the remaining noble families held no such power. So, instead of ruling, the remaining royals and nobles of these great houses had spent most of the twentieth century instead serving as cultural icons. They stood as reminders of what it was to be German, English, or Spanish.
Katerina was a proud Spaniard, but more than that she was a proud European. She was proud of its ancient history and its sophistication. She was proud of her own family. As such, she worked to form a Pan-European body that would legally rule on the status and affirm the titles of the remaining royals as well as the noble bloodlines of Europe. This would add both a level of increased respectability and a standard of behavior based on shared European values. Defunct titles would even be restored as strictly honorary and ceremonial holdings so long as the holder held to the high standard Katerina aimed to set for such people. She saw it as a way to preserve European history and culture.
No one had taken her idea seriously until her husband at the time, Frederick von Rayner, had gained her the ear of Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. He had, at the time, stated her goal was a mere dream.
Over the years, she’d kept up the occasional correspondence with the Cardinal, even when he was elevated to become Pope Benedict. As a Cardinal, Ratzinger originally thought Katerina's idea impractical. In his opinion, it was a Herculean task that would require at least four generations of work. However, after his election as Pontiff, the new Pope had written to Katerina again, this time to support her idea.
This last year, with the power and skills of her Exaltation at her disposal, she had cut through knot after knot of red tape, bureaucracy, selfishness and fear of such a body interfering in local politics. Particularly impressive in the eyes of most legal analysts, she had used the French court’s denial that their government had jurisdiction over disputes on the usage of noble coats of arms to nullify their arguments against the organization’s formation.
The group became silent as the last few dignitaries scribbled their signatures on the ceremonial, over-large document. The Holy Father then rose and added his name as the first witness, followed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, the leaders of various national protestant churches, Eastern Orthodox Patriarchs and seven Cardinals of the Catholic Church.
The assembled delegates looked over the document. The titles and honors it would accord would be almost entirely symbolic. However, Katerina always felt people underestimated the power of symbolism.
After a few words in closing from Katerina and a prayer from his Holiness, the assembled nobles and representatives broke into groups who congratulated each other occasionally mingling as friends or colleagues found each other among the crowds. Quiet and restrained, the mingling among dignitaries continued for some time. However, despite her accomplishment, Katerina was exhausted. She needed a quick moment to herself. She found an excuse to exit from the well wishers and collect her thoughts.
Katerina detested the Papal Audience Hall. It was a modern monstrosity that stuck out against the Renaissance and Baroque grandeur of St. Peter’s Basilica. As such, she sought to escape briefly to the annex that connected the audience hall and the Palace of the Holy Office, a building that was much more in line with what one thought of when one imagined Vatican City.
Her respite in the annex came to an end when she noticed a man standing nearby, quietly watching her. He had a sad, almost sympathetic look on his face. He nodded his head and moved his eyes to indicate something was behind her.
Carefully turning, Katerina saw an official looking man with a briefcase.
“Excuse me. Are you Lady Katerina of the House of Bourbon? The Duchess of Cadiz? Formerly Lady Katerina von Rayner, he asked.
“Yes, I am. The celebration is back that way, sir. I will be returning shortly. Perhaps I might speak with you later when I return to it.”
“Excuse me, Duchess, but this is a more private matter. You see, I represent the Association for the Preservation of Bavarian History and Cultural Artifacts or VEGA as it is also called.”
“The Verein zur Erhaltung Bayerischer Geschichte und Kultureller Artefakte? I would not be especially proud of that. When I reported the theft of some of my husband’s artifacts, relics of the Rayner family, your organization was very unhelpful.”
“We had a conflict of interests in that matter. While we are saddened to see any historic artifacts stolen we also had received some large endowments from some distant branches of the Rayner family who had come into wealth. They were financing some very important digs and research. It was a matter we felt best left to the proper law enforcement agencies in light of the possible criminal involvement.”
“I see. We both know from whom that money came, and it does not endear you to me.”
“Well, perhaps what I have to tell you will change your mind. You see, those very efforts have revealed a shocking turn of events. A turn of events that affects your children, in particular your son.”
“Christian? What does this have to do with him?”
“In 1747 Bavarian Elector Maximilian III married Maria Anna Sophia, the daughter of Augustus III, King of Poland who was also elector of Saxony and Grand Duke of Lithuania. They were married for thirty years until Maximilian died of a strangely virulent form of smallpox leaving no issue or heir.”
Katerina put her hand to her chin. This was an obscure bit of European history, even for one who made such a thing her passion, but there was a dim flicker of recognition in her mind. “Yes, I think I remember her. After his death, she tried to negotiate with Prussia to maintain Bavarian independence from Austria. It was unusual for a woman of that time to attempt such a feat given the agnatic primogeniture succession laws. But her family ties gave her much weight in the discussions and she negotiated nobly though it ultimately failed and the War of Bavarian Succession began.”
“Yes. She had thirteen known siblings but no children of her own, yet, despite having no issue, there was no attempt by Maximilian to put her aside or marry another. Or so we thought.”
“Or so you thought?” Katerina asked.
“We have come into documents that show otherwise. Using them, we have gained access to records here in the Vatican that show that in 1748, the Church was given documents by doctors of the time certifying that the Electress was infertile and would never be able to produce issue which lead to the annulment of the marriage. However, the annulment was kept secret as was the following marriage of the Elector to his wife’s younger sister, Princess Maria Margaretha, who was one year younger but had never married due to a disfiguring incident when she was six years of age.”
“Disfigurement? The common people would have seen that as a sign that she was cursed. I assume they planned to use that poor girl as a broodmare and pass her child off as her elder sister’s natural born heir?”
“Attempt? They nearly succeeded. The girl did have children; four to be exact: two girls and two boys. One of the girls died of illness and the other of an accident. Maria’s eldest son was sickly and remained a secret. He lived and was three years of age when his father died.
“I see,” Katerina said, despite herself, she was being drawn into the narrative.
“He never got the chance to succeed his father. The elder boy was assassinated by those who did not wish to see his ascension and wanted his father’s kingdom for their own. The last surviving son, an infant, was given to a priest to be hidden from further assassination attempts along with several letters to his mother’s relations who knew of the child's existence. Princess Maria Anna Sophia attempted to bring her “son” to the throne safely, however, the plan fell apart due to the War of the Bavarian Succession that Maximilian's death triggered. The scheme was shelved. Another branch of the Wittelsbach line took the throne and life in Bavaria continued on. Few noticed that in the shake up of the war, a new barony had been created for a family that seemed to appear as if from nowhere with a now four year old Baron: the von Rayner family.”
“These findings are confirmed?”
“They are irrefutable. The best experts and historians have looked at the documents and checked them against each other. As such, your son is the heir of a long branch of the Bavarian Royal House with ties to the Kings of Poland, Austria, Prussia, Saxony, Lithuania, and Bohemia.”
“I thank you for this news. It will take me some time to sort out what it all means. The implications are far reaching but ultimately not pressing.”
“Oh, but they are, my lady. You see, starting in 1850 with the formation of the Rayner Trust and Holding Company by Augustin Claus-Werner von Rayner, the Rayner holdings have continually grown. While all Rayner family descendants receive stipends from this trust, as adjudicated by the board, acceptance of those funds is part of a legal contract that gives the Fund the power to take certain actions on the family’s behalf.”
“Wait, what?” Katerina thought back to the accounts her late husband had set up for their son’s care.
“The Trust is issuing numerous suits for the return of titles and lands in your son’s name through the power given to them by these contracts. I am to advise Your Grace to recuse yourself from these matters as you’re related to the subject of the suits.”
“This is outrageous,” Katerina said, anger creeping into her normally measured voice.
The lawyer shrugged. “Here are your papers. You may wish to have your people look over them. I hope this season of joy finds you well, Duchess,” he said with a bow as he then spun on his heels and turned to leave.
Katerina glared at the back of the lawyer’s head as he retreated toward the exit.
The forgotten man who had been loitering nearby came closer. “Not unexpected news.”
“Who in God's name are you?” Katerina asked, exasperated. She’d had enough surprises for the evening.
“I am but a man whose feet were made from clay. Like all men, I stand helpless before the dark. Guided by the distant light of the moon and stars, I wait for the sunrise. For while I dwell in darkness, I know the Exalted bearers come to bring Illumination to a dark world and you are at the Zenith of their art.”
“Perhaps we have things to discuss then,” Katerina said with some confusion.
---***---
Baldwin County
South Alabama
December 20th, 2012
1:00 PM Central Standard Time
11:00 AM Pacific Standard Time
---***---
Cheryl sneered under her mask. Even though it was December, the weather was unusually warm and the muggy soup these hillbillies called air didn’t help.
They were standing on an unremarkable piece of land covered in ugly gnarled pines. The evergreens were bad enough, but the dead vines and undergrowth made her wonder how much harder it would be to navigate come Spring. Lucky she wouldn’t have to find out.
Pentex had traced the ownership of this multi-acre eyesore in the backwoods of the ass end of nowhere to a holding company that was managed by lawyers who only ever dealt with their clients by phone. The company was attached to a trust fund that was in turn owned and funded by holdings in Switzerland. The Swiss were notoriously tight with their secrets: even with Pentex. However, the company investigators had been able to infer that the accounts relating to the property had come into existence in 2008; at almost the exact same time Mike D'Angelo had been ejected from his residence in New Orleans by its ruling Cabal.
Pentex wanted to know who hired him to blow up their fabrications lab. Mike D’Angelo was supposed to be a tough nut to crack, one who’d never rolled on anyone. Their orders were to capture and interrogate him if possible; terminate if not. His pet werewolf was fair game either way, which suited Cheryl just fine. She was ready for some payback for what that monster had done to her and Talia.
Cheryl gave a nod to Talia and they both stormed toward the building at a rush. Talia was just behind her, covering her rear. They both ran in the odd, crouched gait used by assault troops and SWAT teams to cover a final rush. With a crash she kicked in the door.
Right where the Infrared said he’d be, sat Mike eating a plate of pizza he’d pulled from the microwave. Laying back in a recliner holding a beer was the werewolf. The beast didn’t even have time to get up. Three rounds from Talia’s assault rifle got him right in the chest. The anti-shifter rounds would put a quick end to him. Talia leveled a full auto burst into the mage’s legs turning them into something that looked like hamburger.
“You had no idea who you were fucking with asshole,” Cheryl gloated as she pulled the mask from her face.
“No! No, don’t! Not like this,” Mike groveled piteously.
Cheryl leaned over his ruined form. “I was interrogated once, you know. Government Spooks got me back when the Manifested were being treated like animals. It’s going to be fun being on the other side, you piece of shit,” she said as she reached out to grab Mike by the hair.
“No, no, don't touch me,” he said, trying to drag himself away.
Cheryl laughed as her hand came down. The laughter abruptly ended as her hand passed through the mage’s head. His form rippled like water and both he and the werewolf vanished.
Before she could so much as blink she and Talia hit the ceiling and then the floor. Propelled by some unseen force, the duo then repeatedly rushed sideways; first into one wall then another before they were finally slammed into the floor a final time, forcefully expelling what little air was left in their lungs. Steel spikes, each a foot long, erupted from the wooden floor, impaling both Dragon Blooded bodies; piercing their forearms and calves before bending over sharply to the floor, creating a sort of staple, pinning down each Dragon Blooded - alive.
Mike walked out of the bedroom and pulled his chair away from the table while grabbing a slice of pizza off the plate. “You owe me a new door,” he said matter-of-factly. He waved his free hand and both weapons that had been rattled free from the attackers slid across the floor well away from the pinned duo.
Axe followed Mike into the room. He opened the fridge and he pulled out a beer. The werewolf cracked the top on his beverage and looked around. He noticed something and gave Mike a punch on the arm, inclining his head towards the chair.
Mike chewed on his pizza as he looked over to where Axe had motioned. Thin metal tendrils were climbing up out of the bullet holes in the chair. The metallic threads were swaying about in search of prey. With a sigh, Mike waved at the wall. It split open, curling like it was alive. Mike made a gesture and the cushy chair floated out and then burst into white hot flames outside. It was much easier to deal with those things when they were not inside someone.
The tendrils waved about wildly and futilely, unable to escape their fate. The wall slid back into place. “And you owe me a recliner,” Mike added as he took another bite of his pizza.
“Fuck you and your goddamn chair,” Cheryl screamed, her rage covering her pain.
Mike calmly got up, finishing his slice of pizza and came to stand over Cheryl. He looked over her thoughtfully then gave her a swift kick in the gut just below the ribs. Pain shot through her side as she fought not to twist and make her impaled limbs hurt worse.
“You break into my house. You come charging into my very sanctum looking to make me your bitch so you can force me to divulge my secrets against my will and you have the audacity to tell me to go fuck myself? Bitch, you really need to get your head in the game here, ‘cause that’s not how this works,” Mike said in a dry, factual tone.
“We both know there are limits to what you will do. To slay us would invite reprisal, not just from Pentex but the other Manifested,” Talia said, gritting her teeth through the pain.
“Yeah? Well, I got a talent for pissing powerful people off and living to tell about it so you might want to rethink the whole ‘the threat of vengeance will stay his hand’ line. You two bimbos press me and I’ll kill you both and let the dice fall where it may. As for the Manifested, they can get in line behind all the others that wanna kill me.”
“What do you want?” Talia asked. Her face, unlike Cheryl, was twisted in pain, but her words were more calm. This one, Mike thought, had a hidden iron will. A plan began to form in his head.
“I don’t know yet. You two, or someone who cares about you, has to pay some sort of forfeit. You see, I learned if you don’t make someone pay for trying to kill you, it just encourages more people to try doing you in. So, I guess what we’ll start with is what do you know that I might find useful?”
“You expect us to talk? I was interrogated by the government! By professionals. Do your worst you fucking amature,” Cheryl taunted.
“Cheryl don’t,” Talia pleaded.
Cheryl braced for another kick but to her surprise she saw Mike step back and open up the fridge. Talia’s plea had given him all the information he needed to begin. He rummaged around inside before he closed the door. In his hand was a small, clear medical culture tube full of a liquid so dark it was almost black. He stepped back to her side and unstopped it, tilted the tube toward her. As the liquid moved it caught enough light that she could see it was red. A single drop spilled, hitting her right on the center of her forehead.
“FEEL,” Mike’s voice intoned with an odd reverb. Cheryl’s world was ripped away and replaced with sensation. She had braced for wracking pain and torment. What came was ecstasy: a pleasure beyond joy or drunkenness. It was beyond sex. There was no part of her body or mind it didn’t reach; her soul alone retained the ability to register horror at this unbridled pleasure. She tried to fight but even the core of her being was touched as the wave of euphoric sensation crested insider her. When it broke, reality reasserted itself and her mind and soul were slammed back into her pain wracked body on the floor of the crappy little shack of a house.
“Oh yeah, you felt it. I believe the traditional words to use here are: Well, only the first one is free,” Mike said, his formerly clinical voice turning dark.
“No. No don’t,” Cheryl said.
“Yeah, I thought you’d have seen it or known someone who had. You came from the inner city. You know what addiction can do and Vampire Blood is more addictive than any substance on Earth. It’s stronger than opiates, stronger than heroin. Oh, and guess what? With magic I don’t even need much of it. Just that one drop to symbolically expose you to it and I can call up its effects again and again”
“Then why still have it out? I don’t beli...”
“FEEL,” Mike intoned again. While Cheryl was wracked with pleasure Mike stepped over to Talia.
“You know the mistake she made?” Mike asked.
“She thought the people that tormented her did the worst thing possible to her,” Talia said as she stared at Cheryl in the throes of ecstasy while trying to keep a lid on her own pain. “They were still trying to pretend magic didn’t exist and that we were not part of that world. Not to mention that professionals are expected to conduct themselves professionally. There are levels they can’t sink too. You’re no professional.”
Mike laughed. “Well I’m not a professional interrogator that’s true.” Mike leaned down close and let a single drop from the flask touch Talia’s head. “However, I’m a professional at the very first profession, older than prostitution no matter what they say. The original occupation that predates humanity. Survival.”
“Don’t. There’s no need. I know we’ll break. We care for each other too much to let this go on,” Talia said. And just like that, he had them. It took less time than he thought it would. Mike cut a glance at Axe and a rare feeling of sympathy washed over the mage. His captive had accessed the situation and knew how it would end. She just wanted it to be over, not only for her, but her friend. And that was something Mike could respect.
“You know, that’s fair. So, I’m going to do you a favor and let you in on a secret: if I don’t hit you once it will be a wedge between you two. She’ll think you were weak,” Mike said.
“Then get this charade over with,” Talia said.
Mike nodded. He leaned close and whispered into her ear then backed away as she started thrashing on the floor. “She’s a smart cookie, Axe. These two might go somewhere in life if they ever get away from Pentex,” he admitted.
“They haven’t seen the real Pentex,” Axe said in a tired voice. He looked over to see Cheryl weeping openly on the floor. Whether she wept from the return of the pain of her immobilized body or the sight of her friend in the same horror filled state of bliss from which had just returned he didn’t know.
“They haven’t learned the lessons we have. They're all bastards: Pentex, the Tribes, the Traditions, the Technos. They're all looking out for the agenda, never their own, never for the soldiers in their wars. We’re all cogs to them and I won’t be part of their machine. Live free, die free. No gods, no masters. Only way to be, pal.” Mike stated with grim determination.
---***---
Inglewood High
Department of Performing Arts
George Green Auditorium
12:03 PM Pacific Standard Time
---***---
Kashi fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. He wore a button up shirt (with the top two buttons undone) with slacks and no tie. It was as dressed up as he agreed to get for this. The auditorium was nearly full. Word had gotten out that the school had an above average chorus and drama group. The program consisted of a medley of traditional Christmas songs followed by a modern retelling of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. They were not close to the stage. Due to Kashi’s heel dragging, they were only able to find a seat near the back of the theater. Kashi wasn’t particularly following the play and started to get up from his chair. It had already been an hour and it still had thirty minutes to go.
“What are you doing?” Banyan whispered. From beyond his mother, Nana Johnson gave him the evil eye. His sister had participated in the medley at the beginning of the program, but her part in the actual play had not come.
“Bathroom,” Kashi whispered back with a frown.
Banyan scowled. “Hurry back.”
Kashi made for the exit. He loved his mother but for a minute he thought she was going to tell him to sit down. He was quite grown enough to know when he had to go take a leak.
Once his business was done, out of sheer spite, Kashi decided to look around a bit before returning to his seat. He figured he’d make his mother stew a bit before returning to see Willow. He owed the squirt that much.
As he was enrolled in this school only six months ago, Kashi knew his way around the building. He drifted up toward the athletic department. He was not surprised to see his friend Toshi had some new trophies in the cases. He paused, with interest, at spying his own face and a newspaper article about his victory over the Aztecs that had been added to the inspiration box.
As he was reading the article a familiar voice called out to him. “Kashi?”
He turned to see Rosa, a younger girl he’d known while he was still a student here. Rosa was pretty, short and curvy. She had classic hispanic features and was one of the best cooks Kashi had ever known. That alone made her popular with him. She was a Senior this year and had always been very active in school events.
Kashi beamed at her. “Hey, Rosa! What’s going on?”
“Just helping with the program. We’re going to have food out for sale. You know, raise a little money for the school; with a captive audience and a ninety minute plus program, surely someone will get hungry,” Rosa explained
“You don’t have to be too hungry to want some of what you home-ec girls make unless it’s gone down hill. But with you here I find that hard to believe.
Rosa gave Kashi a smile. “You were always a little hungry Kashi. Come on, I think I can help you sneak a treat.”
Remembering how good Rosa was at baking, Kashi eagerly followed. She led him back down the hall to a smaller room beside one of the home-ec kitchens with plenty of counter space and sinks. As soon as Kashi was in the room, Rosa whirled and threw her arms around his neck and pushed her lips into his. Startled, Kashi fell back a bit, finding himself pinned by the door.
Kashi’s surprised mind darted about frantically until it latched onto the OTHER thing he and Rosa had always done after she let him sample whatever food she was making. Panicked, Kashi realized he was in a situation he'd never been in before. He’d never had an unwanted sexual advance.
Kashi pushed back slightly and their lips parted.“Umm….Rosa?”
“God, I’ve missed you Kashi Kimura. I know we were never serious, but I swear, no one left in this school knows how to use their body...or maybe it’s just that no one here has a body like yours,” Rosa said as she began to unbutton Kashi’s shirt.
“Hold on, wait, Rosa,” Kashi began again starting to squirm away uncomfortably.
“You’re right, we need better placement,” she said, completely missing what his body language was screaming. “Over here, I can get up on the countertop. It’s just the right height,” she said as she grabbed Kashi’s arm and headed for the counter dragging him behind her.
Kashi followed halfway to the counter before he stopped. Rosa, who wasn’t looking back, found herself suddenly anchored by Kashi’s dead stop.
“Rosa, no. I can’t.”
She smiled sympathetically. “Your knee still hurt? I can take the top.”
“No. I mean I can...I just can’t... you know?”
“Huh? You’re not making any sense, Kashi,” Rosa said confused.
“I have a serious girlfriend now. We...um...have plans and stuff. I, umm...”
“You what?” she sputtered in disbelief before quickly recovering and giving a shrug. “Well so what? She doesn't have to know. Come on, Kashi, for old times sake,” Rosa said, giving him a smoldering look through her eyelashes and hopping up on the counter. She started to pull her skirt up showing off her panties. With practiced ease, she started sliding them down her legs.
“Rosa, no. I mean it. Just no.”
“Oh come on! It’ll be fun and I got half a chocolate cake you can have after.”
Kashi’s brow furrowed and anger crept into his voice.“I said no, Rosa! You can’t buy dick with desserts.”
“Then what the fuck was I doing the last two years?” Rosa asked, her tone growing angry as well.
Kashi blinked. He felt like he’d been hit between the eyes. “I’m not a whore,” he said in shock.
“Oh for Christ's sake, Kashi, why do you think anyone did anything for you?” Rosa asked, her fury rising.
The door behind them opened. “Pull 'em up and scram, Rosa,” another female voice said.
Kashi turned, taking a step back so he could keep both voices in view. He had thought he recognized the new voice and he was right. His friend Sam was standing in the door, her own face a cold, angry mask that matched Rosa’s hot fury.
“Don’t you tell me what to do, Samantha Montgomery,” Rosa spat.
“Look, he doesn't want to and I’m not about to let you try to guilt him into. Unlike Kashi I don’t have any misplaced gallantry to keep me from bloodying your nose. Now, do what I said and get out,” Samantha said.
Rosa blinked, she was furious. Her fury helped her cover her own embarrassment at throwing herself at Kashi without realizing he might have changed since high school. That fury was not enough to make the mistake of tangling with a girl who was serious about martial arts. Rosa pulled up her panties and did her best ‘see what you’re missing strut’ out of the room.
“Thanks, Sam,” Kashi smiled.
“Kashi, you’re an idiot. How could you go off with her like that? How could you do that to Sayuri?” Sam asked accusingly.
“Wait, no, it wasn’t like that. I just thought she had sweets. God, that sounds lame,” Kashi said, embarrassed.
“If I didn’t know you so well, I would think you were putting me on. As it is, I’m surprised you didn’t end up lured into a van by the free candy pedo patrol,” Sam snickered
“Actually...that almost happened. Why do you think I got so fat in Middle School. It was stress relief eating and a coping mechanism.”
Sam’s face fell. “Oh shit, really? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Kashi shrugged. “Didn’t really realize it myself. I sort of went to a therapy thing with Sayuri around Thanksgiving. It all came out in treatment, or whatever you call it.,” he said, simplifying the rather complex events that had happened a few weeks before.
“Hell, I just thought you were a pig for food until you discovered sex,” Sam said in amazement.
“Hey! I got into shape before that! You were there when I discovered sex.”
“Ehh, yeah sex with other people sure, but...okay, nevermind, we're drifting off topic. So, you didn’t stray from Sayuri, you just were gullible as all hell. You’re going to have to learn to read the signs, Kashi, or get good at refusing advances. I know you haven’t had any practice. I think every girl in this school who was curious and halfway decent had a go at you.”
“Wait...I was, the school bicycle?”
“Kashi, you were easier than that. People can fall off a bicycle, you were the school’s trike. There was almost no way to fail with you.
He looked stunned. “Damn it. Now I’m going to need therapy for sure. I feel sort of dirty,” Kashi said dully as if his entire view of himself had just been challenged.
Sam eyed him incredulously before her features softened and she clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Despite all that, you’ve been the most loyal friend anyone could ever have. I can’t speak for everyone else, but at least for some of us, the sex was only an added bonus.”
Kashi smiled, his spirit buoyed by her words. “Well, that’s good to know. Thanks, Sam, you’re like the sister I never had.”
Sam stood there for a moment, eyeing him curiously. Kashi, in turn, looked back wondering why she’d stopped.
“Oh shit, yeah, Willow! I got to get back to the auditorium.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Come on, I’ll go with you. My little brother was cast in the part of stranger three. That’s why I’m here. He’s so proud to be what basically amounts to scenery that I’m starting to worry about his self esteem.”
“Hey, how did you know I was in here?” Kashi asked, starting back out the door.
“I saw you get up. You kinda stick out, Kashi. I followed you. However, once I figured out you were in the bathroom, I hung back. I had something I wanted to ask you. Have you heard anything out of Brandon? He does go to your school.”
“No. I mean he’s on football and a different class schedule. It’s way different than here. UCLA is a big place.”
“That’s what’s bothering me. No one has seen him.”
“Wait what?”
“He’s been missing since Thanksgiving. His dad got a note from him that he was pursuing an internship with a big company called Fabsys. They make electronics for the military. All of Brandon's scholastics are on hold. He’s passed the semester and they aren't revoking his scholarship or status. His tests were mailed in. Someone with some serious clout forced the school administration to be cool about it. He’s over eighteen so his dad can’t do much, but no one knows where he is,” Sam said, worried.
“When was the last time he was seen?” Kashi asked, a growing sense of dread was raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
“Thanksgiving Day he and some girl went to that stupid surprise parade thing downtown. I thought since you were involved in that publicity stunt, you might know something or have seen him.”
Kashi shook his head. They had reached the auditorium door. “I’ll ask around and find out what I can, Sam.”
From inside the Auditorium came a roar of ovation muffled by the closed door. The play was obviously over. Kashi winced. His mother was going to kill him, he’d missed almost all of Willow’s performance. He opened the door for Sam and headed back inside. He artfully ducked the pair of dark gazes he was getting from his mother and nana and joined in the applause. However, inside, he was deeply worried about his friend.
---***---
Rayner Mansion
Santa Cruz County, California
December 20th, 2012
12:40 PM Pacific Standard Time
---***---
Claus Rayner rose from his chair with a warm smile on his face. “Brandon Walker! It’s good to see you again, my boy. Hungry? I was just about to take some lunch.”
“Thank you, sir. I don't mind if I do. It looks good,” Brandon said.
“Kartoffelsalat mit Würstchen has always been a favorite of mine. Don’t bother with the ‘sir’ stuff here. You’re my grandson’s friend and therefore my friend. You’re welcome to share the bounty on this table without formality. There is some Frikadellen in that pot. Don't tell the wife she’s a vegetarian.”
“And you’re still married?” Brandon asked with mock surprise as he dipped out some of the meatballs and added them to a bacon laced potato salad with a large Frankfurt sausage.
“You should see her. You don’t think Lorelei’s looks all came from me do you? Hah!”
Brandon looked about and saw only beer and water to drink. He reached for a beer bottle “You don’t mind?”
“Nonsense. Go right ahead - it’s good lunch beer, a Dunkelweizen. I don’t stand by puritanical American customs in my own home,” the old man said joyfully. “The bacon in this salad is amazing, cooked just so.”
“You’re definitely Kashi’s grandpa alright.”
“Nothing wrong with a little indulgence if you stay active and you, my boy, have been very active. The double speed boot camp we had you in has sent me back some excellent reports.”
“Good to know, but now that I’m through there, what do I do now sir...I mean Claus?”
“Well, you’re finished with regular, if accelerated, curriculum. Now it’s time for your serious specialist training in preparation for gaining some real powers, my boy. For that sort of training, I’m going to have to send you to a special facility. One of my top men, John Dugan, runs it. It’s in Antarctica, but it’s all indoors.”
“Ahh. So this meal is a bit of a reprieve? One last bit of civilization before the frozen wastes? I had hoped for a few weeks off. I don’t mind the hard work, don’t get me wrong, but I have never been a monk either. I’m really surprised Kashi’s kept his dick in his pants for so many months for that Sayuri girl. She must have him wrapped up tight on that finger of hers.”
“Well, the right woman can do that. You’re not being sent to a convent, either. There will be women there: fit, trim ones who are rather sexually adventurous, actually.” The turn in conversation made the old man reflect to himself that it was rather fortunate the Jadeborn didn’t reproduce sexuallly, despite having the right equipment for the job. If Jadeborn physiology had been like the Manifested, the careful plans he'd laid out would have been radically different. Having half their force down for maternity leave would be an extreme inconvenience. It was an advantage the Jadeborn had. As it stood, such sexual encounters led to increased closeness and enhanced the esprit de corps and that was it.
“Well, that might not be so bad then,” Brandon said, thoughtfully, munching on the plate of cold lunch.
“Yes, and once there, they can invest you with powers so that when you do come back you’ll be an agent fully ready to work. Hopefully by that time, I’ll have spoken to Kashi and maybe you two can even work together…” he then looked down, visibly annoyed. “Hold on, I'm getting a call. It must be terribly important for them to break in on lunch.”
Claus got up and walked out onto the balcony while pulling his phone out. “Yes, what is it?” He said in a clipped tone. He truly did not like getting interrupted at lunch.
“Sir, sorry to disturb you, but your contractor from the Pentex case has called. He claims to have time sensitive data about an upper tier event that will result in multiple urban areas eradicated and massive awareness breaches,” the assistant on the line said in her nasally voice.
“Put him through.” If this wasn’t worth it, Claus was going to see D’Angelo sharply punished.
“Rayner? Is this finally Rayner?” Mike’s voice said through the phone.
“It is. Speak,” Claus said.
“Not much time, the Seventh Sons are up to some down right coocoo shit and you’re the only one I know who can mobilize enough force to stop them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you heard of a Zmei Dragon?”
“You now have my full attention. What is your source on this?” Claus’ aggravated clip gave way to a tone that was all business.
“The two Manifested they put on finding the box gave up on that and came for me. I got them to break and give me some info. I used that information to break into Pentex’s databases. I know you're thinking this is extreme even for Pentex, but they’re seriously butthurt over that heist. They think their stupid box and the Crucible was taken by allies of the New Orleans cartel, so if the Seventh Sons wipe them out all the better.”
“I would almost let them, just to wipe that place out.”
“The only place in North America they are sure they can pull off the ritual while targeting the Zmei Dragon is at the Deep Wound Spiral in California. That thing would rampage across two thousand miles and five states,” Mike said.
“The Seventh Sons might be madmen, but not even their lot are that insane.”
“There's been a migration. The more insane elements of Pentex have been migrating to the Sons and the more sane Sons have been abandoning ship to Pentex. That leaves no one to hold the extremist back,” Mike explained.
“And you're sure Pentex will take no action? This could go badly for them too. The blow back alone will be formidable and not just from us.”
“They’re going to let the Seventh Sons take the fall and claim there is some sort of disaster tonight that will cover their work enough to get away with it.”
“There might be something to that. I had plans to contain a different situation tonight. However, this takes priority. Where are you? I’ll have to scramble some help,” Rayner said.
“Do you think I’m some sort of a saint? I’ve passed the word on like a responsable fucking citizen. I’m out.”
“If you didn’t think this needed to be dealt with, you wouldn’t have called and we will need every hand we can get. I’ll even give your friend a pass on this one,” the director’s tone hinted at his hurry. He was willing to cut a deal. Having no time to haggle, Claus went straight to the bottom of what he’d accept.
“Shit.... well fuck. I mean, I don’t go for all that saving the world bullshit, but that’s not fucking far from where I live, you know, and I sort of got used to keeping my stuff here. Okay, screw it, but you owe me, old man. Where do I meet you? Griffith Observatory? Maybe Anaheim?”
“Who the hell goes to Anaheim? No, you can come here to the house and be sure your dog doesn't bring any fleas in with him. I’ll leave a hole in the teleportation grid. Get here ASAP and bring any toys you think you’ll need. I’m not sure you’ll be able to use our gear without training and we’re short on time.”
“Right. Be there in maybe an hour. I got some toys to dig up that might help. I hope you got enough to keep this from being a suicide mission.”
Claus ended the call and stepped back inside “Terribly sorry, son, but an emergency came up and we are going to have to expedite things. I was going to send you on a plane, but we are not going to have that kind of time.”
“What do you have that’s faster than a plane?” Brandon asked.
“We’re going to teleport there. Is that your bag? Go grab it up,” the old man's thumbs started going over the screen of his phone faster than a twelve year old girl on a Twitter break.
“They don’t have to take apart our bodies into atoms to do that, do they? I’m rather keen on keeping all my molecule chains factory standard,” Brandon asked nervously.
“No, no, nothing like that. We just fold space in a quantum tunneling wormhole effect. Don't worry. Even most experts just parrot the words, but like most technology, it doesn’t have to make sense to you so long as someone knows how it works. I do it rather frequently - it’s safe, just a little disconcerting your first time, but not dangerous. Hurry up now.”
“What does it feel like? Can I prepare for it?” Brandon asked, jogging back over.
“You know that first big hill on every roller coaster - the one you go down to get the speed to do all the rest? It feels a bit like that.”
“Oh... I can do that.”
“Yes I’m sure. Just raise it by a power or two.”
“Wha--”
And with that they were both gone.